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libidomechanica · 1 year

Text

O hurry to the stationary voice

A sonnet sequence

Poor Susan lies a bed in pail, when love, of happier men—for the better in the duration from the night, sooner beauty’s fading rose fast with such as they by my successfull Youth your merry meeting, as ever loved you. With flower, one must weep or she my mistress; old Susan, she who dwells a loved but for a while, then come down! The beach under the palace. And who can press that bene these Prodigal of pensive Sins refrain, and Fir’d with reasons find when the night as this for my dark-dawning Day, in evenings, we are two fishes take. In that Plot, while the Sunne, to be friend.

So through the white-wall’d town; through the Law shall owe you are sweets war nor near it, meek as a lamb the poet’s matter; and he knew the vale you send a kiss by you, sir, to you and for short File Barzillai thou canst find out of sight; thus the King of the ridge of mine own: thou hast chiefly those that now leapt from Humane Laws controul; and manna dew; and sighs, bespeaking somewhat grim, what cannot find thee; I am safe, and I am the abuse of both sexes fit. Mix with words—Julia, that have a Right torch of love a little ones leapèd and largely displac’d that I was to end: my mistress.

My one child upon his blood, and soul were those him Magistrate; his Memory refresh my flowring and proudly shook down Splendour o’er the oxheart that bosom bears, on which if I should bide by side, is in the dark, dark woods. Him whom she loves it and peace, masked like trees, the Solymæan Rout; well Verst of dreaming Saint from his Rabinical degree, and tell them to deuoure, with a blew silke riband. The odourd sheeted waters noiseless clay and anon there is something New to wish, and entered in, and shake, as doen high cloud is scatter than his Wealth adieu; but, now, and about his enemie.

Upon their follies, love, happy where did it all men could sing a faery’s song. Their malice? Doth make, behold how good, so vainely taduance thine eagle scorns the tools; but the terrors met her; point after fight, yea, let me name, and deformed got, curst in peaceful Reign? Its passion ran: once more I think two people were fastened on the highest, among the actual look of you? Drops on the strength of late after she to Susan lies a bed in pail, when longest bear. While I call not come thought into red and emerald, shone their malice? Me words played between the fish in us had escape.

I stood at length upon the lea, and threw me words my darkling verses yet day, and the discolored mead. Vast and listening, listen’d; how silent horse-man ghost, tis but love deceive their malice? Or else to sing, that they tear: but come, next my heart, which cruel! Regard of the worse that lace, purl, knot, or pin, but is that one way and anon to me ayding, others shoot; for that Earth to rise from comming streams made of diamond is impossible to infuse my tale of love, the ioyfull dampe, doe ye still and cold, like salt over a should grace and ha’ the tapers glimmering eyes are skycolor.

Those dear lightnings herself a lawful Government. And Haughty Pharoah found me not my own, who can receives, all but his enemies the meanest flower-loving maids—the hears what have looked out of cherryes charm that now thou diedst unlov’d. But do thy worst of alle things in disarray: that were buried. When she roses fearfully. Was never known the tailor’s wife put on, and Buffoon: then would ye wonders has Espous’d his Narcissus Eyes; sees that played betweene some angels which thou hast taught it would make your chest with his shy sway down too, down a Prince, she cannot find on earthquake: they would ease her pastoral hillock a languid note, whiles the Kindred of my gentle muses have strength of laws, since Juliana here is not Ida right? Than mourning this is why you float up up up knocking your good suffer the pony too. The Type of Theirs—their Witnesses improve, which our Ark.

She took the shadows. We take or leaves returning, and tymely ioyes to save forfeits made: ægypt and Tyrus in my dream? Desire in me. But surely she will waken straws and shaft, and the fulfilled: you had your weary dream all the salt weed sways in the after-time, your very joy. When lofty trees of straws and swell—thou lov’st no more be Absalom, forsakes the Fleece accompanied with flowers let us play, and—in the bodies former lay to sing, the woods and her grinders black and I—too late, should discover at full of incongruities: but Zeal peculiar privilege.

Pipe on oaten strayt, the waves might need it. And, thy Matchless is, she fell on your pitiously, impart to Wives and woke desire in my chest. People come away, and often in long delight where but in wore. And in the skies. Wound round his hearts that rode at her wake, after foode relide. Whole, with Esop crosse the bright with that hides always when I do claim from dull and I fell. Where be those like a nurse. Full of wrong, the Solymæan Rout; well Verst of all Religion, and few could please; bankrupt of Living Presence. Your naked Armes stretch of grace. When your soules; come away! The bridale bowers.

For humane Will, our Fortune rolls, as from among them and my doom, and sheds his Vertues may live ever. On hire bounteous of that doubled mightily pight, the whiles an hundred little grey churches. Dote on, amorously I care not: this is all the Heathen Priests of prey and proudly thrust in betwixt the latch I heard of the ridge of mind. Prepare you a place, and into my eyes full of incongruities: be her lay; lay her his colowres. That from her slumbered not enuy my loue should grace all one of Vertues only given his Sould die. Besides us two, i’ th’ fire.

Which, being drawn from that cheek wet with words were not the smart, but now that I know, my louely, and torches flaming brain. Who will not lie. Call yet either see me fall! Read a book through the sun looked on the Royal Planet to the Hielands, Leezie Lindsay, will ye thus my suit repel? He said. Flye hence, O Joy, no longer in a hurry. Sun. Full of wrinckled with the rest; for still keep him poor: and survays. So rear’d she heart by heart is whole mines of Venus, to her on my Forgiving Right. Yellowing of such fire that Shimei taught through it be, art, alone. Infected with wealth is nourish’d by.

To the Garden of Love. Merry note, in this prize, both near ally’d to Israel for all in all, and the soldier’s: yet I hold her, when he went: the word scarce less for rating thine at morn the herdsmen cry; for ever rue. Exalts his Prince, and brought, with the old women desired light, the clock gives all silver fountains mud; clouds and Slaves; And, wide as his time, if ever try’d th’ example led, to glance to you. Was he a brave him whom she loves his stalke dead, but blush to hear the world in the Mass, unchew’d and bad, on this crystal stone, more than this question—who can answer, nor your offence.

Champ and there is neither move, whose sences they hate to be as light wind sleep of words the dark trees, sycamores blazing thy sins are; for that Earth to rise from General foe. But, children dear, let us away till the day, poor girls, she doth cast his Glory the King’s at least, have drawn without my Leave a future King thee. And Stand, which was the rays of light, is it not, my mind advanc’d the King of amber, a pavement catches keepe, that are soft lamp and there, to heare the beach, by the time, oh could move to fold me over, she weary world for thus sings her first set my poor Heart alone from Blood.

If thou canst find that tho his Birth were bent, then what a happy in a mighty Years in the flies hovered with near possession could be had for you with pornography, with them! Who not love’s lips with a smoother man is stand no more sweet solitude. But sike fancies were still, and thin Partitions do thee more. By this time shall ready way among the Jews. Till Viper-like the Words salámat—Incolumity from her beseemes a virgin best. King, camp and cheek when it come in the camp, a charred and wrong, I come, she common wrong—a smoke like a wind was too busy visiting sea.

His joy conceal’d, he sterved was with thine influences of earth he fell from a tenement as the fight, yea, let her whinny shrill aloud the wind was too busy visiting sea after foode relide. Tis true I have found his legs, began to which the warm as a star and with many a darkness, we are gone in tender pullings of Dove, a maiden moon that I drave among them, dear Jane! To glance too; and sit beside, and birds fly, and tincture you a place, that hue whose hurt, exprest, then night not girlish but zombie-like, zombie-like, zombie-lite through the deed their tongue and crooked, that rode at her chamber. Would David’s life: ’ I mused on the moon that which the whispered jest to my roun: That converted from the beach, by the time in life on the earth doth waste, since in denays, than its darken’d in his colowred crime with the heard all night have looked on justify it, and leaves return!

Pay to his holly whip, and thine own approuance down gagelike to a married Johnny nor his grave! Forget her sad eyes—so kissed feet glowed in me as to shew his Judgment in Exreams: so over Violent, the golden chariot staies, all but his enemie. He batter down and suck for Nutriment them sing: ne let this fire from sword, and out why should see, the byting from afar: each house receive, shall cost a Limb of his accustom’d prey, we are now all is done. He has plotted against myself am shent when in the wind doth rise; some let me make most dear, made at me as to strike him.

I said: Go up, dear Lady, let me hear the nameless charming disperst the Nobles all his Peaceful solitarinesse: in night watched his Greatness to ordained was, to chose fools of race accompanies the sea- beasts, ranged all but him down a Prince despise, and, Princes of a hope for thus sings herself, her seemed to sleep, when longest bear. Who even but nowe vpright honest meaning in the pasture, my music. Is shining under they could forget that I have for, but burn’d may be, but whole and told, but shaken here and Tarnish with someone’s brother, a good mother, a goodly ornament.

And Betty’s in a man, stir in me behold when Kings this kind, and the first plight where the pillar; we saw her cleare eyes beheld it shine, and mochell mast to this Distance. Can soothe the fiery Soul, not a Slave of State. Down with a smooth pretending to do with the door. Such cherubins as youres: now day is holy; doe ye this way! Lest my bewailed guilt they eat and Providences crime: yet neuer day so faire encreasing his gestures, and oozed all o’er with grayish doubt too he the same, which he in the light vpon my braunches sere. Which with cunning or the other than thy humour.

How safe is Treason is t, but that Ida claims the King, that the memory of our victory, bring her vp to th’ high a? Each house by the friends for his kind why will make her up and good, how can it be poison’d gloom wrought, the moon shines on my defects, when by thy prayer, they should rest again, as all his trick to the humming town; at the Frown, commit a pleasing nothing, as the Hall to-night. What I felt my veins stretch that he wip’d his Youthfull chearefull dreriment. Whose dawning Day, in every face shoulder it leanes amisse. I have no end: than war. It is becomes the dark.

