#which is insane to me because. another void fan. so close yet so far.

[daily-acvoid]

complete the heart!💜

(transparent version under the cut)

[turnpage]

send me a ✐ for a random sentence starter from my muse (1-1500) — tw: profanity, mild nsfw, long list

generator here quotes compiled from here inspired by

feel free to change to fit your preferences as need.

❨1❩ ❛ They are dreams, but I’m too out of control, I lose myself in them, and I’ve already lost too much to let them take over. ❜
 ❨2❩ ❛ Sometimes human places create inhuman monsters. ❜ ❨3❩ ❛ I'm not gonna hurt ya. I'm just going to bash your brains in. ❜ ❨4❩ ❛ Monsters are real. Ghosts are too. They live inside of us, and sometimes, they win. ❜ ❨5❩ ❛ The world's a hard place. It doesn't care. It doesn't hate you and me, but it doesn't love us, either. ❜ ❨6❩ ❛ The tears that heal are also the tears that scald and scourge. ❜ ❨7❩ ❛ Pull your act together and just go on. ❜ ❨8❩ ❛ I had never dreamed there could be so much pain in a life when there is nothing physically wrong. I hurt all the time. ❜ ❨9❩ ❛ Tough old world, baby. If you're not bolted together tightly, you're gonna shake, rattle, and roll before you turn thirty. ❜ ❨10❩ ❛ Are you sure self-pity is a luxury you can afford? ❜ ❨11❩ ❛ Truth comes out. In the end it always comes out. ❜ ❨12❩ ❛ Living by your wits is always knowing where the wasps are. ❜ ❨13❩ ❛ No matter where you go, the same asshole gets off the plane. ❜ ❨14❩ ❛ We sometimes need to create unreal monsters and bogies to stand in for all the things we fear in our real lives. ❜ ❨15❩ ❛ That’s your job in this hard world, to keep your love alive and see that you get on, no matter what. ❜ ❨16❩ ❛ Human nature, baby. Grab it and growl. ❜ ❨17❩ ❛ God wiped snot out of his nose and that was you. ❜ ❨18❩ ❛ Run away. Quick. And remember how much I love you. ❜ ❨19❩ ❛ How many times, over how many years, have I—a grown adult—asked for the mercy of another chance? ❜ ❨20❩ ❛ I was suddenly so sick of myself, so revolted. ❜ ❨21❩ ❛ You listen to me. I’m going to talk to you about it this once and never again this same way. ❜ ❨22❩ ❛ But those pieces, they’ll never fit just the same way again. Never in this world. ❜ ❨23❩ ❛ Dying is a part of living. You have to keep tuning in to that if you expect to be a whole person. ❜ ❨24❩ ❛ Officious little prick. ❜ ❨25❩ ❛ I’ve been sleepwalking again, my dear. — The plants are moving under the rug. ❜ ❨26❩ ❛ How I wish you were fear. ❜ ❨27❩ ❛ But it was a dreadful kind of curiosity, the kind that makes you peek through your fingers during the scariest parts of a scary movie. ❜ ❨28❩ ❛ All we have is time, you know. An eternity of time. Or shall we end it? Might as well. After all, we're missing the party. ❜ ❨29❩ ❛ We all remember our pleasant dreams more clearly than the scary ones. ❜ ❨30❩ ❛ The way things should be and the way things are hardly ever get together. ❜ ❨31❩ ❛ Got to be regular if you want to be happy. ❜ ❨32❩ ❛ But in a solitary life, there are rare moments when another soul dips near yours, as stars once a year brush the earth. ❜ ❨33❩ ❛ He showed me his scars, and in return he let me pretend that I had none. ❜ ❨34❩ ❛ Humbling women seems to me a chief pastime of poets. As if there can be no story unless we crawl and weep. ❜ ❨35❩ ❛ It is a common saying that women are delicate creatures, flowers, eggs, anything that may be crushed in a moment's carelessness.  ❜ ❨36❩ ❛ If I had ever believed it, I no longer do. ❜ ❨37❩ ❛ I thought once that gods are the opposite of death, but I see now they are more dead than anything, for they are unchanging, and can hold nothing in their hands. ❜ ❨38❩ ❛ I cannot bear this world a moment longer. ❜ ❨39❩ ❛ I have a better idea. I will do as I please. ❜ ❨40❩ ❛ All my life has been murk and depths, but I am not a part of that dark water. I am a creature within it. ❜ ❨41❩ ❛ You cannot know how frightened gods are of pain. There is nothing more foreign to them, and so nothing they ache more deeply to see. ❜ ❨42❩ ❛ When we are young, we think ourselves the first to have each feeling in the world. ❜ ❨43❩ ❛ When I was born, the word for what I was did not exist. ❜ ❨44❩ ❛ But perhaps no parent can truly see their child. When we look we see only the mirror of our own faults. ❜ ❨45❩ ❛ I will not be like a bird bred in a cage, too dull to fly even when the door stands open. ❜ ❨46❩ ❛ This is what it means to swim in the tide, to walk the earth and feel it touch your feet. This is what it means to be alive. ❜ ❨47❩ ❛ You threw me to the crows, but it turns out I prefer them to you. ❜ ❨48❩ ❛ Yet because I knew nothing, nothing was beneath me. ❜ ❨49❩ ❛ If now I am wise, it is only because I have been fool enough for a hundred lifetimes. ❜ ❨50❩ ❛ You can teach a viper to eat from your hands, but you cannot take away how much it likes to bite. ❜ ❨51❩ ❛ Give me the blade. Some things are worth spilling blood for. ❜ ❨52❩ ❛ I have been old and stern for so long, carved with regrets and years like a monolith. But that is only a shape I’ve been poured into. I do not have to keep it. ❜ ❨53❩ ❛ I wake sometimes in the dark terrified by my life's precariousness, its thready breath. ❜ ❨54❩ ❛ Understanding the world is a matter of keeping very still and showing no emotions, leaving room for others to reveal themselves. ❜ ❨55❩ ❛ Beneath the smooth, familiar face of things is another that waits to tear the world in two. ❜ ❨56❩ ❛ The truth is, men make terrible pigs. ❜ ❨57❩ ❛ My father has never been able to imagine the world without himself in it. ❜ ❨58❩ ❛ This is the grief that makes our kind choose to be stones and trees rather than flesh. ❜ ❨59❩ ❛ Witches are not so delicate. ❜ ❨60❩ ❛ Those who fight against prophecy only draw it more tightly around their throats. ❜ ❨61❩ ❛ I learned that I could bend the world to my will, as a bow is bent for an arrow. I would have done that toil a thousand times to keep such power in my hands. ❜ ❨62❩ ❛ There's the story, then there's the real story, then there's the story of how the story came to be told. Then there's what you leave out of the story. Which is part of the story too. ❜ ❨63❩ ❛ The best way of being kind to bears is not to be very close to them. ❜ ❨64❩ ❛ Life is warped. I'm just in sync. ❜ ❨65❩ ❛ Now it's a whisper from the past. ❜ ❨66❩ ❛ But hatred and viciousness are addictive. You can get high on them. Once you've had a little, you start shaking if you don't get more. ❜ ❨67❩ ❛ Why is it always such a surprise? The moon. Even though we know it's coming. Every time we see it, it makes us pause, and hush. ❜ ❨68❩ ❛ Perfection exacts a price, but it's the imperfect who pay it. ❜ ❨69❩ ❛ What is 'belief' but a willingness to suspend the negatives?  ❜ ❨70❩ ❛ I have scars, inside me. ❜ ❨71❩ ❛ The dead are not entirely dead but are alive in a different way; a paler way admittedly, and somewhat darker. ❜ ❨72❩ ❛ However dark, a darkness with voices in it is better than a silent void. ❜ ❨73❩ ❛ Amazing how quickly the past becomes idyllic. ❜ ❨74❩ ❛ It is another way of saying tough luck. To people you aren’t going to help out. ❜ ❨75❩ ❛ I'm waiting, far off in the future. ❜ ❨76❩ ❛ The only sure camouflage is unpredictability. ❜ ❨77❩ ❛ There are so many of them, and each one of them is doing part of the killing, whether they know it or not. ❜ ❨78❩ ❛ First rule: limit bloodshed by making sure that none of your own gets spilled. ❜ ❨79❩ ❛ I long to swim in liquid moonlight. ❜ ❨80❩ ❛ That's right, I don’t like to be summoned on trivial matters. ❜ ❨81❩ ❛ The part that really made me happy was that you wanted me to be happy. ❜ ❨82❩ ❛ Cut that part out of us: the grinning, elemental malice. Begin us anew. ❜ ❨83❩ ❛ Where there are wars, there will be crows, the carrion-fanciers. And ravens too, the warbirds, the eyeball gourmands. And vultures, the holy birds of yore, old connoisseurs of rot. ❜ ❨84❩ ❛ At last. It's you. ❜ ❨85❩ ❛ No, you will not be cooked on a fire when you die. Because you are not a fish. ❜ ❨86❩ ❛ Take what the moment offers. Don’t close doors. Be thankful. ❜ ❨87❩ ❛ How many others have stood in this place? Left behind, with all gone, all swept away. ❜ ❨88❩ ❛ Is it disapproval or extreme lust? With some men it’s hard to tell the difference. ❜ ❨89❩ ❛ My hair was driving me crazy, but then … I died. ❜ ❨90❩ ❛ Seek and ye shall find, eventually. And you found. You’re right, I don’t dispute that. Sorry. ❜ ❨91❩ ❛ Everything digests, and is digested. ❜ ❨92❩ ❛ My head was once a filing cabinet. Now it’s a flurry of papers, floating on a draft. ❜ ❨93❩ ❛ You cannot keep bumping your head against reality and saying it is not there. ❜ ❨94❩ ❛ I have a feeling that inside you somewhere, there’s something nobody knows about. ❜ ❨95❩ ❛ And if I don’t want to die, I’ve got to start living. ❜ ❨96❩ ❛ The world is a beautiful place. Don’t forget that. And don’t miss it. ❜ ❨97❩ ❛ I was fighting for my life. So I must not want to die. ❜ ❨98❩ ❛ Something’s happening to me, through me, something dangerous and new. ❜ ❨99❩ ❛ It’s taken root, a poison tree; it’s grown, fanning out, vines winding round my gut, my lungs, my heart. ❜ ❨100❩ ❛ We’re interpreters. We’re translators. ❜ ❨101❩ ❛ You’ll notice I’m not asking what made you this way. ❜ ❨102❩ ❛ No family, happy or unhappy, is quite like any other. Tolstoy was chock-fullo’shit. Remember that. ❜ ❨103❩ ❛ We lived in monochrome those nights. ❜ ❨104❩ ❛ You live in a dream. You’re a sleepwalker, blind. How do you know what the world is like? ❜ ❨105❩ ❛ Do you know, if you rip off the fronts of houses, you’d find swine? ❜ ❨106❩ ❛ I stand here in the dark: cold, utterly alone, full of fear and something that feels like longing. ❜ ❨107❩ ❛ The definition of insanity is doing the same thing again and again and expecting different results. ❜ ❨108❩ ❛ Not to warm the flesh, but solely to please the eye. ❜ ❨109❩ ❛ Selective emotional detachment. ❜ ❨110❩ ❛ Not for me, or at least not today. ❜ ❨111❩ ❛ Dead but not gone, watching life surge forward around me, powerless to intervene. ❜ ❨112❩ ❛ Do I sound like a hillbilly saying that? ❜ ❨113❩ ❛ Remember, you’ve got your secret weapon. ❜ ❨114❩ ❛ The dream drains away like water. The memory, really. I try to scoop it up in my palms, but it’s gone. ❜ ❨115❩ ❛ My shadow stretches along the carpet, as though trying to detach itself from me. ❜ ❨116❩ ❛ It curls away from me, like blood in water. ❜ ❨117❩ ❛ It’s been so long since I felt the rain. Or wind—the caress of wind. ❜ ❨118❩ ❛ But snow I never want to feel again. ❜ ❨119❩ ❛ Through adversity to the stars. ❜ ❨120❩ ❛ No hero. No sleuth. I am locked in. I am locked out. ❜ ❨121❩ ❛ Thinking hasn't gotten me anywhere so far. ❜ ❨122❩ ❛ The face you give the world tells the world how to treat you. ❜ ❨123❩ ❛ Sometimes I think illness sits inside every woman, waiting for the right moment to bloom. ❜ ❨124❩ ❛ Women get consumed. ❜ ❨125❩ ❛ Sometimes if you let people do things to you, you're really doing it to them. ❜ ❨126❩ ❛ A child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort. ❜ ❨127❩ ❛ Safer to be feared than loved. ❜ ❨128❩ ❛ I ached once, hard, like a period typed at the end of a sentence. ❜ ❨129❩ ❛ It's impossible to compete with the dead. I wish I could stop trying. ❜ ❨130❩ ❛ I always feel sad for the girl that I was. ❜ ❨131❩ ❛ Every time people said I was pretty, I thought of everything ugly swarming beneath my clothes. ❜ ❨132❩ ❛ How do you keep safe when your whole day is as wide and empty as the sky? Anything could happen. ❜ ❨133❩ ❛ See, there I am. I told you I lived. I told you I was. ❜ ❨134❩ ❛ Sometimes I think I won't ever feel safe until I can count my last days on one hand. ❜ ❨135❩ ❛ To refuse has so many more consequences than submitting. ❜ ❨136❩ ❛ I'm here. I don't usually feel that I am. ❜ ❨137❩ ❛ I'm tired of dying. ❜ ❨138❩ ❛ What if you hurt because it feels so good? ❜ ❨139❩ ❛ How confusing to live in the shadow of a shadow. ❜ ❨140❩ ❛ Do you ever feel like bad things are going to happen, and you can’t stop them? You can’t do anything, you just have to wait? ❜ ❨141❩ ❛ Sometimes my scars have a mind of their own. ❜ ❨142❩ ❛ Everyone has their own version of a memory. ❜ ❨143❩ ❛ Isn’t a smile a girl’s best weapon? ❜ ❨144❩ ❛ My sense of weightlessness, I think, comes from the fact that I know so little about my past. ❜ ❨145❩ ❛ Do what I want; I might like you. ❜ ❨146❩ ❛ I feel sorry for Persephone because even when she’s back with the living, people are afraid of her because of where’s she’s been. ❜ ❨147❩ ❛ She has never told me she loved me, and I never assumed she did. ❜ ❨148❩ ❛ The sight of it actually does something to you, makes you less human. ❜ ❨149❩ ❛ It infects you. It ruined me. ❜ ❨150❩ ❛ Your health is not a debt you just cancel. The body collects. ❜ ❨151❩ ❛ Men love to put things inside women, don’t they? ❜ ❨152❩ ❛ We can know only that we know nothing. And that is the highest degree of human wisdom. ❜ ❨153❩ ❛ Nothing is so necessary for a young man as the company of intelligent women. ❜ ❨154❩ ❛ The strongest of all warriors are these two — time and patience. ❜ ❨155❩ ❛ If everyone fought for their own convictions there would be no war. ❜ ❨156❩ ❛ There is no greatness where there is not simplicity, goodness, and truth. ❜ ❨157❩ ❛ The whole world is divided for me into two parts: one is she, and there is all happiness, hope, light; the other is where she is not, and there is dejection and darkness. ❜ ❨158❩ ❛ Let the dead bury the dead, but while I'm alive, I must live and be happy. ❜ ❨159❩ ❛ It's not given to people to judge what's right or wrong. People have eternally been mistaken and will be mistaken, and in nothing more than in what they consider right and wrong. ❜ ❨160❩ ❛ You can love a person dear to you with a human love, but an enemy can only be loved with divine love. ❜ ❨161❩ ❛ If we admit that human life can be ruled by reason, then all possibility of life is destroyed. ❜ ❨162❩ ❛ We are asleep until we fall in love! ❜ ❨163❩ ❛ I simply want to live; to cause no evil to anyone but myself. ❜ ❨164❩ ❛ Everything I know, I know because of love. ❜ ❨165❩ ❛ Man cannot possess anything as long as he fears death. But to him who does not fear it, everything belongs. ❜ ❨166❩ ❛ If there was no suffering, man would not know his limits, would not know himself. ❜ ❨167❩ ❛ Yes, love, but not the love that loves for something, to gain something, or because of something, but that love that I felt for the first time, when dying, I saw my enemy and yet loved him. ❜ ❨168❩ ❛ How can one be well...when one suffers morally? ❜ ❨169❩ ❛ Kings are the slaves of history. ❜ ❨170❩ ❛ God is the same everywhere. ❜ ❨171❩ ❛ Pure and complete sorrow is as impossible as pure and complete joy. ❜ ❨172❩ ❛ One must be cunning and wicked in this world. ❜ ❨173❩ ❛ We love people not so much for the good they've done us, as for the good we've done them. ❜ ❨174❩ ❛ When one's head is gone one doesn't weep over one's hair! ❜ ❨175❩ ❛ For what, for whom, must I kill and be killed? ❜ ❨176❩ ❛ He did what heroes do after their work is accomplished; he died. ❜ ❨177❩ ❛ Life is too long to say anything definitely; always say perhaps. ❜ ❨178❩ ❛ Everything ends in death, everything. Death is terrible. ❜ ❨179❩ ❛ The distant and impossible suddenly became near, possible, and inevitable. ❜ ❨180❩ ❛ How often we sin, how much we deceive, and all for what? ❜ ❨181❩ ❛ The wolves should be fed and the sheep kept safe. ❜ ❨182❩ ❛ When I was a child, adults would tell me not to make things up, warning me of what would happen if I did. ❜ ❨183❩ ❛ My memory is a patchwork of occurrences, of discontinuous events roughly sewn together: the parts I remember, I remember precisely, whilst other sections seem to have vanished completely. ❜ ❨184❩ ❛ Would it be worse to love someone who is no longer there, or not to love someone who is? ❜ ❨185❩ ❛ Like mirrors stories prepare us for the day to come. They distract us from the things in darkness. ❜ ❨186❩ ❛ It is not that I was credulous, simply that I believed in all things dark and dangerous. ❜ ❨187❩ ❛ Sometimes you do things you regret, but there's nothing you can do about them. Times change. Doors close behind you. You move on. ❜ ❨188❩ ❛ Love will be an impulse that will inspire and ruin in equal measure. ❜ ❨189❩ ❛ He died alone. It don't matter a rat's ass whether there was anyone with him or not. He died alone. ❜ ❨190❩ ❛ It was love, I knew, and it tasted like champagne in my mind. ❜ ❨191❩ ❛ The end of the world is a strange concept. The world is always ending, and the end is always being averted, by love or foolishness or just plain old dumb luck. ❜ ❨192❩ ❛ She was my dream; and if you touch a dream it vanishes, like a soap bubble. ❜ ❨193❩ ❛ Daylight is always safe. ❜ ❨194❩ ❛ If not for death, they'd be content to simply exist, but with death, well, their lives will have meaning. ❜ ❨195❩ ❛ You want to know the future, love? Then wait. ❜ ❨196❩ ❛ There are things in the darkness beneath us that wish us harm. ❜ ❨197❩ ❛ Fairy tales are more than true. Not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be defeated ❜ ❨198❩ ❛ But sometimes you leave blood on your instruments. ❜ ❨199❩ ❛ I'd like to be a wolf. Not all the time. Just sometimes. In the dark. I would run through the forests. ❜ ❨200❩ ❛ You've seen them. They have mouths that twitch, and eyes that stare, and they babble and they mewl and they whimper. ❜ ❨201❩ ❛ They are not mad, or rather, the loss of their sanity is the lesser of their problems. ❜ ❨202❩ ❛ Good a reason for writing as I know: releasing demons, letting them fly. ❜ ❨203❩ ❛ That miserable state in which everything seems flat and of equal importance; when nothing matters, and in which reality seems scraped thin and threadbare. ❜ ❨204❩ ❛ Someone had scrawled graffiti in black marker on the metal: JUST DIE, it said. Like it is easy. ❜ ❨205❩ ❛ Winter started today. The sky turned grey and the snow began to fall and it did not stop falling until well after dark. ❜ ❨206❩ ❛ Memory is the great deceiver. ❜ ❨207❩ ❛ Silly things do cease to be silly if they are done by sensible people in an impudent way. ❜ ❨208❩ ❛ I may have lost my heart, but not my self-control.  ❜ ❨209❩ ❛ If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. ❜ ❨210❩ ❛ I always deserve the best treatment because I never put up with any other. ❜ ❨211❩ ❛ But you know what I am. You hear nothing but truth from me. ❜ ❨212❩ ❛ I have blamed you, and lectured you, and you have borne it as no other would have borne it. ❜ ❨213❩ ❛ There are people, who the more you do for them, the less they will do for themselves. ❜ ❨214❩ ❛ One half of the world cannot understand the pleasures of the other. ❜ ❨215❩ ❛ Better be without sense than misapply it as you do. ❜ ❨216❩ ❛ You must be the best judge of your own happiness. ❜ ❨217❩ ❛ Were I to fall in love, indeed, it would be a different thing ; but I have never been in love ; it is not my way, or my nature ; and I do not think I ever shall. ❜ ❨218❩ ❛ Indeed, I am very sorry to be right in this instance. I would much rather have been merry than wise. ❜ ❨219❩ ❛ If I have not spoken, it is because I am afraid I will awaken myself from this dream. ❜ ❨220❩ ❛ If a woman doubts as to whether she should accept a man or not, she certainly ought to refuse him. ❜ ❨221❩ ❛ Faultless in spite of all her faults. ❜ ❨222❩ ❛ A heroine whom no one but myself will much like. ❜ ❨223❩ ❛ There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart. ❜ ❨224❩ ❛ Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, and waste its fragrance on the desert air. ❜ ❨225❩ ❛ I pity you. I thought you cleverer. ❜ ❨226❩ ❛ Evil to some is always good to others. ❜ ❨227❩ ❛ I certainly will not persuade myself to feel more than I do. ❜ ❨228❩ ❛ She is loveliness itself. ❜ ❨229❩ ❛ Time does not compose me. ❜ ❨230❩ ❛ A man always imagines a woman to be ready for anybody who asks her. ❜ ❨231❩ ❛ I do not find myself making any use of the word sacrifice. ❜ ❨232❩ ❛ I am quite enough in love. I should be sorry to be any more. ❜ ❨233❩ ❛ I must tell you what you will not ask, though I may wish it unsaid the next moment. ❜ ❨234❩ ❛ I examined my own heart. And there you were. Never, I fear, to be removed. ❜ ❨235❩ ❛ With all your little faults, you are an excellent creature. ❜ ❨236❩ ❛ You have another long walk before you. ❜ ❨237❩ ❛ The child's laughter is pure until he first laughs at a clown. ❜ ❨238❩ ❛ What is marriage but prostitution to one man instead of many? ❜ ❨239❩ ❛ Out of the frying pan into the fire! ❜ ❨240❩ ❛ We must all make do with the rags of love we find flapping on the scarecrow of humanity. ❜ ❨241❩ ❛ She sleeps. And now she wakes each day a little less. ❜ ❨242❩ ❛ And, oh, God . . . how frequently I weep! ❜ ❨243❩ ❛ From the coffin of your madness there is no escape. ❜ ❨244❩ ❛ I am feeling supernatural tonight. I want to eat diamonds. ❜ ❨245❩ ❛ All the same there is a chance that if we keep on shaking our chains, one day, some day, the clasps upon the shackles will part. ❜ ❨246❩ ❛ It was sad music fit to make you cut your throat. ❜ ❨247❩ ❛ Nothing is more boring than being forced to play. ❜ ❨248❩ ❛ Amongst the monsters, I am well hidden; who looks for a leaf in a forest? ❜ ❨249❩ ❛ Wherein does a woman’s honour reside? In her vagina or in her spirit? ❜ ❨250❩ ❛ Perhaps...I could not be content with mere contentment! ❜ ❨251❩ ❛ Have you ever stared stark failure in the face? The trick is to outstare it. ❜ ❨252❩ ❛ Sometimes it seems that the faces exist of themselves, in a disembodied somewhere, waiting for the one who will wear them, who will bring them to life. ❜ ❨253❩ ❛ I have the febrile gaiety of a being without a past, without a present, yet I exist. ❜ ❨254❩ ❛ I felt myself turning, willy-nilly, from a woman into an idea. ❜ ❨255❩ ❛ She looks wonderful, but she doesn't look right. ❜ ❨256❩ ❛ The one-eyed man will be King in the country of the blind. ❜ ❨257❩ ❛ I raised you up to fly to the heavens, not to brood over a clutch of eggs! ❜ ❨258❩ ❛ I love to hear my bones rattle. That’s how I know I’m alive. ❜ ❨259❩ ❛ I learnt, first, as the birds do, from the birds. ❜ ❨260❩ ❛ Inside and outside match exactly, but both are badly wrong. ❜ ❨261❩ ❛ During the less-than-blink of time it took the last chime to die, there came a vertiginous sensation. ❜ ❨262❩ ❛ I fear a wound not of the body but the soul, an irreconcilable division between myself and the rest of humankind. ❜ ❨263❩ ❛ I fear the proof of my own singularity. ❜ ❨264❩ ❛ Still nothing could calm the fearful storm in my erupting skin. ❜ ❨265❩ ❛ Petersburg, loveliest of all hallucinations. ❜ ❨266❩ ❛ A breathless second between black forest and the frozen sea. ❜ ❨267❩ ❛ I'm beginning to feel totally cut off from the world. ❜ ❨268❩ ❛ What does this all mean? Where are we? ❜ ❨269❩ ❛ Sometimes I bleed. ❜ ❨270❩ ❛ If you see a ghost, you say "hello". ❜ ❨271❩ ❛ The war is not over. ❜ ❨272❩ ❛ You're not going. You left us once already. ❜ ❨273❩ ❛ You can’t go! ❜ ❨274❩ ❛ I loved you, but that wasn't enough, was it? ❜ ❨275❩ ❛ If you're dead, then leave me in peace. ❜ ❨276❩ ❛ The only thing that moves here is the light, but it changes everything. ❜ ❨277❩ ❛ I won't ask for forgiveness for something I didn't do! ❜ ❨278❩ ❛ Sometimes the world of the living gets mixed up with the world of the dead. ❜ ❨279❩ ❛ Death of a loved one can lead people to do the strangest things. ❜ ❨280❩ ❛ Sooner or later, they will find you. ❜ ❨281❩ ❛ They're everywhere - they say this house is theirs. ❜ ❨282❩ ❛ You're always teasing me, and telling lies. I'm sick of it. ❜ ❨283❩ ❛ Others will come. Sometimes we'll sense them. Other times, we won't. ❜ ❨284❩ ❛ No crying now. No crying. Stop that. Here. Look what an awful face you've got when you cry. ❜ ❨285❩ ❛ You listen to me. I've seen them too. ❜ ❨286❩ ❛ You'll see. There are going to be some big surprises. There are going to be... changes. ❜ ❨287❩ ❛ Why did you go and fight that stupid war that had nothing to do with us? Why didn't you stay like the others did? ❜ ❨288❩ ❛ Your place was here with your family. ❜ ❨289❩ ❛ So you say you know this house well? ❜ ❨290❩ ❛ I wasn't expecting you so soon. ❜ ❨291❩ ❛ What's the matter? Has the cat got your tongue? ❜ ❨292❩ ❛ You mean they just vanished? Into thin air? ❜ ❨293❩ ❛ No door must be opened without the previous one being closed first. ❜ ❨294❩ ❛ Here, most of the time, you can hardly see your way. ❜ ❨295❩ ❛ Whatever you do, don't open the curtains. ❜ ❨296❩ ❛ Now, come on. Eyes closed. ❜ ❨297❩ ❛ We start off with high hopes, then we bottle it. We realise that we’re all going to die, without really finding out the big answers. ❜ ❨298❩ ❛ By definition, you have to live until you die. Better to make that life as complete and enjoyable an experience as possible, in case death is shite, which I suspect it will be. ❜ ❨299❩ ❛ I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin’ else. ❜ ❨300❩ ❛ And the reasons? There are no reasons. ❜ ❨301❩ ❛ Love does not exist, it's like religion, made to control you. ❜ ❨302❩ ❛ After all, we're not fucking stupid. At least, we're not that fucking stupid. ❜ ❨303❩ ❛ You fucking knew that fucking cunt would fuck some cunt. ❜ ❨304❩ ❛ Everything in the street today seems soft focus. ❜ ❨305❩ ❛ What does that make us? The lowest of the low. ❜ ❨306❩ ❛ Take your best orgasm, multiply the feeling by twenty, and you're still fuckin’ miles off the pace. ❜ ❨307❩ ❛ It’s as if everything is a copy of what you knew before, similar, yet somehow lacking in its usual qualities, a bit like the way things are in a dream. ❜ ❨308❩ ❛ It’s all okay, it’s all beautiful; but I fear that this internal sea is going to subside soon, leaving this poisonous shite washed up, stranded up in my body. ❜ ❨309❩ ❛ It cuts me up. It confuses me. ❜ ❨310❩ ❛ It's not funny laughter. This is lynch mob laughter. ❜ ❨311❩ ❛ Protect me from those who wish to help us. ❜ ❨312❩ ❛ They mean well, and they mean well to me, but there's no way under the sun that they can appreciate what I feel, what I need. ❜ ❨313❩ ❛ The pit of melancholy is a bottomless one, and I am descending fast. ❜ ❨314❩ ❛ Living like this is a full-time business. ❜ ❨315❩ ❛ I’ll stand or fall alone. ❜ ❨316❩ ❛ We are no wiser now than at the start. ❜ ❨317❩ ❛ This is pathetic, and fucking boring. ❜ ❨318❩ ❛ Death is usually a process, rather than an event. ❜ ❨319❩ ❛ We're ruled by effete arseholes. What does that make us? ❜ ❨320❩ ❛ We are all acquaintances now. ❜ ❨321❩ ❛ The problem is that this beautiful ocean carries with it loads of poisonous flotsam and jetsam. ❜ ❨322❩ ❛ Life is beautiful. I'm going to enjoy it, and I'm going to have a long life. ❜ ❨323❩ ❛ The grim reality of impending death can be talked away by trying to invest in the present reality of life. ❜ ❨324❩ ❛ There must be more to life than this. ❜ ❨325❩ ❛ We all see what we want to see. ❜ ❨326❩ ❛ Statistically speaking, you're more likely to be killed by a member of your own family or a close friend, than by anyone else. ❜ ❨327❩ ❛ What am I living for and what am I dying for are the same question. ❜ ❨328❩ ❛ Maybe that's what love is: it's being pissed off. ❜ ❨329❩ ❛ You can forget who you are if you're alone too much. ❜ ❨330❩ ❛ Any religion is a shadow of God. But the shadows of God are not God. ❜ ❨331❩ ❛ Human understanding is fallible, and we see through a glass, darkly.  ❜ ❨332❩ ❛ We must be a beacon of hope, because if you tell people there's nothing they can do, they will do worse than nothing. ❜ ❨333❩ ❛ Everyone wants to feel like a princess, and princesses are selfish and overbearing. ❜ ❨334❩ ❛ We shouldn't have been so scornful; we should have had compassion. But compassion takes work, and we were young. ❜ ❨335❩ ❛ How easy it is, treachery. You just slide into it. ❜ ❨336❩ ❛ Amazing how the heart clutches at anything familiar, whimpering: Mine! Mine! ❜ ❨337❩ ❛ All creatures know that some must die ; that all the rest may take and eat. ❜ ❨338❩ ❛ Is this the image of a god? My tooth for yours, your eye for mine? ❜ ❨339❩ ❛ Without the light, no chance; without the dark, no dance. ❜ ❨340❩ ❛ Why are we designed to see the world as supremely beautiful just as we're about to be snuffed? Do rabbits feel the same as the fox teeth bite down on their necks? Is it mercy? ❜ ❨341❩ ❛ Love is useless, it leads you into dumb exchanges in which you give too much away, and then you get bitter and mean. ❜ ❨342❩ ❛ Maybe sadness is a kind of hunger. Maybe the two go together. ❜ ❨343❩ ❛ Now I can see how that can happen. You can fall in love with anybody -- a fool, a criminal, a nothing. There are no good rules. ❜ ❨344❩ ❛ If you really want to stay the same age you are now forever and ever, try jumping off the roof: death's a sure-fire method for stopping time. ❜ ❨345❩ ❛ You couldn’t leave words lying around where our enemies might find them. ❜ ❨346❩ ❛ I'm fine, for the moment. And the moment is the only time we can be fine in. ❜ ❨347❩ ❛ Because if you can't wish, why bother? ❜ ❨348❩ ❛ It's better to hope than mope! ❜ ❨349❩ ❛ Reality has too much darkness in it. Too many crows. ❜ ❨350❩ ❛ In any case, time is not a thing that passes, it’s a sea on which you float. ❜ ❨351❩ ❛ I know I’m deceiving myself, but I prefer to deceive myself. I desperately need to believe such pure joy is still possible. ❜ ❨352❩ ❛ Too much God and you overdose. God needs to be filtered. ❜ ❨353❩ ❛ Behind my eyelids I saw an animal. It was golden colour, with gentle green eyes and canine teeth, and curly wool instead of fur. It opened its mouth, but it did not speak. Instead, it yawned. ❜ ❨354❩ ❛ ‘Why can't I believe?’ I asked the darkness. ❜ ❨355❩ ❛ Everyone’s too sad for everything. ❜ ❨356❩ ❛ If you can’t stop the waves, go sailing. ❜ ❨357❩ ❛ I would like to be the air that inhabits you for a moment only. I would like to be that unnoticed and that necessary. ❜ ❨358❩ ❛ Men are afraid that women will laugh at them. Women are afraid that men will kill them. ❜ ❨359❩ ❛ In the end, we'll all become stories. ❜ ❨360❩ ❛ I am inadequate and stupid, without worth. I might as well be dead. ❜ ❨361❩ ❛ If you knew what was going to happen, if you knew everything that was going to happen next—if you knew in advance the consequences of your own actions—you'd be doomed. You'd be ruined as God. ❜ ❨362❩ ❛ If you can't go through an obstacle, go around it. ❜ ❨363❩ ❛ Stupidity is the same as evil if you judge by the results. ❜ ❨364❩ ❛ Time in dreams is frozen. You can never get away from where you've been. ❜ ❨365❩ ❛ Male fantasies, male fantasies, is everything run by male fantasies? ❜ ❨366❩ ❛ We still think of a powerful man as a born leader and a powerful woman as an anomaly. ❜ ❨367❩ ❛ If I love you, is that a fact or a weapon? ❜ ❨368❩ ❛ You fit into me like a hook into an eye. ❜ ❨369❩ ❛ Knowing too much about other people puts you in their power, they have a claim on you, you are forced to understand their reasons for doing things and then you are weakened. ❜ ❨370❩ ❛ Farewells can be shattering, but returns are surely worse. ❜ ❨371❩ ❛ Women have curious ways of hurting someone else. ❜ ❨372❩ ❛ This is the one song everyone would like to learn: the song that is irresistible: the song that forces men to leap overboard in squadrons. ❜ ❨373❩ ❛ Get rid of death. Make it be spring. ❜ ❨374❩ ❛ You are innocent as a bathtub full of bullets. ❜ ❨375❩ ❛ I am the space you desecrate as you pass through. ❜ ❨376❩ ❛ Favour me and give me riches, destroy my enemies. Save me from death. ❜ ❨377❩ ❛ She is a raw voice loose in the rooms beneath me. ❜ ❨378❩ ❛ Isn't the moon warm enough for you, why do you need the blanket of another body? ❜ ❨379❩ ❛ This is a torch song. Touch me and you'll burn. ❜ ❨380❩ ❛ If you look long enough eventually you will see me. ❜ ❨381❩ ❛ I would like to sleep with you, to enter your sleep as its smooth dark wave slides over my head. ❜ ❨382❩ ❛ I would like to give you the silver branch, the small white flower, the one word that will protect you from the grief. ❜ ❨383❩ ❛ But some people can't tell where it hurts. They can't calm down. They can't ever stop howling. ❜ ❨384❩ ❛ How else can we live, these days, except in the midst of ruin? ❜ ❨385❩ ❛ What am I living for and what am I dying for are the same question. ❜ ❨386❩ ❛ Gods always come in handy, they justify almost anything. ❜ ❨387❩ ❛ We loved with a love that was more than love. ❜ ❨388❩ ❛ Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before. ❜ ❨389❩ ❛ The boundaries which divide life from death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins? ❜ ❨390❩ ❛ There is no exquisite beauty without some strangeness in the proportion. ❜ ❨391❩ ❛ Never to suffer would never to have been blessed. ❜ ❨392❩ ❛ Believe only half of what you see and nothing that you hear. ❜ ❨393❩ ❛ And all I loved, I loved alone. ❜ ❨394❩ ❛ Years of love have been forgot, in the hatred of a minute. ❜ ❨395❩ ❛ The best things in life make you sweaty. ❜ ❨396❩ ❛ There are some secrets which do not permit themselves to be told. ❜ ❨397❩ ❛ Anything is better than this agony. ❜ ❨398❩ ❛ You fancy me mad. ❜ ❨399❩ ❛ I hear all things in the heaven and in the earth. ❜ ❨400❩ ❛ Who dares insult us with this blasphemous mockery? ❜ ❨401❩ ❛ Leave my loneliness unbroken! ❜ ❨402❩ ❛ A more than fiendish malevolence, gin-nurtured, thrills every fibre of my frame. ❜ ❨403❩ ❛ The fury of a demon instantly possessed me. I knew myself no longer. ❜ ❨404❩ ❛ Let my heart be still a moment. ❜ ❨405❩ ❛ You call it hope —  It is but agony of desire. ❜ ❨406❩ ❛ Who has not, a hundred times, found himself committing a vile or silly action for no other reason than because he knows he should not? ❜ ❨407❩ ❛ To die laughing must be the most glorious of all glorious deaths! ❜ ❨408❩ ❛ The beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage. ❜ ❨409❩ ❛ Oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive. ❜ ❨410❩ ❛ I have been happy, though in a dream. ❜ ❨411❩ ❛ Nevermore. ❜ ❨412❩ ❛ The truth is, I am heartily sick of this life. ❜ ❨413❩ ❛ I am convinced that every thing is going wrong. ❜ ❨414❩ ❛ The scariest monsters are the ones that lurk within our souls. ❜ ❨415❩ ❛ And if I died, at least I will have died for you! ❜ ❨416❩ ❛ It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. ❜ ��417❩ ❛ Hurt and humiliation — But this, I can not take. ❜ ❨418❩ ❛ The walls in there have ears. ❜ ❨419❩ ❛ This is for your ears only. ❜ ❨420❩ ❛ What is it? You have me scared. ❜ ❨421❩ ❛ Whoever isn’t for us, is against us. ❜ ❨422❩ ❛ You are just a body; to be dumped, disposed of like a carcass, left out for the birds to feed on. ❜ ❨423❩ ❛ The dead will have to forgive me. ❜ ❨424❩ ❛ From now on and no matter how your mind may I change, I will not accept your help. ❜ ❨425❩ ❛ If death comes, so be it. There will be glory in it. ❜ ❨426❩ ❛ Live, then; and live with your choice. ❜ ❨427❩ ❛ I am doing what has to be done. ❜ ❨428❩ ❛ Nothing is going to stop the ones that love you from keeping on loving you. ❜ ❨429❩ ❛ Worst is the man who has all the good advice, and then because his nerve fails, fails to act in accordance with it, as a leader should. ❜ ❨430❩ ❛ Only a loony would walk himself into this. ❜ ❨431❩ ❛ Why do you need such fences and defences? ❜ ❨432❩ ❛ Enough. Do not anger me. ❜ ❨433❩ ❛ The gods, you think, will side with the likes of him? ❜ ❨434❩ ❛ Watch it. You are over stepping. ❜ ❨435❩ ❛ I warn you. You should keep a civil tongue. ❜ ❨436❩ ❛ There is no such thing as an oath the can not be broken. ❜ ❨437❩ ❛ Every now and then, the things you’d hardly let yourself imagine, actually happen. ❜ ❨438❩ ❛ And you stand over this? This is the truth? ❜ ❨439❩ ❛ The bigger the resistance, the bigger the collapse. ❜ ❨440❩ ❛ Iron that’s forged the hardest, snaps the quickest. ❜ ❨441❩ ❛ Even the wildest horses come to heel when they are reined & bitted right. ❜ ❨442❩ ❛ That’s how guilt affects some people. They break and everything comes out. ❜ ❨443❩ ❛ Will it be enough for you? To see me executed? ❜ ❨444❩ ❛ So you know something no one else knows? ❜ ❨445❩ ❛ They know it too. They are just too afraid to say it. ❜ ❨446❩ ❛ If you die, how will I keep on living? ❜ ❨447❩ ❛ There was a star riding through clouds one night, & I said to the star, 'Consume me'. ❜ ❨448❩ ❛ How much better to sit by myself like the solitary sea-bird that opens its wings on the stake. ❜ ❨449❩ ❛ Alone, I often fall down into nothingness. I have to bang my head against some hard door to call myself back to the body. ❜ ❨450❩ ❛ I am made and remade continually. Different people draw different words from me. ❜ ❨451❩ ❛ For this moment, this one moment, we are together.  ❜ ❨452❩ ❛ Come, pain, feed on me. Bury your fangs in my flesh. Tear me asunder. ❜ ❨453❩ ❛ I am as neat as a cat in my habits. ❜ ❨454❩ ❛ Everything falls in a tremendous shower, dissolving me. ❜ ❨455❩ ❛ I am the foam that sweeps and fills the uttermost rims of the rocks with whiteness; I am also a girl, here in this room. ❜ ❨456❩ ❛ We are cut, we are fallen. We are become part of that unfeeling universe ❨457❩ that sleeps when we are at our quickest and burns red when we lie ❨458❩ asleep. ❜ ❨459❩ ❛ These moments of escape are not to be despised. They come too seldom. ❜ ❨460❩ ❛ Up here my eyes are green leaves, unseeing. ❜ ❨461❩ ❛ The moment is all; the moment is enough. ❜ ❨462❩ ❛ I do not want to be admired. I want to give, to be given. ❜ ❨463❩ ❛ I am not one and simple, but complex and many. ❜ ❨464❩ ❛ And if you are dead, I shall weep. ❜ ❨465❩ ❛ But beauty must be broken daily to remain beautiful. ❜ ❨466❩ ❛ But our hatred is almost indistinguishable from our love. ❜ ❨467❩ ❛ I desired always to stretch the night and fill it fuller and fuller with dreams. ❜ ❨468❩ ❛ Life is a dream surely. ❜ ❨469❩ ❛ I think sometimes I am not a woman, but the light that falls on this gate, on this ground. I am the seasons, I think sometimes, January, May, November; the mud, the mist, the dawn. ❜ ❨470❩ ❛ Oh, I am in love with life! ❜ ❨471❩ ❛ I have been knotted; I have been torn apart. ❜ ❨472❩ ❛ There was no freedom in life, and certainly there was none in death. ❜ ❨473❩ ❛ I do not know. I do not know myself sometimes, or how to measure and name and count out the grains that make me what I am. ❜ ❨474❩ ❛ I ride rough waters, and shall sink with no one to save me. ❜ ❨475❩ ❛ I am above the earth now. I am no longer upright, to be knocked against and damaged. ❜ ❨476❩ ❛ I see it all. I feel it all. ❜ ❨477❩ ❛ Death is woven in with the violets. Death and again death. ❜ ❨478❩ ❛ We have been walking for hours it seems. But where? I cannot remember. ❜ ❨479❩ ❛ If we were all on trial for our thoughts, we would all be hanged. ❜ ❨480❩ ❛ When you are in the middle of a story it isn't a story at all, but only a confusion; a dark roaring, a blindness, a wreckage of shattered glass. ❜ ❨481❩ ❛ Murderess is a strong word to have attached to you. It has a smell to it, that word; - musky and oppressive, like dead flowers in a vase.  ❜ ❨482❩ ❛ Sometimes at night I whisper it over to myself: Murderess, murderess. It rustles, like a taffeta skirt across the floor. ❜ ❨483❩ ❛ If the world treats you well, you come to believe you are deserving of it. ❜ ❨484❩ ❛ If I am good enough and quiet enough, perhaps after all they will let me go. ❜ ❨485❩ ❛ It’s not easy being quiet and good, it’s like hanging on to the edge of a bridge when you’ve already fallen over; you don’t seem to be moving, just dangling there, and yet it is taking all your strength. ❜ ❨486❩ ❛ There is no fool like an educated fool. ❜ ❨487❩ ❛ There are many dangerous things that may take place in a bed. ❜ ❨488❩ ❛ I am afraid of falling into hopeless despair, over my wasted life, and I am still not sure how it happened. ❜ ❨489❩ ❛ Underneath it all is another feeling, a feeling of being wide-eyed awake and watchful. ❜ ❨490❩ ❛ And underneath all that is another feeling still, a feeling like being torn open; not like a body of flesh, it is not painful as such, but like a peach; and not even torn open, but ripe and splitting open of its own accord.  ❜ ❨491❩ ❛ The small details of life often hide a great significance. ❜ ❨492❩ ❛ Guilt comes to you not from the things you've done, but from the things that others have done to you. ❜ ❨493❩ ❛ I wonder, how can I be all of these different things at once? ❜ ❨494❩ ❛ It is always a mistake to curse back openly at those who are stronger than you unless there is a fence between. ❜ ❨495❩ ❛ Some call this "Eve's curse," but I think that is stupid because the real curse of Eve was having to put up with the nonsense of Adam. ❜ ❨496❩ ❛ I don't know why they are all so eager to be remembered. What good will it do them? There are some things that should be forgotten by everyone, and never spoken of again. ❜ ❨497❩ ❛ I would never blame a human creature for feeling lonely. ❜ ❨498❩ ❛ If they want a monster so badly they ought to be provided by one. ❜ ❨499❩ ❛ It’s as if I never existed, because no trace of me remains, I have left no marks. And that way I cannot be followed. It is almost the same as being innocent. ❜ ❨500❩ ❛ Today you wear your habitual expression of strained anxiety; you smell of violets. ❜ ❨501❩ ❛ Of course you have always been an idealist, and filled with your optimistic dreams; but reality must at some time obtrude. ❜ ❨502❩ ❛ I wonder what would become of me, and comfort myself that in a hundred years I will be dead and at peace. ❜ ❨503❩ ❛ For it is not always the one that strikes the blow that is the actual murderer. ❜ ❨504❩ ❛ There is a “do this” or “do that” with God, but not any “because”. ❜ ❨505❩ ❛ If you have a need and they find it out, they will use it against you. The best way is to stop from wanting anything. ❜ ❨506❩ ❛ They say, why don’t you ever smile or laugh, we never see you smiling, and I say I suppose I have gotten out of the way of it, my face won’t bend in that direction any more. ❜ ❨507❩ ❛ I was shut up inside that doll of myself, and my true voice could not get out. ❜ ❨508❩ ❛ I see what you’re after. You are a collector. You think all you have to do is give me an apple, and then you can collect me. ❜ ❨509❩ ❛ If you want to be an asshole, it's a free country. Millions before you have made the same life choice. ❜ ❨510❩ ❛ Then there's the future. Sheer vertigo. ❜ ❨511❩ ❛ Nature is to zoos as God is to churches. ❜ ❨512❩ ❛ After everything that's happened, how can the world still be so beautiful? ❜ ❨513❩ ❛ There's something to be said for hunger: at least it lets you know you're still alive. ❜ ❨514❩ ❛ These things sneak up on me for no reason, these flashes of irrational happiness. It's probably a vitamin deficiency. ❜ ❨515❩ ❛ Toast cannot be explained by any rational means. Toast is me. I am toast. ❜ ❨516❩ ❛ You can’t buy it, but it has a price. Everything has a price. ❜ ❨517❩ ❛ As a species were doomed by hope, then? You could call it hope. That, or desperation. ❜ ❨518❩ ❛ I am not my childhood. ❜ ❨519❩ ❛ Human beings hope they can stick their souls into someone else and live on forever. ❜ ❨520❩ ❛ “I'll make you mine”, lovers said in old books. They never said, “I'll make you me.” ❜ ❨521❩ ❛ How much is too much, how far is too far? ❜ ❨522❩ ❛ Expectation isn't the same as desire. ❜ ❨523❩ ❛ Why not cut to the chase? ❜ ❨524❩ ❛ Maybe there aren't any solutions. Human society, corpses and rubble. ❜ ❨525❩ ❛ I thought you didn’t believe in God. ❜ ❨526❩ ❛ I need at least the illusion of being understood. ❜ ❨527❩ ❛ What change would have altered the course of events? In the big picture, nothing. In the small picture, so much. ❜ ❨528❩ ❛ You are only looking at the dirt under your feet. It's not good for you. ❜ ❨529❩ ❛ I like to keep only the bright side of myself turned towards you.  ❜ ❨530❩ ❛ Grief in the face of inevitable death. The wish to stop time. The human condition. ❜ ❨531❩ ❛ So many crucial events take place behind people’s backs, when they aren’t in a position to watch: birth and death, for instance. ❜ ❨532❩ ❛ Would you kill someone you loved to spare them pain? ❜ ❨533❩ ❛ When the water’s moving faster than the boat, you can’t control a thing. ❜ ❨534❩ ❛ Don't be so fucking sentimental. ❜ ❨535❩ ❛ Wrong, as usual. ❜ ❨536❩ ❛ Why do you want to talk about ugly things? ❜ ❨537❩ ❛ I understand why serial killers send helpful clues to the police. ❜ ❨538❩ ❛ Take your time, leave mine alone. ❜ ❨539❩ ❛ You will hear thunder and remember me. ❜ ❨540❩ ❛ If you were music, I would listen to you ceaselessly. ❜ ❨541❩ ❛ I seem to myself an accidental guest in this dreadful body. ❜ ❨542❩ ❛ Call me a sinner, mock me maliciously. ❜ ❨543❩ ❛ I, from the very beginning, seemed to myself like someone's dream or delirium. Or a reflection in someone else's mirror. Without flesh, without meaning, without a name. ❜ ❨544❩ ❛ I knew the list of crimes that I was destined to commit. ❜ ❨545❩ ❛ The future ripens in the past, so the past rots in the future. ❜ ❨546❩ ❛ You are untranslatable into any one tongue. ❜ ❨547❩ ❛ I was hoping my silence would fit yours. ❜ ❨548❩ ❛ See, we were never about butterflies. All about us is unearthly and radiant. ❜ ❨549❩ ❛ You do not know just what you've been forgiven. ❜ ❨550❩ ❛ I need to slaughter my memory.  ❜ ❨551❩ ❛ Forgive me that I appeared to you in waking dreams. ❜ ❨552❩ ❛ I will condemn, I will forget, I will give comfort to the enemy. ❜ ❨553❩ ❛ I know beginnings, I know endings too, and life-in-death. ❜ ❨554❩ ❛ Wild honey smells of freedom. But gold smells of nothing. ❜ ❨555❩ ❛ You are three times more beautiful than angels. ❜ ❨556❩ ❛ I will kill you without spilling your blood on the ground, not touching you with my hand, not giving you one glance. ❜ ❨557❩ ❛ You invented me. There is no such earthly being. ❜ ❨558❩ ❛ You’re late. Way too late. I’m glad to see you, nonetheless. ❜ ❨559❩ ❛ Forgive me that I felt forsaken. Forgive me that I kept mistaking too many others for you. ❜ ❨560❩ ❛ Real tenderness can’t be confused, it’s quiet and can’t be heard. ❜ ❨561❩ ❛ What else lived in that house besides us? ❜ ❨562❩ ❛ How unhappy we are together! ❜ ❨563❩ ❛ I defend not my voice, but my silence. ❜ ❨564❩ ❛ Without love, I'm more at ease, I'm sure. ❜ ❨565❩ ❛ I've got no more tears or explanations. ❜ ❨566❩ ❛ I’m not complaining. Happiness is not for me. ❜ ❨567❩ ❛ Are you not the only tie between good and evil, earthly pits and paradise? ❜ ❨568❩ ❛ In the morning we shall find out who has died in the night. ❜ ❨569❩ ❛ I was not a lovable child, and I've grown into a deeply unlovable adult. ❜ ❨570❩ ❛ The truly frightening flaw in humanity is our capacity for cruelty - we all have it. ❜ ❨571❩ ❛ I have a meanness inside me, real as an organ. Slit me at my belly and it might slide out, meaty and dark. ❜ ❨572❩ ❛ I am not angry or sad or happy to see you. I could not give a shit. You don't even ripple. ❜ ❨573❩ ❛ I was raised feral, and I mostly stayed that way. ❜ ❨574❩ ❛ I can feel a better version of me somewhere in there - hidden behind a liver or attached to a bit of spleen. But the meanness usually wins out. ❜ ❨575❩ ❛ I felt something loosen in me, that shouldn't have loosened. A stitch come undone. ❜ ❨576❩ ❛ Everyone who keeps a secret, itches to tell it. ❜ ❨577❩ ❛ Coffee goes great with sudden death. ❜ ❨578❩ ❛ I should just listen to my gut and then do the opposite. ❜ ❨579❩ ❛ “Smile, it can't be that bad!” Yeah, actually, it can, jackwad. ❜ ❨580❩ ❛ Everything bad in the world already did happen. ❜ ❨581❩ ❛ You’re going to find peace? Like knowing is somehow going to fix you? ❜ ❨582❩ ❛ Instead of asking yourself what happened, just accept that it happened. ❜ ❨583❩ ❛ Homesick for a place I've never been. ❜ ❨584❩ ❛ Worries find you easily enough without inviting them. ❜ ❨585❩ ❛ It is always consoling to think of suicide. It's what gets one through many a bad night. ❜ ❨586❩ ❛ Do you understand this is serious? ❜ ❨587❩ ❛ Sometimes it feels good to fuck with something. Instead of always being fucked with. ❜ ❨588❩ ❛ How could you kill something you cared enough to name? ❜ ❨589❩ ❛ Draw a picture of my soul, and it’d be a scribble with fangs. ❜ ❨590❩ ❛ We have the same chemicals in our blood: shame, anger, greed. Unjustified nostalgia. ❜ ❨591❩ ❛ I appreciate a straightforward apology the way a tone-deaf person enjoys a fine piece of music. ❜ ❨592❩ ❛ The phrase fuck you may not rest on the tip of my tongue, but it’s near. Midtongue. ❜ ❨593❩ ❛ Nothing to it but to do it. ❜ ❨594❩ ❛ There are a lot of people who deserve a lesson, deserve to really understand, that nothing comes easy, that most things are going to go sour. ❜ ❨595❩ ❛ If ifs and buts were candies and nuts we’d all have a very Merry Christmas. ❜ ❨596❩ ❛ Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. ❜ ❨597❩ ❛ What does it do to a girl who knows her mother is a murderer? ❜ ❨598❩ ❛ That mean old bitch across the street bit it. ❜ ❨599❩ ❛ Survival is a talent. ❜ ❨600❩ ❛ Crazy isn't being broken or swallowing a dark secret. It’s you or me amplified. If you ever told a lie and enjoyed it. If you ever wished you could be a child forever. ❜ ❨601❩ ❛ Who has the courage to burn themselves? ❜ ❨602❩ ❛ Is insanity just a matter of dropping the act? ❜ ❨603❩ ❛ Have you ever confused a dream with life? Or stolen something when you have the cash? Have you ever been blue? Or thought your train moving while sitting still? ❜ ❨604❩ ❛ You need to be well fed, clothed, and housed to have time for this much self-pity. ❜ ❨605❩ ❛ When I am supposed to be awake, I am asleep; when I am supposed to speak, I am silent. When a pleasure offers itself to me, I avoid it. ❜ ❨606❩ ❛ There is thought, and then there is thinking about thoughts, and they don't feel the same. ❜ ❨607❩ ❛ In a strange way we are free. We've reached the end of the line. We have nothing more to lose. ❜ ❨608❩ ❛ The world won’t stop because we aren’t in it anymore. ❜ ❨609❩ ❛ I can't answer the real question. All I can tell you is, it's easy. ❜ ❨610❩ ❛ I am lighter, airier than I’ve been in years. ❜ ❨611❩ ❛ I am not dead, yet something in me definitely is. ❜ ❨612❩ ❛ You meant that as an insult but I am taking it as a compliment. ❜ ❨613❩ ❛ What life can recover from that? ❜ ❨614❩ ❛ It's a fairly accurate portrait of me. It's accurate but it isn't profound. ❜ ❨615❩ ❛ Pull yourself together! There's nothing wrong with you. ❜ ❨616❩ ❛ It's quiet. It's like― I don't know. It's like falling off a cliff. ❜ ❨617❩ ❛ Once you start parsing a face, it's a peculiar item: squishy, pointy, with lots of air vents and wet spots. ❜ ❨618❩ ❛ I lost him. I did it on purpose. ❜ ❨619❩ ❛ It’s a mean world. There’s nobody to take care of you out there. ❜ ❨620❩ ❛ Reality is getting too dense. ❜ ❨621❩ ❛ I'm ambivalent. In fact that's my new favourite word. ❜ ❨622❩ ❛ I can't come up with reassuring answers to the terrible questions you raise. ❜ ❨623❩ ❛ A spring day, the sort that gives people hope: all soft winds and delicate smells of warm earth. Suicide weather. ❜ ❨624❩ ❛ Twenty-five chocolate chip cookies would be the perfect dinner. ❜ ❨625❩ ❛ A thought is a hard thing to control. ❜ ❨626❩ ❛ Life demands skills I don’t have. ❜ ❨627❩ ❛ Light like this does not exist, but we wish it did. We wish the sun could make us young and beautiful. Most of all, we wish that everyone we knew could be brightened simply by our looking at them. ❜ ❨628❩ ❛ It never stops, even at night, it’s my lullaby. ❜ ❨629❩ ❛ Love blurs your vision; but after it recedes, you can see more clearly than ever. ❜ ❨630❩ ❛ This is the kind of thing you see if you sit in the darkness with open eyes. ❜ ❨631❩ ❛ I have done something wrong, something so huge I can't even see it, something that's drowning me. ❜ ❨632❩ ❛ Whatever is happening to me is my own fault. ❜ ❨633❩ ❛ Hatred is easier. Hatred is clear, metallic, one-handed, unwavering; unlike love. ❜ ❨634❩ ❛ Potential has a shelf life. ❜ ❨635❩ ❛ Don’t move. Stay like that, let me have that. ❜ ❨636❩ ❛ I have come to the edge, of the land. I could get pushed over. ❜ ❨637❩ ❛ Never pray for justice, because you might get some. ❜ ❨638❩ ❛ It disturbs me to learn I have hurt someone unintentionally. I want all my hurts to be intentional. ❜ ❨639❩ ❛ We have been shark to one another, but also lifeboat. That counts for something. ❜ ❨640❩ ❛ This is what I miss, not something that’s gone, but something that will never happen. ❜ ❨641❩ ❛ I am not good. I know too much to be good. I know myself. I know myself to be vengeful, greedy, secretive and sly. ❜ ❨642❩ ❛ You are amazing. Amazing and agonising and almost lethal. ❜ ❨643❩ ❛ In my dreams of this city I am always lost. ❜ ❨644❩ ❛ I don't know where these feelings have come from, I don’t know what I've done. ❜ ❨645❩ ❛ I am not the centre of your story, you are.  ❜ ❨646❩ ❛ I’m mad because you’re an asshole. ❜ ❨647❩ ❛ It's enormously pleasing to me, walking away. It's like being able to make people appear and vanish, at will. ❜ ❨648❩ ❛ There is never only one of anyone. ❜ ❨649❩ ❛ I can't do this without feeling I'm acting. ❜ ❨650❩ ❛ I am prepared for almost anything; except absence, except silence. ❜ ❨651❩ ❛ I’m losing my appetite for strangers. ❜ ❨652❩ ❛ You wear your cravings on the outside, like the suckers on a squid. You want it all. ❜ ❨653❩ ❛ Knowing too much about other people weakens you. You are forced to understand their reasons for doing things. ❜ ❨654❩ ❛ I have lost confidence: perhaps all I will ever be is what I am now. ❜ ❨655❩ ❛ Echoes of light, shining out of the midst of nothing. It's old light, and there's not much of it. But it's enough to see by. ❜ ❨656❩ ❛ Whoever cares the most will lose. ❜ ❨657❩ ❛ Young women need unfairness, it’s one of their few defences.  ❜ ❨658❩ ❛ Time has gone on without you. ❜ ❨659❩ ❛ Don't let the bastards grind you down. ❜ ❨660❩ ❛ Who can remember pain, once it’s over? Pain marks you, but too deep to see. Out of sight, out of mind. ❜ ❨661❩ ❛ Better never means better for everyone. It always means worse, for some. ❜ ❨662❩ ❛ There is more than one kind of freedom. Freedom to and freedom from. ❜ ❨663❩ ❛ Remember that forgiveness too is a power. ❜ ❨664❩ ❛ I am not your justification for existence. ❜ ❨665❩ ❛ I want to be valued, in ways that I am not; I want to be more than valuable. ❜ ❨666❩ ❛ If it's a story I'm telling, then I have control over the ending. ❜ ❨667❩ ❛ All you have to do is keep your mouth shut and look stupid. It shouldn't be that hard. ❜ ❨668❩ ❛ Truly amazing, what people can get used to, as long as there are a few compensations. ❜ ❨669❩ ❛ I want everything back, the way it was. ❜ ❨670❩ ❛ You can't help what you feel, but you can help how you behave. ❜ ❨671❩ ❛ Nothing changes instantaneously: in a gradually heating bathtub you'd be boiled to death before you knew it. ❜ ❨672❩ ❛ To want is to have a weakness. ❜ ❨673❩ ❛ There isn't even an enemy you could put your finger on. ❜ ❨674❩ ❛ The past is a great darkness, filled with echoes. ❜ ❨675❩ ❛ Ordinary is what you are used to. This may not seem ordinary to you now, but after a time it will. It will become ordinary. ❜ ❨676❩ ❛ I wish this story were different. I wish it were more civilised. I wish it showed me in a better light. ❜ ❨677❩ ❛ The night is mine, my own time, to do with it as I will, as long as I am quiet. As long as I don't move. As long as I lie still. ❜ ❨678❩ ❛ By telling you anything at all I'm at least believing in you. ❜ ❨679❩ ❛ Whatever is silenced will clamour to be heard. ❜ ❨680❩ ❛ Don't worry about forgiving me right now. There are more important things. ❜ ❨681❩ ❛ Keep the others safe. Don't let them suffer too much. If they have to die, let it be fast. ❜ ❨682❩ ❛ The body is so easily damaged, so easily disposed of, water and chemicals is all it is, hardly more to it than a jellyfish, drying on sand. ❜ ❨683❩ ❛ The world is full of weapons if you're looking for them. ❜ ❨684❩ ❛ Nobody's heart is perfect. ❜ ❨685❩ ❛ One false move and I'm dead. ❜ ❨686❩ ❛ Watch out. I've got my eye on you. ❜ ❨687❩ ❛ Fear is a powerful stimulant. ❜ ❨688❩ ❛ I couldn't afford to lose you. ❜ ❨689❩ ❛ Name one hero who was happy. ---- You can’t. ❜ ❨690❩ ❛ I feel like I could eat the world raw. ❜ ❨691❩ ❛ We are like gods at the dawning of the world. ❜ ❨692❩ ❛ I could recognise him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world. ❜ ❨693❩ ❛ There are no bargains between lion and men. I will kill you and eat you raw. ❜ ❨694❩ ❛ You can use a spear as a walking stick, but that will not change its nature. ❜ ❨695❩ ❛ He is a weapon, a killer. Do not forget it. ❜ ❨696❩ ❛ Some men gain glory after they die, others fade. ❜ ❨697❩ ❛ I am made of memories. ❜ ❨698❩ ❛ Will you come with me? ❜ ❨699❩ ❛ I wish I had let you all die. ❜ ❨700❩ ❛ It is right to seek peace for the dead. You and I both know there is no peace for those who live after. ❜ ❨701❩ ❛ Bury us. Let us be free. ❜ ❨702❩ ❛ Go. He waits for you. ❜ ❨703❩ ❛ Nothing could eclipse the stain of this dirty, mortal mediocrity. ❜ ❨704❩ ❛ I know I have told you of this. ❜ ❨705❩ ❛ I don't know how you remember them all. I swear they look the same to me. ❜ ❨706❩ ❛ Perhaps you should get some new stories, so I don’t fucking kill myself of boredom. ❜ ❨707❩ ❛ I yearn for the darkness and silence of the underworld, where I can rest. ❜ ❨708❩ ❛ There is no honour in betraying your friends. ❜ ❨709❩ ❛ There is no answer. Whichever you choose, you are wrong. ❜ ❨710❩ ❛ Divine blood flows differently. ❜ ❨711❩ ❛ How is there glory in taking life? We die so easily. ❜ ❨712❩ ❛ This is what I will miss, I think. I will kill myself rather than miss it. ❜ ❨713❩ ❛ How long do we have? ❜ ❨714❩ ❛ Do you think we fight hopeless wars? ❜ ❨715❩ ❛ There is no law that gods must be fair. ❜ ❨716❩ ❛ I do not fear ridicule. I never have. ❜ ❨717❩ ❛ You were always better with words than I. ❜ ❨718❩ ❛ Who can be ashamed to lose to such beauty? ❜ ❨719❩ ❛ When you see beauty in desolation it changes something inside you. ❜ ❨720❩ ❛ That's how the madness of the world tries to colonise you: from the outside in, forcing you to live in its reality. ❜ ❨721❩ ❛ The shadows of the abyss are like the petals of a monstrous flower that shall blossom within the skull and expand the mind beyond what any man can bear. ❜ ❨722❩ ❛ Silence creates violence. ❜ ❨723❩ ❛ Some questions will ruin you if you are denied the answer long enough. ❜ ❨724❩ ❛ There are certain kinds of connections that are so deep that when broken you feel the snap of it inside you. ❜ ❨725❩ ❛ Nothing that ever lived and breathed was truly objective—even in a vacuum, even if all that possessed the brain was a self-immolating desire for the truth. ❜ ❨726❩ ❛ We all live in a kind of continuous dream. ❜ ❨727❩ ❛ You can either waste time worrying about a death that might not come or concentrate on what’s left to you. ❜ ❨728❩ ❛ What can you do when your five senses are not enough? ❜ ❨729❩ ❛ We will neither be what we had been nor what we would become once we reach our destination. ❜ ❨730❩ ❛ Perhaps my only real expertise, my only talent, is to endure beyond the endurable. ❜ ❨731❩ ❛ When you are too close to the centre of a mystery there is no way to pull back. ❜ ❨732❩ ❛ I long ago stopped believing in promises. Biological imperatives, yes. Environmental factors, yes. Promises, no. ❜ ❨733❩ ❛ I look not for shooting stars but for fixed ones, and I try to imagine what kind of life lives in those celestial tidal pools so far from us. ❜ ❨734❩ ❛ I hesitated for just a moment. Some part of me wanted to see the creature, I think. If so, it was a very small part. I ran. ❜ ❨735❩ ❛ I don’t require any of this to have a deeper meaning. ❜ ❨736❩ ❛ All of this speculation is incomplete, inexact, inaccurate, useless. ❜ ❨737❩ ❛ We don’t have real answers, because we still don’t know what questions to ask. Our instruments are useless, our methodology broken, our motivations selfish. ❜ ❨738❩ ❛ This part I will do alone. Don’t follow. ❜ ❨739❩ ❛ People my entire life have told me I am too much in control, but that has never been the case. I have never truly been in control. ❜ ❨740❩ ❛ Has there always been someone like me to bury the bodies, to have regrets, to carry on after everyone else was dead? ❜ ❨741❩ ❛ I loved them, but I didn’t need them, and I thought that was the way it was supposed to be. ❜ ❨742❩ ❛ Places can impress themselves upon me, and I can become part of them with ease. ❜ ❨743❩ ❛ There is no one with me. I am all by myself. ❜ ❨744❩ ❛ Pretending often leads to becoming a reasonable facsimile of what you mimic. ❜ ❨745❩ ❛ I think you're confusing suicide with self-destruction, and they're very different. Almost none of us commit suicide, whereas almost all of us self-destruct. ❜ ❨746❩ ❛ What did you eat? You had rations for only two weeks. You were there for nearly four months. ❜ ❨747❩ ❛ Something here is making giant waves in the gene pool. ❜ ❨748❩ ❛ I need to know what’s inside. ❜ ❨749❩ ❛ These aren't decisions. They're impulses ❜ ❨750❩ ❛ What do you think I do when you’re away? Do you think I’m out in the garden pinning, looking up at the sky? ❜ ❨751❩ ❛ If I know what’s happened I can save their life. ❜ ❨752❩ ❛ They either went crazy or something in here killed them. ❜ ❨753❩ ❛ Something is coming through the fence! ❜ ❨754❩ ❛ Nothing is written in the stars. Not these stars, nor any others. No one controls your destiny. ❜ ❨755❩ ❛ People who claim that they're evil are usually no worse than the rest of us. ❜ ❨756❩ ❛ Happy endings are still endings. ❜ ❨757❩ ❛ We believe in all sorts of things that aren't true; -- we call it history. ❜ ❨758❩ ❛ Does the devil ever struggle to be good again, or if so is he not a devil? ❜ ❨759❩ ❛ In the lives of children, pumpkins turn into coaches, mice and rats turn into men. When we grow up, we realise it is far more common for men to turn into rats. ❜ ❨760❩ ❛ Girls need cold anger. They need the cold simmer, the ceaseless grudge, the talent to avoid forgiveness, the side stepping of compromise.  ❜ ❨761❩ ❛ Love makes hunters of us all. ❜ ❨762❩ ❛ There is much to hate in this world and way too much to love. ❜ ❨763❩ ❛ You confuse not speaking with not listening. ❜ ❨764❩ ❛ As long as people are going to call you a lunatic anyway, why not get the benefit of it? It liberates you from convention. ❜ ❨765❩ ❛ The eye is always caught by light, but shadows have more to say. ❜ ❨766❩ ❛ Not everyone is born a witch or a saint. Not everyone is born talented, or crooked, or blessed; some are born definite in no particular at all. ❜ ❨767❩ ❛ We are a fountain of shimmering contradictions, most of us. ❜ ❨768❩ ❛ The wickedness of men is that their power breeds stupidity and blindness. ❜ ❨769❩ ❛ I know you don't want to hear this but someone has to say it! You are out of control! ❜ ❨770❩ ❛ Even at the very worst - there is always choice. ❜ ❨771❩ ❛ Maybe the definition of home is the place where you are never forgiven. So you may always belong there, bound by guilt. And maybe the cost of belonging is worth it. ❜ ❨772❩ ❛ Cross a man and you struggle, one of you wins, you adjust and go on -- or you lie there dead. Cross a woman and the entire universe is changed. ❜ ❨773❩ ❛ That was such a wonderful time, even in its strangeness and sadness. Life isn't the same now. It's wonderful, but it isn't the same. ❜ ❨774❩ ❛ I don't care for approval, and I don't mind doing without. ❜ ❨775❩ ❛ It's where I live. A permanent state of bereavement. This is nothing new. ❜ ❨776❩ ❛ Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. Always the godfather, never the god. ❜ ❨777❩ ❛ The world unwraps itself to you, again and again as soon as you are ready to see it anew. ❜ ❨778❩ ❛ Evil is an act, not an appetite. Everyone has the appetite. If you give in to it, that act is evil. The appetite is normal. ❜ ❨779❩ ❛ How many haven't wanted to slash the throat of some boor across the dining room table?  ❜ ❨780❩ ❛ Even God used silence as a strategy. ❜ ❨781❩ ❛ I learned failure early and mastered it. ❜ ❨782❩ ❛ It isn't whether you do it well or ill, it's that you do it all. ❜ ❨783❩ ❛ This is why you shouldn't fall in love, it blinds you. Love is a very wicked distraction. ❜ ❨784❩ ❛ Wisdom is not the understanding of mystery. Wisdom is accepting that mystery is beyond understanding. That's what makes it mystery. ❜ ❨785❩ ❛ Wrong takes an awful long time to be proven, in my experience. ❜ ❨786❩ ❛ Such brightness, as you know, decays brilliantly. ❜ ❨787❩ ❛ I take responsibility only for the future, not the past. The past can't hurt you the way the future can. ❜ ❨788❩ ❛ Tell me to mind my own business, tell me to go fuck myself, to piss off, go on, say it, but don’t tell me nothing’s wrong. ❜ ❨789❩ ❛ The truth isn't a thing of fact or reason. It is simply what everyone agrees on. ❜ ❨790❩ ❛ One can't make peace with another by force. ❜ ❨791❩ ❛ I am a forgettable leaf on a tree. ❜ ❨792❩ ❛ That's all I want; --- to do no harm. ❜ ❨793❩ ❛ I only believe in the opposite of luck, whatever that is. ❜ ❨794❩ ❛ Human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them, life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves. ❜ ❨795❩ ❛ You’re too young to know that the heart's memory eliminates the bad and magnifies the good, and thanks to that we manage to endure the burden of the past. ❜ ❨796❩ ❛ Love, no matter what else it might be, is a natural talent. You are either born knowing how, or you never know. ❜ ❨797❩ ❛ Whatever you do, you will be sorry all the rest of your life. ❜ ❨798❩ ❛ There is no God worth worrying about. ❜ ❨799❩ ❛ The only regret I will have in dying is if it is not for love. ❜ ❨800❩ ❛ Wisdom comes to us when it can no longer do any good. ❜ ❨801❩ ❛ Think of love as a state of grace, not the means to anything, but the very end in itself. ❜ ❨802❩ ❛ Only God knows how much I love you. ❜ ❨803❩ ❛ There is no greater glory than to die for love. ❜ ❨804❩ ❛ Nothing resembles a person as much as the way he dies. ❜ ❨805❩ ❛ Take advantage of it now, while you are young, and suffer all you can, because these things don't last your whole life. ❜ ❨806❩ ❛ Today, when I saw you, I realised that what is between us is nothing more than an illusion. ❜ ❨807❩ ❛ I have waited for this opportunity for more than half a century. ❜ ❨808❩ ❛ I want to be myself again, to recover all that I was obliged to give up. ❜ ❨809❩ ❛ The only thing worse than bad health is a bad name. ❜ ❨810❩ ❛ This soup tastes like windows. ❜ ❨811❩ ❛ Why do you insist on talking about what does not exist? ❜ ❨812❩ ❛ One has to live a long time to know a man's true nature. ❜ ❨813❩ ❛ No, not rich, I am a poor man with money, which is not the same thing. ❜ ❨814❩ ❛ My heart has more rooms than a whorehouse. ❜ ❨815❩ ❛ That may be the reason he does so many things, so that he will not have to think. ❜ ❨816❩ ❛ Love if it exists, is something separate: another life. ❜ ❨817❩ ❛ Things did not go as badly for me as they would for you. ❜ ❨818❩ ❛ There are things you do only for love. ❜ ❨819❩ ❛ I’ll have plenty of time to rest when I die. ❜ ❨820❩ ❛ There is no innocence more dangerous than the innocence of age. ❜ ❨821❩ ❛ You treat me as if I were just anybody. ❜ ❨822❩ ❛ The symptoms of love are the same as those of cholera. ❜ ❨823❩ ❛ There is no law, human or divine, that you have not ignored. ❜ ❨824❩ ❛ Why is it that I feel I've known you so many years? ❜ ❨825❩ ❛ Stuff your eyes with wonder, live as if you'd drop dead in ten seconds. See the world. It's more fantastic than any dream made or paid for in factories. ❜ ❨826❩ ❛ It doesn't matter what you do, so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that's like you after you take your hands away. ❜ ❨827❩ ❛ We need to be really bothered once in a while. How long is it since you were really bothered? About something important, about something real? ❜ ❨828❩ ❛ There must be something, something we can’t imagine, to make a woman stay in a burning house; there must be something there. You don’t stay for nothing. ❜ ❨829❩ ❛ If you hide your ignorance, no one will hit you and you'll never learn. ❜ ❨830❩ ❛ If you drown, at least die knowing you were heading for shore. ❜ ❨831❩ ❛ You can't make people listen. They have to come round in their own time, wondering what happened and why the world blew up around them. ❜ ❨832❩ ❛ It was a pleasure to burn. ❜ ❨833❩ ❛ I'm antisocial, they say. I don't mix. It's so strange. I'm very social indeed. It all depends on what you mean by social, doesn't it? ❜ ❨834❩ ❛ Being with people is nice. But I don't think it's social to get a bunch of people together and then not let them talk, do you? ❜ ❨835❩ ❛ Do you notice how people hurt each other nowadays? ❜ ❨836❩ ❛ Who knows who might be the target of the well-read man? ❜ ❨837❩ ❛ I don't talk things. I talk the meaning of things. ❜ ❨838❩ ❛ I'll hold on to the world tight some day. I've got one finger on it now; that's a beginning. ❜ ❨839❩ ❛ I just want someone to hear what I have to say. And maybe if I talk long enough it'll make sense. ❜ ❨840❩ ❛ That's the good part of dying; when you've nothing to lose, you run any risk you want. ❜ ❨841❩ ❛ Someday we'll build the biggest goddamn steamshovel in history and dig the biggest grave of all time and shove war in it and cover it up. ❜ ❨842❩ ❛ You're not like the others. I've seen a few; I know. When I talk, you look at me. ❜ ❨843❩ ❛ You're afraid of making mistakes. Don't be. Mistakes can be profited by. ❜ ❨844❩ ❛ When they give you lined paper, write the other way. ❜ ❨845❩ ❛ The sun burnt every day. It burnt time. ❜ ❨846❩ ❛ We have everything we need to be happy but we aren't happy. Something is missing. ❜ ❨847❩ ❛ I feel I'm doing what I should've done a lifetime ago. ❜ ❨848❩ ❛ I'm not afraid. Maybe it's because I'm doing the right thing at last. Maybe it's because I've done a rash thing and don't want to look the coward to you. ❜ ❨849❩ ❛ Good God, who were those men? I never saw them before in my life! ❜ ❨850❩ ❛ How do you get so empty? Who takes it out of you? ❜ ❨851❩ ❛ It must be right. It seems so right. ❜ ❨852❩ ❛ To everything there is a season. Yes. A time to break down, and a time to build up. A time to keep silence and a time to speak. ❜ ❨853❩ ❛ It's my game. And no one can help me. Not even you. ❜ ❨854❩ ❛ What makes earth feel like hell is our expectation that it should feel like heaven. Earth is earth. Dead is dead. You’ll find out for yourself soon enough. ❜ ❨855❩ ❛ Death is a long process. Your body is just the first part of you that croaks. Beyond that, your dreams have to die. Then your expectations. Your anger and memories must die. Your ego. Your pride and shame and ambition and hope. ❜ ❨856❩ ❛ Help me give up my addiction to hope. ❜ ❨857❩ ❛ Life is short, death is forever. ❜ ❨858❩ ❛ Hope is something really tough and tenacious you have to give up. It’s an addiction to break. ❜ ❨859❩ ❛ If the living are haunted by the dead, then the dead are haunted by their own mistakes. ❜ ❨860❩ ❛ We all wish to be pursued. We all long to be desired. ❜ ❨861❩ ❛ All the demons of hell formerly reigned as gods in previous cultures. No it's not fair, but one man's god is another man's devil. ❜ ❨862❩ ❛ I can become someone else, not out of pressure and desperation, but merely because a new life sounds fun or interesting or joyful. ❜ ❨863❩ ❛ It's my petty fear of personal rejection that allows so many true evils to exist. My cowardice enables atrocities. ❜ ❨864❩ ❛ You fucked up. Game over. So just relax. ❜ ❨865❩ ❛ The greatest weapon any warrior can carry into battle is absolute certainty of her eternal soul. ❜ ❨866❩ ❛ If killing you will end my existence as well, be it. Small loss. Such a life, as your puppet, is not worth living. ❜ ❨867❩ ❛ I might be a touch of a sadist and a little bit jejune but at least I'm not a victim, not any longer. I hope. ❜ ❨868❩ ❛ Dying seems like the greatest weakness, and in a world where people say you're lazy for not shaving your legs, then being dead seems like the ultimate character flaw. ❜ ❨869❩ ❛ Any concept of right versus wrong, is merely a cultural construct relative to one specific time and place. ❜ ❨870❩ ❛ To prove that I exist I must kill you. ❜ ❨871❩ ❛ I'd say that my life has been a way-too-long case history of chasing rainbows. ❜ ❨872❩ ❛ The world is a battle for attention, a war to be heard. ❜ ❨873❩ ❛ Every garden looks beautiful in May. ❜ ❨874❩ ❛ When we neglect to fear such brittle monstrosity, we render it powerless. ❜ ❨875❩ ❛ My taste for power continues to grow, as does my ability to accrue it. ❜ ❨876❩ ❛ Such language! Why don't you just take a dump in my ears? ❜ ❨877❩ ❛ You’d be foolish to count on people displaying high standards of honesty. ❜ ❨878❩ ❛ Depending on her mood, she can be more frightening than any demon or devil you might ever run across. ❜ ❨879❩ ❛ Cross your fingers! Maybe death won't happen to you. ❜ ❨880❩ ❛ Do not die while wearing cheap shoes. ❜ ❨881❩ ❛ Old habits die hard. ❜ ❨882❩ ❛ It's our attachments to a fixed identity that torture us. ❜ ❨883❩ ❛ What do I think I am? In a thousand words; I don't have a clue. ❨884❩ ❛ If I am to be saved it is because your love redeems me. ❜ ❨885❩ ❛ All I wanted was to be loved for myself. ❜ ❨886❩ ❛ I have tasted all the happiness the world can offer. ❜ ❨887❩ ❛ Shall we pity him? Shall we curse him? ❜ ❨888❩ ❛ You have a heart that can hold the entire empire of the world. ❜ ❨889❩ ❛ Look, I am not laughing now, crying, crying for you. ❜ ❨890❩ ❛ Tonight I gave you my soul, and I am dead. ❜ ❨891❩ ❛ You are afraid of me! And yet I am not really wicked. Love me and you shall see! ❜ ❨892❩ ❛ Are people so unhappy when they love? --- Yes, when they love and are not sure of being loved. ❜ ❨893❩ ❛ Your soul is a beautiful thing. No emperor received so fair a gift. The angels wept tonight. ❜ ❨894❩ ❛ Blood!...Blood!... That's a good thing! ❜ ❨895❩ ❛ Now I want to live like everybody else. I want to have a life like everybody else. ❜ ❨896❩ ❛ You will be the happiest of women. And we will sing, all by ourselves, till we swoon away with delight. ❜ ❨897❩ ❛ I should be as gentle as a lamb; and you could do anything with me that you pleased. ❜ ❨898❩ ❛ I am going to die of love, I am dying of love. That's how it is. I loved you so. I still love you so. ❜ ❨899❩ ❛ I am dying of love for her, I tell you! If only you knew how beautiful she was when she let me kiss her. ❜ ❨900❩ ❛ He fills me with horror but I do not hate him. How can I hate him? ❜ ❨901❩ ❛ Holy angel, in Heaven blessed, my spirit longs with thee to rest. ❜ ❨902❩ ❛ Nothing is colder or more dead than my heart. ❜ ❨903❩ ❛ I had loved an angel and now I despise a woman. ❜ ❨904❩ ❛ Our lives are one masked ball. ❜ ❨905❩ ❛ Why do you condemn a man whom you have never met, whom no one knows and about whom even you yourself know nothing? ❜ ❨906❩ ❛ He would commit murder for me. ❜ ❨907❩ ❛ If I don't save her from the hands of that humbug, she is lost. But I shall save her. ❜ ❨908❩ ❛ We will go from here together or die together. ❜ ❨909❩ ❛ Your fear, your terror, all of that is just love and love of the most exquisite kind, the kind which people do not admit even to themselves. The kind that gives you a thrill, when you think of it. ❜ ❨910❩ ❛ Destiny has chained you to me forever. ❜ ❨911❩ ❛ You must never ask me that. ❜ ❨912❩ ❛ Are you afraid that you will change your mind? ❜ ❨913❩ ❛ You must come and fetch me in my dressing room at midnight exactly. ❜ ❨914❩ ❛ The holes in your life are permanent. You have to grow around them, like tree roots around concrete; you mould yourself through the gaps. ❜ ❨915❩ ❛ I have never understood how people can blithely disregard the damage they do by following their hearts. ❜ ❨916❩ ❛ There’s something comforting about the sight of strangers safe at home. ❜ ❨917❩ ❛ I have lost control over everything, even the places in my head. ❜ ❨918❩ ❛ It’s possible to miss what you’ve never had, to even mourn for it. ❜ ❨919❩ ❛ There’s nothing so painful, so corrosive, as suspicion. ❜ ❨920❩ ❛ When did you become so weak? ❜ ❨921❩ ❛ I don’t know where that strength went, I don’t remember losing it. I think that over time it got chipped away, bit by bit, by life, by the living of it. ❜ ❨922❩ ❛ Let’s be honest: women are still only really valued for two things—their looks and their role as mothers. ❜ ❨923❩ ❛ Sadness gets boring after a while, for the sad person and for everyone around them. ❜ ❨924❩ ❛ I’m playing at real life instead of actually living it. ❜ ❨925❩ ❛ I’ve just got to let myself feel the pain, because if I don’t, if I keep numbing it, it’ll never really go away. ❜ ❨926❩ ❛ I am not the girl I used to be. I am no longer desirable, I’m off-putting in some way. It’s as if people can see the damage written all over me, can see it in my face, the way I hold myself, the way I move. ❜ ❨927❩ ❛ Who was it that said following your heart is a good thing? It is pure egotism, a selfishness to conquer all. ❜ ❨928❩ ❛ It’s impossible to resist the kindness of strangers. ❜ ❨929❩ ❛ Sometimes I catch myself trying to remember the last time I had meaningful physical contact with another person, just a hug or a heartfelt squeeze of my hand, and my heart twitches. ❜ ❨930❩ ❛ I have to find a way of making myself happy, I have to stop looking for happiness elsewhere. ❜ ❨931❩ ❛ How did I find myself here? I wonder where it started, my decline; I wonder at what point I could have halted it. Where did I take the wrong turn? ❜ ❨932❩ ❛ Now look -- Now look what you made me do. ❜ ❨933❩ ❛ It’s okay, whatever you did, whatever you’ve done: you suffered, you hurt, you deserve forgiveness. ❜ ❨934❩ ❛ They’re what I lost, they’re everything I want to be. ❜ ❨935❩ ❛ You broke me and I broke us. ❜ ❨936❩ ❛ I’ve been the fool. If he does it with you, he’ll do it to you. ❜ ❨937❩ ❛ I’d never realised, not until now, how shameful it is to be pitied. ❜ ❨938❩ ❛ Sometimes, I don’t want to go anywhere, I think I’ll be happy if I never have to set foot outside the house again. ❜ ❨939❩ ❛ I don’t believe in soul mates, but there’s an understanding between us that I just haven’t felt before, or at least, not for a long time. ❜ ❨940❩ ❛ There can be no greater agony, nothing can be more painful than the not knowing, which will never end. ❜ ❨941❩ ❛ Being the other woman is a huge turn-on, there’s no point in denying it: you’re the one he can’t help but betray his wife for, even though he loves her. That’s just how irresistible you are. �� ❨942❩ ❛ I feel a rush of gratitude so strong, it feels almost like love. ❜ ❨943❩ ❛ You don’t know how determined I can be. Once I’ve made my mind up, I’m a force to be reckoned with. ❜ ❨944❩ ❛ The more I want to be oblivious, the less I can be. Life and light will not let me be. ❜ ❨945❩ ❛ You don’t have to be afraid of being alone. It’s not the worst thing, is it? ❜ ❨946❩ ❛ I have felt this way before. On a larger scale, to a more intense degree, of course, but I remember the quality of the pain. You don’t forget it. ❜ ❨947❩ ❛ If he thinks I’m going to sit around crying, he’s got another thing coming. ❜ ❨948❩ ❛ I don’t like to lose. It’s not like me. None of this is like me. I don’t get rejected. I’m the one who walks away. ❜ ❨949❩ ❛ I don’t remember anger, raging fury. I remember fear. ❜ ❨950❩ ❛ I can’t sleep. I haven’t slept in days. I hate it, hate insomnia more than anything, just lying there, brain going round, tick, tick, tick, tick. ❜ ❨951❩ ❛ Maybe the courage I need has nothing to do with telling the truth and everything to do with walking away. ❜ ❨952❩ ❛ I’m not beautiful, and I can’t have kids, so what does that make me? Worthless. ❜ ❨953❩ ❛ Failure cloaked me like a mantle, it overwhelmed me, dragged me under and I gave up hope. ❜ ❨954❩ ❛ It’s an odd thing to say, but I think this all the time; I don’t feel bad enough. ❜ ❨955❩ ❛ Some battles aren’t worth fighting. ❜ ❨956❩ ❛ I never felt guilty. I pretended I did. I had to. ❜ ❨957❩ ❛ I never meant for any of this to happen, we fell in love, what could we do? ❜ ❨958❩ ❛ What bothers me most is that I haven’t got to the end of my story, and I can’t start over with someone else, it’s too hard. ❜ ❨959❩ ❛ A person is, among all else, a material thing, easily torn and not easily mended. ❜ ❨960❩ ❛ It isn’t only wickedness and scheming that make people unhappy, it is confusion and misunderstanding. ❜ ❨961❩ ❛ Falling in love can be achieved in a single word—a glance. ❜ ❨962❩ ❛ Though you think the world is at your feet, it can rise up and tread on you. ❜ ❨963❩ ❛ I’ve never had a moment’s doubt. I love you. I believe in you completely. You are my dearest one. My reason for life. ❜ ❨964❩ ❛ It might hurt, it is horribly inconvenient, no good might come of it, but it is what it is to be in love. ❜ ❨965❩ ❛ It was always an impossible task, and that was precisely the point. ❜ ❨966❩ ❛ Come back, come back to me. ❜ ❨967❩ ❛ In my thoughts I make love to you all day long. ❜ ❨968❩ ❛ The truth is I feel rather light headed and foolish in your presence and I don’t think I can blame the heat. ❜ ❨969❩ ❛ Beauty occupies a narrow band. Ugliness, on the other hand, has infinite variation. ❜ ❨970❩ ❛ Is there any meaning in my life that the inevitable death awaiting me does not destroy? ❜ ❨971❩ ❛ However, withered, I still feel myself to be exactly the same person I’ve always been. ❜ ❨972❩ ❛ Hate is a feeling as pure as love, but dispassionate and icily rational. ❜ ❨973❩ ❛ I’m going mad. Let me not be mad. ❜ ❨974❩ ❛ Is everyone really as alive as I am? ❜ ❨975❩ ❛ Every now and then, quite unintentionally, someone teaches you something about yourself. ❜ ❨976❩ ❛ Something has happened, hasn’t it? ❜ ❨977❩ ❛ I like to think that it isn’t weakness or evasion, but a final act of kindness. ❜ ❨978❩ ❛ Is it possible that I am, in the modern term, in denial? ❜ ❨979❩ ❛ How could anyone presume to know the world through the eyes of an insect? ❜ ❨980❩ ❛ Not everything has a cause. Some things are simply so. ❜ ❨981❩ ❛ I’ll be quite honest with you. I’m torn between breaking your neck here and throwing you down the stairs. ❜ ❨982❩ ❛ How old do you have to be before you know the difference between right and wrong? ❜ ❨983❩ ❛ It was never meant to be read. ❜ ❨984❩ ❛ If I fell in the river, would you save me? ❜ ❨985❩ ❛ That was an incredibly bloody stupid thing to do. ❜ ❨986❩ ❛ I want to thank you for saving my life. I’ll be eternally grateful to you. ❜ ❨987❩ ❛ I’m very, very sorry for the terrible distress that I have caused. I’m very, very sorry. ❜ ❨988❩ ❛ Don’t call me that! – Please don’t call me that. ❜ ❨989❩ ❛ It may be the wrong decision, but fuck it, it’s mine. ❜ ❨990❩ ❛ Like patience, passion comes from the same Latin root: pati. It does not mean to flow with exuberance. It means to suffer. ❜ ❨991❩ ❛ No one ever really gets used to nightmares. ❜ ❨992❩ ❛ I still get nightmares. In fact, I get them so often I should be used to them by now. I’m not. ❜ ❨993❩ ❛ Sublime is something you choke on after a shot of tequila. ❜ ❨994❩ ❛ Some people reflect light, some deflect it, you by some miracle, seem to collect it. ❜ ❨995❩ ❛ Beautiful women are always drawn to men they think will keep them beautiful. ❜ ❨996❩ ❛ The ruminations are mine, let the world be yours. ❜ ❨997❩ ❛ You will fulfil a promise I made years ago but failed to keep. ❜ ❨998❩ ❛ Darkness never satisfies. Especially if it takes something away which it almost always invariably does. ❜ ❨999❩ ❛ I want something else. I’m not even sure what to call it anymore. ❜ ❨1000❩ ❛ What can I say, I’m a sucker for abandoned stuff, misplaced stuff, forgotten stuff, any old stuff. ❜ ❨1001❩ ❛ Is it possible to love something so much, you imagine it wants to destroy you only because it has denied you? ❜ ❨1002❩ ❛ It’s just silent, no sound at all. It’s like something’s waiting. ❜ ❨1003❩ ❛ I guess I’m hoping the weapons will make me feel better, grant me some kind of fucking control. ❜ ❨1004❩ ❛ Oh and something else: – Fuck you. ❜ ❨1005❩ ❛ God I’ve never been afraid like this. ❜ ❨1006❩ ❛ I miss you. I love you. There’s no second I’ve lived that you can’t call your own. ❜ ❨1007❩ ❛ I’m so tired. Sleep’s been stalking me for too long to remember. Inevitable I suppose. ❜ ❨1008❩ ❛ Not seeing the rip doesn’t mean you automatically get to keep clear of the Hey-I’m-Bleeding part. ❜ ❨1009❩ ❛ These days fantasies flourish and die like summer flies. ❜ ❨1010❩ ❛ Yeah I know, I know. This shit’s getting ridiculous. ❜ ❨1011❩ ❛ ‘Fuck’ and 'fall for’ have very different meanings. The first one you do as much as you can. The second one you never ever, ever do. ❜ ❨1012❩ ❛ It’s a nice idea but it reeks of hope. False hope. ❜ ❨1013❩ ❛ It’s, well…one thing in two words: fucked up…very fucked up. Okay three words, four words, who the hell cares…very very fucked up. ❜ ❨1014❩ ❛ Do you think I could spend the night at your place?  ❜ ❨1015❩ ❛ Any fool can pray. ❜ ❨1016❩ ❛ I feel like I haven’t slept in months. My neighbours are scared of me. ❜ ❨1017❩ ❛ I’ve lost my mind? Maybe, maybe, maybe. Maybe I’m just really drunk. ❜ ❨1018❩ ❛ Perhaps by cleaning out my system I’ll come to a clearing where I can ease myself into peace. ❜ ❨1019❩ ❛ I should be dead. Why am I still here? ❜ ❨1020❩ ❛ Fuck if I know. Your guess is as good as mine. ❜ ❨1021❩ ❛ You are my flesh. You are my bones. I know you too well. I read you too perfectly. ❜ ❨1022❩ ❛ Not all complex problems have easy solutions. ❜ ❨1023❩ ❛ Do you believe in God? I don’t think I ever asked you that one. ❜ ❨1024❩ ❛ We all create stories to protect ourselves. ❜ ❨1025❩ ❛ Are you kidding me? This place is scary. ❜ ❨1026❩ ❛ These days the only thing that gets me outside is when I say: Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck you. Fuck me. Fuck this. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. ❜ ❨1027❩ ❛ You like that crap because it reminds you of you. ❜ ❨1028❩ ❛ You may suddenly realise things are not how you perceived them to be at all. ❜ ❨1029❩ ❛ The two hardest tests are the patience to wait for the right moment and the courage not to be disappointed with what we encounter. ❜ ❨1030❩ ❛ People never learn anything by being told, they have to find out for themselves. ❜ ❨1031❩ ❛ Be crazy! But learn how to be crazy without being the center of attention. Be brave enough to live different. ❜ ❨1032❩ ❛ You are someone who is different, but who wants to be the same as everyone else. And that in my view is a serious illness. ❜ ❨1033❩ ❛ God chose you to be different. ❜ ❨1034❩ ❛ Why are you disappointing God with this kind of attitude? ❜ ❨1035❩ ❛ You have two choices, to control your mind or to let your mind control you. ❜ ❨1036❩ ❛ Everyone is indeed crazy, but the craziest are the ones who don't know they're crazy; they just keep repeating what others tell them to. ❜ ❨1037❩ ❛ Haven't you learned anything, not even with the approach of death?  ❜ ❨1038❩ ❛ If people don't like it, they can complain. And if they don't have the courage to complain, that's their problem. ❜ ❨1039❩ ❛ Nothing in this world happens by chance. ❜ ❨1040❩ ❛ I want to continue living my life the way I dream it, and not the way the other people want it to be. ❜ ❨1041❩ ❛ Be like the fountain that overflows, not like the cistern that merely contains. ❜ ❨1042❩ ❛ Collective madness is called sanity. ❜ ❨1043❩ ❛ Consider each day a miracle - which indeed it is, when you consider the number of unexpected things that could happen in each second of our fragile existences. ❜ ❨1044❩ ❛ You say they create their own reality, but what is reality? ❜ ❨1045❩ ❛ Many people don't allow themselves to love because there are a lot of things at risk. A lot of future and a lot of past. ❜ ❨1046❩ ❛ Death frees from the fear of dying. ❜ ❨1047❩ ❛ The danger of an adventure is worth a thousand days of ease and comfort. ❜ ❨1048❩ ❛ The happier people can be, the unhappier they are. ❜ ❨1049❩ ❛ Life is always a matter of waiting for the right moment to act. ❜ ❨1050❩ ❛ It's best to accept life as it really is and not as you imagined it to be. ❜ ❨1051❩ ❛ You don't seem mad at all. ❜ ❨1052❩ ❛ We’re allowed to make a lot of mistakes in our lives, except the mistake that destroys us. ❜ ❨1053❩ ❛ You’re what you are, not what others make of you. ❜ ❨1054❩ ❛ Am I cured? ❜ ❨1055❩ ❛ Real love changes and grows with time and discovers new ways of expressing itself. ❜ ❨1056❩ ❛ A lot of people think something is right, and so that thing becomes right. Is that it? ❜ ❨1057❩ ❛ They think they're normal, because they all do the same thing. ❜ ❨1058❩ ❛ I didn't know that other ‘me’s existed inside me, ‘Me’s that I could love. ❜ ❨1059❩ ❛ I have no idea what's awaiting me. ❜ ❨1060❩ ❛ What will happen when this all ends? ❜ ❨1061❩ ❛ I know that you are capable of great deeds. ❜ ❨1062❩ ❛ A loveless world is a dead world, and always there comes an hour when one is weary of prisons, of one's work, and of devotion to duty, and all one craves for is a loved face, the warmth and wonder of a loving heart. ❜ ❨1063❩ ❛ The truth is that everyone is bored. ❜ ❨1064❩ ❛ I feel more fellowship with the defeated than with saints. Heroism and sanctity don't really appeal to me, I imagine. ❜ ❨1065❩ ❛ If there is one thing one can always yearn for, and sometimes attain, it is human love. ❜ ❨1066❩ ❛ Who would dare to assert that eternal happiness can compensate for even a single moment's suffering? ❜ ❨1067❩ ❛ It's not easy. I've been thinking it over for years. ❜ ❨1068❩ ❛ While we loved each other we didn't need words to make ourselves understood. ❜ ❨1069❩ ❛ People are more often bad than good. ❜ ❨1070❩ ❛ I don't believe in heroism; I know it's easy and I've learned that it can be murderous. ❜ ❨1071❩ ❛ What interests me is living and dying for what one loves. ❜ ❨1072❩ ❛ In fact, nobody is capable of really thinking about anyone, even in the worst calamity. ❜ ❨1073❩ ❛ Nothing in the world is worth turning one's back on what one loves. ❜ ❨1074❩ ❛ Again and again there comes a time in history when the man who dares to say that two and two make four is punished with death. ❜ ❨1075❩ ❛ There are more things to admire in men then to despise. ❜ ❨1076❩ ❛ It is in the thick of calamity that one gets hardened to the truth - in other words, to silence. ❜ ❨1077❩ ❛ What on earth prompted you to take a hand in this? ❜ ❨1078❩ ❛ Your code of morals? What code, if I may ask? ❜ ❨1079❩ ❛ I'm fumbling in the dark, struggling to make something out. But I've long ceased finding anything. ❜ ❨1080❩ ❛ No doubt our love is still there, but quite simply it is unusable, heavy to carry, inert inside of us, sterile as crime or condemnation. ❜ ❨1081❩ ❛ I’m not happy to go, but one needn't be happy to make another start. ❜ ❨1082❩ ❛ I am incapable of suffering for a long time, or being happy for a long time. Which means that I am incapable of anything really worth while. ❜ ❨1083❩ ❛ I should have found the words to keep her with me. ❜ ❨1084❩ ❛ We can't stir a finger in this world without the risk of bringing death to somebody. ❜ ❨1085❩ ❛ The evil that is in the world comes out of ignorance, and good intentions may do as much harm as malevolence, if they lack understanding. ❜ ❨1086❩ ❛ There are always flies and itches. That’s why life is difficult to live. ❜ ❨1087❩ ❛ The best protection against anything is a good bottle of wine. ❜ ❨1088❩ ❛ There is no peace without hope. ❜ ❨1089❩ ❛ It's enough for me to be sure that you and I exist at this moment. ❜ ❨1090❩ ❛ There is always something left to love. ❜ ❨1091❩ ❛ A person doesn’t die when he should but when he can. ❜ ❨1092❩ ❛ Things have a life of their own. It's simply a matter of waking up their souls. ❜ ❨1093❩ ❛ Tell me something: why are you fighting? ❜ ❨1094❩ ❛ I've come to realise only just now that I'm fighting because of pride. ❜ ❨1095❩ ❛ One minute of reconciliation is worth more than a whole life of friendship. ❜ ❨1096❩ ❛ It's better than not knowing why you're fighting. Or fighting, like you, for something that doesn't have any meaning for anyone. ❜ ❨1097❩ ❛ Holy Mother of God! ❜ ❨1098❩ ❛ A person does not belong to a place until there is someone dead under the ground. ❜ ❨1099❩ ❛ I was born a son of a bitch and I'm going to die a son of a bitch. ❜ ❨1100❩ ❛ Bad luck doesn't have any chinks in it. ❜ ❨1101❩ ❛ I plead youth as a mitigating circumstance. ❜ ❨1102❩ ❛ Get those bad thoughts out of your head. You're going to be happy. ❜ ❨1103❩ ❛ Children inherit their parents' madness. ❜ ❨1104❩ ❛ I'll turn to ashes in here but I won't give this miserable town the pleasure of seeing me weep. ❜ ❨1105❩ ❛ You would be good in a war. Where you put your eye, you put your bullet. ❜ ❨1106❩ ❛ Men demand much more than you think. ❜ ❨1107❩ ❛ Even the craziest and most persistent love is just a temporary truth. ❜ ❨1108❩ ❛ If we’re alone you can whisper in my ear any crap you can think of. ❜ ❨1109❩ ❛ You have taken this horrible game very seriously and you have done well because you are doing your duty. ❜ ❨1110❩ ❛ We have the right to pull down your pants and give you a whipping at the first sign of disrespect. ❜ ❨1111❩ ❛ What worries me is not your shooting me, because after all, for people like us it's a natural death. ❜ ❨1112❩ ❛ What worries me is that you've ended up as bad as they are. ❜ ❨1113❩ ❛ It is characteristic of men to deny hunger once their appetites are satisfied. ❜ ❨1114❩ ❛ Dying is much more difficult than one imagines. ❜ ❨1115❩ ❛ If you have to go crazy, please go crazy all by yourself! ❜ ❨1116❩ ❛ We have still not had a death. ❜ ❨1117❩ ❛ How awful, the way time passes. ❜ ❨1118❩ ❛ You may be in command of your war, but I'm in command of my house. ❜ ❨1119❩ ❛ I missed you every hour. ❜ ❨1120❩ ❛ You know what the worst part was? It caught me completely by surprise. ❜ ❨1121❩ ❛ I’ve risked my life for you. ❜ ❨1122❩ ❛ The problem with wanting is that it makes us weak. ❜ ❨1123❩ ❛ I love you, even the part of you that loved him. ❜ ❨1124❩ ❛ I’m sorry it took me so long to see you. ❜ ❨1125❩ ❛ I never really belonged anywhere. ❜ ❨1126❩ ❛ Thanks for being my best friend and making my life bearable.  ❜ ❨1127❩ ❛ Thanks for finding me. ❜ ❨1128❩ ❛ You and I are going to change the world. ❜ ❨1129❩ ❛ I’ve been waiting for you a long time. ❜ ❨1130❩ ❛ I’m not used to people trying to kill me. ❜ ❨1131❩ ❛ You’re shaking. ❜ ❨1132❩ ❛ There's nothing wrong with being a lizard. Unless you were born to be a hawk. ❜ ❨1133❩ ❛ Make me your villain. ❜ ❨1134❩ ❛ Just you and me. It’s always just you and me. ❜ ❨1135❩ ❛ Do you blame me for every mistake I made? For every dumb thing I’ve said? ❜ ❨1136❩ ❛ Well, if it gets too bad, give me a signal. ❜ ❨1137❩ ❛ Did you tell him what I showed you in the dark? ❜ ❨1138❩ ❛ Did you miss me when you were gone? ❜ ❨1139❩ ❛ What is infinite? The universe and the greed of men. ❜ ❨1140❩ ❛ You’re interfering with my plan. ❜ ❨1141❩ ❛ Too much champagne? ❜ ❨1142❩ ❛ I hope you don’t expect fairness from me. It isn’t one of my specialties. ❜ ❨1143❩ ❛ There is something more powerful than any army. Something strong enough to topple kings. Faith. ❜ ❨1144❩ ❛ All you said was that I had to kill you. You didn’t say how. ❜ ❨1145❩ ❛ What is she? She’s everything, you dumb son of a bitch. ❜ ❨1146❩ ❛ She’s an ugly little thing. No child should look like that. Pale and sour, like a glass of milk that’s turned. ❜ ❨1147❩ ❛ I wouldn’t make that mistake again. ❜ ❨1148❩ ❛ It’s a great honor, to save a life. You saved many. ❜ ❨1149❩ ❛ In this world, there are things you can only do alone. ❜ ❨1150❩ ❛ What seems like a reasonable distance to one person might feel too far to somebody else. ❜ ❨1151❩ ❛ If you really want to know something, you have to be willing to pay the price. ❜ ❨1152❩ ❛ Why should you be interested in me? ❜ ❨1153❩ ❛ I have been told I've got a darkish personality. A few times. ❜ ❨1154❩ ❛ It's not as if our lives are divided simply into light and dark. There's shadowy middle ground. ❜ ❨1155❩ ❛ I'll write to you. A super-long letter, like in an old-fashioned novel. ❜ ❨1156❩ ❛ The spotlight doesn't suit me. I'm more of a side dish. ❜ ❨1157❩ ❛ The ground we stand on looks solid enough, but if something happens it can drop right out from under you.  ❜ ❨1158❩ ❛ So once you're dead there's just nothing? ❜ ❨1159❩ ❛ If only I could fall sound asleep and wake up in my old reality. ❜ ❨1160❩ ❛ Is action merely the incidental product of thought, or is thought the consequential product of action? ❜ ❨1161❩ ❛ Nobody can shake off their own shadow. ❜ ❨1162❩ ❛ The silence is so deep it hurts. ❜ ❨1163❩ ❛ I may not look it, but I can be a very patient guy. ❜ ❨1164❩ ❛ Killing time is one of my specialities. ❜ ❨1165❩ ❛ You can't fight it. ❜ ❨1166❩ ❛ Tell me something,—do you believe in reincarnation? ❜ ❨1167❩ ❛ I can’t understand nothingness. I can’t understand it and I can’t imagine it. ❜ ❨1168❩ ❛ I can hardly breathe, and my whole body wants to shrink into a corner.  ❜ ❨1169❩ ❛ I do have a few things wrong with me, but those are strictly problems I keep inside. ❜ ❨1170❩ ❛ I can't take it any more, I can't go on any more. ❜ ❨1171❩ ❛ You don't really have it together. ❜ ❨1172❩ ❛ Is it against the law for me to know it? ❜ ❨1173❩ ❛ I keep having the same dream. ❜ ❨1174❩ ❛ Are you asking because you really want an answer? ❜ ❨1175❩ ❛ I hate this! I don't want to be changed this way! ❜ ❨1176❩ ❛ No contradictions, no irony. They do everything according to numerical formulas. ❜ ❨1177❩ ❛ Want to hear the rest? If you’re not interested, I can stop. ❜ ❨1178❩ ❛ If I didn’t have these memories inside me, I would’ve snapped a long time ago. I would’ve curled up in a ditch somewhere and died. ❜ ❨1179❩ ❛ I don’t know what you’re feeling. I won’t even pretend. ❜ ❨1180❩ ❛ What are you doing here, honey? ❜ ❨1181❩ ❛ You're not even old enough to know how bad life gets. ❜ ❨1182❩ ❛ You don't understand me. ❜ ❨1183❩ ❛ All wisdom ends in paradox. ❜ ❨1184❩ ❛ It is love that overthrows empire. Love that binds two hearts together, come hellfire & brimstone. ❜ ❨1185❩ ❛ I have lost my gift. ❜ ❨1186❩ ❛ Winter is the season of alcoholism and despair. ❜ ❨1187❩ ❛ The seeds of death get lost in the mess that God made us. ❜ ❨1188❩ ❛ They're just memories now. It’s time to forget. ❜ ❨1189❩ ❛ The time has to be right and the heart willing. ❜ ❨1190❩ ❛ The world, a tired performer, offers us another half-assed season. ❜ ❨1191❩ ❛ Capitalism has resulted in material well-being but spiritual bankruptcy. ❜ ❨1192❩ ❛ Grief is natural, overcoming it is a matter of choice. ❜ ❨1193❩ ❛ I want out of that decorating scheme. ❜ ❨1194❩ ❛ With most people suicide is like Russian roulette. Only one chamber has a bullet. ❜ ❨1195❩ ❛ You never get over it but you get where it doesn't bother you so much. ❜ ❨1196❩ ❛ Don't waste your time on life. ❜ ❨1197❩ ❛ I'm a teenager. I've got problems! ❜ ❨1198❩ ❛ Adolescents tend to seek love where they can find it. ❜ ❨1199❩ ❛ Obviously, you've never been a thirteen-year-old girl. ❜ ❨1200❩ ❛ It was a mistake. ❜ ❨1201❩ ❛ It seemed like we were supposed to feel sorry for everything that ever happened, ever. ❜ ❨1202❩ ❛ Buffeted but not broken. ❜ ❨1203❩ ❛ Shit. What have kids got to be worried about now? ❜ ❨1204❩ ❛ If they want trouble, they should go live in Bangladesh. ❜ ❨1205❩ ❛ I can't wait until I get out of here. ❜ ❨1206❩ ❛ When she jumped she probably thought she’d fly. ❜ ❨1207❩ ❛ I do not think the patient truly meant to end her life. Her act was a cry for help. ❜ ❨1208❩ ❛ You're a stone fox. ❜ ❨1209❩ ❛ It was love at first sight, at last sight, at ever and ever sight. ❜ ❨1210❩ ❛ Light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. ❜ ❨1211❩ ❛ He broke my heart. You merely broke my life. ❜ ❨1212❩ ❛ I'm sorry to have deceived you so much, but that's how life is. ❜ ❨1213❩ ❛ Words without experience are meaningless. ❜ ❨1214❩ ❛ I loved you. I was a monster, but I loved you. ❜ ❨1215❩ ❛ Come just as you are. ❜ ❨1216❩ ❛ If a violin string could ache, i would be that string. ❜ ❨1217❩ ❛ Perhaps, somewhere, some day, at a less miserable time, we may see each other again. ❜ ❨1218❩ ❛ What's so dreadful about dying is that you are completely on your own. ❜ ❨1219❩ ❛ Don't touch me; I'll die if you touch me. ❜ ❨1220❩ ❛ You took advantage of my disadvantage. ❜ ❨1221❩ ❛ I walk in a maze I cannot get out of. ❜ ❨1222❩ ❛ Life is just one small piece of light between two eternal darknesses. ❜ ❨1223❩ ❛ Imagine me; I shall not exist if you do not imagine me. ❜ ❨1224❩ ❛ There is no harm in smiling. ❜ ❨1225❩ ❛ There is no point in staying here. There is no point in staying anywhere. ❜ ❨1226❩ ❛ There is nothing more atrociously cruel than an adored child. ❜ ❨1227❩ ❛ I am so tired of being cynical. ❜ ❨1228❩ ❛ Come to live with me, and die with me, and everything with me. ❜ ❨1229❩ ❛ This is the only immortality that you and I may share. ❜ ❨1230❩ ❛ I loved her more than anything I had ever seen or imagined on earth, or hoped for anywhere else. ❜ ❨1231❩ ❛ I was despicable and brutal, and turpid, and everything, mais je t’aimais, je t’aimais! ❜ ❨1232❩ ❛ Years of secret suffering has taught me superhuman self-control. ❜ ❨1233❩ ❛ Solitude is corrupting me. I need company and care. ❜ ❨1234❩ ❛ I've missed you terribly. ❜ ❨1235❩ ❛ I've been revoltingly unfaithful to you. ❜ ❨1236❩ ❛ It doesn't matter a bit, because you've stopped caring anyway. ❜ ❨1237❩ ❛ What makes you say I've stopped caring for you? ❜ ❨1238❩ ❛ Nowadays you have to be a scientist if you want to be a killer. ❜ ❨1239❩ ❛ The sun climbs high in the sky, then starts down. People come, then go. ❜ ❨1240❩ ❛ Tell me, have you ever thought of killing me? ❜ ❨1241❩ ❛ I can not believe you are the same human being. ❜ ❨1242❩ ❛ Just how urgent is it? ❜ ❨1243❩ ❛ It is time for you to be going. ❜ ❨1244❩ ❛ How is it you know something like that? ❜ ❨1245❩ ❛ I don’t mind. Your mess is my mess. ❜ ❨1246❩ ❛ Everybody has one thing they do not want to lose. ❜ ❨1247❩ ❛ I’ll be late tonight, so don’t wait up for me. ❜ ❨1248❩ ❛ Nothing I’ve tried to do by myself has ever come off. ❜ ❨1249❩ ❛ I am not catching you in the middle of anything important, am I? ❜ ❨1250❩ ❛ Some things are forgotten, some things disappear, some things die. ❜ ❨1251❩ ❛ My biggest fault is that the faults I was born with grow bigger each year. ❜ ❨1252❩ ❛ To get irritated is to lose our way in life. ❜ ❨1253❩ ❛ A friend to kill time is a friend sublime. ❜ ❨1254❩ ❛ I don't really know if it's the right thing to do. ❜ ❨1255❩ ❛ Faster cars and more cats run over? Who needs it? ❜ ❨1256❩ ❛ Most of everything you think you know about me is nothing more than memories. ❜ ❨1257❩ ❛ Your fate is and will always be the fate of a dreamer. ❜ ❨1258❩ ❛ You’re loads better than you think you are. ❜ ❨1259❩ ❛ You’re only half-living, the other half is still untapped somewhere. ❜ ❨1260❩ ❛ The song is over. But the melody lingers on. ❜ ❨1261❩ ❛ You are extraordinary. ❜ ❨1262❩ ❛ We tend to fool ourselves into thinking that time is our size, but it really goes on and on. ❜ ❨1263❩ ❛ It could be five years or ten years or one month. It's all the same. ❜ ❨1264❩ ❛ I’m forever realising things too late. ❜ ❨1265❩ ❛ I’m not complaining when I say my life is boring. ❜ ❨1266❩ ❛ Weakness is something that rots in the body. ❜ ❨1267❩ ❛ Coming from your mouth, it has the ring of truth, but I doubt anyone would believe me if I told them. ❜ ❨1268❩ ❛ You can't expect something unreal to last anyway, can you? ❜ ❨1269❩ ❛ A wise man does not step betwixt the beast and his meat. ❜ ❨1270❩ ❛ So, kill me. Tell the others I attacked you so you killed me. ❜ ❨1271❩ ❛ Should never have come here. ❜ ❨1272❩ ❛ Hard to guess my tastes. ❜ ❨1273❩ ❛ Can’t it wait until the morning? ❜ ❨1274❩ ❛ You’ll find temper tantrums won’t help you here. ❜ ❨1275❩ ❛ It must have taken courage to return. ❜ ❨1276❩ ❛ It all sounds grimly dystopian. ❜ ❨1277❩ ❛ I am not afraid of you! ❜ ❨1278❩ ❛ All this could be avoided! ❜ ❨1279❩ ❛ You consider me a murderer? ❜ ❨1280❩ ❛ Gross way to die. ❜ ❨1281❩ ❛ What sparks wars? The will to power, the backbone of human nature. ❜ ❨1282❩ ❛ My life amounts to no more than one drop in a limitless ocean. Yet what is any ocean, but a multitude of drops? ❜ ❨1283❩ ❛ Our lives are not our own. We are bound to others. ❜ ❨1284❩ ❛ I believe there is another world waiting for us. A better world. And I'll be waiting for you there. ❜ ❨1285❩ ❛ You are allowed to feel messed up and inside out. It doesn't mean you're defective - it just means you're human. ❜ ❨1286❩ ❛ Power, time, gravity, love. The forces that really kick ass are all invisible. ❜ ❨1287❩ ❛ Unlimited power in the hands of limited people always leads to cruelty. ❜ ❨1288❩ ❛ Truth is singular. Its 'versions' are mistruths. ❜ ❨1289❩ ❛ Dreams are all I have ever truly owned. ❜ ❨1290❩ ❛ Your version of the truth is the only thing that matters. ❜ ❨1291❩ ❛ I believe death is only a door. One closes, and another opens. ❜ ❨1292❩ ❛ By each crime and every kindness, we birth our future. ❜ ❨1293❩ ❛ The healthy can't understand the emptied, the broken. ❜ ❨1294❩ ❛ Lying's wrong, but when the world spins backwards, a small wrong may be a big right. ❜ ❨1295❩ ❛ The weak are meat the strong do eat. ❜ ❨1296❩ ❛ Do whatever you can't not do. ❜ ❨1297❩ ❛ What precipitates outcomes? Vicious acts & virtuous acts. ❜ ❨1298❩ ❛ I remain thankful to God for all his mercies. ❜ ❨1299❩ ❛ You can maintain power over people, as long as you give them something. Rob a man of everything, and that man will no longer be in your power. ❜ ❨1300❩ ❛ Power. The ability to determine another man's luck. ❜ ❨1301❩ ❛ Pain is strong, aye - but friends' eyes, more strong. ❜ ❨1302❩ ❛ Perhaps those deprived of beauty perceive it most instinctively. ❜ ❨1303❩ ❛ Why ask a question whose answer would demand ten more questions? ❜ ❨1304❩ ❛ You can’t lie to your soul. ❜ ❨1305❩ ❛ Why would I want to do a thing like that? ❜ ❨1306❩ ❛ We start off with high hopes, then we bottle it. ❜ ❨1307❩ ❛ Better to make life as complete and enjoyable an experience as possible, in case death is shite, which I suspect it will be. ❜ ❨1308❩ ❛ I’m not running away, I’m moving on. ❜ ❨1309❩ ❛ The reasons? There are no reasons. ❜ ❨1310❩ ❛ Some people are easier to love when you don’t have to be around them. ❜ ❨1311❩ ❛ Love does not exist. ❜ ❨1312❩ ❛ Fuck that ‘regrets’ bullshit. ❜ ❨1313❩ ❛ How does it make you feel? ❜ ❨1314❩ ❛ It’s horrible how we always die alone, but no worse than living alone. ❜ ❨1315❩ ❛ Choose us. Choose life. ❜ ❨1316❩ ❛ You fucking knew that fucking cunt would fuck some cunt. ❜ ❨1317❩ ❛ I’m more of a warrior than you’ll ever be. ❜ ❨1318❩ ❛ What does that make us? The lowest of the low, the scum of the earth. ❜ ❨1319❩ ❛ You don’t have to run away.  ❜ ❨1320❩ ❛ I tried to stop because it was only causing pain. I couldn’t. ❜ ❨1321❩ ❛ I’m not going to get crushed. ❜ ❨1322❩ ❛ I love doubt in a woman. It’s nearly as sexy as determination. ❜ ❨1323❩ ❛ Take your best orgasm, multiply the feeling by twenty. ❜ ❨1324❩ ❛ You’re a mess. ❜ ❨1325❩ ❛ I know that it’s never left you alone. ❜ ❨1326❩ ❛ Are you asking me or telling me? ❜ ❨1327❩ ❛ You just get used to all the shit. ❜ ❨1328❩ ❛ You can’t afford a conscience in this life. ❜ ❨1329❩ ❛ None of us are saints and scapegoats are always handy. ❜ ❨1330❩ ❛ Doing things doesn’t hurt you; you get hurt by avoiding them. ❜ ❨1331❩ ❛ What was that? ❜ ❨1332❩ ❛ Protect me from those who wish to help us. ❜ ❨1333❩ ❛ You can’t love yourself if you want to hurt things like that. ❜ ❨1334❩ ❛ What happens when people open their hearts? ❜ ❨1335❩ ❛ Nobody likes being alone that much. ❜ ❨1336❩ ❛ I don’t go out of my way to make friends, that’s all. It just leads to disappointment.” ❨1337❩ ❛ Don’t feel sorry for yourself. Only assholes do that. ❜ ❨1338❩ ❛ You need to grab whatever chance you have of happiness where you find it, and not worry about other people too much. ❜ ❨1339❩ ❛ I want you always to remember me. ❜ ❨1340❩ ❛ Despite your best efforts, people are going to be hurt when it’s time for them to be hurt. ❜ ❨1341❩ ❛ What stays in your heart will stay; keep them, and what vanishes will vanish. ❜ ❨1342❩ ❛ All I want in this world is you. ❜ ❨1343❩ ❛ I want the two of us to begin everything from the beginning. ❜ ❨1344❩ ❛ No truth can cure the sorrow we feel from losing a loved one. ❜ ❨1345❩ ❛ What a terrible thing it is to wound someone you really care for and to do it so unconsciously. ❜ ❨1346❩ ❛ If you’re in pitch blackness, all you can do is sit tight until your eyes get used to the dark. ❜ ❨1347❩ ❛ I’ve had enough hurt already in my life. More than enough. Now I want to be happy. ❜ ❨1348❩ ❛ People leave strange little memories of themselves behind when they die. ❜ ❨1349❩ ❛ Stop eating yourself up alive. Things will go where they’re supposed to go if you just let them take their natural course. ❜ ❨1350❩ ❛ When your feelings build up and harden and die inside, then you’re in big trouble. ❜ ❨1351❩ ❛ When you fall in love, the natural thing to do is give yourself to it. ❜ ❨1352❩ ❛ If I have left a wound inside you, it is not just your wound but mine as well. ❜ ❨1353❩ ❛ Hey, what is it with you? Why are you so spaced out? You still haven’t answered me. ❜ ❨1354❩ ❛ People are strange when you’re a stranger. ❜ ❨1355❩ ❛ The dead will always be dead, but we have to go on living. ❜ ❨1356❩ ❛ You don’t get it, do you? ❜ ❨1357❩ ❛ I am a flawed human being - a far more flawed human being than you ❨1358❩ realise. ❜ ❨1359❩ ❛ At least let me know whether or not I hurt you. ❜ ❨1360❩ ❛ All of us are imperfect human beings living in an imperfect world. ❜ ❨1361❩ ❛ I’ve never once thought about how I was going to die. ❜ ❨1362❩ ❛ So I’m not crazy after all! ❜ ❨1363❩ ❛ I miss you terribly sometimes, but in general I go on living with all the energy I can muster. ❜ ❨1364❩ ❛ Will you wait for me forever? ❜ ❨1365❩ ❛ I don’t want our relationship to end like this. ❜ ❨1366❩ ❛ When am I going to be able to talk to you? I want you to tell me that much, at least. ❜ ❨1367❩ ❛ It hurts not being able to see you. ❜ ❨1368❩ ❛ I’m not totally mad at you. I’m just sad. ❜ ❨1369❩ ❛ The world is an inherently unfair place. ❜ ❨1370❩ ❛ Life frightens me sometimes. I don’t happen to take that as the premise for everything else though. ❜ ❨1371❩ ❛ I’m a real bargain, don’t you think? If you don’t take me, I’ll end up going somewhere else. ❜ ❨1372❩ ❛ We’re all kind of weird and twisted and drowning. ❜ ❨1373❩ ❛ Don’t you think it would be wonderful to get rid of everything and everybody and just go some place where you don’t know a soul? ❜ ❨1374❩ ❛ You’re not telling me anything I don’t know already. ❜ ❨1375❩ ❛ He who controls the past controls the future. He who controls the present controls the past. ❜ ❨1376❩ ❛ If you want to keep a secret, you must also hide it from yourself. ❜ ❨1377❩ ❛ We shall meet in the place where there is no darkness. ❜ ❨1378❩ ❛ Until they become conscious they will never rebel. ❜ ❨1379❩ ❛ Power is not a means; it is an end. ❜ ❨1380❩ ❛ They are not interested in the good of others; they are interested solely in power, pure power. ❜ ❨1381❩ ❛ Now you begin to understand me. ❜ ❨1382❩ ❛ In the face of pain there are no heroes. ❜ ❨1383❩ ❛ Big Brother is watching you. ❜ ❨1384❩ ❛ Power is tearing human minds to pieces and putting them together again in new shapes of your own choosing. ❜ ❨1385❩ ❛ It’s a beautiful thing, the destruction of words. ❜ ❨1386❩ ❛ The choice for mankind lies between freedom and happiness and for the great bulk of mankind, happiness is better. ❜ ❨1387❩ ❛ Your mind appeals to me. It resembles my own mind. ❜ ❨1388❩ ❛ Reality exists in the human mind, and nowhere else. ❜ ❨1389❩ ❛ We do not merely destroy our enemies; we change them. ❜ ❨1390❩ ❛ How can I help it? How can I help but see what is in front of my eyes? ❜ ❨1391❩ ❛ You must try harder. ❜ ❨1392❩ ❛ Confession is not betrayal. ❜ ❨1393❩ ❛ What you say or do doesn’t matter; only feelings matter. ❜ ❨1394❩ ❛ If they could make me stop loving you —- that would be the real betrayal. ❜ ❨1395❩ ❛ Of pain you can wish only one thing: that it should stop. ❜ ❨1396❩ ❛ To die hating them, that will be freedom. ❜ ❨1397❩ ❛ No one ever seizes power with the intention of relinquishing it. ❜ ❨1398❩ ❛ What can you do against the lunatic who is more intelligent than yourself? ❜ ❨1399❩ ❛ To keep them in control is not difficult. ❜ ❨1400❩ ❛ So long as they are not permitted to have standards of comparison, they never even become aware that they are oppressed. ❜ ❨1401❩ ❛ The consequences of every act are included in the act itself. ❜ ❨1402❩ ❛ The essential act of war is destruction, not necessarily of human lives, but of the products of human labour. ❜ ❨1403❩ ❛ Stupidity is as necessary as intelligence, and as difficult to attain. ❜ ❨1404❩ ❛ I hate purity, I hate goodness! I don’t want virtue to exist anywhere. I want everyone to be corrupt to the bones. ❜ ❨1405❩ ❛ The past is dead, the future is unimaginable. ❜ ❨1406❩ ❛ You know the answer already. Everyone knows it. ❜ ❨1407❩ ❛ You don’t give a damn what they suffer. All you care is yourself. ❜ ❨1408❩ ❛ It is not easy to become sane. ❜ ❨1409❩ ❛ No emotion is pure anymore, because everything is mixed up with fear and hatred. ❜ ❨1410❩ ❛ They say that time heals all things —- they say you can always forget. ❜ ❨1411❩ ❛ The object of waging a war is always to be in a better position in which to wage another war. ❜ ❨1412❩ ❛ I sold you and you sold me. ❜ ❨1413❩ ❛ You do not exist. ❜ ❨1414❩ ❛ How does one man assert his power over another? By making him suffer. ❜ ❨1415❩ ❛ Obedience is not enough. Unless he is suffering, how can you be sure that he is obeying your will and not his own? ❜ ❨1416❩ ❛ Everything else we shall destroy – everything. ❜ ❨1417❩ ❛ Two and two makes five. ❜ ❨1418❩ ❛ Facts, at any rate, can not be kept hidden. ❜ ❨1419❩ ❛ The past is whatever the records and the memories agree upon. ❜ ❨1420❩ ❛ So long as human beings stay human, death and life are the same thing. ❜ ❨1421❩ ❛ If both the past and the external world exist only in the mind, and if the mind itself is controllable��what then? ❜ ❨1422❩ ❛ The lie became the truth. ❜ ❨1423❩ ❛ It is like swimming against a current that sweeps you backwards however hard you struggle. ❜ ❨1424❩ ❛ Turn round and go with the current instead of opposing it. ❜ ❨1425❩ ❛ It’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything. ❜ ❨1426❩ ❛ I don’t want to die without any scars. ❜ ❨1427❩ ❛ This is your life and it’s ending one moment at a time. ❜ ❨1428❩ ❛ You know how they say you only hurt the ones you love? Well, it works both ways. ❜ ❨1429❩ ❛ You are not your job, you’re not how much money you have in the bank. You are not the car you drive. You’re not the contents of your wallet. ❜ ❨1430❩ ❛ You are not special. ❜ ❨1431❩ ❛ You’re not a beautiful and unique snowflake. You’re the same decaying organic matter as everything else. ❜ ❨1432❩ ❛ The things you used to own, now they own you. ❜ ❨1433❩ ❛ Today is the sort of day where the sun only comes up to humiliate you. ❜ ❨1434❩ ❛ Maybe we have to break everything to make something better out of ourselves. ❜ ❨1435❩ ❛ Only after disaster can we be resurrected. ❜ ❨1436❩ ❛ Everything is evolving, everything is falling apart. ❜ ❨1437❩ ❛ We’ve all been raised believe that one day we’d all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won’t. ❜ ❨1438❩ ❛ Don’t you have other things to do? ❜ ❨1439❩ ❛ Prove you’re alive. If you don’t claim your humanity you will become a statistic. ❜ ❨1440❩ ❛ You have been warned. ❜ ❨1441❩ ❛ If you don’t know what you want, you end up with a lot you don’t. ❜ ❨1442❩ ❛ It’s not love or anything, but I think I like you, too. ❜ ❨1443❩ ❛ If I could wake up in a different place, at a different time, could I wake up as a different person? ❜ ❨1444❩ ❛ Why did I cause so much pain? ❜ ❨1445❩ ❛ The lower you fall, the higher you’ll fly. ❜ ❨1446❩ ❛ Maybe self-improvement isn’t the answer, maybe self-destruction is the answer. ❜ ❨1447❩ ❛ May I never be complete. May I never be content. May I never be perfect. ❜ ❨1448❩ ❛ Everyone smiles with that invisible gun to their head. ❜ ❨1449❩ ❛ We are not special. We are not crap or trash, either. We just are. We just are, and what happens just happens. ❜ ❨1450❩ ❛ The girl is infectious human waste. ❜ ❨1451❩ ❛ I want to destroy everything beautiful I’ll never have. ❜ ❨1452❩ ❛ On a long enough time line, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero. ❜ ❨1453❩ ❛ If you could be either God’s worst enemy or nothing, which would you choose? ❜ ❨1454❩ ❛ It is like you’re never really awake; but you’re never really asleep. ❜ ❨1455❩ ❛ Worker bees can leave. Even drones can fly away. The Queen is their slave. ❜ ❨1456❩ ❛ A moment is the most you could ever expect from perfection. ❜ ❨1457❩ ❛ The people you’re trying to step on, we’re everyone you depend on. ❜ ❨1458❩ ❛ You have to give up! ❜ ❨1459❩ ❛ Reject the basic assumptions of civilisation, especially the importance of material possessions. ❜ ❨1460❩ ❛ Without pain, without sacrifice we would have nothing. ❜ ❨1461❩ ❛ You have to realise that someday you will die, Until you know that, you are useless. ❜ ❨1462❩ ❛ A tiger can smile. A snake will say it loves you. ❜ ❨1463❩ ❛ Lies make us evil. ❜ ❨1464❩ ❛ If you died right now, how would you feel about your life? ❜ ❨1465❩ ❛ You always kill the one you love. ❜ ❨1466❩ ❛ Maybe we should always assume the worst. ❜ ❨1467❩ ❛ Put a gun to my head and paint the wall with my brains. ❜ ❨1468❩ ❛ Which is worse? Hell or nothing? ❜ ❨1469❩ ❛ A minute of perfection is worth the effort. ❜ ❨1470❩ ❛ You’re going to die, tonight. You might die in one second or in one hour, you decide. ❜ ❨1471❩ ❛ Lie to me. Tell me the first thing off the top of your head. Make something up. ❜ ❨1472❩ ❛ I don’t give a shit. I have a gun. ❜ ❨1473❩ ❛ I know who you are. I know where you live. ❜ ❨1474❩ ❛ Tomorrow will be the most beautiful day of your life. ❜ ❨1475❩ ❛ My philosophy of life is that I can die at any moment. And the tragedy of my life is that I do not. ❜ ❨1476❩ ❛ Everything is so far away, a copy of a copy of a copy. You can’t touch anything and nothing can touch you. ❜ ❨1477❩ ❛ There are a lot of things we don’t want to know about the people we love. ❜ ❨1478❩ ❛ We just had a near-life experience. ❜ ❨1479❩ ❛ If people think you are dying, they give you their full attention. They listen instead of just waiting for their turn to speak. ❜ ❨1480❩ ❛ I am nothing, and not even that. ❜ ❨1481❩ ❛ This isn’t really death. —- We’ll be legends. We won’t grow old. ❜ ❨1482❩ ❛ Stop trying to control everything and just let go. Let go. ❜ ❨1483❩ ❛ The amazing miracle of death, when one second you’re walking and talking, and the next second you’re an object. ❜ ❨1484❩ ❛ Only if we’re caught and punished can we be saved. ❜ ❨1485❩ ❛ I never thought about how important the sky was until I didn't have one. ❜ ❨1486❩ ❛ Dreams are like that: they go in and out of memories and scenes, but they're never real. They're never real, and I hate them because they aren't. ❜ ❨1487❩ ❛ Power isn’t control at all — power is strength, and giving that strength to others. ❜ ❨1488❩ ❛ A leader isn’t someone who forces others to make him stronger. ❜ ❨1489❩ ❛ A leader is someone willing to give his strength to others that they may have the strength to stand on their own. ❜ ❨1490❩ ❛ In the end, we are alone. ❜ ❨1491❩ ❛ It is like a piece of my soul is lost, empty. ❜ ❨1492❩ ❛ If my life on Earth must end, let it end with a promise. Let it end with hope. ❜ ❨1493❩ ❛ Sorry? Sorry isn't enough. ❜ ❨1494❩ ❛ Every single thing I ever loved is beyond my reach now. Everything I ever wanted. Everything I ever was. ❜ ❨1495❩ ❛ Will you stay with me? ❜ ❨1496❩ ❛ A leader doesn't make pawns - he makes people. ❜ ❨1497❩ ❛ Do you hear that? The pulse of life from your heart, the slow in-and-out from your lungs? Even when you are silent, even when you block out all noise, your body is still a cacophony of life. Mine is not. ❜ ❨1498❩ ❛ It is the silence that drives me mad. The silence that drives the nightmares to me. ❜ ❨1499❩ ❛ There is nothing between us but rain. There is nothing between us at all. ❜ ❨1500❩ ❛ I like a little chaos. ❜

