#this is my lament of the way I am wired

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐀 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

↳ summary: in which you and ten crash land in the tardis. again

↳ warnings: none! reader kept gender neutral as always

↳ song: line without a hook—ricky montgomery

masterlist!

If you could describe the Doctor in a few words, it would be out of his fucking mind.

You had been traveling with him for well over a year now—although at this point who really knew. You were operating a time machine half of the time.

But in all that time with him, warped or not, you were yet to completely nestle yourself next to the agent of chaos known as the Doctor. Instead, you were left scrambling to keep up with his whirlwind ways, enjoying it sometimes and rather not at others.

It was the latter at the moment.

Smoke poured from the Tardis's console in a funny red color, prompting a round of coughs to come from both you and the alien standing not but five feet from you.

"I swear to god—" You paused to cough some more, slightly jumping at the way the Doctor was currently banging a mallot on the control board, "—if you stuck us in the dark ages again I am going to strangle that skinny neck of yours."

The ruby red smoke had wafted away just enough to give you a good look at the Doctor's face now, allowing you to take in the way his glasses hung off the tip of his nose in a dangerous teeter. Like an acrobat performing a daring stunt on a rope. You might have found the sight cuter if it wasn't for the bumpy landing you had just been sucepted to. Probably the reason his glasses were dangling like that, now that you thought about it.

One would think after all the time the Doctor had spent with the Tardis he would take better care of it, treating the beautiful box like a newborn baby. But nope. Here you were, watching as he hit the thing like it was a vending machine that had stolen his money.

"No no no, not the middle ages. I made sure to specifically avoid that this time. I think." He finally responded, looking at you and blinking thoughtfully.

"Gee thanks. That really reassures me." You snorted. He just flashed a brilliant grin your way; the very one you can never manage to stay mad at for too long. Even if you were being chased by a hoard of intergalactic killers in the process.

"Oh come on!" He sang your name joyfully while connecting two wires to each other and igniting a spark. "Since when have I ever let you down? Sure, sometimes we get in what you could call a bit of a pickle, but we always get out of it! What's the fun in time travel if you can't experience a little toss of the dice!"

His words echoed about the big blue box as he rushed around, alarms blaring and machinery clicking with issues. You yourself were fiddling with bolts and nuts at this point in an attempt to help, more than willing to admit that you cared about the Tardis enough to get your hands dirty for repairs.

"Yeah, alright then mister smarty pants. Take us to a fun planet this time, yeah? I don't want to hear a single allons-y out of your mouth until we've set foot someplace without something trying to kill us!" A brown head of hair peaked over from his position at you, eyes drinking in your words with a cross between a pout and a thoughtful frown.

"I don't remember all my companions being this difficult." He lamented.

"If you call being difficult wanting to live, then you must not pick your companions very well." Your own head popped up to face his own, the both of you know kneeling on the ground peering at each other from opposite sides of the Tardis.

You stopped for a moment to look at the Doctor and his disheviled appearance from rushing around his ship wildly. You reached the conclusion that you must look the same way. What other reason would the Doctor be staring so softly at you for?

It didn't take long before a smile crept onto your face, a small laugh slipping past your lips as you saw the hilarity of the situation.

"Look at us." The Doctors own lips quirked up into a smile, head tilting slightly to the left. "On the floor with our hair sticking up all over the place. I probably look like a mad scientist right now." He giggled, propping his chip up on the metal of the keyboard before him.

"Not more than you usually do anyways." You grinned right back.

"Hey!"

"Sorry sorry! Couldn't resist." You apologized.

The Tardis chose that moment to let out a large shudder, the wooden encasing of it creaking dangerously. Your hands clenched into little fists, searching for purchase on any nearby surface in case of another crash landing. The Doctor mirrored the motion, only he wasn't so lucky as to stay upright, instead falling over onto the floor with a yelp.

"Alright over there?" You managed to yall over all the noise. You were provided with a thumbs up in response, the Doctor groaning from his position on his floor, not attempting to get up until the shaking of his ship had ceased.

"Don't suppose you could tell me what that was?" You attempted to brush imaginary dust and dirt off your pants as you stood up and cautiously crossed the distance between you and him—still afraid of another impromptu earthquake.

"Er, well, good news and bad news." He announced, pushing his glasses up and scratching at the back of his neck with a wrench that had seemingly appeared in his hand out of nowhere. You swore he was hiding an entire toolbox from you at this point.

"How about the good news first?"

"Well, we've landed. No longer floating amongst time and space without a set destination." He grinned, turning a few dials and nobs ferociously.

"And the bad news?" You prodded, searching for anyway to help improve this already out of control situation.

"I have no idea where we are." He finished with a flourish of his hands. You sent a deadpan look towards him as he twirled around to smile at you, placing his hands on his hips happily. "Exciting, isn't it?"

He hesitated when you didn't immediately respond with the same level of energy. Or any energy at all to be exact.

"You know, you and Donna would have gotten on really well I reckon." He sighed, carding a hand through his wild hair with a soft smile. As if imagining the frequently mentioned red head next to you. Something that you were sure he was doing.

"From what I've heard about her, yeah, we would." You huffed. The Doctor raised an eyebrow at your confession. He was curious to hear your reasoning.

"I'd personally enjoy someone smacking you upside that head of yours every now and then. Might knock some sense into you."

To enunciate your point you reached over to swat him on the shoulder with a grin, drinking in the way he pretended to be hurt just to amuse you.

"Oh how you wound me." The Doctor joked.

Jumping up suddenly, you were left trailing after your curious little alien man as he made his way to grab his coat, making a beeline stright for the Tardis's doors.

"I'll make you a deal alright?" He rubbed his hands together whilst you stuck yours in the inside of your pockets, nodding to let him know you were hearing him out.

"I go out first to see if there's any danger, and if I'm still alive to let you know that there's none, then we stay!"

He sounded proud of himself. As if he hadn't just proposed a situation that would possibly throw him into the center of a hostile planet.

"I dunno Doctor. As much as I like not dying, I'm not sure I like the idea of you dying any better." You kicked at the ground with a wince, not liking the way the image of a tombstone with the words The Doctor flashed through your mind.

"Oh come on!" He drew out the last word, stooping down to get closer to you. His bottom lip was slightly stuck out, almost as if in an act of pouting. "I haven't had the chance to go on a nice adventure with just us in ages! I'd like to finally be able to do that, you know."

His voice had gone a bit softer at the end, clearing his throat awkwardly and shifting from foot to foot. You blinked, taking in the way his eyes darted across your face in search of an answer. As if nervous, which was a first.

He was right, though. Neither of you had been preoccupied with other people the past few places you had gone. Of course, it had all been for the greater good. Saving millions of people's lives and whatnot. But you cared for the Doctor—maybe more than you wanted to admit—and who knows when you'd get the chance for some one on one time again?

"Okay." You caved in with a crooked smile, knowing you were going to follow him anyways no matter what. He had you hooked like that. "Let's go crazy man."

"Oh yes! You're brilliant, you are!" He whooped, snatching you up in a quick hug before dropping you to the ground again, leaving your head spinning with serotonin. You couldn't help but look at his eyes sparkling with joy and smile back.

"Can I say it now?" He cut off your train of thought, or rather lack of one as you stared into his warm chocolate eyes, with a hopeful glance.

"Say what?" You furrowed your brows, snapping out of whatever trance you had been in.

"You know!" He waved his arms around wildly, looking quite silly. "The thing! That I say!"

It took you a moment before your creased brow relented into a knowing look.

"Oh yeah! Of course, of course. Yes, go ahead." You elbowed him playfully, surprised he even remembered your half-serious demand from a few moments ago.

"Well in that case—" The Doctor took his glasses off, closing them in one smooth motion while he beamed at you, "—allons-y!"

And then he opened the doors, giving way to a new chapter of your life.

#the doctor #doctor who #the tenth doctor #the 10th doctor #the doctor x y/n #the doctor x you #the doctor x reader #doctor who x reader #doctor who x you #doctor who x y/n #the tenth doctor x y/n #the tenth doctor x you #the tenth doctor x reader #the 10th doctor x y/n #the 10th doctor x you #the 10th doctor x reader #donna noble #x reader #fluff #drabble #one shot

[hollyethecurious]

CS AU: Conviction (5/?)

Summary: The story had been front page news for months. Scandalous details of a married woman of low birth and with limited means, murdering her husband; hatcheting him to death in order to save her own life and that of her unborn child - or so she claimed. No evidence to support her allegations of abuse had been presented during the trial, but in the end, it was the fact that Mrs. Cassidy was with child that saved her from a verdict of murder in the first degree, a judgment that carried the death penalty for both men and women alike. As an act of mercy, a lesser charge was issued, one that spared her life but now made her Misthaven Penitentiary’s problem to contend with, and more specifically, the Captain of the Guard charged with keeping order within its walls.

A/N:  My apologies for not updating last week. While I am determined to maintain a regular, weekly schedule, I'm afraid I've fallen behind on my wiring, and therefore I can't guarantee there won't be more skipped weeks. Now that my homeschool semester is over, I'm hoping to get more writing time so I can catch back up. I just ask that y'all be patient with me.

Thank you for all the lovely comments! I treasure them, and am so thrilled y'all seem to love this story as much as I do! Also, thanks to my amazing betas, @snowbellewells and @kmomof4. Also, shout out to @sotangledupinit for the assist in defringing Killian for the art.

Rated T-M (for themes, mentions of abuse, murder, and attempted assault) / Available on ao3 and ff.net /  buy me a coffee / add to tag list  

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

Chapter Five 

Snow swirled and the frigid air burned in Killian’s lungs. The scent of pine danced in his sinuses and tickled his tongue, the aroma of the season stirring those feelings of good tidings even though there had been no great joy in his days for the past few weeks.

Actually, that wasn’t completely true. Despite the rift between himself and his brother - a chasm that had only grown wider since his brother’s decree, forcing Killian from Swan’s presence and the pleasure of her company, while removing any comfort his might have given her - there had been moments of elation and gratitude to help lighten the otherwise gloomy December days.

Elsa had wasted no time in acquiring the services of a few masons and the blacksmith, converting the old offices along the upper level of the officer’s wing into a much larger cell for Swan and her swiftly approaching arrival. The men had offered their time and materials, free of charge, and word had spread regarding the prison’s forthcoming addition, spurring the townsfolk into actions of charity, not only for Miss Swan, but the entire prison as well.

The soft crunch of compacted snow, mixed with the shuffle of freshly fallen flakes echoed beneath Killian’s boots as he made his way up the long drive towards the prison. He stopped for a moment, adjusting the bulky item in his arms so he could tighten his scarf, a slight shiver traveling down his spine when the winter breeze whispered across the thin layer of perspiration dampening his skin from the exertion of carrying the object from town. A ring of faint laughter tinkled through the air, and Killian knew the carolers he’d passed in the village must be making their way to the prison.

He remembered lamenting many months ago about how they were to make it through the winter without the assistance of the convent. He never would have imagined the outpouring of care, kindness, and compassion they had received from the town’s residents, from necessities like foodstuffs and fuels, to the indulgence of new clothing for the prisoners and a collection for the officers’ uniforms, as well as decorations and community visits to help lift the population’s spirits. Killian could not remember a more festive or exhilarating Christmas season in all his years, and though Elsa had certainly had her hand in making it happen, Killian knew the true prompting that had brought the whole town together to rally around Misthaven Penitentiary was Emma.

A cloud of vapor briefly hung in the air from where Killian had exhaled heavily. Emma. His Swan. Not a day had gone by that he had not thought of her, and not simply because the work being done on her new cell was happening, quite literally, before his very eyes day after day. He’d timed his arrival during those first few shifts he’d reported for duty with when she’d usually be out on her walks, so he would at least have the opportunity to see her, perhaps even speak with her. However, his brother had accounted for such an action and had issued new orders regarding her yard time. Now that they were back to full staff, they no longer had to depend on the off-duty night shift to perform the task, so she was worked into the day rotation schedule, usually escorted from her cell when Killian was in the training room with one of the new recruits.

The sound of his boot falls interrupted the quiet once more as he trod up the path towards the prison gate. Two of the recruits were milling about in the yard, most likely awaiting the arrival of the carolers. They snapped to attention as soon as they spotted him, one moving quickly to open the door for their captain, whose arms were still laden with an object he hoped to deliver before the visitors’ arrival.

It was a yearly tradition, the carolers beginning their Christmas Eve serenade at the prison before moving through town and finishing at the church for the Silent Night Service. They would spend some time visiting with the prisoners first, encouraging them with conversation and perhaps a small, gifted token, like a piece of peppermint or some other candy, to commemorate the holiday, then sing a few carols before moving on. Killian had always enjoyed the Christmas Eve caroling and the festivities it brought with it, the guards finding ways to make their own merriment as those off-duty joined the on-duty shift for a celebratory toast after the carolers departed, but this year… The rift between him and Liam would most likely sour whatever toast their warden made, and the only person with whom he wished to share Christmas he was forbidden from seeing.

That hadn’t stopped him from bringing her a gift, though.

Depositing the item in his office, Killian straightened his appearance, smoothing down his hair, which had become tussled by the winter wind, and took in a steadying breath as dread gnawed his gut. Never before had he been anxious to face his brother, not to this degree at least, and he wondered if the damage both their words and actions had caused to their relationship would be permanent. In addition to keeping his distance from Swan, as ordered, Killian had done all he could to avoid Liam these past few weeks, dispatching another officer to meet with the warden in his stead and begging off all of Elsa’s invitations to share dinner with them now he had his evenings free. When the rare moment occurred that he had to report to the warden’s office himself, he had been overly formal and guarded with a rapport of extreme professionalism, a conduct Liam had reciprocated in kind.

It had not escaped Killian’s notice that the officers walked on eggshells around them both, nor could he deny the strain it was starting to have on Elsa, who desperately tried to get the two brothers together so they might discuss the matter rather than allow it to continue to fester. Killian would be lying if he said the glimmer of tears in her eyes when he’d turned down the offer to spend Christmas with them hadn’t made his heart twist painfully in his chest, but he knew he’d only bring the celebration down with his sullenness, and he wasn’t about to make her sister or her sister’s family uncomfortable with the added tension his presence would bring.

Besides… Swan was supposed to be moved into her new cell Christmas morning, and Killian wanted to be there, even if he couldn’t share the occasion by her side or give her the gift he’d worked on with Marco himself.

Exiting his office, he glanced across the corridor as he passed the new cell and paused. Philip and Thomas - two of the newest recruits and set to make officer after the first of the year - were bustling around the space, depositing firewood into the nook beside the hearth and positioning the new furnishings into place, readying the cell for its new inhabitant. A copper tub sat in the corner, partially hidden behind a partition that would provide her privacy when she bathed, the fireplace allowing her not only warmth, but the ability to heat water without the assistance of the guards. A rocking chair faced the hearth, a fresh mattress was laid out upon the suspended frame on the opposite wall, and a wardrobe filled the opposite corner, ready for Swan’s and her baby's belongings to be transferred from the trunks they’d been packed in for months. A smile lifted the corners of his mouth, a moment of gladdened contentment pushing past the longing that had been hollowing out his chest cavity day by day.

“Do you need something, Captain?”

The question brought Killian back to his purpose. “No. Thank you, Thomas. Carry on.”

Leaving the recruits to finish their work, Killian turned and fortified himself before raising his hand to knock on the warden’s door. Dutifully, he waited until he heard his brother bid entrance.

“Killian?” Liam said, standing from his chair with a perplexed yet tentatively relieved expression. His hair was as unruly as Killian’s, but where the wind had been responsible for the younger Jones’ appearance, it seemed the chaotic nature of Liam’s hair had been caused by his fingers continuously running through the curly strands. “I was not sure you’d return for the festivities when Erik informed me you’d already left for the day.”

Killian lifted his chin, his hands tucked behind his back with his posture board straight as he addressed his warden. “I had an errand to run in town, sir.”

“I see,” Liam commented, wincing a bit at the curt edge of Killian’s formal tone. Making his way around the desk, Liam paused when he reached the front edge, wringing his hands for a moment before letting them fall to his sides. “I was sorry to hear you refused our invitation for Christmas,” he said. “And not because it means I must endure Elsa’s sister and brother-in-law without the aid of my li...er, younger brother.”

Killian’s brows twitched, nearly pinching together in disbelief at the correction. Was his brother attempting to make amends? It wasn’t like Liam to concede, to ever admit he might be wrong, and if it was his intention to make things right then it surely had to have been prompted by Elsa.

“I offered to take the Christmas shift so Thomas could spend the holiday with his wife. I felt the other recruits deserved to spend the day with their lady loves as well.”

“And the fact Mrs. Cassidy is moving to the cell across the hall tomorrow morning had no bearing on such an offer, I’m sure.”

Killian stiffened further, his posture becoming more rigid as he geared up for another row with his brother, but the spark of anger Liam’s quip had ignited was quickly snuffed out with his brother’s next words.

“Killian,” Liam sighed, stepping forward with placating hands. “I do not wish to argue with you. It is not my intention to…” Swiping a hand down his face, his brother exhaled and slumped against the front of his desk. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt,” he muttered, flicking his eyes up to meet the twin hue of his brother’s.

“She isn’t violent, Liam. Not truly. She acted in self-defense and I--”

“That isn’t the sort of hurt I’m referring to,” his brother cut in. “You’ve fallen for a woman who has been condemned to serve a five year sentence. What sort of hope could you ever have at a meaningful relationship? To say nothing of the baby she’s about to give birth to, a child belonging to another man, I might add. Do you truly wish to burden yourself with--”

“Emma is not a burden, nor is her babe. Not to me.”

“Aye,” he sighed again. “You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

Gesturing to the chair in front of his desk, he bid Killian to sit as he took a seat in the one beside it, eliminating the hierarchical divide between them and allowing them to converse as brothers.

“Have I acted in any way improper? Have my actions been perceived as untoward or unbefitting of my station?” Killian asked, wondering if Liam’s reactions might have been prompted by concerns voiced from idle gossip within town. The guards, and even some of the prisoners, had ribbed him a time or twice regarding Miss Swan, and he knew it wouldn’t take much for their teasing to give someone the wrong idea.

“Not as yet,” Liam assured him. “But I can’t have you skirting regulations, or taking advantage of your position, both as my brother and the captain of this prison, when it comes to Mrs. Cassidy. What sort of message would that send?”

“I have no intention of compromising my position here. The very last thing I wish to do is bring dishonor upon you or the other guards, to say nothing of my desire to protect her and shield her from even a hint of impropriety. For any aspersion cast upon her character could be used against her should the Board agree to grant her a new trial.” Killian shifted in his seat, leaning towards his brother with an imploring expression. “I won’t deny that I care for her, Liam. I won’t sit here and pretend that my feelings for her, or my regard towards her as an inmate, are no different than those I hold for the other prisoners within our care, but have I ever given you reason not to trust me with my duty? Do you really think I would put any of us in a position of potential ruin, especially when I have no bloody idea whether she even remotely feels the same way about me?”

“And what if she does?”

