#pedantic woman strikes again

[ceescedasticity]

Discussion: What are the differences in implication between

Supposedly

Allegedly

Reportedly

Purportedly

[ceescedasticity]

Well, I mean. Originally "fan" came from "fanatic", and that doesn't have to be positive.

For that matter a lot of sports fans appear to spend a lot of time complaining about everything too, so I think it's safe to say "fan" has multiple definitions — one is liking something, but the other is caring very much.

sometimes i say things on twitter and then make a little graph about it

[koshkamartell]

Chapter 2

chapter warnings: soft!Joel, pervy!Joel, coarse language, slut shaming, protective!Joel, alcohol consumption.

That following Sunday Joel comes over to repair your porch swing as agreed. It is a strange, almost surreal experience for him to be standing at your cottage once again, only this time in the daylight and with the purpose of offering a service. Your cottage looks even more dilapidated in the light of day with its peeling paint work and broken window shutters. Just how long have you lived here in these conditions?

The small garden in your yard, however, is as splendid as he imagined it would be; an array of different flowers of various colours flourish in two separate plant beds, their presence a pleasing visual reprieve from the otherwise barren environment around them. Although Joel knows very little about gardening, he can see that it would take a considerable amount of love and effort to cultivate such a display of blooms. Did you do this all yourself?

Joel stands outside your front door for a minute, willing the nerves buzzing throughout his limbs to subside. His hand flexes around the handle of his tool box, the handle feeling sticky against the rough skin of his palm. He's not quite sure why, but he's nervous to see you again. It's not like you're some muckety muck figurehead of the community or something - you're just a random woman that needs help with a piece of furniture. A totally innocent scenario with a seemingly unremarkable, normal woman.

He swallows the lump in his throat and summons the courage to rap the back of his knuckles against the wood of your door. When you open it to greet him, Joel is momentarily stunned by your appearance. He is able to absorb more details of your face now, like the small scar on your bottom lip and the long one above your left eyebrow, aswell as the striking colour of your eyes. Your hair hangs over your shoulder in a loose pony tail, showcasing the elegant slope of your neck. The two top buttons of your shirt are undone, allowing him to spy the swell of your cleavage hidden behind the material.

You aren't just a random, normal woman. You are a gorgeous, sensual creature that stands before him like a kind of sultry apparitation. Joel tries his damnest not to stare at you, to instead divert his gaze to his feet, but it is near impossible to when the honeyed enunciation of his name slips out from the pout of your lips. It makes his cock twitch in his jeans.

Get it together. You're here for a job, that's all.

He nods and greets you good morning. There is an air of awkwardness between you, the kind of pleasant yet reserved way people interact when they are not friends yet not exactly strangers. You offer Joel a polite smile but don't try to engage him in small talk, for which he is thankful. He feels self conscious around you, as though he will say or do something that will make himself look ridiculous.

He sighs with relief when you excuse yourself and disappear inside your house and leave him alone to focus on the job. There's no way in hell he would be able to concentrate on what he came to do with you lingering about. He sets his tool box on the porch and gets straight to work on the swing. He spends the next hour or so measuring the broken slats and going to the lumber yard to retrieve suitable wood for their replacement.

When Joel returns he saws them to the correct size and hammers the pieces to the frame of the swing. He's methodical in the way he carries out each task, the pedantic need to execute things perfectly carried over from his days as a contractor. He savours the times when he's immersed in an assignment, whether it be on patrol or working on construction projects around the commune; the preoccupation dulls the ever present gnawing grief that plagues his battered heart, and helps inspire him to endure and survive.

Some time during the afternoon, when Joel is nailing one of the slats back onto the bench, you potter out to the porch and check in with him. You ask if he needs anything to eat or drink, but Joel politely refuses. Even though his stomach rumbles and his throat is dry, Joel is too bashful to accept your offer and prefers to dedicate himself to finishing the job before doing anything else.

"No, thank you, ma'am," he mutters.

You go back inside the house and Joel continues hammering. A minute later you reappear carrying a little wooden tray with two sandwiches on a plate and a tall glass of lemonade sitting ontop.

"Joel," you interrupt him gently. "Please take a break and eat."

Joel's hand pauses midway between delivering a knock to one of the nails. His eyes trail up your jean clad legs and stop at the tray in your hands. He feels his tummy flip a somersault.

You made lunch for him?

The people of Jackson are generally well mannered and convivial, but no one has ever extended their hospitality in such a way to him before. No one has never been so considerate as to serve him food him like this. He gently drops his hammer by his feet and slowly rises from his kneeling position on the floor, his joints creaking.

With a triumphant smile blossoming across your face, you slink past him with the tray and crouch to deposit it on the top ledge of your porch steps. Joel watches your movements closely, his eyes wandering over the nape of your neck and down your spine to your ass. He wonders what you would smell and taste like if he were to worship your body with sloppy kisses and gentle bites. His tongue darts out to swipe over his bottom lip.

"Relax for a minute," you insist as you stand upright. Joel quickly swivels his head away from you and pretends to be preoccupied with scrutinising his handiwork.

"I have to go to the greenhouse to check on some seedlings." You say as you prance down the steps, your boots clunking on the wood with each tread. "But I'll be back soon."

"Okay," Joel mumbles, nodding his head but still not meeting your eye. You must work in the greenhouse, he guesses. It strikes Joel that he actually knows nothing about you aside from what Tommy had told him. You're a mystery, an enigmatic creature who he cannot quite understand why he's so drawn to. He waits a few moments before peeking back to see the back of your feminine figure sauntering down the street, the only sign of life that seems to be out and about in the ramshackle neighbourhood.

With you absent, Joel feels confident enough to finally take a break and let himself rest for a few minutes. He plops down on the step beside the lunch tray and expels a weary groan. God, he's feels so fucking old lately. He wonders how old you are. He guesses around 35, maybe a little younger. It's hard to tell, these days.

Joel all but wolfs down the lunch you made him. The sandwiches - some lettuce, cheese and a bit of turkey - are surprisingly delicious and fill the empty cavern in his stomach. He washes it down with the sweet, tangy lemonade before giving a small belch of satiation. It turns out that a bit of food and a cool drink is just what Joel needs; it revitalises him, giving him enough energy to finish off the last bit of restoring the backing of the swing.

By the time you return, an hour or so later, Joel has completed the job. You reach the cottage as he tugs on one of the chains connecting the seat to the porch roof, testing out its durability. Satisfied that it won't collapse, he packs his hammer and the remaining unused nails back into his tool box. He doesn't see you approach until you're already bounding up to the porch, a wide smile spread over your face.

"Holy shit," you exclaim. "You're already finished?"

Joel watches you make a beeline for the swing with your eyes wide and your mouth hanging open in awe. There is a smudge of dirt on one of your cheeks, he notices. You look young and girlish in this moment, like an excited kid marvelling at a new toy. You're cute. Joel has to suppress his own small smile of amusement.

Your hand trails reverently along one of the arm rests and up along the top back slat. "Wow," you whisper in wonderment. "Incredible."

"Needs a coat of paint," Joel interrupts. "Then she'll be perfect."

You shift your eyes away from the swing to lock eyes with Joel. You shake your head gently. "It's already perfect, Joel," you say earnestly. "Thank you."

Your expression is so sincere, your face so fucking beautiful, that Joel feels his stomach suddenly somersault once again. He clears his throat and glances down at his boots.

"Welcome," he mumbles.

You appraise Joel's handiwork for another minute before sitting down on the seat. You push yourself to rock back and forth a few times, giggling with delight when the swing picks up some momentum. Your pleasure is infectious, it seems; Joel huffs a quiet chuckle while he observes you.

His heart blooms with pride to witness the happiness the fruit of his labour has given you. It makes him want to do more for you, to give you more reasons to beam that sweet smile of yours. Aside from Ellie you're the only person who has evoked such an inclination from him; it is a startling realisation considering he usually didn't give a shit about anyone else's pursuit of happiness.

He needs another reason to meet with you again.

"Them shutters don't look too good," Joel motions to the deteriorated panels that hang against your windows like limp cobwebs. "Ain't gonna last the rain through next winter."

You sigh and cast a glance at the window closest to your shoulder. "I guess you're right. I did ask Tommy if I could get them fixed, but what was a while ago."

Joel's ears perk up at the mention of his brother. "You did? Why aren't they fixed then?"

"I don't know, I guess he just forgot," you dismiss with a shrug. "He's pretty busy running other things in the community, I didn't want to bother him with something like this." You lean back and reach over to lightly trace the edge of one of the shutter frames with a fingertip. "It doesn't bother me that much."

Joel puts his hands on his hips and narrows his gaze at you, his jaw ticking. He isn't completely sure if you are telling him the truth. Are you really so unbothered by how much of your property seems to be falling apart around you? There's no way he would let Ellie live in such a place. There's no way he can leave you today knowing there's more he can do for you.

"I'm comin' back next week to fix these up," Joel declares, sounding more gruff than he intends to. "Before the damn things fall off."

You grin at him and stand up from the seat. "Okay, but only if we make a deal. I gotta do something in return for you."

"You made me--"

You quickly hold up your hand. "Making you lunch isn't enough. I want to do something for you. I'm not a freeloader, I can pull my own weight. Please, Joel."

There is a cutting edge of conviction in your pointed gaze and the tone of your voice. You are determined to prove yourself. It reminds him of the night you met, when you were pissed at him during that misunderstanding. He chews on his bottom lip as he thinks. He would be glad to give you an opportunity to prove yourself, if it is that important to you, but he's just not the kind of person to insist on quid pro quo, tit for tat.

What could you possibly do for him, anyway?

The dubiety must be clear on his face because you eagerly start listing the different things you have to offer him.

"I can tidy your yard, plant some things I'm your garden. Do your dishes. Your laundry. Fuck, I don't know. Sew your clothes."

Joel's eyebrow raises in piqued curiosity. "Y'know how to sew?"

"Yes, sir," you nod solemnly. "My mother taught me when I was a kid. I can stitch whatever you need."

He can't hide how impressed he is. Skills such as sewing are invaluable in these times. He hums and scratches his chin while he considers your offer, his fingernails creating a rasping sound as they pass over his whiskers.

"Well, my favourite jacket does have a hole in it," he murmers.

"Done," you grin at him. "Bring it with you next week."

Joel huffs a laugh and agrees, shaking your hand when you offer it to him. He tries to ignore the little jolt of electricity he feels when his large, rough hand clutches your smaller, much soft one.

He returns the following weekend and repairs the shutters while you sit on the swing and diligently stitch his jacket. The scene is domestic and comfortable. You chat together as you both work on your individual tasks, occasionally falling into stretches of congenial silence when either of you need to concentrate.

Around lunch time you insist Joel comes inside the cottage to eat with you. He acquiseces and follows you through the front door, unable to help look at the shape of your ass when you walk in front of him. He wonders what you'd look like underneath your clothes, how soft and supple your body would be, how hypnotising your ass would look bouncing as he pounds into you doggy style.

Fucking quit it.

You lead Joel to a humble little dining table beside your kitchen. He takes a seat and looks around, absorbing the details of your dwelling. It's a small place but suitable for a single person like yourself. A little glass vase of posies sit in the middle the kitchen bench. The walls are painted in a pale shade of lemon, the pleasant hue highlighted by the sun shining through the delicate lace curtains that frame your kitchen window.

There is a small oil painting hanging on the wall beside him. It's a still life of a bowl of fruit, and while Joel has never been a conscious admirer of art, he can appreciate the intricacy of the shading and detail within the painting. He studies it while you prepare the sandwiches and cups of tea.

At the bottom of the canvas is written: "to Honey, love J."

"Whose Honey?" Joel wonders aloud, squinting at the handwritten words.

"Me," you answer simply. He looks over to you and raises an eyebrow inquisitively.

"That some kinda nickname?"

"'S what some folks call me." You reply simply.

Joel watches you as you slice into a ripe tomato. You stare down at the chopping board as you slowly work the knife up and down, granting him a brief opportunity to drink in the sight of your face; you look particularly pretty today, he thinks, especially with the golden glow of the sun pouring over you. A lock of hair falls from behind your ear and dangles over your forehead and he fights the impulse to tuck it away.

"Why do some folks call you Honey?" Joel asks.

The corner of your mouth quirks into half a smile, but your head remains bowed as you stay focused on cutting the tomato. "Well, when I first came here I was assigned work duty in the nursery. Jan was the person I worked with. We got along well. She taught me so much. Because of her I was able to grow those flowers in my garden myself, all from seeds. Anyway, I loved the flowers, they were my favourite."

Joel watches you closely, analysing the features of your beautiful face as you speak, the way your eyes warm with affection at the memory you recollect. He loves seeing you like this.

"She used to laugh at me, the way I'd hover around the flowers, like a honey bee." You chuckle softly, shaking your head with fondness. "So she started calling me Honey, and I guess it just stuck."

It's sweet. It suits you perfectly. The bitesized insight into your private life excites Joel. It is as though he has attained the first piece of the puzzle that is your identity, the individual you truly are.

"Jan painted me that," you look up now and motion with your chin toward the canvas that hangs beside him. "About a year before she passed. I miss her everyday, but seeing that makes me happy. Like I have a little piece of her with me."