[tanyawritesstories]

An Apple A Day | Doctor!Anakin Skywalker x Reader Modern AU

I got this idea from a post of Julia's and I had to write it. It was so fun, I spent every spare minute I had yesterday writing it on my breaks at work.

@anakinswhore and @starwarsdust here it is! I hope you enjoy it, I think I got every point mentioned in that post. I hope I did your man well!

Word count: 2,260

Warnings: fluff, flirting, bad doctor jokes, sexual innuendos, Anakin being cheeky

•••

You hated going to the Doctor. You felt fine, why bother paying someone just to have them tell you what you already knew? It didn't matter, you knew it was probably a good idea and your parents always encouraged you to go. You could practically hear your mother’s voice: “You might feel fine but there are things they can find out with their technology that you’ll never even notice.” You nearly rolled your eyes at the thought. Hell, if an apple a day actually kept the Doctor away, you might be inclined to eat them.

You wandered up to the receptionist and gave her your information as she got you checked in. “Just to let you know, Dr. Atkins isn’t in today, she’s on vacation, but we do have a substitute,” the lady informed you. You raised your eyebrows questioningly. “He’s relatively new but everyone he works with says he’s amazing and his patients rave about him.”

You sighed, “Ok, not like I have much of a choice I suppose, thank you.”

“We’ll call you back when we’re ready.”

You took a seat in the stereotypical hospital waiting room. Chairs with boring colors and scratchy upholstery, carpet with some of the strangest designs you’ve ever seen, and an old tv in the corner stuck on an HGTV marathon of House Hunters. You sat scrolling through your phone, trying to do anything to drone out your surroundings.

“Y/N L/N?” A nurse called from the doorway next to the desk. You reluctantly removed yourself from the chair and followed her down the hallway. She took your height and weight before ushering you into an exam room. The nurse proceeded to take your blood pressure and note any changes since your last visit, which you were proud to say had been around six years ago, though the nurse seemed to disapprove.

“I’m finished here, just sit tight and Doctor Skywalker will be with you shortly.”

You laughed out loud after she shut the door. Skywalker? What kind of name was that? You sat kicking your legs back and forth on the exam table, toying with your fingernails. You fully expected this Dr. Skywalker to be some older guy with an ego bigger than your apartment, thinking he could cure every ailment under the sun. You jumped when there was a knock on the door and the Doctor walked into the room. He was not at all what you had pictured.

He was a younger guy, probably in his mid to late twenties and very attractive. He fixed you with an intense but gentle and kind look as he extended a hand to you.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Doctor Anakin Skywalker. You must be Y/N?”

You found yourself frozen, staring at him for a moment before coming out of your stupor and shaking his hand. “Yes, nice to meet you too,” your voice came out as a barely audible squeak, though you hadn’t meant it to. He pulled a rolling stool over from the other side of the room and sat down facing you, beginning to look through a computer at the nurse’s notes.

God, he was gorgeous. His hair was shoulder length and the color a medium brown, it looked fluffy as it framed his face and you wanted to run your fingers through it. His face was friendly and his presence brought a comfortable and calming aura to the room. He was dressed in the usual Doctor attire, a spotless lab coat, black trousers, a light blue button down, and black dress shoes. Somehow it looked so much better on him.

“How are you feeling today?” He asked, putting the laptop on the counter. His voice was soothing and pleasant to listen to, it held firm tones but overall gentleness.

“I’m fine,” you responded quietly. He was having this strange effect on you, he was intimidating but in the best possible way. You were never normally this quiet or shy, moments ago you were ready to complain about the fact that you even had to be here. Now you found yourself rendered nearly speechless in front of this handsome young Doctor.

“Just here for a regular check up then, correct?” He asked. You nodded and managed a small smile, not trusting your voice. He smiled and you nearly choked on oxygen as he grabbed the stethoscope from around his neck and stood next to you. He was tall and towered over you, you tried to keep your breathing in check but you couldn’t exactly force your heart to slow down it’s beating.

He put one of his hands on your back and pressed the instrument over your chest. His hands were large and warm and your skin felt like it was on fire through your clothes from his touch. You chewed on the inside of your cheek as his eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “Your heart is beating a little fast, are you doing ok?” You nodded again, “Yeah, I guess I’m just nervous at Doctor appointments.” Your voice had returned to it’s normal volume at last. “Don’t worry that’s completely normal,” he said, “Other than it being a little flustered, your heart sounds good.” He made eye contact with you as the word ‘flustered’ fell over his lips, which you found yourself stealing glances at.

He switched the stethoscope to your back, placing his hand on your shoulder as he gave you instructions to breath in and out as he listened to your lungs. That also helped to calm yourself down, except now your skin was burning in yet another place where he touched you. “Your lungs sound good, too,” he announced with a satisfactory smile. He asked you to sit up as straight as you could and he ran his fingers down the length of your spine, leaving sparks in their wake. Your breath hitched without you knowing it.

“Are you doing alright still?” You nearly flinched with how close his voice was to your ear. “Yea, I’m alright,” you answered. Better than alright, you thought. “Good, just let me know if you’re ever uncomfortable or need a minute, ok?” He consoled, reaching for another tool on the wall. He was calming and reassuring and it just drew you to him more. He used the tool to look into your ear canal, all while he laid one hand on the back of your neck to keep your head steady. “That one looks good, turn your head for me..” he took the tool in his other hand, leaving your neck void of his searing touch. He touched his fingertips lightly to your jaw, urging you to turn your head.

You ears look perfectly healthy as well, however,” he paused to touch the back of his hand to your forehead for a brief second, “You look really hot to me," he held your eyes in a smouldering glance as he said it, "so I think I’ll take your temperature, just in case. I'd hate to send you out of here without knowing you're ok.” He crossed the room to get another piece of equipment and you touched your hands to your face, indeed feeling how hot it was. You couldn’t ignore the flirty little look he gave you as he delivered the line, he had probably noticed you blushing since he stepped foot in the room.

He came back with a thermometer in hand. He stood directly in front of you, your knees brushing against his thighs. “Alright, open wide, I’m just going to stick this under your tongue,” he instructed. That one had you salivating, and not only in your mouth..

He was speaking innocently enough and any normal person wouldn’t think anything of it. But with this insanely attractive and doting Doctor standing in front you, saying those words like that, it caused your mind to drift to only dirty places.

"This might cause a little discomfort, I'm just going to shine this light into your eyes for a few seconds," Dr. Skywalker informed you. You decided to be bold and chanced a comment back. "I've had worse things in my eyes," you said, smirking. He sent you a look, and you thought you had gone too far. "Yeah, I thought I saw something in there, but it was just a sparkle," he replied, smirking right back. He turned to type away at the computer and you stifled a giggle.

Your eyes stayed glued to Dr. Skywalker as he finished your exam, checking a few other things.

"Alright, so you look great. Everything is in order, you're perfectly healthy," he announced. "The only thing I would suggest is eating more fruit, you seem to be getting a limited amount of essential vitamins."

"I'm not a big fan of fruit," you admitted. "How about smoothies?" He suggested, "It's a healthy way to get the vitamins you need and if you add sugar it may not taste as bad."

You smiled at him and slid off the exam table. "I just might give it a try," you said. "Great! Other than that you're all set. If you ever need anything, just call me," he used that flirty tone of voice again and winked at you. "I would say I hope I don't see you again since I'd like to stay healthy, but, I know not to lie to my Doctor," you said smugly.

He opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Anakin, your next patient is waiting," an annoyed voice with a slight Scottish accent said from outside. You smiled and gave him a wink before exiting the room and finding your way to the lobby.

Bonus content, (because I got hooked on this concept):

That weekend you found yourself at your favorite bar after a hard day at work. You were a few drinks in and only buzzed, you knew your limits. You swished the whiskey around in your glass and stared at it until a voice interrupted.

"Imagine seeing you here."

Your head spun around at the familiar sounding voice, only to come face to face with Doctor Skywalker. Your jaw dropped almost all the way to the floor. "D-doctor Skywalker, I didn't expect to see you here," you stuttered.

If you thought he looked good in his work uniform, boy was he breathtaking now. He still sported the black slacks and dress shoes, but wearing a black button down with the first few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Fuck, was he handsome.

"Please just call me Anakin when we're not in a professional setting, Y/N," he smiled. "Alright, I think I can do that," you said with a smirk, "Can I buy you a drink, Anakin?"

"I'd like that, I'll have what you're having," he took the seat next to you at the bar, resting his forearms on the bartop.

"How often do you frequent this establishment?" He asked.

You laughed. "Is that a fancy way of asking if I come here often?" He shrugged with a smile on his face. "Occasionally, what about you? I've never seen you here before," you downed the rest of your drink and turned your attention to him.

"Decided to give this joint a shot," he said, sipping his drink. "Might be my new favorite place after tonight."

"Oh?" You raised an eyebrow flirtatiously. Anakin took another sip of his drink, his darkened eyes locking onto yours the whole time. Another action of his that made your insides stir nicely. "Depends on the outcome for me to be certain, but I'm fairly confident," he turned to face you. "You know, I never planned on specializing in anything, but you're pretty special."

"Oh my God," you burst out laughing, "Those are awful, did you look them up online?" Anakin gave you a panty-dropping smirk, "Every single one, gorgeous." You turned your chair and your legs brushed against his. "I got one for you. I know you told me to eat more fruit, but I think I'll stay away from apples if it means you don't stay away," you delivered.

"Not bad," Anakin nodded, "I never told you what my area of expertise was." You motioned for him to continue, trying to match his mischievous nature, "Do enlighten me, Doctor."

"It’s genetics.”

You looked confused, waiting for the joke to make sense. Anakin smiled and leaned close to you. “You want to jump in my gene pool?”

You laughed so hard you had to cover your mouth as to not disturb the other patrons. Anakin laughed at your reaction and raised his eyebrows in a silent ask for an answer after you came down from your laughing fit. You bit your bottom lip, “That depends on what’s in it.”

Anakin reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers skimming your jaw as he retracted his hand. “I’ve been told it’s a pleasurable experience,” he said, “But those aren’t my words.”

“And how do I know if my DNA will mix well with yours?” You flirted, leaning closer, giving him a good angle to look down your shirt. His eyes flicked between your cleavage and your suggestive gaze. “You’ll have to come back to my place and find out,” he whispered.

You pretended to think about it before standing and leaning in to whisper in his ear. “So are you driving back to your place, or am I?” Anakin reached in his pocket and slammed some bills on the bar before grabbing your hand and leading your giggling self out of the building.

[thenightling]

Friends in the Dark (A Sandman fan fiction)

Friends in the Dark:

Disclaimer:  This is a Sandman fan fiction.  The Sandman belongs to Neil Gaiman and DC Comics.

This fan fiction is inspired by the currently circulating idea of Hob actually being the one to rescue Morpheus from his imprisonment after Morpheus misses their centennial meeting.   In the new Netflix Sandman series Morpheus’ captivity has been extended from seventy-two-years to about a hundred and ten years.  That means Morpheus would have missed his annual meeting with Hob Gadling.

  Art work by @artwinsdraws​​ 

  This fan fiction may be read as a pseudo-sequel to the fan fiction titled “Time will Crawl” however, this fan fiction can be read completely on its own without any difficulty.  

 The title is from a song that technically doesn’t exist yet except in the dreams of Aurelio Voltaire.  The lyrics are currently housed in the library of The Dreaming but should reach The Waking World within the next year.  I know them because I heard a short live version of the refrain on Youtube.  

 “You can sit in the cold dark night, And just hope for a spark. You might make your way in the day, But you’ll need friends in the dark.” – Lyrics by Voltaire.  

   Friends in the Dark

 Friends in the Dark

  Chapter 1:

 Friends will be friends:

               “What do you mean you can’t find him?”

           “I mean... If he is who I think he is, he will only be found if he wants to be found.” The old man replied in a tone that sounded like an effort at gentleness.  

           “I didn’t tell you he was anyone other than my friend.” Robert Gadling said in exasperation. He was tired and frustrated.   The man he was talking to was supposed to be the best in his field.

           “Look, the man you described…  He’s not quite a man.   He’s… How do I put this?  He’s the Oneiromancer.  He’s Morpheus.   King of Dreams and Nightmares.  And if you angered him-“

           “I may have wounded his pride but I know him.  I know he would have come.”

           “How can you be so certain?”’

           “I told you, he’s my friend.”

           “Creatures like that don’t have any friends.”

           “If you can’t help me just say so and stop wasting my time.” Robert said in annoyance.

           The man sighed.  “You don’t have anything that belongs to him.   If you had something maybe we could cast a tracking spell, but he could obscure himself against things like that if he doesn’t want to be found.”

           The man’s expression changed.  It was subtle but it was troubling.

           “What?  What is it? There’s something you’re not telling me.” Robert said.

           “No one’s seen The Sandman in over a century…  There are rumors from The Underworld that something may have happened…”

           Robert was growing impatient and now worried.  Few things could really surprise him and right now he felt like he could be told anything and handle it in some stride.  He reached into his old coat and pulled out the torn fabric of dark velvet Victorian Jacket.

           “What is that?”

           “I accidentally tore it from his coat when he was having his little tantrum the last time we spoke.  Is that enough to track him with?”

           “And you kept it all this time?”

“At the time I worried I’d never see him again.  …I thought it might be the only memento, proof he was real…”  He felt silly and sentimental.  

“So there is a chance he’s deliberately avoiding you?”

Robert’s face was reddening.  “Look, I haven’t survived seven-hundred-years purely on my good looks.  I trust my instincts.  If he doesn’t want to see me, fine, but I have to see him first.  I have to know for sure.”  

Saying something like that to anyone else might have looked completely insane but Robert Gadling knew the old magicks.  He understood sorcery and he knew the old man was aware of his true age.  

Robert (Hob) Gadling had been born in the fourteenth century of England.  He looked like the average middle aged man but he had long ago decided not to die and had somehow succeeded in this endeavor, whether by sheer will, or the invention of Death herself, it was hard to say. But he believed it was by his own will that he refused to die.  At least that was the explanation that enabled him to sleep easily at night. Death, on the other hand, knew better…

 Currently Robert was clean shaven though he had worn facial hair in the past.  He had light brown hair and brown eyes.  He was light skinned as many English men of his original time were.  He figured he was a little short by modern standards but that didn’t bother him.   He had been tall by common standards in his own time.   He wondered how strange he’d seem in other people the centuries to come.  

Robert (or Hob as he was sometimes known by those old enough to remember Hob as a nickname for Robert) was wearing fairly mundane clothes.  He had a plain button down shirt and blue jeans. The clothes were generic enough that he could have been wearing them in the nineteen sixties or nineteen nineties and no one would have questioned it as being out of place.   You live long enough and you learn what fashions will survive multiple decades without too much scrutiny.  And it becomes far, far easier to do simple clothing shopping.  

 During Hob’s last encounter with his friend, Hob had made the bold move of admitting to Morpheus that he knew the reason they met every century was because he (Morpheus) was lonely.

  Morpheus had not taken that well at all. In fact Morpheus had taken offense to that notion.  With his pride wounded, Morpheus had said “You dare?  You dare imply I might befriend a mortal? That one of my kind might NEED companionship?  You dare to call me lonely?”  

Hob was not technically mortal.  He had not been mortal in a very long time but his friend had a way of looking at anyone who had been born human (even if they became something else, or gained immortality) as “mortal.”   His prejudice was showing along with wounded pride.  

Hob had stood his ground.  “Yes. Yes, I do.”

As Morpheus had stormed off in his anger Hob had called after him.  “Tell you what.  I’ll be here in a hundred years’ time.   If you’re here then, too-- It’ll be because we’re friends.  No other reason.  Right?  …Right?”

 At the time he had feared Morpheus might not return for their centennial meeting. He hoped he would return.  But Hob had also feared Morpheus would not.  

 Hob felt foolish and almost like a stalker in wanting to track him down now but his seven-hundred-year-old instincts were telling him that something was wrong.  And if Morpheus was avoiding him he would apologize and they could go their separate ways once and for all but if there was another reason…  He had to know for sure…  He needed… closure at the very least.

       The older looking man was starting to look thoughtful.  “You keep things like this and out-right say the Lord of Dreams was having a temper tantrum?” The old wizard let out a wheezing laugh.  Perhaps he was reading Hob’s thoughts, his very memory of the last time he and his friend had spoken and parted ways.  

“If you’re not his friend you’ve got balls.”  He shook his head.  “Even if you are his friend you’ve got balls…   Follow me.” He seemed to admire Hob on some level and this shifted into respect.

             Hob and the old wizard walked from the dimly lit, and very cluttered, occult shoppe’s main room.  They entered a private back room that served as a magical laboratory.   The laboratory was no less cluttered than the main part of the shoppe.  There were books in chaotic little stacks and piles.  There were bottles of potions and powders on the shelves in a variety of colored jars and containers.  Some glass, some modern plastic Tupperware and labeled with white tape or stickers with writing done in black, felt-tip, marker.  There were odds and ends of magical trinkets and crystals.   And on the far side of this room was a small “hot plate” device plugged into the wall with a rather large cooking pot on top of it.   A make-shift modern cauldron.

           The old man carried the torn, old, velvet over to the cauldron and took up a crystal that was wrapped in a black cord.  He set to work on the tracking spell.   The contents of the cauldron, which was murky and brown, began to bubble from the heat and then the bubbles began to rapidly and probably unnaturally increase.   The crystal was spinning, spinning faster and faster as it dangled from the black cord.  

           Something was reaching its crescendo.  

             The old wizard set down the crystal on the edge of the cooking pot with the cord it was attached to.

           He grabbed Hob’s arm. “GET DOWN!”

           Hob had lived long enough to not question the command and instead, by pure reflex, descended into a crouch under the wooden table with the old man.  There was a crashing sound as bits and pieces of crystal went flying everywhere.  

           “Gadzooks, Man!   ...That’s not good, is it?” Hob asked, stating the obvious as he slowly lowered his arms from where they were over his head to protect against crystalline shrapnel.

           The old man shook his head and politely seemed to ignore the near-comedic use of an archaic exclamation.  “He’s either blocking the spell or-“

           “Or someone’s blocking it for him…”

 __________________________________________________

  Chapter 2:  

 Time:

             Time will crawl…  And crawl, and crawl, and crawl…

 Come!  Come! Come!  

 Morpheus had felt the words as surely as he heard them, faint and echoing in the void. Old magick.  It had felt it like a tugging at his very soul.  He was too weak to resist the pulling that dragged him down, down, down…  Forcibly pulling at his essence.  

 He had fallen forward and slammed into hard flooring.  He had been disorientated at the sudden presence of gravity.  He could feel the magick of the binding circle sealing him in, closing him off from all those who had a psychic link with him within his realm.  He saw them, the mortal occultists, in their dark robes, as they moved to get a closer look at their prisoner.  They moved like a swarm of insects.  He blinked his completely-black eyes behind the tinted lenses of his helm. The tiny star pupils being the only hint that there was more than mere darkness to be seen in his eyes.

