#little mix quotes

[legendofthe3divas]

Jade: (reading a tweet) Little Mix was my sexual awakening and I am so grateful for it. Leigh: (Looking rather confused) Pez: Wow. Jade: Same. Honestly. Leigh: Oh my gosh Pez: (Points at Jade and laughs) 'Sameee' Jade: Wow I really grew into a woman in this group. Do you know what I mean? Leigh: Yea true. Pez: We all have. It's wild. Jade: But umm I'm glad that happened for you Pez: That's lovely Jade: And all I can say is You're welcome Pez: What can I say expect... Pez & Jade: You're welcomeee 🎶 Jade: I like being the idea of someone's sexual awakening. Why not? Pez: Oh I love it Leigh: What is a sexual awakening like as in? Jade: I guess the moment when they felt that, you know, sensation. Looking at us. Leigh: Wow Jade: Like ooo yea that's that feeling Leigh: That is pretty epic.

[ink-the-artist]

holy shit I did NOT realize how popular my "I will remove my teeth, for I want to remain kind despite my anger" quote is. I just googled it for fun to see what would come up, a bunch of people are quoting it not knowing who its from, an artist called Kuma made an album titled that, so bizzare

[omegalomania]

i think what i admire most about this record after sitting with it for a full day is the marriage of its musicality and its lyricism.

lyrically..."nihilistic" is a really good way of putting it. i was honestly kind of floored by how goddamn bleak so much of the lyricism on this record is. there's so much desolation, so much hopelessness, so much struggling to find meaning in meaninglessness. lyrically, i think this might be some of pete's darkest but also some of his best work. there's so much grappling with the feeling that maybe it's all pointless. maybe none of it fucking gets better. maybe you're always going to be fighting to figure out some kind of sense and feeling displaced and the further you look toward the horizon, the more the inevitability of the end scares the living shit out of you.

so much (for) stardust is utterly desolate lyrically. even little granules of hope feel tongue-in-cheek or in denial. so...what? does anything ever get better? are we all just flailing around, trying to make our stupid lives make sense? but at the same time, fall out boy are the happiest they've ever been as a band. they waited five years so they could savor making this record and they were genuinely excited to share it with all of us. pete is wearing skirts and letting his hair down and they're playing songs that once got them booed off stage with fearless love in their eyes and they're looking after each others' mental health and supporting one another through it all. what does it mean for a band to release something this somber at this point in time for them?

the "reality bites" pink seashell speech sums it all up kind of perfectly. so maybe life is inherently meaningless, but at the same time...there's good food. there's beautiful weather. there are still good movies, and the sound of rain on the windows, and hope, and friendship, and joy. maybe there's no point. but that doesn't change that there's still laughter. there's still love.

and that's what's in the sound of this record. the big, cinematic swell of an orchestra. the upbeat chirps of a synth. the screeching of a guitar and some bouncy, catchy goddamn riffs that'll live under your skin for days. this is a record you dance to and cry to. (cry a little, cry a lot, but don't stop dancing, don't dare stop.) sonically, this is a record laden with grit and delight and a powerful sense of purpose, from catchy pop hooks to roaring, cinematic anthems. it sits in delicious contrast to the words but it doesn't undermine them. it complements them. happy music for sad people.

of course there's pain, and there's frustration, and the world is full of tragedy and hopelessness and maybe the worst part of it is that it doesn't go away once you grow up. as you get older, you don't ever magically learn how everything clicks together. you just have to fumble through it and hope for the best, even if it feels like it never gets any easier.

it's a hard lesson to learn. but you aren't alone in it. so what fates do we share? we're all stardust. we all share the same end. we are not alone in our fears and uncertainties and we will not be alone at the end either, not really. we came from stardust and to stardust we will return.

i think if there is a hope i can take away from this record it's like...this feeling that it doesn't get better, really. but you do get better at living with it, and to someone like me, that's vital. years ago i had to come to terms with the valuable, painful lesson that i will not, mentally, neurologically, ever get "better." there will never be a point where i am "cured" of all that i must live with. but i've grown better at living with it. and there are things out there that i'm living for anyway - good food, better friends, and maybe a long-anticipated record you need to put on replay for a good long while as you soak it in.

maybe none of this matters, in the end. but if it doesn't, then this is what matters. this.

"if nothing we do matters, then all that matters is what we do."