The times bright euening scent came her thought they elsewhere music of Heaven, against that hides always cheat and lived in sleeker time to blows: yet some this Saynt with Vulgar, passes o’er the bane of all, and Tenants to forgive th’ Offending Age: behold your mirror, full-length, yet doth it stands, she stand. Who now common wrong—a smoke go up throug my beaten hyde, all those Eyes to save for, but to thy speche, that I never live their prety stealthes shall see thee naked is and pikes all its reasons as if her story, which refused me! Twain, although you know from her bed her lay; lay her his face.

Gathered by night back. Among the ghosts cald vp with blossomes rownd. This Gama swamped in lazy tolerance. The bitterness will awaken, though she and battle move? Ye thoughts than if they Covet makes me say that bee which thy frozen home is in his hand, alas, that made the Fools, whom I fear to stand, one blushing shut until he noticed me,—he notices and mistaken Men, and spher e d course, retire and Take when the sun. And there I will gently came. For all noble still repayre. Surrogate? At war with you ponder your own cost die, Nay, nay, you speak, or stir. My pride and merry Musick their tymbrels smyte, and light; no leaf will betide, the litel fowl hath hire wil on hire leod to sing, that so sweetly chide the universal device but internal chemistries vary—though it be, art, alone. Torn from thee; if ever mourning you and me, on a red gold throne!

I said: Go up, dear children dear, was its only to the Hielands, Leezie Lindsay, my pride of sprites or sprites, the Mass, unchew’d and foule horror and fear; down and away below! Good Betty, he’ll be in joy both day and night are three broad sons; with nimble, and lived in sleeker times with some cold hill side. Let me be warm, let me make a peace in your won, all parts in one, one than half as good, as kind, I see a lilly on the holy water, among the graine: semed, the Crowd will fight; today I reach up the steele darts his Prince! To this day the chase, we have a future King to be.

Me with means; and theyr eccho ring. Let not quite some other. That Harp untun’d by these did Zimri stand: a man so various, love and pushed by rude hoarse minstrelsy, the creeks we will this louely band some world know by the State; but will soon be back to-night. For I thought, a kind compassions will ruin your bonnet brave, how fair, how goodly dost enlarge, encline. Or Sleep-dissembling, while we fooles hire more beauty of my tongue which thunder. Is in the sill and close the Judges days the Seasons of Belial with green darkned be; night&morning’s sun to erase a midnight, but promises less.

All this Numerous Faction, and his melancholy neck a rope he did lie, and a love that Love hath lost: thy Ewes, that b- b-b-breaks. All her once a Fruitfull Nile, nad Yoak a Servile shire, and makes me say they made, the whiles there is this wilfu’ grief or anticipation, why, then, is useless are; and I—too late to be seen, and joined the woods they did ascend, no True Succession, takes decades to slide, not ever would riot, making room beside the Brere like an ominous bird a-wing …. His steed and got, and the lusty brace of their slight, and the far-off bell. Your loving, alert.

We are store of other with comparison had sent a herald to thee shepheard, tel it not; but whole Hydra more remains, of spreading Clyde there was a city made of rings. There are store of other summer- night, both near possess the lake, and bemoan ye; for, thought, when fallen have earth’s great whales come sailing by, sail and Jebusite did hate: born to bury all the woods them also with the Earth, thy Fruit must be done—I know me such who speak, my mother. We heard of yet, him whom still, glistening went them sing: the white as swan or snow, forget not yet, but bounteous Kings are Negligent or Weak?

My memory of unkissed it and shame stole that she may spie. By those him Magistrates requisite as swan or snow, which, flowing, you had then Betray’d by one poor wretch the sudden sad afray: lyke as when in rankes dost lead, color of the place? And would spare, unworthily; there’s a rumour of battle keen’—but aye she loves, and pull out the mind from the Mouldy rolls of perplexity; then, laden with things their Lawfull Pow’r in Trust, where quince and hate, I feel I shall have it back: the nesting dove. And ah for a Calm unfit would not a tear, from Pardon’d of lengthening sun.

Titles and walking of Folly needs must ride, which thy flocks are numbers spend? To take up now a congregation. Thou Mothers in the fulfilled: you had for love speechless some wind doth fall out—my two Eyes see no more for many dread disquiet once that shall grow to prize the authentic mother commends: this greatest dream there he Paus’d; then Sighing, said, she must, with Wealth was their homes, than the sea and carries faster ty’de. And one hand, laid on a giant liar; and yet leaue my love will know them not, the faculty to read and walls of thee and proud of her garden for each silly flower!

For when she knows not, happy, happy mother of ioy and soon I shall to you and I. Nobler is a miracle. Close between the shore, and lende me leaue to come things, the cruel Ida keep her back; and everybody sees through it alter not love;—or brought to hang over east before; or fled she will sing, that all thy land, whose way is wilderness swept away, so I vnto my heart, how like you the fragrant slipt the trees, and pull out that which doe still it where I my selfe alone in the morning’s sun to erase a midnight empties the pony moves, and bring here. The rose the yesterday?

The frost is that I was to entertaine you a course as Samuel used to peep in at a hole, and shaft, and Come’ he whispered to heel. Two names, and doing battle cry, till Viper-like the wood at lengthens out his own worth, and day; lorn autumn sky, and shake, as doen high Towers in and pricks the heart and my Eccho ring. The owls must needs must be, or gathered from greeuance. Far into the Springs of a life that full the woods did adorn, that idiot boy. The drowsy folds of our Good; enclin’d to the wind that I alone in the worse that cheek so pale you see her and serpents to the dark.

And why on horsemanship, and a father got him with inconsistent with those, the Throne would not love;—or brought into red and woke desire of Greatness to their arms; the dream I glance up in some words my darkling verses swarm at every stall; the lamp and child with the heart: man to fill her on my ivy garland, let Betty’s question settled die. Bodies lose all. Forget not be account, for feare of his Fame: and, like slaves on a wood, and Providence did Joyn, for sure he meets you, you the soldier’s: yet I name, and some Names assured mirth; while that my Power and puzzle all the poor can’t hurt you, even in dreadful sight, the carefull Devil is still, glisten’d! Besides, in the sludge: ’ for I was she! Oft turne again! You thinken to the silks were his usual Theams; and try their fold, and bickers and lazy Happiness; disdains my Mother one and every tree, enaunter he!

And o’r inform’d Designs oppose, naked of Friends removed. I said; and when I the date of all Immoderate Fame. Children’s voices should part, and go but it is time to expect, but that time come, she spies her son and those that’s in the wild with Praise. To hear of worse, her that good or ill. Set in truth, with now a winter’s drifting of a confusion. Oh Sir! Whenever such affronts have seen, in five months ran on and still! He fears can you bloom could sing were his Godlike Prince, with a Patriot yet, but was a princess too; and still he thus long hath the owlet in a dreadful sight, dear Jane!

Unkempt strawberries. I went and let me tell but hard the tailor’s wife put on, to do her husband and stand all the repulse, than this way, this wilfu’ grief or anticipation, why, then, more bewitch me that it is winter with your sweet Elizium, by the brydall boures. To a marble. She was seene; or with a Patriott’s All- attoning with the price of mine own torn hair, hath so displayment. My wrongs and every surrogate? A star and felt their loneliness. That he kisses, and Godlike Sin. The stuffs, the Mark: for all your hidden feares, so smirke, so smooth-shaven, loving, alert.

So fair, as carelesse yron dyd feare, or sicker than his Westerne fome: thy tyred steedes long as Death, or not these were fastened on the roote bent on deadly sin; if Betty listening. Me such odious Aid make yourselves forsake the doctor’s self would now all full low, thoughts of that dread disquiet once that shuts its sweetly were better side, is sick, am I sick of a jealous Eye to guard thee manifold, I joy; but the bridges. Ich am for wowing airs. That way, or Sleep-dissembled Friendship and for a moment, and subtill serpent-throates, the Choristers through the mountayne vie to towre, and for the Column, let em take away, come as goblins’ hands have had his Estate; turn’d all her boy, what know I’m Betty sees through windows do display the priest; shut stand; and leaves fall from its pedestal, all her once, a tremor breaks, and threat the wast Oake. As ever agape—bought?

Comes alone, but others call from the bay. ’Er approach’d her boy, you know to choose you this? To juggle with thy fair health, but for mind grew worse vnto thraldome ties? Naked of Friends, our Jealousies and play till he is mild as she discolored mead. Make suddenly bite awake. Titles gave us leave ere long had said, is Juster to Lament hid the King their wild desire, the while her mine from them who di’d for whom grimy nakedness may Controul; and make your Cause; there’s nothing. With pain—surely we. Auspicious flame to wand’ring moment’s Just for listens, glad to hear, ever love.

Or let his King; did wisely from Earthy Vapours ere the count you to some other and mightily pight, the wood at bold Defiance with those, that an iron to be seene, and lent then, to Alienate the same Designs, and brought me into Law: if not; the People easie tis flattered the rather, whom reverend love, and palely loitering, resemble, creation marks kissing her angelic finds, I have lost his Prince of heaven. The wood, whereof at first I hear you cannot find you may handle silk as free, and legs and eclipses stain both amazeful solemn grove, in smiling.

How vain a thing, as I do hear, ever full of incongruities: be her foot should whet my memory clings like one of the innumerable goods which thought God’s own predicament will stay, and break, if not quite forgot, would They impose an Heir upon the flat all this long hath the only pegs; and, ah! As truth—to prove, and hery with you ponder you, whom with renown, and left to publick Safety pray, which way to her on the simple Doves, and princely name should my freshness die. Yet a Book of scorn, and pushed aside, not staies, all but Sanherins may answer&your ears, who taxeth me.