  He lay there, stunned and …and so very tired…  He had never felt so weary in his long life…   He had struggled so hard against the summoning magick and after that he could barely keep his eyes open.  Someone had grasped at the helm he wore.  Someone grabbed at it with both hands. Someone tipped his head, against his will, to carefully remove the helm.  They took full advantage of his weakness and disorientation.  Someone pulled the helm free from his head.  He had felt his own dark fall around his bone-white face. His cloak was taken. Without the cloak he actually felt the cool, damp of the cellar in English summer time. Never mind about the cloak.  That could easily be replaced.  He could conjure another… as soon as he was free he could conjure another...  

 He blinked.  The ruby amulet was snatched and finally the pouch of infinite dream sand was snatched away. The pouch was something he loathed to be without.  He felt more naked without that pouch than without raiment.  That he could not allow.  He summoned what strength he had left and sat up to reach for the pouch. He stopped as if there was an invisible wall in front of him.  He could not pass the edge of the magical binding circle, which was on the ground around him, and he knew it.  His belongings were just out of reach…

The attempt to cross the circle was as impossible as asking a mortal simply leap over a building.  It was just impossible for him.  

 So tired… So very tired… The room was growing dim and the floor was strangely inviting.   He fainted…

    That was as close as he had ever gotten to true sleep.  He did not, by nature, sleep…    

 Trapped. Observe.  Threats.   Patience.   Patience…   Patience…

 It had been many years since that first night in nineteen sixteen…

 When Roderick Burgess had died not much had changed for Morpheus.  Roderick’s son, Alexander, was the one holding him captive now.

  At some point, relatively recently, he had over-heard someone mention the year as being twenty nineteen.  

  Morpheus made no show of his feelings to his captors. He simply sat there on the floor of his crystalline cage, staring out at the two guards.

           In nineteen sixteen The Dream Lord had been drawn down, summoned and trapped with their (as he saw it) “petty hedge-magicking.”   What year was it now?   Close to twenty-twenty, he suspected.  It was hard to tell.  

 Mortals tend to have this naive fantasy that time moves differently for creatures such as himself, being ageless and (for all intents and purposes) immortal. Unfortunately that was not the case.

If only he could just blink and it would seem a century had passed.   No. Sadly, this fantasy was merely that, a fantasy.  As mortals age they perceive time differently from when they were children.   In childhood summers would seem to go on and on. As adults, however, whole decades seemed too short and so they imagine that is how time must be for immortals, an ever increasing sense that this or that passage of time was too short and so nothing to them.  If only that was the case…

 No. He felt time. He felt time the way mortals do.  Time moved no differently for his kind as it does for mortals.  And in prison it crawled at a snail’s pace.  Perhaps it was even worse for him because, as the living embodiment of dreams, he usually did not sleep.  That meant the third of the day that human prisoners could escape their bonds by entering his realm, he could do no such thing.  There was no relief.

             Imprisoned time moved agonizingly slow, like the crawling of a snail.  And unlike mortals he did not have that blessed release of sleep.  He was, after all, the lord of Dreams.   He never dreamed, himself…  

           No. He never dreamed.  All he could do was remember…

             He remembered his own wounded pride on the night he stormed off from his friend. How he longed to set that right.

         He sat on the floor of the crystalline cage that they had long ago placed around him.  The curved glass of his crystal prison reminded him of a fortune teller’s crystal ball only just big enough to hold a full-sized human man.  How menacing the mortals managed to seem when looming over him, just outside of the crystal, where light and size were distorted from his quartz-crystal prison and shadows hung heavy over the glass.  

 Quartz crystal has innate power.  It could contain and confine magick.  It held him as surely as the binding circle around his cage- as firm and unyielding as stone or steel to a mortal’s prison.  

 The mortal captors had been clever to make his cage out of crystal.  Everyone knows most mineral and glass come from sand. Burnt and reshaped sand.  The thing that he used to sculpt dreams now worked to trap him.  

The binding circle that they had drawn on the floor held his spiritual essence while the crystalline prison held his physical form.  Both of these traps would need to be broken or opened for him to be able to truly escape.

 He was hungry.  They had never thought to feed him in all the years he had been their prisoner.  They just assumed that he did not need food. And he did not need it per se.  He would not die without food but he still felt hunger, nevertheless.  A great and terrible, gnawing hunger.   And he was not about to ask for food.  He was far too proud for that.  And he would not give them the satisfaction to show them that he suffered for not eating. It would not kill him but he still suffered for it.

He tried not to think about the hunger, that aching, hollow feeling chewing away within himself.  Eager to eat just about anything.  Even a baked potato would have been nice.  Do the English still bake potatoes? He wondered.

He could imagine the taste.  The potato’s skin cooked so thoroughly that it was like parchment around the soft white inside that could be crushed by the pressing of a fork.  Flavored with salt, pepper, butter, sour cream.  Perhaps some mild cheddar cheese and crushed bacon…

He wasn’t one for heavy meals but this simple one that he imagined seemed divine.  He could practically taste it.  No.  He would go mad if he let himself think about the hunger too long.   Try to think about something else…

 He thought of Hob.  He thought of the smell of the Kerosene lamps and the candle wax in the late Victorian pub. The strange sense of warmth and that feeling that was the direct opposite of being lonely.  He missed that warmth.  That sensation of… not-lonely.  

He missed Hob…  

He thought of his own wounded pride.  The anger he had felt when Hob had suggested that they (Hob and Morpheus) were friends.   How foolish he had been to not return to Hob sooner.  Would he ever see his friend again?  

He longed to set things right- to do or say something subtle to admit to Hob that he was right without actually saying the words that his pride did not want him to speak out loud.   He thought of the clever ways he could perhaps acknowledge that yes, they were, in fact, friends without uttering an apology or acknowledgement of being wrong.   He couldn’t dare admit, even to himself, that he was wrong.  And it was Hob’s own fault, wasn’t it?  He was the one who had to spoil things.  He was the one who had to go and poke at the situation and demand confirmation.  Why did he have to spoil it by making him have to call their situation a friendship?

He missed him so much…

  Morpheus blinked.  He was no longer in the pub, storming away from Hob.  He could no longer taste the discarded wine still on his lips.  His memories were as vivid and real to him as dreams are for most people.  It was as close as he could get to dreaming… remembering…

He was back in his cage.  Staring at the two guards just beyond the glass.

             What time was it?  Guessing from the two particular guards and the wrist watch that one of them wore, it was close to three in the afternoon.  It was hard to tell from his little prison.  He had not seen the sun (or stars) in over a century.      

           If only he could sleep as mortals sleep.   If only he could experience that sweet, temporary release, just once. To simply know what it was like to lose oneself to a third of the day in The Dreaming…  Mortals had no idea of the treasure that they had, the gift that he, himself, usually provided.  A gift that he, himself, could never know… had never known… ________________________________________________

  Chapter 3:

 What Dreams may come:

 Hob Gadling pulled to the side of the road, in the red nineteen seventy-three MGB convertible.  He had owned this particular automobile since the days when it was new.  Today he figured it would be considered a classic. Yeah, a classic, all right… Polished up nice but rusted in all the important areas and a serious petrol guzzler.   The car looked nice but it was about as functional as any old jalopy or puddle jumper.   He only chose it today because it was a car he wouldn’t mind abandoning in a field if he had to.  

             He was parked about a quarter of a mile from Fawny Rig in Wych Cross, Sussex England.  The paperback copy of an occultist’s memoir sat on the passenger seat beside him.   It was some self-published nonsense about The Order of Ancient Mysteries but it was Hob’s first real clue about what happened to his friend.

             For over thirty years he had searched.   And he had found one dead end after another, including a few attempted cons and scams from people who thought they could take advantage of a mad man trying to find a character from a faery tale.  

             The book had been the first major clue.  It had been written by some dead occultist who had claimed that he and the rest of his order had succeeded in invoking and trapping the King of Dreams.  The book had been vague and full of strange claims about archaic powers and curses and nonsensical and far-fetched boasts about demon invocations and boogeymen.

He would not have believed any of it until he had read the description of the creature they had caught. The bone-white flesh, the solid black eyes, the messy dark hair.  It had to be him.  It just had to be.

              The book hadn’t said where they had captured the being (whom Hob angry noticed they kept calling “it” when referencing the capture) but Hob had learned that The Order of Ancient Mysteries was once run by a Magnus Roderick Burgess and this had been his home estate. It now belonged to his son, Alexander Burgess, whom he had fathered very late in life.  Alexander would have been quite old by now, himself.  

If they had him, his friend- if they had Morpheus- what were they going to do to him? Pass him along through the generations like some strange inherited pet?  Who would get him next?  The butler? As far as he knew Alexander Burgess had no children of his own.  Would they seal up whatever dungeon they had him in and leave him to rot?

           This was still a long shot but Hob had to know.  If he was there he couldn’t just leave him at the mercy of these charlatans.  And if Hob got arrested for this- well, breaking-and-entering was not the worst crime he had ever been arrested for.  He could handle it.  

Hob took the old colt revolver out of the glove compartment.  This was also an antique and would have been difficult to smuggle into England today but he had brought it into the country in eighteen ninety-one, so it was long before modern firearm restrictions, and back when smuggling was far easier.

 Hob had lead a very colorful and long life.  At one point he had even been a slave trader, something that Morpheus, himself, had chastised him for.   Hob regretted that now.  He regretted that more than anything. He would spend the rest of eternity making reparations for that if he could.  How could he have ever been so callous to another human life?  

Morpheus had seemed so revolted.  “You take pride in treating your fellow humans as less than animals?” he had him.

Hob had tried to shrug it off with “Like I said, it’s a living.”

But Morpheus would not let it be.  “It is a poor thing, to enslave another.  I would suggest you find yourself a different line of business.”

Morpheus was right.  It was wrong to hold another like that. And if Morpheus was in there he had to get him out now.          

           Hob checked to make certain the colt revolver pistol was still loaded.  Each chamber of the six shooter held an old bullet. He had tested it only the night before to make certain it still fired.  He loathed the idea of having to use it but he knew it would be stupid to go in unarmed, especially since he didn’t practice magick, not really.  All he could do was hope a pistol was enough.

               _____________________________________________

 Chapter 4:  

 Locked within the crystal ball:

              It was early evening.  It was hard to tell from where he sat on the floor of his cage but he knew it was early evening.  One guard was reading a newspaper.  The other had a Stephen King novel.  Though Morpheus knew nothing of the technology, the men knew that their wifi devices would not work down there.  The rural setting combined with the thick stone walls made it impossible to get a good signal in that dungeon of a cellar.  

           There was also the concern of the residual yet powerful magick in the air, which by its very nature, interfered with sensitive electronics and could even cause them to short out.  They had been specifically ordered not to use their mobile devices down there and so they had to kill time through other means.

             Morpheus watched them with cold contempt.  He was measuring how long it took for the one with the novel to turn his page.  The other occasionally fidgeted.  Morpheus could tell by the man’s eye movements that the fidgeting one was not actually reading the newspaper.

The man was just seeking out a long word to play a childhood game of seeing how many smaller words he could make with the letters of the longer word he found. It was some kind of time-killer he had learned from spending too many childhood hours in doctor’s offices before wide-spread cellphone and Internet service.  

             Morpheus understood nothing of Internet, or mobile phones, but he understood the restlessness of a bored mortal.  How often did these restless people eventually drift into his own realm when they got like that?  He almost felt jealous of the bored mortal.

             There was a noise from above.  It was faint as the walls were designed to be soundproof but even in his magick resistant prison Morpheus could hear the scuffle.

           “Hey!  You’re not supposed to be here!  What are you doing!?”  Came one voice.   There was a sound of crashing furniture.

           “Someone get Maguire!”

             The two guards finally realized something was amiss when the door to the hidden room opened with a heavy creaking sound.

           The one set down his paper, the other- almost in unison-set down his novel. They stood up from their folding chairs.

                         At first Morpheus thought he had been psychically touched by his youngest sister, little Delirium, and madness was finally upon him or perhaps his memories were somehow seeping into reality, confusing past for present like psychic imprints and echoes of long ago events.  

He stared in wonder at the familiar yet disheveled appearance of Hob Gadling.

            Hob was wearing a casual suit and open, light colored blazer jacket.  It was slightly rumpled, as if he had been wearing it for more than twenty-four-hours and rather restlessly.

           Morpheus was not aware that the suit was over thirty-years-old and very likely the suit Hob had worn to the pub for their centennial meeting that he was now extremely late for.  

Whether consciously or subconsciously, Hob had (on some level) chosen to wear this suit on purpose now.  

 Morpheus hadn’t even noticed that he, himself, had risen to his feet.  The guards rushed toward the man who seemed both frightened yet determined.

 _____________________

  Chapter 5: The Rescue:

 As Hob had raced down the stone staircase, hoping his gut instincts were right, he nearly couldn’t breathe once he entered the dimly lit room.  He was panting for breath but then the shock of what he saw caused what air was there to get caught in his throat.

There were two men rising from folding chairs to meet and / or attack him- more likely the latter.  And behind them, just barely in view… There he was!  Naked and locked inside what looked like a ridiculously over-sized, novelty, snow globe paperweight.

 Hob couldn’t hold back a gasp when he saw him.  “Gadsbudikins!”  He was glad no one was there to comment on the archaic exclamation that had worked its way into his, proudly modern, vocabulary.  

He had never seen Morpheus in such a state.  He knew his friend was skinny and pale but to see him like this was something all-together different.  

Morpheus was emaciated.  The ribs protruding so that he could see each one incased in milk-white skin.  He was entirely naked.   He knew his friend’s pride.  He could only guess at the humiliation that, alone, must have brought to him.  How long had he been in there?  Whether a day or a century, ether was too damn long.        

            He was distracted briefly by the pitiful sight so he was caught off guard by the punch from the first guard. The other guard was trying to grab his arm.  

           Morpheus was barely aware he had placed a hand to the cold, crystalline, glass. When was the last time he had actually touched the wall of his cage?  He didn’t leave any fingerprints as he did this.  

             In the struggle the first man, the one who had thrown the punch, pulled a knife.   Morpheus’ own expression had shifted to one of genuine fear for Hob.

             He watched helplessly as the knife pierced the belly of his friend.

           There was a clanking sound as the bloodied weapon fell to the floor.  

Hob doubled over in pain.  For a brief moment Morpheus thought he was witnessing his friend’s corporeal end from this extended life- but no.  His older sister, Death, had seen to this long ago.  

           Hob was in considerable pain but he struggled his way free and staggered back into the mouth of the entrance into the hidden chamber.  One of his hands held his wounded belly, the shirt slowly becoming saturated in his red blood.  

           A well dressed, older looking, man was coming down the stairs, following the same path Hob had taken.  The two guards were readying the next assault when Hob turned, and fumbling, he drew out his pistol.  His hands were shaking but he managed to steady himself.    

             Paul Maguire (husband to Alexander Burgess, Morpheus’ owner…) raised his hands slightly and took a step back. “Sir, I don’t know what you want but the police have been called.” Paul bluffed.

           “With what you’ve got down here?   Yeah, right.  Tell me another one.   I’m taking him out of here.  If anyone tries to make a move…”

Hob was improvising.  He grabbed Paul and drew him close, holding the pistol to the side of Paul’s head, maneuvering to separate himself from the guards by using Paul as a shield.  Hob had lived many lives, not all of them honorably, and this was not his first unfair fight.

           “You’re going to open that…  Whatever the Hell that is.   And let my friend out.”

           “Your friend…?” Paul asked in confusion.

           “Did I stutter?!?”  Hob had always wanted to deliver that line, or at least he had ever since he had seen it written on a meme on Facebook.  “YOU HEARD ME!  Now!”

                Paul carefully, slowly, drew out an antique looking key from his pocket, moving very slowly to show he was not armed, and with trembling hand passed the key to the second guard.  The one that had not punched or stabbed Hob.

           Morpheus took a step back.

The guard walked to the crystalline cage and put the key into the discrete lock in the base.   The crystalline glass slid away at a near invisible seam, creating an opening.  Hob shoved Paul, forcibly, back against the first guard.   He walked to the cage’s opening.  He saw Morpheus just standing there.  He took off his own jacket for modesty’s sake.  “It’s all right.  I’m getting you out of here.  Come on.”

           Hob’s foot lightly brushed over the binding circle.  It was hard to tell if it was deliberate or not but the deed was done, the circle was breached.

           Morpheus stepped toward him.  And for the first time in over a century he spoke out loud.  His voice partly psychic, heard in the mind and audible at the same time, seemed feeble and weak from lack of use.  “Hob…?  Hob Gadling?” he asked as if not entirely certain he was really there.

           “Yeah.  It’s gonna be all right.   Come on.”

             The two guards and Paul seemed uncertain of what to do next.  They hadn’t exactly fully prepared for anything like this despite the years of meticulous care to make sure the prisoner did not escape.

           As soon as Morpheus was out of the cage and past the edge of the binding circle, Hob draped his jacket over his narrow shoulders.  

“Cheese and crust!  What did they do to you?”

           Morpheus opted against answering but he held the offered jacket tightly over himself.

Hob, holding the pistol in one hand, placed his other arm around Morpheus, escorting him up the stairs and outside the house, no one tried to stop them. Morpheus stumbled weakly but he steadied himself each time this happened.

             As soon as they were off the Fawny Rig grounds, just past the old iron gate, Morpheus stopped in his tracks, barefoot and mostly naked, but oblivious to any chill.  

He was staring up at the stars.  He hadn’t seen them in over a century.  Hob simply let him look.  They certainly were beautiful.   The stars gave the illusion of permanence.   But for all the change that might happen there were still stars in the darkness, even if one burnt out and another was born, there they were- always and forever.  Maybe that’s what immortality really was, the willingness to be ever-changing and yet ever constant, like the universe itself.      

           After some time Morpheus spoke, his voice still weak.  “I have to…   I have to return to…”

            Hob looked down at the weak, semi-skeletal figure that he was supporting.  “Return to where you originally came from?”

           He nodded.

           “Okay.  How do we do that?”  

           “You must sleep.”  He said simply, clutching the jacket around himself.

  _____________________________________________

 Chapter 6:             Rest:          

             They walked for some distance. Every so often Morpheus lost his footing and almost toppled but each time he stumbled Hob caught him.

           At one point he was certain Morpheus was looking at the blood on his shirt in concern at the stab wound.

           “It’s nothing.” Hob assured him.  “I’ve had worse.  I don’t think they’re chasing us but we really need to keep moving. ”

             When they finally reached the convertible, Morpheus stared at the automobile blankly.

“Oh, that’s just a horseless carriage.  We call them cars now.”

“I see…”

Hob opened the passenger door for him and pushed the book off the seat.  Morpheus understood to climb inside onto the seat. After he got in, Hob shut the door behind him.

Hob went to the driver’s side and climbed in, seating himself.  After shutting his own door he started the engine (which took several tries, as the car looked pretty but lacked functionality) but soon they were on the road away from Fawny Rig.  

Hob didn’t bother to tell his companion to put on a seat belt.  Any sort of restraint seemed like a bad idea right now, as if it was something that could potentially trigger post traumatic stress.  He already half-imagined that Morpheus would develop some kind of permanent claustrophobia after that long captivity and that seemed perfectly reasonable to him right now.  So he didn’t ask him to put on a seat belt.   And it was not likely either of them were about to die from a car crash.  

 After a quick stop at small convenience store they continued on the road for some distance and finally they reached the hotel parking field.

             Hob looked at his friend, trying not to show the pity he felt.   Instead he reached into the glove compartment and took out the small bag with the new bottle of extra strength Unisom sleeping pills he had just purchased at the convenience store.  

           He aligned the arrows on the child safety cap, removing the cap easily, and then punctured the seal with his thumb, taking out several small capsules into his hand.

He then removed the cap from the small bottled caffeine-free Coca-Cola he had also purchased and had been in the bag as well, with the bottle of Unisom sleeping pills.

“Well, bottom’s up.”  He raised his bottle as if it was a wine glass and then gulped down the five or so pills he had in his fist with a healthy swig of the soda.  

 Hob wasn’t certain if the amount of sleep aid capsules he had just swallowed was enough to potentially harm an ordinary man, but he knew he was not an ordinary man.  And his adrenaline was too high right now.  There was no way in Hell he was going to sleep without chemical assistance.  

 “Hob?” Morpheus looked as if he wanted to say something.

“Not now.” Hob said. “I’ll never get to sleep if you start chatting.  Save it for when we get you home.”  He said this as if Morpheus had ever been the talkative one. He knew he wasn’t.  

 There was a trace of a smile on Morpheus’ face.  “Thank you…”

“No problem.  What are friends for?”  He half expected the old tantrum to flare up but there was not the slightest hint of that now.  Morpheus leaned back in his own seat to wait.

 “I’ll… Turn on the radio while I wait for this stuff to kick in…” Hob said this to break the awkward silence that was threatening his drug-aided nap.

  By some twisted irony the song Mr. Sandman by The Chordettes was playing.  Hob gave an uneasy laugh. “Bet you hate that song, don’t you?”

The sudden music with vocal accompaniment seemed to startle Morpheus at first but his tension faded with Hob’s own nonchalantness about it. “Actually… I have never heard it before…”

“It’s about you… I think…”

“Is it really?”

 _________________________________

 Chapter 7:

 Home:

   The song wasn’t even over yet when Hob found himself standing in a dimly lit pub in the fourteenth century.  And there was his friend, quite naked, and seemingly indifferent to his own nakedness. Hob figured Morpheus must have left the jacket in the car.

 His friend was crouched in front of the fire place, tearing into a leg of mutton from someone else’s plate.  Curiously the tavern was empty except for the two of them, and yet several tables were loaded with untouched drinks and dishes of food.    

Some of the food didn’t really belong in this time period as they had not been invented yet- like chimichangas, New York style pizza, Kentucky fried chicken, and Twinkies.   These anachronistic snacks and meals were the first give-away that he was dreaming.

 Morpheus helped himself to the diverse array of strange foods.  A little of this, a little of that, he was gobbling as much of it up as he could. He seemed famished, eating as much as he could, as fast as he could.

 “Hey… Maybe you should take it easy?” Hob said in concern.  “You know when humans are starved for a long stretch of time they have to slowly reintroduce their body to solid foods.   Maybe start with some soup?  …Or you could just eat the entire bucket of KFC… Sure.  Why not?”                  

 After he had his fill Morpheus stood and seemed to be concentrating.  Slowly something swirled up around him like dust… or sand.  Yeah, it was glittering, golden sand.  

From that sand dark robes were taking form on his body.   Seamless and not quite stylized in any particular way.   Hob felt that at the moment the feebly conjured clothes vaguely resembled a black Snuggie.  

 With some cold determination Morpheus walked out the door of the pub and into a surprisingly beautiful night, with a sprawling nebula smeared overhead like oil paint.  

Hob hastily gave chase “Hey!  Hey, where you going?!”

 Outside the pub there was a beach.  Funny.   There was never a beach so close to the pub before but then Hob remembered this was a dream.   Morpheus was kneeling in the sand, gathering some of it.

“Hey, what are you doing?”  He caught Morpheus’ wrist.

Morpheus did not shrug him off.  “I have to get my revenge.”

“Revenge on who?  Roderick Burgess and his crew are dead!”

“His son yet lives.”

“His son?  You’re going to go after his son?!”

“You disapprove?  His son could have freed me.  I would have shown him mercy if he had let me go.  Instead he kept me as his father had, threatened, insulted, and tormented me. He must pay.”

“He didn’t know!   He didn’t know what to do and you probably scared him.  I’m not justifying it but I’ve lived long enough to know revenge isn’t going to make you feel any better.”

“But I… I waited so long…” He sounded uncertain.

“You’re sick.   You could barely stand.   You’re still recovering.  I’m pretty sure you don’t want to be wandering around in a half-finished Snuggie. You’re going to waste what little strength you have getting revenge on someone whose biggest crime was apathy and being a jerk?”

“What is a Snuggie?”

“Never mind that.” Hob said with a shake of his head.  “Revenge isn’t worth it.  You’ve got to forgive him.  You know as well as I do revenge isn’t going to bring you any real satisfaction.”

“Who are you to tell me what will satisfy me or not?”  Morpheus said angrily.

“The man who just saved your life!  That’s who! You can listen to me or not, that’s up to you.”  Hob let go of Morpheus’ wrist. “But the way I see it...  You need rest.  You need to recover.  And you need to learn to forgive.  Going after Burgess’ kid, who inherited you like a pet parrot, isn’t going to make you feel better.  You’re weak and you need rest.  Is there any where I can take you where you’ll be able to do that?”

“You’ll be waking up soon…”

“So hurry up then and tell me.”

 Hob walked beside his friend, down the twisting. dark path, surrounded by gnarled old trees.  Up ahead was an old house, probably eighteenth century or early Victorian.   And next to that house was a graveyard beside a similar, somewhat larger house.  “You sure this is where you want to go?”  Hob asked.  

Morpheus nodded.

“It looks like The Crypt Keeper lives here.”

“Something like that…”

 It was the pudgy one, Abel, who opened the door to the house of Mystery.  The thinner one in the pince-nez spectacles, Cain stood behind Abel.  Both looked stunned at who was at the door.

 Hob stood with the weakened Dream King leaning on him.   Behind them was the dopey eyed, dog-like, big, green, gargoyle that had followed them as soon as they entered the gate.

“Can you two look after my friend?  I think I’m starting to wake up….”

 Before Hob could get an answer he found himself back in the driver’s seat of the parked car.  He looked to the seat next to him. It was empty except for some glittering dust and his jacket.

He noticed something else too.  The pain in his stomach, where he had been stabbed, was entirely gone.  He would have healed on his own, mind you.  A wound like that couldn’t kill him, but it took hours, if not days to recover from such an injury.  Now it was as if the wound had never happened at all.  

Morpheus had heeded him about not wasting his energy on futile and cruel revenge. Instead he had spent his energy on something far more important.  He had used what little strength he had to heal his friend…

 ______________________________________

 Chapter 8:

 You’ll meet friends in the Dark:

  The funny thing about having a friend who is the King of Dreams is it’s hard to tell when something really is just a dream.  He worried that the part about delivering Morpheus to that old Haunted House to be tended to was just in his own mind, a fevered and addled dream from injury and over-the-counter sleeping pills.  

             Hob sat nervously at the pub.  The meeting was now some decades late.  He sincerely hoped the part of his recent adventure that took place in dreams was real.   That sounded silly to him upon reflection:  “the part that was in dreams was real...”

 Nervously he sat, worried his friend was not coming.  And then he saw him as if he had been there the whole time.  Morpheus stood in a modern, long, leather jacket. His messy dark hair slightly more stylized.  His skin still bone-white, his look still improbably slight, features still gaunt, and thin. The eyes were black but the tiny star-like pupils in the middle of that blackness seemed more alert, twinkling with old power.

“I- I wasn’t sure you’d be coming.”  Hob said.

“Really?”  Morpheus was smiling.  It was a small smile but it was there just the same.  “I have always heard it was impolite to keep one’s friends waiting. Would you like a drink?”

    The End

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Thirty-Five

Table of Content or Part Thirty-Four

View chapter on wattpad here

Word Count: 4k

A/N: Happy birthday to Nikki Sixx who is aging like wine. I'm so proud of how far he has come and here's to another 61 years and an eternity more🖤

Warning(s): Explicit language, Mentions of drug abuse, Abuse

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"Alright, assholes, shut up and listen for two minutes." Doc tells us in the airport we wait in line at customs. "We're gonna be here in Japan for a week. Japan is not like it is back home. You can't act like you don't have any sense. They will lock your asses up in a heart beat. Do you understand?" He warns Tommy, Nikki, Vince and Mick. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Daddy." Nikki sarcastically lets out, smacking his gum.

"Hey, wise ass, I don't need your comments, alright? I'm being serious, guys." Doc tells them.

"We got it, Doc. You don't have to worry about anything, bud." Tommy assures him, sincerely.

It was our first time in Japan and I've got to say, it's personally my favorite place ever.

The fans were extremely polite, and all of them had enthusiastic, wide smiles...my favorite part was that the girls actually respected the fact that Nikki's wife was with him, and didn't try to screw him in front of me like audacious rats in other places tried to.

They would just smile shyly and introduce themselves to us, and then get a picture with the guys.

If I had a dime for every time Fred has had to keep me from assaulting someone for grabbing Nikki's crotch in front of me, trying to shove their tongues down his throat, give them hotel room numbers to meet them in, etc. I would have been rich enough to afford Nikki's $3,500 a day on heroin.

Groupies were insane.

And I don't mean I saw these girls attempt this stuff from a distance.

I mean, I'd be standing right next to him, the girls would introduce themselves to me, then go on to grope Nikki before he could say a word about how it was nice to meet them.

In the midst of trying to get me on the ground before I could throw a punch, the girls would run off, and Nikki would always say "sorry, babe" and mean it.

He stopped apologizing when he stopped caring.

"...And we need blow." Tommy says to Sparkie, who's about to go on the hunt for a drug dealer in town for the guys, and I roll my eyes.

"Doc told you guys to behave because they don't tolerate bull crap here." I remind him and he and Sparkie look at me, and Nikki's grabbing at my waist and pulling me to sit on his leg before taking a swig of Jack, his striped outfit and bright, over the top makeup is the complete opposite of their Shout at the Devil era.

"What Doc doesn't know won't hurt him, Viv." Tommy says it like it's common sense. "Hey, Vinny, what do you want from a dealer?" Tommy asks him, a sharpness to his voice, and Nikki laughs.

I don't find their bullshit funny.

Vince just rolls his eyes and drinks his water with no reply.

Vince was on court mandated sobriety. And was being tortured by Nikki and even Tommy. They would offer him things they knew he couldn't have and then would play it off like they forgot.

They would have him pass them their drugs, pour them their drinks and count out how many pills they had left.

It ticked me off seeing Tommy go that fucking low all because he and Nikki were so close.

He even started being a little disrespectful to me whenever Nikki was.

Nikki's leg is shaking a little, despite him throwing back alcohol and I look over my shoulder at him.

"Are you okay?" I mouth so the others won't hear it, and Nikki nods, but I know he's full of it.

"On in five, guys, c'mon!" Doc calls out from the other side of the door and I pat Nikki's other leg and stand up, grabbing his hand and pulling him up.

We step out and head to the stage, and Nikki's turning to give me one last kiss before going on.

When he pulls away, my hands are quickly taking my crucifix off and reaching up to fasten it around his neck and it ironically overlaps with his pentagram necklace.

"For good luck." I explain and he gives me a little closed mouth smile and gives me a quick peck on the lips before following Tommy, Vince and Mick.

By the time they got off stage, Nikki was growing pale, and sweating, and not just because he was running around on stage.

Nikki had gone over 48 hours without heroin. Alcohol could keep his tremors to mere, barely noticeable shakes, but didn't do very much for his sweating and sickness.

