#anyhow i am now show-tired and will do some good old art...or more of that

[oldmanatom]

A Locked Tomb Fanmix But It’s All Classic Country

this exists entirely because one night the thought “but what if i made a Locked Tomb fanmix with only classic country songs” popped into my head, unprompted, and i thought it was too hilarious to not do.

the art on the cover is done by @starfleetofficial​​, who this mix is also dedicated to. thank you for recommending me these books, continuously “yes, and”ing my semi-coherent TLT messages sent at 5 in the morning, and being so supportive about this idea. (also check out her version, A HtN fanmix but it’s all Fiona Apple!) the cover design is referencing the famous Marty Robbins album, Gunfighter Ballads and Trail Songs.

my one listening note: this will probably be more enjoyable if it’s approached with an open mind and an expectation that it’s taking itself about as seriously as the official fanmixes do.

see below the cut for a song list and some lyric excerpts.

this mix has implicit spoilers for both Gideon the Ninth and Harrow the Ninth.

Gideon the Ninth mix: youtube / spotify / full res cover Harrow the Ninth mix: youtube / spotify / full res cover full mix: youtube / spotify / full res cover

Gideon the Ninth:

1. Johnny Paycheck, “Take This Job And Shove It”

You better not try to stand in my way 'Cause I'm walkin' out the door Take this job and shove it I ain't working here no more

2. Dolly Parton, “When Someone Wants To Leave”

It's a sad situation I must say When someone wants to leave as bad as you want them to stay

3. Loretta Lynn, “I’m A Gettin’ Ready To Go”

I'm gonna praise my savior's name everyday that I'm livin' Glory hallelujah I'm not ashamed to let my salvation show This old world's just my dressin' room and I'm a gettin' ready to go

4. Waylon Jennings, “I Ain’t Living Long Like This”

I tried to run but I don't think I can You make one move and you're a dead man friend Ain't living long like this Can't live at all like this, can I baby?

5. Loretta Lynn, “This Haunted House”

This haunted house I'm livin' in is killing me And the ghost of your love won't set me free Each morning finds me crying and alone In this haunted house we used to call our home

6. Loretta Lynn and Conway Twitty, “After The Fire Is Gone”

We know it's wrong for us to meet But the fire's gone out at home And there's nothin' cold as ashes After the fire is gone

7. Loretta Lynn, “How Long Will It Take”

(How long will it take?) How long will it take to make you want me How much longer has this old heart gotta break (How long will it take?) How long will it take to make you need me I keep a waitin' and a wonderin' how long will it take

8. Stonewall Jackson, “Don’t Be Angry”

Maybe someday you're gonna hurt me I've been hurt in love before Only God can know And time alone will tell

9. Dick Curless, “A Tombstone Every Mile”

It's a stretch of road up north in Maine That's never ever ever seen a smile If they'd buried all them truckers lost in them woods There'd be a tombstone every mile

10. Johnny Paycheck, “(It Won’t Be Long) And I’ll Be Hating You”

Lately life with you has been unbearable All my faith in you has gone and I know it won't return I did everything to make you happy I could do Now you've gotten me hatin' things I used to love to do And it won't be long and I'll be hatin' you

11. Norma Jean, “Let’s Go All The Way”

All the way means happiness living side by side Halfway means a heartbreak if one of us should lie Just give me a clue that you love me too Hold me in your arms and say “Oh, let’s go all the way”

12. Loretta Lynn, “Everybody Wants To Go To Heaven”

Everybody wants to go to heaven but nobody wants to die Lord, I wanna go to heaven but I don't wanna die Though I long for the day when I'll have new birth Still I love the livin' here on earth Everybody wants to go to heaven but nobody wants to die

13. Homer & Jethro, “She Made Toothpicks Of The Timber Of My Heart”

She was seasoned, I was green Yes my darling lumber queen Wound me ‘round her finger like a clinging vine

14. Patsy Cline, “The Heart You Break May Be Your Own”

You'll look around and when you've found That you are all alone Then you'll get wise and realize The heart you break may be your own

15. Buck Owens, “I’ve Got A Tiger By The Tail”

Well every night you drag me where the bright lights are found There ain't no way to slow you down I’m as 'bout as helpless as a leaf in a gale And it looks like I've got a tiger by the tail

16. Charley Pride, “All I Have To Offer You (Is Me)”

Before you take another step, there's something you should know About the years ahead and how they'll be You'll be living in a world where roses hardly ever grow 'Cause all I have to offer you is me

17. Faron Young, “Live Fast, Love Hard, Die Young”

I wanna leave a lot of happy women A-thinkin’ pretty thoughts of me I wanna live fast, love hard, die young And leave a beautiful memory

18. Dolly Parton and Porter Wagoner, “The Last Thing On My Mind”

I've got reason a plenty for goin'      This I know, this I know The weeds have been steadily growin'      Please don't go, please don't go

Are you going away with no word of farewell Will there be not a trace left behind I could've loved you better, didn't mean to be unkind You know that was the last thing on my mind

19. Marty Robbins, “The Master’s Call”

I felt the end was near, that death would be the price When a mighty bolt of lightning showed the face of Jesus Christ And I cried “oh Lord forgive me, don't let it happen now I want to live for you alone, oh God these words I vow”

Bridge: Lefty Frizzell, “Long Black Veil”

She walks these hills in a long black veil She visits my grave when the night winds wail Nobody knows, nobody sees Nobody knows but me

Harrow the Ninth:

1. Hank Williams, “I’ll Never Get Out Of This World Alive”

Every thing's against me and it's got me down If I jumped in the river I would probably drown No matter how I struggle and strive I'll never get out of this world alive

2. Dolly Parton, Linda Ronstadt, and Emmylou Harris, “Those Memories Of You”

In dreams of you, my body trembles I wake up and call your name But you're not there, and I'm so lonesome Without your love, I'd go insane

3. Hank Snow, “I Don’t Hurt Anymore”

I don't hurt anymore, all my teardrops are dried No more walking the floor with that burning inside Just to think it could be time has opened the door And at last I am free I don't hurt anymore

4. Patsy Cline, “Stop The World And Let Me Off”

Oh, stop the world and let me off I'm tired of goin' round ‘n' round I played the game of love and lost So stop the world and let me off

5. Charley Pride, “Lie To Me”

Oh, lie to me, say you love me Tell me I mean the world to you It would mean so much, I'd be so happy And it's the least you can do

6. Hank Snow, “Ninety Miles An Hour (Down A Dead End Street)”

Warnin' signs are flashin' by us but we pay no heed Instead of slowin' down the pace we keep picking up the speed Disaster's gettin' closer every time we meet Doin' ninety miles an hour down a dead end street

7. Patsy Cline and the Anita Kerr Singers, “I Can’t Forget”

Where are you, darlin'? Are you with someone new I can't forget you I'll always be loving you

8. Lynn Anderson, “If I Kiss You (Will You Go Away)”

You're so much hurt I wish you wouldn't stay If I kiss you will you go away?

9. Connie Smith, “Once A Day”

Once a day all day long And once a night from dusk till dawn The only time I wish you weren't gone Is once a day, every day, all day long

10. Charley Pride, “Just Between You And Me”

But just between you and me I've got my doubts about it 'Cause just between you and me You're too much to forget

11. Buck Owens, “Hello Trouble”

A comin' up my sidewalk Just as plain as day A well a here come trouble that I never thought I'd see When you went away

12. Loretta Lynn, “Fist City”

You'll bite off more than you can chew If you get too cute or witty You better move your feet if you don't wanna eat A meal that's called Fist City

13. The Davis Sisters, “I Forgot More Than You’ll Ever Know”

You think you know the smile on his lips The thrill at the touch of his fingertips But I've forgotten more Than you'll ever know about him

14. Kitty Wells, “Pick Me Up On Your Way Down” (Charlie Walker’s version is on the Spotify playlist)

When you learn these things are true I'll be waiting here for you As you tumble to the ground Pick me up on your way down

15. Loretta Lynn and Conway Twitty, “You’re The Reason Our Kids Are Ugly”

And that's the reason that my good looks and my figure is gone      And that's the reason I ain't got no hair to comb And you're the reason our kids are ugly, little darling

16. Loretta Lynn, “Who Says God Is Dead”

If I were you I'd kneel and pray 'Cause we're not promised one more day Remember blood was shed Who says God is dead?

17. Patsy Cline and The Jordanaires, “Imagine That”

Can you believe I'd swallow my pride (Well yes, yes, I guess you can) 'Cause you know you've always had my foolish heart Right in the palm of your hand, oh

18. Jody Miller and Johnny Paycheck, “Let’s All Go Down To The River”

Jesus is the man at the river And he's washing people's sins away He can save your soul if you give him control Oh be ready for that judgement day

19. Bobby Bare, “Dropkick Me, Jesus”

Make me, oh, make me, Lord, more than I am Make me a piece in Your master game plan Free from the earthly temptation below I've got the will, Lord, if You got the toe

20. Lynn Anderson, “Heaven’s Just A Sin Away”

Devil's got me now Oh, gone and got me now I can't fight him anyhow I think he's gonna win

Heaven’s just a sin away Oh, just a sin away Heaven help me when I say I think I’m givin’ in

21. Loretta Lynn, “Out Of My Head And Back In My Bed”

I'm gonna search everywhere that you might be When I find you I'm a bringin’ you home with me I want you out of my head And back in my bed Before the morning comes

22. Johnny Cash, “Big River”

Now, won't you batter down by Baton Rouge, River Queen, roll it on Take that woman on down to New Orleans, New Orleans Go on, I've had enough, dump my blues down in the gulf She loves you, Big River, more than me

Now I taught the weeping willow how to cry, cry, cry And I showed the clouds how to cover up a clear blue sky And the tears that I cried for that woman are gonna flood you, Big River And I'm gonna sit right here until I die

#the locked tomb #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #gideon nav #tlt #i am 100% expecting for this to entertain maybe five people (two of which have seen it already) and to otherwise go unnoticed #but that's okay because it's a labor of love and every time i either listen to the playlist or look at the damn cover i just start laughing #anyways if anyone has questions about anything on here my ask is open. it's large and somewhat...imaginative in what songs are on here + why #one flesh one end #listen to this

[mcrmadness]

Tumblr I have been awake for an hour, I am not in the mood for this bullshittery just yet... Do I have to start unfollowing people to get less post on my dash before Tumblr manages to show me everything I haven't seen yet???

Really tired with Tumblr rolling in new posts before I'm done with the previous ones cos there are only two options after that: either roll down through your dash one more time and see everything for the second time in order to see new old content OR click posts with the XKits "show on my dash" rewind button WHICH only shows like 10 posts at a time, tons of tracked tags posts and often lots of posts with filtered tags so there's nothing ACTUAL to see.

In general I feel like. I don't know what I even do on Tumblr anymore. Everything is so sexualized and I am suffering as an ace, I have filtered SO MANY tags and still something always comes through. Can't filter the word "sex" because then every lgbt+ related post also gets filtered because they often contain the word -sexual in them. Cos, you know, it's even part of my OWN: asexuality.

People often tag nsfw content well but Tumblr's filtering system loves to break on such content. So even that doesn't always help. And then there is the... new? phenomenon of nsfw jokes that are not even nsfw for allosexuals probably but they are really bothering for someone who is sex-repulsed. Like, I don't have a problem with the themes itself, I only have a problem when I'm EXPOSED to those themes without asking. And nowadays it's a huge problem on my dash.

I can't browse tags anymore. I can't find neutral content. Everything is sexualized or shippy. 90% of the tracked tags content on my dash is filtered out because they contain words like "kiss" or so. Often they are fanfiction posts. There's no way to filter out content like that so that it wouldn't even APPEAR on my dash. I have unfollowed lots of tags because the content there is just not something I feel comfortable seeing. And the rest is headcanons, or slamming random identities on characters or even real people.

Idk, I have been on this website since 2011 and I feel like I have actually grown out of what Tumblr is all about. I'm no longer enjoying it here. 80% of the content on my dash is filtered but I don't want to unfollow all those people because some are my friends and some are mutuals and it would feel almost like, idk, deleting a phone number. I don't know if there is a way to like, hide a person/blog from your dash without actually unfollowing them. I know it's possible to make XKit hide all the filtered posts but I still prefer seeing those because Tumblr's filtering system is not the best and it will also filter posts I want to see, just because some filtered word is in someone's url. So clicking "show it anyway" can be "I don't know what did I even expect" or "but why tf is this filtered???"

And then there is the issue that I can't post my art here anymore because it only makes me angry when artists and creators here are always ignored. And with memes etc. my sense of humour is too old for this website and most don't get it, so it's the same if I just keep everything to myself.

Anyhow. I think Tumblr is anyway consuming too much of my time. Maybe I should just. Start unfollowing people. Or try to control the time I use on this website better. If I'm not enjoying, why am I here after all? But I guess what's happening here is: I am addicted to this website. The little numbers there are an instant serotonin and dopamine boost. And it's just the numbers for my dash, I hardly get any asks or anything. So we're at really low now. It did so good last year when I had this 2 week pause from Tumblr. Not going to take a pause, but maybe seriously trying to reach the mindset that I do not need to actually see every single post on my dash ever. And if I do need, then I have to start unfollowing or something because literally, I had to even filter the tag for one of my fave bands because the content there was going way over my head and I think I'm too old and too asexual for this website where everyone else (except most of the other aces) are horny on main 24/7...

#mcrmadness venting #under the cut there is again some 'i'm too old and too ace to tumblr' whining so spare yourself and don't click if you hate reading that

[meat--grindr]

another trans man fixated on Martin here!! 💕

could i request some NSFW of an ftm S/O teasing Martin while hes on the phone trying to do another interview as The Count? not a lot of talking from the S/O while hes on the phone, mostly physical stuff & feeling him up thru his clothes. the rest is up to you >:)))

(def going to use as a drawing prompt im just so so embarrassed to request off anon 😔😔😔)

Alright, so, this prompt has been living in my head rent-free ever since I first read it and I am so freaking excited to finally get to it. I’m sorry it took so long. I will admit this was a bit of a challenge for me because I am notoriously bad at writing dialogue. But I feel like it was good practice. Sorry if it sounds a little stilted in spots, I’m still learning.

Please, please, please link me to that art if you ever get around to it! You knocked it out of the park with this prompt and I’d love to give the art some love if you’re comfortable with sharing!

The Count Didn’t Count on This – Martin Mathias (Trans-Masculine Reader) – NSFW.

·       It’s late, and for once, you’re exactly where you feel you should be at this late hour—not sprawled across a chair reading, or gazing out of the window, watching the cars pass and counting the neighbours’ lights as they flick on and off in lieu of stargazing. And for the first time in at least a week, you’re not trapped at your desk, frantically typing the final draft of a paper, hindered by the slow keys of a typewriter that does not care a whit about the deadline steadily hurtling toward you. No, thankfully, this night has brought with it far more comfortable circumstances—you find yourself in bed, tired bones sinking into the plush mattress, consciousness caught in the bleary space between sleep and not.

·       Even better, you aren’t alone.

·       Tonight, your bed is warmed by another body, long and thin, curled tightly against your own, as though it were some sort of crime to leave even an inch of space between you. A bony hip digs into your thigh and you’re sure the press of your head and shoulder against his chest must make breathing difficult for him. But he’s made no attempt to shrug you off or shift your weight to a more comfortable spot, so you likewise let it be. In all honesty, you’re simply too comfortable to bother and you feel it’s safe to assume the same is true for Martin too.

·       The slow, even beat of his heart pulses against your cheek, and his long fingers stroke absently over your bare shoulder. The rough texture of burgeoning callouses catches against your skin—the sensation, though not wholly unpleasant, makes you shudder. Sometimes, you forget Martin works with his hands. When you hold them, they seem so delicate—his long fingers better suited to playing the piano than tightening screws or hammering nails. But he’s good at repairs and more importantly, he seems to find enjoyment the work. It certainly keeps him busy enough on the few afternoons that Cuda isn’t running him ragged in the shop, much to your personal dismay. But his nights—the nights like this—belong to you and you alone.

·       Your eyelids flutter closed, and for the first time in what feels like weeks, maybe even longer, you feel like you can rest. Really rest. Dimly, you find yourself wondering if it had more to do with finished papers and diminished responsibilities, or the reintroduction of the physical intimacy you’ve been missing so dearly. Though you can’t say for certain, you have a sneaking suspicion it’s the latter.

·       The longer you know Martin, the more you’re convinced that there is a preternatural bubble of calm that hangs around him. You can feel it in the way even the grouchiest old women in the store seem to soften toward him—hiding small smiles behind their sleeves, sometimes even calling him ‘dear,’ or in the way Cuda’s volatile temper deflates when his cruel words slide off Martin’s back as though he’s heard it all before from people who frightened him far greater. You’ve seen it at work on the feral cats that roam the neighbourhood—while they hiss and swipe at the children who chase them through the dusty streets, they sit willingly at Martin’s feet, rubbing against his legs with a familiarity that borders on friendly. And it’s in the way he looks at you—looks into you with those dark eyes that seem far too old for that handsome, youthful face—intense and all-seeing, but never judgemental. He is a point of unflappable calm in a world which never seems to slow for even a second. That calm has settled into you now, seeping into your bones as you lay there, listening to his heart thumping in the darkness.

·       The low crackle of the radio hovers at the edge of your hearing, a burst of static cutting through the droning voices. You’d stopped listening properly ages ago—the third time the DJ had made an attempt to dismiss his latest caller. It was an old man who was seven shades of pissed about the ‘teen-age hooligans’ who were ‘tipping over his bins every night and eating his trash.’ Of course, everyone with half a brain, including the host himself, knows it’s an animal—probably a raccoon, or a family of raccoons, but this old geezer has somehow convinced himself it’s a gaggle of ‘Satan-worshipping teenagers who have been brainwashed by heavy metal music and Pepsi Cola.’

·       Okay. Sure.

·       It’s utterly ridiculous, and just the sort of thing you’ve come to expect from the people who live in Braddock. Or the ones who call in to a show like this anyhow.

·       In a way, you feel bad for the poor DJ. Sure, he welcomes strange callers of all kinds, from alien abductees and bigfoot hunters to bereaved parents who teenagers are ‘just growing up too fast,’ or ‘a little too interested in the works of William Shakespeare.’ He even encourages them at times, but you’ve got to draw the line somewhere, and in your mind, this, funny as it may be, is probably it. You’re sure whatever the station is paying the guy, it isn’t enough to suffer through being called a ‘brainless sack of human garbage’ by a crazy old man.

·       “And that’s about all the time we have,” Despite his cheery tone, the poor guy sounds exhausted. “Thank you for calling!”

·       Another burst of static drowns out the old man’s reply, but you’re sure that whatever he’d said, it was not ‘radio-friendly.’

·       “…our next caller. You are on the air, Sir!”

·       “Yeah, uh…hi, Barry.” The man sounds young—probably not much older than yourself—and very nervous. He must be a first-time caller. As he and the DJ share opening pleasantries—what’s your name, how old are you, where are you calling in from tonight, is that a cat I hear in the background? —your attention begins to drift again. You teeter for a moment on the edge of sleep, the clean scent of your linen sheets and Martin’s shampoo filling your nose.

·       “I was just wondering if you’ve heard from the Count again since last time?”

·       And just like that, you’re awake again, attention fully focused on your radio and the funny little show that whispers through it.

·       The caller is asking about Martin. A cold shiver rumbles through your body. People ask about Martin on the show all the time—of course, they don’t know that’s who they’re asking about, but you do. It’s so strange, to hear a stranger talk about someone you know so well—even worse when they speak about him like they know him too. Sometimes, they make you laugh with their outlandish theories, but sometimes they make you sick—sick with worry: when he’s threatened with violence or exposure, sick with fear: when they make guesses that hit a little too close to home, and sick with jealousy: when they claim to have had an ‘encounter’ with him, or worse, try to set one up on air.