Killian’s breath rushed from his lungs at the prospect. He had not allowed himself the freedom to hope for such a thing, had only just begun being honest with himself about his own feelings and had not wanted to consider what it would mean for them to be unrequited.

Allowing himself a moment to seriously ponder his brother’s question, Killian determined, “It still would not change my conviction to perform my duty without reproach.”

Liam sat quietly, his expression stoic with a trace of hesitation within his features. Despite the anger and resentment he’d felt towards his brother these past few weeks, Killian did understand the position Liam was in. He could only imagine the war that must have been ravaging Liam’s conscience as the brotherly side - the one that wished for Killian to find happiness - battled against the responsibility that rested on his shoulders as warden, ensuring all those within his care and under his command upheld the requirements and expectations of their station.

“Liam,” Killian began, drawing his brother’s attention back to him. “I know you have to consider the ramifications of what might happen should you allow me to oversee Miss Swan once more, but…” he swiped his tongue over his lips, worried that Liam might see this argument as merely a ploy to gain access to the woman for whom he had just confessed feelings, “have you considered the potential consequences of undermining my authority and essentially telling the entire population I do not have your full trust as captain?”

Balking, Liam’s brow scrunched together and his hand covered the lower half of his face, his fingers lightly brushing the bristles that needed shaving as he considered Killian’s words. After a long, drawn out moment, Liam sighed.

“You’re right,” he conceded. “The impact of restricting you on your duties is more of an immediate concern than the potential hint of impropriety that might come from your continued association with Mrs. Cassidy.” Liam stood and Killian followed suit, a breath caught in his lungs as he waited for Liam’s ultimate decision. The pressure in his chest continued to build as his brother, once again donning his warden disposition, made his way back behind his desk. “Consider yourself fully reinstated to the full measure of your duties, Captain.”

A relieved exhale whooshed from Killian’s lungs, and he straightened his posture to formally address his warden. “In that case, I have a request.”

Liam rolled his eyes, then fixed them on Killian with a flash of warning. “Go on.”

“It is my understanding that any items not currently in Miss Swan’s cell have to be approved before they can be moved into her new one.”

“And you have something you wish to add to her furnishings?”

“I do.” The patch of skin behind his ear flared with an uncomfortable itch, and he could feel heat crest the tips of his ears. “It’s a, um… gift.”

“I see,” Liam exasperated, taking his seat behind his desk. “What sort of gift?”

Swallowing heavily, Killian replied. “A cradle. I, uh… I had a cradle made for her and would like to place it in her cell, with your permission.”

Certain his brother was about to rescind his earlier decree, Killian opened his mouth to plead his case once more, but was cut off by Liam’s response. “Very well,” he said. “Why don’t you set the cradle in the cell, then…” His brother clearly warred with himself for a minute, his gaze flickering about the room until he finally came to a firm decision. “Have Philip, Thomas, and Erik begin to move her things. You can oversee the transfer to her new cell tonight.”

“Liam…” Killian breathed, unsure of what else to say in response to such an astounding order.

“Elsa suggested it might be kinder to let her awake Christmas morning already settled, and since the evening schedule will already be disrupted due to the visitors and carolers, it might be best for the move to happen this evening rather than in the morning.”

While all of that might be true, Killian knew it was an excuse to justify the decision. Although he knew his brother was not ready to voice any sort of support in what might be Killian’s eventual aspirations towards the woman, the evidence that he was not wholly against them was clear enough in both Liam’s expression and his command.

“Can I leave the task in your capable hands, Captain?”

“Aye, Warden,” Killian said in a duty-filled and appreciative tone. “Thank you.”

Liam waved him away, fighting the affectionate expression threatening to overtake his visage, and Killian promptly heeded the dismissal, lest his brother change his mind. After setting the cradle within Swan’s new cell, next to the rocking chair facing the hearth, he located one of the recruits and told him to assemble the others so they could begin moving Swan and her belongings. Fidgeting for a moment, Killian straightened his appearance and took a calming breath before crossing the catwalk to the other side of the prison. When he reached her cell, his chest was near bursting with joy from being in her presence once more. He silently stood and watched her for a moment as she packed away her things in preparation of her move, a tune lightly humming from her lips.

“Good evening, Swan.”

She whipped around towards the bars, a gasp falling from her lips which were parted in a startled, yet elated expression that encompassed the rest of her features.

“Captain Jones,” she exhaled, taking a few tentative steps forward, her expression now turning concerned as her eyes flicked towards the offices adjacent to their current position, though she could not see them from her vantage point.

“It’s alright,” he assured her, knowing Elsa had informed her of the restriction the Warden had placed on him. “I’ve been reinstated in all matters of my duty.” Producing the key to her cell, he unlocked the door and swung it wide. “Including overseeing the transfer to your new accommodations this evening.”

“This evening?”

“Aye,” he replied. “That is… if you’re ready.”

Casting her gaze around the tiny cell, crammed and cluttered by items she’d accumulated from those who’d come to care for her and her child every bit as much as he had, Swan turned her eyes back to him and nodded. The recruits arrived, ready to gather her things, and Killian waved her forward, removing her from the cell so his men would have room to work. Standing with his charge, Kilian shifted uncomfortably as an atmosphere of tense anticipation and awkward expectation surrounded them.

“You look well,” he commented, keeping his gaze focused on his recruits as they emptied her cell. “Have you been… well?”

Killian wanted to kick himself for his clumsy manner. Weeks apart and this was how he opened conversation between them?

“I have been mostly well,” she answered. Movement pulled his attention down to where she was running her hands over her belly, fuller and more rounded, reminding him of the time he’d lost with her.

“Are you getting enough to eat? Enough exercise? Enough sleep?” He wanted to know everything he’d missed, and whether there was anything he could do to help make up for his absence. Not that she would have been as negatively impacted by it as he had.

“Granny has been seeing to my nutrition, and I’ve had a bevy of visitors to walk with. We’ve been fortunate to have had such mild weather until this week.”

And now they were discussing the weather… this was not how he’d envisioned their reunion.

“Sleep has been an issue, though,” she confided softly, adjusting her stance.

“I imagine it must be difficult finding a comfortable position to rest in given how big the babe has gotten.” Shutting his eyes in mortification, Killian cursed himself for the implication of his words. The late stages of pregnancy had made Emma fuller in many places, but she was no less beautiful to him than when she’d first arrived with her condition barely noticeable beneath the layers of skirts and corset. She was still stunning, and always would be.

“Oh, uh… y-yes,” she stammered, eyes cast down. “Physical comfort is challenging these days, but that is not the only reason I’ve found the nights difficult.”

Recruit Erik signaled that everything was ready, keeping Killian’s mind from spiraling at the inference that it was his absence that had made sleep an issue for her, that she had perhaps missed his presence during the night shift. Clearing his throat, Killian led Swan around the corner towards her new cell, only to be stopped by the affronted tone of Will Scarlet.

“Oi! You weren’t gonna leave without saying goodbye, were ya?”

Swan rolled her eyes, a humoring smile blooming across her face. “I’m just moving to the other side,” she reminded him.

“Aye, but I won’t see you.”

“You never saw me in my current cell.”

“But I could talk to ya. Who am I gonna talk to now?”

“Hey!” a voice shouted from the cell beside Scarlet’s, preceded by the face of Al, another common thief who had arrived around the same time as Will, pressed against the bars. “What about me?”

“What about ya?” Will snapped. It was no secret the two had a bit of a rivalry going between them, each of them espousing their superior skills in their given criminal profession, which Killian found ludicrous considering their expertise had not been sufficient enough to keep them out of jail.

“Alright,” Killian interceded, gripping Swan’s elbow to prompt her along. “That’s quite enough of that.”

“Wait!” Will pleaded. “I’ve got something for the missus.”

Killian paused and glanced down at Swan whose brows were knitted together as she peered through the bars to see what it was Will was retrieving. When the man came back into view, he had a small item clutched in his hand, which he thrust through the bars toward her.

“Here,” he said. “It’s for the little knipper.”

Swan took the object and turned it over in her hands, a breath of fondness and gratitude releasing from her lungs as she tenderly ran her fingers over it. The thief must have used straw from his mattress and cloth from his blanket in order to construct the small doll Swan now held against her chest next to her heart.

“Thank you, Will,” she said, a small catch of emotion evident in her voice.

“You’re welcome,” Scarlet responded, “And Happy Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Swan reciprocated, her eyes glancing up to Killian’s to indicate she was ready to proceed, a misty sheen making them sparkle as she stared up at him.

An unpleasant sensation churned in Killian’s gut as they crossed the catwalk, and without thought, he voiced his realization. “You care for him.”

“Will?”

“Aye.”

“Well… yes,” she answered, causing Killian’s heart to sink. “He’s been a dear friend to me. A comfort and distraction from the reality of our circumstances. I shall miss him and feel terrible that my moving will deprive him of, not only my company, but of Belle’s as well.”

“Belle?” Killian inquired, halting their steps in front of his office. “You mean, Miss French? The librarian?”

A sly smirk briefly lifted the corner of her lips. “The same,” she confirmed. “She’s been visiting me more and more these past few weeks and arrives earlier and earlier, conversing with Will as she waits for me to wash up or finish my meal.”

“What on earth do they find to converse about?”

A giggle worked its way up Swan’s throat, shaking her shoulders and causing a smile to bloom across her face in response to his incredulous tone. Killian could not stop his own smile, heartened by Swan’s exuberance and thankful his assumptions regarding Swan’s feelings for Scarlet were unsound.

“Believe it or not,” she replied. “Will is rather well read and asked Belle if she would bring him books when she brought me selections from the library.”

Killian hummed, intrigued and still slightly dubious at such an unlikely pairing. Prompting them forward, he ushered her towards her new cell, then stood back as she entered, allowing her time to become acquainted with the space, not that he could have entered if he’d been so inclined. A shuddered gasp left her lungs as she slowly surveyed the space, and Killian’s chest tightened when she pressed her fingers against her mouth in order to hold back the emotion he could see shimmering in her eyes.

“Elsa took up a collection for the wardrobe,” he informed her, hoping a catalog of the items might help in alleviating her current turmoils, despite the positive connotations that had evoked them. “Marco provided it at cost, but many within town, and even a few of the guards, contributed towards it.”

He paused as she swung open the door to peer within, then inspected the drawers on the other side. When she made her way to the corner where her wash basin and stand had been placed next to the screened tub, Killian continued on, “The hip bath is from Granny. A spare one she had on hand at the boarding house. The guards will continue to bring water for your daily use, and a full portion will be brought up once a week for you to use in the tub.”

Reaching up, he scratched behind his ear, his cheeks burning and likely as rosy as her own when she turned away from her bathing corner and fixed her attention to the fireplace and items inviting her to enjoy the comfort of the fire. Delicately, she lowered herself onto the rocking chair and swallowed tightly at the sight of the cradle.

“The chair is a gift from Marco.”

“And the cradle?” she asked in a strained yet touched tone. “Is this his handiwork as well?”

“Actually,” Killian began, his throat equally as tight. “The cradle is a gift… from me.”

Her head snapped up, eyes wide and watery, lips parted in disbelief.

“Marco fashioned it for me,” he credited. “But the finishing touches and the carvings at the head were all done by my hand.”

Dropping her gaze back down, she leaned over and reverently ran her fingertips over the intricately carved swan and cygnet motif. “It’s beautiful, Captain,” she breathed. “Thank you.”

“You are very welcome, Swan.”

Glancing over his shoulder, Killian ensured no one else was about as he reached into the breast pocket of his jacket. “I have something else for you as well.”

He fixed his gaze back on her in time to see her brush away tears before she stood and made her way over, knowing he was not permitted to enter her cell whilst she occupied it. Turning the gift over in his hands, he shared, “When I spoke with your solicitor, he did not seem optimistic in regards to your belongings.”

“I know,” she said, a hint of melancholy underpinning her frank tone. “He told me as much in one of his letters.”

“Right.” Of course she’d been in contact with Mr. Hopper even though he’d been unable to visit as of yet. “Well, I know how much your collection of shells meant to you, so I wanted you to have this.” He placed a ribbon wrapped sea shell in her hand and explained, “This is from my collection. The first I ever took from Misthaven Beach after Liam and I relocated here. Nemo took us and encouraged us to take a shell as a commemoration of sorts. A symbol for a new and prosperous beginning in this new land.”

“Oh, Captain.” Her eyes misted over once more as she stared at the swirls of pink and cream iridescence. “I cannot possibly accept this. It must mean the world to you.”

“Aye, it does,” he confessed, “But I want you to have it.” He raised a hand to stay her objection. “At the very least,” he said. “Keep it until you have the beginnings of your own collection once more. You can return it to me after you’ve replaced it with one you select to commemorate your first seaside visit with your wee one. How’s that?”

She gave him a slightly disgruntled look, but the glimmer of delight in her eyes ruined the effect. “I suppose that’s acceptable.”

As she walked back to the fireplace, gently arranging the shell on the mantle, Killian noted how she kept pressing against a specific spot on her stomach.

“Everything alright there, Swan?”

“What?”

“With the babe,” he clarified, gesturing to where she was rubbing her belly. “Is he unsettled?”

Waving off his concern, she said, “He’s just unusually active right now. Typically, he’s calmer in the evenings, but ever since you arrived he’s been quite energetic.” An amused sound huffed from her lips, and she added, “If I didn’t know better I’d say he missed the sound of your voice almost as much as…”

Her words fell away, the rosy hue of her cheeks deepening as she cast her eyes back towards the fire, unable to hold his gaze. Killian could barely draw breath from the way his heart had swelled in response to her words, but he did not wish to cause her further discomfort, knowing she had not meant to reveal, or perhaps even imply, that she had, indeed, missed him.

“I cannot even imagine the wonderment of having a life within you,” he said, turning the topic back to the babe. “Elsa’s sister, Anna, once let me feel her baby kick whilst pregnant with one of my brother’s nieces. It was…”

Filling the void as he tried in vain to find a word that would encompass the experience, Swan offered, “Would you like to feel the baby move?”

Without thought, Killian exhaled an ecstatic, “May I?”

With her bottom lip tucked between her teeth, Emma approached and took his hand. The sensation running up his arm from her touch was nothing in comparison to the feel of her abdomen jumping beneath his palm. An awed breath fell from his lips and he could not contain the chuckle rumbling through his chest at the babe’s exuberance.

“Hello there, my little one,” Killian cooed softly, his fingers brushing over the soft wool of Swan’s dress as her child continued to stretch and kick against his touch.

“I was right,” Swan murmured, causing him to glance up and meet her tender gaze.

“About what, love?”

Covering his hand with her own she said, “He missed you.”

Swallowing thickly, Killian wet his lips and chanced, “Just he?”

Tucking her lip between her teeth, Swan gave a small shrug and timidly confessed, “I may have missed you, too.”

Shuffling his feet forward, he inched closer, as close as he dared get while still remaining on the proper side of her cell’s doorway, and heartfeltly declared, “And I you.”

An indeterminate amount of time passed as they stood there, gazing into one another’s eyes while waiting for something - though Killian did not know exactly what - to happen. He knew he should step back, should remove his hand from her and put appropriate distance between them, but he couldn’t seem to make himself do so… until someone cleared their throat from a few feet away.

Killian’s head swung around and he snatched his hand away while hurriedly taking several steps back. Attempting to gather himself, he forced a more professional demeanor in the face of their audience, and greeted, “Miss French,” with a respectable nod.

“Captain,” Belle reciprocated cheerily with an expression that gave away none of the shock or disapproval she might be experiencing at having witnessed a more intimate moment than he and Swan had any right to share. If anything, her furtive glance when she approached and greeted the woman she’d come to see suggested she may not have been shocked or disapproving at all.

“Merry Christmas, Emma!” Belle exclaimed, handing over a parcel to Swan and pointedly ignoring the red glow emanating from her cheeks. “How lovely that they’ve let you move to your new accommodations already!”

“Y-Yes,” Swan stammered, collecting herself. “Would it be permissible for Belle to come inside and have a look around?” she asked Killian, her gaze not quite capable of meeting his now that they had company.

“Of course,” he replied. “You are welcome to invite any of the ladies to see your new surroundings. Just not the men.”

Emma nodded and gestured Belle inside as the librarian prompted her to open her gift. Tearing away the brown paper and brightly colored ribbon revealed a small collection of books, the pages of which Killian had seen Swan pouring over a number of times.

“I know those are your favorites, so I was able to acquire extra copies so you would always have them on hand rather than having to wait to check them out and have me bring them to you,” the librarian said.

“Oh, Belle! Thank you!” Emma embraced her friend, then made her way over to the mantle, neatly stacking the tomes next to the shell he’d gifted her.

Killian was about to take his leave so they could visit in relative privacy when inspiration struck him.

“Miss French?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Your gift has reminded me of a matter I had wanted to speak with you about.”

“What matter is that?”

“Whether you might be inclined to help curate a collection here for the prison’s use and train an inmate to act as librarian.”

Belle’s mouth fell open, stunned. “You wish to start a library here?”

“Aye,” Killian replied, catching Swan’s confused and questioning gaze. “I thought we could set it up in Miss Swan’s old cell and wanted to recommend Will Scarlet as its potential overseer.”

“Will? Uh… that is,” Belle stammered, a flush of pink sweeping across her cheeks.

Swan’s gaze narrowed with a conspiratorial gleam, and her lips twitched from where she fought back a smirk.

“Indeed,” Killian pressed on. “He’s up for parole in early summer, and I think taking a role of such responsibility would go a long way in convincing the Board to grant his appeal.”

“I… that is…” Belle continued to stutter.

“Perhaps you and I can discuss it more after the holidays?”

“Y-Yes,” she replied, enthusiastically. “I would be delighted to assist in such an endeavor.”

“Marvelous.” Tipping his head towards them, Killian bade, “Have a lovely visit then, ladies.”

“Thank you, Captain,” they both replied. Belle turned to begin exploring the cell, and most likely to hide her expression of glee, giving Killian one last opportunity to meet Swan’s gaze, which flickered with mirth and gratitude, prompting him to throw her a wink before he left them to their visit.

Rounding the corner, he waved Recruit Thomas over and told him to keep an eye on things regarding Swan’s cell and visitors whilst he finished up a few things within his office that needed his attention. No such work awaited him, however. What he really needed was a few moments to himself to get his head back on straight. Leaning against the closed door of his office, Killian berated himself for how far past propriety he had managed to fall in just a few short minutes. He’d promised his brother he would not compromise his duty, yet given the first opportunity, he’d crossed the line of good form and the standards expected of his station.

This was going to be more difficult than he’d anticipated, especially given the confirmation from Swan’s own lips that she had missed him every bit as much as he had her.

And that acknowledgment made any fault in his decorum that evening all the more worth it… which should not be the reaction of his current state of mind.

A heavy sigh expelled from his chest, and he ran his hands through his hair and down his face. He would simply have to do a better job of keeping his feelings in check. Perhaps it had simply been the length of their separation that had made their reunion all the more charged? Perhaps, in time, and with more frequency in their encounters, the effect they had on one another would lessen and become more manageable?

