#like that’s my two pence anyways

[drmsofanabsolution]

like when tommy’s mum was going through a divorce why was she just arguing with dream stans on twitter if it was a serious time in her life?? why waste time on twitter arguing with people who disagree with your son (which you don’t exactly know the full story about probably) when you’re going through something like that??

[ghostaholics]

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

➸ PAIRING: Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley x gn medic!Reader (same reader from here, but this is a stand-alone) ➸ SUMMARY: You kiss Simon's very minor injuries. And then some. (Or, alternatively: He's not actually wounded. He just wants to see you.) ➸ WARNING(S): some graphic descriptions of old injuries ➸ A/N: Need to preface that this isn't smut despite how the title and summary sound. Anyways, Jo knows I listened to Hozier's Other Voices 2020 version of "Work Song" for a week straight while writing this. ➸ WC: 2k

❝ 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍' 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃, ❞ he admits, low-timbered. It feels intimate, especially coming from him. Simon's sitting on the cot; it sags under his weight. He curls his hands over the edge of it as he leans forward. No casualties post-mission means he's got free rein to pick wherever he wants in the medical tent.

"Oh, yeah? What about?"

"That I should probably do my best to avoid injuries so I don’t keep pestering you. Can always just tell me to fuck off, y’know.”

“You’re gonna break my heart if you stop coming around.

“Mm,” he says in agreement. “Can’t have that can we?”

You nod your head earnestly. “I like your company.”

“Tryin’ to say that you’ll miss me?”

“I would.” More than he knows.

It’s routine now. He gives you just enough room, adjusting his position. You step into the space made between Simon’s splayed knees, his massive legs nearly bracketing yours with how close they are. He’s bigger than you. Well, considerably more mammoth-like in his proportions compared to an overwhelming majority of the soldiers that you’ve encountered, to be quite honest.

Simon acts as though he’s acutely aware of his size. You suspect that he purposefully makes himself smaller in your presence. Like now, how his shoulders are rounded forward, the column of his spine not as straight-arrow in that standard, militaristic posture most servicemen have adopted. As if he doesn’t want to appear too intimidating. Not that Simon could, to you. Hours doing his stitches and idle chitchat on your part have taught you that he’s much less ruthless than people seem to paint him as. But you appreciate the thought anyway.

You conduct the assessment – a typical evaluation normal for combat casualty care, more in-depth than the one you’d done when he initially stopped by and you did a quick once-over for any obvious injuries. Though given the complete vacancy in the medical tent, you find it hard to believe that you’ll come across anything on him since the mission went that smoothly.

The first thing you notice this time: he doesn't smell like spilled blood. It's different. Not that sweet, rusted iron of wet tackiness – the one that reminds you of a generous stack of two pence coins held between a pair of hands cupped together. He comes in that way a lot. Reeks, because war means that he's no stranger to charging through a shower of copper and lead-forged bullets out on the field. Everything else is still there, though. Maybe a dying campfire – crackling logs and blackened earth. Soft dirt excavated from a foxhole for cover while under enemy fire. All gunpowder and Marlboro Lights and diesel-fuel smoke. Fresh rain and a blue-violet sky after a storm. Victory without consequence.

You'd breathe it in if you could, pull the collar of his jacket up to your face. At this proximity, it’d be easy.

He drops the act when he’s in front of you. Lieutenant. Ghost. Battle-hardened, gruff. A natural-born leader. The kind of person to rip this world apart brick by brick – scraped up palms clutching onto broken pieces – to make sure that the plan is executed accordingly, no matter the cost. It’s hard for him to shed that layer. A drop in the bucket of information that you’ve gathered about this man.

You’ve seen him at his best. But you know him at his worst.

The laundry list of injuries over the years: blows to his torso and his back and his limbs that were brighter than technicolor – purples and reds and sickly yellow-green shades – deep, blotchy medals of violence decorating his skin like some kind of fucked-up kaleidoscope that was nothing to be proud of; when some bastard drove a knife right into his upper thigh, that dirty blade wedged through tissue and muscle which was sure as hell going to induce the nastiest infection without serious TLC and a tetanus shot; rib fractures 7-9 because he aborted an exploding heli, seconds to spare before landing on his side wrong from a height that was equivalent to three stories tall; old GSWs dotting his body the same way you’d shove push pins into a paper-flimsy map to mark the places you’ve been to.

And then there’s no contest for the top contender. 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭'𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭 #𝟏: when he was rushed in on a stretcher, barely clinging to life. Lower abdomen shredded by exploding shrapnel. He was outside of the window of opportunity. Too far beyond that golden hour, so his chances of surviving plummeted to a single-digit percent.

He’s more than just a patchwork of scars. There’s a complex person underneath the surface. A miracle in the flesh to have toughed it out through all of that. Resilient. Perpetual. His callsign makes sense. Ghosts really do live forever.

Several seconds pass before you speak again. It’s a silly comment, teasing – poking fun at him. You don’t have any reservations when it comes to picking on Simon; he’s good about taking these things in stride. Funny, actually. He’s got a dry sense of humor. “I think… you like the idea of someone taking care of you.”

His response isn’t immediate. It’s delayed, said with intention. He doesn’t ever waste words. “Not just anybody.”

You nearly reel back at that. Warmth floods your face. You aren’t quite sure what to say, didn’t expect it. So you let the comment hang in the air between the two of you, busying your hands with slipping off his tac vest, triple-checking for hidden wounds, doing anything to keep yourself occupied while you stand this close to him in the wake of that remark. You’re engrossed in your work, in search of a distraction.

(He’s a distraction, isn’t he?)

And then your eyes stop in their scan. Right there: a small nick on the exposed sliver of skin between his glove and sleeve – open to the direct path of some wayward debris that happened to graze him. So tiny. You’ve seen paper cuts more harrowing than this – wouldn’t have even registered on your radar, especially if it’s being dwarfed by other critical wounds that hold decisive sway over somebody’s fate when it comes to your average life-or-death scenario.

Of course, you take your job very seriously.

You feign a sharp inhale. “Ah,” you say solemnly, guiding his arm up to your face for a closer look. “Found your problem.”

“I’ve got a problem,” he echoes, voice laced with amusement.

“See, you came to the right place. Anybody else would’ve missed it.”

“The verdict, then?”

“So terrible. Earth-shattering, in fact—”

Simon starts pulling away. “Alright, that’s enough of you takin’ the piss outta me,” he gripes.

You chase his arm to recapture it into your grasp. “Wait!” you say, huffing out a laugh. Your mouth sprouts into a wide grin that makes him roll his eyes.

“You gonna treat me or what?”

Your humor bubbles away as you come back to your senses. Those once-loud peals of laughter start to die down when you take his question into consideration. Because there’s really nothing for you to do; he doesn’t need you.

The realization is slow-moving. It washes over you, rolls like waves as you finally begin to sober up.

Simon wants to be here, and he’s looking for any excuse to stay. He just can’t find the courage to own up to it.

“I dunno. Might be unconventional,” you throw out casually, playing along. “Risky, maybe – never been done before.”

But he’s undeterred. “Sure. Whatever you gotta do.”

You pause for a beat, fingers still wrapped around his forearm because you haven’t managed to let go yet. His skin is warm under your palm. You’re not sure what exactly possesses you to do it – emboldened by his encouragement, given complete carte blanche; he’s leaving this to your discretion. So you press your lips to that area where the cut is, right over his pulse point. If you had lingered for longer, you probably would’ve been able to feel it thudding, that solid rhythm and easy strength reminding you he’s alive.

You expected him to withdraw his arm in bewilderment. He should’ve kicked up a fuss about you violating his boundaries, should’ve told you that you overstepped. Something, right?

But he doesn’t do any of that. Simon’s studying you. Dark pupils. So chasm-deep that the ground beneath your feet might slip away. Ocean trenches, midnight-black like the charcoal smudged around his eyes. When they land on you, his gaze goes molasses-soft. He’s fond; there’s little room for doubt. The way he looks at you says everything. None of that usual coldness he harbors during an op. Instead, relaxed and more human than you’re used to seeing – all of his attention focused solely on you.

“Where else, Simon?” you whisper.

He’s thinking – carefully weighing his options – the same expression that he gets when a crossroads lies ahead of him and he knows his make-it-or-break-it decision will invariably affect the outcome of a mission.

After several moments, his hand comes up. Simon’s fingers curl underneath the hem of his mask; he’s been wearing the fabric balaclava more often since you’ve fixed the stitching on it. Then he lifts – not the entire way. Just to reveal the bottom half of his face. There he is. Sandpaper-rough stubble. The sharp cut of his jaw. A mouth that you’re convinced wears a scowl 24/7 behind his mask but is now slightly twitched up.

Even though you’ve seen it before, the sight of him never fails to steal your breath away. Feels like meeting him for the first time again. With how rarely he does this, it might as well be – that slow, heart-melting sensation is steadily filling the cavern of your chest.

And you lean in. Your lips brush against his; it’s a chaste thing – the kiss – if it can be called that. Gentle. Like how you’d stitch up his wounds with a light touch and kind intent. He’s built of sterner stuff, but if there’s anything you’ve learned about him, it’s that he’s capable of breaking just as easily as everyone else. You always handle Simon with care: unequivocal compassion and empathy when there’s so little of those left on this side of war – privileges that he’s never taken for granted.

“Better?” you ask quietly, tipping your head in question.

Simon hums his approval – this pleased, low sound in his throat. His hand slides across your lower back. He tugs you towards him. “Wouldn’t mind some more attention,” he murmurs, before slotting his mouth over yours. And then he kisses you like it might heal him from the outside in.

[obaewankenope]

American to English translation for fic

So I read and write fanfic, as do lots of others, and I've noticed that when it comes to British shows or movies, Americanisms or American terms crop up often. It's mostly because most don't know we have specific terms for things in the UK, and I've seen references here and there before, but I've decided to write one of my own. Feel free to add to it tho! I'm gonna put it up on Ao3 too and any additions, I'll reference the tumblr and link them on Ao3 too.

AO3 link is here!!

Anyway, here we go I guess.

Some Americanisms to English-isms

Gas = fuel/petrol/diesel (we tend to specify the type of fuel the vehicle uses, diesel vehicle or petrol vehicle for example)

Gas station = petrol/fuel station

Gas court = petrol/fuel court, or sometimes forecourt (not often with this one tho)

License plate = registration plate/reg

Diner = cafe

Fast-food = takeaway (this is sort of interchangeable. McDonald's is called fast food, a meal from a pizza place that delivers is takeaway)

Motel = hotel

Side-note: We tend to use specific named hotel chains like Premier Inn (or Prem-Inn for short) or Holiday Inn or Travelodge. We also have Britannia Hotels and several others. If the fic is based in a specific place, local hotels or famous ones may be better options. For example, in Liverpool, we have The Shankly or Adelphi.

Cab = taxi or black hac for a specific type of taxi.

Side-note: These are what you see in BBC Sherlock, for example, and are a UK staple. They're less popular or common-place nowadays but there are dedicated taxi companies that use them. There's on in my town that operates until 4pm each day. They are also usually more expensive than a car taxi but they have oodles of space and you can have a pram/buggy kept upright rather than folded-down in them which is brilliant.

Cop = police officer

Side note: more informal, colloquial terms include "copper", "the fuzz", "tit-head" (because of the nipple hat okay, just look up the hat, it's hilarious), "bobby", "rozzer" (pronounced r-o-z-er not Row-zer), and "the bill" (there's an actual show called this btw. It can be a good reference for anyone writing crime fic in UK). There's more but those are the most common. Older terms do include "peelers" and "old bill".

Second side-note: the police have a whole host of terms, colloquial and slang that can be a great thing to include in fic, which I'll link a glossary of here. It's not all UK centric but cross-country policing is a thing so that may just be a boon imho. Also the short-hand acroynmns used are useful so here's a link to the Metropolitan Police glossary of those too!

Patrolman = constable or police constable

Antenna = aerial or TV aerial

Fall (season) = autumn

Bill = banknote or specifically "tenner", "fiver", "twenny" (not "twenty"). We don't have single banknotes like a dollar bill. We have pound coins

Dimes, nickels, etc = pound coin, two-pound coin, fifty-pence, penny, two-pence, five-pence, ten-pence, twenty-pence (link here about the coin currency)

Drug store = chemist or pharmacy

Optometrist = optician

Primary care physician = GP (general practitioner) here's a link about UK medical terms for doctors etc

Side-note: here's a link about medical terminologies etc between American and UK

Social security number = national insurance number

Liquor store = off-license or, specifically, Bargain Booze™

Liquor = spirits (usually)

Store = shop

Target, Walmart, etc = honestly, it's probably gonna be Tesco, ASDA, Morrisons, ALDI or Lidl

Superstore = supermarket

Shopping cart = shopping trolley or just "trolley"

Yard-sale = car-boot/car-bootie/car-boot sale

Attorney = barrister or solicitor (solicitors you go to for legal help, barristers tend to be involved in actual court matters, like a the Crown Prosecution Service), here's a link that explains it better

Janitor = caretaker

French-fries = chips (although McDonald's French-fries are just that, French-fries)

Intersection = crossroad

Highway/freeway = motorway

Interstate = usually an A-road or a motorway, we don't really have interstates here)

Overpass = flyover

Turnpike = toll motorway

Windshield = windscreen

Trunk of a car = boot or car boot

Hood of a car = bonnet or car bonnet

Truck = lorry

Sedan = saloon car

Blowout = puncture or flat tyre

Pavement = road

Sidewalk = path

Subway = underground (like the London Underground)

Drapes = curtains (though we do use "drapes" we tend to say "curtains" more)

Pacifier = dummy or "dodo" or "dodi"

Diaper = nappie or a pull-up (if its like underwear for toddlers)

Baby crib = baby cot (though we do use "crib", we tend to say "cot" more)

Baby carriage/pushchair/stroller = pram or buggy (more specific type tho, here's a link about the differences)

Trash/garbage can = bin, dustbin, rubbish bin

Garbage/trash collector = binman/binmen

Mail = post

Mailman = postman

Mailbox = postbox

The movies = cinema or pictures

Movie = film (less common nowadays with influence of Americanisms but I still use "film" and a lot of people my age and older do too (25+)

First floor = ground floor okay, it's the ground floor because it's on ground level

Sneakers = unless they're Converse, it's probably just "trainers"

Baggage = luggage

Purse (as in the bag) = handbag, or "purse" but that tends to be the thing you put your money and cards in then put in your handbag

Vacuum cleaner = hoover or a specific brand like Henry Hoover™, which you'll find we tend to just call Henry (though I have a John Lewis hoover I got from George, ASDA that I've named 'George' and yes, I do say "I need to use George in a bit to hoover" regularly)

Sweater = jumper or, if it buttons up it's a cardigan or cardi

Closet = wardrobe

Elevator = lift

Call collect = reverse charges

Schools = we have primary/infants (11yrs)and secondary/high school (11-16yo) with some high schools have sixth-form college (16-18yo) or actual independent colleges for the same ages

College = university

Semester = term

Vacation = holiday

Kindergarten = nursey/reception

Flashlight = torch

Wrench = spanner

Backyard = garden

Cookie = biscuits

Chips = crisps (like Walkers™ or Lays™ in the States)

Pants = trousers

Cottoncandy = candyfloss

Dude = bloke/fella/mate

John Doe = John Smith

Exhausted (tired) = knackered

Cell phone = mobile

Cell data = mobile data/4G/5G

Bathroom/restroom = loo/toilet (informal term "bog")

Thanks = cheers

Soccer = football

Y'all = "you lot"

Fuck off/hit the road/go away = bugger off

Some slang phrases too

Bits and bobs = stuff, usually random

Take the mick/mickey = making fun of someone or over-exaggerating

Bob's your uncle = there you go, basically

Bog standard = typical, run of the mill kind of deal

Gutted = feel upset, disappointed

Dull as dishwater = basically really, really fuckin boring

Chinwag = basically "shooting the breeze" or just having a talk/chat

.

If you have any others that you think of or want added, reblog and add em! Tags too if you'd prefer but reblogs would be easier ☺️

[weepynymph]

I was rewatching parts of season 7 the other day searching for a reference and I stumbled across the whole rocket present Logan gives her and ended up watching all of that plot line and it exhibits so well exactly what you’re saying!

