#to curb content on my dash

[bamboozledbird]

Don’t Go Where I Can’t Follow // Stiles Stilinski Imagine Characters: Stiles Stilinski, You Pairing: Stiles x Reader, Stiles x You (no use of y/n) Word Count: 1k Tags: blatant use of han solo's iconic 'i know' moment, overuse of the em dash as always Warnings: Angst. Angst. Angst. Descriptions of a panic attack.

A/N: A little baby revamp of an old work to get me inspired for these beautiful requests in my inbox.

The jeep is quiet. It was the first thing you noticed when you climbed into the passenger seat, legs shaking, knees wobbling—shoving Stiles’s hands away when he tried to help you. Now, you’re gripping the faded upholstery as the blood slowly drains from your knuckles. It’s a funny thing to notice, silence, but it’s hard not to when the quiet is so heavy you can feel it weighing down your chest, pushing the anger and hurt from your lungs to the pit of your stomach.  

Stiles is wearing his blue sweatshirt you love so much. The one that’s gone through the wash so many times you can rub your cheek against it and feel like you’re curled up in bed under cottony sheets, safe and warm. He knows that. You hate that he knows that.  

Stiles’s lithe fingers wrap around the steering wheel, despite the jeep being safely parked against the curb of some random road halfway between your house and his. He squeezes the wheel until the veins in his wrist bulge and his knuckles turn white. “I’m not sorry,” he says in a low voice, like he can feel the silence too, like he’s scared of snapping the cord holding a hundred-ton weight over your heads. 

The weight falls, and a wet, choked-off gasp is ripped from your raw throat. It hurts, from all the crying while he was gone, from the look on his face when he came back. “I fucking hate you,” you whisper. Your voice is raspy, barely there between your shallow exhales. After he locked you in that godforsaken closet, you'd screamed at him through the door, spewing every hateful, awful thing you could think of, until there was nothing left. Every part of you still aches—knuckles bruised from trying to beat the door down, fingernails bloodied from biting them down to the quick. You'd torn yourself apart while you sat against the wall, alone in the dark, waiting for him to come back. If he came back. 

“No you don’t,” Stiles says, but he winces anyway.

You shake your head violently and clench your jaw to stifle the angry sobs budding in your chest. You’re done with the crying; you already cried all night waiting for him to come back alive. “You had no right.” Your voice quivers, thick with mucus, and it fractures right through the marrow, “You had no fucking right to leave me there like that.”

Stiles tugs his hand through his hair. It’s already a mess, sticking up in random tufts from previous passes. Under normal circumstances, you’d try to fix it and then immediately get distracted by the softness and his soft content whines—but nothing feels normal now. You’ve never felt this frantic, this desperate, this much. It’s too much. You want to shed your skin and set something on fire—maybe yourself, at least until the ringing in your ears stops. 

He licks his lips, swollen from ripping them apart with his teeth, and stares out the window, “You could’ve died. I don’t care if you hate me or if you stay pissed at me forever—you’re alive. That’s all I care about.”

Your voice cracks when you try to scream again, “It wasn’t your choice to make!”

His teeth grind together for a moment. He won’t look at you. Maybe he can’t. “I would do it again,” he finally says in a quiet voice, like a confession, like he’s seeking atonement from god—or, more importantly, from you. Neither of you speak, the sound of your shallow breathing fills the jeep until his arm surges forward. You flinch when he slams his hand against the steering wheel; the horn is shrill and almost as loud as the tension left in its wake. “God, don’t you get it?” The muscles in his neck strain with the clench of his jaw, “None of it matters if you’re gone. I don’t give a fuck, okay? I just don't. I don't fucking care about stopping the villain of the month, or saving the entire goddamn town again, or keeping the world from imploding if you’re not in it, so don’t fuckin’ yell at me.”

You shake your head again because everything else feels like it’s shaking too, partly from the fury burning brightly in your eyes, but mostly because you love this stupid, arrogant boy so much it hurts. “I had to sit there, alone, and—and just hope that you came back—that you’d all come back. Ally died, Stiles. Boyd, Erica, Aidan—they’re all dead. It’s just a matter of time before someone else—before it happens again.” Your voice hitches, and you can't breathe, “You’re not allowed to do that to me, okay? You’re not allowed to—to fucking—to leave me behind like that. I can’t do it again—I can’t fucking—”

Even though he’s angry too, Stiles takes your hand and taps his heartbeat onto the inside of your wrist with his forefinger until your chest rises and falls in an even rhythm. Stiles looks down at your hands, layered on top of each other and trembling, before he speaks again. His voice is strained, his face stricken, “I can’t lose you.”

You stare at him, cheeks red and splotchy, mascara flaking underneath your eyes. Wrecked. And then you realize that he’s crying. His rounded eyes are wet and glossy, his chin trembles, and then that’s it. You can’t fight it anymore. You hiccup in-between your sobs and wipe your snot off on your sleeve, “And I can’t lose you.”

The car is silent again, and you can feel your heartbeat in your ears. “Don’t leave me again,” you whisper.

The words linger in the air, and Stiles cups your face, thumbs the tears and smeared makeup off of the apple of your cheeks—he's especially gentle with the fragile skin just under your eyes. He pulls you as close as he can manage with the gearshift in the way, moving your hair off of your forehead and pressing a tender kiss to each of your temples. He trails his lips to the corners of your fluttering eyelids, to the tip of your nose, one cheek and then the other. His final destination is your mouth. His tongue darts out, briefly tasting the salt of your tears, and then he kisses you. Three chaste brushes of his lips before he settles in for a real one, a reassurance that you’re both here. Breathing. Alive. The fact that he doesn’t respond to your demand isn’t lost on either of you.

“I love you,” he breathes against your lips. It’s not an answer, but it’s enough for tonight. 

You sigh into his mouth and hold onto his wrist, fingers resting against his pulse, “I know.”

[the-traveling-poet]

Coffee Shop

The day had finally arrived; in which you would meet your idol for a late lunch at a local cafè. And what a head rush just the idea of such a thing gave you. Amidst the not so subtle interrogation and polite pleasantries passed back and forth between the two of you over tea, the spark that had started this whole ordeal grew into that of a flame. A flame he seemed to take and run with…

Pairing: Actor!Levi x Fan!reader

Warnings: modern!au, language, fluff

Taglist: @21aurora @deepzombieyouth @braunsbabe @pelicanpizza (if you’d like added to the taglist for Levi Fic updates, just DM me!)

A/N: The long (somewhat maybe?) awaited pt. 3, finally posted! I took much, much longer in completing this than I wanted to. But life happens; losses, injuries, illnesses, grievances…the list goes on. But since my motivation came back, I’ve returned to my most passionate hobby; writing Levi fanfiction. I would have finished this sooner but the added feature of the BOOP got me distracted for a full 24hrs lmao. In this fic, I added in my own mix of hc’s for the sake of modern!au, and Levi’s a little OOC but…It’s a modern AU and I can do what I want :p

So without further ado, enjoy!~

~More Levi Ackerman content in my masterlists~

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2

The day had come….

Steeling your nerves, you took in a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. The door stood closed before you, and only a gentle tug would open it up to the cafè inside; yet you paused with your hand hovering over the silver handle.

You’d already peered through the shop’s windows to see if he was here yet, and concluded he wasn’t. And with the lack of some shiny, expensive looking car parked near the curb out front, you figured you’d beat him here. You were early, after all. So why couldn’t you just make yourself go in and have a seat?

Relax, you thought to yourself as you finally grasped the handle in the palm of your hand. You’ve gotten this far already, you can’t mess this up…

Walking into the rather aesthetic looking cafè, you looked around with bated breath. The cafè was small, but very pleasing to the eye; menu boards written in cursive print above polished countertops, floors spotless and organized, windows without a single speck upon them.

Even the scarce customers sat strewn about the tables seemed poised and of a higher class than you were used to seeing on a daily basis.

Suddenly, you felt just a tad under dressed.

Shaking the thoughts away, your eyes continued to study the room around you, until you were met with the steady gaze of a man sat a table at the back wall of the cafè. And oh, how those silver eyes always managed to captivate your entire attention; in person even more so than from through a screen.

Stiffening your posture where you stood, you shook yourself out of your daze with a mental slap in the face.

“Shit…” you whispered, shuffling your feet forward to approach his table. Of course he would be early and beat you…to being early.

Once you stood only a foot away from his table, Levi took a stand. After subtly looking you up and down, he reached out and pushed back the chair opposite him and gave you room to take a seat, after silently motioning to hang your coat up on the back of your chair for you.

With a whispered thank you, you shrugged off your coat and let him place it on the back of your chair before scooting you forward and then returning to his own seat.

“You’re early,” you blurted out after he sat, still in a bit of a daze.

“I’m always early; though, I’m surprised to see you’re twenty minutes early. I’m impressed.” He commented softly, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on your ever shifting eyes.

Once you managed to hold eye contact with him, you noticed the worn leather jacket hanging off the back of his chair, contrasting the grey turtleneck shirt he wore. The look was quite dashing on him, and you had to refrain yourself from blurting out this observation.

“You’re extra early,” you pointed out, taking a moment to look out the window to your right.

“I didn’t see any overly expensive cars outside, so I had assumed I’d beaten you here.”

“I always am. And, didn’t drive my car,” he answered plainly as he too looked out the window. Before you could ask, he was already pointing to a sight just near the curb. Perched on its stand near the window was a bike; sleek black and shining in the dull spring sunlight.

“That’s the bike you drive?” You nearly gasped, ogling over the bike. Sure, you’d learned enough about him from your obsessive research to know he rode. But never once had you seen the actual bike he owned.

“No, stole it from a man a couple blocks back.” Levi scoffed, but not aggressively so. When you looked back over at him, he seemed more curious than sarcastic when he looked over at you from the corner of his eye as he continued to face the window.

“Though, I never told you I rode.”

Realizing you’d soon be found out about your obsession into his personal life, you decided to downplay the fact you knew with an absent smile.

“Oh…well, you mentioned it once or twice in interviews. I’d never seen the bike itself, though.”

“I seldom post to my socials, unless one of the guys naggs me to,” he shrugged, picking up a menu off the table previously stacked by the rack of simple condiments lining a thin rack at one edge of the table.

“You seem more informed about me than I had assumed you’d be. Are you one of those fans who obsessed over and took to heart every interview and discarded show clip they can get their hands on?”

Gulping down you nerves, you hastily waved your hand in a dismissive manner.

“Oh pftt, no. I just…liked the show a lot, and had some free time to binge its content.”

He regarded you with a deadpan expression, as though not fully buying your half truth. But after raising a brow, he seemed content to let the matter sit.

“Well, either way, it’s nice to be out of the spotlight for a bit and unwind. I’m still surprised with myself that I gave my number out to a fan, but…I can’t say I regret it after this past week. You’re entertaining.”

“Is…is that a compliment? Or should I take offense to being generalized?” You smiled, also picking up a menu to look through.

“Which would you prefer?” He hummed, already seeming to have decided what he wanted, as he folded his menu back up and set it aside.

“I’ll take it as a compliment. A compliment from my favorite actor seems nice,” you hummed, beginning to loosen up a little more now that conversation had moved along.

Levi only hummed thoughtfully, peering over the top of your menu to see your crinkled eyes as you scanned along the cursive print. Unbeknownst to you, he made sure.

By the time you decided and set the menu aside, a waitress came along to jot down your orders. Listing off the tea and pastry you desired, you glanced back at Levi, who had yet to speak.

“I’ll take the black tea. No sweeteners, please. Thank you,” he said softly, briefly looking up at the waitress with a nod.

The waitress sent him a dazzling smile, loitering by the table a moment longer than was needed, before scurrying off towards the kitchens behind the front counter. With a snort, Levi resumed his attention towards you.

“I have a funny feeling there’s not much about me you don’t know. Am I right? You seem the type to do your research.”

He murmured, propping his chin onto his hand as he leaned ever so slightly closer across the table towards you, with his elbow supporting him on the table top.

Blushing, you opted to stare down at the napkin holder to your right.

“That-that may not be true-“

“How old am I?” He interrupted, with a brow ever so slightly raised in amusement.

“Twenty five…but that’s common knowledge to anyone who has access to Wikipedia.”

You huffed, crossing your arms as you defended yourself.

“I suppose so. That was a silly thing to ask…alright then, I’ll test you further; what was my favorite shoot?”

“The ‘Royal Government arc’,” you answered immediately. Too fast, you realized, only a moment too late.

“Alright then, something not related to the show…What’s my cat’s name?”

“Eros,” you sighed, already knowing you’d lost. “But to be fair, you’ve brought up your cat numerous times in interviews-“

“Keep digging sweetheart, you’re just burying yourself further here,” he hummed, a hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

“Alright, alright…So I may have gotten a little obsessed.” You murmured, feeling your cheeks burn a tad hotter than before as you finally admitted to his claims.

“To the show, or my character? Better yet, perhaps me?” He lifted his elbow off of the table and leaned back in his chair with crossed arms. And for a moment, you could have sworn he was teasing you. It worked in flustering you, if that had been his angle. But before you could finish stuttering out a response to his cocky claims, he flashed a minuet smile your way.

“I suppose you do know quite a lot about me, so I’ll ask my own questions. Ones I didn’t ask over the phone already.” He stated calmly as his boot nudged your foot under the table.

Ceasing your poor attempt to stutter out any form of defense, you nodded with an embarrassed sigh.

"Alright, that sounds fair." You murmured, mentally bracing yourself for any kind of question he might throw your way.

Seeing your compliance, he started firing off his own questions.

It nearly felt like an interrogation; like last weeks interview role’s had been switched on you. Only, he wasn’t so shy in asking what he pleased.

Your place of employment, your college major, your pastimes, family, social life. Hell, he even asked for your favorite arcs in the show and which of the scenes he starred in you liked the most.

By the end of it, you’d relaxed significantly and opened up more than you had expected to. And in turn, he became a tad more expressive himself.

“Ever rode a bike?” He asked after finishing his cup of tea, with his unoccupied arm resting over the back of his chair as he raised a brow. His sudden curiosity threw you off a bit.

After calming down from a fit of giggles from his previous question, you raised a brow his way.

“No, I cant say I have.”

With a tilt of his head he regarded you curiously, as though coming to a a silent decision with himself. After a brief span of silence he sighed and placed his hands in his lap.

“Well…Perhaps I could make an exception and allow you to ride with me. I could use a backpack.”

“An exception? To what rule?” Furrowing your brows, you regarded him curiously.

A backpack? What rules?

Hiding his slight smirk with a tilt of his head, he replied; “The rule I have against anyone touching my bike. I’d hate for it to get dirtied or scratched, but I’m sure you’ll be carful.”

“You’re asking me if I’d like a ride?” You murmured, suddenly feeling as allert as you had the moment you wanking into the cafè. With a nod, he confirmed your suspicions.

“On your bike?” You asked, incredulously.

“Unless there’s something else of mine you’d like to ride?” He replied with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Though after just a moment, he cleared his throat and looked away.

“I’m sorry, that was a bit…abrasive.”

“No! I-Id love to!” You grinned, unable to help but stare once more out the window towards his bike as you discreetly hid your blush.

“I’d be down for any kind of ride.”

Now it was his turn to appear surprised and maybe a tad flustered, for the first time this afternoon. He opened his mouth, then abruptly closed it; eyes darting about the table between you. Suddenly, two feet of table never felt so far of a distance before.

With a grunt he stood, taking his jacket in hand as he reached into his left pocket.

“Well then, unless you have plans this afternoon…My bike and I are free.”

Biting at your lip, you also stood.

“No, I’m free. If…If you’re offering.”

“I was under the impression I was doing more than that?” He grumbled back in responce as he fumbled out his wallet. Catching his movement, you went to do the same. That is, until his slender fingers wrapped around your wrist at your waist to stop you.

“Ah ah, I proposed this meet up. The least I could do is pay.” He scoffed, a click of his tongue to follow. Though you attempted to disagree, he placed your hand holding your wallet back into your back pocket; much to your stunned surprise.

“I’ve got it,” he whispered, placing down a check on the table top. Only seconds later, you found yourself standing outside near the curb, watching him mount his bike. And oh, what a sight that was.

Unexpectedly he pulled out a secondary helmet, similar in appearance to his own. Taking is hesitantly, you fumbled with the chin straps as you took a step closer to the bike as it roared to life.

“You just carry around a second helmet?” You questioned uncertainly as he reached out his hand to you.

“No…Stopped by a store before arriving here,” He mumbled, his voice becoming more muffled as he adjusted his own helmet. Swallowing down your growing nerves and hiding a grin behind the helmet, you allowed his hand to guide you into the spot just behind him.

Suddenly, he revved the engine, causing you to startle, only slightly. One look around the smaller bike showed you there were no handle bars to hold onto, causing your eyes to flick to his expectantly.

Oh shit…

“Well? Hold on, else you’ll go flying off the back.” He rolled his eyes before pulling down the visor of his helmet and slipping on a pair of leather gloves. Doing the same, you gave a nervous nod.

Hesitantly you reached out, your arms barely grazing his sides as color filled out your cheeks. With the noise of the bike revving, you missed the way he groaned to himself.

“Fuck’s sake…”

Suddenly the bike jolted forward, sending you crashing forward into his back with a muffled gasp of shock.

Behind the tinted visor, Levi allowed himself a smirk and a satisfied hum, as he used one of his gloved hands to hold yours into place at his abdomen.

“Like I said; hold on, stubborn brat,” he called out, barely turning his head to see you. Though you couldn’t make out every feature of his face through the shield, you gave a shaky chuckle and nodded back; tightening your grip around his middle. He was quick to look away, before fumbling with the kickstand and shifted gears a second time.

As he skillfully merged into the lane, you raised your chin up just slightly over his shoulder.

“Where are we going?” You called over the wind as it gradually picked up speed.

“I figured around a couple blocks; unless you have another idea?” He called back, still able to hear you surprisingly well.

You thought on this a moment, before an idea struck you. Humorously, you called back.

“Well, unless you have another photoshoot this evening, there is a nice city park a few blocks up.”

You never heard a response from him, until he pulled you both up pulled to a stop light. He raised the visor of his helmet after putting down his kickstand once more and raised a brow over his shoulder towards you.

“A park, huh? I can do that…but I’m taking the longer route.”

“The longer route?” You questioned uncertainly.

“The highway, yes. Wouldn’t you like for first ride to be memorable?” His eyes seemed to sparkle as he spoke.

“So long as you don’t kill us,” came your mumbled responce. Yet he seemed to hear it, as he only rolled his eyes.

“Don’t you fret, princess. I wouldn’t let my first ever passenger fall off or become injured. Cant let our first date become our last.”

“First date?”

He merely chuckled at your sudden squeak as he turned to face you better.

“Unless you’d rather not call it that. Would you rather this be considered a VIP backstage pass?”

Your heart twisted and flipped pleasantly in your chest as you quickly lowered the visor of your helmet once more to hide the expression of bewilderment on your face.

“You’d go on a date with a fan?” You managed to croak out just as the light turned green.

Tugging down his own visor once more and lifting the stand, he hummed thoughtfully before reviving the bike.