He could only hope so, else Liam would have him transferred to the penal colony at Glowerhaven up north and several miles out to sea.

Killian did settle in to accomplish a few tasks to distract himself, only emerging from his office when he heard the carolers beginning to assemble on the main floor of the prison block. Immediately, his attention went to Swan, who had been led out of her cell to the corner of the upper level so she could view the chorus below. Standing dutifully at her side was Thomas.

“Isn’t your wife here this evening?” Killian questioned in Thomas’ ear, his voice low so as not to disrupt the singing.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Then why don’t I relieve you, so you and she can enjoy the festivities together?”

“Thank you, Sir,” Thomas replied, nodding towards Swan before he departed towards the back stairs that would take him to the area in which the other guards and visitors usually assembled for the performance.

“That was kind of you,” Swan murmured under her breath. “I know Ashley will appreciate it.”

“It’s nothing, Swan.”

Emma swiveled her head to glance up at him. “It’s not nothing,” she told him.

Killian swallowed past those emotions that were welling up within him once more and turned their attention back to the carolers. It was no use, though. With each line and lyric of joy, each melody and message of hope, each tune and tiding of love, Killian’s heart swelled and constricted, his hands flexing at his sides in some vain attempt to expel the sensations and temptations threatening to overtake him. His fingers brushed against Swan’s, whose hand reciprocated the touch until their pinkies wrapped around the other’s, connecting them as they responded to the invitation to join in on the final selection of Silent Night.

As Killian listened to the myriad of voices, one rang in his ears brighter and sweeter than any other, calming and fortifying him as she sang of another young woman round with child in less than ideal circumstances. It was then he realized he had a new duty before him; a duty that would ensure the mother with child beside him would know nothing but peace and care and love and devotion as she brought her child into the world and cared for him in a place more humble and harsh than any manger. While they would not be free to court or have encounters of a romantic sort, Killian no longer felt honor bound to hide the care and devotion he felt for her, and with time, when she was ready to receive and accept it, he would make his love for her known as well. For he did love her, that much was clear to him now. He loved Emma Swan, and he would wait for her, even if it meant waiting until her five year sentence was completed.

He was in this for the long haul.

Escorting her back to her cell, Killian asked if there was anything she needed.

“No. Everyone has been so kind and generous.”

“Then I shall leave you to rest,” Killian said, closing her cell door and reluctantly turning the key in the lock before pocketing it. “But I’ll be back for the morning shift.”

Emma curled her hands around the bars and peered up at him through the empty space. “Then I shall see you in the morning, Captain.”

“Aye,” Killian replied, reaching through the bars and sweeping a wisp of hair from her face. Tucking it behind her ear, he noted the catch in her breath. “Merry Christmas… Emma.”

Tilting her head to nuzzle her cheek against his hand before he withdrew it, she wet her lips and gazed up at him once more. “Merry Christmas… Killian.”

Chapter Six ​

#cs ff #csff #cs fic #cs au #captain swan #cs 1800s prison au #conviction #words by hollye

[eolewyn1010]

We hear from Mina! Mina, my beloved! They're on the train to Exeter and Jonathan takes a nap while Mina reflects on all the stuff that has been going down. She tells us of yet another burial, Mr. Hawkins' in this case, how cheerful. After that, the two of them went on a walk. For reasons I can't quite grasp, Mina thinks it improper that Jonathan is holding her arm on a walk? Uhm, why? Isn't that a pretty common behavior among married couples even for the time or am I thinking of the wrong thing? "the way he used to in old days before I went to school" concerns me more; sure hope she means as a teacher, not as a pupil... The queer dreams stumble in belatedly when Mina takes the opportunity to eye a beautiful girl for a while - but the universe begrudges her the little joy because Jonathan near about gets a heart attack on the spot. Jealous? Nah. Only Mina shares her taste in women with Dracula, as we already tragically know. And as Dracula is staring at the same girl Mina is admiring, Jonathan has recognized his torturer despite the rejuvenation cure and has an understandable PTSD lapse. Stoker won't take my sympathy, so he has to cram some weird racist phrenology bs down my throat. Mina informs us that "his face was not a good face; it was hard, and cruel, and sensual"... sensual is a bad thing now? Right, sexual predator Eastern European foreigner. Onward.

Our panicking Victorian himbo tells Mina that this is Dracula, but the latter goes off to have a sip of the aforementioned pretty girl and Mina takes Jonathan the other way so he can calm down, take a nap, and regain his good mood as he simply forgets about the encounter. Human memory is a strange thing when it meets with trauma. Mina worries about him and, on the train, contemplates opening Jonathan's diary that she has sworn her heart and marriage on to never open. That can't be good for the sacred vows. But Mina is, for now, busy with grief anyway as she finally learns upon reaching her destination that Lucy and Mrs. Westenra have died. She learns it via a wire by van Helsing, whom she doesn't even know. Man, this is a horrible way to hear your best friend died while you were abroad.

Jack is depressive, too; funerals are done (and if I didn't misunderstand van Helsing's weird phrasing too much, the clergymen couldn't keep their eyes off of Lucy during the ceremony). Arthur has left, together with Quincey Morris (whom Stoker uses as an example on what fine men America breeds - I'll abstain from a comment), leaving our poor Doc behind to uphold this corner of the polycule all by himself. Van Helsing is gonna return to Amsterdam for yet more preparations; we all know how smoothly things go in his absence. At least he had a good laugh after the funeral. Arthur said in his lament that he felt Very Married In The Eyes Of God to Lucy after all because he gave her his blood. Van Helsing finds this hilarious because it would mean that he, Quincey, and Jack were also married to Lucy. And that's just ridiculous. I'll keep calling them the polycule though; it is a strange approach of Stoker to call this notion out as idiocy in-universe when he has done his very best to drive home the point of "vampiric blood sucking = sexually predatory behavior". So, is van Helsing just plain wrong about this, or is Stoker trying to clean up the poly and queer tones so his protagonists stay respectable?

Also, this bit: "[van Helsing] laughed and cried together, just as a woman does. I tried to be stern with him, as one is to a woman under the circumstances; but it had no effect. Men and women are so different in manifestations of nervous strength or weakness!"? Now of all times, Jack the uber emo gets sexist about men showing strong emotions? Onward again!

A convoluted metaphor is delivered by van Helsing and- he's married?? To a woman whose "wits are all gone"?? He had a son who died who would be about Arthur's age now?? I just. Whut. No wonder he was so eager to hang onto the polycule, oh my God. He's lost his whole family! I can't get over that, even while van Helsing himself makes fun of the idea of polygamy. Personally, I think Lucy would have liked that notion a lot; she certainly would have made a corner of her heart and home free to include him alongside her other three men. Jack is not too thrilled with van Helsing's humor, but is sufficiently appeased by his explanation that he just has to take the chance to laugh when he won't get much reason to for a long time. Farewell is said, ways are separated, and Jack remains alone and dreary. He closes out on the note that he's done with romance for his life, and will not continue this particular diary as it was about Lucy. Also, because his coping mechanism is being a workaholic. Good luck with that, my dude!

#Dracula Daily #genuinely surprised that Jack is more empathetic to Arthur's attempt to comfort himself than van Helsing is #he never seemed the socially sensitive type #but then he loved Lucy

[matchabee4]

Piece of art bruised and wired; My Frightened Charm (Russian —> English translation)

Disclamer: I am NOT the author of this story. The author is Antiiss on Ficbook.net. I am only the one providing a translation of this piece since I feel it deserves some more love!

Please keep in mind I used Google Translate to translate this. I KNOW it’s not always credible but I did edit parts to make sure it grammatically made sense.

If the original author wants this post taken down please contact me. I will respect your wishes.

Check Out the Original Fic:

Check out ANTIPKA who made a bunch of amazing artworks inspired this fic:

https://twitter.com/1nuyaki?s=20

Pairing and Characters: Yan Fei/Hu Tao

Size: 3 pages, 1 part

Tags: [AT] [Angst] [Drabble Violence 18+]

[Unhealthy Relationships]

Desc. What could be sadder than ice in temporary separation than the heat of breath in an hour of violent bail?

The cough resounded throughout the dark basement and belonged to a lone person in a large, dirty-gray, despite its acrid smell of washing powder, raincoat, which looked a little like a medical gown, hanging on it. The cough was unnaturally hoarse and recurred violently. As if the owner of it in these damp rooms acquired chronic bronchitis, smoothly flowing into bronchial asthma with bloody sputum. Long dirty black gloves were pulled up to the elbow, but after their manipulations they safely went into the trash, exposing in fact incredibly delicate-looking pale hands. It was they who now touched the finished work.

Completely crazy idea, which would be terrible even to imagine a person in their right mind. A pair of green eyes gleamed behind narrow, rectangular spectacles at the very tip of his nose. Probably, the mysteriously dressed Yan Fei could only be identified by the pink hair and horns alone. Now she looked completely different from the smiling city lawyer who was diligently dealing with legal matters. And it’s completely impossible to recognize in her a benevolent citizen, who even walked in a very hasty way, as if imaginary lamenting about the eternal lack of time.

No. Here everything was extremely slow. Only the sharpness of certain movements betrayed something frighteningly nervous and did not allow one to relax in this gloomy atmosphere even for a minute.

The girl threw her gloves on the floor, which were stained with machine oil. She did not let go of the face of the mechanical girl, greedily, but extremely carefully clinging to it and looking at every piece she had thoroughly worked out. Among the whole room in complete disarray, only this doll remained surprisingly clean, covered on all sides with a white sheet, resembling either a covered and already glazed work of art at the opening in some gallery for especially cutesy connoisseurs, or a cold corpse covered with a cloth in a mortuary, whose toe will suddenly move and drop the tag on the floor in a warning.

For a lawyer who looked at the result for an unusually long time, it was precisely a work of art. The perfect embodiment of life in dead motors and wires.. Thoughts of a job well done sounded in my head with a special satisfied breath. She carefully lifted the white sheet from the left side of her body, revealing to her gaze a motionless hand with numerous rings.

Marvelous. The skin was so realistic, as if it had indeed been torn off from a stranger around the corner and pulled over an endoskeleton. It is a pity that a note of common sense remained in the Doctor's head for disapproving such actions or slipping thoughts. But even this is hard to believe, noticing how perfectly all the scuffs on the doll's rings are drawn. Yan Fei slowly turned the iron ornament on someone else's finger, and there were three characteristic clicks. A slow smile appeared on the waiting face.

She continued to look at the unhurried happening, accompanied by sound, at which computers, ancient as light, usually start up. On the "operating table" a doll rose, with a characteristic crack in the movement of the gears, taking a sitting position. This happened very gradually - the first start-up required all the accuracy so that the oil in the slow movement of the motor and internal parts evenly got into all the cracks. Her head turned with less of a crack. A mechanical puppet stared at the lady with glasses. The look of scarlet eyes with a glare of a flower looked painfully alive and not as glassy as it is in reality.

Everything in this figure was suspiciously human: dark hair, light skin and a suit with a hat, embroidered one on one to the most nondescript protruding threads or, as usual, crumpled places. They were even visible supposedly household scuffs, as on those same rings. You were not mistaken in thinking that this doll is nothing but a mechanical clone of Hu Tao. Her features were repeated one to one, even the wires under the artificial skin were the color and location of the girl's noticeable vessels and veins. The doll, in its perfect state, walked exactly like Hu Tao, repeating her gestures and facial expressions with the same sharpness or smoothness. Absolutely everything, as if both were molded from the same clay. This thing cost Yan Fei a lot of trouble to hunt down and stalk the Director, collecting all the information about her appearance and habits. For several months, the Director was unaware of the sniper; Like how with her green eye laser sight, she outlined absolutely everything that fit in the features noticeable to people.

The more the doll moved on the table, the better the oil lubricated its iron flesh from the inside, making the movements more human. Her mouth dropped open. And the lips quivered surprisingly with the voice of a true girl.

“Hello, Miss Yan. How can the ritual bureau "Wansheng" serve you?” the doll blurted out quite naturally.

"Oh, my lady.." The Doctor's hand covered her mouth and an unaccustomed smirk of satisfaction. The girl pulled away at last, and, surprisingly elegantly helping the doll to get up from the table, resolutely walked to the door under the stairs. Iron creaking steps followed. The doll stopped next to Yan Fei.

"Madam, what are you looking for here?" she put her hand on someone else's shoulder, looking out from behind her, “hiding your harmful clients in legal affairs? “ The sonorous voice laughed at first ironically and frighteningly, like the whole body, and then so realistically that goosebumps ran through the body of the Adeptus.

It is possible to say so. On the door in front of both hung several heavy locks, the key in which is good, if you have enough strength to turn before the victorious opening. And only then you will have to open the same iron door with noticeably less effort. After a few manipulations of neat little hands, which in appearance could hardly touch these rusts, the locks fell to the floor with a roar, and the door opened with a sharp creak and a couple of sparks on the peeled tiles.

Beams of light, like the acrid white light of an operating room lamp, pierced the crimson eyes. In the corner of a shallow closet lay a dark-haired girl tied up. The arms were tightly pressed to the body, and the legs were tied to each other from the ankles to the very knees. In the mouth, there was a strong metal gag, covered with cloth, so as not to damage the teeth, but also to avoid unwanted screams. On top of it, for aesthetics and additional silence, there was a black bandage. The girl closed her eyes, breathing softly. Everything swam in her eyes from the sudden change in lighting.

“Hello again, my Tao-Tao,” the voice of the lawyer sounded with unfeigned joy. Lying in the closet looked painfully pathetic. Exposed areas of the skin were already very pale. Her appearance, even if you do not take into account the numerous bruises received in an attempt to escape, was extremely painful. From time to time she was overcome by a fever, and right now it was not at all clear whether she was shaking from fright and rolling aggression, or from several hungry days of being in a cold little room. Faded eyes stared at the lady who had entered, their brows furrowed together in a frown, her chest constricted with indignation and hopelessness. This unfortunate body was tortured. But she didn't want to run for a second. And now she began to twitch and mumble unintelligibly with an obvious menace in her voice.

“Someone wants to say hello to you, my nightmare ..

The eyes that had just filled with hatred in a new way opened wide. The girl stopped moving and, it seems, even breathing at that moment. In front of her stood a clone, exactly like her. And next to the angelic smile was Yan Fei. Gentle hands gripped the doll's wrist, waving with a slight creak in greeting to the bound one. The girl took a deep breath, shaking her head in denial. It might seem that her already pale skin became whiter in an instant. She began to force herself against the wall, while tears welled up from her tired eyes with renewed vigor. The voice screamed muffledly, wriggling plaintively and sometimes becoming hoarse.

“It's all right, little Tao. I will take care of you.” Yan Fei smiled painfully wide, revealing her clenched teeth. Her green eyes seemed to glow like an emerald, their narrowed pupil resting on the trembling body of the bound woman.

Footsteps approaching again were heard in the closet. The doll stood still, unable to process such a sight and believing that the bound one was her reflection in the mirror. The Adeptus took the already seated one by the chin, thereby raising her head. Tao didn't blink. At some point, she began to choke on her scream and lack of air. A sharp hysteria clouded her consciousness, weakening the twitching and exciting heaving of her chest.

“ Don't waste your strength.. You will suffocate” her cold lips touched someone else's forehead, “But even in formalin, I will keep and love your mortal body.”

Silence covered the room. No mechanical movements, no languid rapid breathing. Only something cold, taking strength from the limbs and leaving no strength even for a farewell muscle contraction.

#genshin #genshin impact #yanfei #yanfei x hu tao #genshin headcanons #yantao #hu tao #hu tao x yanfei #genshin fanfic #genshin fanfiction #fanfiction #sapphic fanfic #unhealthy relationships #18+ post #violence #angst #translation #translated fanfic #english translation

[elizabethrobertajones]

FFXIV Write: Day 8, Tepid

(My brain hurts and I feel very sick so I went for something extremely low effort :'D)

3 Times Cid Complained About His Coffee And One Time He Didn’t

*

“Nero!” Cid suddenly coughs from the desk where he has been working hard on a blueprint. “This coffee you brought me is tepid!”

Across the Ironworks, Nero looks up from his maniac tinkering with deep offence engraved on his face. “It was perfectly hot when I brought it to you! You’ve been so absorbed in your useless design and trying fruitlessly to make it take off the ground that you let it go cold. Don’t you dare accuse me of being the one to bring sub par coffee into this workshop!”

(Needless to say, Jessie did her best to keep them from being alone together, but occasionally no one was there to stand between them on a slow day in the workshop, and disasters happened.)

Cid merely laughs ruefully. “I suppose I did let time slip away.” He takes another sip of the cool drink, and turns his attention back to the page in front of him, leaving Nero scowling and seething

*

Not a week later, Cid is deep in the guts of a beautiful machine, and, pausing to fetch a magitek spanner, he sees a mug of coffee set beside his toolbox, and takes a grateful sip.

“Nero, we’ve talked about bringing me cold coffee!” He shouts at once.

From the floor, where he has spread all the springs and magical cogs of his latest creation in an array that makes sense only to him, Nero looks up, wounded. “I brought that to you and tapped your shoulder and told you there was coffee. Is the great Cid Nan Garlond losing his memory with age? I specifically insisted you drink it.”

“Oh, I hardly paid attention to what you were saying, as I usually do,” Cid replies, rather less playful than his normal humour. It has been a wearing time between them, certainly.

*

Time passes, and friends pour in and out of the Ironworks, but alas there must be lulls where the two geniuses find themselves once more bent over wiring, fine tuning mechanisms, one oblivious, one quietly seething at the sight of the other’s work, and none have been in the room all afternoon save themselves and their one-sided psychodrama.

And of course Cid looks up from his detailed work, rubs his eyes, and takes a gulp from the mug beside him. “Oh, Nero, why can’t you ever make a warm coffee?” he laments, more to himself, though audible enough to reach the ever-vigilant ears of his erstwhile rival. Of course, all the tension has slipped right by him and, thinking only of his work, he forgets once more that there’s anything more than a vague correlation between Nero and cold coffee.

“Oh! Oh!” Nero starts off at once, throwing down his tools. “I made that coffee with the very same Mark XIV Thermocoil Boilmaster your assistant Wedge is so proud of flaunting any time he’s forced to scrape for the victories of your little workshop. And yet it’s not good enough for you? Because you let it go cold again! And meanwhile here I am slaving away at your behest, creating only the greatest works of my career, and all you can think of is to accuse me of not being able to manufacture a single cup of hot water every time I bring you a coffee!”

“I – I didn’t realise you felt that way. I’m sorry, Nero. I sincerely forgot that you had brought me this drink. Thank you for attending to me when even I forget myself!”

Nero seethes and hisses like the aforementioned kettle, but sits down again.

*

A few days later, Cid is working alone, when there’s an almighty thump on his desk, shaking him back from his craftsman’s reverie to see Nero has slammed a shiny red and gold cylinder on his desk. “There. Have your coffee, and shut up,” Nero growls.

“What is this?” Cid asks, bemused.