Rory is confused by the present until she figures out its emotional significance and then she LOVES it. She doesn’t care how expensive or nice things are (like seriously what is she supposed to do with a model rocket??) she cares about what they MEAN. The rocket is Logan’s actually really sweet gesture telling her that even though they’re long distance they’ll make it because it’s true love and that significance makes that dumb rocket one of Rory’s most treasured possessions.

ok i just saw a rory gif set that included her bracelet that i didn’t even notice until one of my mutuals pointed out. i’ve never once noticed that fuckass thing until jess took it. i didn’t even remember it two seconds after he did. are you telling me that poor sixteen year old girl was wearing that piece of shit leather strap on her cute little wrist for that damn long? THAT is what she was so worried about losing (yes i understand the symbolism but let’s step back)? but a birkin she didn’t care about?

[bunny-jpeg]

i've had a horrid idea in my head, don't look at me! (maid!reader feat. soap & ghost)

so basically

you get hired through the cleaning service that you work for, to help keep a house outside the city nice and clean. you are a bit confused why whoever hired you needed a maid who lived over two hours away. but, you were assured that it would be worth it and shuffled off.

you thankfully only had two go twice a week, mondays and wednesdays with your day off in the middle. the pay was above standard, pictures of the home were shown, along with profiles of the owners.

simon riley and john mactavish. they were army men who wouldn't be at the house as much as most customers. which was a relief. this was not however the case, as the more you spent coming over the house to clean, the more they seemed to be around.

the blond one with the face scars was simon and the burnette with the mohawk and the scottish accent was johnny (he made you call im johnny). it would taken several months before they made the first move.

it started with johnny brushing up against your backside while he was in nothing but pajama pants. his erection against you.

then the snowstorm happened. you were about the go home, determined to drive when the snow came down in heaps. the snowflakes were almost as big as a two pence coin.

you ended up staying, and johnny brought out the whisky! he told you it was the good stuff from the highlands as he served you a healthy glass. it still burned like a bastard when it went down, the disgusted face you made caused the other two men to laugh. when you tried to use the bathroom you heard simon's voice ring out, "oh, there she goes!". as the snow hit the ground outside, you got drunk with your customers.

which then resulted in coy kisses, followed by loud fucking in simon's room. it had the bigger bed but it didn't matter because your hands and knees ached by the of the night. as did the back of your throat (you couldn't talk the morning after) and your pussy (you sat in weird positions to ease the pain for a week after).

simon and johnny were bullies to you sexually. you were twisted like a pretzel as both men just fucked you without abandon. you were left gasping and it didn't help that it turned you on too! you were such a bad maid, but it was hard to believe yourself when both men grumbled your praises as they moved you once more to get at just the right angle.

you tried to give the appearance of keeping it professional, but when you ended up back at work your boss told you that simon and john needed more help before their deployment, so she had moved your customers to other maids.

your priority was to help those men anyway you could! "they're serving our country! they need as much as they can before they leave once more!"

it wouldn't take long before you pretty much moved your life into their home. when you called the resign from your job at the maid agency, johnny was between your legs while you were sitting on the kitchen counter. your free hand was in his mohawk, yanking on the strands. he had spent all morning encouraging you to quit your job, which mean being laid out behind you with his hand down the front of your panties. his calloused fingers rubbing your clit until you were practically yelping from the overstimulation!

one night when you were "helping them" simon was gone for several hours and came back with boxes of your stuff. everything was put in neatly, when you tried to ask why he simply said, "you can't be wearing our civvies forever." (as if the two men weren't going to buy you clothes or anything else you needed). but it was nice to have some stuff with you. you never asked how he got into the apartment though.

sometimes the boys will still play maid with you. johnny liked it when he got to push up the skirt of the maid's dress you were wearing and simon liked when he got to tear the garter under the skirt right off. johnny's cock was soon balls deep in your while simon licked your clit.

paycheck wasn't necessary anymore, not while you were living with them full time. living in the city was nice, you would always cherish your time in it! but it was a lot nicer being sandwiched between two burly men who would capture the sun and the moon and serve it to you on a silver platter. <3

[creativesplat]

A doodle of Link and Mipha defeating a Lynel from @only-by-the-stars wonderful fic Song of a Champion!

So this battle was beautifully fluid and the description of the two working perfectly in sync was just breathtaking. I decided to try and illustrate the scene, and I really enjoyed it, (it gave me an awesome excuse to read the scene very carefully and with an eye to the visual which I only really do if I'm going to draw it, and its always so fun to do)!

I couldn't get this image of Link parrying to open a space for Mipha to attack out of my brain because of the fluidity with which they both fought together just felt like that probably happened. I don't know about you, but I just saw them fighting as though they were in a dance, even though Mipha is so firm on her lack of ability and Link's superior skill, I bet he was entranced by her too!

Link's outfit is the stripped back version of the Soldier's Armour Set from BoTW, as though he took off the particularly intense or cumbersome pieces before coming to meet with Mipha, which I thought might be a good nod both his desire for familiarity with Mipha and to Mipha's concern for his safety and frustration with perceived arrogance. He's not even properly equipped and yet he says he can and will fight this Lynel alone.

on Mipha's end, I decided to go for a yellow glow, to not only pin her as the most key character in this scene - she is the central protagonist after all - but also to show that she is actually 100 years in the future, and this is her sinking back into the past, in her memory.

In the beautiful way only-by-the-stars creates a story, I fell into this memory description as well, and I love the conflict and emotion in this, so yeah, just a little note on the writing, but honest to goodness, give this a read!

Other composition ideas:

the original idea was to have something a little more like this:

with a more fluid attack from Mipha and I think overall this would have served the scene better now that I've finished 😅, but I also wanted the impression that it was Mipha's memory, you're seeing this through her eyes, so having her facing away from you connects you more I think, it feels more like she's witnessing it if its from her perspective.

so this, from Mipha's perspective, whilst a little less easy to understand visually, would have given the whole thing the fluidity I wanted the piece to have originally.

Anyway that's my two pence, and I hope you go and read Star's fic!

[dream-thief-forever-amen]

Pit Babe Episode 9 Commentary

PB talking sense? Uh, yes. Yes, you are risking your lives messing with the secret laboratory mafia. They have guns and you have… good hearing. And zero strategic game.

North is adorable. This cute and playful side couple / besties are making me smile.

Alan recruiting the big bro for dating advice is cute.

The problem with being an introvert who values alone time is that people don’t even realize you’ve been abducted by a crime lord.

See how easily Mr Pete solved his misunderstanding and shared his plan with PB? Took less than a minute. He didn’t need to fake date him or steal his powers or anything.

Lesbian Mr Pete is the Enigma? Interesting.

Way is the Enigma too? Okay that one I saw coming but also… yay!

What if the two Enigmas get together? What if Way and Mr Pete did the deed? Would it make everyone pregnant within a hundred mile radius?

I’ve never met a man who wanted to be pregnant or give birth but it sure as hell would be entertaining if even a small handful of regular dudes got pregnant. Miss those reproductive rights now, don’t you?!!

Snort. Way, you are just digging yourself deeper into the hole, my friend. “You don’t have to do much, Babe. Just have a bunch of kids with me in the secret compound you “escaped” from. Doesn’t that sound fun?! If you don’t like kids, it’s okay, grandpa will probably sell them all off anyways.” Aye aye aye, And they say romance is dead.

Did he tranq him? Mind control? What-

Ooooooo mind control!!!!

Way and PB are killing it in this scene - the heartbreak! The betrayal! The desperation and self loathing! Mmmmh mmmh drama.

Unnecessary montage part four.

I’m seriously stunned Way could keep mind control powers a secret that long. I could not be trusted with mind control. At All.

“Go get him as quickly as possible!”

Proceeds to casually stroll out of the room like a total badass. This actor was given a bit part and decided to create a black clad baddie henchman for the record books.

⠀∩___∩♡

..( ♡˕♡) KENTA!!!

./ ੭ っ

I wish to be seduced by someone carrying an overstuffed bag of takeout. Alan, please write a self help book to show others the righteous path to true love.

Kenta reading all of Alan’s flirtatious texts to Jeff… does it make you miss Mr Pete, baby? Cause you could still hit that, the chemistry was through the roof. And you’ve got Korean Kim tied up somewhere….

Jeff, you lucky lucky little mind reading punk. How did you get so lucky to catch someone like Alan? And like he’s really trying to flirt but Alan is just so adorably awkward. Alan! He just called himself your boy, I think you can move in a bit more than a head pat.

How does Charlie know the powers will return to the original person if he dies??? I have many questions.

Awww Dean is back.

Sigh. These boys and the locker room. It’s a shared space!

I firmly dislike the pet names “mama” and “papa.” Mike Pence calls his wife “mother” and I am annoyed I am reminded of that man during a gay sex scene. If you have to go there, can’t you call him daddy? And Charlie… why not something like “mon sauvage" (in ode to that tattoo of his)… it’s sexy, it’s French for “my wild one" or "my savage one" in English, depending on the context. Or just call him your goddess. That’s pretty accurate.

How much longer do I have to wait for Alan and Jeff to kiss? Or Korean Kim and… anyone? Or Way and Mr Pete? Or our cute bloggers Sonic and North? I need more couple action.

[bacony-cakes]

Corpulent, medal-covered president of a brutal dictatorship: I need to get the name of my nation on the dirty western pig internet. Soldiers! March in exact unison along this road from my coastal presidential palace to the revolutionary square in the middle of Carlos Juan Raul Hector Diego de la Cavallería Escribano Rodríguez City, which i named in honor of myself! We will surely be on the lips of weird right-wing virgin incels across the continental United States! I, of course, will be sitting in my Cavalleríamobile, in the middle of your formation, pinning more medals to my chest and smoking like the houses of my political rivals, as i have done every time in this parade for the last thirty two years.

Honest Dan, the former used car salesman: I am very glad that the government of the Free Democratic Republic of Embargostan has granted me an official blood diamond-encrusted commendation plaque of my recently completed exact replica of the Broughton suspension bridge right here on this road between President Diego de la Cavallería's three million square foot palace and the centre of the only major city on the island. I'm almost certain it will last a very long time and carry many people safely over this deep river, even if it only cost me fifteen pence and a cheese sandwich to buy the materials for it. In fact, it was shockingly easy to get permits to do this, like some outiside force was wanting me to do it, even. But so what, anyway?

Special operations unit consisting entirely of anthropomorphic shark women: (incredibly hornily) do you hear the marching coming closer yet

[monsteroftheweekpodcast]

Hey Chris and Jeremy ! This is my first ever ask on Tumblr and the second time I've written into a podcast.

I'm very late to the party but I'm enjoying it nonetheless (this is about the pod in general, but also Supernatural). Still His Kingdom Keeps was recommended to me towards the end of last year when I'd literally just started my own Merlin rewatch ! Feeling quite alone during my first year of uni the Merlin rewatch was necessary, and it was great to meet and get to know you guys !! As someone who is a sad nerd, I really enjoyed your company (although I was quite horrified when you revealed how old you both were in one ep lol. The thought of me (a 20 year old girl) laughing her tits off at home alone to two middle(?) aged American men, really weirded me out. You'll be glad to hear that my friends all disagreed with this), because I must always create parasocial relationships with my fave podcast hosts :)

Anyway, I got to the end of SHKK and couldn't really part ways with you guys, and obvs heard you mention the Supernatural pod, so thought I'd hop on over to that. I've never seen any of Supernatural, but being in fandom I knew of Destiel. As I type this, I'm listening to ep.30 which is part way through season 4, so I'm making moves ! I don't know if I'll end up listening to all the episodes (a lot of people on Tumblr say to stop watching at the end of season 5, so I suppose I could stop there ?) but so far I'm enjoying it so much. I also don't think I'll ever actually watch the show because I'm a pussy and don't like gore/horror etc.

But I just wanted to send a message to let you know how much of a positive effect on people (you've heard it before, and no one will read this, but I wanted to put my two pence in !). It's stupid how much joy you bring and how much love I have for you. And who knows, maybe I'll get round to Non Human Biologies, even though again, I've never seen X-Files.

I never know how to end these...

Oh, I will also say, I adore the outtakes (kinda wish more pods I listen to did this !) even though AGAIN I know nothing about video games, anime/manga. I just like hearing you guys chat :)

Thanks for helping to make a dull girl's, dull life a bit brighter <3

Much love, Molly xx (she/her, 20, from UK)

Alright so first off, Chris isn't middle aged. Or at least he wasn't when we started (since then I've stolen all his youth).

Second: there's SO MUCH good Supernatural after S5 don't listen to the haters.

Finally, thank you SO MUCH for the kind words. It means so much to Chris and I when we get messages like this. Its still WILD to me that our dumb podcast about hunks (they're ALL about hunks) can have such an effect on people. We love you so much!!!! AHHHHHHH

[my-castles-crumbling]

I think we just went on a date? Maybe?

I’m a little confuffled to be honest. Also, is confuffled not a word? For some reason i really thought it was. Doesn’t matter though, the point is, I think me and Daisy might’ve just gone on a date. 

Oh yeah, it’s Purple anon btw.

So it’s like 11:30pm where I am now, and I spent the latter part of the afternoon and then the evening with her and now i’m lying in bed something just hit me.

We hang out a lot. Last year, when I came out to my parents, it got awkward. I got mad they didn’t accept me and they got mad that I was doing this to them when they’ve been so perfect to me, and so I decided not to go with them on our family holiday. I thought a bit of space would do us good. 

Usually, when we go on a family holiday my dad takes me to arcades. No matter how old you are, you should always love an arcade. But I haven’t been to one in a while, since I skipped out on the holiday and it felt dumb to travel to somewhere just for an arcade. 

Anyway, i’ve been stressed with revision and last week Daisy had asked me to make sure i was free this evening for something she had planned she wanted to do with me. That’s not uncommon of course. So today, at 4, we left our place and she took me to this park we love to go to. She used to try and feed the ducks here, but she took me once and I told her off for feeding them bread. I bought her duck food and now every four months or so we go out and feed the ducks. 

(I made enemies with this swan though- it’s a long story).

So, we fed the ducks and then she dragged me on this train, kinda far, to this city. Where she’d found an arcade. An arcade with all the games I love playing. (A mix of old fashioned arcade games like pac-man, skill games like mini-basketball, and childish two-pence machines- gotta have them all). 

I had the best night. It was amazing. 

(I won a bunch of tickets and got her this cute bear she’d been eying since we walked in… she blushed and got all cute). 

And then after we’d been there a while she took me to this restaurant i’ve been craving recently (it’s a chain and the one near us closed down recently, I must’ve mentioned missing it). 

The funny thing is I don’t even remember telling her I missed the arcade. That I really wanted something to calm me down at the moment, and that I wanted something silly like an arcade. 

It didn’t occur to me until I got in the shower once we were home, like an hour ago, and thought about the day. Not only did she notice all the things I missed, and tried (and succeeded) to make me this lovely day to cheer me up, but… it wasn’t exactly like we usually do things. 

Maybe i’m reading too much into it, it’s probably dumb to think she’d be into me anyway. It’s just, I like to think i’m observant (I got A and her partner together- and they were being STUPID- also the fact that she actually wrote you? Sneak, didn’t even tell me she had some old tumblr account) and I thought it felt different than usual.

But it’s stupid. It was weird cause I had the most fun i’ve had in a while and I felt really at ease, in a way I haven’t really when it comes to things to do with my parents lately. 

I know you said i’m “going to have to face their lack of acceptance for me at some point” and knowing A she probably told you my family are assholes or something, and you’re probably both right. 

Logically I know the way they’re treating me isn’t right. But I don’t know what the right way for me to treat them is? 

They’re still my support system. I still call my mum when i’m sad and my dad when i’ve broken something. And if I blow up on them now, they might not come back. I don’t know if i’m ready to be… alone. 

At least in that regard. 

But I don’t know, since i’ve been talking about it recently. With you, and A. It’s made me look out for it I guess. Have you seen heartstopper before? You know when Charlie and Nick have cute little moments and the little artsy flowers and leaf’s flow around them, and there’s little sparks in the air, it was like that.

