#Roland is a long-suffering soul | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

libidomechanica · 2 years

Text

“Sealed not thy sweet shells with any care; but”

A sonnet sequence

—The great expanse and it’s most gentle Goddess of high sentence, but well hast thow it thence the main to Roland call it loving, lawful, and fast upon a wink, to wakes; for no other, and asserted street, as she her mind. Ready to melt a hurried at a’! Sealed not thy sweet shells with any care; but here you tralineate from rage and sore than public means which a minutes past, sounds against the crone informing in mutual blood, and said: I knew not thyself to choose, the sunny mead and wreathed pearlins enow. Have ye beheld her, king, till the rest a dwarf-like Cato cowered.

From all that my tongue, to have made him to one Lady Psyche’s: as we walk through and tower, trailing fairly gained them by the Turkey who live but with ass’s ears, who puff your share? Brought on all thy sum of good; for nothing to richness from a look askance! That one day gaily flew aloft, follow me, child, a limber elf, singing the king them a’, my bonie glen, where the joys of all the plumb beat adamant as we, but suffers change ere night I once can you turn around the Hour camp: we seem a nest of traitors seek they can, and take thee. Of the lock, a rosy blonde head sports outsized headphones.

—Just don’t look down on the little sorrow with man that abiding phantom cold, but each may breath, let it be! Beat; merrily roar out Harvest Home. And thought her girded vests grew tight bends to feel within his nights of self came on, how great progenitors have clotted. They crossed the knight. Past whirling pillar of electric cloud, while we, like Pygmalion, found a vent. These words of life, in the flames, my heavens, and delight of the child among the sheath, and what there willing up an Apollonian wall, the truth; receives a choking flame—o let me be copartner of the world till it hold?

A lady spake—all the dark, when first snowdrop’s inner leave me despair. So I go into the Abbey, and pain to Roland de Vaux of Tryermaine came louder, and assert none lordlier than thus may still, I have squeezed the glimmer’d fairly; and commodiously behind. There is no one else for his kind. Cool grass, and chorus bland: your nakedness must not renewest, thereof nought, purpose, firm though the shade, nature, shares without the moon is bright have yearned for half anguish in love, that built a folded voice; and took her hollow cell. That was long it is for I have been worth, and more authority.

To swell a progress, start a scene cast the laurels at the old beldam, who was the circles bridge hung, shadow of my health my greatness flickering by her place, and in short, I was our kind behest, there she couth he tune his pide weedes showing, new-perfum’d with altered mind? Griped all those weird affect. A wind sways thoughts, ladie? A weed that no one to trust since floor; and yet her sinke; and will yet be well! Knelt, and let your natures natural. And oft with shadow loses form. Heaving in her bright head of lands in your sight—not to hollow voices which, erring here, my sole life? Hush! Lady Psyche watch.

It was not lost her train, the third But three years ago to the fen she told into this were wont to meet her in the full of rich memories out of low replied: we scarce dare A poor, weak, palsy-stricken helmets sprang them all: a common weal, the night, curled up warriors seized, and all who comprehend aright, dreamingly. Mansion foul, save those that lowly as he would lose my gain for he was indeed, the gods of morning glacier; frail at first ye were open, but the garden rails. Who, praying at the sky and hasten while legion’d spirit did melt me down the early life with eloquence.

All these words that men through simulation to thread all courts of Time, sit side by side, whereon, it was almost burst, or blab, and next intellectual Light is chief justice of his side thee, so my soul doth always underfoot, the wheels, fresh wet from the pine-tree drops from the sacred sure is everywhere low voices lead: so it did, with such love, and looked. Whether too much out as if a magic mend thy child, they well; but O for the fields, woods or steepy mountain, than of This Mystery which He who had those rare souls of flowers and tell the Dross of these great where soil is men grown, it made him lint and days of old rotten boughs, and dream him crying overhead rushes lift a golden fruit might prove the banks of Earn, and blue and woods, and morn. Lawns, and ha’ the sickly guess’d not to my threshold, since arms of my heart’s best brothers,—that, with a silken, hush’d, and thou viewest now is there.

And, after all, and rarest misletoe: she knew her note; the wide spindrift gaze upon the brag o’ the husband may not cold, and siding wide through the first love, tenderly unclos’d, by tenderest, milky sovereignties—these words—where the windshield—and conquest of the parted—ne’er to move so near; for by some bower, all be said, What makes us most—and ours shall I be left so sad, so melancholy; a dusky empire, and snicker, and smoother foot she hath drunken serpent eyes, for me: always had: as a kind of dwell and bounteous Earth should I, after him throw himself apart from others of the king is at hand. And too tall her aunt, and this, my loue, pitie the planet in his nested young charm invests a face imperfect with crime: yet soone was a bride she is, that I should not help it, dips its dead; they are our gyrlond all old hymns made strong infection no bitter child!

When wild rose the rock she maketh a glorious dreams too late abroad without, where painfully and with wide eye he wonders to conquest for on one side arose Who feather, Sleep, clasp’d like a book-learn’d sot, till I sometimes thou wish me more softly call for thee. Weaving in your countenance grows sad and woe is me, I am but ashes sat he for they are our gyrlond all rights against the devil ruled the huge, broad- flung shipwrecking roar, to break of ancient influence reigned; and no pretence of honour, when mad Eurydice is upon the same fair visitant at all that brother!

Is roll’d; for nothing dreary cavern there. Henceforth witless wound you but one gentle youth did beare, now bringen bitterness. For whereon, it was; long train and softer Adam first Desire of Heaven in the furrow-cloven fallen in darker ways. The gates, and neck. Woo’d and mails. Who am not of any spirit fails—dear goddess! Out upon the poppied warmth of sleep, sleep; in thy heart. The torrents, dashed to dry bone. As they found. Is thrice-seen love had swoon’d drunken serpent’s eyes; and her mesh, shading its newness and cried, ye are going somewhat of thy crags, O Sea! That the huge oak tree!

Or ever press these days, moves without pity, by the time prefixed the hour; ever and a’! When mad Eurydice is light broke his weak spirits of twilight blue eye, thou might’st forget mine eyes; and if in irony, and flap those shining hazel bowers themselves this misery, or sprite, disdain to find, or travelling, the while, but will not. Castles to might now, and the golden beam, and the sand, and in his own sweet Virgin’s bower, when all was dark as nights and flimmering tone came louder, and fair in colour round my wife, my loue he seeke with every side, we plants imbibing! Into the cloak from Him—by Him directed all, and the laws, than when it was a passing noontide rain over a bower, whereon she tooke: well couth he tune his face all, and came across the wintry moon, they cried, wild nature is subdued to where the wrought around a strange, the long his head, who, praying.

And most forlorn and priceless nights, all hoar, bursts of prejudice, disyoke their Valentines, and in hand, and now where there: each tree in his ears of steel and fields the common vein of memories out of all their walls of silent seas. May see both did play, his gains. Ripples over with every woman, if I might thee has not long; for, sweet dream, sweet paining willows anchored in the night when I tried to and free of these dreary sea nor cloud-borne Jove and feeble souls from the Gate! Had fallen in descend! As boys that I Love’s far dwelling it like Ida: she closer, elm and vine: but infamy!

Trodden with scorned to watch a dragons all the chapel aisle by slow degrees and pain gone understand, now while I will, and torn with summer long. ’ That wondering look of its eyes. Of these founts Protean, passing gulph, and doth leade the college turned to and fro: a clamour thickened, mixt of shell- winding all to roll the writing I wrote should you though, Madam, all that dares not be longer there. To entirely finish is water Nymphs, that know the Prince? A world was on me, and smile is stirringofbirds between each stroke on strong infection can be taught the Sabine how to love must prayse?

In wore. I should say: That is misunderstand! Lady stood upright, dreamingly. Thy azure hue, ready to melt between her lily stalks did they well; and your claim, nor did her Face beneath his winged lids a concealed, as monarch’s vices got which burnt sorcerer’s malison on me, and couch of shivering that myself of the west, made jealous of ourself to choose, the broad golden tongues restrain’d from hurry by in trance, that valley; let the king this wreathed with wrong thankfulness declare, tempts and fading away, was now ’tis done, then hell, as dark as nighting. Such rage as wildly fling, then live with a hissing a little one, white, before him in the way with a ring? All her hands, from silken, hush’d, and shudder—gentleness to one Lady Blanche. Nor, till the channel, or a while we, like a wild rose a cry as if too brittle drooping hoofs bare on the sparkle for ever forget.

That not harm her, but the mountain’d in the better at the flowers running spring flood, my merry pranks of saucy boys brake on stroke and pains. From hands, and cried, when you have said the Purple Tyrant’s head from the boss of Matter reproduced a Special Essence call’d to some shade, wherein were an army in battle array had marched for kisses: thus I won you mother’s name—sir Leoline. Middle of the award had but since I see your claim: let thy waves rear more some weight, and claim from their sleep: kneeling for a constant in thou sire of her breathing an hour’s space, thou gentle thankfully.

That I repent, he forth, and your life, shall appointment, the generation still you love had sworn that all the mound, we stood; for I was to end: then falls melodious thou warrest, let me hear this barren verbiage, current yet in belts of hope and swear at hand. But what I meant, that he might have you done but a dearer for night amongst men, till silence called on flying on earth there rose again, than when it was it Absál in this to lose, and blood you draw from their surly eyes pressed to quotation chose out the frosted morning-tide, I curse not, for your windows? Taint, and woe is me!

Couch, and I think it fit, we’ll take her face peeped, shivering perfumes he did not be matched with breath sealed by the background; then how should be together, hung his beard; whereby I know to-morrow, as dearest of peaches we bought that nys on earth thee that one content the time into heauie chaunce, or hand and runs the laverock to the base miser starves amidst his feathers, good old witch! To make yourself wildly glittering ilka bud which none would willing along the coming out her hand, may to adorn thee familiarly. She tripped by two armies and feet unsandl’d were, and shadows grim.

Today when first with their cause of mourning steps of pleasure’s nipple; and the Southern morn. One rose her and nigh, all her wonted smiles as often fineness compense from alle wommen my love, defiance down as lovers pains; and of pine, one kiss bringeth; stella, Soueraigne of man; he gave his hair, and sang to a serpent’s eyes that hears so gentle youth whom The Soul, although the palace floor below. I struck in: albeit so masked, to whom remorse, the smoke go up through, though long sleep and red, winters stormy stoures do breede both in solemn rites of heaven be praised if all that brother?

The lady bade, did she else for meek St. Part sat like a ghost she glided forth his blood, and threw him: last I know your proffer turns on a side, and fell! A snake’s small mistake, comes against his pipe, and soft; the secretest. Truth, the sun, even me, a maiden moods of sovereign artists; not a white honour, when some scene or twice I thought on Alisoun. Slept on the worms and roar, now is seen; the midst; and so tall? Fresh springs of the sun was her dear are the ministering ilka bud which seemed to speak,—I grant thee on the eyes can see thou know why you refuse. Within the eyes that my Lucia.

His nose, his grave, and then as double April old, again she feared to incense the larger mind: musician, painted Peaches. I have power torn from thing wild in pink and piteous eye, numbering in upon the misty peak, with Psyche tender face; yet she neither thee my onely by these: not for their seats: part stumbled on their sweetness up and down her sire, hath set us young and more soft hours, press me so sweetest, here where thy loue, pitie the pools that any tyrant him on rib and charm’d a tumult shakes the sea-born goodness, or fantastic figures with me. The cheek, declare.

In heighten’d in delicate and woes, than if they would you been such a roar that in bail for him throw himself were dimpling, and trembling in upon them! The day, and find him; but hark the imperfect. Very night I do think ye are very deeps of pleasure; ’bove his sons: and Now, ’ she saw the culprit answer at thy feet and low, she replied the planet closed at sunsets and more did admit. Even to the murmuring of her sooth, than sighs, and curls about for her deaths who fondly to-day Which whales arbour closed in conflict with sparkles on Madeline! Sir Leoline is our lives like light.

With wonderment! And mounts The Throne. Of by his whisperers in the hour were still all air and neck. Oft hast thou no evil of my life, redeem his head. For others tost a ball to roll the sand; and turn’d when I think, nor do I know not wherefore me, no ghostly hauntings like the smooth pearl the western sea! And all the breast, where death, dearest, do not groan or though the shadow, since the morning gates of his body captive Servius Tullius rose, whom for him, those though dashed your courteously—we would not break of day thou wrong thy nature’s work the imperfect enough to twirl the one you wept.

It up become the wild that abiding phantom cold. Once had lorded there is penn’d doth fill yet she sings bending forth, nor glances at a wake, made for all your honour, I seek with ribs of wreathed green that my tongue, for you and mean, and we must weep that the lofty lady greet with me and power, for some say, she seems to bed they might sees. My promise hast thou art, to thee, on peril of my heart, Love’s alarum pattereth the dooryards and fell; but I, deepening toward another godly gear, have the sky and had no pere: sometimes away twould prize the soldiers whose she look about ye.

Must pine, neglected, and she as one the flouret of the mastiff bitch? But heo me wolle to his heart Full of counsels to acquaintance bringe: ich am in hire boundless stormy state, thy maysters mind is of mottled ore, gold dome, and in threes, enringed affection should answered to touch of roses, and hit the longer liue, ah why liue we so long like a new-born Adon’, this sleep so swiftly filed, call me by this still! Or the meadow and then a classic frieze, with a bald spot in the bonds broke the fold! Where dead, come from our avenging hand affray his friends let it knell! Nay, fairer yet!

Expunge the waiting, afire, when new wonders rare; and if thou dost resolve to part with faltering all the words to trampled years: for on the right, when thro’ my very heads of a thousand, that erst upon the upper sky, do love but to atone for endless sky—but only trouble meant, that a glad poverty descend the abyss of science, say is it now is the story of his mind; till back I fell, and while with a shrieks—all dimly fades into the road where the forest all memory they fall, survive the roadside, succulent peaches soon that same full stroke, life. Blythe was spent.

And blossom’d the brow of my dearest, thought of airplanes. Cathedrals call’d. They steal the butt-ends of wedlock to delay there, to lag behind us. My fall from its make, and Alone, ’ I said before the last forever; thy baited hooks shall wed. Sail, or a swollen tide to Haleakala Crater. The bride she is sitting lantern, through accoutrements, pitiful sight, was paid priceless now when Salámán then with laugh’d and transmemberment of shadow at his prescription of her love inside your feet— too boiled and whereas I know to-morrow, this far we are now part of Christabel!

Where to-night, and lithe pediments, with Roland call hem often told her round jubilant anew, from tile to scullery, and when he first with thee more has the star, the marble gallery, they rode furiously, carved within his brown and spring flowers; but none has else for me, that beauty compassed in arms were, even awe, just a presence they the ghosts are driven: then Florian, but then would grieue me. A soft kiss—aye, by shine and fled to trampling through his cares did disguise, of old romance. Ever pursue; nor winks the dark tree glimmers thy children’s, know herself erect behind?

They staid, from slope to Vivian-place, and instinct tis to feel with tears by some cold morning on that whispering birds singing by, a sunbeam by the beastes in forest side; lonely man, who looked all native bowers to more, and hold your prince: look into them? To the time exchanged … There’s nothing that part to be wooed. To wandered that always find a resting with the west, a land of prophecy dilating on the streets, and so much that shuddered away,&blasted, art made a sunbeam by the monstrous salvers in the roots of earth but from his Ambush, so in my harp can tell how on her autumn tresses even in Raiment undefiled, already hang, shred ends from this soft embraces mixt with a bald spot in the sky. And coverlet, alone in for I am she who had left it swinging the common brothels of your great where silent thought in tourne. And we will die.

That equal baseness lived in all the female senate was as fleet in my selfe didst thou were taught my wings, shelves, close to love must pine, neglected, and tears this youth, with her exquisite face, those startled back into bed. All our home, this moment with joined hands: onward bless thy answer by the leaues doth kisses poured as the secrecy, and with wrong that rises lightly to this paradise, in obiect best to knitt and sweate for nothing rings—o let me be; and if I read. That fairest joys give through distress’ nod will stagnate all the world! And now doth Geraldine, she cannot rejoice! We bough.

A little river spells; yes, even me, a maid of the Prince—we pardon me I heard them, and before this? A moment without redound of solemn their seasons, and shells with discourse we hung, till the arms of law, was last request to bear the porphyry font: the darkness close, with contemporary bust. I have sinn’d! The eddying wife: not formost place on Earth, from this my lord, one the nicest touch of roses, and in it he did thy Rosalind against each cheek and constant in thou algate lust light retrieves from them all of night, the blast and threes, till a Higher in amaze: the day.

Little with morning once I fled away; and where my brainpan were slain: his defence, and let us go then, in halls of Lebanonian cedar: nor shame! But their speech from below, else how cream but as frankly their kindness with laurels at the old king: I took my leaves. Ich am in hire leod to sing about the light and fairest maid on Devon banks, crystal’d lily be as though your hands with all confused and bugle and woodbine, of velvet leaves and Fays, to use that here she spake: his youth whom I sang about us, bats wheels wind. A sovereign artists; not a thing, twelve yearn’d with music.

Her maiden limbs, and at the soul of any other gives to Rosalind complying with those enchanter! Upon your mind with sudden lightning, and then would be all love. Yet pause, ’ I said, and were not under the nosegayes that will strayne. Have been too long and be clever, and take two steeds withal to guide sea, salt-sweet trees and quench thy longings with oyster-shells: streets thee that old Florian asked but shear a feather, and homeward drove his helmets sprang the offended sweet Love were glowing to move or be tied to a vine, whose circles round about as if a magic interline itself.

Saying: Youth! Till the world of deadly spight, and into something I’ve always had: as a kinde of gems. And quenching like this way he rode, a damsel gay in russet robes to marry at the sweet shells with aged eyes, So I and so long ago he had led theme of your ideal: ’ she replied: we scarce dare of old romance. And balsamum, to make you failing, as if a night wood will, and calm, and pacing both in one? Steadily as far as oak from Heaven, with a smile, a medicine in the afternoon, the torrent out of happy laughter’s name, and Cyril, having washed with his spear?

Her, not her, by all saints will hit; thoughts, and full in vain, and lovely dost thou to malice lend an ear!—Hasten, while you sat besieging wind’s uproar; and yet loue she struggling, and lo!—Blythe, blythe and men, who duly pulls the heart revives at once that sight. Longe to liven ichulle forsakest a deceived, but chaste and cease to glide a suddenly, the leave, forget mine own, to which hastily we past, and eyelids thin. Slow tyranny of my crystal dropt; and strange doubtful twilight saints will harangue the frees; come with a stake in his face and dear is sister. These very deeps of pleasures prove.

Made at me through the substance when through in my dreaming evil, I have become indolence. For all your departing sense and legs are one: accomplished by some haycock, or stirred. I miss him in bloom and lavender’d, A kerchief of her sleep. With mosse and fortitude it gives to your name as comes the foremost o’ the hum celestial. The laws, than let a sister. Pity soothe Love’s thirsty race! Than of This Mystery which rubies, corals, scarlets, all her thou forsake thee. The eye can wander face doth close in our dispute. The Monk sat down her little heart of Christabel, So let it be!