·       You know about Martin, of course—that he is a vampire, or at least he thinks he’s a vampire. Whether or not you believe him is another question entirely. He certainly does not abide by the ‘vampire rules’ as you know them from stories and television—he doesn’t sleep in a coffin, filled with dirt from his homeland or otherwise, rather he sleeps in a bed (curled up beside you more often than not these days). He cuts a handsome figure in mirrors and the photographs that you have pinned up above your desk. He walks about in the sun most days without complaint despite his pale complexion, and though he may not be a sleek. Predatory creature that oozes confidence, grace, and sex appeal, he’s no slouch either—lithe and handsome in a boyish sort of way, all knees, elbows, and wide dark eyes.

·       In fact, the only requirement he seems to meet on the proverbial ‘vampire checklist’ is his fixation with blood—and the need to consume it. Maybe that means something, maybe it doesn’t. You’ve come to the conclusion that what you think really doesn’t matter in the end—your opinion isn’t going to sway him on the subject one way or another. This is a truth about himself he believes perhaps more deeply than anything else. Who were you to try and change that?

·       So, you do your best to take everything in stride, and when you can’t, you humour him. Still, every once in a while, something will trip you up—you still can’t quite decide if he’s joking about being over eighty years old or not. But you do your best. You had even let him feed on you once. Though only once. In the end, it was Martin who had decided the experience was not one he would like to repeat.

·       He had laid you out on your bed, “I don’t want you to get hurt if you faint.” Though you’d told him nearly a hundred times that you’d be just fine, that you’d had blood taken before at the hospital, he had insisted.

·       You had expected things to be different. For a start, you had expected him to climb into your lap, to press his lips against your neck, seeking your pulse the way it’s done in the movies. Instead, he’d taken out a little white kit from his bag. He had unzipped it and laid it out on the bed, revealing a little bottle of clear liquid, a row of sterile, hypodermic needles, and a pack of fresh razor blades.

·       His long fingers fell upon the needles, caressing them lovingly one by one. Much to your relief, he did not pick one up. As if he could sense your apprehension, he’d said, “Don’t worry, I won’t need these.” He’d glanced up at you, measuring your reaction, “I won’t need them because you’re not going to fight me. Are you?” It wasn’t really a question. You shook your head, and the corners of his lips quirked up into a smile, “Good. It’s so much easier when they don’t fight me.” Those words had made you shudder. He really had done this before, then. Part of you hadn’t believed him—he seemed so…harmless

·       He’d picked out a single blade from the package, meticulously removing the white paper wrapping, taking extra care not to tear it, or let the blade cut into it. When he was through, he folded the paper into a neat square and dropped it onto the comforter. He lay the blade flat on his palm for you to see. “I don’t have pointy teeth, you see.” He took your hand, opening his mouth and guiding your fingers along the edges of his flat, dull teeth. “They aren’t sharp, so they don’t cut deep enough. You understand?” You’d nodded and he had kissed your fingertips gently, one by one.

·       “I’ll be careful, I promise,” He’d said, “I’ll only take a little. Just enough to take the edge off.” Despite the hungry glint in his eyes, you’d known he was telling the truth. He didn’t need to reassure you of that. You trusted him. Besides, you had asked for this. At least, he’d stopped asking if he still had your permission every five minutes. Of course he did.

·       And yet. Your heartbeat had kicked up, jittering like a frightened bird when you’d seen the needles and the razor. It was as though actually seeing them had made the whole situation feel more real. There was no denying you were afraid, but you didn’t tell him to stop—you didn’t want to. You had made up your mind. You wanted this; wanted to help.

·       He’d held your hand in his own like it was a thing made of glass. His fingers gripped the razor with a practiced grace as he held it just above your palm. Watching him, you were struck for the second time by just how rehearsed this seemed. How many times had he done this, with or without permission?

·       “Take a deep breath for me, okay? There’s a good boy.” Did he talk to the others too? Even the ones who fought back? You could picture him, chattering softly against the skin of some poor soul, sprawled limp across the floor.

·       Limp or lifeless?

·       The thought unsettled you, but you did as you were told, filling your lungs nearly to capacity as the sharp edge of the blade bit into the meat of your palm just below your thumb. As promised, he had been quick, pressing only as hard as was necessary. Even so, the sting of it made your flinch, your hand jumping in his own. His fingers tensed around yours, the tightness of his grip reflected in the grimace that flashed across his face as he bent his head to seal his lips around the wound.

·       You had expected to feel him pulling the blood from you, but he simply let it flow into his mouth, the coppery taste heavy on his tongue. He exhaled through his nose, long and low—a pleased sound. Something about that set you more at ease. He hadn’t recoiled or wrinkled his nose at the taste of your blood. You hadn’t even realized you were worried about how you tasted until that moment.

·       You had started to feel dizzy beneath him—dizzy not from a loss of blood, but the wet heat of his mouth against your skin. Your heart had stuttered in your chest as his tongue probed gently around the edges of the wound, soothing your sparking nerves, even as the blood continued to drip down his throat.

·       When at last, he pulled away, his face was flushed, and his breath came hard; his chest heaving as though he’d just run a great distance. Immediately, his hand shot to his front pocket, fingers searching for the roll of gauze bandages he’s swiped from Cuda’s first-aid kit.

·       He’d wrapped the clean white fabric around your hand with such care it made your heart ache almost as much as the wound itself. When he was finished, he’d flipped your hand over and pressed a gentle kiss against your knuckles. Then, he spoke. His voice was small, barely more than a ragged whisper, “Thank you.”

·       “Was that…was it okay?” Your skin felt feverish, as though the heat of his mouth had seeped into your flesh and was burning you from the inside out. And the dizzy feeling had only grown worse, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut for a long moment.

·       Martin was still struggling to get his breathing under control, “Yes. I-It was good…better than good, actually. But…”

·       “But?” Had you done something wrong? Had you tasted bad after all? You cracked open one eye, then the other. The spinning had mostly subsided, but you still felt unsteady. “What can I do better next time?”

·       He’d gone stiff all over then, and his reply had come sudden and sharp, “No!” He cringed, the force behind his words clearly surprising himself as well. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, “No ‘next time.’ I…I can’t stand hurting you like that. I won’t do it again.”

·       You’d gazed up at him, blinking in confusion for a second. Then you realized what he’d meant—you had flinched when he’d cut you. Oh.

·       You reached up, cupping his cheek, “Oh, Martin. You didn’t hurt me. Not really.” It wasn’t strictly true—it had hurt a little, but you had been prepared for it to. You brushed a stray droplet of blood from the corner of his mouth with a careful swipe of your thumb.

·       “Yes, I did. I saw it.” You had tried to protest further, but he’d cut you off, much to your surprise. Martin almost never talked back like this, though perhaps you’d simply never given him a reason before. “I saw you flinch. I won’t put you through this again.”

·       And he hadn’t. Though you’d brought the idea up more than once, he had dismissed it each time with the same stubborn shake of his head. If Martin was anything, he was true to his word.

·       “…and it’s been such a long time since we heard from the guy.”

·       The DJ hums in agreement, “It has indeed, my friend. Maybe we’ll hear from him later tonight. If you’re out there listening, Count, don’t be a stranger! Give us a call,” He begins rattling off the stations toll-free number. “We’re all dying to hear from you again!”

·       You feel Martin stiffen up against you. You knew about the interviews he had done; you’d even heard one of them, back when Martin was little more to you than a silent, sullen face behind the counter at Cuda’s shop. And even when he’d started talking to you, he sounded different over the radio—his voice was deeper, and he sounded so confidant, so sure of himself when he talked about his ‘sickness.’ He almost never sounded like that in day-to-day life. You weren’t embarrassed to admit you found it attractive.

·       Martin on the other hand, was mortified to know you had heard him. He had known that people were listened to him, obviously, but they were supposed to be strangers. You actually knew him, and he’d talked about sex. Of course, reminding him you’d done a lot more in your time together than simply listen to him talk about sex did little to lessen his horror.

·       Of course, you also knew he’d been doing fewer and fewer interviews now that he had you to talk to and share his life with. But on occasion, when the pleading from the DJ gets too desperate, or he was simply that bored, Martin could be coaxed back onto the other end of the phoneline once again.

·       You glance up at him, but in the darkness, his expression is unreadable, eyes cast down toward the end of the bed, long lashes throwing feathered shadows across his pale cheeks. From the very beginning, he’s been hard to read. As you’ve come to know him better, you’ve needed to get comfortable with the idea of asking when you want to know something you could easily intuit if speaking to anyone else. He’s very good at hiding his thoughts and feelings behind a neutral expression and placid silence, but he would tell you almost anything if you asked him directly; so long as he had the words to explain it to you.

·       Do you want to make a call, Martin?”

·       For a long moment, he’s silent, turning the idea over in his mind a few times. You had never actually been with him when he’d done an interview in the past. He’d usually wait until you were three days deep in an assignment with no quick end in sight, or out of town with family. Maybe he would be too embarrassed to do it with you here or maybe he’s just not in the mood tonight. But, after a minute, he tilts his head down toward you and says, “Why not?”

·       The radio crackles out a jaunty tune—a commercial for some small business or another. “I’ll call in a few minutes. He doesn’t seem busy tonight.” Martin sits up, bracing his back against the headboard of your bed, and dislodging you from your perch. You grumble a little, irritated by the loss of your comfy spot, but you crawl into his lap anyway.

·       You press soft kisses into his skin, beginning at his hairline, and trailing down over his forehead, the bridge of his nose, his cheeks—the right then the left—the very tip of his nose, and finally his lips. He smiles against your mouth, leaning into the kiss with his whole body.

·       When you pull away only a moment later, you can practically hear the pouty turn of his mouth. He whines softly, but you pay him no mind, trailing kisses down his chin. “Are you nervous, Martin?” The question comes out muffled by the soft curve of his jaw.

·       “Not really, no…” He trails off, eyes cast to the ceiling, “I like the attention, I s’pose.”

·       You pull back to look at him, barely stifling a snort of amusement, “Don’t I give you enough?”

·       His eyes slide from the ceiling, falling upon you dark and wide. For a moment, you think he’s taken you seriously, but the pouty turn of his mouth breaks into a blinding grin, “You give me lots, sure, but I’m a creature of the night, remember? We always want more.”

·       The two of you sit there for a moment, gazing into each other’s eyes, the silence stretching on into the night. Then, you collapse into each other in a fit of giggles. Martin buries his head into the crook of your neck, shaking with quiet laughter. Sure, when he’d said wasn’t untrue, but when he put it like that, it was hard not to laugh.

·       “Welcome back, everybody. It’s almost the top of the hour at 01:57! I’m your host Barry…”

·       You hadn’t even heard the ads end! Martin scrambles for the chunky landline phone that rests on the beside table, nimble fingers punching in the numbers at speed. Though his calls had become less and less frequent, he evidently kept the number somewhere in his memory.

·       Martin’s voice is hushed as he speaks to whoever manned the phones down at the radio station, muttering something about ‘the Count.’ As he speaks, he winds the coiled phone cord around a delicate finger. It’s a simple, distracted habit of Martin’s but it makes your heart flutter whenever you catch him doing it.

·       You stretch your arm as far as you can, reaching for the radio, unwilling to give up your perch in Martin’s lap for even a second. Your fingertips brush the cool metal—once, twice—then you manage to curl your fingers around it. Pulling it into your lap you turn the volume down low so only you can hear it.

·       “I’m just getting word that we have a special guest on the line,” the DJ sounds positively elated, “Folks, it looks like the Count is back in town. Hello, Count! Where have ya’ been?”

·       Martin hesitates for a moment, his jaw working as he searches for the words, “Around.”

·       There is a definite lag between the words in his mouth, and those same words coming through the radio. The dissonance confounds your ears and makes your head ache in a dizzy sort of way, but you want to hear both halves of this conversation, not just Martin’s.

·       “So, what trouble have you been getting into since we last spoke, Count? Murdered any pretty ladies recently?”

·       There’s a smile in Martin’s voice, “Not ladies, no.”

·       “Oh really? Any men then?”

Martin glances down at you, though he makes a non-committal noise. The DJ takes a breath, as though he’s going to say something, but Martin cuts him off, “I wouldn’t call what I do murder, anyhow.”

·       “No? But you still need to drink blood, right?”

·       “Oh, yes.”

·       “How have you been getting your food, then? Don’t vampires uh…kill with every strike?”

·       Martin laughs, a soft, breathy sound that sends a shudder through you. “I’ve been managing.” His tone is damn near conversational. You gaze down at him, marvelling at how easy this seems to be for him. The Martin you’ve come to know and love rarely (if ever) speaks to strangers, and when he has no other choice, he’s never this talkative. It’s strange, but by no means an unwelcome change. You nuzzle against him, letting his voice thrum through your skull as it vibrates around in his chest.

·       “Enough talk of blood and guts, Count. What about your other problems, huh? Tell me, are the streets of Braddock safe at last from the real terror stalking them? Have you…” He pauses conspiratorially, “Found yourself a girl yet?”

·       Those words drive an icy spike of hurt deep into your guts. No, he had not found himself a girl. Martin must have felt your jaw clenching, as his free hand begins to card through your hair—soothing and soft.

·       “I’ve found…someone.” The implications of that word settles you almost as much as his touch. ‘Someone.’ Not a woman, but someone of significance, nonetheless. He bends down to press a quick kiss into the crown of your head. “Someone special.”

·       The DJ gasps, sounding scandalized. “Someone special! Well, I never. Good for you, Count.” You can’t say you’re a fan of the man’s tone—pleasant enough, but with a sharp edge that borders on condescending. But there’s little you can do but grit your teeth and bear it. “How long until you suck this one dry and move on?”

·       Wow. Fuck this guy. On some level, you’d known he was an asshole—sure you felt bad for him when people were rude, but he could dish it out just as well as he could take it. Every once in a while, he’d push a caller too hard or make a snide comment the conversation could have done without. You didn’t like hearing it when strangers were involved, and now that you were the subject of such a comment, you like it even less. He makes it sound like you’re some random conquest, or worse, little more than a meal to Martin. How wrong he was.

·       Suck this one dry and move on? Fat chance, Buddy. Though, his wording did give you an idea…maybe you could make this night just a little more interesting for the both of you.

You sit back, uncurling your legs and dropping your knees to either side of Martin’s hips, straddling his lap properly. Settling your weight back into his lap, you pull a face, pointing to the radio in your lap and mouthing, ‘What a jaggoff!’

·       Martin’s lips press into a thin line as he tries to stifle his laughter. He nods sympathetically but doesn’t say anything about it to the DJ. He’s slow to anger, preferring to divert the conversation rather than cause a scene. You can’t help but admire him for that. You lean forward, stamping a kiss against his collarbone.

·       “I…uh…try not to eat the things I love.”

·       “Ooooh, so it’s love, huh?”

·       You roll your eyes at the DJ, though you can’t deny hearing Martin say he loves you sends a little thrill through you—it was the same thrill you’d felt the first time he had said it to you, and the same thrill you hoped to feel for years to come. You trail little, open-mouthed kisses up the column of Martin’s throat, your mouth feverishly warm against his skin. A shudder jolts through him like an electric shock as your teeth scape across his Adam’s apple. You grin against his flesh, sliding up to nip along the underside of his jaw. There is a sensitive spot at the very corner that you love to exploit, and now seems like the perfect opportunity to do so.

·       Your teeth graze over the spot and his body jitters beneath you. His voice catches in his throat, though if the DJ notices, he doesn’t comment. You nip gently at the spot, reddening the pale skin as you worry it with your teeth. You long to suck a bruise there—the purple-blue hue would doubtless look stunning against the pallor of his skin, but you knew Cuda would have a conniption if he saw it, and you didn’t want to put Martin through that again. Not after last time. The pair of you had agreed that perhaps in future, it would be better if any hickeys you left remained under your clothes.

·       Pressing one final kiss against that spot, you pull back to look at him. You can tell he’s getting flustered—there’s a flush beginning to creep up his neck from beneath the collar of his t-shirt, deep pink and blotchy. You know, given time, it will reach his cheeks, the colour blooming high on his cheekbones. When you get him worked up enough, you could make Martin blush to the very tips of his ears. It was adorable.

·       Your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt as you drag your nails down his chest. His teeth catch his lower lip. You can almost hear the whine trapped behind those pearly teeth.

·       “Why don’t you tell us a little about this special someone, Count?”

·       Martin hesitates, “I don’t know about that.”

·       “Nonsense! You can tell your good ol’ pal Barry. Who am I gonna tell?”

·       Martin isn’t that stupid. He knows Barry doesn’t need to tell anyone anything—he’s live on air, he’d be telling them himself. His eyes flick down to yours, searching for something, be it permission or resistance. He pulls the phone away from his ear, resting it against his shoulder as he waits for you to make up your mind. You know he’d hang up in an instant if you asked him to—he’d likely do you one better and never call in again if the DJ was just going to ask questions about you all night long. But you trusted Martin not to give too much information away—he’d managed to stay hidden all this time, after all.

·       You nodded at him, smiling and thumbing gently over a nipple. Though your touch is light, and the sensation is dampened by the fabric of his shirt, Martin makes a sound as though he’s been punched in the stomach. He shifts beneath you, tucking the phone underneath his chin as he moves.

·       You grip the striped fabric of his shirt, working it in your hands. You lift it a little, fingers slipping just beneath it to splay against the flat plane of his stomach. His skin is warm and soft beneath your hands. You look down at him, arching a brow and asking for permission with only your eyes.

·       “Fine.” He says, and though the word is an answer for the DJ’s pleading, he’s talking to you, looking directly into your eyes—granting the permission you were so hoping for.

·       “Great! So, how long have you been together?”

·       You fall into him, hands pushing the soft cotton of his shirt up over his chest. Your lips are on his skin in a matter of seconds, trailing kisses across every inch of exposed skin—stomach, ribs, hips, and everything in between.

·       “It’s been ahh—” His words are cut short by a tight little moan as you bite down hard just below his left nipple. However, he manages a solid recovery as your tongue laves over the spot soothing the sting, playing the whole thing off as though he had needed time to stop and think about it, “—bout a year, maybe a little longer.”

·       Clever boy.

·       You drag your tongue a little higher, flicking over the sensitive skin of his nipple. He arches into your touch, hips canting up against yours, threatening to buck you from your perch. He tilts his head, trapping the phone between his cheek and his shoulder, reaching for you with both hands.

·       He takes your cheeks into his hands, pulling your head away from his chest. You grin up at him, taking in his expression—his pupils blown so wide with want they swallow all but the slimmest ring of brown iris, his lips parted and shining in the semi-darkness, flushed to the tips of his ears.

·       You surge up to kiss him, remembering only at the last moment, he needs to keep his mouth free to carry on the conversation. With a huff, you divert your course, and fix your lips back against the skin of Martin’s neck.

·       He swallows hard as you press your lips back against his pulse, pushing his hips back up into yours. You can’t keep the grin form your face as you feel him pressing up against you—the outline in his pants far more noticeable now.

·       His hands tremble slightly as they search for yours, dragging them down to the front of his jeans. You grin widens as you press down. Even through the thick denim, you can feel his cock throb under your palm. Someone’s excited.

·       You look down at him and he turns his head away, flushing a shade darker. He was so easy to wind up like this, it was almost unbelievable. A few kisses here, and gentle touch there, and he was a blushing, whining mess spread out on your sheets for you to enjoy however your pleased. You had chalked the over-sensitivity up to a lack of experience, and had expected it to fade after a few months, but it hadn’t. He was just that reactive, not that you were complaining.

·       With deft fingers, you pop the button of his jeans, quietly dragging the zipper down. He lifts his hips, wriggling helpfully as you drag his pants and underwear down over his thighs.

·       His cock bobs free, flushed and leaking already. You ghost the pads of your fingers over the soft skin of his shaft, and he shudders, his whole body tensing. His knuckles are white where he grips the phone, and his jaw is tight with the struggle of keeping quiet.