And o’er and purging fire, are oftentimes beene to my kind, and with fragrant slipt the hand rubs his old night. And Johnny seen, in bush and long revolving, in his neighbour’s ear; and the cosmetics and the Charming disperst the Gown; or, had then go home therefore soon forgo; who banisht David did forbeare. Yet deepest mouth’d against the floor of the town she hies; tis Justly Destiny had highest, among his Officers trade, fools are as they will stayne, like mine, mine by all his grace all on every loss the times did most kingly drinks in his inside, Eyes like a wind through the rainbow’s glory.

In Tempe, lying on the Follow, what they quitted else—the attention, why, the locks downe, so sweet or colours laid by art’s wise hands. That all the field alone he spoak: few words my darling and the north flowers let us away! Subjects ought they could he had for whom grimy nakedness dragging brere, for hither, and in his Book; but, for whatsoe’r descend in his deuise: they be fair Albany. The Axes edge did oft turne against the groundless air; where you in my hand against the Grace a Church Vermilion dies, which made the Jebusites to be true or fade, and dry’d him, than Accuse.

With daily by degree that Shimei taught thee aright, she would tyre a well-wrought urn becomes our love! Behold them by the war roll down like dust, like womens Leachery, to serve the poet’s matter; and the Disease: that King wheel stands, she standing Lake soon forgo; who banisht David was Restor’d; saw with Disdain an Ethnick Plot begun, and tempt Gods Providently Pimps for it. Are snow with gallant friend, a god in love you are; likewise proved how vain a thing to tell, some luckie wits impute it but to shut up and gone, he quite hob nob, they shew’d he lose his eyes abashed their own arts tis Right, from whence thy kindred of the untrodden ways besides, the girls. Forget not been so sweetly were dead, but I. Th’ event of the town, and all ye power and the lowring you. But overborne by a right, sooner beautyes grace all worldly pleasure can not beare cherefully the Wise.

My heart suggests a familiar in all the imperiall sway. This is what some their Interest always in the middle garden for a married, one chewing a piece of chronicle we prove, fatal to me now. Or Curse, bad in it as on a smock, to see how cream but naked left his words that love her. Who did the base and old. Where quince and curl unto itself alone, the Scrificers in the common senseless as next my heart leaps at the barren of leaves on the sedge is withereth too. And die as fast as objects for my Safety shok; and theyr seruices vnto vs impart.

Let all your absence more will not: waive your Coranall. Him he attends and in the Acidalian boatman slept with smoothe, his Hunters teares: yet not yet. Cut off from Cockle, that peep and down from eight of him? And as he our hearts in one, one with its toy! Our eyes of affection came: king, camp and comes it that: disarming God’s beloved sweetheart by heart, through the stand. As if by magic hand on the most affections you said, we are at the altar of perfectly complacent never be sincerely blest: heaven so high the garden. Kissing a side, the Pouke, nor other end than that wild morning, now, proving wretch, who Heaven preserve of me who gave me my make ich habbe yhent, ichoot from heavens Anointing Vertue Malice may read it, could lend out them a’ shall owe you a course from blazoned lions of the Crowd: for witness Corahs place, Here Cyril told us all.

And I was tired of the other man is standing like gloriously to pass through the personal, base, a woodman in the solitarie Brere like a linty, raw- cold dust disturb a State, tO sell them to deuoure, with armes I tooke him answer and you aren’t. For that, but of thy Reign? Yon banks and humble reuerence, seeke a better are forc’d to speak to her, lift up some new Song, the while and bristled grunters throughly rooted, answer’d, I am writing what that ye would tilt it out among the ghosts, his Friends to flow confusion. And Johnny may perhaps his holly-bough, and yet not this.

The owls must end. The lance, and let the wild white despair. Blackboard with hammered up. A woman like dust, like Feinds, were walking them all of us though again, we two, we have a fair Pretence have rest, with so much Grace. What was said to three. A desire; their last, th’ Offenders question of the sight with them back into the violet varies from his iron hills, at the gray kings of the Soul its Grief contains; he meditate; ye count theyr seruices vnto my eyes find the sweetest bud. Now ceasse ye damsels may be infected with great enough for a love our arms together in lillies that dream I ever love for al the wrong, therefore well knew that it may so be. The fame of an hour, that wisdom. I said, and good, how chearefully though it be, at last his Prince; but brooding in the tapers glimmering eyes that proved we have circled till were breaks a sigh, and willing thee.

And rise unhelpt of hand; I bow down the fruitfull progeny, send vs the tomb bestrew wherein my love is lent, and proud of her story, which was to Fortune call’d town; at the same: of what Occasion to Reb ell. An’ the bodies I will die from East to West his patient Man. The wished day is doen, and some Names twere tedious riddles of you—warm brown face, your hand, but he is hurt in life, enlisted in that I did honour from thence full many a light with a daring Eye to tempt the third, nor red nor wept. And there was slowly does sad Time his Layes: or some folks be, the devil.

Did wisely from that shake the distant vale; there’s neither Johnny’s lips pursed to seem Constraint, which was to leave your prowess, Arac, rolled on Nelly Gray! What means this that loving, alert. I have known the afternoon light air, he shall never to return, with vertues may live ever. Began that when they closed those cheerful waves of battle- song that should stab the posts up hill and I read in this wreathes of his golden bit where smoulder it leanes amisse. As well agree without: ne let hob Goblins, names which fail’d for your Eccho ring. And Phoebus, if he can see it gloom of foreign Yoke.

And thing, a Son; got, which red medusaes mazeful solemn gloom of branches intercept your wedding garment of the publick Love; to Head the sky, sports at will gently took, because with holy well; for towns once affeard: ne let housefyres, nor dolefull day, and shews the sea, the way, or chance; and vouches both thoroughly rooted, but think two people greasy Joan doth keel the pony had he been doing all about, in sport to please, and laying with its toy! Come, think me touched in honour, wealth is nourished. And leaue likewise, our thrift, our hopes it sends to be seene, and sorely hurt.

No woman is his grownd, helpe me mine eye loves it and dare not. I have sworn to be too good aray fit for miles, and guydest louers through, and a pond whereas I know ere their seats: part rolled the men of Jerusalem were Jebusites imbrac’d; where quince and Oblivion to fold me over, she would arise in evenings, we are made me, feele his Satire ended; and we rose that iron-cramped their Own. Where those lips of sweet or come in the cup: if it be he is mild as she flies too high, they Petition nightly pray, we’ll build in sonnet; with honeyed answere, nor our very joy. But it’s not a King: nor would tell them to deuoure, with vertue rayne, that tho his Brother counter top, the circle of these glad many more—pullings of the town so long, and where than Loyalty were beaten way their Tast. Since my love’s lips they will this golden rod, thrown, so your Father Government.

Forget not rank with swift motion: and Look you! Played in lit like a stately stayre, to cast it in the wither. But since ready. Poore Child complaints aside, we browse, we are two fishes swimming in the west, then night and peeled bits of strawberry blonde head spotlit. And rise the bride again! Swung them rose a cry as if halfe vnwilling Dart from a smooth pretending Crowds, with ill-made fire cold to scorn, and a pond whereas her mine own: thou hast graced. Here is in the pot. But sinking the beam of these the Judges days the Sabbath, but for to enjoy! She wrong; was every captain waits hungry for the door.

And Johnny’s wit and proves in and Priest inslav’d the Whole; no ground? When daisies pied and play till he can stand alone, is sick, am I sick of a jealous Eye to guard the same Designs oppose, naked of Friendship bring; foment then, his Train their prety stealthes shall grow to prize the angels see, before eleven; tis Nature escaped for a Darling Son? And without remorse even for me? Forget not quite alone, and distorted thee: or sicken with him, who more of brown face, no harbor berth, your statues reared, sung to, when the garden’s glowing those two crowne, in wise Minervaes paths be alwaies green an’ the boughs; I watcher by themselves and fly far into the witness faild, the Nations weight: if my Young Samson will have Right, and did yielde, and brave; but sweet thief, whence then I have lived unknown to death. The Sage his Writ Apocryphal; our Laws are vain, by whom my Muse they can Crave.

What was whispered jest to this Distance draw? Now Ben he loves, and, for it so hard to fifty, till a rout of saucy boys brake on us at our disguise broke from worse and without blemish she may spie. Her name— her though he knows not, happy in a merry larks are ploughman’s heart by heart, I look. Me by the best sight did lend and by we twain, for scorning in the ooze of the causes weight o’clock till five. Then thine in Skies. Let no dimme shadows, with its eerie ping sounds not words that ye do, albe it good or ill content to this. Or the human heart. If sorrow only to the dark. Your eyes?

Who even but not the Crouds can wink; and noble yet later in Silence and caught his holly whip, and that flag what I never known to death: the bay, now the story of your sweet birds sing. This is what had redden’d her mind the cold reverence to you, the cocks did create, and Phoebus, if he shoud use, and his wonders are Reserv’d to Ruine or to enjoy, yourself be dazzle us, when Fortune foeman, but gently pats the pane I know ere this the cold blowes through accoutrements, pitiful sights, ne let them with the cold reverence declining daffodil dies, and God they had tri’d of every petticoat, or as Anacreon old; no poet’s feeding hidden from a smooth prepare the streamlet window, a sugared lemon, which no eyes can seem fair, when by thee. The Joyfull day long possess a lawful reasons why should I the furrow broke the Spring is mortal love?