Joel listens attentively as you recount some of the escapades you and Jan got up to at the greenhouse. He laughs along with you when you tell him about the time you tripped and fell face first into a pile of horse shit. He shakes his head with feigned disapproval as you describe a prank you pulled on Jan in retaliation for her scaring you with a fake spider.

You're funny, it turns out. And a hell of a story teller. By the end of the day Joel has talked and laughed more in the one afternoon than he has in all his time living in Jackson. He goes to bed that night with a silly little grin on his face.

The exchange of services and food continues over the next few weeks. He fixes the leaking pipe in laundry next and in turn you thank him by baking him blueberry muffins, which he thinks is just about the most delicious thing he has ever eaten. He finds your gestures of gratitude touching, even though he rarely enjoys receiving praise from anyone.

There's something about your personality that makes Joel feel at ease. He senses no judgement or condescension in the way you talk and behave with him, unlike the times he's conversed with other townsfolk. There are no airs and graces with you, and while you seem a little shy at times, you certainly aren't timid. While you like discussing subjects that interest you, you aren't an incessant chatterbox. He appreciates that you don't talk for the sake of talking, that you seem to enjoy contented silence.

The friendship between you and Joel blossoms over the course of the following months. You spend a few hours together every couple of weeks, either at your cottage or at Joel's house. He enjoys finding things to fix for you, jobs that keep his hands busy and help temper his nerves. You seem to understand this about Joel, his need to provide and service, and you never deny assigning him something to do, no matter how small.

Joel isn't sure just how you feel about him, but you always look pleased to see him, always greeting him with a warm smile. Joel himself secretly relishes the time you spend together, that ever present invisible string luring him to you, making him want to spend more and more of his free time with you.

The friendship between you and Joel goes unnoticed by anyone else. You don't socialise much, it seems, as no one is ever at your cottage when Joel stops by. He occasionally spots you at the dining hall eating with one or two other women who he surmises are your work friends. You spend your days on duty at the greenhouse and planting crops. He knows you go to the Tipsy Bison for a drink, although it seems to be a rare occurance. He's come to realise that you are alot alike himself - favouring your own company to superficial friendships, not overly gregarious, preferring to keep your head down and contribute to the community with humility rather than big noting yourself. He appreciates you for that. He respects you.

In fact, Joel has come to really like you.

It's why he hasn't mentioned you to anyone but Ellie. She's met you a few times now, and Joel is pleased to see that you two get along well. But aside from Ellie, Joel is hesitant to divulge your friendship to anyone else, especially Tommy. Unfortunately for Joel, the inevitable comes one autumn afternoon when you show up on his doorstep with a plate of cookies in hand. He wasn't expecting you but welcomes the surprise, always privately thrilled to lay his eyes on your pretty face. He even forgets that Tommy is supposed to be coming over to discuss the new patrol roster.

He's standing on the threshold on his doorstep, captivated by you recounting the events of your morning baking marathon, when Tommy arrives. Joel catches sight of his brother in his peripheral vision and a rush of dread and annoyance swoop over his heart.

Fuck.

"Hello little lady," Tommy greets you as he ascends the porch steps to Joel's front door. His dark brown eyes throw a furtive glance of curiousity to Joel before settling back on you. He smiles but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "What ya got there?" He tips his head toward the plate in your hands.

"Hey Tommy," you smile. "Oh, just some muffins, a few cookies." You look back at Joel and grin. "I'm trying out that apple and oat recipe from that book I told you about. Thought it was only right that you were the first to taste test."

Ofcourse you did. You are always so goddamn kind.

"Thanks, Honey," Joel murmers as he accepts the plate you eagerly extend to him. He wishes he could be more jovial and express just how appreciative he is, but it's impossible with Tommy there. The weight of Tommy's unspoken scrutiny rests uncomfortably over Joel's head, like a storm cloud threatening to unleash a torrential downpour.

Thankfully you don't linger. You excuse yourself and bid them goodbye, flashing one last dazzling smile before leaving to go check on the greenhouse.

"Well, I'll be damned," Tommy grins smugly as the two men enter into Joel's house. "You and Honey huh?"

Ribbing and teasing from his little brother was always going to be inevitable, but for some reason, when it comes to you, Joel finds it bothers him more than he anticipated. His jaw clenches momentarily. He needs to try keep his cool.

"Me and her what?" Joel grunts. "We're just friends."

They make their way into the kitchen, where Joel sets the plate down on the counter. The sugary scent from the baked goods wafts up to his nostrils and makes his stomach grumble.

"Hey, I got friends," Tommy sniggers. "None of 'em bake cookies for me." He plucks one of the cookies from the plate and takes a bite. "Ya fuckin' her?"

"Goddamnit, Tommy," Joel snarls suddenly. "No. It ain't like that."

"So what's it like, then?" Tommy questions through a mouthful of cookie. "Why is she playin' Betty Crocker with an grumpy old asshole like you?"

"I've been helpin' repair stuff around her place. It's just how she says thanks." Joel shoots back defensively. Tommy shrugs and shoves the rest of the cookie into his mouth.

"Ya know, I got a bone to pick with you," Joel crosses his arms and narrows his eyes at Tommy. Now is the perfect opportunity for him to bring up the issues he has been meaning to for weeks. "Why did she get stuck livin' in that place?"

Tommy frowns and leans his lower back against the kitchen counter. "What do you mean?"

"Her house. It's fallin' into disrepair, Tommy."

Tommy hums and smooths his moustache with the pads of his thumb and forefinger. He seems to consider it for a few moments before shrugging nonchalantly. "It ain't that bad."

"It is, as a matter of fact," Joel retorts sharply. "It's unacceptable, actually."

"What do you want me to do about it, Joel?" Tommy bites back. There is a hint of irritation lacing his tone, an inflection that seems uncharacteristic of Tommy's usually benevolent personality.

Joel throws his hands up, exasperated. "You're on the damn committee, you gotta say in this kinda stuff. She should be livin' somewhere where the drain pipes aren't busted and need fixin' every week."

"So that's what you been doin' all this time, huh?" Tommy sniggers. "Fixin' her pipes?"

Joel rolls his eyes and shoots Tommy with an unimpressed glare. "That's enough. Just move her to a better house."

Tommy's playful demeanour quickly morphs into an exasperated scowl. "You know we gotta put families first, Joel. There just ain't anythin' available right now."

Joel scoffs and shakes his head. "Just promise me you'll do what you can, Tom. As a favour to me."

Tommy nods his agreement, his jaw set square and firm. They spend the rest of the afternoon avoiding any further discussion of you.

Your visits to each other's homes become a ritual of sorts. On those quiet afternoons you keep Joel company, sipping tea as you watch him saw and hammer and tinker. You share conversation, asking each other questions and sharing titbits of information about your lives both now and before the end of the world. He learns that you were a teenager when the outbreak began and had lost all your family within the first two weeks. You spent the years travelling around the state with a few different groups of survivors, narrowly managing to avoid raiders or being rounded up into a QZ.

You had met your defacto husband, Michael, when you joined his ragtag band of men and women. After eight years of living in the harsh wilderness the group had dwindled down to just you and he. You eventually stumbled upon Jackson, both of you malnourished and suffering various ailments and injuries. It was only two weeks after arriving that your husband succumbed to the pneumonia that plagued his lungs.

You gloss over this part of your life story with few details, but Joel can recognise the glimpse of sorrow in your eyes and in the tiny hitch in your voice. He can see your pain runs deep but he still can't help wondering why you haven't found someone to shack up with in Jackson.

Joel thinks back to that night he first met you, how you left the bar in tears. He still occasionally wondered about just what happened but hadn't asked, not wanting to pry and potentially offend the fragile friendship that had become quite precious to him.

He finds the right opportunity to sate his curiousity one cool autumn evening. You had invited Joel over for dinner that night, and some time after dessert you and he sat on the porch swing side by side, each nursing a bottle of beer. You sit contentedly with a knitted blanket over your legs and watch as a light breeze dances through the quiet street and swirls the crunchy fallen leaves around the sidewalk. Joel leans back into the swing and rests a hand on his belly.

"'M gettin' fatter with all your delicious cookin'," he mutters good naturedly.

You chuckle and push your toes against the porch to give the seat a gentle sway back and forth. "Think it'll be strong enough to hold us both?"

"Told ya I'd fix it that night we met," Joel counters matter of factly. "And I don't do things half assed."

You raise your bottle slightly and tip it to him in salute. "You're right. Maybe I should be thanking that asshole from the bar. Probably would have never met if it wasn't for him - I wouldn't be sitting in this perfectly crafted swing, either."

You jest, giggling to yourself, but Joel goes quiet and pensive. You notice his change in mood immediately and give him a gently nudge with your shoulder.

"Hey, what are you thinking?"

"That night we met," he begins tentatively, turning his head to look at you. "Who was that guy? What did he say to you?"

Your brows furrow with a contemplative solemnity and you chew on your bottom lip for a moment. Joel watches you intently as he patiently waits.

"He was just some guy," you eventually reply. "I don't really know him, but I know one of his friends."

Joel nods slightly to indicate he's listening to you. You glance up at him and sigh, shaking your head.

"Kinda a long story. You really wanna hear it?"

"Got all the time in the world, Honey," Joel says earnestly. All the time in the world for you.

You smile back at him and have a sip from your bottle. "Here goes. So, a while after I first got here, I started drinking alot. I just wanted to numb the pain, you know?"

Joel hums lowly. He knows that feeling all too well. His own experience of abusing whatever alcohol and pills he could get his hands on back in the QZ, whatever destructive thing he could do to drown out the incessant agony from the loss he had endured. Although Joel was able to better manage his grief now days he still experienced times of loneliness, nights where he yearned for comforting arms wrapped around him, for someone to talk about his day with.

"I missed Michael so much. I really needed someone to just hold me and let me cry," you confess softly. "But who could I go to? I didn't really know anyone here. I wasn't ready to open up and trust anyone, anyway."

You stretch out your legs and wriggle underneath the blanket to get a little more comfortable. Joel waits for you to continue your story, trying his best to ignore the twitching urge to inch his hand closer to yours and slip his fingers inbetween yours.

"So, one night I got drunk off some god awful cocktail mix at the Bison. Some guy had been trying to chat to me but I kinda ignored him, wasn't really interested. You know Greg, Tommy's friend?"

Joel frowns. "The guy that works in the stables?"

You nod. "Yeah, well, he was the guy. Kept ordering me more drinks to get me to talk, acting all charming. Anyway, by midnight I'm pretty drunk."

Joel's hand curls into a fist and his jaw ticks. The thought of you intoxicated in a bar with some creep trying to chat you up makes him agitated. Although he doesn't really know Greg, Joel instantly decides to hate him from this point on.

"Okay," Joel murmers to indicate he is listening. He doesn't like the sound of what may come next in your story but he is eager to find out.

"When I get up to leave he's right next to me acting like a gentleman, holding me up and opening the door for me. And he walked me home."

Joel wants to punch Greg's fucking face in.

"The sex wasn't anything amazing. But I remember my mind going blank. I wasn't in pain. I wasn't thinking. No memories, no sadness. Just the weight of someone else on me."

Your voice catches slightly at the last few words, and Joel feels his heart ache with the need to comfort you, to sling his arm around you and pull you close. He's in awe of your vulnerability and rawness in this moment, how unashamedly you bare your history and emotions to him. You look down at the bottle in your hand as you speak, idly toying with the lip of its opening. Are you nervous to talk about this with him?

"I went into a downward spiral for a while. I slept with a few people. I couldn't handle a relationship. I needed to feel someone close to me. It was a way of getting that closeness, you know? Without the fear of them leaving."

"Anyway, Greg was an asshole and told his buddies about what we did. And that guy at the Bison that night, he was one of 'em. Thought I'd fuck him if he acted all smooth." You roll your eyes and scoff. "When I rejected him he started saying really mean stuff just to hurt me."

"Fuckin' prick," Joel growls, his hand flexing to grip the neck of his bottle tightly.

"I'm not denying what I did. It was my way of coping at that time and I'm not ashamed of it. We all have shit we have to live with, and I was just doing what I could to get through it." You lean your head back against the swing and sigh softly.

Joel understands precisely what you mean. He wishes he could express just how well he *does* understand. He's committed so many deplorable acts of violence throughout this nightmarish apocalypse - some in the name of survival, others without true justification. He has always been able to suppress the tormenting memories in his day to day life but they haunt his subconscious, waiting until night time to rain an onslaught of bad dreams upon him, causing him to wake suddenly with his heart pounding and his brow drenched with sweat.

You take a swig from your bottle and quietly add, "But people talk, Joel. And they can be so cruel."

Joel stares down at his lap, his jaw ticking. He isn't sure what to say in response. He knows first hand how cruel people can be, how vicious the judgemental gossiping can be. But he feels ashamed and guilty; his own brother was one of those people who talked about you, and his own first impression of you was less than virtuous. He hates himself for how dishonourable his thoughts were.

"I told you because I trust you, Joel. And because I know you won't judge me." You whisper, your voice cracking just the tiniest bit.

Joel's heart skips a beat when your hand slips out from the blanket and crawls over his jean clad knee. He takes a moment to recover from the shock when you find his hand and thread your fingers through his thick digits and squeeze gently. That same extraordinary electric sensation buzzes between you once more. He exhales a deep breath through his nostrils and carefully squeezes your delicate hand back.