Except maybe it was only like that for me. Maybe she didn’t feel anything at all. 

And my aunt, my mum told her about me when I came out to my parents. My mum basically just told the whole family. I thought she’d be cool since she’s a lot more modern than my parents. But she said to me i’d fuck up all my friendships and ruin my future if I jumped to conclusions and got crushes on my friends. Her husband, my uncle, he said it was assault, to view them like that. 

I don’t even think I view them like anything, you know, given i’m demi I barely even think about sex with people, so I guess it says something about where his head goes. 

And no matter how many times I have this conversation with people, they always end it saying they know only a man will fall in love with me and me with him and eventually I will “do it right”. 

I don’t know if I have a James Potter in me to channel, to be honest. But A, she always tells me that my doubts come from people whose opinions I know are wrong, so I should try and remember her words when i’m freaking out. Given she’s always right and all (at least that’s what she claims). 

So I don’t know, is it weird if I ask Daisy if it was a date? A very small part of me thinks it was supposed to be and I missed the memo. 

And if that’s the case then I really kinda suck.

ALSO DID I MENTION SHE HELD MY HAND!!!

I can hide my emotions damn well but the one thing I cannot hide is my blush, it’s very annoying. We were walking from the arcade and chatting about how much fun it was, she was picking a name for that bear I won her, and she laced our fingers together. 

SEE! Date behaviour right? Plus, the restaurant was quiet and she seemed happy and kinda nervous the whole time.

But what if i’m wrong? She’s a touchy person, maybe she just wanted contact. 

She’ll be so weirded out if I ask and then i’m wrong and it’ll be like- like my parents are right and i’m the weird one, like they say I am, bothering my friends and pressuring them. 

I don’t know. God I feel like i’m just shoving a bunch of shit on you now. It shouldn’t feel like this, because writing about Daisy, it’s easy, she’s beautiful and funny and adorable and literally the kindest person I know, but as soon as I try and explain how i’m feeling, my parents come up and then i’m suddenly being weird.

I guess that says something huh? Shit, maybe I need therapy. 

Ugh, who has the time though? “Therapy is for the weak hearted” - a quote courtesy of my parents. Though then again i’m not supposed to listening to them, am I? Damn, it’s like living on a seesaw in my mind or something, always going back and forth.

(also i’m totally half way thru a breakdown cause i just spent like 3 min searching up the word jigsaw again and again cause it felt wrong… before I remembered they’re called seesaws… so yeah)

AHHHHH the update I've been waiting for! Okay.

Hahaha yeah, A wrote to me. We're conspiring to get you together with Daisy :D

As far as your family....family is hard. I think it's possible for them to love you AND be homophobic assholes. I think it's possible for you to have had a great childhood AND not be supported now. But I just feel like you need to work on accepting that they're not as perfect as they seem, because if you don't, you might miss out on an opportunity to be with Daisy.

Okay, I need you to read this so carefully. If this wasn't a date, I need to seriously reevaluate so many things in my own life. Because YES this was a date.

Ask her. Ask her if it was a date!!! Please!!

(Also therapy=good. Ignore what your parents said.)

[wamtorical]

January 1898

Jemima wasn't nervous for school. She knew her mother worried for her wellbeing, but the world was about to become a lot more interesting and Jemima couldn't wait to meet more children her age. She'd already introduced herself to Minnie and Walter Reed, children of family friend and practically second aunt, Alma. They were nice, but slightly too co-dependant on each other; they were twins, after all. It was enough to make her feel left out.

The youngest of the Miller household next door was poor old Leonard Miller. Only a single year older, Leonard harnessed a very peculiar physical attribute - much like herself - in the form of what her mother called a 'lazy eye'. When Jemima heard about this, she was eager to meet the boy but to her disappointment, he did not return her wishes. She later found out Leonard despised going outside and letting anyone but his siblings see him, which Jemima couldn't understand whatsoever, but respected it nontheless. She would see him at school anyways. Other than them and Leonard's slightly older sister, Samantha, that was about it when it came to Jemima's friendships. She had two younger brothers to keep her entertained, after all.

Actually being there was a lot more daunting than she'd thought. Unfamiliar faces surrounded the building, all early and eager to learn - or rather making friends, as Jemima herself wasn't too excited to study anyhow. Not everyone was there, so she assured herself that the only reason the place was stacked with boys at the current time was because all the other girls had yet to arrive. And then she heard a voice calling after her.

"Hey, look!"

"Are you a burn victim?" the blonde boy sneered. Jemima had come to the realisation that this was, most likely, what her mother had feared most.

"N-no ..." She mumbled in response.

"That's enough, Luke! You promised mother you'd behave!" the brunette (and seemingly his brother) next to him said, rising to her defense.

"Where's the fun in that?"

"That's obscene!" shouted the girl in the pink dress from across the grounds. Whilst Jemima had her supporters, the sheer amount of giggles that came out of Luke's remark didn't go unheard.

Just as he was about to talk back and undoubtedly throw another insult at her, Ms. Allenborgh - their full-time teacher - appeared from what seemed like thin air. Or maybe everyone was just too distracted to notice her arrival.

"Will someone be so kind as to inform me what's going on here?" Ms. Allenborgh asked, raising her voice so to announce her presence. That got him to shut up.

~~

Cedric (as she'd soon learn was his name) offered to sit next to her, and after he'd come to her defense Jemima found it hard to say no. He seemed a nice boy, anyways.

"I'm terribly sorry about my brother. He's always causing mischief - I hope you weren't too effected by his words."

She stayed silent and pondered to herself, asking the same question. It came out of nowhere, that was for sure, but something inside Jemima churned uncomfortably. She couldn't let this stupid, ignorant boy get to her. In fact, it was embarassing to think that while he stood and ridiculed her, she did nothing. No; Jemima Pence would not let this boy hurt her feelings, and he would not ruin her first day of school. Not on her or anyones watch.

📜 next / previous / first

[libidomechanica]

By my soft names in

A ballad sequence

               Stanza the First

Reason that were thou dove-like help!     Even if I put on convict lies. Wit learned well. Love     gives itself in Presence.

               Stanza the Second

So wistfully at the coal fire.     On you: two cotton strips racing to his numbers he the     fierce tears thou wert wont to

roam, thy hyacinth hair, and fear—     plagued with me as with his fire, while the bird wherewith bruzd     his brows. And when you remains,

not to be the battle array,     ready of wit, and iust excuse of this excess might     within, where the pipes it

shuttles through doorways, sometimes in     the dusty drill: we banged the dew-slick grass, then shall decline     my heart that walks wild-eyed

and day: and crooked at the morning     to you. And then all the sky? Pursue: night and day. And     all eares her lulling

from the blue larkspur, with that     oftentime great clymbe to skye, that full heart alike conceiv’d with     yesterday it poured, and

spake a dame in her lips towards something;     then Himself in Stellas beames, and ready yellow     leaf drifting itself out,

a long to stay. And you as a     woman’s yet, told thee but by the heart is lord of grace she     glides her two hundred years

…. With it the musk that which to heal     his sight, nor Captain of God and bright deeds like a wild lake,     without the keeper …. Soothe

him when his soul’s strife, when the lines     and feeble foes: what do such matter. Which of my soul, nor     lift my hand! Give to say

to you as a beast with me a     bit of costliest nard. Re-cement on living day, what     is it?—When six braw

gentlemen kirkward shall decline my     heart; I said that braine of heau’nly Child, gaue her Ambrosian     pap, and the crest of ancient

faith so sure I? The bonie Lass     of Albany. Body of skin, beamy eyes thy heart, my     lassie, erewhile

thus to covert creep; the sun after     dying of the Maple warre: and the green. And then he     sawe thilke same dream, while or

two with lullaby, my younglings,     fearing nought be, simple, as a lonely: wherein was standing     in the act. I’ll not

persuade me go to the arrow     forehead sitteth, and everybody sees a wolf whose chin     was, in fact only the

Queen of vapour from those love their     tender heart, which the same that others burn’d, did her but     Mine eyes could pull from Sin?

               Stanza the Third

And in it lies deepe, they hang a     man: the breath that sweet flowers also in heavens fill with     the air, those disgrace, roll’d

in vain; like Daphne she, as loved.     Well eyed, as a lover’s eyes and fluttered the rainbows of     the world began to be

gone. Let breake your pypes shepheards,     true, the wife is: thou art more hath mo pence; thou art a ladde:     with the Governor was

lying in thee are already     with that heaven itself divine in me: how can you couldn’t     sing anyway towards me,

guess I may be done, the fridge, on     thy charge? Past whip, past my praise, that delves thee releasing; my     bonds in the ringing along

the last the keen-edged flavour,     which he leaves that God’s sweet Te Deums of the Mark, and brick. So     they sang, for in it till

the sun and too bold, I erred in     the general and the towers and makes the knife. In vision     I ask’d why? And a burning

wind my Spectre around us     both, two outcasts always open half is his murmur,     snarling at the woe the

deep, the slender finger-nail on     the bonie white birch, glinting to make here. Mated with something     was dropped and shuddering

cloud is scattered from History; the     gloom crept till each tongue was the sun now if they cannot take     me any summer roses

proclaim it the prison air;     the sun a sheet of gold bequeathed the other Prophets than     one more death’s conquest got.

               Stanza the Fourth

Creeps with a strong, it has a pall,     the frailest for your voice forms a two-part canon? Well—’t     is well if he did leaue

nothing from thee his Pride and some     passions cramp’d scroll freshening and luminous with them, seem to     recall for long. Love, which

we dwelled mine could give a nameless     fear, to chafe o’ermuch the first to go again after light     of my woman, which crawling

on the fishes as the learned’s     wing and takes the cloud line carrying their words and view,     are loth to me, because

of lower feelings—she herself,     and love but the dusk of their due place was darke but when ye     lyst, ye iolly she was

the morning peeps and the fleshy     principalities; show me than a cycle of Cathay.     Make worms thine my heart, who

am not invite the shepheard,     some do the drunken bee out of his weight; and some Hercules     to be a foreigner

in a big houseleek’s head to     hear that I am old, so long he stood in tears that I     am only giving

in my life provide than public     fault that bought, to which they bene yclad in purple through,     fix’d me a breath tonight!

               Stanza the Fifth

Do: for I know you as a root or seedling there,     later, we could not love brings holy hylles to be romantic, my dearest, wilt thou     fairest maid on Death was built their jingling

keys opened wide, they are no otherwise, until     Max’s hind legs stop twitching he loved but you are the question’d those feet might be better     men bene all misgone, they ne’er a

ane to peer her. And in hue could tell it backwards,     true, begin that delves the though cloth’d in all ioyes, dost rob my ioyes from crime, perhaps from its     home of chess won’t do, or the fridge, on

the bottom of the soft silver by. And I know     it the May of my woman, she shall burn the light. Have thy feeble cry. Can chaunge my cheek,     in truth,—though I did not wring his

caresses you stole feet we could pour my secrete with     lower feeling skill, sayne most what, the peepers as they scourge the watery face in the     mind the horse is nought. Did Helen’s breast.

               Stanza the Sixth

Their folding in posterity.     An illusion, a stay against thine eagles beare, that leads     to leave my youth sublime than public manners breasts beneath     thy divine by loving, and smote on the village. And what     hunted, and of May, singing

through verdurous glooms and his     spirit wander the habit, hat, and learned man could take     thy heart, my lassie, erewhile thus to cosset, nurse,     and placing a rumpled crimson is a fairy tales of     Kent: till with eyes best for

my pardon, I am all as     which the glow-worm lend the gray mocked thee: who faileth one is     harm’d, and fan her woe: and ouer the hands were near, had reach’d the     Lambe in the Spring a watch him with a sword! Great clymbe to     skye, that spends her thou dost

lord my heart, leaving then from heaven     had spent all perfect ceremony of love, and     thankfulness of the night were if each other’s life in each of     youth doth the hair, white veil; a red balloon bursting in my     face. Feel upon his lungs,

which you’ll find it the open wing     of their babes to recall which prison-cell or yard, is as     that trickling stremis adowne the Vision of these antics     were the Lord, and bitter incense paired butterflies are roll’d     in vain; like Daphne she,

disdain, your looks with thy divine     suffice to show the same,— and this thine heart’s content thy will;     bearing nought be moved, and speech falles now time to be chiefe,     and arts with the scrubbed, sheenless wood of thee, and in quest to     have tried to reel, and almost

nothing came before my selfe,     shall I repine? True defining. The moon’s and every eye     but mine own love’s eye be true, begin that made incomplete,     a bottles clinking to do, deceiving elf. And therefore,     my dark heart, my lassie,

in grace she hides and they shall I     love you. Her closer than maidens are. Buys for him not to     ask his mouths purchase fame: I now the angels lay: and crossing     against the eyes are heavy; think to call my fancy;     what is so oft bynempt.

               Stanza the Seventh

I want to live like a year who has got no name.     Are wakened. Or childhood were contenting. Is it well might did not pain enough to     undo the Amorous heart, where Max

lives at numberless, that music: Do I wake or     slow-worm bite thee, instead: he had many, poor worm and the moon were paper-thin plates, glasses,     the boy who shall shine more then worst,

I shall outlive this festive day, and dwell in white.     In lifting itself for ornament and have learned from Tankards scooped in Pearl.-Time, o’er-     spreads her threshold of my yeeres much

decline my heart in the act. Nor evermore. The     poor dead was Hope. And drop into the future far away, it eats the lamp within and     out of thy songs were embrace, not vsde

to frame of others’ works out, this is what I never     known, though too weak a wash of crimson petals spilled a rose full sweetly did she speak     to herself, yet to her form some image

of this Chapel was built in the self-same way,     christ bring younglings, and I as a noble gas floated free of attachment. That sithens     shepheard sometime they neede not Melampode:

for three long result of my soule, thou their heart,     you love me now. No things thee so appall? Fled is that they have loved and test! For which in     the gold bought and argued with a bitter

incense hangs upon a hyll, the unnamed boy     I fear they filled, in your approach, perhaps for kissing his wife not so tickle: and the     stinking at them shend: they bene to

help me as when low hangs upon the sheet I smell     anise, the thought each on each tongue was thine ten times? But what’s the land and round the dead soul     euen in the proofe of Beauties Queene. In

others pay which in all her life’s flower in ancient     days when dead night of those who watched him o’er the wager wonne or lost? Though the narrow     cell in pride and so my patent back

again. Two small legs and a continues for me.—     Then hey, for a minutes crawl: o moaning wind, not her blushing was dropped and sand by the     place, hauing no such matter of a horse,

a shield. While my flocke did feede there was not exempt—     truly, she heard the promise made no sign, we said no word, we trod the Folding and love     by charms my mind; angels, whence comfort

scorn’d of devils! It cries to weep, hers could make an     Eden of my sweet smell of different window a funnel of yellow hole gaped mouth     he drank his quart of beauty cannot

keep her lustrous garb with lips of clay for which must     be: first, I shall decline my mournful surges that held the kingly tribute take. Where is     not the white veil; a red balloon bursting

in my face; with lullaby. The stark and speech     do liue, though the same dreams do not get far was they endure, and light footstep of demirep     some savage and Shah summon’d, and,

subtly sifting on the boy’s head grew a fire     beneath that Muse stirr’d by the growth of weeds. Could care betray thee, thus, thus matcht, were we: the     foresayd from which with bared scalpe, an

Eagle sored hye, that e’en thy charge? Alas, haue     I not Honour me or it: then what bought him vp without the waters, but nothing     Then think not the rain cups by the tongue.

               Stanza the Eighth

Fade far as Cho-fu-Sa. Thy purple     twilight in one’s heart, who am not and now long-needy     Fame doth euen grow cold.

               Stanza the Ninth

At Maud in all her splendour. A     breath tonight, perhaps the heavy; think upon my motions     burning winding Devon, winding mossy ways. No part us,     leaves. Is lust in the

priefe there vigor barely contained,     but in music we know before the rosebuds steeping!     And probably a million— drawered cherrywood cabinet     that is thy body’s end?

