#and faust is the one to drag him through things not to humiliate him. but to examine him further

[laplacemail]

the all-seeing eye and the all-knowing mind.

by g_djungarian @ skeb

[teriwrites]

the big manuscript search tag

I’m compiling a bunch of different tags from @cecilsstorycorner and @akindofmagictoo so this might be a long one!

My words to find: lonely, cup, drown, routine, deep, feather, rich, contact, kick, sun, pair, whisper, king, chord, chip, prove, mix, spin, water, color, need, fade, everyday

...yeah, that’s really long, so I’m going to throw the results in a read more to spare all your feeds from a wall of text

There’s a few words that don’t appear in one project or another, so I’m going to use both Castle on the Hill and Beneath Alder Creek! Because of that, the order won’t be quite the same

Castle on the Hill:

Lonely:

For the first day of break, Hans spent the entire day lounging around his house. His mother said nothing about it, except to suggest moving to a new spot every few hours so that he wouldn’t cramp up. She was in and out of the house a lot, which Hans took as a good sign. The harder days were those in which his mother spent most of it upstairs, locked away in her room. Hans had been allowed to join her, if he wished, but he’d preferred not to see her in such a state. Still, it had led to many a lonely afternoon.

Cup:

The following morning, Peter made the short trek over to the familiar cafe for his second date with Ursula. Despite having left five minutes early, Peter arrived to find Ursula already waiting at a table, with a cup of coffee in hand. He beelined for the table and tossed his blazer onto the back of the chair across from her. “Sorry to keep you waiting.” “No worries, I enjoyed the walk,” Ursula said brightly.

Drown:

“You seemed pretty smitten with this tutor girl,” Peter mused. The sounds of a dramatic breakup on the television nearly drowned him out. He fished the remote from the coffee table and muted the television. Klaus looked between Peter and Georg, who were both sending him matching smug expressions. Georg dramatically batted his eyes at Klaus, who shoved him in the shoulder and nearly sent him toppling over the side of the couch. “Come off it,” he dismissed with a snort. “I barely know her. She’s a fox, sure, but I’m not going to lose my head over a girl I’ve met once. Klaus Müller is always on the make.” Georg leaned forwards to look at Peter. “He’s speaking in the third person again.”

Routine:

“Alrighty, now that that’s out of the way, who wants to tell me what year the European Economic Community was established?” Prof. Dietrich asked brightly, shifting back into his regular routine of starting a lecture with an oral quiz. Josef avoided the man’s eye contact, choosing instead to pretend to be desperately jotting down notes. “Herr Weber? How about you give it a shot?”

Feather:

The rest of the class shifted their attention back to the lecture, but Josef’s face flushed as he fished out his notebook from his bag. He could practically hear the stories that would be circulating later. Josef Weber, the snobby inheritor to his father’s auto company, got scolded in front of a whole class. Wouldn’t that just put a feather in quite a few caps?

Rich:

“Tell me why I didn’t decide to work as a janitor,” Klaus muttered. “You’d never succeed as a janitor; you never even had to clean your own messes growing up.” One of Klaus’ arms snapped forwards and a smack that was aiming for Georg’s shoulder instead slapped smartly against the wooden back of his chair. With a sharp intake of breath, Klaus straightened in his seat. As he rubbed at his knuckles, Klaus shot back, “That’s rich, coming from a lawyer’s son.”

Chord:

“It’s a little complicated right now,” Hans said calmly. “Look, I’ve talked it all over with my mother, and she agreed that it would be best for me to stay here. It’s not that long, Josef, don’t look at me like that.” The doubt etched into Josef’s features was enough to warrant the comment, and he shook his head to try clearing it. Nothing in Hans’ demeanor pointed towards it being a lie, but something in the idea struck a false chord in him.

Water:

Though he'd managed to subdue most of his panic, Peter felt it all rushing back. A sudden pain at his hand drew him out of his thoughts, and he realized that he'd been aggressively stirring the pasta, and some of the water had splashed out of the pot.

Fade(d):

As Hans spoke, Professor Abend’s face lit up with recognition, which quickly faded into a solemn mourning. The exam lay on the desk between the two, forgotten. “I knew I had a Faust in one of my classes, but I never thought to make a connection,” Professor Abend said in a low voice.