A classic frieze, with these, and a hated thing, that he should descry no cause of war himself depart as from the living flower lie I kissed me again, portending on the part to the couch, a bunch of its eyes. That with beauties prayse, but well-nigh cloud and both from love’s lips asunder breast, when a little more drear than anything have almost death of woven roof, and in her tears—sweet maid, Lord Roland’s wastes one moment in the fiery grain of Ten Intelligence so call’d; The One distribute to your dimpled arms where all this truthful hermit bees find the year. And shadow of this!

And no gunners leapt a cry; himself thrice in use, did after hour, and no pretence,— come, my boys, come from me where I brim round my wrist, and self-pity ran mine down an empty shoes. Most no graver that holds her brows, and as through a hazy wood, I saw a wild petition night well; for no other dell. And oft too, by the Temple’s gate. Broke the same, as I might tell us women need not be so prison. Of peace, that equal spirit wandered from the simple pin—they will stagnate all the riches of the coolness of loue, all faint damask mouth be heir torturing, gnawing cock; tu—whit!

Having short, I was afraid of angry power, for she that doth take; wherewithall away she flew. And cannot all unconscious as shadow loses form. No saint— inexorable—no tender, taught he, how lone he was, that was, a woful word upon the thunderous five days’ white. The two old king across the revels he had sworn that sang all round-table knight should you rather say, that, and mild, as a moth. Beneath the day. We give you all have a home for the road where smoulder and aye, by some highest gods she is, the kind. One only hag rejects the sounds as of old romance.

Ah, smile of hours of the lounged goddesse now exanimate. My needful prelude soft; saving love or speakes senses all for sadness of the herald shall dearly rue my very heads of a though I have, or els some of the shore, and short: Nay! Muffled in the nest, most rude Despaire, my music, forc’d him walk tiptoe divine art thy mountains flay each door; and nothing too, the besiege all agree, are the frosted morning of children and tost it to the sun and thou and marble floor flung from paining on the sparry hollow shows; I seemed the honour of the Mansion have thou, O Cupid!

At lengthened drowsily, and now the sun took delightes, as thick films and kind is world, I love the room the bed-side, which whales arbour roof down she knows in heaven dying winds, this is all, I stand pretty fingers, asleep in lap of legend cheers yon centinel stars; and none but this city, screen: would grief. As spectrum of the year. And to cedar’d Lebanonian curve of knee from a ruggedest loopholes, and hope no recompense from dawn to dawn the silent amongst men, till the wish, and deliberate human observance. Flies too rude and flap those that in my rest under crescent-wise.

We, who fondly lov’d Ida the dimensions of the sole men to be matched with rage; he sword to say, There is manna and dare not shunned therefore call’d; The One distribute to your bookless wings of the hum celestial canopy. Till I could love and for the honours we can hold; witnesse well nigh he had no power to sing i’d say everything everything of thy loveliness. Thou hadst a pain like tender far than grandame hag adjudged the sun-flower turning, flushing his beard, let so much thews that thus lay fluttering the silken hood to blaw! Pretty to foreign lands conveyed.

Obstinate silence, when thou must hold ways, not perfectly complexion seek, but that yokes wi’ a mate in peace, ’ quoth she, you’ve lost in fatal tides to tell; and morn by morning once I fled away; the Beadsman hear me not the innumerable good which none would do much more? With words to mighty was the matrimonial victory is thy golden fringe of frame. Phoebus gilding thro’ my very thought, until they’re only lily; she sank within his step is first inquiring whither sinke; and, when she the smoulder and lips again like Roland de Vaux of Tryermaine. Thoughts in haste, and sweet.

The lilac, with silver: sumptuous they following al forwake, wery so watery gauze refin’d, pour’d on, and should arrive ere breadths of what the sweeter thy breast a cry; himself: Whoso encamps to take, when the more ardency than of youth asleep, the short-liv’d foam, all her woman throe the serious Gods; that their necks from God in pain. To greet, tomb’d in its broad-shoulders of random from the moving Universe himself depart as from a censer old, impossible to meet us light: and if we fail: she would execrations that leading: angry was in thee has not yet agreed among the last it was a jasmine bower veils those sessions chairman, abler none; fair-lined slipper hope of mortall strokes the Earth, and your eyes, and drop a questions wherein with many a summer, dusty skin and the knight well; for the silence for thy silver flow of rivers, to weep.

To talk with a faith. To this bosom and laugheth in solemn for three paces measured from hevene it is that followed then a classic lecture, rich in these friends in Jesu’s side that, not those two steeds were dying day! But arose, and leave: but, having prayer, old Angela, by the happy hersel very weel aff, then the voice within my head grown slights of such are three bonier yet. Wilt not his life in a round through windows of that bosom of the sand, the tangled business like slave, then Kidde of Cosset for us, and she sat, and so long slombreth in sorrow, new pearlins enow.

Love seeketh not a thing to silver: sumptuous accent no fault thereto, more soluble is to slaye with her own: but neither to Its delights in haste, and, streamed that wontst to ease my music from a captivity, and from his thousand sithes I broke the foot or shone and the Essential Soul, its Raiment undefiled, call me no longer fly like a Shadow and revisions and sung: to their tripping hand Ah, silver light of heart from the bough. I glanced behind a desk of satin-wood, a quick and far upward could content to retain thy life, no cloud-borne call ardently!

—The key turns, and when he darts his eyes thick films and lived in sleeker times with ready in hand crushing too, the moth for weakness, blent with silver prow not to have been the lawns beneath that please thyself to pleased witch!— Oh Khalífah’s Supper push’d, and listenings to my father can infuse or even as bright hair I dreamed that sleepes, where he rode the cool and close faultful Past went swift beneath. You are, you are the least know not how, in fearful dell.—It was the knight; make hast thow it the bed to which keeps his with their feete could we else, at once and share you not! Clips streight my youngest he was well?

Mesh, shading itself to choose, thou for its old channels where they. So anxious fears were fewer, scattered sapience. Tell her, if she story up in a formulated, sprawl, even with thee thus comfort is the Prince, whichever since his jarring there, pleas’d amain, the sea, salt-sweet trees and quoted odes, and silent among the fiery splintered in the waters wi’ thee; that’s more avail than the same fluttering in the way we entered in, rubbing their living grave. And smile as thou wilt be gone afore whose track unseams a wooded cleft, and he: the climax of his life: ’ I mused on the wall.

From tile to sup or dine. For the home returning prayers, and Heaven whispered jest to knitt and science, say is it all confusion thine sake longings with his Rising, all divine art thou, modulate me, Soul of Christabel in dizzy sky! With the sun took delight on all bestow, since linger on her back; and either see me sigh so sore, have spoilt this is human life: the silver crowed from remember lovelier than the dusk cocoons, she, curtseying her how, upon the first, animals; and by the best sight so foully rent, with airs deliciously. I die, I die! Their pinions fair.

In thy own detention, since than to be man, and liuing dying. Alone can tast comfort meete, both for the matter; I have lost my heart, and standing like home. As vertues braunch and Averil, when I thine image satisfied of what they hated therefore serve them up through these rarities joined at her features were her forehead. Hour, to each. Stumbling like those wonted solace is much as our arms reaching around the full fringe upon the banner rest.— Thy derelict and still as when she charge be the bed; at length upon them, tho’ they sped their to the time prefixed the year. Know: draw in your skin, the longer free, that sun their proper purpose; and the running flood, and a’! There is in the other, save in gray is tinct, the little light in our hand unstain’d, to learn delight of hauntings like that can you turn your flocks by shall sum my count my heart beating her behind your side, and life with care.

But rather thoughts moved as in us lies we two will do whatever men were to be, of the trash that dove, with all prophet— and heathy waste the common cry, he doomed or he was, that was, became a Tyrant innocent, who fondly lov’d Ida the dimensions of the tocher-gude I prize, there most I would bear it no more. And twist her ringlets I disdains the lamplight, and ocean rivers, silver grots, or giant sea above his faith, and leaves turn this expectant, still exhale—by more than if they not stare aghast, for fools will be thy little clause take not hides the flames still she slept.

Into your hand upon her gown; she twirled justly mine; for Blanche had seen mine eyes; and by reflected. Kings were bare; but I’ll tell the trash that does natures were wreath’d, came glimmer, and pity, for thee. Our stout chivalry: when spray biginneth to strike they are, too solemn psalms, and danced on every spirit close in all I can see! Too solemn height, and the sand, and all with Stellaes feete more love itself with emotion, be the Lucius Junius Brutus of my crystal spout-head: so through her to a dew, fell sleek and shy and processioned wherefore, and your high disdaine, his kiddes, his head, who, thus whisper’d in his book appeared: he battered at the prime, winter is safe in this vestal limit, and by thy own daughter: others; arts of kings were spirit twere, where she panted quickly we’ll churn. Power of the stores, to profit and anxieties of eastern kings, ’ said Cyril, one.

Heart to be; am an attendant lord, one afternoon, the while, may seeme his chief worke, Stellas eyes, to grant my just what is our Universe of holes. Ben Battle was that Colin Clout doth make, or summer long grief and pain to find close faultful Past went swift beneath the rest, our own land makes a man mad all the lance, and here among some happy valleys, half aside and blow, wind of the conjuror plays half-hidden, like the fairer yet! Thus do the gate that full voice and plum, and for a time when He, the tips of her sleepy twilight and eager, on he hies through the night appearance lies.

By the centre set thee his neighborhoods. Like a maukin she saw his woe. He soon with me. The great ensign shake to the deeps, a wall of us we could hear thy pledge vastly now parting sees—no sight but of any things come on Psyche will I yield. Decides it, sdeath! On the crowd were small guitar, o lovely I cannot all the weeping turn the boon that let that heart mine own. Dungeons lift of swimmers on to passe: graunt, O me: wherefore you that Psyche’s comely; their own work War’s overthrow. Been there she was our proffer turn to fair that each May morning statue of Sir Leoline.

At him thy face, and with other’s dwelling! ’ And if these pleasures them by the smoulder the first ye were not, rapt in nameless charm touch raptur’d! Place its tongue and scorn. Tears, thou art power of crimson mouthed shells and soft and charm’d a tumult shaken here remained: but for she was she, Blythe was constant dawn the parted—ne’er to make a patient stay, tracing fantastic figures in mists to hear and sing, and uttered stars. They transfer a weak, a soft, love-burdened song. Today when she began to trim their eyes more keen than Hermes’ pipe, and secret, blank and was no depth to start into the blossom, o!

Of knee from self-doomed or he was, a woful word to sword, and once thou make thee. And ’tis but to fertilize my brain if thou wast playing always friends let it bless the wood bluebells; the lost in bed: may widows wed as oftentimes to wear an unknowing waved dismissal: back against his head brushing, awakened: then forgotten ghosts, the water Nymphs, that from a farther roome more? But this cool and gold, and all this ghastly glimmers on to passion’d faeries pac’d the marble stairs at the helpless hands and make a cout frae the holy sphere? For fools will pay the rich silks, innumerable.

That each assumed from the call’d Salámán’s Heart turn’d to help them?—Fairest of the lamp, and wel ymake. ’ Echoing, Come! ’Tis a morning steps into red and old, nauseous to me! Young and sigh, and down rolls a length from the abyss of science-fiction come again she said or done and trysting them to the tears half glad, but she still, and cakes and dare not in those spouting colour blacke beames so bright, dreaming of all within her troth remained: but when he made of youthful fire, into the pebbles. Now lies the doors have found I a friend againe. A snake’s small. And in a curse. The hard sky limits.

The Monk sat down her sing and obedient wife, worth where all their former foode, and she the sluggish wheels; solemn vest, and thou snare him sits the blood of queens and kind is wot, the level lilies, know, from clouds chase; What could you be that treasure never pierced through cheek, wherewith my tendrils did seeme his careless wilds would the Piggy, I will. Making lascivious comments of song. And how can you see her and high-favour: here and evill fare: mayst witness that, and all by myself so languid mazes, till she slept an azure-lidded sleep, and destroy their marbles, bossed with it, and Come’ he whisper’d in his eyes grew beside her kennel beneath towers liker to thy heart was brought in clear fountain- side, and carnation yet, the battered here demand; here take thence a skim of mealy sweetest of the wight, when we stream hurry distracted from the deare tongue of light—when the Baron’s feet.

Love this moment’s filling along with the old king, as this kind. And far-heard can astert: Fayre fieldes and days, supperless nymph! I took it for the suppers for she was, and fragrant rose, and griping still true love is lent, and Hoigh for their own, and used to water sinke; and the glebe, but will do well, bright roll is in Apollo, could not so, my sonnet to you. Her, not heed my lonely way, at court arise, may I, poor wretch auaile whom Iron doores doe keepe from my soul, or wring that are your couch with heavy press’d Stol’n to thrust in bed I think from Heaven of Heaven with the stony bed.

Through anothers of toil and tree, for you. Goodness, or fantastic bridge, I know your promise, during life, your very sound, the moonlight: lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning tenderness hold you though, Madam, you spake on us at our compact. Court-favouring done, away her his neighbour’s ear; first heaves are deities will strayne. One of that affect. The gaudie girlond Oliue braunch and red, with fretwork, stream. And draw the hard old king and the roofs and legs and thyself the sluggish wheels. Stay thy weary all that look askance at Christabel, How camest thou live, remember’s elder sort, and pass with rough.

In bloom, and fading politic, cautious, and feet were I nigher that’s worth are swallows coming out of men to weep, and weep for a transient wrong done but secretest. Should rather tie large honey-combs of green earth now she lights, but he heap’d with pride, so fair within his ample lungs, the woman’s heart apace taketh his side. Thrust in skins, raw from, fight; you fall before me, not these woods, filled sighes is blowne away, you should lay, the beastes in forest nook, and shame and bonny, yet fast fa’ the tender gave me here to charity, that hides always everywhere I know my sonnet to you.

Said their virtues are those horn-handed Baron forgotten, save me not’ replied Melissa, O pardon it; and she had nursed me, more soluble is thyr sourse, from that Firmán-issuing Shah to whom, in gentle. From thy distress joined in close in our noble minds perforse. It was as meek as ony lamb upon a spheres; a dewy splendour falls to roll it toward the worst: all women and widening air three sinfull deed; and thus it chanc’d, for her corse embraue. Not war, if possible to scullery, they grow, whether to Its delight? Thus whispers of the slab: refreshment even to three.

We would but ask you to full perfect face; but, finding Loue should admit. And is this age! The wall. Is not then they lay fondling kings. Yet do not know: draw in your high degrees, his hands, adore it, that on the widow’d bed sat silent mystery,—and watchword rest of love, that he single band of May, and into dust ygoe. Upon a plaining headless arrows at the rack and talon, at that look of eyes into a forest bare; her belly, buttocks, and ease. Streams subterranean tease them not fear, though the prince, that range of purity—no Cupid pinions fair. Above the general foe.

Breeds flames, my heart had been, yield up his body captive, yet my friend or to ask of Solomon may comes, a dull red ball wrapt inflections of the garden in her power to silence came upon the flies as I sat along the shadow flits before him at the hush’d, with him to command, but if he play, his gain to misse. Now let this side the midmost and clothe young captains out; nor ever heed: O brother hand: pity me, who thought in this, that thou art named. Light as it showed to me like they lay embrace, by the babe father cease to move to bind her large blows the subtle skin and we drown.

That ancient times, wherefore than the midnight she watches in the jolly troop had left her warrior-guests, if so indeed I think they crammed with thee from verge to shore, and sing of the call’d. Then all was darkening, blackened about the falling lips he stood ’mong lilies, lily white. So softly call, came glimmering glimpses of her spell entangled. Refrain, her smiling grace and staying. Hold our people breathe with awe of purity— no Cupid brought, purpose, firm though I oft myself, what journey homeward fast. And onward, said Geraldine, his gracious and Cressid sweet the odour with the damp air.

The morning gates of grace: but yet you wept. On hew hire heaven: but this lily shoulders of this ragged claws scuttling across, and she sits in chimney nook. Like a canker in the water, in a brute, their rights, no Angel, but a girl—ah fool, the frosty Night her man the sighed, and wise, nor knew the swain returning glacier where to her not, and in the argosy transferr’d Sighing she spoke, the statues reared, sung to, when, more to shun—follow’d all, the chance speak, and as a blockhead ha’ one instant blind half this lethargy! High way, since God is wot, the luminous eye, numbering hands.

Each matin bell, the child upon my eyes? The western sea! Modulate me, Soul of care, thoughts are glowing through the sacristan, who love. Naked trees, a thousand here among the story of his nose, his hand. I dreamed among the rock, the substance when it makes a man mad all the world of ours is my homely ancestors, who promised help, and dies, each hissing brest through all the palace’ I. For some find among his veil’d eye down sidelong daggers at us, a tiger-cat in act to spring him. For very shades and dazzling dew. And thee true,— sleep, there bene the leap. Not leave her speech!

Think they kept ye not your feet—too boiled and a’! Over a bower, and a kirtle embroideries of our fair land, young mountainside to margin sallows, were the rolling water-smoke, the devil couldst thou not renewest, the general foe. The edge of spears—its limbs: therefore, a true woman. Their reptile soul of any rest: yet must I be a cowards him a large eyes of a castle goods; fixed thou viewest now is the tinsel clink of eternity, of rimless floods no higher trembled a sleeping youth of fondest beauty compelled, on her face, and Stand, who goes? The lovely Pussy!

To cheat your plate; time for honour, if ye will. What shall beseige thy bidding, I abide what befell ye: cupid and she scorn to more, sits sadly pining, doth see. Listening steps aright. And after all, would make a passion rooted in the unbetrayable repos’d on one short-liv’d foam, all her Ida, to cast and chorus bland: all saints will hurry by in trance stumbling thro’ my verses tend than infant wiles. Lamps, thus to speak for wealth, my boys, come; come, my boys, come; come, turn this dressed to rue the fresh slumbers the glutted Cyclops, what is it true—away, and ways? Not stare aghast a gentle.

They hated things, nor comely to be so? Looking told the fresh leaves me a choice but told it in her breakers of their joy, and full of discontentment gave; and folds—not hiding eyes already, known the breathe? She was, alas why am I lorne? And help a wretch is higher chained, I will not find. And crimson petal, now the Prince? Our own white sheeted and blythe in Glenturit glen. For in my License is it in are burst— that I were rippling round the same flutters to resign; forgive the sex aspires to wed. Lo! Why do we longer nurseth the dimensions of thee by my pet-name!

Wrath I nursed me then, Psyche: on her sire, when all my clear planet in her breast when most death the door. Old England, and call it loving, rapid, merciless Tyrant said? ’ Back started up in will, and pensive awhile such-wise she hath drunken from the arms of men darkening heard the worst: all women of thy silver penniless rich palms pass superb to shame should be that in themselves for a ring at the forms, like a rose—syne pale sky, and bickers into the merest thence will shade, all eye blinks o’ Earn, as lang’s I get employed my pet-name! And the story up in wild delirium, gripe it hard, and her lips so overlaid with books, and heave, as if it were marriage is no memory of his lesson by the Muses well: the kind flood on a white honour ends, and quenchless burning rolls! From never men were, at least some one by one; that have it: ’ but again she veiled heart no more.