[pizzaqueen]

Just thinking about Steve and Eddie, a little down the track when they’re settled, having an at-home date night. They’ve got a movie marathon going in the background and Eddie’s painting his minis and Steve’s working on his model cars and the cat is alternating between sleeping and “helping” them and they’ve got beer and pizza and it’s raining outside but they’re cozy inside and life has never been better

[binary-bird]

if anyone's curious about David's alternate universe selves, here's a Handy Pocket Guide that also includes links to their respective playlists!

[iheartvmt]

Today's dose of cuteness

Human kid: My goat just had a whole *liter* of babies! Three of them!

[aprill-99]

I know everyone would like to see the entire Crescent City gang to be friends and get in to mischief with the ACOTAR gang, but picture this:

Rhys the instantaneous Dad Friend TM.

Think about it, he’s been a Dad for about 6 months by the time Bryce drops in. This is an instinct driven guy with a large history of Adopting people with high over levels and skill sets. Dad Mode in him has been activated and that is not a train I see slowing down in the face of a large collection of people with incredible power and shaky familial structures.

I’m just picturing…..

Feyre: *comes home from art class. There’s a werewolf on her rug, a stranger trying to explain the workings of a magic glowing box, and Lucien is drinking toasts with Bryce, a man who looks shockingly like Rhys with different hair, and a total stranger about how much the Autumn King sucks. They might be talking about two different people and it does not seem matter. Cassian is harassing a guy with feather wings by following him around with a tape measure.”

Feyre: “Hello….. people who do not live here…. Rhys?”

Rhys: “Darling, I really only meant to keep one of them, but it turns out Bryce has a brother and her mate, and her brother only came if I brought the full four pack. And Bryce’s mate has a merman friend. And they’re so young and their dad is the worst so…”

Feyre: “None of them have families?”

Rhys: “Not good ones. The parents around can have their kids back when they learn to suck less.”

Bryce: “I tried telling him I already had good parents, but I don’t think it mattered. He just said ‘there’s plenty of room for them to visit whenever they want for as long as they want’ and brought everybody here after the jail break.”

Ruhn: *very drunk* “Mom!” *hugs her*

Feyre: *patting his back* “Uhm…. Okay. How old are you again?”

Ruhn: *still hugging* “seventy-five.”

Rhys: *cries* “So young…..”

Feyre: *still patting because Ruhn is crying and she is also Mom Friend* “What was that about a merman?”

*Tharion erupts out of the Sidra with an army of pet otters*

Feyre: “….. Okay.”

[benbamboozled]

Not to let my Animorphs past nip at my heels too too much, but…

I think what Jason Todd really needs is his own version of—

“You were brave. You were strong. You were good. You mattered.”

Let him have an arc with people he saved or helped as Robin.

Or, hell, people/kids he helped BEFORE Bruce, when he was living on the streets!

Obviously, Jason had a deep connection with Bruce. Which is why it destroyed him to find out that the Joker was still alive. Because, when you think about it, avenging someone’s death isn’t so much about their death as it is about their life.

That someone’s existence was so important to you—that they mattered so much—that the one who caused the absence in your life MUST be dealt with accordingly.

Now, we all know Jason won’t get the kind of satisfaction he craves from Bruce.

BUT!

I do think it would help him to see that his life had meaning. That he helped people. That he was good. That he mattered.

And for that to happen outside of Bruce.

(As a sidenote, I also think this is why it would be nice for Jason to learn about the whole “Dick killing the Joker after he namedropped Jason” thing. Because, again, I think it would help to reinforce that Bruce wasn’t the only one who recognized his existence. Bruce wasn’t the only one who had the capacity to acknowledge that Jason mattered.)

[legendofthe3divas]

What's your biggest career mistake?

Jade:(instantly) Leaving America :(silence) :(even more silence) Jade: (laughs) Leigh: yeah that (moving swiftly on)

[steelycunt]

system where when i talk to men i start a countdown from ten million and stop at the point they ask me ‘what’s your ethnicity??’ and that’s the amount of money they have to pay me

[seventeendeer]

if the transgender women doing my little pony re-imaginings on my dashboard only got to take over that franchise, the mental health of little girls the world over would be fixed overnight

[ponyaday]

11/16/22 - King Sombra ("good" version, G4 comics)

[leoneedincorrectquotes]

Rinku, excitedly: Heeyy!! Saki: Hey, someone's excited. Shiho, deadpan: Yeah, and it's making me sick.

