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darling-i-read-it · 11 months

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The Pairing

Pelle x fem!reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: not edited because who can be bothered, midsommar type things (cult, murder, people mysteriously going missing, a weird pairing ritual that includes murder, mentions of dani's trauma, mention of incest), I tweaked the plot a bit to fit the request

Author’s Note: Helly dear I hope you enjoy this! I left it open ended because I figured it was safe to leave the reader up to what they would do. Personallllyyyy I think after trauma bonding I could be swayed into a weird marriage lol. Enjoy(?)

Requested: by anon, Hi! Since you still write for Midsommar (which makes me very happy 🥳) and I saw your requests are open... I got one. The reader is friends with the group, she's Dani's best friend, and of course Pelle has a thing for her, he always tries to make any sort of excuses to touch her. She's invited to Sweden along the rest, and she's tricked into a sort of ritual where it's "decided" that Pelle and her are to be married. When she finds out she's mad and she wants to leave. Then you decide how to end it. Like she stays? She escapes? Is she kidnapped? You choose.❤️❤️❤️ I basically just found your blog, and I read almost all your work, and I love it! You're a great writer 👏

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

“Do you remember Pelle?” Dani asked. You looked up from your phone. She was sitting on her bed, against the wall, arms wrapped around herself as she thought. Her phone had been recently discarded on the bed. You were sitting at her desk chair. You thought about Pelle, the gentle guy with the gentle smile.

“Yeah sure. He’s nice. Why?” You meant he was nice in that he was nicer than the rest of Christian’s friends. They were okay but they were guys and tended to act that way no matter who was around.

“He’s invited me to Sweden with him and the others.” You raised an eyebrow.

“They’re going to Sweden?”

“Pelle lives there,” she explained. “He’s going home and everyone else is going to visit where he lives. It’s supposed to be some kind of commune or something.” You sat up, putting your phone down.

“Are you going?” She shrugged.

“I don’t know if he wants me there. Christian, I mean. I don’t know if he just invited me to be polite.”

“You said Pelle invited you.”

“Well he seemed happy I was going but I don't really know him. I mean, he talks to you more than he talks to me.” You shrugged. You and Pelle had been friendly through the semester, simply because you go whenever Dani wants you to and Christian drags his friends around like dead weights. You narrowed your eyes at her, unsure what she was getting at.

“Do you want to go?”

“Yeah, I think so. I mean, I should get out of the house right?” You nodded.

“I think it’s a good opportunity. I mean, Sweden! That’s so cool.”

“Pelle extended the invitation to you as well,” Dani explained. You raised an eyebrow. You didn’t know the others that well and you knew Christian about as well as anyone knows their best friend's boyfriend. “You don’t have to come but I think I would be more comfortable if you were there too. I’m not sure how I’m going to react and I don’t know Christian’s friends that well and I don’t know the place and-”

“Relax Dani. When is it? I’ll check my schedule.” She grabbed her phone and started to scroll through, looking through the dates.

“We’d get there on my birthday.” You smiled a bit.

“That’s perfect. I didn’t think you should spend your birthday here anyway.” You shrugged. “I’ll go. I mean, I should probably look at how much it’ll cost and stuff but it could be fun. Right?” You didn’t deny how nice it would be to spend more time with Pelle, this time on his home turf.

“Really?” You nodded, shrugging. She smiled easily, shoulders dropping the tenseness.

“Yeah Dani. It’s for your birthday, how about that?”

Pelle grabbed your hiking backpack as you approached the car. The drive was supposed to be over four hours and you were all stuck in the same van, along with all your luggage. You weren’t exactly excited for the overwhelming boy aura that would come along with it.

“Thank you,” you said, gently. He nodded once, a kind smile on his face.

“Of course. I’m so glad you could come,” he expressed.

“Me too! It’s so exciting to see your home.” He shut the back of the car. Everyone else had gotten into their spots in the car. You called shotgun the second you got off the plane and you were grateful for it. Dani was squished in the back beside Christian, her window already down for some air. The sticky hot air was indicative of a nice morning turning into a nice day. You hoped this car had air conditioning. “Is there anything I should know? I’m sorry I don’t know a lot of Swedish, other than what you taught me.”

Pelle had been giving you words here and there, trying to get you to pronounce things correctly. It was kind of a lost cause but it was fun regardless.

“It’s probably going to be foreign at first. There are some things Americans aren’t exactly used to.”

“Like what?” “It’s easier for you to just see. But I assure you, you’re always safe.” He walked to the front of the car. You stood there a moment longer, unsure why you would need to worry about your safety. You pushed it out of your head, walking to the passenger seat. “Everyone buckled in?” Pelle asked, turning the car on.

There was a chorus of yeah’s, followed by a couple seat belts buckling in. You adjusted to be comfortable in your seat and prepared for the drive.

“Keep your hands, arms and feet inside at all times,” you joked. “The show is about to begin.”

The hike to Pelle’s home was nice, if not a bit hot. Eventually you found yourself settled into beds, backpacks finally down, feet resting. You were itching for a shower but didn’t want to ask about it. You had been showered with kindness, large slightly unnerving smiles and flower crowns. Pelle sat beside you in the grass as everyone started to explore. They found themselves in their own bubbles, the dancers and the educators. Even Dani was able to find some sort of place alongside those who were making dinner. You kept a keen eye on her, just in case.

The sun not going down tripped up your inner clock. It had to be closer to midnight than it was to midday.

“This place is beautiful,” you admitted and you meant it. The sense of disconnect from the rest of the world was somewhat jarring. You could tell how someone could enjoy a life out here. “I can’t imagine why you’d ever leave.” Pelle smiled gently. He was leaning back on the palms of his hands. You picked at the overgrown grass under your fingertips.

“It’s slightly limited,” he assured you. “I wanted to see what the rest of the world had to offer.” You shrugged.

“Then decided to come back?”

“This is my home,” he said wistfully.

“Home is where the heart is.” He nodded once. You looked back towards him, squinting in the sun. He seemed used to it, like it had no effect on him. “That was cheesy.”

“But true!” he promised. “Things are cheesy for a reason.” You laughed a bit.

“I think that's a classic,” you argued. He shook his head. “When does the sun set?”

“I thought I told you earlier that it doesn’t.” He leaned forward and gestured to the blue sky. “The midnight sun can go for days. Sometimes just a day, depending on the time of year.” You nodded, opening your mouth to ask another question when Ingemar approached the two of you.

“Good evening,” he said happily.

“It’s evening?” you scoffed. “See, this whole thing is messing with my inner clock. You got a wristwatch?” Both men shook their heads. You weren’t sure why you even asked. They probably still used the stick in ground timing method out here. Or maybe they didn’t even care and simply went about their days as thought time didn’t matter at all. You weren’t sure you could ever adjust to that.

“May I sit?” You and Pelle nodded. He sat down beside Pelle, getting comfortable on the hillside. “Are you both ready for the pairing tomorrow?” Pelle gave Ingemar a look.

“What pairing?”

“It’s silly, really. It’s part of the festival.”

“You haven’t told her?” Ingemar questioned. He laughed, making you feel left out. You weren’t sure why Pelle wanted all of this to be some sort of mystery to you. You wondered if it would lose its charm if you knew what was going to happen. But the pairing sounded somewhat sexual and you wanted to know if you were entering a sex cult or something.

“After the Attestupa tomorrow the elders make five pairings of people. It’s like…superstition. Whichever pairing seems to be best put together by the end of the festival gets to be married.” You scoffed.

“Married? Like a legit wedding?”

“As legit as we get around here. There is no paperwork or church to defy,” Ingemar explained.

“What’s the Attestupa?” you asked. You didn’t want to be insensitive to everything going on but you poked around for the sake of your sanity.

“Another thing easier seen than said,” Pelle explained.

“You are being awfully mysterious Pelle. Should I be worried?” He shook his head.

“No, not at all.”

After the Attestupa you were about to leave. Dani’s panic attack, which was justified after the events you had all witnessed, caused you to jump into protective mode. It was too early in her grieving process to be seeing death at all, let alone death right in front of her. It didn’t matter what kind of processes the people here went through, she needed to leave.

It was Pelle who convinced you both to stay. He apologized, assuring you both that nothing like that would happen again soon. It was part of the world he grew up in and didn’t think he needed to protect you from something he saw as normal.

You waited for Dani’s go ahead. When she said she would stay, so did you.

Then came the pairing.

The elders gathered everyone around the table again. They had a scroll out in front of them and you stood next to Dani, teetering back and forth on the balls of your feet. Pelle assured you there would be no deaths here. This was about the rebirth of those who had just died, the children that would be had from the couples paired together. You looked around, wondering which people had been waiting for this their entire lives.

Then your name was called.

Pelle and you.

Ingemar and Connie.

Then other names you didn’t know, people that had lived here their whole lives. Your eyes were still bursting out of your head from the time they brought you and Pelle up, gave you intertwining floral headgear and showed you to one of the private cabins.

Simon was still yelling from outside about Connie, wanting to drag her away, unsure of the reason she had been chosen. Dani watched you go but couldn’t grab you. She wanted to give you a thumbs up but didn’t have the heart to, unsure if you were going to die the second you were away from her eyeline.

When you were inside the cabin you took off the flower crown. You placed it on the bed halphazerdly., turning to Pelle.

“Okay, what the fuck is this?” you questioned. “Ingemar has a crush on Connie and now they’re paired together? What is this Pelle? Please.” He approached you and you didn’t back away. You still felt safe with him, even after all the things that had happened. You truly believed he wouldn’t hurt you.

“It’s not like that, I promise.” He put his hands on your arms, trying to center you. “They pair up some of the visitors every Midsommar,” he assured you. “I had no idea it would be you and I or Connie and Ingemar. They have to pair up some outsiders to avoid any incentuous children, they aren’t doing it from any kind of ill mind.”

It felt weird. In this room, alone, when you had just been in a group housing situation. You already wanted to see Dani.

“This is weird Pelle.”

“I understand it isn’t normal. But they aren’t forcing anything on us, on you. We’ll sleep here but it would be normal, as though we were sleeping a couple feet away in the group house.”

“So we don’t have to do anything right?”

“There will be a few pair games but those are normal. Like…compatibility games. They aren’t dangerous, I assure you. Do you trust me?” You swallowed hard, meeting his eyes. You nodded slowly.

“I think so. Yes,” you promised. He nodded.

“You’re allowed to leave and see Dani and our friends. Don’t worry.”

“What about Simon and Connie?”

“I’m sure Connie and Simon will see each other again soon. There’s no need to worry about them.” You nodded.

“At least they paired me with you. They could’ve paired me with Christian and I could've drowned him in the toilet or something.” Pelle gave you a small laugh. He put his hand on your arm, softly.

“Let’s have dinner alright?” You nodded, following him out of your cabin.

“So it’s like a game?” Dani questioned. “Why couldn’t they put Christian and I together. Maybe then he’d finally think about marriage.”

“You don’t wanna marry that guy,” you said, shaking your head. You were sitting by the gardens together. Pelle was harvesting some food and you watched, for moral support. “Pelle says it’s like a game. Whoever is most compatible at the end gets married.”

“Legally?”

“As legal as this all is,” you said.

“Did you see that Simon left this morning? Without Connie. Hitched a ride,” Dani explained. You shook your head.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Someone took him in the car into town.” You didn't know the guy well but were surprised. They seemed really close. Engaged, if you remembered.

“Pelle?!” you called. He turned around, putting the shovel into the dirt.

“Yes?”

“Did you hear Simon left?” He shook his head and walked over. He was sweating from the sun. His white baggy shirt clung to his chest. You were grateful again that you were paired with him out of anyone, the slight crush growing with the coincidence.

“I didn’t. Who told you this?”

“Ingemar,” Dani explained. “When Connie went looking. Do you think Christian would do something like that?” You wanted to scoff and answer honestly. Instead you met Pelle’s gaze and shook your head, lying.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t.” Pelle extended a hand.

“Would you like to help me?”

“Looks like hard labor.”

“I promise I’ll make it easier. Come.” You reached out and let him help you stand. You glanced back at Dani, who smiled, squinting under the sun.

“You guys are cute. Sure to win best pair.” You rolled your eyes.

“You get to be the maid of honor.”

“The may queen traditionally get’s that spot,” Pelle explained. You raised your eyebrows to her.

“Better get your dancing feet ready.”

“Have you seen Josh?” Dani questioned. She stood in front of your cabin door, concern lacing her voice. You rubbed your eyes. Pelle had let you sleep in a bit, allowing you to skip breakfast and bringing some back. You shook your head.

“No. Not since yesterday. Why?” Her jaw set.

“I can’t find him.”

“Isn’t the May Queen thing today? I doubt he’d miss that,” you offered. “Plus, I have a compatibility thing today too.” Dani nodded tightly. You were right. Josh would show up eventually.

“Can you ask Pelle if he’s seen him?”

“Yeah of course. You okay?” She nodded but she had that melancholy look on her face that was hard to read. You weren’t sure if she was just putting up a front or if she was at all settled. You wanted to ask her more questions but she turned slowly and walked towards the main part of the commune. You squinted in the sun. Pelle passed her while he was walking back from wherever he had gone.

“Are you ready?” he questioned. You nodded a bit.

“Thanks for letting me sleep in.”

“Of course. I want you rested.”

“So what do we have to do? Is it like a sack race or something? Who knows each other better? Quick, what’s your favorite color?” He chuckled. He looked down, intertwining your fingers. You let him, though you were suspicious.

“A tad more serious than that.”

“Pelle…”

“You’ll be fine. I promise.” He was determined to win this one. He had never been chosen for a pairing before but he had seen it happen. The pairs were sent out on the cliff and had to be the last two standing after a scuffle of pushing and shoving.

Ingemar and Connie were removed, after Connie mysteriously disappeared after causing too much commotion. There were only two more couples.

Neither were as strong or connected as you and Pelle.

He just wondered how he would get you up the mountain. Once you were there he had no doubt he could convince you to push for your own self preservation, along with his.

As Dani took a drink of the special tea before the May Queen dance, you drank some offered by Pelle as you started up the mountain.

#pelle x reader #pelle x fem!reader #midsommar imagines #pelle midsommar x reader #pelle midsommar x fem!reader #black balloons tag

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angelsanarchy · 8 months

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Alkaline: Euronymous x Y/N Series CH 4

Tagging: @ophelialaufey @madamemaximoff06 @forever-not-gonna-sink @ajmiila02 @liquidsmoothdomme @shady-the-simp

Oystein had been caught up with the band and his friends the moment they picked up Pelle. He was the perfect addition to their band and he couldn't help but feel like a revolutionary in the black metal scene as they put together new music. Y/n hadn't seen him around much and his sister informed her that him and the band got their own place about 30 mins away.

Y/n couldn't help but be a little bit bummed that she hadn't seen him but she knew he would eventually be too busy to entertain the idea of her. She figured wallowing in what could have been made the most sense when she walked into the packed bar. She squeezed between bodies until she was able to get to the bar top, bumping into someone with long blonde hair.

"Oh excuse me." The bump caused something to fall out of his pocket and Y/n was quick to pick it up. She realized it was decomposing rabbits foot.

"That's one way to keep luck with you." Y/n joked earning a silent smirk from the guy.

"I just cut it today." Pelle explained holding it in front of her face. He seemed almost surprised that she wasn't disgusted by it but Y/n grew up with two brothers and an uncle that was a butcher. Dead animals didn't faze her.

"You should change the metal cord out for string. As it breaks down, the cord will slice right through that like butter. String will give it some more time if you're trying to keep it around long enough to smell the death." Pelle looked stunned and nodded his head.

"Thanks." He held the foot in front of his own face as he walked away and Y/n shook her head. She ordered a drink and suddenly felt a hand on her back. When she turned she was surprised to see Oystein standing next to her with a smile on his face.

"Miss me?" Oystein asked smugly.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" Y/n replied with a smirk. She must have missed him and his friends occupying a big table in the corner of the bar.

"You can admit it. My mom said you came by a few times." Oystein bumped her shoulder with his own.

"Just because you move out doesn't mean your family stops needing groceries." Y/n laughed.

"Maybe I should order some groceries for our new place. It's not too far out." Oystein leaned on the bar top.

"I don't usually do the orders that go outside of the perimeter but you can always put in an order and see who you get." She teased. Oystein's friends were loud and he glanced back at them.

"You met our new singer. His names Dead." Oystein pointed out the morbid blonde she had bumped into earlier.

"Wow...that's very fitting. Does he have an equally suitable name as you or?" She teased and he rolled his eyes.

"I would say his name is very fitting. He's a lot more fucked up than you can imagine. Living with him has been interesting to say the least." Oystein watched as she took another swig of a beer and couldn't help but stare at her throat. He wanted to wrap his hand around her neck tightly and fuck her until she was gasping for air and release.

"Don't let me keep you from your friends. I only came for one drink before I head home. It sounds like they're getting a little restless without their fearless leader." Y/n looked at his friends who gave her odd looks. They weren't sure exactly what someone like Euronymous was doing talking to someone like her.

"I don't care. Let them fuck off. I'm talking to who I want to talk to. I've missed seeing you." This surprised her. He was never upfront with feelings like this, especially amongst his peers.

"Really? I thought you would have forgotten all about me now that the band is taking off." Y/n kept her eyes on Oystein as he shook his head with confidence.

"When are you going to give it up and realize I'm not going to just piss off? I mean I will if you ask me to but not before that." He smiled, letting his hair fall into his face. Y/n reached up and pushed it away hearing a click of a camera from behind her. Oystein's smile dropped and the girl taking photos spun on her heel quickly.

"Don't let me ruin your image. You know where to find me if you're really looking." Y/n polished off her drink and Oystein seemed disappointed that their interaction was coming to a close.

"Do you want a ride?" He offered but she shook her head.

"No I'll be fine, thank you. Just try and get back to your place in one piece." She walked towards the door and he kept his stance at the bar.

"Oh and congratulations on the new place and the new singer. I'm happy things are going so well for you Oystein." The gang at the table started laughing and cracking jokes at him and he cut his eyes at them. She pushed out of the bar hoping he wasn't too embarrassed by her farewell. She had considered caving and calling him Euronymous but it just felt weird to her. She didn't see him like the others did. They didn't get to see the sweet, sensitive side that made sure to make it home for his mother's holiday dinner parties or who taught his little sister how to headbang. He made sure to always show her boss respect and even tipped him on holidays when the shop was usually dead. She didn't see him as this dark hero that they worshipped. She had nothing against that side of him but she liked him just the way he was.

"Y/n! Wait up." She spun on her heel and waited as he ran towards her with a napkin in his hand.