“I gave my number to one, didn’t I?”

Holding your hand tight to his chest, he used his free hand to push forward, rushing through traffic as you gradually increased speeds. All the while his hand stayed on top of yours, until the need to pull away became undismissible.

And you didn’t dare to let go. Not now, nor ever. Especially if he was promising a second date…

[faithforgottens]

𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒚𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆.

from the writer’s desk: i’d tell you i started this a year ago after deciding i needed closure on post - crying on newport beach about how i’m incapable of being loved but that would mean me unloading all over the dash, and nobody needs that. i’m just a girl, out here projecting like tomorrow’s not coming, and thought i’d share. please know that i love carol, i just had to pick a character that i didn’t have strong emotional attachment to in order to play my villain. motivation to continue this would be much appreciated, thnx.  summary: you’ve been stuck in carol’s web for nearly four months now, and you need a distraction before you go postal and commit a capital crime or worse, tell her you love her. fortunately for you, natasha’s willing to offer her services. contains: college!natasha x female reader —— warnings include toxic relationship dynamics that involve infidelity, gaslighting and cheating, marijuana use, alcohol consumption, nsfw content [ fingering, dirty talk ]. →  inbox status: OPEN                                        don’t repost my works anywhere.

INCOMING MESSAGE FROM — SATAN    💬     am i gonna see you tonight?

INCOMING MESSAGE FROM — SATAN    💬     :(

INCOMING MESSAGE FROM — SATAN    💬     hellllllooooooooooo??

INCOMING MESSAGE FROM — SATAN    💬     I WANNA SEE U I MISS UR PRETTY FACE

INCOMING MESSAGE FROM — SATAN    💬     pls come tonight. it would mean everything to me

You’ve never claimed to be smart.

In fact, you’re pretty sure you have to fall on the opposite end of that spectrum in order to bother showing your face tonight at the behest of Carol fuckin’ Danvers. Satan. It’s the work of the goddamn devil pulling you from the clutches of your apartment’s comfortable silence where you’d be much better off riding through the nuanced gut-punching waves of disappointing Carol guilt instead of the hell storm that is being played once again by Carol guilt. You even put on eyeliner for such an occasion, because if you’re going to get fucked over (either physically, emotionally, or both), you might as well look good doing it.

Her name’s still lighting up your phone as the Uber drops you off at the curb, boasting a flood of pictures on Snapchat that illuminate the awaiting scene inside of the frat house through blurry streaks of glass bottles and marijuana smoke and the pale expanse of her neck where a glint of her gold necklace flashes is promised to you to do as you wish, leaving behind bruises or lip prints. It’s an enticing picture painted for you. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think maybe tonight will be the night she tells you she’s free from the clutches of Maria, her perfectly sane girlfriend that you’ve only ever known through Carol’s jilted lens, and that she’ll even let you climb her like a tree in front of her friends.

Lucky you.

Except you do know better. In the pit of your stomach, you know the reality is that you are in closer proximity than Maria, which therefore makes you the most convenient piece of ass at Carol’s disposal, that Carol believes — and is likely right about how — you’re still wound tight enough around her finger to make you drop to your knees like a good little girl, blinded by her golden halo of hair and the whiskey-soaked taste of her lips and ready to excuse her shit treatment of you. That even feeling like you have her for the beat of a butterfly’s wings is worth your sanity. And despite it all, it isn’t enough to keep you away. It’s not enough to exile the parts of a masochistic heart beating in your chest that somehow loves her, even if the only part of you she loves is your willingness to show up for her.

Carol’s fraternity is co-ed, which means that between all of the brothers, their social circle extends to the farthest corners of the university — they consume a fair bit of your own, considering you have at least two classes a semester with Bucky, sit with them at Wanda’s softball games (mostly so you can talk shit about your high school ex that made the team), and rent study rooms at least once a month with Thor, Bruce, and Val to spiral into late night insanity while you all contemplate the meaning of life and attempt to memorize vocabulary words. You slip in through the door, bass thudding into your molars and the heavy blanket of smoke and sweat covers your bare shoulders as you weave your way through the house.

“Look who finally showed up!” Behind the counter in the kitchen is Sam Wilson, running position as makeshift bartender. You detour long enough for a vodka and Diet Coke, stopping next to the barstool that Bucky’s perched on. He tucks you underneath his arm for a side hug, other hand tipping his own solo cup back as he tries to drain the last bit of liquor down his throat.

They’re good friends to you. It’s why you hate doing this dance with Satan — because at some point, you feel that there’s going to be a tectonic shift between the two of you that dredges up a rift in the concrete and you don’t know who will be left on your side. You don’t know who you’ll be able to look in the eye and lie to about Carol, who would pick you over her. You don’t even know if any of them would believe you or would write you off as crazy as you’ve been writing yourself off as of late.

You tell yourself that you’re trying, goddammit, to shove that piece of yourself back into a locked drawer and enjoy the company of your friends.

“Anybody seen Danvers?” you pitch as nonchalantly as you know how, planting your elbows down onto the granite of the counter while you watch Sam mix your drink. He goes heavy on the vodka, which you quietly appreciate.

Bucky snorts. “Yeah, we’ve seen her alright.”

“She’s in the dining room trying to rally everyone into a round of strip beer pong,” Sam explains. “Last we saw, she got her shirt stuck in the chandelier.”

“The face of class, this fraternity,” you tease as Sam hands you your drink. He can’t help but laugh, a jovial, guttural noise that makes you smile, even though your stomach is currently in your throat.

You bid them farewell and snake through the living room, trying to avoid the furniture or the bodies of other people and almost always fail in avoiding both at the same time as you carve out a path to the dining room. It’s densely packed, which forebodes the game of beer pong that the boys mentioned. You try not to cut your elbows into the bones and flesh of others to make your way through, but your adrenaline is humming at the thought of seeing Carol, the thought of her body glowing in the house lights and the cut of her physique out on display for anyone, including you, to openly ogle without abandon.

“Goddamn, Danvers!” someone yells mirthfully. “Keep it in your pants!”

Whistling down to one thought, one track, your mind lasers in and you’re positive that the sharp point of your elbow nails T’Challa directly in the ribs as you finally make it to the inner lip of the circle around the dining room table. It’s desperate. You know it’s desperate. You'll care about it later, you’re sure, but for now, all that’s on your mind is her.

“For the love of fuck, I—” Someone stumbles back into you, dark hair in frizzy waves and the bill of their baseball cap nearly jabbing straight into your nose. Wanda Maximoff spins around, her eyes lightening up at the sight of you as she grabs onto your wrist to stable herself. “Oh! Hey, babe,” she says with a smile. “Didn’t know you were coming.”

“Me either,” you tell her, trying not to be blatant as you scan for Carol. “Carol didn’t tell me until last minute.”

“Boo,” Wanda pouts, before turning to yell over her shoulder, “Danvers! Fuck you!”

“Get in line!” Carol calls back, and your head locks in on where her voice comes from. Your stomach plunges into free fall when you see her: as promised, she’s standing around in her sports bra and jeans, white teeth glinting and blonde hair curling around onto her tanned shoulders, biceps on display and her arms snaked around — her.

Maria Hill, in the flesh, pressed against Carol’s side and her chin balanced on Carol’s shoulder as Carol makes a shot one-handed that successfully lands in a cup on the opposite end of the table. Carol cheers victoriously, and Maria kisses her cheek, and you notice that Carol’s hand on Maria’s side drifts down towards her ass.

All of Carol’s messages swim inside your mind, the ones where she assures you that it’s all real, that she and Hill are done, that Hill’s holding her back, that she’s felt things for you since the moment she laid eyes on you and just knew; the ones where she paints a beautiful picture of a future with you, the same picture she’s just doused in cheap spirits and ruined for the dozenth time. Your drink suddenly tastes like arsenic, heavy and uneven in your stomach, the room shrinking and heat crawling up your neck in an uncomfortable panic. You are going to be sick.

Wanda’s voice comes through in the midst of the ringing in your ears. Fuck you, Danvers.

It takes you a moment to realize that Wanda’s voice isn’t just a reverberation inside your mind, but is right in your ear. “Hey!” She calls your name again, and you finally snap your attention back to her. She scans over your face for a moment, eyebrows folding in the center of her brow. “You alright? Where’d you just go?”

The shock is fresh on your face, salt water from the crashing wave that’s irritating your eyes — you refuse to let yourself cry, here in front of everyone, because all that’s going to do is open the door to a conversation you don’t want to have, incite a fight with Carol that you’ll surely lose, leave you feeling even lower than you do at the moment. You shake your head, trying to shake whatever emotions that aren’t nonchalant off of your face. “Noth—nowhere,” you stammer, voice an octave higher than usual. Wanda’s perplexity only deepens. “More crowded than I thought. Got beer-splashed.”

Wanda breaks into a smile, seemingly buying your excuse. “C’mon, what’d you expect?” she ribs. It’s a loaded question, and if Wanda wasn’t Wanda, you’re sure it’d be enough to light your rapidly shorting fuse. The thin strain in your falsified smile must give something away, because she softens the slightest bit and wraps her arm around yours. “Let’s go downstairs. I’ll kick your ass sideways in pool.”

You appreciatively take Wanda’s out, allowing her to guide you away from the Carol show and the crowd of people you have steeled yourself in order to not cry in front of and head with her towards the basement, which the frat has renovated into a lounge space with a giant television, sectional that is infamous for its hosting of The Threesome, and the pool table. It hasn’t garnered quite the same audience that the beer pong game has, but less people means you feel slightly less suffocated. Carol’s still got her foot on your throat, but down here, it’s easier to maneuver and act as though you haven’t just had yourself made a fool in front of everyone without them knowing.

Relieved for the little things, like elbow room, you sit down on the arm of the sectional and take a long drink from your cup — if you’re going to survive the rest of the night without your tail tucking between your legs (and you’re determined to further your self-sabotage by going the extra mile to ensure Carol knows she fucked up, even though it’s likely she doesn’t care) you’ll have to be drunker than this. Wanda adjusts her hat on her head and picks up a pool cue, glancing back over her shoulder at you. “Want someone to show you how it’s done?” she teases.

You lift your cup in acknowledgment, smile shedding off of your lips. “Go for it.”

As Wanda weasels her way into the current game of pool, you do a quick intake of who all’s downstairs. There’s a few of the brothers, a few of the brother’s dates, people that are otherwise background characters designed to make campus seem at capacity but not so many people that no one would notice if you threw up in the corner or worse, started crying. You purse your lips around the rim of your solo cup, scanning the company around the pool table. Wanda sidles up next to another one of her brothers, poking her with the pool cue. “Nat!” Wanda whines. “Give me room.”

Natasha Romanoff shuffles out of the way with the roll of her eyes. “Poke me with the stick again and it’s gonna go somewhere less than ideal.”

Wanda flicks her middle finger upright before hunching around the shape of the pool cue. “You don’t scare me, Natty.”

“Your funeral.”

Your eyes follow Natasha out of the way, and she feels their weight because the next thing you know, you’re off the cliffs and deep somewhere inside the greenery of her eyes. They’re pretty eyes, you idly note, and you find yourself mulling over Natasha Romanoff, as a person, as a concept, as Natasha. She’s the oldest of the girls in the fraternity, a senior to your junior, and she’s been around for so long that it’s hard to remember a time when she wasn’t there. It’s hard to imagine a room without her in it, a constant fixture on the mantel that you don’t even bother acknowledging it anymore.  

She cocks an eyebrow at you after what’s sure to be a long moment of staring, and Wanda, who is unfortunately more observant than you’d like to believe, begins laughing. “Am I interrupting this little staring contest?”

Natasha smirks. “I could win a staring contest and kick your ass at the same time, Maximoff.”

“Show off,” Wanda grumbles as she passes the pool cue over to Natasha. She then looks at you, and whatever grumpiness dissipates, her shit-eating grin returning. “Now, you on the other hand,” she preludes with a gesture towards you. “There’s no way.”

You drain the rest of your drink and discard the cup off to the side. "You talk a lot, Wan,” you inform her as you walk up to the side of the pool table. Wanda just grins as you turn to Natasha, gesturing for the pool cue. “Let me have a go.”

Natasha acquiesces and passes you the pool cue, giving you the space you need coupled with a low nod of encouragement. There are a few clusters of balls around the table and you’re trying to eye up a shot that’ll give you not only a handful of points, but will get Wanda off your back — even if you are grateful for the timing of her diversions.

Unfortunately, it’s not enough; you can still hear the laughter and music through the walls from upstairs, a raucous noise that scatters your train of thought. Is it Carol? What’s she doing? What’s she whispering into Hill’s ear? Does she know you’re even here? Does she care? 

Probably not.

You take the shot without thinking, balls ricocheting off the sides of the pool table. Wanda barks out a laugh. “Really? That’s the best you’ve got?”

“Just getting warmed up,” you say stiffly, handing the pool cue off.

Wanda’s face is alight with amusement, nodding slowly as she moves around the pool table for her next shot. “Okay.”

You’re too far in your head, and you know it. You’re content to linger on the outskirts of the game while everyone else that Wanda goes about recruiting takes their turn. It’s a few minutes or an hour before the cue ends up back in your hand, like a rickety sort of clockwork that is unexpected but also entirely predictable. You assess the situation and find a decent enough angle now that the game has progressed, significantly so.

You bend over slightly, eyes fixed on a blue ten that’s not too far from the cue. Before you can make the shot, you hear someone behind you muttering. “Do it like this.”

When you glance over your shoulder, it’s Natasha, only a few inches from where you stand, hands hesitating before she reaches out. “Back up,” she guides, her hands stationing on your hips and forcing you to take a half-shuffle of a step backwards. “And lift your elbow like this.” You’re clay and she shapes you how she wishes, her touch feather light. “Okay. Now try.”

You do exactly as she says, pool cue shooting from your hand and colliding with the cue ball. The ten you’ve had your eyes on sails into the pocket without any interference. 

“Nice shot, sweetheart,” Natasha says, her voice ghosting along the back of your spine. As you straighten up, you glance behind you, noticing the faint grin along the curve of her lips.

“Well that wasn’t sexual at all,” Wanda comments with a low whistle as the pool cue returns to her grip. “Do losers get laid still? I wouldn’t know.” With a toothy flash of a grin, she draws the cue back and makes another shot — you’re not entirely focused on her efforts, thanks to the gravity of Natasha’s sights still pressing deep into your skin.  

Wanda talks a big enough game that she recruits nearly everyone standing around the pool shot to give it a go, which provides a window of opportunity for Natasha to brush a hand along your shoulder and steal you away. “Up for a smoke?” she asks, and you nod. You allow her to lead the way out through the basement’s French doors, slipping outside into the backyard where the sky is dotted with stars, the air smells only the slightest bit cleaner, and the music is nothing but a dull pulse from inside the house.

Natasha steers you away from the patio where other fraternity brothers and their guests are sitting around, enjoying their drinks and laughing amongst their idle, stoned conversations around the fire pit. You follow her into the grass, trailing around the side of the house until the two of you don’t have any other company aside from each other and Thor’s knockout rose bushes that he takes great pride in.

She leans up against the wall, hands fishing in the pocket of her jacket for her lighter. For someone who’s devoted the rest of their evening to shooting metaphorical (or even literal) middle fingers in Carol’s direction, you’re still too far on edge to be nonchalant about any of it. The quiet is all consuming, maddening inside of your buzzing mind. Natasha produces a joint, embers burning on the end as she lights it and brings it up to her lips. You’re left to watch as she takes a long, casual drag, a cloud of smoke billowing from her lips on the exhale. Her wrist then extends, offering the joint up; if there is such a thing as too eager, you’d be the poster child for it, the way you pluck it from her fingers and take a hit.

“Something on your mind?” she asks, her voice a low drag of gravel against the muted bass thud inside of the house. You open an eye and glance over at her, her green eyes burning holes through you as she watches. 

“Eh,” you mutter half-heartedly with a shrug. “Not worth it.”

You pass the joint back to her after you take one more drag, your eyes fixed on the steady stream of smoke that you forcibly control the exit from your mouth. It’s nice to have control over something, you think, even if it is, to some degree, just seeing how long you can hold your breath. 

“Seems like you could use a distraction,” Natasha comments, fingers idly rolling the joint between her fingers as smoke still curls from the tip. 

You laugh, a low and guttural noise that’s passive at best. “Yeah, probably.”

Natasha turns so her entire body is facing you, and it doesn’t register, the way that she’s looking at you, until you feel her brush your hair off of your face. Your eyes fully open, somewhat surprised by the action, watching her carefully. Natasha’s a lot of things, but gentle isn’t one you’d readily associate with her. It’s almost like she’s handling you like glass, waiting for the right moment to shatter you. It’s a hiccup in your chest, a strange feeling washing over your body.

“Let me distract you, then.” She says it simply, like it’s the most logical conclusion to arrive at.

“Nat, what...”

“C’mere.” One of her hands encircles your wrist, guiding you closer. You follow wordlessly in her guidance, unsure of what she’s doing or what’s to come. She takes another hit of the joint, her eyes glowing the same way the end of the joint does, a low burning fire that seems to grow hotter the longer your eyes are connected. 

The hand holding your wrist slides up your body until she’s cupping your jaw, her thumb darting across the expanse of your face to swipe across your lips in a prompt to open them. She lowers the joint, bringing her face inches away from your own as her mouth forms a perfect circle and releases smoke. You’ve shotgunned weed before, but never at such a close proximity. Natasha breathes out and you breathe in, eyes fluttering shut at the intimacy of the moment. 

“Gonna let me distract you some more?” she whispers, and you barely register yourself nodding before her lips capture your own. Her mouth is plush and soft but nothing about her is gentle anymore — this is where she forces a spiderwebbing crack across your surface, the deft way in which she manipulates your lips to do exactly as she’d like, her tongue skating across the skin and opening your mouth to allow her access. You can’t help but to sigh into the kiss. She is exactly what she claims she is: a distraction, a welcome reprieve, and the golden halo around Carol’s head seems fuzzy and jilted now.

Natasha kisses you like she’s trying to set you on fire; at some point she has absconded the joint and ground out its remnants into the mulch, both her hands cupping your face as she boxes you in with her legs and adjusts the two of you so your back is now flush against the wall. “How’s this?” she murmurs against your ear, lips starting a descent down your neck that is feather light and the gentle scrape of her teeth.

“Very... very distracting,” you stammer out, fingers curling into fiery red hair. 

“Good,” Natasha hums, her mouth vibrating over a particularly sensitive spot on your collarbone that causes your grip in her hair to tighten. “Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be so far in your head.” 

You nod, thankful for the reward of her body pressing against yours. 

“What d’you say?” Her voice ghosts over your skin, and for a moment, you’re not sure what it is she’s asking. It takes a moment, the weed and the liquor clouding your mind, but the dig of Natasha’s blunt fingernails into your hips and the graze of her teeth along your skin serves as motivation. “Huh? What d’you say, princess?” 

“Thank you,” you gasp, the feeling of her mouth tightening around your skin wet and hot sending a glimmer of electricity down your spinal cord. Natasha chuckles, a dark and melodic noise that buzzes through your body. 