[thestarsarecool]

Paul McCartney: Run Devil Run

Jim Irvin, MOJO, October 1999

THE LURE had been the chance of a lengthy one-on-one with Paul McCartney discussing all his solo albums. "You could turn it into a book," said his publicist, graciously.

All I had to agree to was to begin with his latest recording, Run Devil Run, which wasn't a problem, as it was a really very decent collection of rock and roll covers, with a few new songs, recorded in a week, a year after the death of Paul's beloved wife Linda. After we'd talked about that, said the publicist, I could go on and talk about the rest, "once Paul is relaxed".

I smell a rat when I arrive, shake hands with Paul – who's looking fit and youthful, with only his suspiciously chestnut-coloured hair looking like it had received any cosmetic help – and pull out the CD sleeves of his complete works as an aide memoire for us both.

"I'm not signing that lot," he snaps.

"Erm, I didn't want you to, it's for the interview," I say.

"Oh, right."

It was odd being in the room with a Beatle after a lifelong relationship with his music, and Paul's demeanour showed that he gets that a lot, in fact he must get nothing else when he meets someone for the first time: an uneasy mix of nerves, warmth, respect and the kind of uncomfortable intimacy that comes with a meeting where one person knows everything about the other and the other knows nothing. Because he is used to this situation, Paul looks slightly bored by it. He knows it's easier, in the long run, to be friendly and cooperative with the press, and he wheels out a few well-worn techniques to put me at my ease. He is gracious and easy-going during our conversation, but there is always something steely in his countenance, you feel he could take offence easily. You can't forget he's Paul McCartney and neither can he.

Needless to say, after chatting about the new album, Paul seems surprised when I start to ask about his debut, the "bowl of cherries" album. I begin to suspect he hasn't been briefed about the supposed purpose of this interview. Some kind of signal is given, because as we get onto Ram, Paul looking increasingly restless, an assistant appears and announces there's someone in reception Paul has to see urgently. McCartney makes his excuses and leaves. The grinning publicist apologises and insists that we will reschedule for the rest of the chat, but I know it'll never happen. Strangely, I feel slightly relieved.

The interview that follows is just the material concerning Run Devil Run which, I realise later, is surprisingly rich in information about how the Beatles worked and how Paul recalls that period.

The cry of 'C'mon lads, we're going back to basics!' seems to be a bit of a refrain in your career. You like to do it every now and then.

Yeah.

What brought it on this time?

Linda was very keen. I'd said for years, "I'd love to make a rock'n'roll record." I'd talked of other things – an old standards, Fred Astaire, Cole Porter album – but this one was more than a whim. I thought, I've got to do it before the 20th century ends, so it was the next thing I was gonna do. Then Lin died, she was really keen that I do it, so that was enough motivation: I'd better get this done. No pissing around.

So how did you approach it?

I remembered early Beatle recording techniques. Because we weren't a famous act we were given a schedule of exactly how to make a record: You come in at 10 am, you set up your amp and your guitar or drums, you have a ciggie, cup of tea, get in tune, then by 10.30 you've got to be ready to go. You just had to be ready or the grown-ups would get annoyed.

We worked from 10.30 to 1.30, and we were expected to do two songs. We took an hour's lunch exactly, then [worked from] 2.30 to 5.30. Then you went home, went out to the pictures or the pub or something. So the next day, when you came in, you'd had a life. If you'd seen a great film it kind of informed you.

So I thought I'd do exactly that, book Abbey Road for one week only, get a bunch of guys together and go and do this thing exactly as we used to.

No rehearsals?

This really surprised me. I realised that on the Monday at 10.30 George Martin would say, "Okay chaps, what are we going to do?" and the only two people in the room who knew were me and John. George and Ringo didn't even know. And I thought, Shit, that's wild! None of this "demos up front, the producer's been working on it, he's got ideas." He didn't know what we were going to do. We could just throw anything at George Martin and we did: "It goes like this: Gir-ir-irl (intake of breath), wanna get a breathy thing going there." Engineer would start to work out how to get the breathy thing, put some compression on or something... bang, bang. Everyone thinking on their feet . Then we were off and running, the match would start.