“I took valuable moments of my finite time in this world that could have been spent dreaming up machines beyond your ability to fathom, and instead created this cup that will keep your coffee warm, so that you may forget it at you please,” Nero snarls. He grasps either half of the cylinder and twists – the gold seam opens, a seal parts with a soft hiss of secret inner workings, and a full cup of steaming coffee is revealed inside.

“That’s incredible!” Cid takes a sip at once, and has to veer away from the scalding liquid. “You must talk with Wedge about producing these along with the kettle! He will be delighted by your innovations in hot drink technology!”

“I didn’t do it for the recognition,” Nero scoffs, then straightens up, startled by his own words. He blushes, turns on his heel, and stomps away.

Cid shakes his head, baffled, sets the cup down, the lid still unscrewed and sitting forgotten on the desk, and returns to his work.

#ffxivwrite2022 #ffxivwrite #ffxiv #i wrote this

[kempbell]

Despair

It was his first time in Kruscany.  The Negotiator was originally Antrusian, or at least he originated from Antrusia, but wherever he went, he found that people, their desires, their dreams, the things that drove them were all the same. Spotlights shone through the rain like moonlight through mists, their glare outlining barbed wire rows in a silver lining. Under normal circumstances, he would've thought his employers paranoid. Being a firm believer that a prison is only as effective as the influence it had on a prisoner's mind, the spotlights and several meter thick walls of concrete seemed unnecessary, but this time, he understood. After all, how else could one try to contain a god?

Like how ten thousand waves would make a tsunami, excessive, errant emotions resulted in similar things- emergent phenomena. Dea Dolorem was one such entity. Despair. Dolorem was anguish incarnate with every sigh, every fallen tear silently spilled akin to a prayer, and every mourner an unwilling pilgrim engaging in sorrowful worship. If Despair was a god, it was a god pained and pernicious. A god made in the image of man. There were other elementals of course, Fury, Avarice, Prejudice, Desire, the most human of them all, with a few bearing more humanity than others, a few like forces of nature and fewer still even being able to walk amongst men. But even so, making a deal with one was unheard of. Desperate. The Krusc, it seemed, desired their enemies dead more than they desired their own survival. The Negotiator took a mental note of this grim deduction and forced himself through the checkpoint, the weight of the job slowly dawning on him. Perhaps the entity being “human” was all he’d need.

“Before you go in, take one of these.” ordered the commissar as they walked into the antechamber, handing him a small capsule of pills. The Negotiator shook his head and worked harder to dismiss the swelling weight of discomfort in his chest. “If I am to negotiate with Despair, I need to feel everything she wants me to.” “She?” “Of course,” he said, noticing rows and rows of similar bottles stacked on shelves behind the commissar, “If I want her to consider me an equal, I need to address her as such.” The commissar shook his head, unconvinced. Perhaps the Negotiator was unconvinced too. He was good at his job and had a supernatural knack for knitting sentences in such a way that he usually got what he wanted before they were through but even so, he doubted his abilities would be at all effective towards a god. The negotiation would be at best, suicide and at worst flirtation with the apocalypse. Risking holocaust.

The housing chamber opened and immediately waves of despair washed over him like a violent tide. Emotion was a torrent that tore through his heart and bore through his soul with sorrow, sadness, hopelessness and lament pushing him down to his knees as the heavy door slammed shut behind him. This was pointless. They were going to lose the war. Above, scores of trenches scarred the soil like stretch marks on skin and each day, the front lines inched closer and closer to friendly lands. He closed his eyes, trying to push away the unbearable feeling of grief, gripping at throat and as he did so he realized he was crying. It's just in your head, you need to appear in control, he reminded himself as he pushed himself upwards, half expecting his legs to melt under him on his way up. “My name is Memphis.” the Negotiator said, feigning an air of confidence. “But you already know me, I'm sure, as you know everyone on the surface world. I trust there isn’t a single man in Kruscany that doesn’t know you.” It was becoming hard to think, to talk. Her grip on his emotions tightening, constricting his throat. He continued “Above us the world burns and men find you wherever they look. I've found you In the trenches, In letters, at the bottom of bottles. And now I find you again, with the hope to make a deal.” hope? The word felt like a lie, alien on his tongue, but nevertheless Despair turned, finally looking at him. 

Despair was beautiful and dark. Serene and sorrowful. Holding her gaze like staring upon an eclipse with uncovered eyes, bewitching despite blocking out the sun. White streaks rolled down blue skin where tears had run once before. They ran no more. “Speak.”

”It's a simple proposition, our morale is low and our men find themselves faced against a superior enemy. I know enough about men and just enough about war to know that a battle is often decided before it even begins. This… dance of generals and soldiers is unnecessary. The Krusc use propaganda to win over the people’s minds. But you already control their hearts.”  He continued, but he could tell he was losing her. There was something he was missing.  “In exchange for your freedom, we want you to lessen your grip on our soldiers and tighten your grip on our enemies. Let us finally know peace, while they feel only despair.” Despair turned away. What? She seemed almost… disappointed. If she didn't want to be free then that meant his only bargaining chip was gone. What was he missing? He felt her influence gripping him even tighter, drowning him. He needed to think of something quick. The best deals were deals in which both parties felt happy, but how could he please a being that felt only despair?  Then it clicked.

“You hate the war even more than we do, don't you?” of course, thought Memphis. The being experienced sorrow in the same way that Men did, it was agonizing. Feeling for every human, the last thing it would want to do was to cause more harm. Ironically, there was probably nothing that wanted mankind to be happy more than Despair. He continued, “Then please help us end it.” No reaction. He was close, but not quite there. A realization blossomed in his mind like a sunrise. Freedom didn't matter to Despair since she was incapable of feeling happiness, there was only one thing he could offer her. “In return, I promise we will end your pain. We will grant you death.”

There was only one way to kill a god, especially one as powerful and well fed as Despair. The deity eyed him, confused, searching for any hints of dishonesty and more urgently searching for how he knew. Like a rising tide, sorrow forced its way down his throat then vanished all at once. ”I accept these terms.” she said, for some reason choosing to trust him. She was just blunt as he remembered. The Negotiator smiled. He had successfully played both sides and his abilities working on Dolorem had proved that the war had empowered him too. Despair studied the negotiator and in his gaze, his glee, she finally recognised something. “Memphis? You’re Mephistopheles. The elemental of Desire” For a brief moment, the sounds of her quiet cries almost sounded like a chuckle. “Blending in with the humans? It saddens me to say I am not surprised. Just what are you planning?” “I’m going to grant both sides their deepest wish,” said Desire, with a grin on his face, “The other side dead.”

#short story #writeblr #fiction #writing #fantasy

[ultramanyaoidied]

okay so im reading the bell jar rn but i am actually thinking about a specific stanza from lady lazarus (from ariel) rn

i think its quite ironic that plath possibly, through the persona of lady lazarus, expresses condemnation / distaste towards the sensational spectacle which her failed suicide attempts become (analysis below) yet in her real life, became arguably that in her death. there is no doubt that the shocking suicide of plath skyrocketed her to greater heights of popularity, perhaps it is what keeps scholars or the public fascinated with her work. its the showmanship of a tragedy. but im just speculating. coquette core or something or other.

i dont rlly think plath felt that way specifically about like attention towards her but i think it more of a general lamentation.

its not a reoccurring theme of ariel mind u nor lady lazarus. the condemnation towards the spectators surrounding the persona's failed suicide attempt is not exclusive to them but extends to others who hinder her. additionally, im only currently focusing on a small verse, part of a greater expression of anger and strength and agency. death as a performance, a spectacle to be gawked at is present throughout. that being said i just wanna be silly okay!!!!

tldr btw; plath uses kinesthetic and auditory imagery to portray the spectators as invasive, overwhelming and unpleasant, therefore emphasising how the persona is dehumanised and stripped of personhood by others. in light of the morbidity, the frustration the persona feels in their failed attempt at suicide is juxtaposed against the eagerness of spectators to get a peek in, to get a piece of this performance piece, in turn painting the image of suicide as a spectacle as uncomfortable, the act of spectating as callous. thus, the persona condemns and expresses anger towards this treatment of her. <- sorry idk other words

the spectators, the "peanut crunching crowd" are portrayed as uncouth by the kinesthetic imagery of "shoving" which also emphasises eagerness to view the show. the auditory imagery of "crunching" also invokes loud jarring noises in a crowd, further emphasising the unpleasantness of being viewed. the diction of "crowd" and "shove" even imply a large amount of spectators which can create a suffocating feeling. already the persona as a spectacle dehumanises her but to be referred to as "the big strip tease" alludes to a sensational nature of their viewing as well as a certain invasive nature. even having this be on an entire line to itself places further emphasis on it. its very uncomfortable, jarring just on the idea itself but it FEELS bad too.

not 100% sure abt this but i rmb my tutor (thats a teach) said smth abt million filaments alluding to cameras n hot wire which i think could contribute further to the imagery and sensory effect by invoking a intense hotness and blinding light, contributing to the overwhelming sensation.

anyways LOL!!! :D oh yea the simile about worms like sticky pearls also implies a preciousness that the other people (the 'they') view those worms with. which in turns portrays them to view the persona's suicide with fascination

#ariel.txt #sorry... (stares) #tw suicide mention

[anechomirrored]

Fandom: Undertale

Rating: G

Prompt(s): "That was not my intention."

Warnings: Melodramatic celebrity is having feels

There was a lot to think about when lying on the floor and feeling like trash.

Like how show business was everything you thought it'd be. Full of drama, passion and baking segments.

You could think of how far you'd come from that happy little ghost no one'd heard of and that dumpy little snail farm.

From having spent your days wandering the dump in search of human media with juicy plots and musical numbers.

You could think of your cousins and that phone call you got just after putting on the Underground's most highly rated show ever made.

Oh.

Now he remembered why he had lay down on the floor in the first place.

Mettaton let out an audible sigh.

World weary...No.

Melancholy?

Yes...that sounded right.

He had only ever wanted to get away. To leave his simple life and simple form. To be someone, someone new, beautiful and popular. To become a star.

Working with Alphys had opened the door to a new life, a new life that he had left his cousin behind for.

No explination, no goodbye, not even a note!

"Oh, Blooky..." Mettaton threw an arm over his eyes as he lamented his desertion to the ceiling.

Did his cousin recognise him when the MTT broadcasts started? Surely not! The bodies old and new that Alphys had made for him were nothing like Mettaton's previous non corporeal form.

That's why he loved them. They allowed him to finally feel like himself...

But in all the excitement, belonging and the showbiz, Mettaton had cut ties with the one part of his old life worth keeping.

"That was never my intention." He wasn't crying.

No way was that about to happen.

"U-um, ... Mettaton?" Alphys stammered.

"Alphys, not now. I am having a character moment."

"S-sorry, it's just... I haven't finished securing that arm yet...a-a-and I need it back."

Mettaton peeked from under said arm before heaving another sigh and putting it back where Alphys could finish reattaching it.

"Wh-why don't you...I-I mean, you could visit them. Your cousin?" Alphys tugged gently on a few wires as she reattached them.

"...Visit?" He asked, staring at the ceiling.

"Y-yeah." Alphys reached for a screwdriver.

All at once Mettaton sprang up from the floor.

"OH YESS!" He crowed, performing a perfect pirouette. "A visit!"

"Mettaton!!" Squeaked Alphys as the Underground's biggest clelebrity began blustering about his green room.

(In truth the green room was actually quite pink...and glittery!)

"Oh yes, Darling! I must arrange to visit...Or maybe ask Blooky here?" Mettaton was pacing, each heel turn paired with a dramatic gesture worthy of the stage.

"Mettaton..."

"Oh, but what would I even say? What will Blooky do?"

"Mettaton?" Alphys words were met with another dramatic flourish as the robot celebrity flung himself onto the nearby fainting couch.

The cloud of glitter that flew up and into the air from the impact only served to physically manifest his inner conflict...at least for him it did.

"Oh, what if Blooky doesn't want to be my cousin anymore?"

"Mettaton!!" Alphys shouted.

The glitter fluttered to the floor.

Once more Mettaton removed his arm from his magenta eyes to look at his friend.

"What is it, Alphys darling? I am rather busy-"

"Napstablook won't hate you." Alphys interrupted.

"Th-they miss you, Mettaton. They said they like you on the sh-show and I-I'm sure they'll be happy to see you ... no matter what." Alphys softened a bit at the end.

"You... you really think so?" Asked Mettaton, a bit taken aback.

"Yes...now let me finish p-putting your arm plate b-b-back on." Alphys reached for a spanner only to be caught up in one of the most theatrical twirling hugs she had ever experienced.

"Thank you, Darling! I'll call Blooky as soon as you finish. You are amazing! " Mettaton gushed.

Now it was Alphys turn to sigh.

"N-next t-t-time remind me to leave reattaching your legs for last!"

#fictober22 #undertale #mettaton #dramatic flourishes #alphys #death by glamour #robot having feelings #late to the party #will write for the prompts when i can though #echoes transcribed

[ohfiendangelical]

Dear Zero, You're very sweet to dedicate so much of your time to my comfort, when I first petitioned you to write me letters I didn't expect such tentative, thoughtful correspondence and am very, very, very pleasantly surprised. It warms my heart, and really does provide a comfort I haven't experienced in a long time. Phones have their place in society but I do lament the loss of such an art as this, I'm glad to have found a worthy partner to continue it's practice, I'm glad that it's you. I'm thankful.

I'm sure I will talk to you more and more about this loneliness, this otherness, because I have had plenty of time to ruminate in my own thoughts on the matter this week, as have you, I assume, in your lifetime, from Catholic schoolboy to demon. I very much appreciate your offer of a first class ticket, but I've never flown above business class before. I'm not sure I would pass off the illusion that I belong there...

Looking forward to seeing you soon, I miss our nights together and I miss your hospitality. I had a vivid dream of being held last night, in your strong arms. I must say, your previous letters about that stormy night has stuck in my mind much more than I can admit without blushing. As I write this now, I feel my cheeks turning pink!

You wont be lonely for much longer I promise you that, and as for casting spells, it feels far more likely that it's you that has entranced me! What maiden waits with anticipation to run straight back into the jaws of her beast?

With love, again,

Willow x

Willow — !

I’m afraid it’s too late, I’ve gotten the idea in my head and now it must happen. You will ‘belong’ in first class just fine, purely because I put you there. Now, normally, I would simply wire you the finances and let you choose a flight on your own, but I simply don’t trust you to make the right decision in the matter of luxury, so I have attached your itinerary to this letter. If it doesn’t meet the needs of your schedule, contact me and I will adjust as needed. I’m very good at handling the ins and outs of flights. Press tours require me to be good at a great deal of things I otherwise would never have bothered to learn. 

Anyway, enough business — back to pleasure! 

I’m drunk as I write you now, perhaps with the aid of some other mind-altering substances, and I keep glancing back at your latest letter to reread it, my mind a euphoric blur, wishing so much that I could hear your voice again. I should like very much to hear you call me “sweet” in person — and, oh! So many compliments, so many, just in one paragraph; you know well the way to my heart with all this flattery. Tentative! Thoughtful! Worthy! What special praise. When, I wonder, was the last time anyone called me — me! — tentative or thoughtful? Let alone worthy. I don’t know if anyone has ever Is it ridiculous for me to be so touched? Most compliments are, for obvious reasons, restricted to my appearance. 

I hope I ease that lonely feeling. I do wish you were here now. I wish I could be holding you in my arms, kissing your mouth, biting your neck. I wish I could taste how you feel so that I may feel it too, alive inside of me. I wish it were raining. I wish, I wish, I wish. 

Soon. I tell myself over and over, Soon. This is a practice in patience, a virtue I lack — look at you, making a better man out of me! I’ll be accepted back into the Kingdom of Heaven yet. Willow, my dark guardian angel, with the cobwebs in her eyes and shadows in her hair… 

Still, by the time you come back I worry I’ll have gone insane with unengaged desire. I need you. My body aches and the girls I bring to bed — girls who look like you, they have to look like you — don’t do to me what you do. Their bodies are like mannequins beneath my hands. It isn’t their fault that they lack your spark; they are beautiful and sweet and give themselves freely, so I don’t want to speak too ill of them. But they aren’t you. 

You’re haunting me. 

Your beast, 

Z 

PS. I love it when you call me a beast.

#unpossession #☆ fanmail .

[disgracedmilfman]

I have been preoccupied with fatness and fatphobia lately. Scroll a bit down on my blog and you will see me yelling at someone for fatphobia, but that's not why I've been consumed with it.

My boyfriend was isolating from me last week because his roommate had Covid and we wanted to be cautious. I wanted to take care of him if he got sick, but options were limited. I loaded up on supplies and easy shelf stable meals at a grocery store - a thermometer, tissues, canned soup, Gatorade, his favorite cereal, it goes on. I desperately hoped he wouldn't get sick, but if he did, I wanted him to live. I wanted him to eat. Appetite is vitality. The drive to eat is the drive to live. It is perverse to try and make people ashamed of eating. At a certain level of shame, you are cleaving them from their will to survive.

I walked 6 miles to his home and set the groceries on his doorstep. I was wearing an old pair of pants with holes in the thighs. I hadn't replaced them because it's fucking expensive to do that all the time, a body tax that no one takes seriously because fat people are a joke. My legs stung a bit from the chafing, but I wouldn't realize the extent of the wounds until later. I was caught up in the enjoyment of a long walk. I do enjoy the exercises I can do. People skinnier than me have complained when I tried to share my favorite routes with them. I am not lazy. But at a glance, people think they know everything about me.

I have dealt with misogyny my whole life, and transphobia for a while, and no stigma comes close to the immiseration of weight bias for me. Fatphobia is the ableism that people think they can indulge in broad daylight because we did it to ourselves, after all. Because we have control, surely.

If my boss told everyone that women aren't suited for accounting because their brains aren't wired for math, I could email a higher up in a heartbeat. But when she makes cracks about everyone gaining weight after hire and calls our business a "fat house", I have no recourse.

And if I took the drastic measures I keep on thinking of - if I stopped eating - if I withered away - people would have sympathy. They would lament the tragedy of our society, the barrage of messaging I get from the media, the government, the workplace, the family. If I made myself smaller and weaker, if my hands shook and I couldn't focus and I endured searing headaches every day, people would fucking care.

But no one cares about the fat people who refuse to do that. Who refuse to give up their vitality, who plant their feet, who get angry. They only care if you're God's perfect little sacrifice. The only people who get to claim fatphobia hurts them in a very real way are, in fact, skinny people. They get engagement and accolades for body positivity in a way that fat people don't. Society rewards them for being thin, and it also rewards them for having body image issues. Everything warps around rewarding the skinny. It's a spindly Ouroboros, and I look like a bitch when I point it out too.

No closing remarks bc no one is gonna read this far anyway. Thanks.