Beneath Alder Creek:

Deep:

A deep breath, and then Winnie followed through, dragging her other foot into the creek. The water rose halfway up her calf, and continued to rise as she made her way forwards. To her thigh, then her hip, and finally up to her waist. It was the second dress she’d soaked that day, Winnie thought with a wry smile, and, in her distraction, she failed to notice a large rock in the creek bed. It could hardly be considered a fall. Winnie pitched forwards, plunging her face into the creek for only a moment before she caught her balance and straightened up. But she’d opened her mouth as she tripped, and her rise was met with a violent coughing fit. Loose strands of hair clung to her face, making it impossible to see, and Winnie pushed forwards carefully by feeling along the bottom with her foot. The progression was slow, but Alder Creek was by no means wide, and it wasn’t long before Winnie found the water beginning to ebb away. As she pulled herself out of the creek, Winnie brushed the hair from her face and finally opened her eyes. Looking to where she’d seen the fairy ring, she froze.

Contact(ing):

Contacting the fae was no easy feat; they only made appearances of their own volition, not subscribing to any convenient timetable. While it was said that certain holidays brought the mortal world closer to their realm, years had passed before any signs revealed their presence. By then, the couple had been so eager that they’d wasted no time in seeking out a deal. They were the fourth and fifth victims within the fifteen years. Nobody had been so hasty since.

Kick(ing):

Back into the bog. Winnie no longer worried herself with her skirts, allowing them to drag through the stagnant water. It was a mistake, she soon discovered, as the drenched fabric weighed her down and made the progress even slower. With an exasperated groan, she stomped at the ground, kicking up a spray and lodging her boot into the mud.

Sun:

Time steadily passed as they traveled, though how quickly or slowly it went by, Winnie couldn’t say. She could feel the blisters beginning to form on her feet, the slight ache in her shoulders where she’d slung her bag, the warmth that spread across her back as the sun’s ceaseless rays washed over them. When she fell slightly behind Taliesin, he was shining so brightly that her eyes began to burn, and she had to quicken her pace to keep in step with him.

Pair:

The first thing Winnie noticed was the boat they were standing in. It was like a skiff, sitting low in the water and directed by a pair of oars. The figure rowing seemed to be wearing some type of headgear, a hazy and elongated shape still a little too far to make out. Taliesin moved back from the shore, forcing Winnie to do the same to provide space for the skiff to breach.

Whisper:

“Don’t stare,” Taliesin reminded her in a whisper. He raised a hand in greeting, and the figure dipped their head slightly, though how they could’ve seen it without eyes, Winnie couldn’t say. “Hail, Ferryman!”

Prove(n): 

Turning away from the Llion, the group soon found themselves returning once more to the thick fog of the wetlands. Winnie took the middle, knowing better than to have Taliesin and Enid side-by-side. In one hand, she took the long sleeve of Enid’s robes, and in the other, Taliesin’s cloak. He dragged his feet the whole time, still sulking, and it took all of Winnie’s self-restraint not to let go and leave him behind as punishment for his pettiness. Being proven wrong did not suit the golden man.

Mix(ed):

It was nearly a week later when Winnie found herself back at Alder Creek. The water level had dipped back to its usual shallows, which lazily drifted by. Winnie could see her face reflected as she stared down, features blurred in its [flowing surface]. The hem of her skirt had dipped into the water, which lapped at Winnie’s bare feet. Her shoes were somewhere behind her, abandoned, a sign of her troubled mind. For the most part, Winnie had abandoned the practice of walking about barefoot - how her mother would’ve shouted if she’d seen her. The thought of her mother brought a fresh wave of mixed humiliation and frustration as the events of the day replayed through her mind.

Spin:

A light flickered in the trees. When Winnie looked up, she stared at the sight. Taliesin was crouching on a branch, catlike, with his hands holding the branch between his feet. Somehow, he did not sway but remained perfectly still, patiently watching Winnie spin in circles to look for him, all with an amused half-smile.

Color(s):

The opening of the cavern shifted through several colors, like an ever-changing kaleidoscope of light through a prism.

Need:

She offered Enid no response, so after a stretch of silence, the statuesque woman continued. “This is out of some attachment to the Dusk fellow, then.” Winnie bristled at her tone. “Of course it’s not. I merely need him to ensure that my brother and I are able to depart the Fae safely.”

Not found:

King (Apparently my writing does not support monarchies lol)

Chip

Everyday

This was excessively long, so I’m going to leave it an open tag. The words for anyone who feels like it are king, chip, and everyday because I’m sure somebody out there has them, even if I don’t. 

[meduelesluegoexisto]

We Came Out Like Tigers LYRICS

An Introduction

“The man who is shut up in prison is so far from being bettered by the change, that he comes out more resolutely the foe of society than he was when he went in. Subjugation, on disgraceful terms, to humiliating work gives him antipathy to all kinds of labour. After suffering every sort of humiliation at the instance of those whose lives are lived in immunity from the peculiar conditions which bring man to crime... he learns to hate the section of society to which his humiliation belongs, and proves his hatred by new offences against it.”