So, no homework allowed. The other thing we outlawed during the week was thinking. If someone went, "I wonder if I did this..." We'd say, "You're thinking!" It became the joke of the week. "This is rock'n'roll, you're not allowed to think, just do."

So how did you select the songs?

I just kind of dredged my memory and came up with a very arbitrary list, coz I've got millions of rock'n'roll songs that I love. I got most of them on tape and did what I used to do. Got a bit of paper and a pencil and [transcribed the lyrics]. That was a great buzz because I literally hadn't done that particular exercise since I was a kid, felt like I was 15 again sitting there copping the lyrics to Chuck Berry songs, Buddy Holly, Fats Domino.

So I got this bunch of lyrics, there's actually still one deliberate mistake on the record – find it – there's one line I never could find out, I wrote it down phonetically, "yer be livin' in spe...", turned out to be something quite different "If you do it again" and I thought I'd fill that in before the session but I forgot to do it. It was all like that, kind of spontaneous and instant. I got nostalgic for that way of working. [The Beatles] really did some good stuff like that, Revolver and Rubber Soul, all those early ones...

That way of working went right up to Revolver did it?

Way past Revolver, Rubber Soul. (I raise an eyebrow. Pause.) That's past Revolver isn't it?

Er no. Revolver's the one before Pepper.

Was it? Okay. (Pause) I was in the Beatles was I?

Yeah. Bass, I think.

(Chuckles) Basically I was. Yeah. So I thought, I'll sing and play bass at the same time, if there's anyone in the world who's had practice at that it's me. It's a bit like that (patting his head and rubbing his stomach) you've learnt how to do that, so do that. Don't get too precious. I had a bit of a funny moment on the Sunday night [before the session] because I hadn't sung for a year since Linda died, I didn't actually know if I could. I'd been writing stuff, but it had been little introspective stuff (he mimes singing softly). I was nervous [but once we started] I realised it was gonna work and I was singing good. The other thing, because I hadn't done any of these songs before either, I had no idea what the bass parts were. Then I thought, if it was good enough for George and Ringo not to know how the songs went, it's good enough for you. A little dangerous, this is good, getting dangerous. So I went in on the Monday morning with this big manila envelope full of all me words, scrappily on the back of envelopes, and flicked through them – 'Searchin'' by the Coasters, nah, didn't fancy that, 'Hippy Hippy Shake', nearly... 'Fabulous', Charlie Gracie? Yeah!"

I don't know that one.

It actually didn't end up on the album, but I remember it from the fairground. It reminded me of the Waltzer and us trying to pick up birds – which we could never do – me and me mate in our drape jackets with the flap pockets and the fleck, which was 'It.'! Whenever I got a buzz off a number I'd pull it out and say to all the guys – Dave Gilmour, Mick Green on guitars, Pete Wingfield piano and Ian Paice on drums – "Anyone know 'Fabulous'? No?" So I'd get me acoustic guitar, in five or ten minutes these guys had picked it up, get on me bass, okay, 1,2,3,4, do a take, go up and listen to it, quickly organise it, do another two takes, say, and Chris (Thomas) the producer would go "That sounds good." Great, next song. And we just did that all week. Most of the songs they didn't know. They'd know 'All Shook Up' or 'Ready Teddy' – which didn't make the album – or 'Rip It Up', but 'No Other Baby', 'Shake A Hand' and 'Coquette', nobody knew.

How did you get to know them, then?

Those songs were like where The Beatles would show up in the early days at the Aintree Institute, say, and there'd be three or four bands on the bill. We'd be due on third and the band who was second would go on and do our entire act! 'Blue Suede Shoes', 'Long Tall Sally', 'What'd I Say', there's the act gone. There was this terrible moment, "Fuckin' hell, what do we do?" "Well we'd better play them better." But [to avoid that] we started to look for B-sides – things like Bo Diddley's 'The Old Grandpappy' and 'If You Gotta Make A Fool Of Somebody', which was off a James Ray record that George had – we started to find these lesser-known songs that the other bands wouldn't have. And that's the reason John and I started writing, a surefire way [other bands] couldn't access our songs. For a while we didn't really write anything much good – at The Cavern I used to do something called 'The Pinwheel Twist', which was dreadful but worked for the time, some terrible lyrics about fireworks, probably, but it's lost in the mists of time.

'No Other Baby' is fantastic.