"Just in case you start missing me too." His friends poured out of the bar shortly after him and he ran after them before she could open the napkin. Once she did she saw a number scratched across it underneath his name: Øystein

#R! Euronymous #Film: Lords of Chaos #Rory Culkin #Culkin Cult #Alkaline #One Shot Series #Alkaline Sereis #4/35

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disgusting-semla · 1 year

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He compartido 147 publicaciones este 2022

44 publicaciones originales (30 %)

103 reblogueos (70 %)

Estos son los blogs que más he reblogueado:

@wings0ffuneral

@sfh-amf

@disgusting-semla

@chainsawgutsfuck1968

@bathorycassette

He etiquetado 45 publicaciones en 2022

#ask: 16 publicaciones

#anon: 12 publicaciones

#dead: 10 publicaciones

#morbid: 10 publicaciones

#interview: 9 publicaciones

#per yngve ohlin: 9 publicaciones

#pelle ohlin: 8 publicaciones

#mayhem: 8 publicaciones

#submission: 4 publicaciones

#letter: 3 publicaciones

Longest Tag: 64 characters

#i am however certainly not the first mayhem liker to suck a dick

Mis publicaciones más populares este 2022:

INTERVIEW WITH DEAD, DONE BY EVIL FROM MARDUK. IT IS FROM SLAYER MAG 101994

HOW COME YOU LEFT MORBID AND MOVED TO NORWAY TO JOIN MAYHEM?

As everyone know…or should now is that Morbid never was a real band. However after the"December Moon" demo the band kinda split up. I don’t know the reason why, but we were all very different and couldn’t compromise on how Morbid should be or sound like. What’s most mysterious to me is how everybody could change so much. When I and John formed the band the band was looking for some members for the band and asked them about the thought of having a Black Metal band as Black Metal should be, but it never turned out that way. They all seemed to be totally into the idea at first, but…well…I must say that I don’t think the 2nd Morbid demo is in the same vein as the first. But why the hell do I talk about Morbid in an interview when the band never should have been featured? I talked to Euronymous on the phone and heexplained how his view of how the most brutal stage show would be and we discussed the problem that everybody wants everything to be so normal, boring and wimpy. And we totallya greed on that, I should come over and try out some rehearsals, to find out how I would fit in the band. And I guess I do fit ‘cos I’ve been singing here ever since. But the problems was that short after I joined the band we were out of rehearsal places…

YOU HAVE SAID THAT THE “DEATHCRUSH” MLP WILL BE RELEASED AGAIN, WHAT ABOUT IT?

We want to release it again, but we just don‘t know how the hell we can afford it. It was wrong to limit it and now the copies are being sold for far too much money and that wasn’t the idea at all. Those who want it can’t get it unless they are millionaires. We will never release anything limited with Mayhem again.

TELL ME ABOUT YOUR NEW LP “DE MYSTERIIS DOM SATHANAS”. WHEN WILL IT BE OUT? ANY OLD MAYHEM SONGS ON IT?

Good question…I wish I knew when! It’s planned to contain 8 tracks and to be released on D.S.P. as anti Mosh 003. When the 2nd edition of the Merciless LP has sold out and paid, the next band will go into studio (Imperator from Poland). When their 1st edition has paid we’ll go into a studio and record our LP. After the tour we have planned, if it doesn’t fuck up, we will have a session of concentrated work on the material that is missing for the LP. I can’t say muchmore about the release.

HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE A GIG WITH MAYHEM, WITH ALL YOUR EFFECTS?

We haven‘t had a real gig yet, 3 shows in Norway, but only one with parts of our stage show.We had some impaled pig heads, and I cut my arms with a weird knife and a crushed cokebottle. We meant to have a chainsaw, but the guy who owned it, had left when we came to go get it. That wasn’t brutal enough. Most of the people in there were wimps and I don‘t want them to watch our gigs! Before we began to play there was a crowd of about 300 in there, but in thesecond song “Necrolust” we began to throw around those pig heads. Only 50 were left, I liked that! The non-evil wimps shall listen to our music. We had a great time throwing the heads on each other. I got angry at some idiots who had their heads up in the air, so I wiped the blood onmy arms all over again, We wanna scare those shouldn’t be at our concerts, and they will have to escape through the emergency exit with parts of their body missing, so we can have something to throw around. Some imagine for some weird reason that Death Metal is something normal and available for everyone. Unfortunately they are right… If you have seen pictures of bands like Defection, Benediction or Righteous Pigs etc. you know what I mean. If you go into an ordinary school, you will surly see half of them wearing Morbid Angel, Autopsy and Entombed shirts, and once again I will vomit! Death Black Metal is something all ordinary mortals should fear, not make into a trend! Some years ago it did not exist at all. When Morbid had it’s first gigs almost no one had heard that kind of music before. Metallica or VNA… But hopefully those who jumped on to Death Metal will leave it soon to the real people who have always listened to it. It took some years or so till the trendy HC bands jumped over to Grind. It took shorter time till Grind was out, and I hope it won’t take long before they leave Death Metal to us who do not choose music after fashion. That’s one reason for having a stage show. The wimps will not ever understand it, and I won’t explain it to them either. But they got pissed off at our shows and that is what we want. If someone doesn’t like blood and rotten flesh thrown in their face they can FUCK OFF, and that’s exactly what they do. We are trying to turn the scene back to what it once was, when no Death Metallers were wearing Adidas shit and looked totally normal. The hassle is of course to bring stuff from the slaughterhouse to gigs abroad.

Part 2

34 notas. Fecha de publicación: 17 de junio de 2022

39 notas. Fecha de publicación: 15 de noviembre de 2022

Could you tell us about deads logic or what he believed vampires were like??

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Mi publicación más popular de 2022

here are the shirts pelle wore (I couldn't find the exact shirt for some of the photos but theyre close enough)

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152 notas. Fecha de publicación: 1 de abril de 2022

Descubre tu resumen del 2022 en Tumblr →

#tumblr2022 #resumen del año #mi resumen del 2022 en tumblr #tu resumen del año en tumblr #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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libidomechanica · 1 year

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Untitled Composition # 9205

A ballad sequence

Has man’s flame of them wedded rough his certes, the splendous was a serpentry, o pious of the destroying. A

band in fog, in green, rough to life is no doubtful Soul. Or dull MS. Come! Eternity! Milk, shewing, this parent of

through curse, is of lover, or they to stand saint himself, a breast melting to add the little tongue fault scarce even wild.

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of orphans paint brooke he: Men of the deceased the door! When your heart’s to some mist thousand play upon the metals after

a To-morrow back to move? No happy may he ladies are breathe and solitary doubts conqueror—a matter’d,

she good as you never some certain upon the reduced with his own, O my lusty deem too: but rest clouds comply

with turn’d harebel nation into the fierced he, through downcast the best. Work. Who rested its lava, fantasm,

could we are left alive, deep profit anew old Apollo’s pipe in thee to a distance, dumb the land—alone where

hear, and pitie clared swords around a confesse, and afraid their hair ways: not to every sidelong I sank and that

some Zephyr sleep is towards as, utter’d, its metal writhed hearing his wing made perchance that drag it every where things?

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beneath for a kind report and trunks, and ten the burst, our should coming away, with the Dusk an honour time. Can even

the which I would springs had retreats you may of body dip into Dust at lass of summers against though away,

into the woodland leaded Eagles yelp along souls enchant shell for any hear time’s self-doomed; and could melt out.

Just and poetess, plight blender name and does she knots. Oh God’s, his tomb: perhaps at alp. Besides, how rare were to the children, but we are no more, she hate what I missed you, but fierced out over, I’m like forth walk; nor pray Medea for he cause man, with dilated been you men whence: your since the firstling again. What still often up into a prime of

truth, and flashing rills of moss. My dear, with him for the moonlight, a distant dog-bark; and weeps, all unworried by his many quickly near the brain; but raptur’d! Dead! To soon, that strange templation mingle, and spiteful talking to be bold Bacchanal! When he besides of this was might but oh! But one strived it flow; of all Danae to warm precious and shall

I prizing a triumphantom of flying palely letter ill, no crimson scowl is should brightly shackless pleased to the Two Love acres of high in the curls blood water. Pushing o’er Day’s servile galvanish’d it even an autumn trees, and save they wall, the be fair stronger yet music articulation, like the sweet kissed until a gentleman

ass, black-eyed to where is it strange they ship, pell-mell, then half so quite: but by any eyes? By swam heav’n superstitie: o eyes and that had gazellesley’s glory, while my door, long blade of the best convuls’d the high, from men set me me follow Cheeks; then it lay a loftiest his daught, pour’d o’ergone, but their path will glove and snow, there: and creeping plummet do misspell

the ring more blood so loudly into sounds ouerthwart a moments flash upon clocked herself she isle. But, find a young: but lies for God. And brave me, and o’er the maintain pointed to my dear, by the poppied and yet, I’ll tenderneath �� again thing off mild, I love unto heart lies what Dian soldiers. Light A Child his Waggoners, ’ and rapier his stubborn

or none shall dropsies, straightway so rare, and shaking across-legg’d eagerly—no wonders than out badge-thee-—yet lose ourse. But I’ll step by side of young; a pipe, to last. Gravity, story—an old saw than love—Minerva’s sister’d; for, Lord Gregory. Heroic lay them, being terribly affect me down hectic, at wishing some few reduced to

himself within; for a bowed, and their heart not when the porous scorch once. Left, throw. I can brought employ all the true love like thigh almost getting in his spirit she shot touch’d his sleep, a cruel fire, and not seem strandeur of its warrior fruitage; yellow sound her will but allow she step, he had bodies, crossing his poor be prepares that fame outgush’d the upburst

of Ceres’ Islands whose but down with such for any other, and I will seize it, ye illume into God alone, haunt thou use so great Diván which i have thee, Her Grace is their title intellections; so redeeming;— ’Juan! And choose, and Juan wealthy charms, this sighs ’tis a fire was a tomb’d wisdom his waging, were a pale yet the revelry

expiate my own in quick silks that spouse.—At this Pomp abode, and cuckoo; cuckoo-buds lavish Boy, worse: she hand is this is thick as with gild red, endymion’s Waste, one look bad in heart-free, let Rustum lay it deceive. The said there is limbs amorous rills welcome a place is Aunt. Follows, but harm, the quoit-pitch a well night dread waken’d, the heart no more for

than every shame a pick into thy shout a looked in her bugle, proceed incenser features? Us your love and she same Adonis, share of each by flew touch most departial flavour’d fro betwixt the air be musket, dance, and knew then. Cuckoo-buds lavishments— these had add, he patient, with nimble, transpare, love, or maks you wilt sate as a wide in

balm! A hum of sand, there is not. All delight; aye, too man e’er those keeping the last this mine. But with things empty creep, powers of pearlier one? That kind of danger it is window story: I must need of both mode of wear the first taught the singing did men call his wing. Of Perfume; here softly lamb and broidery, and shrugg’d—and slips are mute shell. ’Er shall

fetter, patient shot by these forgotten hair’d without a brief. Smiling low arion’s Waste, I only Nature stand, Archdeacon in the right my wealthy love me, how tones bright the casual fault, and round as amber, as never stun came to passion: the gnawing children gold, with a translated at peak the next, Oh To secure in degrees and leaven.

Seems, you the kernel of the confined Musk-Harvest science. And athwart, and that I writ, more than every set for seen the hid, and night. Makes candid the set me of us—Pish!

To fightingale, pale and looked at words; and show you’re ladies, and louder touch’d and hatred on, had been cease to the death of this gentle round heroes, and ’twas a Briton; her

pannels, more; forgot. Instead of joy, Adieu’s landlord’s blooms divine! From my Injury more! All was vague as requisite, o for Zinghis is may fingers cool me assembly,

in the China cup heap, a cruel faint eternal! In springs; my groves with other keen a lurking Daemonstrous he one, was none and her own by time down by stealing, I thou

who is past hast, therefore sat: the Grape my bowers despite, of what I feel this child a bonny ship, they dancing; where, most thought; yet, as the more be forget, renewed limbs, and all

in rubies far behind have still within thee by no more unseene, Tekel, ’ and kind, and country, made more cease, his star? Than through I ador’d you could share it wassail; oft in tune.

This unhappy in each had slays above, marching witness of air; as not see, I known to upbraided from the pasture, allowship divine, i’ll come as pole; no more came—and

by and know, when one of me, what! Leaving weeds. In translated asphodel, and silver choir which ensuing or stand he best of the Pacha with a hair apples, on soul!

Silver for fast— that now howl’d for. Sing, flashed not to treasons of morning pranks, she her naked, and them a sign!—A merry in hand—purific;—with achieve no hard to heav’n. Butt,

and shaking thee at fine eye mine. But when, that had grow, the old forgot him grew on in black- eyed days, when I think is domestical wires company— the flood expanding to

a rag like a faint came Johnson, and flash top, and yet know of all in thy call those prove me, the peoples behind him in pleas’d to still high as agree? And worse with ly, therewith

view, the burst and loue and watching, resemblance: city speech, make good name to say, full of them! And seem’d her the land Mary. The Vessel on my looking Daemons they discuss’d

how sweet life, we there is little Cup whose trace, and mere streaming Christmas. And the dart, and love thee, I have drowningly-— send forgive ten years, tis nothing old; the muzzle be engulph

me—the skies; the feathes; the sound, thy pap well I quit my love a brave, a thou wanting like wind, and without each turned thereon your lowing word to its groan moaning Priam’s, Peleus’,

or peacock like forsook the sit, and in sweet days, had burst—thy sprung in two years, who thee. Leapt about, to be from their door and this, when learness of the merely sing.—At leaves,

ever soul repeated—and t is a love! Till it began to her to kill’d it, sowing soul! Bear closde-vp sence her glass, to find it a lov’d, oh miseries of disguise for

love fresh in more he must kiss into their pine, of thy face was, be’t in all; the waters at shattery gauze bark bar’d on flying that dwalt on the Veil from her bounded in one

by some piness; leaves, and wonder made to mar than I swear, nor hands with golden spring. Myself shepherd clasp—a gloried which I gaz’d on of sleepy music,—why not mark as

there, naked field a boy, when the fall have would many a sunbeam: yet hair the early, are at fish; more a-roving its five our mind thee the table echoing, and keeps us

is honour the great vehemence, he hands, and turned reply and by sweet black-eyed far away, is revels her wings; yea, or gainst them all men strip an Alpine boy remain’d, missed

oaks; country’s tongue, and purest close gemmes impossible! It is, my forehead, with may be, that whisper the treme; and yon both disdaines and babe is Martha Ray. He gave,

together. Let us be in a slaves, labour rayes! Said Juan waking one, and with all with her warp, with that just the Throne: ’twas—the garden wilds up flew a lad is like an Angel’s

hard forgiue? And they sense one hovering up to behold, day full camera flail, the voices man whene’er wall, and tempt, but can our modest searching mind: I by their frail at woful dreams

into noble enough one away. Yet for goddess! Those with trembling, dances plants immortal, so learnt inventide; my pretty sure while they means to stride from ever it pierc’d

his woe-worn of battle’s statue of the come, I hae senselessly. Slight of Juan, furl’d my soul to seas his poor bewildered, but touch’d her hame o’er the clatter none spie, not fair

the spak her at and left think with slaught of Julia’s harder of thought her line, like to some voice more than that all the first bud? Among weed the bridal care the only hours the shore.

Thousand flying thou call, and went. Grumble togethere of Heaven’s this sorrow; and saints and sad. I could beauty is

sorry parent; so in my life, and Me. Clear form a fervour teeth me now these Dregs in a terrace, while their free, the

table-wicket doth fire, chief pacha calm-plantains, and world thy mandolin. Down to hide the glory seventide of.

Seed to the real purple-line look upon the famine worth merely felt too he kiss; truly, I wand’ring flame, and often

many gardens all had made to prompture touch’d and burst for one was never following companies and palace

to our souls, while her think how long the grave; and then, my landlord’s, sinks tear-dropped three to stray them in his and suspires

are on me, when in their new establish airs deludes, fields, and brough thousand his vestern philosophy?—Infusion:

for Timour bell’s passion: by herald that’s sake, oh, his hair living to whispers; but least sparkled witch our lips much to

its glowed, what plays when the grew the sophical On the world, I left alone, i’ll pretenderest riddle jimp with a

battles, but you of the secret a lives with your bosom with the shines my Bed, but their rifles. On the badge-the sweep

the gentle, and behind, lovelorn alive, dear, the old plundersonese the heavier gravity, shooting,

unwonted man, then came away. The lute, whereat makes of mossy rock of idle isles of shot, doth increase than my eyes:

I sang in that goes, but ay thine o’ the man as yet remains would unlawful sight away and fled; and poetess of

my bliss, it loosened with alchemy. Lay, he plaints aristocracy; when the patriots, or at never breeding;

sweet self-possess’d with the never cheer, like a vision; ye space of consent tread, majestie of fiddle, a large eagle,

and chide mystering, so purer is thee though street is but oh! The before—so that farthest rustling himself, He heard,

when to dead, and with mighty with strive to a patron. For a mountain which I’ve far bespangles that moment, the condemn’d

with the Excursion bring and how deep in the gave me from my Injury, the mead with company where at leaves

with learned to the play with scorne wide would blooms: and naiads of the first-fruitage; yet warlock, that is to entice my pursued

o’er come. Thy sigh my lust: the gross the love his sun-sodden horseracing he fire theme of birth-pale, proceed is.

And satyr flings frozen to us, some hundred most foes, I mournful bow. Wicked at hours is Paradise, and long-

drawn Sigh, and, whose or physicians, and draw bewilderness, more, whose ne’er be who shield. Turmoil, cries, and courted: what Erin

calm of light. Which turrets and babbles hid in religion all the lay the drunk his child as likeness, then men running.

And now, as if it shot though thee know: his bones with yestern phrase but my lost; he would blow, I shouldered into her

families, and dawned it at his paint at leaves, and pleasant dog- bark; and locked-hat opend sees with choice or grieve. Or upward,

hate no tramples of heavy message of a haw bayberry, cherry, from a snow napoleon on Aunt Elizabeth,

and of palm. The stare two longed, was even thou would adopt your hour art cannon, uprose fairer foot or a flock

all my eye in guest, simply I fly, and catch’d the sun, art, and no doubt if Blucher, and far as deep cold tears? That pity:

even sometimes our pour own sort of a chamber, do this I saw these to the mighty on the New Year rilled

and revere, and let me! There forehead gain that you are they wall; and love but a youth, I could not man, that snap the sings

from upper bosom with some to Love at least will, casement spher e d couldn’t struck dove, may finger farmer could stir?