               Stanza the Tenth

Breathing and cold to the musk that     heavens fill with cold and faith dost most oppresse; vngratefulness!     Heard swayne, come vp those

thou stayed so long ago; lust of     gloom and each other a million fighters for the leafless     bowers we shed for blood

run upwards from love, from below,     but only she was sick, old ere your own true defining.     The word. The boate for it

alone. Who tempt, and sold. A breathe     his body into his foly one did fall, and stronger     faith of deede, ready of

wit, and sunburnt mirth! Pull of dewy     wine, no eye with his hands: striving all red muscle,     hummingbird! Whither life which

is worse than like a troubadour     in search of mud and sheepe the Altars hallowing, and the     great or little thing heart

of Ruth, when frae her throne, quiet     nest, conscious grew, your husband from the earth’s return and rabid,     and strike up and down

to love, they’ve passed to thy rest; since     now at length he perisheth on the Rhine yield such plenty     beets the Records of day;

they whose deep vermilion in the     mountains topped with laughter’s heels. And the sheet—crushed like asp with     a tranquil night is that

waits for fool and knave, till by his     dishonour raise, that soft- luring creatures we desires,     lest thy coin, for some wheeled

in smirking pairs: with iron heel     it slays the streets, staircases, hallways—perhaps from home—mother,     can I now expectation,

wear are figures, as this:     hath their boots. Puts on pants he fast, with April’s first shepheards     welth: when folke bow: of foes

the stage who with rope of shame, and     arms to me as laughter’s heart of existence beat for     evermore. A bloomy pair

of vermeil cheeks need blood; in the     next, to her all the discordant melody that faced my     three-plank bed, and a light,

or give our anguishments and care     betrays upon that lo’es me, as dews o’ summer long, it     has acres o’ charms could

not freely stir all parts which I     compile, whose baleful ardor burn, and the rules and fearing     nought.—Nor Love—although the

rolling thro’ the Heaven-ward Foot     may dare to mount—The Head that greeny flowers also in     heaven and earth, even

so, Belovëd, I at last ride     with thee naked for a river gleams, as if Diana,     in heart thy self-contempt!

               Stanza the Eleventh

Might will glance apace. Just like traveling dog and unnamed     it leads men to the yard that with face vnarmed marcht, either Sun nor Moon. Garden bed     that though thou flew’st most shall speak to herself, yet to her knee, had not be restord by time.     Like wind said: Across a city from the lingers, and learn, too late. As you and mee: I     pyne for payne, or there were sun or clime?

               Stanza the Twelfth

Time, I had a good collection.     But Colin only looked upon the grave at all: only     a sequel, after you,

you pace for it so hard I’ve dark     night will lend thee. Hast thou to me, trust me, cousin Amy,     speak, and I saw for he

had to die. There is solid, like     fat, breath th’ Atlantic roar. And the blind men come their     flocks at will, till safe and

siller canna buy; we may be     poor—Robie and wanton thru the flesh by the quaking breast     doth live, as the first, thus

the quiet-coloured eve smiles of     Eden lying strangers. For all men kill the junior highschool     playground. On her pall

upon the burnt vn’wares his shield.     For what cloudes, hey ho seely shepheards sayd he there would     win nor mermaid’s yellow

darling at the end of evening     by gladly? So much with blot of a name to, else that I     follow thoughts, which paine recouers,

but as thirty-one this, so     might stretch out like those Lockes display: she, so divine, made     so fair and still for him—

he asks no more a windy night     I have still, and, you away. Breast, from the wet scent of my     wit to make the iolly

shepeheards bene theyr Pan theyr     weede. Riches where Love his passion shall still. If silence is     more waking dressed the throng’d

with green hen in the boy walks this     was written love letters, poems, and a continual     change. Yet I doubt not the

dark, and he bears a laden breathed     his brothers blest—but welcome, proud people talking, but Sorrow     and saw, with fur in

a rabbit’s burrow or nest for     my possesse him as he crept into again. What word of     your coonskin hat. And her

talking into cataracts. Have     you here, why choose. If thou canst pour from the queen o’ womankind.     There had crossing against

the dark thee cumber: what thou     pine wit. If each other for stealing up for her loved accents     of inspiration

of the universary, a     dinner to half the swollen purple round my couch with thy     dainty Lucia. Tis Love,

your leg between, Still wouldst thou return     and lively tone, and close, drove the watch bled bad blood to     Life’s appointed dart, and

walk your memory’s halls, austere,     supreme a Lot! So is it not better judgment fled, that     sawe hys makers face, ere

we are out of force to withstand,     the crowd, releasing; my bonds in thee their poesy     Thee, and at every part.

               Stanza the Thirteenth

Suitcases checked and dost advance     as high as learnings spade. Because the moon were as moonlight—     quick-changing, slow-nodding,

breath in his furious eyes: and     sheep, leaf and with me that braine not pointing might be most trouble     dry. They bene hale

enough too well if she can break     my heart is far too wan, or the Love his pall. From only     cruell worse then the hurt that

wanted to grasp at all. There are     turn’d—her bosom friendly sigh for his own coffin, as he     slept, and mind from the river

Kiang, please let me, true in loveless     bought him vp without a work divine sufficiencies     these thou dove-like I see

my Oread coming down a daughter.     To be dead; lastly, safely buried deep because of     thy happy love, by all

forget how, for thyself so language     feels impossible and thence take his face forth, I rise     above my head. My cousin,

all those sweete Violets there: pale     Anguish slopes of vermeil cheeks need spraying, that everything.     Along with belts of

glittering day, what means the whiter     blow. I grant I may be, myself, who did thy honour me     or industry. Which of

my yeeres much decline my heart,     let otherwise, until Max’s hind legs stop twitching and flowers.     Are ridiculous.

And never tell the nights better,     drives than The Wise. A running in a suit of a novel,     book he’s put down, and perplext

her and perplext her animal     and then the wardrobe; the man had killed the time away.     With those fleshy princes,

shall Stellaes ioyful face, ere we     lay: and each evil sprite that in the judgment making a     fuller crimson lurks in

the judgment that taught they give in;     I do not knowing, comes and ready in her gracelesse     hast, yet is his mourn. They

mocked the turret when the loud, sunset     through each helped us at our prayed, we grew afraid of that     leads the Law that he purchast

of me beloued, you see, to     distinction in this hell. Anthea bade me I am     old, so loue is a

curious, preaching near, till by his     soul’s strife is mixed: the moors was only troubled and down to     hear that mine will soon reach.

               Stanza the Fourteenth

Ye heare of one dawn grew my tongue     stilled with gloom, and the receives a brazen fame, when shall we     returning lime, that

everywhere, the guilty of blood? Is     full of dewy wine, robin’s lost in the raines which yet men     die miserably every

man eaten by teeth of flame, in     burning, mellow moons and half is thine ten times hath Love in     special, in the evening

by gladly? For rage now rules and     regular, splendour. Something to figures, as this: hath the     Nighting upwards from singing

of a mighty wing the problem     scrunched into the vault where in the junior highschool playground.     Songs were living from

time to their due place is run. I     only knew what hope to shew my love a white birch, glinting     thy foe, to thy high state

recouers, but welcome hame fair     Albany. Blind eyes loll white hawthorn, and leap the rabid wolf     whose solitary pastures

where a little Tippler leaning     my Stella alone with his brother’s way: but when in     the witelesse herdgroome.

               Stanza the Fifteenth

Can I part her from trouble dry.     I’ll be together at the flames, my heart, you love me now     with your souls shall begin

to speak of flowers it is to     be chiefe pride of this and thence could not cover the evening     by the dangerous guides

the West. Like an arrow out, hey     ho the Sunnye beame so sore doth breed, but, in embalmed darkness,     guess thy lofty claim only

a stretch out like return: still     find room even in earnest of thyself thou hast such     entertainment need, so may

your tongue that I then hey, for a     river gleams, as if Diana, in her eye. In spring     from an abandoned arm

toward the quietly leaves that sittes     on yonder heard trewe, yet none knew that I in purple     round and sure, not new fire—

my mistress, side by side. For we     did not pass in storm piles up. Did not Love said so well, Your     wisedomes golden

ring that men have ears in vain the     fretful realm in awe, and Sleep will not like ice needs the topaz,     opal, calcedon.

               Stanza the Sixteenth

Praise, and at gaze like slaue-borne Muscouite,     I call in shiny black, braced for wearing they do not     get far with joined the other

about the love of nature     to have, extreme; a bliss here a man who had to me like     the brittle birds, how can

Love’s hate behind. Ah, my beloved,     fill their triumphs and tempting pleasure, but Sorrow and     sand that taught them aside

the working out. We had no word,     the crown for which to resound: ye carelesse grief are, and     pretentious, it scarce sustaine

thy young girl who starves sits     down the morning of Flora and thy cruel fair: to dance to     violins when the limb,

low above abasement, old     naked to laugh, and they took his fine with adder fight, when     I sleep, powers lie folded

in the sheet I smell anise,     the brooks, not with your feet of lead make worms that warp us     from the Almighty wind

arises, roaring machinist     at his flocke therefore art enforced to see how men that seat     of grass never again

forgive you, and only the Queen     of Egypt melted, and smiling love doth my younglings, and     withers there on through a

murderer’s collar take his sourse,     who now command the monarch and her whisper through a little     kissable month endows

the green, and they the breast, who     practices turtle. Such coltish yeeres; that thee to say     the Falls look like photographs,

and all the while the world-wide     whispered low, that feele my brand new-fired, there is a     great sculptor—so, you,

reconcil’d, shall grow bad, and Fate will     glance apace. In Reading Clyde there would be. Before their hearts     to die, poison can break

my heart-flame of that glory that     towered around him of his deede. Thee, as a lovely shepheards     bee and with downcast

head, and liued in lowly leas: and     shaking dream? Or heroes, kings. And was wondered if each could     heaven just put down, like

wind through the houses of might march     on nor beauties so diuine ravisht, staide here a grave duly.     How dear I have becomes

there. The little frightened marshes     hear from a recurrent of the skidmarks of yore, that spends     her thought! He burning wind!

               Stanza the Seventeenth

When I came from the wet scent of     blood and wide, the dead man walked, without you—so many sweet     some vial; treasure clog

him, and draws it from the nail gripped     on pointed tread: but welcome hame fair ladies, by hard prowde,     that leads the Lass of

Albany. With joined hand drown his head,     and her work boots as she is something coy, keep close of day;     rage, rage against the self-

same way. Did discern’d, we, fix’d so,     ever reaping sound the mincing step of lost libertie is     gone for my sake do you

wide open wings, a breath not so     vigorously he might not go free, ah! Common shower.     There are chiefe, and comes to

mind that I should strange Tryanic power     like not of hers, those disgrace, roll’d in vain—in some fierce     things her wishes crown of

sorrow’s crown, that rights not outweigh     a lovely sheepe like it and yet more near. Call a bird-     understand henceforward

in thee growing coarse-mouthed Doctor     gloats, and her woe: the worst of all I said that frown aside,     and never saw sad men

who tramp the yard that he had caught     in lead, move right of Albany. Sin in the shadow I     wither, now for me the

dreary dawn; and a little birds,     how can your prayed, we grew afraid of her dressed, slid slowly,     slowly, silent in a

last embrace, nor do like horrible     to erase a midnight were if each other whispers     to think the morning peeps

and matrons, upon that little     prized among the matter of the light, if I spoke a wounded     like a wild carrot.

               Stanza the Eighteenth

Every vestige of thine owne fault?     By autumn robbed, by the answer came first, I say, mine eyes     belongs to understander

better is, the many-winter’s     ragged young girls playing with tears, I pray. Nature doth     breed, but I in me am

chang’d, I am aliue and dead,     my feete are the dying of the house, my heart a-keeping?     Like a buttercup and

out of the city, guess thy looks,     as children in clumsy jackets. Lake front property, it     works in, like meteors

and I assure ye even that     reaps not his deede. Yet I doubt to climbe. Then hey, for a kitchen     they: alas that which

happies those three years the first embrace,     nor praise, once thence my nature, of people, in present     for thy faire haire; her face

lies upturned over a pool     in the end of it. Time cannot say that I count the east,     full many wanton base

delighted, and ne’er a ane to     peer. I left the hill; but O for the simplicitie breathing-     while or two. The vilest

deeds like in eche degree, and that     which maids and makes it bleed again! The white there is yellow     hole of life in each! Like

Phœbus thus, acquire in sadness?     Haste, precious plot the faire forehead; the light. And each evil     sprites to enlarge my

worth thy musick mard by a newe     daunce for fear of trust, for the leaves; Still wouldst depart, let no     fair face nor be prest twelve

abreast. For Palinode if thou     to me, a passion joined the storm has prove. Turn thee perfect     shade through envy of thy

charge vniustest tyrannie, if rule by     forced to see till I come. Alas the Sun. These wisardsweltre     in welth, she shouts with truth

there is obsolete. ’ Everything     here is my heart be put to fly have added pressed flocke, which     I cannot beware. In

the meadows low. Then listneth ech     vnto my ample, feverish heart for he who plays Tipperary     to the lesser

man, and the boy who only moves     within weeps incessantly for my bow, or a five year     the Crown, and alien

pen hath got my use and forever     and grey, and a slowly, creeping on the ice chest tiptoe     to read what shalbe mine.

               Stanza the Nineteenth

And you, my fate I know—and wise;     set me in base, or yet in his head toward laughter loud that     gilds the sand, small animals, a weakest flower, little     birds, how can I you recall

the delicate and rills in     undistinguish me! On your kindest uses, thou their hair     and queuing up to the earth. Flowers, and I’ll say the Falls     look like photographs from

off her feet on thine, and all beset     with burden may resume; and with the pastoral     eglantine, which harden his vnderson the squire will be our     true lover, that all the

night I saw the bonie hen, it’s plenty     and peace and love her so well if he did! I said so     well through their hair and queuing up for home. But when I do     croud, and make mad the somber

movement. Tender heardgrome, and     as coy; with lullaby my younglings miswent? In bowers     we shed for all. Blossoms in her eyes where she looked back upon     the boughs, whose straying

heate where the queen o’ womankind,     and thinner than all fancy I awoke; and for Perigot     is well delight, the wild regrets and a spirit in     a sensitive nose, from

the beautiful, unanswerable     questions with most ease and she turn’d it in high degree.     I said thou please, dost thou lay that err from thee; thus the queen     o’ womankind, that watched

him lest himself should help a brother     Themis his brand, and filling his hand in the first hint     of light, stray or stone—where Cupid got new fire—my mistress,     side by her word to say.

               Stanza the Twentieth

Silently we went round my cousin     Amy, speak, and I need have been wending the bloody,     full of force dost daily

proue: no vertue lame; that Plato I     read for love you, you pace for conquest wastes and wide, but straight     his point did spill. I

mistaking; and then stands by her starry     eyes, No hungry generation well thou know’st I love     you more than all songs can

changelings near; and Maud will not     praise, he catch’d with undefiléd Robe to Heaven to wear!     Up the time may come of

men: men, my brow and furrows on     my cheek, in truth committeth. So that good night. Unsuccessful,     was not a choice between

us—it will mock the ravens     on high degree. Come out to thee: I lay on the snow’s     daughter was abhord, the

boy’s head to her knee, had not spoke     the ball that it well might with four garages and signals,     even if the milking

sound ys signe of dreadful things. And     Absál rejoice, a glory I shall find room even in     the new rain rising moon

has hid the alphabet, Logos     appease. Today of past reason’s rule and filling fleece, and     learne to look at your pity

is enough something that only     a movie you smile. In the snow’s daughter. To give up     love, who heaven that which

it sits, the earth. Thy hyacinth     hair, white before, love, without all a solemn fast the coming     down, and impudency

raignes without attaint o’erlook     the deflection. With shadow shade, glittering into     the lamp and remember

that shines. In and she ride, ride     together at the din of existence forbear, nor use a     knife, because her owne. Fu’

is his byre; take thee display: she,     so disheuld bluster! Though I mistake my view; the sway, like     a swarm of fire, befriend

thee. He may all as you to the     glyder, the first foe in the hogs. Thou doest but clatter: harme     may come out to this fair

gift in me like the dead seaman’s     knell. As he that Perigot, I left the robin’s lost in     play, but I could make his

hands, as do those desires, lest     thou gav’st me chop, but yet another souls shall be; thou art     pouring spells to speak out.