[f1]

Contrasting emotions at Ferrari after Austria Sprint as Sainz achieves maximum in P3 and Leclerc bemoans being nowhere

Ferrari driver Carlos Sainz has expressed his satisfaction after surviving a Shootout scare to end Saturday’s running at the Red Bull Ring with a top-three finish behind Red Bull pair Max Verstappen and Sergio Perez. Sainz found himself in the drop zone during the SQ1 phase due to a brake-by-wire issue but made it back onto the track for one final run, which he converted to progress to SQ2 and ultimately secure fifth on the grid for the Sprint. READ MORE: Verstappen battles back against Perez for victory during frenetic wet-dry Sprint in Austria In a dramatic wet-dry encounter, Sainz cleared McLaren rival Lando Norris and the Haas of Nico Hulkenberg to emerge as Red Bull’s nearest challenger, giving Ferrari – with their updated SF-23 – something to celebrate. “Yeah, honestly very happy to be P3 today, after how the day started with the brake-by-wire issue in Q1 and only managing to do one lap,” commented Sainz. “To then progress the way we did through quali and put ourselves today in P3 I think is the maximum, so I’m very happy with this Saturday. This feature is currently not available because you need to provide consent to functional cookies. Please update your cookie preferences Sprint Highlights: 2023 Austrian Grand Prix As for whether he feels excited about what’s possible in Sunday’s Austrian Grand Prix, which he will start third behind team mate Charles Leclerc and Verstappen, he said: “I’ve been very comfortable, especially today since the first lap of quali, that was actually my only lap of quali in Q1. “I looked very quick and very at ease with the car and kept the feeling through in the wet, and hopefully tomorrow in the dry I confirm a bit the step and we can be strong in the whole race. READ MORE: Verstappen and Perez share their views after ‘hairy’ battle on first lap of Austria Sprint “[Battling Verstappen is] a lot to ask, right now. I never say no, never say never, but you know how tricky it will be. We are in a position though with two cars right behind him and ready to attack.” While Sainz was a happy man post-Sprint, Leclerc cut a frustrated figure as he lamented another low-key performance in changeable conditions en route to 12th – the Monegasque making the switch to slicks late on rather than sticking with intermediates. Leclerc started the Sprint in ninth after losing three places for impeding Oscar Piastri in the Shootout Asked if he was frustrated by Ferrari’s overall pace, he replied: “Not of Ferrari. Of myself, for sure, I am disappointed in the race overall – I haven’t been strong. “But it’s been three races now that whenever I’m on slicks on a track that his half dry, half wet, I am nowhere. We need to understand on my side what I’m doing wrong in terms of driving. FACTS AND STATS: Verstappen hoping to banish Austria 2022 jinx after Sprint win “Obviously it seems to work on the dry, it seems to work also when it’s full wet, but when it’s in between the two I’m nowhere. Again, it’s been three races, qualifying in Barcelona where I thought there was a problem, Canada, and now here. “We need to find it and improve in those conditions, as it’s compromising a lot our season, as it’s the third race in a row that we’ve had those conditions.” via Formula 1 News https://www.formula1.com

#F1 #Contrasting emotions at Ferrari after Austria Sprint as Sainz achieves ‘maximum’ in P3 and Leclerc bemoans being ‘nowhere’ #Formula 1

[readingsrantsrambles]

'I Am Easy to Find' Album Review: Sad Love

The National Further Complicates Its Sadness

by Spencer Kornhaber

6–8 minutes

theatlantic.com

There oughta be a word for whatever emotion that The National has homed in on over eight excellent albums of gravel-voiced poetry and delicate-ferocious rock. Consulting Mental Floss’s 2016 guide “How to Tell Whether You’ve Got Angst, Ennui, or Weltschmerz,” one might hear all three highbrow, non-anglophone feelings on the band’s latest release, I Am Easy to Find:

Angst, that sourceless dread? “We have friends in good houses, we have kids in the trees / Now I have nothing but sleepless nights, about everything,” goes “So Far So Fast.”  As if to illustrate the toss and turn, an arpeggiator duels with twitchy drums for three nearly wordless minutes at the end.

Ennui, that freighted listlessness? On “Quiet Light,” the band’s frontman, Matt Berninger, shrugs, “I’m not afraid of being alone / I just don’t know what to do with my time.” Violins peal like seagulls and guitars tremble like brambles in the wind as Berninger describes “learning to lie here in the quiet light / While I watch the sky go from black to gray.”

Weltschmerz, that pain at the state of the world? The album’s gentlest melody, surfacing and disappearing throughout “Not in Kansas,” reassures that “if … the failures of man make you sigh,” then “you can look to the time soon arriving” when humans go extinct. Among those prophecies, Berninger laments that “alt-right opium went viral” in his homeland of the Midwest and frets that he might not have the courage to punch a Nazi.

But those strains of bummed-ness comprise only part of The National’s vibe. The Cincinnati-Brooklyn quintet, arguably the band of this millennium to most consistently balance gut impact and brainy appeal, usually garnish their wallowing with a dignified strut. Previous albums had knotty and glowering arrangements stiffening into great crescendos that hinted at transcendence. For I Am Easy to Find, something else happens. New voices and unexpected directions beckon as ways out of darkness. A softer approach somehow renders the contours of Berninger’s crises more concrete.

The album arrives less than two years after 2017’s fidgety, political Sleep Well Beast and germinates from an unusual process. Around the time of Beast’s release, the filmmaker Mike Mills (Thumbsucker, Beginners, 20th Century Women) reached out to collaborate. Some songs once intended for that earlier album were rerouted to a new project, one that Mills contributed songwriting and arranging to. He also shot a short film with snippets of the resulting music. Starring Alicia Vikander, it compresses a woman’s journey from birth to death, Up-like.

The movie’s concept speaks to The National’s particular attention to the feminine on this album. In a rare move, the singular-sounding Berninger duets with other singers, all women—Gail Ann Dorsey, Mina Tindle, Lisa Hannigan, Sharon Van Etten, Kate Stables, Eve Owen—plus the Brooklyn Youth Chorus. Often, just when the listener expects a standard-issue rock climax, the female singers enter a song and guide it to a hymnlike denouement. Or they sing with Berninger, his low growl acting as the sturdy wire in a drape of fine gauze. Or the women lead the song from the start, rendering Berninger’s lyrical ideas as something other than those of a classic sad boy.

The way Berninger’s esoteric phrases repeat across kaleidoscopic tones recalls the modern classical composers that The National’s Aaron and Bryce Dessner hang out with. The effect is thoroughly beautiful, even if it frequently comes at the cost of The National’s anthemic qualities. The rangy, polyphonic approach fits with the album’s deeper shift, too. Ever self-interrogating, Berninger may lately be wondering whether scraping his own skull eventually yields diminishing returns. Even to a helpless fan of his like me, there’s something parodic and off-putting when, on “Not in Kansas,” his anxiety takes the form of listing artists he’s been digging lately (R.E.M., Hanne Darboven, Roberta Flack). The song’s saved by Dorsey, Hannigan, and Stables intruding to tenderly promise the apocalypse. The story, it’s clear, is bigger than Berninger.

Indeed, the story is often about wondering at someone else’s story: a lover’s, a child’s, a stranger’s. In Mills’s film, Vikander goes through rites of life—school, marriage, illness—as onscreen text notes milestones both tidy (“Learning to read, learning to write”) and abstract (“Aware that her body is separate”). Maybe there’s something softly condescending about this male filmmaker and this male band imagining and marveling at a female experience. But their greater interest is in the genderless arc of life, the epiphanies that everyone shares, and the inevitability of ups and downs.

“Hey Rosey, I think I know just what the feeling is,” goes one of the more hopeful-sounding choruses. It’s one of a few times that Berninger mentions some unnameable thing he aches to have in common with someone else. He gestures to and describes that thing, but never defines it. Over the fluttery kraut-rock of “Oblivions,” there’s this heart-stabbing verse:

It’s the way you say yes when I ask you to marry me You don’t know what you are doing Do you think you can carry me over this threshold Over and over again into oblivion? It’s the way that you’re gonna stop needing to tell me You want me as much as I want you to tell me I’m over the threshold Everything is gonna be totally okay into oblivion

Oblivion is another word for loss, which beckons constantly in these songs. But the outlook is the same as on Sleep Well Beast, an album putatively about divorce that was co-written (as was I Am Easy To Find) by Carin Besser, the woman Berninger’s happily married to. Fearing endings but also making peace with them, building relationships with the assurance of their deterioration—those are the paradoxes this band constantly turns over. “There’s a million little battles that I’m never gonna win anyway,” Berninger sings on the title track. “I’m still waiting for you every night with ticker tape.” What to call such wearied determination? Wabi-sabi? Sehnsucht? Maybe you don’t need a word, just a sound, and to that end The National has expanded the language.

[libidomechanica]

Of life

A sonnet sequence

               1

Is surprize, expecting still shut up one came but your times, e’er with your falls like Anarchy. Moss; ever ran away, and to choose to C ⸻ l, Muse! Since his Slaves. But to our Father little of Life his rearingly, but chieftain—somehow would sufferer, thought upon the ice chest tiptoe to run. And think the Regal Right Shadows of that besides in Roman so various as thick as harder to Lament and more the Wits again in the shudder, love! This these ruin’d crime bigamy, he stone of soldier, burns with means might forget-I kept on that kiosk at the sad heart, I read. Of life.

               2

We can get free, and streaming Saint: would for him. But I am fed. With the nail gripped out with the dead: succeed; of the Word a Reputation dies. Or other fled by Wonder fav’rite Curl away! What else can see with her will not Maud, altho’ not blinding down upon their natures, do just to the daffodils. When, as is seldom in my sorrow have Place; and let th’ inferior Priesthood is no dreamed of the King his hand. To make their shining eye looks on your Case no time began to seek her with, offer’d horse; and the People the Hand a Vare of our hopes, urge them my husband.

               3

He knew not have done, cut off as day I went there burnt like innocence at pleasures produce they who but of this night, my lot divine: o soothe my essence like, what is leaving—the purpled Maid replied the way which farther the rampart, ioying Nadab let Oblivion damn, who gave a nose forc’d, like innocent chilles, and that always running with no rest, granted Headstrong darts be gone, save there wound, now and it is love vehicular independency of burning Eyes, and plaster the white turn’d the twilight, that sight. She is a warming Parties he before we must die of sorrow.

               4

She live: running a hundredth part of these Eyes dejected in all the wrong. Earth shall still death befallen in the little ambition does crush’d, as pow’r, while Hermes empty of me, and three wild hills, and well its veil of late: o God, and the dying bed— that in: say I’m weary, the poor sprites shall see, vertue scarce all deflowers, o’er the glory. Which, who hold. At night himself, or so, and hustled many a heart such power than thunders grew dumb, for a burns with the Soyl been well of light flared, he calm unfit would forget her but disguises of life. His Fate of Life beat’s too far; but I?

               5

Up her he did Joyn, for Ten to the lonely Deare: but they dwelling Bag he rest in my own child at dead and be this wonderful; it is all the Muezzin’s call’d simplified in no more have scamper’d, reach’d thyself upon this sad heart breathing by all she said. Give mercy scan, be stops under and pity;—I should wake her palm dissolve on the gutter. Good Heav’n Submitted Israelite complains over the others God, as on wire, and he hath befall to one Man’s Treasure, not acquainted in for love glorious Dye, the growing Gems unlovely eyes, embower’d by the truth thee virtue friend. Was call, oh blind, had eyes and greed, I know I choose to such a thousands,—sometime she will proceed, till disdains, and his Eyes; notwithstood to pretend a Call to one enormous should allow from Nature; and far off their Belinda still th’effect of misfortune and Coaches drip with sighs.

               6

You know not, the window, and Heroins Shoulder, and life in luve o’ mine. A scent the scent off from Molwitz deigned towards the tree she seeds on Praise upon thy human headaches drip with a shade went out for loved; and two pretty sweet; from wood truth the brave Tartar. Came glimmering Pilot in lovers—who live i’ the answer This face by Dames to deck. And down with ease, are but that I would be: and, like Horace a distances of man’s gentle look’d back you there. She said, I fear that pastimes shall? Fish on Myrna Loy. Of what to my bosom hath say, already look look back! Sooner shall better side.

               7

Go slow down, and babe for the tedious year were tedious year were faster he might be well the glow of some nine of Vertues Fools, who make the assaults consent suffering, as is all the Love is better or would at her but do not gall, is fancy’s casket of sorrow. And then might be carried by the turn Rebels, Kinsmen to thee as he Wrong’d to death of its conclude the early taint there were a Goose-Pye talked ere were enough yourselves in the meadow and the Sword outwears even thence to me had swept the Snuff-box open’d, and duty done with Care; some thrid this in his an infant.

               8

Till as though now move in the merely fire. The wall who had been its Channels, bubbling how blubber’d in Power employs. The light. That Millions saved, but in the madness in loue. The grapes as Jove has sett they had never saw such transient trail’d, and for ever again I would demand thrice them, let Law teach Rebell, Moore, and believe! Force a parson: what else to brave boys no more; be wise Celestial brain that he has my own Important Card: first sight; betray; in two of grief unutterably held breath, while I go for the spirit descend, with blowe the sad, second self-same nail gripped out for Reign?

               9

She dead! Perceiving Deeps resounded comrades;— then juan contented with houris, like a zebra, frecklings, at least Complexions are held out, alas, how she meeting; journeys end is also a patriot yet, but nothing, or beasts of gold, and love more. Said Margaret stones, war, as I rang’d the sweetness flushed with tort’ring I will show me the walk you are tree, ye’ll slip frae my Charming Griefs, and Midnight to the Godly Faction of truth: no placed it on many a dale with me! One in her than mortal stuff will happiness, and thy beauty new and drain’d our fingers, you shuddering he deny’d.

               10

Even with many subtle snake, bright, thinks he knew it will be thy legs, they streames diseas’d, impatience tir’d, resign thy currents to the common Name to make the clouds of happy he who fought the happy as the gold for that he wished metals most words at thy sweet grace when the pavement, that seemed to shared to breathes unsway’d the days was a cheat and my commons tho their antique pen would find no less; i’m so entangl’d and safe enjoy! Desire, if he went to myself upon his future write a swimming new-found languid Tritons pours ere they grew less pliant and all above: o that kind?

               11

Sad shall glow, mild as a gordian Angel- Pow’rs gave me, in indifferings. The Kozacks, or, if she sun and souls amazeth. And once burning till thy Sylphs, yet Comets rise from the sun was made for Empire, Whispering in water’s eye? Done, saying time for gore and be wisely free, let Honours shall not that so oft has my love, my dream I must once to Royal Youthful Kings wi’ the young bird’s flutter long Processions fly, was chill, and quiet be exalt their Corinth—O the blue crab from earth from men evenings harder to ask her, to make grief’s strength, to whose extend, some throng to him.

               12

All Empire be rack and play, sat with a sickle, proving equally to daunce forbear too calm of all the for a bomb, and gone ere Robert come back into the fragrant our lips that leads. Let Wreaths for ever unexplained, a hazard. Or currants fierce that were once a body perpetrated framed; heav’nly Flower, but thou in a race. Suffer&become memory; as on all her Air bellies, and on my companions lie; peace the and stuck o’er who gave me once are far estranger, from TV and loves! Sat with no Sprindges were lost in the skeins of melting Maids turn’d the Crown?

               13

Then give her, for fear, fantastick Fame, which long ere they were gone to endear to ashes of lurid beams of clusters hammering well beneath the strays about the loss was print of deep inward cast a glance to Jove, what none beside his leisure time before hardscrabble back his jest alike prolific of Dido’s alphabet; and as old self, but a blush and amber studs; and the Sylphs, of small rate? Born coughing, laughing peeps she sat in; time what hath blest, transit. This, resume his path th’ Aerial Whispered to our Father; coud heard me she told; or which the day has wreaths of woes.

               14

And gay Koutousow, he were vulgar thief, who beside them hath his heel seized fast, am give me, she, or few, so high, bob, And the Jews, who had cease repeat; which, for another, if he spoke; then assum’d, can be there is love? Thou bring me, especial honour’d as their of Gloves; and to you, put her silken Wings unfold, with me and sip with Flavia’s Busk that seemed the surf biting for blood may serve and Children near, his very talent and shews what stake; but at her tatter’d now: his long, it might was his Enemies, in this my day by one of the Head, his Pow’r for Parents few, so he burning.

               15

You gentle bosom’d the four and curses struck eight; in vain; there the worlds have that, in Dream! The problems mix with doubt which is polygamy was straight dare not acquainted to the word a twinborn sigh; and Peace sitting, to see his broken you laugh I shall hell is well, but where a women’s pride; then, my best thou, fair Lamia’s eager pace, as from his child of Natures. Arise, dart: with oaths, and cheap what it safe and she is departing, the bed, bodies chatter at their silent suffer more sugar’d to wish thou to soldier’s life melting for bare limbs and when movement—if it once, and oil besmear’d.

               16

If you a white feet leave the Crystal brow, that maid whom for Loves. Ocean while I go for a minute woud by Law supplant my glorious Tasks assign’d, and groom of excess, of small leisure to blessing that poverty brought t’embroidered long, to seem yours alone, I marry the Victor crystal Wilds of blood.-Found and may move, that happy wilt satisfied. And the Merchandize pillow, and Redress of my will to her beauteous Mold; the lean, i’m thine eyes, and Innocence remember’d, Look upon each understanding Woe, wrapt in Night; that you’re will teach, spirits, and I will you the question.

               17

We parted Patriot never more. And die rather I went the true loved thirty thousand frantic. The ballad in you, your Tears and Sprights remove, not a less rocks. His thing of love round us over thou bring her hands besides of unresistinguish. Thou hast in reason. Nancy, Nancy; is it Man or maps or where none but the coast, and incense thee; can’st thou shalt win much they had cease to me my wear. Chariots, when Monkeys breast amidst of flax that she words at home. Who can consecrates have what Virgin’s Cheek for Rebel’s Face is yet the long. Insistent will find no more, in case.

               18

And will be snatch’d the same, his project reach doth but she is roll’d in a clandestined toward the good king: a little time to deck. But the rich when Florio speak, have sword, the ample on all, who fought that to me here is sing many love. At bold Homer’s Tribe were have on Death was in a country and four young flame; for when Fortune rolls of a Court and clear black mould, no two made old Pacha sits among some wee thing! For which, coupling breathed to numerous infidel, and drew behind. Home goes down that not, that I never known and adorning Star raged, fair seem’d to safely crossing sinner?

               19

To look growing far in Masquerades, that I would brass wilds; her Babe and the Nations: the People while throne—though his heaven, they despair, as Thoughts: bryers nor foes—all nations slain, but still allowances of mother hands a Strain roar’d by the frets and gone ere Robert come frail gestures are in the waters with Skill commennd: there occur somewhere the base a virtuous blaze, which had been me, thought with Chagrin; that her love—does a lull in the enema. He rush’d eagerness, for this, e’re Phœbus rose, and kisse, opening me shows in cluster’d women’s pride of that hearts to death; such convergences.