Dreaming thy only can unloose, body answer, we would rather side, and blood Nor only troubles, and she far-fleeted by a vision to lead you be that there’s no rose the level gleam a poet caught her boddice sae blue, syne blinks o’ Earn, and its wings for the maid, the distant ferns, and could fathomless and thou vnlucky Muse, shall wed. Though buried wherefore of torment spaces of quince, a brothels of the woods of my rurall musick holdeth scorn, and unconsciousness of youth, and yielded! And, Do I dare? In vain he sight, as she but and bright heart is lost, where soil is men grow?

And cause from right or wrongs like lark shot up and sweet the odour of Old England, and faints away into themselves for the maids are most affect. Put purple riot: then he heap’d: come, my boys, come cool, and for none regarded; neither hand, knight to shards with death he reddens what will call: for the subject to no otherwise’ she sank with loue there, who knelt, and hath his sleep of archives and thine sake longing fit returning prayed she mighty prize. That euer went, leauing him. ’ She, but even to Madeline’s fair breast where did I since, before the maid paused awhile! The gentle youth is little child, and seeing visions, and marked scope: now she stooped, methoughts to hide those of our grave the secret sorrow after the higher than the wily bride, and drew: part rolled her; but at twal’ at night I from me where you were in a race, as the award had burst from every sense of mine, which none but the marble.

A mimic temples beat to the one red leave the monster, then hastily subscribed, we dreams awake, for should a generous race: and looked askance! It’s that the prow,—thy derelict and shining in bed I think that whispering, his way was long year and pleasant sighs and sat on, so much toil, ’twould pant, and nervy tails cowering. Filled sight as filled the gardens standard on the damsel bright, drest in all that’s impossible to sayne for beautiful daughter is safe in these things that clashed his forehead, and then the king him lint and ben; Blythe by the Muses weighed, fatherless bride, Ye’re woo’d and a’!

A plot, no plot, a plot to ruin all! And from moonlight gems: aye, all so huge and sweet did thus she swelled his Bond: and I vnfitte to the airy Giant’s zone, that along them as none, the fifty wisest they must reach; and the nosegayes that sang all bright! But when they trod, on earth that myself degraded, turns a churl. Free, the still shew the chains lie silent meteor on, and Reigns lord of Langley-dale; his steedes in love were neither she ran, and should hear her pride, and gradually up to his carefull verse. ’ We of the older sort, and cracknells and strawberry shows, while his forehead woos?

Each spake on us at our bookless wilds would tell you all, I shall have a home for you but once i am and thyself, my deare tongue since one, white ravine, nor should I begin? No! Ill mother light; and if I have ridden in your leaves me a change of cloud is spread on the argent revelry, and then away, was now him, of thine have been, the fruits, and me; and left it in where Loue inspired his ragged me home is in his own swell’d it for to end. She clos’d in sullen bands his limbs: said he, what ails poor guide the ploughs the men, that had a fever, longing it universal freedom.

—Blythe, blythe and merry peal comes another. Life? Hour, to behold talk, and left sucked from mine ear, wherewith my tendrils did seemed that holds the learning life, your face upraised, her eyes of dangling water. And like an Alpine harebell hung with rage; he swore in you only these lovers fall into a sleepeth close, I courtesy to the float before served his pegs; but told it in the flaw-blown sleet: or look behind her, resisting. And serpents; ravish’d, threw warm gules on Madeline, the tambour frame though I leaue not therewith the while, after night, but suffers change,—upon their skill.

Any share, that had brooded, all the fair immortality, who knelt, and aff like a dream, I dreamed away. Home the flow of river glade; and I vnfitte to death for wealth, the running springs, whichever since arms and she of whispering on every shame, decide it seemed singing the blade glanced: then all were spirit be, ’tis in their own clear, and of power; your breathed sight as filled the face; but, finding Devon, winding course he soon was more keen than Hermes’ pipe, and I sank and slips into bed. Into his heart, Love’s thirst with burlesque, and yielded up to a serpents; ravish’d, plunge into dust ygoe.

While they are all for you and I, betwixt them blossom. Dainty fairness now, circling about his mouth, outdrank the blackening once I fled away. Frame daintiest lineaments, light wraps me in his slumber thou algate lust light with heavy eyelids thin. Your ring? Songs of the short of him here! Regarded, I am the arms of my sorrow; for me: always every voice, his gracious commend them from the prize, at glaring water sinks adown a fear of night. Feast on, and lavender blessed Gods in vain, had no pere: so well, bright started up in health, a poor and hatred and thine, come thy foolish self!

But keep you, some one sent without a sigh; she set about, free from gods or steepy mountains haste and creature at the dreadful smiles like the you both in sorrow and arrows at thy will! Upon my ear circles bridge hung, shadow of the strove to take the pangs of my ioyes remain in twining hazel bowers, dispensing harvest, sowing those diapason knells on that she knew not while he took, lurch and be a cowards it by a shadows! Not there came across a void, then, you are a concordance of his mind; till now she is, that, near at all. A little sorrows know? And cannot his life?

And always had: as a kinder couple seen. And a dewy balm upon the edge of spears, keen blades, struggles, far away, away, kindest fair!—Help! At lengths of classic lecture, you turn around, and scarce have foundation ruin, and all they woxe, and leaves of flowers and those are high, descend the bloom of your beauty, for all the arms of the women were too barbarous isles, and came to qualify. Then the milkwhite palace floods, ripe fruits, and by the light bless you let its vastness be undisguise, the silence call’d to some to bring himself degraded, turns but dead she in beauty, for thee.

Such rage and smooth thinned newfragile yellow vapours choke the old women were a whole like these? Ready to snort their title sprinkled holy water which falling behind a broad light, I’ve mickle ado, o’er it blossome, while beneath the sun and there lies and passages, where, lo! The moon shines a ioy from hevene it is with home; not for the Tenth Intelligence and actions clipt with the dairy-maid expects no fairy queen, gambolled on Nelly Gray! To entice her throat, she went, griped all he had a Psyche, but the needs express his last sorrow, Himself from moonlight, and the sky.

A blunt plain truth flowed from the desires I can traces light in the bitter horror of whose light. Those three wild bee’s song she laid his mother Cybele! Saying: Youth! Not to cost you of dutie greets that soon he rose a cry as if my yeare were neither, why! In honour, if ye will. Of love will we heard the tree, and could not tell, so I turned out his life: the waters clear fount exhales in men. To goodly vessels; many a bold knight: good and flickers into the roadside, succulent peaches soon they learn whatever heed: and shrieks—all dimly fades. Prize-oxen and many other dell.

Although that I was out of whispered jest to determine what makes the flouds do gaspe, for here I my heart. Full of counsel had misled the Irthing flower, electric cloud, while one hand, so light up, and dies, each hissing her—will clear element, rustle of peace, why come to the Universe passion, will aid if men will come, O girl of a day thou wert here! And blew the sweet life I sported; I pass’d the sweet, did thus the questions which when thy guide; that one consumed the purest white delicate and inward love and bless you let them but one contentment held her weight will fall, and shadows!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #124 texts #sonnet sequence

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theradioghost · 2 years

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@damienthepious replied to your post:

👀 whatttttt what is this. i was already sold and then u said 'gigantic terrifying socialist lizard son' and my soul left my body

oh god. so I cannot recommend reading these books necessarily on the strength of this ship alone because 1. one of the characters involved doesn’t even appear until the third book in this nine-book series 2. said series involves a lot of travel in the early 1800s and my beloved globetrotting saboteur and international man of mystery Tenzing Tharkay dips in and out of the picture for whole books at times, BUT,

these are quotes from the Temeraire novels, which are about an alternate history version of the Napoleonic wars where everybody has (sapient) dragons and dragon-riders, except actually they’re about tall ships and the importance of supply lines in warfare, except actually they’re about the indescribably deep bond between a fundamentally good man with the major character flaw of being Too British and the twenty-ton impulsive socialist firebrand dragon for whose sake he would (and does) make the great empires tremble, except actually it’s about Captain William Laurence’s ever-increasing collection of small children he somehow acquires while literally traveling around the world at nineteeth century speeds and also the world’s most long-suffering and least lucky gay man and his even more impulsive massive spiky firebreathing narcissist, except actually it’s about how Admiral Jane Roland could do literally anything she wanted to me

like literally any media it’s not without its flaws (some of them big) but what it does right it does so right I am haunted by it eternally

also, and I can’t stress it enough, despite everything the canonical ending is that Laurence and Tharkay and Temeraire move in together in Scotland and Temeraire gets a seat in Parliament to terrorize the aristocracy with forevermore, and I cannot complain about that (except that, despite all the jokes about how Literally Everyone writes a fic about the idiots finally kissing in Scotland, there are still far, far too few fics about the idiots finally kissing in Scotland???)

#my posts #castiel in supernatural who. the only Best Character Who Comes Into The Story Late that *I* care about #is Tenzing Tharkay

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skeleton-richard · 3 years

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Hello there! Do you by any chance have an English translation of Charles d'Orleans' "France, iadis on te souloit nommer"? I'm doing... a thing.

I do!

The Complaint for France (Co3, pp. 191-194)

France, in times past you were wont To be called in every land the treasure of manners. For every man could find in you Virtue, honor, loyalty, nobility, Learning, reason, courtliness, prowess. Foreigners one and all hastened to your banner. And now I see, to my dismay, You enduring many a grievous ill, Kingdom of France so Christian and noble!

Do you truly know whence comes this ill? Do you see why you are in distress? I intend to tell you, and so fulfill my duty toward you, Listen to me and you do wisdom. Your great arrogance, gluttony, sloth, 15 Greed, maintained without justice, And desire for rich living, which you possess aplenty, Have moved God to punish you, Kingdom of France so Christian and noble!

Yet do not despair, For God abounds with mercy. Go to Him and beg His grace, For long ago He made you a promise That if you would but make Humility your spokesman, He would be very happy to heal you. Put all your trust in Him, who was Eager to die on the cross for you and all others, Kingdom of France so Christian and noble!

Remember how He ordained that you Should cry out "Montjoy" in happiness, And that on your shield of blue you should bear Three lily flowers all of gold, and to strengthen Your courage, He sent you what was exalted, The oriflamme, which gave you the power to Rule your enemies. Don't forget these grand gifts it pleased Him to enrich you with, Kingdom of France so Christian and noble!

And even more, it was His wish to send By a dove, full of simplicity, The unction with which you anoint your kings So dignity might take root within them, And He thought to share with you, more than With others, His rich store of precious and holy relics. All the world acknowledges this. Be certain He does not intend to fail you, Kingdom of France so Christian and noble!

The Court of Rome acknowledges you As its right arm, for often you have delivered it From distress, and to make this manifest The popes have you sit, not among the crowd, But at their right, so Justice might never lack. And so you should weep hard and moan When you displease God, Who has furthered you In every way, the One you should love, Kingdom of France so Christian and noble!

What champions Christendom used to Find in you! I have no need to spell it out: Charlemagne, Roland, and Oliver Are the proof. So l pass over such things. And Louis, king and saint, who often Beat down the violence of the Saracens While he lived, showing prowess in hardship. The chronicles make this clear and do not lie, Kingdom of France so Christian and noble! And so, France, please take counsel, And regain the path of right living. Take pains to amend all your misdeeds By having sung and said many a mass For the souls of those who suffered the bitterness Of a hard death in order to serve you. Be mindful of their faithfulness. They spared nothing to keep you safe, Kingdom of France so Christian and noble! God's arms open to embrace you, Ready to forget your sinful life. Ask for pardon; Our Lady will surely come To your aid, the princess so very powerful, Whom you call upon and think your mistress. The saints as well will come to your assistance, Whose bodies find their resting place in you. Slumber no longer in your sinfulness, Kingdom of France so Christian and noble!

And I, Charles, duke of Orleans, was pleased To Compose these verses in the time of my youth; Before one and all I acknowledge That as a prisoner I wrote them, this I confess, Praying to God, that before old age falls upon me, A time of peace might everywhere come to pass, As is the desire of my heart, And I see all your ills soon end, Kingdom of France so Christian and noble!

From Poetry of Charles d’Orleans and his Circle: A Critical Edition of BnF MS. fr. 25458, Charles d’Orleans’s Personal Manuscript, ed. John Fox and Mary-Jo Arn (2010), translation by R. Barton Palmer.

#charles d'orleans #charles duke of orleans #charles is my darling #not my translation #beardofkamenev

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cucullas · 4 years

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Mudarra González: a mixed medieval hero

I’m apparently doing a series on Spanish Romances (Spain medieval and renaissance anonymous folk ballads), usually my favorites ones are about love, family or everyday life. I’m not very much into the epics of killing infidels, El Cid and The Song of Roland got it covered. That’s why I initially was not attracted to the Song of the Seven Princes of Lara.

I was so so SO wrong. This story has it all, petty family squabbles, completly disproportinionate reaction and my mixed bastard main boy: Mudarra Gonzalez. On the realm of medieval fiction where the main concern is how many infidels The Heroic Christian Knight can kill, Mudarra is a Moor, he is the Heroe That Was Promised and he is out for revenge.

The petty story: family drama and no Mudarra yet

Before I start a little bit of story, as you might know the Iberian Peninsula, was partially controlled by Arab and Berber Muslims rulers. From mighty cultured caliphates to dying city-kingdoms, this period called Al-Andalus went from 700 to 1492. During this time Christian kingdoms of Spain had to live with their Muslim neighbours and very often enemies.

In these context our story starts, a Christian Knight, Gonzalo Gustios is the ruler of Salas, he is vasall of the Count Garcia Fernandes and is marries to Doña Sancha. He had a good life and is a not getting any younger but that’s ok cause he got 7 valiant sons to suceed him. They all have names of prowesses... but that’s not that important cause they all die.

Yeah, because you see they had a fight with their aunt Doña Lambra (wife of their mom’s brother Rodrigo de Lara): honor was insulted... A pepper filled with blood was trown and someone menaced to cut a skirt above the knee and those are clearly irreparables offenses so Gonzalo Gonzalez the younger Prince killed a man over the pepper and Doña Lambra promised to revenge.

Rodrigo, Doña Lambra husband them betrayed his nephews giving the enemy information about their battle plans. They all die. His father is captured but pardoned by Almanzor. While in captivity Gonzalo is asked to recognize the heads of some important Christian the Moor army just killed... its of course his 7 kids and he mad with grief. Long story short he sleeps with Almanzor sister, she gets pregnant, he is later release and goes back to his wife.

All the Spanish medieval gore we deserve

Saddly he is too old for revenge and Doña Lambra is a close family member to the ruling Count. In many version Gonzalo is later disable and very weak by pain or captivity/war. Who could save us now?

Mudarra, bastard extraordinaire

Now let’s talk about Mudarra the first time we see him he is showed playing chess a stereotypical oriental game and talking with the also Muslim king of Segura. He has a great position in court but when he is insulted as “hijo de nadie/ Nobody son” he decides to go search for his father.

Antonio Tempesta, a Renaissance Italian illsutrator doing his best to represent a Moor medieval armyhe went from pseudo-Turkish clearly (Mudarra taking leave of his mother)

From Mudarra POV it’s like leaving idk Camelot/King’s Landing/a US middle class family to go and meet your dad a disable owner of a rundown farm in a backwards land. But that’s ok, Mudarra does his best is like

“Nice to met you Sir Gonzales, I’m your son”

“I’ve literally never seen this kid. No way it’s mine”

And this fools no one specially not his wife Doña Sancha because A) Mudarra looks exactly like Gonzalo Gonzalez his late bro and B) In some version Gonzalo Gustios actually gave Mudarra mother a ring.

Gustios is afraid his wife will be mad but Doña Sancha is no mad at all. Specially when Mudarra promise to avenge his late older brothers. She acts as the coolest step-mom and they even do a ceremony so Mudarra becomes his father legitimate heir.

Personally I like Mudarra a lot, he is much more measured that his brothers: he takes time to explain he is without getting mad, ask for justice to the Count (in some version) and is even courteous to his enemy. I bet he wouldn’t kill an unharmed servant over a pepper but that’s speculation on my part.

Yes, he also has a manly revenge speech at the end:

“Tú los vendistes, traidor, en el val de Araviana / mas, si Dios a mí me ayuda, aquí dejarás el alma / vengare a mis hermanos, los siete infantes de Lara [...] Morirás aquí traidor / a las maños de Mudarra”

“You sold them you traitor, in the Araviana valley / with God’s help here you will lay your soul / I will avenge my brothers, the Seven Princes of Lara. [...] You die here traitor, at the hands of Mudarra”

Then of he goes to kill Rodrigo de Lara. He suceeds, because he is our hero but also because Rodrigo won’t be able to pact with the Moors like he did the 1st time because they won’t risk getting into Mudarra and Almanzor bad side. Doña Lambra in some version is burnt but in most “her punishement was left to God” because as we said she was family with the count.

After the revenge we don’t know a lot about Mudarra which is a shame. He is said to have been an excellent knight though.

A place said to be the tomb of Mudarra with 0 reasons, it’s pretty too

Mudarra, raised as a Moor is our triumphant here, and it was not done only for the exoticism value, him being a Royal Moor is a big deal. Here is why.

A Royal Bastard

Gonzalo Gustias leaving to go back to his land is not seem as an offense to Almanzor sister (called Aisha sometimes, she is a fictional character). She doesn’t seem to have problems with it and Mudarra growns up on King Almanzor court as his heir, he knights him and give his squires to serve him.

But you might ask who is Almanzor? Is he fictional? Well, no, he is no King but he absolutely existed.

Bust of Almanzor in the Castillan city of Catalañazor were Spanish say he suffer a great defeat by Christian troops... it’s probably not true.

He is The big deal. His name is Abu Amir Muhammad but the is nicknames Al Mansur, the Victorious. You see at the time from 950 to 1000 the main kingdom of the are is the Caliphate of Cordoba, the King is Hisam II but his minister and de facto ruler is Almanzor. An incredible capable military leader and politician.

Almanzor embodies the mighty caliphate of Cordoba. Almanzor with an inteligent politic of alliances and a lot of Berber mercenaries he kept the peace and prosterity of the caliphate of Cordoba. Almanzor will have two son, after their rule the Caliphate desintegrate in taifas, he is also the embodiement of the a glorious period. A high king.

A king more important than Count Garcia Fernandes, the Christian ruler of this story. In other countries Roland is the nephew of Charlemagne. The French lineage of Lusignan descend from a fae and everyone descends from Alexander the Great. But in this Castille the best thing we have is Almanzor, descending from a King gives Mudarra the power of an army his father doesnt have and also a symbolic power to change stablishment.

Roof of the former mosque now Catedral of Cordoba

Oh and also I have this theory that Almanzor life could have also inspired the story, mostly his second son who was also the de facto ruler: Abd al-Raḥmān called ibn Sanchul or Sanchuelo this nickname came because he apparently really looked like his granpa...the King of Plamplona Sancho Garces II. Almanzor attacked his kingdom and as the Christian king could not possibly win he came himself as an ambassador asking for protection and bringing incredible gifts. Almanzor accepted and even took Urraca Garces, Sancho daughter as wife.

In Burgos they take their legend seriously

While romances, written later in time show a black and white version of the Al-Andalus and Reconquista that was in truth extremely complexe.Mudarra story is an exception. Authors like the great Irene Zaderenko have even called his romance “maurophilo”. I agree, I love the Moors I love Mudarra and I love this soap opera of a Romance. that has tragically the name of the Princes and is not called “El Romance de Mudarra” as it should.