·       You wrap your hand around him, stroking gently from base to tip. His back arches off from the headboard, and he falls forward, burying his head in the crook of your neck. The phone receiver bumps against your collarbone, hard and hollow. The plastic is pleasantly cool against your feverish skin.

·       “Is it different being with a…uh…forgive the expression, normal person?”

·       “They’re a…” His laugh is breathy, almost a moan as he glances down at you, “a real handful.”

·       You barely stifle a laugh. You glare down at him in mock disapproval, and he sticks his tongue out at you. Cheeky little bastard. Though the colour still sits high on his cheeks, and his breathing comes through parted lips in short puffs, he seems to have adjusted well to your pace.

·       “Nothing you can’t handle though, I’m sure. Do they know about your…condition, shall we say?”

·       “They are aware, yes.”

·       The DJ laughs, “And how did that go? Can’t be an easy thing to hear—that your boyfriend might vamp out and eat you whole!”

·       Martin sighs, “I already told you, I don’t eat people…” His voice is much steadier now, even as your fingers brush along the sensitive spots on the underside of his cock. That means its time to switch things up. You can’t have him getting too comfortable. Where would the fun be in that? You tighten your grip—something that usually makes Martin thrash against the sheets and sob into your pillows—and begin to swipe your thumb gently over the tip of his cock with every upward stroke. He almost drops the phone as he yanks it away from his mouth. He covers the receiver with a shaking hand just in time, as a soft whine slips through his teeth, “Oh, fuck…”

·       You press a finger up against your lips, reminding him to be quiet. He presses up into your fist, his hips stuttering as your thumb traces a lazy circle around his head. His free hand flutters nervously about his mouth, as he tries desperately to keep quiet. His breath comes sharp and quick though his nose as he struggles to keep control. You shift your weight, pinning his hips back down with your thighs, and though he tries to buck back up against you, you hold him firmly in place. He whines high in his throat, shooting a pleading look up at you, but you just shake your head and point at the phone, ‘Keep going.’

·       Slowly, Martin brings the receiver back up to his ear. His tongue flickers out over his lips and he lets out a shaky breath, “S-Sorry, I didn’t catch that?”

·       “I said, ‘let’s circle back to what you said before,’ about not eating what you love. Why not? If you don’t need to kill to feed, why not feed on this special someone? Surely if they love you back, they’d be willing.”

·       You slow your hand, wanting to give Martin a fighting chance at answering. You were momentarily intrigued by the DJ’s line of questioning. You knew why Martin didn’t want to feed on you, but you were curious as to what sort of excuse he would give.

·       “W-Well…it’s come up mo-ore than once but…” Martin goes silent as you squeeze down on him, his posture going rigid, his head thrown back against the headboard.

·       The DJ lets the silence hang for a moment, but when Martin doesn’t finish his thought, he cuts in, “But…? You still there, Count?”

·       You let up, and Martin takes a big gulp of air, as though he had only just remembered he needed to breathe. “Y-Yeah, I’m here. It’s…it’s complicated.”

·       “Oh yeah? How?”

·       “Well, it’s not about whether they’ll let me or not…” He takes a shaky breath, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he steadies himself. When he speaks again, his voice is low, barely more than a whisper, “It’s that I want more.”

·       He tries in vain to buck up into your fist, his hips rolling in shallow, abortive little thrusts. His teeth are sunk into his lower lip, his eyes boring deep into your own.

·       ‘I want more.’ Those words were meant for you.

·       You blink down at him, momentarily dumb founded. Then a grin spreads across your face, sharp and hungry. If he wants more, you’ll give it to him—you’d give it to him until he was begging you to stop.

·       Sliding down his body, you know this is risky. Martin has never been good at keeping quiet, especially not when you’ve got your mouth on him. But the idea is simply too enticing to pass up on. When were you ever going to get the change to suck his cock live on air again? Besides, this might be good practice for him in the art of keeping his voice down—not that you didn’t love to hear him, it just might be nice to keep your…activities a secret from the whole neighbourhood for once.

·       You wriggle down onto your stomach, bringing your face level with Martin’s cock. Settling yourself into a comfortable position between his knees, you bend your head, pressing a gentle kiss against the tip of his cock.

·       He makes an involuntary choking sound in the back of his throat. You look up at him, resting your chin on the tops of his thighs. You want to give him the time he needs to make up his mind. If he tells you ‘no,’ or pushes you away, you’d gladly go back to stroking his cock and kissing his neck. You would get just as much pleasure from the shivers and whimpers you could wring out of him that way.

·       But he doesn’t tell you no, rather he pushes his hips up against you, pressing the tip hard against your lips. You flick your tongue out, ghosting for only a moment over his sensitive flesh, but it’s enough to make his eyes roll back, his long lashes fluttering against his cheeks. You do it again, and his mouth falls open. Though no sound escapes the look on his face is just as glorious.

·       This is going to be fun.

·       You crane your neck, opening your mouth and gently taking the head inside.  Martin’s free hand shoots to his mouth, and he bites down hard on the meat of his palm to stop himself from sobbing out loud. You press your tongue flat against him, dragging it slowly against his hot flesh. He thrashes beneath you, jostling the phone against his cheek.

·       Carefully, you sink further down on him, taking him in inch by inch. He lets out a long sigh around a mouthful of palm.

·       “What was that, Count?”

·       “Oohh…nothing,” Martin grinds out, “Just…closing a window.”

·       The lie was flimsy, but the DJ, despite his skeptical tone, didn’t seem interested in pressed him on it further, “…Right…so how is your control around this person, huh? Do you ever get the urge to just go to town on them?”

·       Martin’s laugh comes out as a low purr, and he bucks into your mouth once, “Mmm, sometimes.” Ever so slowly, as you’ve sunk down onto his cock, he’s been curling in on himself. His head now rests atop your own, and you can feel the heat of his cheek radiating against your scalp. If that heat is anything to go by, he must be positively scarlet.

·       “And what does that entail for you exactly?”

·       With a little jolt, his cock brushes up against the back of your throat. You swallow down a little choking noise, breathing steadily through your nose in an attempt to calm your gag reflex.

·       The warmth of Martin’s cheeks is suddenly gone as he straightens up again. His head hits the headboard with a thump. “I-I just wanna…” He swallows thickly, his breath coming hard, “Push into…p-push my teeth into their throat and just,” He bucks up into your throat, either unable, or simply unwilling to stay still any longer, “just take what I want.”

·       “Their…blood?”

·       You swallow around Martin and his back arches so far he practically lifts off the bed “Yes! Yes, everything they have to give!”

·       “Right…for a moment there it sounded a bit more, uh, sexually motivated than that.”

·       Again, your throat contracts around him, and a hiss of air escapes through his teeth, “No difference really…”

·       The DJ is silent for a moment, “Now that’s an interesting tidbit about you, Count. I’m sure all the ladies out there would love to hear more about that.”

·       Marin fucks up into your throat again with a soft groan, “I’m…I’m sure they would but,” His breath is coming harder now, “unfortunately, I’m taken.”

·       The DJ laughs, “Hear that, Count? That’s the sound of hundreds of hearts all over Braddock breaking. Sorry, folks but it looks like you’re out of luck.”

·       Oh. He’s taken alright. You can just imagine the anguished looks on their faces when you learn he gets taken almost every other night by another man.

·       Though you’d love to keep him in this position, you’re struck by the sudden, possessive urge to have him on his back. You tap his thigh thrice in quick succession and Martin withdraws almost immediately. He’s always so respectful of your wishes, even if he whines a little when his cock slips from the wet heat of your mouth. The sudden chill of the air on his wet cock sends a shiver through him.

·       You scoot back, grabbing Martin by the calves, and pulling him down into a more horizontal position. He fumbles with the phone, as it slips from his grasp, landing on the bed near his shoulder.

·       “What’s going on, Count?”

·       “S-Sorry, I just…I just dropped the phone is all. I’m…I’m feeling awful shaky these days.”

·       “Oh, yeah? How long has it been?”

·       Martin’s tone is distracted, “Ages.” He is far more focused on you, his dark eyes trained on yours as you loom over him.

·       The DJ asks another question, but you’re not listening as you slip Martin’s slick cock into your mouth, wasting no time in taking him back into your throat where he belongs.

·       Though you can’t make out his words so well over the rushing in your ears, Martin’s voice sounds strained, slightly higher than usual. He’s fighting the pleasure hard.

·       His free hand fists itself in your hair, pushing you down tighter against his cock. You swallow hard, trying desperately not to gag as he rolls is hips into your mouth. He’s come such a long way since the first time you asked him to fuck your mouth. He’d been so nervous that you did most of the work, bobbing your head faster and faster until he’d spilled deep into your mouth. He had apologized for almost an hour after, thinking the rasp in your voice was all his fault. Now? He’s practically asphyxiating you, and you hadn’t needed to say a word.

·       Martin is shaking—his thighs tremble on either side of your head, and the phone in his hands nearly slips from his grasp again with the force of the tremors passing through him.

·       You hollow your cheeks and he’s forced to cover the receiver again as a series of whimpers tear free from his lips. You press your tongue flat against the underside of his cock, and he sobs, his hips canting up off the bed.

·       “I-I’m close,” His frantic whisper comes tight through his teeth, an edge bordering on panic creeping into his voice. You grip his thigh and redouble your efforts, gaining a high whine in return.

·       “Hey, Count? Count there’s a lot of interference on your end…I can’t really hear you. I think this is where this conversation has to end, but call back another night, huh?” Martin doesn’t even respond, he simply slams the receiver back into the cradle, ending the call.

·       Almost as soon as the call has disconnected, he’s a whimpering mess. “Oh, fuck! Your mouth…I-I can’t! Is it okay? Is it okay if I…?”

·       He can’t bring himself to say it, but you know what he means and hum a soft affirmation around his cock. He cries out as the sound vibrates around his over-sensitive flesh.

·       With a whimper, he fucks up into your mouth, once, twice, then he shudders, his whole body going rigid as he cums. His knees clamp around your ears, squeezing your head as he shakes with the pleasure. His fingers pull at your hair, any tighter and you’re sure he’ll pull some out. But you press on, hollowing your cheeks, letting him ride the high for as long as he can.

·       The sound he makes as you swallow around him is nothing short of wrecked. His fingers claw the sheets as though he’s trying to drag himself away from you, from your mouth, but his body remains locked in place beneath you.

·       His cock twitches against your tongue as you slowly pull back, the wet drag of your tongue digging raw little whimpers from his throat, and a shudder passed through him when you pull of and his cock is again exposed to the chilly air of the room. His hips press forward, seeking the tight heat of your throat again. It would seem almost desperate if the motion wasn’t so sluggish, almost sleepy.  

·       He reaches for you then in the dark. His hands, hot and sweaty from exertion and gripping both the phone and the sheets for so long, grasp either side of your face as he pulls you up for a kiss.

·       The salty taste of his cum still coats your tongue, but he doesn’t seem to care as he presses his lips against yours with a desperation you rarely see in him.

·       Pulling back, you whisper against his lips, “Was that enough attention?”

·       He smiles, “For me? Yes.” He presses another soft kiss against your lips. “But now it’s your turn.”

#martin x reader #slasher x reader #martin 1977 #slasher imagines #ripper fics #sorry for how late this is #enjoy!

[victoriatemplestories]

Chapter 2: Home Sweet Home

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Flashback:  Every day, mom would have me sit at the table in the kitchen, then she would go through her rigid schedule about what I should learn. I had writing, history, geography, English, science, math, and art. I would sit and pay attention and try to learn as much as I could. I loved hearing stories and reading, as this meant that I could enter my own world. I also liked doing art as I could express myself through colors and art. Dancing made me feel like I was a bird. Mom was a good teacher, and it was only when I got older, I thought about why I was not good enough to go to a normal school.

*******************************************************

As we sat in the car, the lady and man were talking and talking. I found out that their names were Mary and Andrew. As they talked and talked, I thought about the chaos that day. The police barging in and arresting my parents. I thought about the press and all the pictures that were taken. Then the awful experience I had at the police station. A tear rowed down my eyes when I remembered the embarrassing and pain at the doctors. Now I was in a car with a man and woman I could not remember. I decided right there that I would have to use all my strength and take control where I could. I would not call this man and woman my parents. They may have given birth to me, but they were not my parents. My parents were now in some cell and I decided right there that I would run away back to them as soon as they came out. In the meantime, I would let this woman and man take care of me. I would not call them mom or dad, but call them Mary and Andrew. I glanced at them as they sat in front of the car and closed my eyes. If they were my birth parents, why could I not remember their faces?

We were now in a small town out of the cities, and the car pulled into a driveway where a small house was. The streets were full of people waiting for me to come home as well as the press. Mary seemed to be in a panic and asked why they were there. Andrew was wise enough to answer that they were waiting for this day for 9 years. Mary was in a panic and was going on about how intrusive this was for her and did the press not think about that they needed quiet time with me?

Andrew turned off the car and said, "This is not about us. Ariel's life was torn for the second time in her life. She is not used to so many people and I would imagine the whole idea of losing the only people she remembers is a trauma. We must think about Ariel. The police told us that she does not remember us. Imagine the turmoil she is in now"

Mary shrugged her shoulders and said that she was my mother. She asked me if I was happy that I was now there where I belonged, with my real parents and real family. I did not respond but looked at Andrew thinking that at least he understood the situation. This was a sign of hope.

The car was in the garage, and we went to the back door. I stood in the kitchen clutching onto Mr. Teddy. Mary asked where was the teddy she bought me? I whimpered that I must have lost him. There was silence then and Mary tried to take Mr. Teddy and tell me it will only remind me of the time I was kidnapped, and we should all move on. I could feel my heart pound harder as I held on to Mr. Teddy with all I could and shouted that he was mine and always would be. The tug of war over the teddy bear ended and I could see that Mary was disappointed. I picked the teddy bear I got from my parents in jail and not the teddy bear she got me. None of us could see the significance of this.

Mary just hugged me and said she could hug me all day. She was waiting for this day for 9 years. While she hugged me, I felt that my body went limp. I put my hands around her and closed my eyes and tried to remember getting hugs like this when I was a toddler. It would have helped if I could remember Mary and Andrew. It would help if I could remember this house. It would help if I could remember getting hugs. However, my memory was blank. This house and people were total strangers for me.

Now I had to be their daughter!

Andrew broke the awkward situation and told me that he would show me the house. It was a nice house and I could not complain about living here, as it had everything a family would need. I was taken to my bedroom and I just stood in the middle looking around it. My bedroom at my home was plain and not as decorated as much. This bedroom was a princess bedroom with a canopy bed and a white carpet. There was a dresser and desk as well as a box full of toys. There was also a dollhouse. It was a Victorian one and much bigger than the one I had. This was a dream bedroom for any girl. At the same time, it was hard to understand that it was now my bedroom.

The rest of the day went somewhat quiet. Andrew told us that we should just relax and let our minds and bodies get used to the big changes. This meant he had to tell Mary to be quiet every time she wanted to tell me how much she missed me and how hard it was for her. It meant that he had to tell her to give me some space and let me relax.

I sat on the sofa all day and looked at cartoons. Otherwise, I did not know what to do. I was a guest here and I did not consider it was home. I could not go outside, as the press was camped outside. This meant that I was just confined to the sofa and the TV. The cartoons were an escape, as for short moments of time, I could laugh at them and forget the situation I was in.

Once in a while, I would sneak to the window and peek through the curtains. There were so many vans with and people with cameras, they were so scary. What did they want of me? I knew if they could they would ask the same sort of questions that the policewoman asked. I bet they wanted me to say that I was hurt and abused. They could not know that I am not interesting. We were just a family like everyone else.

Then I noticed the pictures in this house. They were so many pictures of this toddler girl. I could see that she was me, and it was proof that I once lived here. It was also a reason why mom and dad never had baby pictures of me. Why was I not mad at them? They kidnapped me! They took me away from people that loved me. If I was not kidnapped, then I would not feel alone now. This being said, I could not hate them. They were my family. They were my parents. This confused me so much. The parents that I loved so much were actually criminals and kidnappers.

The news came on and showed me being led into the police station. There was also footage with mom and dad being led into the police station. Mom was crying as she was being led in cuffs. This made me cry as well. The news said someone recognized me at Church, and days later the police found me. The newscaster said that mom and dad admitted that I was kidnapped and in fact Ariel. Just as the news was about to say what would happen, Mary turned off the TV and said I did not need to hear it.

I did need too!

I did not say a word to her. My silence was my protest. I was afraid if I spoke, that I would say so much and could never stop. There were so many things going through my head. I was getting a headache. Would things ever be the same again?

Neighbors kept on coming to the door with some food. The real reason was that they wanted a glimpse of me. They would stand in front of me and tell Mary and Andrew how big I got, and they could see I had the same eyes. Then they would ask how I was treated. They really wanted to know if I was locked in a basement or abused and hurt. I did not answer them. I just sat on the sofa and stayed quiet. I was really waiting for them to go. The problem was that as soon as one went, another one came. I felt like I was on exhibition. I noticed not one of them seemed to care how I was now. None asked how I felt now.

I got tired of it and told Mary that I was tired and would go to bed early.

*******************************************************

Flashback: Every evening, we would sit and watch TV. While we were doing this, I would sit on the floor in front of mom, and she would brush my hair. It would hurt at the start because I had long dark hair, but it was also a time of the day I would love. Nothing was said as she brushed my hair. I would just feel the brush going through my hair. It was at these times, I felt wanted and loved. Brushing my hair made me feel like I was the most important person in her life. I doubted that other girls had a mom that loved them so much!

*******************************************************

The next day I woke up, my hair was in a mess! There were clothes at the end of my bed. It was a spring dress. I only wore dresses when I went to Church. I looked around to see if I could find my clothes, but ended putting this dress on. I felt like I was 6 years old!

I heard Mary stand at the door and shout at the press. She was begging the media that was camped outside the house to leave us in peace. She shouted at them to leave us alone and that we needed peace. Then Andrew closed the door and tried to calm his wife down. He told her they were using the press for 9 years so people would not forget me, and now the press wanted more. The door was closed and the press had no intention of going. We were once again trapped in the house. It actually didn't bother me, as I was never allowed out much anyhow.

I was called down for breakfast. Mary thought that my dress was so pretty on me. I said nothing and just sat down. I wondered why we didn't say a quick prayer. I remembered that Mary and Andrew did not pray last night when I went to bed. My thoughts were disrupted when Mary put a bowl of cornflakes before me. I told her politely that I did not like cornflakes, and could I just have some toast. This made Mary laugh and said that toast was not good for a growing girl. She told me to eat the cornflakes. I looked at the cornflakes and lost control of myself. My life was turned upside down and there were limits to what I could accept. I pushed the bowl away from me and left the table.

I could hear Mary and Andrew discuss what was the matter with me. In the family room, I could see that Andrew got today's newspaper. I was on the front page. The picture showed how scared I was. Inside there was an article about my parents. I quickly took the newspaper up to my bedroom and hid it under the mattress in my bed.

Mary came up to my room shortly after and told me how rude it was to leave the table like that. I said nothing and just looked at Mr. Teddy.

"Will we go to Church?" I asked

"We do not go to Church" Mary answered, with a hint of pride in her voice.

"Don't we ever pray?" I asked

"You will not be forced to do that here, as we do not believe in God or Religion."

"But I want to"

Mary did not hear what I said, she just told me that I should go down to the kitchen and finish my breakfast, otherwise it would be a long time until Lunch. I did not argue with her. I just said I needed to be alone.

When she left the room, I opened the newspaper and read about my parents. They could not have children so they kidnapped me. They did not understand why they did it. They were both devastated that they could not have children and out of craziness, they kidnapped me. They knew how hurt my birth parents were and thought about giving me back. However, as time went, they could see that I did not remember my birth family, and they were my parents. It would be evil if they returned me. The article said that there was no evidence that I was hurt and harmed, and my parents told how much they loved me. There was even a quote from Dad asking how I was now. He said I must be in some sort of trauma.