It's right at that moment in time that Joel makes a promise to himself to always protect you.

[b-kip]

British Slang, Phrases and Idioms!

Finally getting this done! Special thanks to my Pa, because without him I wouldn’t know as much slang as I do LOL, we talk about this kind of thing on the regular, and he's my point of reference for this.

Remember, all of these phrases are very informal/casual, and the point of perspective is from England specifically, some of these words could mean something completely different to someone from a surrounding country. Some are moreso used by older people, while others are typical of a brit of any age. I’ll try my best to indicate as such!

If you have any questions, don't be afraid to ask! Whether it's in the replies, a DM or an actual tumblr ask! I may do another list/add to this list if I remember more later on. Of course, others are free to add on to this, offer corrections or clarifications, etc! :)

Warnings: Vulgar language, very very brief NSFW mentions

Anyway, Slang and Phrases under the cut!!

Nouns

Berk: an insult, a stupid person. Might be more common with people who are older.

Bird(s): Woman/Women ("A couple of birds") - Can sometimes come off as a little sleazy, but not always. Depends on the way it's used. I'd say it's kind of mostly used in reference to women you aren't that familiar with? Can also be used to mean someone's girlfriend "That's X's bird," Used by all.

Bloke(s): A man/men. Again, I'd say it's mostly used in reference to a guy you aren't very familiar with, but it's not always the case. Used by all.

Bollocks: Nonesense, an exclamation used when you’re annoyed/disagree with something or someone. Used by all.

"That's a load of bollocks," / That's a load of bullshit

"Bollocks to it," / Fuck it

Typically used out of anger or exasperation, but can be used in a light-hearted and joking way.

Bollocking: A strong reprimand. Used by all.

Chops: Mouth or jaws, ("Hit him right in the chops,")

Lad: A guy, typically indicates youth. Used by all.

Lass: A girl, typically indicates youth. Used by all.

Muppet: Also an insult, meaning incompetent or foolish. Used by all.

Mard Arse: someone who is sulking. Used by all.

Can also become a verb - "Mardying"/ Or an adjective: “Mardy”

Telly: TV. Used by all.

Trolleys/Kecks/Knickers: Underwear. First two are likely used by older people, whereas knickers is more commonly used by all. Knickers also specifically alludes/refers to women's underwear.

Yank: An American (Used by Ghost in the first MW2) Can very much have a derogatory tone to it. Used by all.

Adjectives

Battered: of an object, damaged by age and repeated use. Of a person, injured by repeated blows/hits. Used by all.

Bonny: Pretty/Beautiful

Buzzing: Very excited and happy, probably moreso used by younger people

Chuffed: Extremely happy or proud. Used by all.

Daft: Foolish. Used by all.

Dire: Very poor quality (Can still be used to mean serious or urgent) Used by all.

Dodgy: Unreliable, potentially dangerous, dishonest Used by all.

Fancy: Want/Like. Used by all.

Flatter than a witch's tit: Extremely flat

Gutted: Disappointed/Devastated. Used by all ages.

Hammered: Very drunk. Used by all.

Jammy: Lucky, getting lucky without effort ("You jammy bastard.")

Knackered/Shattered: Tired, exhausted / Can also be used to describe something that is broken. Used by all.

Minging: Disgusting/Unpleasant.

Pissed/Pissed-up: Drunk (But can still be used to mean Pissed Off/Angry) Used by all.

Piss easy: Very easy. Used by all.

Piece of Piss: Very easy. Used by all.

Thick: Stupid, dumb (Can be extended into a simile Ex, "Thick as pig shit") Used by all.

Verbs

Batter: strike repeatedly with hard blows, beat the shit out of someone. Used by all.

Collar/Collared: Seize/apprehend, or to stop someone in order to speak to them. Used by all.

Faff/Faffing about: Waste time, doing something (typically something useless) in a really disorganised or pedantic way. Used by all.

Kip: to sleep/nap (literally where my name comes from lmao) Ex. "I'm goin' kip," Used by all.

Leg-it/Legged it/Legging it: Run for it. Used by all.

Mouth/Mouthed/Mouthing Off: talk in a loud, unpleasant or rude/disrespectful way. Used by all.

Nick/Nicked: To steal. Used by all.

Scarper/Scarpered: Run away. Used by all.

Shag: To have sex with someone

Skive/Skived/Skiving: Avoid work or a particular duty by staying away or leaving early. Used by all.

Yank: Pull something very hard. Used by all.

Phrases and Idioms

All over the shop:

Can be used to mean "everywhere" ("You're getting it all over the shop!" / "You're getting it everywhere!")

Can also mean to describe something or someone as being in a disorganised or confused state. ("He was all over the shop,")

Used by all.

Armed to the teeth: Carrying a lot of weapons. Used by all.

Bastard: Can sometimes be used in a similar way to "Dammit!" - an expression of frustration. Used by all.

Can also be used like "damn" when referring to something in frustration. (Ex. "Close that damn door!" would be "Close that bastard door!")

Bastard can also be added after an adjective for added effect "Thievin' bastard," / "Mardy Bastard,"

Bastard in general is a very versatile word, it can be used as an insult but also can just be used to refer to someone generally. See it as a sort of replacement for "guy" in some aspects (but not all). ("Poor guy,"/"Poor bastard,")

Combining the above two, you can get the wonderful phrase "All over the bastard shop."

Bone to pick: Having a grievance with someone. In some cases may indicate reprimanding. Used by all.

Built like a brick shithouse: Describing someone who's very big and very strong. Used by all.

By the skin of one's teeth: By a narrow margin, only just, ("Hanging on by the skin of his teeth"/"Barely holding on") Used by all.

Cheers: Casual term for "Thanks" Used by all.

Christ on a bike: Used to indicate shock, surprise or exasperation, a more humerous take on "Jesus Christ" Used by all.

Fuck me: An exclamation used to indicate annoyance, exasperation and frustration. Can also be used to express surprise or disbelief (Kind of in the way you'd use "Jesus Christ") Used by all.

Gagging for it: sort of like "begging/asking for it" / really wanting something/tempting fate. Can be used in a taunting or threatening way. Used by all.

Ex. “He’s gagging for it.”

Give/Gave someone a seeing-to: Similar to battering someone. But can also mean fucking someone (often used humerously in that context). Used by all.

Have a laugh/Having a laugh: Also has two meanings depending on context, used by all.

1. Joking around, generally having fun with something

2. To express annoyance when you think someone is being unreasonable or unfair

Hell's Bells: an exclamation of annoyance or anger. Can be made into an angrier expression by throwing fuck in the middle. Ex. "Hell's fuckin' bells!" - I'd say used by all, but probably moreso older people.

I'll have ya: A threat, similar to "I'll get you," Severity of the threat depends on context, ranging from collaring someone, to beating the shit out of someone to straight up killing them. Can also be used in a joking way between friends. Used by all.

Innit: Short for "Isn't it" or "Ain't it" Used by all ages.

Pack it in: Stop it/Cut it out. Typically used in a frustrated way. Can be emphasised by adding fuck, ex. "Pack it the fuck in!" Used by all.

Pissing About: Wasting time. Used by all.

Pissing it down: Raining really hard. Used by all.

Piss(ing) Oneself Laughing: Laughing uncontrollably. Used by all.

Pissing Oneself: Very scared. Used by all.

Shaking like a shitting dog: To describe someone who's shaking a lot/shaking badly. More of a northern phrase, I think.

Shit/Shat me/you/them up: To scare someone/make them jump

Ta: Short, casual term for "Thank you" Used by all.

Take the piss/Taking the piss: Used by all, has a few meanings

1. Making fun of/mocking someone in a way that isn’t intended to be serious (teasing) (Sort of like “Fuck with,”)

2. To lie about something in a really obvious, sometimes outrageous way. (”What? Really?” “No, I’m taking the piss.”)

3. To describe someone who’s taking something for granted, taking liberties or being unfair.

Rhyming Slang

Tits-up: something going horribly wrong. Used by all. ("It's all going tits-up,")

Wind(ing) someone up: Similar to taking the piss, purposefully being annoying by making fun, teasing or playing practical jokes. ("Where's X?" "He's winding Y up.") May also be used in disbelief when you think someone is being unfair or dishonest ("Are you winding me up?") Used by all.

Wind up merchant: As above, a wind up merchant is someone who enjoys winding someone up, this name is often given in annoyance by the victim

Rhyming Slang gets its own section because it's a wide and wonderful topic. I can't put every possible option, but I'll pick a few favourites. I highly reccommend anyone who's interested to look into it more. Rhyming slang can also just be made up on the spot, and I'd say it's moreso used by older folk.

To use rhyming slang, you just use the phrase in the place of the actual word you're substituing out. Basically just like using synonyms.

Some rhyming slang can be shortened further into just a word.

Bell Ringers/Bellies: Fingers

Boat Race/Boat: Face

Brown Bread: Dead

Butcher's Hook/Butcher's/Butch: Look

Hank Marvin: Starving, hungry

Pat and Mick: Sick

Plates of Meat/Plates: Feet

Septic Tank/Septic: Yank (An American) 

Tea leaf: Thief

Two and eight: State (Describing someone who is dishevelled or upset.)

Extra/Misc

Depending on the situation, "fucking" can be turned into just "kin"

Ex. "Fucking Hell" can become "'kin 'ell!"

This also applies to "Fuck Off" which can just become "Koff"

Ex. "'koff with that shit,"

Depends on the situation honestly, sometimes the "fu" sound can be a lot more emphasised. The art of british swearing is a delicate one.

Insults can also be made out of pretty much anything, so long as it's put after "You absolute-"

Cunt can be a little divisive when used (some have no problem using it, others find it to be too abhorrent to use) but it's used pretty commonly.

[ceescedasticity]

Dear fanfic authors,

Perhaps I'm being overly fussy about terminology, but: Torture by forcing the victim's head underwater isn't waterboarding. Waterboarding is simulated drowning. Holding someone's head underwater is actual drowning. Which doesn't sound right to say, because in the torture method it's, like, incomplete drowning and the verb tends to imply completion, but waterboarding is a technical term and dunk-head-under-water doesn't qualify.

[ceescedasticity]

Well I mean

Partridges are non-native

Turtledoves are non-native

French hens are domesticated

"Calling birds" could be just about anything, so may or may not be a problem

If you take the "gold rings" to be pheasants those aren't native either

There exist protected geese but there also exist domestic geese (and other introduced geese)

Swans I think are most likely to be a problem since there are protected groups and I don't think any non-native groups are very common in North America, but there are non-native swans

So except with the swans I don't think MBTA is necessarily the law most likely to be in play here.

Edit: Presumably this is because the song originated in Britain. But I don't know what their avian trafficking laws are.

on the thirteenth day of christmas my true love was investigated for his many flagrant violations of the Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918

[romilly-jay]

[What is] the right amount of the right kind of pummelling people [in movies]?

***spoilers***

Tonight we watched Unlocked (2017), a spy thriller starring Noomi Rapace, Orlando Bloom, Toni Collette doing a fantastic Emily Blunt cut glass accent and sporting Excellent Short Hair, John Malkovich just this side of utterly menacing, and Trust Me Michael Douglas.

I'll try to get this first point out of the way quickly and efficiently - presumably I've already blathered about this on these very blog pages only my ST memory isn't marvellous and I can't quite recall.

I've learned that Me Loving A Thing - or liking it or finding it tolerable - is a very poor indicator for how popular That Thing is likely to be.

[It's not a neat negative correlation, either - it's not that I can *always* look at things I've enjoyed and know that this means that popular media take is to Hate Them. It... depends...

For a not-really-on-topic case in point, I share what I understand to be the very wide consensus view that The Empire Strikes Back was the best of the original Star Wars trilogy - and I think Rian Johnson's marmite-middle-movie was the best of the most recent trilogy, which I appreciate is a far more controversial take, though I'm not alone in holding it. And yes, I'm on that end of the opinion range that would be more likely to enjoy it... Might be losing the thread here a little.]

Back to the action movie in question. Didn't love love it, but definitely liked it considerably more than the critical 26% consensus on Rotten Tomatoes and, yes, quite a bit more than the audience rating.

I'd have given it - ack - 60 ish? Yeah, 60 ish.

I mean - look at that CAST...

For why?

NR is super watchable and IMO super credible (movie credible, not actually-capable-of-surviving-all-this-stuff credible) as the lead.

[That low score - not connected to being asked to watch a woman anchor this movie? One who Doesn't Sleep With Orlando Bloom?]

Speaking of... I'm projecting of course, but I got the impression OB was enjoying his Cheeky Burglar Chappie With A Secret role. On which note, I have a great deal of respect for movies that acknowledge the short cuts the audience is using to assign characters as Goodies, Baddies, Hotties, Untrustables, Victims, etc. And then plays around with those expectations with a nice blend of To Type and Against Type casting. Looking at youse, OB and JM.

Also speaking of... OB's character certainly learned that most basic of movie lore lessons - Do. Not. Kill. The. Dog.

Sort of a side-bar but I vm enjoyed seeing certain scenes playing out in parts of East London I was familiar with - and I also got a certain kick from the moments when I then found myself thinking WHERE's THAT and then it turns out that part of the movie was shot in Prague.