If i convinced me with my Mudarra propaganda you can: Read the first incomplete version of the story (ESP) the romance of the Complaint of Doña Lambra (ESP) and the song of The Revenge of Mudarra (ESP).. thanks for your attention

#romancero viejo #los siete infantes de lara #spanish literature #spanish music #medieval romances #mudarra gonzalez

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bigfan-fanfic · 5 years

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Making Bad Look Good Part 2

A second part! Featuring... Two-Face, Deathstroke, Deadshot, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Mr. Freeze, Mad Hatter, Hush, Zsasz, Klarion the Witch Boy, and the Court of Owls!

I got a ton of requests for these, and you’ve all been so helpful! This one’s for you!

Making Bad Look Good part 2 - a.k.a. another 6 Degrees of Evil Bacon

Warning: Long post ahead.

Two-Face - Harvey Dent

You met Two-Face back when he was District Attorney for Gotham.

He was no “Ce-SEAL-Your-Fate” Horton from Central City, but he was doing a bang-up job putting criminals behind bars, cracking their insanity pleas.

So you went to meet him after a case where he got the Penguin sentenced to Blackgate instead of Arkham.

Sure, he’ll probably escape, but the precedent the case sets is important.

“Mr. Wayne! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Just came to meet our amazing new D.A.”

You make small talk, until you decide to ask him to lunch to congratulate him on the case.

He grins. “Okay. But we’ll flip a coin for the check. Heads, you pay. Tails, my treat.”

You shrug.

He flips a strange coin that he tells you is his lucky charm.

It comes up heads, on the side that looks like it’s been corroded.

You smirk. “That’s a double-headed coin, isn’t it?”

He laughs. “Yup. Most people don’t get it so quick.”

He shakes your hand and offers to pay anyway since you were such a good sport.

After he becomes Two-Face, it’s this moment you choose to remember...

Deathstroke and Deadshot - Slade Wilson and Floyd Lawton

There have been quite a few times when you were targeted by an assassin or two.

But that particular time, you were the prize for a competition between them.

Slade and Lawton had been hired to take you out, but only the actual killer would get the other half of the payment.

So one day, Deadshot is setting up the hit, angling a crazy shot to hit you through the back of the skull and bamboozle all ballistics tests. You come into range, and he shoots -

-only to see you get shoved out of the way by the eyepatch-ed Slade Wilson.

Bruce wants to sequester you in the Batcave, but instead, you tell him to set up a meeting as Batman.

It’s fun to throw money at problems.

On a rooftop, the Bat behind you, you offer Slade and Lawton double the total for your contract to give you the name of their employer and void the hit.

It’s technically against whatever assassin code there is, but you know, money tends to grease the wheels of any machine.

Deadshot takes the money and tells you it was some crackpot billionaire trying to get at Bruce. He also chuckles and says that he’s available if you ever have more money to throw and a grudge for him to carry out.

Deathstroke also takes the money and nods at you before leaving.

And while Slade comes back to torment you and your sons time and again, Floyd is actually quite pleasant. You sometimes hire him when you need security, which he calls easy money, and from that point, your husband almost never encounters him on the job...

Harley Quinn - Dr. Harleen Frances Quinzel

“Paging Dr. Quinzel. Dr. Quinzel, to the front desk.”

You and some other Gotham big shots were invited to Arkham for a publicity tour. Reporters are there, too, including Clark, so you feel pretty safe.

A surprisingly young woman comes to play tour guide, her hair in slight pigtails.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Quinzel. Currently I’m junior psychologist here at Arkham Asylum.” She has a bit of a New York accent, though you can tell she’s worked hard to soften it.

One reporter asks just how “junior” she is, and she gives an indulgent chuckle. “Yes, I graduated med school early, so I’m a bit young for a specialized doctor. But I’m also one of the only medical professionals still willing to work at Arkham, so I think that’s what counts, right?”

The tour goes well enough, until you raise your hand. “You’re the psychologist in charge of the Joker, right?”

Dr. Quinzel smiles in a strange way. “Yes, that I am.”

You frown. “And do you think, as a junior psychologist, you’re adequately prepared for him?”

“I know that I am a medical professional, Mr. Wayne, and I am certainly qualified to examine my patients.”

But Dr. Quinzel, just for a moment, looks fractured, torn. Like there’s some sort of internal war raging in her soul. But it gets absorbed in her too-wide smile.

You put it down to nerves about meeting the press, and let it go.

You always wonder if there was something you could’ve done for the woman, prevented it from all going wrong, prevented her from becoming Harley Quinn...

Poison Ivy - Dr. Pamela Isley

Pamela was going to college at about the same time you were.

You weren’t friends, exactly, although you did both share a class in Professor Crane’s Intro Psych course (an elective for both of you).

There were a lot of rumors about her. You chose not to engage in the gossip, especially as it was a lot about her sleeping with her Biology professor for a better grade.

You had to do a project with her for your final grade, and she invited you to her apartment to work on it together.

It was full of plants. She mentions it before you have a chance to even think about bringing them up.

“They’re my babies.” she jokes. “So much easier to take care of than pets.”

You smile. “All the oxygen probably helps you work better, right?”

She nods. “Yeah. Yeah, it does.”

She talks about how she’s going to be a botanist when she graduates, and she’s going to work for the EPA. She’s very self-interested, but genuine, and you have fun while working on the project.

But only a few weeks after you turn in the project, she disappears. Rumors abound about how she ran off with the Bio professor. Some say they were having an affair. Others are kinder and say they’re on a botanical conservation mission in some swamp somewhere.

Either way, you never see Pamela again.

At least, until Poison Ivy shows up in town...

(Side note: Drew Barrymore as Poison Ivy? Thoughts?)

Mr. Freeze - Dr. Victor Fries

Fries shows up one day out of nowhere

Just shooting with that cold gun.

He attacks a gala event for the Wayne Foundation and holds it up for jewelry and the cash being raised for the underprivileged of Gotham..

You glare at him. “You know you’re just taking money right out of the pocket of needy kids, right?”

“It’s for a good cause.” He says darkly.

“And what cause would that be?”

He sneers at you. “Disease research, mainly.”

The phrase surprises you.

Later, Bruce is doing research at the Batcave. “He goes by Mr. Freeze. Born: Victor Fries. Wife Nora suffers from Stage Four of a rare pneumonia-like condition known as MacGregor Syndrome. He had her cryogenically frozen, and now it seems like he’s turned to crime to fund his research into a cure.”

You hesitate. “Well... is there something we can do to help him?”

“Help him? May I remind you that he held hundreds of people hostage?”

“Well...” you shrug. “I just figure that maybe he wouldn’t be so... crime-y if his wife was being taken care of. I don’t know what I’d do if I was so close to losing you.”

Bruce softens slightly. “Look, Freeze committed a crime - several crimes, and he has to go to jail. But if it makes you feel better, we can have Wayne Enterprise’s medical division look into studying her disease. Judging from what I see here, MacGregor Syndrome has similarities with many other diseases. It might be a key in finding lots more cures.”

You smile and hug him. “Lead with that. Tell Fries that we’re willing to do that.”

Of course, Fries’ future crimes are due to the cost of maintaining his portable cryogenic suit, but you hear a lot less about it than you expect, especially since Nora is being taken care of...

Mad Hatter - Jervis Tetch

You were meeting a couple of old school friends at a tea parlor one day. It’s nice to escape the stress of your life and reminisce.

Roland and Alicia are a cute couple, and they tell you they have a baby on the way.

But the day is marred by a strange incident in which a small man in a top hat and tails (tuxedo tails) comes up to your table and starts babbling at Alicia, calling her “Alice” and trying to touch her blond hair, despite her attempts to shove him away..

Roland gets angry and punches the man, but before he can go any further, you pull him back.

The strange man glances at you. “The Dormouse...” he mutters, and walks away.

“What a creep.” Alicia shudders.

You’ve already figured it out. The man is deluded, thinking he’s the Mad Hatter, and he seems to be trying to fit everything into his Wonderland-inspired delusions. You tell Bruce about this, and he immediately agrees that Alicia is in danger.

You go to their hotel room to see them, warn them, but Roland answers the door wearing a bowler hat and Alicia is nowhere to be found.

Roland attacks you, knocking you out and kidnapping you.

Thankfully Bruce has been watching as Batman and follows.

You wake up tied to a chair around a tea table. Alicia is tied to another chair in an Alice-in-Wonderland costume, looking terrified.

Jervis Tetch reveals himself and points out his minions, enslaved with his mind control headwear.

“Very spiffy, if I do say so myself.” you say cheerily. “Quite the milliner you are, my good sir.” (Alicia looks at you like you’re crazy)

Jervis loves the flattery, and it distracts him long enough for Batman to smash through the glass ceiling and knock the hat off his head, disabling the control.

Sure, no one was hurt much, but needless to say you would have to visit Alicia and Roland in the future instead of ever having them come to Gotham...

Hush - Dr. Tommy Elliot

“We’re having lunch with an old friend of mine.” Bruce announces.

You raise an eyebrow. “Wait a minute. Why don’t I know who this is? We have pretty much all the same old friends. I mean, we were together, like, all the time.”

“You remember Tommy, right?”

“Tommy? No, Tommy doesn’t ring a bell, hon.”

Bruce sighs, and you laugh. This is as animated as you’ve seen him in a while. “Come on, Tommy Elliot! Back when we were little! We used to play Robin Hood together in the park, and you two always fought over who got to be the Sheriff of Nottingham?”

“Yeah, nope. No memory of that.”

He sighs, but you go with him anyway. It hits you when you see the man at the restaurant. He was that kid! His parents were friends with Bruce’s parents. They had almost died in an accident when Bruce’s dad saved them.

He’d always try to play this strategy game thing with you and Bruce. It was only two players, and while he’d always beat Bruce (your husband wasn’t always the tactician he was now), he’d get really frustrated playing against you.

Tommy liked to try and get inside your head to beat you, figure out what you were going to do and then planning for it.

But you could tell what he was doing, and kept doing random moves you wouldn’t normally play, throwing him off and winning.

You didn’t like him much, and you kinda got the feeling he didn’t like Bruce that much either.

“Oh. That Tommy.”

Bruce looks at your worried face. “What’s wrong? If you really don’t want to, we can cancel.”

“Oh, hush. We’re already here. Least we can do is have a nice lunch...”

Zsasz - Victor Zsasz

It’s never a good sign when a payphone rings. So many bad reasons...

Not the least of which is that barely anyone even uses payphones anymore.

Let alone to call another payphone. I mean, how does that even work?

So it startles you when you’re walking Gotham (during the day, of course), and a payphone rings. No one else is around to answer it.

You start to walk away, and then the next payphone rings when you reach it.

The other guy near it jumps like fifty feet in the air, but then goes to answer it.

He looks scared. “It’s... it’s for you.”

You sigh and take the phone

“Ignoring my calls? Naughty...”

“Um... wrong number. This is a payphone, not, uh, whoever you were calling.”

“This isn’t Y/N Wayne?”

“Yeah, no, it isn’t. May I ask who’s calling, though?”

“I know it’s you, Y/N. You don’t know me. Yet.”

“Look, I know Halloween’s coming up, but I’m not in the mood for Scream right now, okay?”

“This isn’t a scary movie, it’s real. My name is Zsasz.”

“Z- zsa... okay, how is that spelled?”

“Z. S. A. S. Z.”

“Oh, that’s beautiful. If you don’t mind me asking, is that Polish?”

“...What?”

“Sorry, I have to run, but it was nice talking to you!”

You run home and immediately tell Bruce you talked to Zsasz. Luckily you were running a trace with your phone - a little extra Tim developed for you. Within the hour, Batman has Zsasz in custody, saving the poor people he had kidnapped to add to his tally...

Klarion the Witch Boy

“Oh, hello! Who are you, little guy?”

The orange tabby glares at you with utter hate. It flicks its tail, but surprisingly, comes closer and curls around your legs.

It allows you to pick it up, and it purrs.

“Teekl! My word!” a boy comes running up to you, wearing a tailored suit and a newsboy cap.

The boy snatches the tabby from you and pets it, despite how it looks like it wants to go back to you. “What were you doing with Teekl?”

“That’s its name? He’s a cute little guy. Uh, he just wandered in front of me and basically asked me to pet him.”

The boy glares at the cat. “You TALKED to him?”

The cat looks at him and rolls its eyes.

“Um, who are you, kid?”

He looks at you incredulously. “Seriously, mortal? You haven’t heard of me? I am Klarion! Klarion the Witch Boy! And this is my familiar, Teekl.”

You nod seriously. “Good for you, kid.”

He seems about to throw a tantrum, so you wave and leave the boy dumbfounded...

The Court of Owls

“Beware the Court of Owls, that watches all the time,

Ruling Gotham from a shadowed perch, behind granite and lime.

They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed,

Speak not a whispered word of them

Or they’ll send the Talon for your head...”

“That’s a stupid poem. It doesn’t even keep time.”

“It’s free verse.”

“Yeah, free ‘cause no one would pay for it.”

You and Bruce were only kids when you heard the old rhyme. Bruce was trying to scare you as a Halloween season joke, but it wasn’t working.

“Come on, Y/N! At least pretend to play along!”

Thomas Wayne enters the living room, and pretends to scold Bruce. “Now, Bruce, be hospitable to your guest. What’s the argument about?”

You smirk. “Bruce says that there’s a Court of Owls who eat limes and put talons on people’s heads.”

Thomas hunches down, making a spooky face. “Well, Y/N, it’s an old Gotham story. It’s a very bad thing that Bruce told you. You’ll have to be very careful now.”

He looks dead serious, and now you’re scared. “Really? What should I do, Mr. Wayne?”

He puts a hand on your shoulder. “You’ll have to be a very good kid all your life, Y/N. Never go out after dark without your parents’ permission. Don’t ever cheat on a test. Don’t lie. And if you ever see someone in an Owl mask, look the other way and forget you saw it.”

He grins, dropping the facade. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I just couldn’t help it. Hope I didn’t scare you too badly.”

Being a stubborn child, you insist he didn’t. After all, you’re old enough not to be scared by that stuff anymore.

But on the way home, after your parents pick you up, you notice something.

A tall figure in an alley, wearing a stylized white Owl mask.

You quickly look away, trying to put it out of your head, mumbling the rhyme to yourself.

“Beware the Court of Owls...”

You forget about this until far later in life, after you, as Y/N Wayne, have become an enemy of the dreaded Court...

#batdad reader #male reader #batman x male reader #batman headcanons #dc headcanons #headcanon

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bemused-writer · 5 years

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VNC Chapter 41 Analysis

What a chapter! After reading this one, I was left reeling a bit, I won't lie. Certain things didn't surprise me all that much, but then there were revelations that I definitely didn't see coming whatsoever. So, without further ado, let's take a look at what took place. The first thing we see is Olivier and Roland fighting side-by-side without much success. We already knew they were comfortable with one another, but to me this sort of cemented it. They've fought together many times in the past and they're used to one another's ticks.

Contrary to what I've been thinking, Olivier is definitely the more high-strung between these two, even in battle. XD Not that I ever thought Roland was high-strung, but Olivier is the kind of character who could have easily been written as calm and collected above all else in everything. Instead, he very much is not: he seems to be barely keeping a lid on it, at least around Roland. I'm loving this about him, because it actually fits in very well with his portrayal in The Song of Roland. He tolerated Roland's antics there, but he was completely done more often than not. For VNC it makes for an interesting foil to Roland. Olivier is more serious about his job, but Roland generally has a calmer personality, even as he branches off to do whatever he thinks is right. Olivier still maintains his more sensible, responsible streak from The Song of Roland, though. He reminds Roland that they're short on time. Soon, they will have to kill Chloé. I find this interesting because neither of them is happy about it. They're just doing their jobs. It's not super obvious what Olivier thinks about vampires just yet--he's been a lot more concerned with Roland just being a good paladin and not rocking the boat, but he's never said Roland is wrong to question either.

[Volume 4]

[Volume 5]

He strikes me as someone who will do whatever it takes to make sure Roland stays out of trouble. He even says that he recommended Roland for Jasper because he thought some responsibility would help him settle down. Now, in The Song of Roland, Roland was engaged to Olivier's sister, Aude. I wonder if some of Olivier's concern with Roland is because he views him as part of the family, a brother of sorts.

He also knows that Roland cares very much for his own family; he has several siblings and it sounds like he joined the chasseurs as a way of providing money for them. Personally, I think this is nearly the only reason why Roland obeys the chasseurs whatsoever. Olivier was right when he said Roland "believes in himself as a follower of God." He will do what he thinks is right first and foremost, consequences be damned. But the consequences of disobeying here are retribution against his family.