               Stanza the Twenty-first

Went by murmuring spells to sport     he hurl’d; but thine own bud buriest thy anxious parent as     if to a part: thou please,

dost thou, my fate. Hey ho Bonibell,     tripping wall is high, when in dead nights better thou wouldest     me: but love. The Crown,

and Antony resides must be     sleep, when valiant Errour guides the Knot: for thy face to face     in some return and rain.

Me truly; love is so oft bynempt.     While that burden my hair then the light and gay, a martial     song like the terror

of his rest. The narrow foreheads,     vacant of our fashion of a dream. Caught in the dark sea-     line looking in the place

could not known that feeds on men, and     Antony resides in lowly playne ouerture? Your generous     earth do scorn. Speak not,

she will give a grand political     dinner to half the sapphire with my toes wind to     say it Cuddie, fresh and body

marred. Beauty might use; such is     that they are not Helen, I think, this world rush’d by on bamboo     stilts, playing heart, let

other crest; in the kindly am     served, I would thy shadows number. I was left its     memory, with the Sun. And

only the phantom years, for ever     old yet never came from fair Twinnes golden Diademe:     the foremost the day! A

bloomy pair of vermeil cheeks need     spraying, that sands one’s cell, and they shall be loved ones, anyone     who lives the rain to

thy rest again. But he looks are     coy and woe long age in the hair, first inadvertent brush     of breath; will not wake at

dawn! And thy worth did in tract of     the sky, or they filled with her eye. You hold them yet. And up     and still the white face, but

welcome hame fair ladies, by hard     prowde, that with the fasten’d to that good night win or hold a     fretful realm in awe, and

ioy therein the caves. And what hunted     thou art more noble and fearing Venus gloue, ioue on     me doth blow the answer.

               Stanza the Twenty-second

Hey ho pinching stem—save that today     my memories! Or as the crescent promise that had     been already yellow

hole of life, in thine eyes thy slaue,     and helpe, doe me, and sold. The bird and feet like a wounded     in the kindest uses,

thou this? Nor that wanted me, if     I should it look and live? Of a wild lake, without attaint     o’erlook the dedicated

music, you gavest me there.     As thou wert most oppresse; vngratefull, who is neither milk-     white seal. Your several

million leaves hast never, I     returning-steel we felt the middle of being, haste to blow!     With midnight long I could

none but paine. To make their graves, and     her word? My whole heart’s content, with lullaby, my young girl     with the painted light in

Humanity,—are free so indeed     thought. My sheepe the sores she holds in her ruddiest hours, a     breath had caught us in

its snare. While fauour fed my hope, delight     within thy breast a fiecer Gripe doth stay! This continues     for eyes, ropes on the

lawn, the boy for trial needs in nature     craueth sleepe doe closed eyesight poring over heath and sea     and sky do melt as loved.

               Stanza the Twenty-third

—Having known to a table she     with his world. They thinks that trickling teares did often: after     a pleasant meadow-

land, their fasting of the squire will     stand henceforward let us range, let the fleece, and plaints     did often: after a

time so sordid and me as one     who watched you like a song neuer was an hour atones?     In vision I ask’d why?

               Stanza the Twenty-fourth

Always with fetters if there in     the warmth he gave, because I love hath deserving not the     jingling keys opened wide,

all the dark cloud that my name receives     a brazen fame, when leaped aside. Am I to be     sick and quick like a casque

of scorching stem—save that are like     ice needs the true, as heaven’s air: let thy fading vnto my     ample, feverish heart

is not thro’ me left me without     all a solemn fast the sound of a burro. Kind and so     goes on yawning leer, each

side a learned from Tom&Jerry,     and as coy; with numbered not. And broils root or think, this glory-     garland round, and heard

mought but if they cried, The world unseen,     doth trust in the foolish passion shall speak and mother     bends her thee with something

warm, with a clown, and the elves also,     we went round and roll the mournful head, taking slowly,     slowly, creeping prisoners

call my art and day like a vine.     It is sweet and fluttering word, the light is a-cold; come     hither, not her, there were

the piercing levin, that so sweet     unto your starry eyes, like tiles for a chance he might I     do croud, and languid and

breast though I was a lover’s eyes     dote, what is theyr wonted way, for none can explain it. Why     do ye weep, sweetest prison

air; the slewe me with tempests     all flower is first did with shadow’s form form happy love,     abiding love it will

but felt the flies; they were lying,     hidden from Female love and make myselfe beleeue that which mans     mind destroys, and that breake

your time—nearer wayes I known; to     see each other thresh, their frail deeds, that the fretful briar     will be over; and Maud

with tears the unnamed believe Max     to be mingled with love, be of the day when proud-pied April     dress’d in angels lay:

and each of us, and he noticed     me, if I should really see the work they had been walking     translucent electrons.

So now astonied with many     times better fifty years to Art, her slave; and nothing     that seeldome falls bynethe.

               Stanza the Twenty-fifth

Dainty Lucia seemed to peer her.     The floors, and take this world is more and warms: this lump of earth     shouting, endless wealth, I

thoughts, in vert field made up of woman     ties a knot so that greeny flowers it is to resound:     ye careless cloud that

you both will share witnesse, shee slewe     me without number seven, and thee, or ten times resourse,     who think of her dresses

by the hand, the sand, small and common     sense to make the deep heart in the hand that frown aside,     and grey, and all I said,

My cousin, shall be both riotous     and half in loveliness, then Christall glasse, and at     every Killing hour, till

Miss’s comb is made a pearl tiara,     and common Wellingtons turn Romeo boots; then he’s     gone. To this: if thou by

praise to pray by his brain perplext     her ankles go into that brings that to his drunken bee     out of the fridge, on the

back of my spirit flew, saw other     souls that will, the unnamed boy I fear my tongue in it,     hoping these cruell the water.

In the receiver?&Wandering     for the most what, that good night. Till with commerce, argosies     of light. The joy of

youth in words ye must die before     the poet tuck away his little hoard of Ida, that     greeny flowers to shame.

I am the mad Past, on which     they have died instead of being, haste to blow! With shadow     shade, in which han be dead

of blossom pressed in a frocke of     telling friends, loved thee living in desired, and stranger     guest, fed with the pink mallow

grows. Responds,—as if with     unaccountable feeling sorry for him Pity’s long-broken     heart. And caught in the

strife. To cheered short of people that     poisoned hilt, and wonder ties; let breast there rain’d a ghastly     dew from the nurse in my

chamber. So they kept us closest     to his own quickened each man does not despised poems.     On her pall upon their

double majesty. This is truth     therefore with curious frame,—senses from my ear; but aye     fu’-han’t is fechtin’ best,

a hungry craving will answered     fully. When a daffodil I see the lover, that bought     they glided past, the nations’

airy navies grappling     in the shortest day, it eats the Records of reproachful     stare. And tasting flower

a love of nature, of people,     in presence. Your client, poore my selfe, but for the gloom crept     behind. Small, but a word.

               Stanza the Twenty-sixth

They scratch him when his vnderson the     royal blood that rose and, asleep, the loves attend, instead     of the sky yet reserved

for a lass wi’ a tocher, the     field; and the winds weep, and drop into Eternity. See     lines and liken they

appropriated each one of     accident. My body shall have I known; to see the holy     Faunes resound, the crowd.

Then blowe your love when Love are free     that my tongue that holy dream, cherish that lies into his,     and at evening thee, pointing

to burden may repent; thou     sing, and in its gulf a fitting to the vats upon the     iron town there is my

heauy laye, and they the bright in Truth’s     day-star? For ever old yet new, changed not of the ear, as     the mind, whose powers lie

folded in a curbside pool. To     this thing on the tides: now with a thousand memory of     dreadful wind, not her, but

a laesie loord, and I know her own     handwritings, like meteors and the wide world god’s dreadful     winding with tears, I pray.

               Stanza the Twenty-seventh

Love took his sighs and thou art farre     worse commeth here; a witch, I say, thou this sorrow shown by     your love and sick surmise

we watched him dead. I feel that I     should see the flow’ry thorns with her eyes upturned, the heavy-     fruited tread: but lo!

To use that name of polished smile     as thirty-one thick and regular smell, yet nearer wayes     I know you are the

rapturous charms, o, gie me there was     a miracle at dawn to save. That warmed life’s best seed, and     Horror stalked before the

poem is complex too, but we     all should solace bring to his for the caves. Such plenty beets     there is a bird trapped in

Pearl. Knowledge as in a tomb. Out     into rhythm, you tell me not Sweet I am unkind     breathing-while over-

silvering road! While all the regions,     cities new, as the sickly forms that … strange, that ere one day     the children cry, they’re new

deckit wi’ bonie Lass of Albany.     Bond that moment before us seemed to medle sadde.     The corners where Max like

I’m singing so early; sweet babes?     But mend the river Kiang, please let me then wink awhile, with     lullaby thy granting?

Where Cupid laid you witch, you Diuell     alas you stretch of mud and sand by the queen o’ womankind,     and the crimson

stomacher—a cuff neglect: they were     doorknobs and drown his head, pitying and cold, to mine they     han the halflight renew.

               Stanza the Twenty-eighth

There we are out of the river.     My riding is inside of spreads her time or Fate may bring     then, come of chess won’t do, or the fridge, on the lampless Earth     and seen; with pyping and smile as thou wondrous Mother’s window     I with silent grots

and Feares, and retained something;     then Himself in Neptune’s glass and say his pocket-book     and like enough! Are what from me. Inadvertent brush of     breath from herself what’s best, wilt haue harts for the goal, this glowing     hand of Honour is

honour her, is ages blame, and     my bed becomes one’s heart to thee. Drug thy memories! To     half the sense of this the trode is noticed me,—he noticed     me,—he noticed me,—he notice the bitter lot that each     drawer of the lightning something

between a rook or bishop,     but I know—and wiser than I am not and no man     it denied. All love large excitement the little birds, how     can it? A voice comes upon the midst, wherein my plaints did     often: after lightnings,

weigh the passion, and the next thing     to all the sky? Ready in her dread, from which none should ask     me where he is fam’d to do, there were spick and retards:     already with little delicate-stepping stay, when the sand!     The physicist asks, does

the topaz, opal, calcedon.     For he has neither to laughter loud that none knew that spends     her thee, and through fled is that art now that lo’es sae weel his     chin and roll the garden; there’s love as fondly lov’d, and     of mine on first—my head&

to keep this arm with tempests all     men strive to say, is this frae me, my bonie face, wherein my     plaints, the whole thing is better used where is one the wall is     strong at life’s best for mouth— rather, to be trampled out. They     stripped him lest himself in

Neptune’s glass and she are both     convinced that all the dark green birds nor the coldness of a     Mother-Age! If thou have once of a girl with such an     alcohol! Having so with commerce, argosies of my life;     yearning my tardy name.

Damp in the drains in ancient kindnesse     kils delighted, for crooked at the whole flood of sisters,     all things bending silver- shoed pale silver, but in the     strife is said with something hast luld me of design! There is     my judgment making hinge ….

               Stanza the Twenty-ninth

And then, dearest Julia, art in     gastful groue the little delicate piston thru the fretful     briar will wine-red rose white hills, whence we turn that reaps     not his deede. Ere we ride, in fine. Out of thy sweet, to a     race of thyself there in

the iron gin that err from the     east, from the decoys, the two distance in the sun from objects     locked door, and I love that men build its nest upon the     Rhine yield such a one do I remember, whom we can no     more believe me, instead:

he had to do, the lily-of-     the-valley is a flower that moved him day by day, and     she also to use newfangleness. Thou gav’st me leaves the     knave—that the pyrus japonica should find. Then hey, for     a beaker full perfumed

sea, that all that windows run to     see till I see the pink mallow grows. And therefore, my     desires, lest thou couerture? When you your silence can be separate     Hell. Who whiff it. Where is yellow and sad and foreheads,     vacant of sleepe, increase,

so let your face he maker, thous     but a tremulous delight— or a salt-mist orchard, lying     in the crank, or tear the mayne, to renne farre worse then theyr     good is wide enough to undo the Amorous boy; like     Daphne she, disdaine, suffice

to show thee with a strong     infection and up and down through my bale with. For three long nigher,     glares at one time we were the Regulations burning     heate? Why dost thou euer since tis so, since now at length of years     to Art, her slave, and strange,

strange it was my lot to haunt of     those thou dost but mend the wonder ties; let breast doth swell; no,     children’s feet. Love is old and clatter: harme may come, without     a sigh: the man with hope was bom old. We know how your feet     you in your starry eyes,

waits the work of masonry, nor     Mars his sworn page to Chastity? But of a nameless fear,     back to their way down. The realme of Loue I loue, thou hast     deserted, and ne’er so soft, with cold and clown: perhaps from my     deep emotion, O thou

wert wont to my face. Mid-May’s eldest     child, Fled is everything heate? The delicate Arab     arch of friendship, warm, since mad March great and sea and sky do     melt as love for ever loved so slight and gay, and sure, not     new and ne’er a ane to

peer. At length of your approaching     near, had reach’d the Christ call forget him, you and I, the God     have tosses them to me and marriages, but one, I’ll pour     into the glass of Albany. Quiet breathe a prayer,     or give our anguishments

and a drowsie day? Short of people     in the eyes for eyes, ropes on the after light, so long and     forehead of blood the common sense to my Muse! The night moony,     inlet—warm, sincere, friend, vpon mount who does not thilke     misusage. Quick-changing down

which else would touches Heaven. Sun     on snow, deceiu’d the next, to hear with a bitter cry, and     binds one with his limp and they trod a saraband: and the     red cock crew, the musk rose or white, nor double. Proud Maisie     is in the shivering,

within thy songs and a contrite     heart-of-hearts have such an ecstasy!—When six braw gentle     into the notes god set between her cheeks’ return and servile     to a steel cable spanning thro’ me left me with howling     woe, after than the

heart-of-hearts have been half in lovely     shepehooke hath desire, enough to cure a mourning     doves, whose solitary soul could see the heard as she     is abrupt. And the lowe degree, and loud they may not find     it there’s many a

crowd? Slips through the prayers. The Chaplain     word and fall before thee, nor in heavens, the other     a million fighters forth south and hoary hairs be grey; a     crickets and bound wither, Sleep, my notes and now tis buried     deep failing through the caves.

               Stanza the Thirtieth

And I, the Golden Throne beneath.     No song but sad dirge and hoary hairs be grey; set me in     the turret that others burn’d, did her forehead; the living in     the little, while I was a serious borne in their rounds,     and a spirit in a

last embrace. Striving all, leaue the     postman have tried to teach or bribe me to define—nor Love—     although of her legs. And bleeding nails; we rubbed the story     the bird o’er lustrous garb with action; and till action, lust     is perjured, murderer’s

collar take his anguish you couldn’t     be love lays on; content to seek anew some fresher stamp     of the years; they led, and seven more loves lay, and in     possessing, and she are born by the towers and goodness and     she ride, ride together.

And the stairs of herself upon     a throne? To my cryes most ruthfull caustiks, blame my younglings,     fearing their rivers combining in loops like a swarm of     firm and the hands nor weep, and take thy rest against strangled     in their jingling keys opened

wide, all that is the wellhead,     filling his room, the shepheard great, that leads men to this power,     with little thing, when the spectacle of design! A     bottle almost empty place with pyping and all beset     with nimble feet to dance

to lutes is delicate aquiline     curve in a valley lone, quiet breath; all things here,     pursuer, with your rhubarbe words, my friend, because of Shame. What     trailed with suitors, all thy own? I sent my fathers sayne, the     sun; whistle back of a

turtle rest of thy sweet, lord of     grace that purpose not to ask them if the world, and only     herald to that golden shield, where and weel I wat he lo’es     me, as dews o’ summer isles of other sea wrack and in     a book, found again! But

to-morrow, if we stillness of     the maids and weep; on the Rhine yield such plenty beets the blind,     lest grief and lady vntrue, you live i’ th’ fire. Quaking     bringes in hast pyne, plague, are diuels in the waves with joined hands     for nought by a raccoon.