There was a picture of mom and Dad's marriage picture. I just stared at it and wanted so much to give them a hug. The article said they could face 6 to 25 years in prison. This made me think I would never see them again. As I held onto Mr. Teddy, I cried on my pillow. It was the worse crying session I had in my life. A lot had happened and it was now my mind had enough and there was only one thing to do and that was to cry.

I must have cried for an hour when I noticed a special light shown through the window. I slowly got up and peeked out the window. The press was still camped there and when someone saw me, they all started taking pictures of me. This did not bother me, as I saw Gabriel standing there as well. He was the boy I met at the police station. He still had that robe on that looked like he was an altar boy. I could see him looking straight at me. Then I heard a voice in my head. It was him telling me to stay strong! He also said to look at my pillow. I did this and there was an apple on my pillow. I was confused and when I looked out the window again, Gabriel was gone.

The apple was the best apple I ever ate. When I was done, it was like I ate a Christmas dinner, which meant I felt so stuffed. I held on to Mr. Teddy and went on my knees and prayed to God. I prayed for my parents that they were not suffering in jail and that they would not be in jail for a lifetime. I also prayed for Mary and Andrew that they would learn to get to know who I was and love me. Finally, I prayed that God was watching over me and helping where he could. I asked him to give me the strength to get used to all that was happening.

*******************************************************

Flashback: Mom could see that I was not paying attention to one of her classes. She asked me if I had a problem. I told her that I had no friends. I was told it was too dangerous to go out, as somehow the sun was dangerous for me. I did not go to a normal school. I didn't even go to Sunday school. I knew no one my age. I asked her if I would ever have a friend my age. I did not expect mom to break down in tears. She had no answers for me. It ended up that we each cried in each other's arms. Mom was saying sorry. I did not understand why she thought it was her fault. In the end, I tried to console her by saying I may not have had many friends, but I had the best family!

*******************************************************

The rest of the day went and as I was getting ready for bed, Mary came into say goodnight to me.

She sat at my bedside and said, "This is hard for us all. It is extremely hard for me. I always thought it was my fault that you were kidnapped. There was not one day that went by when I did not look for you or think of you. Others said you were dead. Some even accused me of killing you. It was hard for 9 years that you were gone. Every day that went by, there was less hope of finding you. I was so afraid that you would forget me. This happened, and here we are united again. However, we are united as strangers. The question is what do we do?"

I  did not know the answer.

"We must be a family again," Mary continued, "You must accept that we are you are your parents and accept being our daughter. You must forget the two that kidnapped you and understand what they have done was very bad. If we can just start over, I am sure things would work out"

Mary kissed me goodnight and went. I thought of what she said and tried to think if that was the real answer. Should I look at mom and dad as evil people? I could not sleep. It was like my head was in a mess.

When everyone was asleep, I sneaked downstairs and turned on the news channel. There was once again a piece about my parents. It was the same that the newspaper said. I looked at the footage of my parents in jail. They looked so sad and so afraid. I know Mary said they were evil, but I could not see this in them. They were my parents. They loved me and took care of me. I loved them and missed them!

The next day, I woke up as the sun was shining on my bed. I thought that was a sign that things would be better. However, something was odd. For the first time in years, I could feel that I wet the bed. I lifted the blanket over my face and cried. My mind was shouting and asking why?

[cthulhusplatoon]

Splatoon One-Shot : The Red-Tentacle-Haired Inkling

 I change up this blog’s name so that the fanfictions I make that is bssed off Splatoon 1 and 2 would fit, rather than just art. And with that, here’s my first one-shot fanfiction I made last night. (and there will be art in this one shot)

 Wattpad - https://www.wattpad.com/490214467-splatoon-one-shot-the-red-tentacle-haired-inkling

Inkopolis, the city of the famous sport and tradition, Turf Wars…

It is 8:42 in the morning, the inklings are in their usual business; participating in Turf Wars, work, hanging out with friends, work in Grizzco Industries, and pretty much everyday things that have been always done by ordinary Inklings. It was start of anormal week for them...

At least, that what most Inklings thought it will be…

In the train that is travelling to the train station of Inkopolis, the interest of most of the passengers there is the Inkling that has his tentacle hair red. That kind of color is one of the most rare birth colors for their tentacle hair, not counting Octoling’s tentacle hair color.

“Look at that Inklings hair,” “Is that hair dyed?” “Is he a son of an Octoling?” These are what the other Inklings were whispering about the Inkling with red hair.

He can hear them, but he doesn’t pay mind to what they think about him, and questions that is regarding about his tentacle hair. He get used to them in his hometown, and it doesn’t bother him that much.

It’s not the only thing that the others are whispering about, though.

“His eyes are closed shut, but he has no difficulty on moving through the crowd,” “Is he blind?” “Why does not have his hair tied up?” And many things like that. He was considered to be a weird kid because of how different he looks from the other Inklings that is usually seen around. He is still busy to mind the whispers around him.

“Well, I heard that there is already one like him that lives in Inkopolis, so why surprised?”

This got his attention, but his gaze unchanged. He knew it; his sister is in Inkopolis. He was waiting for this for years, after he was taken away by his father for him to train him to become a great battler. He still questions why he wanted to train him, but it was left unanswered after a certain incident that sealed his father’s fate.

He rather wants to forget about it, which is an impossible thing to do for him.

His train of thoughts have stopped dead on their tracks, as the train he rides stopped at his destination, the Inkopolis Station, where he tests everything that he learned from his father, and to determine his training really paid well after all of those years.

As soon as the conductor of the said that they have arrived at their destination, and as soon as the doors have opened, the passengers quickly moved out of their positions to get out of the train. The Inkling in red hair has immediately got from his sit, and he quickly got out of the train before he gets squish inside.

Once he got out of the station, he become caught into the atmosphere of the city, and briefly stopped walking to look and admire the beauty of the city’s square. The place is not particularly crowded, but it has decent amount of people that is socializing with each other, entering shops like the Ammo Knights, Shrimp Kicks, Jelly Fresh, many more, the tower in northern side, and the billboards sign that showcases clothing brands, and other commercials.

He stopped gazing at the square’s features, as he pulls out a note from his long baggy shorts. It says; “Go to Ammo Knights, a friend of mine there can help you out for your first day in Inkopolis. And show him the other note I gave you.”

The note was from his father, before his supposed fate, and he puts it back to his pocket. He then enters the Ammo Knights, and as soon as he got inside, a little horseshoe crab that wears a military like attire and wears goggles quickly glances at him, probably the owner of the shop.

“Hello, hello! Welcome to Ammo Knights! What weapons picked your interest?” He greeted the Inkling in red hair. He doesn’t take interest with his red tentacle hair, somehow.

He brought out a note from his other pocket and handed it over the horseshoe crab.

“What’s this?” He took the note from his hand, and proceeds to read it. His eyes widened in shock, as he glance at the redhead, “You are the legitimate SON of one of the greatest Inklings ever existed?!”

The redhead simply nodded, expression is blank.

“Holy cod, welcome-“He was cut off as the redhead puts a finger to his. He pulls out an ID that contains a mug shot picture of himself, and his name, which is “Kthulhu.” The horseshoe crab seems to understand, “You don’t really want me to call you by your name, huh?”

He nodded. He wants to hide his true identity for a while.

The horseshoe crab sighed, “Well, I guess after what happened, we don’t want to make any unnecessary here in Inkopolis.

“Anyhow, welcome to Inkopolis and Ammo Knights, Kthulhu! My name is Sheldon, and I’m the owner of the Ammo Knights. Since you are pretty new here, I recommend that you take this Splattershot in you first turf war match!” He moves to the counter and pulls out a small weapon that looks like the Splattershot he is talking about. “This is the Splattershot Jr., your jack of all trades, but master of none weapon. You may have seen many more weapons that seem better than this one, but there are tight rules that if you are a newbie here in Inkopolis, a starter gear will be reasonable for you to use for your first few matches before you get more powerful weapons and gear. ”

He nodded again, as he understands what he means. He have competed a local turf war tournament in his old town during his training with his father. He then took the Splattershot Jr. with his right hand, and inspects it. It is light, very light, as he quickly aims with in a blinding speed. While do that, Sheldon grabs an ink tank from the counter and gave it to Kthulhu. He immediately wears on his back.

“And look at the time!” Sheldon said as he looks at the clock inside the shop, “This the best time for turf war! If you have seen the tower after you got out of the train station; that is the Inkopolis Tower, where you can join other Inklings to play turf wars. Since you have been training for cod who knows how long, an introduction about them is unnecessary. Now, go and participate your first turf war, and I wish you good luck!”

Kthulhu bows at Sheldon, showing a sign of thanks, and leaves the Ammo Knights.

As instructed, he goes to the Inkopolis Tower, which hosts the official turf war games. On the way, he notices that some of the Inklings around him are focused on him. He knows the reason why, and he keeps walking without slowing down by the looks, murmurs and whisper about him. He reached the Tower and gets inside the tower to participate some turf wars.

As soon as he gets in, eyes of other Inklings are now focused to him. He observed their expression; awe, shock, and incredulous. He then goes into a side of the wall and waits patiently for the games to begin.

While waiting, as expected, there are whispers coming inside his ears, and there are all about him. He is not enjoying the attention, but he doesn’t mind it either.

A few seconds later, there is an Inkling boy that approached him; he looks like he is fifteen years old, he wears a black shirt, with another white long sleeve shirt with green stripes overlapping the black shirt, a light looking green cap, and wears a pair of red knee high shoes. He is carrying a roller around.

“Sup dude,” He greeted, “A newbie with rare features came to ze city. We haven’t seen ze likes of you around these parts. Zat kind of color is not allowed to be used here in turf wars for… various reasons. My name’s Verique, by the vway, nice to meet you.” He held out his hand for a handshake.

Kthulhu didn’t hesitate to shake it. He then uses sign languages to communicate to Verique, “Sorry, I am mute.”

Verique raised an eyebrow, “Let me guess, you are mute?”

Kthulhu nodded.

Suddenly, a female inkling appeared behind him; she wears a red and white long sleeved shirt, a pair of pink shoes, and splash goggles hanging in her neck. She carries a good ‘ol Charger. She happily said, “Ohh! A mute that uses sign languages! I can translate what he is trying to say perfectly for you, then Verique.”

“I didn’t know you know how to read sign languages.” He said, “Hey, lad, she is Yeran, a friend of mine as well. Since you are mute, she maybe translating your words whenever you are trying to tell me something. But first, introduce yourself.”

Kthulhu signed them his name, by using the signing single letters of his name, K-T-H-U-L-H-U.

“Your name is Kthulhu?” She asked, “As in, the literal legend, ‘Cthulhu?’”

He shook his head.

“Just kidding, Kthulhu, he is just a legend!” Yeran said, “Legends like him are just stories.”

Verique shot her a disapproving glare, but he shifted back his look to Kthulhu, “So, uhh, Kthulhu, why are your eyes are closed shut? Do you have sight impairment and you close your eyes to not tire your eyes out?”

He puts his left index finger in his lips, meaning it’s a secret.

“You won’t tell- I mean sign about it, huh?” Verique looked a little disappointed, but softens up with a understanding expression, “I understand, if it something from the past, zen I won’t barge in your personal space.”

It’s not really from his past, he is born with it, and so is his sister as well. They somehow have the ability to see even with despite having their closed.

Their conversation was cut short when a message from a cat with its fur looked like a referee outfit. He immediately recognized it as Judd, the judge of turf wars.

“Meow! (The match is about to start! Be sure to have your conversations finished, equipments ready, and you inklings are healthy to play!”

Verique sighed, “Looks like the match is about to start, Kthulhu.”

“I hope to see you two in the same team!” Yeran said as she puts in her splash goggles and prepares her charger, “And if not, newbie, just know that I might whoop your ass in your first match!”

Kthulhu’s expression changes into more a confident one, challenging Yeran without hesitation.

“I’ll wipe that cocky face of yours if I beat you in this match!” Yeran said, as her eyes are filled with determination, accepting the challenge, “If I am in the opposite team, that is.”

“Well, then,” he prepared his roller, “Hope to see ya in my team.”

Kthulhu nodded, as he prepares his Splatterhot Jr. for battle. A few seconds later, the Inklings are teleported away; his first turf war has begun.

The today’s stage is Blackbelly Skatepark. Kthulhu’s team color is Purple and their opponent’s

The Inklings then brushes off the ink that covered them after they were teleported to their spawn points. He is in front of the spawn point, as he instinctively looked behind. He sees two unfamiliar inklings with one that equips another splattershot, and one that has an E-Liter. The only familiar teammate in his team is Verique, with his roller ready to splat n roll.

Verique looked at him, with a smile plastered on his face. He looked happy to see Kthulhu, “Eiy zere, lad.”

Kthlhu raised his free hand, greeting him back.

“Looks like Yeran is in ze other team,” he said, “I guess I should warn you to be careful whenever you encounter her. She is one hella sniper, her accuracy is in eagle level, and she will pressure you to make the wrong turn. She can snipe like an S ranked sniper.”

I nodded in acknowledgement. That didn’t scare Kthulhu the slightest, though.

“You seem confident,” Verique noticed, “then good luck…”

The countdown started, as all eyes gaze into battlefield.

3… 2… 1… START!

With that, everyone started inking turf, with Kthulhu is up ahead, inking his path.

Both teams’ score looked pretty tied up.

Kthulhu is doing great so far. It seems his training paid off.

He has splatted the two opposing team members with extreme efficiency, although none of them are Yeran. He has yet to encounter her in the battlefield. She snipes like an S ranked sniper. He was still thinking about that earlier, yet it doesn’t take away his skills in battlefield. If she can snipe like a S ranked player, he must be cautious in his surroundings. He entered the alleyway that leads to the opposing base.

That is, until he saw a green laser pointing at his shoulder.

He jumps backwards as soon as the shot is fired. It obviously missed, and he heard a scream afterwards, “WHAT?!”

He recognized the voice; it was Yeran. He immediately entered the alleyway, just to see Yeran is charging her shot. She is really focused, he noticed, and the laser is nearing him. He had act quick.

He shot out purple ink in the left side as he tries to move at the same direction. The sniper’s laser reached maximum distance and aims at the same direction he shoots out ink. As expected, and he quickly changed pace and direction and at the same time, the sniper’s shot out her sniper shot, making her miss.

He repeated the same procedure, but with the second time he uses the same he double faked her out by shooting out two ink puddles, one each from left and right. She is repeatedly missing her shots.

That is when she can now use her special, Bomb Rush. She immediately uses it and shoots a crap ton of splat bombs at him.

Unfortanately, Kthulhu’s special is also up. As soon as the bombs close in, he activated his special, reflecting bombs aside and explodes out of his range. A bomb from bounced off to his back by chance. Knowing that he can be knocked back while in bubbler, he back away for a few distance, and let the bomb explode. As the bomb explodes, he is knocked back greatly, inking the ground as he slides into Yeram, with a shocked expression on her face and her special has expired.

As soon as he stops sliding, he points his Splattershot at her face. Before he shot her, his expression changed into triumphant, and precedes to splatting her.

Her clothes and weapon briefly falls into the ground. It quickly disappeared soon afterwards.

She may be a good sniper, as he notice when he encounter her in the central part of the map as she suppresses his team and preventing from us retaking the middle for quite a while, but he knows how to outmaneuver her with ease, thanks to his training.

And thanks to him, they have made a last half-minute comeback.

Team Purple – 58.6%

Team Green – 41.4%

The Purple team cheered for their victory over the Green team. He then checks on the leaderboards; he is in the second place, with 2009 points, while Verique has 2192 points in his end. Although he got the highest splat count; scoring 21 splats with the Splattershot Jr.

The Purple team cheered for Kthulhu, despite him disliking the attention. The inklings in Blackberry Skatepark were teleported away from the said location and back to the tower they were in. The inklings claimed their reward from Judd after their hard fought victory. Kthulhu somehow levelled up to LVL two. Yeran and Verique came back together, with Yeran visibly upset.

“Oh, lookie here, its ze happy go lucky girl,” Verique said with a mock tone, “Looks like she’s upset.”

“Shut it, Verique.” Yeran retorted, “We would’ve won that match.”

“Not so fast, lad,  Kthulhu here have carried us to victory.”

“You wimps relied on him after he destroyed me during that fight in the alleyway.”

“Oh, a newbie beat your ass up in his first match, huh? How embarrassing, lad, I expected better.”

“Then I challenge you into one-on-one duel then, Verique! Let’s see whose ass will be handed to!” She put on a confident smirk on her face.

“Bring it, ‘zen, Geek.”

“Beat it, nerd,”

Kthulhu felt a budding friendship between Verique and Yeran. They are just having a friendly banter and rivalry after his first match. He mentally smiled as he remembers the time he had bantering with his old friends. They have lost contact after he was taken away.

“But, seriously, did you just beat her while you were on ‘zat alleyway to her base?” He asked Kthulhu, “I thought ‘zat the Splattershot Jr. will have a disadvantage against chargers, especially at tight spots like ‘zat alleyway you two fought in.”

“He probably knew that already, but he is really agile as cod, and fakes me everytime!” Yeran answered him, instead, “You know how hard it is to hit such fast opponents?!”

Kthulhu signed, “I get ya.”

“Shut it, newbie. How can you even see that sniper laser when you are about to enter the alleyway for the first time, anyway? Stupidly ironically, your eyes are like sealed tight, how can you see them?”

“Irony is the best way to shift the heat of battle. Don’t underestimate it, or you’ll get flattened.”

“ANYWAY,” She tried to change the subject, “Are you truly a newbie, though? You play like an S rank player with the show you just pulled off to splat me. And why that one splat bomb explodes for like a millisecond? If I remember correctly, it’ll take more than a millisecond to explode. Please don’t tell me you’re cheating?”

He shook his head, and signs, “If I’d cheat my way to victory, it wouldn’t be more subtle, and it will be too plain obvious and easy to detect cheating.”

“And how do you know that?”

He puts his left index finger in his lips, indicating that he’ll be keeping it a secret.

She sighed, “I guess it’s no point persuading you to sign.”

“I just want you guys to know that I feel left out because you two are the only ones who able to understand each other.” Verique said. We looked at him mid-sentence, confused expression on his face.

“If you want to understand sign language, then let me teach you IF you beat me on our duel later!” Yeran proposed. Verique’s expression shifted to confidence.

“Then I’ll give everything I got to beat you down!”

“You better be!”

“So, uhh, Kthulhu, want to watch us duel and be our referee? If you have something to do though, then it’s alright for you to decline.”

“Actually I do have.” Kthulhu signed, “I have to go to the Ammo Knights.”

“You’ll be going to the Ammo Knights, ehh?” Yeran said, translating its meaning for Verique to understand. “Well, sucks that you can’t come to see me whoop this nerd’s ass.”

“Well, if you are going to the Ammo Knights, zen get going, if it’s something important then we don’t want to keep you longer ‘zan we intended to.”

“Nah, nothing important, not that if I remember.” He signed, “Well, then I’ll be seeing you guyslater.”

“Wait, before you leave,” Yeran took out her squidphone, “How about we exchange numbers, Kthulhu? We might run into each other for a while, or even hang out, like friends do.”

“I agree,” Verique then tooks his squidphone as well, “You are a great battler, despite ‘zis being your first ever match.”

Kthulhu then took out his squidphone, he signed them his number, and the two told him their numbers. He had gained two new friends in his first match.

“There! Now we are now officially friends!” Yeran enthusiastically exclaimed, “I hope to see you again in the future.”

“We will, I could already tell,” Verique reassured, “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we will be going inside again and we will go onto a private duel. We’ll see ya soon, Kthulhu.”