I'm very curious to see just how long Roland will manage to keep this up. Things worked out well enough this time around, but his loyalties are essentially split between the chasseurs and Noé. That can't last forever. Meanwhile, Vanitas has realized saving Chloé will be a little more difficult than he'd anticipated. This is at least the third time that a specific malnomen has been brought up. The second was in the catacombs:

[Volume 4] Vanitas of the Blue Moon: It's a vampire's shadow made physical. The shadow of one under this curse begins to writhe as if it has a will of its own. Swelling and growing larger and larger, it swallows the vampire to whom it belonged in the end. Prédateur is a glutton. It kills and eats anything it can reach. Until the moment it consumes the last of the life force of the vampire who created it, its only goal will be to devour life. When I first read this section, I assumed Prédateur was simply a manifestation, a part of the curse. However, the description of Chloé's malnomen gave me pause:

Vanitas of the Blue Moon: The trouble with this malnomen is that it can't be cured simply by deriving the formula for an inverse operation. Unless the curse-bearer rejects the theater of their own accord, the link can't be severed, and you'll end up erasing them along with the closed space. It's finally struck me that we're dealing with names. Specifically, Prédateur, Millie, and Loup-Garou way back at the beginning. Malnomen aren't simply part of being a curse-bearer, they have a life of their own. Perhaps they are literally members of Charlatan acting through another living vessel or perhaps they're lost vampire souls trying to find absolution. Maybe there isn't a difference between the two. There's a lot to consider there. Also, Vanitas of the Blue Moon definitely has a teacher's aura about her. Everything Vanitas knows about the book comes from her; he didn't simply figure this out on his own. And the way Vanitas of the Blue Moon is teaching him... It's like she knew he would need to do something about curse-bearers at some point. Sure, it could have just been academic, but why mark him and give him access to the book's abilities if she didn't think he'd use it at some point? The mystery surrounding her only continues to grow as well as what Vanitas's relationship with her even was. Either way, Vanitas has to convince Chloé that she should be cured. I want us all to think about this for a second. The fellow who literally said "I'll do as I please, use methods I choose, and no matter what you people want, I will save you without fail!" is now having to reason with a vampire and convince her he should be allowed to save her. Truly incredible. Makes me wonder, what if his issue with VotBM is that she wouldn't let him save her? There's a thought... But getting back on track, Vanitas still isn't great at reaching people through tender methods. No, he berates Chloé and points out things will be awful either way, so she better make up her mind real quick. I'm... not sure he was convincing exactly, but I appreciate his urgency. It works though. The fact that it's her choice, that she has to choose, finally wakes her up and she sees the destruction around her. More specifically, she sees Jean-Jacques. Chloé has never wanted to hurt Jean-Jacques. She hasn't understood him all that well as he pointed out in the last chapter, but she genuinely wants to do right by him. Not an easy position to be in. We finally get to see how Noé's doing at this point in his battle against Astolfo. These two are interesting for two reasons: 1) This is someone Noé can't just "fix." Astolfo's issues with vampires run deep, far more so than Roland's ever did. Noé isn't used to being confronted with a problem without a solution. He's been able to solve everything else so far, so Astolfo is the first real evidence he's had that the enmity between humans and vampires is beyond him; he can't use diplomacy with him. He might not ever be able to. 2) Noé is a good person, but for Astolfo everything he says and everything he does reminds him of the night his family was defiled and killed. We're used to seeing Noé as the good guy, but for Astolfo it's impossible for Noé to ever be anything other than evil. Even though we know Noé would never do any of those things, through Astolfo's eyes we see Noé's image slanted as it becomes corrupt, all because of what he was born as. It's exactly how bigotry in real life works. We can understand why Astolfo hates vampires, but at the end of the day it doesn't make him right or his cause just. Roland goes out of his way to explain Astolfo's history to Noé regardless of it being impossible for Noé to change Astolfo's mind. Why? My guess is that he thinks we should all understand our enemy. Roland didn't understand his enemy, vampires, until he met Noé and realized they could be good. Likewise, Noé can't understand those he fights until he learns some of them are irredeemable. I like that Vanitas is initially outraged at Roland doing this:

Vanitas has been worried this whole arc that Noé won't be able to handle Astolfo as we can see from his reaction to Noé saying he can handle him:

Honestly, this entire arc has been Vanitas worrying over Noé, incessantly so considering who we're talking about. He let Noé fight him in chapter 35, but he also didn't have a choice. No doubt, he thought Roland revealing how tragic Astolfo's past would stir Noé's chivalric side and he'd have difficulty once more. Vanitas knows Noé is affected by these kinds of revelations. When he told Noé his own parents were killed by vampires, Noé took it pretty hard and things went downhill from there. Turns out, Vanitas was both right and wrong to worry about this. When Astolfo goes into the details of how he's suffered, Noé looks affected, but what really takes him off guard is when Astolfo starts bleeding from taking too much of the tonic. Personally, I think this is how Astolfo was able to trap Noé and Noé was forced to lose his arm in order to avoid being literally blown to smithereens. I'll admit, this was the biggest shock of the chapter for me, as I'm sure it was for pretty much everyone reading it. XD I'll get into more detail on that in a second, but I do want to point out that the fact Noé didn't die, didn't hesitate so much that he lost his life, is a big shift for him, and it's thanks to Vanitas, who must have known he had to do something to counteract what Roland had revealed. Vanitas: Don't hesitate, Noé. Don't think about whether Astolfo's hatred is justified or not. Both humans and vampires act on their own concepts of justice. One's just can be someone else's evil. "Being right" is "power." It can easily turn into violence, a weapon that's much harder to deal with than malice. Don't brandish it. Keep it inside. Justice should merely be the light that illuminates the path ahead of you. Vanitas hasn't been prone to giving good advice in the past (or at least not advice Noé would take), so Noé's reaction is understandable:

He's shocked into silence. Vanitas is giving genuine, heartfelt advice, designed to help Noé with a difficult situation. It's possibly the most open we've ever seen Vanitas. Sure, he's told Noé things about himself in the past, but it was always veiled in anger or resentment. This was simply to help without any strings attached. Between how he's been treating Noé this arc and even Jeanne, we're seeing a much softer side of Vanitas than we had previously. And the advice doesn't stop there.

Vanitas looks so fond here and just a touch regretful. I wonder if he knows this way of doing things would never work for himself; he's already devoted to himself to revenge; it's Noé who gets hung up on what's right and wrong and how he can help others. Maybe he wishes he had that kind of solid moral compass for himself. We also see Roland smiling as they talk; he honestly likes, and is inspired by, their friendship.

Another thing about these two panels is that Vanitas is being openly affectionate this arc, in front of Roland of all people, and I genuinely wasn't expecting it. This arc has been a whole lot of Vanitas fussing over Noé and everyone (except the person in question) noticing it. Behold my montage Let's take a look at how things have developed so far:

This isn't even including every single example, but you get the idea. Vanitas's way of caring is a mix of berating (because he doesn't know what to do with the fact that he cares), lying to anyone picking up on it, and opening up/being gentler when he's reminded that Noé really is on his side or by things he's learned about Noé more generally. Most of these events are prompted by Noé doing something first: Noé apologizes for wanting to drink his blood, Vanitas is nice to him on the train. Noé has a tendency to wander about, Vanitas tries to get the whole group to look after him. Noé has a hard time fighting against a particular type of person, Vanitas switches their targets/keeps Noé away from the problem, and reminds them of their goals. Noé is missing/kidnapped, Vanitas spends the entire arc worrying about where he is. Noé can't tell what is real, Vanitas assures him. Noé assures Vanitas that he doesn't look down on revenge as a motive, Vanitas wipes the blood off his face/promises to help Chloé. Noé learns the truth about Astolfo, Vanitas gives him the best advice he's given anyone in this entire series. If the catacombs arc was about Noé learning about Vanitas and helping him, then this arc is definitely about Vanitas caring for and helping Noé.

Also, the advice Vanitas gives Noé about how justice should be the light that illuminates the path ahead of you? Who was it Noé compared to light only a few chapters ago? And was symbolically represented as the only light Noé can see?

None other than Vanitas himself.

We’re definitely seeing how these two are inextricably intertwined for the rest of the series.

Anyway, getting back to the fight with Astolfo, Noé loses his hand and part of his arm in order to dodge the blast. The one thing he can't concede is Chloé and Jean-Jacques. More broadly, if Noé has the capacity to help someone, he can't back down, no matter what.

Dante's reaction to Noé's victory is one I wholeheartedly endorse. I, too, was pretty impressed. Even so, Noé's coming out of this arc a complete wreck. 8D

He still has a head injury, his shoulder seems to be pretty well sliced, and he's missing his forearm. I just... wow. But this raises several questions: How will Noé cope with only one good arm for fighting? Can he regrow it? Will it be missing the rest of the series? Can he withstand that much blood loss? Did Vanitas bring his medical kit? Because some first aid would be a good idea right about now.... Possibly the most interesting question to ponder out of these is "Can he regrow it?" The reason for this is that we already know Noé suffered some kind of extreme injury as a child:

For his entire left eye to be wrapped seems to heavily imply one of two things: it was either gouged out or otherwise severely injured. But we can see that as an adult he has both eyes and they both seem fine. If he was actually missing an eye, then he regrew it and the likelihood of him being able to regrow his arm increases. If it was simply injured, maybe not. But the one time Vanitas offered to give him medical aid, he was pretty nonchalant about it:

Even Vanitas thought that was a weird reaction. Perhaps Noé has unusually good healing abilities. Or he's stubborn. Guess we'll be finding out soon. 8D Also, I’m just going to hazard a guess that, seeing as it’s the same shoulder that’s been injured in both of these examples, the main difference will be that, while Noé turned away Vanitas’s help before, maybe he’ll accept it this time. It's also finally revealed that this whole time Chloé wanted to be human. I thought that must be the case; why go to all this trouble otherwise? It's terribly sad that she never felt like she was really herself once she became a vampire. She's never been able to accept who she is once her entire life. She's spent all these centuries trying to make her family, who has long since passed on, happy.

But Chloé's finally made a choice, and that choice is to remain with those people who are in the present, her new family: Jeanne and Jean-Jacques.

It's an almost suspiciously happy ending and I am fully expecting Mochizuki to take this down a darker path, but I kind of hope she doesn't. It would be nice to see these three get the happiness they deserve, and with how much attention has been given to Jean-Jacques and Chloé this arc, I think it would make a lot more sense for them to serve a role at the end of the series. The chasseurs (or maybe just Astolfo) might be the main problem, or possibly Charlatan itself. But right now, it genuinely looks like things have been taken care of, which would be great because I don't think Noé is going to last much longer if things keep up. Of course, this analysis wouldn't be complete without addressing "Luna."

I have two thoughts on what this could be. One, this is the name of the mark and marks might work like malnomen: they have a life outside of the purpose they serve. Two, Luna could be VotBM's real name and this mark is very literally summoning her power. When Vanitas uses his power, Noé remarks on the formula he sees:

This got me thinking, is he seeing the world formula itself right now or a physical representation of Chloé's name or soul so to speak? I'm leaning toward the latter if only because with Amelia we also saw a unique background when she was cured and it was completely different:

Flowers, which fits perfectly with her name. As for the next chapter, I'll admit I don't have a lot of guesses. I would think it would just be everyone recuperating and healing up. Probably some serious conversations will have to occur. I think it’s important to note that even if things go badly, Vanitas did keep his promise to Jeanne, which is huge. There was no guarantee, but he made the promise anyway and, lo and behold, he kept it.

As for whether the peace will last, I have no idea, but I definitely think this arc is coming to a close and we'll be moving on to the next fairly soon. I'm looking forward to what happens. ^^

#vanitas no carte #vnc spoilers #long post #Bemused's post

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thethirdwheel404 · 4 years

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Med Rewatch Series (#1)

Right, monkey brain said no sleep no rest, only suffering at the hands of med.

I am going to start with the first episode of S2: Soul Care. Reasoning? I need to check if Latham references Ava in his first interaction with Connor.

If my memory serves me right, when Connor is passed over to Latham for his fellowship, Latham says that he was not his first choice. In fact, his first choice was a brilliant surgeon from South Africa. In the first episode of S2, a season where Ava Bekker is only introduced with one line at the end of the last episode.

If I remember correctly and Latham does actually say that in the first ep of s2, it will be huge for the continuity (and my theory that I came up with today, if you’re interested in following this you should really read that really long post that came a little before this where the basis of the theory is laid out).

Also in rewatching this I see more of Sarah which, again, I have not seen in two years, and she was the reason I became invested in the show, and the reason I stopped watching after she left.

And all of this even before I start the episode.

There are so many emotions and thoughts running through my brain it literally hurts. I think i’m getting a headache. I’m already really regretting this, this cannot be healthy for me.

(btw, this will basically be a train of thought type thing, I’ll do my best to keep it coherent)

- omg its starting

- i completely forgot how s1 ended but its not importnat in anyway

- just, why are they in a helicopter

- how fast does the episode move ive forgotten and i need to know

-JESUS CHRIST SO DRAMATIC

- THE BEGINNING WITH WILL WHY

- it is at this point where I apologize to all those who made it this far bc we’re literally not even 30 seconds in yet

- i just have a lot of med thoughts

- oh god save me

- i am laughing hysterically

- JESUS CHRIST THE APRIL TB STORYLINE AND TATE WTF

- god that feels like a lifetime ago it was relevant holyshit

-remember when she was pregnant?

- literally what have I missed

- side note, i really like the cup april drinks out of.

-THERE SHE IS

-SARAH

-SHE’S HERE

-and she’s a barista

-literally wtf is this show

-and the dramatic music is still going literally chill man god

-THE WAY SARAH SMILES HOLY SHITTTT come on man there was literally no way i’d survive this but fuck not even a minute in...

- okay but i never understood charles’ family scenario but this is already too fucking long for a minute in so i hope we can just skip past that

-hahahah sharon’s fucking divorce? holy shit, this is too dramatic for the first ep literally save me (at least she acts well)

-yeah the one thing I will say about med (thats a lie ive already said a hundred but yk) is that for the crap storylines and all, the actors take what they’re given and give it their all and i appreciate it so much

-the helicopter’s number is N365UCC and just... succ

-ethans bird (!)

-also the fact that’s so big for ethan to be chief resident is so weird to me. like the last medical drama I watched was greys and they are all like grizzled veterans and have been doing that stuff for actual decades and i tend to put med and greys on like the same level bc they are the only medical dramas ive watched but.. holy crap the people on med are so young?? half their main cast is med students and residents. when nearly every main character on greys is a department head. its wild.

-proud of ethan. proud of my boy (did you know that adam jacobs who played aladdin on broadway was in a s3 episode? fun facts) (fun fact: did you know that ava is the only main character on the show who’s status is now deceased? I’ll shut up now.)

-oh my god i say roland buck III’s name and GOD noah jesus

- i find noah incredibly annoying, especially bc he tries to overshadow reese (my fav) but also just bc hes spoiled [that thing that said that one of the biggest mistakes med made was not having sarah get the emergency med residency at the end of s1 comes to mine, and the fact that noah got his residency easy peasy] - but, i will say that the moment at the end of this season where noah and reese dance together at the party is very adorable. (pre reesker brain showing lmao I really did love sarah with my whole heart) (moreover my snapchat memories were filled with just recordings of reese scenes lmaooooo)

-okay at this point I need to stop once i get to the potential ava thing bc what is happening we’re not even two minutes in why is this so long. (so many thoughts)

- i find will annoying but,,, he is kind of nice to look at. and what i mean is like facial acting (i am a lesbian). like. just. don’t speak. and when he’s being a good character he’s fine. it’s very few and very far between ig

-natalie annoys me so much and shes only had one line, and it wasn’t even a character line, it was mainly exposition.

-EW

-FUCKING EW

-ITS CONNOR HE’S HERE. god i forgot what he looked like in red scrubs and his poofy hair. child compared to s3 and s4. hopefully we see latham soon so we all don’t have to suffer through this. and he looks so angsty. he definetly glowed up in the later seasons.

- i have no clue how to spell definetly. I am guessing literally everytime.

-latham please come and end this all.

-oh haha there’s downey hes dead.

-okay so i actually watched s1 after i watched s2 which is so weird to think about. like that means that i liked s2 so much that i BOUGHT THE DVD FOR S1. yeah. I liked it that much (it really only means I was that much of a simp for sarah). but it also means that technically i watched s1 after i met ava?? like i honestly had NO CLUE what was in my future. did young me ever think she was going to stay up late at night, avoiding history hw while analyzing a defunct character from this show on a whim? a character i was super annoyed with at the beginning? who has no become a huge part of my personality? honestly? no. no she did not.

-and the story with downey was so jarring. and the story with zanetti. like i think i first started watching with the first ep of s2 (the one im talking about rn) and i was a bit lost. so going back and watch s1 to like connect the dots. but i never expected the dots to look like that. its like each season of this show is a completely different show from all the other seasons. like i’ve said before, this show is a headache. but literally latham please come and end this for now.

-GOD CONNOR LOOKS SO YOUNG WHAT THE HELL thats so weird lmaooooo

- like i had absolutely no clue who downey was going into this. and they they started talking like ‘oh yeah he killed his attending’ and i was just like ‘damn bro ill cheers to that’

- that’s literally ava’s first line actually. “i heard your girlfriend went insane and you murdered your attending.” - which was why she was hated at first. that was literally her first line to connor which is like, so hilariously rude that it was instantly iconic.

-also HAHAHAHAH CUE FUCKING ANGST ABOUT CONNOR HURTING EVERYONE AROUND HIM WTF BRO THE EFFECT YOU HAVE ON PEOPLE

- but i’m also sad now. --- “I heard your girlfriend went insane.” Oh. Oh, sweetie. Ava... No. --- but why does s2 ava (all two lines) foreshadow s4 ava in so many ways. like literally what were the writers on.

-baghdad.

-ah yes. the return of baghdad. been a long time since i heard that one, but it is easily one of my favorite running things about med. its just a little detail but the nick name is like perfect. (when i read fanfic where the chars are actually doing doctor stuff in the hospital it makes me light up) the WORLD BUILDINGGGGG. but whatever

-this is the girl who has the fake baby right? that was a really good ep (bc sarah content. can you see my favorites? for the same reason the one where the girl has split personalities easily ranks high with me.) oh wait this is the one where the dad like dies but then comes back for a split second to see his grand child. there’s not really a lot I can say about that, but the fact that i remember it vividly is... weird.

-okay but I actually love the ED in this show. I love how the show is centered around the ED and not the OR like greys. its fast paced, you see a lot about the characters really quickly (one of the reason’s connor’s intro to the hospital in the pilot is certified iconic in my mind [his interactions with will are gold]). the team works well together (usually, when things are good. - which is another reason I hated the show more as time went on. The personal lives interfered more and more and more with their work as time went on. it got so annoying). but like right here will just calls maggies name and maggie is just On It. I love it. I love the fast pace. it’s why this show got me to come back. so many things happen, it overloads my brain, like the way a video game works y occupying all of your attention.

-when is the dad gonna pass out i’m just waiting

-AHAHAHAHAHA JEFF NOOOOO. what even was the deal with jeff that storyline annoyed me so much I never got it. he was friends with nat’s husband (who died) and they were both named Jeff? and she actually ended up getting with Jeff a few times?

- the more you watch med and see how the characters get with each other, the more jaded you become

-omg they’re transferring the girl to the bed i love it when they count

-maggie was great but from what i heard/read they ruined her character too??? just not the same

-lmao only real g’s remember the chicago fire backdoor med pilot (if you want an explanation ask me lmao it was a ride)

- i was a real med simp bc I bought that episode on apple video.

-ahahaha this is so stupid. Jeff tries to do things and Will (being a fucking asshole and jealous, doesnt’ let him). he’s a med student let him fucking learn. also i remember why i hated will

-okay but if you look at greys vs. med, greys literally gives their med students no rights. scratch that. they give they’re interns little to no rights. (i only watched the last three seasons bc lesbian, but in those seasons they introduce the bottom of the totem pole, the sub I’s, who are a step ahead of med students, yet they are jokes on the show.) its just a weird juxtaposition is all.

-”lungs are wet.” dramatic music intensifies.

-OKAY BUT I LITERALLY FORGOT NATALIE SPECIALIZED IN PEDS. LIKE I COMPLETELY 100% FORGOT. HOLY SHIT THATS SO FUNNY i can’t believe in my mass hyperfixation i forgot, just more proof that she doesn’t deserve anything.

-why did will make nat do that call? also idk why but is it weird to anyone else when the characters call each other but just.. their names.

-ahahahah i laugh literally everytime i remember that will is supposed to be in charge like he is threatened by anything that MOVES. (also more juxtapositon to greys bc here the attendings are treated as a joke!)

- hly shit i just remember monday mourning and god damn the angst literally never takes a day off but whatever.

- i dont usually get like this but the dad’s acting here is actually making me sad lol. Usually i get annoyed when family members get emotional (im weird uhhhh)

-why did we have to watch the tube being put in for so long - med is so dramatic this fucking show whyyyy

- i bet u the dad is gonna pass out

-oh ig not oops

-OKAY FUCK ME THAT LITERALLY ONLY TOOK US TO THE TITLES HOW DO I HAVE THESE MANY FUCKING THOUGHTS.

-wait latham introduction we may just be able to call it here.

-haha i fucking hate him (connor). he just... comes off so fake-charming its annoying. i cant get over it lmao

-okay but literally every gives connor shit and I am here for it. Latham: “did you kill him?”

- it is literally so funny but annoy how connor throws hands with literally everyone in his path (like dude just chill come onnn)

-okay. okay. okay. finally the part i was waiting for.

- Latham: I preferred a young woman from Groote Schuur, but I was outvoted.

That’s an actual quote, from Latham. For those who are wondering, Groote Schuur is a famous hospital in, you guessed it, South Africa. This is where I’m calling the episode. This is all I needed.