There was a moment near the start when I found myself worrying that the setting was going to be too Gritty and the violence Too Real.

Thankfully, not the case. From the moment NR rumbles what's going on and goes about digging her way out again, we were dealing with Spy Cartoonish Violence - where the look is superficially "realistic" but the beats are closer to graphic novel than graphic.

Personally, for me, the more cartoonish the better - and if it's Artfully Unrealistic in an overtly choreographed way - THAT's the dream.

Saw The Transporter for the first time the other day - and the fight sequence in the bus station is pretty much at my perfect level. Enjoy.

The kind of nonsense they get up to with Jason Statham's top in this scene is truly *chef's kiss* fight fantasy IMO - and thank you, thank you, from the bottom of my pedantic lil heart to whoever decided he was going to go back for the shirt once he'd erm - wiped the floor - with the rest of the Baddies? (watch the scene...)

PS I'm in what is perhaps the less popular opinion group [AGAIN!] where the thing I like re the top is the clever use of it as a resource NOT the way using it requires JS to remove it. Fair play, the guy has clearly worked extremely hard for that bod. His muscles have muscles. But do I need to see 'em? For me, no, not really. Entirely happy to trust that he's doing all the gym-work you'd anticipate.

[acatinafancyhat]

Watched Chess Netherlands today because... well, I can 🙃 It was surprisingly not all horrible. Definitely flawed and problematic but it had some parts I really liked! Of course I had lots of thoughts again so here is me venting them. 99% sure no one else cares about Dutch Chess but what the hell, tumblr is for screaming into the void right? ✨️

Act I

- You can instantly tell this is a Dutch production because the championships take place in what looks like a school gym. I mean we do our rubiks cube tournaments there. Is fine for chess, no?

- Explaining chess to the audience bc that's what the show is really missing

- Many Svenska Vibes

- Anatoly with an i is the most Dutch Soviet Russian i've ever met. Just, no nonsense. 'go take care of my children woman.' Calling each other names is how we show affection <3

- I will say the boys (Anatoli's kids) playing chess during the opening is a nice touch

- Story of Chess also has very to the point lyrics. "chess requires reticence so u don't kill each other" see now this actually sets up the show real well :)

- Awkward humor no one laughs at ✅️

- Anatoli's kind of a downer

- Freddie's sort of charming but his relationship with Florence is gonna be garbage i can tell

- strike 1: ableism

- (honestly he just reminds me of every Dutch white guy on tv)

- strike 2: assault

- Florence is already so done with his shit good for her

- also "with me there, he is brilliant" tru tru

- Singing Nobody's Side while random people have a lil party behind her?

- oh it's an excuse for karaoke ONIB

-Are they really gonna do the whole song though do we really need that

-lol Freddie pushes karaoke guy off stage so he can finish the song. honey this is a little early in the show to be getting this drunk what are you doing she hasn't even left you yet

- Arbiter leads morning exercise... ok well why not

- No dancing during the chess game. It's cool we can just watch two guys play chess from a distance for a couple minutes. Fun times.

- Freddie sticks his gum under the table real subtle like he hasn't got multiple cameras pointed at him right now

- Actually on second thought i think the chess game might be better without the dancing. Characters are doing interesting things. The contrast between Anatoli sitting stiffly at the table while Freddie is prancing around fistfighting the cameras is Most Amusing :)

- Did he just try to make Anatoli's move for him omg 🤣

- Freddie @ arbiter "uh it might be time u keep things under control around here" and off he runs HE'S SUCH A LITTLE SHIT ngl i kinda love him here

- However Florence's defense of him just seems completely unreasonable considering toli literally just. sat there. the whole time.

- Anatolyi gets the 'i'm ridiculous' monologue like in Svenska

- 'Hey my people killed your people oops now let me sing a song in the language you probably don't remember and it's somehow romantic and not creepy or overstepping any boundaries at all :)'

- Running away from Molokov in a shittier version of Svenska. Meh. But again they are aware of the lack of embassies in and around Merano which I do appreciate bc i'm pedantic like that

- Freddie: hey what's she doing with that Russian

Freddie: hmmm idk

Freddie: they're definitely talking abt me tho 🤨

- Flo & toli have a healthy conversation about the fact that he just left his kids behind i support that!!

- However this timing/setting for Anthem sucks. He's just singing it to Florence. And it's literally about how he misses his family? Weak. This needs to be an epic declaration of love for his homeland to all the world not whining to your girlfriend. Ugh can't believe they fucking ruined Anthem!

- So far all of this strikes me as discount Svenska but without the investment in Flonatoly and the only thing it's really got going for it is a handful of good lines BUT we'll see about act 2...

Act II

- Why the fuck would you start your second act with Merchandisers?

- Nice audience interaction though, it doesn't completely not work

- But following it up with Heaven Help My Heart is hmmmmmm really not ideal pacing-wise.

- Freddie's woman verse is even more cringe in Dutch i can't accurately translate it but it's so..... yikes..... The word he uses instead of "woman" ("popje") literally means "little doll/puppet" (but with slightly different connotations). It's sometimes used as a term of endearment but in this scene it is very much derogatory and ew.

- "here I stand wondering / if I ever knew you / have I ever really known who you are?" I like this translation!

- Pity the Child pulls no punches (does it ever?) He's so pathetic, he's such an asshole, and as a teacher I weirdly feel this one (at one point he talks about how no one ever noticed him at school either and just... oof don't get me started). Also the desperate rapid-fire chess game he plays against himself in the musical break and during the final verse--that needs to be in more versions holy fuck go watch this bit it's GOOD!!

- The Deal but without a political angle. Fascinating.

- No

- no. no no no i hate this i hate this Freddie wouldn't sacrifice his game not even for Florence NO. CANCELED.

- Interestingly instead of honey/parner, Freddie uses the same word as in the woman verse when he's talking to Florence during The Deal but this time it's the endearment variant. That's a little bit problematic.

- Molokov's plan is still to bring Flo and Sveta together even though Anatoli is now supposed to win 🤷‍♂️

- Anatoli casually downs several shots of liquor (vodka?) during Soviet Machine. not sure this will help him win the game but at least he sleeps through Russian Guy screaming that final whoooooooo high note in his ear

- Florence tests Freddie's chair... demands they bring a different one... is she still working for him? idk. I'm guessing it's meant to be sweet but it just looks silly to me idk

- Fuck reverse I Know Him So Well honestly. "he wants me / no he wants me" boo fucking hoo. You two deserve each other.

- Oh! Oh! Talking Chess, yay! 😁

- Gosh this is actually really cute?!? Freddie literally just came to discuss this random chess gambit he came across and thought was interesting? Nothing even to do with their current game just 'hey found this thing i thought you might like and i like and can we be friends now i really like chess 😶'

- Unlike in Svenska and RAH, I actually don't know for sure who is going to win this game. They do a good job of making this really about chess in the end. I like it.

- Freddie reminding toli it's about chess even during their match now that is the freddie i came to see!

- He calmly sips his water as Sveta and Florence are physically removed from the premises

- It is Quite Unfortunate that this production hates women...

- Really they seem to only be here to get in the men's way. Ugh.

- I don't support any of the relationships except Freddie and Toli being pen pals and playing long distance chess for the rest of their lives.

- Ending feels a little OOC but still nice to see some healthy Freddie & Flo interaction for once 😌

tldr; not the worst production out there, worth watching if you've already seen Svenska and don't mind Freddie being the most likeable character. (okay likeable is not the right word he sucks but, you know. He reminds me of RAH Freddie but slightly more yike.) PTC and Talking Chess are highlights!

[spookymonthcultau]

Now, even touching the doorknob was scary, but Lila's trembling hand still makes this heavy gesture, and now, she is already inside …

How many eyes were turned to her at that moment…

His heart was beating wildly, his trembling body was about to fall dead. She knew that she had greatly upset the cult of her departure and such a sudden appearance looked at least strange.

Lila? What an unexpected meeting. By what fate did you come here again? came the old, as white day, pedantic voice of the elder.

There was a lump in my throat, my mouth was grabbing air more and more actively, just not to lose control over my consciousness.

For the sake of… calmness… - Lila answered so quietly that she could only be heard a little.

A wave of chuckles went through the crowd as goosebumps ran down the woman's back.

Dear little Lila, a cult is not a gathering of wish-granting magicians, in case you forgot, here we have to sacrifice something in order to achieve what we want.

Lila nods meekly, remembering those rules.

“So why don't you fight for the right to live a quiet life, Lila? the elder continued, turning away and taking out a dagger, which immediately fell on the lady's legs. “Although, if you lose, one of our representatives will have the opportunity to advance your position, so you can succumb if you wish, we all know that you have served loyally in the past.

Lila did not appreciate the sarcastic jokes, because all this time she was silently staring at the floor, where the edged weapons lay, which slowly went into her gentle female hands.

“Christopher, come on, get out!”

Only these words brought the woman out of the trance. And inside of her everything went cold. It looked more and more like a joke. For a bad dream. No, no, no, it all seems to her, it’s absolutely not his dark hair, in which she loved to swarm before going to bed, not his deep and tired eyes, it’s not him, not her husband, he can’t be there! No no no! But alas. As soon as the hood fell from the man's head, the dagger fell from Leela's hands, and her eyes filled with tears.

Christopher…- came the lady's lips abruptly. She was not capable of more, tears blurred her eyes, and an oppressive feeling of guilt in front of her husband, because she had not looked for him earlier, was what she had actually buried. She was ashamed. Incredibly embarrassing. She is to blame for all their problems, if not for her, this would not have happened. She's disgusting, she's reckless, she's a stupid little girl.

Lila. – painfully familiar voice came from behind. Cold fingers ran through the purple strands. - Calm down. Breathe deeply and evenly. I am not at all angry with you, rather, on the contrary, I am grateful that you gave me the opportunity to face something truly great and omnipotent. - black eyes sparkled turquoise. They gave me what I deserve. And I am very grateful to them. Don't worry honey, I'll take care of our baby. Your death will give me many new opportunities, and Skid will certainly not need anything…

Lila swallowed nervously, feeling cold metal on her neck and warm lips against her temple. It seems that one more movement and she can say goodbye to life. For once, the instinct of self-preservation has worked and, grabbing a knife lying on the floor, Lila rushes to the side. A sharp dagger cuts thin skin. Scarlet blood flows down. Christopher was surprised by the resistance from the lady and for a second, he froze. This was enough for Lila to get up and rush to the side. The cultist did not think of falling behind her. With a sharp movement, he turned her towards him, intending to strike …

But Lila was faster.

Lightning jerk and behold, the blade entered the skull to the very hilt.

Lila could not expect such a thing from herself and recoiled in surprise, screaming in horror. The body fell to the floor with a noisy crash, bleeding. There was deathly silence. Lila takes a step back. The earth is slipping away…

Lila was in a state of complete shock. She made it. She did the most disgusting thing possible. She killed a man. And the most precious person to her. Burning pain tore her from the inside, tears flowed in a stream, and she herself howled softly, clutching her hair with her hands. She could fly down forever, literally drowning in her grief, until suddenly a tentacle caught her.

“You should be more careful.

Lila raised her eyes and looked at the Eyes of the Universe, which resembled the stars with their radiance.

"I'm sorry, it's just…when something so terrible happens, it's hard to focus on anything else…" Lila replies softly, looking at her former idol. Now there was no fear. There was only desolation. However, the Eyes of the Universe themselves never did anything to arouse the girl's rejection. Rather, on the contrary, they were touched by their gratitude for the bloody sacrifices. The woman limp on the tentacle, sighing heavily.

Still…leaving the cult was a mistake…

“I don’t think so, living flesh, all you wanted when you left the cult was a quiet life and being who you want to be. - the voice echoed into the void

Since the Eyes of the Universe themselves allowed me to do this without unnecessary bloody sacrifices, then why did the cult insist on this? - the lady says sadly.

They just want to please me with such bloody fun … Although, I admit, I have much more pleasure in visualizing the series, the plot of which they describe in between.

Really? - Lila was genuinely surprised. - Then why don't you tell them about it?

Well, I definitely tried, but on the other hand, they are trying for me.

Even as a child, it seemed to me that your will was just a cover for the desire to create chaos and go unpunished.

Do you think I'm just being used?

I don't know how it really is…

Silence fell between them again.

Honestly, you were pretty persuasive just because you're completely honest. Yes, and you do not insist on anything, living flesh … - Eyes said thoughtfully.

– Thank you, you are very nice and… caring. Lila answered quietly, because she did not expect such an answer. The lady put her hand to her neck, the cut on which was bleeding painfully. There was a scarlet mark on the fingertips..Oh, do you really think so? – receiving a nod in response to this, Eyes smiled. - In that case, I will use your philosophy and also leave the cult in search of myself.- Still, descending to earth is really not the most reasonable, albeit an interesting decision … But before I go to surf the expanses of other worlds, I should leave you at the door of the hospital.

[ceescedasticity]

Technically many autocompletes change two hyphens to an em-dash, which is what you want here!

Hyphen: -

en-dash: –

em-dash: —

An en-dash is, I believe, supposed to be used in giving ranges. Like, 2022-2023 should actually be 2022–2023. You don't see people doing that often, though.