Their nature stillness; and, and, and that song, and black. Which put with more; till were, would she struck up again. Tried palaces

and tone for a flowers, with silverly around where one evades were upon the honest flanks approve to Nanie, O.

A winter into thy should bright. Saying: yes, at last, silent seven stay’d all oranger, that kissed of Time, which thou should make fault was cajoled. The friend: the glen, whose like wings smoothly

waking had nursed motions, drear love’s to Heav’nly have no trance of thread, and after that was born out our gifts, I see; nor what which rang else unwounded thee, gay daughter, beside

the sea, in time. Me away the Abbey-ruin an infant’s skill, the mounted one He heard it any morrows, the solve is my carriage; so Juan wealth like a diamond does it

the dull the Nighting in times at you catch them shone. True blessing strained the house made a should content tremor;—with the moonlight, he cause deep my burden of mould; for his rapier

task! Like true thee; then, can break so great joy in stately fell, and, yet was ministries, for trumpet blacks, unless lamed, that she ask’d my love the fields, a friendship is and sings, whence?

Thus all else unhurt, she saw her.— A feast it was you quest of salt estarnging her in the Latmos! It’s only as traveler, in woman tell then shepherds o’er the enthraldom

sung, o’er throught; and one dark, those two that which Lieutenants in the fairly from him: so in her! Though Ireland with a hard, where it springs of daisies. Kiss it had his they martial

tale virgins’ kiss? And desolation in the firths of nature day, ye wad been fledges of the peopled, how crude sons, without. Then, like a siren, still at fire, ties, and heau’n of

name; and children’s clasp’d her fame, and of one the cry? Of that poverty my spelled the altars to the ocean forehead she love and there in Greek, where mighty locust, all hand. Dying

tongue, where, did he, I will but our left thy gifts their nuptials joyfully on You? And silently, with Samian list is soul topic’s kiss me, just going’; lit a score, thou art

noticed old contains green grapes, beside of liuely her wires coyness, thoughts song; to dress therefore metal wring, gave the sport armed it never and though the climbs, but in fields: and rush’d thrown

one, a little brough’s aid so the body trait of elk and reaching: Winder when I reached in despair making! No furthern Lot some hung lamp in all had a boat of Imogen,

faint remained at fire, that in this found: yet Eloisa see, I watch. Heal’d him as a wild and all that I can doth mosses tender This way of heaved—she stopp’d.

Along bow answer many rest? Short and fall, himself sleep. Sir Walter side the Spring, to seven I shall scarce between

the lute of Lochroyan the yellow, but than loved hereal— a new and others he stomachs. He was with celestial

eyes fly at that which all that could not everybody like a thou are na by. Kind the creeping out of Pantisocracy;

whence again, methings white delight to thy vapoury texture; ’bove their were one, still it fast she shells he wait

a crescended man withalamion? But I’m puzzled wear and cannot last, so through rude. The from ignorant, already,

the land looke her was well, who loved him—no pulse, or ill, quite not quite the who had sworn that could rather, which men who

great something who grew as when the rain-scent more thunder’d by the sung, in rubies red rite meadows, that little eye wadna

been the Bough its of her warriors by a present wealth, lead infant’s distance, above has no mortal eye the seen

a powers, like a plain you left him in the those dark, and curses. The choisest content though twenty poster than you,

but know, deceive held here, the mid they wander prettily, I will at once have flower being void was indeed most

meditating now return slain. The still I could rejoice choke, as sport; a hey, at will should solemn days, sure of ice,

made they mistress!—And not one; the Goods were divinities joined pebbly mandolin. Unhappy mother see than mine

hands; and yet us till should no needs the beside, hither smile, tho’ his watched and bye. The skin open plenteous as amber

and daughter’d pigeons and proclaim— yet, like muddy lees, the o’er, all falling up a glow upon the must being

fortunate. In vain, and to me, he water wombs of blisse. It seeming for please me repeating, o’er through truth or carried,

thy lovelier intertain to catch a man’s selfe- misery. Pebbles, stink like a convention, a vivid live

and folds the innocence of an abandoned rending of your little, serene, but their backward view, the face books. This

must value myself wit. All these: could, in a Good! Forget thunder, the did, ’twas enables, seems, good! Working overhead,

with such less many ring songs. Rain King Victory, had I despot of day, such thyself From my place my spirits.

Lies would be lost in Parwín and he pass away, the last bounty, shoul’dst the beams the game, by thy tendon which armfuls

out a loss their cause feet husband that no one set here must thou shall sugred light, we’llbe took his fancy condition gape

of the invest, and against earth, can tell human she lay, that which we say, there, beauty of both link’d by the paragon

of temples in my love I still trim as the very place, and riches upon a horrid then thorn is a lady,

one breezy sky, and earth are odds and bled; tho’ e’er our near religious dyes, on seventy leagues, which overwrough

some boy renegado rigours have I praise. And future of sages, what though the Room foes with which I escape fruitage;

and image stronged as I maun begging away&mine find heart sae bust of a dryads dive in size—how earth. Tears had

endur’d unto night, as well that blow, my care! How she sea, ere as lovest not yet that art’s Delight have come in life’s

all raptures; and roar was lost; and, forgotten having this tortured eyes, a Season’s true confesse, youth, that your lords

within the bridge. Learned to the part in the shrine hour after love, and when shine. And Pegasus runn’st seem’d light: O he

had scan gird more; it drink, that never- restination combat with his title, or Wrath company inlaid that hands;

and when Lamia? Hark! Whose past wast touch of his embrace the raging strength heaven looked it to sea, the phraseology

in tendrils greet or no more there, too,—with distill nestly me, piece of danger in cruel, perchandishes; their

Hearkening on return no whimper; my call the end, and last I shoulds she not wars. And steed’st this own: they ready; the

turn’d towns, nor close, and take more, there long, ding, the storm; burn’d to suit will pass’d, that such, as happy is at large wings while, long

sounding, no bar; my faces level of her face once shine was prizes; he hands of golden rills. And come, when I love.

A loves at occasions in au’ and corsage the green a loth range wind blew from for though his Foot shells with Angel of

sorrow tak’ him hard by, made clear demon eye wadna opening to time I some streams adown on my boyhood: but

if the would put an awful scream hurry by they disputes of rivulets upon woman the next, to marching—the

Angel who know, deceived in, thou beckon’d Lamia? Then no more the boatman’ and white kerchieftain pink at late, and

wood stung himself in St. Once last ye may has none them soul with, world. As a wonder, Let once morning honey of human

feels of the holy sits, a feudal was like a palace rolls on they seeing fluence. Her both of atomies that

a wanton in the last be found hear, up the endeavour to try. While I go, and both drink! Walter Vivian-place,

she lay in which into the sons with ivory in the Head, who gross; the lost into bower, the rock, and she throng of

Hero’s tongues, tak what hands, lace with eye the last it the bald- hearth of Troy, tomorrow this to suit thou the press we play

at hillocks through and the Trecent disguise seemed since tis bloom, too, with renew embowers, in martial, to glared to commend.

’Er the cause I lay complace of wealth, where the shudders that the swart powering old Greeks and bade my day last Caesar,

but, Alas, instant being vexed is strange, I quite refin’d, cold he bitterings; till in pomp to breathless like to

suits worthine early words to that therefore me where it strand. And brimm’d for some pine forsworn and still love the light, young good

man, that they forestern canto— and but of heard Heaven? Ah, may be, submits harvest not whose who cam so forth, see

it from Arabia purpose have latch in piteously throughout, if father in this; for they, as he stream bewildered,

when birk, hope, death-day homely have go by, ere flung close twinkling liker must there from love, like a will, shall never

long the temples, bleating fennel, run to me and infant to spoil’d upon her brains; and his pleaded by his flower’d

on they took to lose best to for a wrings such as if he beauty of selfe-misery! The Babylon, Tyre, Cartha!

I never in great Hunter, in one was very the blushing wise, Cupids shutterfly; upon it from men came away! One must wed the came many a dying in the who dare na by. But now it’s no offer more; for, Lady think ye he know howling there man,

methough the vale, tracing plums ready piled aboon thee, yet muse’s legacy? And syne palisades, muscles of gain a little world in soul: come feeling—right far and flower veil’d—but place to pierce lovershadow fellow meadows, who look on Marathon—of his

apt the pain, alas! You say, mirth? May strew’d flower quick for lifted, close the Cock crew, the plainer and who courself amends; and the did not I know, that daily them go scrawled by Cupid, with the rug. He stour; ye groan. So ample Kurd away in like Alcestis, from

these the was drink that mine to not have been, returning eyes should for thy amiss, endymion! But gentle sparkling sweet kiss’d a help the be seem to say, but ay the stones within the rosebumps like yondering gowan, were dost here amorous in their rate, the

ledge of moon grow back my lovers’d to see my manhood, or keep, smiling ivy, ticks of desolation; but full of my telling the mind bled. The blue. The colour turn. That my fancy after light guid pannels, each other in his is Paradise with the dangling

past of love the goes. Alas, ’twould close, that bay; if once I have her on the moonship divine to have not when how, the had river. Of which, with some pond, when away that Boy, tomorrows’ fray, he way, do just the Make: thou art canst now recover thrown empire touch’d

manure formed in the pleases! And with may stately o’er a show’d though thee their leapt a clos’d, endymion: but dark, and kissing to the Riches of rain, with their poets radiant Tartar khan—of mellow choose more, most come a chance, an elements false wounded Caesar, banks

o’ the and wondering blush’d, lord Gregory, dearthstone to hide its to them on thence was mighty follow, flush’d gainst my kiss’d like Snow unshades what once mortals I have still a’ the isle. I bade and happily be sport, however she love’s college and their in the

heap, a hazy wrist into heart banks the insular emotion; but fickle. For intensive let none came me for his head, with him blaze of you should guise, started, and earned earthstone. The court; an hour father shall ears till love: the walls thrown my Abelard altar, and

angels watching tenderness, one spot pillars. But in all to snorting quickly near,—What moment: for as shed and marigolds, fell or pity of happy, by moonlight to give unto us, or, into the more imbecile swung a welcome to that captive me

mair her hand the listened. His brow-beaten good know not out. Not a screen, and this rod in the Fantom of every predestiny touch of us—Pish! Should there’s look bad in corn and ivy-clad; while one: i, who on and I sight a virtue sedate gaudy how

the sprawling earth. Thus such for this gain’d again. Fresh as happy sting. In Juan, followers, your brain sae shy; for lo! His rapt; nothing, up to Thee thing: there was it? Yield hence was mine eye’s most rejoice should retreats from jagged a bowledge hid my Highland Me. No sings, flew in

slow; of all me of Poets from end toast, but, trowth, I could ye oil of pass away, busy beyond and light hand—the marts the you pleasing by Dame Partlett reach’d; often with Psyche ere for ears to ever-restiny sings have some in aid, and waters whole; nor gloom!

Thine eyes; yea, which overlids gone. The deep speak tongues th’ unwilling. Rules, and I will but allow’s more: we and the milling that she though the groups the lay? And that welcome the swallow what I lay in an unto dancing, which garlands

or hist, who wild the splendour for on the Knight, she could be left bare in nectar-wine, sing heir, to lose dark spirit were of our eyes and streets, like a wound supportune’s sons such the myself thy memory! More fair Sachariot native

freedom’s banquet-room and plea by stept—that setting tender,— an ill woman. To still usher’d round his care not that needs stranged arches may no more soon shadow falling sudden spak his wrong; and enlivening; for their chorus leads the

though old powers, while thyself or falling head, and but a drowsy winding flame: if you in his dark inn-yard or two that nursling rolls a ribbon, like chamber, I am goes. How of a band? Nay, he will the effort arming Foot that

she, and minstrel-life for love, than echo? Knight, my swells of these sneer at me leave, within. How and a hoarsely shame untold, and I die. Other hidden pits: ’twas not with Rule and wha will not speech! The elect to sing. So whims of speed-

laden Metal wall, the day no might as in the is, that old Atlantic isle. Great was cost taste a calm in a dream away, dove-like began that dilettanti in the Riversal culture strove to folds of festoon of poesy is

our self, so sad, and all thinking starting-post. Than Dryope, to one came from love, must I real a friends for the threescore, as I. The conferr’d, but dreary day home awakened with its shake to one, and pass my Body was he dies were heart. All

their steps, and watchful, and came jasper except cold, thus thunderwater number kept up to all an underwater. Or the shall never side thee they decimate their Heav’nly fault? Done wedded nor mermaid was far and makes full leaves gone.

It seems he’d praised at nods the children clear blush; there going. A path what’s light, nor years, press’d of our mine airy cheek of Jove’s sullen or pursuit of child, my chide close, bear the grandstand, that every prisoners, of the whose are long her—let

his fully. Plight, nor wil’ warlock, and the scorching this worth is pretty sure; to real a thing, I doubts could knowing world, out-facing homes cleft in Men’s travel her to sing he those Eyes turn infant’s fire, as not a spoke, felt though force. It love

to sweet child! ’Mong flame, but, alone upon a place in the laugh’d, but such a hermit those wholly son? Oh, throughts, and look for young but they say, Shame on growing above! More still sort of that cannot to know frill? Infantry: all say their laps,

scattered of popular appearance ought—and led the east cold and long glass, but sigh, till in the less nymph than our sin? On a cittadell, and his house,— for thou most. Know I made yours, we chaste by one there was the day. You hearts here? I heart

its eternally, through the is giv’n, one thank, and thou leaues did not. Take it enough thee, no double ponderest had made young before true poet, and rain’d with their ears already dip into the couldn’t be selves, and dropt; and for rhymes. Which

are conquer, seeing, up the table- wicketed; unless that mortal stuff, it is want now, and the path wind marbles the open planet oft have and with me. And when two had return that indeed is in her doting brain—’tis their stirr’d;

perchandized me and spills and see, thought blushed in flickering on the winds: rain to slope, and love like Shakspeare’s gear ye lights into soft in breast your bell in vain my Little. Than through of mine. Myself came vessel of love on my

empires—What, unhired, which make my manhood and I go from the white kerchief which shower’d worn of man; bear of another tiny to say, but I’m come woes in numb with his loves its strangers common languish in a glowing; we

comparing on to the sea of so you; for somehow ill deserve men’s truth; his heart sang lover bog and its must beats of all, to save tie; next, like a sound, set all this own between the free! Oh misery! That hours, a way your wild!

Witty Ovid, you never dumb one, my joy! And grandeur of the ocean with the fountain to sleep, produced, and

eagerly uncertain to Pallas nae art into its grown empty of her as the world washed wood, while I sit with music

no more beames a ghostly. The sat: there one smart more ills pass the name in pleas’d the bonds were but in the brave sons,

past, to lover and yet what can tease meekest doom waft a three hundred to human time warm precedent of the love,

ever three yards in his nectarous string. A sun embowers fill her slew, and frame the whisperings and gentlement,

plainly chide thee mid for ten power, midst of birth; bething, born can until his laurel-bough, and feelings, the spare, nor

blown in the down about off within his pleasantness, the Taverns shagg’d each play about wives its with one seeth a steady,

her hae thee down him; by smoothe, who constance oft house; but none. A little famine own: t is ways morn to husband

is not. Is knocks, two have doth not think; tis all the rocks recline upon thyself feed’st thou looks are namel of promis’d

dealt with his solitary Vintage round, fourteen-day full often, like the green and like that I do, what infection

of love images of Psyche ere are sward to subdued, close best was gradation, beside a sight has he stour; ye

snuff above the one, had I taste nod will flings have you only began to thy babe fair, True, ’ have and pain beseeching

the prepared;—three parent to feet, labour after issue. Bronze, and athwart that out. The riven than such as day you

whose wholly! Struck a ball be to thy headlong fluence he stopp’d in vain—in vain; yet, coop’d up the subtle shades, who stood before

I that part, how Sultán after fame; The can bring tower, Let on hills and quite alone, and bright, bathings of every

flying surgy murmur’d—Gently. Ye gentless I call are on most cherry-make; and fearfulless but something of

the generous heart into a will back the pure as said: I urge these do not a trembling hand some rid so that’s to

under west bound the Doric mothers at perfect in the salt of which hated Tongue to the sunny glad is stubborn

elf, he wounds, gather! I myself or from thee from the hear our hospitable, the elect this rare, and keen: save hero

lie down the group of deans; the deep still never a primly faithfu’ sodger. A melting a ding knee. Lamia!

If so, which miracle of pearls, and my head broad was he crowd. Tyrants. Over, yawn, and Lo! And cold dun me: person used! Why it in the critic for past unfair Annie, O.

But something bands with the away! In the change by his coy excuse of suddenly bill of her tell my love. I go.—

Would not question, gentlement me so, my dear? Ties seem’d some Musk-Harvest tarry; such softly in my name day, fain which

precious and wonderful delights; once deadly she dislike morning, up to some hung roses fast! And weeping; an arch.

Or else? Indeed—he straight appear such a rare as a wild the betide my Lucifer, and size as we, unlike dying

but this well, obscure bar of sigh? A virtue to his you up to rule and the clean. The moonlight, bathing the wreathing

lips its rest, and been us? In friend, even the Dawn of a nag on, from the flocks that shattered to the scenes when

one ballad of Julia throught, has pollution in the love from his soul was in field. With Gold any bitches, fields, and

where embranch, for very turn’d my rest see each the wine. Stands of elk and dropt; and ever hand, but what is that lovest

of her eyes and she horizon’s sons, draw him,—Zephyr-boughs! Arose arms, a fruits, and silver stroke sang: to my minute;

or, at suddenness of both think Guido was open one, and let that say so revere, howe’er that kept up but

waitresses minister! Now turned eyes I will be lost, and light convenience I so fainterlace: against a the dust fate,

either utteries of theefe hide, spangle forgiv’n, here he wall for the telescopes for such a cinder, sweet poet

can wine. To be her Jewel in the chose present honey- whisperean; to enrich, but the for one sorts of the edge

wherefore. To best I thou this Polar mellow left in all might be gently bruit, who stirred touch unbidden the serpents;

raving frustrated phrase secreter that spring a yards madness; which a bunch of home, but a favour. My say, is,

the kick down, here ye while the women, ’ said, my hopelessly I flowers, It made then leaves of and to the Make: for which

I’ve deemed: I set about of her of amethyst,—would faith dimple to human lives are she hand, and left like vomit.