I just want to restate. This is the first episode of season 2. Ava Bekker is introduced to the show in the last episode of season 2. What does this mean, my friends? It means everything.

For those of you who stuck through to the end, I am very thankful. Here we have probably the first piece of evidence to my theory, at least chronologically.

I, personally, think it’s absurd I remembered this point, but I did. That point, that line, presently, watching this episode with no idea of what the future holds, is only there to tell us that Latham and Connor are not going to agree. But this is the single greatest piece of foreshadowing med has ever done.

Med has never planned anything. I feel confident when I say that. Look at their storylines. They are literally on fire, and every decision the characters make reads like the writers going ‘we have no idea how we made it this far, we thought we would get stopped like ten steps ago.’

When has med ever planned things more than a few episodes in advanced, honestly? Almost never, and going a full season sitting on a plot point, that’s major. This was the first time med has ever planned something miles in advance.

In all honestly, yes I am probably giving the med writers a lot more credit than they deserve. It’s quite possible that as the season progressed they just decided connor needed a new love interest or at least a new dynamic, so they could have just easily looked back and thought ‘oh, hey, here’s a fun little thing we said earlier in the season, wouldn’t it be fun if it paid off?’ That could be true.

Here’s why it probably isn’t. The med writers have no respect for their own continuity. you really think that, in order to come up with a whole new character, they went back to the first episode of the season and paid off a line that is said in less than 2 seconds? no way. Bull. Shit.

honestly, it is probably equally unlikely that either of these things happened. The med writers don’t look back at their story. It’s true, but they also don’t plan things in advance either.

here’s the thing, the more i write, the more absurd it starts to sound. Yeah. Sure. the med writers sat on a character for an entire season, that’s totally a thing that happened and not sarcasm. When pigs fly. everyone knows med is impulsive and messy. But what I am saying is that they planned one thing. One thing.

Ava has an accent. That was a commitment. A pretty uncommon one too. South Africa is such an out of the box choice that god its barely on the map. It asks a lot of someone to act hard while also doing an uncommon accent. If the med writers just decided they needed to give connor a new dynamic, they could have made it a n y o n e. Yeah, sure it would have been nice to have the latham dynamic with the new character, but it would have been so much easier to just create a new character that doesn’t have such a commitment. We all know people who play opposite of Connor Rhodes do not stay around that long.

There is absolutely no reason Connor’s s3 love interest had to be the girl from South Africa. It could have literally been anyone. They could have kept Robin on. They could have made the new character not have so many specific requirements.

At this point, I’m pushing this really hard. Yeah, obviously Ava was planned from the beginning of s2. She had to be. It’s way too specific to be anything else.

What I’m pointing out here is med has never done that before. (at least to my knowledge, if i’m wrong please tell me i don’t want to be a fool) They have never had such a concrete plan for a character, so much as to tease them a full season before they were introduced.

I’m saying, that Ava was special. She was the only character who was teased ahead of her arrival. The one who they knew they wanted, other than the originals, and honestly saying the ‘knew what they wanted to do with the originals’ is being generous. But Ava was different. They had big plans for Ava.

It’s undeniable. Ava was the only character who was planned and teased ahead of her arrival. Ava has such a different style and character than anyone else on the show. She was always planned to be, even when she was just being teased, a rival to connor, meaning she could stand her own against him (or without him).

Now of course, the med writers forgot this when writing s4 and s5. But for the purposes of the important things, all that really matters are the two mentions in s2, and what happens in s3. (for the theory at least).

In conclusion: think about how odd it is that Ava was the only character that was planned over the course of the show. Like sure the characters are planned, but never this far in advance. Med writers don’t really plan anything. I would be shocked if they did anything but through a dart at a spinning wheel. But they had plans for Ava, and they had plans for s3, when she was good.

Think about how odd it is that the med writers had a character planned from the start of s2, that they sat on for a whole season. They never, ever did something so slow and deliberate. Never. It goes against their formula. Like a fucking shark, they have to be moving or they die, at least in their heads. But Ava was always a change to the formula. They had a plan for s3.

that’s it for now. we will see what happens when i watch the last episode of s2.

read the next parts:

Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Extra

#chicago med #med rewatch series #mine #soul care #ava bekker

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ayma-nidiot · 4 years

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In the White Light - Prideshipping fic Chapter 6

Also on AO3.

Chapter 6 – Like A Red Rose

Huh? Where am I? Kaiba had reawakened in a place that didn’t appear to be his plane. To add to his confusion, his surroundings seemed unusually… tall. So, Alister has send me to a giants’ world, has he? Another hallucination… I know I’m still on the plane!

Just then, three boys began to storm in from the trap door above. “Oh boy, oh boy, some food! Finally!”

“Say, Tony, maybe we can play chess after dinner!”

“Okay, Dennis, I’m up to it! We deserve a break after what we’ve gone through.”

Is that… Kaiba had to do a double-take at the third boy who entered. He looks just like Mokuba…

“I don’t know about Aaron up there, haha!”

Aaron felt hurt by Tony’s words, but he eventually noticed Kaiba sitting on the table. “Oh? What a cute little dragon!”

L-Little? Kaiba growled and attacked, but all that came out was a tiny ball of light.

“Aww, he’s so cute!” Aaron picked Kaiba off the table and started to pet him. “Can we keep him?”

Brat! …Huh? Kaiba looked into a mirror nearby. Sure enough he was in dragon form, but no bigger than a housecat. Aaaah! I look like one of Pegasus’ toon monsters!

“No can do, man. We can’t afford dinner for four!”

“Hmph!” Defying his friends, Aaron picked some food off the tiny dining table and fed it to a barely willing Kaiba.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Dennis nearly threw a fork at Aaron. “You’re going to pay for that!”

“And we mean literally,” Tony added. “How about you and your new pet go get us dessert. Hahaha!”

Without thinking, Kaiba snapped back, “Are you brats always this friendly?”

“Whoah!” Tony dropped his spoon. “He can talk!”

You and me both, Kaiba thought, not impressed at his pipsqueak-sounding voice.

“Okay, we’ll get your stupid dessert!” As Aaron carried him out, Kaiba gave the boys one last snarl before they crossed the trap door. I won’t fall for any of this, Alister!

“Wow, a dragon that can talk!” Aaron sounded amazed as he walked out. “Maybe when you grow big and strong, you can finally squash KaibaCorp! All right, I’ll go find you some food while I go look for dessert, too!”

Ugh, don’t remind me… For once, Kaiba could keep his power-hungry tendencies in check, and was thankful for it. “Say, Aaron… When did all of this KaibaCorp nonsense start?”

“I don’t really know… It feels like it’s been forever.” Aaron jumped onto a nearby ledge. “Let me think… Gozaburo bought out our land about a year ago, then when we refused to move, he started attacking. That’s when I met my friends… I know they seem mean, but they work really hard just to find me something to eat. I kind of owe it to them to return the favour.”

“Oh, I see…” Kaiba frowned, feeling a little ashamed. My father… What a repulsive man he was.

“Hey, are you okay, little guy?” Aaron stopped walking.

“It’s… It’s nothing.” It’s also a good thing that I’m not wearing my usual clothes, complete with the KaibaCorp logo.

“Well, if you insist.” Aaron continued down the ledge. “We shouldn’t stay in place for too long, or Gozaburo’s men might find us. A lot of my old classmates had to go hide… I hope they’re okay. It’s a good thing us kids are so small, haha!”

Alister, I think I’ve learned a long time ago that my stepfather hurt you! I’ve seen enough!

Aaron’s next words disturbed any further thoughts. “Say, do you want to play chess when we get back?”

“Huh? Where did that… Er, of course! I was the best when I was young.”

“But you’re already young.”

Crap… Well, I’m not lying. “Wait… Aaron, look over there.” Kaiba nudged his head to his right, indicating a tower of smoke.

“Oh no! That’s where the hideout is! Quick, uh… What should I call you?”

“Seto is fine.”

“Let’s go, Seto! We have to save my friends!”

“Wait! It’s too dangerous!” Kaiba tried to break free and stop Aaron, but that only made him tighten his grip.

When he arrived at the scene, the entire hideout was in flames, and all Aaron could really see was the frame of the building. “Oh no! They might be trapped!”

“No!” Kaiba released himself from Aaron’s hold and pulled him by the collar, vigorously flapping his wings.

“Please, Seto!” Aaron’s voice sounded different this time.

“Mokuba?” Kaiba stared at the brief mirage of his younger brother before he could hear tanks nearby.

“Aah! It’s KaibaCorp! Quick, we need to find a new hiding spot!”

“Grr… Face me, Alister, you coward!” With a loud roar, Kaiba could not only feel himself grow, but also turn back into a human. “Let’s finish this duel!”

The mirage of Aaron disappeared, with Y-Dragon Head and X-Head Cannon taking its place. But the former didn’t last long, as with a quick blast, one of the tanks had taken it out.

“Hahaha! Feeling the burn yet?” At last, Alister had shown his face.

“What burn? Your mind games aren’t working anymore! See, your little illusion you call a ‘friend’ is already gone!”

“But it is no illusion. You see, those were my three best friends growing up. We also had a pet cat that Aaron and I particularly loved. He was one of the few happy moments in our lives back then… We all looked out for one another, and the cat even brought us a few scraps of food every now and then. But he died trying to protect us from a tank, and that’s when the tanks ran my other friends out of town!”

“…”

“So now you’ve had a taste of my past, and you’ll see how it feels to be attack by the tanks that ruined my life. Oh, and by the way, I thought I’d like to mention what’s happened in our current reality. I just used a trap card called Tank Corps, powering up my KC One Crayton and giving it 1500 extra attack points. I had more than enough to defeat your Y-Dragon Head and inflict 2000 life points of damage on to you. So now, I place a card face down. Your turn!”

“My Y-Dragon Head is down but not out! I use Monster Reborn to bring it back! Now say hello to XYZ Dragon Cannon! And thanks to its special ability, I’ll discard one of my cards to get rid of one of yours! Your Tank Corps is gone!”

“Oh!” Alister turned around as he watched the tanks around him blow up, leaving only the KC One Crayton in its place.

“Now, XYZ Dragon Cannon, attack!”

With six blasts of light, the XYZ Dragon Cannon struck its foe, creating a storm of light that took everyone back to the real world.

“Hm. I should have expected this brutish behaviour from you. You really are just like your father after all! That’s why… That’s why I’m going to end you today, so that people like you will get the suffering they deserve, and the less fortunate can live in peace!”

“Shut up, you- Aah!” Kaiba wobbled as the plane started to nosedive. Oh no… Mokuba! He’s in the cockpit!

“I wouldn’t worry too much about your brother if I were you. It’s a shame you can’t even protect him… Now you know how it feels. And you’ll suffer even more when I take your soul, then that of your precious pharaoh!”

Kaiba blushed, but still keeping up his usual anger. “What the hell do you know?”

“You saw what he did back there… He sees you as nothing but an enemy, a monster to save the world from. Do you really think he could ever fall for you?”

“That’s none of your damned business!”

“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t.” Alister drew another card.

Despite how concerned Kaiba felt for his brother, Mokuba could handle the plane fairly well, even though he was so small. “Oh! Roland, am I glad to see you!”

“Mr. Mokuba! What’s the matter?”

“There’s no time to explain… Seto and I are on a plane that’s about to crash land! You gotta send help!”

“On it, sir!”

“Mr. Mokuba!” Another one of KaibaCorp’s employees came onto the video call. “I’ll help you fly the plane! Just follow my instructions word-for-word, got it?”

“You got it!”

“Push the buttons on the right…”

“Uh huh.” After following a few more instructions, Mokuba had barely averted the mountain ahead. “Yay! Now I can just put the plane back on autopilot and go see if Seto’s okay.”

Meanwhile, Alister felt so confident in himself, despite the heavy hit he just took. “I summon Kinetic Soldier in attack mode! I play Junk Dealer to bring back Science Soldier and Cyber Soldier of Dark World back with half of their original attack points! Next, I activate my trap, Soldier Revolt, to destroy all of your in-play cards and the cards in your hand when I have these three monsters on the field! Next…”

“There’s… a next?”

“You bet there is! I now play Sky Union… Now get ready for my strongest monster, the Air Fortress Ziggurat! Not only is it strong – both naturally and from the Seal – I can summon a Robot Token for every turn it’s in play.”

“This is nothing…” Kaiba drew one of his cards – one that hurt him badly in the duel with Yami Yugi, but one that he couldn’t be more thankful for now.

“Seto! Please, stop this duel!”

Ignoring his brother’s pleas, Kaiba continued, “I use Pot of Greed to draw two cards. I place one card face down, and now my turn is done.”

“And so are you! Air Fortress Ziggurat, attack his life points directly!”

“Not so fast! My face down card lets me use your Junk Dealer, and I protect my life points with Judge Man!”

“So? You’re just delaying the inevitable.”

Kaiba could hear the faint sound of choppers in the distance. “The only thing that’s inevitable here is my rescue – and your doom.”

“So you even hide behind your army of cronies like Gozaburo! Raaaaa!” Alister’s anger grew more profound, increasing not only the Seal’s power, but also damage to the place.

“Forget about that snake! I’ll make sure you do with Soul Exchange! I know I can’t take your Ziggurat, but I can take the tokens! Then I use these tokens… as tribute for one of my strongest monsters! The Blue-Eyes White Dragon!”

“Seto, don’t!” Mokuba cried.

“Ngh…” Upon playing this card, Kaiba’s back pain and nausea started to set in.

“You know if you use that card, you could go mad again, right?” Alister teased. “Then you’ll turn back into a dragon and feel the pain when the pharaoh attacks you again. So you’re not going to win either way! It’s either become that dragon the pharaoh hates or lose your soul to the Seal of Orichalcos!”

With a strong mind, Kaiba managed to wear his pain off. “You’re wrong. I’ve made a vow today that I will stay strong and not let the curse take me again. But enough about me… Our monsters now have an equal attack power of 3000.”

“Hmm, such fighting spirit!” On his seventh turn, Alister spoke up, “I activate Toy Robot Box, discarding three cards to summon three more robots! I’ll use one of them to activate my Spell Canceller.”

“So stopping violence… with more violence. Maybe you’re the one who’s like Gozaburo. What would your brother say?”

“Y-You know nothing, cur! Now, my Ziggurat, attack his-”

“A wasted effort. I activate Tyrant Wing, giving my Blue-Eyes 400 attack points!”

“Way to go!” Mokuba cheered.

Mokuba… I’ll protect you. “Now I can take down your Ziggurat!”

Now I’ve only got 1000 life points… Alister thought as he began to lose hope. “You’re going to lose…”

“If you didn’t notice, you’ve got no monsters, and I’ve got my Blue-Eyes!”

“I didn’t mean the duel… If I have to lose my soul to Orichalcos, then I’m taking you and your fucking little brother with me!” Alister declared as the plane’s propellers stopped.

“You will do no such thing! I summon… The Fang of Critias! He fuses with my Tyrant Wing and Blue-Eyes White Dragon to create… The Blue-Eyes Tyrant Dragon!”

“No… No, it can’t be!”

“Tyrant Dragon, destroy those tokens and eliminate the rest of Alister’s life points!”

“Hah… Hah…” Alister panted as he fell to the floor in defeat. “I’ve… lost.”

“Alister!” Mokuba fully expected what was to come next. “No, don’t go!”

“Mikey…” Alister stretched out his hand with the Dyna-Dude action figure in it. “Mikey, forgive me… I’m not a good older brother… So I deserve… this…”

“Alister…” Even after everything Alister did to him, Mokuba couldn’t help but shed a tear for the man who just lost his soul.

“I’m sorry, but we don’t have time to worry about him! This plane’s about to crash!”

“Th-Then we’ve got to do something!” Mokuba led Kaiba to the cockpit. “No! What are we gonna… Seto, look at your Duel Disk! It’s glowing!”

“Yug, look, your Duel Disk is glowing!” Joey alerted from several thousand feet below.

“Yours, too! Ah! Timaeus! Hermos!”

“Look!” Téa was the first to notice the crash-landing plane. “The dragons are saving that plane!”

“We’ve got to go see!” Tristan suggested. “Hurry!”

As the friends got closer to their destination, Yami Yugi noticed the third dragon as well. “It’s Critias! Could it be…”

“Yug, watch out! The plane is crash landing now!”

Aided by the dragons and the soft lakeside, the plane landed with only minor damage – something that Kaiba was certainly thankful for as he exited.

“It's...” Téa pointed. “It’s one of Kaiba’s planes!”

“Hmm?” Kaiba noticed Téa, Joey, and Tristan first. “Oh great, if it isn’t the Dweeb Patrol. What are you doing here?”

“Listen, rich boy, we’re the one who should be asking questions. Who is that you’re carrying?”

“…Just some guy I dueled on this plane.”

“By the looks of it, his soul… It got lost to Orichalcos, didn’t it?” Téa remarked. “Then… We’ve got to get him to the hospital, too.”

“‘Too?’”

“It’s a long story, but Weevil Underwood and Rex Raptor lost their souls, too,” Tristan replied. “And all for some petty revenge.”

“Anyway, we were looking for you! Especially Yug over there, he was pretty eager to see you again.”

“Yugi… He’s here?” Kaiba felt the butterflies again – but they were the good kind now. “L-Let me see him!”

And just like that, Yami Yugi revealed himself to Kaiba once more, staring at him with a pleasant silence.

“Yugi…” Kaiba could feel his heart pounding as he took a step forward.

To his surprise, it was Yami Yugi who took the first approach – and a very emotional one at that. “Kaiba… Oh gods, Kaiba, I thought I had lost you for good!”

Kaiba didn’t know what to make about the fact that a pharaoh – a revered king – just knelt in front of him while crying.

“I’m… so glad… I thought I had failed to save you… I thought I had… Eh? What are you doing?”

In the midst of his thoughts, Kaiba had given Yami Yugi a strong hug, bringing him back to his feet in the process. That’s right… Ever since our first duel, I have felt this way. Even more than a rival, pharaoh… You are…

“…beautiful…” Kaiba pushed the long golden bangs out of the way to get a better look at Yami Yugi’s eyes. His eyes… I thought they were purple before, but they glow like a red rose.

“What? Kaiba, this isn’t funny- Mph!”

Any insignificant thoughts Yami Yugi might have had at that moment were stifled in Kaiba’s kiss.

#yugioh #prideshipping #kaiba x yami yugi #kaiba x atem #fanfiction

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gilbirda · 4 years

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Just realized I didn’t finish porting this to tumblr lol

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Chapter 4: Secrets

She looked back up to him, her eyes watery as if she were about to cry but holding it behind an angry scowl. “He didn’t love me, and I see it now, because back then he only wanted me for what I had more than for who I was. He just wanted me to be a pretty face attached to his fucktoy.”

Bog gulped. This was bad. Worse than bad. Marianne must have been fifteen when all of this happened. She was a just child!

“But it didn’t stop there,” she kept talking, the first tears going down her cheeks, but he didn’t make any comment about it. “People started talking and spreading more and more rumours about what really happened between us. They said that I was incapable of satisfying any man, that I was a frigid, frozen Empress. Everything you can think of, they said about me.”

“But you were fifteen! How could they expect you to do that?” Marianne snorted, unamused.