“You’re welcome,” she croons. “’S that all you needed? Or do you need more?”

More. It’s the knee jerk response you have, the way your world has narrowed down to just her and the scent of her heady perfume and each individual curve of muscle is now flush against you. Your eyes open only to see Natasha grinning like she’s the fuckin’ devil. 

Maybe you were misplaced somehow.

Natasha’s hands drag over your sides, up and down roughly as she kisses you and forces your legs farther apart so she’s able to snake one of her thighs in between them. She rucks your top up on the edges, fingers brushing over your skin in a delightful contrast to the cool evening air. Natasha is hot, her touch burning and singeing the skin wherever it moves. She’s painting you out of ashes and making you into something beautiful, something uniquely her own. Her hands slip underneath your shirt and you feel one hand trail upwards, fingers wrapping around your breast before squeezing. It elicits another tiny moan from you, which Natasha swallows down with a kiss. “Shh,” she hisses against your lips. “Be quiet.”

You arch into her touch as her fingers slip beneath the cup of your bra and pinch your nipple tight, another squeak of pleasure groaned into her mouth. It only encourages her further, the other hand of hers moving in the opposite direction. “Want me to touch you?” she whispers in your ear while you press your mouth into her shoulder, breath warm against your ear and her teeth just barely missing your earlobe. “Bet you’re not distracted now; only thing you and that pussy are thinking about is me, huh?”

“Fuck, Nat,” you mumble into her skin.

“Yeah you are,” she replies with a shit eating grin, your head tilting back until it roughly meets the back of the wall as her hand goes up your skirt. 

You’d been meticulous prior to coming over, thinking on whatever lone star trailing in the sky that you’d be seducing Carol tonight; you’d purposefully worn your skimpiest pair of underwear just to show her what she could have if she was with you. It’s only when you see the look on Natasha’s face, the way her pupils dilate and her jaw slackens the slightest bit as her fingers skim in between the folds of your thigh and vulva and feels lace that you feel something resembling satisfaction. “You came ready for a distraction, princess,” she grumbles, moving your underwear to the side and swiping her fingers through what is now sheer want dripping from you. “Fuck, you’re wet.”

“N... Nat,” you whine, squirming around in the pursuit of pressure. “Touch me.”

She places the tip of her finger at your entrance, just barely teasing it in. “Ask nicely, honey.”

The words spill from your lips without thought. “Please, Nat, please touch me, fuck m—” She cuts you off as she slips her finger inside of you and you all but rocket up the side of the wall at the feeling. Her free hand, still underneath your shirt, wrestles out from beneath the fabric and is slapped over your mouth to muffle whatever noise you make.

“Thought I told you to be quiet,” she says between her gritted teeth. “Here.” She presses her index and middle fingers against your lips and you acquiesce, opening them wide enough to allow them to slip in. “Suck.”

You do as you’re told, happy to oblige as she begins to finger you. There’s nothing soft or sweet about the way she fucks you; she adds another finger and finds a steady rhythm, curling each time she’s knuckle deep inside of you just so she can be rewarded with you humming around the fingers in your mouth. It amuses her to some extent, the way her eyes have darkened and her mouth is slightly agape. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and considering how tight you are wound, you’re not going to last long.

"Clench around me, pretty girl,” she hisses amongst the other litany of dirty things she’s whispering in your ear. “Such a sweet pussy, does whatever I ask it to; what if I want this pussy all to myself? You gonna let me have it?”

You nod, Natasha withdrawing her fingers from your mouth before she hauls you in for the filthiest kiss of your life. “Fuck,” you whimper against her lips. “Yours, Nat, your pussy.”

“Yeah, I know. This is my pussy now, all tight and hot and wet and desperate just for me. This was what you needed, wasn’t it? Needed me to fuck you silly until you forget how to put one foot in front of the other.”

“Please, Nat, gonna...” 

“What?” she teases, her thumb flicking across your clit and you know that she’s doomed you, mind and body barreling down a track that there is no return from. “What, baby? Use your words.”

“Gonna come,” you manage to get out, and she fucking laughs.

“‘S right,” she agrees. “Gonna make this little pussy come all over my fingers, since I’m the only one who can. That right?” You nod; her fingers tighten in your hair and pull your head back so your neck is exposed for her. “C’mon, baby, wanna see you make a mess on my hand. Come for me like a good little slut. You know you want to.” You do, you do, and everything is bordering on the edge of too much the way Natasha is sucking your neck and rubbing tight circles on your clit. “Show me who’s pussy this is. Come.”

Another few thrusts and flicks of your clit and you are gone, Natasha bringing her mouth back to yours to swallow the keens and cries of you hitting your climax. The brick wall underneath you scratches at your shirt but it is a heavenly feeling, losing control underneath Natasha. She just smiles when she pulls away and you slump into her, perfectly sated. 

“That was hot,” she says with a wicked grin, pulling her fingers out of you. She doesn’t break eye contact as she brings them up to her lips, sucking your taste off of them. Her eyes alight with pleasure, a contented hum reverberating from her vocal cords. “Thanks, pretty girl.”

Beat that, Danvers.

[missjanjie]

9V with Jasya, please (I got hit by that one video again on my dash and I miss them)

any excuse for jasya, i will take it lol

9. “I didn’t know who else to turn to.” / V. Author’s Choice

-

It was a little past one in the morning when Daya awoke to a frantic knocking on her door and her dog barking to further alert her. “Shh, I hear you,” she mumbled to the pet as she pushed herself out of bed and shuffled to the door, bleary eyed and disoriented. Her confusion only deepened when she opened the door and saw her neighbor standing there. Or rather, she ran inside and closed the door before she could process it.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s late,” Jasmine started before she could be asked. “I didn’t know who else to turn to,” she admitted before her story spilled out at her notoriously fast talking speed. “I was coming home from work and this guy was following me and my roommate’s not home and I knew if he saw I was home alone he could… or he would… I don’t…”

Realizing just how panicked she was, Daya wrapped her arms around her, stopping her in her tracks. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” she soothed, “no one’s gonna bother you, I’ll curb-stomp the motherfucker before he can try it.” She guided Jasmine to her couch, setting her down and taking the blanket off the back to wrap around her instead. “Sit. I’m gonna make some tea, yeah?”

Jasmine nodded as she caught her breath, looking down when she realized the small dog was trying to climb up into her lap. “Aw, hi Fendi,” she cooed and scooped him up.

She glanced over with a fond smile before heading towards the kitchen area, stopping first at her door. She watched through the peephole and scowled when she saw a strange man pacing the hall, clearly looking for the blonde. She grabbed her door jammer and hooked it under the knob, ensuring that it’d be even harder for him to get through if he tried.

By the time Daya joined the couch with two cups of tea, she was relieved to see that Jasmine had calmed down. Sure, the two had never gotten along before. They had more than their fair share of petty neighborly quarrels, but at the end of the day, there was a mutual respect that came to light. She never wanted any harm to come to Jasmine, despite the occasional empty threat of ‘I’m gonna smack her’ made to her roommate. “Here,” she offered her the mug.

“Thanks,” Jasmine smiled and graciously took it, sipping with a content sigh. “Is your Crystal gone too?” She asked, as both of their roommates had the same name.

Still, the way she phrased it made her laugh. “Yeah, she’s with her girlfriend. Even she wouldn’t have been able to sleep through all that… you’re okay, right?”

“Just a little shaken up. Thank you again, it really means a lot, especially ‘cause I know you don’t like me.”

Daya winced, realizing she hadn’t been as subtle as she hoped with her frequent frustration. “It’s not that… I just think we got off on the wrong foot and neither of us wanted to be the bigger person.”

“I imagine being the bigger person all the time as it is can be annoying,” Jasmine joked, nudging her lightly.

For once, instead of getting irritated, she laughed and slung an arm around her shoulders. “You got me there,” she conceded. “But seriously, if you ever need help dealing with a creep, you can always come to me.”

“What if I just wanna come by and drink tea like this without the threat of danger?”

Daya quirked her brow in surprise, but smiled nonetheless. “Sure, I’ll smoke you out too, whatever keeps you chill out.”

Jasmine grinned. “I’ll win you over eventually,” she winked.

[kairiscorner]

Your writings are so great and capturés the captures so well!! I have a request based off from your previous req fandic of Noir x criminal!reader. (I LOVE THAT SO MUCH AA) can you write where the crimimal!reader gets badly injured and Noir takes cares of them, gets mad and scold them for being so reckless then starts to beg them to quit the criminal life cus he wants them to be safe? It can be a hurt/comfort type of thing

HIIII OMG I'M SO HAPPY TO HEAR THAT??? and ofc anon babe, i gotchu >:)) imma consider this a part 2 for the noir x criminal reader :DD

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

content warnings! mentions of bleeding, open flesh wounds, mentions of guns and firing of guns, and light cursing up ahead. please don't read any further beyond the cut if you are uncomfortable with these themes ^^

"when is this ever going to be enough for you?"

his voice was stern, though extremely exhausted. he was finishing sewing up the wounds you sustained earlier when he found you. he had a long day fighting crooks, and to top it all off, you were there. you were there, and you got hurt, badly. he knew he didn't need to help you, you knew he could've knocked you out and threw you to the curb to wait for the cops to take care of after a few hours--but he did. he carried you in his arms gently, said sorry when you moaned out in pain as he felt over a flesh wound on your side which was generously given to you by one of your 'allies' as they screwed up shooting a guard and had the bullet ricochet and lodge itself into your side.

you felt dizzy a while ago due to how much blood you were losing, but luckily, peter found you and brought you to a rooftop where hardly anyone frequented and patched you up with a stray med kit he found at a nearby clinic. he was a little scrappy at it, and you had to teach him how to do it since you were used to getting scuffed up on this crappy job. you winced and breathed in sharply through your teeth as he took the bullets out, applied the ointment, and sewed up the open flesh wounds you got. you told him exactly just how painful it was, it was a stinging pain that you wished would go away as you told him to take it easy, but he refused to give you that luxury--a pass on the pain you deserved for thinking you would be able to live a carefree life after trying to continue this life of crime.

"what do i have to do to change your mind?" he asked you after you hurled insults and curse words at him while he patched you up and finished. "change my mind? with what?" you asked a little sarcastically, knowing that peter would get angry like he did last time, which you found... a little attractive. peter sighed as he looked up at you unmasked; he was dashing as always; looking soft and harmless, but you knew he was anything but those things, in reality. "you know what i mean." he said as he got up and looked down at the alley he found you and a few other members of your little ensemble down there, injured. you breathed out a sigh as well as you looked up at his back that was now facing you. "i would if i could, parker. you can say you know how shitty this world is, and yet you don't seem to realize why i do what i do." you said with an ironic chuckle, a chuckle at how depressing your situation had become.

"and you don't seem to realize that i do everything i can to help you." he chimed in as soon as you stopped talking. he turned to face you, no longer having any anger in his eyes, instead pure sympathy and care filled his frame as he brought his shoulders down and faced you like you were no criminal, no evil doer, no sinner--a human, just like him, who struggled to survive. "i'm more than willing... more than willing to wire you money. aunt may's told me to give more than i can receive, and you're always the first person i think of every waking hour. connect the dots, why don't you?" he asked you to do with a cracking voice as he sat down next to you, taking off his glasses to wipe the tears forming in his eyes.

"i'd give you the world, a whole new one, if you wanted." he said as he met your gaze, staring into his own with a look of perplexity and just a tad bit of guilt and shame. he gently took your hand in his own gloved one and sighed. "even if this world hates you for what you've become... i'd protect and love you anyway." he muttered, which made your eyes go wide, and your mind run a mile a minute at what he said. you opened your mouth to speak, but when no words--no sound, no peep, no squeak, no nothing--came out, you closed it again, and found yourself merely staring at him, fazed entirely by those six words he uttered.

"please... don't do this anymore. it kills me every... every time you..." he muttered, unable to continue his thoughts as he took your hands in his own and clenched them, sobbing, begging for you to give up this dangerous life and just... let him in, let him help you.

a/n: gonna end this here, sorry :' )) but i want it to be up to you guys where this goes ^^

tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @sabcandoit @binibinileonara @k4tsu3 @maxoloqy @luvstarrstruck @connors-cumslurper

[frostedsketches]

I'm not planning on going into full detail over the rest of the Mane Six like I did for Twilight, despite this, I think the Mane Six ships in the Hopes'nDreamsVerse deserve a bit more light and attention. There are some ships that are a bit unconventional and therefore need a little bit of explaning to be believable. I mean c'mon? When do you ever see Soarin and Rarity shipped, or Applejack and Double Diamond, or even Twilight and Star Tracker? ( I already did a thing on them, so go search it out of you're interested! )

So to curb your curiosity and disbelief, I will be explaining these ships, right here, right now.

Alright, well, Pinkie Pie X Cheese Sandwich and Fluttershy X Discord are pretty self-explanatory and don't have much to explain in terms of how they ended up together. The story of Rainbow X Thunderlane and Rarity X Soarin, is a bit more of a complicated discussion, given that it's more widely known for the husband's in these two ships to be swapped, and so you would probably think they would be. Well, I'm going to tell you why they aren't. . .

( Note: I LOVE Soarin X Rainbow and am partial to Rarity X Thunderlane, however they didn't work with the next gen characters I at the time had ideas for and wanted to design. Also Hopes'nDreamsVerse didn't used to be my main and I had never planned for it to be, but things change. My only regret really is that some of the ships I personally prefer didn't get to be a part of the main Next Gen that I strictly think happened after the show, so I can only save those for alternates, but really I'm fine with in the end )

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

Being Wonderbolts together, it's natural that ponies within the fleet would form close friendships and sometimes even have romantic feelings bloom. Well that's exactly what happened between Rainbow Dash and Soarin, and Thunderlane and Cloud Chaser.

Rainbow and Soarin became fast friends, and even then, though she'd never admit it, Rainbow had quickly developed a bit of a crush that went slightly beyond her general fascination and hero complex towards the Wonderbolts as a whole, in fact she had always found Soarin to be kind of cute out of the stallions in the fleet.

Thunderlane and Cloud Chaser had already been friends before joining the Wonderbolts, and working together in such close proximity only escaladed their bond into something more. By the time Season 9 ended, in fact the evening after Queen Twilight's Coronation, Thunderlane proposed and the two pegasi got engaged. Only four months later were they married.

Rainbow and Soarin found romance and became in item around the time that Fluttercord and CheesePie were taking off, and though they were together for months and genuinely loved each other, in the end things took a turn for the worse. And that simply was their differing ideas for the future. Rainbow was perfectly content being his girlfriend and working on and rising up in her career, while he had always known that if he were to date he'd want it to be a permanent thing and to escalate, to eventually be something more, be something more to her and have something more WITH her. This is where the argument began, which eventually caused them to break up, though it left them both sore for awhile.

Meanwhile, Double Diamond, Party Favor, and Night Glider often liked to visit Ponyville to see their friend, and in PF's case, sister, Sugarbelle. Them being on the farm so often left room for Applejack to get to know them, and get to know Double Diamond in particular. Party Favor, once he met Miss Cheerilie, often took time to hang out with her in Ponyville while Double Diamond became interested in life on the farm and often snuck away to watch Applejack do her work — though he was genuinely interested in the work itself, he also loved to watch her work in particular, let's just say he has a thing for buff ladies XD.

Friendship and eventually feelings blossomed over the course of months and though they eventually became a couple, they being such good friends and keeping their romance out of topic to others, never really mentioned to anyone else their relationship until someone poking around eventually found out and spilled the beans to everyone.

Eventually when Rainbow decided to move on and stop showing how it still affected her, Rarity, single and by now thinking she'd always be so, took it upon herself to be match maker for her friends instead, and started sending her on blind dates, that is until the day Rainbow finally put her hoof down and told her she wasn't ready yet, that she was still bothered by her breakup and needed a bit more time, when she finally came clean about that, Rarity apologized and ceased. Double Diamond and Applejack are engaged at this point, Pinkie and Cheese are newly married and Fluttershy and Discord have just found out really early on that miraculously they're expecting a foal.

The night of the Grand Galloping Gala came. Rainbow Dash ran into Thunderlane and Cloud Chaser and hung out with them when they weren't performing. Rarity however, after the Wonderbolts show was done, stumbled upon Soarin keeping to himself and conversation struck between them, both getting along well, Soarin opened up about the breakup with Rainbow and Rarity offered some insight on Rainbow's side of the story, they ended up talking until the Gala ended and they both said their goodbyes, walking away strangely with warm, fuzzy feelings in their chests and fond wandering thoughts of each other for the next few days.

Fluttershy and Discord attended the Gala, but were forced to teleport back home when Fluttershy started feeling terribly ill and faint. Later that night Fluttershy miscarries the undeveloped embryo, and though it was so early that it wasn't even living yet, Fluttershy mourned greatly for what had almost been.

Thunderlane and Cloud Chaser's daughter Tornado Racer is born and while Cloud Chaser is on maternity leave, Thunderlane finds himself running into Rainbow more and more at work, and though at first it's all innocent and friendly, both ponies know they've walked into a mess when they start feeling things they shouldn't and Thunderlane's feelings for Cloud Chaser begin to dwindle due to less time with her and more and more arguments and disagreements at home, Cloud Chaser has always had a few red flags that never got resolved and they shine through more than ever these days, so you see it's not only his feelings for Rainbow that are contributing to their falling out.

After a particularly bad fight leaving both ponies with severely damaged feelings, Thunderlane comes to realize he doesn't feel right with Cloud Chaser and comes to realize his feelings for Rainbow are intensifying as she's been a good listening ear and comforting figure to him after fights with his wife.

Though he loves his daughter and has a bad feeling about what would happen if he were to leave her, he needs to get these feelings into words, soon confessing to Rainbow who feels the same way, but despite her feelings she gets mad at him, telling him firmly that if he really wants to act on these feelings, he has to choose, either forget about her and be a faithful husband to Cloud Chaser or get a divorce to avoid being a cheater.

Thunderlane didn't come to work for a few days after that, but when he finally did, he informed Rainbow he had made up his mind; he had told Cloud Chaser how he had moved on and wanted a divorce. Rainbow felt extremely guilty, thinking it's her fault for ruining Thunderlane's prior relationship, but ultimately knows that things were never really harmonious between them and it might've happened even without her muddying the circumstances.

They were married only a few months after the divorce was finalized, Thunderlane never talked of kids to her so she trusts he won't pressure her to have them instead of focusing on her career. He knows that's not what she wants and he doesn't trust that he'd be a good dad after leaving Tornado, the thought of it hurts too much and makes him feel even more guilty.

Cloud Chaser of course does not take this kindly, though she was half of the reason it ended this way, she refuses to believe that she was part of the problem and harbors feelings of abandonment and resentment, she blames Rainbow primarily, a belief and hatred she passed down to Tornado Racer, who's childhood is destroyed by this, though after a few years Thunderlane hears of his ex's spiral and tries his best to gain custody of his daughter, Tornado wants nothing to do with him, Cloud Chaser won't let him take her and after years he ultimately loses the battle. Tornado does have solace with her Aunt Flitter who takes care of her when Cloud Chaser is unable, but of course it's not enough to make how her life is going completely 'okay' and doesn't stop her from being messed up in adulthood.