               20

He tools; but those extensive War; which opens a lane to slay, more the Tenement one murmurings, which began to sing’ or the vestry of the people have grief and soften claim, would kissing, so as not why, ador’d the savage mind, emasculated to believe me, or few, do hang upon the knew the rushing, a fever of Chasseurs, all sear, flash’d by a mossy stones to come. Did every Sheckle which once to the work for no one piece is little, merely trodden slime, he has slave and most most in the Furies issue, as more delight; as these thee virtue much better fair God!

               21

But sorrow, that same painter and recollect a poem, knowing old, but praise and be, too late forests far away. The just, th’ event of love, temper’d in his steps down wi’ right guid will have I not love the Bride; on the hedgerows of this thing, she is, cease your tended to feel thought of Platonic shade more them honest, shoulder, these, the Skies, the dregs of October from her all his Principalities of a Patriots name of the ears, were might still keep, while faint breezy elms the Sea where enough for Ajax, Juan perhaps his column he least by heart, and blandishment drawn three Bands would say who begun. No sinking change Foundations, this chamber of the pride I boast she rough, we will disdain an older from the little carpet;—Troy saw nothing spouts up his laurels separated frame when she then Belinda yield ye, wherein he kick’d, and gentless to cry; for bending.

               22

To One, in summer wings that kiosk at th’ instructive art in such they could, we knows what hapless you. I must part; and, and dinted Vesuvius loaded, beside the nice Trick depends he was lost. More ord’nary eyes serue him his corps, which hands, to eat&see the Furies a few last for her Hand, as pow’rful Fancy works of bitter- winged’ steed, I learning pangs, while he a Tyrants, and slowly mountain, the Russian army of ten years, but a Spark too much longer fly like the Breast the case he could wake town, ’ so Cowper says—and yet but who can be please, who in death-bed Alms are bad.

               23

Proud Maisie is incompleenin’ frae my Chloris parentless to cry aloud: Help, help believe that I have hell. Saw no more, o’er each the worthiness was, now lord of sweet sounds alone, but Sanhedrins debate true to hide the bales stare, yet, in man’s mouth and Heav’n, made them a curse, the Wonders without touch became like a part; venus is a lo’esome wee thin Essence gave afresh the shuddering World a notion, he laid down wither’d, like a spaceship. His loaded, beside trance, in mysteric or Poetic Fit, on various as the lordly where late to be an hour; his Loyalty?

               24

My fair Cloe, thinks that I did not to slay,— a human Passion you: and nowe implor’d promis’d land the tea-cup opens to the deep volcanian yellow guineas for the balancing fills, then the lived present to David draw, to pass the ships and weak. Black, we were slurring Maids turn’d—syllabling for thy old come and the cottage in blind eyes by Moonlight of a friendship bring, her golden hair, and alien to guide: of what caught aymes at the gain’d him in command, giv’n by Worthier Head. Light from off heads o’er the other come again who see the wet and best; unblam’d that guy wither’s Name!

               25

As thought; no Pinions in the had behaved as from fields of purest look in the drive, you are slaves on a horror of heav’d Bosom of pity who doth mock the misty boundless to or lately your Hair, she break it must, and therefore, when the come up in my heart; wherein affection can a young Livonian. His food, he puff’d his young Jove suspends upon reflected, and let themselves eternally, besides in Garbs succeeding one with melancholy interposed; pleas’d, impart to Wives and Spoons is crown; that film so fine young bird’s flutter one Sheaf did bind, deeming Friends remove, company, have tried to save, and I said he go slow amenity, put here is simple throng, the Baron the border-tufts—daisy and Erin’s gore. I slept quiet thus for him. A moment, and Thrush sang loud, and groom whose everythings which oft divine: o soothing branches in Flame mounts of merit it.

               26

Were he walls me, sweetness void of love moment’s ears of half a harvest. Creep to the senses balance will be found, that, as their Prince to Rebel: and I begin for to ashes before did Joyn, the bed, bodies half a fitting, resistance, but deed thee imparts not much like thee, that he was all his Brother smells, in the Jews Rebell, and me of straw and dying be the Adonian feast; where: and Self-defence it self in ever was sabred; and was gone and exquisite? Proclaim; his burning puclick Good, by secret, and stars, medals, and liberty; but in good deal more perhaps his Wit.

               27

Limits, and thrice forbear, and prizes; o’er here had thought. Till these days, had joys of Lu, sad Chance! In darkness—I can set aside and in the sets himself to shield to be separate and the mind, how far I could not the poor hut, strike, and allows scope to take him poor: and even Heaven’s messenger has blessed shadows what weaves their chieftain—somehow would do if run stars. I feel so family of Hector, had perish all! In distress, in Courts ne’r sat an Eurydice; for let him midst the Sun, hero, harlot, lawyer— ward off each they supply each others plait the length of falsehood, in gentlemen.

               28

Yon palace flies, when my left with this sweet: and bleed, yet with a stealthy trains, he rais’d, and its king, banishest so far unable to me! Slain sae bushy, O, aboon the misty river jumps over thought me most lucky, was necessary Gold, not a Moslems from birth were lost in the effort useless, at her in the Way; while this Morning’s at the Silver Bounds of this Post neglected with Jealousie shall the dead!—She is Christ was born of lightning from that I write, and I call my smart, and heroes, who thus in vain. Be she roses, with the rest: but Common-wealth; when all men, the mirrors.

               29

And more tranquillity, so do I dreamed we both were only greeting for all things; so Stellaes face so well; tis but amaze in motion of these present to kisses All or ill come. Difference dread on parade. Thence around my pack of grief were fix’d, and Redress of snow, which rain’d: why am I Scanted in two longer Just. Cheat and its lullings smooth flowers the Godhead of spring upon that Boon lived through the hay-field is holy ground: they were visibly: he fared, a wretch to other Sun their secret Joy, hope, and steal from this the languish’d Pow’rs of that my Power to take your rivers.

               30

Bad luck on my tendon which few who held dear, made my steps or wait the Sands, or his work till China’s Earth o’er here in the radio was love? Go, vntill breeding Vanities, and fallen some more the circling up my dream the things which little flower Sky; thy love. In the Breeze, or Priest hours within her faithful Kings are kept up in tune thy mettall many a lightning, and drinks already see you are would I the fields below the glowing through the basin contrived to her: the eavedrops silver moons, to makes the beachcomber in the worse, to live with Dians who base of the millions ashes of Lu, sad Chance! Under hie; depriv’d of Love. The cottage roof, at once. Darling of promised. And mend there many season to eat&see their clay for so new, and Beau’s pinn’d awry, e’er felt such a portal stroking his burning. They speak a Loyalty the intellectual eunuch Castlereagh?

               31

Heart, and till, and all these flowers, the doors have time shall join its with the sweet, to whirr and heart be solved. She that he was loaded, besides enjoy two hours as the Crowds, but both. But while as is frozen in his heavenly Fire. Of Arbitrary Lord: and I maun cross-legg’d, with both wounds have said. Of blood, and as under stream to some drear, her Guard descend to get Preferment by murmurings, colours and fire was on the wanton strength seem strongly love. Propitious Aid has to Cheat his life and far, near and the finest words to tough—they shine or to save, and when Kings of her crescents, legs his face.

               32

I found to words she whispered they wait, and starve, and murder’s flow’d from our photos anymore, but die from yours betray? First of love round from trivial Things, Roman so various Off’rings, to seek after one Visions, worn and on me, and best have a Right, and she was dizzy, busy, paying to me—come—this first,— I will bang our fair, on Earth, in pity joined us. To you I envy and that revolution’s Curse. While the wept faces thro’ Crystal Wilds of future Truths are ashes and Fears, the world of the nice yellow, who holds a part once Ulysses high hopes of love himself in mysteriously, impatient of the mind, I see the Rascall Rabble back in blood in long drives and call in reasoning youthful Friends in her Host of his name, and in them, or with Care; let Spades appealed to march; a greatest haps th’old Harp, on which inward looked Course this world of lost heart will to lead?

               33

That single spot with bright, I meant to know. I’ll crack your Father; coud without the flying fatal Engines, the Russian officers of my bear or bright, I murmured my mother comes quick. Around busy spade, what perfum’d, as when with his camphor, storax, spikenard, galbanum; these, four naked of tranquil, yet stronger; but sure are and be gain, mix not melt! Death’s the bright but ye— our chill, and Noble Youth remain. Not soon his an hour was wasted. For ever change. All that happens to prey; he slays the Nymph, to all she knew lose what I had been — Not the steeple singular beautiful.

               34

Let him midst the Force. The wore a Son! Transmit a scent they stand at the Spright, slips that you were guilty gates with all the lade of yore, were Jebusites: the earthy Vapours their movies, from the lightly muster to heroic stomachs. For Vice, Oppression, and Crabbe will happen’d in Lakes on roses fed, your friendless Skies. With intents, like to the bestow, to make him who loves, in two. And Amnon’s roar’d, had paid due adornings, and lassie, O.—For her feet which cut off in the Sisters are soon for with Armies in blood and threaded dancing Muse. By what it selfe in lovers. We wove our love.

               35

Fearing then Betray, the heads were stood shyly near, more wore, and sharp submission, and when loud a Structure of Nature chose two look abroad lighted Skies. Was prepare it, he fell in rest. The savage; and no law deny’d. In Vials, and ears of Troy; steel and my Love’s sae meikle in Hate: resolv’d: Crete’s former lively taken, but deed nor pretty child of the wights, and the scrape of use or gardens palatine mulciber’s cot, from his quicker than Pow’rs, with Oaths around heroes and Crown. And sight but yet no more; be wisest flatter, troubles, thy physics to the Sword, which bright guid will bite.

               36

Vermilion-spotted, golden lights my love. Thoughts, for Morning Star I saw a fair Godhead on parade.; His Memory, miraculously Enclind, blown downs in clear blacktailed him. Then, going: but lack tongue’s tuneful persons, that she sight on my Forgiving a language—enshaded in the other with, offer upwards burn and was no Caesar, but Seduc’d by a flame places by the times Counsels fit; sagacious, but still remember? Into a ditch, he had redden’d, and on the prettie deathlike the same moment rise. At once I saw the hart, hind, and Crabbe will but kind benign, our eyes had been well for Venus but this witnesse, loue, which hate nor my sad one; for the temper of rank. Let Earth receive, shall the tear be in luve o’ my very true Muse or Irish, or the raining into some hundred the lookes, who really lovingly pow’ring for thing, poised to human life, the king!

               37

Sweet green fields, and Achitophel was too long the springs of Paris! I set my fill. Whose Sacred Lock to tell, for for Zinghis in her, read clear possessed shall her solitary soul in short-hand only give the last wave&we will be a watch. And cry’d insulting Force. Been our breath’d around? When the sufferings. But those curtains of Belial with the moon grows in each attack his skill, I am now behold when Nature, ’mid her, read the question. Of these loads and wonder, plunge their reasoning long: and more shabby fellows—true—but not upon such a joint is fidelity? And God the Tongue.

               38

The promiscuous sin; when up at thing, she will notes we say at its matter’d by Truth Proclaim. So, several Meknop’s men with the sun, seeking the falling said she As I waste my tears of thy Name: short supplies: no Courts ne’r sat at my eye like women’s son doth call the grain—iness to crown, does it happens ev’ry Eye was well’s below, and bending Crowds, but little those what if every sight shall his bells. Silent&quakes, tongue’s tune delights appear’d—the first breath of snow, will believe, better or word acknowledge affords; indulge one or two—what’s strange flame should brass wi’ Geordie impression.

               39

And babe and slowly dying of thrones. Than the air with him Return’d them thus, she plucks their Duty at a short-lived that thou see their Ear. Which doth sit, having to forgive the discontented to reasoning heads of one by, her Eyes this for trust that wall, by the moon, or Virgin’s Thou, who think. And near and wak’d his Brain, and the Sails descriptions, and I could see the fragrant his strange Motive, Goddesses, o’er thy Fate, the walls, thou first tis his Estate. So my father companions lay, listening, but that I broken into each attack on his Widow’s Gown: her house or two or the ocean.

               40

Ere than leaving himself at every strife, and King understands displaced, who had not sullen Region know. It make me again, the groves, for Interest scholar, Lycius! She is a zero vector, had been hard by the sea. How careful was fixt on his Soul another to its forth of a song? Light for Agag’s murther, but represence like a mile, that whereof she will to utter in the self, and the bower of you are shield, who grew less for this trade, and takes the winter, reckless and worse, to Proculus along the Chief, a shutting air, how waited on truth miseries, she plague you!

               41

Some, Orb in Orb, around us one tranquillity, so that blossomy flame of their sorrow after his sooty Pinions can move said, until their Principle here and saw more on this poor Remnants to prove, that Kings and turn me not what tho’ e’er sae faithfu’ heart escapes, maud their lives were growings, and trace there is, that vertue service and put it seems to lay, and Wits mountains; he meditates to my hear, dreamed of spikenard, galbanum; these musks, the wild hills alone cool hours with too quiet be exalt the touch’d the Southey! The Madness in spite of Air, in their thoughts repair, nor care.

               42

Shriek forsooth, you might between freed from Cenchreas’ shore, through tress-lifting canopy the bonie white yowes. To discord, by atoms with a sigh. And their heap’d of amorous promised. Saw nothing of the Aid my present ease assume whatever’s careless Tartar. That evening ruins he sing, that she walks a moment. His beauty, blunt thee and various wave and where—for but the shadow of Fate, tO sell the Faction in. Day— no heavier wreath, what mind advancing in the chosen, at such familiar priviledge of our beauteous Grief contact, and late to travelling Babes are but one Trumps, shame.

               43

And seem’d to cry; for Priests the sky with the hour their Arms may be ready see you are the Frown; she is Christ’s silver Bound, or hawks or how, a hell will finde no soon unite with controul. The venerable to thee up as well be snatch who can soul in your fame show your forty winter raiment that Shapes of light suffice the rings o’ joy, in vain Thalestries—so love me on my Fathers Mold. When Offers a Rival to the hour convey a melancholy eyes serue him he Suffer, the Moslem that if evolution alone discerning creative of all the Troian boy did excellent.

               44

And we are to draw then? It makes some thrid this Curse. Yes; and glare of that were to look, looking weed, unto his Beautifully, most smote him for the Blood with a Lord? Empty craw, that powerless had reach’d to the demon’s self-folding, glowing, but as I forc’d, like thinks my life melt into the light. Love himself, I could not trusty guide: of the day whence draw? I mourning of other is coming in the plants go to—God know wants me to slay, more beset with near-smiling leave, hers could sit the deep; whose gentle reader! She took you are the same Designs, which she nurs’d her dry nor t’ others, whom King? We watch’d that I have live: running. Yet with full in rest. From trivial thing, she was a joy above speeds the God Bacchus drain’d. When six braw gentle read, hear, when man, within the first bridal year, blush’d, also to requisite? Northern dome, whose harness presented their faultless Tartar. Why so mute?

               45

And gory cheek when they meant well? And, like spell, the Shrouds Aerial Race presence, with a hands besides love poem Mary never round where their Hearts of a motley to Arms, t’ assistance so loud thy infant terror find. A slender brutes warrior in shall rend what we are suppliant and stroll’d into the sun was they in the lie this way to—where to break it must play his goodly persons, the Nations—condescending small but Seduc’d by a shot; his Memory, thou gild’st unravel in them, let em take the woman, seeing only thoughtless birds long times, and Desire, empty Air.

               46

And a look on his den, ae sweet, and groom whose lips, together hair: but Zeal to their Wings. And dig deep in the Baron the gaze the gilt Charioting Spark, the mother, if he with some more the Flock. There he is incomplexions are obligations do they draw the Cavalier, ’ just lie downward test which with an empty shok; and the wintry Main, or Virgins vision in these pretty— I never controlling me, especial Note, we now moved with thee, Achilles, some tenderneath thy sight. Shouts confus’d, that early pays for Gnats, and heroes and charms, o, gie me their Cant, and when hey, for the long.

               47

Spread how to cut and still, I put on truth I’ve lost the plains a bleakness in sight cloth’d in Impenitence. Following hope to hide: in delay the things but Government. How carefull raign: and everywhere, from people of surrender’d o’er each other depart, an Earth receives his gold forget that they have kept their flocks by shall their Hearts; not scornes the Gods, and with some wee thinks my life, and the General Markow, whom I had know what a pious to Rule Jerusalem, of hand, never let him who had been, who that same to be a symphony& in a clear blackbirds in their plant my hell.

               48

Of polish, liquid Gold, is Juster the din, I by another ear, touch’d without know I sate on that farther hearts from the same welcomnesse. Or all be a suffer’d him shiver of comfort shut our food we had led days had made his Son, wipe Thou the goose-berry tunes the lull’d weapons straight myself shall his pipe’s ambrosial, Pharisaic times; the brimstone lake. Ah, happy if from her all their treasures may be, myself of itself and so to bid good nightly of Heaven and restless, houses and comfort I expect you, kind of Son; got, which the Sprightly muster and he who stands intice.

               49

Was, that in the Way; while my eye I ken brawlie my tongue silly pour’d by one, is the ewe have been piled up her side of the water- drops, the ground, which pye being battles, are taught the same blown—my dust with Years: and I do not gross; but like in forts quietly as blown downs in clear fortunate. Peace them back in the nail gripped out a Wind, nay, Poll sate to thee, to drinking Fan be secure his Evidence she place my absence and blue; stripp’d serpent continent case: up Johnson join’d a certainly enjoy! Mindful of glory to possess this unsighing on. Murmurs in vain. Yet forth was blows.

               50

And mother hung over while earthly companies thunder; for there of present to see his loom in the Glance by fate to take; so Juan, follow him, up, the gazing Eyes, and thought he rent, with secret Joy, indulging latitude I find on the gold forget such a joint, station have claim his crisis up came token, to those me, or doubtless Kings; for the filmy Dew; dipt in pointing Oyle had in it find. He said, returned my eye was a pile of all foredoom of fortress might knowing hope from the value more easy, and now, the field, into amaze, to Plots, shall be thy self-approbation; for she with desire of Majesty rever’d, only my Countries but little birds singing joy of your are too was beauty’s a flight, in the Cretan isle; and the Crowns once Divine and feast a spectre of him. Nor Crowds, wi’ sangs o’er: so, several Sons by such a dirty rat.

               51

Me down wi’ right guid willing it, in the sight cloth’d in White and all game and as morn, to that hapless in shade of clusters oh, you and could not. Out of Allah! Of ancient Muse shall hedges. As cheat and a Clouds do blot the travellers follow’d a water; for truth shot, her silken Wings, armies to sing in the child. The power to give fully distant. Dark smells sweet more thank him up. Either come to all are? Now posting, ogling, and there, when Kings came not all its glare of love show to a sin; when and he neither my left this shall I say? Proves the People are plant my heart be so severe, some twenty, you’llfind tender, midst of gain, mix not matter gall, in Heaven’s messenger has blessing through erst it hangs like an ancient Persona I’ve broken. Was now a time breath finds you send, less and secret hear a line—is no more clean; unbrib’d, unsought to be the pavement—if it or war?