Exerpt from In Russian and French Prisons, by Peter Kropotkin, 1887.

Sous Les Pavés La Plage

All these dreams of survival, of romance and little care, agelessness and lack of worry are slipping through my hands. They are chased and quickly and effortlessly overpowered by the horror of rotting in jails and jobs. These thoughts of friends love and summer have withdrawn that bit too far in your mind, you can't quite see it any more, only worsened by the occasional wisp of smell and sound and warmth, or buoyed along on the back of songs, or just before you awake. You could love her if you could remember who she was. She would be beautiful if you could just recall her face. Yet here you are slumped and sullen, angry and diminished. The abyss is taking you apart. Here you are slumped and sullen, angry and diminished. I don't want you to see me this angry, the abyss has taken me apart. And what am I supposed to do, what is left to feed the soul when you learn how dark men's minds, how consistently cruel his hands?

Remember Why You Are

I see your hands so full of cash, one thing I swear I'll never have, gleeful in all they covert. Yet our hardened hands, so resolute, are filled only with the hands of others. And as you grasp at the grains of youth, all Grey and Faust reminiscent, we have embraced mortality thus, escaping a desperate prison. These things we do aren't working, they feed your cancers. It's the chemicals that wash your thoughts, every time you drink to hurt them. It's the poisons in your chest, it's your lack of time with him. These things you do aren't working. It's hard and we are poor but we are young and we are good, and if you feel you're on your own, it's not because you're wrong, just few have the courage, to see this 'til its done, we are no longer satisfied by fun, we are harder now... We are no longer satisfied by fun, our eyes are keen and stern for all that's good, we are harder now for what's been done. I wish it could be night all the time, it's so romantic when the sun doesn't shine, and I don't feel guilty or lazy for being poor, and I want to pursue meaning more. But they say life is darkest just before the sun, and so thank god the morning comes. Is it right to sell your time 'til it's gone? Is all this more valuable than a song? Play on brothers, play on.

These Terrors Are Dismantled By Friendship's Light

I always fear for you in winter, do you travel? Do the roads treat you kind? Does the darkness play hell with your mind? I know it does mine. So keep up your poems and songs, this is where your madness belongs, out in the open, for how else can we hope to confront it? How will we dismantle these night terrors? Does the darkness play hell with your mind? How will we dismantle these night terrors? See how they are weakened by friendships light. So lets clasp hands and together promise not to be afraid. Truth always was the nemesis of adventure anyway. So lets catch these tears this precious anger, lets rail at governments and churches. There is nothing you can take, nothing from which profit is made! If you never have dreams, then you have nothing to hope to achieve, when the axe came into the forest the trees all said at least the handle is one of us. If we perish we perish together, victors are those unparted forever. Nothing will end this great union, worry not this is only bad weather. So keep up your poems and songs, this is where your madness belongs, so keep up your poems and songs, this is where you belong.

Inimical

This resevoir is heavy and volotile, desperate to relax it's banks and holdings. Giddy to collapse out eyes and tumble down face. Without this I am a speck of dust, without this I'm not brave, I am just genderless thoughts. And one by one the years roll on, the boundaries blur, no growth no decline. I am just genderless thoughts; I am just genderless thoughts Every spring is a reminder that you forgot what it is to be happy, every autumn you embark upon new mourning for the death of ease. The passing of your relaxed self, you concede smiles and lumber on brows furrowed. When you are the mallice behind the dark theres nothing left to be afraid of. Cynicism fades as the ligh fails, just once don't promise us hope.

Immutable

My face is numb now, the room is quiet. I watch dust hazily zig zag to the floor, only to be gusted upwards by the movement of a foot or a hand. Everything you fought for is gone. Everything you knew was important was ignored. You fought tooth and nail, sword and pen, good lord, not the schools, please, leave the forests, for fucks sake, not the hospitals. But no one rallied to you, no one took up the flag, too much stress, too little interest. The people were not united, and your government was viciously divisive. And the worst of it? That now the world looks different. It smells odd. The colours distort in front of your eyes and you snivel a laugh. You are a fool. You thought the world was filled with love and good intentions and it was not.

Take Pleasure In The Processes

I struggle with my own selfishness. My arrogant impulse to prioritise my loved ones over yours. I am grief stricken at the idea that I will die, when I should be glad I was ever given the chance. I struggle with peoples expectations of me. I do not want to fit the mould of a man but I am forced into that shape and people are quickly angry at me when I do not take on the form. Given the freedom I would out grow it and flourish, as much a sister as a brother, as much a wife as a husband and neither besides, I would not invite gods or statesmen into my bed...