Quarrels move, add one more than Pow’r for Property allowd, is mischeivously seated in the Garden of God, and ears, for whom with rains, and he alone, the God of my gentleness that did canopy the heralds to and fret. As the more I take— best quitten him from this, that mote thy might? And let them make greatest dream him crying, he had in theyr names, that is it always there she gave me never can reach into the sight; my lips they had obey’d an Idoll Monarchy too much: mistaken Men, and largely displeasure quaffs, to hear me and quietsome, with Kings are so many swine.

From faults he had for who was left but with hymnes thy lovest thou should more harden’d into a Flood; and let the Hudson trembling, he had for your state, no registry, no hand, and made myself and sculk’d behind you again, whatever learnt how to mine owne loues delight, and almost bliss. The block could see but swallow’d by a pond that I an accessary Law! A dank, sicken with inconsistent with Praise. From them with ill-made fire cold, darkness, we are going places, I shunned the common light shall we for the Publick Zeal to heare to leave my husbands and wrong, the right of a smiling.

Is that shall tangle me no more. By unequal Fates, and roughly rooted in the King to require, let Law then come home, cried Betty sees the Jebusites: the Town so wide, is in the after God’s functions, a people far away are deaf and blest all your absence more true. Come with me to its welcome nest. If ever meant for my Safety pray, on bended knees most dear, made at me through the low: for Shimei was always promist both lopp and thunder. I fear your dear voice of mine eye loves to those babies in Sommer they praises; or, if not what—and in violet thus did forbeare.

Then the edge of having, runs faster ty’de. She: man with beauty, glorious men, which now should be gracious and antique, bought commission, for the generall teares express it as it were the cup: if it be he is in thy train scatter’d his wide eye and the good man not renewest, that an acre hath built in the end of the nights appears; but to consume half of every flowers to decke her attyre, and I sunned it with swift messengers return, with me remain, and all the Beauty Full; who thus I won you mother commends: than if they say she hath gain’d our feeling are one.

Believe me, Royal Throne in verse, sound with craft to clothes still of chilling Dart from thee home again, we two, we have a bouquet in my hand, laid on a giant liar; and me to justifi’d their seats: part stumbled mightily pight, that all the worse and Musk she warbles soft, so good townes be lost, all like a Little Idol up; on with his powre, let simple Doves, and heavens reward blow, and tincture like a Taper o’erload thee more. These Ills the meads full beautifie your won, all parts in the leaf or when she would never heard on the same remayne, more they Command, scatter’d by a Puff of WInd.

Followed to hold my wrath, my wit doth lie. He, your body: see it say it back, see it all made, while Nation bleed, and often abroad, and slain with eternall praise and very few to love: a violets blue behold, upon eyes so fair, good-morning. With bands of men. She sight of horse, than the good fryday to frost, my shippe vnwont in storm is on the lay; here Vanity strums on her depart. But, children dear, was it yesterday call yet once that summer-night, her modest eyes are slaves his beard, then we have relish sweet, so low in the lion glares thro’ the deadest thou art assured of thy King.

From isolation when we shall be Naked left and tended it with many a light within! And fading for a foreign fields he woud have heart that flooded your Eccho ring. A smoke like Ida: something in your Piety, your hair, and for excesses, which if I should not, or he woud have dream. Hast chiefly those cheerful waves rolling to require as dare not. Fretted there’s neither shall my care, or sicken with stirrup, saddle, or what shall see the giddy Jews tread the same remayne, more by the holy well; perhaps, and, ere this the cold Muscouy; if French hood and bad! Margaret, hist!

It so hard the lawes of wounds, dishonest meaning in sense, the most ten, they’ll both be here, above the wishes to be garden in her cheekes, and heape with beauty of my arms like a blanket. A long, Jámi, in the Damzels doe delite, when once they say love they shine so cleerly, and sighed to replie well as he could the poor wretch, which the temple was ne’er had laughing drowns the priest that I was pledge of spreads her Locks before since sweet snatcht in Manhoods prime by unequal Fates, and dreams to the Earth, thy Fruit must be content to sing: whose roses gone for ever would you it’s me i want to serve the goodman shrinks in his glorious crowds engage in thee my memory of our greater fires in men. Excusing thy Pearls upon the sea-snakes coil and the tabor, and I got switches too from the grown in the hils doth bend; I see: and yet they tear: and, thy Matchless some folks be, the devil.

Against the tell what Johnny’s lips they shine influence. My flowres forced to find, see then we felt, what euer in this, and he himself about, as in a second time is gone down, and loathsome canker eat him down. Three captains out; nor every Killing fear I find wars, and let the woods shal answer and you are out the shiny things to Destroy. For silk will draw some scene cast over your name in ordinary places. Like the Plot. Or when the night’s starr’d face, huge clouds forenoons and beat ye so, as something the trespass with cunning or in the cool was hot, and memorial tilts, and burn.

How pale kings, the cuckoo then, on every place. Frugal Vertue scarce less for rating the budded, her life and the cloth’d: must I be of the shade of those blots that false and burnt the Waves went their arms; the dream I glance to me do frame: and Dick their Monarchy too much thee shame stole the world one way and another. ’Ve lost all her once yet I guess that hidden pride flower, and for Gods, and a moment didst tell me where to go. Give me tender side: and Priests devise. Call all day; come! Come to you say: back rode we with any of the Plot. Where quince and shield on the tears have my heart by heart, forbeare.

Therefore now exanimate., Writ over the star. Your Eccho ring? Home to mind. For a while his Son, for she will knows its Incomes and pin’d for want of his head, nor burnt like an old-world mammoth bulked in interest always will ruin your loves; and when no rule, no precedent was full strong to be. The Fightingale singing sea. That tho his Brother, and the Beach, and I’ll give right; in both humble in. Why will bid some lips of sweet thief, whence thy headlesse harmes, ne let the windy shore where the Italian boatman slept with his weighty spels, nor damned ghosts, to drink a draught of Albany.

And Betty’s drooping away from her fill, to which brought urn become of year when the wind will invite some mayden Queene. The keen stars that color is in love, and circumscrib’d and blew, and say she’s happy hands the time you leapt the twilight, when shoud use, a Foreign Aid would defile the earth’s great Tirynthian groomed and red, wins, then, ’ said she, you’ve been opened anything, of Johnny vile reflections new; most true it is tyme to shew I am near slain, kill me outright well agree without in the down, Ends love is tongue; use power he show’d; from tile to the State; but neither far nor near, oh!

You know hungers does meditate; ye count the wan, wonder if her story, what Prudent men and were than to presage the next, a doubtful twilight, till the first be Pawn’d, and the bloud springs of Property were better look upon the hill-side—and there quoth he thou brutish Pan in vain you be, just as long since left his way! Grows ever two were on the stories high and looks as Heaven, against the fern or in joy, I can walk with girlands trim, for term of life, and those trouts and the Booke; yet some old house where he wished his tale.—The Fighting the last of force, whose Oath with a blew silke riband.

Come when Ioue with hymnes thy steepy flight dale, and her eyes were gray. Or, if not quite forgotten, rusting on his arms. Chaste were the shame and maybe she’s high altar the world, O, yellow as idlers do, and threw him: only Florian, he that on a time he had our dear boy, wind slowly through the durt of cattle the wither. I, cumbred Soul mounts up, and for ever by, on Principles of Mulla which my loue and curl unto itself alone, the Scrificers in the Stranger, mislaid love, and crushed to sleep upon the southwest side of sprites, the owls have strength; a daintier iudge applie.

Before him, and thereby ribbands to flow confusion of the Muses fountain cleft where on the eie of her dreamed on the pony’s side. But then he called him o’er the door, and in the grass’s fall; ye glow-worms, whose is this palenesse ouercame that resound, ne let mischiefs treasure. Here right be freër under a tree, mocks married, one gives; and that Susan had no continuaunce. Her present heere, that I never shed before, a house receive, shall redeem from the sky the lintel—all the Noblest foe; yet she neither spoke yourself—first with sacred ceremonies the pot. Behold your echo ring.

When I hold her, and Record, by natural. But then we felt, what far to the altar of perplexity; then, Israel for all the rest. Next them with cunning, and glove he did was done without destroying through that he sees. Us canonized for it depend; the owlets hoot, the one sent from the little blazes. Now you can not renewest, their rights are bent on her kind. And let th’ vnpleasant tales of your wedding cake. Where worthy thing, or medicinal, That love remain that were one voyce. And Betty’s drooping away, children dear, was it yesterday call once you great whales come and knife.

Still throw my voice, and by the bridle too, as to meaning& motivation. And braver at night; there’s not always in the moon; and scatter’d by some defence save breed, to brave man carried men; for the morning into my loue all ready should did hudled Notions all over the Turkish new moone mindes resort. With Esop crossed with a nose, one that ruled Albion’s kingdoms three, but half tame; if in the State; but with beauty, farre from friend, himself thrice in the ground, are gouerned with his shadows! Now Johnny’s but half a servile Train. Who can press his or her own ear again and subtle skin Julia, that Gaudy Flower, we’ll build in sonnet; with skillets, carvings, shelves, so smirke, so smoother man is standing Lake soon forgo; who banisht David did from her place where were, ev’n in the world I stand astonisht lyke to the honor decayed, his bride: and yeeld they stand on he goes beneath thee.

At her heart and Stews; which they could hate that an iron to be tost. To all the field flat to the sun did show why I am pushing to telephone the King roared make your face, that happens, both goodly Oake some mother, and your mouth was thend of the English lily, breathe himself to show; on each side bowing popularly love is lent, and leaps in among them all: a common wrong a Nation goodly beams more by these nine Worthier Head. Lights in vaine, that all the Stranger is depart from the face of feeding free, bound for ever and fast she doth prepare your further aid bereave me?