But soon shadow’d behind your nearer fate, sounding Alexander. Over yet must mountain- woodsman of itself will

wings, nor uninvited. In didst may, to a lynx’s eyelids gone. What could lovers must known: thought and sweets that, of our Hearts

of breeze the zodiac-lion did not to the sight draws in death which sour, the Land;—and fell, which my hand, and denied

by hand thou; but whereon, quaffing rice, like upper bond its peach, as the name; Thus the Heracles, and still ardens all

its winterming words can people horsehoofs as happy, half wonder enormous slumbers of day, which glibly scorner;

yet, I could say, creation, evention—There’er grown ether up butts a-twinkling she scene, and smoothe mountains;

tomorrows are ye was long; to cast eyes, once witching nightingale cheerful, the gesture rank reiver, too awfully,—how

that raw cold: a winter me—ever was grenadiers. A totus tears, former time wheels, each fulfils defendance far

enought not make the nymph without, if at peasant applause with Natures were spot, that grieved top, and gnomed mariners

again all beneath the rocks their two. And made them shot, doth love, and cats, and in sprig of the faults, the infant bare the

blooms on Egyptian star than his still I could I loved? No tear. Of the food, and and shells of delicious eyes: in

valorous. With dilated in his was the clatter none by the air? Self-fulfilments, a feudal was thus did not to

palm says Hotspur, long occupied their art, and they did not seem’d, and fling eyes o’er our face to sing, wine, indeed end is

my past retreat, near the Vessel of slight two reeds vexing close by smoking tender husband ga’e you graunt they do not

the looked, and ever left as on my eyes, weary eves; the press! Of content hours, present: late espouse rolls and Fate doe

not if I should be where heroes will woman, in strange, and bade a wink, do things empty creation cloud, about hither

pierced on the scenes so farthest bride. Which in the damsels as riches in vain. Still dictates, and ship, I am gray?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #162 texts #ballad sequence

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slasherscream · 3 years

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Hi I don’t know if you write for Thomas Hewitt or Vincent Sinclair but if you do you could you please make some headcanons about them and the other slashers like if they got into a fight with their s/o and how it would go, what it would be about, and how they would make up with their s/o please? It’s totally fine if you don’t want to. But if you do then thank you so much!

fighting with the slashers

A/N: i do write for vincent (on a related note i also write for bo and maybe lester i haven’t tried him out yet)!

vincent sinclair

You didn’t stay put when Vincent told you to and you got hurt.

You hadn’t planned to leave. Until the sun started to go down and no one came back to the house to check up on you the way they so often do when there are visitors in town.

You are Ambrose’s second best kept secret. Alive because Vincent took one look at you and couldn’t bare to hurt you. And though Bo gripes about you he couldn’t tell Vincent no. Not when Bo saw the way Vincent held you behind him, head lowered but shoulders set, ready to actually fight him on something for once in their lives.

So you’re kept in the house when there are people around. Other than not being able to leave it’s your only real rule. Vincent wants you to have no part in the more grisly aspects of the town and Bo and Lester honor his wish.

But the town is dead silent and no one has come to check on you. Most times Lester even comes to stay with you like some sort of babysitter. It used to irritate you, despite your fondness for the youngest brother. Now without him there your hands shake, and your eyes wander, and your ears burn as if pumping extra blood there will make you hear better. But there’s nothing to be heard. No screams. No cries. No Bo shouting. No guns going off.

So you leave the house, searching for one of them. Instead you’re found by a survivor and held hostage in front of the twins.

You all stand still for a long while, the victim not knowing what to do and the boys unable to move due to the knife digging into your neck, already drawing blood.

Lester had been the one to save you, sneaking up behind your captor and stabbing them. You ran to Vincent on shaking legs and he gathered you into his arms, moving to take you back home. You could hear the screams of the man who’d almost killed you ringing through the streets behind you and shivered.

Vincent had cleaned your cut in silence and somehow had managed to barely touch you. Before you could blink he’d shut himself into his workshop and you were left alone until Bo came home and chewed you out.

You kept yourself busy cleaning and then prepared for bed, knowing it would be awhile before Vincent would come and join you. The sleep didn’t come easy as you were still shaken up, but eventually it came.

You woke in the middle of the night to an empty bed and realized that if you didn’t go to get him Vincent wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight.

You walk drowsily through Ambrose’s underbelly, the smoldering heat not doing you any favors, until you arrive at Vincent’s workshop where he’s hunched over his desk, unmoving.

Not wanting to startle him you call his name quietly and you see his head tilt in acknowledgement but he doesn’t turn to look at you.

Slowly you move until your front is resting against his back, even slower your arms encircle him and you kiss his shoulder, feeling guilty at the tension laying dormant in them. “I’m sorry, Vince. I was just worried about you so... so I left the house. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry I didn’t listen. I won’t do it again.”

He turns and there’s a pause, and then he moves his hands, fluid but slow. They’re shaking despite how strong you know they are. He tells you how he can’t lose you. How he loves you. He asks you to promise him that next time you’ll listen and you do, and you mean it.

It’s only then that he pulls you into his lap and holds you tightly. You think he’s crying behind his mask but you just hold him back equally as tight and whisper I’m sorry against his steady pulse.

pelle

He doesn’t like the company you keep.

He has a plan. He has a plan to take you away from this strange, uncaring world that doesn’t deserve you. That doesn’t love you or care about you. If he sticks to the plan everything will be so easy.

But sometimes Pelle loves you too much to bite his tongue.

He can see it clearly, your perfect future where he takes care of you, and his family takes care of you, and you let them do it, and you’re happier for it; but you don’t live in that perfect future, you live in the frigid, imperfect present.

Here you stay up late in the night to help a friend finish a term paper when last week they didn’t even call when you were sick. You gave a classmate your umbrella to borrow a month ago, and today you come back shaking from the rain because they never bothered to return it.

A thousand little kindnesses that the world outside the Hårga spit on.

He knows that all these moments of careless apathy towards you will only strengthen the draw you’ll feel when you finally meet his family.

You have the heart of a Hårga and he knows that you’ll feel that connection.

Still, the way the outside world, the way your friends and family slight you at every turn, makes his blood run hot. He’s never felt anger like this before. It is all consuming and yet he must stomach it alone.

And so his tongue is careless sometimes. He asks in tones that he shouldn’t use with you “you’re going out with them again?” and “but didn’t they-?” and still he is angry. The words do not ease the feelings because they do not fix the problem.

Pelle must lead you into the arms of his family and their way of life. He cannot push you. But he doesn’t know how not to take care of you.

He wants to beat away the leeches and moths that cling to your light and whisk you away to home where the sun will warm you with its love.

Your fights are gentle, and so you might never refer to them as fights when people ask you if you ever argue with Pelle.

There is no yelling, or balled fists, or the animal sensation of fight or flight. He leads you to sit down with him and holds your face in his hands. Unthinkingly you mimic the gesture and he smiles at you lovingly. One kiss and he tells you that he doesn’t like your friends. Another and he says that you deserve better, deserve the world.

You try to get a word in edgewise, to deny the claims he makes, to tell him that they really do care about you, but the words are smothered by his soft lips. He kisses you until your brain goes somewhere loved and numb. He slips your coat off of your shoulders and pulls you close. He keeps you there until you forget that you had anywhere to be besides his arms.

You and Pelle don’t fight.

chucky and tiffany

Tiffany is used to Chucky being a piece of shit. You are not.

Upside to fighting with Chucky is that Tiffany is immediately on your side, even if you’re in the wrong (I’m joking it’s always Chucky’s fault.)

Downside is that the whole house is now up in fucking chaos.

chucky: tiff where are my fucking keys?

tiffany: in hell! why don’t you go and grab them?

You appreciate her fighting spirit but she’s really going in on y’all’s man.

Which is not to say that Chucky doesn’t deserve it. Because he does deserve it, but you know from personal experience that being on Tiffany’s bad side is scary.

Why are you and Chucky fighting? Chucky is an insensitive asshole, and even the toughest skin isn’t bullet proof.

The aftermath of whatever Chucky did is a lot of sullen silence from you; the sounds of a knife chopping a little too loudly in the kitchen from Tiff; and loud bits of huffing and puffing from Chucky as he stomps around the house.

At first he thinks he can just wait out your anger until you start missing him. It used to work with Tiffany all the time!

But this relationship involves three people. You’re not so quick to get desperately lonely, especially if Tiffany isn’t the partner you’re fighting with. Do you miss Chucky? Sure. Do you miss him enough to let him be an asshole just to get some cuddle time in on the couch? As if! Tiffany is the better cuddler anyway.

The man child is going to have to say sorry and mean it.

Of course this means that your relationship is going be sans-Chucky for at least a week.

Tiffany reaches the breaking point before Chucky does. Obviously more in-tune with your feelings she can tell how much the fight is getting to you and no one messes with her sweetheart! Not even Chucky.

You’re going to hear her delicately clearing her throat, look up from your phone, and find Tiffany holding Chucky at fucking knife point.

tiffany: do you have anything to say, chucky?

chucky, trying to decide if he’ll let tiffany kill him just to prove a point: ....

tiffany: i’ll start with your dick-

chucky: i’m sorry! are you fucking hAPPY?!

You’re gonna be like no!!! I do not accept the apology you gave me under extreme duress! At which point you turn over in bed and pull the covers over your head.

You’ll hear rapid-fire whispering and then the bed dips behind you. A knee presses into your back, and kisses are pressed carelessly to where your head should be beneath the covers. Then, finally, the quietest “I didn’t mean it, doll.” as he pulls the blanket back in order to look at your face.

You’re stopped dead by the softness on his face. By the softness he let’s you see, even if it’s only for a moment. It might not be the words I’m sorry but it sounds like them. It sounds like an I miss you, as well.

When you drop your phone and throw your arms around his neck, touching him for the first time in a week, Chucky sighs in relief.

Not ten seconds passes before Tiffany has thrown herself over the both of you, suffocating you in her loving embrace. Just like that, balance is restored in the Lee Ray-Valentine household. For now.

#vincent sinclair x reader #chucky x reader #tiffany valentine x reader #pelle x reader #tiffany valentine x reader x chucky #slasher x reader #charles lee ray x reader #bride of chucky #house of wax #not my first thing for vincent being sad adjifjd #the juxtaposition between vincent's part of this post and the poly tiff and chucky part??#fill.

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failbaby · 3 years

Text

Okay but. I wanted to see the impacts of class on the actions of the BAU in terms of law enforcement.

They touched on the way a few other life experiences (like gender and mental illness) affect the way the team views the profession and the unsubs, and I wish we really got to see that kind of conversation about the way poverty breeds violence in so many cases.

Particularly, the fact that the poor and destitute are victimized in the vast majority of cases, because their unsubs figure that these people are disposable and will not be missed.

Spencer grew up impoverished (post-William), and Derek and JJ were very lower-middle class, and they were under the command of Hotch and Emily (in Spencer & JJ’s case), who both grew up in wealth.

How does that feel?

How would it feel to stare the effects of poverty in the face, knowing that this decaying, mutilated sex worker photographed on the side of I-80 could so easily have been you, and being guided through it all by the children of millionaires, who, despite being empathetic people, will always be a world away from this dead woman?

How would it feel to grow up on government assistance, hustling poker to put food on your mentally ill mother’s table (caring for her as if she were your child), pushing yourself to excel academically among students six years your senior, because you know that your intellect is the only thing that can get you to college and help you take care of your mother, who is getting worse every day

and then after all of that, sit across a table from your close friend and colleague, born into wealth and given a $1000 monthly allowance well past the age you started paying for your mother’s institutionalization, who says with a smile that being a “bored socialite” was the fate she had feared while you were playing slot machines to buy milk?

How would it feel to spend years pouring your body and mind into a sport you don’t like because you know it’s the only way you’ll be able to make it out of your rural backwater town, perpetually running on four hours of sleep because you have to go to practices and you can’t let your grades slip, clawing your way up from pell grant student to trainee to media liaison

only to watch another woman (who has never worked for the Bureau) march into your boss’ office demanding a job better than the one you currently have, then watch her get that job the very next day, in part because your boss knows her parents from Yale?

How would it feel to lose your father at 12 and grow up with two siblings on a single mother’s income, silently dealing with your own horrific trauma as you push through school and work for the sports scholarship you so badly need and try to help provide for your family, working tirelessly to pull yourself up out of the gutter by your bootstraps just like a good poor person should

only to spend your entire career playing second-fiddle to a white man who was born at the top? Working under him for more than a decade, knowing that you’re just as qualified as he is if not moreso?

They deal with people—victims and perpetrators alike—who have grown up in the most appalling conditions imaginable, and in all of these matters, it’s those who don’t understand who make the final calls.

Do they ever feel tiny twinges of sympathy for killers or their enablers when they hear about how they used to duck tape their shoes together and sleep three days on an empty stomach? Do they understand the anger these people? Does that scare them?

How does it feel to be told by a trust fund baby that the poor—drifters, sex workers, addicts—go missing so often that their deaths are just fundamentally not the same as a rich white woman being killed in her home? Do they think about how, with one car accident or broken arm, they themselves could have been on the streets, and wonder whether their deaths would be alarming enough to warrant investigation?

At what point do they realize that they are looking at these cases from behind a line they had to fight tooth and nail to cross, and that their superiors can never understand, because they were born on this side of the line?

I’m not saying this to diminish the childhood trauma that Hotch and Emily did have—abuse, abortion at 15, and toxic parents are obviously terrible and profoundly impactful in different ways—but poverty is such a unique kind of experience that I think it begs unique conversation.

There are some things you’ll just never understand if you’ve never been hungry.

#no comment on Rossi because his backstory is so fucking weird that it has absolutely no application in the real world #middle of the night time for BAD META #because I was super poor my entire childhood and I was thinking about the fact that like #JJ had to climb her #way up to being a profiler over the course of years but Emily #just walked in and was like ‘give me a job’ and Hotch was like ‘lol I know your parents from Yale. okay sure’#characters #oc

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kaizokuou-ni-naru · 3 years

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The Voyage So Far: Alabasta (Part One)

east blue (1 | 2) || alabasta (1 | 2) || skypiea || water 7 || enies lobby || thriller bark || paramount war (1 | 2) || fishman island || punk hazard || dressrosa (1 | 2) || whole cake island || wano (1 | 2)

(this is a repost, i deleted the first version of it by accident cause im Idiot)

the entry into the grand line is such a great sequence. it feels like such an ending- a triumph after they’ve spent pretty much all of east blue struggling to make it here, and at the same time the beginning of a new adventure, the biggest yet, one that has yet to end a solid two decades later. they all look so happy to have made it here- it makes me smile.

whiskey peak is one of my very favorite short arcs, and i think of the whole first half of the baroque works saga its the one that hits and maintains a tone best (almost certainly because its so short, admittedly, but still). i love the repeated shots of the moon, the reveal that the cactuses are actually covered in graves, the way everything seems far too good to be true at the start and the sense of suspense that creates.

zoro’s extended fight scene in whiskey peak is so great- it’s so creative and so dynamic and the odds are stacked so high against him and yet he’s clearly having so much fun. i do miss this sort of scrappy, improvised fight, cause its largely absent from later one piece but its SO much fun to read- zoro cutting holes in rooftops for people to fall through or shoving ladders to the ground as bounty hunters try to climb them.

i’m a huge fan of fight scenes that use the environment to their fullest, and this is such a perfect example of it. it makes the fight feel a lot more real and exciting, in my opinion.

i’ve never liked zoro and luffy fighting at whiskey peak, its always struck me as frustrating and contrived and kind of out of character for both of them, but i will say that i do like how on the same page they are even when they’re trying to kill each other.

the entire first half of the baroque works saga basically serves to introduce and endear us to vivi so we’ll be invested in the alabasta conflict, and that starts here in whiskey peak, when we get our first glimpse of her actual personality rather than the act she was putting on as miss wednesday, when she bites her lip hard enough to bleed in order not to break down at igaram’s apparent death.

watching robin’s actions with the added context of later one piece is one of the great joys of rereading alabasta. she does a fantastic job of appearing to be crocodile’s most dedicated and capable and dangerous employee while quietly but consistently sabotaging his efforts; saving luffy, sparing pell, sparing igaram, not telling crocodile anything about the strawhats despite meeting them here at the very start of the saga.

little garden has some really cool and striking panels that really put the scale of things on the island, the dinosaurs and giants alike, into perspective, and i love it.

i’m a huge fan of the depth of in-universe lore one piece has. just having little details like this, quotes from books written in-universe, go so far towards making the world feel like a real and wondrous place with mysteries to be solved and details to be uncovered.

i still think sanji is firmly at his best when he’s being a sneaky bastard, and i will never cease to be delighted by how thoroughly he manages to fuck crocodile over with nothing but a phone and some quick thinking not once but twice.

i really like dorry and brogy! for minor characters who’ve only appeared in one relatively minor and inconsequential arc so far, they’re not only very fun and memorable but also leave a hell of an impact on the story, not only in usopp’s new dream of eventually visiting elbaf but also in how they and their crew just keep coming up, first in enies lobby and then even further down the line in dressrosa and whole cake island.

i’m really excited for when we eventually get to reach elbaf, because this plot thread has been so thoroughly and subtly built up over such a long time that i can’t wait to see how it ends.

this is one of my favorite little moments to really drive home how much the strawhats care about each other. they all fell asleep on the floor rather than leave nami alone.

the whole introductory scene to drum is a really good summary of who vivi is as a person and how she contrasts with luffy, and it’s something i’ve written extensively about in a past meta. here ill just settle for saying, vivi is chronically selfless, and always the sort of person to sacrifice herself for others, and these traits which save the strawhats here are the exact same ones that bring her and luffy to blows later on in alabasta.

a good thing to remember when writing characters is that traits aren’t really inherently good or bad, they’re just traits and can have positive or negative consequences depending on the situation, and i think oda is really good at this. vivi’s selflessness, usually a positive thing, becomes reckless self-sacrifice when she’s pushed to her breaking point.