The guys didn't know he was that deep into heroin, yet, so he didn't want to tell them it was making him that ill without it or they would realize he was further down the hole than they expected.

So, what did I do? I covered for him.

"He thinks he might have food poisoning." I explain to Tommy and Vince as they stand outside of mine and Nikki's room.

"Well, is he alright?" Tommy asks me.

"He'll be okay. He just doesn't feel like going out." I assure him.

"Alright, we gotta go." Vince nudges him.

"Tell him I hope he feels better." Tommy says.

"I will. You guys be careful."

"We will, goodnight."

"Goodnight." I reply and shut the door, hearing Nikki groaning in the bathroom.

The door's locked, and I sigh out in frustration.

"Nikki, open the door." I tell him calmly.

"Fuck off, Viv." He tells me for the hundredth time tonight.

"Open the door or I'm telling Doc." I threaten him, even though it's a complete lie.

"Tell him I want a divorce while you're at it." He snaps.

I don't say anything for a moment, and hear him sigh out, before he unlocks the door.

I step in, seeing him soaked in sweat, pale, the smell of vomit is potent and I try to keep a calm demeanor as he grips the side of the tub to help himself stand up. 

He nearly falls, tremors spazzing through his body, but I'm quick to nestle under his arm and help him stay up.

"I just need some Jack." He tells me. "It'll help."

He doesn't sound like Nikki.

He sounds like a defeated child.

"Nikki, I don't think—"

"Okay, Viv, now isn't the time for your bullshit. Get me some Jack." He orders desperately, nearly pleading.

I get him on the bed, starting to tug his boots off, before pulling his shirt over his head, and unbuckling his belt.

"Never thought...I'd ever say this...but the last thing...on my mind right...now is...fucking around." He takes heavy breaths, squeezing his eyes closed and groaning when I get his pants off.

"Yes, because seeing my husband in so much pain really turns me on." I sarcastically let out.

"I'm cold." He tells me, his hand gripping mine.

I pull the bed covers over his naked body, glancing at my necklace he's still wearing.

"I'll get you some Jack." I say, stepping to the phone on the bedside table and ordering his necessity.

I turn back to face him once I'm done, and he's curled up and shivering, and he's kicked the blankets off of him.

"Nikki?" I ask, furrowing my brows.

"I'm hot." He cracks out, shot eyes looking at me, teeth chattering together despite his tight jaw and wet, black hair clings to his soaked skin that seems to be turning transparent.

That moment I realized I was married to a junkie, and Nikki realized he had become the very thing he had been in denial of becoming.

Neither of us said a word to one another about our revelations.

The alcohol and pills they managed to score kept Nikki's roaring withdrawals at bay and allowed him to play his illness off as the flu throughout the rest of the Japan tour, and the second we got home, he was phoning every dealer he could get a hold of.

One I had never met before, Jason, was the first one to come to his aid and it didn't take me long to come to the conclusion I would inevitably have to kill that motherfucker to keep him away from my husband.

He just wanted our money, laying out an elaborate display of everything from cheap tar to clean China White, cocaine, and a pharmacy of prescription pills.

I always left to "go to the store" anytime Jason came over.

Once I was practically having a full on emotional affair, I would go find Duff but before any feelings for him emerged, I would just drive my car around the corner of the street going by the house, pull into the driveway of a half-way burnt down house, and cry. 

My husband, my Nikki, was destroying himself from the inside out, and the more I tried to do help him get better, the worse he got.

Every time I prayed for him, his demons would hold tighter to his legs and keep him shackled in place with a needle and lies that weighed him down and made him feel the need to do the only thing that made him happy, even if only temporarily.

By the end of '87, I was exhausted. I had been screaming, crying, pleading, for years for someone to do something, for someone to threaten the band, threaten them individually, get them off the road, at least try to start a conversation addressing their obvious addictions...

But they were making everyone above them money. That's all that mattered.

I was screaming into a void, and nobody could hear me. Well, they could...they were just ignoring me which was even worse.

I don't know how the hell I managed to face the same thing with Duff and his band years later.

I step into the house once Jason is gone, seeing Nikki by the fireplace, laying on the carpet, and I go to lay beside him.

We've been back from Japan a few days, and they're suppose to be preparing for their U.S. tour starting in a couple weeks.

Nikki's been in heroin land ever since we have gotten home.

And I've been in my own personal hell, being that I just added a third picture to my dead baby drawer as of yesterday.

I would go to a doctor to see if there's something wrong with me to prompt not ever making it past week twelve, but Nikki would find out somehow, someway. I've already risked enough as it is by going to the obstetrician.

"Babe," I nudge him and he opens his eyes just enough to show his pinpointed pupils, and he hums a little. "I gotta go get Tansy from the airport."

"Mmkay." He mumbles, and I force myself not to cry, remembering how miserable he was in Japan, and now we've gotten back and he's back to square one. 

Was it really square one if he never wanted to move to square two in the first place?

Tansy gets into my car, wearing what I'm assuming she wore when they taped her interview with David Letterman hours ago, while a security guard puts her stuff in the trunk.

"Well." I say, looking at her as she lays her head against the back of her seat and looks at me from behind her sunglasses. "How did the interview go?" I ask and she tugs off her heels.

"I don't know." She tells me and I furrow my brows. "The bits and pieces I remember were great." She sounds like she's about to cry.

"Were you...?" I trail off and she moves her fingers under the blacked out lenses and sniffles. "Babe, it's not anything to cry about."

I grab at her hand as she starts crying even more.

"I bombed it, Viv." She says with certainty.

"Tansy, if you don't even remember it, how do you know for sure you did a bad job?"

"You know how I act when I'm fucked up."

"I also know, by the grace of God, somehow, someway, you manage to differentiate between a setting you need to be more composed in, and a setting you can be wild in. Even when you are stoned out of your mind. I have seen you do it." I assure her. "It's really freaking creepy."

My comment has her chuckling a little and she wipes at her tears again. 

"It will be okay. I am sure you did great. And if you didn't you can just do what I do when I'm not acting normal and blame it on Mötley Crüe." 

None of us, not even Tansy herself, knew why or how she scored an interview with David Letterman, but we were all proud of her nonetheless, even if she couldn't remember much of it.

"Sparkie said Japan went good." Tansy says after we're driving for a couple minutes.

"Yeah."

"Thank you for letting him go. I know you aren't the biggest fan of him." She adds.

"I didn't let him go. The guys insisted he went because they needed someone to find them drugs." I state.

"Point is, he went. And he had fun. So thank you." She replies.

"I only tolerate him because I love you." I tell her.

"I know, and I—" she presses a quick kiss to the back of my hand. "—love you, too."

I rub my lips together and get an idea.

"Would you be up for a girl's night?" I ask.

"What do you have in mind?" She asks and I raise my brows. 

In hindsight, it was probably a bad decision to introduce Tansy to Guns N' Roses while she was still addicted to drugs and alcohol, because all it did was create toxic friendships that thrived on the struggles of everyone involved.

Tansy was very easily influenced by other people, but I figured if she had survived that long being friends with Nikki, Tommy and Vince, she would be just fine around Duff, Axl, Izzy, Steven and Slash.

Tansy and I make our way through the crowd, hand in hand, lacing through people and eager groupies.

She's heard me talk about them every now and then but now she has the opportunity to see what the hype is about.

The Troubadour is packed out, and a sense of pride swells in my chest.

"They must be good." Tansy comments, glancing around. 

Normally at least one person would have already asked for her autograph or a picture of her, but everyone is too distracted by the anticipation of the band that's been tearing up and down the strip ever since Nikki, Tommy, Vince and Mick set the bar so high. 

They're not even onstage yet, before all lights in the place shut down, and  Axl let's out one of his infamous screams that somehow mimics a melodic siren. 

The crowd goes quiet for a split second before realizing it's him, then they start screaming, clapping, stomping their feet. 

The lights come back on to reveal Axl, Duff, Izzy, Slash and Steven, picking up into the fast paced rhythm of "Anything Goes." 

With teased hair, heavy glam-rock influenced outfits and makeup, mixed with their sound, it's safe to say there isn't one dry vagina around...including Tansy, who's eyes don't leave the singing red head for the rest of the night.

Back stage is crowded, but Tansy and I manage to be the first females in their dressing room by the time their set is completely finished.

She's already broken into their Jack and Vodka stash, guzzling from both bottles simultaneously, and I look at her like she's crazy because I know it's got to hurt her throat.

"What?" She asks me, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"You are a crazy person." I state just as the door opens, revealing Slash and Steven first, girls under each arm.

"Hey, Viv!" Steven pipes, smiling widely and Slash looks confused for a moment before realizing the blur standing before him is indeed Vivian.

"Hey, Viv." He repeats what Steven said.

Steven does a double-take really quick, seeing Tansy, his hand patting at Slash as he stands, starstruck. It's a domino effect.

First Steven, second Slash, third Duff, then Izzy and lastly, Axl.

Except Steven, Slash, Duff and Axl are frozen because Tansy Lyn is standing before them. I'm sure Izzy appreciates her beauty and participation in Playboy for the last four years, but he's more worried about her breaking into their alcohol. 

"Man, that's Tansy Lyn." Steven states.

"Drinking our booze." Izzy adds and Tansy guiltily puts it back where she got it, smiling.

"Hi." She says to them, and they immediately pretend they weren't just remembering what her naked body looks like.

Steven, as always, is the first to make himself known to a beautiful girl, extending his hand to her. 

"I'm Steven." He tells her.

Slash is shyly hiding behind his curly hair the best he can as Steven puts an arm around him.

"This is Slash." He adds. 

"The grubby fingered alcoholic is Izzy." I tell her as he lights a cigarette. 

"Read this grubby finger, Viv." Izzy states blankly, flipping me off and I hold back a laugh.

"I'm Duff." Duff introduces himself next, and Tansy has to look up so high, her head is tipped completely back before shaking his hand.

Axl doesn't introduce himself, he just stands and stares at her for a moment, black sunglasses blocking our eyes from his.

"Axl." Is all he says before grabbing the bottle of Jack, grabbing one of the girls Steven and Slash walked in with, and leaving.

"He's not an asshole seventy-five percent of the time." I try to defend him against her as she looks like her feelings have been hurt slightly. 

"But when he is an asshole, just avoid him for a few hours and stay out of his way." Duff scoffs out, grabbing the bottle of vodka.

They all knew that piece of advice too well.

Not entirely sure how we ended up back at mine and Nikki's house, but Nikki wasn't home, and probably wasn't going to be home until early morning, so Duff, Steven and Tansy were all in my house.

"If you break a mirror, you buy it!" I call out to Steven and Tansy as Duff and I have our legs dangling in the pool water, hearing something breaking inside the house through the open french doors that lead into the kitchen.

Duff blows smoke out of his nose, laughing at Tansy and Steven calling back, "We didn't!" 

"Jesus." I mumble, grinning to myself and Duff joins in with me, laughing harder at me as "Get Down Tonight" starts blaring through the speakers in the house.

Tansy has officially met her match. 

"I'm glad they get along." Duff says smoothly.

"They both like weed and the same music taste. Seems like a beautiful friendship to me." I shrug and he smiles. 

There's a pause in the air, and he keeps looking at me. 

"What?"

"There's dancing trophies in your house." He tells me and I raise my brows, remembering the day Nikki had demanded my hard earned proof of years dedicated to such a difficult art form, be put on display on a shelf right next to his awards for Gold and Platinum records.

"Yeah? I told you I use to be a dancer." I reply.

"I thought you meant you were a stripper." He confesses and I widen my eyes, elbowing him gently.

"No!" 

"Well, I'm sorry! You're married to a rock guy, you said you use to be a dancer, rockers and strippers go hand-in-hand. It's, like, written in stone or whatever." He tells me. 

"Oh my gosh, Duff." I rub my face and he finishes his cigarette before pulling out another one. 

"So, why don't you do it anymore?" He asks and I think for a second and lick my lips.

"It just wasn't really..." I trail off and he furrows his brows. "...I guess after over a decade of dancing, after graduating, it just  wasn't my thing anymore. I just moved onto bigger and better stuff." 

"What's your thing now, then?" It's obvious he doesn't buy my explanation.

"Being Nikki Sixx's wife." I admit and an odd silence falls over us. 

"You gave up school--Julliard--and dance, only to be known as somebody's wife?" 

"Well, damn, Duff, when you say it like that..." I try not to be hurt because I know he doesn't mean any ill will from it and he immediately starts apologizing. 

"I didn't mean it like that." He tells me. "It's just a waste of talent if you never utilize it anymore. You can't just be dependent on being Nikki's wife, Viv. You need your own thing." 

I wanted to tell him I couldn't afford to be anything but Nikki's wife, or else I'd lose everything.

Nikki's home sooner than I expect as I get ready for bed.

Steven, Tansy and Duff are all asleep on the living room floor, and Nikki comes into our bathroom to splash water on his face.

"The fuck is in our house?" He asks me and I raise my brows.

"Why're you home this early?"

"Jason's coming over." He tells me. "And he's bringing his girlfriend."

"Umm, baby, it would be nice for my friends not to wake up and be met with a drug dealer naming off poisons like an auctioneer."

"Tell them to fuck off." He mumbles, digging through his pockets of the clothes he was wearing yesterday. "Have you seen the check?" He asks me and I raise my brows.

"The check from the label for the Japan tour?" I ask and he nods. "You asked me to cash it yesterday and I did."

"Okay, so where did you put it?"

I step to my top drawer and hand him the stack of cash and he starts thumbing through it, his brows furrowing when he stops halfway through.

"The check was for $150,000, Viv. Where's the rest?" He snaps and I cross my arms.

"You said put 20% in savings and told me I could give 10% to tithes." I remind him, and he looks like he is going to murder me.

"You gave fifteen fucking thousand dollars to a church?! Are you out of your fucking mind?!" He seeths, his face twisting angrily.

"You told me I could Nikki." I try not to get upset. "I asked you and you said—"

"—I said 'yes' because I was fucked up and wasn't thinking, Viv!" He yells, throwing the pile of cash across the room, causing bills to fly everywhere. "And that's exactly why you waited until you knew I couldn't pay attention to care enough about what you were saying because you knew I would laugh in your face if I were sober!" He accuses me.

"Is it so bad if your money goes to something other than drugs?" I stupidly ask him.

He's lunging at me, grabbing my wrists, and pinning me to the bed while screaming in my face.

"That's my fucking money! Mine! How I want to spend it is my fucking business, Vivian!" He shakes me, and I can no longer hold back tears. "You're gonna go tomorrow to that fucking shit hole and tell those fallacious bastards you need that $15,000 back!"

"Nikki, I already told them it was their's." I try to explain, shaking my head a little, sobbing so thickly I'm not even sure he can understand me.

"You'll get my fucking money back or I'll give you something to fucking whine about." He threatens darkly.

He shoves himself off of me and storms out of the house, slamming the front door.

I go to make sure he didn't wake Tans, Stevie, or Duff up, but to my horror, Tansy and Steven are sound asleep while I hear the door slam a second time and realize Duff followed Nikki out.

[spookyspaghettisundae]

A Pact and an Awakening

The wizard fell to his knees in the dark hall. Tapayaxi prostrated himself before the imposing stone skull that represented the immortal “Architect” who gave counsel to their god-emperor.

He remained there for so long that his knees went numb and his mind spiraled through all the memories and thoughts he had pooled. Memories of his encounters with the outsiders who had taught him so much of what he now wielded, of the rush of power he felt when he held the glowing gem that thrummed with the shreds of torn souls amassed within its mirroring confines. Thoughts that cut through a mist of secrets and occult mysteries.

In a world where the sun never set and night never arrived, only the wandering of floating islands in the sky could tell how many hours had passed as Tapayaxi knelt there, lost in confused meditation. Light poured in from the entrance to the skull-shaped edifice, blending with the glow from eternal flames that flickered in their braziers.

With no sense of time and reality slipping away, it took far too long for him to notice the footsteps of a man walking into this solemn sanctuary. The Architect known as the Altecayotl had arrived.

He stood in silence behind Tapayaxi, awaiting for him to rise.

And rise, the wizard did. He stood before the Architect and bowed to him in deference. The Altecayotl exuded a majestic presence as he stood there completely still, clad in black cloth with gilded threads, and a dress of iridescent feathers that fanned out from a hawk-like mask.

Although Tapayaxi was sore from awaiting the Architect’s return from the capitol, and he had always lived his life in reverence to this ageless, undying man, his blood now bubbled with envy. It boiled with the fire of ambition.

“The god-emperor has spoken after hearing me report to him. He heard of all that you experienced and all that you learned in the borderlands,” spoke the Altecayotl. His voice echoed through the yawning emptiness of the hall, magnifying the imposing and commanding tone in his words. “As I was impressed with the creature you created, so was he.”

Silence draped over them as the Architect stopped speaking to the wizard. Tapayaxi remained silent, unsure of whether the Altecayotl expected him to reply to that in any form, or if he had more to say.

He failed to see any further instruction in those words.

The Architect tilted his head and his piercing gaze wandered all over Tapayaxi’s face, studying his features closely in an eerie fashion, reminding the wizard of his experience with some of the stone-cold killers he called his bodyguards.

“Your next task comes with a simple order, but it is one of monumental scale,” continued the Altecayotl, letting his soft words slice through the silence. “You are to find more of these radiant pools of power, drain them as you have done with the one above the confluence of waterfalls—and return the resulting soul gems to me.”

The ambition that burned within the wizard flared up, and the envy turned to greed.

He knew he could do things with those gems—things undreamed of. With the souls of the sacrifices contained within them, saturated with the blue-glowing energies that they had drained from the “pool of power.” Creating a giant made of flesh and bone that obeyed his every command was just the beginning. He could do so much more.

He could rule this world.

“Perish such thoughts, Tapayaxi,” the Altecayotl said.

He wanted to protest, but then realized that the Architect had read his mind. As he searched his senses, he felt something invading his being, like needles piercing the cloud of his thoughts. The more he tried to focus on it, to perhaps push back this invisible presence in his mind, the more it strained him and sapped him of his strength.

He wiped under his nose and found blood on his hands upon doing so. The wizard’s eyes went wide with surprise as he glared at the Architect.

How had he done that? There had been no sign of him casting any such spell.

“Just like your captives, slaves, and soldiers who sacrificed themselves for your cause, you too, are expected to make your own sacrifices to the god-emperor. And to me,” said the Altecayotl. The tone made his words roll out as smoothly as molten butter, dripping from a ladle, yet they were as venomous as a deadly snake’s bite.

Tapayaxi’s hands balled into fists by his side but he found himself impotent in his anger. He dared not explore any thoughts of rebellion in the Architect’s presence now. He also decided that he was right. Yet—

“Sacrifice is not giving up that which you do not want,” said the Architect.

“But surrendering that which you cannot do without,” the wizard ended, completing the second half of their creed.

The Architect surprised the wizard with an emotional response he had never witnessed from him before: he chortled.

“We all make our sacrifices for the empire, for it is the best for our people. I trust you will make your own, in kind,” he said. And before the wizard could process these words fully, the Altecayotl added, “Travel north. Cross the mountains with your wardens. You may take your creation for protection. Find the floating isle upon which the northerners have built a brass sanctuary, where they practice alchemy and idle indulgences with spirits of the air. There, you will find another pool of power. There, you will fill more gems.”

Tapayaxi awaited more instructions, but when no more came, he bowed in reverence once again. It was time for him to leave. He felt that the Altecayotl had nothing more to say to him for now. He felt it in the back of his mind, because the presence that had drilled through his thoughts now withdrew.

The Architect walked past him, standing before the giant skull in which braziers illuminated its huge eye sockets.

Tapayaxi left, and days later, he was wandering north, just as instructed. Breathtaking vistas from the heights, overlooking his homelands, occupied his mind, distracting him from the unease that continued to haunt him.

The wizard had focused on his task, preparing meticulously both in the form of engraving stone tablets with magick symbols that he had studied, as well as with reagents that he would use for such spellcraft. A dozen of his most loyal warriors accompanied him, followed by a veritable army of indentured servants. And that giant made of the bones of many.

A whole boneyard of remains, held together by bronze fittings. It thundered with every step that it took while it marched along this company. No beast they encountered was ever a match for his warriors and this magicked death-machine.

But with the passage of days, the distractions turned monotonous and could distract him no longer. He contemplated the Architect’s power and concluded that it was something that his wizardry could never attain. Yet he needed not emulate it, nor mimic it—within means of his own, he needed only to rival it.

Eclipse it.

He shielded his eyes with a hand as he stared at the sun one day. It hurt, and he cringed, but continued to stare.

The pain cut deep into his mind and suffused his thoughts. It made the envy bubble up; his blood boiled once more.

If he could use such soul gems to create the boneyard giant, he could make other magick permanent, binding it into objects of his own making. What powers could the Altecayotl possibly possess to rival a man who could see through every illusion? Mold shadows and stone just by willing it so? Control human beings with a thought, rendering them into fleshy puppets?

Such thoughts occupied his mind throughout the days, as well as when they rested and he stared into the glow of the campfires by which they warmed themselves in the cold mountains. Staring into the fire reminded him of staring into the sun, only it hurt less. He dwelt upon those thoughts, those ambitions.

One night, when he slept, he awoke with the sensation of jumping out of a nightmare.

Or had one just begun?

The world burned. Wherever Tapayaxi looked, he stood upon a sliver of land, surrounded by a sea of fire. The horizon had turned a blood-red hue that reckoned back to all the blood he had shed, to that festering pile of corpses upon which his servants dumped each once-living sacrifice. Severed limbs, wriggling with swarms of maggots surfaced on the burning lake around him, reminding him of his deeds and his sins.

In that crimson sky, a burning sphere hung low, a sun far more ominous and threatening than the one Tapayaxi had known all his life.

Screams reached his ears, always ringing from a direction to which he turned and found himself incapable of locating the source. Twisting and turning to determine where the screams came from, it took him forever to understand that they were his own.

His skin rippled and crawled with the fire of a thousand ants crawling underneath it, biting at his flesh from within.

Beyond the lake of fire, the silhouette of a winged monstrosity loomed on one side of the horizon, watching him with sadistic glee. Whatever looked like mountains in the distance around it—were not. It was a moving edge, like jagged black teeth churning and threatening to devour the skies.

Tapayaxi turned and turned until this hellish world spun around him ever faster, and dizziness made his knees buckle with weakness. His screams made way to the laughter that only insanity can bear, and his mad dance came to an abrupt halt when he stared into a steel mask, engulfed in a pillar of fire.

A giant of steel, with claws shaped like daggers. He felt that it was empty—empty of all charity, void of any benevolence. In the hollow sockets of that steel mask, pure malevolence burned in a pitch-black fire.

The sensation of insects crawling underneath his skin intensified, and Tapayaxi laughed in this entity’s face until he understood that this was no mere dream. It felt all too lucid—too real.

“The unseelie lurks in the shadows, protecting your precious pool of power. Kill it swiftly, or it will take your face and end your path right there,” the steel mask whispered. And shouted. It reached him through many voices, some of them screaming in pain, others luring him in with seductively dulcet undertones.

“Who are you?” screamed the wizard at this apparition.

It stood motionless, not like it was undisturbed by the inferno engulfing it, but as if it was one with the evil flames.

“There will be many perils on your path beyond the creature,” whispered the entity, ignoring his question. “Of shadows made flesh, seas of spears and blades, and of dragon’s fire.”

“What do you want?” Tapayaxi screamed in agony at it.

He scratched at his wrists, and the length of his arms. He scratched until they bled. He bled black tar, oozing from the wounds, and something—some things—with thousands of legs that crawled forth, but he dared not look upon it.

“If your wisdom guides your decisions, then you may gain power far greater than the one you call the Altecayotl. You may rule these lands one day,” the entity spoke in sixty different voices, blending together all manner of ages and genders, still shrugging off the wizard’s questions.

Tapayaxi’s eyes teared up, but with thick, viscous matter, like blood. He dared not pose any more questions, he only hoped this would end soon. That this was all but a vivid nightmare. That he would wake up.

But like the dagger piercing the back of his mind that had been the Altecayotl reading this thoughts, this too felt like the invasion of an alien consciousness. All too sinister, and all too real.

“You must only surrender your soul to me—and the key will be yours. The key to the world of your desire.”

Tapayaxi’s whole body trembled. It quaked. He finally dared to look upon himself. Only with delay did his screams of terror reach his own ears. His comprehension shut down at the sight of whatever was crawling from his self-inflicted wounds. The things that dripped from the scratches wriggled and lived and they glistened with shiny surfaces, reflecting the glow of the flames.

The hollow masked entity stretched out an arm, with a steel palm turned skywards and blade-like fingers splayed. Like an open hand, offering aid and succor.

Driven not by despair—for he knew deep down that this would not end his suffering—driven by that voracious greed that festered in his essence, Tapayaxi reached out and took that hand.

He took the offer. The blade-like fingers clamped down around his hand, piercing skin and drawing blood and digging into his flesh.

“Swear it. Surrender your soul to me, and you shall have everything,” it whispered in a seductive voice. Smoky, gravelly, and honest. Like a silky forked tongue touching against rows of tiny sharp teeth.

Tapayaxi awoke, covered in a sheen of sweat. His disheveled hair clung to his forehead. He had jolted into sitting up upon his bedding by the campfire, in the shade of his tent. Some of the wardens kept watch on the perimeter of their camp, some of the servants were still awake, while most others rested in their own sleep.

Disoriented, the wizard examined his wrists. They were reddened, as if he had scratched them in his sleep. They still itched, though with nothing unnatural about them.

The dream—the nightmare—lingered in his thoughts, hauntingly real and still hauntingly present. The whispers echoed, fusing with his memories of real experiences. But this nightmare, too, had been real. Too real.

He had made up his mind. This was his awakening.

He echoed those whispers with his own, “I swear it. My soul is yours, for the key to the crowns of this world to be mine.”

The campfire flared up.

Nobody else had seen it.

At first, Tapayaxi felt no different in that moment but he knew that everything would change from here on out. Once that realization set in, he felt a tingling in his fingertips. It traveled from his digits through his limbs and reached his heart. At first, it reminded him of that wriggling, sickening sensation from the nightmare, of the things gnawing at his flesh from underneath the skin.

He fought it back, resisting that knotting in his stomach, and dispelled the horrid memory as best he could manage. It made way for a dark fire, now enkindled in his beating heart.

In there, he knew: the world would be his.

—Submitted by Wratts

[soccernetghana]

How will football move on when Messi and Ronaldo retire?

Lionel Messi or Cristiano Ronaldo? It's the question that has defined a decade of football; the cause of innumerable arguments across the globe. In the age of social media, you are not allowed to appreciate both. You have to pick one or the other. And whom you chose apparently tells you a lot about how you view the game. As Luis Figo famously argued, it really is a question of taste: "It's like choosing between white truffle or caviar." Indeed, the one thing that everyone agrees on is that both are incredible; both belong in the conversation on the best player of all time. They are, after all, responsible for an unprecedented rivalry in the history of the game: two all-time greats on opposite sides of the Clasico divide for nine years, pushing one another to scale even greater heights. As Messi himself told DAZN: "It was a duel that will last forever because it went on for many years, and it isn’t easy to keep at your highest level for so long – especially at those two clubs we were at, which were so demanding, in Real Madrid and Barcelona, the best clubs in the world. "Competing head to head for so many years will be remembered forever. The sporting rivalry between us was very nice on a personal level. I think that the fans also enjoyed it, be they Madrid or Barca supporters, or just those who like football." It is not over yet, of course. Ronaldo and Messi may be 35 and 32, respectively, but they have yet to show any real signs of letting up. The Portuguese may have changed teams, leaving Real for Juventus in 2018, but the rivalry with Messi endures; the debate rages on – at least among their most ardent supporters. When Ronaldo transferred to Turin, his fans followed. Juventus' social media numbers skyrocketed, highlighting this new phenomenon of some supporters prioritising players over clubs. These very modern consumers of football have a favourite player – not a favourite team, which begs a far more pressing question than Messi or Ronaldo: What happens after the pair retire? Will football lose followers? The two greatest protagonists in the most absorbing drama of the past decade will have left the stage – will some of the audience leave before the next act? After all, how could anything top what has gone before? Ronaldo and Messi have distorted our perceptions of what is possible on a football field, making the extraordinary, ordinary. They have altered our idea of what constitutes an excellent goal-scoring season. Anything less than 50 goals a season could, in future, be construed as underwhelming. And that is the key here: consistency. "They've done it for so long," Spanish football writer Andy West told Goal. "They've barely taken a week off. They've both had the physical fitness to play 40 or 50 games a year. Neither of them have really had serious injuries problems, which is amazing in itself. If you go back over the history of the game, there are very, very few players who are able to sustain that excellence for so long. "Even if you look at players just from my lifetime, such as the Brazilian Ronaldo, he was the best player in the world at his peak, but he had so many injury problems that meant he was only at his greatest for a short period of time. "They've not given anybody else has had a look in. There have been lots and lots of great players over the past decade who would have previously had a claim on being the best player in the world but they've not even been close. I don't think anyone would dispute that. Nobody has been close to the level of Messi and Ronaldo." Hazard and Neymar? Not even someone like Eden Hazard. The Belgium international was one of the best players in the world for years, lighting up the Premier League with his wing wizardry at Chelsea. However, even Hazard has admitted that he is simply incapable of matching Ronaldo and Messi's numbers, as so painfully underlined by the 29-year-old's form and fitness issues in his first year at Real Madrid. "I often ask myself what I can do to become like Messi and Ronaldo and get 50 or 60 goals in a season," he confessed to Sport/Foot. I try, of course, but I realise that I will never be a true goalscorer like them. It's not in me. It is mainly mental: at 2-0, not thinking that is enough for example. Sometimes I still think after a goal, 'That's enough.' "I'm not in search of records like some other players – if I can score between 15 and 20 goals each season, I will be very happy." One could never imagine Messi or Ronaldo being content with such a tally. Of course, for the sake of narrative, they are portrayed as polar opposites: Messi is the quiet, unassuming genius who puts the team first; Ronaldo the self-made goal-scoring machine who takes as much pride in his appearance as his records. Both are crude caricatures, which do both a disservice. Messi can be as ruthless as Ronaldo; Ronaldo can be as magnanimous as Messi. In addition, they are bound not only by brilliance but also determination, an inner drive that has seen both make the absolute most of their considerable skills. Which is perhaps why Neymar is no longer the favourite to step into the spotlight when Messi and Ronaldo bow out. There have never been any doubts over the Brazilian's ability but his level of focus has long been a cause for concern. Neymar's situation has hardly improved in the interim. If anything, that storm has only worsened. As has his physical condition. Since moving to Paris Saint-Germain for a world-record fee in 2017, Neymar has been blighted by injuries and ill-discipline. At 28, his career path now looks more likely to follow that of Ronaldinho than Ronaldo, having, thus far, failed to strike the perfect balance between sporting and commercial growth. Time for Mbappe and Haaland? But what about the next generation? Kylian Mbappe and Erling Haaland are considered the frontrunners to fill the void that Messi and Ronaldo will leave behind. Both are extraordinary young talents. Mbappe is the only man other than Pele to have scored in a World Cup final as a teenager; Haaland is the youngest player in history to score 10 Champions League goals, having reached that mark in just seven matches. Their potential is as obvious as it is enormous. Questions remain, of course. Can they sustain their fine form? Will they avoid serious injuries? Will they be as dedicated to their profession as Messi and Ronaldo? Both are considered colourful characters. Haaland's former Red Bull Salzburg team-mate Maximilian Wober described the Norwegian to Goal as "crazy insane" yet recalled how the striker would spend his time on away trips "reading scientific articles on who he could improve his sleep pattern or diet" while the rest of the team were playing cards. In a similar vein, Mbappe once skipped a party in honour of Monaco's shock 2016-17 Ligue 1 title triumph so that he could get enough rest to be in peak physical condition for the following day's training session. The Frenchman was only a teenager back then, though, and there having been growing concerns about his allegedly egotistical behaviour since being taken under Neymar's wing in Paris, as underlined by his recent spats with PSG coach Thomas Tuchel. Mbappe has admitted himself that he is "not a hard worker" but is still regarded by journalists who follow the French league and national team closely as someone who simply loves playing football. As long as he retains that passion for the game, he should – like Haaland – continue to rack up record after record. Of course, it would be unfair to expect anyone to equal Messi or Ronaldo's remarkable strike-rates. Or carry the game into a new era, for that matter. Besides, it's not as if the Messi-Ronaldo rivalry has been the only show in town over the past 10 to 15 years. Messi has never played in the Premier League, while Ronaldo left in 2009 – yet the English top-flight is by some distance the most watched and, consequently, the richest championship in club football. There are, of course, many reasons for its global popularity: the sheer pace of the game separates it from its European rivals; what it loses in quality, it makes up for in frenzied entertainment. In addition, the almost total absence of running tracks around its pitches only accentuates the raucous atmosphere generated by the massive and passionate crowds found with its modern stadia. England changed its practices and image following the Heysel and Hillsborough tragedies of the 1980s, and reaped the rewards. With the advent of the Premier League in 1992, English football became a perfectly packaged product expertly sold to audiences across the globe by BSkyB and, in turn, the further riches bestowed upon clubs by the sale of overseas TV rights enabled the acquisition of some of the most talented and charismatic characters in football. All of this, coupled with the sport's innate capacity for unscripted drama, made the Premier League compelling viewing. Essentially, football faces a far more pressing concern than the imminent retirement of two living legends, with the Covid-19 pandemic having plunged the game into financial crisis that represents a very real existential threat for clubs and leagues across the world. By its very nature, though, football is a simple game. Its popularity will not be dimmed by the pandemic; if anything, it may be enhanced by it, as people become even more appreciative of a sport that can be played by anyone with a ball. So, if football can survive Covid-19, it can survive the loss of Messi and Ronaldo. The show will go on. But so too will the debate over who was better: Messi or Ronaldo? There will never be an agreement, of course, but that is beside the point. As Messi says, his rivalry with Ronaldo is a duel that will last forever. Source: m.allfootballapp.com source: https://ghanasoccernet.com/

[chaniters]

Only Human

___________________________ Starting a new series with @kruk-art‘s Awan Cormac!

Pre-Heartbreak, going to be focused on Ortega, Anathema and Steel along with some new heroes and Villains. 