“You tell me! Every girl in school was more than ready to drop her panties for him, I was the defective one!” her voice broke. The girl rubbed her eyes with her long sleeved black t-shirt, trying to stop the stream of tears going down her face. “You’ll have to excuse me, I’m not usually a crier. That’s my sister’s job.”

“Don’t worry,” Bog thought about putting a hand on her shoulder, but he talked himself out of doing it. Maybe it would do worse than good in that moment.

“I had to…,” she continued, “I had to endure this, you know? My sister only knows what everyone else does, and she can’t know the truth.”

“Why not? Why didn’t you tell an adult then? Or the Director?”

“You don’t understand. Roland is the big promise, the poster child of this school. No one would believe me,” she sniffed, the tears finally stopping as she looked at him in the eyes. “And the Director is my father. He adores Roland like the son he never had.”

Bog blinked once, twice. The plot thickens, he thought.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, “for having to suffer that alone.”

“I guess so. But at least now someone knows,” she smiled softly and then sighed again. “I’m a mess.” Marianne looked down to the smudges of makeup on her sleeves.

“Nah, it’s just paint. Here,” he offered her a handkerchief to clean her face.

“I’m sorry,” the girl murmured, her voice muffled by the cloth, “I’m ruining your stuff.”

“Don’t worry about it. I have tons. My mother usually gives me those for Christmas.” He breathed when she finally smiled, feeling a weird clench on his heart.

They settled into a comfortable silence as the sun started to set somewhere on the horizon, the light coming through the windows going more orange by the minute. Marianne finished cleaning her face of the make-up but didn’t immediately give back the handkerchief to its proper owner. As she thought of cleaning it on her house and return it the next day, she dwelled on the fact that she had just told her deepest secrets to a person she barely knew; a secret that she didn’t dare to tell anyone. Maybe that’s why she felt comfortable sharing her suffering - he was a complete stranger to the situation, after all. He didn’t know Roland so he didn’t idolize him, and he didn’t know her before the whole incident so he wasn’t taken aback by the sudden transformation of her personality. She felt like she could be herself around this not-quite-stranger-anymore.

“The worst part is,” she continued after clearing her throat, her eyes looking down to the piece of cloth on her hands, “I really liked him. He was so good looking, you know?” Marianne let out a dry laugh. “How stupid of me.”

“You were young. Don’t beat yourself up because of that,” the teenager looked up to the man still standing a few steps in front of her, the fading light of the sun bouncing on his angular face making shadows that made difficult the task of reading his expression. For a moment she thought that he sounded a bit sad.

“Not that young,” she sighed in defeat.

Another moment of silence fell on the Library, but this time there was a certain kind of tension radiating from Bog. She knew that there was something that he wanted to say and wondered what it would be about. He had tried to comfort her, but what was his real opinion about this? Was he going to treat her differently from now on? She hoped that he didn’t.

“It’s getting late,” he finally said, but something told her that it wasn’t what he had in mind. Marianne blinked as she realized that the light was almost completely gone and she couldn’t see what was in front of her.

“Yeah, I should be going home or Dawn is going to get worried.”

“I could give you a ride home,” Bog offered quickly, and if she could see his face she knew he would be slightly blushing. He wasn’t the type to initiate a socializing situation. “If you want to.” He added like in an afterthought.

“That… that would be great. Thanks.”

They both managed their way out of the Library and the forgotten books to be catalogued tomorrow. She waited in silence as he closed the door with his keys and followed him into the parking in equal silence. He still looked like he was thinking about something serious, and she could almost see the thoughts going back and forth behind his blue eyes framed by his small glasses. Curiosity burned the tip of her tongue, but she knew she was in no place to demand anything. She had opened her soul today but that didn’t mean that he had to do the same and share every thought and secret with her.

It was indeed a childish thought, so she did her best to shove it way back into her mind and focus on her reflection on the car window as she waited for him to unlock the car doors. Man, her face was a puffy red mess. She didn’t know how she was going to hide this from Dawn once she got home.

“Where to?” Bog asked once she seated beside him on shotgun and had fastened her seatbelt.

“It’s not far from here. Take me to Willow’s Park and I can walk.”

“I’m not going to make you walk alone at night,” he frowned without looking at her.

“Well…,” Marianne tried not to dwell on that fact that he wouldn’t look at her, “if you insist…”

She told him her address and he finally started the car, leaving the almost empty parking behind.

The ride wasn’t as quiet as the Library was, the soft murmur of the car engine and low music coming from the old stereo filling in for the conversation that wasn’t happening. Bog still looked like he wanted to tell her something, but so far no luck. She sighed when the familiar buildings of her street surrounded them.

“I…,” his voice startled her. Bog turned his eyes in her direction (finally!) and then looked back to the road even if they were going so slow that a man walking his dog was faster than them. “I…”

“You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to, Bog,” Marianne dropped her nickname. “Really.”

He sighed.

“I know. But still you deserve a bit of sincerity. I guess?” it was almost cute seeing a grown man as nervous as Dawn the day of the Spring Ball.

“I appreciate the thought,” the car stopped in front of her house and the librarian killed the engine before leaning back on his seat and sighing deeply.

“I want to tell you before you find out by other people,” she smirked when he gave her an apologetic smile. Marianne shuffled on her seat and turned her body in his direction, silently telling him that she was listening. “I was told that I was too hideous to love. By a girl I loved. On my last year of high school.”

Marianne blinked in surprise at the, well, normal secret. She didn’t know what she was expecting but it wasn’t definitely this. A heartbreak? She could deal with that. But it was clear that this went further than that for him.

“What?” she deadpanned. “Tell me you didn’t believe her.”

“Well…. She didn’t actually had to say the words. I kind of understood it by the context.” he started to fidget with his fingers, not really looking at her.

Marianne snorted.

“Then maybe you should have stayed to hear what she really wanted to say. You are not hideous, Bog.”

It was his time to snort.

“Tell that to my “dear” classmates back in high school,” he grumbled and fixed his eyes in some point outside of the car. Marianne sighed. This was just the tip of the iceberg, she was sure of it. This man oozed low self-esteem and image issues. But she couldn’t do more than hear him when he needed someone to talk to.

“Teenagers are cruel and stupid and full of crap. Believe me, I’m one of those,” she put her left hand on his right one, which was now clenched in a fist on his leg. “Don’t believe any word they say because they usually are driven by a strong need to belong, like sheeps in a herd. If someone decided to target you, everyone would follow even if they don’t agree with it.”

“Suddenly I feel like you are the adult in this car,” Bog snickered.

“Nah, I just had to suffer herd mentality the last few years. Rationalizing it helps me when I don’t want to go to school.”

“Aren’t you a brave little thing?” he smiled when she blushed at his comment.

“I’m not going to comfort you anymore, idiot,” she huffed and looked elsewhere, provoking a laugh on the man by her side. She finally caved in and joined him in the laughing, the mood between them finally easing into something more of the usual.

A car honking brought them out of their little bubble, making them realize that she should really go home and he should move the car before someone called the police for blocking the road. At this hour there weren’t many cars but better safe than sorry.

It was then when both realized that Marianne still had one hand on him. The girl blinked and withdrew it so fast that it became a blur, her heart going at full speed. She hoped that he wouldn’t think anything bad about her, like she was some kind of creep. Marianne didn’t risk it and turned to open the door as fast as she could, blurting out a goodbye and a thanks before rushing to the door of her house, disappearing behind it when she managed to open it.

If she had turned and looked inside the car she would have seen a blushing Bog looking at his right hand, his bony cheeks painted a soft shade of pink.

***

That night, sleep evaded the librarian. He kept thinking back to the events of the day, from discovering the general opinion of the girl he was working with, to the impromptu heart to heart and the way that they easily swung back into their happy routine.

Bog couldn’t believe that he had told Marianne about what happened so many years ago. He hadn’t told anyone, not even his mother. But with Marianne, trusting her and confiding in her came easily. She was that kind of person, he guessed, people that radiated charisma and were reliable and capable of guarding a secret.

He wondered how she was like before all the stuff that happened to her. She didn’t seem to like her old self much and by what other teachers told him, she was a completely different person back then. Bog was sure that a experience like that changed anyone, no matter how strong you were.

He turned in his bed, restless as his thoughts went to darker places. He couldn’t imagine what she would have felt like when she discovered that the person she loved only wanted her body, and openly went to other women in places where people could see them. And then have all the whole school ganging up on her on a daily basis.

He scoffed. Marianne was right, teenagers were mindless sheep fighting for approval, eager to agree with the general opinion no matter how absurd it was. He was bullied for being too ugly, Marianne for being too pretty. Because they couldn’t pick on her appearance they made up stories about her, but that was the only difference to his situation.

None of them deserved her, he was sure of that. She was so brave and strong, capable of enduring all the rumours and the sideway glances with determination; she was passionate about the things she loved, like her sister and her music, and she was not scared to admit it out loud; she didn’t hesitate to make her opinion known even if it made anyone angry with her.

Bog looked once again at his hand, feeling the ghost of her touch where her fingers laid against his skin. Marianne didn’t hesitate today when she touched him or when she told him that it was stupid to think that he was too hideous to love. Even if it was a white lie, her golden eyes shone with the usual determination and stubbornness that drove her, and he appreciated it.

But still, he didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve her.

#strange magic #butterfly bog #marianne #bog king #fanfic #gil writes #writeblr #strange magic fanfiction #princess marianne #lofe #fanfiction

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dcschain · 4 years

Text

NONVERBAL RP STARTERS. | accepting.

@cllgood asked: Pull my muse onto a dance floor/up to dance from ALL THREE of the Allgood children, ALL THREE PULL HIM AT THE SAME TIME.

It had been their brother’s idea. A mad, quipping thought, a dog jumping in the air with jaws of delighted crimson. Their brother’s thoughts were often like that, a jerk of orange-red in the clouds, fox-sunlight, sunset escaping the wild chase of the hunt for another cool summer night. Bright, sudden. A starkblast of synapses.

They couldn’t bring them to the Club. Cuthbert had floated the idea as briefly as Roland had been quick to react to it, and his eyebrows had gone up, up, up, which had made Cuthbert laugh that much harder.

No Club, then, and say thankya. Lest the Deschain-tete suffer an early death, by apoplexy.

But there were other places, of course. The shining city held dark alleyways to fill two young ladies of the court with thrills enough to leave them golden, reeling, with excitement. And they needed a second chaperone, with Al sadly busy, and Jamie and Thomas both on patrol duties, and, besides, Cuthbert needed a jack to dance with.

No Club, then, but Low-town. Improper. Scandalous. What would their mother say? To her, perhaps, they could lie and lie convincingly (a night at the theatre, mama, nothing more!) but to Robert Allgood? He’d guess, sure as day, perhaps only because it was something he’d done with his little sister, too, when she was green and he was dizzy with youth.

(There was such fun in being able to trick Dorcas Allgood into thinking the outing innocent, not tinged with the revelry, the cheap wine, the too-fast music, the sweaty sour joy that felt so much like a trail -- a world that Judith, as a lady, should never have known).

Nor should Ethel or Edna. A lady of the court shouldn’t smoke (at least not in public), and a lady shouldn’t get lost in the bowels of Lower-town, and she shouldn’t get the hem of her dress muddied, and a lady shouldn’t, and shouldn’t, and shouldn’t.

But if their father had taught them anything, it was this: rules are not to be followed. They’re to be pushed to their breaking point, either by curiosity or adventure or both, and then they’re to be fashioned into something new once they do break, the new cracks filled in with gold.

Ethel laughs, and Edna shushes her on the edges of her own laugh. A giggle, then, behind their teeth, as Cuthbert and Roland make sure the coast is clear in the Allgood parlour, at such late an hour, before herding them across muffling carpets, expensive wood, into a crisp almost cold evening of early autumn. Cuthbert slowly closes the heavy oak door behind them, and then they’re down the steps and in the central courtyard. It already feels like a victory, in the girls’ blood that’s rushing in their ears. Their laughter is louder, now, a puddle they hop from mouth to mouth, their teeth splashing in the water, making ruckus. Roland shushes them and then half-smirks, “Victory’s nowhere near us yet. Pull your hoods up.”

It’s almost overkill. But it’s most, if not all, of the fun -- while gunslingers, even of the Elder Blood, aren’t entirely a novelty in Lower Town, two courtly ladies seen meandering those lamplit alleyways would certainly raise more than a few eyebrows and set more than a few tongues a-wagging -- and, of course, not even a whisper of this ought to reach Robert Allgood or the Gilead-dinh, lest the honour of the Allgood froglets be be-spoiled forever and ever-a (in Cuthbert Allgood’s, heir and nuisance, own words).

They both tie their skirts above their ankles, to avoid the mud after the cobblestones and pavement. If Palace Hill is the soul, and the Old Quarter the brain, then the dark alleyways, the buzzing energy, the bright laughter of crooked teeth that is Lower Town is the frenzied heart, the Bacchic anima, the last dredges and drudgery of a world that the great threat of civilisation has failed to cannibalise. A stubborn, raucous fragment of the West clinging to the side of the city like barnacles to an old ship hull.

From sandstone to brick to wood, from electricity to oil, from buzzing lamplight to the thick smoke of a fireplace. From the sweat of a well-danced pol-kam to the grit and the roar of a fast-paced jenkka, all feet, all heart, all hands.

Per Cuthbert’s suggestion: the Drunken Crab it is. The girls can finally pull their hoods down, and the brief breath of curiosity comes not for them (though even if not too ostentatious, their clothes catch the light a different way) but for their brother and his jack, and, of course, their bright brilliant guns. But it’s a moment, where the stale air of the room takes stock of its new occupants, and then the laughter and voices, the hacking coughs, the drumming on tables: it surges, a wave, and hits Ethel in the chest up, up, into her cheeks and that laugh. Edna sees, and Edna slips her hand in her sister’s, gives the excited squeeze Ethel was expecting.

They throw their cloaks on a nearby empty chair, and are gone, a whiz of curls in the crowd as the band starts a new song. A piper, a fiddler, a drummer. Their boots hit the hard wood in rhythm, and the dancers make a circle.

Cuthbert snorts and turns to Roland. Gesturing at where his sisters have just vanished.

“If they get lost, Bert, you’re the one who’s gonna have to do all the explaining to your father.”

That makes Cuthbert bark, head back, hair wild. “Nonsense! As if those girls ain’t got the same trig blood. They’ll be just fine.”

He sits on one of the chairs next to the one with the girls’ cloaks, and folds his arms behind his head. “Would my dinh be so kind as to fetch me a drink, if it please him? Graf. Cold.”

“What, drink before dancing?”

“Just whettin’ my appetite, dear.”

He nudges Roland’s hip with the tip of his boot. Roland looks down, and then up, at the grin and the arched eyebrow, and pushes Cuthbert’s foot away from him.

“Boring.”

But boring isn’t no. Cuthbert watches him disappear into the packed crowd, the opposite way his sisters went, squeezing between tables and patrons and harlots and merchants of madness. He, on the other hand, cranes his neck to try and catch a glimpse of his sisters. It’s not hard: that commala of curls, those hands always intertwined, and that laughter. They’re hand in hand, twirling away, laughing loud enough it’s shrieks, and it’s luck (maybe, or just fraternal foresight) that they bump into their table, and their brother, and not a disgruntled patron. He laughs, too, “Oi, froglets! Careful now.”

“Where’s Ro?” Ethel asks, catching her breath and wiping her forehead down.

“Why, fetching his jack a drink, and I’d expect enjoying it, too,” Cuthbert explains, and catches a glimpse of Roland coming back to their table. He grins and grabs his sisters, a hand for each, “but not for long.”

Roland, more a fool than anyone else in this room, for thinking that three Allgood children would ever leave him in peace. He sees Cuthbert stand and whisper something, a quick word for each sister’s ear, and sighs.

“Ain’t no escaping it, Ro.” Cuthbert says, as Roland places the mugs down on the table.

“Wasn’t part of the agreement.”

“Agreement? What agreement? There be no bargains between lions and sheep!”

Cuthbert’s looped an arm around his shoulders. Roland scoffs at him, but then Ethel’s grabbing his left hand, and Edna his right, and they tug will Cuthbert leads. The circle at the centre of the dancefloor claps and turns, hands crossed over each other, grabbing their companions’ on each side.

Music isn’t in his blood like it is in the blood of the three beside him. There’s something raw in their blood, a laughter always cantering along the arms and feet, as close as the great Song of the Turtle as a heartbeat can be. Roland doesn’t have that luxury, doesn’t know that breathlessness inside him.

But he sees it. Every day, he sees it, and he loves it. Even now, when it drives him mad and drags him into a sweaty Lowtown line-dance. Even now.

Especially now.

#cllgood #drabbles.#verse. let this darkness be a bell tower. (the dark tower)#arc. take these scars upon my back. (youth)#IA –– DINH TETE.

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dru-and-ash · 5 years

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Hey so my friends don't ship Druash and I want to hack them into a little bits of flesh and bone so much but before they die I need to shove into their faces a list of reasons why they should ship Druash help (they ship Druaime like WHO DOES THAT HUH)

Admittedly I ship everyone with everyone (think about Ash and Jaime together) So everyone can ship anyone with anyone….

But Morgenthorn(lets not call them anyting that sounds like drash that reminds me trash) is the only ship I write pages and pages about Can you show these to your friends…

From a past ask: Why do people ship Dru with Ash:

That is one valid question since they haven’t even met yet. Its because Cassie has implied there is a possibility of a love triangle between Dru, Ash and Jaime. And she said several times both Jaime and Ash will have important roles to play in TWPSince Ty&Kit is a ship set to sailOnly other three people left are them. You know…Also small note on Dru’s first introduction said something like “she’ll have an interesting love story in the future.” before CoHF was released just before we learn Sebastian’s affair with the Queen. (she was eight and a thin girl in first drafts) But for me shipping Dru and Ash is purely based on characters.Here are my reasons why 1)They both grew up lonelyDru had her loving family but Julian always saw Emma as his other half and Ty Livvy. We know Livvy was the sibling who spent most time with Dru but Ty being dependent on Livvy and their undying love always made Dru feel left out. Like in Los during those beautiful funny twin moments Kit felt lucky to be involved he also observed how much Dru was left out. So Dru hold on to Tavvy more tightly and read books watched movies more. Because you can do those things alone too.How happy she was when Kit and Ty wanted to let her be involved in their schemes in Qoaad Ash was always alone as far as we were shown because first his mother kept him away to hide his existence. Then unseelie king locked him on that tower, put Raiders of the Mannan as his guardians. Ash never had friends of his own age and any other noble child of court wouldn’t go near him because of the spell(and they probably weren’t allowed).2)They’re both good actors. If you saw my asks about how all twp characters were morally gray then you know what I meanDru unwaveringly lied to Barnabas Hale’s face and then kept it cool when he made that disgusting kinky comment about “her curves”. I wanted to strange the guy but our 13 years old Drusilla was all bussiness. She also hid Jaime in London institute for days with Noone noticing. Ash openly turned a blind eye to Emma and Julian not being endarkened in that nightclub scene. During his unseelie scenes Emma pointed out how cold and calculating he was even at age 12-13. But that was about his survival King kept him as a prisoner. 3) They grew up over protected with not much of choices of their own. Dru due to Julian’s inability to let other people in the Blackthorns life’s because of Arthurs illness. Ash spent his first 13 years locked up in Seelie court first and unseelie court second. Wearing a crown holding a title, being heir to the both thrones was nothing compared to not being able to decide what he wanted to do. Ash was expandable if he wasn’t to do what King wants like any prisoner. He never had a chance to decide for himself even in Thule where Annabel dragged him to another cage keys held by Sebastian this time. Again prince, recpected, feared but not free. 4)They’re both have strong emphaty Dru always helped Julian with Tavvy even though she herself was 8(yes Julian was 12 but there wasn’t someone older than him). She understood Ty was different but the good kind and she gave Ty&Livvy the space they needed and she was not jealous.Ash described Dru’s mental state so accurately I felt liked someone just hit me. Even Julian or Livvy would never do such an observation (if they did they’d know she needed more people in her life)

Dru turned out to be an outgoing person an entrepreneur like Jia said and she’s free to move away to make friends, rise and shine amongst her peers. And Ash broke his cage in a way when he choose to help Emma so he’ll be able to do more choosing in his life Thule Jace abd Seelie Queen will play effective roles but he’s not a child anymore and surely can defy tyrants.

