#lesser of two evils tho sigh

[chumpovodir]

the legit evilest thing about the tumblr mobile app is i'll go in and write like. a paragraph worth of words for an idea or post i want to explore later on and save it as a draft right

except when you go back in for another round of edits the app will change the button back to "post" instead of "save" like no this is NOT done cooking!!! no one is supposed to see any of this yet!!! maybe never!!!

#lesser of two evils tho sigh #desktop barely works for me these days #its such a bad time for the rest of social media to be shitting the bed this hars bc ngl #ive been wanting to give up using tumblr due to all the weird changes and general performance issues #dont think anyone would miss me so why not #yet i persist

[reddeaddamnation]

Imagine dating Garreth Weasley and you both get detention

"I can't believe this." Professor Weasley paced around the transfiguration classroom as you and Garreth sat motionless on one of the desks in complete silence. Garreth had the marvelous idea for a new potion that could increase the drinker's...endurance and you decided to help him if not for results, for laughs. You yourself had suggested that devious idea to...why not drink such a potion and spend the rest of the day and night in the room of requirements. Potions was your one and only class for the day anyway.

You yourself had brought the ingredients he asked you to bring from prof. Sharp's office and all was going well, you were giggling at your cauldron mischievously and whispering to each other...until the cauldron started shaking and bubbling uncontrollably. You looked at each other nervously and froze when you heard the potions professor clear his throat behind you.

"What in Merlin's name are you two brewing back here?" He asked, eyeing you suspiciously. At this point the cauldron was ready to explode. "We, uh..." Garreth started. "We were just..." you tried to think of the best solution to not make this awkward in front of him and the class who were all staring at this point.

Your heart stopped beating when you noticed Sharp leaning over the cauldron. "Professor, no!" But it was too late. The cauldron exploded in a wave of purple vapor and covered the man in its contents. You and Garreth sucked in a breath, afraid of what the aftermath would be. When the purple cloud cleared from him, you noticed that the potion had made his hair a poisonous shade of blue and his face - that which rather resembled a horse. He tried his best to not explode in a fit of rage and only hissed threateningly "Go to professor Weasley's office. Now." Even his voice had become more squeaky. The rest of the class tried to laugh quietly, but the noises were shut down as soon as the man looked them all one by one, as if daring them to laugh.

Honestly, as ridiculous as it seemed, you were relieved the potion went wrong. How awkward would it be if the class found out its intention. So you sighed in relief, happy you got the lesser evil. Garreth's aunt wasn't so happy tho. She had almost lost it when you two walked in.

"Seven years in Hogwarts and you haven't matured one bit!" She yelled. "What will it take for you to realize your recklessness won't be tolerated outside of Hogwarts?! How many detentions will it take?! What do you have to say for yourself?"

You bowed your head low in apology "I'm so sorry, professor. We didn't intend..." but she cut you off. "Oh, I'm not talking to you, dear." You and Garreth both looked at her, puzzled "I know my nephew dragged you into this mess and you went along because you're too kind to him." Garreth opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out from it, as he was too surprised. "Wha-" you questioned. "Garreth, shame on you for risking this brilliant young person's academic future for a moment of fun in class."

"But..."

"What was the purpose of this potion?" She asked. You both blushed and looked at each other, Garreth seemingly more red than you, as his freckles had become very much more noticeable. "It was just an assignment gone wrong." He explained. "Don't lie to me. If it was an assignment, Y/N would not be sneaking into professor Sharp's office behind his back."

"It was my idea, professor, I swear. Garreth shouldn't get detention because of me." You evaded the question, bowing your head again. "Look at this, Garreth. They are even ready to take the blame for you and you treat them like this?"

Garreth was taken aback again, thousands of questions in his eyes, but not knowing where to even begin to defend himself. "But, auntie..." he was cut off. "Don't 'auntie' me, Garreth. You will stay here and think about what you did." With a wave of her wand, she conjured a large, thick book in front of him and a parchment paper with a quill "You will study the potion ingredients you used and write down exactly why and how your potion went wrong so it doesn't happen again in the future. Then you will write the correct way to brew it. Understood?"

"And what about me, professor?" You asked. "You will enjoy a trip to Honeydukes, because this must have been a terrible experience for you, dear." You tried your best not to laugh from the surprise and the even more confused expression on Garreth's face. "Thank you, professor. It won't happen again." You stood up from your seat with a smile. "You better bring me something from Honeydukes on your way back..." Garreth whispered. "It better not happen again. I know you mean well, but you shouldn't allow yourself to be fetched into such shenanigans."

"But it was Y/N's idea..." Garreth whined quietly.

#hogwarts legacy #garreth weasley #garreth weasley x reader #garreth weasley x mc #garreth weasley one shot #hogwarts legacy garreth

[bunji-enthusiast]

So. Uhm..

Have this small idea that came to me.

Sonic.exe world, with Knuckles(like maybe his soul version or before he gets killed) x reader (who can somewhat be like Sonic.exe? But more ,,, normal? Like. A kind & nice exe who saved him from being killed by Sonic.exe)

But with that, they kinda take his form? But their form looks more cartoony & classic-style. Kinda like a simpler and small form, easy to pick up Knuckles (maybe other survivors?) and run just as fast to a safe place. (kinda inspired by my own sonic.exe OC tbh,, but yeah). (You don't have to, tho! Just thought that this was interesting—!)

Mimicking Friend — Knuckles The Echidna

Note || this is a really neat idea! I hope I read this right. And if this is okay ^^

WC || 568

Sypnosis || If anyone told him beforehand he’d get saved by the one lesser of two evils, he would’ve laughed. Now he’s believing it himself.

He was confused as hell when it all began, the ebony grays and the scarlet red skies. It was all so menacing, but not truly to someone like Knuckles, he wasn’t very put off by any bit of the blood either. Only then he got concerned when he started to learn about Sonic, someone who he recently met. The echidna certainly didn’t expect the blue blur to actually kill his two-tailed fox friend, he thought they were as close as brothers can be. 

Knuckles felt fortunate when he managed to fight off the demon, the bloody hedgehog was a killer but he sure as hell was no fighter. Even then, he knows the killer can and will adapt overtime, especially with all the strange manipulation of reality he can do. When he was sure the damn demon was down for good, he ran as fast as he could. Knuckles certainly wasn’t about to stick around for that possessed hedgehog to actually succeed in killing the echidna, he couldn’t leave the Master Emerald without the guardian. 

When you finally made the decision to make an appearance before Knuckles, he was rather confused. You looked so similar to him, only tinier in size. Yet it was even more surprising when you possessed more strength he realized, carried as if he was a bride just married you ran even further then he possibly could (More so floated, but who cares?). You felt as if you had to keep Knuckles safe and hidden away from the demon, accursed and trickster with a knack for obsessing over things unnecessarily. 

“Who the hell are you?” He finally asked after you had whisked away the two of you to somewhere far and safe away from the bloody hedgehog, Knuckles felt as if he was close to snapping within his emotions. He was confused, mixed up about every recent event which had occurred in mere minutes away from each other. 

Why’d you save him?

Why do you look just like him? 

Many thoughts and questions had run through the echidna’s head, but the one he had uttered was something he found most important. 

You looked down, shifting closer to the ground so you could lay yourself for rest. “Someone who just wanted you to stay alive,” You began, feeling the words finicky to find. “Cause they know what it’s like to fail to do so.” Those words felt wrong, yet so right. You wince internally as you search his face for any hint of a reaction to your words. Knuckles sighed, complacency wasn’t his greatest idea of a deal begotten between him and a stranger who just saved his life.

“I owe you.” He spoke, finally decided to break the awkward silence. Knuckles took a moment of pause, closing his eyes as he crossed his arms. “Thank you, I suppose.”

You interject, “You owe me nothing, but I do owe you something.”

At this, he raises a brow. Eyes opening to reveal magnificent purple hues expressing interest in your next set of words, “You need answers yes? I can provide them.” Knuckles was albeit, relieved he could get them from someone friendlier than most entities right now. He wasn’t in a very grateful mood if he were to search for them himself. 

“Alright then..” The echidna begins, taking a walk towards the distance. 

He then gestures vaguely as he asks, “Who the hell was possessing Sonic?”

#sonic.exe #knuckles the echidna #knuckles x reader

[imperatorrrrr]

mayhaps, you're wondering, "hey T, who are you rooting for in the 'yoffs anyhow?"

well...

Carolina Hurricanes v. New York Islanders - New York Islanders. They are an acceptable Metro team, and we can all agree the Rags suck, which is a massive plus point in my eyes. And I mean, why in the world would I ever root for the Canes. I'm a Devils fan, let's be serious for a moment.

Boston Bruins v. Toronto Maple Leafs - Boston Bruins. Look, the Bruins are in my top three most hated teams, and the Leafs are in the following tier. To me the Leafs are just Canada's Yankees. AM34 is just another Derek Jeter variant. If it wasn't made clear, I am a Mets fan, and I've been a Mets fan longer than I've been a Devils fan and I've been a Devils fan for over two decades. You'd think given that logic, I'd choose the team I hated less, which would be the Leafs, but nope. I mean, I want to pick neither. I would rather pick neither. Don't ask me to explain my brain. It is what it is.

Florida Panthers v. Tampa Bay Lightning - Florida Panthers. This is almost purely because I've been Catspilled by the Discord. Do you understand how much I viscerally disliked the Panthers up until mere months ago. I still don't actually like them, but I wouldn't be upset if they won, so there. Sigh. Thanks, I hate it. Another match up where I'd rather have neither. Another matchup of hated teams.

New York Rangers v. Washington Capitals - Washington Capitals. For one series only, I am a Caps believer. When I tell you, I dislike the Caps so heavily, so so so deeply. Its so historic. But you know what team I hate the most ever because they're cops...the Rags. So this is actually so incredibly straightforward. Anyone but the Rags is the policy here on imperatorrrrr dot tumblr dot com. The East is mostly just unwatchable for me and mostly just filled with matchups of teams I hate.

Winnipeg Jets v. Colorado Avalanche - Colorado Avalanche. This is easy. Fuck the Jets. I like the Avs.

Vancouver Canucks v. Nashville Predators - Vancouver Canucks. This is the team I am rooting for to go all the way. This is the team I have transferred all of my Devils emotions onto. This is the team that I have chosen. Fun fact tho! I actually wouldn't be entirely mad about the Preds making it either, but the Nuckies are my playoff team. They're also like my third favorite team, so.

Dallas Stars v. Vegas Golden Knights - Dallas Stars. Like I think I'm in the pipeline to become a full fledged Stars fan, but I'm not completely there yet, ya feel? In the meantime tho, definitely rooting for them against Vegas. Here's the thing, fuck Vegas right. Like fuck 'em. Here's policy numero dos here on imperatorrrrr dot tumblr dot come: anyone but the Knights.

Edmonton Oilers v. Los Angeles Kings - Los Angeles Kings. Another lesser of two evils situation here. Kings dislike is historic as in 2012 Stanley Cup Playoffs historic right. Oilers hatred is more visceral? More of the moment? I'm softening on my Kings historic dislike. I mean look at me, I'm rooting for the Avs. Do you understand that any Devils fan worth their salt in the early 2000s absolutely did not like the Avs? And look at me now! So yeah, this is mostly I don't want the Oils to win, so the Kings it is! Oh, here's a west coast matchup of hated teams. Some variety in the mix!

there you have it folks! a rooting summary for Round One for those interested!

#Text #Stanley Cup Playoffs #NHL Playoffs 2024 #you gotta understand that I've been a Devils fan since like 1999 #and that means I have almost twenty five years of rivalries stored in me #there was even a time when I disliked the Ducks #THE DUCKS! #so like rooting for teams is actually very hard for me #cause I have a story about each one of them #at this point honestly besides actually rooting for the Avs and the Nuckies #its a battle of who I don't want to win the Cup the least #I feel like Round Two is gonna be a lot more hard choices #if anyone can guess my color coded system they'll get a fic #see! I give points for reading all my tags

[shield-dancer]

With the elections over and Milei elected as the new president, I think I can let out a sigh of relief.

While I do not agree with a lot of his policies, Milei was the lesser of two evils. Massa being elected would have resulted in a stronger hyperinflation and a faster downward spiral than the one we were already in. I don't believe that Milei can fix all of that. This election was symbolical more than anything, it showed that more than half of the country has decided that they've had enough and were sick of peronism, so they chose to vote them out. They won't give up easy tho. They always make life hell when they're not the ones in power.

In any case, getting the peronists out of the government is a good start. We must now carry out our duty as citizens and hold Milei accountable for his decisions.

[deepdarkdelights]

I'm new to your page, and The Reaper is the first story I've read from you. Let me tell you this was unexpectedly suspenseful and darkly enjoyable for me! I have a couple questions for you if you would indulge me :D

Am I correct to assume that Jungkook told Oc to keep running and not hide so she wouldn't be captured by another reaper even if it meant he would lose his chances at her being his wife? He would rather let her have her freedom than be treated poorly by another reaper. She was so close to her freedom too! But would it have been freedom tho? You're right about her choices. Jungkook was the lesser of two evils *sigh*

Also, what language was Jungkook speaking at the first half of the story? Why did he choose to speak the unknown language with her instead of the language they both knew?

The reveal of the Lord being Jungkook's biological father was not expected! I was kept on my toes the whole time. I found myself surprisingly very sympathetic to Jungkook for the majority of the story especially when he was juxtaposed against Oc's other potential suitors *ugh*. Oc always had my sympathy.

Hypothetically, if you were to continue the story, would Oc ever see her mother and father again? How many children will she and Jungkook have? Will she come to love Jungkook eventually?

I was soft when he washed Oc especially after he explained to her why the others were looking at them in astonishment.

Ahhh, sorry this got way longer than I intended it to. Thank you for writing and sharing your wonderful stories!

I hope you have a great week!

Hello, welcome to my blog!

You know what, I think The Reaper might actually be a good entry fic for my blog lmao. And of course, I would love to answer your questions!

Yes! He wanted her to keep running so that another reaper would not catch her. If she were to try to hide she would have been caught by someone else almost immediately - they know those woods like the back of their hands. Her best bet was to keep running.

The unknown language was made up hehe. It had some Latin roots and I kind of just slapped some sounds together that sounded good. When he says "Mea Lunatta" he is essentially saying "My Moon" but in his language, the direct translation is "My Wife." Because of their close relationship with the Direwolves, they have an appreciation and respect for the moon and you can see it embedded in their traditions and language.

Reapers are not permitted to speak to their spouses in their language until after they are "married," only when they join the reapers through marriage are they allowed to speak to one another and understand their culture. Another reason why they can only speak in code is so that the spouses don't know what to expect during the hunt.

I randomly thought of the father plot twist and asked my best friend if I should do it and she immediately said yes 😂

Would she be permitted to see her family? Usually, no. But we know Jungkook is willing to bend rules and break tradition for her and as the potential future leader of the Reapers, he would have the power to allow her to see them. I can picture her and Jungkook having 2-3 children, but I think 2 is the most likely. Would she come to love Jungkook eventually? Potentially. In a society where you are considered less than a man, MC knows that JK is the safest bet. He would treat her better than any other man and she know that so that could contribute to her having feelings for him in the long run.

Thank you for reading, I hope I could answer your questions. I also hope you had a great week 💜💜💜

#asks #the reaper #reaper lore

[moomoomooing]

UR SO RIGHT the shoots wld be so chaotic ;;

i think malleus wld have fun putting on his dress while sebek wld be so indignant saying that a knight of his standing shldnt be playing dress up jekdjjs [also cue him being mortified at his young master willingly putting on the dress]

silver probably wldnt care nd just put on the dress to make lilia happy >:]

also i think rook nd vil wld somehow drag epel along w them so ?? cue them fighting him to put a dress on LMAO

kalim wld be doing the same w jamil at the same time tbh,,, "cmon jamil u wld look great !!!" "kalim why wld u agree to do this dont u rmbr what we discussed ???" lots of angry sighs but jamil wld end up doing it anyways ✋

nd then ruggie,,, he wld be so nervous everytime rook got within 5ft of him ;; stay back 🤺 stay back 🤺 hes only in it for the prospect of making money

sorry for such a long ask but the thoughts were rlly flowing JEKSKKS

WWW I LOVE IT DW~

honestly i can see sebek secretly loving it and he gets all pouty when he has to take the dress off. it may not be regular knights attire, but seeing everyone else really enjoy it- especially his young master- he gets a lot more comfortable wearing it

(more under the cut bc i rambled a lot as well www)

the entire time during the photoshoot vil wasnt even there bc he was trying to wrestle epel into a dress LMAO- you can hear angry shouts and epel breaking out into his regular accent

poor ruggie was left to his fate surrounded by lilia and rook... i think he came out a lil more traumatized than he was before

tho honestly, for epel, i think he would be fine wearing a dress if it was more on the classy side yk? so long as it wasnt abhorrently cutesy- OH HAVE YOU SEEN THOSE VICTORIAN SECRET PANTS? (Bernadette Banner made some on yt- i highly suggest checking it out) those paired with a white dress shirt/blouse (one with a lot of ruffles, like caters) might look nice on him... i dont think he would actually enjoy wearing anything dress-like but he definitely thinks a classy outfit is the lesser of two evils

poor jamil... he really cant catch a break can he -v-;;

man kalim definitely contributed to the budget of this shoot LMAO

tho imagine this takes place after the scarabia book, so kalim is spending a bunch of money and trying to get the best clothes he can for jamil, cause even if its trivial he wants to do his best to make jamil feel like theyre on even footing. if he can make jamil the best looking one there, himself be damned, he absolutely will

#moomoos talks #bobatealie

[simeonisalesbian]

Drink Away Ya Problems Mammon x MC

Yo yo yo. This is the first Obey Me fic i’ve written (I’ve got a couple others I’ll post in a hot girl minute) MC is gender neutral and it’s really easy to replace each “MC” with any name of your choosing ^.^ Thank u for ur time!

Words: 1436

Mc sat at their desk staring blankly at the page and textbook in front of them. It had been about 3 hours now with no interruptions from the demons who lived in the house. Quite the rare occurrence. They had hoped to get a good amount of work done, and they did up until now. Apparently having to deal with constant intrusions makes someone's ability to focus on something in one sitting really shity. They sighed again just wishing someone would distract them from this for at least a little while.

As if summoned,  the door swung open revealing Mammon. “Mc…”

"Hey Mammon, what's up?" Mc turned happily smiling at the demon who came to distract them. Their face fell as soon as they saw the demon's face. "Oh. Is everything okay?" 

Mammon had his arms crossed close to his chest and looked as if he'd start crying at any minute. His face was turned away from them and just to be safe his eyes were staring at the floor. 

" 'M leavin'. 'M sick of being accused of shit so I'm running away. Felt like ya would want to know." Mammon squeezed his eyes shut. "So yeah I'll just go-" he turned to go back out the door. 

Before he could, Mc grabbed their arm pulling him into a hug. The sudden motion of affection was a breaking point and he practically crumbled in their arms and let a few tears silently slip.

"Hey. You're not leaving. What would I do without the Great Mammon around, huh?" Mc slowly led the demon over to sit on the bed, hoping to make him feel a bit better about himself. 

" 'M not that great," Mammon mumbled under his breath as he willingly sat down on the bed. He rubbed at his eyes hoping to regain some composure as Mc looked at his face.

"I beg to disagree. I mean you just saved me from what must have been the most boring assignment in the history of all the realms." Mc said while moving to lock the door. It wasn't common that they actually locked it but they hoped the motion would put Mammon more at ease. After that, they sat back down pulling Mammon back into their arms. "Do you wanna talk about it?" 

He shook his head. 

"That's fine too. Whatever you want. Just know I'm here for you, kay?" Mc said softly petting the demon's head.

They sat there quietly for a while before Mammon spoke up. "Do you still have that bottle of human alcohol?" It was quietly mumbled and if Mc wasn't listening they would have missed it. 

"Yeah. Was saving it for a rainy day. I'd say this falls under that. Did you want me to grab it?" 

"Yeah. If ya want to." Mammon sat up just enough from where he was leaning on them to let them stand up. He watched as they dug under the bed, grabbing a glass bottle they bought the last time they visited the human world. 

"I can grab cups from the kitchen or we can drink straight from the bottle. Up to you." 

"Fuck cups, hand it here," Mammon said, reaching out for the bottle. 

Mc smiled. He wasn't quite back to his usual to his happy-go-lucky self but this was a lot closer. And while it probably wasn't the most healthy idea to drink during a breakdown, Mammon probably would have drunk himself sick if he actually did go out along with gambling away all of his brothers' money. So arguably this was better than that outcome. 

"Hey it is mine, save some for me jeez," Mc said watching the demon chug the bottle they handed him as if it was water. 

"Your mistake for handin' it to me first. Here." He handed the bottle back to let Mc take a swing. He glanced down at his phone that had no new messages. "Do ya think they actually think I ran away?" 

"Hm?" Mc passed the bottle. "Your brothers? Hard to say we were pretty quiet for a while they might. Why do you want them to think that?" 

"Dunno." He said before drinking a much smaller amount than before. "Maybe? Is it cruel to want them to hurt as much as I do?" He took another sip.

"Not sure." Mc grabbed the bottle knowing the avatar of greed would drink the whole thing if they let him. "In human standards, we'd probably call it a bit cruel but a common feeling nonetheless. Aren't demons meant to be cruel tho? Isn't that part of their thing?" 

Mammon just shrugged. "I guess so." He didn't look happy with the answer so Mc tried again.

"You're asking me though right? I don't think you're cruel. I think those feelings are fine. As long as you don't take them too far that is. Like as long as you don't like...I dunno kill them or something? You're probably fine" 

Mammon laughed softly. "Do all humans have sucky morals like that or just you?" 

"Hey, my morals aren't sucky. I just set the bar low. Obviously, there are lesser bads than killing but it's the first thing that came to mind." 

"Lesser evils."

"Huh?"

"Ya said 'lesser bads.' Pretty sure it's lesser evils." Mammon corrected with a smirk.

"Who died and made you the saying police huh? I can say lesser bads if I want. Fuck the police and all that." Mc said playfully glaring.

"Didn't you just imply 'm the police?" 

"Don't." Mc glanced at the bottle. "How the hell have we already drank half of this?" 

"Who knows. But I say we finish it off." He said grabbing it.

"What? No, we should probably stop. It's Thursday, we have classes tomorrow." Mc said, pulling the bottle towards them. 

"Fuck classes I ran away remember? I don't need no classes." Mammon pulled.

"Yeah you ran off I didn't. I still have to go" 

"Nah. We'll just say I brought you with me." 

Mc paused thinking for a minute. "You think that would work?" They couldn't think for shit they drank nearly as much as Mammon had.

"Course I do! When has the Great Mammon ever been wrong?" 

"Many times." 

Mammon pouted but pulled the bottle from Mc's hands. "Ha!" He shakily stood almost falling and he moved away. He stood another long swing from the bottle.

"Hey! It's my bottle!" Mc stood with the intent to take back the bottle but fell as soon as they did.

"Oh shit. You good?" Mammon said, setting the bottle down long enough to check on the human. 

Mc grabbed it chugging nearly as much as Mammon did before replying. "Yeah. Wasn't that far of a fall. Don't think I can walk, though. Snacks are out of the question." 

Mammon smiled before pulling Mc back to their feet and setting them both down on the bed. "We can call Beel if we want snacks. He's like the king of snacks. Besides, we can just drink and like, watch a movie. Don't need snacks to have fun." 

"Shit, you're right. God, I'm gonna have the hangover from hell tomorrow huh." Mc said grabbing the laptop that was luckily left on the nightstand, to pull up a movie.

"You and me both. But it'll be fine. I want to pick the movie though it was my idea." Mammon said, pulling the laptop towards him. 

"No, it's my laptop."

It was going to be a long night.

Epilogue

Lucifer unlocked the door to Mc's Room later that night. The chatter from inside had long since died down since the last time he checked. He was originally going to ask if Mammon had said anything to them since he left. But the last time he had stopped by he heard the familiar bickering from his brother and the human. He left them to it and decided to check on both of them later.

Opening the door he smiled seeing that the owners of the voices that had forgotten to talk in an inside voice earlier, we both soundly asleep.

Mc had Mammon wrapped in their arms, his head on their chest. Mammon had one arm dropped over them, the empty liquor bottle dangling from his hand. The laptop that has long since died was close to falling off the bed.

Lucifer placed the laptop on the desk plugging it in. He then grabbed the bottle from Mammon's hand. 

The hangover those two would have tomorrow would be their only punishment. Knowing they did that to themselves would be better than any punishment Lucifer could give after all.

#obey me mammon #mammon x mc #mammon x reader #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me #obey me! #om mammon

[kheta]

Dragon saves Ace and Rogue for reasons

My Disgraceful Little Shit

Another one of my trashed-fics that I cnba finishing even tho I really liked it. Mentions of genocide and execution, but nothing explicit. Head canon heavy.

Looking at the man he’d raised, as loosely perhaps as the word raised could be used, Garp felt affection laced with fear course through him. His little shit was leaving, without attempting to say goodbye either.

Or, how one conversation changed everything.

Monkey. D’s are many things, including but not limited to: exponentially talented, ambitious, stubborn to a fault, craving for adventure and kind-hearted. Some lesser known fact about them however, are their innate inability to display affection subtly, their uncanny ability to be in the middle of all troubles, their selfish tendencies and unfortunately the consequences of being adventure craving, kind-hearted idiots. Their too big hearts caused conflict with their wanderlust, especially when their displays of affection often proved too brash, too intense for people to handle. These traits had sculpted Garp in many ways, lead him onto a path he never regretted, but in his rare wistful moments when he was more Marine than he was Monkey.D, he’d look back and wonder if the things he had given up were worth the adventures he’d lived through.

He’d loved his wife, would have given the whole adventure scene up if she had asked, reluctant as he’d been. But she had never asked and selfish as he could be, he had ignored the growing instabilities their love caused. Just as he had craved adventures, she had loathed being stuck in one place. It was no surprise then, when she’d left their son in the hands of a friend they’d made back on his home island.

Dragon had been raised well, his heart wide, his brain ever-curious and his will to live strong. Garp considers it a shame that him and his mother couldn’t take credit for that. Dragon’s independence meant he often took responsibility for himself, even the first fourteen years when him and his wife had shuffled their schedules so Dragon was never without at least one of his parents, Dragon proved to be independent and asocial.

Though he loved his parents, he hadn’t needed them in a long time.

(When Garp had met his wife again, him a certified hero, her an extravagant traveller, he hadn’t asked her. Hadn’t wondered loudly if their love could have survived. They had kissed softly before she answered the question he didn’t ask, desperate and loving, but so changed from the courses of their life. Him more scarred than before, her as beautiful as the day he’d last seen her three years before, lips gentle and caressing. Her answer was a whisper in his ear, head cocked in his shoulder while his arms were loosely wrapped around her waist. She hadn’t asked him to give up adventure, because she’d never stay anyway. They could love each other, but it would never be enough when adventure were concepts engraved in their very beings, and he a Marine and her, an outlaw.)

Looking at the man he’d raised, as loosely perhaps as the word raised could be used, Garp felt affection laced with fear course through him. His little shit was leaving, without attempting to say goodbye either.

“Seventeen years and I don’t even get a bye, you little shit,” his voice booms boisterous as ever.

Said little shit snorts, but turns to face his father, cloak covering the shitty tattoos Garp had loudly disapproved of, though his son cared little.

“I’ll see you again,” he replies after a while.

Chuckling, Garp moves forward and punches Dragon. It’s a punch that would heavily bruise a regular guy, but instead only leaves his son tense. Neither his mother nor his father pulled their punches with him, not since he was a child anyway.

“Have you gone and told your mother about your stupid plans?” Garp questions needlessly.

After all, Dragon saw him at least once every six months and he’d pieced together the little shits ideas himself. His mother wouldn’t have a single clue about the independent shit storm their son was planning, though she’d sure as hell be proud. Perhaps sad that he wasn’t a pirate, like he was sad that he wasn’t a marine, but proud they’d both be.

Dragon just looks at him.

Shrugging carelessly Garp sits on the roof, weary from the day’s events and looks up.

“Are you sure about this? As soon as you make a move against the World Government, I won’t be able to help you. The second you start this, it’s just you and your own resources.”

Empty words, nothing could sway Dragon at this point. Maybe a year or two ago, but frankly Garp was never one to control his son’s life. If the shit didn’t want to be a marine, then for all he could drag him kicking and screaming, he’d still be a damn useless, if not powerful marine.

If he wanted to overthrow a few countries, then Garp could only watch.

“I’ve planned for months, I know what will happen.”

He turns to face the direction of their home, body unreadable, voice stoic. It’s a funny image, because Garp can only see the child he’d raised with an indignant scowl, a love for meat and the open body language of a child.

Laughing Garp tugs at the cloak until his son falls next to him, then slings an arm around his broad shoulder. Dragon grunts in surprise, disgruntled. He’d miss this little shit, rebellious attitude and all.

“My little shit will become a disgraceful little shit very soon, so indulge this old man why don’t you.”

Next to him Dragon scowls, looking at his father unimpressed, but makes no move to leave.

Garp’s grip tightens to a painful level across the shoulder, he was a selfish old-man who never wanted to let go. He’d let go of so much today.

His wife.

His pride.

His rival.

Now, his son.

“Is it true, does he have a child?” Dragon asks, because tact and subtlety were useless against his father half the time.

Garp shrugs, careful not to answer. They both know who Dragon’s asking about though.

“I think– If I had a son, or a daughter… I think, I’d have done what you and mum did… I’d never be able to raise them, especially not after today.”

It’s a quiet admission, some of Garp wonders if he’s going to be stuck with another kid today. The thought irks him, his stupid shit better not have knocked his lovely girlfriend up just before becoming a wanted man!

“Ouch! What the hell old man!”

Garp glared.

“If you tell me I’ve had secret grandchild and you’re dumping ‘em with me, I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you ten times! Who do you think you are, you’re only seventeen! Moreover who are you calling old m-”

His growls are thrown off by a hearty laugh.

“Whatever, I’m just saying for future reference.”

Quieting the two just look at each other.

Then, because Garp’s a sentimental old fool, he blabs loudly and it might not be the case, but if he could save a life he would. Especially if it’s his grandsons.

“They’re beginning a cull in a few weeks,” his voice is dark, while Dragon tenses, “, anyone due to have a child in the next eleven months are suspected, even more so if they have no husband. The cull, it starts first in the South, because Roger was there the longest. Then West, I’m trying to convince them that East is fine…. It’s not working out too well, some of the upper echelon are arguing that his home is the only place where he’d hide his own child. They’ve met some resistance with the North though, the Vinsmoke’s caught wind and aren’t too thrilled, Judge and Sora were due to marry soon. Not like they have much choice, but the underworlds certainly been safer than it is right now.

“It’s– Few people know about it, they don’t want the government pinned for the mass genocide of an entire generation but that’s what it is. Sengoku’s tried to reason with Kong, he got a three month suspension posing as vacation. Tsuru’s gone off on an actual vacation, I don’t know why but I think she’s trying to stop this from the outside. Or prevent a whole fucking genocide….They’re even having the balls to call it a necessary evil–– There’s no way I can stop this, if they think for a second the baby might be Roger’s, they’ll stop at nothing. I’ve tried to reason but, they’re being fools.”

Disgust taints his voice. It’s classified info, but Garp’s always bent and snapped the rules to his pleasing.

If Dragon happened to be able to save some children, then there’s no way it could be traced to Garp anyway.

Only three marines in the world knew of his son. They had never met him, never seen photos of him, only knew his name and how he described him, an energetic tyke named Monkey. D Dragon, who regularly bought his father birthday presents. Who was strong but stupid and had no connection to whatever other Dragon his soon to be disowned son would become. They didn’t even know his age and Garp’s thankful that his big fat mouth didn’t disclose any vital information about his son.

Thankful he had seventeen years with this stupid little shit, because heavens know his parents had less time with him before he up and left.

“I love you,” he whispers solemnly.

Most people would think he’d blubber, but when he gave up on changing people, it was a cold thing. Frosting his bones into silence.

There was no changing Dragon. He was a D. Moreover, he was a Monkey D. They never really changed, just grew.

“I love you too,” he gets up back turned and Garp hears the words before they even leave his mouth.

They finish the sentence in unison, “But sometimes love isn’t enough…”

Grinning, Garp heaves a sigh and clenches his fist. Monkey D’s didn’t say I love you, it was usually an action for them. A punch to remind them to come home. A push, to let you know there’s nothing wrong with moving forward or looking back. After this, there’d be no home to come back to and no punch to remind the other of what he had to live for, only words and memories.

“Would there ever had been a chance of you staying?… If I had stayed?”

Gosh he sounds like a sap, but the regret lingers and it’s not just his son he’s asking. It’s his wife. His friends and his brother, his father. People that never could understand a D, for all they loved them. Everyone he’s had to give up to keep being Garp The Hero.

“Probably...But I would’ve hated it, just like you. I’d have stayed and hated and grown bitter, because I’d felt caged.”

But you would have stayed, the selfish, selfish parts of him screams.

He lets Dragon disappear then, a show of shave that Garp hardly remembers teaching and with his son gone, Garp cries into his large calloused fingers. His too big heart was hurt so much today, it needed a few minutes for the hurt to heal. But Dragon leaving had reminded him he needed to go as well, before Sengoku caught him and forced him into postponing his visit to Rogue for too long. Garp pushes his heartache to the side, wipes his tears and searches for the most discreet dingy he could find.

He’d lost his wife and failed his son, he wouldn’t let another wife and son be failed because of him.

(And maybe in another world Garp would have sensed his son’s haki, but the pain of finally letting his wife go would be too much and he’d never get the closure of saying goodbye to his little shit. In another world Sengoku would find him and trap him into active duty. This is a world where Garp hides his heart behind his uniform and his promises would be kept, but tucked behind due date after due date, and when he finds Rogue it would be too late. But that tale, is one that’s already been told.)

And then:

Rogue lives, Ace is marginally happier growing up and I honestly don’t know where it was gonna go after that. I’m pretty sure I had plans of Ace meeting Koala and Sanji early on, maybe even Robin bc I feel like Rogue would 100% hunt down this child wanted by the world, bc fuck that was nearly her son but like. Idk how it was gonna go, just that somehow canon Strawhats and canon 2nd division commander Ace we’re still going to be relevant aspects of the story.

#oh well trash fic now #trashed this story #trash fic #one piece #portgas d rouge #portgas d. ace #monkey d. garp #monkey d. dragon #one piece au #one piece fanfiction

[sailorsaigas]

“Substitute Guardian” (a Morgan Lives AU) Chapter 2

Author's Note: Chapter is after the Read More, so as not to clutter folks' dashboards.

A year ago, I wrote the first chapter of an AU fic about Morgan surviving the events of Turn Coat. Well, I know it's been a long time in coming, but here is Chapter Two of that AU, the title of which has been settled on. I only hope you will find this entertaining, and that it might help some of you stave off the boredom of having to continue to wait for Jim to finish Peace Talks. Enjoy. ^_^

Being in Chicago again was...odd.

I wasn't entirely certain how I should feel about my return to the states, having spent the better portion of the last year under house arrest in Edinburgh. The early months saw me hospitalized, recovering in an infirmary bed after pushing my already wounded body too hard apprehending the man who'd framed me for murder. A grueling process of rehabilitation eventually began when my mandatory bed rest order was lifted, though after regaining my previous strength, I continued with physical training as a means of self-improvement and killing time. One might be surprised how utterly boring being confined to a centuries-old castle can be. So I trained - trained and studied like a newly minted apprentice one-hundred and fifty years younger. I had no intention of being bested again by my enemies.

Over the course of my time under lock and key, I had a few brief but important conversations with Harry Dresden, who made it a point not to interact with the Council more than absolutely necessary. I understood that mentality far more easily, now, after having my eyes opened during the events of that last year. We discussed where we stood as associates, swallowed what we could of our pride, and made something of a halfhearted but honest attempt at reconciliation. There was a lot of bad blood there, and neither of us could really get over some twenty years of animosity overnight, but it helped that I'd been made aware of the unfortunate truth. The Black Council, a hidden force seeking to tear apart the wizarding community from within, was real...and it was high time somebody did something about it. And so, despite some reluctance from Ebenezar McCoy, I was brought into the fold of the Gray Council, a nearly treasonous body of our own that sought to prevent the enemy from gaining the upper hand in our shadow war.

Stuck as I had been in Edinburgh, I didn't have much to offer of my previous talent as a Council enforcer, but my copious free time gave me opportunity to put my experience to good use in other ways. I was permitted supervised free range of the hallowed halls, and since the only individuals experienced enough to be trusted to watch me were Wardens I'd had a hand in training, they'd rarely challenge me regarding what I did or where I went. Thus I made my primary purpose one of study and documentation, becoming something of a writer for Dresden’s project, the Paranet. The idea of networking the minor talents of the world so that they'd be educated enough to protect one another had been risky in many ways, but had so far been more than worth the risk. However, their information had been limited primarily to what Dresden and a few of his friends were capable of offering, so I made it my goal to expand upon that.

Such was how it became my job to transcribe my personal knowledge, alongside those of Edinburgh's ancient libraries, to create tools for use by the Paranet. To speak plainly, they were mainly pamphlets with a few illustrations, but Dresden and Anastasia said so earnestly that they could prove invaluable to the lesser talents of the world that I started taking pride in the work. It helped that there was little else to do, of course.

Now I stood back on the streets of Chicago, a free man of a sort, though the Doom still hung above my head. These were my old stomping grounds long before they had been Dresden's, and they'd been my area of responsibility as a Warden up until the war with the Red Court of Vampires. I'd hounded Dresden through these streets as I observed his own probation beneath the Doom, and now the shoe was on the other foot. Dresden, if he yet lived, was a Warden of the Council, while I was the one with a single mistake keeping me from summary decapitation. I'm certain there was a lesson in that, and it was one reason I strived to put aside the more petty and miserable aspects of myself.

Shaking off my reminiscences, I examined the building where I'd be staying for the duration of my time as a mentor to Dresden's young apprentice, Molly Carpenter. I knew the building, of course. Only a few blocks away from the ruins of Dresden's own home, the address on my note had directed me to what had once been a boarding house that had been converted into apartments. During our time trying to prove my innocence, a mortal private investigator had set up an observation post in this very building to stake out Dresden. I don't know when the Council had found the time or money to empty the building and remodel it, but they'd done so. It looked pristine, at least from outside, and I knew nobody lived here anymore from a notation on Ana's scrap of paper. The Council didn't want to risk more collateral damage after whatever destroyed Dresden's place nearly killed several mortal bystanders.

I headed into the building and opened the door to the ground floor apartment, though I had keys to all of them. I wondered if they expected me to house Miss Carpenter here while I trained her? That would be practical, but Ana had mentioned the girl would be at her parent's house, and I imagined she'd be more comfortable there. Undoubtedly so, considering what had apparently transpired over the past 48 hours or so.

The apartment was sparsely furnished, though it had necessary amenities like an ice box and a wood-burning stove. There was one bedroom with a bare twin mattress against a wall, connected to a small bathroom with a standing glass-door shower. A single recliner occupied one corner of the living room near the fireplace, and a small dining table that had no accompanying chairs filled space in the kitchen. On it rested a plain white envelope labeled 'Donald.' Inside the envelope was a crisp stack of bills, the first installment of my new monthly stipend. I noted with a small smirk that it was the same monthly amount I'd be making if I were still serving as a Warden. Though I wasn't a Warden anymore, and likely never would be again, I supposed that my time in-service had earned me something. I'd have preferred my blade to the money. Warden or not, Ana made the sword for me. Practically speaking, nobody else would be remotely capable of wielding it effectively. Sentimentally speaking, it was probably my dearest possession.

Placing the envelope of cash in the pocket of the overcoat I wore with today's ensemble of a well-tailored, tan three-piece suit (why couldn't Dresden see the obvious social benefits of not dressing like a hoodlum?), I decided to set aside all other thoughts in favor of the most immediate concern. I couldn't put it off any longer. It was time to pay a visit to my new apprentice. I stepped outside, hailed a cab, and was shortly on my way.

-----

The house I arrived at looked like something out of a Hallmark card, something I wouldn't have thought possible in this part of Chicago. Complete with finely manicured lawn and white picket fence, it was the absolute model of idealized American suburbia. I could feel a kind of power emanating from within the borders of the property, and I knew immediately that this was indeed the correct residence. Michael Carpenter, Molly's father, was the only living retired Knight of the Sword, an ancient group of warriors who served to maintain the balance between Good and Evil on behalf of God. I could only imagine a retirement package from such an occupation would be graced with ample benefits from the Lord.

I was cautious as I approached the front door of the home, being careful not to offend whatever sort of divine bodyguards might watch over the place. I knocked politely, three times, and awaited a response from within. A woman promptly answered, and I could recognize in her face that this must be Molly's mother, Charity. I could also see in her general stance and demeanor, a woman of fierce physical and mental fortitude. I'd hazard to guess she'd once served as the sparring partner for her husband, and Ana had mentioned to me before my departure that the woman was an accomplished smith, likely as a means of indicating someone from whom I could commission a sword. I bowed my head politely, and introduced myself.

"Mrs. Carpenter, I am Donald Morgan," I spoke. "I am a wizard of the White Council. I am here on the Council's behalf to speak with your daughter, Molly, regarding the disappearance of her mentor, Harry Dresden. And, if necessary, continue her training in our arts in his absence."

Mrs. Carpenter looked at me, her right eyebrow arched upward.

"Morgan?" she asked. "The Warden? Harry spoke of you before. Not nicely, either, I should say."

I sighed. I should have known one of Dresden's friends would know my name and my reputation, colored though it might have been by his own perceptions. I could believe she did not think very highly of the man I once was.

"Former Warden," I explained. "I am no longer a Warden of the White Council, Mrs. Carpenter. After a political incident about a year ago, I was removed from my position and consigned to the Doom of Damocles, much like Molly and Dresden before her. That being the case, Dresden has gone missing, and is presumed dead. The Council has but two options regarding your daughter's future: execute her under the order of the Doom, or send me to mentor her in Dresden's stead. I shall see her through to her graduation into a full wizard of the Council, or merely until Dresden returns."

I held my arms out to the side, palms up in a non-threatening gesture of sincerity. I don't do those much, so I doubt it looked very convincing.

"I'm not here to hurt Molly, Mrs. Carpenter," I said, plainly.

Charity continued to stare at me for a moment, sizing me up, gauging my honesty.

Then, her voice firm, she said, "I won't invite you in. Prove to me that you mean no harm."

I understood her meaning immediately. Wizards, and other supernatural entities, cannot pass through a threshold (the magical barrier that separates a home from the outside world) without giving up a significant portion of their power. Certain creatures, like the Vampires of the Red and Black Courts, cannot pass through a threshold at all without first being invited. The threshold of this home was one of enormous potency, and stepping through it would mean leaving nearly all of my magic at the door, making me incredibly vulnerable. It was a common and reliable practice among those who were 'in-the-know' supernaturally, and I applauded her in my mind for thinking ahead. She was clearly a sharp-minded and no-nonsense woman, and having apprenticed under Anastasia Luccio, that was something I could most certainly respect.

"Very well," I replied, and stepped across through the doorway.

It was an odd sensation, leaving my magic behind me. Stepping through the Carpenter threshold was like stepping through a wall of gelatin and coming out the other side disrobed. I felt diminished and exhausted, as if I'd dived into a pool of ice water. I bowed my head politely in her direction after crossing, and she nodded at me. Had I been one of the few harmful supernatural entities that might have crossed a threshold uninvited without trouble, I'd likely have been pulverized by whatever security force watched over the household if I'd intended harm.

Charity motioned to the staircase with a wave of her hand.

"Molly's sleeping upstairs," she explained. "She was wounded when she went to help Harry at Chichen Itza."

I didn't have many of the facts, but if Dresden had been at Chichen Itza, he'd been at one of the most powerful domains of the Red Court. I could only assume it bore some connection to his supposed demise.

"Would it be a problem if I woke her?" I asked. "It's important we get this settled as soon as possible."

"It won't be a problem, but she's not in any condition to talk for very long," Charity stated, matter-of-factly. "She's heavily medicated, patched up on a helicopter and brought here by some of Dresden's associates afterward."

"Field medicine? Why not a hospital?"

"Her wound wasn't severe, she'd mostly overexerted herself after being wounded on the battlefield."

"Well, I am relieved to hear that she is alright, but I will need to speak with her right away so that she understands what is to be done."

"Alright, then. This way."

Inside a room cramped with sewing equipment, Molly slept soundly in a small bed, an IV in her arm.

Charity gently shook her awake as we entered, saying, "Molly, Morgan from the White Council is here to see you."

I didn't miss how Molly's eyes shot open with fear at the mention of my name. Once again, my old reputation preceded me. Swiftly, Mr's. Carpenter calmed her daughter with soft, gentle words explaining that I wasn't there to hurt her, and that I just needed to inform her of some changes regarding her apprenticeship since Harry was missing. Molly was still groggy from sleep and pain medication, but the initial adrenaline rush had cleared her head enough that she acknowledged her mother's words and nodded at me to proceed.

"Hello again, Miss Carpenter," I began. "Your mother is correct that I'm not here to do you any harm. I can only assume the medicine is to blame for you forgetting I'm no longer a Warden."

I tried to smile to show I was being lighthearted, but I was long out of practice, and Molly got a somewhat sour look on her face. I awkwardly tried to recover momentum.

"Ahem, anyway, I have just been released from house arrest. I'm here because Dresden has gone missing, and is presumed dead. Whatever Dresden and the rest of you did at Chichen Itza has thrown the supernatural world into a frenzy. I couldn't begin to tell you even half the things I've heard, and my situation left me fairly out of the loop to begin with. Whatever it is, the Council is preoccupied with damage control, and wasn't sure what to do with you. After much deliberation, rather than have you executed under the Doom, I was chosen to act as your mentor until such a time as you graduate or Dresden returns. I was already under the Doom, myself, so it is no great loss to the Council, and it spares any needless bloodshed."

I paused to let Molly absorb what I had said, and then continued.

"It will only be a temporary arrangement, of course. Under my tutelage, barring Dresden's return, I imagine it would not take longer than a year or two to get you to full wizard status, in which case you would no longer need a mentor. And, of course, should Harry come back, he will be granted the opportunity to once again take over your training. As it stands, however, none of us has any idea what has become of him."

I looked at Molly sternly, though not bluntly intimidating, trying to put a kind of gentle, grandfatherly rebuke into my demeanor.

"What in the world was Dresden doing on the vampire's boat at the time of his presumed death?" I asked.

Molly let out a huff of indignation. "I should have known the first thing you'd do is be suspicious of Thomas."

"Why shouldn't I be? He is a member of the White Court--"

"He's more than just a White Court vampire," she interrupted. "There's a reason Harry was on the boat, and Thomas' offer to let him use it was made in good faith."

"You're the second person today to tell me that," I responded. I tried giving the girl a small smile. "I guess I'll take your word for it, for now."

"Thomas isn't responsible for Harry's murder," Molly said. "I know that for certain."

"You do?" I asked, arching an eyebrow at the remark. "That implies a great deal. If you know for certain that Thomas Raith isn't involved, do you know who is responsible?"

Molly sighed and shook her head. "No. But whoever did it didn't use magic."

"Captain Luccio was able to confirm as much to me before I came out here. Regardless, such discussion has no bearing on my purpose here. I won't trouble you with more questions. Get some rest, and I'll be back tomorrow so we can go over the details of your training."

Molly nodded, and promptly returned to sleep.

Afterward, Charity saw me to the door and wished me luck getting situated in town. She gave me the number for the house, as well as their cell phones, and told me that if I intended to continue investigating Harry's disappearance it would be good to get in touch with Harry's associates in town. A good place to begin would be with their mutual acquaintance Father Forthill at Saint Mary of the Angels, and Karrin Murphy of the Chicago Police Department, in particular. I thanked her, and made my way out the door.

No sooner had I closed the gate to the front yard behind me than I was very nearly run over by an emerald green stretch limousine that sped up to the curb in front of the Carpenter home. Immediately after parking, the driver walked around to passenger side rear door, opened it, and gestured for me to enter. I knew him for what he was the moment I set eyes upon him, and the voice that beckoned to me from within the limo only confirmed my suspicions.

"La! Mortal magi, always so paranoid," called a beautiful singsong from the dark interior of the vehicle. "You have my word of safe passage for the duration of a conversation, Wizard Morgan. On behalf of my Queen, I must needs speak with thee regarding the matter of Harry Dresden."

I looked from the driver holding open the door, and back to the waiting interior of the car. Stepping into the vehicle would be stupid, even with word of safe passage from one of the Fae. Then again, it was about Dresden. Considering that, I thought to myself: what would Harry Dresden do in this situation? The town, after all, needed someone to fill his boots for a time.

I got into the car.

#Dresden Files #Substitute Guardian #Morgan Lives AU #Donald Morgan #It's finally here #Sorry you all had to wait so long

[livmoose]

Locksley Hall

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Comrades, leave me here a little, while as yet 't is early morn: Leave me here, and when you want me, sound upon the bugle-horn. 'T is the place, and all around it, as of old, the curlews call, Dreary gleams about the moorland flying over Locksley Hall; Locksley Hall, that in the distance overlooks the sandy tracts, And the hollow ocean-ridges roaring into cataracts. Many a night from yonder ivied casement, ere I went to rest, Did I look on great Orion sloping slowly to the West. Many a night I saw the Pleiads, rising thro' the mellow shade, Glitter like a swarm of fire-flies tangled in a silver braid. Here about the beach I wander'd, nourishing a youth sublime With the fairy tales of science, and the long result of Time; When the centuries behind me like a fruitful land reposed; When I clung to all the present for the promise that it closed: When I dipt into the future far as human eye could see; Saw the Vision of the world and all the wonder that would be.— In the Spring a fuller crimson comes upon the robin's breast; In the Spring the wanton lapwing gets himself another crest; In the Spring a livelier iris changes on the burnish'd dove; In the Spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.

Then her cheek was pale and thinner than should be for one so young, And her eyes on all my motions with a mute observance hung. And I said, "My cousin Amy, speak, and speak the truth to me, Trust me, cousin, all the current of my being sets to thee." On her pallid cheek and forehead came a colour and a light, As I have seen the rosy red flushing in the northern night. And she turn'd—her bosom shaken with a sudden storm of sighs— All the spirit deeply dawning in the dark of hazel eyes— Saying, "I have hid my feelings, fearing they should do me wrong"; Saying, "Dost thou love me, cousin?" weeping, "I have loved thee long." Love took up the glass of Time, and turn'd it in his glowing hands; Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands. Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might; Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight. Many a morning on the moorland did we hear the copses ring, And her whisper throng'd my pulses with the fulness of the Spring. Many an evening by the waters did we watch the stately ships, And our spirits rush'd together at the touching of the lips. O my cousin, shallow-hearted! O my Amy, mine no more! O the dreary, dreary moorland! O the barren, barren shore! Falser than all fancy fathoms, falser than all songs have sung, Puppet to a father's threat, and servile to a shrewish tongue! Is it well to wish thee happy?—having known me—to decline On a range of lower feelings and a narrower heart than mine! Yet it shall be; thou shalt lower to his level day by day, What is fine within thee growing coarse to sympathize with clay. As the husband is, the wife is: thou art mated with a clown, And the grossness of his nature will have weight to drag thee down. He will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent its novel force, Something better than his dog, a little dearer than his horse. What is this? his eyes are heavy; think not they are glazed with wine. Go to him, it is thy duty, kiss him, take his hand in thine. It may be my lord is weary, that his brain is overwrought: Soothe him with thy finer fancies, touch him with thy lighter thought. He will answer to the purpose, easy things to understand— Better thou wert dead before me, tho' I slew thee with my hand! Better thou and I were lying, hidden from the heart's disgrace, Roll'd in one another's arms, and silent in a last embrace. Cursed be the social wants that sin against the strength of youth! Cursed be the social lies that warp us from the living truth! Cursed be the sickly forms that err from honest Nature's rule! Cursed be the gold that gilds the straiten'd forehead of the fool! Well—'t is well that I should bluster!—Hadst thou less unworthy proved— Would to God—for I had loved thee more than ever wife was loved. Am I mad, that I should cherish that which bears but bitter fruit? I will pluck it from my bosom, tho' my heart be at the root. Never, tho' my mortal summers to such length of years should come As the many-winter'd crow that leads the clanging rookery home. Where is comfort? in division of the records of the mind? Can I part her from herself, and love her, as I knew her, kind? I remember one that perish'd; sweetly did she speak and move; Such a one do I remember, whom to look at was to love. Can I think of her as dead, and love her for the love she bore? No—she never loved me truly; love is love for evermore. Comfort? comfort scorn'd of devils! this is truth the poet sings, That a sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier things. Drug thy memories, lest thou learn it, lest thy heart be put to proof, In the dead unhappy night, and when the rain is on the roof. Like a dog, he hunts in dreams, and thou art staring at the wall, Where the dying night-lamp flickers, and the shadows rise and fall. Then a hand shall pass before thee, pointing to his drunken sleep, To thy widow'd marriage-pillows, to the tears that thou wilt weep. Thou shalt hear the "Never, never," whisper'd by the phantom years, And a song from out the distance in the ringing of thine ears; And an eye shall vex thee, looking ancient kindness on thy pain. Turn thee, turn thee on thy pillow; get thee to thy rest again. Nay, but Nature brings thee solace; for a tender voice will cry. 'T is a purer life than thine, a lip to drain thy trouble dry. Baby lips will laugh me down; my latest rival brings thee rest. Baby fingers, waxen touches, press me from the mother's breast. O, the child too clothes the father with a dearness not his due. Half is thine and half is his: it will be worthy of the two. O, I see thee old and formal, fitted to thy petty part, With a little hoard of maxims preaching down a daughter's heart. "They were dangerous guides the feelings—she herself was not exempt— Truly, she herself had suffer'd"—Perish in thy self-contempt! Overlive it—lower yet—be happy! wherefore should I care? I myself must mix with action, lest I wither by despair. What is that which I should turn to, lighting upon days like these? Every door is barr'd with gold, and opens but to golden keys. Every gate is throng'd with suitors, all the markets overflow. I have but an angry fancy; what is that which I should do? I had been content to perish, falling on the foeman's ground, When the ranks are roll'd in vapour, and the winds are laid with sound. But the jingling of the guinea helps the hurt that Honour feels, And the nations do but murmur, snarling at each other's heels. Can I but relive in sadness? I will turn that earlier page. Hide me from my deep emotion, O thou wondrous Mother-Age! Make me feel the wild pulsation that I felt before the strife, When I heard my days before me, and the tumult of my life; Yearning for the large excitement that the coming years would yield, Eager-hearted as a boy when first he leaves his father's field, And at night along the dusky highway near and nearer drawn, Sees in heaven the light of London flaring like a dreary dawn; And his spirit leaps within him to be gone before him then, Underneath the light he looks at, in among the throngs of men: Men, my brothers, men the workers, ever reaping something new: That which they have done but earnest of the things that they shall do: For I dipt into the future, far as human eye could see, Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be; Saw the heavens fill with commerce, argosies of magic sails, Pilots of the purple twilight dropping down with costly bales; Heard the heavens fill with shouting, and there rain'd a ghastly dew From the nations' airy navies grappling in the central blue; Far along the world-wide whisper of the south-wind rushing warm, With the standards of the peoples plunging thro' the thunder-storm; Till the war-drum throbb'd no longer, and the battle-flags were furl'd In the Parliament of man, the Federation of the world. There the common sense of most shall hold a fretful realm in awe, And the kindly earth shall slumber, lapt in universal law. So I triumph'd ere my passion sweeping thro' me left me dry, Left me with the palsied heart, and left me with the jaundiced eye; Eye, to which all order festers, all things here are out of joint: Science moves, but slowly, slowly, creeping on from point to point: Slowly comes a hungry people, as a lion, creeping nigher, Glares at one that nods and winks behind a slowly-dying fire. Yet I doubt not thro' the ages one increasing purpose runs, And the thoughts of men are widen'd with the process of the suns. What is that to him that reaps not harvest of his youthful joys, Tho' the deep heart of existence beat for ever like a boy's? Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers, and I linger on the shore, And the individual withers, and the world is more and more. Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers, and he bears a laden breast, Full of sad experience, moving toward the stillness of his rest. Hark, my merry comrades call me, sounding on the bugle-horn, They to whom my foolish passion were a target for their scorn: Shall it not be scorn to me to harp on such a moulder'd string? I am shamed thro' all my nature to have loved so slight a thing. Weakness to be wroth with weakness! woman's pleasure, woman's pain— Nature made them blinder motions bounded in a shallower brain: Woman is the lesser man, and all thy passions, match'd with mine, Are as moonlight unto sunlight, and as water unto wine— Here at least, where nature sickens, nothing. Ah, for some retreat Deep in yonder shining Orient, where my life began to beat; Where in wild Mahratta-battle fell my father evil-starr'd,— I was left a trampled orphan, and a selfish uncle's ward. Or to burst all links of habit—there to wander far away, On from island unto island at the gateways of the day. Larger constellations burning, mellow moons and happy skies, Breadths of tropic shade and palms in cluster, knots of Paradise. Never comes the trader, never floats an European flag, Slides the bird o'er lustrous woodland, swings the trailer from the crag; Droops the heavy-blossom'd bower, hangs the heavy-fruited tree— Summer isles of Eden lying in dark-purple spheres of sea. There methinks would be enjoyment more than in this march of mind, In the steamship, in the railway, in the thoughts that shake mankind. There the passions cramp'd no longer shall have scope and breathing space; I will take some savage woman, she shall rear my dusky race. Iron-jointed, supple-sinew'd, they shall dive, and they shall run, Catch the wild goat by the hair, and hurl their lances in the sun; Whistle back the parrot's call, and leap the rainbows of the brooks, Not with blinded eyesight poring over miserable books— Fool, again the dream, the fancy! but I know my words are wild, But I count the gray barbarian lower than the Christian child. I, to herd with narrow foreheads, vacant of our glorious gains, Like a beast with lower pleasures, like a beast with lower pains! Mated with a squalid savage—what to me were sun or clime? I the heir of all the ages, in the foremost files of time— I that rather held it better men should perish one by one, Than that earth should stand at gaze like Joshua's moon in Ajalon! Not in vain the distance beacons. Forward, forward let us range, Let the great world spin for ever down the ringing grooves of change. Thro' the shadow of the globe we sweep into the younger day; Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay. Mother-Age (for mine I knew not) help me as when life begun: Rift the hills, and roll the waters, flash the lightnings, weigh the Sun. O, I see the crescent promise of my spirit hath not set. Ancient founts of inspiration well thro' all my fancy yet. Howsoever these things be, a long farewell to Locksley Hall! Now for me the woods may wither, now for me the roof-tree fall. Comes a vapour from the margin, blackening over heath and holt, Cramming all the blast before it, in its breast a thunderbolt. Let it fall on Locksley Hall, with rain or hail, or fire or snow; For the mighty wind arises, roaring seaward, and I go.

#poetry #tennyson #long-ish #grossness of his nature will have weight to drag thee down #do i smell jealousy #cursed be the social wants that sin against the strength of youth #cursed be the social lies that warp us from the living truth #circle of love #this started so positive so naive #i have but an angry fancy #gross over-compensation #sexist remarks #woman is the lesser man and all thy passions match'd with mine #are as moonlight unto sunlight and as water unto wine #how did he go from first love to imperialism and globalization support?