The plot will deal with some events mentioned but not fully explored in the game.

Hope you enjoy!

____________________________

“CHARGE!” you cry with a sense of urgency.

“I KNOW!” he yells back at you.

Charge’s standing in the middle of the road trying to stop some car that could help, but there’s not a single one passing by. You keep your hands pressed over the man’s chest wound, where the bullet went in. Your gloves are completely smeared in blood by now.

“CHARGE, HE’S DYING!” you call again.

You feel your own chest burning like fire where you got hit. Unlike you, however, the man you’re trying to keep alive didn’t have a bulletproof suit.  

He suddenly approaches the car parked next to him and…

-CRASH!- goes the window. The alarm starts, but he takes to the driver seat and does something, jumpstarting the engine. He hurries back to you.

“Let’s put him in the back seat”

You nod and help him, still pressing on the wound. Perfect coordination by now. It’s like you had done this all your lives.

You stay at the back while he drives. Both hands on the wound. Rain starts falling, covering the windows, but you only have eyes for the outpour that you can actually do something about.

__________20 minutes later__________

Los Diablos Earthquake Memorial hospital.

You phase up and down the stairs, your brain still speeding at a hundred miles per hour analyzing how this mess started.

You just happened to catch out some loose thoughts from a source that tipped you about the people behind the abductions going to strike tonight. This gang didn’t seem too dangerous, so you simply called the Marshal, the two of you should have been more than enough after all. Abductions and kidnapings of boosted individuals are not as uncommon as the media would have everyone believe.

His powers weren’t even that interesting… super-enhanced visual spectrum. He used it to become a painter, and he wasn’t famous. Just a curiosity among local art collectors.

How could you have known they were going to go after an artist? Why? Two supervillains on him were more than overkill. And now he might die, because of what you didn’t know.

The Void escaped again, and to make matters worse, he teamed up with Psycopathor and his Vulcan Cannon. They had told you he liked oversized guns, but that thing was terrifying to see, especially used inside a city. It’s a miracle no one else got hurt.  

You weren’t ready for a half-hour duel at an art gallery with two heavyweights. But somehow, you pulled it off made Psycopathor fumble with a suggestion, and he got his own hand caught in the rotating gun while Ortega fell on The Void from above. That drove them out, but Void tried to shoot the hostage, to delay you from following. Just like last time with the bombs… Always an escape plan, that bastard.    

You still feel the sharp turns Ortega took driving here, while he passed every single red light, and you kept trying to make other drivers move away with your mind…

You helped to get him on a stretcher and Ortega got him inside with the paramedics, but that was as far as you dared go.  You stayed outside, it’s a hospital after all and you don’t enter hospitals. Besides, in this mindstate, there’s no guarantee your powers are not going to go off.

Your hand goes to your pocket, looking for anything to help your nerves. But there’s nothing. No candy, no chocolate, not a single popsicle.

“Shit,” you say holding your head.

Hyperventilating… deep breaths…

Inhale...

This isn’t how it was supposed to go. You were supposed to be the reliable one in getting intel. This mess is all your fault… you should have investigated further.

You take off half of your mask, uncover your mouth and nose close your eyes…

Exhale…

The hand on your back makes you jerk violently back into reality, striking blindly at whomever…

“Woah... relax! It’s just me!” He’s holding your fist in his palm. Marshall Charge. Not an enemy…

It takes a full two more seconds before you manage to order yourself to put the hand down. You didn’t even notice the static he emits this time.

“Well you’re a mess…” he states simply, with a half-smile.

You scoff and lean on the hospital’s old brick wall. If he wants you to say you’re sorry, he’ll have to wait a long time.

“Got you something” he adds, leaning by your side. A little too close, like he always does. Just enough to make you uncomfortable but not enough that you’d actually move away. He has mastered the thin line of awkwardness.

“And what’s that?” you ask besides yourself, still thinking on the wounded boost, probably in surgery now… probably dying.

“Here,” he says offering a candy-bar.

You see it, then look away, trying to force yourself not to take it… Don’t take candy from strangers. Isn’t that a thing?

But you hand moves on its own, your brain eschewing all logic in favor of sugar. Ortega would make a star pupil of Pavlov. It’s just not fair… he knows you can’t just say no to anything with enough glucose in it.

And thus the deal is sealed, you’ve taken his offering and are thus forced to let out a low-key embarrassed “Thanks”. He simply smiles, counting this as yet another victory against whatever he thinks he’s fighting against whenever he’s around you.

“That was a terrific job” He adds while you feel the wonderful crunchiness of chocolate and peanut in your mouth.

“What?” you say staring at him with your mouth full.  

“The way you handled that situation… It was fucked up from the star, and we still managed to hold our own against those freaks. And you rescued the hostage… I couldn’t have done that better. Hell, I don’t think Captain Glory could have done that better”

“Charge” you’ve forgone the use of the Marshal title a few weeks ago, You’re constantly working together these days and it’s just tiring “It definitely wasn’t a terrific job. I failed. I didn’t get enough intel, we went in blind, and the hostage got shot!” you add pointing out the obvious.

“Well he would be kidnapped and disappeared by now like the others, I mean, if we hadn’t been there, to save him”

“Well he’s not saved yet, is he?” you argue.

“Doctors says no vitals got hit. Just moderate blood loss thanks to you… They say surgery has very good chances with a transfusion. They were stopping the bleeding when I left”

“Captain Glory would have stopped the bullet”

“Well, we’re not really bulletproof like Captain Glory, are we? … and you still took two bullets for him. Did I mention how insane you are?” he says poking lightly at your chest, where the dents on your suit are clearly visible. The mere contact makes you wince and you slap his hand away. The suit stopped the bullets, but the bruises are there to stay. “That was dangerous. You can’t count on these to always work. Especially not if it’s The Void.”

“He used his handgun… and I’m going to blame you if it fails, you’re the one who gave it to me. Besides, what’s the point of bulletproof armor if you’re not going to use it?”

“Ever heard the concept of having a safety net?”

“I was that guy’s safety net. And I couldn’t stop the third bullet.”

He frowns “That one could have killed you”

You look to the side, avoiding his gaze. “You don’t get it”

“What is it that I don’t get?”

“I need to do better… I can’t screw up like this… you did your job keeping them busy, but I didn’t manage clean intel, and then I failed to get a clean escape. I failed! I was in Void’s mind and I couldn’t tell he was going to shoot the hostage!”

“You can’t control every detail! The guy’s going to be alright and thanking you. What more do you want? Sometimes shit happens!”

“Maybe shit happens on your watch, but that’s not how I do things! I can’t let myself screw up!”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” he asks exasperated. “I’m just telling you, YOU DID A GOOD JOB!”

“I didn’t. Just…  Just shut up… you’re not the one who fucked this up after all.”

“I screwed up a lot! You think It always works alright for me?!”

“You don’t know what it’s like! I have to be perfect! I have to make up for...”

“Make up for what?!!” he interrupts. “For acting like a fucking hero? Taking bullets for someone you don’t even know?!”

Walking on thin ice. You can’t really answer that. And you’re too angry to answer anyways. Mostly with yourself. You raise your fists, almost ready to punch his infuriating face, but you know he’s not the one responsible. You just turn around. Turn and walk away. Channeling rage his way is wrong and you know it.

Your steps become faster, and faster, the stroll becomes a jog, and then you’re running… Running away from him, back to your base.

“You’re running again… Just what are you running from?” You hear his voice behind you, further and further away.

You’ve got no clear answer to that question.

Him? Your makers? Yourself? The truth?

Maybe all of the above.

It’s not something you ask yourself very often.

No one ever taught you how to stop running. No one taught you how to deal with failure either.

They only demanded perfection in everything you did, and your standards haven’t lowered since.

Being perfect is your only chance. The only way in which you can make up for not being one of them. The only way you could hope they might decide to forgive you, once they figure it all out.

__________________________

My Fanfics: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero wold. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for her wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.

[ladyfl4me]

A,E,F,G,I,J,K,L,M,N,O,P,Q,R,S,T,U,V,W,X,Y,Z ;o

Okay *cracks knuckles* let’s go! F, M, and S have already been taken from this list, so feel free to send in... B, C, D, or H, I guess. Yeehaw. This is really fucking long.

A: How did you come up with the title to [TMWCIFTC]? -- It started, as many things do, as a bad pun. The novel The Spy who Came In from the Cold was a cold-war spy thriller, about a British spy who goes over to East Germany as an apparent defect, except he’s actually there to spread misinformation and fuck shit up. He falls in love, becomes disillusioned with his superiors, and is shot dead over the corpse of his lover after climbing over to the east side of the wall. Needless to say, this is nowhere close to what happens in TMWCIFTC. I chose it early on because of the literal meaning: there’s a moth(man), he’s coming in from the cold WV weather, boom shaka laka, we have a title. Over time, though, it’s evolved into another meaning. Indrid himself is coming in from an isolated, lonely existence: he’s rejoining the family that cut ties with him, he’s in love, he’s warm and safe. The moth sure did come in from the cold, and hopefully he stays that way.

E: If you wrote a sequel to [TMWCIFTC], what would it be about? -- Hm. Considering my entire TAZ fic career is a tangled hairball of sequels and prequels, I kind of have this base covered. At the moment, TCOS - aka The Children of Sylvain, the sequel to TMWCIFTC - is about three things: a Pine Guard road trip race against time and the feds, the Spanish Sylvan Inquisition That Nobody Expected (least of all Jake and Hollis, who have to set aside their differences and past conflicts to save Kepler - and who knows, maybe they’ll fall in love along the way), and Alexandra the Interpreter getting woke to Sylvan politics and doing what she can from the inside to change them. In other words, it’s going to be a massive sequel that is the finale of the Amnesty alternate universe I’ve created. It’s this series’ Endgame. (That reminds me, I need an actual title for this collection of stories I’m writing. The “Tin Cinematic Universe” doesn’t quite have the ring to it that I’d like.)

G: Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order? -- eh, it kind of depends. It’s like a buffering bar on Youtube videos. I outline what I can until I run out of ideas, then start writing, then add outlines to the end, until the outline is complete and I just have to keep writing.

I: Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)? -- I don’t have one for reading, but for writing, I fucking love structuring chapters around songs. Classical or otherwise, I love music. All my stories play in my head like a movie screen, and I just do my best to describe what I’m seeing in my head with an accompanying score. It’s not so much a guilty pleasure as it is a writing process. Frankly, I don’t think I actually have a guilty pleasure; the act of writing itself is all the happiness I need.

J: Write or describe an alternative ending to [insert fic]. -- An alternate ending for The Devil Went Down To Georgia would be... interesting. It ended with Boyd-as-Jersey-Devil scaring the pants off some poor broke college kid, who stole his worthless fiddle; then he changed back, and he and Ned went on their merry way to go break into Aubrey’s house and send everything down the drain. If there was one thing that I could change in there, it would be how fast Ned ran. If he ran a little faster, he would have seen the alley; he would have witnessed Boyd turning into the Jersey Devil, or at least turning back into himself; and he’d get a very rude awakening as to what Sylvans are and that his partner (in crime, and everything that mattered) was a fucking cryptid. God, that’d be a fun AU to write. Who knows, I might go do that someday.

K: What’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come up with? -- At the moment, the only angsty idea that I’m actually conceptualizing is a Hollis/Jake angsty breakup for TSG. (Spoilers, I guess.) I once wrote a very grimdark ending to TMWCIFTC where everyone fell through the ice and drowned. It wasn’t fun. I’ve also mentally killed off each Amnesty protagonist and NPC in various ways, but I never felt comfortable writing them down. I only write angst with a happy ending because those are the kinds of stories I need to hear.

L: How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting? -- 9 times out of 10, I just throw it into the void. I write as much as I can in big chunks, and then kind of hope for the best. TMWCIFTC, for example, is a completely unedited, unbetaed vomit draft. I usually do a quick reread of my oneshots to catch grammar and spelling errors, but other than that I just trust myself that it’s fine.

N: Is there a fic you wish someone else would write (or finish) for you? -- Can I get some kind of resolution for To the Edge of Night? Can I please get some kind of resolution for To the Edge of Night??? I was 14 chapters into that bastard before I a) became a more casual MCU fan and b) discovered TAZ. It was such a niche fic with such a niche structure - LOTR as galactic Asgardian propaganda to cover up Odin’s mistakes - that at some point I lost interest in it. I just saw Endgame though, so now I might get some inspiration for stuff to bastardize.

O: How do you begin a story–with the plot, or the characters? -- Characters. When coming up with character backstories, I can usually find ways to slot their lives together that necessitate a plot. I love character-driven stories, where their actions actually do shit and their words actually mean something, in favor of getting dragged along behind the plot like tin cans behind a car.

P: Are you what George R. R. Martin would call an “architect” or a “gardener”? (How much do you plan in advance, versus letting the story unfold as you go?) -- I’m definitely an architect, but in a really messy way. My friends can attest that I do an insane amount of planning for each story - often in their DMs, sorry about that, Fae, Cro, Indy and Aline 😬 - and all that usually ends up in a stream-of-consciousness rant outline on Google Drive. Knowing where the story is going helps me a lot, but the planning I do is definitely just building flower beds in which to sow seeds. Or building a greenhouse. I plan the bare bones of a story, and things get really wild within it, but it does follow a logical plot structure.

Q: How do you feel about collaborations? -- I have a lot of respect for the people who can successfully pull it off, but idk if i’d ever want to do one myself. I get really possessive of my stories and ideas and like to be the one in charge of their execution. That being said, some collabs have produced amazing stories. I don’t mind reading collab fics, but actually being in a collab grates on me more than it should.

R: Are there any writers (fanfic or otherwise) you consider an influence? -- I’m definitely influenced heavily by Neil Gaiman. I read American Gods and Good Omens a lot while I was trying to write TMWCIFTC; not only was it a good brain break, but I was able to pick up a lot of tips on scene pacing, concise yet expressive language, and character interactions. My creative wriitng professors have always told us to read so we know what to steal - not in terms of content, but in execution. 

On the fanfic side, @miamaroo is a huge inspiration for me. I’ve been reading Northern Migration a lot recently, and I love how its canon divergence is so worldshaking and so complex, but is still familiar in nostalgic yet terrifying ways. I read it back in October, went, “Huh, I wanna do something that wild. And if miamaroo can do it then I sure as fuck can too,” and I started planning TMWCIFTC during that one month dead zone the McElroys took last year. Northern Migration is one of the best, most coherent, most stunning, and most incredibly written TAZ Balance AUs I’ve ever read, and if I hadn’t read it, I wouldn’t have been inspired to take the fuckall huge plunge into TMWCIFTC.

S: Any fandom tropes you can’t resist? -- Bed sharing and cuddling, hand kissing, wrist kissing, whump, sympathetic villains. Canon divergent AUs are my absolute favorite things to both read and write. Anything that would turn me into Charlie Kelly slamming his finger on a bulletin board screaming, “CAROL,” is a fic I would give my life for. 

T: Any fandom tropes you can’t stand? -- Not a fan of a) woobification and b) flat villain characterization, to the point where the story is riding on villain tropes instead of an actual person or plot. Character nuance is always something I look for when I read. I don’t usually get bitter about tropes, though; some stuff, when subverted, works really well. I fully subscribe to don’t like, don’t read, don’t write, which is why I don’t write anything that warrants AO3 content warning tags or an Explicit rating, in favor of focusing on plot. Every author has a reason for what they write and how - be it their level of experience, personal preference, or simply the joy of writing something and getting it out there - and I respect that. Within reason, of course.

U: Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much. -- 

@miamaroo, for reasons I’ve already discussed. My favorite TAZ Balance author hands down. Read Northern Migration and give it the love it deserves, or I’m replacing all the faucets in your house with silly straws.

@transagentstern. Fae has a bunch of absolutely incredible fics and an amazing grasp on characterization. We come from the same place with AUs, in that canon is but the bare planks on which we put the drywall of our plot an characterization. They structure AUs and character backstories from the ground up in believable and emotionally raw ways. Also they have great music taste. I especially like their interpretation of Indrid in Moth to the Flame; he, like all the other characters in the story, is far from perfect, and his character arc is explored in relatable ways that I love to read. 

@keplersheetz. Aline - theneonpineapple on AO3 - researches like a motherfucker and has a wealth of knowledge/experience/viewpoints to draw on, making author-author interactions with her an absolute delight. She’s also doing the lord’s work with rarepairs. Spin a wheel, find a ship, and she’s probably written for it or at least conceptualized it. Reading her character studies and stories of the old Pine Guard - aka Mama’s original crew, before the current PCs joined - is always a delight. I’ve also hashed out a lot of details for The Children of Sylvain, especially for Mr. Boyd Mosche, guilt-wracked Jersey Devil extraordinaire, with her help. 

V: If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose? -- Not gonna lie, I’m fine with a lot of stuff that’s out there right now. It’s been a hot few months since I’ve actually stopped to read fic, but from what I recall, most of the fics I’ve read have done a good job of keeping things intact.

W: Do you like more general prompts, or more specific ones? -- The vaguer, the better. With really specific prompts, it usually feels as if the story’s been written for me already; with vague, general prompts, I have more agency to explore my own ideas. Some accompanying detail is usually nice, though. For example, the coffee shop/college/flower shop AUs that @transagentstern​ wrote are my ideal prompt for drabbles: premise, a little bit of open-ended detail, clear explanation of what’s going to happen while leaving the rest up to the imagination. Good stuff. If it’s for a long-form piece, though, I prefer full agency, or even just some time to lie facedown in the dirt and wait for an idea to strike me.

X: A character you enjoy making suffer. -- Yes.

Y: A character you want to protect. -- Tim.

Z: Major character death–do you ever write/read it? Is there a character whose death you can’t tolerate? -- I do read lots of major character death, yeah, though not always for TAZ. There’s something cathartic about seeing a character die, but sometimes it sits wrong with me in ways that I don’t like. As for writing, I’d rather kill a character for a reason rather than for shock value/for the Feels, though said Feels can accompany the reason. 

[thecorteztwins]

(A somewhat lengthy---for me, anyway, I’m a drabble person---fic featuring the idea of what if the paths of Haven and Fabian Cortez had crossed during their days of active villainy. I mean, it’s kinda odd they didn’t? They were both villainous cult leaders with a religious theme who bedeviled X-Factor during the early 1990s. Given that, I’ve often thought about them meeting or teaming up in some capacity, especially since, of course, I like them both so much. Also this really is not worth reading unless you’re really into both these characters like I am. Which let’s be real, no one BUT me is.)

1992 One would think that a human who preached peace between man and mutant would not be a target of the Magneto-worshipping radicals known as the Acolytes...but then, one would also think that preying on schoolchildren and hospital patients would be beneath them as well. Yet they had slaughtered them, or at least made the attempt. Now they cried out for the blood of the flatscan cow presumptuous enough to dare claim that they should live in harmony with humans, to think her inferior kind deserved a place beside theirs, deserved any place besides beneath their heel or in a grave. Yes, they cried out for it, and Fabian would give it to them, as he had the children and the hospital patients. He carried no such hostilities in his heart of hearts, but those of these Acolytes made them easy to lead, easy to exploit, easy to pacify and direct. It made them love him, that he gave them orders for exactly what they wanted to do, exactly what they thought Magneto would have wanted them to do. Though the fact they claimed he would have wanted it probably had a lot to do with the fact they wanted it...but in any case, Fabian would happily throw their flatscan victims under the proverbial bus to keep power over his cult, just as happily as he had thrown Magneto himself. And that was how it came that the next time this woman known as Haven spoke at the Brahma House lecture hall, she was most rudely---and nearly lethally---interrupted by a blast of plasma from the Kleinstock brothers as they and the other Acolytes burst through the wall. Not the door. The wall. ”RADHA DASTOOR!” yelled Joanna ‘Frenzy’ Cargill, pointing an accusing finger at the now very singed stage where their target had been speaking, “You are hereby sentenced to death for your blasphemy! You and all your little flatscan fans!” The woman she addressed stood still on the stage, not in shock but staring them down, even as the crowd scattered and screamed. But the Acolytes, too far to see her face, took her for being petrified, and charged...only to find themselves running not through toppled chairs and panicked people, but along a stretch of cold, deserted beach. In their surprise, they halted as one, and the paused in momentum caused to them to fall over as one too. ”What the--?!” started Sven Kleinstock.

”Is this Voght’s doing?!” demanded Carmella Unuscione, who had quite the feud going with their team teleporter, and was thus inclined to suspect her immediately of any misdeed, “She wasn’t supposed to pick us up til we’d had time to---” ”To kill me?”

Haven was on the beach too, standing some distance from their impromptu pile-up, looking somber and sorrowful, but not scared.

”Precisely,” Javitz, the strongman who had replaced the fallen Delgado of the first team, got to his feet...and at 9′11, this was quite an intimidating sight. He prepared to bring his fist down upon the woman below him...but then, it was as if reality turned inside out, and when the world returned to normal in an instant that lasted forever, there was no woman. Everyone was dazed in a moment from what seemed a shift in existence itself, then Katu yelled, “A teleporter! She was a mutant all along!” ”It makes sense,” Frenzy punched the sand beside her, sending a huge spray of granules all around, to the protests of the others, “She’s just like Xavier! She wants to be one of them, that’s why she pretends and tries to spread her assimilationist lies!” ”I understand a human trying to fight the tide of natural selection,” Mellencamp hissed, “But she’s turned on her own people...!” Mellencamp, with his monstrous appearance, had never had the option to hide. The fact that someone who did had then used the privilege to, in his view, try to keep other mutants down, enraged him. Harlan Kleinstock tapped his large bluetooth-like communicator, “Voght? See if Milan can get a bead on us through our trackers. I got NO idea where we are and we need a pick-up.” When they were safely, if with much disappointment, returned to their base, they went to tell Lord Cortez what they had learned of Radha “Haven” Dastoor. He had not come with them, just as he had not come to hurt other harmless humans for sport before, as it was of no interest to him. Or, as he claimed to the Acolytes who thought him as bloodthirsty and genocidal as themselves, he stayed so as to protect the base, since the only others who remained there were the noncombatants---Amelia Voght, Francisco Milan, Sarah “Scanner” Ryall, and Simon “Neophyte” Hall, none of whom had the vicious natures or aggressive powers necessary to join in the slaughter that the others so enjoyed. They were considered the weak ones by the others, but they were useful in their way. Fabian could especially think of some delightful uses for the two aforementioned females... Though such things would clearly have to wait today, as the bulk of his Acolytes returned from their mission with...interesting news. So Haven was a mutant, was she? He didn’t like that. When his Acolytes went after normal humans, they ran little risk of getting hurt themselves except when other superhumans showed up to stop them. But if they went after someone who might actually be able to fight back, well, that was another matter. It wasn’t that he cared for their well-being---ha!---but he’d prefer his tools not be wasted til he was done with them himself. But, alas, he knew that they would want now more than ever to go after her, for not simply being human but a species-traitor instead, a far worse crime in most of their eyes. So instead of deterring them, he gave them the tools with which to extract their desired pound of flesh---a pair of power dampeners, to be clamped upon the wrists like shackles. ”Fitting,” he said with a flourish, performing for them as ever, “For how she has chosen to shackle herself already as a pet to the flatscans and their oppressive ideals!” When they came for her again, it was not in a proud charge to raise the alarm, but a strike from the shadows, so that she had no time to react, ambushing her when she was alone and clamping the power dampeners over her wrists. Her thick bracelets and many bangles provided no obstacle; the shackles were designed to be one-size-fits all and to work through clothing, even through metal. She looked from one dampener to the other as they began their speeches and threats and then, in a swirling of what could only be described as dark light, the dampeners disappeared. A moment later, they reappeared in thin air, and fell to the floor in useless pieces. ”How--?!” Fabian gaped, “They were on! You can’t teleport them off yourself, they stop you from teleporting---fools, who tampered with them?!” He had been the one to put them on her, so the idea he had done so improperly, had made some mistake, could not be possible. It must be the fault of one of the other Acolytes, or the devices themselves. The other Acolytes closed in, awaiting orders for what to do next, and clearly hoping it would be to pounce. And perhaps it would have been, had Haven not spoken first. ”You have returned. Good. I now have a second chance to do what I should have done when you first came here...” And the room plunged into darkness. ”...have a conversation.” Her voice had not grown louder, but it was BIGGER somehow, as if spoken from all directions rather than one place. It was the kind of voice the ocean would have, or a vast canyon, yet still recognizably hers too. The Acolytes could now see each other quite clearly, floating in the darkness, yet nothing else. It was like being in space. “This is my realm,” the voice, her voice, continued, “I have transported you here not to intimidate you...but for my own safety. You have no power to harm me here, and I--” “We don’t want to talk, witch!” yelled Frenzy, punching at the void around her as the Kleinstocks fired plasma bursts into it and Mellencamp snarled his agreement. “Hold, Cargil!” Fabian called, holding up a hand to silence her and the others, then projected his voice as much as he could, not knowing what direction Haven was in, “I will speak with you. I am their leader, the Voice of Magneto, chosen by him before his untimely and unjust death at the hands of---” Flatscans was maybe not a great word right now. ”---his enemies.” If this woman could bring them here, who knew what else she could do? She’d been full of surprises so far. Best not to provoke her. If she wanted to talk, then they’d talk. It was probably his best way to survive this, and maybe even gain something. So while she sent the Acolytes back to the real world, he stayed, and he listened to what she had to say. She was, in a word, clearly mad. She was not raving, no--she was elegant and eloquent---but the things she said, the things she claimed, the things she believed...were insanity. An insanity she asked that he join in. He said yes, surely, and so on and so forth, lying through his teeth for fear of what she had the power to do if he did not. And she smiled gently at him. It was an indulgent smile, a little amuse and a little sad. ”You need not pretend, Cortez,” she said, “I knew you would not align with my cause. I simply nonetheless had to try. I only wish I could dissuade you from your path. Yet, I cannot, shall not---because it serves my own. The destruction and hatred you and your Acolytes wreak brings the Mahapralaya that much closer, as evident by how it breaks my heart. That is the cruel irony of the work I must do to save all---it is work that I loathe with every bit of my being. I suppose I should thank you, for taking on a portion of that burden. Farewell, Cortez. I will try to wish you luck.” And he was standing back in reality with other Acolytes, left to come up with an explanation they would accept for not bothering the woman known as Haven ever again. 1993 Fabian Cortez was dead. Exodus had killed him. He had fled to Genosha, to the shadows, to the sewers, but it had not been enough. Even with Luna Maximoff as his human shield, his attempt to force her family to protect him, it had done nothing---only hastened his terrifying demise. He had gone mad first down there, waiting, skulking, panic and paranoia growing with every passing moment as he felt his death creeping nearer like a tingling coldness gradually covering his body. And then the incredible, agonizing heat of his last seconds as Exodus obliterated him, body and mind. So it was understandable that when he awoke, his first act was to continue his dying scream. But his vision returned too, and though darkness surrounded him, there was light just above his face. And in it beamed the soft smile of ... ”La Madonna?” Had he gone to his eternal reward? The Madonna’s face came into clearer focus, and he saw that she was in fact someone he recognized, someone he had met. “H...Haven?” he recalled hoarsely in confusion. “You’re safe now,” she said, and ran a hand over his forehead, his filthy sewage-soaked hair. He realized he was still down in the Genosha sewers where he had...had he died? no, he must not have, must have only been gravely wounded...and she was holding up his top half here in the darkness where she gleamed in her golden armor from light she herself seemed to generate from her very being. Another mutant power? Or something more? “You’re alive,” she continued, “He has called me to you, and He has given you life again. For you have served His cause...and you will serve it further.” Though her words spoke of him as something to be used by this He, doubtless another part of her madness or someone who was manipulating it, her tone was sincerely loving. Warm. He felt...helpless, and it was not due to his weakened body. He tried to stand, only to fall to his knees. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing the side of his face against her belly. ”Madre de dios...madre de dios...” he whimpered. Haven patted his head, stroked his hair more, and softly, calmly replied, “Not yet.”