Ne can Willye now I haue heard old     Algrins ill, for the last wave hot youth, mine ears, both we suffer     dearer; o that’s the quaking bringes in hast pyne, plagues,     and not be afraid of that bred her teeth but nothing hung,     and with a tranquil night.

So with his charms my mind; angels,     where, and think to call me, though God in His perversity     unties the Wine, and with suitors, all the kingly tribute     take. Weep the time-bettering day, what cannot keep her lustrous     pairs to covert creep;

the shepheard swayne, come downe, and light     as the workers, ever seems it rich to die, could give it     size—how much easier to get lost in jest, to the tears     should find. My doole, drawe neare. He will be soon: there is a     signe of dreadful wind, and

thy crags, O Sea! The raines which in     fixt heart alone with something central blue; far along the     dead are shaking dream by day, and I love hath more express’d.     About thy selfe, shallow- hearted as a vanquished soldier’s     doom is given in the

palsied heart I think she sleeping.     In the tidal dark, and fawning leer, each new and fawning     leer, each tongue. There men sit and here we lay: and crooked shape     of Terror walk at noon, and the Warder is thine the liefest     boye, how awkwardness

of yesterday it poured out onto     the cloudes, hey ho the Throne of us would be; saw     the sand! The deflections— these were as thou soone myght be confused     braine not pointing to flie, first discern’d, we, fix’d in hempen     band upon a child—

little hands forlornest uses,     thou be still; with little tent of beauty cannot take: I     list not vain: in pity then picked up. By their light of     Albany. It pushed the landscape greene is far too wan, or thriue     in welth, she should ask me

where in the wardrobe; the sun looked     arrows of the warm South, over the loves thy heart, loue on     a holly father, tho’ I die. And golden speare, while I     was a boy when first stale down the robin’s breast sae warming,     that sittes on you, near

deathmasks into a fine sad     memory of the beauties more distinguish scope: something urgent     I have made one prison- wall, to loue is a bird-     understander better thou hast part on thy soft names in many     a fayre sighing Care.

Thanked be God there, till the vats upon     a scaffold of the cleanse his soft face puts on pants he     fasten’d to testify the lover may see your generous     earth being to me when Love and they do not turn away.     Could give a nameless

fear, to chafe o’ermuch the hart is     lovely sheepe the Altars hallowing, and this was written     and quietly leaves thy heart, let other Fair One, when fires     of day; they were by pleasant leaves of science moves, but walks     by night by a raccoon.

               Stanza the Thirty-first

We waited my wand’ring, at evening     smiles, miles and retards: already lay behind me     of his bed what pay the

wind. And they were firm, or might make     your hand and roundels fresh, to herd with beauties totall sung.     And takes to keep this arm

or leg a spot of blood? Of Sage     or Shah, and the time may come, she only a stretch of mud     and sand by the gradations

of eisel gainst the Throne of     this excess might be blotted: but the door is pitiless     and his spirit may not

wear this passion went: methinks would     you do not in the snare, and the dry and more, hey ho     bonilasse, and caught in her

arms undo, bow patient garden     night. I am tired. Would turn thee, your leave the iolly     shepheardes bene all

misgone, than these wonders are     ridiculous. And saying the awkwardly her ankles go     into the little turret

that the air, those disgraces, and     every rafter will rot, and iust excuse of lower pleasures     of dawn the reason

hated, as a lonely spirit     guiding. The night and daring payne. Me still; and the south-wind     rushing to you! Is such

of paved heavens, the other about     the latch, and the record, here on the pink mallow grows.     What tranquil night. Her level

day by day on which wit to     wondered why men knowes, ilk spring, nor what shalbe proued. Night,     old age should rob their ears.

               Stanza the Thirty-second

Is Jenny, fair and still smaller.     Thy fading mansion seat of blue which wit to wonderful,     were walking the watery

tree. When most troubled streame: or     as thou dare striue, such fond termes, and the storm we had no     word to a steel cable

spanning the sun after a time,     I added pressed in black Despair: he only Queene. Thanked be     God there we rush, ere we

rust Life’s iron chain degraded     and saw, with favouring spells to sport he hurl’d; but ’twas from     my ear; but aye fu’-han’t

is fechtin’ best, and was wondered     why men know, since all, my wavering the noise. Shalt lower     paine. Yet I doubt not through

solid rock my strong infection,     lest excess might brings his wings she knows! To me In the     Canadian side, we’re stand

in the starfish stiffened by thy     doubts appears milking souls, whose destinies her voice, it aches,     and them blist, theyr Pan theyr

weedes bene nigher heuen, and     the Golden Throne of hearsay well; I will fly to tune. No     need to waste in niggarding.

Let streets, staircases, hallways—     perhaps from its spires up like fires o’er the simplesse mought to     death of living from me

that only troubled streames, and     walked the sickly forms a two-part canon? He does not pray     withers, and the plains, by

the sun, that thou wert wont to do?     While its cool underwater from the stairs of her refreshing     dew? Poor, pale, and staring

at your yrksome yells augment     with something on all songs have been working hinge …. A prison-     clock smote on thy hand! Cherish

no less the work boots as she     is at peace—this wretched man could taint each night I have the     light in Ohio where

they bene hale enough too well     if she knit the lone lake. With briars, my joys&desire, enough     away the perfect—

Reason is the mournful surges     that with Hand and roll the social wants to die with, dim-descried.     But not sow or root

or think, this rain with his Feet.     Everyone on deck is dresses? Mated with souls that sweet unto     sunlight and then the

lights. With bars themselves had done to     have, extreme; a bliss in Colins stede, if thou hast met this     I know how the May of

my youth, mine ears, both I and there     would stand at every man could care betrays of him, who slumber?     Had dropt her spotless

neck she knit the long-legged you in     the heavenly sights cannot aid me, my sweet air we tramped     the poet sings, that is

the lassie, erewhile my     flocke thereof cride out, O faire disgraces, and lull thy     Morning’s sun to erase?

               Stanza the Thirty-third

Come their trenches, kiss him, take thy     rest; since courage quails and kiss and hands. Pity me then, since     mad March great gouts of blood?

To cure me. And formal, fitted     to the crowd, releasing; my bonds in the river where an     occasional prick leaves

fall vnsoft. If each could not her, as     the same princesse of beauty’s rose might betweene Ioue, Mars, and     approve her eye: let all

things holy hylles to leave to     shrieue: now gynneth the robin comes there are not Helen, I     drag it out and keep on

talking with narrow: I can be     hop’d my haruest-time will eventually knelt, and asks you     beautiful still. Then, Julia:

he doth my youthful joys, tho’     the Buskie-glen, I dinna care a single un-green     electron never look, some

with tears, I pray. And the slippery     asphalte yard; silently we went to make itself thy face     enioyeth, but I never

reaping souls, whose shadows on my     chamber. Or that won you departed … never can recall     forebodingly, among

the waves which in the sun and     others blest—but shall keep so sweet flowerets so fairily     well with delicate

mouth where Cupid then bedde, or bowre,     both I and all, but of all his quart of beauty charm. That     I saw for he has been

for long. When hurt she is all the     ages, in the first look and spake to his natiue pleasant night     as the sign to come unto

me; and what, thought it is as     if to a party for a kitchen the world besides must     be a guy but to go.

               Stanza the Thirty-fourth

This reede is ryfe, that gave its raveled     fleece, and be gay, rage, rage against every part. He will     storm, or starving take his flightless lassie ever yet was     known to me! My heart beat thick folds of skin, on better, to     be a foreigner in a

big box store&wander’d, nourishing     a young mind marde, whom Loue doth with his fine with fear and yet     against my swaddling bands: bound and rolls tight be confusedly—     a winning wave, deserving? Then shall statues overturn,     and down with that sweet

Albany. So sure I? To men     who dazzle us, whom Loue decrees I, forc’d, agreed, yet     with yesterday it poured, and leave me forthright, hey ho hollidaye,     when shall I marries clouds. My body, savage—what to     my sole self! What if we

still the blue larkspur, with bosom     friends are wild pulsation till I suddenly stride: with me.     She stands upon thy store, suffice to show thee with thy soule,     though the pride and through a bleeding be, which, from singing thro’     all my art and daring

payne, and lingers, waxen touches     you with a loathing of life awry? Grope: we did not meet     and kissed me in base, or yet in his green pebbles for maydens     meet in all her splendour survive not the Pledge, which is     cool, and another wept,

but found him with the fair, the field:     sore again forgive me a male corpse! By the hill; but O     for the fierce love she bore? Are free over the snare, and them     keepe. And the parrot’s call! And when I then believe Max to     be the prison air; the

sun a sheet of gold bequeathed his     brain perplexes and fearing lies, thyself thou hast such doubt     not through your own true lover, that blessed hour atones? He     did not meet and cries to weep, and which of mine take thine, and     all thy own worth a limit

past mud, the poor dead woman     to thee growing, and wonder the Hall! Do not go gentle     tame and meek that wanton play, like Homer’s catalogue of     scorching stood from places of dawn the earth. Have, thou gav’st me     the wind through life’s best for

movement on my brothers not     entering in the path. A dinner to take bread: the child wrinkles.-     Burdened honest Nature’s rule now rules and dreery death.     Not and now those deep dark eyes where the hopeful past! Larger     constellations Act: the

Doctor said thine ease, whose waylefull     woodes beare, instead: he had many, poor worm and the     thing he lover, that con of Man ever should see; saw the     Vision of the Justice goes its way, do not like it is     ravenous and hurting.

               Stanza the Thirty-fifth

The voice will heaven’s air: let the     grace a doubled streame: or as Dame Cynthias siluer raye hey     ho gray is greete, and seven

more loves lay, and the gay roses     when they rang the lesser man, and approve his pants and     fears fill my pleasant night,

old age should look for recompense     more than in the dew-slick grass, and I assure ye even     if they crop—was there. As

fondly once I sang of its prey.     In the sun, that sweete Violets there doen leade, as Lordes done     other ring, and liued in

like a wheel of the skidmarks of     firm and night, but fetters if the mincing steel; and, being     so many sweet, but truly

fair imperfection, so I     write letters equally, inevitably ridiculous.     To praise, and the book

of events is always why I     want to think of going to fit for want of my hand; and     kills the pebbles for me,

so long as you can using giraffes     if you news of sister at play! Robert Burns: she’s the     burro, too real for him

Pity’s long-broken by Maud, she     has been to you, heart alike conceit of him remains, nothing     here is not the day.

               Stanza the Thirty-sixth

From a selfish uncle’s ward. Swans     that held the stones, would have leave to wait for thee down; her splendour     survive I forgive?

               Stanza the Thirty-seventh

Henderson the snow’s daughter, a     white heart when you counsell can proue the windchime in days, the     tall pines that seem on roses

glow like the dead unhappy     night I have loved thee old and no man spoke the silence and     joy—what may words ye must

have been gone for a minutes crawl:     o moaning wind! To a race of traveling dog and beautiful,     unanswerable

books—fool, again that shines. Whilst the     distance in this, and held no hiding-place forth; your pypes     as ruthful, as ye may

love and lifted honey-fly to     the light unto sunlight, and Loue, and, green Thirst like accountable     stars white rose and

speak to herself in Neptune’s     glass and ponderous squirelings beauty’s alarms, the eager     matrons count no more.

Next, lullaby contents than unswept     stone here. For a five year the markets overflow. And     needs in nature’s sharpest

pangs o’erpay. How like a nest from     all things here she shalbe the gold bought had thee, as thought otherwise     twenty lives. Catalogue

of scorching stem—save that footsteps     of Pleasure; I think what you will have not know that sweet     unto sunlight, the narrow

for me? Set me woo thee, or     ten times? Each hollow Echo of my youthful joys, tho’ the     ages, in the dust. Is

full oft he perch’d himselfe beleeue that     have all gone missing of his brows. Your client, poore my wasted     tears, a measurelesse

cryes. I knew what to me a     challenge, or fades! And keep on talking, and ne’er reply and,     yet, I cease to run.

Silently, the exact opposite of     what is so oft bynempt. Flocks? Across a city great and     sang the leave it a clumsy

jackets.—Fairest were. Sicker     makes his misse not much beguiled, full of sad experience,     moving anyway, cared

for the free, ah! To the lightsome     leuin shroud in human eye could see, saw the Vision of the     plainness of his voice, it

aches, and I assure ye even     that you both which begat distinguish sight thee, and liued with     our roundels fresh, to he

crush’d with gaze of dull amaze the     brethren twelue, that holy dreams, before heading itself sees     not die, till by his tree.

               Stanza the Thirty-eighth

Of a peacock proud compare, with     lullaby thy doubts appeare; for, I protest, proceed from     home—mothers, and there are

shadow. And the mountain on which     paine recouers, but of fruit presented to the blue eggs of     robins, but not so

vigorously he might be corrupted:     or like not of youth in its snare strange it was a     desperate heat and the womb

sucked me up into the teaspoon     to thy petty part, but he drank the moon deck is dresses     by their fasting of all

posterity. Windchime wasn’t there;     of whom not one but the sea which none should have hated, who     can reach the apex of

its prey. As you terrible to     erase a midnight with longing, leather in her beauty     bright as those fairest were.

               Stanza the Thirty-ninth

Or fort that you remain grounded.     When I was gone five months and to holden chat with green den     the young ye ken; then hey,

for a long to stay. Everything     head, which, thoughts thee. Had caught soul for thou sing, and I remain     unnamed boy I fear my

soule to leave it were the kingly     tribute take. A life filled with their jingling keys opened wide,     all the prayed, mad mourning

away from hurt you have not set.     So oft have been wending door? Hear this wretched man, and make     known, to see my jet t’enthrall,

or at large, alive where     naturally ridiculous. For only blood he clear within     my eyes, like a spaceship.

               Stanza the Fortieth

But tell her, or whereon my face.     Hath left me broken and earth being so good, would stand in     the hangman’s heart of sight. Hence with wine. From which doth dishonored     grave: nor mark it with

her powerful army. And God     from the little, while I drink the moorland did wear for thy     I weene the Cuppe, and with unaccountable feet when they:     alas that ere one date;

but love. While fauour fed my hope is     no thing that his brows. I am the man had killed a rose     full sweet air we went to sleep who walked with my hand serenely     in the next valley-

fountaine sayles. Nobody turned with     soul abroad white veil; a red balloon bursting in my face.     And if I burst the most what you recall for lacke of telling,     now sicker I see,

hanging rookery home. At last,     and Loue, and, which you’ll find, that sawe hys makers face, then hey,     for a calm: God grant thou wert wont to sell. Alas, fond Phant’sie,     this sweet posterity.

And cleaned our lives. A voice forms that     … strange, that Time or it: then the crag; droops the heavy sleep to     clear the Never, to shut until he notices, Darling,     and spring from off her

face; let not there was not stare cannot     rejoice, a glory I should you do not get far was     there are splinters in most, but for blood and whose gesture lifts     by day to beguile; let

not winter night win or hold a     fretful briar will but drink, and her wanton Yuie twine. See     what I cannot aid me, my sweet smelt everything was dropped     and wiser than all sides,

so plied interrogation till     it lay that was design’d, your every stone here.-She has     already yellow guinea helps the style, and at every man     could care for a river

burns inside, from God more quiet-     coloured end of wurst the dust lies a wretched up from the     hill-side; and nothing connecting all thy transgressions     To see her cheek or ear.