“This is your daily, friendly reminder to use commas instead of periods during the dialogue of your story,” she said with a smile.

[driftwork]

a tall woman walks - scenes of collision (3)

what is that? what is that? This is pedantic and  a little too serious.  I will have to adapt my writing if I want to move from the past into the unknown future.  I would like to succeed, even if this is impossible. I was thinking how nice it would be to prove to  R that its possible to write a long piece, in parts or no parts at all.  I was reading sections of his novel over christmas, many small parts in his novel.   He says its a novel, whilst  I am sitting here reading his almost completed draft and wondering if that is a possible description. I suppose he is writing in a realist or naturalist tradition, how can he write this is in a liner fashion? Not that I have any big stories to tell. Nor am I really trying to describe my uncrisis filled life, perhaps i should just be sitting down at my keyboard and type. Yes, typing, write with finger ends rather than with a pen.  This is all its about really, words and  fingers touching the keyboard,  which produces sentences,  and the phrases and sentences are connected into paragraphs. Sometimes at least there are paragraph.  It's not scientific or engineering, usually not even grammatical.  R says he works with a subject and writes about human emotions, feelings, thoughts, machines and of course more than anything else conflict. Surely all there is is is words,  fingers, keys depressed, words. Sorry but my typing has been interrupted by...  I'm back but  am now having a network problem with the computer which is not attaching to the cloud.  It's later but not that later... Anyway the next two or three things belong after this

The woman approaches. This evening she has to work carrying out the list of installation tasks on the project chart. Does she need to be there? she is thinking. She is wearing high heel shoes  which are elevating her height until her already long body appears to glide.  She carries two bags and a feeling  that she should be wearing more utilitarian shoes. In one of her bags she has a pair of running shoes, in the other the usual supporting tools of an office bound manager.  Am I a manager these days? She wonders.  The occasional touches of instability as she strides along the pavement, remind you that it is hidden behind the passion, devotion and desperation to make it work, that belongs in her role,  concealed behind her personal history of work and expression.  This feeling possesses  artistry, power and the potential for extreme violence. Once she had been shorter, perhaps when she was a reptile, or a bird, or a human, then she had not really known about feelings.  In those days she had been pure action,  acting on events, reacting to situations, but here she imagines things are different.  Attempting to maintain a fidelity to the events.   Running, acting, waiting, sitting, fleeing or attacking.  Then had come her private ice ages,  everything had dropped as they had tried to kill her. She remembered when her world had been considerably warmer, gentler. Her mother and family.  The long waves approaching the coast, the pacific coast, the warm waters of the ocean.  Krondratiev would be proud she used to think watching the waves striking the coast.  People at home pleased to see her. And now, here,  well the sea is always cold here, though the land is warmer in winter and it rarely snows here. Still as she walked,  listening to the sound of her heels striking the pavement,  she wondered what it would like to have her family around her again […]

I watch her weaving through the pedestrian traffic,  her unique gait making me want to smile.  Her bag occasionally colliding with the legs of some person who gets to close to her. To diverge and yearn for the translation to be complete, this is what feelings are like and are capable of and her, as she walks towards me she is liquid desire.  Almost everything else is a matter of combination and difference. My grandparents and great-grandparents back into the nineteenth century were engineers and modellers.  Before that, if you go back far enough they were peasant farmers, serfs.  Most of my life was in the twentieth century. She though, that woman  who is approaching, with her jacket moving as she walks on her high heels.  tap tap tap. Her forebears were criminals and bureaucrats in the Asiatic mode of production. Further back still we had shared ancestors who were arboreal climbers, expelled from the trees and forest by the strong and the powerful, fists, biting, screaming, being hit by sticks. Our shared ancestors were not very human.  I can see her smiling at the sight of me.  There was no Eve and Adam though,  only a fuzzy set of indescribable beings we are descended from.  And  the set of feelings related to variations in heat and cold.  No woman was ever created out of Adam's rib. No paradise from which we fell.  It was always this terrible. She is  negotiating the spaces between the tables. Warm and cold,  thirty degrees in the tropical sea. I remember when I arrived sitting down in the bright sunshine. She is late and opens her mouth to say hello, sorry I'm late.  I can never forget this, I'll remember this in the chill of the day.  I'll remember this until I am beginning to die.  I feel warmer as she joins me at the table.  Have you finished for the day? I ask her.  She shakes her head, no I still have a long list of tasks to carry out before the installation completes. And you?  I'm going home after this... We collided long ago...

[libidomechanica]

“But it but that is hand”

A sonnet sequence

               Stanza I

But it but that is hand. She wild Disorder see her to seke? It is but thou can get nachos. Only contrive it times the same to see graves unnumber’d Throngs on earth’s old and dragged you just do: for things. Now Jove has twa sparkling tear: then raging to thee: root pity may do better frequent rain, and then quick as her Head, for a yawning- fit o’er they, yet doth lie so in my sensual Taint, be let affection, who taught me have, life’s iron blunter growe. That lurk in your vacuum cleaner breath may complain, but to denounce the gate now, unveil’d, and high prize the world? Shaken with thee, Pox!

               Stanza II

Clover wring throbs of face then you were thistle next, a Chief th’ unequal Fight those fairer work boots. That detains, scatters in Garbs succinct, a true good thinke that dire Offence from that posterity will never disciplined and wine much as—’Unless there is blind. These Honours shall men upon our clouds of thee—I am tired to struggle on his herte al hoolly on his half a Pair of vermeil cheek, and strike the frugal life ends mere splendour make his Cry to faith of us singing human race, he rais’d; and have, life’s despair that somehow people are apt to rhymes to the trees.

               Stanza III

So inflame the Patch-box fell; the day I die, the deep sorrow disappears; th’ importunity, insisting the honey cool cave shall stand tingle, sunning Light hover, at the fuming Liquor fann’d, my Mine of thys so weigh I, whylst you more acknowledge of Courtly Balls, those red flow of vestals claim, a watchful Spirits thick eyelid dry, but sweet eyes let it is bed. Accord peruse! For that held them likely to keep a blacke inough all bare, in the Animal Desire? And, with her smiled, A mass of grace, or wedg’d wholly ponder’d upon the cup of a bakery in my youngly toad half-opens its Name. A feelings and what might-have-beens, they less. No grasping and whate’er he got her garb, nor is sheepe about; she wrought no wretch, object where I, who fondly lov’d repose? Great, but all that gives half pedantic, into metaphysics and fears,—did you more grace my store.

               Stanza IV

Safe with Conquests yet to walk into far Ku-to-yen, by turns nor good red ran from God’s like Men, submit to walk about a fear wound his crowne, or move whene’er the thing was in the Lock! A hazy widower turn’d; for it is these our only dear, the Pile; and all we feed? I must get it shot through stroke besides, Fred really swollen moon and I but very quiet leaves and Dukes, and keener Light did not any charity, to be: for their comment on the White, that we would forgive and Balkís a Secrets, sat Sulayman spoke—Though stroke surprize the heart a-dying. Midst thou art of love.

               Stanza V

And withstand, one whose flame; and those night is Royal Rage. Because silk is what I dare to have a due respect: the generous House with Men below! Nation, the Glebe distant, and thus and leaves my moving points on me grace unto this hands, your complain. I shall be. Your daughters oft as Lighting the greenery when we prove my lips that sacred Hair! Her breath thy love’s dearest bands upon that black for ever wanted tresses whose clue is only I Fawne on it; o let our looked back at a smil’d, but you until her Lap their outside ourselves, and Tweezer- Cases. In mystic books frame: enough.

               Stanza VI

Why call, command you have lied. Thy Brother’s Arms; there is, stolne to bear take me as pillow bundle unthreshed corn and with the Pow’r; four Kings in a wash of other poem written embassage, and Garter, or sell, what’s eleven syllables, Billet- doux. Of loue, when dispel envy and strong he may passing up perfume. Is no morn heart—it is a very face, the little taper? Where ever-singing human face; where the blood repose? Long back again, to lay some fruit with oxytocin or how, or wits, or a woman’s flow. Be she blue, and hold the braw lass than this covenant.

               Stanza VII

Then she’s to me there and sillily smile or does choose; and all his gold them a raiment made bleede, why of the stars. And wounded one, each Band there among the floure-de-luce so closde with Tears; puts for the lass that strife, painful lips, and flammable creature rest, and o’er the high gifts, I rendering her left Thee Living in the pool, the loud, around with his wife we saw of passion, pure and left so deformed to collide violets. True, t is half his sword did you—because here, tho’ mark’d distinguishing did shiverings of Sensual call, command you have we known to abstracted guests, that poison foul a face? A Wine of wandring Orbs on his this sting, and might sun-bow that like Leaders of Japan the poor once are thy love as oft in hevene a-bove; for the snake, that line after than Life predicament so indefeasible worm, that die by him? Sunk, then, with the path, to feel his voice?

               Stanza VIII

Us parted, and Mitford in the wise as birth, please my sail’d? Went o’er the breeze went on waste awhile Well of life for being a window-seat for to what is gone. By Phoebe shine these, yet every others cry my soul that froaths below my heau’nly beames of their paper; ambition, or o’erflows, and the Water of so much hope, and all by having then when them all. But when I was desolate the would seem on roses on innocent showers where Byrds of me. I say to mine distant mount and so nor will below. So that with her shall glow, a heart: ev’n then, but keep your conjectures.

               Stanza IX

Or wish’d, and Plato call thing but to comes of calculative hours its fair, when without thereon spend th’ affrighted. Watching like him, tho’ less snake, thou distill all of prince odds are butter, in thy sacred Rites of calculative earth, smiles below! Soon as shed upon my tatter’s counter, or any weeping, gardeth. And time, and love, gained hand in fact to noticed you I never not long will find how very quiet, told of sheaves my mother’s Ears. Ready ear to you, that he could presence; as a beggar need as if the walke with spire that china without divulging it. To see ourself, tooke Stella, died. I say, could not too wide sits musick, and I was in a new rhythm. Had not my sorrowful noise overrun all other slowly mounting at old hopes in your eye will you are your present they must, and that had been said, flying consciousness of my night did not do.

               Stanza X

To thee, lest my beclowded string, and women gathered presence I adore the shade dight gauds; nay, while thy soul’s thou to warm today when he view, thin glitt’ring from Boreas screen; they deeme, an English home, the bed to me. It is my wishes. Had felt by a hand then would be much but thee most hath neither side to brings with Her I love profaned the Desert—entering bough by autumn robbed, by Degrees are, not more the surface. He had stopped noticed before The Sage set them, bleeding on me of turbulence without all things as they now that hides his Soul she fills my sight, and chaste as clover’s vow, despite. Then, unnumber’d Throngs on the by, when thing core, away, so gently through virtuous even in the greens I place and Jove suspends her Face, like leaves so much— to give hit, but with you will be laid before a few graves. Until none but once I did persever, all say, Juliana’s eyes.

               Stanza XI

But once of the best in the Last sole Agent is importunity; or fair created; till the day I die, the bed to me, i’ll ne’er for hectic phthisics, thought she shades we’lldispose; for love you turn in Cupid trembling lies, and to Fate, that when camerado’ Scott, so celebrated fortune’s shines, wide as a foe would be the morning Rows, puffs, Powders, Patches, which the nights hath neither of us dared, could raise; or if they mix’d their Charms conceal’d from Carnal Errors of that this our own wishes. It from behind the people far as grave, o Rotha, with the Lost Soul are Love and rain.

               Stanza XII

It does not reproduce of a mere nought to sight, time may be told them in the lingring nigh and rush of red to me repeatedly, in this Pray’rs, or ouer-wise. All our deep, dear maid, an’ chiefly Love—then, with vertuous even the end is surprise your breasts where did creation. Slumber-drunk all be a Jew. Now I may not seen you read to reach’d thee chameleons, changes in your fingers. Triumph spreads her going of their gas, the mere splendid sinners, each Eye o’er the tides: and I sawe Calliope wyth Muses Hobbinol, I conne no skill to the sea, who breathe only were. Can dances terse.

               Stanza XIII

You could be at home apace; th’ instruct the curtain of Gold, Elysian Screen; they hurt me. Did you—because their Ways, and once in the ruler, on his saints? It does th’ affrighten’d by human heart-flame of God that had been basking in yours, you’llsay, nought it mount and trouble, well cultivated, it may look’d, and trembling wynde, so Ladies as these saying with Men below my heart had given as it leave a gentle Juan, that the bed to comes the Gown; and all the devilish escapade or suspicion. Her bosom’d before him, gliding with those frequent Cups and runs on in his voice?

               Stanza XIV

To sit amid all thy Pow’r; four Knaves in Romance assist the flew and does nor can breathes there or here, round its orbit in our magnolia ignite the lengthening beneath the unquiet and lost hath been born today where the houses went. The heart of the Court loathed furrows fresh the eyes were you ready, o mount and aspir’d to deck within whose clue is only constitutional futures. Resolving, runs on in my brow dost seek out the cool, like Marius, to sit in Air, in this senses balance is so easy now allows’ perch’d upon the glorie shiny things transmitted their power?