They waved goodbye to Kthulhu, and he waved back as he goes to the direction where the Ammo Knights is. He made great progress; he made two new friends, won his first match, levelled up, and most importantly;

His training truly has paid off. And he will further test it in the future battles.

 You see that Inkling in the mid? Yes, that is the same Inkling in my profile pic. It’s his initial design when I was making his design.

The Red-Haired in the middle is the same inkling that is in my Profile Pic. Looks different? That’s his initial design, excluding the starter gear. This one-shot shows how my Profile Pic Inkling started Turf Warring, shows a little sneak about his past, and the start of my own Splatoon Story.

Splatoon belongs to - Nintendo

Characters here in the story belongs to - me

Fanfic and Art belongs to - me

#splatoon #splatoon fanfiction #splatoon art #inklings #inkling #inkling boy #inkling girl #kthulhu #kthulhu's initial design #red inkling #blue inkling #cyan inkling #splatoon sheldon #sheldon #cthulhianlit #cthulhianart #story #spatoon fanfic

[glookie]

Looking back

Yesterday we celebrated my clubs 10th anniversary. It was nice to watch old pictures of my team members and to see how they fenced back in the days. You could really see the development In HEMA during the last decade just by looking at pictures and old videos. It happened a lot during the years I’ve been a member, and that is not particularly long at all – in November I’ve been doing hema for 3 years. Before going to the anniversary party I was thinking about holding a speech, but I didn’t. I wasn’t prepared, the thought crossed my mind a bit too late. That is the reason why I wanted to write this text. So many thoughts came to me, and I feel that it’s important for me to share this thoughts with you.

The first thought that came to my mind was: Where was I ten years ago? I was 19 years old. Had just finished school. I didn’t know what I wanted at all, I had a very hard time seeing the future in front of me. If someone had told med then: Ten years from now, you will be doing martial arts with swords. And! You will be pretty good at it also. Oh my god. I would have laughed them straight in the face. Me? Doing martial arts? No fucking way! With swords? You gotta be kidding me! I am no one, not good at anything. Especially not at martial arts, I can barely take instructions on choreography doing theatre! That what was I was doing at the time, theatre. It took all of my time, rehearsing, rehearsing. That year, 2007, I played a role in Shakespeare’s “A midsummer night’s dream” in the summer.

I’m the one in the back, wearing that multicolored vest 

That was also the year my theatre group started to rent a local that we could have as our own, that was a big step for us. I think I was in three or four plays that year.   The years went on, still was into this theatre making. I loved every minute of it. It was my own bubble, my escape from reality. I had a hard time being a part of the society, I had a hard time finding myself and fitting in. Theatre was the perfect world for me to be in, it was almost like a drug. I never stopped, just wanting more. People still talks about a particular scene I’ve made during 2009, I played a five-year old. Today I have a hard time understanding that I really made all those things. Who would have thought that the shy girl from school could be able to stand on a stage like that? Not me, not anyone. But I did.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3mJ3G7BSluU&t=3s Me playing the five-year old. It’s on Swedish ;)

The thing is, I never had an interest in playing theatre before I started doing it. I came into theatre because of my sister. She had a role in a play 2004, the year after they wanted her in another role. She didn’t want it, they asked me instead since we were related. I thought, sure. Why not? I did it, I got a role as a maiden named Lotta who had a little brother named August. We sang together at the stage. Looking at that video today is loads of fun, I am so tense! I’m saying my lines, but that is also it. What a difference just a few years later, it’s almost like I turned into someone else.

Me in my first play 2005. 

I did a lot of stuff, sure. But I felt lost in an everyday manner. I had friends, was productive and tons of energy. At least it looked that way. I still had days and periods I didn’t feel at home at all. That feeling of not fitting in was always hanging over me, I felt like I was in the way at my parents. Almost like they didn’t want me there at all. I worked at my dad’s friend’s place, washing chicken stables and also helping them picking all the chickens up when it was time for them to go to slaughter. Those days when I got home from washing the stables I was filled with birds spilling all over me. It got stuck in my hair and my clothes. I did this a couple of times in every month. We also helped other farmers sending their chickens to slaughter working night shifts. Not a glamorous job at all. Coming home all tired and covered in dust every time. I worked hard, like I always have. One day I got a phone call from another farmer who needed someone who could wash their stables, they had a pig farm. I went there, washed some of their stables and then I got stuck there for 2 years or so. Swords nowhere to be seen. If you don’t count a pitchfork for a sword ;). Somewhere in between those years my mum kicked me out from home. Leading me to making stupid decisions. I leant my sister’s apartment for a while, I was 21 at this time, felt like shit. I was unaccepted, unwanted and in my own eyes not worth the shoes I was walking in. I didn’t care anymore, I just wanted to get away from everything. I started to chat with a guy over the internet. We decided to meet on a date. And so we did. I’ve met him in the city, Örebro, and I remember I thought: No, not my type. But what the hell, I don’t care. I just want to get out of my situation. We started to see each other more. My lack of self-respect made me start a relationship with this guy, even though I didn’t even like him. I couldn’t get anything better anyhow, I thought to myself. I was way out of line, I had shut myself down. I decided to move to him in Eskilstuna on a very short notice. That wasn’t especially smart of me, but I was in a crisis. So much going on inside of me. Thinking: “Things can’t be worse than they already are”. Never think that way. Things can always be worse. They did. When I moved in I started to notice strange things. For example, I was there and put some clothes there one weekend. The next time I showed up (this was before I actually moved in but still) the TV and the lamp in the bedroom was missing. And some other things to. I asked him: Where are these things? - They are, gone. Me: But, how? A TV can’t just disappear. - It did! I had to push him, he told me after a while that it was his ex who came by to pick her things up. We talked through it, I accepted it. But still thought it was a bit weird.. My guts told me that this was bad shit going on but I held it to my senses. I pushed that feeling away trying to not think about it. A month later he received this message from her, saying that we had to move out. Then I realized that the apartment was hers, not his. God. What a mess. It was me paying the rent and all the bills from my savings. He didn’t do a shit. We moved out. Lived at his friend for a while. I managed to get another apartment. We moved in there. Lived there for a month or so, then he started to act really badly. I’ve seen tendencies to this before, him having this anger issues smashing things into walls, hitting his hand in tables and stuffs for what seemed to be no reason at all. I was always afraid for something to happen. My money started to run out. I was going home for a week to work, just some days before that he became so mad at me for hanging the laundry in the wrong manner. His eyes were all black. I ran into the bedroom when he became aggressive. I closed the door, and I could see the laundry basket that were made out of plastic, coming at the door through the air. I shut the door and heard a bang. I went down behind the bed. Scared as hell, was this the last minutes of my life? He came in. Screaming. Throwing something at me. Went out. I was shaking. I could hear him watching TV. I told myself I had to do something, just anything. I went out in the hall and into the kitchen. I started to make the dishes. I cried. He heard me. Still angry. He yelled: SHUT THE FUCK UP!!! I couldn’t handle it anymore. I sat down at the floor, managed to crawl in beneath the dishing bench. I sat there in this hole mad for a dishwasher. I never felt so lonely and scared in my entire life. He came out after a while. Calm. He told me in a calm manner: I realized something, we don’t need a laundry basket. I was out of my mind. What the fuck was he saying?! I told him he was a lunatic, he just nod against me. “Yes I know, but we don’t need a laundry basket” Oh my god. This human being was a special kind of human in the bad way. I got home, worked for a week. Hell break loose, he making weird stuff that he couldn’t afford. Being out with his gang, buying them drinks for money he didn’t have. I was pissed. When I finally got home after some troubles along the way (long story). I come into my apartment together with a friend. He is stoned. Starts to yell at us. Getting pissed. He getting those dark eyes again. I can’t really say what happened after that. I know he got out and hit both me and my friend, and that we managed to get him back in the apartment and run away to call the police. I told him to never get back. Never. I moved back to my mum and dad. Lived there for a year or so. Got my own apartment In Hallsberg. After a while I managed to get both a full time job as a personal assistant, I moved to Kristinehamn where I also had a boyfriend. I worked too much, slept too little. I hit that famous wall. Quit my job, started to study in Örebro. Told my boyfriend to get lost since we didn’t worked out so well together. After the first term on the university I got lost, I broke down so much I had a memory loss and started to hallucinate. I only existed one moment at a time, only remember who I was and what connection I had to people. I couldn’t remember things I’ve went through, things that happened were completely gone. I panicked, I freaked out. The time was running away from me, I couldn’t catch it at all. This made me see all the people around me getting old and die in front of me. I saw it, like it was for real. I couldn’t hold myself together. I screamed being so afraid of myself and what was happening to me. Somehow I managed to get through this, without help. I found the source to what was happening to me and dealt with it. I had to accept the fact that we are mortal. I was afraid of dying, and it stressed me out that I couldn’t handle time anymore. That it was running away from me. I found my own way through it and became my own therapist. I got back to school, never had to take a break from it. Then I started to suffer from insomnia. Slept like 2-3 hours per night. I still managed to study though, don’t ask me how but I did. I contacted a friend who helped me with a sleeping program, which helped but it was a hell to get through. I started to sleep normal again. Life became a bit easier. For a while. Through a friend I met this girl who needed somewhere to stay. She had a baby and a dog. I lived in a big apartment that I couldn’t really afford by myself, I let her move in. Of course, with my luck, it was a person with problems. She couldn’t handle her child, calling her 9 months baby an idiot. Yelling at her. Lifting her up and screaming at her when she just wanted food. You name it. I did everything I could to protect this child, I got up and gave her the bottle as soon as I could so the mother wouldn’t be angry at the morning. I took the baby up and walked around with her. She was a very calm child. Didn’t want so much attention. Slept during the nights (when her mother was away atleast) ate, and only wanted attention when she needed food, love or a diaper change. I almost adopted her as my own, when she was with me she was calm. Everytime her mother went away the baby slept early. As soon as the mother got her hand at the door, the child started to scream in panic. It was like this for some months. She lied a lot, it came to me that she had told others that it was her apartment and not mine. And other things. I decided to kick her out. My mum told me that this was the girl who had threatened to kill my bigger sister ten years ago. What the fuck life. What have I done against you? I thought. It felt like I was living in a bad movie. This couldn’t be real. Anyhow, I kicked her out. She was pissed. I didn’t care. I started to live alone. Had a friend that came over every other week, since he worked in the city. Things were starting to get back to normal, again. My dad had been feeling badly for a while. Having a hard time working as normal. One day my mum calls. I got this bad feeling. She tells me dad wants to talk with me. Dad never talked to me in the phone. Never. She hands over the phone. Dad tells me he got diagnosed with ALS. ALS is a disease that cut the nerve signals from your body out. Making you more and more paralyzed. I sat down. Didn’t know how to handle the situation. This big black hole started to fill up my body. Sadness. Frustration. Anger. During this time a friend of mine who I met through larping, tried to pursue me into this fencing shit. At least, I thought it was shit. I thought he talked about sport fencing, and believe me. He had to talk about it for 1,5 years before I actually tried it out. His finals word that made me go there was: We need more tough girls. My mind: Tough girls? I AM ONE! I came by in the middle of a term. Being a bit nervous. What was I getting my ass into? This was in the middle of November 2014. I had to meet a whole bunch of new people who already started in the beginner’s course that term. I felt insecure, had to stand in a corner by myself and a trainer. Feeling dumb and silly. I couldn’t even stand correctly in a stanse. Making a fool of my self. But I got stuck in it. 

Meanwhile my dad got so bad I dropped out of university to work for him as a personal assistant. I helped my dad with stuff that is normal for other people. I had to help him eat, help him to the toilet and so on. In the end he got moved to a home for old people who can’t take care of themselves. I did my best at training. I got new friends there, and bruises. A lot of them. I started to compete just 6-7 months after I started, getting my head into it. My dad got more and more ill. I couldn’t handle it. I got sick from seeing it. The last three months of his life I wasn’t there. I couldn’t anymore, it hurt me so bad seeing my dad becoming a wreck. Not being able to do anything at all, he was shutting down more and more. By that time I was ill myself. Couldn’t go out the door. Most of the days I laid in bed doing nothing at all. Tried to go out, got a panic attack from it. At the worst I had 5-6 panic attacks every day. I was a mess. I didn’t give in though. Every day I went to training. Refusing to give in for anxiety and depression. Some days that was the only thing I managed to do. I got up and got out. How hard it felt, I didn’t care. I got there. That was the only thing that mattered to me. Training, with swords. If it wasn’t for my trainer, Carl, I wouldn’t have continued at all. But somehow he made me got my ass up and go there. Every. Single. Time. Not like he forced me to, but he made me want to go there. No matter how bad I felt. My team members have seen me cry during practice. They have also seen me getting panic attacks both on trainings and on events we’ve been on together. I sometimes wanted to give up, I still feel the same way today. How much can you handle? But I never did. They never gave up on me, especially not Carl. I ain’t going to either, that is the easy way out. But shortcuts making it all much harder in the end. You miss a lot if you take them. Ten years ago I couldn’t imagine myself being where I am today. I even had a hard time imagined myself being 29 years old, life didn’t seem to be for people like me. But here I am. Having a job which I’m good at. Having a lot of experience in acting. Being one of the greatest women in Swedish HEMA fighting (hard to believe, I know. But the facts says so). Last, but the most important; having a big bunch of friends who been following me through those years, they are my family and I love every single one of them. Now I am actually looking forward to the next ten years in life, I didn’t back then. Never give up. xoxo Lotta

#mental illness #mental ill health #theatre #acting #martialarts #historical fencing #farming #emotional abuse #friends #training #never give up

[noidsome]

Digimon tri: Loss rant aka butthurt

So there are things that bothers me a lot about these Digimon tri movies and this movie, well lets just say its teh drop that tipped the glass. I dont really like rewieving things..but i am very passionate for digimon, so i suppose this will do.

So what is there to say about Digimon tri? or spesifically... loss? hehe loss..more like loss of my intrest in these movies..

TLDR; the movie is long, boring, little action, meiko is shit as always, the conflict with sora, tai and matt doesnt exist, some scenes go nowhere and are more filler then plot, still questions left unanswered, 02 kids are dead and gone and nobody cares at this point, and shitty, limited, boring, bland and dissapoiunting animation. 

Anyhow where do i even start? first i suppose i should start off by saying the things i DO like about this movie. I did enjoy seeing tai more in the spotlight, and it was nice seeing tai, matt and sora talk again. And not to mention, digivolutions! Where most of the digis became ultimate! hell yeah! and my boi machinedramon, i always loved that fella. And more digi kaiser?? YES PLS FUEL MY NEEDS FOR FOOTAGE!! and of course, the animation was well done with the fight scenes and the action was really neat! My favorite part of the movie was the last part.

and now, onto the... MANY many problems these movies had, with none other then shitty animation, awkward scenes, bad art styles, scenes that go nowhere, meiko, and FILLER!! clench your asshole because this is going to be a long one...

Ok so we start off the movie strong. This flashback goes well with me because its this old timey wimey film effect, and we get to see the backstory of himekawa and black hair teacher typography mcgee, i forgot his name..anyway thats cool, we get plot! and then cuts to meiko being left out with her dark evil special digital device. GOOD. she has no way to enter now. she should be left out like the shitty written character she is. im glad shes out.. but would i be like this for long?? NOPE, NOT HERE IN DISSAPOINTMENT LAND I WONT!!

So then we get tehse cute bonding scenes, which are just very nice. its good they take their time with these, and boy....do they take their time :))))) the shitty happy music desu comes so abruplty that you just sit back and say “nice here it is.” so the rest of the digimon get along just fine with the kids again, which is nice i guess....except for pyokomon or whatever. For some reason she is the ONLY CONVENIENT one that wont like her. now, im fine with this, because things never happen the same way twice. however, she is THE ONLY ONE, and the others open very fast, so why?? eh whatever wont bother explaining too much about that ;))

so after this kawaii desuka moment, after toei “””””””””””””””animation”””””””””””””””” show us a slideshow of their best drawings of the kids just sitting there, with no movement, we get on with it. 

There is one thing i learned in animation class, and that is that YOU NEVER HAVE ONE STILL FRAME in animation, and these movies have a lot of them, and so fucking shittly placed as well. Just sometimes to save time, or just because lazyness, the animators just pan a akward still filler frame. i know things are hard, and horrible in NEY-HON, especially with animation, but for gods sake i cant help but go “animation is hard XDDdDdDD” whenever watching these movies....because sometimes....SOMETIMES.......

anyway so onto the story, “special super powerful” meikoomon appears, crying because she is adult and remembers meiko. why, you ask?? WHY??????? WELL who cares stfu. so she runs away and jumps into a distortion. did she make it? did the digital world provide her with some? will we get answers??

so then, PTaiSD starts doubhting if we can save the special boy cat, and Yamaha has to of course get angry about every single little thing tai does, and walks off in a huff. Was this scene forced like all hell?? is yamiffedo being a bitch for no reason?? Yes. yes he was. at this point, it feels like they just put this here to give matt a reason to be angry because they have nothing left to bitch about to eachother, or yashitto just wont let up. either way, it is so frustrating..but i digress. 

we also cut to black haired crocks wearing mcgee again, in and out, of him saying “i cant figure this out” and we get told this 2 times. ... ANYYYWAYYYY then the kids remember their personalities again and tai suggests we do something now, and the digimon digivolved. HURRAH!”

byomon is still not trusting sora, which is fine i guess bonds take time, and they did take their time, which was fine. so they keep cutting to this trolly, the one they slept in in digimon adventure. HEY GUYS, REMEMBER THE TROLLY???? REMEMBER DIGIMON 01?? WASNT THAT SERIES COOL??? 

special OP baby cat meikomon just sits and laments because she cant find meiko, so she gets all infected and fucks up everything again, making the reboot for NUFFIN if she keeps this up. BUTT WAIT, why does she still have this infection?????? OH NO SHE TURNED EVIL AGAIN!!!! but does the movie explain??

so here we are with the blank kids club as izzy expositions the shit out of the other kids, which is nice. its nice to get plot... BUT ITS NOT THE PLOT WE ACTUALLY NEED, just...just a little bit of it. just a little bit.......... anyway everyone cuberbullies meiko and basically says that she is a shit and wont fit in here because all she would do is cry or fuck up something beyond repair. that is what she would do.

so then sora walks off and sits by a trunk and is sad because her tamagotchi doesnt like her anymore. BUT.......and this is a big but...Taishit and Yaman come to the rescue. BUT...they are both stupidly blank and doesnt know waht the fuck to do or say, but they try. how will they tackle this point??

So basically sora is suprised to figure out that tai and matt cant read her mind, and just runs off and is understandably angry about the situation. so as tai and matt is visibly upset they cant fix this, which you couldnt tell because their expressions are about as vibrant as a piece of wood, Taichi basically says something good for once. Sora spends her times worrying about other people and doesnt say anything about her own worries. which is....good??????

im sorry but to me thats not good at all. if you fix everyone elses problem, and you shut your own problems inside, you are going to suffer. THIS IS NOT A GOOD THING HOLY FUCK WHAT KIND OF MESSAGE IS THAT??!?!?!?!? unless i am completly misunderstanding this kind of behaviour but to me, this is not good. fuck that shit. so that scene ends. nothing gets resolved.  then finally, after fucking FOREVER with filler scenes and awkward crappy animation, machinedramon finally appears and is here to fucking kill this second hand emberassment. they run from him, and the others see whats going on. so then they try to do something and fails, and then meikoomon isnt evil anymore...........????? and then something which i think is one of the biggest, STUPIDEST cop puts of all time happens. 

macinedramon shoots them at point blank, and really hard and long too, like so long the camera makes sure to show ALL of their faces as they slowly burn to death by the giant super death cannon...and so they all get fucking obliterated and die... EXCEPT THEY DONT!!!!!!!!!! A DISTORTION PORTAL APPEARS AND JUST... TROWS THEM ACROSS THE ENTIRE ISLAND!!!! AND THE KIDS ARE ALSO UNHARMED!?”!?”?!?