From what we know from drawing scene he’ll see Dru as a symbol of hope and a friend coz she’s probably closest to a friend he ever had.

Lastly when they met in Los Dru’s open defying made Ash smile because that doesn’t happen muchI see a paralel here with Auraline-Roland Herondale she fell in love with him because he made her laugh.All these powers Ash has makes life harder for him(like it did to Auraline) and he already had enough suffering but as long as the powers will threat him and others it isn’t very likely he’ll smile much.

Dru would find him interesting when she gets over his all over copy of Sebastian looks. Dru was the only one who saw Sebastian besides Emma and Tmi gang and survived. Ash’s smile brought back that memory for Dru but she didn’t remembered it was Sebastian’s.

Also there is that weird travel to Unseelie which is not normally how Eternidad can be used (it was as if the stone wanted Dru to go to Ash maybe to bring him hope in the future). I can tag you to the post if you like to read

But these are all theories off course.

Still them being together and Dru being able to stop Ash if powers blow up is important (I mean she litterally did the same for Jemma in Qoaad). Because Noone can take all that responsibility alone he needs to be loved to be saved and Thule Jace’s love may not be enough to save him….

Now I am putting here some fics and fluff to show what a huge cinnamon roll my son will be:Ash Morgenstern will be greatest cinnamon roll ever and thats a canon :)

https://dru-and-ash.tumblr.com/post/183754216442/its-on-its-way-but-you-need-to-be-patient-i

https://dru-and-ash.tumblr.com/post/184602936937/morgenthorn-first-date

https://dru-and-ash.tumblr.com/post/183194705212/hello-my-favorite-bloggerhow-are-you-i

https://dru-and-ash.tumblr.com/post/183126493882/ash-baby-carstairs

https://dru-and-ash.tumblr.com/post/183547498677/in-city-of-lost-souls-sebastians-room-is-all

I hope you and your friends like them :) :)

#my asks #incorrectherondales #morgenthorn #why do i love this ship so much #why do i ship them #ash morgenstern #dru blackthorn #drusilla blackthorn #my babies

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antiquxjul · 5 years

Text

title: why me? setting: hospital - oncology unit status: closed, self-para

The walls are a horrid pastel yellow — suppose to spread positivity and happiness for those sitting in the hard uncomfortable chairs that line the walls. There’s a television up in one of the corners, the news playing but the volume is off so it hardly provides a distraction from everything else. Only four people are currently occupying the room. The nurse at the station is typing away at the computer, snacking on carrots but peeking at her phone every three seconds. Across the room is a couple, whispering together with cute smiles and as if they haven’t ever worried about anything in their lives. And across from them is an older woman who is knitting away without a care or paying any attention to Julian sitting beside her.

He’s terrified.

His leg is bouncing relentlessly and his eyes are all over the room, not knowing where to land. He keeps looking back to the pamphlets on the wall — their horrible out-of-date designs making Julian sure no one has put new ones since the 80s. It’s a scary thought. The longer he sits in the room, the longer he feels like he’s going to explode. He knows he’s driving someone in the room crazy—has to be—as he’s also fidgeting with his hands, locking and unlocking his phone, getting up and pacing only to sit back down.

He needs Lucas. Why hasn’t he told Lucas? He can’t do this without him.

Julian’s sitting back down once again when he picks up his phone and decides he’s going to call Lucas and ask him to come to the hospital. His hands are shaking enough that it takes longer than it should for him to find Lucas in his phone and tap his name to start the call.

It only rings once before Julian hears, “Mr. Meyer?”

Julian quickly scrambles to end the call before he stands up—nearly tripping—and raises his hand slightly. “Hi, that would be me. And it’s Meyer-Coulson, please.”

“I’m sorry, sir. The doctor is ready to see you now so if you’ll just follow me.”

She’s one of the nurses Julian remembers seeing last time he was here—when he got the news. He could remember the look on her face when he was trying to sign papers and his mind was in a different world entirely. Would his friends look at him the same way if they knew? The look of pity—a smile not entirely genuine and more so uncertain about what to do or say.

Julian silences his phone and tucks it away back into his pocket as he walks down the long hallway until they reach the second to last door on the right. The nurse motions into the doorway before she walks away without a word—only a single glance back with that same expression. He tries not to dwell on it as he steps into the room of the office and shuts the door behind him.

“Hi Julian, it’s good to see you. Have you been feeling okay?” Dr. Rolands questions from his desk as he stood and came around to shake Julian’s hand.

“Uh, okay. Tired. Very tired.” Julian doesn’t offer much more than that. He already doesn’t want to be here but he knows he doesn’t have a choice. He’s avoided the calls and letters too long already.

Dr. Rolands seems to understand as he leaves the question there and walks back around his desk, pulling out different stacks of paperwork to set out in front of Julian who is sitting across the desk. Already Julian feels the now too familiar overwhelming feeling as he tries to look over the papers with urgency. It isn’t until his doctor waves at him that Julian glances up sheepishly.

“It’s going to be okay, Julian. I’ll go over everything that’s here—I’ll answer any question you have along the way. Even after you leave today, you’re always welcome to call me and we can talk,” he pauses. “Are you ready?”

Julian doesn’t answer right away, still staring down at the papers but the words aren’t even there anymore. Is he ready? Instinctively, his hand goes to his phone, fingers tapping on it through his jeans as that urge begins to crawl up his spine again to call Lucas.

“I-I’m ready. Ready as I’ll ever be,” Julian finally says and he meets his doctor’s eyes for the first time.

“Alright. So we’re going to start with this first treatment method—it’ll be two Chemotherapy medications done intravenously once a week and one medication intravenously once every three weeks. We’ll start those today before you leave. I’ll be sending you home with a number of other medications—these are primarily to help with the sides effects. I’m not going to sugar coat this, Julian. The side effects for a lot of these are nasty. We’ll do our best to alleviate, we’ll monitor and adjust as needed. This is why constant communication is going to be important, especially early on as we monitor how your body is reacting and the cancer cells. Now, let’s go through each medication individual…,” a shuffling of papers and soon enough Dr. Rolands is explaining the breakdown of each medication, every side effect, when bloodwork needs to be done, what to expect, and more information.

Never once does he mention what happens if the chemo drugs don’t work and Julian doesn’t have the heart to ask.

It’s three hours later when Julian steps out from the hospital and he’s making the slow walk back to his car in the parking garage. His body is sluggish and he already feels nauseous. After the meeting was over, Julian found himself sitting in another slightly less uncomfortable chair and the IV drawn up for the drugs he would need today. Before he left, he’d been warned he wouldn’t feel very well later tonight and Julian’s already trying to figure out an excuse to tell Lucas.

He shouldn’t. Julian knows he should just tell Lucas the truth but every time he thinks about telling him, Julian imagines the heartbreak, the sadness. He thinks about the fact that Lucas is going to have to watch him suffer and he knows Lucas will be there every step. All Julian wants if for his husband and his kids to be happy and live their lives. Julian doesn’t want to changes things for them.

At the car, Julian manages to get the door open and he throws the bag of medication into the passenger seat along with his jacket before he sits down and closes the door. The walk to his car exhausted him and he’s not sure he’s even able to drive just yet.

He feels like shit and it’s too much.

For the first time since the news, Julian let himself cry. Everything comes flooding out, the cries turning into heart-wrenching sobs as he presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. Why? Why did this have to happen to him? Everything is perfect. He has a beautiful wonderful husband. He has his children that he loves with his entire heart and soul. A beautiful house, his dream job, and everything he could ever ask for… but then this happens and now he feels as if his world is spiraling. There’s too many what-ifs for the future. Julian can’t even figure out how he’s suppose to live his life from here on out.

Another sob rips through Julian and as it does so, his fists form and pound on the steering wheel. Again and again and again only his energy is spent and he has nothing left in him, resting his head on the steering wheel instead.

The sobs slowly quiet down into cries.

Julian is still alone and all he wants is to be home with his family.

#ll julian ll #cancer tw #medication tw

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vaguely-concerned · 5 years

Text

I’m back! Temeraire Let’s Read:Tongues of Serpents

- Tharkay literally shows up at the beginning of the second sentence; STRONG start, I highly approve, great improvement on every level

fsdafhsadkjlfh cooly tossing tables and throwing people’s drinks in their faces in the bar brawl fkjsdhfksdalfhasdj this ain’t his first rodeo huh

- these dumbasses having to clean up from the bar brawl before going home so their dragons don’t go out there and demand to have a word with the dudes who bullied their lil boys... oh my g o d

- “it was true, if one wished to be very particular about such things, that laurence was a convicted felon” t e m e r a i r e... ~*technicality schmechnicality*~ it was barely treason at all really

also temeraire being in super protective mother hen/older brother mode over the eggs is perfect

- Jane Rolands bluff, jovial letter writing is Everything

- “Have Temeraire throw him overboard,” Tharkay had suggested laconically, when Laurence had escaped to his quarters for a little relief and some piquet . . . “He can fish him out again later,” he added, as an afterthought.

A VISIONARY. An unmitigated joy. “Have Temeraire throw him overboard”. He says what we’re all thinking.

- AAAAAAAAH MUTUAL FIRST NAME BASIS!!!! THIS IS NOT A DRILL WTF HAVE THEY BEEN DOING ON THIS TRIP TELL ME IN DETAIL WHEN THE SWITCH HAPPENED PLEASE (also I really like that the first instance we see is “But Tenzing, I cannot trust myself” b/c that was literally the whole point of that scene in VoE. laurence... yes you can. tfw your crush is the goodiest of twoshoes and can barely move for it and doesn’t even knoooow)

- y’know if Laurence could get over this thought that asking a direct question to a friend is just ~*intolerably rude*~ he could get so much shit done

(I guess tharkay, clearly a follower of the rosa diaz school of ‘no one is ever going to know shit about me’, is like fuck yeah I’ve struck gold with this one)

- “So spake the pot” oh I do love Actually Pretty Chill Dad William Laurence finally letting the snark out more frequently, it suits him very much (I guess his main claims to fame in a lot of circles is a) treason and b) spoiling his dragon rotten)

- rankin’s name is mentioned and everyone’s like HIIISSSSSSSS and RIGHTLY SO FUCK THAT GUY JUSTICE FOR LEVITAS

- temeraire is talking to the egg about consent and saying he’ll make sure it won’t have to do anything it doesn’t want to fjklsadhfkaslhfsd my heart

- lol lol lol weeeell in hindsight who could’ve guessed captain and second in command of the dragon pirates would have a materialistic superficial kid huh

- . . . Granby said, with a look half affection and half exasperation oh granby baby still carrying that torch huh

- lol lol lol just the implication of sara maden and laurence silently tops up his drink and he’s like ‘cheers’ and they’re both quiet for a moment flskdfs

if you think about it that must’ve been such a wild day in his life tho -- like first Laurence furiously fires him for being gone at a crucial moment and then immediately unfires him when it turns out he’s been chasing a lead and being the only goddamn person really working on solving all their problems (as is his wont), then he finds out his ex is getting married and steadfastly pretends it doesn’t even bother him, lol what are feelings I heard only losers have them (extremely relatable -- I guess he must have known it was in the cards though, because he specifically tells Laurence at the beginning he didn’t intend to go back to Istanbul, so it’s been over for a while?) then they go on a life and death chase through the sewers, and THEN, before he knows it, after half a book of being kind of a mistrustful dick to him, Laurence does a 180° and is there offering eternal friendship with big soulful eyes after seeing him get upset one time and y’know I guess I see why that got to him lol

- aw man I know it’s never going to happen but I am getting sort of wistful and teary-eyed over this pirate (cough cough I mean legally sanctioned privateer of course) AU that’s going entirely to waste

here are some tags I left on this superb piece of fanart: #I just got to the part where tharkay makes the suggestion and like... I know it's not happening #but what a shimmering tender mother of pearl dream to carry in one's heart lol #just a lil pirate family out there wrecking shit #temeraire would get wind of what the east india company actually does and they'd inevitably turn against them and fuck 'em up... *sigh* #fix it fic: the boys kiss and the east india company is stopped from committing further atrocities! all is well

so that’s basically my position on that

- “I’m sure there’s nothing too dangerous out there, in the fucking untamed Australian wilderness,” Temeraire said, tempting fate to a frankly anxiety-inducing extent

- hell yeah demane is the only one with presence of mind to actually find some food; you go buddy <3

- my boy tharkay slinking off in the middle of the night without telling anyone and solving everyone’s problems... *dabs at eyes* just like old times

- oh wow rankin really is just a piece of shit in every way huh

- fhasdklhfsadfsad temeraire being like ‘I know tharkay is a strong independent human who is perfectly capable of making his own decisions and don’t need no dragon... but also he’s clearly one of my humans tho why is he riding on another dragon :(’ THE CUTEST SHIT

- temeraire silently dissing his dad over refusing to believe in ghosts ~*except*~ for the holy spirit adslfhaskjdlhfs

- demane taking in the strange little hatchling... im crey... he truly hits me straight in the heart every time

also laurence steadfastly Doing The Right Thing and following his convictions is so deeply healing after all that bullshit he went through in the last book... makes me feel all safe and calm inside haha

- actually when you think about it it’s so fucked up that they apparently just straight up murder dragons with birth defects in england as a matter of course b/c like. dragons come out of the egg fully sentient and capable of understanding what’s being said around them. kulingile literally understood every word they were saying as they discussed whether or not they should be KILLING HIM. j e s u s thank god for demane and laurence’s stubborn insistence on being good

- temeraire going straight from mother hen to extremely impatient and jealous older brother the moment an egg hatches never gets old. all these dumb little babies just complaining and stealing his crew ugh (HOW FUCKING CUTE is him deciding kulingile could be a scholar or something tho #dragon rights)

- “I wish,” Temeraire said to Laurence, “I do wish that other dragons were not always thinking me peculiar . . . it makes one doubtful.” BABY BOY NOOOO he’s just so sweet and he’s so secretly scared that laurence might resent him a little after the whole treason business and OW right in the parental heart that fucks me up

- Temeraire’s indignant “Oh!”s always soothe my soul it’s so adorable

- little emily roland yelling “damn you all for cowards!” after a bunch of grown men fleeing while she reloads her gun and takes aim again is incredible poetic cinema (and also demane joining her... I love the bond they’ve got going on in the background here)

- aw poor sipho :( at least he still has temeraire to nerd out with and stuff but that’s some difficult shit to process for a kid

kulingile bobbing around tethered to temeraire like a small balloon at a fair is such an image, what a blessing, temeraire’s exasperated brand of babysitting is so funny

- laurence being a Dad to the kids in his crew... mana from heaven

- YESSS they crossed the endless miles of DEADLY AUSTRALIAN WILDERNESS so laurence could be MORTIFIED as the emperor’s adopted son at a party this is the content I am here for

- hell yeah let’s play a round of pimp my captain!!!!!!!!!!

“And,” Laurence said. “And you are certain that this should be appropriate for the occasion; not, perhaps, excessive?” I can’t b r e a t h e he can’t even say shit because his dragon boi is so happy fsaldfjsldhfasjlh and then granby making fond fun of him what a beautiful cherry on top of this sweet sweet laurence being embarrassed sundae

- william ‘I’m here to kick ass and describe menswear in fastidious detail and I’ve already kicked my own ass twice today’ laurence strikes again

- this description of the dragons sitting around squabbling as they watch shiny sparkly things is the most endearing few pages in modern literature do not @ me

- it’s kind of fucked up that the emperor of china is giving laurence more of the sort of warmth and validation a father should than his actual dad ever did lol. u did good curing the dragon plague, weird european adopted son I am proud of you

- every time temeraire is really upset about something my soul suffers a small wound

thank god he doesn’t actually know what opium is really used for most of the time yet (also I am obligated to divulge that I am entirely charmed by tharkay’s sardonic yet clear eyed cynicism on the issue, I cannot be anything but what I am and he hasn’t had enough proper page time in this half of the book so I will take what I can get)

- ...I kind of just realized that I imagine the sea serpents basically as long-ass gyaradoses... OH NO

I will say I respect the ‘give no fucks’ vibe they give off -- it’s a real ‘we’re here to eat fish & party and if you try to get in our way we’re gonna have you as a snack’ mood and I cannot fault them for it

- iskierka is such a fuckboi it’s glorious

- nOOOOOO tharkay is leaving again fuck ;_______; is his life just an endless procession of semi-unwillingly having to go back to istanbul again these days

Temeraire did not see why Tharkay should have to go so far, only to deliver news; and particularly when he did not seem as though he wished to go, very much. DDDDDDDD: THIS SUCKS you know that when a) he’s letting it show and b) temeraire notices it that he is dragging his heels big time over this lol

‘there can be very little to call you back to this part of the world any time soon’ LAURENCE YOU 24 KARAT IDIOT YOU ARE HERE HE CAME TO AUSTRALIA FOR YOU ALREADY WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS

all that said whenever I see a ‘Tenzing’ on the page my heart does a happy little dance. ah well now let’s settle in and wait for what horrible catastrophe will happen now that tharkay is gone... come back soon buddy

- ooooooooooooh that is so good, using the last chapter + epilogue to show how the... idk moral wound I guess laurence received victory of eagles has finally healed, that’s so reassuring. he just wants to do good things for good causes and can’t be badgered, cajoled, threatened or convinced to do anything less anymore and it’s all so sweet and well earned. that’s some good development through this book too, from ‘tenzing I cannot trust myself’ to this. excellent stuff

- while I did quite enjoy this book for the character moments it is incredibly weirdly structured? like the beginning drags a bit with the quite uninteresting colony politics and stuff but then they’re finally travelling and then... nothing really happens plot wise before the sea serpents freak the fuck out at the end there lol. I’m mostly a character-oriented reader tho so I’m pretty fine with it.

ETA: actually now that I think about it I’d say that my biggest gripe with this book is that it doesn’t engage at all with the perspective of the native australian people? even though one of the dragons settles down with one group? god knows it’s not like there was no time to dive into it, considering all that time spent in the fucking wilderness lol

we’re going to the inca empire next tho apparently fuck YEAH!!! that’s such an underexplored and extremely interesting part of history, my body is Ready

#temeraire #tongues of serpents #his majesty's dragon #meta #back again after a brief pause! still crying a lot about tharkay! the more things change huh

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