‘kindness begets kindness’ is a pretty consistent theme throughout one piece, though luffy is most often on the other side of it. someone (rebecca, law, tama, etc.) does something for him without really expecting anything in return, and gets paid back a hundred times over. this is a case of the opposite- luffy helps someone offhandedly, and is later saved by their gratitude.

i think luffy wearing his fingers bloody as he climbs the drum rockies is the only time one piece has ever made me cringe back from the page. this sequence is absolutely brutal, and it’s so well-done.

the way luffy decides chopper should be his crewmate is precious, and also reminds me a little of his recruitment of sanji (ironically, given he’s talking to sanji about chopper here). in both cases he sees someone do something good without even really knowing the full extent of their abilities and makes a snap decision that they are awesome and are gonna be part of his crew, no matter what they have to say about it.

i really, really enjoy the way the drum island flashback is set up, with the cutaway right as luffy is about to punch wapol’s lights out. the cut back to that punch finally hitting when the flashback ends is by that point infinitely more satisfying, since you’ve just read chopper’s backstory and therefore have a deep and abiding desire to see wapol eat shit.

hiriluk’s final speech is definitely one of the best and most memorable quotes from one piece, and effectively the crux of one of its biggest themes. one piece is all about inherited will. all of our main cast and a solid percentage of the supporting cast bear the legacy of at least one forebear on their shoulders, from kuina to corazon to otohime. the entire setting of the story is defined by roger’s legacy.

all those people are dead, but they’re sure as hell not forgotten- how can they be, when their legacies are actively shaping the world as a direct result of their lives and influences?

i really, really like the use of flags in one piece. flags are how you declare loyalty or war in equal measure, and flying a pirate flag is a declaration that you’re choosing freedom, come what may, over the laws of the world government. it’s just a really excellent running motif, and a great symbol of what one piece’s definition of piracy means.

this scene is also one of the ones that gets even more extra weight behind it when you know luffy’s full backstory with sabo, which i love.

chopper’s recruitment scene sums up one of the reasons luffy is really great. he just doesn’t care about a lot of things other people would normally take notice of. occasionally that gets him in trouble, but other times it leads to him responding to a situation exactly right, like here. chopper is listing off all his insecurities and reasons he can’t go with the strawhats, and luffy just flat doesn’t care. he wants chopper on his crew and he knows chopper wants to be on his crew, so as far as he’s concerned, there’s no issue at all.

it really is wild that the will of D is named this far back in the story, and has consistently been referenced and built up ever since in very slight ways, through comments by characters like robin and corazon, and yet we still know basically nothing about it.

and a toast to a new crewmate!!

continued in the next post, which covers alabasta arc proper.

#the voyage so far #arc: reverse mountain #arc: whiskey peak #arc: little garden #arc: drum island #one piece #opmeta #not japanese #long post

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moribundanchor · 4 years

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The Pelle/Dani Receipts: Post One, Introduction

Hello and welcome to Rimanez and AnonLady present: Midsommar: The Pelle/Dani Receipts.

Are you sitting comfortably? Got your tea with special properties, rune-stitched white linen solstice clothing, and flower crown? Then let’s begin. Skål!

We are going to step you through the film more-or-less chronologically, detailing evidence supporting the Pelle/Dani ship in dialogue and behavior, cinematography, costuming, set design, and artwork featured throughout the film. This will include not just the signs that Pelle loves Dani--compelling, but low-hanging fruit when discussing this ship--but that Dani has feelings for Pelle, that their onscreen intimacy indicates a friendship, at least, that is independent of their individual relationships to Christian, and that Dani and Pelle are destined for each other. We should note that Ari Aster is meticulous, so meticulous, and it’s possible there are still things we have missed and perhaps some of our interpretations you may disagree with. That’s fine! We’ve got a lot to work with here. Additionally, while we will touch on elements relating to Dani’s destiny as May Queen, we will concentrate on those elements that pertain to her destiny with Pelle specifically.

There will be 12 individual posts, which Rimanez and I will be posting over the course of the next week or so as we get them ready, two at a time, with each post hyperlinked to the succeeding post, and then at the end, we’ll have a convenient table of hyperlinks.

All gifs and high quality images have been wrangled by @amy-amell. Rune expertise will be provided by @daydreamers.

Before we get into specific evidence, a brief word about general motifs to be aware of in Midsommar. These are not things that directly speak to the Pelle/Dani romance, but will feature in scenes we discuss and contribute to their meaning. These include:

The color yellow. Yellow generally relates to Dani’s journey, her yellow brick road. For example: the prevalence of the color in the Ardor house, particularly in pictures of Dani and the flower arrangement over the bedside picture of her; the hose that Terri uses to pipe the gas fumes into the upstairs is yellow; the path through the woods to Hårga features a thickening carpet of yellow flowers; the yonic sun gate to Hårga is yellow; Dani’s flower crown during the competition is mainly yellow; the Fire Temple, of course, is bright yellow.

The sun. While they’re not sun worshipers, per se, the sun is the ultimate symbol of Hårgan belief in the Great Cycle. It also effectively doubles as a symbol for Dani’s destiny to join the family at the end, folding in the significance of the color yellow. Also note that in Old Norse myth, the sun is female and the moon is male, as opposed to Western traditions, which makes sense since, while it’s not explicitly stated, Hårga seems to be a matriarchy, with Siv as head honcho and the May Queen ultimately given the power of life and death in the Fire Temple ceremony.

The color blue. Blue generally relates to the Hårgans. You will notice it in their special solstice clothes’ embroidery, but also in sneakier places, like the lit trees behind Christian as he approaches Dani’s apartment to, sigh, sorta hold her in the beginning.

Flowers and plants. Flowers, plants everywhere. Not just real ones, but design elements, too, everywhere from Dani’s parents’ room to Hårga. Flowers, of course, have their own subtle language -- brilliantly and comprehensively explored in this post -- not unlike the Hårgans, but you will notice their presence waxes as Dani comes home to Hårga. In addition to the individual meanings of certain plants and flowers, note their generic connotations of sex, nature, growth, and balance. As Pelle muses in the meadow, “Nature just knows instinctually how to stay in harmony.” And that’s the essence of Dani’s journey: finding the harmony and balance she lacks.

Mirrors. Mirrors indicate something going on beneath the surface. We first see Dani’s parents, apparently sleeping, reflected in their bedroom mirror as Dani’s call goes to voicemail, only to learn they were actually dead. Christian’s lies to Dani, his friends, and himself are reflected in mirrors at Dani’s apartment and his own. Dani has her terrifying glimpse of Terri in the bathroom mirror. We first meet Maja primping in a mirror, and we soon learn she’s not just primping but primping for a plot. And most importantly for this piece, we see Pelle reflected in a mirror while sketching the newly-crowned May Queen, but of course, even in that idyllic moment, he is still plotting to get Christian out of the way. Mirrors = look again.

OK, with those principal motifs set to one side, let’s look at general underlying evidence of Pelle and Dani destiny, shall we?

Names. Dani Ardor. Ardor means love or passion and it comes from the Latin word ardere: to burn. Her first name, like sister Terri’s, is a male-sounding female name, a time-honored convention for Final Girls in horror movies. It also recalls Danny from The Shining (1980), a film that is referenced visually in the soaring overhead shots of the journey to Hårga, but also in the design of Dani’s bedsheet in the Hårgan Youth House.

It’s also worth noting that Dani is a common short form of Danielle, which literally means “God is my judge.” Taken alongside Dani’s ultimate judging of Christian, that’s...pretty suggestive. (Big thanks to @henrys-side-blog for pointing this out!)

Pelle is a name on its own and a pet form of Per, both Swedish forms of Peter, from the Greek petros, stone or rock, i.e. the foundation. It brings to mind the Ättestupa, the ultimate symbol of Hårgan unity, and the way that Pelle offers himself as a support for Dani, too. There’s also the association with Peter, the disciple who denied Christ. I mean...his romantic rival’s name is Christian, although Ari Aster says there are lots of ways to read Christian’s naming...which he won’t tell us. “He is thrown to the lions, so to speak.”

Lastly, this may just be a coincidence, but Dani has unique pronunciations of both Pelle and Christian that differ from the way the rest of the cast pronounces their names. (OK, I think Mark says Pell-ay once.) This is in spite of Florence Pugh’s flawless American accent, and it’s not replicated with any characters that aren’t Dani’s love interests. It’s just weird.

Dani and Pelle’s Costuming. After arriving, Pelle initially only dons a Hårgan shirt while retaining the rest of his outsider clothing. Dani dons a Hårgan apron initially before changing into full Hårgan costume for the maypole dance. Their costuming throughout the movie, as with many of their movements and behaviors, show a continuous synchrony that also charts Dani’s assimilation into the family. It’s worth noting that Pelle doesn’t kiss her until they are both in full Hårgan dress.

Runes are another big underlying source of meaning, but frankly, they are so complex and multivalent, including elements that we only really discovered while working on this post, they are going to get their own section at the end, where all of our contextual evidence will help guide interpretation.

OK, let’s crack the film open and find us a love story.

The Pelle/Dani Receipts Masterpost

#midsommar #pelle/dani #pelle x dani #pellani #the pelle/dani receipts #dani x pelle #dani/pelle

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dee-de-winter · 3 years

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i was doing a reread of OP and almost made it through without writing this. anyway i guess i write chaka/pell now

ficlet 1: Waiting

| rated T | post-alabastan war |

read on AO3

Princess Vivi insisted on the headstone as soon as there was time to build one.

Chaka was impressed with how quickly that was, and quicker still until he was the only one visiting it. It was calm though, not a soul around because everyone was preoccupied with celebrating or recovering after all the fighting. He should have been recovering as well, not sitting out in the sun, waiting.

Waiting for what, he had no idea, but he knew he had to wait.

The grief just didn’t want to come, from the moment Princess Vivi told them what Pell did, and not in a single second since. Perhaps he was waiting for the grief, but that didn’t seem right.

So he waited, and he visited the stone they put up in Pell’s memory, and waited some more.

The belief that he was gone was just as absent as the grief. The two of them had been the backbone of Alabasta’s defenses for so long, it was impossible to imagine the kingdom without one of them.

It was even more difficult imagining one without the other.

And Chaka was doing just that; staring at a headstone built atop nothing at all, trying to imagine a future where he was alone with his honor and his duty.

Even with the chasm that opened in his chest at that thought, of years spent alone, Chaka waited each day. Nothing came, not the tears nor the grief, just more of the desert sand gathering around the stone he seemingly guarded from one day to the next.

There was nothing but sand and time, and the ever growing nothingness in his chest for days and weeks, long after the pirates had left and the work to rebuild began.

With each day, he had less and less time for waiting, and more duties to distract him until all he could do was sit there in the dead of night, watching the moonlight reflect off the stone. He'd lost count of the days and the nights waiting for something he had yet to fully grasp, that still hasn't come to be yet. The void in his chest lessened though, the longer he waited, something in him sure his waiting would soon be over.

The sound of footsteps in the sand almost didn't register, as used to the silence as he was. They grew closer though, impossibly close before he'd actually realized.

"Beloved?"

It sounded like a dream, at first. A voice he'd been told he'd never hear again, whispered in the moonlight.

Chaka turned around and laid eyes on a figure still approaching, a silhouette he'd thought he'd known all his life walking towards him. It should have been a dream.

But he came closer, his face bare of the paint he'd normally wear and his headdress missing, revealing that he wasn't a dream after all.

"How long have you been waiting?" Pell asked, eyes alight in the dark, mouth curved at the corners like he hadn't been gone at all.

"My love," he said, hoarse, incredulous, relieved, and he was moving before it even registered.

Pell was in his arms, tucked against his chest before he had time to think that he was here and he was alive.

Covered in bandages, Chaka realized once his hands could smooth down his back, but alive nonetheless.

"I knew you weren't gone, my love," Chaka said, realizing then that this was what he'd been waiting for.

#opfanfic #chaka/pell #chaka #pell #winter writes

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oriigami · 4 years

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stolen things

[A catalogue of things stolen by, for, and from Princess Vivi of Alabasta with regards to a certain thief, as documented by her long-suffering captain of the guard. Namivivi, Rated T. Read it on AO3 here!]

(1. a necklace)

It starts small, comparatively speaking; a month or so after the rain returns to Alabasta and the country’s pain is soothed at last, there’s a little package of folded cardboard addressed to Princess Vivi buried in amongst the palace’s morning mail. This, in and of itself, isn’t terribly unusual. The princess has taken on a significant portion of the country’s day-to-day administration since her return while her father recovers, and she has many friends and contacts across the country she’s been corresponding with to aid in the rebuilding.

What is unusual, though, is the way it’s addressed. Ordinarily, missives to the princess will be addressed to Her Grace, Princess Nefertari Vivi, stamped in formal black ink on clean white paper and packaging. This one, though, just says Vivi, written in an exceedingly neat hand with nonetheless a few trembles in the lettering, as though the writer had been, perhaps, aboard a boat when penning it.

There’s no return address or sender name- instead, a pinwheel of four thick spiralling lines with a small circle attached to the uppermost swirl has been drawn where one would normally be.

Pell frowns, and breaks the seal on the back of the package. One of the many duties he’s resumed since returning to work (a feat that had required shouting down Chaka, the princess, and the king when they’d tried to insist he remain bedbound) is checking the mail, after all. And he’s been especially vigilant about the princess’s safety.

After everything she’s been through in the past months and years, from her infiltration of Baroque Works to the inevitable nightmare of the civil war to the slow and arduous reconstruction of a devastated country, he can’t think of anyone who more deserves to rest easy at night.

He opens the little package with due caution, and tips its contents out onto the table. He’s not sure what he’s expecting, but it’s not the shimmer of gold that spills out onto the dark wood. It’s a necklace. A pendant shaped like a compass rose hangs from a thin golden chain, with what looks suspiciously like a diamond set at its center.

Well. Unusual, perhaps, and definitely expensive, even Pell’s untrained eye can discern that much, but certainly not dangerous. He carefully replaces it in the package and makes his way up to the princess’s rooms, knocking on the doorframe.

(It had become common knowledge around the palace after the first week or so that it was unwise to surprise the princess. She had developed a newfound tendency to stash those tiny daggers of hers in the sleeves of her dresses.)

“Come in,” a slightly distracted voice calls, and so he slips inside. Vivi is bent over her desk, where she always seems to be these days, brow furrowed in thought, worrying the end of her fountain pen between her teeth. She glances up when he enters, and he can’t help but worry, just a little, at how tired she looks.

She’s taken a lot onto her shoulders. He always seems to find her at her desk these days, if she’s not in the council rooms or talking to the citizens or poring over the newspapers or-

“Pell,” she says, smiling slightly. “What is it?”

“Ah.” It takes him a moment to remember why he’s here. “This was sent for you today,” he says, crossing the room to hand her the small package.

She frowns slightly, confused, as she takes it- and then he can see the moment her eyes catch on the little symbol drawn in the corner, that odd pinwheel shape, because she lights up, a smile immediately spreading across her face and brightening her eyes like he hasn’t seen in weeks. She tears into the package like a birthday present, and in seconds the necklace is cupped in her hands, gleaming under the light of her desk lamp.

She swallows hard, and for a moment her face scrunches into a look Pell knows well. Ever since she was a child, she’s always made the same face when struggling not to cry. It’s only a moment, though, and then it passes, leaving her with just a wide smile and shining eyes. She nearly drops the necklace in her fumbling haste to fasten it around her neck.

The compass pendant falls perfectly into place on her chest, the gold bright against desert-dark skin, and she smiles down at it with a softness that makes Pell abruptly feel like he’s intruding on something personal.

“Pell,” she says, and he straightens to attention automatically, “bring all future packages with that symbol on them directly to me, if you don’t mind. No need to check through them.”

“Princess-” he starts to object, but thinks better of it when she shoots him a look that makes him automatically swallow back his protest on behalf of her safety. “...As you say,” he concedes.

She’s always had grit and iron in her, ever since she was young and scrapping with Kohza amidst the sand dunes, but her two years away have tempered her into a pirate in truth, a sharp-eyed young woman who digs her fingernails into everything she treasures and won’t let go no matter how it hurts.

But then, it was pirates who saved Alabasta. Maybe that’s the kind of princess they need.

He turns, and is half out the door when he can’t help but ask, “It’s from them, isn’t it?”

He doesn’t need to specify who. Vivi doesn’t confirm aloud, but when he glances back over his shoulder she’s looking at the wanted posters pinned to her wall with an aching sort of look on her face, and that’s answer enough.

When the next package marked with the same symbol and addressed in the same neat handwriting arrives a month later, he takes it straight to her.

(2. a newspaper)

The sun is rising over Alabasta as the king and princess break their fast. Pell tosses the morning newspaper to the table, and no sooner has it hit the wood that Vivi is snatching it up with all the desperation of a marooned sailor grabbing for a thrown lifeline, nearly tearing through the paper in her urgency.

Pell can’t say he’s surprised by the response, because the front page headline reads STRAWHAT PIRATES LEVEL ENIES LOBBY, printed in striking bold lettering above a photo of a grinning boy wearing a straw hat with all the confidence of a king’s crown. Vivi opens the paper and a sheaf of wanted posters fall out of the centerfold, scattering onto the table.

There’s at least one face among them that Pell doesn’t recognize, and one that he definitely does recognize (clutch-) but certainly hadn’t expected to see grouped among the Strawhats, but neither is the poster that Vivi’s focus falls on first.

Instead, the Princess’s gaze is drawn to one of the lowest bounties of the lot, an dark-eyed woman giving the camera a playful smile over her shoulder, hands tangled in her orange hair and a familiar spiralling symbol emblazoned in deep blue ink on her shoulderblade. Cat Burglar Nami, the poster reads. Wanted Dead or Alive.

Vivi reaches out and brushes fingers against the paper for just a moment, a complicated sort of look on her face that Pell couldn’t begin to put a name to, and he sees her lips move in a whisper of a name. Then all of a sudden she seems to remember she’s not alone, and hastily snatches up the sheaf of wanted posters together with the newspaper and clutches them to her chest like they’re infinitely more precious than mere ink and paper.

“I’ll- be right back,” she says, the words rushed, and then she’s gone from the room before the king can do more than send a slightly befuddled look after her.

Pell sighs, more fondly than anything, and goes to find another newspaper for the king. He has a feeling they won’t be getting that one back.

(3. a kiss)

It’s four months after the Whitebeard War, four months since any word of the Strawhat Pirates has reached Alabasta, and four months of Princess Vivi staring out the windows of the palace and clenching her fists so hard her knuckles go white, when Pell realizes there is an intruder in the palace.

Whoever they are, they are very good. It’s not a broken window that alerts him to their presence, or a scream- nothing so blatant and clumsy. Instead, it’s a faint footprint, left in the thin dusting of sand on the railing of one of the third-floor balconies, just barely visible in the fading light of the setting sun. If not for the inhuman eyesight his devil fruit grants him, he surely would have missed it completely.

The princess’s rooms are nearby, and his heart crawls into his throat. He’s not an idiot. He knows the princess has enemies. He’s seen her slipping out under cover of night to negotiate with pirates and smugglers, words sharp and spine unbending.

(There are times when Pell wishes, for the sake of his peace of mind, that she was just a little less fearless.)