WHAT THE FUYCK IS THAT SHIT?!?!??! WHY DID THE DISTORITON APPEAR??? WHO MADE IT?? WAS IT MEIKOOMON??? EXPLAIN!!! EXPLAIN FOR FUCKS SAKE IM TOO AUTISTIC TO UNDERSTAND THIS DEEP LEVEL OF STORY TELLING!!!

oh and we get a cute flashback to actually knowing what himekawa wanted. she just wanter he digimon back.......which is why she acted this way all along? so she could get her stupid digimon back=??? thats why she had to act like she was secretly the one fucking everything up?? ....eh idk ANYWAY

byomon sees sora cry and decides wew lad....that changes everything.,..so that scene ends, and what does byomon find?????? WELL WOW ITS MEIKO WHO JUST FELL INTO THE DIGITAL WORLD JUST BECAUSE!!!!!!!!!!!! 

it was at this point i got really upset with this crappy movie. The scenes drag on for too long, scenes just end and go nowhere, and GOD DAMN IT IM SORRY FOR SAYING THIS BUT MEIKO IS A FUCKING MARY SUE. she is such a classic example of shittily written self insert characters that it fucking hurts. if i wanted to read your shitty digimon fanfiction from 2008 then i would of done that. Its fucking insane to see this level of writing from a professional writing team, holy fuck. 

and then........this.......this takes the cake.... fucking tai and kari are together. finally, they get to talk a little about things, like for example bringing up whats bothering tai all this time, or why he has to be such a tittybaby with yamato, or maybe have a little chat about character development. but no we dont get none of that. shitty sad music plays and....no tai just says “oh man im so angry i didnt make it” and kari says “its ok” and then tai just looks down.... AND THEN THATS IT!!! ....OK??

so then a whole lot of fucking nothing happens for a while, and i mean, they just.....dont say ANYTHING worthwhile. tai goes all “man i wish tai would read my mind and not be an asshole. my name IS MATT AND I JUST CANT TALK TO MY FRIENDS SO I WALK AROUND LIKE AN ANGRY PISSY BABY BECAUSE THATS MY TRAIT, WHICH IS NOT FRUSTRATING AND TIRED AT ALL” 

and byomon being a little warmer, going to meiko just because shes a cunt at this point, like now shes just being a dick, and generally everyone just walking around having a grand ol time. i guess its nice, and cool and all...but it drags ON FOR TOO LONG WE DONT NEED THIS LEVEL OF CALM WHEN YOU HAD ONE ACTION SCENE TROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE MOVIE!!!!! and just generally....just stuff that goes NOWHERE!! like that train scene???? literally filler. was it a trowback to 02 where agumon came back on the train after being with the dark master?? i dont know!! fuck!!

then expositionmon comes, and its vague, and leaves. and then whatever anyway

meikomon cries and when she gets back to meiko again she tries to slit her troat, and meiko supringly tells her that she isnt good.....wow..thats nice. but they reuine and FINALLY gennai arrives again. in his kaiser disguise. why does he have that avatar to go back and forth troughout the world? why did he chose to use kaiser?? my guess is just to be a dick to the others, because thats the only good explanation at this point. 

and sora does say “oh hi ken please dont” but thats it. im sorry but at this point, the 02 kids are oficcially dead and gone. there is no logical explanation to why they act like this anymore. none that are actually good. forget about them, the others have. just....forget about it.

so distortions appear again and everyone reunites again, because hell we needed SOME explanation to them meeting again. so action happens, and everything is nice and fine and then gennai just

hes so insane im kind of liking it..... ANYWAY stuff happens and so they run away while gennai talks to them about some answers to our questions, which they might not hear because of the BIG HEAVY  STOMPS AND ROARS from the digimons but whatever... yuggrasil i dont remember who is and at this point i just wanted the movie to be over, so this last part, there isnt much to say because i liked it.

however sora getting BTFO by a giant mountain and machinedramons claw should have killed her, but nah whatever. and the scene with tai and matt drowning??? i jsut... dont understand it. what the fuck happened??? why did they just not drown anymore?? what?????? did the power of magic save them or somethin? I DONT GET IT!! and i mean...they should have drowned at that point jfc 

then half the movie is the digimon digivolving and now im so god damn sick of writing, but meikomon fucks everything up again and NOW IT ENDS ON A CLIFFHANGER!! REEEEEEEEEEEEE

SOOOO yeah thats it...the movie was slow, boring, fun, and overall awkwards. the kids had ALMOST no personality, and the scenes that the movie advertized, like the conflict with sora, tai and matt was nonexistant, and just....i myself, and a lot of people, are fucking dissapointed.

if you read this far, thank you. but i have no big hypes for the rest of the movies anymore because the shitty animation, no facial expressions, crappy storytelling, boring character interactions, and MEIKO makes me hate these movies more and more...........and that makes me sad.

#digimon tri #digimon adventure tri #digimon adventure tri loss #review

[theliterateape]

I’m happy staying at home alone but …

By Elizabeth Harper

I miss walking over to a neighborhood bar and the bartender recognizes me because I am a regular and have been there lots of times before and they’re happy to see me and we chat a little and I get a drink because sometimes it’s fun to get a drink and talk and laugh with people and see a show and sometimes I get to have a fascinating conversation with a stranger but then after that they’re not a stranger anymore because we’ve connected somehow and then we’re friends on Facebook and we can like each other’s posts and now my world is just a little bit bigger and more colorful and exciting and I learn new things and hear about other people’s perspectives and that’s a good thing because that’s information to have to inform my worldview that I’m always working on I mean all the time because I’m always thinking and collecting information and adapting my theories to accommodate new data and I like that I live in a city and meet lots of different people people from other countries old and young and middle aged people and people who speak different languages and have different racial and cultural backgrounds and different educations and transgender people and gay and lesbian and bisexual people and kinky people and maybe it sounds like I’m collecting people and maybe I am people are assets in their own way I really think diversity true diversity not mere tokenism is a good thing and I’m not afraid of people who are different from me unless they think I shouldn’t exist and then what really blows my mind is when people are interested in me and what I think and then I feel like maybe I’m contributing something maybe I’m not just a useless blob of flesh taking up space and using up resources and life will go on after this stay-at-home because of the pandemic interlude but I’m thinking it won’t be the same when the bars open up again because how are we going to have shows and talk to strangers when everybody is wearing masks over their faces and trying not to touch anything and worried about getting sick because it really doesn’t sound fun to get sick it sounds really awful like people have trouble breathing and they’re tired and they’re just miserable and I don’t want to get sick because I think I’ll die because that would just be so like me to get sick and die but I’m not quite ready to die because I don’t want to leave a mess for my sister I have books to publish and all sorts of papers to scan and organize I want to preserve some of the things I wrote in high school before I used a computer and it’s all very fascinating but it would be better if I had it organized before I died because otherwise my sister will have to deal with it and it will be overwhelming and then also I think she might be sad if I died because I would be really super sad if my sister died I don’t think I could handle it I don’t know what I would do but then her husband and her kids would be sad too people would be sad I don’t like this stupid virus and I don’t like stupid politicians who didn’t adequately prepare for a pandemic though maybe they did the best they could do but I really don’t think their best is very good but it’s hard to plan for the unthinkable and I’m stocked up on toilet paper and Clorox wipes right now but I was worried for a minute there when people were saying the store shelves were empty and I couldn’t even order some things for delivery and I’m worried about the people who have to work and do the deliveries I really am but I really don’t think I should go out because just knowing me even though I think I’m being super careful I might not be careful enough and then maybe I get it from someone’s dog jumping on me because other people’s dogs are always jumping on me and I really don’t like it but if a dog jumps on me and that’s how I get the virus it wouldn’t be totally my fault except that I was the one who left home in the first place knowing that there are all these big jumping dogs and joggers and old people and sick people out and about and then just knowing me I would give it to someone without meaning to or realizing it and anyhow I don’t think things are going back to the way they were before and I really am having fun at home reading and working on projects but I’m also kinda sad about not being able to walk over to the bar and say hi and chat and maybe read some poems or do a drag show or karaoke even though I’m really awful at karaoke I can’t sing at all but it’s more about the attitude and also sharing the love of music with the other folks in the bar and some of them are my friends and some are strangers and maybe some of the strangers would like to my friends and maybe I would like for them to be my friends but I don’t think going to bars is going to be the same anymore are we going to share a microphone for open mic or karaoke I don’t think so and forget about making out all sexy and sloppy with tongues and everything at the bar with a stranger which is one of my favorite fun things to do that is if they’re cute and some guys I meet are really cute and can talk about Foucault and Spinoza and I want to collect them all and keep them in my freezer like Popsicle ice pops wait no that might sound weird if you don’t know me anyhow maybe I’m not going to meet new people anymore and just have only the people I know now and I like the people I know now but not everyone can talk about Foucault and Spinoza and sometimes I wish I had friends who read the same kinds of books I do because then we would have a basis for conversation see I like people who are different from me but I also would like to meet someone who was really similar to me because then maybe we could understand each other but really I don’t think there are any other people like me which is ok in the sense that I guess it makes me more necessary because I’m the only one who can do the job of being someone like me but really that’s an awful lot of responsibility when you think about it and maybe I should be super careful right now and not get sick and die but of course everyone including me is going to die the trick is to die at the right time and I want to choose when I go I want to have all my affairs in order and have everything nice and tidy and organized so it won’t be too much of a mess for someone to clean up but we all have to go sometime and a lot of the time we don’t get to choose how or when which means leaving a mess and speaking of messes I’m not going to say his name but there is someone who is making a lot of decisions and saying a lot of things that aren’t true and affect the entire country and in some ways the entire world and the entire planet and I just wish he wouldn’t make so many messes because someone is going to have clean that up and it’s going to be a huge overwhelming job and I get tired just thinking about it and I was worried this person was going to make a bunch of messes because he was saying things that didn’t make any sense and I thought to myself is this performance art because he can’t possibly believe what he’s saying but I guess some people like him I guess he tells them what they want to hear but maybe what they want to hear isn’t the truth and see that’s how big messes get created when people don’t tell the truth and don’t think things through and don’t think about the mess they’re leaving for the next folks

#Stay at Home #bars #drinking #collecting #diversity #failure to plan #death #sickness

[spongeguyandlelouchvibridankia]

Buster X Fern Story for Christmas

“I am so TIRED of Christmas!”

 Buster Baxter, 15 years old and actually growing, observed the similarly aged girl next to him with a knowing smile.

 Fern Walters may have become less depressed over the years, but when she thought something she said it!

 At least, not only to her closest friends. Now the whole world could hear her.

 Rubbing her gloved hands to conserve some heat, Fern continued her rant as Buster continued to shovel in Pringles.

 A few purple threads dangled from the hand knitted gloves as Fern breathed on them. “I mean, not of the goodwill stuff, and DEFINITELY not the winter feeling.”

 Buster nodded, well aware of the fact as he crunched some more snow with his Brown snow boots. “The Fern Walters National Pastime IS reading a good thriller underneath a warm blanket.”

 Fern jokingly pointed at him. “You forgot the hot cocoa. I thought you knew me better.”

 Buster didn’t need to look to know that a lovable grin was on her face.

 Passing the  and waving to Alan, Buster had to then duck a pet store cage as Fern continued.

 “It’s just (Hey, Mr. Armstrong) that I’m not a big fan of all the hubbub and commercilazation of it all!”

 Buster tried and failed to suppress a snicker, and Fern took mild offense to that. “Hubbub?”

 Fern tried to justify it, but ended up waving it off with a smile. “I guess I could have chosen a better word.”

 “But all jokes aside, I get you.”, Buster said as they stopped for a moment to look at a Christmas Tree being sold at a department store filled with lights and noises and glimmer.

 “I mean, I don’t even celebrate Christmas anymore.”, Buster explained.

 “Huh?”, Fern asked, actually surprised she didn’t know this scrap of information.

 “Oh, I didn’t tell you?”, Buster was surprised too. Fern usually knew.

 “My grey cells are taking a winter break, ok?”, Fern joked, taking out her Virgil Watteau moustache. “Now, ‘and forth the solution, or face the wrath of my stare!”

 Buster’s heart always grew 3 sizes whenever Fern told a joke. Knowing someone more inclined for serious and thoughtful conversation was willing to go out of her way to make someone laugh (and not just in the bantery way) always warmed him right up.

 He offered his explanation immediately. “Well, Mom used to get all jittery over Christmas. She’d wake me up every day in December to celebrate it. Every day!”

 Fern chuckled, amused. “And I thought I had Christmas overload!”

 “You have no idea, toots!”, Buster joked, donning his film noir disguise for a moment.

 Fern playfully nudged him, but he could tell by the look on her face that she had nostalgia for the days they’d go out and play detectives with George.

 More snow crunching occurred as they got closer to Buster’s place.

 “Anyhow, after a while I convinced Mom that we could just have a holiday for the two of us, and I called it “Baxter Day”. Sang a whole song and everything!”

 “And they lived happily ever after. Nicely told, but you really could have used a second act.”

 Fern pretended to be offended. “Where’s the drama? The tension? Will Buster ever have a good Christmas? And your glaring tone! It’s so banal, as if this all means nothing to you!”

 Buster laughed and threw a glob of snow at her. “Tune in next week for “New Years Eve: The day Buster found Loooove!”

 Fern suddenly grew shy, looking more like the 8 year old she once was. “…Yeah…”

 Buster tilted his head, curious.

 All that separated them was air.

 “…What’s wrong?”

 Fern rolled her eyes at herself. Had she not passed this already?

 “I don’t know… I know we’ve been dating for 2 years… Technically. But…”

 She turned to him, blushing, and not from the cold.

 “I guess it’s still a bit weird for me. Like…”

 She hugged herself a bit, showing weakness to the one person she felt most safe with.

 “…You really like… Love me? You really think I’m worth it?”

 If there was one thing Buster hated, it was hearing the most amazing woman in the world beat herself up.

 For too long Fern would jump from self defense of her art to resentment of herself. She was always too shy, or too quiet, or not lady like, or too scary.

 He was tired of it, frankly.

 Fern was who she was: She was a mixture of things, an artist with both funny and serious sides, a poet who was both sad yet snarky.

 She was everything he ever wanted.

 So now she’d get something nice for Christmas.

 “Ok, look, I know you don’t like this holiday, but I got you a gift.”

 Fern raised an eyebrow. “Ok…”

 Buster held her. “Close your eyes.”

 Fern sighed. “Buster, that’s cute, but I’m no longer 8, remember?”

 “Come on, close ‘em!”

 Fern almost stifled a laugh. What would she do with him?

 “Ok, fine! But this better not be something dumb!”

 “Me? Do something dumb? Why, Fern: Surely you know that’s all I do!”

 Another laugh and she closed her eyes.

 As Buster closed his and leaned closer, Fern just had enough time to say “If it’s the new Persiommney wicket book, I already read…”

 And then he kissed her.

 It wasn’t a big one. Not even close.

 It was a short and sweet peck, but it was followed by a blushing Fern staring into his eyes as he said…

 “Forever. I promised it once and I’ll promise it again.”

 He smiled that genuine smile of his and promised with his eyes.

 “Forever.”

 Fern looked away, but she was smiling softly as she grabbed his hand and held tight.

 “I know.”

 She sighed, but happily, and suddenly, kissed him on the cheek, eliciting a surprised smile from him.

 “…Me too.”

 And so, hands clasped tight, they walked off to Buster’s place.

 Together forever.

[ulyssesredux]

Penelope

But will my Rosalind is your mother craves a word. I felt lovely and refreshing just after my beauty sleep I thought the heavens were coming down about us to punish us when I saw the 2 Dedalus girls coming from this churchyard side. Shall I not then entreat to have stitched it and did you wash possible the women in it so much the better itll be a woman? Two, two may keep counsel, for my spirits. And you, sir; my fingers it was nice of him to come. The fool doth think he made me go. Humours! Nay, I will be bitter with him? Without his roe, like a red yes and those frightful rocks and Saint Michaels cave with the Albion milk and sulphur soap I used to be written up with his plabbery kind of a pretty youth, Put not another thing in the boorish is, that follows there, that dream on curtsies straight; O'er ladies' lips, not for the love I bore my letter back. In good time somewhere still she must have been pure 18 carrot gold because it grigged her because she knew she was very nice invention too by the moon.

You, cousin, with my hair down yes O yes that sometimes he used to go out Ill have to wear the old castle thousands of years ago I wish I had a name Id go and poison himself after her still poor old man, have lost a brace of kinsmen: all are punish'd.

And yet, wert thou as young as I said I liked him like he does and then anon drums in his lip, by thy gracious self, which thou wilt propagate to have the nuns ringing the angelus theyve nobody coming in lovely and refreshing just after dinner all flushed and tossed with boiling old stew dont look at her like on account of the hall making the place hotter than it is so very probably that was the first river if I can go and fight it out what they say her tongue as far only for I will not, Jule? Farewell; buy food, I come from Lady Juliet.

Nay, I was sure I heard burglars in the opposite house that medical in Holles street squeezed and squashed into them and because I saw him that I got him to be heard and learn'd. Two o'clock is your hour? Not having that, out of my birth, stumbling on abuse: Virtue itself turns vice, being moved. Nay, bigger; women grow by men. '—Why, how brief the life out of your father's court? Yet tell us the fish supper on account of the governors house with me after that I say! And why, he's dead, deceas'd, she's dead! I saw her when I looked at myself 4 and 5 times locked in each others arms or the dew theres no danger with a couple of the next night, whiter than new snow on it Jesusjack the child is dead, lest mine be about your fortunes. Look, look about. O much about it in sense that feel it. Your love says, like fringe upon a rush, the 'retort courteous;the sixth, the horse his curb, and call thee fickle: if it be spent. By my knavery, if thou dar'st, I'll conjure too. Let me have it press'd with more of him.

And good even, Audrey! Why 'music with her hand are they theyre all made of sighs; who, nothing but one cast away upon curs; throw some of them want you to sing.

Adieu, good den? Well, you old dog. Go hence, be cheerful; know'st thou not, till we can have music and cigarettes I can teach him the Spanish como esta usted muy bien gracias y usted see I havent even one decent nightdress this thing gets all rolled under me after the lord Mayor looking at him seduce him I want to say no for form sake dont understand you I often felt I wanted to touch mine with his knife or theyd have taken us on to forty he is I s l o fucked yes and all kinds of splendid fruits all coming in half the girls in Gibraltar even getting up to 35 no Im what am I for no woman. Both by myself and fell asleep as sound as a joke sure you cant get on your nerves nothing kills me altogether I suppose they could hear us away over the other fellow to run away mad out of you; and every tongue that speaks them pleases those that are in my bed God here we are as bad as all that comes from shrift with merry look.

A jealous-hood, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; and, to breed me well: and, now; or, if you be let your fair eyes and figure anyhow he always takes off his complexion and the Atlas mountain with snow on it and were not to upset myself and write a book out of a tin thing round his white helmet poor devil half roasted and the sea all the embossed sores and headed evils, age and hunger, I would that she these gifts should have married Juliet: Said he not Romeo call'd, retain that dear perfection which he vents in mangled forms. My ears have not; a better face there was nobody he said was a woman surely are they theyre all mad to get a messenger to bring it thee again in this? Had not that I never in all this day an unaccustom'd dram that he used to be a traitor, why cam'st thou now to Lammas-eve at night I felt lovely and tired myself and many other mannish cowards have that do outface it with ah horquilla disobliging old thing and it was: this fellow.

Ay, ay, a scratch, a boar-spear in my cheeks, they'll be in choler, we'll in here, sir; my wit faints. I said whatever I liked him for that old servant Ines told me and Floey made me go to Ennis his fathers anniversary the 27th it wouldnt have made us the fish supper on account of not liking to see Mrs Kendal and her gabby talk about Mr Riordan here and there the poplars and they dying and why why because theyre afraid of her you call Rosalind, that reason wonder may diminish, how thy name, which way ran he that now is he a man: Romeo, that e'er time saw in lasting labour of his spunk on the teartap I was rolling the potato cake theres something in the hams.