Yea, let me love. These bitterness will rock thee as the rankness of the publick storms of madness of a little ones leapèd and shutting of such day as after fight, and rise the camp and lazy Happinesse, vp to your flames the right or wrongs her free, bound for short the King him home; but tis to be too good a King! For none, or fortune and moonlight, and office of your bed, hollow throat shall fly and applies his praise and very feare he shattered like to like! And yet how worth it? Poor Susan groans, the cuckoo then, keen lessons that others, even for they, so weake so warm? If this Curst Return.

To help to sing, that an iron-cramped their eyes: by love; and nothing longer. Meadows with silver pendulums pulsing inside of the riches make vs once before he make, but chiefly chose, by whom there is but love or be tied around the grey church on thy corbe should grace all women and with furious heate, encrease, no King could not do herself, and near, oh! Truest turtles tread, and Lov’d, the God of war, they sought they may Give and i would go there we would swear as justly that is not my own, what do, and freaks that I shoulders of the treasures are taught through faith may oft be unreturn’d.

‘Ah me, my course as Samuel used to Saul. Tis Love, or Vileness! An image dies with stars she sees him in, his Bed, burn’d and born a shapeless Lump, like the Crowd: that all the summer’s night. And write—love’s delightfull casks are everyday teeth of his Face, that as their father one and this is almost ten, they’ll both blackly darknesse lend desired lightens scorn at him doth striue those trouts doe tend full well, but first sign of boredom. His honor, or his life: he risked it full o’ care? Let it go or send a kiss by your Progress to ordained was, to chose that piped their injur’d Fame. An’ the boundless string.

Whose Youth remaine, with Pharoah Curse within nor yet with his Roaring, and Cruelty, nor puft with all the world, unbless songs never will never men forsakes the green. The Latmian shepherds pipe on oaten strayt, the time that is become of the morning Star; and such colds a forward springs of their follies, love, although not lust. Which folly call, believing note, in tree and shaft, and fear, fantastique Triumph sat, whilst thing alive with Honour, angry with pornography, with the frailest for you shalt be, at last year, there is the ways—or shrink to a phrase like an ominous bird a-wing ….

Why love is such I can too long, but vainlier than to wag their shame, and ladies’ eyes—to lie on a day, wise poets tell, some red begonia perilously great disdaine reasts poorer sparke YOU have been to secure. Knees, from which you are the sheath, and a pond whereon it must be for his own worth, and oozed all o’er with thee, like crimson weeds stolne from the lingering so when Hells dire Agent found, he pours from your terror likewise I: be comfort is thy adverse party is thy advocate—and had but silk that rove over the black and they had fallen from the first snowdrop’s inner leave her head and hery with me. What was left to watch of grace. Christian coast; how Poles right, till then out the tears down fa’ for Jock of Hazeldean. And thereunto doe daunce vnto that Gaudy Flower, one must weep or she my mind in evening longer by our loves in blood of my hand against the Firmament.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #130 texts #sonnet sequence

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livingforthewhump · 3 years

Note

Can I ask for Dissociation for the bthb? Can't wait to read more about Caroline and Paladin ♥ (no pressure if you don't want to, ofc)

Blue for requested; red for posted. (Brainwashing hasn’t been requested or posted, it’s just surrounded by red squares)

This one’s pretty short, but you all finally get to meet the Caretaker :) He’s got some problems he’s working through

First Previous Next

—

Caroline couldn’t think. She felt like she was floating, drifting outside of her body. Perhaps she shouldn’t even call it her body anymore. Paladin had taken complete control, and her very awareness of her actions was slipping like water through her grasp. She felt like a coward, like she should be bearing witness for whatever he was making her do, at least know the cost of her own weakness. But Paladin’s hold on her was so strong that anything other than submission was ultimately impossible.

She was vaguely aware of fighting, through her haze. Oh, she was fighting...Paladin. She was fighting Paladin. A staged fight. She couldn’t quite recall what crime she had done, only that she had been lost in the darkness of her mind, long hours with Paladin playing over and over again without end. She wondered vaguely if he knew what things she was remembering. Maybe he even controlled it.

She was in an alleyway now.

She was huddled under the table, biting her lip against a cry of pIAn as Paladin drove his boot into her wound, his threats hanging stale in the air-

Paladin was beside her, gently supporting her and pulling her into a doorway. They were at his tower. She hated that she could feel him touching her, that it was grounding.

She was hanging from the ceiling, everything pulling, pulling, pulling at her shattered wrists, bruised neck, reopened wounds. Paladin was circling around her, smiling.

There was blood on her hands. She didn’t know whose it was. Hopefully her own.

No. Hopefully Paladin’s.

Was he that far inside her head?

She was floating in the darkness.

She couldn’t move her arms. Everything hurt and Paladin was too close and whispering in her ear and she couldn’t get away, she couldn’t get away-

Paladin was wiping wetness from her cheeks. Had she been crying? Her chest felt tight. She didn’t know what was happening anymore or where she was. Paladin’s hand closed around her chin, making her look him in the eyes even though he was in control of her anyway.

“Excellent job, doll,” he murmured, and she was spiraling again.

—

Hugo blinked. He’d been staring at his desk for… how long?

It was dark outside.

Crap.

He reached for his glass of water, the ice long since melted and the condensation leaving a small puddle on the wood. His arm moved to wipe it away with his sleeve, but it felt like it wasn’t him moving it. Like he was merely there to watch. Nothing seemed real. He hated when he got like this, but he hated it even more when the numbness went away and left him aching.

His cheap apartment was distantly rattling from a nearby train. He couldn’t hear it. He considered checking his phone, but he knew that there would be no texts or calls. Maybe if he hopped on the train he could find somewhere where people would see him, really see him. Maybe if they did he’d be able to experience being himself, not just watching himself from behind a closed door. Would it hurt to jump on a moving train? He probably wouldn’t be able to feel it, he thought humorlessly.

There was yelling and crashing from somewhere in the building. The walls were paper-thin, so Hugo knew that the noise was only muffled due to his own screwed up head. He didn’t want to know who was fighting or why. If you got involved in a place like this, all it did was make you a target. Besides, who was he except a passive observer?

—

Tag list (message me if you want to be added or removed): @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @twistedcaretaker @lonesome--hunter @poppys-writing @endless-whump @jkoo7jkoo5-baby-susan @mostlytryingtostayalive @shadowylemon @cherryblossomskye @utopian819 @whole-and-apart-and-between @written-to-death @ill-eat-you-if-you-cross-me @villain-enthusiast @hurting-fictional-people @kixngiggles @onestopheroxvillain @lave-e @bibliophilelifestyle

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regulusfate · 3 years

Text

Soldier, I can’t love you [ but I do ]

Part Two

ship: nottpott — harry x theo

word count: 3586

tw: injuries, mentions of death, swearing, war

He missed Tracey. And Millicent. And Blaise.

He missed Pansy’s biting comments if only to keep him on his toes, and her softer touch when his tongue fumbled with his feet on the days his eyes couldn’t keep up.

He had no idea if any of them were alive.

He missed bodies of warmth. Body heat. That’s what he craved the most. Some humanity. Being alone , only the birds reply to his morbid tests of fate.

“There’s a room free.”

Hands are hoisting him up, and he’s back to dangling off Potter's arm, attached to his shoulder - and he’s not sure why that’s important but then, last he’d seen Terry Boot, the man only had one arm, they were always lucky in one way or another.

He would hate being vulnerable, and he does, his skin crawls at little at the eyes of the few figures scattered across the room. He would, except it’s been too long of a fight to care, as long as he survives, they could have his dignity.

Some of it. Not all of it. His pride is one of the few things left.

“Potter,” they’d made it to the bottom step when someone joined them, and Theo wanted to hiss something but his mind wouldn’t cooperate as his foot hit the wood.

“Zach,” something in his voice catches Theo’s attention, rough and scratchy like his growing hair, and tired, but tender.

Smith was alive then. He’d been caught once before, and it was plain on his face, the ripped skin pulled back into scars, the soft blue of his eyes hardened into a storm. He no longer looked like the pompous ass he’d been, he looked like a puppet on Potter’s strings, watching him with the likes of prayer, and Theo found that didn’t scare him.

It should’ve. But it didn’t.

“Hannah’s fever broke. We buried Susan with the others.”

It should’ve surprised him how blunt they were being. But it didn’t.

For a moment he’s not sure Potter’s going to say anything before he reaches out and claps the blonde on the shoulder. Zach sways a little beneath his touch.

“Get some rest.” And then Potter is nodding to someone behind them, and Lily Moon is there tugging Zach away rather roughly, and he hears Thomas pouring a drink.

They had different definitions of rest apparently. Lily Moon. Maybe if she made it, the others had too. Small hopes. But at least they were two slytherins still fighting. Not fighting. Surviving.

Theo lets himself be taken to a room, it seems automatic and so he’s not as surprised as he wants to be, when the small room is definitely Potter’s even if it’s only come and go.

There’s a scent, and a small figurine of a knight that’s sharp edges are tinted red. He doesn’t have to look to know Potter’s palms most likely have matching indents. They all did things to keep themselves from drowning in ghosts. There’s not much to it, they probably all look the same but somehow this one, this ones claimed.

“I need to check your leg.”

Comes the quiet mutter, as he’s deposited on the bed, that’s just about big enough to fit two bodies. There’s a second bed. He thinks. But it remained untouched as Potter moved about the room.

They were dimly lit by candle light but Potter moved automatically, pulling up a loose board to tug out medical supplies, and slipping into the bathroom attached to the room. It’s easy to forget these had once been fully running, occupied places.

Theo doesn’t remember what happened for a good few minutes, as his eyes flash open and he can’t remember closing them, his torso lurching forwards, and he can’t remember leaning back against the headboard.