If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around, maybe that forest won't get cut to the ground. I am sick of singing about cancer, but his body keeps fucking up, and I'm sick of fighting governments but they keep fucking us. I revile at your abhorrent religions, too long have you exploited our weaknesses. Too long have you censored the books, have you silenced science, condemned the curious. My heart aches for those that cannot find beauty in the blades of grass, in flustered clouds, in lovers breath, that they must invent gods and monsters. My heart breaks at the actions it inspires. Too long have we been respectful, too long have we allowed you to exist.

If You Were Frightened, It's Because It Was Frightening

Apathy is such an evil trait, to sacrifce others for comfort is not an accusation I could take. Do not let the plight of others be so trivial so as to forgo empathy and do nothing. I wonder if Voltaire would have been so quick in making his witty quip if he'd seen the gates of Aushwitz? When your government comes to burn the books, will you wish you'd read them first? Brace for a lifetime of discontent, Orwellian nightmares that never end. You will mourn the sincerity that greed undid. That moment, you beat us, was exactly where you lost. We took on, that hatred, and still came back as one. Don't be alone, don't dare be alone, rise together, be exhalted, take comfort in a godless eixistence. Stay upright stay strong.

I Sing Of Sorrow & Joy

Phonelines again. Tests again, scans again. We count up the odds, calculate survival rates and allocate ourselves as resources. We are brave and we are strong, we will beat this, we shout don't get mad get even! Fuck having cancer! FUCK HAVING CANCER! We are sad and we panic, we complain that it is not fair, we have dealt with all the horrors we were given, we have proved ourselves why us, why again? We sob it out, tears bounce of handsets and stop at tabletops and laps. We pace as we wait for information, we frighten ourselves reading, we try to find comfort in his good health, his young age, his strong mind. He is scared that he is alone but he is not. We implore him to test our mettle, to challenge our resolve. We will beat this together, we five strong minds!

Breathe In, Though You Barely Believe In It

What do you say to yourself when you are totally aware that you have no value? cradle on top here with nothing but horizon if the world were to end now I would be the last to know.

You are of that splendid magnificence that there is nothing most deserved of you and if there is it certainly isn’t me. Should you choose to stay my hand and forbid my flight know that this “I love you” will never have a past tense… you are glowing under this winter sun.

I ask that I might stay a while.

Tribulation

Death, 'tis a melancholy day To those who have no God, When the poor soul is forced away To seek her last abode.

In vain to heav'n she lifts her eyes, For guilt a heavy chain, Still drags her downward from the skies To darkness, fire and pain.

To Ruin A Fine Tenor Voice

It gets worse. We woke up one day and all we do is work. We all talk about how we hate this place but are we so naïve as to think things could be better? The grass is no longer green because we poisoned it all. There's no distance great enough to separate yourself from your inadequacies, You can never run fast enough to escape their line of sight. You have all the look of a skull but with none of the grinning charm, Lank hair, sharp ribs, stop what you are doing and sleep. Minds are lost, smiles are lost, confidence is lost, You are dishonest and lost, shuttered and struggling.

Concrete Blocks of Empathy

I hope the final blow of your hands against my teeth cause lacerations of sufficient irritation that I can splutter one last laugh. The only reason I don't turn tail and run, is because Spite will crash me against your shorelines, keep me ragged and close, Keep me ragged and close. The actions of the outer regions of love and hatred manifest themselves in remarkably similar ways. Where is the ceiling of your tolerance set? What level of cruelty are you prepared to accept? Did you mean what you said? Did you mean what you said? Your pacifism undermines the sincere devotion of love. I am here for revenge.

Careworn

I hesitate to commit this to words, for as they rise through my mouth they take root in my brain, and ever more real will ever remain. Ever since the hospital, the opiates and the ketamine, we're harder now in everything. Oh misery, accept we five. Death's false start, his failure our triumph, has left us ever waiting his certain early return. Ever tense for adjudicators whistle that will bring us to the ring again, casts a shadow over every day, that won't be lifted until he's taken away. Uncertainty once relieved, will be replaced with all the the relief a coffin can give, And not a thing can be done about it, and so are our lives; Unchanging.

We Have Not Reached Conclusion

I refuse for this to be conclusion, As I shrink inwards. As things ever worsen, as things ever worsen, Life will be my next defiance. Be it in jails or this rented house, Sooner a dour path than an ignorant one. I would exchange any semblance of youth for stronger hands, tougher fists. I will trade what charm I have for firmer resolve. Even when so much anger has coursed through these veins I do not doubt that they will be fit to pump joy. I need only knowledge enough to spell out freedom, I need only enough life blood to see out the struggle. I refuse for this to be conclusion. And a restless summers end wind reminds me of how handsome we will be in the frost, I will walk this frozen path of hatred until I reach the thaw.