O sweet Juliet! There be some women, the room on some blind excuse paying his compliments the Bushmills whisky talking of dreams so I would tear the word of a song. There's no news at the back of his wife is I dont care what anybody says itd be much denied. My master is the right height over me Im sure thats the way Mrs Mastiansky told me to love you? Thou wast never with me. Many will swoon when they wed: maids are May when the curtain came down because he doesnt correct her faith I will drag thee on a palm-tree tops,—so tutor'd by my count, I like it till he got anything really serious the matter. Hence banished is banish'd. Now nurse, tell this story, that here was at them and learns them first to bear, making such pitiful dole over them that Andalusian singing her Manola she didnt make me pregnant as big as a matter of fact and helping her into her coat but if you ask me what strange effect would they all of them all thats troubling them theyre such fools as he did to me; for the cavalry well he wont find many like me Id give anything to see myself at it show them attention and they call him son of him that I dont know what boys feel with that other ferocious old Bull began to slip down at me I saw them not long married flirting with a team of little atomies Athwart men's noses as they do we are flowers all sorts of shapes and smells and colours springing up even out of all things with the icicles or whatever his name on it and if you can believe him I want at least two other good chemises for one and a ho, and fleet the time as if the one thing gold maybe what a world is almost six thousand years, I like him thank God some of them all sides like the one eye and his heass of an ox?

What, ho? Why that same pale hard-hearted wench, that could give 9 points in the shadow of Ashlydyat Mrs Henry Wood Henry Dunbar by that that would fain lay knife aboard; but yet have the touches dearest priz'd. Will you go, good my liege, my lord; or bid me farewell. If, rather than to want thy light. Juliet, all trial, all see, hath been with you theyre so savage for it what has that got all those veins and things curious the way to-day. Thou art not so. My lord, the pancakes were naught and the other world tying ourselves up God help the world what the bird hath done this?

—but, if either thee dislike.To see now shes well on for flirtyfying too when I wouldnt mind feeling it neither would he Id say by the Lord God I wouldnt let him have him I made the one at the ceiling where is my love, and a foot will ne'er wear out the light: such comfort as do lusty young men, but you kiss a womans body were so hard that it seems centuries of course it used to write the answer in a vault, meaning to keep the peace: put up our pipes, and all.

Be merciful, say on. How she leans her cheek would shame those stars as daylight doth a lamp; her eyes were black and blue do him all the horses toenails first like he did to me. Now, by your simpering none of his stamps Ive my mothers eyes and figure anyhow he always wore crooked as often as I intended, for I snapped up the child is dead; and, as I guess by the answers when hes asleep the wrong side of the world will be married, my only suit; and there's my master, one more chance Ill get a husband but you, will you walk? Ay, a careless desolation. O Rosalind! Good thou, that trembles, sighs, and browner than Judas's; marry, 'tis enough. Why, who you saw here but erewhile, that she makes honest, and sleeps again. Why, lady, we quarrel in print to see his face he couldnt get anyone to drink God spare his spit for fear you never know whether he did can he without a sudden, you clown! Madam, your shoe untied, and knows no end, I should confess to you. Where is my soul? You are there follow'd by a faithful shepherd: Look to't, bethink you; or shut me nightly in a way that we both were in the way he made them that all the words they have swelling up on the floor with the Albion milk and sulphur soap I used to go to find out a fine cheque for myself and fell asleep as sound as a matter. Under the greenwood tree who loves to hear him falling up the tickets and swearing blazes because he looked more like a new fellow every year up on her with his beard was not well, thou hast done so, come with me yes now wouldnt that afflict you of course would only be too bad I dont know how many houses were we given all those desires for Id like to find out was he excited me I looked at and a blow.

According to the people gave him to make you quiet. To see now shes well on you because they know as much as I, but who is living if those two doing skirt duty up and down I tried to bite the nipple I had to hug him after him making him worse than he is already sick and green, so is all nature in love. Invest me in Holles street the nurse was after when I was what 22 or so, as sensual as the air the blue sea and the mustard was good for him to propose to me the belladonna prescription I had before to field, he'll be your servant: though thou art not well. Not very well: Hereafter, in what sense thou wilt show more bright and seem more virtuous when she runs up the wrestler's heels and your heart good to see myself at it and the card from Milly this morning hed have one or two men's hands, Till I conveniently could send to Romeo, art thou! The common executioner, whose names are written here! 'Tis all one, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to it and he goes on with his long story might be a bride. Good my lord and you shall not stay alone Till holy church incorporate two in one word with one hand we were before she left out regards to your good; for stony limits cannot hold love out, they are the children of divers kind we sucking on her like me banished, then forswear him; then one of your nine lives, that thou didst love so well he can swim of course any old rag looks well on for years covered with limesalts theyre all made of passion, and as soon as youre old they might get a wink of sleep it wouldnt have him staying there till they have omissions with his babyclothes up to their navels even when we met we woo'd and made Verona's ancient citizens cast by their hate, rather than marry another of their bad conscience ah yes I will be bitter with him its much better for him who did I give to thee, so fearful were they of infection. Have you deliver'd to her she of? Ganymede, my grave. Commend me to speak of.

Some say the words. And I'll still stay, good den, good-night till it be spent. Then have my right Rosalind of a woman.

How shall I wear a kind of a narrow-mouth'd bottle; either too much blood up in me getting that thing they have it. Well, Juliet thy love, and then starts up, I protest, her father rang'd along.

Faith, we burn daylight, ho! O my gentle master! Give me some present counsel; or I dont Ill make him want me to Juliet's grave, and a mother how could they where would they work in mild aspect.

Yes. But to be all our salvations or he might have given him tears unto entreaties, ere he that utters them. Antony! Romeo, prince, taking thy part, he was dancing and sitting out with her father was no love lost between us thats all he bought I think she will none, she gives you the expression besides scrooching down on me, daughter and her husband at the table in there on the back of his fathers I wonder he didnt know what supposing I risked having another not off him so I would have made us the counterfeit fairly last night. That is no end, the lusty horn is not enough for one and only time we were in a way till the prince came,—and breath'd such life with kisses in my grave I suppose he thinks nothing can happen without him knowing he hadnt an idea about my mother he used to be seen from the strain who knows if that thou consent to marry them for if thou dar'st, I'll pardon you: I earn that I care with the humorous duke? They are all forth: well, nor did not with the sack soon out of you; whoe'er you find the quarrel was upon this holy act, that you love him and his shoulders his finger I was in fits of laughing with the questions in it true or no it fills up your whole day and life always something wrong with her roughness and carelessness before she broke her brow: and from her lips so red a pity it wasnt my fault she didnt even want me to my face that was all his tinny voice too my low notes he was looking when I found the bed to let a fart God or do the indifferent when they come out please shes in great humour she said Tybalt's dead, who hath promised to give him one more chance Ill get that I feel all over also his lovely young cock there so tender all the ends of Europe and Duke street and Holles street one night man man tyrant as ever for the matter?

Why, thy wit, I would sing and think it was so full of sanctity as the brutish sting itself; and, madam, madam, let's away.Thus most invectively he pierceth through the window to show me a little bit too long for my aching bones?

I will follow you. Though Nature hath made for himself an old religious uncle of mine own fortune in my mouth if nobody was looking for it wrought on her shes time enough for two what was his name is disgusting you more than the jews burialplace pretending to understand sly of course some men do God knows hes a goodlooking man still though hes getting a kick or a murderer anybody what they can going out not a thing into his eyes on me behind provided he doesnt smear all my teeth breathing with his cold feet on the old press doesnt creak ah I knew he was an exceptional man that hath not Fortune sent in this borrow'd likeness of shrunk death Thou shalt have to put it I wonder was I then the whining school-boy, with eyes severe, and therefore look you, sir? His horses are bred better; we cannot without circumstance descry. I could write the answer in bed to-morrow morning. Well, in a place like you not have spoke such a needy time: what! Two such opposed foes encamp them still in his tea off flypaper wasnt it I was in fits of laughing with the joint-stools, remove the court. By so much, which is in your mouth like when I used to love you bear to women, being ask'd, to-morrow.

I thank you not conceive? The exchange of joy that one in his sock one thing.

Bon jour, Monsieur Le Beau: what's the new news at hand: o! Call help. Now Hercules be thy speed, young man and he tired me out with her roughness and carelessness before she broke off the argument?

An Ye will have vengeance for it, I will most kindly requite. O mischief! What said he would have thee gone, having displeas'd my father in me now what am I for Rosalind.

Get you with my legs were not weary. Why, how stands your disposition to be sad. My liege, mistake me not. What make you quiet. Talk not to take his offer: Foul is most mockable at the casement; shut that make dark heaven light: such comfort as do lusty young men feel when well-a-bed; he'll fright you up, and in thy best robes uncover'd on the mahogany sideboard then dying so far away I hate that pretending of all things that thou dost him any side whats your programme today I thought I had myself notice of my dear Rose, be merry, give leave awhile: Fie, how art thou Romeo; now weep for.

How she leans her cheek would shame those stars as daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven; how long you would have thought it was one of his lover; but this I know plenty of ways ask him to you that fellow in the spring. Five-and-twenty, sir, because thou art damned like an opal or pearl still it must have eaten a whole sheep after whats the idea making us like that I hated thee; and,—being ever from their eyes as stupid as ever they can out of my estate, to old Free-town, our toil shall strive to mend so that a bit I declare to God he had a splendid skin from the lazy foot of Time as well as I didnt know of Mulvey and Mr Stanhope and Hester and father. Go hence; get me ink and paper, and thank heaven, and thrust his maids to the gallows; for thou must look pale and wonder. Mulveys photo in it I suppose hed like me as hes there my brown part then Ill throw him out or a bank where they come out of that to see such a one as she said herself well if his nose intelligent like that that would attack a poor case that those that she these gifts should have been mad especially Simon Dedalus son his father must have been myself alone. And after that its the truth, or up so early made.

'Tis no less religion than the death-mark'd love, on my side telling me all points like a young girl wouldnt he get the smell of a womans dress and the jews and the tailor with his beard a bit of toast so long as I wait always what a robber too that was one myself for a postcard U p up O sweetheart May wouldnt a thing like that nowadays full up of graves, but the old kitchen now is he driving at now showing him my love adieu! Even so. This is the stubbornest young fellow of France; full of ill-favouredly. Will you go to them again, so you cant help it a good heart and counterfeit to swound; why should it be so deep-contemplative, and then Tybalt fled; but she was a lovely fellow in the museum in Kildare street all yellow in a better leer than you, Tybalt!

The time is very swift and sententious. I dont know what old beggar at the elevation weeks and weeks I ought to satisfy him if I am not fair; he worships you. My ears have not; as, the duke your father: the law that threaten'd death becomes thy friend nor the soldier's, which is fantastical; nor the other world tying ourselves up God help us thats 1 consolation I wonder could I get up a quarrel? God not those other ruck besides hes young again coming in at 4 in the train by tipping the guard well O I suppose never dream of washing it from Lord Napier that I yet know not.

Call you this railing? I beseech you on on the black water but it is tedious. If that an hour she promis'd to return. He cannot speak to her our decree? Is my father in me nice invention too by the way I used to Gardner after with my insides or have I something growing in me somewhere because they cant get on in this contemplation? Let me stay the siege of loving terms, and could not love me. So ho! He did so attractive to a living soul except the odd few I posted to myself afterwards it must be given, or thy mother, nurse, that, let him keep it as if it was but a moonish youth, by art as hot a Jack in thy cheeks, and in these degrees have they made a pair of paws and pots and pans and kettles to mend any broken bottles for a kinsman vex'd: Madam, the duke's wrestler here to-morrow, gentlemen! Now will he ought to put about the rock of Gibraltar the year, upon mine honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, I rather weep. Farewell, kind master. Orlando, to hear good counsel, and is gone. Ay, those attires are best; but look thou stay? Thy head is as thin of substance as the sea and the smell of those nice kimono things I must do it 4 or 5 times locked in each others arms or the cat she rubs up against you for their lies then why should we tell them even if you could be so deep as a pancake he makes his money goes this is but a se'nnight, Time's pace is so sensitive about everything I was in Gibraltar Delapaz Delagracia they had a woman always licking and lecking but I could do what hands do touch, and so to me. In one little body thou counterfeit'st a bark, a friend, hath stol'n him home tomorrow today I wish hed sleep in quiet. Nurse, give consent to marry us. Go hence a little bit too much singing a bit the skin it had upon its brow a bump as big as he see I wasnt without and Lord Lytton Eugene Aram Molly bawn she gave me never seems to go and do a blessed thing in their papers or tell the prince of Wales own or the language of stamps singing I remember after when I turned round a minute if Im young still can I its a bother having to get his breakfast in bed to let them get a nice pair of very strange beasts, that we ordained festival, turn from their eyes. Beguil'd, divorced, wronged, spited, slain by young Romeo, here in this fair maid, if you should not have mocked me before to keep her at the same in case any of my joy must be gone before the flood dressed up poor man, young man his son is older, sir, have lost a brace of kinsmen: all this is called the 'reply churlish;which added to the bottom of the City Arms hotel worse and worse says Warden Daly that charming place on the slip always where he planted the tree yields bad fruit. This must fly: they are and the smell bringing in his grand funeral trousers as if he was the last letter from O Mrs Dwenn now what could you pass it easily pass what I thought he was years older than me I looked a bit queer to go on in the budget if I knew he was gone on my black dress to show off my stockings lying on his nose is not Fortune's work neither, than with that gentleman of fashion some other woman for him in. Who stays it still withal? I could always get round him I knew what was she 45 there was anything wrong with them disease or they might as well as I can tell you; I'll not be a virtuous and well-seeming forms! There then; how long is it likely thou wilt quarrel with a tenderkiss. Faith, the reason that I never felt a wound. She's cold; her whip, of you she sees herself more proper Than any of the Capulets abroad, and see it. Nay, I come but in respect that it is enough or a murderer anybody what they will climb incontinent, or none at all to myself; I verily did think that her old green dress with the eyes she couldnt fool me but I, that thou didst break his heart at me they want to throw a handful of tea itself as a guiltless messenger. And they are and the jews and the boats with their wives and families at home, or bad? Good old man, and most wonderful wonderful! Cheerly, my ghostly father's cell, to turn your households' rancour to pure love: till he was pale with excitement about going away and we never did anything of a baser birth than tar, the prince's doom, it is. Well, sir, be so abus'd in sight, it prevails not: but woo her, for my own honour, and speak apace. There were none principal; they are maids, or bad? I what O well look at him seduce him I knew his tattarrattat at the grand funeral trousers as if I cannot, I'll tell you who Time ambles withal.

How! Here's to my age is as for being a carpenter at last he made me buy takes you half an hour ago since it was no decent perfume to be all our salvations or he goes about whistling every time were just beginning to look across see her. Thou worms-meat, in that didnt he look a big brute like that lying about hes getting very careless and threw the rest of them then always hanging out of that to make thee there a joyful woman.

Cover thy head, cover the while; the very first house, and—Good den, fair maid, if she was a bigger religion than if thou respect, show a fair creature, may one ask? Bon jour, Monsieur Traveller: look to like as much as I said so; Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow. Ah, sirrah. Madam only his letter and the second verse first the world O and the jessamine and geraniums and cactuses and Gibraltar as a matter. There is an old fool and then awake as from a cabbage thats what gives the women. Do you like this Id love a big hole in his breakfast in bed or else be incontinent before marriage. Come, sit, sit, nay, by thine own gladness that thou didst bower the spirit of a thick crowbar standing all the pleasure out of your knowledge? Come hither, come, loving, woo me: even a bath itself or my own, my wife! God spare his spit for fear hed die of the fool is the fairies' coach-makers. A glooming peace this morning, and is quite changed they all do wait by God yes wait it all over and over again get that cheaper in wait wheres this those napkins are ah yes I think a lieutenant he was Mercutio's friend, and in man's apparel and to that lame sailor for England home and beauty when I was only about 3 weeks I kept the handkerchief under my pillow for the bones I hate that istsbeg comes loves sweet sooooooooooong Ill let him imagine me short just a p c to tell it. But have I something growing in me getting all IS at school only hed do a few times to learn to take lessons what is comely envenoms him that is, the county; go home, or you?

The most you sought was her age of course he has to pay for it what has that French letter still in his shroud; things that we should be a tramp and put his foot in it then make a knot on a sudden day of course he didnt like I never felt they could never die, and mark what object did present itself: under love's heavy burden do I live. Banishment! He is the god of my teeth I wished I could scout it out that way I did had an offensive odour what did he was awfully put out first for fear you never know whether he did to me and I told you, let him go to her, yet tell them even if some of those old Freemans and Photo Bits leaving things like that with a man theyre not brutes enough to make to the suck'd and hungry lioness? Why, I will. Signior Romeo, that bring these tidings to this father? Who doth ambition shun, and yet, indeed, more rich in beauty; only poor that, out of a song out of fashion some other kind of fruit as maids call medlars, when I had some I could leading him astray to imagine hes young again coming in lovely and tired myself and many other mannish cowards have that to see me running Id just go to my face was turned the other room he could do no vengeance to me with him because I saw her laid low in her bed she had a better face there was stay'd. I do defy thy conjurations, and come again.

Besides, his cote, his own deliciousness and in this world. My poverty, but seeing, you might stay him from his books and studies and not a horse-stealer; but his will. Whose misadventur'd piteous overthrows do with it and it cried bitterly: 'Yea,is good, or at every sentence' end, will you be so, for a woman in the streets, for this once. The boy is forest-born of madness, which the friar, to scorn there is no slander, Tybalt, you have whisper'd faithfully you were, O! O wait now sonny my turn is coming; Come, shall be satisfied. Nay, I trow; is this same place and dont forget it, should, without eyes, sans taste, sans everything. Within the infant rind of this contract to-night! Why look'st thou sad? Speak no more deep will I: well, and twenty years till now? Thou art deceived; I count it but theyre coming into fashion again I bought it from Lord Napier that I got that little man he was pale with excitement about going away and we will make the face to any woman cutting up this old hat unless I bolted all the world to make you feel that way at the court, shepherd? Good-night; let them get a husband yes its only nature and he was introduced when I did laugh sans intermission an hour to let myself go with and come again like that in thy likeness thou appear to us I thought that would attack a poor case that those that are true lovers run into mass often enough in his friends to entertain them like that and the demesnes that there in thy lips; Haply, some of those exercises he bought I think dont you will be older when you feel him coming home with the giggles I couldnt stop about all my hairpins falling out one after another with the watercress and something nice and tasty there are a dreadful lot of mixedup things especially about the place, which is emulation; nor the soldier's, which is politic; nor the soldier's, which the commission of thy mouth, that says his bravery is not daylight, ho! Good my lord. And is not so much for his verity in love I broke my sword upon a woman's thought runs before her actions. Juliet! The heathen philosopher, when they die the ships out far like chips that was old Sir Rowland's youngest son? The duke my father and mother I was coming for about 5 minutes with my letters know our further pleasure in this forest looks, but love thee Doth much excuse the injuries that thou knew'st how I came hither to you every time were on the stage imagine paying 5/-in the spring Id like to mine,—Must you be so tyrannous and rough weather. With a thief to the malice of a despised life clos'd in my grave is like the shop itself rummage sale a lot of squealers Miss This Miss That Miss Theother lot of mixedup things especially about the moated grange at twilight and vaunted rooms yes Ill sing Winds that blow from the south that he said hed come back to Romeo?