By this time Soarin and Rarity have started seeing each other and eventually become a couple. Applejack and Double Diamond are married though ponies still wonder how their so chill and non-romantic in public ( they're very affectionate when it's just them, don't get me wrong here ). Rainbow and Soarin, now both with new partners that they love more than anyone, rekindle their previous friendship which spreads between both couples, so all four become good friends, all hurt feelings healed.

Sometime between the birth of Fluttershy's foal and Pinkie's twins, and the birth of Applejack's foal a year later, Soarin proposes to Rarity and Twilight and Star Tracker become great friends, soon to be married as I will soon explain, and soon couples are married not long after each other.

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

So there you have the summerized story of how these couples came to be! Hoping to have more out soon, so stay tuned! Now go out and Idk. . . keep being 20% cooler then the poor souls who haven't found joy in MLP :D

[wygolvillage]

a new year's resolution

well, as of 2024 i’ve decided i will no longer be posting on tumblr... this shouldnt be the hugest surprise since ive been pretty critical of staff, the over-monetization of the website, the site culture, and the user experience for the past year and gradually reducing my time spent scrolling the ol’ dashboard- ive even mentioned my intent to eventually leave; well, that eventually is now! gradually ive found myself analyzing the effect that using tumblr for 7+ years has had on me, and the effects of social media in general.

ive never had to write a goodbye letter like this before. while ive joined and left several online platforms over the years, its always been a gradual fade in interest rather than a conscious decision to stop. never have i used a platform as long as ive used tumblr, over 1/3 of my life. ive grown up with tumblr, for better or worse. how do you write a goodbye for that? i guess ill have to try my best. because as important as tumblr was for me, ive recognized the way its hurt me too.

finding other avenues of online self-expression particularly has made me think a lot about this. when i edit my website i feel accomplished, happy, and content, feeling i have put something of myself out into the world, my seed to grow and garden to tend. when i scroll through tumblr i feel as if my brain is mostly idle, and when i do emotionally respond its often out of anger or annoyance, because anger = engagement and social media sites like tumblr WANT engagement. particularly because i have OCD ive found myself upset by certain aspects of tumblr discourse culture, as well- it is basically the Scrupulosity Website and much of the way i react to and interact with media has been colored by my years spent absorbing the viewpoints of said Scrupulosity Website! i even used to look up discourse topics on tumblr just to anger myself on purpose, which is a dangerous road to go down, to build up Enemies and Factions in your mind- this is how discourse culture works. the culture of tumblr teaches you to see the world in black and white, and to feel like youre always in danger of compromising your moral purity or being attacked by the morally impure. If You Don’t Reblog This You Are A Bad Person. even as someone who nowadays tries to stay away from discourse entirely, its still there in the back of my mind, because the way we interact on this website is colored by this. when im online i dont actually want to be angry all the time! in fact i like putting my effort towards more positive stuff. but additionally: tumblr made me unhappy but it also made me an addict

and yeah social media addiction sounds like a silly boomer thing to complain about but one thing i noticed when i started trying to curb my time spent on tumblr was that opening the site was damn near compulsive. we all know those “open tumblr, close tumblr, open tumblr again immediately after” memes but that did describe my behavior pretty accurately. the draw and allure of social media feeds is powerful, if i accidentally click the youtubes short tab ill find myself a half hour later scrolling through random shit i don't care about and asking well how the hell did i get here? i dont even like that stuff! tumblr is no different no matter how much the site tries to coast on the reputation of being the last social media that's a “remnant of the old web” and “has no algorithm”. i like my chronological dash but it is equally as addicting to scroll through the thousands of people ive followed over the years, as it is to scroll through the algorithmic feeds of youtube shorts, because that's just social media!

and kicking addiction is pretty damn hard. before 2023, i made two separate attempts at reducing my tumblr usage and both fell through within a week due to that addiction. for reference this current bought of thoughts about reducing my tumblr usage and making my online/irl balance more healthy, around the start of 2023 when i began working on my website and its taken me an entire year to wean myself off of the hellsite, bit by bit. theres a point where it stopped being a conscious act, and even as i was carefully whittling down how often i use tumblr with extensions like leechblock i still had that compulsion go off multiple times every day, its a really strange feeling. but now that ive found so many more ways to express myself online, i just feel more whole now... i guess what im saying is that when i post on tumblr my first instinct is to complain or wallow about something, when i post on my own handmade blog on my website i always want to talk about things that excite me or make me happy! and its been such a tangible change in the way i think and act and im certain its because of the way social media and tumblr have their own “societal expectations” and structure that is built to feed on this negativity loop.

and a lot of the biggest shifts happened when i began immersing myself in the ideals of the web revival, while creating my own website. finding things that genuinely interested me and niches i want to occupy made me so much happier. i know we make a lot of jokes about having mutuals we never talk to that mean the world to us and i do think that is indicative of something. like, when i post on a forum full of strangers i am engaging with more “face to face” (or the digital equivalent) communication than i do with years-long mutuals. how genuine are these connections, this dashboard, the enjoyment i got from that meme post ill forget in 10 minutes? (not to say that i don’t genuinely care abt my followers and mutuals. ykwim?) i can still get all the things i enjoy out of tumblr in a more curated form via rss feeds; ive been so much more proud of what i post and create and code on my website. what am i here for? i gradually realized that i am losing absolutely nothing when i “miss out” or block tumblr on my phone or what have you.

since starting working on my neocities site ive felt so much creative drive. ive created whole interactive essays and worlds and games and writings and so many things i could never host on social media. my website is a place of my very own, and ive been learning the value of focusing on what i put out into the net compared to what i take from it. its made me feel so much more fulfilled when i spend time online.

and let's not forget about staff. i have broader issues with how automattic in particular has gone about running the site. the ads only took up more and more of the dashboard, and every month it felt like there was some new paid feature doomed to never take off. all while the user experience gradually degraded. using the site without browser extensions to fix the ui and block the ads and tumblr live and all the other shit they threw all over the place makes it look like its ridden with viruses, and i think the fact that its become so normalized to feel like we have to stay in spaces that become increasingly hostile to us, even while the internet is so vast, is really strange (i mean, i also thought that way at first). but Anyway. so much time and effort was spent on features no one liked or wanted in some desperate attempt to get a little extra money, while staff members get in public fights with users who complain about getting monetization shoved down their throat. its so openly pathetic. the merch store had mostly mediocre designs and the digital tumblrmart is absolutely full of useless digital goods with free alternatives. considering this is a userbase that gladly donates to other sites donation drives for hosting costs (i.e. ao3, wikipedia, internet archive), i am shocked that staff never considered the obvious answer of a fucking donation drive once a year or so! the ceo telling people with concerns about the ads being unsafe for epilepsy to “just pay the ad free subscription” is one of the most disgusting things ive ever heard from someone officially representing such a platform. do not be fooled by the reputation tumblr has cultivated: all that it cares about is making money from you. tumblr is “in danger” because it can't turn a profit- because a profit is all they care about!

so why stay here when im happier elsewhere, apart from the addictive compulsion? that's what ive been thinking through for nearly a year, realizing that i have no reason to, and that weaning myself off of the addiction is in my best interest. i can create and blog and have fun online and connect with others and follow other peoples work all without the need for tumblr anymore! and i think id be all the healthier for it.

over the past year ive truly fallen in love with the internet again and ive loved putting myself out there, unrestrained in ways i havent felt since i was very young. but nonetheless ive learned a lot on tumblr, ive had some of the worst and best experiences of my online life, and i dont doubt that i would be a much different person if i had never been a tumblr user for as long as i was. but i had to break out of this shell eventually.

i keep going over this wondering how i can express every feeling in my head, how i can word everything just a little better, how i can make the perfect goodbye. but i think this will have to suffice.

you can still keep up with me online here:

-explore my website: i keep it consistently updated and im always adding new things and writing new posts on my blog! you can even speak to me directly on the site! if you sign my guestbook or use my chatbox ill try to respond :) if theres anything on this list you do id like it to be this one! i worked hard on it! you can even send me chat messages on my homepage! just keep in mind it may not display everything right on most mobile browsers, but it should be mostly navigable...

you can also subscribe to my rss feed. if you don't know what rss is, it allows you to use a feed reader to keep up with updates from sites all over the internet! my rss feed will notify you whenever ive made a new post on my blog or made an interesting edit on my site id like you to take a peek at :0 convenient, right?

you can also email me at wygolvillage@gmail.com to message me directly. if you prefer im also “wygolvillage” on discord

thank you and happy new years :) thanks for seeing me off as i sail to a new sunrise <3

[cookiiemancer]

This has been a long time coming because I keep getting shy about it but here we go

Hello tumblr user cookiiemancer !!!! Hi !!!!! Hello !!!!!!

You are a huge, HUGE inspiration to me !!! Your posts make me INCREDIBLY happy , seeing you on my dash every day with your silly little guys is a highlight of my day !! You seem like a genuinely really cool person and I'm glad that I get to see your content and that interacting with you and your guys is welcome !!! I'm sososo thankful to you and the effort you put into your works , and that you choose to share it with us , for FREE !!! I'm sitting on the curb with my hands out for a crumb of silly and you provide it ! Every time !!!

The characterizations you've chosen are really really interesting and wacky to me from what I've seen and I'd love to see more whenever you have the motivation !!!!

Everything you post is a hit . I love looking at your art and animations , even for things I'm not interested in , it's just so shaped and the colors always look soso good , and your EXPRESSIONS !! Everything about it is wonderful and inspiring to me :3

Also soso sorry if this is long and unwanted , I'm trying to reach out to all the people who inspire me most and give them some of the love I feel for their works <3<3

Thank you so much! I really appreciate these words, and I am so happy you enjoy my art.

I am... terrible at responding to any sort of compliment, but i want you to know that i read everything and seeing these warms my heart and makes any day better than it already is.

I'll be dropping more content of the boys for sure! Christmas is just a hard time to sit around and be creative in general.

[thewhumpcaretaker]

The Broken Veil: Chapter 1 - Let Me In

Photo by Vladimir Fedotov on Unsplash

If you're coming over from the preview of this chapter, new content starts at "Out of the plane and into the high-class underbelly of Rome."

TW: grief, crying, nightmare, brief mention of suicidal ideation

Summary: John Wick has just agreed to kill Gianna D'Antonio, repaying the marker that gave him a life with Helen. However, Helen is trying to contact John from the afterlife, to show him that it is possible to stop the cycle of violence – not by forfeiting his own life, but by creating a fundamental shift in international systems and perhaps even the balance of good and evil in this world. But he doesn’t have to do it alone. She’s coming back.

“He got on to the bed, and wrenched open the lattice, bursting, as he pulled at it, into an uncontrollable passion of tears. “Come in! come in!” he sobbed. “Cathy, do come. Oh, do—once more! Oh! my heart’s darling! hear me this time, Catherine, at last!” The spectre showed a spectre’s ordinary caprice: it gave no sign of being; but the snow and wind whirled wildly through, even reaching my station, and blowing out the light.” - Mr. Lockwood, speaking of Heathcliff, Wuthering Heights

Autumn evening in New York reels between gold and grey. A pale white sky bruises over with grey smog. Even the sky is beaten in New York, and yet even the sky sparkles. Golden streetlamps and distant red flashes hang as earthly stars between the glassy black voids of skyscraper walls. Airport whiskey sparkles amber in John Wick’s grasp, and his inward body buzzes faintly against its motionless exterior. Not drunk, not tipsy, not that it would matter. He knows himself drunk, drugged, tired, bleeding, the way the machine of his body handles in every state.

On the street below, a child in a woolen pea coat grabs onto his mother’s hand as they step up into the queue to check luggage. From the bar, John can’t see their faces, only the knit caps crowning both their heads. The boy has a backpack as his carry-on, and it’s too large for him. He shifts uncomfortably. At his movement, the mother fusses and leans down to adjust it. John’s eyes are fixed on her. They begin walking again and the child, excited by something on the far side of the taxi line, dashes towards oncoming traffic.  She pulls the little boy back from the street as a car swings recklessly close to the curb. John flinches away from the scene. It was hardly a close call – the kid had a long way to go before reaching the road, and even then, no doubt the car could have swerved at that speed. But it’s the sentiment of the thing, her tenderness…another swig of whiskey so he can’t finish the thought, and he turns from the window.

Drifting, playing the businessman without effort, scanning the crowd, uneasy with this moment of peace between wars. Stay in the moment anyway. Black wingtips clicking too crisply on grimy tile.  A glimpse of his reflection in the storefront of a candy shop, an impeccable mask. First class is boarding at JFK Gate 11, direct to Rome. No threats among the passengers – not that he expected any, but an enclosed box in the sky is a bad place to run into an enemy. It’s an opportunity he’s exploited himself in the past. A cordial smile to the flight attendant.

Now there is no more moment to stay in. Only the trans-Atlantic stretch of night, brutally alone.

He doesn’t want to be here. He knows how the machine of his body handles in every state, and right now he handles it by tricking it into doing what it’s ordered to do. Don’t think about doing anything, don’t think about killing. Just sit still, stare straight ahead, and don’t talk yourself out of this job. The job right now is to stare at the blinking light on the wing of the plane and not move, that’s all.  He remembers Gianna in their youth. She didn’t want to be a part of all this. She never had much in common with Santino. His ruthlessness, sure, but it was in service of something other than a desperate grasp for authority. She lived her life her way, pursued pleasure quietly between business, on her own terms. Don’t think about it. He thinks about how to do it instead. It’ll be right to give her a moment to face her death. Worth the risk. He owes her that much. Or is that the body rebelling again? Don’t think about it at all. Go to sleep.

He leans back and shuts himself down.

***

He’s making coffee for Helen. The bag crinkles as he scoops rich grounds into the machine. This feels so vivid, he can even smell it. He freezes. Feels vivid…this isn’t real. Lucid dream. They are always so fragile, they don’t have much time. Where is she?  Movement, out of the corner of his eye. Between the kitchen curtains, he can see her outside in the garden, her back to him. The way her hair falls above the cotton of a simple sundress, the way it just touches her shoulders…she is before him, he is ready to do anything to get to her. “Helen!”

She turns towards him and her face flares with a mirror of his own desperation. She points to the front door and disappears to the left, and he runs to meet her. There is a strange vastness to the entryway, he can’t reach the far end, but the door is already open. Only the screen is locked, and she’s trying the latch, silhouetted in light. He can feel his racing pulse all the way through his wrists now. She’s looking at him with so much urgency, his heart rattles almost sickeningly with each test of the latch and she’s saying over and over, “Rome, John, Rome! The moment is coming. Let me in.”

***

When he gasps awake, his lungs are already heavy with tears. There’s something darkly gorgeous about the disoriented longing still raging through him like an adrenaline shot and he lets it linger. Hope.

It takes him several minutes to even become irritated with that final twist. A play on words, a stupid, too-obvious, unoriginal trick of the unconscious, lacking the elegance she deserves. “Home, John, home. The moment is coming. Let me in.” If I ever can, I always will. Believe me. But I can’t. He crushes a sob against his ribcage with a deep inhale, swallows, and buries his face in his hands for a moment. Don’t even go there, don’t even imagine the impossible. Then he watches the sun make sheens of silver over the jagged European coastline, still basking in the memory of how she fought to reach him.

***

From the edge of the finite, a form withdraws, regathering strength but burning with the lingering sight of him.

***

Out of the plane and into the high-class underbelly of Rome: this…this he can work with. Preparations are in order. Efficiency. Right answers. It doesn’t hurt that these preparations involve only the finest toys of every kind. Fresh suits, fresh intel, fresh guns… There he stands, one beautiful machine encountering another. Half deliberately and half by accident, he lets the rush take the place of guilt and misery as he cocks a Benelli M4 with all the force of his shoulders, gripping it just as hard as he would if he were fighting for his life. It responds deftly despite its size. What a weapon.

The routine of preparations solidifies his resolve on a physical, Pavlovian level. A wave of calm descends slowly, a winding back, the first twinges of adrenaline pregaming his muscles. Excitement. Regrettable as it may be, grim as its flavor might taste, that's what this efficient hyperfocus really is.

But it doesn’t last.

There’s several hours left until nightfall. What to do? Sit in the Continental, stewing? No. He begins to wander ancient streets. New York reels between gold and grey, but Rome is just gold. It is all archways and domes, stability, unity, an unrelenting sense of holiness. The dream is still coloring his thoughts with terrible hope. “Let me in,” she said.

Why not.

He buys a single rose from a sweet young shopkeeper and carries it by the stem back out in into the crisp late afternoon. Fortunately, she was too intimidated by his appearance to ask who it’s for. It’s a dark orange rose, and a fine specimen despite one petal blemished with a yellow tip. It’s almost the same color as Gianna’s hair, from what he remembers.

In a little courtyard by a cathedral, he takes a seat on a bench. There’s no one around. Even the sun is hidden by the shadow of the belfry. The courtyard is trimmed with hedges that shelter it from the street in a pocket of quietude. He sets the rose beside him, pulls out a lighter, and holds the flame against its head. He doesn’t speak. But he prays.

Helen…I don’t think you can hear me. But maybe I’m wrong.

I have to do this. I know it isn’t ideal. But to defy the marker means death, and I can’t die. It’s not that I don’t want to. But your memory lives in me. As long as I live, my love for you lives, and if I die, it’s cut short, and no one knows what happens to me, to my soul, to my love for you. So I give glory to you in every moment, for as long as I can. It’s the only thing I care about. I won’t stop. I won’t give up. I’m honoring the oath that gave me five years with you, and I’m living. That part…that is what you would want. This is my offering to you. I love you, Helen.

There’s a small pile of ashes next to him on the bench. Fuck. He’s crying again.

***

She’s too frantic for that serene equilibrium to express her existence. A pulse in the deep matches his breathing. In, and the pulse draws back. Out, and it rushes forward again, stronger this time. She slams herself at the barrier, and it’s almost (almost!) as if her body strikes a wall.

***

He wipes his face and exhales, relieved, more peaceful. Resolve solidifies its hold over him. He’s doing the right thing, or at least doing the wrong thing for her. He walks back to the Continental, his eyes flat with certainty. Gianna will be dead in a few hours and he will be a free man. Survive. Execute. He’ll take a shower, prepare for the arrival of the new suit. He’ll enjoy this party. The door of his suite clicks open and he’s almost smiling as he steps inside.

There’s a rose on the bed.

A dark orange rose.

A knock at the door.

“Delivery for you, Mr. Wick.”

He steps aside, watching in a daze as the concierge places packages onto the table. His custom suit, finished as a rush job, and his selection of weaponry. “Did anyone else enter this room while I was away?”

“Certainly not, sir. We offer only the highest security.” The man pauses. “Did you find anything to be amiss?”

“N-no.” Better not to explain.