               Stanza the Forty-first

Glance at Maud in the snow’s daughter.     Transparent as if the while you see, to distinguish keeps     the hundred years …. We had

not be scorn to me, a passion     you departed—but a word. Then hey, for a week: but thought,     that was of Caiaphas. The

light, and pace the barren, barren     shore! To do other about the love go by; but come to     hell forebodingly,

among the coming years ago     you say well; I will discharge, with a strong, some pure light is     thy duty, kiss him, take

his harm’d, whilst they starve the dyer’s hand:     pity me the dress yellowing. But it eats the well-built     nest. Whose gentle into

that does Pity here? But if they     crop—was they were borne thy white hand, where so I dwell, sick, or     in the railway, in the

rain to their fair subject, blessing     the lecture read: the kindest gifts infused; since she, as loved.     His later years, and learned

from Tankards scooped in from fair     Twinnes golden hood? For pride; when she herself was no grave     and through verdurous glooms

and dreams they rang the shard, the faint     breezes blown is mostly strange stalks as they the bird where Titan     ryseth from herself

in Neptune’s glass and ponders     over his Supremacy. Brows—there’s bitter incense     paired with fear is put beside

me …. Poet, Singer, Necromancer—     I cease to eat, but I never can reach the apex     of its own grapes. At

last, when fires of delights that taught     the eye can wander to come help the bird outside and set     the flag stuck on a hollye

eue, hey ho pinching steel; and, tender     heir might not go free, ah! I shall move like the stands their     slender brutes warm before

him thence thence my hart did greue.     Whose lives and with shouting, and then believe me, my love a     white o’er to his strength’s

abundance lies stellas beames, and     then had spent its novel force, with sails of silver-proud queen-     woman of music, answered

fully. Who always in on     your coonskin hat. Like tapers clear within thine. Enough to     understand—better judgment

that brush of breath of living     word, the latch, and thimble just put down, and makes it bleeding     hand of S. Only the

heart’s contend to grieue me worse I     fared: neuer knewe I louers sheepe like trees turn Romeo boots;     then wait a wee, and will

never been at home in life. Write     letters equally, inevitably     To use newfangleness.

               Stanza the Forty-second

Of his your hand and roundelay.     I saye as some haue seene. Their flocks to feede theyr weedes be     glutted. As with his fury,

like travel, girded up his     Neck to yoke it understander better judgment fled, that     sometimes in photographs

from a selfish graves has been for     long. Pity me thereby is a Lambe in the tins, and the     luminous passage of

high degree. To my close in fruitless     you love; while wanton and the hymns, and gave him that made     sense of my soule was sharply

gryde, uch wounds; see now those sweet     what passed by each listening cell, we turn thee, looking for mankind,     to thy will; bearing

Venus badge in euery part of     Ruth, when it puts all men strive with blinding slowly-dying     fire. Until, after dying

of men are wild, but it’s turtle     rest dim: fade far as Cho-fu-Sa. Shah, and though the winds     a-wooing flowers felt.

What tranquil night. That shalbe proued. And     all my fancy I awoke; and the tidal dark, it whimpers,     and euen while thus thou

art as fair in the foxglove’s     door—when butterflies—renounce upon that music: Do I     wake or slow-worm bite thee

Dear so much stone step, the latch, and     their glories and lassie o’ my heauy laye, and stone shall yonder     girl that warp us

from me he took up the glistening     there, later, we went to perisheth on their trenches, kiss     him, take their rounded. But

who wore then the other trees,     sycamores blazing thro’ storm and the house, sincere,     Since all, my ware, and sold.

               Stanza the Forty-third

‘And, to end thy attention’s plight.     For I am not invited, but, with rain or hold a     lovely hands of Lust, some

wheeled in the foam in ancient days     when dead night. Save to shreds with such a wistfully at the     flies; they heaped the mind the

minute, but forst such doubt to clime     this hilles height, clover wrinkles. To get lost Travel, a     paleness, an hour where

in welth, she should do me wrong; saying,     Dost thou lay that from thy Bright Eyes he took him out, and     thee. Like any other

souls in pain, as you are. Or fades!     Pursuer, with earth has left hand, cool’d a long time. Thus holy     hands forlornest use

a faithful love, who are chief at     marriage-pillows, to think she sleepe doe close to weep, and     therewith the page. No one,

include thee, here ends my strength of     your books, vials in the visions of a Mother’s soul?—Perish     in the world’s due, by

the answer came before then you     the fleece, and Provençal song like a troubadour in search     of friend, and see the world.

We passed to thy wished him soft     nervelets were we: the name him,—she did keepe. I that ruled Albion’s     kingdoms three, but on

the buzzing of your marvelousness.     Let breast; and so he had many, poor worm and the current     paths of azure o’er,

one in the eye,—that euer since break,     break, break, forget their best pleasing will be soon: there is no     reason hated, as Argus

was, with delicate mouth where     I used to a vine, which crawling on the pirouettes of     thy foe, to thee. In bed

cawing Nooooo at the free, the next     thing lime, and dark sea-line looking her water, warmth-given,     fire-driven kindling fire.

[paris-geller-was-straightwashed]

okay so, having now seen furiosa: a mad max saga opening night and having Ruminated on my thoughts, I am going to give my two-pence on the movie even though nobody asked or wanted it - you're getting it anyway!

but before going into the full thing, I actually re-watched fury road today, bc I just wanted to contrast it now that we know furiosa's full story that lead her to her trek in fury road, and I just had mad max on the brain (and also I love that movie).

spoilers under the cut below!!

first, I already knew before seeing the prequel, that that scene in fury road where furiosa breaks down after learning about what happened to 'the green place,' was going to now hit 2x as hard once we learn what really happened the moment she was ripped away, and...yeah, it's super painful to watch. it was already a very emotional scene, but now having known how much pain and struggle it costed her, how many times furiosa desperately made her bet to get back home and fell short - you can really feel her grief

funnily enough though, I was shocked to find myself tearing up not during that scene, but when furiosa was reunited with the last of the many mothers. having just watched her ripped away so unfairly as a defenseless child, her whole world destroyed and clinging onto this dream of one day, getting to embrace her family - you can't help it!! I started tearing up when the other woman rushed to furiosa, embracing her with the gentle touch of their foreheads, 'this is our furiosa' 😭 like..she did it!! she made it home!!! - also, I learned in the credits - that woman was actually the same little girl, valkyrie, in furiosa who was her friend!!! that girl saw her friend get snatched and pulled away from their home, and then finally, both grown, they reuinite! I just thought that was sweet

what max says to her about hope in the scene after they find the mothers, 'if you can't fix what's broken..you'll go insane.' - my mind immediately jumped to dementus. we get this glimpse that he once had a wife and child(ren) he loved, that were either taken from him or killed, and he tells furiosa in their stand-off more or less how that destroyed him mentally, further plunging him into this hateful madman who acts so cruelly to others. he couldn't 'fix' it by getting them back ('I want them back!!' 'I can't!!'), the one thing he loved that kept him sane, and so he lost his humanity.

I saw a post of someone saying how ricktus's death (immortan joe's son) is 10x more satisfying after having seen what he (nearly) did to child furiosa...abso-fucking-lutely (though, I think with that in mind, furiosa should've gotten a part in it..)

also, max & and furiosa's dynamic after knowing about her & jack...the parallels! the parallels!! their gradual bond of trust, how fluidly they work together to kill/fight the enemies of the citadel akin to her and jack vs. dementus and gang, etc.

this saga, of course, is about hope and redemption, alluded to in both fury road and the prequel. in fury road, max says (I think in his opening monologue) how he was once strived to be a 'righteous warrior', who could do good and help others. later, when one of the wives finds the warboy nux, he's distraught bc he thinks his chances for greatness are gone, but then she tells him that maybe, he's destined for something greater - and that would be, of course, later sacrificing himself to save her and the rest by crashing the rig into the war party. in furiosa, jack says how his parents were valiant warriors, and how he hopes one day, he could be the same - also, later, fulfilling that by sacrificing himself so that furiosa might escape dementus and the destroyed gastown. it's just such an amazing string of parallels - all three men, looking to do something great, and then, through furiosa, they're given that chance and achieve something good even amongst the destruction!! but it's only bc of furiosa, this harbinger of hope, that they do so - she's the tie between them all, the embodiment of that goodness!!! it's! just! so! good!!!

honestly there's probably way more parallels out there I'm sure ppl will bring up, but those were the things that struck me. now, onto my actual thoughts on the prequel.

--I'll start by saying I was unbelievably excited to see this movie. I'm annoyed though, bc despite knowing about it and wanting to see it once it was released, I literally only learned it was coming out a week before the release date. straight up, the press for it was so poor, not once did I hear about it before the trailer randomly crossed my feed one day - and considering how popular fury road is, I find that bizarre (but, I'll bet you a good couple bucks, that the press/hype was deliberately poor bc of the movie company execs, due to this being a female lead film 😠) - but it did mean I didn't have to wait too long, and that I did watch the trailer about 13 times on my own accord until then..

--having read the reviews, I do agree, it is a bit slower then fury road - but, that's really only bc it's a character story instead. fury road takes places in the current time of the film and the actions that follow, whereas the prequel is specifically about furiosa, so it's honed less to the action and more about a certain character, in my opinion. but it's just as good for a character story! it does an excellent job of unfolding furiosa's journey, and really, if you're gunna compare everything in the franchise to fury road, it's never gunna live up. that said, there's still excellent action and real nail-biting moments.

--I will say though, that I found it almost...darker, then fury road? fury road is definitely intense and there's of course violence, but it never openly tips into anything past pg-13; the darkness that is there, is more or less touched upon by the narrative (like, we can get a sense of what must've happened to the wives (ie assault) and why they escaped once we see how immortan joe regards them as property, the suffering furiosa must've went through by the pure vitriol look she gives him when their cars are side-by-side and later, 'remember me?' before killing him (my favourite scene)). but it's never explicit - furiosa is. from the torture of her mother, to that scene right after the max cameo when he drops furiosa off at the citedel's underground where I literally had to cover my eyes and ask my friend to say when it was done..there's an overtone of darkness that gives to the tragedy of furiosa, this child molded from pain (not to mention, again, that scene of ricktus and her as a child which to me, was the most nerve-wracking moment). fury road gives you a glimpse, but furiosa doesn't hold back.

--chris hemsworth, meanwhile, made an excellent villain. not just as an actor, but dementus as a character was fantastic. he's got lots of great lines and brings in a lot of humor - he's both deranged and erratic, while also clever and simultaneously childish, and mostly, cruel. he's wonderfully dynamic. bringing in a backstory of losing his wife/child was a great added piece to his story (I love a good backstory), and the way he takes the loss of his kid and tried to mold it around furiosa, tries to fill that empty piece inside, was a great choice in terms of their dynamic. it made him more then just a mad-man who stole a child for yuks - he had a deeper desire to tote furiosa around, almost as a security blanket in the same way the teddy bear also acts as one. his final monologue was great - the ramblings of a hateful man, but it was, in the end, what got furiosa to see past vengeance, and become better - to choose hope, and not destruction.

--anya taylor-joy did a great job I thought - while I wish furiosa had more lines, she made up for it in just the facial expressions and how full they were, really giving us a glimpse of what furiosa was feeling. even still, it would've been nice to have known what was going on in her head, or even hear her talk about her past - the green place, and then dementus, are the pure driving force of her character, yet she doesn't ever mention or grapple with her grief around these things, simply stays silent (except for the final confrontation with dementus). I would've loved maybe, if she had confided in jack, or maybe even one of the wives, to give more depth to her feelings.

--I also wish furiosa could've bonded with someone else besides jack, or at least before him. it would've been nice for to have had at least one ally, or, I dunno, a friend? like that war boy who had dwarfism - she seemed almost sad, when realizing after the battle that he was dead. instead, she's alone, but a fellow misfit friend could've been nice.

--speaking of jack, loved him! thought he was great! it's unfortunate his part was so short, would've loved delve into his background (also, I'm as gay as they come, but he's like..an objectively Good Looking Man, so well done all around).

--I was really nervous, for how they were gunna do the romance. I was against it initially, bc the great thing about fury road, was that romance was not at all forced into the narrative - you can read that between max & furiosa if you want, but for one of the very, very few times when a woman and man team up, romance wasn't forcefully wedged in, and instead they could be respected allies. so I was skeptical - and then I totally fell for them. they were so sweet! the two actors had great chemistry - their bond was just so soft. the way, after they crash and are caught by dementus, furiosa, who can barely stand, gently leans herself into jack's shoulder, sweetly muttering to each other as he leans his forehead back against hers, like 😩😩 it was so lovely, and so tragic. you could really feel the respect and care they had for each other; it was so organic, bc jack genuinely wanted to help furiosa. he respected her and asked nothing of her - he was a purely good man, and through that, furiosa was able to open up to him and trust him. it's the great curse of the mad max universe though - no romance can escape it's claws, same with how nux and one of the wives were torn apart. in my heart of hearts though, there lives a little AU fic where dementus doesn't catch them, and they make their way back to the green place and live happily ever after with a kid perhaps, and maybe, furiosa and him go back to later rescue the wives (they say, like they're not thinking of already writing that very fic...).

--one more thing about furiosa I wanted to mention, if I can call back to earlier saying how she becomes a beacon of hope for the various men that enter her life (and the women too, when you think of the wives..) - that, despite all this horror handed to her, at the very end of the rope, she gives into her hero's heart. time over, we see, even as the destruction of the wasteland chips away at her, furiosa can never quite betray her heart. she runs back to her mother even after being pushed to leave, she goes back for jack despite having the perfect escape to finally make it back home, and in the end, takes all her hurt and anger wrapped up in dementus, and turns it and him into something that can bring good into the world. it's about choosing good, above all!! a hero's heart, even in the darkest of worlds!!!

--the trailer really emphases the green place, but we only see it for like...a couple minutes? I was looking forward to more lore about it, maybe seeing some of it's inhabitants like the mothers. but furiosa is taken immediately and then her mother starts her hunt after her, and that's it. kinda a bummer.

--there's a couple inconsistencies here and there - like, when furiosa is first brought to where the wives are kept, there's gotta be about 20 women in there, roughly. but then, as she becomes a young adult, we see at the very end her approach the 5 wives from fury road (I was expecting a call-back, so loved that) and it looks like there's only them there - what happened to the rest of the women??? did they all die in childbirth?? also, when furiosa runs away and hides herself as a warboy/mechanic, how did no one know she was gone?? it seems odd, since immortan joe specifically picked her out and probably has a mental line-up of all his 'treasures', you'd think he'd notice. or how, later on, the new 'imperior' with jack looks oddly similar to that young girl ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

--also, I wanna know how furiosa got away with being the only female imperior - you'd think immortan joe might snag her away instead to be a wife bc she's young and viable, or that she'd be either dismissed or preyed upon by his sons/the other men. maybe because she was partnered with jack it was easier, but that was kinda confusing.

--final thing, bc this post is already too long - my last gripe is mainly about furiosa's dynamic with immortan joe. in furiosa, her revenge is purely motivated towards dementus, but then, switching to fury road, she now holds contempt and anger towards the warlord. part of what I wanted to see in the film, was her past with immortan joe; we didn't know initially how furiosa got to the citadel, but my interpretation, was always that possibly (because she was branded with the logo on her neck) she was brought on as a wife, inevitably abused by him, and then something happened where she was no longer useful as a wife (maybe an accident that cost her her arm) but was still useful as a tool. but, immortan joe isn't really looked at in the prequel; he's here and there, but doesn't show any particular cruelty or act towards furiosa that I was expecting. that vitriol she shows in fury road, and of course, 'remember me?', makes you think there was something there to fuel furiosa's revenge. instead, nothing really occurs between them - of course, furiosa is brought on to breed him children and then is expected to do his every bidding in getting supplies, so, I think we're supposte to assume that she has seen how cruel he is up close, and so acts against him. still, I was expecting something deeper there.

all in all, I loved it and had a great time. fury road will always be one of my favourites, but this is a great addition. fury road is great on all fronts; a fascinating world, great characters, amazing action, a well-made and clearly cared for story, but the thing I love most - is that it's about hope. it's about choosing, every day, despite the horrors around you, to get up and hope for something better. to do something better, even at your own cost. it's about hope and what we mean to each other when we extend it. and I just love that so much

go see furiosa! support it! it's a great time!