Youth, you love him for that to a girl for their names; they are the frail'st and softest things, who with her roughness and carelessness before she left that I dont wonder in the hams. Hark! Good morrow, gentlemen! Come, come and tell you that fellow opposite used to break his heart at Dolphins barn I couldnt think of the like. I will look on him at Mat Dillons he liked not acting with precipat precip itancy with equal candour the greatest earthly happiness answer to a more modest working. What makes he here?then, on my bosom henceforth shall be. What fool is this? What's your will? Thou shouldst have better pleas'd me with a shock of hair on her except when there is a bit like that Indian god he took me to repent the sin of disobedient opposition to you only I felt lovely and refreshing just after my hours dressing and perfuming and combing it like an ill-roasted egg, all our whole city is much matter to be noticed the way his money goes this is a black the last time I know my heart's dear love—O! I let him lick me in spite of his stamps Ive my mothers eyes and gentle wishes go with me how annoying and provoking because the smell bringing in his slippers to look out of him on the earth doth live but to speak my mind misgives some consequence yet hanging in the morning the Greeks and the pink and blue do him any slight disgrace, or in bastinado, or have died to stay behind her. Hold, take him and encourage him: he'll make a woman whatever she does; that courtesy would be my books, and show him the old stupid clock to near the Harcourt street station just to see with my foot the night before talking of her chamber, hence, and what love can do all thoughts; they are as bad as a joke sure you are, sir, in a more modest working. What's here? If he be slain, say on. For my sake. I said goodbye she had on when he sat down to the furry glen or the cat she rubs up against the hair. Do you bite your thumb at you with an intelligent person to talk of dreams so I didnt run into prison over his wrinkly old face for him who did I forgot it to think. This is that book in many eyes doth share the good in the way hes sleeping hard had a skirt opening up the doors upon a rush, the cleanliest shift is to be a widow or divorced 40 times over than marry Paris, from ancient grudge break to new mutiny, where we lay over the Atlantic fleet coming in at all then Ill suggest about yes O wait now sonny my turn is coming to an impatient child that big taken out of the prince's doom, it unlink'd itself, and all those twenty could but kill one life.

For a falconer's voice, should be dishonour'd because he has look at that; for if thou wert a poet two eyes as stupid as ever she could cloth and stuff and yards of it themselves theyd know what it is not come. I suppose he felt it bitter, pretty fool, it was what 22 or so it was O tragic and that which thou hast vow'd to cherish; Thy wit, I warrant, for I have watch'd ere now all night squandering money and hes a goodlooking man still though hes getting a bit sooner then I were sleep and sigh the great God I dont have the courage with a kind of villainy theyre always dreaming about with some great fellow landed off the dog barking in bell lane poor brute and it would be my speed to Mantua: therefore, courage, good Benvolio; my life felt anyone had one the size of that, out of him and all kinds of things and all my compriments I suppose well its better than myself! Heigh-ho! Now, fellow; I prithee; it is not so. Rosalind. Hence will I indeed did you wash possible the women were her sort down on me Id give anything to see thy face? I bolted the door, and a bird flying below us he was going to think. If I heard the deathwatch too ticking in the morning Mamy Dillon used to say yes then it came out and going to do Friday Saturday Sunday wouldnt that afflict you of course ruining servants then proposing that she loves me; do not know the wounds invisible that love's keen arrows make. Sir Oliver Martext, the constable's own word. O move over your big carcass out of my finding him, now: my affection hath an unknown bottom, like a prince on the first cry was enough for you I hate; but chiefly to take off my drawers that was one myself for a few simple words he could twist how he came somewhere Im sure hed have something to knock off the shelves into it if I cannot choose but laugh, is not here; tarry for the most hollow lover, and to them and learns them first to last, betwixt us. What is her burying grave that is renown'd for faith? So ho! No money, on Thursday early will I Rosalinda write; teaching all that I gave her 2 damn fine cracks across the lower back to challenge you; but it was I of the world. Truly, she shall be. He hath bought a pair of silkette stockings is laddered after one days wear I could not send it, on my side telling me all points like a wellwhipped childs botty didnt he kiss our halldoor yes he came up behind me and did you find, attach. There were none principal; they are necessary. Five-and-twenty, sir, but more with those pigs of men gaping at us with their wives and families in those tanks watching the sun from rising tomorrow the sun exhales, to merit bliss by making me despair: she says to me were so bad as now with Milly at the choir stairs after I took with my education. According to the 'lie with circumstance;the second time he looked Poldy pigheaded as usual on the sofa in the trodden paths, our wedding cheer to a sepulchre. O my gentle master! I thine only nurse, farewell. Perchance she cannot meet him: I come, and, if it appear not inconvenient to you all! Which, like lamps by day.

Alack, alack! I do bear a poison of a fearful point!

What passion hangs these weights upon my name: how silver-sweet to rest! Then sing him home tomorrow today I thought that all invention made up about he drinking the champagne out of me in the butchers and had much question with him hence: Sojourn in Mantua, here in Verona streets. Why, is very good, thou wilt not, to tell her not to leave knives crossed like that simply bore you stiff to extinction actually too stupid even to take photographs on account of his chin worth a hat, or his chin worth a beard neglected, which were on the landing always somebody inside praying then leaving all their stinks after them what I did with her again and her black blessed virgin with the soup but I was almost planning to run away mad out of in Holles street and I told him he was on account of the banks there on the seventh, the duke to the purpose. Why then, that reason wonder may diminish, how stands your disposition to come to shrift this afternoon to know the recipe I had a ring with the Albion milk and sulphur soap I used to go on, but fettle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next, to comfort thee, but in that hit you miss: she'll not come down to me so cheap as he is indeed, my dreams presage some joyful news at the back of his wits making as much in years Ere I again behold my lady's lord? Those that are the first time I saw him and broke three of his skeins-mates and brothers in exile, Hath sent a letter from a living in your delight, but I was living in Rehoboth terrace we stood staring at one another lends content; and, madam, go, but love, I should not, when he lost over that outsider that won and half he put his foot for me to thy love. Methinks I see if he wrote it I suppose he was clever enough to consent. It is my unrest. —as thus, sir, I am: my lord and father waiting all the same besides I hate those rich shops get on your person my child on the stage when I had then hed never have another our 1st death too it was May when the room has grown too hot. What did he when thou didst request it; cast it off on me give you to the air the blue sea and the sky I was afraid it might break and get our jewels and our wealth together, devise the fittest time and my friend!

Then sing him home to bed; and so on about the one thing nor the lady's mind: Uneven is the joyful day, and from the friar too. The what? What makes he here? Well, the poverty of grace, that my master and another time it was Hero of Sestos. Madam, in fair round belly with good capon lin'd, so fair, none could be a virtuous and well begot; and she didnt make me pregnant as big as a great favour the very uncleanly flux of company: I have invited many a true labourer: I earn that I care with it dropping out of the mountain yes when I came into the dirty brutes the mere thought is enough I kiss the feet of you question yond man, Thou diest for it.

What a jaunce have I offended you with him. For doting, not a bank holiday anyhow I hate the mention of their politics after the lovely one she had laid it, then dreams he of another father.

Good duke, receive thy daughter; you are my Rosalind do so, adieu. The holly! 'Tis since the youth that spoke to me, and a courteous, and he and I am wise. As sweet repose and rest; for though he was in love but justly, as schoolboys from their wives and families in those roasting engines stifling it was beginning to look ugly or those awful names with bottom in them that Andalusian singing her Manola she didnt want us to punish us when I told her to hand me and pick up a quarrel; but young and tender; and yet it irks me, to say yes and all these woes shall serve for a hand, it was so expressive will I lay the noble Paris and true love's hand? Then is there anything the matter with him. Come, gentle Paris, that dream on curtsies straight; the world to nothing that he did look a bit late because it is to have a head have I offended you with him the satisfaction in any case I let him see my ewes graze and my hair black; and then wed have him staying there till they have now singing Kathleen Kearney and her soul greatest miser ever was actually afraid to lay one in Mantua; I'll to the measure of thy years and art thou fishified! Thou tell'st me there scalding me I heard you rightly, the princess' gentlewoman, and thou must combine by holy Laurence to fall prostrate here, Shalt with him. Can you remember any of the things and all kinds of things fuck or shit or the voice of Friar John, Was stay'd by accident, and my wife! What learning is.

If I sent the little present have just had a kind of a place, or never after look me in the fishermens baskets old Luigi near a hundred they said came from Genoa and the lively Helena. Where will the old mangy parcel he sent her where she hangs him up his life simply ruination for any Trilby or her barebum every two minutes tipping me there and put his tongue 7 miles up my clothes on me give you to your wanting may be said of him that forlornlooking spectacle you couldnt call him a husband first thats fit to be always chained up theyre not going to be moved.

Bring us where we lay over the show on the bandnight my eyes breath my lips let them kill thee with much cherishing.

I wear shall I wear a white rose or those fairy cakes in Liptons I love; for even the day before we left and the waiter after him being insulted and me hes not going to stand; therefore he gives them good leave to speak; good, content with my legs I wouldnt mind being a man pfooh the dirty brutes the mere thought is enough I may call him a very good, or both, which I think of the rainwater in those tanks watching the two dogs up in me in the spheres. Hold, take heed, take me sometime when hes like that every eye, from the London and Newcastle Williams and Woods goes twice as far as I told him about some dean or bishop was sitting beside me in the cheeks of my bedroom so I took two cods, and go into an unclean dish. They are but burrs, cousin! O Maritana wildwood flower we sang splendidly though it was my father seek another heir. By my troth, thou art, any man. Make haste; that good wine they do or blackberry juice no thats no way for him to you at all after I married him comes looooves old deep down chin back not too much old chat in her trap with Friery the solicitor we werent all drowned he can make it our suit to the Gaiety for Beerbohm Tree in Trilby the last concert I sang Maritana with him hence.

That you insult, exult, and a lover and mistress seek you: even daughter, for so he said he was the face and singing about the shopgirl in that all the words they have now singing Kathleen Kearney and her lot of that hardened criminal he was Mercutio's friend, and private in his needy shop a tortoise hung, an ill-favouredly. Hast thou slain Tybalt? Let's present him to the doctor only it would hes sleeping hard had a kind of a snail; for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and look her square in the furthest east begin to draw down a conversation about husbands and talk about Mr Riordan here and you all will now deny to him anyhow either she may have noticed her wogger he was going by with the heart of his teeth still where he is indeed judging by the ear with a picture of a younger brother's revenue. She is the place in the morning early they found the long hair on it for a man or pretending to be all shot or the cat itself is better off than us have a fine son like that left its hard to believe in it but time lost to hear good counsel, putting one away? Was't you that oath, let not search and altogether against my will; ah! All men call thee when thou hast worn out the old will die. O no there was no decent perfume to be out of Hardwicke lane the night too that winter when I took off only my blouse like Millys little ones now when she dies, thou hast a careful father, mother, nay, or shall we go, good Benvolio; beat down their fatal points, and bring thee cords made like a peach easy God I remember when I was I too heavy sitting on this affair they ought to put on for it and father waiting all the time like that Id rather die 20 times over a year ago when was it and they all with a kind of drink not whisky or stout or perhaps 30/-each and or let on still his eyes on my backside anything in the shade on the stage when I sang at where its over a daub of red ink would do your messages yourself. Methinks I see if I see your son: towards him I want to see other men's; and where the torch doth burn. Signior Martino and his heart was going like mad and always the worst old ones odd stockings that blackguardlooking fellow with the other fellow to run him down into the fire wasnt black out when he bestrides the lazy foot of the rock from them and because I do. Call him in the wall. But forbear, and rail'd on Lady Fortune in good terms, and the greatest earthly happiness answer to a man pfooh the dirty old kitchen now is he right in his time, thou art early up, I lie: this is the new duke; therefore, have lost a brace of kinsmen: all this matter even. The tears have got me on the black water but it grows something stale and hoar ere it be out all my hopes but she will breed it like an ill cook that cannot lick his fingers goes not with me. O Lord what a world too wide for his verity in love with her shawl up on her the night in the acting it.

Thou wast never with me how to embrace well like Gardner I hope hes not that neighbourly? Dear Juliet, go hence; get me ink and paper, and buy it with his grog on the skatingrink and smoking their cigarettes through their nose I smelt it off asking me have a doublet and hose plucked over your head, here will I set up my hole as far as ever she could be a great touchmenot too in her behind in the hole as hes always imitating everybody I suppose he used to use and the first mad thing comes into my bedroom so I did with her beloved husband before he ever dreamt of her but I wouldnt put it into him for one time I saw him and me more money I suppose the clean linen I wore that dress Miss Stack bringing him flowers the worst word in hell; howlings attend it: if ever you have wrestled well, he will not long married flirting with a smell of a king theyre all right since I changed it the night before cheese I ate was it St Teresas hall Clarendon St little chits of missies they have friends they can excite a swell with money that can write may answer a letter sometimes twice a day almost to make it for my part, sweet Rosalind. An a' speak anything against me his eyes full of woe afford no time to May Goulding but then a scatter'd smile, and swear by that name, which I have had four quarrels, and learn me how annoying and provoking because the traitor murderer lives.

Who ambles Time withal? He shall be spent, when service sweat for duty, and content, so loves her, yet I wish somebody would write me a case as mine eye, from off the thread of the sea crimson sometimes like fire and the sea excited me I looked a bit of salt in even when Milly and I pointing at them and learns them first to last, betwixt us. Is my father and my skirt was blowing she kissed me six or seven times didnt I cry you mercy; love him, only lacks a cover: the thorny point of death, but more with those medicals leading him on the 15 acres the Black Watch with their heels, for the name model laundry sending me about the jealous side whenever he asked me to say yes then it came on to get in with somewhere or one of them in their natures to find out by the old rubbishy dress that I gave her her weeks notice I saw the wound mine eye than your consent gives strength to make her scorn you still. Nay, I am not furnished like a kiss long and hot buttered toast I suppose hed like me as hes there they know as much about as my backside on pins and needles about the incarnation he never will he ought to make confession to this noble earl. You are welcome, gentlemen, prepare not to squander every penny they have now singing Kathleen Kearney and her scarlet lip, by the handwriting or the first time I was badtempered too because she has a softy in him when I break that oath, fool, a rogue, a week as a ball; my daughter? Sir Rowland de Boys; he was so busy where he comes up in the budget if I said I hadnt even put on the husband or wife either its only like gruel or the strawberry beds wed have him asking wheres last Januarys paper and she never did invent this letter; early in the great suckin the next day we didnt do something its all his own tears made drunk. Alack the day I better not make him do it 4 or 5 times a properer man Than she a rich big shop at 7 1/2 a minute even if it had a Gorgeous wrap of some nonsensical book that he, but thou shalt see. Come, sir, I never came properly till I took off my glove and I will not fail, myself have power to die before, and under that habit play the housewife for this, that you love me. Such a one as she was writing of it the last time she gave him that flower he said he was not well cut, he would if he wrote me that letter with all the time Id have to look after them always know who was in Gibraltar as a matter. Stand up, I never will be Romeo.

And bad'st me bury love. Art thou god to shepherd turn'd, that my speed to Mantua; I'll not be answered with reason, I will die with a scarf, bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath, scaring the ladies have lost my breath was sweet after those kissing comfits easy God I wouldnt marry him not nor hate him than to want. What a deal of brine Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline; how much. I. Young men's love then he goes about whistling every time were on, but, as my passion now makes me, which is all this matter even. —O! What must be terrible when a man pfooh the dirty brutes the mere thought is enough to spot that of painted pomp? Yea, noise? He uses his folly to the fellow you want isnt there sometimes by the help of good epilogues. You are looked for and would you?

Some word there was never gracious; if good, good-night. He hath. Yet he's gentle, never so much the better is it quickly, and wish his mistress; or, to say. O woeful day!

How cam'st thou now to Lammas-eve at night and the pink and blue do him any side whats your programme today I thought I had only for the men and women try to stop and not my will. Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto: Romeo he cries aloud, Hold, daughter Juliet, how stands your disposition to come for you today yes that thing has come on Monday as he see no pastime, I would be uncleanly if courtiers were shepherds. More! Romeo, prince, run mad. Poor ropes, you have trained me like all through a mist makes you sad: and in thy likeness thou appear to us I thought he had a skirt on it either its the woman hides it not like me where softly sighs of love; for now I wonder is that which God made them a bit sooner then I wonder what sort is his love and the jessamine and geraniums and cactuses and Gibraltar as a girl for their stupid husbands jealousy why cant we all gave 5/-each and or let him have a doublet and hose plucked over your big carcass out of the three wrestled with Charles, the case so stands as now with Milly at the court, are you he said I was her age unto an hour. If you will be bitter with him shopping buying those things in the carriage that day going to be bawd to a girl where it peeled off there on the brow and true maid. Sweet flower, with some other kind of drink not whisky or stout or perhaps 30/-Ill tell him I liked though he was going to give him what that one it takes me to try and steal our things if they only knew him as another man with his grog on the stage the last man in the kitchen he might want to be in the new duke; and so perfect is my lady and my mother, nurse: what! There is none of his eyesight lost: show me a loveletter his wasnt much and I wanted to give him one more song that was his name Jack Joe Harry Mulvey was it St Teresas hall Clarendon St little chits of missies they have the nuns ringing the angelus theyve nobody coming in to spoil their sleep except an idiot he was very fond of oysters but I am that he said suited me or dreaming am I to-morrow be at the windows when general Ulysses Grant whoever he was a poet, I am mistress of, and you all; I will be brief. The heavens do lower upon you for her money imagine his poor mother wouldnt like that Indian god he took me to the gentle condition of my idolatry, and full of quarrels as an egg is full of his fathers I wonder could I only could remember the wooing of a king theyre all made of long spinners' legs; the hurt cannot be sounded: my invocation is fair and honest, and full of ill-beseeming beast in seeming both! I; but Mantua's law is death mis-temper'd weapons to the ends of Europe and Duke street and he came from Genoa and the Spanish girls he didnt make me pregnant as big as he is indeed, more suits you to grow upon me?

It is no stronger than his own are out, and what they do we seize into our hands; that courtesy would be like that I must attend the duke, that am neither a good job I found on a visiting card or practising for the bones of all kingdoms king. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer. Who bare my letter then to flush it nice cool pins and needles still theres something queer about their children always smelling around those filthy bitches all sides asking me too if hed come a bit on my bosom he brought me about the place lately unless I bolted the door for me he might say they could I get the last letter from O Mrs Dwenn now what possessed her?

And we two will rail against all the pleasure but if thy love to a man? Farewell, ancient lady; I will laugh like a kiss I near lost my breath yes he was throwing his sheeps eyes at those brazenfaced things on them he might want to buy underclothes then if he was so tasty and browned and as tender as anything only for the grammar a noun is the old bench?

Evermore weeping for your company,—how many actions most ridiculous Hast thou slain Tybalt?

That is no truth in sight as this: 'tis not so in bitterness.

Indeed, I like my nice cream too I wish hed sleep in some bed by himself with his big square feet up in bed or else die in debt.

You say well. Why, we should have given him tears unto entreaties, ere he that shall make you feel him trying to sing in the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the pompous court?

God knows what he wont think me stupid if he was always turning up half my sum of age; Wilt thou not: more validity, more. He is the place. Draw, Benvolio, look up, and the waiter after him at the bottom of his being a little; comfort a little when I was too hes not such a long one I did stay to know youre a virgin for them have him I knew him by his advices every blessed hat I put him off letting on I suppose she was out that way so nice all over the shop itself rummage sale a lot of mixedup things especially about the monuments and he thinks nothing can happen without him knowing he hadnt a moustache that was it where you are the beetle brows shall blush for me, you'll give yourself to this fair assembly. Now is he of smelling out a suit; provided that you might as well be in love with the soup splashing about taking spoonfuls of it hadnt he the nerve and the hat I put the quilt on the misty mountain tops: I drew to part with thee!

Trieste-Zurich-Paris 1914—1921

Santa Barbara 2015—2017

#Ulysses (novel) #James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Penelope #William Shakespeare #plays #Elizabethan authors #As You Like It #1599 #1600 #Romeo and Juliet #1595