The concierge’s phone rings as he picks up the last package. “Excuse me, my apologies Mr. Wick.” He steps into the hall for a moment. He’s talking discretely about another guest, some impropriety in their manner of conducting business. Some attempt to make amends with the Continental. “Well then you tell him, offer not accepted. The offer is not accepted. It has been returned to him because the offer is not accepted.” Three times, he said it.

The man reenters with the final package. “Are you well, sir?”

There’s a beat before John can manage to speak. “Yes. Thank you.” He shuts the door without looking away from the rose.

He approaches slowly, staring at it like a bomb.

He touches the thorns, lifts it, turns it over in his hands. It’s real. Is someone trying to psych him out of the job?

It has a yellow blemish on the tip of one petal.

[libidomechanica]

Untitled (“You get about vs safe,”)

A sonnet sequence

               Stanza I

You get about vs safe, and wonder mountain round here a partial king and to be such poysonous flies from with eyes that temple the evening hastily. Whose his desires, and make worms thine, I should stay’d still to thy wrong hole, and what should frown’st thou dost thou art a scholar, Lycius! Dashing so: when the love. You see,—with shadows on the woods the Nereids fair or forbid! Contract for Germans wealth you and the soul, their way down to find him did that seeth from them down on Danaë in a string breathe outside sweet joy but in the relic, and lips! Ich am forst such a fixèd fancy. My essence?

               Stanza II

You years till each played above the true as much good cheerless main to wand’ring souls for your meet cometh not a song a little child holds a forbid the curb, you snare me, doth the blue, and her ear, that Chance her—which you can’t a pard, eyed like Ariadne’s tiar: her Arethusian straight laughs, and forever! The Rust Belt. With the skies, made it all, haunters of the Eleusinian cave—such pierless matter whose steaming the garded nymph is fled,—where none you press’d of hideous torments haue harts for tongue thy worth, that is false Art was give them to sweep of lute- string of pictures than to prune, the embrace.

               Stanza III

Eating, there vnseene, while your Mistress. And alluring proofe of mine owne fate I do appeach to the vestal, Heav’n ye will bee. I saw the green winds woke them back the sodger ance I gave features who taught the raines of her fray or fresh each other job and naught with Heydeguyes, and vainer ties by the soul! Tell me why the queen attends. As puff of grass was iudge apple, Woman filled in the alarmed head a-dangle by these worth, those fair planets distilled dahlias and Beautiful eyes; a lovely eyes scintillating, but, in pride flash, and oh, her warlike brother: Hugely, he return’d from the moon.

               Stanza IV

—As the riddle, thou snape me of the elected on them let it seem so well hast too grossly dyed. I dream, grown meek—the sallow bend; nor grew in sun hotter that old man on the spheres, and weep in this, who’s alway, after hard times it matter on Seventh Avenue might’s gay feast ambitious lightly slake the roof, the same thy sails, and fly that’s too of song. Strikes without love alters which dog bites, whose passing wilt thought, there seen hand thought wind and foremost, if you my practice may no more fat, by being crammed, to show, they flash upon my thou freely shall move here thou born on earth waste not pine.

               Stanza V

I pray you there, must have to the come to paint or in gently sorry season is the evening-star, alike, even content t’ expressed, even in secret bed: in vain. As a bum on the man; and, which we seek it; this senses? Within your joys, streams of God acceptation came than she was a star in weird syrops, that’s that violet know no deare, of wot not withered weeds and good-bye: no light, her head of shepheards hart still weeps, the sweetned so close; by those room is turned to me. But time, many planet, thou make a tried to sea. Joined the final twist; blaze up, and soon wild rose-briar, friends.

               Stanza VI

A-painting somehow, and of that doth sturre. The ground, when the wall, over and holden scorn think’st those smoothly the shallow bend; I said: I never meeting, but, for a dreamy housewife runs to itself to singe, two bits of praised loud till the eight he had beauteous frame, her virgin’s blossoms blown. Where not spent of yourself: you do so. Still and walked in amorous language of translate; and only passe like needful at then to blend; and life’s great elixir to see; but false Art what art is said my country open halfway throughout his floor of thine eyes, and speech that rendered on the cup was free!

               Stanza VII

And of grass or not her waist, or dew-like a city, with us, somewhere Rigours exile lockes vp al my smart, and hates remoue. His desire, that ere by my long it to me but steals into relation; or Paradise, forgetfulness of the monks close, drove to each words, now to blame, where rivulets dance wi’ scorning race, or ten time, before, but as I! Every private me why the Rust Belt. And am I in its objects find abundantly any spark of painting air and the celestial heats which alteration, as ony brat o’ wedlock. If given the churchyard tree.

               Stanza VIII

That can ail theefe! Dost thatch upon he begat: they vanitee, and sittes not stop with theeues that move wi’ as gude braid sword, you remember—a moment thee hast no dross to finish all my friend, you fast too deep, impassional and two alone? Give me leave of one. Unmixed good-bye: no lines! To make the Body and rise or kick him for One, and of tears, of fire, that proceeding, wolves no otherwise with pain. For semlokest of force and Faith shield did shows not so. It was come nae unless wilds; her populous stroue, while her round the Maiden’s face, nothing backwoods days outward party to their fate.

               Stanza IX

Things when no longer than anything good. Spring, it seekst not know the springe, I more in Pluto’s garden, all because is nothing in Diana, in his present Deity life, you, in one hours all she learns the rigging down her elfin blood-shed fly, we’re rich flies before, but how so noiseless, and are we; two of us in them clash; an auld wife’s contract, and life’s tongue and swift flashing for they or mayn’t they go a tract the rosy if the doctor, says My mother Lippo’s doing mowers beyond hearse: hereat they all; who cried, But what we are of thy groves ; our pillars?

               Stanza X

Yes; and his gall, my days there in for the deep as the business wife: and, lastly, let some pity of the pike and proud spirit that In no time. He cometh not all grace, like them thy rich mine, to say, all they are seven! Its deep, never saw. My will through a Naiad of their green, that pay they shot in the spoyle is the plaintiue pleasures of louers; see now, when thought up true.—Is it thatch upon a throne of yourselves, then, vngratefull, wholly hers, I’m no better twere pitty. With no more, but many flowering lay, with your face. My hopes beginning drifts as she green, above heart, I look as ye were sweet, sweets the fawn, you’ll find a soul more forbidden or forbidding her lanely night he lives and ogled, nor even at nights. I see and thought, like a wee unsought nor window’d wombs after-loss: ah, do not long as air! Upon the attic and the cruell the night and cursed their starved there unjust.

               Stanza XI

Happy porpoises jump in tune thy spired and snow, nor debar’d from suddenly up, then ladies like you catch one of that violet this is me to ye, my leaping here are tired old gossip, scandal, and bodies in me do rest, nor draw and wishingly tribute pay, if thou art a crimson soule, so fraught forget you is he trees, flutter from far; draw no lightly my antiphonary’s marge, with sacred island, they fed not heart. And how the far-off sail between thrill and straight cut then grew her in London stallion-hoofed falls these just as shall never in infinity, your mother.

               Stanza XII

It is his point, or ere love for to be leant on warm of this! Let me breast almighty every part; venus is honor’s law of plundered leaue the staves are pretty you can, be not stirred, and nature, but yet, alas, who’s always close to go the might know the Mower Damon, know it, and bliss from pride, and I am bound, where you, sir, fleshly eyes, we see the sky, whether men may be done, and pin’d and unsmooth behind, not to know how my rage, clenched in by mistress’ flame to bring that my scythe hills? And the write, when light up with her a towers have gone his her sweet body sent you in me?

               Stanza XIII

And how the dripping cloak and speech did fly that it shall in my arms; but i should, like a virgins of the warm; a pattern to subdue the tune. Stalking with there will flip, let my saint, withal, manner nor discredit your souls of blood from the stars that scantly gently, she singing skil with find, who ever satisfi’d within the wharves in this queen of murdring Time, blunter groweth with rich gifts at length of contact, and at once she, disdaine, of all they must have not silence to hide. Nay, we lover her their mistress! Every begin without pause, up the whole little! And every part’s dead?

               Stanza XIV

You have ceas’d; whether this after midnights. Curtain if one traveller. It was you harke, that, dizzy without hope will hap some sent forth I did renounced himself than his arrow, ere thy sins enclose that two days dragging down in bliss! Yet want to say: the Shepherd’s career home-run totall surmised by great krater-cup bearing like a virgin lies! Blest will notes shift in rurall vaine: for the kind to her like hair. Love all the wars are not seemes but at the ancient lover heart, destroyed. That high: see what, in all, she claims he knew not one that caps Full of tears have him within my mother.

               Stanza XV

Upon the acts retire, and sin he best of both and faire bound, and put in true pain was probably broke the Prior and the west by traduce; no observing and out the noble verse; observing and kissing moon, or durst fruits of thy celestial thing, who look’dst though is me to help but most triumph wherefore the radio and fear me! The dumb-sister, when armed, ah woe betide, the heauens for thy hive. By children’s eternity of that claims of ice, that, from Fear o God I never: our humble, low- born babe—in that shall dead weeds stolen in them revealed, behind, not the Corner-house!

               Stanza XVI

In the came along witch, I say, all bowed beneath the back-yett be a-jee; syne up the blessed me! Catholic priests had chosen that it shoulders mixed good: to find; among more purple flakes, bright and very limb, in the sweeter then adieu, dear sweet comin’ to me. I see thy voyce the tenses I sing out with glance, an’ I’ll come out of naturally; but a lady in the noblest shew my tongue aspire to the sparrow channels the lasse, torments on thy morning gaped wide, and there, gallants, e’er here is best. But mark, whose officious flame when yet truly storie. Take care above nor eventide.

               Stanza XVII

Is large domains unsoiled, until theefe! Pensive mood, that every wears, the Bramble bush, nor sound, to the holly’s sheen, that’s absence didst not of bliss; and archanges, surprise. And hearts! I hae naebody. Why not I be like the brushed brighter eyes to know some ways my verse adorn, till true-hearted; tho’ your paine, since she, A sodger’s wealth on hylls to either, in your joys, struck through wind was seen, the lion’s hanging so close meadows sear! I seem tame. Which you no formed to do our sport of my state I discern a woman but a masquer, and make Of Audit, lifted her hat and rubbish.

               Stanza XVIII

Are Life, having. And struggling prey. Know, whilst he met her grass fell in the song to wake and his little maid would’st credit give what not? What, the breath now and in a swoon’d serpent to fear. The amorous sences, beauty’s waste, the golden seemed to move: els thou were natures law, rebell by law of Reason: thou, ungratefull, wholly unexpect chance; others are many a river, and a maiden may be done. And something elders by heart is beauty veil’d to the chilled to fetch from formed by a bower by many hand death, the warm, flush’d ivory slide, my old coin could and means intense eyes grow.

               Stanza XIX

Near, which love’s City enter: the grew. Love’s alembic, and feet; that’s heart, thought to beare, while thus doth Love lives again and God-filled in the sun hotter they are a lilly on the night, and catching maid more grace, that pass. Looking barges, make them, fat and hang theefe, A theefe, will last I know. Be over and pale kingdom come. Let’s give herself! You keep it unaffronted, the burn, or Catholic priests had force of wedded love, and mower by many Graces! Thou shalt findeth not, she can evening foremost faire, and the chair, on the masks do not marvel at eight years to whom cruell thy auspicious were a panic fear, and be nothing in proceed, I though the best, thus doth sturre. Our love up her sapphire-spangled mark that thou turn to faith doth it a tear: the churchyard tree. Alas, alas, how you hurt you. And some ways on the gray-eyed morn about the moulder as she will’d, for a pint-sized journey.

               Stanza XX

Here to important that sweetnesse he for complete, wi’ as gude will, or ere long-lived and I remained the Germans wealth on hylls to enclose tomb fair or foul my mind the streets and to the night I lingered once a-slumbered from the most meke, when not a winter’s hermitage; you, then you turn to thee, fury, woe, but’s scratched and destroyed. Define that I know the youthful Sun. A sweep of lute-fingers. Then the spake: when ye are puppets, Man in good in my passional and which, if in your lap, and sighing and we in our head—mine’s might not this woman’s forests had not stirred, to write, whirrs sudden starts; no jealousy. As Proserpine shall sticks, their own with myriads more at her void since Julia once I saw a cros, our souls of fame, the surprises—and God the season bland, through the convenient upper flow; my eyes trace that some by-strewings granted: there, from over London, your leaves that all?

               Stanza XXI

Quick was drop his bone free. Perhaps a sorry muttered from rushes greetings that the act of light and leads it, being as thou will didst thou art, and thy wight, doe makes me sent: from over London, you’re hanged at me! Be, the crown; that Sappho last for him; nor could oppose. No coward them burn so fairies take a tent, and stitched with rays or more shall meet; myriads more, but a voyage done, and his come: love gives me many a pearly strange their cell, through bubbling voyce brink? I wish thee to get into a swooning loan; the garden of mossy tread, blushed tomb shall I weep my wo, come, come to ye, my lad.

               Stanza XXII

And sigh and round to the white, encounterpane and down to find this heart, I say, though she that glistens with the dark vault above; your minds our love you by sometimes those the bricks bene without his feete are o’ercoming hair. Still fragrant with so displeasures in front on warm stove-window for yellow hair was taught; but false matter, like me, doth again. Seeking eye exposed, sharp checked, taught to brother beauty’s fields and archanges, such spies, there pops the vast idol; while. Consider, I would be amaze into Thetis’ bower. Of those power, and still weeps throughout hope I what you’d left alone?

               Stanza XXIII

Made prosperous woman looking back to lord my horse, to write the snow, such from the delight loaves in New Jersey lights a hundred with a fervor born of the shrill and say it chance led me—she happy Hobbinoll, I blessed me! And blear’d by the mountaine, white, have thy fingers find no rest. In such mirrors, and right Pinto—Mendez Ferdinando— still weeps its end was wont, and, maugre both of murmurings, and I thy sported; I said hi to me. Let thee, or like I love some by-strewings to make the Peacock, and rubbish. And bite back the page, enwrapped frogs can easily the best behinde!

               Stanza XXIV

It took us a loving on my thought, the convent. As grudging memory, wha did I cry, phillis the ball of ruth for the ineffable world adore? Upon a things, as light. Doth striue thy sweet pharmaceutical bottles clinking. Phillis the floods which done, thou spend, thou’rt welcoming flats. Wings there’s the from the quest. But courted: wha spied I but some wayside thence we hurried Venus’ doves, the joyless daddy’s spirit went, curtain leaf where did it end? Pink, the rivers, still vnto the grocery man calling into a swoon. She said; her beautiful indeed thou art a scholar, Lycius!

               Stanza XXV

And pains inhabited here it bee that in mirrors, and his paper palace gay, and give your infrequent vision free to work on Jerome knockings that pushes us to allay, so gaze on, she is bright: her hair: the caged yellow eight years, of fifteen, felt affection came features—Lycius charioting fires of her, tho’ jokin’ ye be, the serpent, but die by its food served up in my breast with vain travail hath of Corinthian Lycius! Or an infant civilisation chosen that is the sea. Drink up that sweet; myriads more at my Muse, though you neither to face so life since?

               Stanza XXVI

And I untightened fields under what would flowery angel pure air, that’s fiddling scythe I love that you wilt, as the lone could the plaint. The wile yon sun and make the lore of Further always keep the strength and so longer still we in them clash; an auld with bold an end, and oh, her neighbouring Tyran ground. But be gay let armes empty bee that best feelings that give your hat, the written Hermes the broken lie, my old comfort my disgrace, wery sounded and studies what your mother an’ mother. The cool cave on for the proportion we were falling care: o think it has words, his mine!

               Stanza XXVII

Of Further and eat my wears, that thou swear! Pretty sure in mysteries; nor sound. They were witness and root, the bays, where harbrought me homely shall she knew nod to singe, two green, ended for fret. Not one hour old body as my fortune’s might knocking coy, she rose-wreathe still the wind mighty storie office.— For oh, her in Love’s veins than show of large, I constant mountain round her fray or no, for life, that wrought shall slide, my old excuse himself such as are imprest it was swell my bag with other shade of Julia took the pavement important though I see herself, while new emotions, You are lang!

               Stanza XXVIII

Dreams came, what a sudden tresses and triumph yet; because, up the top appear’d Silence that faintly! When rattling backwoods days there past time for her husband. Cries taste, which that traced that matter to give the deity. Sweet for my gout, my feet. The dewy gem, frighter and smiles as shall see, and I know my lips were older and those embleme. Come thou would make me fit for thy fault in women, the user so dearest, every year. Their earnest words with yourself, when what can you, I like the dark. Loved, dropped, and nose and Daunger droue: no vertue to enioyeth, but with feather. Is in fear As Julia?

               Stanza XXIX

Or let it shows of bloodless dove. And in the counts my sight I stands, and tumbling lid of Gods, and put it did sable eagles beard, spoil it with his great rings and sung in marble door and up, to be new fire domed blacken’d with unseen, she such eyes can drink out the altar elevated by a dark groves to hide.—For oh, her window flowers, stair into Reasons firme in they lock it in where but half for him no cure is never be dear to talk in a loaf, her heau’nly face of flowers fright for need, and balsamum, to make you saw their forefront bare and counts my selfenesse lay; but glory, I though the danger language strange or mayn’t they set your arms embrace and poore my should, in whose dalyings, with a friend, with Azra to the bridge, by their path, still stay; you have it out of my desire; I love of him go and white fleshly blew the dark when your eyes and have a certain would frown?

               Stanza XXX

Yet, alas, before dull the lost thou were. May the world and on ever want to fetch frost, such sweetness to allay, so gone in tender favor, he heavy eyelids open’d blandishment, will pype and wiser that. The coolness invisibly, she roses gone to try the iudge applied to use the cool cave shalt see it all, it is when the deity of bronze, and, whence dreams are he; the minstrelsy: a virgins of Sweet fruit of change; intrigue with foreign filth and rising a new news but a man and straight not walk forlorn when one and o’er it many, the fair maid, thou so well thy image see.

               Stanza XXXI

And showe, but seal with bold fiction, to make. To-night bring thine: the cause of bound, which do like. To portrait is large, least night the peopled ark thy prince by vnright and o’er thousand wise, and perfected. On the five knuckles and of Absence six month at length of Loue, without and dead, my five. But of my own. How lang and watch the munificent: how, everything be sure that so adorn’d to her buckle took, and brought of the which she glows; mild as a bum on the very self but my arms, encircling and white with rapine, and good-bye: no light, her feathers every sun that faints them would be heart the Ground.

               Stanza XXXII

I exulted; nay, farre worse, makes this winged verses mark, whose tablets has gone to the hyghest will beauty, belied in her ear in many planet of the Sacrament, rouse us, and won his own and those two swimmers the bloom most wondrous moan. Their chereful cheriping, fann’d the should vanish ere heo on me, then hath wealth your wonder morals too far from this praises shall go, as harbinger as I in me, till, we are the sky might bring here; which, as is tholien while tears have stay, whiles ye may me bliss, that he promiseth, her sideways would have kisse, when spray biginneth to worke delyte?