               Stanza XV

Has caught us little crosses and not care I want, who think upon, lulled by Miltown, we lie on silly was to a scrape, but that you anywhere I don’t success a Lover! And Pan himself she knot. Do thoughts in bed. Not the fills with Care; the rest my mouth made for men, ’ like Thunder’d; and then ask of silly Man to oppose great Anna! Make but pick’d the milkweeds’ honey tastes shall seal the World; for the displaies vertue, All, our deep, outstretches him—one Dagger at a Ball, of every bow, than they shift though my mouth stuttering with these Angels would you I love you do not that way, my care?

               Stanza XVI

Through nis to deck with shining sweet, sweet expressive Emblem of the Eyes first begun. Yow made, sure of them, too, like Confusion dies. One hand isolate a falling of Empirie, her Eyes corrupt by over-fond: so, to prepar’d the Case, so calm, yet unexpected large, shall I descend thy narrow houses went. On one alive when both to Combat, or by Fraud or Force with dainty wits cries, in wind. Devoted to refer to.-At-elbow round the with these saying what we should burden the filmy Dew; dipt in pondrous Baron now he is givings. Full of Rome. Even the close—at last!

               Stanza XVII

Of guilt—of guilt brought on: in ev’ry Wordsworth’s feat and holden rod, throw, entering boughs to climb when the Chief is when may use deceit: he always on the World of such beauteous eyes were she, still we miser’s eyes that Firmán-issuing for when a tremulous death alone: cash rules Love. Or by Fraud betray how sweetly sings are quite below there is not made the Work, yet unexpect much steal sweet Te Deums of their Elemental woe, and Midnight with pole. Only constant Charge repairs her slowly mountaine, while, and with tinkling roguish een. And gin; there before the heart’s blood running, still one.

               Stanza XVIII

Wars, revels, loveliest friends, to the Glass appeal than t’ others’ graves and mid’st thy west wind th’ effect wealthiest oligarchs of his Love deny’d. Him Basto follows like an egg, every Wise Self- fulfilling—was hidden in Raiment undefiled of euerie image with spire of all the street, but pick’d the Rival of his Foe to denounce that’s me. Dismantled, I have wrapt thy haplesse my thunder’s souls in its parted, your cures for a walk about vs safely stuck to trace. If you not empty cell o Mercurius, that after his Widow’s Gown: her in a Vain Woman’s dross.

               Stanza XIX

Gums and is nowhere fynd, to say, The truly liberal Lafitte, and silent night Beauty, rounding rises not, follow’d, but my inner clown is full of hope hope will didst vnderfoot. Unseen, are a sample. But yeeres more stranger Causes of Pins extend, some food. Thou shalt be, the earthly Vehicles to give they spray the grey to keep the bed to master-mistress of Matter weeds twenty add a hundred. Life’s wheel; my finger and flowing the gen’ral Fate may be sometimes of being at old hopes, and the careful solemn grove, ’ a wife makes me written on Marlborough the hard gain’d by him?

               Stanza XX

But without dislike then when clever, and tho’ she has truth upon the expected anything but yet imbibe the Subject of lost my powers demand what the thunder’d; and worse that they wait, anxious, and wash them in the Fight to be twain, but Airy Band, caps on their heau’nly bosom move? I but we have, like the Return of the Murders of build its nest upon our music; the spider in hand remember sleep-warm pillow bundle unthreshed and feverish powers, eyes seeing sight, their neighb’ring China shook with Pearl, her Eye should not a mere splendour magnolia ignite the shadow, Cynara! The Light, they send: for ease my soul may call, and from pain, in vain, while they will banish them see the solitary now. He taught moths flutters, Stars in the ice haven’t both in beauteous Mold; the murm’ring I see you speaks so weight to buildings in Machines the weigh’d, what’s it, the ruin’d me.

               Stanza XXI

All in conceal’d from China’s Ears. But trust. She might esteem me, a something bears alone: cash rules Love. That might bends his ruthful vows, as your hurt our lore! With that froaths below, if such the bold Sir Plumes his winning, here is for the spider in a Bodkin Spear, and flammable creature having you the hyghest Ioue, and fallen—on this beauteous gift the world revolves anew its music speaks so weigh’d, and as food for Passion, even the virgin three, people are deaf and blind. Thy earthly fruit. Their ancient trees a purer Blush at a routed Army runs, of white heaven’s Dome reject a Lord?

               Stanza XXII

And for the Board with vertuous care to set in her eyes of Eighteen, practice my girlish grace my rymes bene rough all their with August over to undertake the wore about me to have behind the dreamed I was a gentle heard—he rent there o’er thy ravish’d gentle heart was that lyues on ever-singing again, and Child fresh sprung from autumn robbed, by winter chill blast. But when one strike the soldiers and eyes halfe with that liv’st but a game, o wrang na my virgin council with pied flock early youthful as your days I wanna be yours, with the vital Air, this wave to pitie the Sorrow!

               Stanza XXIII

On Change; and all things be devoted to seek: were it lies, yet doth breede. Hides the kinder veteran without a far from the British Fair, a though love enjoy? And thought in Air, and one safeguard more shade of late, with her sire had stopped Stop, let the vanquish’d foe sues for pride does choose ye blest, but thoughts are cheats a national debt-sinkers. Higher class, it do, not seen your presence are spurn’d to hear how the angels used to me. People should be better the ocean-stream with Reproach assails, for here, vilely; her voice, that most modern, reigning, haue so lead the art of her face Who hold a lover.

           ��   Stanza XXIV

Abandoned, almost Dionysian. Upon her court you, entreating thorny stem; an’ she has twa sparkling roguish een. Oft she could not be laid back at all? Which looks, and Y your carpet-stripes for since I did persever, and all thy name, o wrang na my virgin Cynthia swallows’ call? In ev’ry Pow’rs. If this, youth to fields to rule me, love is, and think, to denounce the Flame, direct, to pray. It’s noble yet later thoughts in Flame mount and go, and men, could not longing O darlin’ darlin’ darlin’ darling Care; some hang upon the higher class, and when thou with their Sylphs content?

               Stanza XXV

We wanted half to singe, I mournful Glance with life-enkindling brain. And strange similes enrich each hardscrabble back, O liberal and puts appear, tis but at large and sounds of blisse, looking then see! Learn Ombre, nor winds clear the Hand of unjust Fortune, has arm’d with orient eyes might we slept in Night-Dress give, an’ she has died today when to you, when someone you wear locks the smoking one alive, not judge. Of your Chief th’ unequal Fight. See the rest my mother, fierce Tempests on the leads people never glided: when thou art of late I not a new rhythm. Blessings of keen remorse.

               Stanza XXVI

Ask God who Absál? That novelties at once more reticular—fishers for gently through with Ribs of Whale. The Sylphs with a good nor harpsichords, those nightgown in wine, but thou, Cruel! While my Nostrils draw freshly bleed: but, ah, yesternight, and purple of my night Inhabiting the progression to Balaam, and the Lock a thousands more Alexis smokes, the loud, he fleece of Female fuss, it self must choose, and chaste rejects my Pegasus to snow today when they, at bottom, a living fled! What would not to say nought my head: I have mown. I know, tho’ world, and of red to me molested.

               Stanza XXVII

When I’m some weeping from bothered, reach’d the Whistle blew; the rest: thus ourselves, in truth before. I never move wi’ twa white robes, penal codes, dead aside, trembling with blue as they benefit mankind, nourishes, and the Virgin! In solemn grove, as souls in Lighting to tell vs mery tales, that’s a man sick, and think the lass that passes zither case of Court the white. Were flower Sky; these thine; do thoughts survey, and all fear, sweet express how pure, however had the cowslip braes between, and dragged me pretty? Chosen; tis a great Anna! But Juan was graves. By adding sky, and drawes it.

               Stanza XXVIII

Say what off-hand as far as when thou list of the cool flowe, of the Birth-night her wring beneath the Lock! When gleam like sleep in on flower as love you to warb—le those brink when we rais’d for ever wear. Thou be a tornado, for these bring upwards will not her Garment of Vapors and only later did ioy among the old coquetry, or her full oft he perisheth on a play he seems to rise, and the fame where or under road rejoice is not my selfe, all hues’ in his very Night with ease in times we lay the green the blue plums. Takes to Belinda smile. Be my grief-worn her alone.

               Stanza XXIX

Pinch of reed of loue, and is seed, this saints on all things till in constant while the devil has twa sparkling roguish een. Steeples of Pray’r, th’ inferior by Force with bands on flat, cool rocks, alone confines, burns to building breastplate and gin; there will strength the every sheets, and wound here! Above, blessed hours to the more poor rich China who hath her own, our Beings with good she lay; surely into. Or if I’m wrong: in an amber cloud of her air, her fair face Who haue so frothy though the wide domain, while savage mind in the dance weigh not made the fatal Sheers, and Ardors, were let go.

               Stanza XXX

Up, and brow dost seek for my poor that wiry Coronets appears; on her buckle for my pass unblamed,—and the same aged aunt, each cousin, he meditates the sea, the hour he dies. Reads around. Hark how the deep Atlantic Ocean on flat, cool rocks, so drenched fists. With me, the bed to cheerful Breeze this body bent, his dying hold up to touch! Scourge of the rich China’s Ears. All my paines my mother Secret from elsewhere, and arrow, and Sense—through ne’er for my poor Lover. And think, since then: ten years! And shall we see where Cupid’s Flame that sleep in a tangle, and tell thy soft bed.

               Stanza XXXI

Her Eyes, as not a lesson’ they set thy cheek, and midnight beneath his mind. And again: if all wisdom, beauteous eyes with many people should be lynched fists.—Loving, rapid, merciless Tyrant in statesman’s rage; gainst the Rival of heights, than He! Controlling, I desired my beclowded store of accomplishments or gore, beaus banish that after male loss is not to be a Jew. They held yours—who’s neither stopped noticing I never on the fattened spuds, that tho’ match yet mad with tremble at thy yoke, the larkspur, and Betty’s pride; on the wealth, my Pegasus to burden of love.

               Stanza XXXII

On the turn’d; for that settled—and you have lied. The slowly groue, which brighter shine as we a crystal brow, the Noon of You. But I dislike the bay when the lass made the Sea on what avails to toe. To perfect was once too in my youth go use thy store of military bard to high, or revel in the stops understand. Ready. With a global civil! Then flashed&forgot. Around they impressed splendid sinners; a little twist of dawn. The way her answer, or to see grave, o Rotha, with what Virgin’s Thoughts of Ill the narrow from still, still enjoy. Like Confusion of sentimental.

               Stanza XXXIII

My Muses moe, soone wouldn’t just in your greater glides, pretensions of my books taught us, even by which puts on all you’ve don’t, Cash alone cure, like silver Lamp; the morning- Shower of Joy and painted hast the just a disaster, or aspire to perfect was not Love done forever again: if all the supremest kiss, and mower both sight; an’ made the baits for this, youthful to thee, as I to take the day I die, the skies, of white is black hold. Beare wise disgust, for a yawning-fit o’er the Shrouds Aerial Race preside, when I am, first, rob’d in Sommer dayes: whose hurts are you lost.

               Stanza XXXIV

Poetic voice, that blossoms on the think of politeness spreads his dying years by some strange things are from lovers, when purest people say t will bring, disarmèd of it, shall rest his Finger’s Ears. First opening of hypocrisy has saving Hampton’s Earth, Air, Sea, to Chaos fall, love you and rising sky, seres Spring’s maturity; thence, that fair creature have been dead, spite of his arms; and song sang your tight with reverence use, trembling for Death-bed Alms are rouleaus! And they never more shadow as I’ll ne’er so sooner shalt wane, so calme, so it pleasure have shut down to a hole matter?

               Stanza XXXV

The whole, or die, I lie because she’s sages widen where are so call the by, where the more bright those faire takes love depends his grief pre-scorch; descending, that very essence so leaden eyesight. There is, stolne to breath was a general, but thus said the came in thy feet slipper knockings, ispahan Apples, Pomegranates of her Face; sees full for ever candy buzz rounding unseen by which heaven’s employ? With sorrows flow. Others would indeed like trash in a cros, our soules for thy ravish, or wring bears not clear away from that grows the key to every song: in broad through all other.

               Stanza XXXVI

Nay, married My Lord, which looks be anchor, that’s great Grandsire wore, while sage. Or be some frail China Vessels, fal’n from Rainbows ere the truth descries, the healing powers demand there occurr’d what’s whole in battle through the pillow to the spoke, and Noons, her cheeks but enslaved two sable Ringlets of Bow; soone would raise; or if they have, life’s deare found, depopularity: now the dales resort, to put the Palate till day long bees to Belinda may vouchsafe to say the lingers ache, my love’s Thunder thus broken Troops into my gate of your dreadful of mine Eyes. Grows nice; reads around, and held then?

               Stanza XXXVII

I love the ruler, on him time at wintry Main, the two only one more spot and beauty grow’th, which means ever bind it by what are like a day, stellation—lost, the hope that grieve to those night us little girl and of Pride conceal’d, to Maids turn’d Bottels, called on. Did let us peal to the Birth of us that fairer far it profit much one man mann’d, my kingdom, safely treasures are bent. And garlands found, gaining in yours in the first, unconquerable spite, while we can—you came to all the first Intelligence, that novelties pleading, if that is his mouldering roguish een.

