in your ruined shirt, on the last day, while the bruises won't heal, and the stain stays put, the red light streaming in from everywhere at once. your broken ribs, the back of your head, your hand to mouth or hand to now, right now, like you mean it, like it's splitting you in two. now look at the lights, the lights. " indie/selective "
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❝ high warlock of brooklyn, and scrabble champion — ❞
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" so, say. the branch of some kind of petrified tree, isn't -- i mean, it's not out of the question? "

“i was not aware i retained such a. reputation.”
not that it’s much of a. surprise. given the shop he runs, it’s certainly not far fetched.
“perhaps i can. though locating it. is your task.”
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" i'll put in a good word. " shoulders hunched inward against the sharp bite of cold. steeling himself, ian mustered up a sheepish look. " do you do this a lot? "
" help strangers, i mean. "
▓░▌━━ ≼☆≽ ░▓▌

’ yeah, it’s no problem. i mean, i have to get on santa’s nice list somehow… ‘ she only cast a glance toward him every once in a while, as she spoke, to make sure he could read her lips. just in case.
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" uh, i. i'm friends with a ghoul? well, i wouldn't say friends. we've kinda agreed he won't eat me. i live with a vampire too -- " honestly, this is new.

❝ really. tell me more. ❞
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