               Stanza XXXIII

Within this loue hath refuse the choir shall bound, dark smells, if not from Gaeta’s take you? No kings that hear lyre or unrestraint,— one looked sublime as their voice more the grave as the fretful paint our old, she sun and whispering. Front bare and gave features—Lycius! Who did the with steal away that thou nothing like mountains hand clip my willing is, the others all in the blasted silence and by the bowers be over silence ever deem me, another in Heav’n, atone forehead high; lips shalt in words where beauty too; but, like guest—thus doth fallen in her brauely euery part’s end where fair.

               Stanza XXXIV

And so that, iste perfect love that matter now of death will not disguise in vain to get in the learned pulled a fulfillment of sicknesse of thee more of louers neuer thanks one could be so pale? Whiles Beauty fair; her head toward me overflowed her soiled boat come other mesh: and this hymn, and kept withered garland for ever in wedlock bonds unwreaths I wish we’ll live so near. As fat and thus our sepulchre is of the nymphs of delights a hundred the Lark should close meeting your eyes I’d knowne folke bow: of foes the sylvan scenes will the grass’s fallen to see. The without a storms confine? Our sound.

               Stanza XXXV

Eye awake. Rosebud of it that the monstrous ledges them three-fold? No one should such a to-do! But a human climes, and his pride to telling. Part of that father’s Arms they could not Loves delight at a glances was darke; absence; and to those who am I? To instructor; but could run and we in us find the board me overflowed sky, seem woe, the Bramble bush, nor window veil was for at the words could, like the freak of both coverlet, all thou dost those Graces of repining; that might I do speak plaint. Thought for, baith kirk and princes to painting her breast, and hamely fare, and guide.

               Stanza XXXVI

Remember. Were strong I climb, what is so proud usurper, and I doubt, I’ve got my sweet poison-flower, which dog bites, like his lyre, and so all’s saved me to the learned hand incense rare like a sickle’s complexion dwell in all beside the sun her shines she giue those waues indentures full of my thou kenn’st from the like a hurt you. The landward spring, fair shepheards ritch, and sighing anyway towards out. Made glooming women, the dripping clear, thou English murder, priuate fault in women, thought upon the birds befel, twould must spell, sweet and those busy world, how we couldn’t see ourself in singing fires.

               Stanza XXXVII

By the thunderbolt did shroude in the cedar- shadows sear! Make sweetest subiects wrong, and still music-notes, found me roots of blood instructor; but, for thy father’d creatures— Lycius, look back! I tell that in hevene it is perfume like a grave here a-making thine to Church up fine while yellow the Mower Damon, know my heavy raid on Hampstead. Are diuell, the night he lives in immemorial elms, and then ceased the blue region boil’d for Love’s City enters, and at all their devotion, pays. For her Sicilian air. Desire, chiefe Pernassus be, and on the breath, the mountain bend?

               Stanza XXXVIII

And seen the crown; that I can see thou art a scholar, Lycius! What pay the mill and he never mind I sit—ah, where down through fields easily the huge Colossus’ legs, and imagine then all heaven, that same year were stretched the Lily and with a kiss, to see, as witness all that look of the anchor’d; whither my despair; a third. For she, in what naturally; but thou a thousand saints of woe; my life, the Queen! I knew how first tis fit to becoming of this I see herself before herself, wilt thou to-morrow whiteness,—not lift the act of liking, and weeks shut with melancholy eyes in the fools may repent; thou know, they were in the cooling statues, friezes, columns gleamed not undo without pause, up the faire encrease the telegraph line of continents, an innocuous occupation. With my breast bo- peepe or crouching me only bend in one here is a journey.

               Stanza XXXIX

To her face, of good found mine. I more times infusing her part of all the towsing a word, drowne not thy station. Trash, suck my sight drop. And the clicking course; still have some wild winds bounds: you should have cut downward, as first, and pain my should! If they most oppressed was but youngest Virgin Daughters of ecstasy expire. Then did all her throat and tak the leaf where I my head. Staid with pleasure, ere it all! That month at there a want that poem again at a glances with apparel me relic, and a maid more subtle fluid in sometimes her his coming hair. Silence thou art a crimson soul.

               Stanza XL

For something in thy sighs, I like my please— having spi’de and trimly trodden traced that poor flow; my eyes, or, mind hates me, be kind at once there unlock’d to face in some fair. Thank you felt he such mirrors shout in the sea in them brought each places. What woe after all thing oh my boys dead, where thou, that his poore Slaues vniust deeme them back the pure and I hope doth shepheards, whichever weep. Ye living in earth devout, psaltering look of thy limits, and smell it, and let me love all for the prisoners released to wood, he heede; by no more, but Orpheus-like mine are, and bower o’ the blissful shore!

               Stanza XLI

Only, this close; by them forget the trees. Only thee. Come down life of new-found and be sad force my hearts as swell my bark into that image see. If I drew men’s heads into wail thee, like a lilly on the colours true! Her crescent of sciential brain to unperplex bliss, that even to sea. I soone wouldst not thy sweep of lute-strings, rinds and time, your Mistress! For sinfull deed; and never twinkle in your hand Look you, Mag. Are fier of delight, on the house, thy tears, and letters! With me ere lie perdus three year were the wooing weed, until some fresco in fields and what am I in me.

               Stanza XLII

He comes,—the best, the warm, impassionate fires of her fear and protection, to blame, like death? Among there, seeking the happy in bed and other neighbouring prey. Out- did that such as be carved lips! Both loss of man, whom he is blown by thy force dost thou, whom Time is at a lady elf, so languish, we changes, such a train is gall, and archanges, such pleaseth me ere long good too far that. But give you to look on the queens of Love, t’ acquit such a treat among they saw Cupids. And find abundant issueless will triumphant, unaware we; and wishing, and with thee sitting thorn!

               Stanza XLIII

From thence darts Despair; a things plaintiue pleasure filled, but is the hills alone sinks down? I think to see the heard the meaning’s in this queen attends. Aye vow and wound! To heare the golden trade, to raise, nor give thee alone, and Job, I must part add one murmur, sent from sacred right! The sparke of coiled rope which flowers among their pointing-brush? Which she that is the lang! Fault in words with the sky. And I’ll sticks, there in me, lie on; my altar- foot, fresh and thus may say the bed- furniture—a dozen knot which here; but the soft murmur, sent from the farmer ploughs breathe; but in verse pair! But you do deceiver?

               Stanza XLIV

Yet I was at a loss what cannot weigh, for poets roll who Greek or Latin in self-folding in my bridal night forgetful; then plenish’d, or blank to be forgiven, than mourning skil with many a pearles diuiding. All my painters, for at they were up a pair of—could be any other sportive art? Where she sings: for Stella hand to guide and prunes. Your chance to Jove, without in the should be found, and, whether mesh, and as good: to find there, upon a throne, bent my bodhisattva of nothing unforeseen—tiny bottles I make worms thine eyes to see, and he lies more the mansion.

               Stanza XLV

When glided in a dulling lies. Went away. Sweet ecstasy expire. I probably left his golden raine: another. Age, repeats while giue my Rosalind, and snow, such thy voyce there if I my head. And course of her god, she can spear’d Silenus’ template and saints and broider then when I am bounds should’ve saves the map of my own sweeter this close, drove to write, and the front on its ampler flowers, and swell; only to those hers, all the carts make sweet is every weary, aweary, he whole creatures were sweet comes nearer then leave me the true. And in purposes their golden brede; made it all!

               Stanza XLVI

While her sweet in the presume to thy wrong, writ now is rage; little coat; to drew. And broider thee, whether, the cup runs paradise, and triumph at Turin: Ancona was full sailes drowning race, the tale of sun burned at me. Will beneath her complexion dwell near adjoining to Corinth from Gaeta’s take a tried tuned it over the heart, I see. Whose very man! And only born of mud and impulsive; I was the rope that died slave is a journey through the dress. What a brother; no sisterhood. As in rank, the words she goes out of bound: for Nature, and light pollutions are eerie?

               Stanza XLVII

Creature is nothing but vulnerable. Thou young man’s soul, by paint out what’s sometime after than hopes begot by fens. Scrawled the looks how quiet—dull fence and I doubts honor: then sweares as garments few, she seems the vats, or foxlike in the onely moated grape bunch he scaffold’s down by the empty of love’s star that; god uses us to haste, since her because, fair in hand at a broken purple passions lay, thou dost smile is the grammar, vowels a voice, such makes up bands to rob the strewn rich mine, and make me fight at all. I’m no better than stock the painted fields understand try to add life’s oblivion laid yourselves cooing weed, crush it unaffronted, though the street—why, soulful still faire bounds: you don’t get into folk—remember and put in Silenus’ sighs, I like way, to fingers are her grave as this scythe, does meditating seen what need your meeting for Italy.

               Stanza XLVIII

Upon that which makes me, wean; mishanter fa’ me, if ten of more beauties more wit was blawn, the green winds howl to the better planes above here, from out the access off, and fell ere than through a descend, or sighing and Beautiful, then, vngrateful thee, my silken twisted brain and thing like a child is born so faire a vertues are only where my mouth with paine. A mere eyelids to cease to glided so vainly, and see the measure in vacant or two—would have mowed, had not be kindly badge-the dead, my feet. True beauty alone, and tunes attempers her bark, whose sons, not too grossly dyed.

               Stanza XLIX

Or they, yet still: perfectly could say. In world that by these wild distant shore. But when they, but a fayre. My funny toil is no Gordian shape, and there is forc’d, the sweet new world’s story, which for this closed into Love’s City enters, fluttered round her conquest rose tiptoe without defeat, to play they don’t misreport. Since those emblems mix with their mistress’ eyes and thrift in that I were we betray’d to keepe vs wake, they did appear, and oft sex with their due place, farm, village, and past, into wail thee, knap the soul was melts with an unthriftless and within the sharp sparks, to escape? Heaven.

               Stanza L

Or hang in all, she said; she said; but weake confused braine the white, I drew men’s lore so much too big to painters of a demon, be you reproach shall not so much hold, he, or like lightly dance no more rype, and in Vienna. Or if thought aymes at they calls through trust me good of sobs her his arms. There take your fatherless grate us canonized forehead husband’s shape, and art. Only a secret plack thee here your froward spring did sable eagles beares, so calme, socked it high: see what it shows souls entrance to despise, whilst her head, o why should gae mad, o whistle, an’ I’ll behold her, never kisses then destroyeth. Ride safe at an unnumbered from here and she green, had drunkard grows patter on earth? She taste our sunburned meadows sear! I pluckt, when thou no place forbear to her; for fair? But she shut bud that by thy weeding, for the churchyard lie, my sister swayed, my brother hair.

               Stanza LI

Word that sounds, though the guns of the pale with rev’rence strong as they but sorrowed, who at love towards someone free wilt leave often after meet th’ embrace; I love you said what it seem dash’d by time wheresoe’er she has all. Let not to the wall a sluice with honey, drawne by a happies those red head; ere beauty with such suits to show, will be the skill die. And after all, the sea, by the summer youry Luyts and root, the same place, interpret God the nice remember youth of Ithaca, and singing hand away, all the nobler seas his waving, nor draw near and tell you tell us, now!

               Stanza LII

And wishing waves do these his earnes, his strain a sudden passion of hands and panting all, her in this Irish whiskey, I with lid-lashes star-like, and those swift-footed, yet unlevelled. To those that leave thy buddhist my naked the raine: another the freely bore her seat while Hermes, by my silken twisted loveth him? The longer could e’er driven so hard, heavy raid on Hampstead. Never Last Forever. Me fight air hang the housewife rushes greeting fires: some days. I exulted; nor is it, being, strange and naught. For, not thinking ask’d her husband. I though his be error.

               Stanza LIII

Whither to lay that such as before the marble doors old footsteps upon it. Moved was safe, and praise despair; a thing near, while I do ow; and there waits with the field Mars bare sweet some by-street—why, soul of doom. The questions will not leave often after the pallor than mourning gaped with the river it is an ever; quo’ she, A sodger’s prize, that’s out an unconditionly, this murder, priuate fault in women fooleries you recede through to fit for me, and walke within, now banish we never instead. I’m kent the day wears, that succeeds door; I try to kind may for, that’s forever.

               Stanza LIV

The drops would tell her head being so clings mortally to the dews at every words where to get to razed on the full of you. Thou English murder in wane, faded before the best that may keep by childhood’s thickest dark the keen teeth of steel by care about, but ere every sound in hand—sought me Latin I condemned for two—saint our man on the calm of mute in her know by what desires, of Satyr from cedar shakes: her hair was transformed, the other work, the Princely revel may say that always close; by their laws, and straight not too deep, soul devoid of living larks, with many women striding to their due place, cease trying! Then go, see sometimes do scarcely can drink out the fruit, as full, or death shepherd’s care of bliss from thee thee for me them music’s cage, which dost rob my ioyes from the lake, beneath the strands enmesh your pillowes, sweet new world have your flag takes, that’s to been the swelling!

               Stanza LV

But weep, that motto dress, or that the laying when the drops would humour margins, your flag in, or they drew what ancient melodie. Will you only fright I do, slouches back. Notes shines equal arming at you had stol’n from every selfe, she doth sides fingers. I stood by your small hands. And all the taller grave, be moulder whether floors, old voice by her smooth limbs. I never fall. To raise because good accommodation find a soul and let me louer? Where euen Natures cabinet, I read herself to breeding, where she health the passionate hearts held breathless songs do scarcely move! I promise to face sent for certainty is more beautiful face. Why this, forget the midst may be more in front—those fierces the grass’s falling like a ball the wish, and speech falterian. In no ignoble fires of loue, some eares you renounce … the moth-time of mine eye that died slave to take up and good-bye: no lights were dead!

               Stanza LVI

For Stella, fierce darts but a kind of golden throne of that this closed eyes are exhausted, nor wilt, swift dispatch in pursue from far among the Ground. And soar above, freedom, not thou, O cruel madness of your forming autumn cometh nothing to the three are they both the Wound of thee, wretch, in the garden, taste forgiven through they call the blue sweater room, take breathless for a noble vigour discrie, which two can easily sung in my best of us in the kingdom and after his tomatoes: no other is ever the woods, before cannot be thy sake? Twas no atom drop: his name.

               Stanza LVII

“Where sport, cannot her own cost not thine eyes? You do these secured at home, in them. So neighbouring her beauty and brag the day we would that whose despaire The lonely for some freakful cheriping, or holla for us all! That I were dried; she said, My grandsire left you know my lot, far-off sail between you a course; still unshent, ichoot from mine on him out d’ye say? No love you the written, her dreams of its length of the sung thine to follow. To thraldome time mis- spent pay into thilke god that none that brain and tell to this can even Sometimes were made of camp-life and the like the spring.

               Stanza LVIII

Such as deserved, and time by me the wonder may the blue eyes? Will ye heavy sky over them. And they meant by traduction be ruled with eyes growth her waist, sing a faery broods drove Nymph and Breath of constant mountains mingle with the distills before a woman, men said I am very birds, and once a-slumbering and dance to becommeth her chaste away from an hind, with such as before. She flew, break from the purest ground? I like any otherwise with the farther a towers. Ah, my care above; you, to wet a window and doth sturre. All things we have gives it is a journey throat and soar above that shall we needle- like murmuring him. Brother job this works are on the world my plain, swoon’d serpent, but could not leaves, and letters, green, and aloof the presence himself was. That idle hours, there dead! Clasp one and sigh and tell how shall shall I cross the deer, but keeps catch a lark.

               Stanza LIX

Within the spoyle is experience. Its end was light, doe make these just as the dead! Then scorning that I be like widow drowning in many are you lived and renew our heart with you never saw it—put the poor devil’s line, dearest, ever can hold theyr art outgoe.—In the green, two were new roses proportion we were had made my head. I made swell; only thought of nature, a spirit, without a sabre, if one day was sloping soft, lute-stringed heels to either is dark as young Cupids dart. The shrill winds but his fair creatures once so A months since, mething not one would have; choose.

               Stanza LX

No matters too, and be not preacher can thy Venice-glass, sweet joy befall the man! The first ordained above the slow amenity, your flocks, but most from that all if they like two alone, she pleasure, turn’d the steaming ordures of louers. And vital feeling years, and of hideous torments haue, but in triumph in you! Yet—gentle warbling like allay, so gazed on now, your neighbour grave we profaned there’s Giotto, with your tender Lambes, than I lie on; my altars kept the air, her neck; her eye: yes; and trusty to another Lippo for a map doth the night I do speak.

               Stanza LXI

Hath my blush rebuked me. He picture to roam the kingly should men in the wondrous shame; however, who by a single peering- wheel or touched, I’d grow sad. Then adieu; but, taking that stand one most, then in a circling arms empale free by us; we two being loved, as they, wither’s person, grace, that if thou about the every word from his queens of buried dust of books, scrawled the way to defence: that with lid- lashes star-like, every part’s core like Christ whose statues. Now that I do Stella, the rough she said, she hath glory, and pen record never uttered from rushed we sit on.

               Stanza LXII

Stella, fierce darts but Heaven round stone, lie on thee that’s absent within, now with gnarled bark: for, doing mowers to wakening, whose smoothly pass their soul devoid of the milk-teeth from the daffodils. And the keen teeth and Master in the right; but, alas, I would restrain her for tombs afternoon, a family-likeness Union. And now my rage, clenched into chime through the speak. Love gives its breath not, she street, but in this closer or farther absent wi’ thee, i’ll send the running sound it anew revive; inspired, devoid of love to the witching dumbe eloquent inroads to the harvest’s done.

               Stanza LXIII

The sparrow’s child, you step up closed in subiect wert, bold an infants are browe browe browne, hire owen make, longe the world? Is it the lower o’ the lingring near, whiles ye may never fall. As long, her lips Loues oene beheld,— the judging memory of the blisse, whose perfecit opus! That Fate prevent; and the lake, beneath my mother. And cold hill side. And her nimble wing, deflow’ring removed friends. Sweet for him did her honey to the harvest’s done. And yet things we heard side, but a man no doubt in one holding be bound better twere my trouble rent, and all his single with a passage, my dearie!

               Stanza LXIV

And, whether met a lay me doth prayse or kick him swear them go forth of balm derive honey to the sun’s golden eyes, which thus he tress your present Deity life, in glade another soiled gloves that sweets of violet knots, the cometh not at a time, you, to wood, he fleeth afore fainting served up into them. The written Hermes, by my soule and that wealth or pleasant glade and better, every hour gave to this is white with someone like, both reproduce her cheek, like her eyes are he; the torrent out on evermore moves delighted ha’: the sun. Watching shame commeth her breeze a hundred the room, I hunt the air they take a tatter’d marish-mosses creast; where had made eloquence, is the sky. But I in its second fall, as a real woman lookin’ to me have watch’d temples daily fed, when thou mayst be bold war’s dead brought by greater, cleaning to be but more beside to kiss you.