That's probably the most obscure. I knew the song but we couldn't find out who did it, Alan here (at mpl) did a bit of research and it turned out it was by the Vipers Skiffle Group. I was talking to George Martin about this album and said "We did some really remote things, one called 'No Other Baby' by The Vipers." Then I said, "Wait a minute George, you produced them didn't you?" I sang it to him and he goes "Oh yes, I remember that now." So talk about full circle.

I didn't even have the record of that but it just embedded itself in my memory. I used to do it in soundchecks on tour. That came out nice. One of the guys said that if these songs were film stars 'No Other Baby' would be Dennis Hopper. It has a chilly, Blue Velvet feel about it which I like.

You sound very angry in places.

That's just me singing. I don't know if I was angry or not, can't remember. When you've got to stand up and play bass live and sing too, there's no time to think of anything else, apart from, How does the bass part go? It was just the spirit of the week. As I said, we outlawed thinking.

A lot of great rock'n'roll records are great "records" rather being great songs. It's often down to the atmosphere of the recordings, isn't it?

Yeah. One or two of the songs when I looked at them I thought, Bloody hell this isn't much of a song, but I love it from the Waltzer or whatever so it doesn't matter. What I tried to communicate is my love of them, this joy at doing these numbers, and anyone who loves rock'n'roll loves doing these songs.

Fair enough on something like 'No Other Baby' that's not so well known, but it must be really hard trying to make 'All Shook Up' your own. It'd be like someone trying to do 'Day In the Life'.

Yeah, those were the challenges. What I decided was not to do 'All Shook Up' like Elvis, then it would be a pale imitation. I decided to bring it up more towards my Little Richard range, scream it more, give it a meanness, put a new interpretation on the words.

'Lonesome Town' too. I'd always liked Ricky Nelson's version, but on the way to the studio I suddenly thought, I can't do it the way Ricky did it, because I'll like his version better – I loved that, that was my teenage years – it'll just be an impression of him, so again, I thought if I take it higher I could put a more intense feel behind the words, a bit more bluesy. So I did it in C an octave above Ricky, which was fine until the middle when it became too Mickey Mouse so I said to Dave Gilmour, "Hey Dave, you do the melody and I'll go above you and do a harmony" very much like what John and I would have done, and that allowed me stay in that persona.

Did you try to make it authentic sonically, use vintage gear?

No, we decided to make it like a modern record. If your ears have become attuned to modern radio, an old rock song can sound a bit woolly and fluffy. We didn't put any old-fashioned echo on anything except 'Blue Jean Bop', Gene Vincent, that I had to do with echo because that was my memory. Again, I learnt something making this: These guys wrote for echo. (singing with tight staccato) "Be bop a lu-la she ma ba-by." That kicks the echo into a rhythm. When we had the two guitars in, it was too jangly and it didn't swing, so I was talking to Ian and singing it to him with the echo on, just me on bass and him on drums. Wait a minute, this is the way to do it, this sounds enough.

Tell me something about the three new songs.

I had one already called 'What It Is' that was sort of bluesy that I thought might be good to try. It was actually one I'd written for Linda so there was a sentimental attachment to that. I thought I'd throw it at them and try a version. Chris Thomas thought it was a good idea to try some new ones but thought it would be tricky to make them fit. While we were making the album, as we were playing 'Run Devil Run' back one of the guys said, "Who's record was this, man?" so that was a good sign, proof that it fitted.

What made you write that one?

I was in Atlanta recently with one of my kids and we went down to the funky area of town and found this shop that sold various kind of potions to stop evil, "Put this in your bath and it'll chase the devil out" seemed a bit voodoo to me, sprinkling powder for your floors...

Shake and vac the devil away...

Yeah! It actually said that on there, "Stop troublesome neighbours, evil relatives, get rid of bad people from your life, put some of this in your bath and then carry a piece of white cloth anointed in this oil and repeat the Lord's Prayer." All a bit superstitious, and one of these products was called Run Devil Run and I thought that was good rock'n'roll title. The album cover is the shop where I found the stuff.

You said you discussed this album with Linda. Why was she into the idea?

She was surprised when we met that I liked to sit at home and play loud guitar. I'd have the AC30 in the living room and crank it up with me Epiphone and just (makes rockin' noise) and she'd say "Oh, I love that. You should do that." She wanted me to play guitar solos like Neil Young does now, living the dream, doesn't give a shit and he's rocking. Linda knew I could do that and was always encouraging me to. And when she died I thought Right, can't put it off, gotta do it.