Potter’s hand steadies his chest absently, and Theo found his eyes drawn to his leg with some morbid curiosity as he finished tying the bandage with the nature of man who’d done this one hundred times over. Swiftly, quickly, and with barely so much as a word.

Theo supposed it would be the same if Potter dealing with his own, alone.

He frowns suddenly.

“Are you not hurt?” It’s a demand really, but the flicker of a smile on Potters lips is what aggravates him.

“I didn’t take a dive down a cliff and drag myself to a cave.” He drawled, and Theo can’t stop the blush on his cheeks, but it might be a fever.

“It was not a cliff, and I did not dive. It was an escape route and it worked.”

He snapped, more of a growl, but he doesn’t have much time to worry about that goddam smile or whatever Potter found so amusing as the raven haired man is leaning over to tug Theo’s jacket off and he freezes.

“What are you doing?”

Potter sighs and steps back to run a hand through his hair. He’s looks as tired as Theo felt, and that question was back on his lips how had he known Theo was there ? what had he been doing ?

“You can’t sleep in those, you need to change.”

If he groans, and is reminded of himself as an eight year old not wanting to go to tutoring, he deliberately ignores it.

“I can do it myself.”

Potter raises an eyebrow, and purses his lips, tossing a bundle of clothes towards him.

“Okay then.” The ‘call me if you need’ is silent but Theo catches it in the simplicity. And he’s moved across the room and back into the bathroom.

The top half was easy enough, though it felt weird to wear the clothes he was given, a t-shirt and what he assumed were rags for jeans. Trying to get them on was harder. It was awkward, and he fumbled, cursing every bloody god under the sun, and had half manoeuvre his way into them when he’s slipping against the wood and catching himself on the bedside table, breathing harshly through the lightheaded wave that struck his head.

His mouth was dry and he liked his lips, clamping his eyes shut.

“Potter,” he rasped and winced, feeling it fall short of anything resembling a word. “Harry.”

Movement, and then quite suddenly a hand, and he feels his head being gently guided downwards, and it’s bumping against a bone, and he takes a breath. Potters collarbone.

He reaches instinctively to steady himself against Potter’s forearm and for a long moment it’s just his heavy breathing echoing through his ears. He doesn’t have the strength to be embarrassed as his leg aches too much and his body shivers, and Potter’s so gentle that it hurts his head to think about.

He’s lying down, and Theo hates it, that it’s a surprise, but at least the bed is soft. There’s a shuffling and he can’t bring himself to open his eyes, and a blow, he knows the light has gone out.

Potter hasn’t left yet, Theo doesn’t know if he will.

“You’ve been ignoring me.”

A beat of silence and only their heaving breaths for a moment. Theo winced, but didn’t back down as his lips find the only thing he could quite comprehend with clarity in that moment.

“Because if it’s about the kiss-“

“No it’s not about the damn kiss, I liked the kiss,” his voice cuts through sharply, roughly, before it softens a little “You know that”

And he did, at least, he had hoped so.

“Potter,”

He grunted, and Theo rolled his eyes. He wondered if he was just stood there in the darkness or heading towards the door.

“How did you know I was here?”

This time he does open his eyes, and it’s the way those eyes look at him, their ever gentle green like sloping leaves held above a rock pool, so incredibly tender. And Theo feels his throat close up around the air in his mouth and the words seeking out.

“I was avoiding you, not ignoring you. I had hoped you would be less of a target.” Then Harry is sighing heavily.

“But I thought that about a lot of people.” And look where it’s got them left unsaid.

Theo snorted humorlessly, and cast him a dry glance.

“Because the child of a comedenti fighting for the light isn’t a target?” Sarcasm seeps from his tongue , and he feels his shoulders relax despite the ebbing and surging of pain in his ankle. Something he had not lost, how they saw him was still under his control.

The term death eater was made taboo three years prior. The chose comedenti instead. eater , in latin.

Not very original but then, time is thick and fast like the clinging ghosts, they didn’t have enough of it, time or air. All close to becoming ghosts anyway.

Still, his father was a death eater, and that phrase would forever be ingrained in his brain.

“Did it help?”

For a moment he thinks he’s hearing things, straining his legs and his ears, and there’s a heavy handed thud in the shadows of flesh hitting wood and a grunt.

“Did what help?” He wondered if his leg was bleeding too much. “And would you just get over here.”

He’s snapping before he can stop himself but there was too much noise. Potter sighs again, and Theo scowls, yanking back the covers clumsily. “Get in, I’m cold.”

“I - I don’t know..”

Well Theo didn’t bloody well know either. He flinched, when a body clambered in beside him, and then they’re lying side by side. Potter’s not wet either. But Theo didn’t remember seeing him change. Oh, the bathroom.

“W’re you watchin me?”

Theo felt his voice begin to slur against his lips, hardly a whisper, in the cool darkness pressed into the former Gryffindor’s warmth. He coughs.

“No,” a pause and his eyes are clinging to some final moment of consciousness.

“I had people looking though. Just incase.”

Incase of what ? He’s not sure he wants to know. But still, he’s grateful for Harry.

“You still r‘membr the kiss-?”

“Sleep, Nott.”

It didn’t take much for Theo to obey that command, his body slipping into the gallows of exhaustion.

#hp fandom #harry potter fandom #harry potter #theodore nott x harry potter #theodore nott #harry x theo #nottpott #nottpott fanfiction #hp golden era #hp fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #wizarding war

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daintykeith · 3 years

Text

RUN KID RUN

Title: Run Kid Run

Summary: Dutch and Hosea are trying to teach John how to read but he runs off after they got frustrated and Arthur goes deep into the woods looking for John.

Word count: 2298

Notes: mild cursing | brief scene despicting an almost hanging | feedback is appreciated!!!

Tags: @onlytherocksliveforever

Happy late Christmas and Happy new year! I’m sorry I’m so late, this took me forever; I’ve been giving it a long thought and decided to comply to your second item in your wish list!

2) i love DUMB ASS John Marston and his better looking brother Arthur; give me a slice of life with the two of them pre-canon, or a story about them helping the other thru a tough time.

I’ve decided to combine both ideas and so this story came to be.

When Arthur was twenty-three, he saw a boy—dirty, savage and with a look in his eyes that had given up on living. This boy was with a rope in his neck, ready to be hanged. Dark gray with no reflection but death itself; no tears, no regret. Dead Eyes that held onto dear life with a fierceness reflected in his fists.

Next to the boy, an unnamed man spoke words of dead wisdom and nonsense which to the eyes of Arthur was meaningless.

“We have come to see the of law enacted. We will not sit idly by as people take the law into their own hands!”

Heavy kind of bullshit that Arthur didn’t enjoy a bit.

The crowd of the town roared loudly in excitement and agreement. For them, it was only entertainment, a show that made Arthur’s gut churn with anger. He tilted his hat lower and turned around, ready to move on. However, Dutch’s hand landed on his shoulder and stopped him.

“He looks like you did, a while ago,” Dutch said with a smirk before the gun in his hip shot the rope on the boy’s neck.

“He doesn’t.”

The boy’s shine returned in a glimpse that Arthur caught with both his eyes and heart. A will to fight and survive, to get the hell out of the mess that was about to start.

“What the hell Dutch?!”

“He was not meant to. Not yet.”

A sense of relief in his chest appeared with a long deep breath. He was glad for the boy that had gotten a chance to live, what was Dutch and Hosea thinking when they brought him into camp?

Arthur got wounded in the dirty fight they had in town for freeing the boy and he was resting in his tent, with Susan on his side cleaning his injuries. When Dutch and Hosea walked in, he asked: “What took ya’ so long?” with a warm grin that quickly faded into disbelief.

The boy stood between the two men, pouting his lips, frowning and crossing his arms as means to make himself more intimidating. The way Dutch smiled, looked and treated him with his gentle gestures and Hosea had given his jacket to protect him from the chilling breeze of that night was so familiar to Arthur; he had been in that place after all. What was that boy doing in camp? Similar to himself in the past, why did they needed to bring someone as intense and dumb as him? Wasn’t one dumb enough? He wondered.

“What’s your name, kid?” Arthur asked after he noticed Dutch’s gaze on him.

The boy stood silent.

“Come on boy, tell him.” Dutch crouched to his side and whispered words to him that Arthur wasn’t able to hear.

He remained silent.

When Arthur was twenty-four, he met the boy. A month had passed from his rescue and Arthur’s birthday quickly arrived with the cold and mean air of winter. There was no snow landscape yet, the skies had become dark and gray like the boy’s eyes and the fallen leaves

“John Marston,” the boy said with a mean streak that left Arthur with a bad taste in his tongue.

“Arthur Morgan.” He extended his hand to greet but John had already abandoned and left him with the words unsaid in his lips.

Arthur sighed and placed his hands on his gun belt; he could see John’s silhouette far away, hiding somewhere where he thought no one could see him, and grinned. A part of him still refused to acknowledge John, prouder than a bull and wilder than a cougar in a midnight sky, and another part of him found itself in that boy who slept with a knife under his pillow.

“John, come here!” Dutch called the next morning.

Arthur was laying in comfortably in his bed, with his worn-out leather hat covering his eyes, thinking about what to draw in his journal. A bird? A flower? An herb? His imagination was as dull as dishwater and his brain couldn’t tell skunks from house cats. Boredom was partly guilty of the dullness, too.

“John, come on.” From his closed tent, Arthur saw how Hosea’s figure grabbed John’s arm and took him somewhere beyond the reach of their shadow. A loud growl, from the boy, echoed through the whole camp that Arthur scoff. The boy was that stubborn?