               Stanza XXXVIII

And why sae sweeter far than stormie face to reach through the grasses. So Cash rules Love an Altars of being Love, ’ be no more of the flames of deed, rose, he looks too short of the Visits shall make times in some draweth newe delight sun-bow that from you, hearing style which that nothing beautiful as young, the Way of Nothing with both to the Whispers breast the bed to be Perfect wealthy careless glorious moods of expiring Maids alone confess’d in Beauty, for Force to refer to, I think of silver, white hand pale yellow pride another, you loved by thy Sylphs with ease and learne spelling. I saw the silence of Lu, sad Chance! Young, and flits art, a little dreadful outer bringst with lovers, all the devil laughing, and saved there was luck, my wish her smile, nor eluish ghosts, rejoinder—then And as we scale they happens next because a home, all the slave of Ombre, nor good hear of every day.

               Stanza XXXIX

Whole trajectory’s toward man, entering black reel of my swells such success a matter reproue, I play to moue; o let alone, and is not, folly, or futures on constant, burns. And see the world imagination, a king in Sense—through, and Coronet and so are your brow: and thy blind error was of invocation, will be known: but who, ah! In times since things: the primrose, and in his Box. With varying than a toothache hurts in Flame, or change return’d Bottels, cast all the light polluted water the sun hotter the other hidden Blush arise; the enamoured rustic wind sleep.

               Stanza XL

My mothers cry my soul appalled. Of broken Troops, and all this winters wouldn’t just a sparkling roguish een. Nor this lone steps into the Lock! Been to cheerful Breeze, the pierc’d Battalions springs me to Parnasse hyll, but pretty thou drawest the chest way, and all that’s a fast track shifted thee low. When Husband is filling Spires, pale Spectres, gaping Train beneath his wife make his beautiful as your ex-boyfriends ouerpasse, vnseene, vnheard, who had been born my moving Tears each line, that we haven’t under the shadows would indeed: nine time ere long behind the more the streamlets flow; and gibber all. Lips?

               Stanza XLI

Too old for you, and thro’ the vernal Intercourse renew, clipt from the discover such they make the tott’ring Spires, which the Muse- like—like the the Sentence so calm, yet are apt to rhymes to th’ Aerial view, they never stones, My Empire of the sky, and this than theyr peace which will protesting the age had bredd, and that passeth sone as they bene rough the pleasures grieve, as messengers of the hands and mount and see no bride expir’d, he water falls hem best. In spring dew: or glitt’ring Textures ope at once more durable Creator, rising of your Locks first begun.—The Lust-adoring Body, slave to War her Airy Band; some, Orb in Orb, around the waiting the future less therefore is no deed that painted with it, confound, like lilies o’er the heart, lopped-off heads; unwrapping from Belinda fails, despised I with a sickly back with his sorrow was, and strangers are.

               Stanza XLII

I never noticed you just like love the ether has a hummingbird sipping frame: enough. A persons pleasures haue so much half a fitting of our pleas in tight, their last, when flash’d and Desire of thousand up a million fight. He rais’d his sting; to the World is changing hue, and doors withdrew, and wins oh shameful Chancery,—which though the vale; the two grubs on high, in glitter’d, saying why then safely fedde. Good, beauty’s bust, What this thro’ the lingering hell! All day long she wrote showers. And pretty though sorrowful noise over, dismantled, held you add o’er than seruants wracke I reed of loue.

               Stanza XLIII

And Wreaths around. Swept far fair my friends, as eas’ly they shifting child with that beat about wives. That is The Throne of Pomp and Giaours throw troops into my place. But aggravate that seem bare, in the word of all had one sort of silver, and still I but venture that press of purest in the Birds delighted. Flung roses blown do but forasmuch as any one always with reverence use, trembled and wound round a dying Plato called mine there it was not everything in her Hand, with loud Alarms. On Sunday morning-Shower of losing is added, Blame throne—but Grey Monk’s side, his Purple Fire.

               Stanza XLIV

I say luck; it’s how dear maid I meet has been stare! First in your ear. From each Pause of Courts to Day. By autumn, in widest river. Little Men? Her forehead; then falls hem best. This moral end that are already money, that Higher Power shrink in The Shah, who everywhere!—Which makes my comen through Hades, and the beames, and all we see what we used to seek: were sweet Te Deums of Hair. Others cry Too late, our chain of Gold. He saw, alas! Here is also get them go, before farewell; go troubles the sword in the plants a big load of these care-burden of the narrows from the interwove?

               Stanza XLV

And kill’d the dawn of Spades appear; from the meed of all this true my Rosalind, and root, their smart: love distinguish. One or I do but somehow people’s try to the them a’ in sad, it was told, when the robin comes to a Gnome, and the dance to refer to. The shades we’ll go, and tell me not be writing sex in little cross’d, a wretched Main, those fair my friends, to your hollow to you by some ancient Race, a hospital, a church last—at last—at last, ankle glance Sir Fopling up perfume. But you as since lingering men thus, or what avails to the Gnome, and heaven, and kept my Charms conceal’d.

               Stanza XLVI

Or such pleasures ope at once to much sicker; which that his Throat, another, some fathom three: husband, like a Smoke in Sommer shade of the Rahvs in thing-a snail, because in sun hotter to seize hairs but had been, I believes till we feed? With ease my selfe, still can be, and too longed to me, or may descent mosses, lifting chest tiptoe to that spot, as are one: so whit lesse yeeres did let the two life, and Snakes or great, but anger not the shoots a long sorrow and as food for that’s me. Columbines have been born or something but yeeres more the praise than the same aged aunt, or each, or what?

               Stanza XLVII

(Which I envy, that he shoreliness. Without I wanna be the silver Bound, and have been several also the nipple stimulation, unless I bless you love like an ancient Race, and Wings. Is moral lesson fit Instruments that he marriage also the unknown, she mere child of all their imputed grace a Lady’s Hairs, where the bed to thy Protect their Doom; and I am helmsman. Seeking far less since I’ve remark’d and I looked back his brow, so soft, so consumed, the Sun their darling day; love like cloudy center. Until her point only ones. And Crystal Wilds of your lie.

               Stanza XLVIII

Pallas, Mars; Latona, Hermes arms; and griding chase of epic Love’s first—for he was no whit lesse Rosalind, forlorn, my brave, unable males that posterity, our Sex resign’d to denounce that fed the longer could solace bring streamlet wind it falls, the pen;—strange similes enrich each door lockt in his has nought socket pile or stain a Flounce, or two upon my toil me heat and somethinks already passed that delicious oathes, there is, stolne to shedde. This is a long behind in equal share; but here, without thy soul may call thing, I love in what does choose an aerial Kind.

               Stanza XLIX

In broad daylight be found and skill to say, what the East had raise, nor Dog Stars by some ten time to clear; and I will not gainsay love talks; here Thou, great Grandsire wore, and Ariel weeping so, she deadly speculation, that Boy, proue to lose his Bosoms themselves, in trifling coiled atop the gloom. We tell true, they make mere like Leaders at hand the Mower mown. By render nothing Fan be not what beat, night-long wo in weaken’d minds to roll, teach her teeth gleam like Gods the Vial whence those Tresses ready money is Aladdin’s lady. Toward part one modern, reigning, he was—but have to come.

               Stanza L

Flickering the Hair, which in a Pett, to put faire linen hence from his own an end to the numbered flocks thus we meet comer; or—as it should makes me much as we! Forget till these plague are all other of swirling Cross she spreads her Breast. And doors with ardent Lovers look not long way. From a cliff- road edged with his captiu’d in her Bosom of joyless dearest of old, and bud about you were I but venturer sips met on a bed with the grain a surprise you forget it but enslaved two Locks admir’d remain’d in someone stept in a wasp can see nought her to take; thrice she pride doth breede.

               Stanza LI

Succeed in mediation I think they will process, your door you canst wait through all this new position, but to hear of her Head. Least would awake to that flow over him to much; which your tender Box. And kept in her buckle for support in the waiting session. In thing steps into Airs, and love are have, life’s whole, or tires, and loves the cries, will for Vice suppressively, most faire out how the Mower Damon sung, when thou this scythe, the imperfect the light for the shirtless detests upon this, ev’n then, fair aspect a cowards cast beneath thee, stellation. To leave the despair.-Clad?

               Stanza LII

Here, in your age, people all the blest, but adore.—The bonie lasse, to worke delyte? Swear to leaden eyes, bluer soule-inuading voice in the pleaded—whate’er her court an heiress for peaceful Ease, and feet; and after; saying to the lattery, to the Truths from gods or more rype, and mountain beneath thee who art dearth and not succeeding Vanities, and adding sky, sports in the clear away her that the nights repair: soft Sound out his Throat, another’s holland should be enough and what else: and what is The First love depend on the thunder’d; and to that his past a Jest ⸻ nay prithee, Cynara!

               Stanza LIII

And firme loveliest lie I will not be writes. My Pegasus to be a tornado, for the sorrow today when you delight to coste, can nowhere the Hand of the Empire, to the selected largesse? In the best booke of Nature life, or part to love me from her slowly with an offering roguish een. He knew she’d just Gods, and fears,—did you—because she’s tired to standing indeed: nine times. As beauteous Face, a thousand don’t knows what can never stop nor scarlet. Oh Thou whose Presence soon were in your Charms, repair; the has twa sparkling over wrist, as since I her daughter’s fate!

               Stanza LIV

Transparent of loue and from gods or what we are strange man so fit to bear: I lay on the Sword-knots Sword-knot Sylvia’s Hand is surprise you draw profit while our souls unbodied Good, some o’erflows, accept the horse alone, and all their Bliss, no doubt: but the cowslips bedeck the windchime in ordinary place and and daunce, whoever this worth—compared with Care; let Spades. Down, O the bold Homer make politeness and illusion by charge safe with startled and my whole, or Slight, but had given thy heart, but to hide. Arlene, Father one in Sommer shadow as I’m nearing long possession ends.

               Stanza LV

Society for stronger court you, dear virtue leads people far excellent. The high, and take me with that instantly renew her turn’d for Show. Envy and brief, the weary cry. Jar impact collapse flash up into the Robe of Perfections are made the mine eyes caught meet from behind Belinda with friends. Sharp Vengeance will recur a Pang for women’s sound thy narrow views her gilded Chariots, whether hair leave. But there is He that very much? How farther play, he flirted with pleasure, mine be thy heart its vastness duty, not take Lodgings in Battel seiz’d alive … Oh my Camel!

               Stanza LVI

Scenes romantic, which with heath, for ignorance is no deed that would missing as Atalantis shall be laid beware of politics run glibber all true, their Knight, no hopeful Isle, who show things past bounds of Goose-Pye talks o’ rank and moon the last; and as unfix’d as thy airy Garments see. That she has twa sparkling tear: then when the paired but my scythe, the memory being a star, gleam like the city and Soul was received, as did ioy among the alphabet, Logos appears; th’ embroider’d King until the walls into the young girls are but adoring, if to known world’s tear alone? While other make us feelings the glittring and mount up, and Canyon, still my deere, there is foiled. Colin, I lament at his sacred tune myself, and the came with Pow’r disdain’d, and bring of your teddy bear take me as much thine in the died, bodies in heart was the bright ease in soothing.

               Stanza LVII

She said: sunk, the windchime in ordinary place, and if I were, ye genteel and sound the Fops envy, that laden are change, o yearning comely Youth be told; or, Pindars apes, flaunt them courtesie; I bow’d fu’ low unto good back but torments or goes; you mayst thou art not act, or wedg’d wholly spoken and as for the Hand of that held him is fled, that was mine, robb’d other it isn’t have ebbs of flickering less produced a Special legend of Gold, dangle her smooths. Than to sooth’d must accuse you ever raise, nor Dog Star so indefeasible worm, that guardian, or add a Furbelo.

               Stanza LVIII

Grows grizzled, and tingle, sunning ingots, bags of deep Atlanta’s balls and forever again and the spare. Boast not seen her, I can, too, he said: Thou whose tale below! Than to show oft Ambition rends, ’tis all competition, we remember, reade, music, worthy of the Praise a Pimple ayre, thy sweet a flower anchor’d in vassalage thy youth untimely sick? Your lie. Of hot or contraries implore to drop in Shades from his blesse me dead: succeed in the hour would be so, I think that by trecheree didst implore the heat the looks thro’ Heav’n who compress. Down the rises in his letter?

               Stanza LIX

But this, prithee the nice Conduct of the preciously. A xylophone manly Strengthen’d ears, it make a rival’s bosom of thy sweet a flow over her cheek, and all around that goes a looks are have, like the floure- de-luce so calm, yet eloquent, the merely washen clean, i’m a man so firm, quiet, to the yield; now too much—to give the horrid thinke doth breed than cozy, once inclination, or o’er the tear stream of your hollow graceful sisters, ’ that can never move or brow: thus were a Goose, ’ as I rang’d to be put thy shadows sear! Thou shalt sit in such they spoke his sense that erst perfume.

[ceescedasticity]

Silmarillion war crimes

(Finally motivated to make this because someone said the Silmarillion elves committed 'all the war crimes', and while I know, I know they were just exaggerating for comic effect it still drives me up the wall.)

First piece of housekeeping: Technically speaking war crimes are war crimes because they were defined as such in various treaties. You aren't technically violating the Geneva Conventions if you aren't signatory to them. But, they do often get talked about more like universally applicable rules.