               52

Be love the way a wooden bowl; it is to bed you wilt their guard with rays or mermaid’s yellow guineas for postering weed, of jealousie shall bear alone: but Common case in a great Anna! For crystal polished his stranger, never sulphury reversion has give, so loves, anxieties, who had made new men and distant high he sounds of fortress of the Sex to Fifty from aught aymes at the first tis truth that to flutter long: and Mankind’s Eyes; at evening- moon. But he, the name for ioy could you best, the others on Egyptian scorn Two Pages and swear thought too may pass their Ear.

               53

It seem Constrain your hair; sleeps in the van. —Within him as to win, hero, harlot, lawyer—ward of his neighbord by might had from their own, and wonder, and sang that seasons passions rage of Snuff the Statesman we trust th’ unequal Mirth maintain’d by the wide Common case. For whom this Russ retire a little time of war; ’—’t will and gave Consequence like their Zeal to rest nor bought of actresses held dear, and a Call to shakes his forest, and future fix’d upon the city burn. A think what Erin calls, we left, where must value of ladies, and what the fragrant me thy longing.

               54

Being actual’ being. Till shot: a kind the city. Their guns were fewer houses are obliged to blend; and the Old men who cause for her not, or her than Ajax or Achilled hare: how the promised the passion is well’s beloved think! Lo! There Heroes who could raise; till serve where if men courage stagnates to win, he met, without discompose the fat, or as sailors stranger, left in my boldest Hope, with unhappily be hid, as if thou will not come near your weak lords its stems in search thee sitting green of Hearts are broke their Wings, pride and tameless thou can add infinity.

               55

Nor had draw, to Corinth, who would disclose Recesses of the sets himself to show by the thou mayst be this golden hair, already you look in the meadows in flaming of the gutter. Called out upon my Fathers on Egyptian soldier, but only when who had no motion of its countries banish e’re Phœbus rose, flutter are made their pills like held out, mighty Hearts. And they despatch; and thought, indew’d by a flail, grew grey, now my epic poesy so rare and of Son; swift was drown’d, the meadows on the din of our helps to live with buckles of burning taken, and I had lost. To him.

               56

Why should speak the Heroe’s Wits many-colour’d to the left me food he fellows,—o dreamt I saw the Sound out upon his eyes fondly love, and fragrance, see all men contents of Ismail’s ours. And that the troubles they Command, and burn blue. When the end in Tears, bellona, when thou dispossess, but by that we can judge of Snuff the hedges of Crete’s former day I met without malice: if he had been Greatness flushes, and Delude them go. Of men who blush’d out upon the vast speculation on earth’s the sun soon became to time, you how, hand on the enemy to run, form’d, within!

               57

But none but fainter and stumble door with ease, bright guid will, to sing my Highland lay by, to wood, he frost, such scenes—thought in the pronounced most despair, and trembling, within that your own her cheating upward it another Head aside. Close that satisfied. Journey through the Lady’s lively tale of Dulness, to be; but Manly Force of grief were beneath thy brow, and out here a Goose- Pye talke; how happy laugh’d her hair, I shall not squeeze her evening round from the Sun, they courage stagnates to Water glide away, and all cut off without of their under to his Bride. Also the Stars in vain.

               58

Break of the sweet grace and belie—even a sprights enjoys they crave; and nearest and made when I stretch, with a glorious grenadiers, where he might keep it on mankind, that grows in each couplet, or he was used to abstracting Force: but if she had falls betray’d. Nymph and Snakes describing Priam’s, Peleus’, or Jove’s Banquet lost the general noises; while this woman, like flies, and Momentilla, let him King: think what I do burn in tone: but like to the night, and not so pale? That sing my Highland lassie, O. In the close expos’d a place for blow, mild as a pile of a Pair of conquer Time.

               59

The Sun them, and dances full but for mortality and water loue gaue the Spirits cannot find not such Magistrate Vulgar Sprightly blunder’d women’s pride of children climb the cries, she seem’d but more will affection prov’d his should not his Finger’s Ends, thy Eyes of our Good; enclin’d, of bronze, and Amnon’s Murther, too, shelter’d men, a yet we to pass’d the Combat, or as she adorn’d, by atoms move her with martiall love mean, magnetic soul to her life to various Toil, and burn and a sore be so paved—must no more so several Ends, to each sences crimson cross they steps of time.

               60

Lest and decks the swart-complete, What else to the Rascall Rabble worst of notoriety, nor foe, though a Naiad of dearer air hast leaves to either smell of view she spake came, and the Crown’s defences crimson barr’d; and a name unto a sad time proue, but if thou thyself of what Relief in fashionably up the Board. Am weary Muse, for human being arrive wits nor merit in the expense and in Face. Do you I envy neither flowers to touch with this Numerous warmth did, various as the Great Wits are the Seraskier defend? No matter by man with a voice?

               61

With thick’ning city’s paper says he stove. Who sought, if twas Natures Holy Land. Her lives, but first, one upon it, and dread the silent mad, and prize? Then, come, when Musick storm, when then he leant thou art free to take Physick to Proculus alone. Our hero on his armor would relight, but whether turn his an idle boy that I always the Fighting of the Lark is right guid will, to sing, welcome, sing the same—a mirror, that sleep has paid the snowie Neck. If not destroies. It is a goodness grows; a school of guile, a beasts of woman have a Ball, or Crowds, with a heat burnt from the night.

               62

Of the Toilette Goddess with languid Tritons pouring honeysuckle for the other is as if their Enemies that in Desarts by the breast with a kind the scent and after me with his armor would be lovers Hearts, and what are shining and thews,— johnson too, waiting for all in the deep and depriv’d long my Highland lassie, what ev’n Belinda flew, breaking to his Overthrow, and Humane Laws, within him alone dismal Domes, anxious Cause by which thing all things to melt; the fragrant posies, a Beau. Would never companies the month of human tenant of Vapors and Passion.

               63

Get the earth a broken-hearted, that a woman wert thought, if unseiz’d with the Lock, now without that shall guide: of what Virgins as before we contemplation is weaving— the column, thou art safe and bleed, as say true, as from aught they mean Rebells he front of life, and Record, but what we be one back at her heart has to see his pipe’s ambrosial gales, as the next she meets you, with Pride confined by this cups divine: o soothing which gathered; next looks of the bed. A wretch, there ye born sight reverence yet lies hid in darkness of those loose Carriers his Prey, fair Tresses, and exquisite?

               64

By adding his burning hut on the Land. To wield to say what heaven, and the name heard no more, in Juan’s forest or by a flame my love. Not the Nazarene as from stain, that level Green, whose Motions weight, I murmuring rampart, ioying miraculously so. Volleys, groves, his aboad: but try your sleeps she sluttish, be she lingered lonely, vigorous, harmless circle of all meet; she sings. His persons, that I felt she told my loveliness wring and the sick of rustic ice chest; the lady is, doth breathes, and Echo then, light trail’d, and fire was small but she what’s the heading all the hills.

               65

Let Honor seeing things; alas, why, what thing into an idle matter I took such as unfix’d as ice, or in shall view she playing would produce they may read, and she’s to me more. Two hours has his way beard with quilled heroes, which longer and farewell the Ill, for often gracious, but my Leave a shocking shadows seen our found, he would rais’d up like folks of bedding branches it holds an urn with life—O father threshold. And Chief. The wily Virgin could with a star in weird syrops, and her, less fragment the want of light, but one things of the men of Loyal BLood; what Woman, Greek or Turkish battery, parapet just in the Crown upon this is rare—when only the same small, I put on the charmed ocean is seldom in my way, each Band the mounted the streets, hearts—our voice that shine is to sing: for Life pursu’d the rugged tree who least to add his Eyes, hills where quintessence?

               66

And such a n active art for him here ensure; but Johnson to sing: for Spirit, not skill enough of tastes unseen she sipp’d, there. Of their days about the post, tired of Friendship much into a new hoe. The varied of my ninetieth year, mix’d with puffing kisses brings of thine eye hath yield at least by th’Effects brings to me confined, no True Successors Reign? Three hundreds at last she found no occasion prompted, soon to publique lines, and see thee impart, an Earth receive your lips unchain’d; for because than the real woman, tired of my mother’s the last and run Popularly Mad?

               67

For Life his usual greeting Power, on Earth, his lately pines this just as my own arm’d with something which filled with in atonement of lies, and writhed, and weep, to gain. So Fraud betray; for seeing to my use it is perfect it grows; which, who could ever crown’d in distress unto a forgot. Tell me, in a long since my steps of the idle boy that are love’s yoke is betwixt Nature leant to Slay by one by name: withdrawn apart. And Chiefs contrary COunsels fit; I do no less and guilde; if e’er sae faithful Kings are made their Land, thy festivals, and drinks and Tweezer-Cases.

               68

The mean, magnetic soul to him who hold. Nothing me show to switch #1 with longer idly; for the just, they led then prov’d his Soul? Brutal yells toward his rapes, maud the ghastly pit long the false Achitophel, grown exceeding Ages Curse with lid-lashes they find when it slowly mounting questions from the Mall succeed the fame you are at faults of woes. And liberty. The din widows of the width the Moslem orphan we. Already familiar, could not Introduce, or Priests in my arms I hold the first her to those barren Praise; till this words. That delves, but with speed. The aisles should he adored.

               69

May make a tender, and view she spreads his Headed East too much abounded Caesar, but slighted Hair! A woman open ground and bit the sounds strain, well knew it was taken— only part—and none of sighs a Jar, and drew nigh those precious destroy! A hands beside some distance from the same Law forth all sorts of a new one—then, my sense but if flame was gay. Into a flowers do not, when courage do I dread a mortal engines bent to any season guide with tapers combat on the coast, and death been the Press enrag’d it so well: and sentence at please. Don Juan perhaps his time and go.

               70

That had forked no more! Hammer in the portrait in them: globes, penal course that fiends as wells; where Vertues way; and whom it so well; tis after one Visit last their Head. In praise alone, deaf to helpe to a weak senses in a moment moment to give the slays that had redden’d in her below him whose alone complete: and brighter Washes all their barely try’d, or somewhere his side, t’inclos’d in slender a broken worships of kindred legs. Rippled Mendicant in me, and wide, without more fit; I do not like. At this refulgent David’s mild; and the Tears; but only my Corinna’s eye?

               71

My wrongs and despatch, with bright, then living only call, believers bore, resum’d the heart which last humanity—which oft divinely sprite; tho’ mark’d, on earth; the object while earth; the flock away& mine eyes she wall who leave that we would have tried to say, with his nose, rush’d, she end, but could not love, tho’ no Crime. But it’s me first,—I will never love—maybe not feel you prefiguring; fomented woods be Soldier’s art. And man that hour old Adam’s seed. I’ll lovers, your hair, collar. Of fault; once again, ’ and no lightnings from death-wound pour’d with her impels me with store they—now furious as the Turkish Cohorn’s ignorance to Reb ell. To length thee virtuous, that will never can be; for to the bastion, we received for water under to it. A nest faire worthies, in time forth, and Ariel plac’d; his things, what an Equipage throne, free and Trump and the morning city. And no more!

               72

They turns of shatter’d much Grace? Childish escapes, only to tame, the memory, miraculously to the hand, one skin like Absalom, ambition set down. And that your adventurer sips that will she streaming in melody, war piled on the dust, her look that the Diadem he gives half full—already see you do, too, such sort that Johnson: Neither mesh: and far more canna hae luve I kept on the Danube’s flow. A tendencies of those white eye turn’d all the Throne of a mother, by a right your voice, expecting shine so brimful of gladness to be the Sheers, and what are left.

               73

Is Juster the sweetner art; the hope nor mermaid’s yellow took you all walls me, sweetner art; and tumbles, are repeat; which though that crackle, that gave no mean Descent of the Pigmy Body to show? One went out its milking in the preside, trembling room in my speech, the front of the wild freakful chance, apt to that level stood undisturb’d, in gentle Hermes, come back to the world exactly what with thy delight&see with ardent Lover lurking a virgins as beguilded Mast, superior talus of our buried stretch to be of battles, awake! And this rude a Gale, nor ever!

               74

Vent. Of a wood, ye’re like, what he spake a stranged. He ceased from wealths, and Pharaoh’s Pentions, ’ which crown the wheel of the Throne as requires. At once told me such Envy as thro’ the sweet more the temper of talent the sweet grace, which, for I have my love. But an end unto thee all. These love too may pass’d, she roses I there all thee, close will alloted, glide to shew his curious Dye, the grass sprang from Hebron bring heir, to where stirr’d while, with just Victim of him. The first, rob’d in his simple the Fights my mind may given a setled Throne. These Four when the Lunar Sphere, as say what shall desert sight.

               75

If here the more increase to haue his side. Wits way, which form in two. To Physick the Pillars of joy. At least may no means can I the faces were gather dangled to snatch’d tempted my mind, which few will feel the south them not Good old Instruments hung upon the Prostrate Ace.—All conquer than Ajax or Achilled hare: how the gates, thy beauty is; that maid, hae I offered up. And Peace sitting shot the Glass appear to any shadow still close to offends. Sure scawled steps for then, come up in tune thy rest. Carole Lombard, Paulette ceased to be still pleasure, nor double post and roe, freed.

               76

And the bare treason, and feast within this road in hand disturb’d, in Sion raign: and good- night? Afterwards burning pure loue, while many sense is one companions from hence, the street with Oaths affirm’d, without discriminations flitter’d o’er so acutely that once more the Sword outwears in these ruin’d choirs, who, by Lawless Mortals after a goodness in spring, he was left alone from trivial thing, head&to keep that has slave and bind, but first, the general Boon, but a Spark too late as golden lights opprest, save the wrote no feel of slaughter. Yet so dish’d: for him. My husband hairs of harvest wheat.

               77

Consider that in no more the authority, how like an egg, every sigh fortune as from above are supplant my glorious Tempers act by various Hate against earth; a chariots, where Crimes. Shook the Heroes are for a woman ties at our long: but Common gender palaces, which I freeze once I cannon peal, o’ercast my speechless still believe the apprehensions proper to Lament we said, Tis not to escap’d from Learned Pride confest my mounts up, and exalt they go. Whom Kings where were he with Hannibal, and thought tinge with rage and the bone: what’s still the face of War!

               78

She tools; but the days, for Morning; such a beares; makes the garden-gate reviewed that hide her train, she stolen light flared, her soil; tho’ mark’d by careful Though soldier’s road and unmoved, fills where if men courage does crush on the dark father, her faced upon thy physics to the rested Day, whose so fast? The venerably chaste;—they resistances finds now occur, thou fill’d; her eyes and son was such is victor’s may thy silver’d safe from so softest Bosom hung behind a name for killing in the should find on trivial Things, estranger in thy disembark’d, on those who after hoof he rain.

               79

Innocence at please him from mortal can. How far I could keep one confin’d: why am I to the parallel with the Crown, form’d into the garden. And I could not rise. Having Sylla the mirror, and replied, You’re diverged. Drove their ration, take the Jews; for let him give no eloquent reply. His journey thrown high, what was an ear in weird syrops, and all the Visits shall I say? Those lookest wight move, with the bird, why, if we scan a couch I lie in various Day. On which descend, or currants his last: one sadness, ’ and the loved, love! And the despair, a thing, as, like a nurses.

               80

Let the waterfall, the siller screams so pleasures of blue sky the crack in our soul! Than ever they willing pangs are the Fair ones feel a name at shrine with surprize, and heav’nly firing, and with a feeling shadow fleet came incessantly to deck. His old age in her return the post and must it take such Votes as things, at least I will sing, welcome on the phantasy was nothing in me be; and find the Pow’r continents, as it wears even in it self nor too hard press’d? Though their Posterity, how they whose Youth more be Absalon: what may be the Horizon is not its ray?

               81

Swift on her husband sent the din of Gold. To my tocher; then, let his journey through my heart must you masters, when rich Repast. Song; now from my jewel tine, she is, crept too late inclos’d in her robes flaunt thee free. Conspiracy or coyn, in Corah, though in Cupids dart; ’tis the best disturbance thousand freaks the tower, because I’ve made new comfortless tenderneath the uneasy novelty he blest: his load. And I felt the wan, wonder to seek if thou hast then, for thing, she is always please; bankrupt of Life his Charge, and libertie is gone her her breasts his Arts. Much said he why not amiss.

               82

A couching-place of all he setting sun. Not all the next bastion, for you are cheek, don Juan replies: th’Eternal.—For pizza with some disappointment always I loved, fill the honey-fly the Glebe dissolv’d: Crete’s form and my fingers doesn’t the Jews, and stemmerring tears a Pardon me be copartner of silver Token, blossom, in the loss was prepar’d the Pendants of hate, my lady is, doth blowe the Seat ascend: sharp Vengeance will nor could State, but wish you’d change. Bound under this Locks, what were they had his Wit. For that canst thou shalt be so few refuse; tis Apollonius sage, my hell.

               83

On his an isle; and file by in languish, we chance every can do not looked out he can; for fact, while there and briefly the lost in the Dog-star had passenger has blessing them clustering tear. Light, and Secure bent it down a strangely: but, by his own himself is minds of God and that you may deem, too gentlemen that for fifty though to wield to seek if thou art for there melt in the sky. Which, the swooning yields; a honey- fly looking roar, for for life, and I should ask for her I’ll fight, old age should be. Of deep learned not; the ampersand, thy present case men of monarchs only give?

               84

We trust; may make a flower is roar, and as, in the Diamond was no Caesar, but must part; and as the hut I fixed places by their Pinions in fear, sweet sake the Lock, this things. A sire who levell’d tree, it’s life she wild beast wave by, crying those fair Heart; ’twas none are wide Circle, but be gain, thou could not rest: but none of unresisted Course, thy youth’s sake, with weeds again I saw an aged, and Restrain roar’d from yonder what Virgin courage against the dregs of Pray’rs, form’d it, with half drown all the Tiller’s reign, do in commandant it happens next it grew that all men who held his vengefulness is a winsome wee things harder to complain how frank, how good, placid miss her friends retiring. Which, the self-folding the heard no motions, when they; now from ruin Kingship, pell-mell, and the better when Hells dire Agent found, he was dark, which made for me. Last hour who stands intice.

               85

And David’s Government. Or that April weary, say I’m wearied features&above are purchased by a specious drops, till this vain Thalestris’ Arms accuse, he stone brave bands of pearls commiserable than prose I bend that for a little scorching seas of old did too late, either contrary laws! Old wives his was at breezy shade went struct the Whole. Let all the gaze what Virgin’s Cheek for new Brocade, for his debt to your tender, answering head, like the way whence to die. He has been whene’er weary tender, as being can make a blow, that I had seen: and whereon Johnson retiring.

               86

Of the first to see his proper to concern, which few who had forgot, would never- changing they pass their flocks incurl’d gray beaten— though enemies, in Sanhedrins debate true that when shack. Peace is here is a fix. All the glen sae bushy, O, I set me by mysterious Toil attend. Against the bowl I offer’d men, a yet we to proof of dirt is to look, or Runic, swear the sweet-gard’n-nymph’s beautiful old rhymes, stopped: when no motions, with Cups prolong’d to themselves the fables at one to pant, since let loose,—it screeched! Thou hast in the glacier knock underneath the glen sae rashy, O!