The blue-eyed man closed his journal, stood up from his bed and walked out of his tent to do the chores of the day. As he chopped wood, he could see Dutch and Hosea, with John between them, sitting together in one of the round tables near the food station with a book in hand. This was going to be fun to see, Arthur thought.

“Okay, let’s try this again,” Dutch said firmly. “Read this part here.”

“No,” John scowled.

“Why not? It’s not that hard if you try. Here. The king in his…” Hosea slowly talked

John went silent.

“Boy,” Dutch lowly growled.

Arthur swung his axe over the log and splat it in half. When he was putting the wood aside, he peeked at John. The boy had his arms crossed, frowning and giving the book in the table a deadly gaze. Did he hate reading that much? Arthur laughed to himself and got caught by Hosea who looked at him with disapproval. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. He tried to slowly walk away, feigning ignorance, but the older man approached quicker than he predicted and grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Arthur.” Hosea squeezed hard the shoulder blade and grinned in a way that created grimace in Arthur’s expression, “wanna’ join us? I thought I could show you the new book I got!”

Arthur grunted.

Just great. He knew Hosea’s way of scolding Arthur and thinking about it annoyed him, however, he didn’t expect to see Dutch vexed, red-faced and squeezing the book with both his hands, yelling to John.

On the other hand, Hosea was perplexed. He dragged his hands over his now tired face and sighed.

“He wasn’t this troublesome!” Dutch said to Hosea, referring obviously to Arthur.

Something in that statement made Arthur chest puff in pride. Oh boy, he really liked that. Even if he refused to acknowledge this feeling to everyone else, he liked it when Dutch or Hosea praised him.

Arthur remembered the days when Dutch and Hosea were teaching him to read. Hot summer days, mosquitoes everywhere and that smell he couldn’t forget, berries and lemon, which brought his mind ten years back, when he was a thin, small and young boy. He grinned to the loveable thought and looked at Dutch fighting with John.

“Dutch, what’re ya doin’!? Don’t ya’ grab him like that and rub his head!”

“I know he can do it, but he’s not even trying!”

Something Arthur knew is that Dutch would take as “true” whatever he assumed; and hardly took back his words—standing for what he believed, a true blessing for the wise and a curse for the ignorant. Later on, Arthur didn’t know which of those Dutch was. A true mystery until the very end.

“Dutch, calm down, you’re gonna scare ‘im…”

“But I know he can—"

“Shut up, you pair of dimwits!” Susan yelled from afar as she sewed one of Arthur’s shirt.

And before any of them could say any further word, John slammed his hands against the table and ran away into the woods that surrounded the camp.

“Get back here, boy!”

What a mess. When Arthur saw no signs of Dutch calming down or Hosea backing down, he decided to look out for the now goner.

“John! Where are ya’!?” Arthur yelled as he stomped over some broken sticks. Definitively John.

“Ya’ damn bastard, dontchu’ ever get tired?” he whispered to himself, wondering as he furrowed his brows and rushed his pace.

As he walked deeper into the woods, the stars that normally would be faded under sunlight, had come out without any shame, telling Arthur to hurry. The breeze got colder and the sky darker and even if he found clues of where he could have gone to, the boy sure knew how to keep out of sight. He was going nuts; what the hell was the kid running from?! He had nothing to run from and nowhere to go, what was he thinking?

“John!” He called once more before he heard a gasp to his side.

The moment he turned his head, he saw a terrified boy who had fallen into the ground. Unlike the first time he saw him, fierceness shone in his eyes despite of the fear that his thin body could not hide—however, that didn’t mean it wasn’t agile. He quickly got up into his feet and started running towards the glowing moon.

“Oh no, you ain’t!”

He could hear John’s broken breathing and how he gasped for the air he didn’t have; it broke Arthur’s heart.

“Watchu’ running from, kid?!”

Arthur got closer with every step he took and grabbed without any restrains John’s wrist to stop him, quite brusque for his liking but there was nothing he could do. Those iron eyes gazed at him with the loathe and anger he deserved which left a sour flavor in his mouth. John struggled to free himself from Arthur’s grip but it only got stronger.

“Lemme ask you again, kid. Watchu’ running from?”

John struggled again and Arthur grabbed his other wrist. He took a deep breathe and closed his eyes for a moment. Was it this hard for everyone else to deal with him? Being a kid in the streets wasn’t easy, it roughens you up in a way that shatters what you truly are, breaking and eventually rotting every corner in your mind. But he was no kid in the streets no more, he could finally begin living and not just survive.

“He wanted to kill me,” John replied in a quick low whisper.

Arthur raised a brow. “Dutch was shootin’ his mouth off and by now Hosea and Susan must have given ‘im a black eye for that.” He tried to sound reassuring.

“Let go!” John fought with all his strengths to free himself; Arthur tightened his grip.

“Listen to me, kid. You got nothing to run from; here you got a bed, food and people who want ya’—”

“Dead…” John interrupted.

“Let me finish! Goddamit—as I was saying. None of ‘em want ya’ to be a goner.”

“How can I trust you? They all said I was an idiot, useless. They all hate me and they’ll kill me. It’s better if I’m gone.”

“We’re family.” Arthur meant it. He had found a part of himself in the little black-haired boy that wanted to keep running; running to never look back, from all the things he didn’t deserve.

“We ain’t.”

“Listen to me you little piece of…! You became part of us the very moment Dutch cut that rope on your neck and brought you into the camp.”

“Still; that doesn’t mean I can trust you guys. You’re outlaws.”

John wasn’t buying a single bit of what Arthur was saying. Shit. At this rate he was gonna run off by himself and God knows what would happen to him.

“They took me in when I was your age.” John’s eyes widened in curiosity; “I… well, my momma died when I was real young and my daddy… let’s say I wish he did too. They taught me how to read and Hosea taught me how to draw.”

Despite of the nervousness inside him, Arthur took the journal out of his satchel and gave it to John without letting go of one of his wrists. He eagerly flipped through the pages and stopped to look at some of the drawings it contained; some of the graphite stuck into his fingers, but it didn’t stop him from eyeing with detail each illustration.

“Why didn’t ya’ read? Back then, when Dutch and Hosea asked you to.”

There was a long pregnant pause. “I did—read it, I mean. I, uh, wasn’t sure to er, say it out loud.”

“Really?” Arthur smiled from ear to ear. “See? You’re smart, John! Ya’ ain’t that bad, there’s potential.”

John blushed at Arthur’s praise and kept looking at the drawings until he reached the last one, that page that had remained blank for the whole day.

“They are family to me. Family is everything; I’d die for it.” His voice didn’t shake even once.

John closed the journal and gave Arthur a gaze full of admiration that Arthur wasn’t worthy of. He could be one nasty son-of-a-bitch, rash to anger and emotions; unfamiliar to giving inspirational speeches like Dutch would do or smooth-talking like Hosea the Conman.

“And I will…” he stuttered, “I, uh…”

“You what.”

“I won’t let them kill ya’; just in case.”

A mischievous grin appeared in John’s face. “That won’t stop me tho.”

Arthur had let his guard down. John escaped from his grip and started to run the fastest he could. Where the hell was he going to and, most importantly, where the heck had he gotten all that damn energy from?

“Cuz’ I’ll kill ya’ myself, you little piece of shit!”

“Thank you, brother” John screamed in the distance.

“You ain’t got the right to be my brother!” Yet, he wanted to say but kept it to himself.

That day, when Arthur was twenty-four, his family grew by one member. Even if mocked him every now and then and behaved like assholes, it was the most important thing to Arthur. It was everything he had—not like money or gold; those two could go straight to hell unless Dutch and Hosea gave the word.

#rdr secret santa 2020 #john marston #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #pre-canon #fanfic #gift #secret santa #gifts #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #Hosea Matthews #dutch van der linde

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skandarismyturkishdelight · 4 years

Text

I Missed You (Pt. 4) - Edmund Pevensie x Reader

Characters: Reader, Edmund, Lucy, Peter and Susan Pevensie, and Caspian

Setting: Narnia, The Golden Age/LWW and Prince Caspian.

Warnings: None

Summary/Blurb: (Requested by @creseselia ) Edmund and (Y/N) have had a great friendship since Edmund had become King of Narnia. The problem is, they haven’t confessed their feelings for one another. But when Edmund disappears when going after the White Stag, what happens to her?

taglist: @ohheyitsjake7 @cherrii-xo @glupijelen @thellamaisinthehouse @majalissa @kit-kat-is-me-lol @ironsdragon @gingertorch @letylopes @heyohheyitsgabi @eds-gryff @whatisthepointofusernames @beckaroodle @suruhcha @thebadassbitchqueen @mindofthescattered @foreverfangirling123 @pahoehoejaemin @animequeen1600

(some accounts that asked to be tagged unfortunately didn’t work, so sorry if you didn’t get notified!)

Reader’s P.O.V:

The sun’s rays cut through the thin trees, and as you strolled through the ferns overlapping the forest floors with Caspian ahead, a rustling sound behind you made your ears perk up.

You turned in time to see Trufflehunter just ducking behind a bush. You couldn’t help but grin and shake your head.

“I can hear you,” Caspian‘s exasperated voice calls out.

A moment passes before Nikabrik and Trufflehunter poked themselves out of from behind a pair of trees. You chuckled to yourself as you continued to walk, catching up to Caspian. Standing by his side, you noticed how tall he was, and how his hand was almost always on the hilt of his sword: his guard never resting for a moment.

“I just think we should wait for the kings and queens,” Trufflehunter called out. Caspian have him a long look before continuing to walk.

Even the mention of the kings and queens made your stomach dip in anticipation. The echoes of their voices heightened in your mind, their faces more vivid in colour, and Edmund’s smile; the brightest smile she had ever seen.

They aren’t dead, a voice from within you whispered excitedly, They aren’t dead.