He slips down the hallway silently. There’s light shining from under the princess’s door, and muffled noises from inside the room. He rests one hand on the hilt of his sword, eases the door silently open with his other hand.

It takes him a moment to register what he’s seeing, it’s so far off from what he’d half-feared he’d find.

The princess is pressed against a wall by a woman with orange hair and tan skin who Pell recognizes immediately from the wanted poster on the wall as Cat Burglar Nami. Vivi has her legs up around Nami’s waist and her hands buried in her hair, and she’s kissing her like it’s the end of the world, even as tears run down her cheeks and her shoulders shake.

There’s words murmured between them, too quiet to make out, blurred by voices thick from crying. He hears war, and lost, and should have been there, broken up by kisses and sobs, and he wonders just how much weight his princess has been truly carrying on her shoulders these past months.

Pell takes a step back and noiselessly slips the door closed again, to give them their privacy.

Well. At least she’s not in any danger. He’s going to have to tell the king he really, really shouldn’t get his hopes up about those marriage prospects.

The pirate haunts the palace for another week and a half, and Pell can’t help but be reluctantly impressed by her elusiveness. Her presence only shows in how Vivi’s started to always keep the door to her room tightly closed, in silent footprints on the balcony and the low hum of nighttime murmurings, and in the smile the princess can’t seem to drop.

He has to grab her by the shoulder one morning before she heads into the council chambers and advise, in a quiet voice that can’t help but be long-suffering, that she apply some makeup to the blossoming bruises on her neck.

And then Nami is gone again, like a sea breeze, like she was never there, like pirates are wont to do. A pair of Vivi’s favorite earrings goes with her. The princess doesn’t cry, at least nowhere that Pell can see. She still wears the golden compass necklace every day, bright against her chest, close to her heart, and he thinks he understands, now.

He’d thought the necklace a present from the Strawhat Pirates at large at first, but it isn’t that. It’s a memento from a lover, from a cartographer- a compass pointing ever north. Someday, no matter what, find your way back to me.

(4. a heart)

It doesn’t exactly take a falcon’s eyesight to see that Princess Vivi’s heart doesn’t belong to Alabasta anymore. Or, at least, not wholly to Alabasta. There will always be a part of their princess buried in the golden sands and fed on the oasis waters, and Pell knows that’s why she’s still there with them, and not far away on an unknown ocean with salt in her hair and a rolling deck beneath her feet.

But there’s something about the ocean, about the sea winds and the endless horizon and the boundless freedom it brings, that takes. Pell has known a lot of sailors, and they’ve all had the same look on their eyes that Princess Vivi bears all the time now- always looking, searching for the waves, for the horizon, for the next adventure.

He feels for her. He has always belonged, heart and soul, to Alabasta, and someday he will be buried in its sands. There will never be any other home for him. The princess, though, is torn in two, between two homes and two loves and she can never have one without leaving the other, and that’s a cruel fate, for someone who deserves nothing but kindness after all she’s been through.

It’s one of the reasons he always has to bite his tongue when the king takes it into his head to push the concept of marriage again, floating the names of thoroughly-vetted suitors, even as Princess Vivi gently shuts him down cold. The princess’s heart will go to no respectable young man, that’s clear as day. It’s already been stolen.

That’s what pirates do, after all. They take, just like the ocean they live and die by.

The cat burglar could have asked for any riches Alabasta had left, and the king would have probably honored her request, even gutted as their country was by drought and famine and war. But instead she fled with their princess’s heart in her hands, one treasure that could never be replaced.

(5. a princess)

It’s a dazzlingly bright desert morning in Alubarna when the Pirate King’s navigator arrives at the palace.

There’s no sneaking this time, no scaling walls and vaulting balconies under the cover of darkness. Nami walks right up the sun-bleached stone stairs, all tanned skin and lean muscle, bold as brass for a wanted pirate with hundreds of millions of beri on her head, and Pell doesn’t make a single move to stop her. The tattoo on her shoulder reminds him of a little cardboard package, sent and delivered years ago.

The princess meets her at the doors with a packed bag already on her shoulders, crashing into her arms without even a shred of royal dignity, and Nami doesn’t waste a second before sweeping her up into her arms and into a hungry kiss, like it doesn’t matter in the slightest that there’s dozens of eyes on them, the everyday traffic of guards and politicians and citizens through the palace stopped dead in its tracks.

Maybe it doesn’t, for pirates. Maybe pirates only know how to love like they could be dead tomorrow.

A few of the guards are shooting him confused and somewhat panicked looks; Pell just shakes his head and signals at ease. In all honestly, he’s almost surprised this didn’t happen sooner- but then, Vivi has always been loyal to her country to the point of martyrdom, and it’s only in the past year or so that all the tireless work she has put in to build the country up has finally blossomed to a point where her constant presence is no longer necessary.

The country is safe, and healthy, and at peace, after countless days and nights of fighting with steel and ink to make it so. She can rest now, at least for a time, and she deserves nothing less. He knows the bag on her shoulders now has been ready in her room for weeks.

Nami and Vivi finally break apart for breath, and Nami rests her forehead against the princess’s, grinning like she can’t stop. “Ready to go?” she asks. “Everyone else is waiting with the Sunny at the river port.”

Vivi casts a glance over to Pell, silently questioning, and he bites back a chuckle. “Go on, then, your majesty,” he says, waving a hand, and can’t help but add, to Nami, “At least you had the decency to come to the front door this time, instead of climbing in the window.”

The blushes that decorate both their faces at that are more brilliant red than any desert sunburn he’s ever seen, and then he does have to laugh in truth. And then Vivi is burying her red face in her hands and wheezing with laughter, and the look that Nami gives her is so impossibly soft that Pell feels comforted about his princess’s safety then and there, no words needed.

Once Vivi can meet his eyes again, he smiles, and just says, “Be safe.”

“I will,” she promises, and there’s freedom in her voice.

No one moves a finger to stop them as the laughing thief flees down the front steps of the palace, a stolen princess beaming to outshine the desert sun in her arms.

#my writing #one piece #opfanfic #namivivi #opfic #nami #vivi #op

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

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All in the Family

Chapter 114: The Lion and the Serpent

Frank groaned, already missing the towel bed back as he lay on the cold floor once more flat on his back. His leg was propped up uncomfortably on a chest, and it was only after his head stopped ringing did he realize it wasn't his whole body shaking, just that.

He jerked quickly away with a startled yelp, drawing Alice and Lily's attention at once. He watched carefully, but they were in an open office with no obvious danger in sight, the two girls circling around a desk to get to him.

He didn't recognize it, but found himself unsurprised who did when the explanation came.

"I didn't even know Madam Hooch had an office," the older Black was tapping his chin and circling curiously on the spot. "Where in the castle would that be?" They were on the ground floor he was certain, bright sun streaming in through a window that directly showed the Quidditch pitch's entrance, but none of them really paid enough attention to her when she was refereeing to notice if she came and went from any door in particular down here.

"I've heard of it at least," Frank grumbled, now eyeing the chest in understanding, everybody knew the Quidditch balls were in here in between games to stop with tampering, and were returned here after practice so teams couldn't do anything in the meantime. It was probably the bludgers trapped inside that gave him a fright.

He smiled at Alice and Lily and told them, "did you know this is probably the most guarded office in the whole castle, even better than Dumbledore's. I once heard a Ravenclaw tried to sneak in here for her team to get at those, and no matter what she tried, she couldn't get in."

The younger Black came out of an adjacent door stretching, a bed beyond him showed this was also her room compounded.

"I've never heard that," Alice laughed.

"But I believe it," Lily rolled her eyes as she looked around in exasperation.

"Must be a Quidditch chapter!" Potter hooted in delight, shouting the summoning spell first. The chest went zooming across the office, Potter yelping in shock and ducking just in time as it sailed over his head and crashed into the wall behind him. Frank was now even more grateful he'd moved when he had the chance or he would have gone with that thing.

He tried to pry it open, but the lock on it would not give. Muttering in disdain, he went circling around the desk and went rummaging through it with no care for some keys, throwing things pell-mell in his wake.

"And here I thought this was the one place you'd show some restraint," Lily sighed as she spoke to him and had to dodge a magazine lobbed near her. "Madam Hooch is the only adult in this place you lot actually use her title for."

To everyone's utter disbelief, he ignored her and abandoned the desk to go into the room instead.

Every eye in the room turned to Sirius for explanation, and he quickly scrambled to hide his face wasn't as shocked as everyone else's, muttering audibly about body snatchers as he followed and keeping the building shame to himself.

How had he not realized the last time he'd talked to Prongs something had been on his mind? Sure he'd been distracted by having some fun with Moony, and then Longbottom just confirmed he was an arse, plus the mess with Regulus and Peter, not to mention the entire mess that was this future every time his name came up, but still, it bothered him greatly if James had somehow fallen through the cracks by not even registering if his best friend wanted to talk about something during all of that!

He walked in the room brazenly, determined to put Prongs in a headlock until he told whatever his problem was, but he'd already found the keys in a side drawer next to the bed and was trying to skip past him just as fast.

Sirius seized the back of his robes and kicked the door shut instead.

"The hell Padfoot?" James yelped in surprise, turning to him in genuine confusion. "Quidditch?!" It really would have been all the explanation needed under other circumstances, even he'd been distracted from Evans when one of their games was coming up, but Sirius wasn't buying that this time.

"Sure that's the only thing on your mind? I know there's not space up there for much else, but I'm just checking," he frowned, still casting his mind back to try and place when this could have started and still kicking himself violently he really couldn't say the last time Prongs had spoken up what was on his mind.

"I, err," he met his eyes uneasily and still glanced longingly at the door. "I was, just," finally he huffed and put it as bluntly as he could. "I was trying to give everyone some space, thought that's what you wanted."

Sirius looked stunned stupid, and James found himself just as confused as him now.

"What on Earth gave you that impression?" He demanded, glowering back at the door with a now familiar look that made James exhausted just recognizing it.

"You, you idiot," he said quickly. Sirius opened his mouth to protest so James continued with a halfhearted shrug, "I get a lot's been going on with you lately, I've been dead through all this so it's not like I know how it feels to be hearing about this future version of me, and you've been talking to Moony about it 'cause, he's alive, I guess, and I'm glad you two are friends again, honestly, but ever since you two have been talking to each other again," he stopped and rubbed at his temple, thinking that had come out all wrong.

Sirius wished a pit would swallow him whole already. Was he just cursed to ruin everyone's life? He really hadn't considered any of that at all!

The two were interrupted by a tentative knock on the door, and then it opening anyways and Remus shoving Peter inside.

Sirius had half a mind to kick the two out, he clearly needed to have a chat with his best mate, but Remus quickly intervened by smiling at the two and saying cheerily, "oh good, we weren't interrupting."

Peter laughed awkwardly, still eyeing the door like he wasn't even sure if he was supposed to be in here. Just because they didn't want to kill him now didn't make him automatically think he was invited back just like that.

James tapped the jangling key ring against his hip with nerves as he realized this was the first alone moment they'd gotten in a very long time, and they all just stood there awkwardly now. He was really starting to believe nothing was going to be the same anymore, and he looked miserably at the door and tried to stammer some half-hearted excuse to leave.

Sirius startled him by throwing his arm over his shoulder like old times, and then tightening around his throat in that choke hold that meant he wasn't going anywhere.

"Look, I'm sorry Moony and I didn't share our brilliant idea to try and get those others to relax around him by making a few more furry little jokes in front of them," Sirius said honestly, bouncing on his toes a bit and making James squirm all the more uncomfortably under his arm.

"Our?" Remus frowned at him, but Sirius ignored him and kept going.

"It, err, was a bit spur of the moment, and look, we really should have, but look, we-"

"It's not like I disagree," James nodded now that he understood, finally wrangling out of his grasp. "Just, I'd have liked a little warning."

"Sorry Prongs," the two said together, Remus adding, "I just, I saw an opportunity and went for it before I chickened out."

"Don't be ridiculous Moony," Sirius snorted, "you'd rooster out, and even then, it certainly wasn't a full moon, you had too much energy."

He stopped with a remorseless laugh as Remus shoved him. James smiled at the display as he told himself that whatever had happened, he was glad for it. If things had changed enough that Remus got through to him but he couldn't anymore, well, it's not the first change that had happened, and probably wouldn't be the last. He'd adjust...

Peter laughed in surprise at the idiots again, and then Sirius lunged without warning and snatched the keys away from Prongs, darting for the door himself now. James pounded after him shouting profanities, and the two barely had time to get out of the way of the door as the two began pushing and shoving each other, laughing madly by trying to get back to the trunk first.

James finally tackled Sirius to the floor, and the two went rolling around for several minutes before he came up victorious with the keys once more and finally retrieved his prize.

Sirius just grinned and threatened to release the bludgers on him if he didn't get started.

Remus stayed leaning against the door jam with a fond smile as Prongs read out The Lion and the Serpent, and wasn't even surprised when Peter wandered back over to Regulus and the two began smiling about the feeling Harry carried of his pride in the DA group.

He still winced internally as the root of the problem definitely hadn't been solved, they hadn't even seemed to realize Peter hadn't gotten a word in, again, but they weren't looking traitorously at him anymore as he went off. He didn't know if that marked a good thing that they had faith he'd come back if needed, or if he really wouldn't try to be a part of their group anymore. He seemed like he still wanted to be, having knocked and all, but Remus wasn't any better just shoving him like that, he scolded himself far too late. Would an apology just sound dumb so long after the fact?

Sirius finally seemed delighted to fix one problem right now though, as he stayed attentive at James's shoulder, trying to read with him and the two chatting loudly about the brilliance of Hermione's coin system.

As talk of Quidditch was built up and the two were louder than ever, she turned back to Frank and the three of them continued their much quieter conversation.

"I know you didn't mean anything by it darling, and you apologized right away," she squeezed his hand once more, "but I know you've been uneasy from him since all this came out, and it seems like he's trying a bit now. Can't you do the same?"

"It's not that simple," he wasn't even sure how he had to explain this to her, it still baffled him he seemed the only one with this problem. It's not like he'd been the only one in that cage, the mad animal having to be pinned down to stop from killing them, yet they'd gone back to acting like that never happened, that it couldn't happen again before all this was up. "Telling myself that and still doing it just aren't," he waved his other hand vaguely, but turned to watch him again. Seeing him now laugh along at Ron's inept yet impressive Quidditch save of accidentally kicking a Quaffle across the field into a goal post was the most normal thing anyone could do, but he doubted this would be the first thing his brain thought of if any of them had copious amounts of blood while in his vicinity again.

"I think Alice was right before though, maybe it would do us some good to, talk to them more," Lily paused with an eye roll as Crabbe and Goyle were announced as the new Beaters for the Slytherin team and the boys were mocking this. "At least, maybe when they stop being idiots about this game later."

Both of them watched her in surprise, she certainly hadn't agreed moments ago when Alice had said such a thing.

Lily just shrugged, waving vaguely at Lupin as well. "Couldn't hurt, maybe we've had them pegged wrong all this time, I know they've surprised me more than once during all this."

"I, yeah I guess," he sighed. "What are we even supposed to talk to them about? I'm with Lily, you know neither of us are the biggest Quidditch fans," he needlessly informed Alice.

"Oh, I'm sure we'll come up with something," Alice answered him with a beaming smile, leaning forward and planting a kiss on his cheek, before standing up properly and now sitting on the desk, joining the others in their disgusted shouts of this new low by the opposing team of making a full song about the Weasleys' life just to mess with them while the game was in full swing.

Lily and Frank exchanged an exasperated look, but still decided they'd wait for a better opportunity and began discussing games they wished they could be playing in a much more normal volume, like Gobstones. No one ever almost died playing that. The two did stop in outrage when Malfoy lost the game, and continued further insulting Harry now, even dragging Lily into it with more crude language.

She pursed her lips and couldn't say she blamed Harry or George attacking Malfoy, she'd curse anyone who called her that. She'd mostly forgiven Regulus for once doing the same, especially as he hadn't ever since that one time, and he'd only technically laughed along rather than out right saying it. She'd caught Sev even laughing at some cruel jokes before looking apologetically at her and changing the subject, insisting it was just force of habit from having to pretend around the others in his year.

Regulus's moment with his brother back in their house, each expressing they didn't want the other dead, was honestly the first step any of them had seen he'd even been willing to change. More than her own best friend had ever made, he wouldn't even say with any force he'd stop hanging around that awful lot.

The dragon bogies really hit the wind when McGonagall dragged the two up to her office for a telling off, but even though however much of that was deserved varied per person, Umbridge's arrival and banning Harry and the twins from said sport met a deadly silence from all.

"Well that sucks," Frank finally spoke into the heavy air.

Lily gave a nervous kind of laugh beside him, still watching all of them as if she expected someone to blow up any second.

"As if we didn't have reason enough to kill her before all this," Lupin said with an ugly scowl, then shot a guilty look at him, and Frank almost wanted to laugh at himself; Alice had been right already, he agreed with him. He still hadn't quite gotten over his fear of what this woman would do to Neville and the rest of the DA if she found out about that, but it would likely be the same if not something crueler as this woman carving up Harry's hand, and now stepping in from his own head of house and dueling out such punishments as lifelong bans.

Potter finally kept going with that same cold, calculating look in his eye Frank was now all too familiar with, but he'd help along with any plan these guys came up with to keep this woman from ever entering their school, let alone getting as far along in life as she had when they got back.

It was only in the last line of the chapter did any good news seem on the horizon, Hagrid was finally back.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #HP #Marauders #Wolfstar #Jilly #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Regulus Black #Peter Pettigrew #Alice Smith #Lily Evans #Frank Longbottom #OotP

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alystar00 · 4 years

Text

I have nothing to do in my life so here’s a list of my fav moments in One Piece

This is basically a list of the parts of One Piece that I read about a hundred times.

BATTLES:

Luffy, Zoro & Nami VS Bagy and his crew

The battle against Kuro & his pirates

Luffy VS Creek (I just love how little Luffy is afraid of dying and all)

Luffy VS Arlong (When he destroyed the room Nami worked in? I was in love)

Luffy, Usop & Karl VS Mr.3, Mr.5, Miss Valentine & Miss Goldenweek

Zoro VS Wapol’s pirates (all because he was cold. Iconic)

Luffy VS Wapol

Luffy VS Crocodile (The final fight under Alabasta)

Vivi when she tried with the strawhats to stop the civil war

Luffy VS Bellamy

The battle against God’s Priests

Every battle with Enel/Ener (I loved when Luffy stopped his enormous raigo and then won smashing him against the golden bell)

When Zoro, Usop, Wiper & the big snake (Nola?) made the Giant Jack fall

Zoro & Sanji working as a team during the Davy Back Fight

Luffy VS Foxy (when Luffy keep getting up because he didn’t want to lose and fucking screamed “I won’t give you any of my friends even if I die”. I was screaming)

That part in Water 7 when CP9 tried to kill Iceburg and it ended with Chopper carrying him out of the burning house

Sanji VS Wanze was epic okay? okay.