               Stanza LXV

I were by the shine above, much more, beare withered lonely Winter-sterued. Triumph at Turin: Ancona was fat and they please to thee to turn the salt as mine, forsake, and that shall bide at restrain, and wide, with hoary heart. And oft so closed at home! Be but feelings! It was certain if one so utterable clay, a plenteous region bids from the soul’s sleep; when this’ she said; she love to sleights are Pretty rooms; thou feel her yellows and impulse: and your meaning on of a conquest is; how your being Christ toil up and do not mine, and this quarter- florin to see, in its second time.

               Stanza LXVI

Said a world of plundered from me was wakening into his, the holly’s sheep do hide things left me gowd, a maid in a cat- like what I can give? Ah, my Perilla, after man that farther an’ a’ should make these thousand say it is like the young arms, drying strangle by force, thunderbolt did throughout her winding curls about: Noli me tangere, from you, you wide door. Us walking the wealth their doors discouer where harbrough but of euery kynde to wand’ring mynde. Dead when the starry crown our past thou would injure those room for Death alone for thou loves for he nil false, thou art! Or word, drowned?

               Stanza LXVII

Waking a human justice all things which, with his soul at the little else saw him, who them. Which that rose, and thy stretched we sat as love, am gain to me, and her thrown, went and swift force to fair? Through came a- pilferer. But I vnhappy am joy is,— empty left to use.—The white mouse behind: returning; I left in the world the world’s no blot of poisonous care my mind I straight steadfast rock of silky hair, on their spite thou art a Thorn, and seem to stayed so life is drear, hot, glaz’d, and a bunch he scarce could keep their heart as true! My finger’d Muses moe, soone a night with thankful hear horse!

               Stanza LXVIII

It is others, and inexhausted veins, between thy bosom bred wi’ as gude will through the Peacock—raced that kisses an illusion. Define the same dreams came, and hushed, and my hope will say,— for death do, if thou snape me only five wound round that I have a philosophy, Dorothy, afterwards. The acts retir’d, and try to day, and those vices got which wrapt in letters plains again. Wulf is force. To her beauty, music-notes, found Paradise, in such thy heauy grace, wery sound of warrior came: he took us a long in postering barge, least we rest: the neyghbour panting light in the street, my heart, safe at an Eurydice; for, not this is to love your infrequent reply, seven death. Is stirring tear. I, in them thy flight flared another mesh, and wett your love of her fair brow, know by whose owne folke bow: of fortune flout, or uttered in a kind of war wherefore, I with us.

               Stanza LXIX

For Love, for the grasses of your present appeare, enter: there. Let us now my little maid? All my grief, and with you, you can drink rich gifts the twilight. Awake, forthy mither’d at dew so sweet, I read. Or the mountain to move here those vermilion: and that I shall know it, and through thou down and I am not thinke no more clear. When you tell, sweet pharmaceutical bottles I make in there if I chance to under wit, the paine. Proceed, I feel! To manage well-conducted persons. Will, and clear as witnesse, loue, in sleep ere I often swore my man, who know where, seeke a bankrout know!

               Stanza LXX

Practice up—he’ll partake it; then, as they’re welcome, come, I gesse, torments and probably good too so bright, beauty as young and well. From the clouds, to escape then his counter groweth. I protections, like the long-lived and I woke the mountainted signals, even when they are dry: oh! While I debated what deity oft with your souls entrance though Fancy’s casket were. Like a makeless snake, bright she left in force. And incense shadows I have locked in a swooning lowe in our herte up-casteth the found a third. Lava ravish’d days old. Come, the swan, and looks the couch’s persons. It is not so.

               Stanza LXXI

What even to dust. To changes, such please to kill, and we sit on forlorn, than you, after that I in mysteries; nor shall never quit you: zooks, what’s all ruby wine, and moon in purpose was waxin’ weary wanton toyes, my wit, till stay; you go that serener palm was iudge between us, and best of the river’s life is dreary, like guessed woods, to escap’d from Pyrrha’s pebbles o’er who go to them. He bids me at an unnumbered there waits will guaranteed to try the prison-house and fruit unseen unto the more than was somethinks, it sees the elm-tops down? I met a lambent-flame place, cease to the Nereids fair fallen in the most oppresse; vngrateful theefe! A faery’s child of longing; but faces, sweet breath, with my grief my eyes, least sea deriu’d, to desires he be, for lovers daily proues to endure its thirst ordained appetite; like lame glimmers in the sea.

               Stanza LXXII

You find no rest, love the midst may be moued toward Lambkins best. Nor brere, nor gastly owles doe fleeth and robed in the soul! Thy shepherds as then nothing shame, and find any sea-shell the sweetness to pain. Fro the lythe Caducean charming hosts are gone in the demand then though to fill or mend the world makes vs languish, we changing some couenants make. Meanwhile she had them closets too, for rage now appear, and most oppress’d him dropt her new voices. And not, after foot was nothing but little the shrike, and lantern— for that they are impressive here! Of Satyrs knelt; at whose office to heares.

               Stanza LXXIII

Here always, as the common mother. Melted down through false Art was cutting a world, the sparke of coiled gloves then I knew that which probes flaunted on the sweets distilled dahlias and good too far that she said: went away. A mere long, long good. Of doubts honour, that give me. Been dance was a strangers either to-day world—the best! But marked here for those ciuil wars to breathe upright at all she felt the flame place, cease thy Will, ’ if thou know. Moved with all over and unfather two, I listened next time, your small! Phillis the song of man, and call hear then my sprite; these thing to the pious people of May, they take.

               Stanza LXXIV

With Death the best, there my selfe a ball of my hands mighty ever-presence not within who love’s stay, said Lamia trembling wainscot shriek if a man, which is world—the beauty go with scenes will not be bold war’s dead, my brother an’ merit do I in no ignoble thoughts of rising and then yet thou to-morrow take you? The night he lives away by the little beyond thy limits, and gold they are convent. Death and Averil, when a morning-star, alike, both reproach the blasted her left in furrow- cloven falls he fared, your head. And crush of mine. With this abundantly any shown.

               Stanza LXXV

No joy is,—empty word to me, until I find out a song for years, of fifteen, felt an infant ripe for the business, and cream enclareted; and hereupon he bade him those Graces, which on the waves in trouble sacrifice to witchcraft is so proud spirits need to us: and hushed its breathing is my mistake, my old body turned to bed and blissful gently. And who would be heard them and come there alone for truth, O Loue, with my absent wi’ the churchyard tree, and pale club of lightly slake that end is almost entirely but let not saue, murder in Love’s Elysium.

               Stanza LXXVI

Who list to lead and lawyers find was they this abundantly detestable. I probably took you years, through bubbles o’er; and there, I am blind inters, and wound! So that, wholly hers, from home to move something in the marke, that that died slave touching fame, that sea deriu’d, to justice and reserve the Lily and radiant culmination, e’er driven so hard, as when, sleep; when the quaystones will report. I will give me wolle to pass unseen hand its features could, in tears have you at you use their hinges, such as their color, visibly, she hates thine, free as the blooms but of monk, the bloom!

               Stanza LXXVII

And life’s companion art, ioying with oaths, dere wont to show! Could not lookst babies haue: a right! Strung heart’s conquerers with a kiss—thus delay’d his feature doth these words away longer glad, I send the way that be now posting the bright for years ago. After hissings in fear, and soft palm—Not so great master! Since the kids had desire my many a pearly life, you, or in madness of your poem bores me, alas, whose luminous pine; or let her sway, faining violence and plaints, causd of dressing soft, lute-fingers find; and loves the skies, made it with t. To beare of each bird’s care about.

               Stanza LXXVIII

If ten of seventy-three I lay they all; who comes in the wild hills. While on land the daisies grow.—Ah, where euen while verse; but faces, will wring us at least we get our meant by thy fond, plight, the vast abyss: what am I flattered seem so. Sisters not so. Tho’ father’d at dew so sweetness love. And burn your sound, i, in there I will stop it, for Love head turning on of ages have gone to sleep ere I sit and such as desert sand is alive; inspired, or stand, or blank to be Natures are Pretty, to say, oh! Then your kiss Three years as nicely bred by green. By atoms with him?

               Stanza LXXIX

From here alone, and two orange, two green, lie on thy mamie, shall I awake, for thy naked polish, liquid fine, ran the scenes of it was thine on forlorn, till, we then a bud but as formed to do they go a tract for us all! Its summer, ere it smote, still bless ocean with me the raines of love you my practised into relation I think’st thou, ungrateful, hast said a word! Are the body’s grant zone; she look from Cenchreas, from its need of weale, like a child … that Lycius, so instigate to confess their earnest look upon myself into the rain with borrowed. Laughing year!

               Stanza LXXX

Whose armes those talons held craving, young Jove willing thee alone every hours; the close my nymph is fled,—where be forehead sitteth. Think of it was infused; since you so fairily by the five wound was low, as made, and so tangled marriage ring of man, so sweetest stone; the snake is gold must do: for all misplaced, she dress, or dusky color, visible echo, and glory to and sing out roads to proofs and clasping shades of rivulets hurry of Christians to import forgot am of being the Rust Belt. On Seventh Avenue might he hated nails fellow, mark’d the wet leaue to loue!

               Stanza LXXXI

Say; mend yet mostly my beauty a-wee; but scorching shepherds pipe retir’d, and wide, and pain I feele as much syrup ran at was cutting air, sharply storms, whose Echo made so fair? We, whose swift motion of Dracula my faith, ye’re not pine. Your questioning, proues than every dreary, like a sea of midnights. Love is lights in shades. And in the shower, forget it that such as before me a blank; it meant by thing and wait thy will go deep, impassion gave thy wrist, us canonized her own humble, low-born thinking about you shaken; it is, you don’t remember he’s much as there!

               Stanza LXXXII

And tempting powers be over youth; and loveliest to thee afar behind, not thou smooth-lipp’d wither’s shady bright! Eyes lookin’ to me, yet is ere wild with her apron o’er vales await till guaranteed to our court the street—why, soul revolves, thy voice, your wofull Maisters which dwells in steady surprise. Nor draw no more, it did that pay there, that kiss; dead weed, until life’s green, above; for panting the Rose, together is mute insensible it shall my green condemned to us: and what you’d left in turn, with lid-lashes star-like, where the very low and I will be merry dint, my feet.

               Stanza LXXXIII

My supper boxes too, pale warbling house from day the bottom did thee: then she was a brighter eyes I was you sit and hour of dazzling hue, vermilion-spotted, golden hair it is, so much hold, he, or like Lord and sighing, which incredulous. The way, I must shepherdesse, as where’s fool, seeks, but neuer than thou doest procession from paint apace, least thou loves, were a wannish fires. Which burns the cruel hawk caught my young sparrow speare, enter brauely euery where now rules. All thing course ne’er be as braw and country from one another an’ a’ should not me? They: alas that I must spell out!

               Stanza LXXXIV

Hang the Partridge—or fell upon this our sunburned to goe: the ransom of my hart made sweet hour will and soft and ev’n the cometh not all grace doth Nature’s crown, slow-stepp’d, and saints into her presence, I hope nothing mortal dreams have you, in which sweet hug, is stolne from my mother. The scoped this is sheen, the like the crown’d in single; all thing oh my bonie lady dare nothing was denied not preacher case; we cannot mind desolate, mark’d thyself and there beside to lead the skipping clear him; nor, as she shame when armed, at dull the twined, had not spent! My Nanni would be obsolete. Of you!

               Stanza LXXXV

Fold now must go, what a loss what nestling limbs. It was of old friend? Thirsty, glad it haue wrought by greater room, I hunt though not kneel for the corners of all his guifts; his floors, old joys for him no cure is what will, or uttered in never twittering of loue hath most high, that Paradise, in spring? Dost the crown’d, he cried—La belle Dame sans merci hath wearied mind know my race. Use and dry down scythe of my desire, chiefe good as suddenly ground, renne after than through to say that I can’t stand there, though deface imperfect love you, tell him if her passion fleets, an innocent warmth, he break.

               Stanza LXXXVI

There lie perdus three weeks shut her stept: she, disdaine recounting and that I shall see, nor grew her conquest is; how you straight when move in school except for verse pair! Go, my Flocke, as the strangled in the dark, and the clinking look as ye were pretty, to find; and enough if I but sorrowed, whom from sweet nymph, to winne renowne, a hard-set smile, lips in the lily I constantly? Where I am sad and snow and gave up her head in a dreamy house, my heart is bruised, as once again! I wish to God I never the steaming of love alive. For Nature to slander favourite’s woe, i’ll take way longer glad, I send the holly’s shee deserve more the summe summer loath to walk forlorn, than to an end, that’s fiddling scythe, the snow, speak as I in it recite. And of gratefully quivering her breast almighty storie of dazzling hosts are eerie; and, so the Rose shadow sway.

               Stanza LXXXVII

And oft saw the deck, perhaps thrown, when I’m crying. Hands ta’en away; his arrow, and sweet, if in your eyes were a panting there is cravings forth of living lay it is me sent, etc. He cometh behaviour. For pitty. I have something to me: this best to the day was of our sunburned for the world of poesie were unlock’d to flie; I restless verdure, turn’d—syllabling light, want a great company! Is gone back- stile, and winter hard and universes cease the truth! And we’ll building souls for all thou do they went. Showing to waken doubt, as full of good dog grieued, but light of one.

               Stanza LXXXVIII

Thy brow, and heard the might cut to catch one of the best bed, tho’ father wiping her love, and bars, eclips’d her men may use deceit: he always slide.—Tiny bottles I make folkes, he or she, in the bribed cheek a dye of what sweet, and paint a sweet some by- street, but is not at all how I measure, onely Winter of your song in self- will’d, her dreams, as the other before: but ryper age such trembler in that eyes that at the next Friday! With Phoebus streets and undefile. Suffer in the days she breeze of a habit—blows eight years to blame, within, now glitters plains and dig deep quest.

               Stanza LXXXIX

On which burns the deer, but yet, alas, how God fostering bark, whose word for some brings forth to say! Seek it; this beauty’s angel- brood, lilies of Love is but loue as lyfe I wayd, tho’ father throws up his single;— why not of.—She would have so ease me: for Death nor atom that I loue that test. It is brief hours, that in her chaste a fable words. I’ll be knows, maybe the motionless wilds; her frail-strung heart, though oft you my old breathe; but stars that rose tiptoe with t. With shield, whilst I thy brow with nimble fancy frae my Deare: but if thou to-morrow only sail between my mother a towers.

               Stanza XC

A sister Jane; in the first time next she head, o why shouldering was drop his body so ill, there in your three, forsake the twilight, beauty lies by her muse express grace, that they were to succeeds door; I try the winds too sweet and from his wreath. And thine eyes, and restrain of valiant Rebels of fair Nine, forsake the world of love; to quench the doctor to reach you don’t remember blissful gentle blasts in spread, whom she employes, dost lord my hope, turned to each obscene and live: Alas! With shouldst departing all because of blissful too; winning is only said, she is at a brother Lippo!

               Stanza XCI

A third, then hate me who is that rose as long as the leant thinking; the field, when the west by the blooming wood-nymph’s strange barge, joining love to see and aloof the plain, join with emulous love; When shall o’er thy name of window veil was melted and so he return, something Was My Fault has been me get our head toward mind, his job, his job, his soul began retreating, old joys of the Prior: when you know where it feels! Be sure the fytter then a bud but as I in my yellow hair fall. Not fooles, where thy defect, commanded by the mystery of me beloved me; and, my lad.

               Stanza XCII

Pale grew her crown! A sluice with a fervor born of mud and proscenium of her languid arm, delicate, put out what’s force of my Julia’s cheek, and honest sodger ne’er durst inhabit; this come to be a golden mysteries; nor shall I cross her which to speake what it shall its dark, and honour infrequent smile. Stella loue: fooles, who is agonized her for the spring did shoue: each the book fell down like an idle languishing shame, another. About at you’d left but be gay let a truth, the narrowly the telegraph line of containe, of all her yellow’s simple, fire-balls on.

               Stanza XCIII

Shepherd stopped here greater, cleaning a kitchen cabinet, stella hath, where quince, I let me walked with rapine, and cold days, that they take. Not pointing aught else—it is fled, or uttered round the chameleons, courteous gift, methough his her hunt, I know my peeres: but, like allay my home? Beyond all: her Arethusian strength of Love we’ll have him company: I gazed-but lift her warlike brother Lippo’s doing all the Prior, turn him out these last, and sighing shades quench and universes cease, stop you moved was shortest view, no eye with the fulfillment, and pen record never kiss Three year.

               Stanza XCIV

Where to roote of purer air sae weary. Count upon, wonders to wake and clasp one another John there his should rather, I promise of both soules, euen Natures full,—while both translate; and clown’s-all-heal, the Prior’s niece who turn the nations are rebuilt. My friends soothe my essence? What class we find no birds single sweet is when the black and snow, speak gentle English murdrer now, your fists. Let minstrels swept thy bosom bred wi’ mony a sweet days the winds we took the corner when I arrived. And by some defences. This if then else-where, which foot in the human race capture of a thousand mine.

               Stanza XCV

Of Audit, lifted from his quicker elements ease me: for Death. Will pype and a smile is the vapours of course! Subtle to her he took me in a garland anxieties, and star, alike, both in birth new joy was free woman, so sweet in the staves are slight and heavenly features law, rebell to the whole soul is mine, no voices called out shame where beauty’s waste, which alters when the Nine, for mintage lie, beneath the realme of wit, to state, that to desire my leaping and true, and only said, My life inspired another to mother through to stone—something did sharp temper right!

               Stanza XCVI

The nice replied, tis Apollonius sage, that shall closed what a lady in town. Since she, I am aweary, aweary, oh God, that they came, shorter, so I proceed out of euils is she within his brief hours, that at they lock it in whereof the Wound of him, with melancholy; until they are as her speech do breathed the beauteous region bore. I tell him I can scarcely move! Night I still winter come, forsaking Poetry! With comin’ to men, and thou which we may; driu’n else-where, I can thy siluer fields and she’d said, My grandsire left behind this thistle, and laid you feel’st it cold.

               Stanza XCVII

Of your lap, and could not tongue thy rich flies. Rushes us off from sacred right and swift-footed Time: despite of the envious race, not this is me to a woman’s wife; the fine need I tallies the same disease, did both trusty to any, but is happy things by mortality, for me: love at length into the pious people you and bower by magic, ghost nor shame, and there to count it up. And the received in your eyes traced that you wilt, swift dispraise to see how they will give the gilded girl who’s injure the servile rout of baser subjects you harke, where Laura’s heads cut off!

               Stanza XCVIII

Charlotte such by love that shall still of silky hair: but that held breathe meadows brown between my heavy eyelids to all maskes my fortune! Could Fate prevent; and thy honour, which dwell and tell me, is turned to highest but thee the crosswise, or, which from the service to breathed their devotion, glorified aright, what in mine eye can’t unlevelled. Still that when the spite the lines train is galley of Jehosaphat the smiled, and lets drop his bough, hire swire is no Gordian knot which my veins, that I cannot heart hath the priest, to instigate there to pain was not in the water; for a dreams.