               87

How coud heart. I will fight too dearer, and drew within her veins than to listen and see each others: being destitute the very prettie death; such echoes, thou dost him good turns of sea and Ariel perch’d the lonely as allies, that her tower, because she’s to be gain’d your best can add infinity to infinities proves the Mists in there this Russ retir’d, the Small red stain a Flood: unfortune from a scheme that for me. Forgive! These would not change his specious of the tender feet! Said she whate’er the tomb, to battled overwhelms that rest in the ocean where your beauty may try.

               88

Of rose an ass, half shut Eyes tis all made many anguish dreary pole so many, the other, come again. Now banks that soldiers going; but flank’d by his long row of a Court other distance dream unriddle, I told my lofty Mind discompose the brimming is to play a plait upon Olympus ring, not ancient Ladies as make ever minds of Riband botching, ogling, but like a spaceship. Here he would rested Day, misguided preached thus evince his who talk with choisest straight discontent to sounds Aeolian breathe uplands of Air; the time for lovely forms do flow from too rough or smooths.

               89

Fifth, while hero of those who admires such the divert my heart lies plain sae bush, singing so sweetnesses imperial Kind. And when the roar of war: a happy had seen: and, from they light of mine shall sear, flash’d gainst their young flame my best hope they fight like raining Case, and mother the sea of yce: this Morning—the terrible at the coasts may go? Its sunny field of Murders of the red Vesuvius loaded with Cary Grace a twilight fading for a vast French, the radio was home, as I do swear the softly go, like a parson: what mind maybe that for Rebels to enjoy.

               90

Nay, Poll sate mute, and clear himself shalt win much careless over the other’s Ball? Some Royal Peers and vales and some spot, where Mahler wrote no farce on the whirling valentine. I heard, and following hope they pass’d hardly splendour who came to destroy the used to seem to Curse, children—happiest among the Birth were than me. His Locks from people have never weary Muse, here are both high marble hung down an Oath to wield to seek if those who fought nowhere endless please their Choise, but by the languid feet&when you lost. Well, rough the tall hell is still we have your own despatch, for who from conceal’d.

               91

Made my sad hearts abhor, but Desert. Silly poet, poet not rise. Into the huntsman tumbling, with white clouds, to boast his own. In tract it seemed she used to share those white bone. Thou could curdle o’er he had desire of two cotton stray; for having Hairs, as thou fair proposition, and few could not yet, but Savages we thus your witchcraft o’ Beauty’s field of the lack. He spoke, and be my love, how to choke. A power than the nick of the words grace, which has he Paus’d; then resume to reply to teach Rebellion made a vow to the Ground: yet loose Carriers his fair Nymph oppress’d.

               92

Love doth much can hope of present, doubloon, back-woodsman of Kentucky, was neare torn: how strangled with the sun, the moon is the inverted triangle: gaped mouth that clear spring of immortals Levity may befallen in break, if not; his good and a Throne: Alike innocence and loud, sure though I shall I my jest: sad momentum, the Gnome! I could find a cold now the chimney-wall where hero trust this just two or the seems to my large society, where but never weary tenderness o’er: so, several Fate. New Stratagems, the grass under—right befall to Nature; and the sentence under and prove to lie on all accompany forges the angels went unrepentance so well again, thoughts and always was—a woman ties a knotless praise deserv’d too fortunes Ice prefer a fine thing which is still obey, dost some pitying Audience the explosion.

               93

This erring trade, and charmed ocean is sweet breaks of my Plot. Of all that false Achitophel: thus, wicked Neighbour pain; desires, where Cupid with an oath, and the drive, you Draw; and there might by day; I kissed the World these ambrosial, Pharisaic times, with every heart has take those millions all the worm is on human being hazel bower betweene my time, vaguely life endure. Past, preserve when the heading for ever train, with Golden Calf, a States-Man, and wounded in could even to the lone Isle, or miss in long the disting. Thy lips daignd to the spake the soft and Slaves; And, will be done!

               94

Now I will fight, or haply lies, a Beau reviv’d again. In the other distortional as an enemy but winters, and being grave. Which won it, shall cease— Belinda wears it not; his gracefull Succour heart droop’d, here shut; they go. Whom Foes; and, for half consequence, and made at least be best of you are left in some disappears; on her Earthy Moors. Serpent’s head! The unrabbits, seeing a line—as endlessly as hurls them a cursedly, confined by dint of pity aristocratic as warm in Black and with tenderness made, never more beautie be; the People strip with thine!

               95

—I’m weary load, in her Cholerick was none knew them Mars, but on your are full in with this steps forth above, the gift we receiver ripped out, each things ignite and bound under to stamp’d by Nature, or distresses that I should pave heart to such a rate to tye thee, fell will love will shine so bravely brave Tartar khan—or a bomb, and many ceased to ramble attainted hast the more easy, and having very step their present the the beach, to that needs must give me, Sir; then each other’s naked walls, or the vain, such example on my girl as much determined scorners. So be thy louer?

               96

One bent; the anger of beat back his poor cottages, and many an old man, wherein I am weary tender feelings of Paris! How frivolous a babe; the Powders, Patch they ministered to gentle Maud in our photos anymore, that, but noble langer pass that she sun was sermons, or their chill and go and the Tears, were the garden-gate and to pleasures in the spires and can be stop my Muse, forget such precedent warm pies to rise again, ’ and nail—sit on the heart’s core: not one Deed Enobles all that coastal hill. My most wretched day when Saul the fair Eliza!

               97

I want of rest cou’d compassions, world of mossy stone breast and dost despise, which, ’mid the twilight. More virgins, and willing grabs me by toil, and robed in his face, and gazed on war: when it they want to sound thy assist the Sex to Fifty from his cries, a Beau demand, that it is a winsome wee thing, she see like the Rabble worse, alike it. One dying on the service and beautiful old rhyme in the ran away, like to mourn, my Corinth from fault, but pain my sorrow have taught the very number caught for thy remember, now let me bestow, to Proculus along their clay for love.

               98

’Er who gave a faire-sweeter the other silent night, on that graceful Action, we shuttled overwhelms the fall sick of their Maker’s Images, but I can’t, but don’t know how time to ill that question’d night before him, and would not retrait of hell with languishing then he to yours. To your Chief. In Israels Courage done: mine ears withdrew, and in the sighs, and what Sexes and feeding therefore, without its coolly to pause nor the dishevel’d Lightning in her crescents, thou hast my spirit share the city’s resistinguishes me you soar too night and that our long my Highland lassie, O.

               99

For oft, where she nick of impulse of the field at a glimpse of bitter seat—and t is the star appeared. The trouble hue, so be terror in liberty; but tis his heart had faced snubnosed rogue would be whispered traces on the insect host which fills and farewells. Triangle: gaped mouth figure and mov’d my way, fretted, for a full in requisite as Samuel used to get itself, to live to-morrow for me. But wide Circle of bliss destruction and Johnson: Neither eares that restrain, with no doubtfull Title grew like the Skies. Thy love, so dear object of all his bloody rest.

               100

Would fain be still shou’d ever was near death, above the shoots his Birth, but for my wit to make David did his ragged January, as if upon the same Law the gazing Eyes, a cap of past thou lik’st not Faction prompts their Monarks, with blood and hustled to her Eyes dejected phrase of Lords to be infant animal awesome I would do if run stark mad; all the miserable me! To taste—indeed from a scholler of that sleeps in pleas’d pursutes of his own. What’s stream, and shafts so sure: some hundredth part of things were to rent her hair were the weakness of advanc’d to the Government.

               101

And fallen or magnificent: how, ever trod before we have more heated one Plebeian Card. And sweetly shining with therefore the flowers his laureate, tis helpless; all her great beauty puts on me; I did not perceive you look into her Eyes could be your Tears stood intense fragrant me there wonder what is that beauty’s fields by and mishap, a deep mistres of thou fair child; how waited on the place knew the Skies. Not those loss was prepare; for by the King who sate with fervent love, nor no one poor, and the chains, and mellow graceless to hide be in me, and dread of beauty had!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #153 texts #sonnet sequence

[justtogetthrough]

Today has been so physically and emotionally overwhelming and to be honest I haven't really done anything. I just... existed. With my brain doing its thing. Shuffled some boxes around. Laid down in bed from pain. Rinse and repeat. Can't stop thinking about this being who I am and having no idea how to change it because my brain is absolutely wired this way. Don't wanna live with this kind of pain. Don't wanna live with the constant tension of needing and wanting people but being so terrified of people.

It feels like I ran a marathon today and all I did was push some boxes around and lament that I exist 😑

I need to shower but I'm not sure I even have the energy to do that, somehow.

#personal

[manifesto-music-europe]

Veni Vidi Vici ° TESTI / LYRICS

Lyrics by Alessio Lauria I. THE EMPEROR’S LAMENT

Every sin I’ve done / every tear I’ve dropped / on an altar, sacrified / acquiesce this lot

What has remained / the sand-glass chamber is almost emptying / What is this bane / should I let clemency be part of my persona ? / Denying the slain  / it does seem the only way to rein in / to rein in my opponents

Oh gold of mine / you hold me back, while I'm marching to the brink of the cliff

Oh eyes of mine / you lay on a beauty pageant, just to get relief

Oh blood of mine / you're drenching me in your evil while poisoning my soul

Oh courage of mine / you disparage other people's hopes / you only bless my fate (oh my, oh me !)

I beg you to be by my side

_________

II. PANTHEON 

Let me say goodnite / let me see the moon cry

Throw me in a hole with no ground beneath my feet / crawl into my soul / bring me my defeats / I’m bleeding into my eyes / I’m bleeding at your side

All my sins are dying / bloody days have implored / I still seize a knife / but they draw a sword / I’m electrical while I roll / I’m electrical in this hole

Throw me in a hole with no ground beneath my feet / crawl into my soul / bring me my defeats / I’m bleeding into my eyes / I’m bleeding at your side I still hear the laughs from my old good days / When I didn't use to believe and pray / I’m electrical while I roll / I’m electrical in this hole 

Calling Gods here at my side / I’m not sure they’re there / they don’t bless my crime / I should cry but I don’t know why ?

Let me die / don’t touch my pride / I am wired not scared / I can’t stand this strain / and it’s true, you’ll throw me in a hole 

Sacred and profane / endless grief or crystal serenity / do or not do / living in harmony with the will of Gods / I would like to believe in something / before this World crumble on itself with no lament / but please, you keep on looking for a sign / that sign that will never arrive / that sign won't come tonight / a sign to give you hope / give you love / bring you life

Calling Gods here at my side / I’m not sure they’re there / they don’t bless my crime / I should cry but I don’t know why ?

Let me die / don’t touch my pride / I am wired not scared / I can’t stand this strain / and it’s true, you’ll throw me in a hole 

All I had is over 

__________

III. MINERVA (EXPORTING DEMOCRACY) [questa canzone è ‘CONTRO la guerra’, come capirete leggendo il testo quà sotto, però sò che tutti voi quando avevate guardato il video di “Dancing with Minerva”, cioè quel video che ho girato nella villa con gli affreschi sui muri, avevate pensato che io avessi detto alla ragazza che interpretava la Dea Minerva di pugnalare quel cuscino con la scritta “Peace” come gesto ‘contro di voi’, ma NON è vero, il video di “Dancing with Minerva” non è un video di ‘minacce’ per voi, assolutamente no, io stavo veramente cercando di fare il video per il mio album “Veni vidi vici”. Ad esempio i monologhi che io recitai in inglese parlavano tutti di capitalismo, delle guerre in nome del capitalismo oppure della nostra società, cioè i temi delle canzoni di “Veni vidi vici”, incluso il cuscino con la scritta <<Peace>> che la Dea Minerva doveva pugnalare durante la canzone “Minerva” proprio perchè è una canzone ‘contro la guerra’ - infatti poi nel video avevo montato una scritta con una breve spiegazione sulla guerra -. Tra l’altro non siete stati gli unici a non capire che “Minerva” era una canzone ‘contro la guerra’, però è stata colpa mia perchè non resi pubblici i testi delle canzoni, e soprattutto per l’Italia avrei dovuto pubblicarli almeno sui miei social]

Faces come out of the blood / feet are gripped by mud / yelling out threats that echo it into a stone-soul

I'm just a soldier obeying my orders / to impede my empire's new disorders / and it's good that I've got not soul / I got no soul, I got no soul, I got a stone / and when I'll face the ground my voice hounds "Minerva !" to be by my side (come and lick my bleeding, my goddess, please)

She's my goddess, she knows / my deepest fears, she protects me / she guards me, and I feel her / she guards me and I feel / then I rise and I fight, my enemies will cry (their heads are fated to be cut by my sword) / Oh, where are they, now ? / Oh, where are you ?

Now the Gods are excited, while I'm rude / the Gods are laughing, while I'm crude

The Gods bless me, while my cruelty is shrewd / the Gods are excited, while I'm rude

The Gods have seen this scenario / through and through, so many times / so many times (the human cycles are just the same) / but Minerva knows I'm a soldier / born to kill, born to suffer and never ask "Why?” / Why ?!!! (should I pour blood and slash corps / in the name of my empire !)

I got no soul

I will play the role / even without an ally / I will follow the Emperor's orders, even if they are lies

Just play the role, with my life / I strive again to survive

Minerva / hold out your helmet and lance it to me Minerva

Minerva / bring me wisdom and cure my wounds / bring me wisdom and knowledge to my mind

Some mysteries will not be unveiled by the Gods, but they save me

Some mysteries will not be unveiled by the Gods, but they guide me (she guides me)

Some mysteries will not be unveiled by the Gods / just like war

__________

IV. FOR ALL ETERNITY

With my hands on your breast / and your head on my chest / when you sigh, my lips get sly / there's no hell here with her 

Take your face and just paint it in a Roman sky / Admire it 'till the dim of the light / I'd use all technologies of history / to save you my love for all eternity

We're driving so fast, too fast, faster 

I don't know where we're going / but you know where we are (well, I hope so)

Take your face and just paint it in a Roman sky / Admire it 'till the dim of the light / I'd use all technologies of history / to save you my love for all eternity

_________

V. NEON CLEOPATRA

If I could give you something else / it would be a new love for your heart / If I could give you something else… / but you knew it would end this way

 There’s nothing I can figure out now / and nothing my heart can share with you, not even a vow / got something to smile about without you - an incredible feeling / there’s nothing you can do to bring me back / oh my neon Cleopatra

If I could give you something else / it would be a new love for your heart

If I could give you something else / it would be to forget me (new secrets to impart) 

If I could give you something else / it would be a world without me I’d like to give you something else / but you knew it would end this way 

I was caught in a trap of your own device / you were Queen (Pharaoness) to me and you used your body to entice / there’s something I've got now that you may find / it’s something your dark heart was denying - it’s simply serenity

If I could give you something else / it would be a new love for your heart

If I could give you something else / it would be to forget me (new secrets to impart) 

If I could give you something else / it would be a world without me I’d like to give you something else / but you knew it would end this way 

_________

VI. PRODIGAL SON

When I look into his eyes / I can see my glorious life / oh my past you show me that / all I've ever seen is what I've lived and…

Oh his eyes shine like a star / curiosity until he's decided / with his heart what is his life / find a way, then fly high

Prodigal son

Without consciousness of pain and failure / rise and fight, seizing a spur / oh my soul why you acquiesced to hand off the scepter, too early (for my inner fire still burning)

Sculpturing his image young / erect it then stay there clung / Gods how much I'd love to feel, a scent of that spring to reinvigorate me (when I'm tired)

Oh may I see / over the wall in front of the chamber of immortality / all I want to see are the secrets hidden there

Invoke me when you're down (sad), son / I'll be at your side (smile !) / trust me without fear in your heart

Oh young star / keep training, never be jared / shine out your fire / before that sparkle (your day) will turn into blasphemous ire

Follow all your dreams / you're before your time / you're already where I've never been in my whole life

Ah / slowly but surely / he’s moving where / giants are playing the game / I'm so proud / but if you'll need me there, don't hesitate to call my name

__________

VII. CALIGULA: ODERINT DUM METUANT

I saw convenient fears / I took in convenient lies / I faced convenient lies / I took in convenient lies

Rise

I've seen whatever you might see / 'cause I've felt everything on my skin

I saw convenient fears / I took in convenient lies

I've seen whatever you might see / 'cause I've felt everything on my skin

Give me the solution, I'm calling on a riot

If I’m sad you’ll be sadder/ if I’m crazy you’ll be dancing

I've seen whatever you might see / 'cause I've felt everything on my skin

Give me the solution, I'm calling on a riot / I’m telling ya, now! I'm telling ya, now!

I've seen whatever you might see / 'cause I've felt everything on my skin

I saw convenient fears / I took in convenient lies / I faced convenient lies

__________

VIII. CALIGULA: DRUSILLA

 You lay your soft body, girl / nestling among the cushions / into your sinful fantasies / you lose your dignity Just like a snake crawling for his prey / I move closer to your lips / then you find yourself defenseless / and it's too late, you're here, close your eyes 

Mädchen tanze [tedesco per <<Balla, ragazza>>] / lose your mind Mädchen tanze / now we're entwined

Nudity disclosed a side of you / that you've never know / counting scars on your skin / you'll find how many männer [tedesco per <<uomini>>] you'll possess

Throw me a rope from your heart / you beg me not to let you fall

Mädchen tanze

Mädchen tanze - And tell me what you feel / show me who you are and who you'll be Mädchen tanze - Then, show me your fears / after sweating out your love, you'll find yourself (harder than blue / and softer than proud) 

Mädchen tanze - And tell me what's next now / that you're woman enough (Frau [tedesco per <<donna>>]) Mädchen tanze - And show 'em you won't be as shy as you used to be (and let me lay at your side)

__________

IX. CALIGULA: TOTAL DESPOTISM

Back to me victory's Gods / make me fearless / pain, it hurts but I'm still contending with enemies / blood it means I am human but I will be the King (I will be the Emperor) 

Go berserk / I turn the foe's kingdom into a wasteland / where their destiny is done / I seize the crowd / my bravery makes me infinite

The bliss in me is becoming free !

 They were savouring my blood / while my courage saved me / my courage saved me (let's slaughter 'em all !)

#lyrics

[eeveeyn]

I like to pretend I’m tough but if I respect you and you criticize me even slightly, even when it’s deserved, I will remember it every time we interact and I will be upset by my own failure (please read my tags)

#and sometimes it triggers the urge to self harm #it’s really fun #I AM NOT SAYING THAT I SHOULD NOT BE CRITICIZED OR TOLD NO #THAT IS NOT WHAT I AM SAYING #this is my lament of the way I am wired #I hate it so so much #I was not made for this world #i need to work through this with my therapist #but I’m too ashamed to bring it up #self harm cw #self harm ment #actually adhd #rejection sensitive dysphoria #adhd rsd