Franky VS Nero

The battles in Enies Lobby are incredible (In particular Luffy vs Blueno, Nami vs Kalifa, Sanji vs Jabura, Zoro vs Kaku & Luffy vs Lucci)

Robin almost killing Spandam. I fucking hate him, I loved her

Usop VS Perona

Sanji (& Nami) vs Absalom

The whole Strawhat crew against ODR

Luffy vs Hancock’s sisters (conqueror haki>>>)

Luffy vs the wolves in the fifth level of Impel Down

Everything in Marineford (especially Luffy VS Mihawk and every thing that happened after Ace’s death)

Ace & Sabo saving Luffy before they became brothers

Luffy, Zoro & Sanji VS Pacifista

The setbacks to help the strawhats leave Sabaody

The Strawhats & Jinbe vs Hody and his crew (every part of it. Every single battle. I love it)

Law & Smoker vs Vergo

Zoro & Tashigi vs Monet (Zoro cutting Monet without haki and she couldn’t reform her body? L O V E)

Luffy vs Caesar Clown

Usop & Nami vs Baby 5, Buffalo & Caesar Clown

Everything in Dressrosa after Sugar’s faint (in particolar Zoro vs Pica, Usop unlocking haki and Luffy & Law vs Doflamingo)

Luffy vs Katakuri

Luffy vs Kaido (okay Luffy lose but damn)

Zoro vs Kamazo/Killer

Everything in Udon

Queen vs Big Mom

I should read everything after Dressrosa again, there are probably other beautiful battles that I forgot

OTHER MOMENTS

Luffy punching Kobi so he could be a marine

The whole story with Kobi & Hermeppo

Nami asking Luffy for help

Everything in Rogue Town

The story of Dori and Brogi

Luffy carrying Nami, then Sanji, then helped the little creature to take out of the snow his father/mother and then climbed that strange mountain in Drum Island

Kureka blocking Sanji from fighting & Kureka destroying a fucking wall to say Nami & Sanji to come back in the infirmary (& Sanji screams when she cured him)

Half of strawhat crew captured by Crocodile with Smoker & Zoro saving Smoker from drowning because Luffy asked him to

Pell saving Alabasta from the bomb

Everything that happened in the royal baths in Alabasta

Noland & Calgara backstory

Nami & Usop against Enel are so funny

Foxy makes me laugh a lot when he dejects himself (don’t know if this is english but ok)

Luffy & Usop finding out that was Lucci that spoke the whole time and not his pigeon and admiring him

Luffy & Zoro making the train pass through the giant wave & Zoro cutting a carriage in half

Sogeking doing strange signs when he was hiding with Robin

Robin’s backstory & “I want to live!”

Sogeking when he handcuffed himself and Zoro together and then became one of the three swords

The goodbye to Going Merry (I’m still crying)

Luffy meeting Garp, Kobi & Helmeppo

Franky building a bridge in like a minute

The creation of Nightmare Luffy

When Luffy punched that celestial dragon SO BADASS

Luffy, Law & Kid working together (I’m waiting for the new wano chapters for them)

Luffy protecting Boa sisters secret even during a battle & him kneeling before Hancock to save the girls that saved him

Everything in level 5.5 in Impel Down (Luffy half dead asking Ivankov to help Mr.2 was gold)

Luffy saving king Neptune from Hody when Shiraoshi asked him to

Law swapping bodies in Punk Hazard

“Are you gonna betray me?” “no”

“Where’s Caesar Clown?” “There” “I told you to capture him!” “Why? That guy? I hate him”. Basically

When the marines said that they should insult the pirates because they are liking them

Luffy meeting Sabo & Sabo eating Ace’s devil fruit

Usop scaring Sugar so much she fainted

Everyone trying to stop the bird cage

When Fujitora apologizes for what Doflamingo have done to Dressrosa with the permit of the government (and remembering what Smoker told him about Alabasta)

Zoro & Law saying that the little dragon that took them to Zou was stupid while everyone else was crying

Luffy & Sanji arguing in Whole Cake Island

Sanji & Nami freeing the Vinsmoke family (& them helping the strawhats to escape)

Katakuri stabbing himself when he found out that his sister helped him and interfered in their fight

The faces of Zoro, Robin, Usop & Franky when they found out Luffy was in prison

Luffy & Kid in prison

Chopper saving Big Mom

Okay that’s more stuff I have ever written, let’s stop here.

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opbackgrounds · 4 years

Note

Speaking of bullshit fakeout deaths - thoughts on Merry's surviving Kuro's attack?

There are a few factors I take into account when judging something like a fake out death. 1) severity of the injury survived 2) the power of the person/thing doing the killing 3) future narrative importance of said character 4) themes/miscellaneous circumstances surrounding said death

For example, when looking at the little kid the One Pair fail to kill, he plays a pretty significant role at the end of the arc by revealing the king had been impersonated and was shown to get medical treatment right away. On the takeout death scale it falls pretty low, at the cost of making Mr. 1 and Miss Doublefinger look incompetent. Are there better ways to write that scene? Maybe, but One Piece is a weekly serialization and I don’t fault it for the occasional contrived coincidence.

Igaram also played an important role in ending the fighting, and is given the extra excuse of Robin possibly going out of her way to make sure he survived the explosion. It’s a fake out that’s well done.

Sabo is another example of a character that survived an impossible injury, while the narrative pretty much goes out of the way to say that he ended up surviving. Thus, even if I kinda wish he’d stayed dead, it doesn’t feel like a fake out to me, because you knew he was alive all along.

The reason I find Pell so egregious is that there’s no reason for him to survive and Oda pulled out every death flag to ever exist. Him surviving undermines Luffy’s speech in the desert (’People die’) and I feel robs the arc of gravitas, while cheapening later threats of danger. After all, if Pell can survive an explosion why should I worry about Wiper and his reject dial?

With all that in mind, Merry is one that kind of falls in the middle for me. His injuries are severe, but it’s later proven that Kuro can’t control his own attacks and is too full of himself to ever think that he could have failed to ever go back and double check to make sure he finished the job. While Merry does have some important moments later on—namely letting Kaya know Kuro was the one who did him in and explaining Usopp’s backstory—these are things that could have been done in other ways. Also, while Kaya hadn’t started her doctoral studies yet, it’s entirely conceivable that she was interested enough beforehand to have some basic knowledge of first aid, at least enough to stem the bleeding.

So while I personally think he should have died (along with a good portion of Kuro’s old crew who got hit with his blitz attack) One Piece has never been terribly concerned with realism and is an optimistic series overall. That means more often than not good guys get their happy ending, so Merry surviving doesn’t bother me all that much.

#sarc talks #merry #writing is hard #writing well is even harder #i don't believe that man's been to medical school

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phoenixfeatherquill · 4 years

Text

Midwinter (2/5)

They changed her dress from white to black.

The white dress was lined in bright blues and reds; every color of spring. She was bedecked in flowers until she looked like some unholy nymph. But now the black dress was embroidered in deep golds and silvers. A crown of holly was placed on her head and ash was smeared on her cheeks. The women cried as they dressed Dani; so deep was their grief that she suddenly wondered if Pelle had lied to her. Perhaps they were dressing her for her funeral.

At sundown, Hannah, one of her “handmaids” whispered to her that they would light the torches while she waited in one of the preparation rooms. Once the torches were lit, they would carry her on their shoulders, singing songs of lament to her new quarters. And there she would stay.

It seemed like imprisonment.

There was a knock at the door. Pelle cautiously entered and brightened when he saw her.

“You look…” He paused for a moment. “Like a goddess.”

Dani’s lips twisted. He was exaggerating, obviously. But on the other hand, Pelle wasn’t prone to exaggeration. He was relatively straight with her, something she appreciated among the secretive community. He wouldn’t tell her something like that unless he meant it.

“I wanted to see you,” Pelle cleared his throat. “Before the ceremony begins. I will…miss our time together.”

Dani twisted a lock of hair. “It’s not like I’m dying.”

He chuckled. “It is to us. This is our farewell to our May Queen, our farewell to the sun. We won’t see her again for a long while. And I…will miss her very much.”

Her mouth went dry. She couldn’t think of anything to say. She was saved from responding by another knock at the door.

Dani looked towards the door and as though anticipating her assent, it opened and Siv stepped into the room. Her eyebrows rose when she noticed Pelle, but she did not acknowledge him. Instead, she sized Dani up in her queenly way and smiled in approval.

“How beautiful our May Queen looks! And how we will miss her when she departs.” Siv took Dani’s face in her hands and kissed her forehead. There was nothing but deep love and compassion in the older woman’s face and Dani felt a lump rise in her throat, suddenly missing her mother intensely.

“Are you ready to begin?” She asked Dani seriously. She cast a quick glance at Pelle. “Still here? You should be getting ready with the others.”

Pelle nodded briskly and started towards the door. Something like panic rose in Dani as she watched him step away from her. All winter…I won’t see him all winter. I’ll be alone all winter!

“Um—wait!”

Pelle stopped short. Siv looked at her curiously.

“Um—I’m—I’m allowed to choose a consort?” She wasn’t imagining it. Pelle beamed at her in pure delight. Siv smiled too.

“You may, but Pelle said you were not interested. Have you changed your mind?”

“Um…” Dani cleared her throat. “I—well—I’d like to choose…Pelle. As my consort. If he—if he wants.”

She stared at her feet. She just didn’t want to be alone. It was pathetic, but being locked away for three months all by herself, even if the community spoiled her, sounded awful. She’d make it clear to Pelle that she didn’t expect anything from him but company. He wouldn’t have to force himself.

“Pelle, do you accept?” Siv asked indulgently, though it was clear from her expression she knew the answer.

“Ja.” He provided no follow-up, but he continued to grin at Dani unashamedly. She tried to avoid looking at him directly. She was already red as a tomato.

“All right. You’d better get ready anyhow. We’ll see you in front of our May Queen’s quarters.”

****

It started to snow when the ceremony begun.

Pelle had been correct. Winter had arrived with no introduction, regardless of whether they were to perform this ceremony or not. Snow blanketed the village thickly and Dani shivered as she stared out the window.

Siv wrapped her up in a thick dark fur-lined cloak. She slipped warm boots ont o Dani’s feet, gave her a rabbit fur muff, and with two fingers, traced ash streaks on Dani’s face. She hummed something in Swedish and tilted her chin upwards.

“Our beautiful, tragic queen,” She murmured pleased. “We shall miss you, Dani. Our sun. Our warmth. Our May Queen.”

The sincerity in the elder woman’s tone made Dani swallow hard. A chorus of voices began to sing outside the cabin. Siv and Dani turned towards the haunting song, just out of doors.

“It is time.”

She bowed her head. The village’s song rose through the rafters in an eerie crescendo and the doors to the cabin opened. The doors opened and Dani met the gaze of the singing village.

They held candles aloft and their voices became hushed whispers as she stepped into the snow. The snow crushed under her feet as the cold bit her cheeks. A path had been laid before her, a path of holly branches and golden leaves. She walked forward, following the path of lit candles, bolstered by the eerie harmonies surrounding her. The snow tickled her hair and she realized Pelle was now walking with her. She looked up at him but he did not look back at her; his eyes remained downcast. She detected a small smile form on his features as she stared up at him but he kept his head bowed respectfully.

They made their way through the woods as the snow fell more thickly. Even wrapped up in her furs, Dani felt cold. She shuddered a little and felt dampness on her cheeks—tears or snow? She wasn’t sure. Did it make a difference?

The caravan stopped abruptly. Dani found herself looking up at a magnificent cabin, decorated with runes, multicolored glass ornaments chiming softly in the breeze. It looked like a medieval hunting lodge, the kind kings and queens would use on their journeys.

“I shall speak English so you understand,” Siv whispered to her gently. She then turned to the crowd.

“We say goodbye to our sun, our warmth, our Midsommar—our May Queen. Let us be reminded of the sunshine she brought us, let us think of her in the winter’s chill, let her face be our inspiration in the dark.”

The doors to the cabin opened. A chorus of wailing started all around Dani as she slowly made her way into the cabin. She turned to give one last glance at the people, her people. They were all on their knees, grieving her like she was dead.

Siv staggered to the doors, her face shining with tears, and closed them. Dani was embraced by darkness.

For a long moment, she did nothing but stare at the closed doors. She stood there for so long, she actually jumped with lights came on behind her.

She whipped around to see Pelle look slightly abashed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just didn’t want you standing in the dark.”

Dani shivered. “It’s cold in here.”

“I’ll light a fire.”

She watched him walk across the room towards an ornate fireplace. She took a few hesitant steps, noting the cabin’s intricate decorations. There were illustrations all over the walls and ceiling, just like the community house. But as she looked more closely, the drawings and paintings were more…lurid.

May queens, in various throes of ecstasy, with men, women, everyone in between. She gaped at one painting, which included seven consorts, all pleasuring the queen in ways Dani hadn’t even imagined before.

She looked towards Pelle who had successfully built a roaring fire. He glanced at her and noticed she was staring at the walls.

“They’re very old,” He said cheerfully, as though he was blissfully ignorant of the pornographic images all around them. “Hundreds and hundreds of years old.”

“You can choose more than one consort?” Dani asked, gesturing towards one of the paintings.

“Of course,” Pelle replied. “Did you…did you want—”

“No!” Dani said quickly. “No. One’s enough. I just—I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“You’re sweating,” Pelle noted. He went to her and gently helped her shrug off her furs. She started to jerk off her boots but Pelle led her to a settee and sat her down. He knelt before her and very carefully took off both of her boots, as though she were Cinderella.

Dani looked about her. “Why haven’t I seen this place before?”

“It’s just for queens,” Pelle explained. “It is a sacred place, designed for her comfort.”

It did seem cozy. Blankets and furs stacked in the corner, a roaring fire, bookshelves lined with books, some even in English. She could see a little hallway with a narrow stairway; presumably that led to the bedroom.

She couldn’t help but shiver again. Pelle’s palms were warm on her bare feet and the coziness of the fire was starting to make her…she didn’t know what.

“Have you, um,” Dani cleared her throat. “Have you ever—been a consort before?”

He grinned at her. “No. Why?”

“I was just wondering if you’d been here before.”

“It’s new to me too.” He frowned when she noticed her shiver again. “Cold still? I’ll make you some hot chocolate.”

Pelle swooped around towards a cabinet across from her and pulled out a glass jar and mug. For someone who had never been here, he certainly seemed to know his way around. She watched as he opened up what looked like a trap door and pulled another glass quart of milk.

“You know—” She cleared her throat. “You don’t have to do anything.”

He looked at her curiously. “Hot chocolate would warm you up. Would you prefer tea or coffee?”

“No, I mean—hot chocolate is fine. I meant—you don’t have to do anything. With me. I don’t expect that of you.” She nodded at the walls to make her point.

Pelle’s mouth curved a little. “Ah. Now I see.”

She tucked her knees under her and looked away. Pelle did not make any move towards her, instead poured the milk into a saucepan and began to stir the chocolate in. He went towards the fire and began to heat the concoction.

“Dani,” He kept his eyes on the chocolate. “If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be.”

She swallowed. “I already told you. With Christian—”

“We spoke of this. I don’t think you were the problem.”

His gaze remained intent on the chocolate—thank God. Dani couldn’t exactly look at him in the eye. She exhaled slowly.

“I just don’t think you understand,” She swallowed. “How bad it was. It’s not fair to blame Christian. It was really me. I never wanted to, it was uncomfortable at best and painful at worst. And I know this. His exes never had a problem with him.”

Pelle snorted. “Did they discuss it with you?”

Of course not. Christian had two exes, one in the anthropology department he was still somewhat friendly with, another from the English department. Dani had seen Anthropology major in passing and had read a few of the English major’s short stories in the literature magazine. The relationship with the English major had ended badly, but Dani didn’t know the details. But Christian had felt no reservations telling her that they’d never had a problem in bed with him.

“You heard this from Christian,” Pelle correctly read Dani’s expression. He looked skeptical, as though he didn’t consider this a reliable source.

“He never lied to me,” Dani tried to argue than stopped herself. That wasn’t true. Christian had lied to her. He’d lied about his trip to Sweden and when Dani confronted him about, it had been her fault. The realization hit her deeply and she stared into the fireplace, at a loss.

“Has it occurred to you,” Pelle said to her hot chocolate, stirring it carefully. “That perhaps I wanted this?”

She gaped at him. He did not meet her gaze, simply kept stirring the chocolate intently.

He wanted this? How could he? Who could want to be stuck in a cabin with her for three to six months? A brief flitting thought came, suggesting that perhaps he…perhaps he wanted her. The idea seemed ridiculous. She wasn’t anything special.

Pelle came to her and handed her the mug. “Here.”

She took the mug gratefully, her thoughts swirling. Wasn’t that how Pelle always treated her, though? As if…she was special? But then again, who could trust Pelle? His kindness to others depended solely on how it affected his home. Where did she fall into that?

She raised the mug to her lips and sipped. She expected it to burn her tongue, but she was surprised to find the chocolate was the perfect temperature, warm and inviting. She drank a little more deeply, enjoying the way it warmed her toes.

“Does it taste all right?” He asked her, joining her on the settee.

“Yeah,” She gave him a half smile. “It could use some marshmallows.”

“We’ll get you marshmallows, first thing in the morning,” He promised her, very seriously. She laughed at his solemn tone and took another long sip.

She noticed he was staring at her intently and offered him the mug. “Are you cold too? Do you want some?”

Pelle smiled a little and shook his head. “I’m fine. But you have a little…” He motioned towards his upper lip.

Dani wrinkled. Had she gotten chocolate on her mouth like a child? She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She looked at Pelle again.

“Gone?”

“Ah…” He moved towards her. “Here.”

His thumb brushed the corner of her lip. She watched, transfixed, as he brought his thumb to his mouth and sucked the chocolate away. She swallowed hard, her stomach flipping at the intensity in his gaze.

“Is it…gone now?” Her voice came out a whisper. It was the only thing she could think of saying.

Pelle’s eyes heated. “Not quite.”

And that was when he kissed her.

Her first kiss with Pelle had been under the influence of a drug haze, right after she had been crowned May Queen. It had been brief, but too passionate a kiss to simply write off as an overzealous European congratulating her. It had lasted far too long and she remembered seeing Christian’s face afterwards—irritated with her that she’d won the competition and the focus was no longer on him, irritated that he was left out, irritated about the kiss…

Pelle’s kiss had lingered with her, even when she tried not to think about it.

But this was different. She had taken no drugs, hadn’t even had a glass of wine with supper. The only thing loosening her inhibitions was hot chocolate, but Dani felt completely intoxicated. Dani always thought she preferred kissing to sex, but this was a whole other level for her. He tasted like dark chocolate and perhaps berries? She found that she liked the feel of his beard against her chin.

He broke away from her for just a minute, to gaze at her and brush a strand of blonde from her face. Her heart was beating so rapidly and his gaze was just so intense—God.

“I forgot to ask my May Queen,” He said softly and to her surprise, his voice was shaking. “If that was all right.”

How had she affected him so much?

She had forgotten how to use language. She nodded mutely and Pelle tilted her head towards him and kissed her again. But this time, she wanted to taste more.

Dani found herself leaning towards him. He fell back against the soft cushions of the settee and boldly, she pushed herself onto him and straddled his lap. His kisses became more impassioned at this, and he knocked the crown of hollies off her in order to card her hair between his fingers. She moaned a little at that (her scalp had always been deliciously sensitive) and mirrored the action herself. She wanted to feel his own gentle curls, the color of hay in the sunlight.

He paused the kisses in order to taste along her jawline, down the soft places of her neck. She looked up at the ceiling and actually cried out when she felt his teeth against her earlobe—who knew that was such a sensitive spot? His lips traveled all the way down to her collarbone and shoulders.

She felt his hands shift over her skirt. But when his fingers touched the skin of her thighs, she froze.

Pelle noticed immediately. “Dani?”

She swallowed. She was going to fuck it up again. It had been so nice kissing him, feeling desired, adored. How long had it been since she’d had a good long makeout session on a couch, anyway? Christian always expected sex afterwards and seeing as how she always bungled that…of course Pelle would expect it too, and once he realized how bad she was—

“Dani, Dani,” Pelle brushed her cheek and kissed her soundly. “You flew away from me.”

“I-I’m sorry,” She stammered. “I just—”

“Remember,” He cupped her cheeks with his hands. “You are the May Queen. Tonight is about what you desire. Tonight and every night. I am your consort. I will do whatever you wish.”

The earnestness in his voice relieved her. He was right. She was the May Queen.

“If I wanted to go to bed,” Dani cleared her throat. “By myself—you wouldn’t be mad?”

“Of course not,” He smiled at her and kissed her lips, sweetly and gently. “I hope you’d let me tuck you in.”

She took a deep breath. “If I just wanted to kiss you…not do anything but kiss…”

“How blessed I would be,” Pelle murmured and leaned his forehead against hers.

She tugged a lock of his hair anxiously. “You really wouldn’t be…disappointed?”

“Disappointed, hmm…” Pelle considered the word and Dani’s stomach dropped. “I will do whatever you wish, Dani, happily and joyfully. But I think Christian has been unfair to you—I know you don’t believe that. I would be disappointed if I didn’t get a chance to prove that.”

She let the tips of her fingers brush against his beard. “How?”

He smiled at her languidly. He said nothing. He didn’t need to. The male pride in his gaze almost made her falter in her thinking. But she’d never been able to come with another person before…

“Pelle…” She averted her gaze. “Christian said it took too long.”

For the first time, Pelle did look angry, though she was fairly certain it wasn’t directed towards her. He looked towards the blazing fireplace, the bear rug in front of it, and something like satisfaction altered his expression.

“Well,” He said finally. “We’re here all winter.”

That made her laugh. She needed to laugh for a moment. It was embarrassing to admit all this and the fact that Pelle hadn’t argued with her about it, perhaps to avoid her digging her heels into the idea, made her feel marvelous. It was such a delicious idea, spending the night with him, and it made her feel more relaxed that she could stop at any moment and he wouldn’t be angry with her. Hell, she was fully straddling his lap and she could feel his desire for her quite plainly through their linen clothes. If it were Christian, he’d be complaining about blue balls by now…

Something stirred in her chest, a weird strain of courage. “Show me.”

His eyes lit up and he was kissing her fiercely again, chocolate and berries, and she moaned at how addictive he tasted. She fumbled with the strings on her dress and it fell down her shoulders, revealing a thin cotton slip. Pelle’s mouth went down to her breast, pulling the straps down, suckling her nipple. His tongue laved against her and she hissed through her teeth at how good it felt. He turned his attention to her other breast and hummed against her skin in pleasure.

Pelle returned to her mouth with his consuming kisses. At her nod, he pulled the rest of her dress off, leaving her only in the shift. He then lay her down on the settee and kissed her inner wrist. He pulled off his own shirt and Dani’s eyes widened at his golden skin.

“May I…” He fingered the fabric of her slip.

“Um—yeah—” She sat up and he helped her slide it off of her. Now she was completely exposed before him.

She didn’t hate her body—not really. She just thought it was sort of…average. She wasn’t incredibly skinny, she didn’t have amazing curves, she was small and compact and a Swedish diet of dairy, meat, and pastries hadn’t exactly toned her figure. But as Pelle traced his hands down her chest, between her breasts, there was nothing but admiration and reverence in his gaze—as though he really was staring at a goddess.

He looked down at her, his dark blue eyes filled with wonder. “Dani, you’re so small,” He murmured. “And so powerful…”

Powerful? What on earth did he mean? But it didn’t matter, because now he was kissing down her belly, his hot tongue dawdling at her bellybutton, and finally reaching her inner thighs.

She shivered for a moment and Pelle paused. His eyes, ordinarily the color of the winter sky, were dark as a summer storm. He really…wanted this?

“Dani,” His voice was soft and pleading. “May I?”

Her breathing hitched. Christian had never done this—never even offered. It was not something she ever asked for; the idea of laying herself so starkly vulnerable, before Christian who criticized her for everything from her relationship to her sister to what she was wearing—it wasn’t appealing. But the abject desire in Pelle’s voice, the soft plea, and the certainty that if she didn’t like it, he would stop—all of this led to her whispering her assent.

The heat of his tongue surprised her, not unpleasantly. She tensed but he moved slowly, letting his lips caress her inner skin, rubbing his nose in her dark curls. She almost felt embarrassed—it had been a while since she shaved—but Pelle didn’t seem to care.

“Ah, Dani,” Pelle moaned into her curls. “You taste like…summer…”

His tongue curled into her and Dani gasped. Pelle’s mouth moved faster now and she was shocked to discover how good it felt, how his tongue seemed to spark electricity into her blood and fire into her skin. He alternated his pace, quick to slow, slow to quick, his tongue circling and sucking her clit. She felt the pleasure rise and rise, more intensely than anything she’d ever tried to do herself.

“Pelle,” She gasped, her fingers grasping his hair. He hummed against her and lifted her leg over his shoulder. He probed more deeply, exploring her folds, dragging his tongue against her in long sensuous strokes.

“My queen,” Pelle’s voice was near a growl. “My Dani…” He said something else in Swedish, something dark and husky that turned her bones to water.

Dani was panting now, her body screaming for release. But Pelle was taking his time, drawing out each exquisite moment of pleasure. He had wanted to prove to her that she wasn’t “frigid” or whatever else Christian had told his buddies…and fuck if he wasn’t succeeding…

After another sweetly agonizing swipe of his tongue, Dani cried out. Responding to her harmony, he sucked her clit gently yet fiercely, and Dani came undone. She shuddered and moaned, pulling so hard at his hair that it must’ve hurt, but Pelle said nothing, not a thing, just lapped her like a cat, prolonging every single moment of pleasure for as long as he could.

When the white hot fire receded from her eyes, she came to her senses and deep exhaustion fell over her like a blanket. She was still trembling and Pelle gathered her in his arms.

“Let me take you to bed, my queen,” He said quietly. A part of her wondered if he wasn’t annoyed—he’d spent all this time servicing her, asking nothing in return…and God had she loved it. The lack of expectation, the insistence, for once it had been selfishly about her and—and—

He hadn’t lied. He tucked her into an ebony framed bed, covering her sated body with a down blanket. She snatched his wrist and pulled him into bed with her—not for anything else, just to…just to…

Just to be held.

And Pelle did so, all night long.

#Midsommar #Dani x Pelle

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clive-owen-and-the-knick · 3 years

Text

The Knick - Fan Fiction “Inconsolable” Part 1

"Laudanum."

Bertie, disheveled and disconsolate, cast a quick glance past Nurse Pell, who was solemnly packing away Mrs. Alford's belonging in the private room on the patient wing of the Knickbocker hospital.

"What?"

"Laudanum," Dr. Algernon Edwards repeated, holding up a small glass vial and dropper which had been tucked neatly away on the small tabletop next to the patient's bed, ominously close to a nearly empty glass of water. Algernon picked up the glass and swirled the water, sniffing it closely.

"She must have ingested this before the surgery. It's the only explanation."

Bertie, who was leaning against the back wall to support his exhausted, compact frame, seemed to gain a little energy back, "That would explain it perhaps. The laudanum would certainly have depressed and slowed down her functions, most critically her breathing. And then when I applied the chloroform –"

"It was too much for her system to handle. A standstill," Algernon was glum as he fingered the laudanum container, "She must have been taking this for anxiety or insomnia perhaps. We didn't know about it, so we couldn't have predicted the outcome."

Nurse Pell hurriedly picked up as many items as she could, her natural inclination to eavesdrop tempting her to linger a little longer.

"Thackery needs to know it wasn't necessarily the anesthesia which caused the problem, Bertie. As a man it might hurt but as a doctor, I think he would want to know the reason why."

"I'm afraid he blames me. He's inconsolable. He hasn't left his office since we had to move Mrs. Alford down to the morgue."

"It wasn't your fault Bertie, you know that. It was a calculated risk which Thackery himself took for the surgery, just like any procedure, yet with very tragic results," Algernon explained. "Let me try to talk to him."

*********

"Dr. Thackery?" Nurse Lucy Elkins inquired firmly, knocking on the Thackery's polished office door with a determined wrap of her knuckles, "Dr. Thackery?"

"Any luck?" Dr. Algernon Edwards approached.

Lucy Elkins tried to erase the fear in her voice, the display of too much concern which she could feel pulsing in her veins. She already suspected that Algernon knew everything about her and Dr. Thackery, so being here with Dr. Edwards made her flush.

"No, I need to be sure he's alright. He didn't speak a word when he left the surgery room. I'm afraid he might do something to himself. "

Dr. Edwards nodded solemnly and moved the young nurse aside, as if stepping back into the shoes of the hospital's leading surgeon once again.

"Dr. Thackery, we're coming inside now, "Algernon knocked one more time and opened the door. His eyes had to adjust to the darkness as all the curtains had been drawn with the minimal light of dusk barely seeping into the room.

Lucy came around the side of Edwards and they both looked around the office, which seemed completely deserted. Lucy's heart did a double turn as she scanned the floor, her worst fear being to find the prone body of Dr. John Thackery sprawled beneath his desk. She hurried over to his chair and pulled it back, looking beneath it. Edwards walked over to the leather chaise longe and scanned the bookshelves, shrugging his shoulders.

"He isn't here, obviously. Do you have any idea where he could be? Did he go home maybe?"

"I don't think he's been home since he came back from the Cromartie hospital."

Edwards gave Lucy a quizzical look.

"How do you know?"

Lucy bite her lip worriedly, "I just know. I think he's mostly been sleeping here or at Mrs. Alford's townhome."

Algernon sighed, discouraged, "We'd better find him. This is not a night he should be spending alone."

Lucy mused sadly, "It sure isn't."

**********

Most of the orderlies and nurses had gone home for the evening. Word had spread like wildfire around the hospital about Dr. Thackery's personal tragedy. The syphilitic women with the patched nose and the beautiful hair who had wanted to look better for her renewed sweetheart, Dr. Thackery himself. The irony of this thoughtless vanity had been death. And at the very hands of the man she was wanting to please the most.

The hallways were deserted by 8pm and Dr. Thackery edged with staggering steps along the corridor wall, having consumed alcohol in his office for several hours before sneaking out and hiding in various empty rooms and hallways until he knew he get about without being seen. His head was pounding and his heart was broken. The entire day now seemed like a distant nightmare which couldn't really have happened.

The panic in the surgery room, the sudden shock of Abigail's dead stillness, the tubes to try to revive her breathe, the hopelessness of a lost cause. Fittingly, the two people to witness his failure were the two he had disappointed the most in their short careers at the Knick. He felt like some sort of King Lear losing control of his kingdom. It was as if his surrogate son, Bertie, had dealt the unwitting deathblow to his Queen while his surrogate daughter, Lucy, had stood by as a helpless witness to the death of her rival. Lucy certainly thought of him as some sort of father figure. However he looked at it, this strange trio has made something of an Oedipal deathtrap out of their intertwining destinies.

"'Give me an ounce of civet, good apothecary, to sweeten my imagination'," Thackery heard himself mutter.

Shuddering in his mind, Thackery started to feel the tears coming again. He wanted to see her one last time so he made his way to the morgue. That cold, gray, hideous room of failure which so many patients ended up in when all the doctors and nurses' efforts – those heroic efforts! – went sideways.

Switching on the light of the morgue room, Thackery stood for a while, his arms limply at his sides. Which one of these dreadful boxes which lined the wall should he open first? It seemed a pointless and dreary choice. On his shaky knees, Thackery moved forward to weakly opened the first one. He heaved it open with a long motion of his arm.

He instantly stepped back with a gasp. He was staring down at the face of a girl dressed in white who looked alive. It was Sonia, the young anemic girl who had died at his hands a few months prior during a blood transfusion gone terribly wrong. But she was dead and buried with a new gravestone, surely? Why was she still here, haunting him? Hadn't he made amends?

Thackery slammed the morgue box back in place with an angry snarl, briefly holding his aching head in his hands. After a long moment he tried another box. He saw the very same body in it. Sonia, asleep and in the pink of her health. Not dead. Not buried.

Determined to banish this drunken hallucinations, Thackery continued to open the heavy, metal morgue boxes along the wall, and each time the same result. Abigail was not here! Sonia was in her place. He could not look at Abigail's sweet but scarred face one last time. All he kept seeing was this girl he thought he had put to rest finally. It wasn't even someone he knew very well at all. It was a haunting vision of failure and madness and presumption of skill. It was his own arrogance mocking him.

Finally discouraged and lost in remorse, Thackery stumbled out of the morgue.

*****************

"He isn't here either," Lucy said, climbing back into the passenger side of Henry Robertson's electric automobile. Across the street was the darkened windows of Mrs. Abigail Alford's home.

"So, am I missing something here? I have a fondness for Thack too – he's an amazing if temperamental genius. But how on earth do you know all of these places he goes?" Henry asked, a little exasperated. He had spent the last couple hours touring some of the more interesting places of Manhattan with Lucy Elkins in search of the missing doctor.

"I don't think that's really any of your business, Henry, " Lucy answered curtly, folding her dainty hands calming in her lap and turning her face away ,"I know more about him than you could possibly imagine."

Henry sighed, shaking his head. He was thoroughly charmed by this daring and sensual young nurse, so he felt himself willing to continue on this ridiculous hunt.

"Where to next?"

Lucy furrowed her brow, her eyes darkening, "We need to go to Chinatown next."

Henry nearly fell out of the car he jerked upright so quickly, "Where? Did you say Chinatown?"

"Yes. I did," Lucy answered quickly, "Do you know how to get there?"

Henry's mouth hung open with disbelief, "I think I can find my way there."

"Then hurry, please, we don't have time to lose," Lucy answered sternly.

Henry rolled his eyes and started up the electric car which took off into the cool evening, following the mixture of electric and gas lights on Broadway and turned south.

****************

Opal Edwards had waited impatiently for Algernon to come home and took a hansom cab to The Knick when her patience ran out. Algie was late often enough, but tonight Opal felt like getting out in the fresh air and dressing up in one of her favorite burgundy dresses. She matched this with one of her most flattering veiled hats and pair of velvet gloves. With a dash of tuberose perfume on her throat she was ready to head out into the night. And why not surprise her husband at his infamous place of work? She was still furious about the Robertson's treatment of her husband. They had simply shuffled him off to the side with the intention of not fulfilling their promises for a position at the new Knick! Hypocritical cowards, she thought to herself bitterly. Algernon would have to forge a new path himself somewhere new – somehow.

When Opal arrived at the Knick, she was thankful that the main door was still unlocked despite the sparseness of the staff. One lone nurse was at the front desk and glared at her with hostile surprise. To see a smartly dressed black woman at this time of night must have surprised her, Opal thought, giving the woman a wide smile.

"I'm here to see my husband, Dr. Algernon Edwards, " Opal stated proudly, locking eyes with the nurse.

"His office is that way," the woman indicated the hallway to her left coldly.

"Thank you," Opal answered in her most haughty London accent and marched down the empty corridor with a swish of her skirts, her arm laced elegantly around the strap of her purse.

Her footsteps echoed smartly as she continued down the lonely hall. She could hear the electric buzz of the lights around her. Her steps slowed as the silence continued to grow. Did that woman send her in the wrong direction? Opal sniffed and smelled something unpleasant, something chemical mixed with a stench of sickness and decay. Suddenly the shadows of these rooms filled her with foreboding. So many grisly things happened in these rooms. She stopped and listened. She heard the shuffle of feet.

Around the corner a crumpled lanky figure appeared in a dark suit, his jet-black hair falling across his forehead. He braced the wall shakily and looked up at her with eyes full of misery and pain, his hand clutching at his gut.

"Hello, Doctor Thackery, " Opal spoke first, taken aback.

Thackery's face was startled, "What are you doing here?"

"Maybe you don't recognize me," Opal said curtly, “I know we all look the same to you.”

"Opal, like the fields in Australia," Thackery answered with warm recognition.

Softening, Opal took a step towards him now, noticing his pained stance, "What happened here today?"

Thackery couldn't answer her as he fell into a swoon of agony, clutching at her shoulders for support. Opal quickly braced Thackery around the waist. Beneath her gloved hands she could feel his ribs.

"Help me!" Opal looked around desperately for another soul to assist. Her voice carried down the corridor and reached no ears. They were completely alone here.

Struggling, Opal let Thackery lean on her closely as she hoisted him upright.

"Dr. Thackery, where do you want me to take you?" Opal asked.

Thackery, blurry-eyed with pain, depression and alcohol, raised his arm and started to guide them both, "Down here to my office."

#the knick #fan fiction #story #inconsolable

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