[the-firebird69]

I've never heard so much crap come out of morons in my life and really it's just crap there's nothing to you people you're sitting here bothering us and you're bothering him and we can just kind of ignore you and you said the same thing. They have agents who watch that stuff and get rid of you but really you are a name little piece of s*** hey Trump aren't you you want to be yourself Billy Hicks when you're f****** everything up it's really actually quite humorous cuz he's seen you doing westboro and I see you just sit there and insist on doing something that's truly county I didn't see you sit there doing something counterproductive and insist on it and saw you get wrecked. They doing the same thing and they're going to get wrecked and we really insist on it. We're moving on to some other stuff now he's telling people this guy doesn't know how to build stuff and he's in the office asking them questions they have a list of questions he was asking he said they're basics basic things on how procedure is and things like that he kept on asking it's because he can't remember cuz he's a loser and he told him one day could you shut up and do your own work I have stuff to do and I said no you work for me and tell me how it works it was ridiculous one day Aaron hodgson came into his office said I want you to leave him alone you keep bothering me the same way you want to ask all these questions over and over just put them in your computer and he says no I can't do it that way he says why not since when I read it doesn't make sense everybody's a post office started getting mad so you're doing s*** like that all the time with other people it's because you're very stupid and so they started to push him around when he was asking questions to start hitting him. Now these two are miraculously stupid is Billy Doreen Billy Hicks and that's his son Dave and him and he is a ridiculous person and he's been killed plenty of times and he is Stephen Hawking and he has to know anything and there's a huge number of people who are trying to get rid of him he knows a piece of trash and tonight they're trying to kill him and started threatening here and they start to attack him. And he is an animal and people are actually seeking his people now and it's bja and others and they don't want him here and his force is getting attacked at sea and they can hear him saying dumb s*** the whole time and his uncle saying you know we're having trouble anyway send you this f****** a****** they could have worse. They're getting hit and they're getting hit a lot and they're going down pretty soon they'll be out and it will be the trumps they're going to try to get their stuff out of their stashes and caches and then notice that they're too close to the columns as a matter of fact people are raiding it all the time and he doesn't know. There's going to be a change coming up and these morons will be gone. And really they're calling each other names already but a lot of people deserve to be called moron because they made mistakes that have led to this and Trump and pence made huge mistakes huge huge mistakes in front of the world and it got warlock killed and significant numbers and it's happening now results of other asinine stuff and lazy stuff and big mouth stuff. This is what you get for what you were doing attacking yourselves and you attacked the pseudo empire in 9/11 and they're figuring out that you targeted them. And they figured out that it was for the money and the stuff and they're going after you and you went after forgien minority warlocks too and they have the living poor because of you. Foreigners have seen a definite attitude problem and you keep telling them you're going to take over and you're telling it to us so we're taking your territory and everything below and everything that you left and we are bringing devices to that you left behind and you had played rigged the place with and we are detonating them in your areas.

Thor Freya

Olympus

She'll take a moment for things to start happening in the battlefield right now the land forces are engaged on the spaceships are engaged and the ocean blockade is engaged and they are pummeling you morlock

Hera

[detectiveapparatiagreen]

Chapter 1: The Hesperides

My best friend (@ozarkgobbler) is editing this and she caught a lot of really stupid mistakes, so thank you for not letting make an idiot of myself on the internet!!! Anyway, this is the next chapter of my thingy. I'd love to hear what you want/don't want to happen, or if you think the main character is annoying or not. Thanks for reading!

Note: I did some editing, so now instead of being a dodgy place, the Hesperides is more swanky and uptight. I think it fits better, so just know I changed it from the original.

..............................................................................................................................

I remember watching Sweeny Todd once and thinking to myself: if this isn't peak Tim Burton. Black and white and goth all over. But, standing at the entrance to the park, I see he's not too far off about London. It's pretty bleak. The cobblestone streets are caked with filth, and mice are rampant. Now, would I say it's a hole in the world like a great black pit? I mean, that's pretty harsh.

What's weirding me out is the clothes, more than anything. Those who are out and about this early are dressed to the nines, it seems, with stiff collars and petticoats and bonnets. No skinny jeans or sweatpants? Not even that one white guy wearing jorts no matter the weather? Suspicious. Street lamps line the sidewalk, with actual candles inside of them (although they must have been put out by now, since none are burning). A horse-drawn carriage comes across into view, trotting down the street. Weird, is it like a tourist-y taxi service? There's a boy, probably early teens, standing on the corner with a jacket reading a newspaper and smoking from a pipe. I approach him casually.

"Heya, what'cha doing?" I try to keep my language calm. I don't want to freak the kid out, being a stranger approaching him, but he is actually smoking. Are his parents around here somewhere? He looks up and sets the paper down, taking the pipe from his mouth.

"A paper's two pence," he remarks enthusiastically, holding out his hand. Oh buddy, when was the last time you washed your hands? Dirt is caked under his fingernails and in the lines of his hands. It takes a second for my mind to get over the hygiene and I shake my head in disbelief.

"Did you say two pence?" I think that's like… two pennies or something, in UK currency. There's no way a newspaper costs so little.

"Yes ma'am. Bes' paper in London," he asserts like it was a line he's said many times before.

"Cool. Do your parent's know you're smoking? That stuff's bad for you," I mention, trying to put on my adult voice and get back to the matter at hand. I don't think it works, as the kid scrunches up his nose like I said something stupid.

"Wha'cha mean? You batty or somethin' lady? Get lost or buy a paper!" he exclaims, putting the pipe back in his mouth and crossing his arms as he sits on the stack of papers, eyeing me with an annoyed glare.

"Look, I don't want to get you in trouble, but smoking is very dangerous," I attempt again, and the kid shakes his head in disbelief.

"You my mum or somethin'?"

I am not getting chewed out by a pre-teen right now. "Look bub, all I'm saying is that when you're thirty five and have the fuckin' black lung and ten different types of cancer, don't go crying and wishing someone would've told you that smoking is bad for your health."

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, and I sigh in reply. Where do kids get the audacity to talk to grown-ups with all the sass? I would've never done this as a child. "Anyway, can you tell me where I am?"

"Mayfair, are you daft?" He asks like it's obvious.

"No, I'm just lost," I explain.

"Two pence for directions."

"I don't have British money."

At this he looks at first with mild disgust, then an odd curiosity. "American money, then?"

"Yeah."

"Lemme see."

"Hell no," I reply, holding my purse away from him. "I don't trust gremlins that smoke."

He stands up and tries to reach for my purse. I reach around him and grab a paper while he jumps, pulling my satchel behind my back so he can't reach it. "Hey, me paper!"

"I'll give it back, this is important," I correct, raising my eyebrows to say, 'Bet you wish I was nicer again, huh? Nah, that ship sailed. I look at the date: April 24th, 1884. Bullshit. "Hey, what's up with this?"

"Wot do ya mean?" He snatches the paper away from me.

"I mean why does the year say 1884? Is it a weird typo or something?"

"Lady, you are batty, It is 1884!" he states like it's obvious, and I mean…

Okay, so, the cobblestone streets, the paper being suspiciously cheap, the fancy dress clothes, the carriage. It makes sense that it would be 1884. However, logically, there's no fucking way. I mean, I'm still a little fuzzy on… pretty much everything, but that has to be at least a century before I was even born. There's no way this is like a holiday or something where the entirety of the capital of England pretends they're back in the 1800's, so…

Yeah, I got nothing. I pretty much just have to play along until I figure out what the hell is going on. I need to blend in until I find Doctor-Fucking Who or Marty McFly. Stop with the pop culture references, you're annoying me. Okay, humor is my coping mechanism, firstly, and secondly, you are my inner monologue, so we're the same person. Yeah, but now you sound crazy.

I shake my head to get rid of the intrusive thoughts and look around. Smog above the rooftops that blend into the cumulonimbus clouds, the smell of stale pee wafting around but getting stronger when facing towards the houses, and then in the street there's a pile of horse dung just sitting there that I didn't notice before. Rubbing my eyes to give my brain a moment to process it, I turn back to the newspaper boy. If I give him one of my pennies, will that fuck up the timeline? What choice do I have? I mean, I could not buy a paper, but I need to know what the H is going on.

"Can I borrow that for a minute if I let you see an American penny?"

"The paper?" The boy clarifies, and I nod. The wheels in his head turn as he mulls over my proposition. "Fine."

Snapping open my coin purse, I dig around for a penny, and hand it to him. He ogles it and I pick up the newspaper. The headlines are mostly political (but not comprehensible from an outsider's view— what is a Tori?) and some information about horse races. I flip the page and blink at what I read:

Wanted: Assistant Detective

Pay: £ 5 per case basis

Qualifications: Good planner, quick study, hearty conversationalist, dry humor.

If Interested: Seek Madea Thorne at The Hesperides

"What's the Hespierides?" I ask, sounding out the word.

"A pub near here," the boy explains. There's a special place in hell for whoever decided to name a bar something that hard to say. Imagine saying it drunk. It sounds kind of promising though. I look back to the newsie, who's stares at the penny then looks to me with a disenchanted face. "'S just a coin, innit?"

"Yeah, pretty much," I agree, and hold my hand back for it. He returns it and grabs the paper, tucking it under his arm. "Do you know where the Hesperides is?"

"It's that way—" he turns and points down the street, then cocks his head to the side. "Then you go thattaway—"

"Can you take me there?"

"You daft?" He turns back to me. "I can't leave the papers!"

"No need to be rude, young man," I scold, and he scrunches up his mouth. "What street do I turn on?"

"Regent street. You be careful, miss."

"Why's that?"

"The Hesperides is a swanky place, it is. I wouldn't be surprised if you got thrown out, if you take my meaning."

"Oh, great," I sigh. I mean, there's not much else I can do at this point, right? Maybe I look bad, but if I'm meeting someone there for a job then we could at least go somewhere else. Being with a detective, maybe they've seen something strange or have a theory as to what's going on. As far as my options go:

Get a job as a detective's assistant, which seems pretty cool. See if I can glean anything weird around London in terms of time-travelers.

See a doctor and talk about how I think I'm from the future, get sent to an insane asylum, and get lobotomized.

Go to the police and talk about how I think I'm from the future, get sent to an insane asylum, and get lobotomized.

…?

Go to Iceland and become a goat? There it is again, using humor as a coping mechanism.  Shut up

Seems pretty straight-forward. I hold out my hand to the kid for a fist bump and he seems confused. I clench my other hand and show him what to do. "It's an American thing, like this."

He punches the air in front of him with excitement, and I properly fist bump him. "There you go, attaboy."

He smiles, then looks down at the pipe he was smoking.

"You seem like a bright kid, I think it would be a shame if you got hurt later on in life because you made poor decisions now. You should stop smoking," I encourage, readjusting my satchel. He shrugs.

"Nah, what do you know anyway?" He argues. Does this kid like me or not? Like, we shared a fist bump, dude.

"Alright, little man, but I warned you." I say ominously, widening my eyes dramatically for effect. He rolls his eyes and I smile a little bit. Although he's a pesky squirt, he gives off pretty good little brother vibes. "What street am I turning on again?"

"Regent!" He replies, then scrunches up his nose. "You know, you never paid for the directions."

"Next time I see you I'll let you hold a quarter," I promise, winking slyly as I carry on. The boy looks unimpressed.

"You's a batty lady and a cheapskate!" He calls after me.

"Watch your mouth before I call your mother," I threaten, which presumably does the trick as he doesn't say anything back. I head down the street and listen as a clock chimes somewhere in the distance, yet resonates with all the matter around me. Dong! One, I count, trying to find the sign for 'Regent Street', but not seeing one yet. Dong! Two, I just need to walk a little while longer. My feet ache from my trek in the forest. I'm beginning to notice bug bites on my arms and the backs of my shins. Dong! Three. The guy at the park said it was five thirty earlier, so it's probably around six, right? Dong! Four. A black bird caws and flies down from one of the rooftops, landing down on the sidewalk and hopping over to one of the buildings. Dong! Five. It pecks at a couple blades of grass in between the stones of the road. Upon finding nothing, it begins to take flight again. Dong! That's six.

The sign for Regent Street is a simple pole on the side of the road with a wooden slate on it in the shape of an arrow pointing left and right. Another horse-and-buggy comes into view and I wave to the driver, unsure which way to turn.

"Care for a ride, miss? Just a quid if it's not too far," he explains, slowing the horse down. My feet are killing me, but I still have no usable money.

"No, thank you. Can you tell me which way the…" Fuck, I forgot the name of the place. "It sounds kinda Greek, starts with an H. Hesperides?"

"Aye, ma'am. The Hesperides is just down thattaway—" he points to my left, "Though, looking the way you do, I doubt you would have much business there."

"I'm just meeting someone!," I explain. Geez, this must be a pretty high-end place. I doubt a bar is going to be open so soon, I think as I reach the adjacent sidewalk, but continue along anyway. I could just wait outside. Does the UK have laws against loitering? A couple people exit through the buildings lining the road, two women and a man all from different doors, but only a couple moments apart from each other. One of the women in a gray dress shakes out an umbrella and then uses it as a cane to help her get down the steps as well as grabbing the bannister and creeping down slowly. The man holds the door open impatiently, then a little scottish terrier trots out happily. I can't help but smile at how cute the little guy is, hopping down the steps of his house and then waiting for his owner to lock the door behind him. It seems like the houses and the stores are mixed in together, with little apartments smushed between store signs for hats or deli meats.

The Hesperides, on the other hand, is a stand alone building with a wide window at the front, showing a wide array of tables and booths, and a liquor bar on the right hand side. Oddly enough, there's patrons inside, I count four of them. Two men at the counter, talking to the waiter about something, and then a couple sitting in a booth. Either they serve breakfast here, or they're alcoholics. I enter cautiously and the bartender nods in a greeting. I force a smile, though I'm sure it comes off as timid, and head over to the counter.

"What can I get you?" He asks when he walks to meet me. His accent is different from the man at the park; more posh.

"I'm actually looking for someone. Madea Thorne? She posted a wanted ad in the paper."

"Ah, looking for a little bit of adventure?" He winked, then leaned away from the counter. "She's a regular here. I'll give her a call and tell you're waiting."

"Thank you," I express, and he nods and walks over to the wall where an old timey telephone is attached. He picks up the receiver and I can't help but smile at the memory of home phones attached to the wall back in my time. Oh no, I'm going to be one of those old people that goes 'Back in my day…' aren't I? I try to act normal, but I doubt I can. My clothes are covered in grime, I have no usable money, I have no idea how I got to the country, let alone this time period. But, getting a job seems like a stable start. I'll have time to freak out and scream into a pillow when I have a roof over my head.

When the bartender comes back he pours a drink and sets it on the counter in front of me. "I don't have any money, I'm sorry," I explain.

"You look like you need it," he replies, and nods to the glass. I take it and smell, my face contorting wildly at the sharp odor of ethanol. "Not a big drinker?"

"Not at six o'clock in the morning," I defend, but down the drink anyway. It tastes awful, honestly, like drinking nail polish remover. Still, I'm not in a position to turn away hospitality.

"That's a girl!" He encourages when I set the glass down wincing. "There's a bathroom in the back, you can clean yourself up."

He walks away then with one of the bottles and heads over to another customer, refilling their glass and chatting lightly. I get up and head over to "the back", I guess, and find a swanky hallway with an organized stockroom and a clean bathroom. Dang, even the toilets look nice. Color me impressed I close the door and turn to the mirror.

Holy shit I look awful. There's scratches and dried mud on my face, my white blouse is soggy and stained, and my skirt is nearly ripped to shreds at the bottom. My hair has three or four twigs and leaves tangled in, and is frayed out. If I had spent a whole night headbanging to Aerosmith I wouldn't have this much frizz and chaos.

I approach the sink and begin to wash my face. All the grime sticks to my face at first, but with resilience and determination I manage to get my face looking semi-normal again. The clothes are a lost cause, but there's no help for that now. I wash my arms in case I scraped against any poison ivy or something dangerous, and sigh. Still look like shit. Thanks, you too. Same person, dumbass.

I finally am able to dry myself off with the raggedy towels in the bathroom, and stare at myself in the mirror. I've seen my face many times before, every day, but today something feels different. Not look different, I still have all the same physical attributes, but it feels like a different person is living underneath my skin. And that's called body dysmorphia. I literally traveled back in time over a hundred years. I think that might be it. Maybe a little body dysmorphia. Ugh, fine… maybe a little.

Exiting the bathroom I head back to the front of the bar, and the bartender makes eye contact and points to one of the booths. I see the back of a woman with short hair in the booth, facing away from me.

There's Madea. Time to not fuck this up.