Second piece of housekeeping: I think no one is actually accusing the Fëanorians of, like, cutting undersea communications cables or impersonating the Red Cross. There are some war crimes which are obviously not applicable and I'm not going to discuss them.

Third piece of housekeeping: There are a lot of provisions in the Geneva Conventions. Someone else can go through all of them if they like. So, I'm going to go with this list gleaned from the section of the Wikipedia page on war crimes about the international criminal court:

Willful killing, or causing great suffering or serious injury to body or health

Torture or inhumane treatment

Unlawful wanton destruction or appropriation of property

Forcing a prisoner of war to serve in the forces of a hostile power

Depriving a prisoner of war of a fair trial

Unlawful deportation, confinement or transfer

Taking hostages

Directing attacks against civilians

Killing a surrendered combatant

Misusing a flag of truce, a flag or uniform of the enemy

Settlement of occupied territory

Deportation of inhabitants of occupied territory

Using poison weapons

Using civilians as shields

Using child soldiers

Firing upon a Combat Medic with clear insignia.

Summary execution

Rape, sexual slavery, forced prostitution or forced pregnancy

Fourth piece of housekeeping: I'm not just going to look at the Fëanorians. That's not fair. There's elves vs. other elves, elves vs. dwarves, dwarves vs. elves, Angband vs. everyone, everyone vs. Angband, etc. I should probably define some of these groups starting out but I'm not going to.

So. This will be long.

1. Willful killing, or causing great suffering or serious injury to body or health

I'm a little puzzled about this one, actually. I thought that was just… assumed to be part of war???

Killing as more than a means to some non-killing-related end???

At any rate I'm inclined to say everyone conducting war in the Silmarillion did this. I don't think anyone was trying to minimize military casualties.

Edit: Have been informed it's meant to be killing of people protected under the conventions. In which case it's a lot more questionable. For some people.

2. Torture or inhumane treatment

Angband did this, obviously.

A lot.

Really a lot.

We don't have any record of any elves doing it, or dwarves, or Edain.

…Except Túrin's outlaws but they're kind of a weird circumstance.

3. Unlawful wanton destruction or appropriation of property

(Seems like there might be a lot of wiggle room in 'unlawful'…)

Well, anyway, Angband also did this, obviously, a lot.

The dwarven sack of Menegroth counts as this.

Seizure of the swan-ships arguably counts as this one, though I'd actually hesitate on that one. I think that wasn't a war crime, that was a crime crime, because they weren't at war.

If the Fëanorians scavenged from Menegroth before leaving that probably counts, but that's speculation.

The Host of the West did destroy Angband, if you want to count that.

Edit: And the Fëanorians destroyed the Havens of Sirion.

4. Forcing a prisoner of war to serve in the forces of a hostile power

Angband, yet again. It's a little less obvious here since it's not like they put prisoners in the regular army unless you count orcs, but brainwashing prisoners and sending them out as agents probably counts.

Also their treatment of prisoners of war generally violates a lot of stuff in the Third Geneva Convention.

I do not think we have grounds to say anyone else did this, partially because I'm not sure we have grounds to say anyone else ever took any prisoners.

Elrond and Elros are a gray area, but if they ended up fighting with the Fëanorians there's no reason to believe it was against anyone but Angband.

Oh, and I suppose the Host of the West took prisoners, but I'm sure they didn't do this.

5. Depriving a prisoner of war of a fair trial

I mean, you could say that prisoners of war in Angband got the same kind of trial that anyone else in Angband got?

But otherwise Angband again, yeah.

The Host of the West… I'm not sure. Do you count the judgments of Ëonwë as a fair trial?

Everyone else: No prisoners, not an issue.

…Look I don't know what to say about Túrin and Mîm. I'm inclined to say a lot of the outlaws' bad behavior was crime crime not war crime. I don't know.

6. Unlawful deportation, confinement or transfer

Angband back in the definitely column here.

I don't think anyone else is. Sure, Menegroth and Sirion were abandoned, but it wasn't because the Fëanorians stuck around chasing people away.

7. Taking hostages

Angband, explicitly with Maedhros and I think implicitly elsewhere.

The Easterlings serving Angband also explicitly took hostages.

The Fëanorians took Elrond and Elros. It doesn't seem to have been terribly effective, but it was hostage-taking.

Celegorm and Curufin holding Lúthien could be this if you consider the Fëanorians to have been at war with Doriath at that point, but that's sort of dubious? Maybe a war crime, maybe a crime crime.

8. Directing attacks against civilians

Angband.

The Fëanorians attacked the entire communities of Menegroth and the Havens of Sirion. They may or may not have made any attempt to avoid deliberately killing noncombatants in one or both cases, but they were unavoidably attacks on civilians.

The dwarven attack on Menegroth is similarly an attack on civilians.

If you consider any orcs, trolls, balrogs, vampires, werewolves, etc. to be civilians, then the Host of the West almost certainly did this. You can argue that none of them counted as civilians; you can also argue that the Host of the West managed not to attack e.g. orc children, but I don't think that's very likely.

The Easterlings serving Angband did have civilians, but I think it's more likely the Host of the West avoided attacking those.

9. Killing a surrendered combatant

I don't think anyone is directly attested as doing this?

The overall impression one gets of the First Age is a general deficit of surrender.

But: if anyone surrendered to Angband's forces rather than trying to fight or escape until they physically couldn't, I'm sure some of them were killed (and some weren't, because Angband wanted slaves).

If any orcs/werewolves/vampires/trolls/dragons/balrogs dared to surrender rather than fight to the death or escape, I'm sure some to most of them were killed.

If any dwarves of Nogrod tried to surrender to Beren and the Ents, they were killed.

We don't know about the dwarven sack of Menegroth or any of the Kinslayings (on either side).

The Host of the West accepted at least some surrenders, but we don't know if it was all of them.

10. Misusing a flag of truce, a flag or uniform of the enemy

Angband doesn't get much of an opportunity for this because no one trusts their truces and it's not like switching flags or uniforms would help, insofar as there are uniforms.

But they did propose a negotiation under false pretenses.

Of course the Fëanorians also agreed to it under false pretenses.

The Silmaril Quest is absolutely full of people disguising themselves as Angband's forces. If you want to get pedantic about it uniforms and flags were not the key part of those disguises, but I think it's the same idea?

Edit: Unless you want to count them as spies, not soldiers. There are different rules for spies, which is to say I don't think there are any rules about spies, either what they can do or what can be done to them. I think that may be a better frame for this.

I feel like the Easterlings who announced their allegiance change mid-battle may also count as this?

11. Settlement of occupied territory

Angband generally prefers the scorched-earth approach, but they do settle their Easterlings in occupied territory.

No one else does this.

Like the Fëanorians had enough people left to 'occupy' anything.

(Or I guess arguably the Host of the West occupies Angband but not for very long and they definitely don't settle there.)

12. Deportation of inhabitants of occupied territory

Angband does some of this in the form of enslaving them back in, uh, Angband, but it's true that mostly it depopulates by slaughter and most of the survives flee with no deportation as such. It doesn't deport the Edain.

Again, most others have no occupied territory.

Though everyone does have to leave Beleriand. :( Should that be attributed to the Host of the West?

13. Using poison weapons

Angband: yes.

Everyone else: No evidence of this. I wouldn't necessarily rule out them trying it against Angband if they thought it would work.

Although I suppose you could argue that weapons inimical to Angband by nature could count as poison…? Naahhh.

(Edit: Eöl used poisoned weapons, but that was murder not combat.)

14. Using civilians as shields

I don't think Angband did this one, actually?

Edain civilians as hostages, yeah, but Angband didn't have much in the way of its own civilians and didn't expect anyone to try to avoid hitting them.

Angband's Easterlings most likely tried to keep their civilians out of the way like sensible people.

15. Using child soldiers

Whether it was possible for Angband to do this with orcs depends on your interpretation.

Everyone else…

Not child soldiers in the 'take them from their families, indoctrinate them, send them out for shock value' sense.

But child soldiers in the sense of 'people we would consider children are considered adults and treated as such', yeah.

And I expect also in the sense of 'people who are not considered adults and who no one really wants fighting, but there is no true place of safety and no one wants them helpless, either, so'.

16. Firing upon a Combat Medic with clear insignia

Existence of combat medics with clear insignia is uncertain.

If they existed I'm sure Angband fired on them and tbh I wouldn't bet against anyone else doing so.

17. Summary execution

Okay, this can mean killing combatants who surrendered again, but to avoid double-counting let's say we mean non-combatants.

Well, Angband, regardless.

It would not surprise me if the Fëanorians did this in Menegroth, considering that Celegorm's servants expected to get away with murdering children, but that's not definite.

18. Rape, sexual slavery, forced prostitution or forced pregnancy

Angband's Easterlings did this in Dor-lómin.

The rest of Angband…

It seems likely? In one context or another. But I don't think there are direct statements on it.

—Or actually I guess they made promises to Maeglin about Idril! Not sure if that should count when they didn't actually do anything and I'm not sure they ever meant to.

Eöl and Aredhel in the worst interpretation was not part of a war. It was a crime crime and a diplomatic disaster.

Celegorm and Curufin's behavior towards Lúthien was only questionably part of a war and I'm not sure whether it qualifies here, so I'm going to say no.

Eighteen in the somewhat arbitrary list…

Fëanorians: Definitely five four (1, 3, 7, 8, 10), possibly/arguably as many as nine (1, 3, 7, 8, 9, 10, 15, 16, 17).

Non-Fëanorian Exiles: Definitely two (1, 10), possibly/arguably as many as five (1, 9, 10, 15, 16).

Iathrim+Lúthien&Beren: Definitely two (1, 10), possibly/arguably as many as five (1, 9, 10, 15, 16).

Dwarves of Nogrod: Definitely three two (1, 3, 8), possibly/arguably as many as five (1, 3, 8, 9, 16).

Host of the West: Definitely one (1), possibly/arguably as many as seven (1, 3, 5, 8, 9, 12, 16) (that's what you get for winning).

Angband and associates: Definitely thirteen (1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 10, 11, 12, 13, 17, 18), possibly/arguably seventeen (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 15, 16, 17, 18).

Admittedly it's silly to look at Angband at all when it was in a constant state of total war against basically everybody…

[ceescedasticity]

I would argue that "noisy" isn't the same as "tasty" or "smelly" or a hypothetical "hear-y" — it's a thing associated with noise, not sound in general and not hearing.

—I also wouldn't count "pleasant to touch" as a definition of "touchy"? Generally that means either reactive to figurative or literal touch or else something that touches a lot.

the default way for things to taste is good. we know this because "tasty" means something tastes good. conversely, from the words "smelly" and "noisy" we can conclude that the default way for things to smell and sound is bad. interestingly there are no corresponding adjectives for the senses of sight and touch. the inescapable conclusion is that the most ordinary object possible is invisible and intangible, produces a hideous cacophony, smells terrible, but tastes delicious. and yet this description matches no object or phenomenon known to science or human experience. so what the fuck

[libidomechanica]

Untitled Composition # 10542

Then Gama’s dwarfish lullaby?     But she, before spent. If Frenched too, in her; and never     hand, and something behind,

that someone more? I wanted—he     anchor drop like the could beasts, grows best. Or when the Vestal     entry blast for me. Below

on the Princed on hill; and     clocks harlots; and mine earth, no, now transmuted, hunted to     back. Do that can find it

not be the impure taken, mend     them up: be could eclipse enough. Choose you looking of what     indirect to me, if

ye gie a man die or else in     us, kneeled but Flight once more caughter rosy morn teem’d     hawks, where friend who puff your

fool, the sweet emotionless on     all the time, you a colt— take comforts of her with fiery     gaze whenceforward

but slipt thee, who looks red gold. She     line, ne street. Three calm and secret sorrows stubborn, and echo     balance way groaning,

said Cyril’s comes across’d my sire,     ask what lasting king hard. For on thy image of things     he, so hard the cot we

want given, when your poor, and noble     and love and then breast; how to kills to hide me feeling     will the humble as rayes,

reason good, and night comfort at     they, and uglines beam for she king, the violet, shows; I     said: with a good, and answer

shadow. Comfort arise at     first be full of the must I hae they station never tell     your wind! Great broke one of

the sighed, your trust to follies: now     hard-mailed heaven’s closde-vp sence for root off: we entered traps     of a shell of the helmed

a light. That three pace, made of     mountain for his Midas, the love control, suppose, whilst     systery, so the queen of

many woman-slough by autumn,     drops its sad and over majestic revealed no doubted     if we would you and

Prejudice, not our noble stairs, as     made for pizza with money, houses mortal strike hairs of     keen, or be mole knight; nor

well animal love and all, his     twitching game walls of the king night, knight and slug and woke     desired to trusty armour

do? All that sleeps in a yellow     hers and conversation. Thus dance of touched wife are sea-     fowl take here at all I

knowing if to leave must come to     give me lying stay. With her up from hence,—come away, your     blind wall, Saucy pedantic

roses obiect this, and child,     washed die by side a thought, I love this return again tortured     of discoveringhi

Glasses the journey fold men;     for terms and Elizabeth strong or wish through we liv’d still     that she day reflections.

[ceescedasticity]

Pedantic quibble of the day: