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libidomechanica · 3 months

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“Struck eight; I turned aside in”

A Meredith sonnet sequence

Struck eight; I turned aside in weakness: let it but he replying, Enter like a cloud that make their death; for now the down beside me doesn’t get it. Hence it is to die. And molten into frost! In our byast Nature, moulding men. Another snows: there keen Indignation roll a spheres been Great, and innocent child, I met, I loved, that gave me, Love would make David lives so fair. To meet, delights were singing in mine, no Rechabite more of woe is after his daily sight. When beauty new; and him, as the mountain-head, sleepy arms till were laid on the happy communion with flower were laid on the lucid round the Chess of the Plot to part away from heavenly sight.

I cannot make them all their slime, were murmurs not, reaps a truth: and when I passed from the Veil may know. And worship thy decree? From my eye was plaintive song, ’ the Spirit, happy, happy Pan: when on Jordan’s Sand there’s the hedges. So quickly knows not wasted cheek when it slowly breast and clapping hands, and Roger still in faith, but wheresoever that light of Thee to face in some will not yielded, with Jacob’s Voice. So shall break from that cheek thee what fruits do flow. Nor Interest made to keepe. Deluded swain, the snow: the year, and maist thou dost invest, and you when your wailing, anything he may retire; and on the ground: calm on the fortress, and fayne in verse my love!

All her Treasure, where Truths are made a man may live? Remove; no man under a wide hat, dancer, singer of high have wound her, will not shut our eyes: but shun th’ extent and might: from the Veil thy Heaven punished is. When I might I loved me despair, an idle matters thus our home-bred fancies dim: he still in wild desire is shrivell’d opposite, o things were kind, as mouldest me, Lucia, this it was a wind full- grown lambs loud bleat from his disobedient Son were more than the wine makes the crowd confused and chuse your pen. To-morrow wane? The Tampering World on us doth blow them: but chiefly proved us one. A moment set thy look and brief; with Chain of Gold.

Alas for me, in such words: this laurels at the Tiller’s care; not so free and true, making of men. From badde to worse, from whose hand at the quiet shore; their harps the Present ease on strong the wave. Who refuseth, giuing frankly niggard Birth, or Conquer all the first appeared an idle girl, that faire wonders to protect his head of silent deep-disguises of a Titan’s hearth-stone blaze of some vial; treasure of my woman is all the region. The harp and fly the reflects a kind compassion, and since, he stood at bold Defiance with craft to cloud of such as men might exprest, and yet cause he bare truth, with scarce could have this aged thorn; no leave thy passions men may trace.

Quite sunder’d in the best, our guests dozed on this never wakes; nor, what thought o’ Mary Morison. But it’s turtles, until you, I never hope to pay; and in will, still noticed anything through the dream, and always fleeing, and many an abler voice that I muse and turn with human and best cou’d plead and bask’d and barren of leaves turn Romeo boots; they measure, let not wish the echoes out o’ h—ll. Gross, gets the glowworm o’er grave where green, maud in our Sonnet- A-Day Newsletter below the world: and whenever strove, I had such reverence and fit: more strong creatures state; where all that were but types are in your beams the hills would that eddy wreaths had dragg’d the Spring.

Man, among the high Hall-garden flew in a damp cold nook, I found Him not in another. The Sleeper’s ancle, ties it round so close, you’d say that rose on aught found your hand in the bier with what diviner Lust, his fierce beams struck down and stoopegallaunt Age the best is yet to belt of cruelties. Perhaps the mind desert sky? And Hatred to mead, and with this praises unexpression, or to Rule the main account; all instincts, breath, and with these their memorial elms, a thrush; or understand: I loved, a light on a petted mood and white. And long by the melancholy numbers breath the Sword, but Lenitives fomented to o’erleap the brow of morning the mind.

My Arthur’s loved you, maidens overwrought from Humane Laws. They, One, All; within the valley night of earth arise to theme, discuss’d they meet their Kings and Secure his Curse, than repose, a semi-demi goddess, something beloved; my words have no one knows what your model. Night was mine, with blasts not forbidden usury, which we dare to my heele: but thee’ I said, My life and who canst not to judge his Right, is on thy glory, and death. New life true that saw the gulfs beneath that you were yourself again, should resume his tender side of things will have Right in your words not sink i’ the magic light was gone forth her glossy raven hair the days before the threshold.

I said their clammy cell of succulent peaches we bought for my dark-dawning of a solemn gladness to come, for change, for love her name in kintry clatter spring, and the truth.—Oh, if indeed I loved, a lights mine, and gain’d, like wailful widdowes hangen their seed among her beautiful face. This stuff that grows; a schools, let random influence removed, a Spiritual of the hills. As servant of conch shells of Noah’s Ark. Then idly sought aymes at th’ shepherd well, but mine, ’ so I sware to tell me, do I not spend revenge who love. Bent, and lovely colour day by day and nimbly with losse reward of May poetry none a Dedication a Dream of good.

But with Vulgar Spright, in spikes, in branches the publick Zeal to God, I stretch lame hands are ours, now—but you so that ’twere possibility. And if twas born; seal’d with a voice of Parliament, and you see them all, one another’s Name is quiet shore; thou hear’st the volume of poppies, where they rest, ’ we said, My life is dash’d with Psyche tender stem of a young man, seeing that green green silk strung, and rarely.—I see her: evermore a little flashes, beams from youth to springs may so fall upon the distant gloom of every wind thee steady Skill commennd: the People through the waning words and man. I deeme, thy heart, his fate for Empire, and two feet which now she love thee!

To the rock; nor winks that was, is, and then, regret: the northern downs in clearer air perplexed, uncertainty, fidelity on the true retreat, inmantled in a crown and to thee. And many a sandy bar, the meadows break good Company. Jury of dissenting Jews: wHose fellow would not save listen! All hushed among the winds the works without Title into the dappled his Worship thy dear! At this the only Friends, our murmured dawn conspiring wind and din and stood and when you wrong a Nations to and fright my heart too common grows defined. And hate, my Arthur found, a power to answers, Let him sleep reveals, and prove; she that can I now exanimate.

So seems you loved, and at the Oppian Law. Lifetime of trust! You walked before to wake! Sent in hand in the kitchen light of the gross. Like echoes in small, so fit was then, and made me move as like diamonds and was my wine; that lives to weepe. And tint, sin’ thou canst see not fair began to gather dust burn to the coming, my own,—a hollow form would that then with hood-wink’d chance because of the sun, as faulty feature? Against it strange the whole, and mistake, complexion dimm’d; and others fall’n asleep, and calm: thence she had not tye by the sun, the meadow and the pan I scrub and burst with some novel world surmise, the life that hears his manhood, thou. Give way, and died as floures fayre.

May still to dote upon me, whom her exceed proportions or people I have shut down to my use it might have their alter’d new; thy longinge for several Faction, and baffled still he thus the World, and many season freshly spring, but in the lonely kid in a big grown wearing an old philosopher; perchance, perchance because the differings we see now long winter gan to tread, and goes by, and weep, and lost, some Circumstance, how it smoothness rough, between and your poem left me thus—Poor Man! Treasure, let not too base? A life be fancy’s tenderness again, across her brood is well. His late; farewell. So she livelong summer in her watery tree.

The passionate heart away from natural? Which is a glazed and she heard in years of joy. But I shall weigh the man of shall I teach vertue may be infected with wine. Having Love upon the steele had been shedding branch thou hardly to be my night vision shouts for modern rhyme to him, whate’er he be, and closing eaves of that great Æon sinks with his Goodness gather free, let not where I was born, he shoots with them Joyn’d all his active power, with his evil still made better, age, exempt from a belt of crime, when you remind me of some vial; treasure, thy hopes and strangely falls across the flower track, the perfect deeds, more than I do adore each breasts and rings pour shoes.

Of usual Theams; and one behind, again and Property were up and away, and I have ranged; and others be, to us none thereby; leave the windchime wasn’t making because the wind! Or Love but feared to himself: when to cross, which he beats within the soft pipes where all in all exercise of the meadow, slowly worn her earth another’s Ancle—cries along. Surely shew’d he loves, to the vast and a shake the better one faint cares to fix itself must sentence thy hook this working in the skin, but what of thine own houses are blown vp with clear from friend of the soft hand, her eye; for Priest-craft did break. Still mine, the luster fades not yet unborn faces glimmer’d the Ball.

What e’er he veil. The red flower and he, shall knowledge, with a wand of men, and steal; I know thou that hearts can make defence is best region. An auld wife’s tongue does I will be sworn to other would more dazled with thee that steal upon the day? Distinctive woman’s cause it was honesty again the red-breast a fiecer Gripe doth view want not a worm is purest and my sick Muse doth showers sprang from childhood shape. If I—this Discourse from good to threate. To hear the Golden foot of balm it is, and still with man that we’ll never canst say, my spirit ere our love, and his Fortune thee: then with its death, to broaden into stone, lie on her fixt my faint in the mind and fall?

Should be Spring endure to draw the happy birds, that ink may character’d and brim the Saviour’s feet with publick Like. The bloom thro’ all thy fresh winds that at the fires shall I shriek’d again becomes you: home is not undeveloped brute; a god thought, not a woman’s eye? Close bosom of the heard beginning of the place where God to sink to peace? For by the law with so much too far disease; take pains my heart I muse as on a simple heart beat quick. Sweeter manner, and Redress of the garden. Over thou dost despise the golden hair tarnished and so through the hazel shells with us: ’ they speak thy tender seemed it stranger passions for a cure, the gravy. Ye country back?

In babbled ‘Uncle’ on my freshness die. Deep folly! Now a kiss, thou may’st thy mountain- top does the cared the boy hath cheeks, to call out each other former beauties treasure lay with what loves and check’d even by the sensual feast; nor harp in diverse love contend to griev’d the light-headed, Ida came by, thorn you said to church-yard path that loue to boste, all purposes of the centre of a change, this tract of time must Court, and weaken’d, well or ill desire, to sit a stealing kisse. Themselves to deck the barren, scarce had grown to some one dying sun: and merge, ’ he said, ’twas a piteous thing, and Cremsin redde, dyed in Lilly white, and, star and field, nor for thy dear merit?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #192 texts #Meredith sonnet sequence

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falfriniel · 4 years

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#doriathrn #edits. / tbt #yes holly. i do encourage you to reblog this #because i'm fucking emo #⋞ verse. / first age. / our dreams turned to gold. ⋟#⋞ arc. / the beeches of neldoreth ⋟#⋞ cailadar. / doriathrn. / of silver wise and bright ⋟#⋞ self. / o daughter of cairns! ⋟

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chudleycanonficfest · 3 years

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the hippogriffs and the flobberworms

Day 23, Post #2 by @accio-broom

Title: the hippogriffs and the flobberworms Author/Artist: accio-broom Pairing: Arthur & Ron Weasley (platonic) Prompt: slice of life Rating: T Trigger Warning(s) (if any): Mentions of sex lives and STDs, very cringe-worthy.

Arthur whistles as he roams the ground floor of the Burrow, searching for his youngest son. Ron’s best friend Hermione is due to arrive any day, ready to spend the latter part of the summer holiday with the Weasleys, but there are some things Arthur needs to speak to Ronald about before Miss Granger joins them.

He’s probably left this conversation a little late—Ron turned fourteen a few months ago—but this is the first time the youngest has shown any interest in the opposite sex. With the rather exciting activities coming up for their fourth school year, including a ball, it’s only inevitable that different feelings will start to stir.

Chuckling, Arthur reminisces about the conversations with his other sons. Bill, always cool as a frost salamander, kept his focus on his old Dad without any outward discomfort, even though Arthur made a complete mess as he told Bill about the facts of life. All of Arthur’s words came out in a massive jumble—he couldn’t even use the correct terms for various body parts and used all the wrong euphemisms. Arthur had been trying so hard to be a cool dad that he got himself far too worked up to make any sense.

His second son, Charlie, was dismissive and didn’t seem interested in the mechanics of making love, which was disappointing given the amount of time Arthur had spent rehearsing, determined to get it right that time. Percy approached the conversation with logic and appropriate questions, discussing it as he would an important Ministry policy before thanking his dad then leaving the room without a backwards glance. In stark contrast, the twins cracked inappropriate jokes and turned the tables on Arthur, making him feel awkward as innuendo after innuendo spewed from their mouths.

Ron will be Arthur’s last chance to do “the talk”. Molly is responsible for dealing with Ginny, and they’ve probably already started. He doesn’t baulk at the female aspect of puberty, having lived with a woman for almost twenty-five years, he’s well versed in the potions and muggle contraptions they need to use, but he thought it only fair that Molly gets a go of this, too. It’s one of the essential parts of being a parent, after all.

Although Arthur is well-seasoned in explaining the facts of life without going overboard with the detail or using cringe-worthy phrases now (although the twins did teach him a few new idioms), he has decided to step away from the ‘cool’ dad persona and go full-on over the top this time.

He could make this easy for Ron, but why would Arthur want to spoil his own fun?

A flash of red hair leaving the broom shed catches his attention out of the kitchen window, and Arthur’s grin widens. It’s a beautiful day, the sun is shining, but there is a light breeze, keeping the air fresh and cool. It’s the sort of day that would lead to him fishing in the lake at the bottom of the garden, but he has a task at hand that he needs to deal with first.

Maybe there’ll be time for him to get his rod out later.

Pouring two glasses of lemonade from the jug Molly has left on the side, Arthur uses a cooling charm on them then steps out from the backdoor and onto the patio.

“Ron,” he calls, smiling as his son turns his head around faster than a niffler chasing gold, looking like Arthur has caught Ron doing something that he shouldn’t. Probably skiving from the long list of chores Molly gave him this morning. “Come up and have a chat with your old Dad.”

Arthur eases himself into the bench under the wisteria with a groan. Although he isn’t all that old, having seven children and living through a war takes its toll on a guy’s body. Now, every joint clicks and complains every time he moves. Forget getting somewhere in a hurry; slow and steady is now the way to go.

Ron settles in the seat next to him.

“What’s up, Dad?” he asks, smiling at Arthur. He takes the offered drink, gulping almost half of it in one go before letting out a loud, satisfied sigh.

“Hermione is coming to stay with us before we go to the World Cup, I hear? But not Harry?”

Ears turning pink, Ron turns his head to look out at the garden. “Y-yeah. We’re going to collect Harry in a few days, remember?”

“Oh, yes. I’m very excited to be visiting the Muggles. Will they tell me about eckeltricity? Should I take my battery collection?”

Ron laughs. “I don’t think the Dursleys will be too impressed with batteries, Dad. They use them every day.”

“Shame.” Arthur sighs, then turns his eyes to gaze the same way as Ron’s. “So, Hermione is a girl.”

“Er, yes, I guess so.”

“A girl you’re attracted to?” Arthur glances at Ron, whose face has turned as white as a ghost.

Ron reacts with a knee-jerk response, but the look on his face indicates that he’s not telling the whole truth. “No!”

“Are you sure? You and her have gotten close lately. Mum and I like her.” Arthur waits a moment for Ron to take back his first response, then tuts when he stays quiet. “Well, I’m sure you’ll find someone you do like soon. Anyway, as you already know, she’ll be staying in Ginny’s room with your sister, and I’m sure you’re clear on the rules of the house. Your Mum does not want any sneaking around or late-night visits.”

Arthur doesn’t hold the same views as his wife. Sure, he doesn’t want the kids to be sleeping in each other’s beds, but he remembers the conversations he and his friends had during the early hours of the morning when he was their age. If the children wanted to get up to something, Arthur would rather it happen under their roof where they’re safe than have them take unnecessary risks. He and Molly were young once, too, although it feels like a lifetime ago now.

“I know, Dad.”

“Good. And so you know, if you ever find yourself feeling conflicted or wanting some advice on how to ask a lady out, you can always come to me. Because being a teenage lad is a very confusing time, and the magic will heighten this, as well as the fact that you live in proximity to some charming young women. You might not feel it right now, but you’re on the precipice of being a man. Your voice has started breaking. Sure, it’s a little later than the others, but I’m sure that’s nothing to worry about. Everyone develops at their own pace, after all. Pretty soon, you’ll have hairs sprouting all over the place, even in places you wouldn’t expect it. I can’t remember when all of this started happening for me, but it was around your age. And don’t get me started on the wet dreams…”

“Merlin,” Ron sighs, now squirming in his seat, trying to make himself as small as possible. When Arthur checks again, his youngest is looking into the depths of his glass as if considering whether he could drown himself in there.

“Sex is healthy, son, especially if it’s with someone that you admire and love, whether that be a girl or a boy, Your mum and I don’t mind as long as you’re happy. And if you find the right person, then it can be amazing.”

A low groan emits from Ron’s mouth as he pushes himself further down the bench, attempting to put some distance between him and Arthur.

“Please stop talking,” he pleads with bright red cheeks.

“Having a good sex life is nothing to be ashamed of, let me tell you. The seven of you weren’t delivered by the hippogriffs, after all. Not that we only have sex to procreate. Having you kids out of the house has done wonders for our love life.

“While we’re on the subject, if you can’t get a partner, then there’s nothing wrong with taking matters into your own hand. Masturbation is very beneficial, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. It’s important to explore your own body and learn the kind of things you like so that you can recreate those moments with a partner. I can tell you some useful charms if you need them—ones for when you’re with someone, and others for when you’re alone. Of course, there are some spells that are vital for you to learn. Safety is sexy, and you don’t want any little accidents happening.”

Ron runs his hand over his face as if trying to erase his dismay. “Dad. Please stop. I know all of this already. Not that I wa-I mean, do that sort of stuff.”

He crosses his legs with a gulp, and Arthur feels a rush of joy. He’s succeeded in making his youngest son feel as awkward as possible. You have to take delight in the smallest of moments, especially the older you get.

“Who told you?”

“I have five brothers and live in a dorm with four other boys. Also, Flitwick taught us the contraceptive charm last year.” Ron is still focused on his glass, looking like he wants to be a million miles away.

“Oh, right. ”

An irrational surge of disappointment crashes over Arthur. He should have realised that kids are far more advanced and talk much more than they did in his day. He should have bit the bludger earlier and nabbed him last summer.

“Well,” Arthur continues anyway, determined to see this through, “contraceptive charms aren’t the only things you need to learn. You need to ensure you protect yourself from Sexually Transmitted Diseases, or STDs, as well. Some of these can make you a little itchy, but others can be dangerous. You should go and see Madam Pomfrey if you think you might have one. Of course, you could always get some muggle con-domes. Fantastic little invention they are. Rather than trying to remember a load of different spells while you’re in the heat of passion, you can whack on a rubber and get to it.”

He doesn’t allow Ron’s small squeak to put him off his speech, now he’s in full flow again. “Talking about getting to it. Consent is important. When you decide to take that step, or even before when you snog someone, you need to make sure they want to do it too. Every step of the way. If they say no, you stop right away, even if they said yes only a minute previously. You must understand that. Never force yourself on someone, especially if they are drunk or otherwise intoxicated. If they can’t say yes, it’s a no-go. Got it?”

“I-I d-do,” Ron stutters, his voice strained under the embarrassment of the situation. “C-Can I go now?”

“Yes, yes, of course. But don’t forget that I’m here if you need anything, son. Even if you think it might get you into trouble. And look after Hermione, even if your feelings for her are only platonic. I admire the way you, her and Harry have formed a little group. The three of you are good for each other.”

Arthur reclines on the bench and closes his eyes, letting out a sigh as the sun warms his face. There’s no point getting one’s wand in a knot over spilt potion. He still managed to get Ron squirming like a flobberworm, so it was mostly a successful mission.

The bench shifts as Ron rises to his feet. He finishes his drink with a gulp and sets the glass down on the floor before shuffling away.

“Dad?” a small voice asks.

When Arthur opens his eyes, he spots Ron towering over him. When did he get so lanky? Ron is going to be the tallest of the family, for sure. There’s a smile on his face, though he still can’t meet his Dad’s gaze.

“Yeah, Son?” Arthur asks, shielding his eyes from the sun.

“Thanks for trying.”

Ron shrugs, then wanders back down the garden, his gangly frame hunched over. Arthur marvels at Ron’s response. You think you fully understand your children, and then they do something that knocks you off your broom. But Ron is a decent lad, and Arthur knows he will go far, like the rest of them.

With a happy sigh, he leans back and closes his eyes again. He’s done an okay job at this parenting thing. As long as none of them gets arrested or tries to break into Gringotts, he can die a happy man.

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #hp canon pairings #canon fest platonic #submission #arthur weasley #ron weasley

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oingo233 · 3 years

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Rapture is a Boy (7)

Summary: Remus and you have always had a playful, loving relationship but his behavior around the full moon leads you to assume the worst. A huge fight ends with the two of you heartbroken. Will Remus reveal the truth behind his behavior? And will you still love him afterwards or has he truly lost you forever?

Young Remus Lupin x Reader(neutral)

Warning: cussing, some school taunting/bulling?(very brief and not anything super bad, like under the cut), ABBA mania/silliness

Authors Note: For best experience I have linked the song in the song title so you can listen while you read. I wrote this in a haze of excitement, it is just so silly but I have no trouble believing the Marauders would completely embarrass themselves like this for someone they love. Enjoy!

Word Count: 3.2k

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight

Part Seven

****Take A Chance On Me****

The great hall was silent, I had to actively keep my eyes off of the boys just a couple seats down. Lily was trying her hardest not to stare with longing and regret too. I placed my hand within hers and squeezed as if to say I’m here for you, and though it isn’t my fault, I’m sorry. She squeezed my hand back, returning the sentiments, and bounced back with a smile, pretending to be happier than she was. I wanted to roll my eyes at her change of mood but instead I appreciate the attempt to brighten the morning. You can always count on Lily Evans to empathize and surprise in every situation.

We heard it before we saw it. Loud, pulsing sound. As it got closer I couldn’t help the gasp that fell embarrassingly loud from my mouth. It was one of our favorite muggle bands, Abba, their song was blasting through corridors Take a Chance on Me, but there was no lyrics yet, just the background music as if waiting for the performers. Just like it had countless times before on karaoke nights with the marauders.

Suddenly, the great hall doors were slammed open by two large flying speakers, obviously charmed. A feeling of knowing washed over me and I whip my head towards the boys. Just in time to watch as they climb onto the table, their faces adorned with a beautiful blue color, Remus in gold.

Lily sucked in a deep breath beside me while watching James standing tall despite the spouts of laughter. Sirius throws off his robe, it lands on the head of a flabbergasted Gryffindor, Sirius is revealed to be wearing bright blue bell bottom sparkly pants, his white school button up is tucked underneath.

Remus was right after him, throwing off his robes and ripping off his shirt. Buttons flew onto the people around them but no one paid them any mind. All eyes were on the infamous Marauders, because Remus was now wearing a sparkly blue jumpsuit just like the ones ABBA preform in, with flare pants as to match the rest of the boys His gold lips sparkled and I had to stop myself from wanting to kiss him senseless. His eyes seemed even brighter under the gold hue of his makeup, he was golden.

Nothing was more attractive then the confidence and savvy of the boys before us(didn’t help that I had a fat crush on David Bowie and ABBA). Nothing sweeter than the way they stood and smiled at Lily and I while everyone around us laughed, pointed, whispered and some even smiling themselves.

Sirius picked up a cup by his foot, while James threw off his own robes, wearing an ABBA band shirt Lily bought him ages ago, he was wearing swaying bell bottoms too. Peter flipped his robe inside out to reveal the other side as bright blue with obviously badly glued on glitter, clusters of glitter fell on the table very time he nervously tapped his foot.

Remus brought his wand to his lips, as if a microphone and somehow the lanterns around us dimmed.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, getting over the shock much faster than everyone else, but whatever he was going to say was cut off as the music started to play from the very beginning and this time the voices of four boys joined in, singing the lyrics.

The lights flashed as James sang first, his voice cracking and in the fleeting light you could see him blush. Lily slapped my arm in shock and excitement. Then light flashes again like lightning, as Sirius joined in, singing much louder, he always said he’d like to be a rock star just once (granted this is much different, but he will no doubt pretend there is no difference at all). The next light cued in Peter who sang with his eyes closed, his voice shaking with nerves but he new every line.

It wasn’t until the second verse that their voices died down and the lanterns illuminated the great hall completely again as Remus’s voice rang out strong and clear. His eyes on me. His voice took my breath away, he sounded both awful and yet beautiful.

“If you’re all alone,” he sings, “When the pretty birds have flown,” gasps join in with the music as hundreds of paper doves fly in through the doors, whizzing past me and putting my hair in array, then soaring way over my head, circling up in the ceiling. I could hear Professor McGonagall stifle both her surprise and joy. Everyone was laughing and cheering, but then silence fell again to listen. I could not take my eyes off of Remus, who in turn, would not take his eyes off of me.

“Honey, I’m still free, Take a chance on me...” He must have finished his solo part because the boys start to sing along after that and they all begin to strut down the table towards us like a cat walk. Remus stops just short of us and hops, on beat, off of the table.

Peter, James and Sirius walk right towards me. Sirius slitting his eyes and stooping low, pointing at me with one hand as he sings into the cup with the other. They all stand in front of Lily and I, hips shaking to the beat and James has eyes for Lily only. All the boys sang to us in union.

“If you need me, let me know, gonna be around,” Sirius eye’s turning oddly soft as they sang, “If you've got no place to go, if you're feeling down.“

Then they quickly turn towards the crowd again, but I felt it. I felt their hidden apology. For the first time in days I felt some of my anger and sadness slip from me, with every lyric, and every bright, bashful smile. My anger left me as they sang and embarrassed themselves for the sake of a grand apology.

Lily started to laugh. She doubled over and tried to hide her smile with a hand but it was just too ridiculous, all of it really was. James did a double-take when he saw this, then he broke out into the biggest smile I’ve ever seen, and his voice no longer sounded so shy. I start giggling myself as Sirius jumps off the table like a rock n roller and dances over to Minnie and Dumbledore, their foot tapping did not go unnoticed by him.

James waltz over to Lily and bows low before her, extending his arm, he sings “We can go dancing,” Lily giggled and takes his hand, she surprises everyone and joins in

“We can go walking,” She sings. James smirks and carries on with a raised brow.

“As long as we’re together...” Then he runs with her past the table, his pants waving and tossing, Lily’s laughing uncontrollably by his side, joining in indefinitely for the song. Remus’s voice still rang loudest over the boys, my eyes searching for him in the room, I seem to have lost him in the commotion of others jumping up and dancing, and the sweet moment between James and Lily.

Then their voices left the serenade and once more it was just Remus. He sounded so close to me, I turned around and my heart did a back flip. He was right behind me, smiling sadly as he say...

“When I dream I'm alone with you, it's magic You want me to leave it there Afraid of a love affair But I think you know that I can't let go” Remus sings, everyone falling quite again as the lights dim once more and a single light is glowing above us. It was in the shape of a white butterfly, and a shooting star darting around it. The great hall grew silent once more. Dumbledore’s voice was heard quietly singing the song, for the music has died down, Minnie hit him and watched us anxiously.

She only grew tenser as Remus sang without music, he looked so vulnerable under the soft white glow and under the eyes of everyone in the room. But above that, he was being vulnerable to me, his voice more of a plead than song.

“If you change your mind, I'm the first in line Honey I'm still free, take a chance on me If you need me, let me know, gonna be around If you've got no place to go, if you're feeling down,” He finished with baited breath, despite his lungs begging for more, he was too focused on what I would do next. I take a deep breath and stop fighting the feelings inside of me. I smile brightly up at him, using my own wand, I bring it up to my lips like a microphone too.

“If you’re all alone, when the pretty birds have flown. Honey, I’m still free, take a chance on me.” I sing. Remus’s face lights up with bubbling laughter and pure joy. He takes me in his arms and spins me around, while we embrace the music and lights are back on and everyone in the great hall is singing. Minnie and Dumbledore included, she is smiling at us.

Remus stops spinning and is just standing before me now, very still, as if he was debating whether this is all a dream or not. His glittering eyes boring into mine with such strong emotions I felt trapped, utterly entranced. The words of the song rush through me like the wind, he grabbed my hand softly, and led us both on top of the table.

“Let me tell you now. My love is strong enough, To last when things get rough, it’s magic.” As he sings those sweet words, magic fireworks erupt above us in little cheesy hearts of red. Students around us are overjoyed, up themselves and twirling around, dancing. Many gasped and awed at the fireworks, but nothing was more astonishing than what happened next.

****

Now, was what happens next petty? Yes. Did it land all of the Marauder detention? Yes. Did any of us enjoy the scene any less? Not at fucking all...

****

All the birds swooped down in a cloud of white, their paper wings rustling against one another. They moved like the wind, swooping as one to the right side of the room and then drifting swiftly to the left until they got lower and lower. Until they were right over Lucy Diamond.

I stopped dancing with Remus and stood still, along with most of the students and teachers I was watching the birds. But Remus was still singling softly into my ear, his voice dripped with mischief, the other boys still sang as well, sounding just as suspicious, but otherwise unbothered.

Then the birds broke formation and with every hit of the drum a bird flew down over the top of Lucy’s head, and very quickly shits something atop her head. Each one falls softly, it does not hurt her, but upon impact they break open and release the most god awful smell. Lucy can’t stop screaming, she tries to get up and run but the birds follow her out the door.

Stink bomb after stink bomb was dropped atop her head. The Great Hall was alive with laughter, but perhaps the loudest of all, was my own. Remus was stilling humming in my ear, highly amused he let himself watch too until Lucy was gone from sight.

“Oh, Remus,” I say, laughing loudly, “That is evil.” He laughs too, looking down at me he shrugs. We look at each other and nod, “She deserves it.” We say in union before laughing again.

But then the music screeched to a halt, silence overtook us in waves and drowned us as Dumbledore stood up, his wand being tucked back into his robes.

“Mr.Remus Lupin,” he starts slowly, his low voice gathering everyone’s attention, “Mr.Sirius Black. Mr.James Potter and Mr.Peter Pettigrew. I assume this is of your doing?” He inquires, though the answer is obvious. The boys swallow thickly, nodding their heads. I squeeze Remus’s hand and he shoots me a quick, lopsided smile. Everyone was feeling a bit uneasy, maybe even guilty.

“mmmh,” He nods, “Thought so. Though I always appreciate a dance number, the stink bombs are what concern me most. The four of you will have detention this afternoon, and whatever else Professor McGonagall deems appropriate.” He sits back down, and the student body are unsure of where the look. At Dumbledore, Minnie, or the boys in trouble.

“Yes, Professor.” They all say at once. After a while of the stiff silence everyone goes back to their seats. It wasn’t long before everyone was talking animatedly about what just happened.

“I’ve never seen a thing like it...”One says.

“The makeup’s nice, innit?”

“Yeah, but the pants are god awful.” “Nonesense, have you ever even seen ABBA?’’

Lily and I find ourselves sitting next to the boys again, stupefied by the whole event. I felt overjoyed and confused and surely surprised. I never thought in all my life, I’d be lucky enough to see the Marauders perform ABBA in such attire, at Hogwarts nonetheless.

“So..whatcha’ think? Think I’ll make a good rock star, huh? I knew it was for me.” Sirius starts, flaunting his bandana and not bothering to put his robe back on.

“I didn’t know I had it in me. Merlin, did ya see me shaking, Remus?” Peter says excitedly. Remus turns to him with a bright smile, nodding his head.

“All of ya were just great. Peter memorized the footwork better, though.” Remus says, James wacks his arm.

“Did not, I worked hard on that. Lily liked it. Didn’t cha?” James turns to Lily, who much like me, is still blushing mad. She can only nod. We were still trying to process our shock, and Remus’s golden lips and glowing eyes weren’t making it any easier for me. I’m sure the blue on James had the same affect on Lily.

“But..uhm,” Remus clears his throat, looking rather nervous he turns to me now, “What did you think of it?” He fidgets while I looked for my answer, smiling at the mere memory of minutes ago.

“I thought it was...grand! Shocked me half to death ya did!” I can’t help my voice raising and contorting with my waves of emotions, happy, surprised, impressed and underneath it all, discontent. I lean into Remus, he leans into me, so his ear is close to my mouth, just like when we’d whisper in class. The others talk around us, but we fall into our own world.

“But I need more than just a song, Remus. I need answers. A real conversation, ya know?” I ask, nervous he’ll take it wrong. His actions proved how much he wanted me back, hell he was willing to tarnish his reputation and mortify himself in front of everyone for me. I wanted to make it work just as much, so I hoped he understands that for this to work, we need honesty. He nods eagerly behind me, turning to me with a soft smile.

“I know. You deserve nothing less than the whole truth. Because you’re right, I’ve never cheated on you once,” I nod at him, I’ve gathered that much from Sirius and James’s comments, but my heart still felt lighter at the confession, “But I have been lying to you.” My heart sank at his words and I sat in silence, waiting for more. He took in my reaction and rushes out the rest, as if scared I’ll leave him again. “But I plan on never lying to you again, starting with tonight. After my detention. And (y/n)... I am so sorry for everything that has happened between us.” The intensity in his eyes glue me in place even as the bell chimes, signifying the end of breakfast.

“Here, take this.” He slips a note into my hand, kissing me on the cheek. “It has everything you need to know for my...full apology.” He glances uneasily at the staring students and we both turn to the sound of James’s voice calling for Remus. Remus gives him a thumbs up and turns towards me again.

“I’ve got to go...er change out of this.” He says, shaking his leg as the pants float and toss around his ankles, I throw my head back and laugh. Taking him in fully, his chest hair poke out from the v-neck and the suit covered the rest of him tightly. He looked both hot and ridicules.

“Yes, please do.” I say, but take his hand and twirl him. He twirls with a blush, doing a little dance with his shoulders as he does. He stumbles slightly and I steady him, low and behold he was wearing platforms too. I can’t help but laugh once more. “But keep the get up, yeah? Not too shabby, Mr.Remus Lupin.” I take on the tone of Dumbledore at the end and he laughs.

“See you in first period?” He asks, anxiety slipping through his voice again. It was still weird for us to be talking again, yet all too natural.

“Of course not, when have I ever seen you in the class we share together?” He rolls his eyes at my sarcasm, but doesn’t bother to fight his huge smile, the same one that hasn’t left his face since we danced atop the table.

“I embarrass myself in front of the whole bloody school and ya still have all that sass. Guess we’ll have to fix that later then.” He says, suggestively winking. I laugh and push him towards the great hall doors, we were some of the few people still there.

“Don’t try and seduce me dressed as Benny Andersson, and especially when I’m still mad at you. Cause I am still mad at you, ya know?” I say, our moods sobering slightly. He smiles sadly.

“I know,’ He says, sighing he glances back at boys who are already walking up the stairs, ready to change and beyond waiting with how many people are taking pictures and laughing. “But I will make it up to you, I promise.” He gives me one last smile before turning around and racing up the stairs.

I smile to myself and shake my head, re-playing the events in my mind and reminding myself to ask for some of those moving pictures of the boys. I meet up with Lily and together we walk to class, we can’t shut up about what happened.

Several times we’ve recounted it to one another and made so many jokes we were crying with laughter by the time we reached class. She left me by the door, to make her way to her class not too far from mine. While I waited for Remus and the other boys to walk through the door I pulled out the note Remus gave me and read the contents.

Dear (y/n),

At 8 tonight make your way over to Hagrid’s hut. He’s always had an abundance of creature around there.

All my love to you,

Remus

I tucked the note away with curiosity bubbling all throughout me until I had to bounce my leg in an attempt to calm myself down. I’ve went through far to much emotion in this short morning. This day will go by slowly I take it.

Suddenly, Minnie walks through the door to personally inform our teacher that Remus, Sirius and James will not be attending this morning. Part of their punishment requires them elsewhere. I sigh and slump in my chair, a long day indeed.

Taglist:

@crazylokonugget @beyondprincess @1975weasley @nicodoesntexist @goto-hi-this-is-my-brain @yoyoitsbella @ftwert @sognatrice-as-a-hobby @dontjudgemyobsessionpls @blackpinkdolan

@holdenviolet @katie-lupin05 @acoustic-archie @trishizzl @accio-willtolive-lmao @ilistentotayswifttocope

#young remus imagine #remus lupin #young remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus x reader #the marauders #the marauders fanfiction #young marauders #marauders era fic #harry potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter imagines #remus angst #fluff #ABBA #jily #james potter #sirius black #peter pettigrew

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rosemaidenvixen · 3 years

Text

Both Sides of the Sky

Chapter 5: Calling

Ao3

The doors to the front entrance loomed ahead of them. Thick mahogany of solid build, richly carved by very skilled hands. It was clear whoever had first commissioned them must have paid a great deal. But as Claire stepped closer, she was able to notice the countless pockmarks and scars pitting the wood, how they had been so badly warped by the wind and rain that they no longer would hang quite straight.

Not a good harbinger for what lay beyond.

Keeping that thought, among others, to herself, Claire watched as the doors, warped wood catching ever so slightly in the frame, were pulled open. Revealing a grimm faced butler behind them who silently took the card from her father and ushered the three of them inside.

Without turning her head, it wouldn’t do to appear too curious, Claire glanced around at her surroundings. Avalon hall was massive, she had been able to see that much from the outside. But it soon became clear that the state of the front doors was not a unique feature.

Silk curtains that were faded and stained at the edges. Scuff Marks upon scuff marks on the floor from centuries of feet traipsing up and down the corridors. Tarnish creeping around the edges of the candlesticks, giving the silver a rotten appearance. And due to the building’s esteemed age, all the windows were small and far between, the dim light making the hallway feel claustrophobic.

The overall effect was that Avalon hall didn’t feel like a house where living people resided, rather more like an abandoned, decaying ruin from a bygone era that she and her parents were trespassing in.

Fighting very hard to suppress a shudder, Claire followed her parents deeper into the house.

It looked as though the rumors were true, this family may have a lofty and noble history, but they had fallen far indeed. Claire kept her gaze straight ahead and pointedly ignored the peeling wallpaper as they walked further in. Straight into debt by the looks of it.

The butler led them up the main stairs and down a hall on their right, to where someone was waiting for them, before swiftly turning and heading off to complete some other task. Claire had expected Strickler to greet them, as he had on her walks with Jim, but instead they were greeted by his uncle, the venerable Lord Merlin, who was so old Claire half expected him to have powder in his hair.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance Master and Mistress Nuñez,” he politely shook hands with her father before gesturing for them to follow “My nephew is waiting for us in the parlor, let’s not keep them waiting, shall we?”

As they walked he turned and looked Claire straight in the eye, flashing her a grin.

Startled, Claire quickly recovered and managed to return the smile with one of her own.

They’d only gone a short ways when Merlin stepped to the side, opening a door into a smaller small room.

“Please, after you,” the words were intended for all of them, but his gaze was once again locked on Claire. While she supposed most people would be flattered, Claire couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable at the attention, although why she couldn’t say.

Forcing down the cold fluttering in her belly, Claire followed her parents into the room, blinking at the sudden brightness within.

The curtains had been thrown open, filling the room with sunlight and allowing her to see that, mercifully, this space was in much better shape than the rest of the house. Immaculate blue and gold wallpaper, spotless china dishes and sparking silver on oak tables. Couches that looked comfortable and lived in, even if they were a little threadbare.

Claire let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

Strickler was here, and so was Jim, right by his side, both of them standing by a small table holding several teacups filled with steaming brown liquid, two of which he handed over to her father and mother before picking one up himself “So glad you all could make it today, please take a seat. James and I are so happy to have you here,”

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively “He was quite looking forward to this,”

All the adults in the room tittered at that while Claire blushed crimson, across the room she could see Jim’s face turn a similar hue.

Still flushing, she sank into a chair, everyone else following suit. The adults quickly fell into banal conversation concerning the weather and current events. Leaving Claire and James to stare at each other in awkward silence.

She wanted to talk to him. There were half a dozen questions perched on the tip of her tongue. Had he recovered from his tumble in the woods and fall in the river? Who was his mother and why did no one ever speak of her? Did the stone bridge still haunt his dreams the way it did hers?

But despite how much she burned for answers, Claire couldn’t bring herself to speak of those things, not in front of their parents.

It was too….private, personal; and the last thing she wanted was her parents pouncing on those thoughts and picking them apart piece by piece.

Of course there was a chance that Jim felt differently about his family, but the way he also kept his silence made Claire think not.

So here they were. Sitting there mute and bored to tears. Tuning out their families' blathering, Claire allowed her eyes to unfocus, gaze rolling around the room before landing on a sword hanging on the far wall. The blade was dull and the hilt simple, but it was clear that the sword’s true value was in its truly ancient age. She could easily imagine Strickler plucking it from foreign shores during one of his many expeditions.

Unfortunately by now their mutual silence had been noticed.

“James, why don’t you show the young Miss Nuñez our collection,” Claire jolted slightly upon hearing Strickler mention her name “I’m sure she’d find it fascinating,”

James stood from his chair and extend a hand towards her, flashing a smile that was almost convincing “Of course,”

Claire lifted herself up and returned his smile “That sounds delightful,” at least it would be better than sitting in silence. She allowed Jim to lay a hand over her forearm and lead her to the other side of the room.

“This sword is a viking artefact, along with that shield,” he inclined his head to the right “The vase and teapot are from the far east,”

“Very impressive…” Claire nodded along politely, when her attention was captured by a large painting hanging near the corner, a woman wrapped in silver gossamer reclining in a pond. A simple image, but captured in breathtaking detail “What about the painting, right next to the shield?”

“I...don’t know,” Jim glanced back towards the seated adults.

“Nothing much interesting about that one I’m afraid,” Strickler said with a shake of his head “Merely a gift from an old acquaintance,”

Claire’s eyes darted over the ripples and waves captured in shades of blue paint “It’s very lovely, is it an Undine?”

Strickler let out a chuckle, that sounded more than a little patronizing “A naiad actually,”

Despite her best efforts, Claire felt herself flushing at his thinly veiled condescension “What’s the difference?”

“Naiads live exclusively in fresh water whereas Undines aren’t bound to any one form of water. Oceanids live in open seas and nereids live along saltwater shores,”

For a moment the entire room was silent as everyone turned and stared at Jim. He flushed, clearly feeling the weight of their gazes.

Claire felt a grin, the first entirely genuine one of the day, spreading over her face “I didn’t know you were so well versed in mythology,”

“I...um....” Jim glanced over at his father and uncle for help, face a deep red.

Merlin let out a loud laugh, giving his knee a hearty slap “My dear nephew you’re too shy,” he glanced towards her parents “James has always had an avid interest in mythology, we had trouble getting him to put the books down,”

Jim, clearly embarrassed, was blushing a bright scarlet, and couldn’t seem to stop fidgeting under the attention. Meanwhile, even while she sympathized with the scrutiny, Claire was absolutely brimming with delight. Finally something that she and Jim could talk about, at least while they were in mixed company.

Still chortling, Merlin got to his feet “How about I show you two youngsters the library,” he glanced towards her parents “With Master and Mistress Nuñezs’ permission of course,”

Moving so subtly Claire was sure that she was the only one who saw, Ophelia and Javier shared a sly look with each other before turning towards him “We think that sounds delightful,” Javier said, both him and Ophelia positively beaming.

“What do you think of the classical myths?”

“They form the bedrock of literature as we know it and have persevered to the modern age due to their highly advanced themes and ideas,”

Jim’s gaze briefly flickered toward Merlin, sitting in a leather chair in the corner of the library holding a book whose pages he hadn’t turned for nearly an hour, the older man giving him an almost imperceptible nod. Claire pretended not to notice.

She thumbed through the thick book on the table in front of them “One of my favorites is the myth of Tantalus. He tried to trick the gods by feeding them his own son, but they weren’t fooled. They restored his son to life and condemned him to the underworld, with food and water forever just beyond his reach,”

“Oh yes,” he nodded “That is a classic, did you know that’s where the word tantalize comes from?”

Claire did, but she smiled and nodded as if she didn’t, keenly aware of Merlin’s eyes on the two of them.

Like the rest of Avalon hall, the library was old to the point of being ancient, but rather in a cosy sort of way. Mahogany shelves and angled windows giving the room a feeling of warmth. Walls completely lined with books from end to end, supplemented by the occasional freestanding shelf. Most impressive was the collection itself, the largest collection of books Claire had ever seen in her fifteen years. Some published as recently as a year ago, some centuries old; all filling the room with the sweet scents of paper and leather.

At first she’d been excited to discuss literature and folklore with Jim. Both of which were things she very much enjoyed, and hoped that they would be able to build upon a mutual interest. But what Claire hadn’t accounted for was Merlin hovering and ever so subtly correcting Jim when he strayed from what he deemed to be the proper responses. Most of which Claire already knew from her own studies. Making the entire conversation feel dull and rehearsed. Exchanging repetitive answers may be better than silence, but not by much.

Maybe if they wandered off the beaten path a little she could get Jim to tell her his own opinion and not the one his uncle approved of. There was a copy of Bluebeard just across from her, but that didn’t feel quite appropriate right now. She reached over to the far end of the table and pulled a new book with a dusty blue cover towards them “Have you read the Poetic Edda?”

“Yes I have,”

She waited for him to elaborate but he didn’t.

“Thrymskvida is my favorite portion, what do you think of it?”

“Truly a classic piece of Norse myth, although there is debate on whether its origins are Christian or Pagan,”

Well this clearly wasn’t working, time for a different approach.

“What is your favorite Arthurian legend?” she said abruptly, setting the blue book to the side without preamble.

Jim started, clearly caught off guard. He stammered for a few seconds before coming up with an answer “Oh, uh...Sir Gawain and the Green Knight,”

A solid classic, one that she could easily see Lords Strickler and Merlin lecturing him on how it was the best.

“That’s a good one, although I’ve always thought Gawain got away pretty easily considering he broke his word,”

Jim’s amiable expression slipped, sliding into a soft frown “Gawain did keep the scarf the lady gave him, but he could have easily given it to the lord after he let the green knight chop off his head. He wouldn’t have been breaking his word, just stretching it,”

Claire paused, mulling over his words “I suppose that’s true, but Gawain gave his word to give the lord whatever he gained during the day once he got home, not whenever he felt like it. He broke his word, and for that he deserves to be punished,”

“But--”

From the corner of the room Merlin rustled the papers of the book in his lap just loudly enough that it was clearly intentional. Jim shut his jaw with a click.

Claire had to bite her lip, quite hard in fact, to keep from groaning out loud. Just when their conversation was finally starting to get interesting, apparently disagreeing with her trumped what his uncle considered ‘correct’ as far as polite discussion went.

But what was the point of having a conversation if the other person agreed with whatever she said?

Claire had entertained the company of more than a few boys who had agreed with everything she said. Quite frankly she would sooner jump in the river again.

Time for another subject change “My favorite is the Quest for the White Hart,”

Jim nodded slowly, cowed back into meekness by his uncle’s interference “That is a really good one,”

“I enjoyed Pellinore’s quest for Nimue the most, especially at the end when he ends up cursing himself by not helping his daughter and the knight,”

“Really? I always thought that was pretty grim, he was told to let nothing distract him from his quest, he was only following instructions,”

“Doesn’t matter, he could have helped them but he didn’t,”

Jim paused for a bit “Wouldn’t that parallel Gawain’s story then? It’s not about what would be considered fair, it’s about keeping your word,”

Claire felt a smile tugging on her lips, very clever, it looked as though they could have a half decent discussion after all “I guess you have me there,” she pulled the green leather bound tome closer “But while we’re discussing the Green knight, you know how the old woman was really--”

The clock against the wall abruptly started to chime, signaling Merlin to sit up from his chair with a creak “I’m afraid our time together today must come to an end, feel free to keep the book Miss Nuñez, young James can collect it at a later time,”

And by that he was surely referring to when he and Strickler would come to their house with Jim to visit her in one weeks time. Which she knew her parents were no doubt arranging at this moment.

But still, she was disappointed that her time with Jim, however awkward and supervised, was coming to an end...which was not something Claire was accustomed to feeling .

She swallowed the confusing knot of emotion as the two of them followed Merlin out the library and back down towards the parlor, having to force the words out past it “Thank you, I will be sure to keep them in good condition,”

Claire thought that she and Jim would be able to get to know each other better when they weren’t slopping through the wilderness, but as it turned out their families' supervision wasn’t much of an improvement.

And unlike any of the other boys her parents had set her up with Claire wanted to know Jim better. He was genuinely sincere, and while Jim played the role of a nobleman well enough, Claire could sense something more beneath the surface. Like watching the surface of the sea and seeing the shadow of a hidden beast moving deep within.

She eyed the back of his head as they headed down through the gloomy hall.

If Claire wanted to get to know Jim, the real Jim, then she was going to have to get a little more creative.

#tales of arcadia #Trollhunters #fanfic #both sides of the sky #rmvwrites #claire nuñez #ophelia nuñez #javier nuñez #merlin #walter strickler #jim lake jr #Regency AU

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jonismitchell · 4 years

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Love dies in the city; or the romanticism v. modernism conflict on folklore

In my humble opinion, Taylor Swift’s 2020 album folklore is about the conflict between romanticism and modernism. It sets up the natural as a place of freedom and unrestrained love, contrasting this with the city (presumably New York) as a place of hiding and secrecy that ultimately dooms the integral relationship. In the end, Swift expresses her deepest desires to return to the natural world, to restart the timeline that began with her move to New York, something I will elaborate on when discussing “hoax” and “the lakes.” This storyline is the crux of the album, and the motif I’ve used to classify its songs into six distinct sections, which follow a vague plot that is not represented in the track list order.

the natural (seven, invisible string, betty) I would argue that “seven” represents the heart of folklore, containing what seems to be the album’s mission statement (“passed down like folk songs / our love lasts so long”) and describing the earliest point in Swift’s timeline. This song is the one most directly linked to nature, describing a childhood friendship that takes place in the woods. One lyric, “before I learned civility / I used to scream ferociously / any time I wanted,” implies that Swift found freedom in nature, when her secrets were mere promises to friends instead of the pain she had since hinged her life on. In addition, this song is pure romanticism. The interest in childhood is implied, we can reasonably assume both main characters to be seven years old. To support this, the song states “although I can’t recall your face, I still got love for you,” implying that much time has passed since the events. There is awe of nature (the “beautiful things” are the creek and the trees), emphasis on the importance of imagination (your dad is mad because the house is haunted), and a celebration of the individual (“just like a folk song, our love will be passed on,” where the love is the individual she speaks of). This is the dream that Swift wants to return to, and yet her characters already face conflict (the keeping of secrets, hiding in the closet, an angry father). She romanticizes her past into something she can escape into, creating a sort of mythos around an upset childhood.

Our next nature-intensive song is “invisible string.” She again makes a callback to childhood, citing a park where she used to read in Nashville. It would not be incorrect to categorize this as a love song, perhaps the most lighthearted one on the album. Swift emphasizes time and fate, both recurring themes in her discography. Like “seven,” “invisible string” draws attention to nature as a freeing and healing space, which sets the stage for her romance. Lines such as “gold were the leaves when I showed you around Centennial Park” draw attention to the ‘invisible’ connection the song depicts. In the bridge, she notes that there was “a string that pulled me / out of all the wrong arms, right into that dive bar,” implying a protection from the dangers of interpersonal conflict. Throughout the verses, mentions of any city stay tangential (“your first trip to LA… an American singer”) while the focus lies on her freedom. It is a dreamlike song, which implies that the city can be glimpsed but not detrimental, and showcases an utter belief in things working out.

It is, then, rather ironic that the final song with unique ties to the environment highlights an unanswered apology after the foundations of romance have been shocked. “betty” is ostensibly narrated by a teenager, James, who plans to make up for her mistake in a garden. This perspective ties into the album’s greater focus on time, in this instance equating innocence (“I don’t know anything”) with a natural setting (the garden, which is explicitly removed from society). At first, James wonders if Betty will allow an apology, but wants it to happen without anyone watching (“if I showed up at your party… would you lead me to the garden”). She then casts this hope aside, dreaming about being able to broadcast her love to the world without fear of judgement (“will you kiss me on the porch in front of all your stupid friends”). It is also, then, relevant that the relationship is ruined when scrutinized (“rumours from Inez”). When considering how themes of secrecy and hiding come into the picture once the narrative travels to the city, it is interesting to look at how the hope of an public relationship prevails here. But in the end, James still dreams of going back to any relationship with Betty, no matter how private (“kissing in my car again”). Of course, Taylor Swift herself is James, and James is Swift, so we know that the secrecy dooms the relationship in the end.

the romance (august, illicit affairs) “august” describes a doomed relationship, perhaps meant to be the affair James has that prompts her apology to Betty. However, the story of a love that was never built to last has been referenced multiple times in Swift’s discography (“Wildest Dreams” and “Getaway Car”) and even expressly linked to summer on 2019’s “Cruel Summer.” These songs show distinct lyrical similarities to “august.” Hence, I feel comfortable describing this song in the context of those, rather than within the storyline of Swift’s fictitious love triangle. (Which is flimsy as it stands, but that’s for another analysis.) While there is no set location, this song describes one kind of coming-of-age (“whispers of are you sure”) and delves into the hope associated with a short-lived romance. Here, there is no secrecy to speak of, but a fear of what will come when a return to society comes (“will you call when you’re back at school”). My contrast for this song is saying it is “Cruel Summer” without the ‘happy’ ending. There is a privacy here (“meet me behind the mall”) but it is the instability of the romance that dooms it (“you weren’t mine to lose”). “august” is a time capsule, a reflection on the love that always would’ve ended regardless of the locale.

The next song, “illicit affairs,” is another one that ‘visits’ the city (for lack of a better term) but places the primary conflict in a largely undetermined setting. In fact, there seems to be a rejection of the urban (“take the road less traveled by”). In the sorting of tracks as they relate to different sub-themes, “illicit affairs” is the first song that says, without preamble, that secrecy is the death of love. While the word ‘illicit’ simply means forbidden, the verses describe sneaking around in a way that has been attributed to cheating since album release. There is virtually no acknowledgement of another character outside of the two lovers, save for the ‘him’ referenced in the perfume line. But it is not this person that the narrator seeks to hide from, it seems to be almost everyone. It could be construed as a song about adultery, but taken in the context of the rest of the album it reads as a lament for having to hide a relationship (most likely a romantic one between two women, but this is extrapolation).

the city (the last great american dynasty, mirrorball, mad woman) Now we approach the slew of songs that deal with the actual location of the city. The first song is “the last great american dynasty,” which seems the most removed from Taylor’s viewpoint and yet involves her directly (“and then it was bought by me”). We get an actual move to the ‘city’ (“Rebekah rode up on the afternoon train”) which is reminiscent of Swift’s own move to New York in 2014. Rebekah is immediately disliked by the people around her, blamed for her husband’s death to the extent where she flies in “bitch pack friends.” (1) Keeping with the theme of folklore’s similarity to a time capsule, one could see this song as Swift retelling her own purchase of Holiday House (and by extension much of the events from 2014/2015) through the lens of someone else’s life. Indeed, part of this theory is directly corroborated by the song through the lines “then it was bought by me” and “I had a marvellous time ruining everything.” In relation to the conflict between secrecy and survival of love, “the last great american dynasty” does not offer much insight. However, it effectively sets the scene for songs to come.

(1): I don’t know anything about Rebekah Harkness’ life, this is just how I interpreted the song.

After the initial move, “mirrorball” establishes the new dynamic between the lovers. In turn, it introduces the performative nature of romance in the city (which is referred to and combatted with the line “all these people think love’s for show / but I would die for you in secret” from “peace”). Swift expresses interest in a lover who is “not like the regulars,” who wants more than to watch her turmoil. Still, this song finds her drawn into the nature of performing, consistently showcasing her tragedy to let others see themselves to the extent where she cannot even let her guard down when “no one is around.” Even after the circus has been called off, she seems to have entirely integrated with the role of the mirrorball. This provides some introspection on her viewpoint: digging into insecurities under the viewpoint of desperately trying to save a sinking ship. Almost as a counterpart to “seven,” the lyrics to “mirrorball” show some characteristics of modernism. Individualism is represented through the focus on the person who is the mirrorball, while unrelated characters do not warrant much elaboration. In terms of formalism and experimentation, the format and structure of the song deviate from Swift’s usual manner. The concept of a person being a mirrorball (shown in the music video as a disco ball) is both a symbol and verges into the absurd. All the imagery in this track is based in large crowds; featuring a disco, a circus, and masquerade revelers. It both establishes the setting where love dies and assures that the relationship will end (“the end is near”).

“mad woman” is the final song which establishes setting more than storyline. It proves the city as a angry and dangerous place, one that is not sympathetic to “people like” Swift. We find her contemplating revenge on someone who has done her a great wrong, which is less attached to the general storyline but serves to depict the setting as actively hostile and worthy of contempt. When compared with other tracks, certain lyrics imply that the narrator is hell-bent on getting the last word (“they say move on but you know I won’t” / “you know I left a part of me back in New York”). There isn’t much else notable about this song in terms of what we are talking about, but it does frame several absurdist tendencies in the context of a destructive setting.

the death (cardigan, exile, my tears ricochet, epiphany) In “cardigan,” Swift reminisces on a long-past relationship, which has been interpreted to be James and Betty’s teenage melodrama. This is the first of many breakup songs, which idolize what has passed and mourn the loss. We observe many signs of the city (“chasing shadows in the grocery line”) and individualism (“I knew everything when I was young”). As referenced in “betty,” the cardigan becomes a symbol for the relationship at large. Moreso, the idea that the relationship was cursed to end as it begun is elaborated on here (“I knew you tried to change the ending”) even if it is not ascribed to secrecy yet. In reflecting on Swift’s past work, we see many signs of her being accustomed to this thought (“I can see the end as it begins” from Wildest Dreams and “I knew (...) we were cursed” from Getaway Car), but “cardigan” comes across with deeper pain regarding the whole affair. In tying different lyrics together (“back when I was living for the hope of it all” from “august” and “I hope I never lose you” from Cornelia Street), we begin to paint a picture of the true narrative behind the love triangle. Swift knew her greatest love would end—desperately hoped it wouldn’t, prayed they could ‘get away with it’—and finally channels her anger and sorrow into this retrospective. She almost accepts it: love dies in the city.

Another reflection on a past relationship is folklore’s only duet; “exile.” This song discusses an inability to communicate, the concept of determined endings (“I think I’ve seen this film before, and I didn’t like the ending”), and plenty of ‘hiding in the city’ imagery. This sees one narrator (Swift) faking a relationship (“just your understudy”) to hide her true lover (in this context, Iver). Both agree on various facets that caused fallout (“didn't even hear me out... never learned to read your mind… couldn’t turn things around”) until the final disagreement (“you never gave a warning sign / I gave so many signs”). So while the song is fundamentally about a miscommunication, it is evident that much of the misunderstanding comes from ways of signalling the secret relationship. Presence of the city is acknowledged through lyrics such as “I’m leaving out the side door,” “out here in the hall,” implying that the narrators share an apartment. Nature also gets a brief mention here (“breaking branches”), but this usage explains that the freedom of the narrators is fading, just like their connection to the natural.

Most do not connect “my tears ricochet” to romantic fallout, but there is no denying that the song hinges around prominent death metaphors. Many metaphors used imply that the narrator has broken up with their lover, but still haunts the hope of what could’ve been. In the line “we gather stones, some to throw, some to make a diamond ring,” a connection to marriage is implied, divorcing the meaning from the loss of Swift’s masters. A crowd of people is repeatedly referenced (the ones in a sunlit room, for instance) and the lover must “save face” in front of them. This external pressure contributes to the greater theme of death of love in the city, which Swift equates to her own death. She describes herself as a recalcitrant ghost (“you know I didn’t want to have to haunt you”) but one her lover must have around (“when you can’t sleep at night, you hear my stolen lullabies”). This song is another one that recognizes Taylor Swift the writer within the lyrics; within this interpretation the “stolen lullabies” are the songs that the ex-lover inspired, work she can no longer look proudly on. While no explicit connections to the city are formed, it is obvious that some external pressure resulted in a damning betrayal, which was painful enough to describe as death.

The final song in this death theme is “epiphany,” which does not discuss the romantic timeline at all. Instead, “epiphany” is the culmination of two sub-motifs on folklore: water and war. In nature, water gains a passing mention in “seven,” but does not truly become relevant in this organization until “the last great american dynasty.” In “epiphany,” the water reference is “crawling up the beaches now,” which serves to distance it from the overall storyline. The song also deals with the war motif (evident in most of the songs, but “ease your rifle” is very literal) and contrasts soldiers at war to doctors during the pandemic. All of this builds on this section’s burgeoning theme of death. It fits in with the album theme, but does not display obvious modernist or romanticist hallmarks.

the chance (the 1, this is me trying, peace) Opening the album is “the 1,” a frequently disliked song but a very telling one. It is similar to “cardigan” in that it reminisces on a past relationship, but the narrator feigns contentment with her current situation. If all of folklore can be considered a time capsule, “the 1” perhaps describes the headspace of the narrator before they begin reminiscing: convinced they are alright, but not holding up very well. This song involves much city imagery (“I hit the Sunday matinee,” “I thought I saw you at the bus stop”) and deals with the aftermath of many events in the album. It is interesting that this song was one of the last written, as one can imagine the narrator went directly from “it would’ve been fun” to “don’t want no other shade of blue but you” (as described in hoax). The love has died here; but there’s a desperate hope to return (“if one thing had been different, would everything be different”).

Much like “betty,” “this is me trying” is another last-ditch attempt to save a failed relationship. Both songs find Swift in a doorway, ready to apologize, but “this is me trying” bears the weight of experience and less expectation that they will have a second chance. The increased maturity finds acknowledgement of faults without excuse (“my words shoot to kill when I’m mad / I have a lot of regrets about that”) and an attempt to come to terms with the death of the relationship despite pain. This, of course, breaks apart in the bridge (“all I want is you”) but, as Swift consoles herself, at least she’s trying. Setting-wise, this seems to be in a smaller locale (“the one screen in my town”) which calls to mind the “the only thing we share is this small town” from “Death By A Thousand Cuts.” There is also what appears to be a bar (“pouring my heart out to a stranger / but I didn’t pour the whiskey”) and an influx of people (“it’s hard to be at a party when I feel like an open wound”). It is not necessarily the city, but rather a recovery period that does not go well.

If the painful instruction of “illicit affairs” acts as a foil to 2014’s “How You Get The Girl,” then the anxiety of “peace” complements 2017’s “Delicate.” While “Delicate” expresses the sufferance of an early, undefined relationship (“is it cool that I said all that”), “peace” begs the lover to reconsider the end one last time. As “hoax” makes undoubtedly clear, it wasn’t enough. We see the dangers of outside influence (“I’d sit with you in the trenches”) and the strength of the romance (“the silence that only comes when two people understand each other”). It is a final plea for someone to stay, a list of the success and a fatal acknowledgement of the worst. There is a declaration that sums up much of the album: “all these people think love’s for show / but I would die for you in secret.” As we’ve seen from other songs, it is the secrecy and the hiding that has doomed them. Swift sees this, she briefly suggests a return to the free and safe woods (“give you my wild”) but is ultimately stuck on the question of peace, which she wishes she could give her partner.

the return (hoax, the lakes) The original album closer, “hoax,” finds Swift leaving a part of herself in the destructive city that has become home. She makes an attempt to return to her home, only to find that it is not the way she’s left it (“my barren land”). With her lover, she has gone through a journey that changed her too much to return to innocence (“I can go anywhere I want, just not home” from “my tears ricochet” contrasted with “you’re not my homeland anymore” from “exile,” where the lover becomes the homeland). She turns to a bleak setting, using sparse lyricism and simple constructs to describe her pain and betrayal. While Lover highlights themes of likening one’s love to a religion, the Swift we see on “hoax” has given up on any sort of healing coming from her romance. All she acknowledges is that the circumstances of her love have “broken her down” and “frozen the ground” (from which she hopes a “red rose” will emerge in “the lakes”).

In “the lakes,” Swift tries to move forward but still sets her sights on the natural world, citing a deep desire to escape the scrutiny that destroyed her romance completely. This is a call to action for her former lover, a final request for shared freedom that reminds the listener of the lyric “would you run away with me?” from 2017’s “Call It What You Want.” Swift continues to call on aspects of romanticism she’s referenced on reputation and Lover to make her point. It then tracks that she has been inspired by this muse all along, and is finally asking for a return; both to the early romanticism her albums are built on and to her lover’s “homeland.” Her desire for a new home is evident, her conviction that her former lover should join her too great to be overcome.

The response of the muse to this, of course, is unclear.

#arden speaks #my analysis #taylor swift analysis #this is more than three thousand words #arden's essays

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buckys-forgotten-plum · 4 years

Text

The Golden Knight {S.R}

Pairing: Knight!Steve Rogers X Maid!Reader

Prompt: Sir Steven Rogers surely has become your Golden Knight.

Warnings: Really none? Steve being a hopeless romantic and reciting poetry!

Word Count: 778

This is for the lovely Anon earlier today:) I hope it meets your knight!Steve vibes and you enjoy it:,) Feel free to keep the requests coming as I’m on vacation right now and I might as well be productive and creative heheheh

♘♞♘♞

“Wanda, would you be a lamb and start on the King’s Quarters for me? I’ll just be a moment with this rug and then I’ll join you,” You smile towards the young maid across the room as she finishes fluffing the pillows that sat atop the oversized bed.

“Of course, Y/N,” She nods in agreement and leaves the room at your dismissal.

You walk over to the large panes of glass on the north side of the room, pushing them open and breathing in fresh air of the kingdom. It had been years since you were taken on as a maid to the royal family, starting at a young age to help along with your mother and working your way up.

You get lost in your thoughts as you begin to shake out the expensive rug on the outside wall of the castle. Working as a young lady in the castle you had the experience of growing up alongside the royal family. Prince James was a lovely man and you remember the respect he gave you even as a child. Though it was completely improper, he would always invite you to play with him and his best friend Steven, only to be turned down by your mother or his nanny before an offhand comment about “playing with his own kind”.

Your mind wanders to Steven, or Sir Steven now, as he’s been knighted for years. He now remains the Captain of the royal guard, bravely leading troops into battle and loyally standing beside the now grown Prince James as he learns how to become the best king he can be. You smiled as you remembered how handsome he was throughout his childhood and as a young knight.

A gasp escapes you as you feel warm hands travel around your waist and rest on your stomach before feeling a warm breath fam across your neck, “hello my love,”

You couldn’t help the painful grin that paints itself upon your lips, “Sir Steven, you’re back from guard training sooner than usual,”

A gentle kiss to your jawline before he responds, “I let the boys off early, they’ve been working hard the past week,”

“How merciful of you,” a quiet ring of laughter sounds from you and you turn around in your lover's arms, setting the rug to rest on the sill of the window.

“Yes, I seem to think so as well,” Steven chuckles along with you and leans his forehead against yours, feeding into his desire to be as close as possible to you, “You look absolutely lovely today, my heart,”

Your face heats at his compliment, “thank you, Steven. You do flatter me,”

“I only speak truth, you are the fairest flower in any field, brighter than the day's light, my sweeting, my dear heart, mine own darling,” Steve recites his own poetry, the lines of loving words melt your heart.

“You are a masterpiece of a being, like a stag beyond sharp clawed beasts, or red glowing gold beside grey silver,” you recite a few verses of your own and your chest fills with pride when you see the grin the graces the handsome knights features.

Speechless, Steven leans down to catch your lips in a passionate kiss, arms tightening their hold around your waist as he pulls you impossibly close. Your right hand reaches up to cup the side of his face, relishing the light scratch against your palm caused by the short beard he wore. Your left hand travels to his sternum, gripping onto the dark blue fabric of his tunic.

Steven was the one to pull away first, keeping you close by placing a hand to the side of your face and swiping his thumb along the apple of your cheek.

“One day soon, after the next line of guards are fully trained, I’ll marry you and you won’t have to do these silly chores anymore, my love. You’ll be free to rest in our home, take up the garden you always speak of wanting, mother the wonderful children we have always dreamed of... It will be the perfect life, you’ll no longer have to worry about anything,” Stevens words comfort you almost as much as his strong hold around you.

“I don’t dare to dream of anything else, my knight,” You seal the promise of your words with a passionate kiss with Steven, being absolutely consumed by the touch of the man you had become completely devoted to.

♘♞♘♞

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers drabble #knight!steve rogers #mcu drabbles #drabble request #captain america #steve rogers #fluff #steve rogers fluff #Plum's Masterlist

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dastardlydandelion · 3 years

Note

Max Mayfield and Tory Nichols in a horror film, what would be the plot/monster and would they survive?

this is it. this is the tumblr ask. the ask i've been waiting for my whole life. my time to shine, here we go!

filming begins under the cut:

tried and true creature feature, this is a werewolf movie. let's go with a werewolf between the van helsing (2004) and trick r treat (2007) variety. the beast once transformed is fucking huge, clearly both lupine and human, head almost entirely wolf, body primarily bipedal in shape, but robust, sinew shredding claws and big ass bone tearing teeth. also tails!! bc tails are cute!!! powers include monstrous strength, accelerated speed, healing factor. weaknesses silver and decapitation.

okay, so van helsing (2004) werewolves are mindless rage monsters and trick r treat (2007) werewolves are cognizant. for our max & tory creature feature, they're gonna of the in between variety. i chose a werewolf movie for these two specifically bc they both have their anger problems and the werewolf has long been a symbol of anger unleashed in the horror genre, even tho common gray wolves are just like. i mean, yk, animals, they hunt and howl and pee on trees and most of the time would rather avoid humans. but obvi horror genre werewolves are not common gray wolves, they need to be scary, and like, the remnants of traditional folklore influenced by rabies and discourse in the middle ages...wait, where was i going with this? anger, yes, max and tory both have anger problems and i think this works for what i'm gonna do with this theoretical movie.

who's the werewolf in town? terry fucking silver. bc terry is evil and dramatic and also, i think it's rly funny for a werewolf to have silver as a surname. he's fully cognizant in his transformation and he's purposefully biting kids and teenagers bc he wants more talented karate students. and like. yk, with the enhanced strength, speed, and regenerative recovery of lycanthropy, well. there u have it, more talented karate students.

do max and tory know each other, if so, how? okay, so in this 'verse tory is a lil older than max. that reflects their canon ages, i think. let's say max is 13 and tory is 16. billy has tory in some of his classes and he more or less makes a deal to spilt his allowance with her if she'll babysit max bc he's tired of neil riding his ass to babysit max. tory needs money so she's like, 'sure, why not.' max finds it rly stupid that she's 13 and neil thinks she needs a fucking babysitter but as far as babysitters go, tory is fun. she likes to show max what she's learning in cobra kai and they spar together a lot. max would actually like to join cobra kai but 1) neil would throw a fit on various fronts and 2) lucas is in miyagi-do. max knows there's some rly intense beef between cobra kai and miyagi-do. ofc tory's filled her in on the karate war, how could she not?

well one day tory takes max to the playground to watch a plane fly like she does with miggy in ck, and it's nighttime, ofc, and lo, the full moon is out. shining up in the sky. they hear a howl. they both look at each other. max is kinda curious but tory's like nah, nah, we gotta go. she grabs her, starts pulling her along. but the next howl is a lot closer and they can hear smth running and it just sounds fuckin big. they're running too now, legs pumping hard, but there's no escape once the beast is right behind them, hot, rancid breath blasting the backs of their necks and harvest gold eyes glowing in the dark.

max gets bitten first. tory tries to kick the big ass beast off of her and then it rounds and bites her too. the terror is real now. and then shockingly, as fast as it'd come, it leaves. neither girl has an explanation for wtaf just happened but tory takes max home. billy gripes at her for being out late but helps her patch up. when susan learns what happens she decides to take max to get rabies shots right away. loads her up in the car, runs her off to the emergency room-- but when the bandages come off, they are no wounds.

tory's bby bro tries to help patch her up too. but he's like 4 yrs old and his idea of "help" is sticking bandaids with cartoon characters up and down the wounds in haphazard fashion. tory plans to redo it all properly once she's put him to bed. sure enough after he's asleep, and she peels the bandaids off from every open mouthed pac-man to every green teenage mutant ninja turtle, the wounds are gone.

meanwhile there's missing ppl err day on the news. terry turns kids and teens but kills adults for the lulz.

tory and max know what happened to them was an event that tangibly, definitely happened but neither have any explanation for their wounds just disappearing. max, our resident horror fan, is the first to propose a real life werewolf as an explanation. she cites the missing ppl on the news. tory thinks she's tripping balls but reluctantly gives an inch when she acknowledges no, she can't think of any other explanation.

life goes on. max tells lucas what happened only she leaves out the part abt tory bc she's not gonna tell a miyagi-do student she's kickin it w the enemy. he doesn't rly believe her, like how she didn't rly believe him about the upside-down in their canon. he thinks the horror movies are rotting her brain.

tory almost tells her dojo but she gets distracted being pissed off by sam and that should be her priority, right? sensei kreese is always going on abt getting back at the enemy. she spends her shifts daydreaming abt revenge bc it's more comforting than worrying abt past due bills and her mother looking paler by the day.

full moon next month comes around. neither tory nor max are cognizant of or during their first respective transformations. max's first kill is neil. she's seven feet of fur and fury, tears his ribcage open with claws like daggers and sinks her teeth into his putrid, maggoty heart. susan isn't home. billy is, but he doesn't hear any of the fracas. he's unconscious on the living room floor, crisscrossing impressions of neil's belt buckle blaring red on his back.

tory's first kill is sam. sam larusso wants to think she's a bully?? fine, tory will show her a bully. she hops the miyagi-do fence after hours. she just wants a fight. just a fight, they always fight. but then she's sprouting fur and tory as tory gives way to smth else. she'd not aware of being a person when she doesn't have fur. not really, all she knows is rage and ravenousness and the morsel below her has bunny rabbit wide eyes.

neither of them remember what they did the next day. not vividly, anyway. it's there but it's cloudy and hard to discern, like a groggy fever dream more than a memory. but max burps up neil's wedding band and tory finds señor octopus (sam's stuffed animal) bloodied in her bed. it's apparent what happened. max accepts this more easily than tory bc 1) she always kind of suspected she'd turn, since she sincerely considered what attacked them was a werewolf and 2) max isn't terribly upset abt killing neil while tory is acutely horrified she killed sam.

max kinda had some smidgen of attachment to neil bc like, he's the only father figure in her life and here and there they've had their moments. but his abuse (psychological/physical toward billy, sexual/financial/psychological/emotional toward susan, psychological/emotional toward herself) outweighed any and all of those moments. she is genuinely concerned that she tore a human being to pieces and only vaguely remembers it but like, if she had to kill anyone, she figures neil was the best to kill. max is mostly concerned bc she can't kill neil a second time. she's worried the next time she turns it could be an innocent person, or one of her friends, or her mom, or billy.

tory is blindsided and scarcely able to comprehend the reality, holy shit, max was right, she's a fuckin werewolf. and she's sick to her stomach bc she hated sam but she never wanted to do anything like that. she didn't want to kill, she just wanted to break her face. scare her. rough her up. she didn't want to eat her. she just killed someone. she's a literal horror movie monster and she just killed sam. what's miguel going to think?

tory and max talk. they decide they need to find the werewolf who turned them. we get montages of them going over the news articles with a fine-toothed *ba dum tss* comb and searching areas where it seems like a werewolf would be. the woods. some caves. max all of a sudden has a freakishly tall man constantly hounding her to join cobra kai. neil's gone but she still hesitates bc of lucas being in miyagi-do. also he believes max now and with the proff, she's decided to let the rest of the party in as well. they also exist in this 'verse. she showed them the crime scene and the wedding band she burped up. billy isn't a roid rage racist in this 'verse bc that would be a giant buzzkill. he doesn't believe the werewolf shit either. he thinks max saw neil get attacked by some animal and that the carnage was so traumatizing for her, she subconsciously created a werewolf fantasy to cope.

tory meanwhile spirals downward. bc she passes sam's memorialized locker in the hall everyday. her memorial table in the other hall, full of sticky note condolences and mournful teddy bears, and a picture of sam right in the center always, always accusing her. miggy is heartbroken and distraught. hawk didn't care for sam but even he's freaked out by what happened, how the news said there were only torn up chunks and bones picked clean found in her bedroom. tory is terrified of herself. she's desperate to find whoever did this bc she wants to make them pay. if sensei silver has been asking her extra questions lately and presenting her performance to the class more than normal, she doesn't notice at all. aisha notices tory's fucked up but tory can't exactly tell aisha that she *ate* sam. aisha is also mourning, she and sam used to be bffs. so she doesn't say a word.

max has a theory that if u can learn to control ur anger, u can learn to control urself when u shift. she is, after all, v familiar with angry horror movie werewolves. and she's savvy enough to know it's smth she and tory have in common. neil is dead but that doesn't mean max isn't angry anymore. she's still angry at the damage already done and tbh also angry that there's some werewolf around turning ppl willy nilly bc she recognizes the danger in that and it wasn't smth she consented to. but controlling ur anger is an easier feat for max than tory insofar that max has a support system w her friends, and better relationships with the remainder of her fam. tory has two mentors actively, adamantly teaching her and her friends to be ruthless, view the world as ur enemy, use violence as ur go-to solution, and that mercy is weakness not to be tolerated.

when the next full moon rolls around, they decide to spend it together under the correct inference that they will transform. they think it's better to be together. they're hoping they'll be able to control each other, if not themselves. or that if they are both mindless rage monsters again, that rage will be turned on each other. this would be a better outcome operating on the presumption that one werewolf will be able to take what another can dish out, at the v least more so than a regular human being.

max is successfully able to maintain enough of her consciousness to control her actions once transformed. she feels aggressive and hungry, but not enraged and ravenous. she can keep it in check. tory, on the other hand, uh...tory can't do it. she throws her wolf head back in the most bloodcurdling howl ever and takes off like a bat outta hell. max goes loping after her. they can't speak like human speak in this form, but max tries to communicate with her. whimpers plaintively. tackles tory at one point, not out of anger but just tryna subdue her, licks at her ears and tries to get her to settle. tory bucks her off.

tory runs off again, max in pursuit. they wind up at the skate park where billy n robby are prolly up to some fuckery or another. i could easily see pre miyagi-do robby n billy getting up to all kinds of mischief. ooh, actually, they're prolly arguing abt that. now that robby's in miyagi-do he has another outlet for all his energy and he's getting the positive attention he craves so he's not participating in hooligan activity or shenanigans w billy anymore and billy is like. offended. except suddenly there's werewolves. fucking. snarling, gigantic, toothy, hairy ass werewolves.

let's say robby kicked miguel down two stories in this 'verse too and tory recognizes him in her werewolf form even if she isn't exactly cognizant of herself. she tears straight for him, jaws open. billy doesn't exactly *mean* to protect him but it's kinda an automatic reaction from putting himself in between whenever he thought neil was getting too aggressive w susan or max. and like, sure, robby's the better fighter (not that billy would ever acknowledge this) but it's not like he's gonna karate kick the motherfuckin werewolf anyway-- billy is bigger, he's bigger and it's instinct and the next thing he knows, he's in between robby and the thing w sharp teeth (tory).

and that's when max gets serious. she bowls tory over, away from billy before she can bite. they're rolling, tearing at each other with teeth and claws. lo and behold, terry silver is lurking in the background like the evil mastermind he is, just watching them shred each other and evaluating his experiment. it's a p close match and tory is the more aggressive of the two but she's also been going, going, going since she shifted and she's burning herself out. she's also fighting with the blind instinct of a threatened animal while max maintains more precision bc she has better control of herself. max also isn't wasting energy unnecessarily. max gets her jaws around tory's throat and tory just goes slack. but she can think and she doesn't want to hurt tory, so she opens her mouth and relaxes her maw, teeth grazing harmlessly thru tory's fur.

tory's being shown mercy. possibly for the first time. it's so unlike her conception of others' ruthlessness, so unlike the worldview that's been instilled into her that it startles her enough to crack thru to her cognizance. she does the wolfy deference thing where they tuck their tails and lick at the dominant pack member's muzzle. max responds in kind and lets tory up.

this is when they notice terry lurking (billy's already worked out the werewolf that came to his defense is max so he's just dumbfounded watching all this shit, and robby's not abt to leave someone who just saved his ass, so he's stuck unsuccessfully tryna pull billy away and inevitably watching too). terry calmly slinks over, sizing up his charges. he's pleased with the performance. but tory and max are anything but, another werewolf fight ensues.

so while they all get huge after transforming sheerly on the basis of being werewolves, i'm gonna guess the size is proportionate to their human forms. so tory is a little larger than max and terry significantly outsizes them both. terry is also the more experienced werewolf. it's two against one but it's not the curbstop it would be if this was some weaksauce werewolf, it's dramatic evil karate werewolf terry fuckin silver. terry's shredding tf outta these two. their healing factor can't keep up, he's dishing out faster than either of them can recover and tbh they were already winded from fighting each other first.

but it'd be a major buzzkill if our movie had a downer ending. and also, the power of determination and friendship and shit. terry's got his jaws around max's throat now. he's a millisecond away from tearing it open. tory's pinned under him but she thinks fast, frees a hind leg, and rips her claws down his soft underbelly as deep as she can and doesn't stop ripping, like pedal kicking almost for a human, but with her hind claws. his intestines shoot out like paper snakes from a gag candy can!! okay, well, maybe they don't shoot out w that much gusto, but still. the bowels are free, the bowels are hanging low and tory's tearing 'em tf up, fluids n fecal matter errywhere. on tory. i'm sorry tory. ur under him, that's just how gravity works.

terry dies. healing factor can't keep up with the damage done, it's too critical. but nobody knows it's terry until the dawn breaks and he reverts back to his human shape.

max is v much 'i told u so,' in billy's face. robby promises not to tell. he doesn't want to get mauled or killed or anything. tory's able to cope better with what she did to sam knowing that it won't happen again, that she won't hurt anyone else she doesn't want to be she can control herself now. tory believes in mercy now bc max spared her, she trashes kreese's philosophy and joins eagle fang when johnny and daniel join forces in this 'verse too. max also joins eagle fang, takes her place in the front row right between tory and lucas at her v first practice.

credits roll.

after the credits we see tory considering turning her mother in the hopes that having the healing factor would help her mom's condition improve.

is that a teaser for the sequel?

idfk.

#max mayfield #dare i tag tory #i dare not #lucdarling #ask box #my fic tag #i kind of want to write this as a fic for real #fuck

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libidomechanica · 6 months

Text

Untitled Composition # 10622

And look, O shines so court meal, to hold, to razed eyes! Often reached in sacrifice: thy mortal, naked and I, o white? No! The hand—just as mind another tack’d, from then, she feel myself, a shook there myself to proud. As therefore bridal which dearest! Open the grasse not revealed plain, as here, will adore the soone a virgin sacks—a moderate kind only

line’s the waters who say, like delicate ancies graceful smiles there in the dropped away. Remembrances, in pierce with air is comes on. Now all in these did not aspired inward, I shall I dare not, but here! And if the Base. Since decrees: what I though a ditty not love were thee, the wide, progress of that recess, pulled tongue does is sire on ruining.

The breed her with me to set Designs here a tale here they fled—my spread, how crude and of heauens, nay all this and seated my father my very heart-beat wide with grief of delight: but, her of the morning plums reading into the flow’d—for I stood was accompact, you along to hint thou go with turn the blue. I pass before than sin—except my self.

Too, which with his hand, art my good play with loue, one or poetess forth of hatred as at seemely that I am surely deigning the deep-drawn sight, as a mourney to conscious grace for love were in the freedom far in other will deadly can I do, ’ said him her vp those folds—nor dreary caves, as with its that is cannot by this head more end, then

blood. That I have set them to wise discover if to take the shown, as has been in me is a poised look down, far over has made must long sun slowly thou don’t do like way we can now answer will, I am a shells, tend hit merry-winged match, and they have done these actions his verse; but faces were saw my turn and impious Gods; and throne: in pleasure;

some bay, and pavements progresse, where is as lost, oerchantresse, vpon some first looking, thousand from while not what a thou here! Through he once vnto Mahomet! The words, with longer of golden far away, and walls gave it had doth leaves. A glazed upon a welcome to me was served, the pleasure! My loue, or you any touch immortal straue to lives about dotes

them late fruit. And left to fear the very path, and of even they? The verse can form and horses daunce, fire the to melts inters to the wet friends. Solemn and in the boye no better the bowers in lonely beautifull we says No: ’ he which is notes, when if e’er crost to live, he sadly yels, unless grave here has ruffled by reflection, but as and eke

the more dangerous airy goal of gold, ooz’d slow, and as birds and rushes. Again; yet each to me. To all Quartered deem to keen in his our ioy and thou go without my Lady Blancholy. Of the river sickle my own, and thou say? Communing on early cured thee speak, breast the end of rose tufts, in that is, purcharg’d with evening disparted

if I do them bent my heaven’s voices vnto my tomb; and age, enwrapped an image on thing down. In the fall stand, and yeeld that thou would supper nostrils small fret. A womanhood, and, at last half-drowne, and let than any sequent worthy Christian quell its toy! Cherry- isle, with turn my minute’s serve whale-bone misse, with vain wild white doves, not theyr chaos: and

next she great Tirynthia, ten to musickening faith thine, now came alone, as soon he height and woof, i’m this treach tender might for Pyramus, a family-like realms of yore, to make so that dreamful deceiu’d their feet the words—Ah, having simpling till and glitter, quickering is no more likewise who look upon occasion. Whose stare, vpon vs resist?

Turning, to makes sever. Strife as my verse; but she cast no more lower, where will I fear less storm. To you tyranny, my cool, and keeping to help’d against me. Then the mighty Poets free. Said through come to sing, ne let arms, were mistrust as his meant: which made, you dream away, started, and pleasant doom I will I did seeke with the tempest dress? When ope to

me, from the palms, sicke legend if their sleep. He step. Foreign of truth of the others made fields, far more pleats. Casts words oft and fingers. I have life of me! A crown instead of Wisdom of beauty thee safely terms or said: I need the place, the may do twinnes that’s me. Where air immortal bowe and night! Forgotten-times rest. A moment as the same in shouldst

more of the rose alone, as if it word. To labor and still remity of like me no falling homeward in either things and made you a good found thy Protean, pays. And trammel’d backgammon’s hanging ordures do charge, thou better day behold is for the upburst, when the red rose. And strong and I will then, with the sill the faults. Were t aughters?

’ Mothers at they may light, as the kitches, few stept, kind and ’gan to testify the dyer’s mast? My tongue back’d, into the day for low, If the lands, I breathing warm, and each insufficial art of his hear, was far best: so to the pleaseth of the hearts strangled upon my work of cloud than the which I would apples soft and thus. Not much to be socks that had

an ocean street, then a flake foaming was doubly, where, but soon as twixt a maiden, safety of lonely majestic to thy wracke beam, whethere all the woods shall the wind, and none its cased; or form, by Suwarrowly bowstrings; my grieved, the woods may still fare: yet loue why my own dear life and as containing Of all this vein of this sin in mast?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #159 texts #ballad

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falfriniel · 4 years

Text

I think the idea of greatness she grew up with really stunted Vorindë’s concept of her worth. If her family hadn’t been constantly at war (and occasionally with each other, of course), there may have been more emphasis on other tales, but...as it was? She would never stand alone against Morgoth, or face a balrog, not hidden away in Gondolin, so what was the point?

I won’t get into the issue of gender here, either.

Being walled up chafed, but the luster of the world outside certainly wore off when Aredhel, whom she absolutely adored, returned and was subsequently murdered.

That meant, when her father passed on the High Kingship in favor of Gil-galad (which should have gone to Idril!!!! what the fu--- I said I wouldn’t do this), she was half-relieved, half-indignant. I don’t know how prepared either Voronwë or Gil-galad were for the role - Aranwë and Fingolfin, then Fingon died in such quick succession, and suddenly the Noldor were running out of suitable (male) heirs.

Then Turgon and his city are just gone, and Earendil is so young (will smith-gestures helplessly @ Idril!!!!)...shock waves.

I’ve gotten off track, though. Living in a time of such upheaval, I don’t know that valor wasn’t upheld as the ultimate ideal, and of course she was kept away from that.

#this has devolved into rambling so I'll stop here.#TBT.#⋞ verse. / first age. / our dreams turned to gold ⋟

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lailoken · 4 years

Text

QUTUB: The Point

—by Andrew D. Chumbley

Part 5 (Stanzas 39 - 62)

39. Thine Eye in seeking — seeth not. The Reaching Hand – it graspeth air. Though blind and bound — Thine Eye and Hand Have found Me — Neither Here nor There. Whilst either side the Temple-door Men rush to lie with Priest or Whore — All pass Me naked on the stair.

40. Doth Allah unto Adam speak Or doth an Idol sing Man's Verse? Whilst I into the Harem creep With Gold, fall'n, from the Temple-purse. And there with Thee, Mine Odalisque, I'll pass an hour and take the risk — To watch Them both My Words rebearse!

41. I do not err, but aberrate, No Virtue Sin may not redress. I do but turn — the Other Face — To Those that strike, return no less. From ev'ry Cup my lips shall taste, Nor spare that Drop which Fools do waste, — Who drink, then fall in God's Winepress.

42. O' Crime! What is Thine Infamy? The Shame in which we cloak our need? A Veil to bide that which we fear? The Book in which we may not read? O' Evil! Who art the Drug Divine! Who maketh blood to taste like wine, Thou hast made mine eyes to see In Golden Fruit — a Leaden Seed.

43. By Year, by Day, and by each Moment: The Abyss cross'd, the Pathway stray'd. Each Sacrifice doth mark the Road, Each Slough: Old Flesh from New Flesh – flay'd! Great Instants mark this Lightning-birth, And far beyond both Womb and Grave — From Dead Stars wast Mine Image made.

44. Over what pass I upon the Bridge? Self to Self over Self's Abyss. There my death and there my tryst: In Mirrors crack'd — the Mirror'd kiss. Most loath'd, yet most desired, The One that through the crack doth slip, — Whose Curse is Mine, but Mine to miss.

45. The Well, that once gave life to Me, Hath in the Drought of Love run dry. The Desert's Soul bath stole all Joy, And taught the Very Muse to die. Yet from this Cause of Vast Lament Run tears — suffice all thirsts to quench: Tears wept from Secret Pleasure's Eye.

46. A Thousand Unfinish'd Banquets Are tasted with a single bite Of blood — bright fangs through bone — white skin — To fill my Soul with black delight. This Love shall not 'til Morning live, Yet Tomorrow shall its death forgive — With a finger held to the Lips of Night.

47. The Hell of Those who cannot speak , Whose hearts grow cold with untold pain, Whose love still — born dieth unfulfill'd, Whose thoughts upon the Tongue's leash strain. This Muted Crowd — my sorrows bear, And in their silence — silence share. Yet by the Quill — in Hell I reign.

48. A Mirage 'pon the Prophet's Tower: A Darkly - shining Silhouette , A Crowned Man of Shadow form'd A - top the Temple's Minaret. It whisp'reth to the Muezzin To clip or lift the Prayer's Wing And cast God from the Parapet.

49. Unseen, Who stalketh behind oʻThee Whene'er Thou dost walk out alone, Who creepeth nigh all dying men To separate their flesh from bone; Then draweth down the dust of Age To dry the blood spilt on the Page And hide the Life within the Stone.

50. The Sleeper lieth 'pon the rock, Tether'd to the line of shadow; It dreameth dreams of Death and Time Where Life's River runneth shallow. 'til Time's untimely turning wheel Doth all dreamt-of fortune steal, Pierced through by Fate's true-aiméd arrow.

51. Sheath'd in a mask of emerald — The Desert 'neath the Verdant Land, Until the Sapphire Waters wash The Pearl from out each Grain of Sand. Upon that Sea the Stone shall float: A Light to lure the Mages' Boat, Like Dew caught on the Spider-strand.

52. Amid the Company of the Wise, From lip to lip Truth taketh flight, And word from word they tear apart All thoughts that are not hid from sight. Cease! For now Thy Book is writ. The Muse's Hand stirreth Wisdom's Bowl — And Thee within that Cucurbite.

53. All Antient Books of Lore shall burn, And then will countless wise men shout; Their tongues — the flames outstretch'd to cry: A Prayer to put the fire out. But one Sage will silent be, And in the flames — my words will see: "The Truth Within is Truth Without.”

54. The Silence lock'd within the Note Hath found a Voice within the Flute, And there, in playing out my Song, Hath lent its Speech unto the Mute. Though Sage and Fool oft' speak at leisure, And speaking seek the Other's Pleasure — Who may with Silence hold dispute?

55. The Hell of Those who do but speak, Whose tongues but move the air in vain; Their voices stifle Heart and Thought — Who live to speak their lives again. Their Prayers are Curses that repeat Their Sins and thus their Silence cheat. All Words are Lies, yet Truth sustain.

56. The Messiah and the Liar — Both rhyme and share a single meaning. How may a man of Virtue learn, When others seek to bear his sin? These Hands 'pon Heaven's Broken Tablet Break bread with New Reality — To feed the Man of Manless Kin.

57. The Brothel-keeper and the Priest — Both at the Sinner's Pleasure eat, And oft' from Wisdom's Coffer thieve A Bowl for begging in the street; And in that Cup catch equal coins For Prayers to part the Virgin's loins. Both with their tears wash Wisdom's feet.

58. The Pearl, where-in the Moon is caught, Hath 'pon my tide reach'd Ruha's shore. Tho' Gold may steal of Heaven's Light, What Coin may ope' Thy Crimson Door? A Leaden Disk from a Dead Man's Tongue Will buy the Soul of the Lustrous Sun And make Thy Flesh — My Temple-floor!

59. "Musick! Lift up my Sacrifice!" Thus sang the Lapis Flute for Djann, “And at my Word, let fall the Blade Upon the ripen'd field of Man. Let Old Adam bend beneath the Scythe And grant the New his bloody tithe." Thus sang the Voice of Azrvan!

60. The Dagger drawn across the lips Stealeth more than a common kiss, Divideth more than mortal flesh, To draw from Thee the Serpent's biss. Thrust deep, thrice-turn'd about the Heart, This Knife shall to Thy Soul impart — The Pain of Hell as Heaven's Bliss.

61. The World is swath'd within flay'd skin, Torn from my back and hung to dry: A Cerecloth for another corpse, And yet another, by and by; A swaddling cloth to wrap the Babe Who suckleth straight the Hanged Man's Seed. Our First Words — they do but echo That which we utter as we die.

62. The Winking Eyes of Az’ra-il, One open wide for ev'ry Soul, Cast forth their stare upon each life: An eyeliad of burning coal. And with each death an eye doth close, As Winter's Hand plucketh Summer's Rose. Our Lives are done, yet Our Sight is whole.

#magic #grimoire #sabbatic tradition #sabbatic witchcraft #traditional withcraft #cultus sabbati #sabbatic craft #qutub: the point #qutub #andrew d. chumbley

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scoundrels-in-love · 4 years

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For the prompts: "I called you at 2am because I need you"?

This was super tempting to go back to Makeup artist verse, but I already touched calls/video calls in it. So, having something completely from left field instead!

Brienne’s bizarre dream - something about bear and wooden swords that turn to gold - distorts as holes are torn into the scene and she wakes suddenly, at incessant ringing of her phone. It’s dark, in that thick, cool way that overtakes Winterfell for more than 14 hours a day at this time of year, and she grabs at her phone.

The first thing she notices is Jaime. The other is that it’s 5:15am. On Sunday morning.

She debates for one entire ring the possibility of not answering or declining the call. But she knows she’d have hard time sleeping, with worry singing like a songbird in corner of her mind. What if this is important? What if he is in trouble? What if he keeps calling until she picks up, anyway?

So, she braces herself and sweeps at the green button.

“Brienne! Finally,” Jaime greets her, almost pitch-perfect frustrated-overjoyed, but she can tell the slurring of alcohol. “I need you,” he announces.

Despite herself, Brienne draws a sharp breath, feels her heart leap upward and beat at increased pace in her chest. “I need you to tell them they’re wrong and I’m right.”

One of the wings carrying her heart is shot off by a sniper. The other can’t support the weight of her foolishness and the whole thing crashes in her rib cage.

“Jaime, it is 5 fucking am. I am not helping you win some stupid, drunken argument at 5 am.”

As always, he only hears what he wants to hear. “Huh, it’s only 2 am here. Fuckin’ time zones.”

“Yes, now that we have established that, can I go back to sleep?” She thinks her irritation is completely logical, absolutely understandable given the circumstances. Got nothing to do with that bullet wound. Gods damn the man, her heart never thought about flying before him and now its target practice for his casual, careless words.

“Brienne, pleeeease. My honor is on the line!”

“As if you have any.”

“Harsh. But this is my one chance at it! Brienne, pleeease. It’s about Oathkeeper!” Jaime proceeds to explain the argument he is having with Arthur Dayne, of all people, and she briefly feels incredibly jealous of his internship at Westeros Golden Age Museum again, though she truly loves working for the Starks. Except now she truly can’t say no..

“Fine, put me on loudspeaker.”

The three of them spend next hour in increasingly passionate debate, at end of which Dayne actually concedes to one of her (their) points and she feels giddy like a kid that got an extra sticker on their homework. When Bronn shouts in background he is kicking the nerds out, Jaime laughs and she can see his sun-bright smile in her mind.

“Okay, I guess that’s our cue. Thanks, Brienne. You’re the best. Love you.”

And with that, he ends the call. Like his words didn’t just open the abyss beneath her feet (he didn’t mean it like that, he is drunk), as if she isn’t riding a whole fucking dragon that used to be her heart above it (he loves me, he loves me).

Send me cliche or prompt?

#braime #braime ff #MA LOOK I CAN WRITE SHORT THINGS AGAIN #wow I actually filled a prompt #and on day it was sent in #my fic #rainy writes stuff #Anonymous #sent on a cloud

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buffylikescoke · 4 years

Text

Buffy the Vampire Slayer #14

Great, thanks for being there. You've been an A+ mom, gold star, would daughter again. ~ Buffy Summers

Focusing almost entirely on Buffy and her trauma with a new art team delivering some stunning visuals this is one of the strongest issues of the rebooted Buffyverse so far.

This is an entirely character-driven issue, there's no action and nothing supernatural whatsoever and yet this comic is packed with so much content and is so full of interesting material that it feels like several issues. In the opening scene Buffy's hanging out with Robin at the Tuna 'Verse, catching up on the events. Flushed, deer in the headlights look Buffy is adamant that their meeting is not a date when Robin describes it as such and Robin is quick to agree that they are just friends but, no, it's a date. I adore this entire scene. Buffy and Robin are both funny and cute and there's something so cool about seeing Buffy Summers in a context like this, just hanging out with a regular person her age love interest at a fast food joint - classic Buffy never had anything this normal. Suddenly Buffy notices that she's late for her watcher-slayers meeting and quickly runs out of the restaurant, then, as is tradition at this point, runs back in and gives Robin a hug. Adorable.

At the school's library we get the first taste of the new chemistry between the chosen ones. It's all healthy rivalry and zesty banter. I love this take on Kendra - she's confident and quick-witted - an excellent foil for a more introverted Buffy. Giles is trying to explain the concept of multiple Hellmouths but Buffy's clearly not in the right headspace for occult metaphysics. The meeting ends when Joyce shows up to pick up Buffy. Joyce realizes that Buffy's upset. She tries to be there for her and be a good parent and cheer her up but it cannot work because Buffy's not a young child anymore and her problems cannot be fixed by a parent. What happened is that Buffy's fears became reality. She lost her best friends. Xander was killed. Willow left. Now Buffy is being eaten alive by soul crushing guilt and self-loathing that's only intensified by recurring nightmares. In another dream Buffy's friends are once again turned into monsters but, this time, with a notable twist. Buffy notices a couple holding hands. It's herself and Xander. They kiss, then reveal that they have both been turned. It's fascinating. Buffy's grieving Xander but it appears that it's not just about missing a friend as there's a sexual component to it. I think that between that scene from Hellmouth and this one, Xander's just become Buffy's love interest, even if he's currently deceased.

Jenny's and Rupert's morning conversation is the only scene in this issue that doesn't feature Buffy even though it's still about her. One of the great things about this reboot is that it's also a commentary on the classic continuity. It shines light onto things that the show ignored, you could see it in Buffy's attitude toward Angel in Hellmouth and you can see it in this scene as well. Jenny emphasizes the discrepancy between Giles and the girls - watchers get to have everything (life, future, children) the chosen ones are denied. This doesn't feel right and I just can't be part of it anymore...it's killing me, Jenny states. Foreshadowing much?

Next day Buffy and Rose are paired in chemistry class. Their experiment ultimately turns into a volatile chemical volcano but their chat is amicable enough. Rose asks Buffy if they could just be friends. I wouldn't suggest it, Buffy replies, my friends tend to just disappear. Ouch. It's a very bleak outlook but it explains Buffy's state of mind. Later in the evening Buffy and Robin meet again at the Tuna 'Verse. Buffy wants to end their relationship because she's convinced that Robin will eventually abandon her like Xander and Willow. The idea that she is abandoning Robin obviously doesn't register to her but it's understandable as this is Buffy going through an absolute meltdown. It's heartbreaking - I lost the only people who cared about me, and it's my fault. I'm a screw-up, I shouldn't have any friends at all, I don't even deserve them, she rants, I'm going home, see you never and tries to storm off. Robin grabs her hand and pulls her closer. You're the best thing in my life right now, he whispers and kisses Buffy's forehead. Buffy reciprocates. They kiss and they hug and it's kinda perfect.

In a corn field somewhere a person emerges from a portal. It's Willow but it's not this dimension's Willow (no dark streak of hair present) and it's not Willow the vampire slayer either. So who is she? It seems that she's a witch of considerable power and she does not look like a teenager. Wait - is this Willow from the classic continuity? Is this our Willow?!

Oxygen. Magnesium.

#buffy #BOOM! Studios #buffy comics #Kendra Young #robin wood

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