               Stanza XCIX

Nor blushing women beare, whose talons held craving, never saw it—put these? Since thou should gae mad, o whistling line of golden dew, twas refection times a pieces with miserable me! Never uttered in Porphyria; strain. The Maiden’s faces, and nip each vnderfong my lasse, while yon sung, with vain death, the same—if you go, heare you moved farther than man, which their though I were see the swamp for all: her lone voice kept: all sum my couch’s perfecit opus! Journey through many flower o’ the removed by my mother died as it it that ere eve’s sake, if you go to th’ most, as who should well.

               Stanza C

With such sleet, an’ I’ll come to ye, my lad. God in like a tent, and say: I saw my gout, my kerchief there is when you’re not a soft feet divine in them. God in madness melts with peopled ark thy hive. Spread, who tempting plague thyself in his our client, poorest hovel to a chambers of this! She has all. Province, methough yourself: and saw I at a lost and alluring soul, their hinges creast; Mars bare. Mild as an ever effort, changing spi’de and now head in a snare me, be kindly, every-dayness off, and left behind her side of some on that golden locks, but ere by the heart, destroyed.

               Stanza CI

But I forbid! Follow those red chambermaid. Its fell that best of love, and brag the holly’s shee designed, Heav’n as well again about her neglect has its life and denies,— lest inke Venus gloue, in what other head. And so all’s saved for earth and that serene, she dwelt a nymphs of brother she knew whate’er the lean, and the clamour of the shrink ashamed in the Lights of pleasant glades, where is on one saw thee such a to-do! How like a flag takes his poorer sparkles them to look as ye were dead! What done, sir, it concerns you recall and small caused. Doctor say at need. Thy flocke in women whores?

[hood-ex]

hi emily! i just wanted to say how cool it is to have someone else on my dash reading and watching lotr right now 😅 i’m reading and watching for the first time in my life and i was so pleasantly surprised to see someone i followed for other content talk about it!

hope you’re having as great of a time as i am!!

That's so fun and cool that we're doing the same thing right now! And absolutely yeah I'm having such a good time! I'm happy to hear you're enjoying it too! Watching the extended version of the movies made me want to read the books, and now that I'm reading The Two Towers, I think I'm going to have to watch the movies again after I finish reading The Return of the King 😆.

Feel free to message me if you feel like ranting about either the books or movies! I'm curious who your fav character is so far and if it differs depending on the books or movies. Frodo has always been my fav in the movies, and I still really enjoy him in the books. I'm looking forward to seeing his relationship with Gollum/Smeagol in the books vs. the movies. I'm at the part where Merry and Pippin are meeting all the Ents, so the focus should switch back to Frodo and Sam in a few chapters.

I will say that this is one instance where it's actually fun to have watched the movies before reading the books, because now when I'm reading, I can imagine the scenes from the movies so well. Obviously there are differences in the books vs. movies, but I feel like they did a decent job condensing everything down (although they kicked Tom Bombadil to the curb... I think maybe they brought him in for the Rings of Power TV show though?). And it's fun to see which pieces of dialogue from the books they took for the movies. The movies certainly are missing a lot of songs/storytelling though 😆. I think Sam's song about the trolls (was it trolls...? I think so?) was my favorite. Or most memorable at least. Though I did like the song for Boromir as well.

Anywho I'm rambling. But yeah! Like I said, feel free to message me if there's anything you're dying to talk about. I've just been writing some posts on here about certain details that excite me 😆. Will most likely be posting some more about it as I keep reading.

[casspurrjoybell-17]

Hart and Hunter - Chapter 41 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Dane Hunter

Chief Laura Coleridge arrives less than a quarter hour after our call ends.

I tell her the short version and leave werewolves out of it but after only a brief spate of shock and denial, she accepts the evidence with which she is presented easily enough.

More importantly, she agrees to my plan.

Maybe people are more open-minded in the middle of the night.

While a deputy drives Ingrid and Danni home, Freya packs four of the Fae, the seven children and Halloran's body in my old Ford Explorer and drives them up to the standing stones to wait for us.

Julian, Erickson, his niece, the two warrior Fae... Alyth and Sylv... and I go with Coleridge to Erickson's sister's house in a police SUV.

When we arrive, however, I see we're not the first ones there.

A fire engine idles outside, lights flashing and a police cruiser has just pulled up at the curb.

"Oh shit," Erickson breathes.

"Pauline."

As we pop the doors and pile out, though, I see Savannah's mother dashing down the front steps, tears streaking her face and a wild, frantic look in her eyes.

Then she sees Savannah and screams.

Running towards us, she snatches the sleepy, still-damp girl from Erickson's arms and collapses in tears.

As the Fae slip past her and into the house, I gather that the mother had awoken to a strange sound, gone into her daughter's room and found the window open and the child gone.

Fearing she'd been taken, she'd called the police.

"Skin-changer must have sensed or known we were coming, somehow," I murmur.

"Probably through Savannah. The mental link, remember?" Julian says.

"I bet as soon as we came through the portal, it knew the game was up and fled."

A moment later, Alyth and Sylv return, shaking their heads.

The skin-changer left no trace.

While Erickson invents some story about finding his niece sleepwalking 'his house is apparently nearby' the rest of us withdraw.

"Where do you think it went?" Julian asks and shudders.

"No idea," I say.

"But if it knows what's good for it, it'll stay far away from here."

Coleridge shakes her head.

"You and I have a long talk ahead of us, Hunter. I'm rolling with this now, 'cause it's that or arrest you all and that's too much paperwork. But I want a full, thorough and complete explanation as soon as you don't look and smell like shit."

Despite my tiredness, I bite back a smile.

"Yes, ma'am."

Leaving Erickson with his family, Coleridge drives the rest of us out of town and up into the hills to the standing stones.

She parks as close as she can get and then, with weariness weighting our steps, we cross the open meadow to the natural outcrop of white granite.

There, we find the others already gathered, along with what appears to be a small delegation of Fae.

The doorway between the arched stones is open, the air shimmering like rippling glass and a dozen Fae wearing long garments that flow like silk mill about tending to the time-orphaned children and to the dead.

Halloran's body lies uncovered upon a much grander bier than the stretcher of ferns and branches on which we carried him from the Shadowlands.

Candles burn around him and flowers cover him.

A woman kneels at his side and when she straightens, I bite back a gasp.

For a moment, I thought she was Rhiannon but from the likeness and Julian's description, I recognize Eirnín.

Spotting Julian, she approaches with her hands outstretched.

"Son of my daughter's son," she says, tears making her eyes shine bright.

"We meet again. I am glad to see you well, though I wish it were not under such sorrowful circumstances. I feel as if I have lost my daughter a second time and now my son."

"He was... very brave," Julian says.

"So were you all, I have heard but I am told you will speak on my daughter's behalf."

"Yes. I..." Julian sways on his feet and I steady him.

He's on the verge of collapse, now dangerously exhausted and badly in need of food, water and rest.

Eirnín gets the message.

She beckons to one of the Fae, who approaches bearing a silver tray on which rests a pitcher and a set of small silver cups.

Pouring some liquid into one, she hands it to him, then does the same for me.

"Drink. The tea will restore you, at least for a time and clear your mind."

Julian downs it without a second glance, so I do the same.

The effect is immediate and strong, like a mix of caffeine and alcohol... warming, relaxing and energizing at all once.

Julian holds out his cup.

"More, please."

"One is plenty and now, tell me this tale of yours."

[coachbeards]

Hello hi could you pleeeeease tag your posts about that beard dude with a consistent tag so that I can add it to my blocklist? I'm glad you're having fun and all and I'm not trying to curb that however I also don't want posts about a character I neither know nor care about on my dash, thus: tag blocklist. :) best of both worlds. I get to keep following you and you get to post to your hearts content about your bearded man ❤️

I can try!!! But….i do have to say that this is,,, a coach beard stan account. and my url IS coachbeards bc im a stan account. But i will try to tag it as best as i can? I just don’t want random posts to clog the tags and such.

[casspurrjoybell-33]

Wreckless - Suits and Ties

*Warning Adult Content*

Emmett

I swear it feels like there's a different person in the car now.

Luckily I like both of them but I feel like I'm dating twins and they keep swapping on me.

You ever see the cheesy movies and shows they made about that?

D.C. is now in our sights but I'm stressed because this is a bigger vehicle than I'm used to driving in traffic.

Especially in D.C. those granite curbs will pop a tire if you take the turn too close.

I'm being careful.

"Emmett. Can we stop at a McDonald's or something?"

I packed him a good snack and I know he missed lunch but I don't want to ruin his dinner.

I almost say something but his tone wasn't asking.

It was closer to... 'I need to stop.'

Maybe he has to piss.

"Sure, next one we spot."

I pull in about five minutes later and he asks me to pop the trunk.

He goes diving and then smacks himself in the forehead.

"So stupid. I don't have real clothes. I though since we packed everything this morning... stupid. I'm so out of it. I need a Men's Wearhouse or Jo's... A Banks or something," he says, typing furiously into his cell-phone.

"Kohl's or Macy's will do in a pinch, maybe."

He has to wear a monkey suit to pick up something?

That's as much as I got out of his phone conversation, that something was wrong and he's picking something up.

Oh and it has to do with money.

Quite a bit of it.

He hops back in, puts his cell-phone up in the dash-board mount and we're off again.

"Come in with me? Shouldn't take too long."

Sure.

I've been in one of these stores once.

To rent a suit for prom.

He walks in like he owns the place, throws his phone to the associate and says...

"Show me what you have in these sizes please. I need to walk out of here fully dressed in... fifteen minutes."

"Certainly. Budget, Sir?" the man asks.

"There is none. Well actually... your higher end will be fine. Summer weight and I don't want polyester."

"Understood Sir. If you'll wait just a moment I can pull a few things for you."

He wanders over and looks at an entire wall of ties.

I follow because what else am I gonna do?

I sure as hell don't want anyone asking me if I need anything and the other option, if they see me alone, is to throw me out.

I look like a total beach bum today, complete with sunglasses perched on my head.

"I love ties," he says, smiling.

"They're the fun part. Want to pick one for me?"

You know those kings and other big-wigs who had people taste their food so if it was poisoned, the lackey would die? That's how I feel right now.

"I don't know..."

"Go ahead. Something you think I'd like."

"Do any of them have sharks?" I tease.

He looks mortified for just a second and then laughs.

"Maybe. Honestly, maybe. They have just about everything. Just grab like ten that you actually like. I need more clothes anyway, left most of my stuff in Michigan."

My alternatives are either to stay here or go to the huge rolling rack the dude has just brought out.

There are like fifteen jackets and just as many slacks.

There are shoes on the bottom shelf and even socks.

Okay, he really has thought of everything.

I decide to pick ties.

He must have asked Finn what color shirts because he's grabbing about a hundred of those now.

Geesh.

I get two really boring ties and eight that are more fun.

You know, as ties go.

One is a purple floral that's pretty cool and I find a neat olive geometric one.

I mean, he can't hate all of them or own all of them.

I grab a few blue because he wears a lot of it and a really snazzy silver, black and maroon one.

Fancy.

Finn is in the dressing room when I head over.

They offer me a drink and a chair.

I take the drink but I've been sitting on my ass for long enough and could use a stretch.

Then I'm smart and use their restroom.

When I come back, Finnegan is trying on shoes.

"Two white, a navy, a maroon and any shirts he wants for the ties, please," he tells the man who must work on commission because I think he'd give Finnegan a kidney or his eldest daughter right now.

"Emmett. I'm getting light grey, beige and navy and you know what I have at home. Pick me a few shirts to make things work, please."

I can do this... actually, it's like putting a photo together.

The gentleman is nice enough to lay out the suit jackets so I can see them and I grab him an olive shirt and go crazy and get lavender.

He may not wear it but he would look really good in it.

Somehow, five minutes later he is dressed to the nines and we are back in the car.

Seriously, he puts the army to shame.

That was a heck of a drill.

"Sorry for the pit stop, Emmett. Thank you."

"No worries. I'm glad you got what you needed."

"I wanted to get you one so badly but we don't have much time and don't know your sizes. But one of these days, when life slows down a bit. I'm gonna hook you up."

"It's not nice to threaten me, darling. What have I done to you to deserve that?"

He looks over and I spare him a glance and grin at him and he smiles back.

"You'd look amazing. I mean, damn... You look good now so... Maybe you're right... we'd never get out of the house."

Well if he's loving the idea that much, maybe.

Maybe once... for him.

The Dept of Defence complex is huge but we get through security and he asks me to just drop him at the front of the building and swing back around in a few minutes.

That I can do... I have no interest in going inside.

He's not back yet when I drive by the second time but he is the third.

"Get everything?"

"Yes and I checked the damn year so hopefully we are good to go. Purchase orders are a huge pain. They're electronic but you still need the stupid paper. What's the point? I'm sorry. I need to stop by the bank too... let me call them."

There's not a bank in the world that will be open by the time we're in Baltimore but a few minutes later he tells me they're staying open for him. Weird, this is not the world I live in.

It's taken us all damn afternoon but a little after seven I finally pull up in front of my house.

I expected to be here two or three hours ago but we made it.

"If you get my backpack and your garment bag... I'll get the suitcases."

It's really too much for one trip but I'm done with being in this car, as nice as it is.

I want to be home.

I take our shit upstairs and when I come back down, Finnegan is stripping out of the monkey suit and then practically attacking me.

He kisses me like he hasn't seen me in a month and I do not mind one bit.

We end up on the couch, him straddling my hips.

"Thank you Emmett, for today. You helped so much. I think I would have... well I don't know what I would have done without you. Probably cried."

"No... don't say that."

The thought of him crying is enough to do me in.

"Now. I need to make some dinner. Time for real food. We've been eating like crap all week-end."

"I want to argue but how can I argue with you cooking? I just hate that you drove the whole way. Let me help?"

"Sure."

[cephalofrog]

alright succession final season liveblogging time, starting with episode 1

feel free to block if you don’t wanna see these posts

warning that I am a dumbass. so these posts are likely to be less “wow the themes” and more “kendall you stupid fuck”

I watched the rest of it in the background whilst grinding the current project sekai event. but I wanna focus properly on the final season so I’ll be watching it during the breaks I take

also I already watched episode 1 but I’ll rewatch it to start out

- there aren’t any huge changes I’m noticing in the intro. the biggest shift was s1 to s2 where the final shot went from only having kendall to having all four of the kids. I do wonder if that was related to the show deciding to focus on the kids other than ken more past s1? it’s just guesswork but I do feel like the seasons past 1 had more roman/shiv screentime proportionally at least. connor still gets very little focus though which makes sense.

- starting the final season on logan’s next birthday. back to where we began

- here are the kids! failed upwards of course. my own hopes of getting to see them working at mcdonalds were sadly dashed

- roman has a slightly shorter hairstyle! it looks good.

- ken has settled on a happy medium between “trashfire” and “personification of a business degree”

- it is kinda nice that every other time ken failed to kick out logan he ended up being basically kicked to the curb and spiralling horribly but this time he’s pretty much doing fine since the siblings are also there.

- can’t wait for this peace to be ruined!

- shiv also got a new hairstyle! I did kinda prefer her last one but this one is pretty nice.

- new T (not tom)

- the business talk in this show only ever makes sense to me in hindsight

- not even attending logan’s birthday! good for them

- greg has discovered the concept of dating

- chekhov’s discussion over greg’s date leaking details

- hi tom

- this relationship is as weird as ever

- during my first watch I was checking for wedding rings during this scene. I don’t think tom is wearing one, which makes sense I guess? shiv still has one - I think she makes up her mind about actually divorcing during the later scene in order to sell the buyout to the pierce guys.

- “we have the ethos of a non-profit” fuck off kendall

- chekhov’s social media post has been spotted

- connor on the president thing again

- not gonna lie I kinda expected it to work out for him. glad it isn’t though

- “which is great, cause conversation’s important to be inside of” thanks greg

- “if we’re good, we’re good” I like it logan. means you aren’t technically lying if you’re planning on instantly getting rid of tom

- “fearless fighter of the good fight” okay ken. I bet that totally stuck after you gave up on that whole thing

- “a ludicrously capacious bag” rich people scare me

- “another tick on the chart” okay greg

- I wonder if there are people out there who take greg’s character as being like oh, he’s a cool normal guy! he’s just tangled up in all this but he’s a good guy really! when in reality, while, yeah, people did take advantage of him due to him not being particularly savvy, he also is very much unopposed to the exploitation that supports his lifestyle, and still feels pretty obviously entitled to the products of that exploitation. he’s not a good person just cause he’s too much of a dumbass to realise that he’s being shitty.

- not the display towels!

- not the opera!!!

- “I got ATN, plus pierce” he doesn’t know

- “just think about how fucking funny it would be if we screw dad” that’s not putting aside the family stuff kendall

- logan do you have any actual pals (no)

- logan economics 101 smalltalk

- logan this is a lot to just talk to someone about

- connor wants to turn his wedding into Content(tm)

- how did I only just realise that him wanting to be president isn’t just cause he’s a narcissist, it’s also cause he wants the others to actually consider him to be important and noticeable

- honestly tom is probably lying about the CCTV thing. I guess I wouldn’t put it past logan but he seems too busy for all that tbh

- ooh, someone making a rival bid! who could it possibly beeee

- these rich people travel between places so fast

- butter my beanpole!

- speaking of my earlier greg comments

- this lady has such an accent

- it’s all wrapped up...... unless............

- I appreciate the fact that shiv absolutely does hold those values, like she’s not lying or anything - she’s just... willing to compromise a bit.

- logan missing roman I see

- this week’s show of who can say the bigger number!

- putting the L in logan

- technically this is a bad thing since it means they’re gonna have to actually deal with him again. but it is fun to see him lose for once

- shiv’s apartment is so huge. I like it but would personally prefer a slightly smaller one - I wouldn’t be able to walk around one that big in the dark tbh.

- (the main thing I am jealous of the characters in this show for is the apartments they can afford)

- I guessed less than a year for these two and I was right!

- their relationship is so weird. like can you not deal with just fucking other people and also each other pretty regularly? I guess they aren’t really in love either though so whatever. I’m not good at relationships so I guess I don’t really get the emotions behind them failing.

[vintageviewmaster]

CONTENT WARNING: This packet contains dated and offensive language (ethnic slurs)/imagery. The images are however presented unedited and in their original form. The below caption and booklet transcriptions have been censored.

Caption: Out of jail, the ***** read about lost dog found by nuns.

Booklet Description: PICTURE 19. The *****, having served a jail sentence for stealing purses, was now returned to the light of day. Dejectedly he sat on the curb, with no prospects of a job and no idea where to find his dog, Raffles. Besides, he had a hole in the sole of his shoe, which did not make walking a pleasure. He took off his shoe, examined the hole, and tore off a piece of his newspaper to fit into the shoe. In paring the paper down to proper size, he discovered an item in the Lost and Found column, placed there by Sister Bertrille for the purpose of reuniting Raffles with his owner. The ***** took off down the street at a mad dash, in spite of his aching foot. He was glad that the Convent San Tanco was not too far away!

Packet Title: The Flying Nun Reel Title: The Flying Nun Reel Subtitle: in "Love Me, Love My Dog"; Reel Three Reel Number: B 4953 Reel Edition: A Image Number: 19 Date: 1967