And the nice thing now is, people are expecting a certain kind of record from me after Linda's died, I've heard it from a few sources, "I wonder what he'll do now, it'll be very introspective, sad songs for Linda," and it's quite nice to go against the current. Though I've not done that on purpose, it's like when 'Give Ireland Back To The Irish' was banned and I happened to do 'Mary Had A Little Lamb' as the next record and people said, "Oh that's two fingers up to the people who banned that, they can't ban this one." and that wasn't true. I didn't do it for that reason but it was perceived like that.

Somebody said about Run Devil Run that it's as if Linda's on it – there are a couple of tracks that sound like she's there. I don't know what that's about.

It does sound like there's a female voice at some points.

There isn't.

On 'Run Devil Run's' chorus...

Yeah, that's what she would have done. She's found her way on. She's a clever girl. I got a post card from her 14 days after she died, from Arizona. Funny postcard, very cute. She was always thinking ahead. I got a birthday present last year from her in June and she died in April. She was that kind of girl, "I know, I'll get that made for his birthday." The kids gave it to me all rather (pulls apprehensive face) "I'm not sure you'll want this, but this is from mum." Do I want it? Not half.

People are going to read stuff into 'Try Not To Cry' aren't they?

Yeah, I hadn't realised that that was 'appropriate'. You don't always realise the meaning of things as you write them, you're just throwing stuff out and sometimes it's only when it lands that you're able to get objective. There are some little references in there inevitably. But I'm writing some other stuff currently and that probably is more to do with it, to do with her.

What were you searching for in the old songs as you went through the manila envelope?

Just heart, passion, something that actually made me go warm when I thought about it. 'She Said Yeah', I remember how I turned Mick Jagger on to that in the '60s. I'd always been meaning to do it and I never got around to it. I was up in the music room one day and Mick came round and I was playing some records to him and I remember Larry Williams' 'She Said Yeah' – and dancing around to it – and 'Aint Too Proud To Beg', The Tempations, he loved 'em. He actually [covered] both of them.

There was this one particular bar in Hamburg that had a jukebox and [The Beatles] used to go there and play pool with Derry and the Seniors, that was their hang-out. This jukebox had two great tunes on it, 'Smoke Gets In Your Eyes' by The Platters and 'Shake A Hand' by Little Richard and any time I was there I'd get a beer, play a bit of pool and listen to those two records. I could never find 'Shake A Hand' though, I never got the record. It's a gospel song, in America they know it by somebody else.

'Honey Hush' was a great memory for me. John and Stuart had an art student flat in Gambia Terrace, a big old-fashioned terrace with high-ceilinged rooms and the view out of the window was the Liverpool Cathedral. The first time George and I stayed out all night was there when I was about 15. And there was nothing there, we were used to beds and there was a mattress and John and Stuart were sleeping there and we were having to kip in chairs, undoing these Benzedrine inhalers because we'd read somewhere that if you undid them and chewed them they had an upper in them and we ended up talking all night. It was very frugal. It remembers better than it was, actually, no sleep, eyes burning, all that. But I remember in the morning John leaning out of this mattress, reaching over, yawning, you know, in his vest and underpants, and just putting this little Dansette on that was beside the bed and it was 'Honey Hush': "Come into this house, stop all of that yakety yak."

So it wasn't always the song or how good the singer was, it was how good my memory of it was, whether it was a really glowing hot ember of a memory.

Was it therapeutic for you to go back to this stuff?

Yeah, it was actually. Brilliant. I really felt great at the end of the week.

© Jim Irvin, 1999

[ceraea]

"Love me or Leave me here"

By me/_ceraea_

Title inspo: "Love me or Leave me" by little mix

"I don't know why my heart still beats for you after you've done nothing but break and shatter it like everything we've been through, every promise and every thing you've made me feel was nothing but nuisance

And yet there is regret in your eyes.

But does that matter?

Does the regret in your eyes matter when you have no remorse for what you've done to me!?

Does it matter when you left me here bleeding and crying on the ground as you walked away without a thought of turning back?

You look at me and treat me with so much regret and guilt. When no one in the face of the earth, when no one in the bloodline you are failing has asked you to wound and leave me here to rot."

[puanchi]

"I feel ill," [Howl] announced. "I'm going to bed, where I may die."