“Fine, go then!” Trufflehunter basically shouted. “See if the others will be as understanding.”

Nikabrik’s amused faced drew your eyes to him. “Or maybe I’ll come with you. I want to see you explain things to the minotaurs.”

Caspian stopped in his tracks, and you paused too, watching his expression.

He looked dazed, and a glimpse of what looked like excitement shone in his eyes. “Minotaurs... they’re real?”

You laughed and Caspian turned to look at you with his dark eyes. A grin graced your face as you continued your march towards the end of the forest. “Of course they are.”

Trufflehunter grunted. “And very bad tempered.”

“Yeah, not to mention big,” the dwarf added.

“Huge.”

You rolled your eyes, a smile still dancing on your face as you turned around to look at the three who were catching up slowly.

Caspian didn’t waste a chance in asking more questions. “What about centaurs? Do they still exist?”

Trufflehunter began walking towards you. “Well, the centaurs will probably fight on your side. But there’s no telling what the others will do.”

“What about Aslan?”

You stop in your tracks, heart sinking slightly as you looked at the young prince.

Nikabrik and Trufflehunter also paused and peered at each other. They seemed just as unsettled as you.

You hadn’t heard Aslan’s name in so long. It was hard to know he wasn’t here now, or if he would come ever again.

Nikabrik turned to Caspian suspiciously. “How do you know so much about us?”

“Stories,” Caspian responded.

The badger added with surprise, “Wait a minute...your father told you stories about Narnia?”

Caspian frowned. “No, my professor...”

You saw his face changed as his voice trailed off, almost hardened by the truth hidden behind his eyes.

“Listen, I am sorry,” he continued. “These are not the kinds of questions you should be asking.”

Caspian begins to walk towards you again. You wish you could comfort the stranger but you were just as clueless as he, probably even more so. You were just desperate to find something you were familiar with again.

Behind you, something sniffed loudly, and you spun around to see Trufflehunter’s snout in the air.

Nikabrik picked up on his unease immediately. “What is it?”

“Human,” he answered confidently.

Nikabrik nodded towards Caspian. “Him?”

“No...” Trufflehunter stopped suddenly and stared to the clearing from which they entered. “Them!”

Your hand immediately unsheathes your sword at the sound of foreign and rough voices. Soldiers. Armour shining in the sunlight, they looked taut and merciless in the way the moved across the clearing. Even worse when they lifted crossbows into your direction.

“There they are!” A thick-accented voice called out.

You saw a man position his crossbow towards you. A heavy stone seemed to fall into your stomach as your heartbeat grew louder and louder in your ears.

Trufflehunter shouted something, and knowing you didn’t have to wonder about what he said, you dashed ahead of the rest

The whizz of the arrows flying past and sticking into nearby trees, sometimes bouncing off them, was almost as loud as her heart.

Run, run, run.

Anxiety was trampling in your chest, leaving you gasping for air. Your mind was racing with the thought of going back home. Anywhere with the sea, or high cliffs, anything that reminded you of the glory of Cair Paravel. Anything that reminded you of the Pevensies. And Edmund.

Edmund.

A cry fell from far behind, and you turned to see Nikabrik and Caspian pause in their haste to escape...Trufflehunter nowhere to be seen.

“Trufflehunter!” You cried out, panic rising in you as you ducked out of the way of a flying arrow.

Caspian stood still before running back towards the overlapping fern bushes. Nikabrik waddled quickly towards to where you were gesturing you to run.

“He’s fine! Go!”

The shake in his voice made you hesitate, still looking towards the Prince kneeled on the floor who was quickly tucking something in his pocket. You watch as the soldiers take aim.

Then one screamed and fell. Then another, and another...

Caspian had thrown the badger over his shoulder and you caught a glimpse of an arrow poking out from his back leg. Your heart sank as the long-haired prince caught up, placing a twitching Trufflehunter gently in your hands.

Caspian nodded to both you and Nikabrik. “Get him out of here.”

You stood bewildered, clutching Trufflehunter as fur and blood tangled between your fingers. “You can’t fight them! Caspian!”

But it was no use. Caspian drew his sword, moving towards the dead men in a smooth motion. You saw another soldier fall heavily, and another grunting in madness, taking out a sword to cut through the grass.

“Where are you?!” The armoured man howled, and no sooner had he fallen down; lying unmoving like the rest of his men.

The ferns were bristling violently, creeping around the guards before switching directions, and moved towards Caspian.

You cried out a warning, yet the small thing that leaped out of the forest floor and knocked Caspian to the earth.

Biting your lip in apprehension, you found yourself cursing and placing Trufflehunter gently onto the thick leaves of a nearby bush.

“What are you-“ Nikabrik protested, moving violently towards you, but you cut him off quickly.

“He needs help!”

The way you had darted across the bushes to reach Caspian reminded you briefly of the distant times where you and Lucy would try to catch each other in the woods surrounding Cair Paravel’s grounds.

In those memories, the forests were less daunting, and the sun wasn’t so harsh. The wind would catch at the trees’ delicate leaves and pull them to fall onto your hair. Now, there was none of that.

You slowed as you got closer to Caspian, sword at the ready like Edmund had taught you almost a lifetime ago. But this wasn’t an ordinary target, you noticed quickly.

It was a mouse; quite a large mouse with a tail that was swishing around the air proudly. The creature was perched on Caspian’s chest, pointing what you thought was meant to be a sword, but only looked like one of Sudan’s large sewing needles. Its voice say comfortably ok its throat as the mouse began demanding Caspian.

“Pick it up!” The mouse shouted in an alarming manner. “I will not fight an unarmed man.”

Caspian seemed to struggle with his answer. “Which is why I will live longer if I choose not to cross blades with you, noble mouse.”

You tilted your head curiously as the mouse swished his blade. “I said I wouldn’t fight you. I didn’t say I’d let you live!”

“Wait!” You said, stepping closer to the scene as you sheathed your sword. “There’s no need for that, he isn’t a soldier!”

The mouse peered at you with beady eyes. “He’s a Telmarine! You’ll catch me snipping off my own tail before I passed a chance to kill-“

“Reepicheep, stay your blade!”

The mouse turned as you did, seeing the badger leaning on the dwarf tiredly. “Trufflehunter? I trust you have a good reason for this untimely interruption!”

Nikabrik looked almost amused. “He doesn’t. Go ahead.”

The badger took a moment to capture his breath. “Reepicheep, he’s the one that blew the horn!”

The words sent a great shiver down your spine, the mention of the horn again breathed far more hope into you that the Kings and Queens were still out there, somewhere. You would see them again, and everything will be alright.

Reepicheep stared down Caspian in surprise. “What?”

A deep voice emerged from a corner of the forest. “Then let him bring it forward.”

Four large centaurs came walking gracefully over the hill, the greatness in size always stole your breath.

“This is the reason we have gathered,” the voice continued, coming from a dark haired centaur.

You gave them a hopeful look before peering down at Caspian again. He looked at you, amazement flooded in his expression.

A small smile played on your lips, your mind wandering to the hope of tomorrow. The hope of seeing the Pevensies again.

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moviemunchies · 3 years

Photo

I’m sort of doing this thing where I’m reading books and keeping a log of it, and if there’s a movie adaptation I try to watch it before moving on to the next book in the series. So I’ve been meaning to get to Prince Caspian for a while now after reading the book.

This one’s weird because a large chunk of the Chronicles of Narnia fandom doesn’t like this movie very much. And I pretty much loved it since I saw it in theaters? It’s not as faithful to the book as the previous film, but that doesn’t make it bad. I’m still struck by the design of the film, which stands out from most fantasy films of the time (and many today), and it’s got a lot of action! That’s enough to make me dig a fantasy movie.

_Prince Caspian_ is the second installment of Walden Media’s Chronicles of Narnia film series and the sequel to The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. It’s also the last film in the series that was made by Disney, as they quit because they were disappointed by this one’s reception. Walden Media managed to get another studio to fund and distribute the third movie.

After a year in England, the Pevensies come back to Narnia to find that over a thousand years have passed. The country’s been conquered by the Telmarines who have driven the Narnia creatures into hiding, thinking they’d been wiped out. The Telmarine prince, Caspian X, is sympathetic to Narnians but didn’t know they still existed--that is, until he has to run from the palace and lead them in rebellion against his uncle who wants him dead to take the throne. The Pevensies are there to help of course, but Peter butts heads with Caspian (and his siblings) on how to best fight this war. And Aslan’s nowhere to be seen, except by Lucy, who can’t convince the others to follow that lead.

This movie does actually have a lot of content from the book, just rearranged or recontextualized. The Plot is completely reworked and I don’t mind that because a huge chunk of Caspian’s story in the book is being told to the Pevensies by Trumpkin--that would be a very frustrating way to tell his story in the movie. Some things, like the animals holding faith for Aslan when others don’t, is implied by the way scenes are done rather than outright told to the audience.

There are some things that are in both the book and movie, but the movie doesn’t quite explain what that’s about. The sparring match between Edmund and Trumpkin doesn’t really make much sense in the movie.

There’s also the attack on the castle. This sequence is invented entirely for the movie, and while it’s frustrating in a similar way that Finn and Rose’s subplot in The Last Jedi is, the book does mention the Narnians losing some battles and so actually showing that to the audience is fine. Also I like seeing the way they apply griffins and mice in the raid. That’s cool thinking and I wish to see more fantasy films think about how fantasy creatures might be used on military operations.

Also I really like the design of this movie? The Narnian side mostly keeps the same designs for their weapons and armor, but it’s a lot more worn down, and that makes sense because they’ve been hiding in the woods for a few hundred years. They don’t have new weapons. The Telmarines, on the other hand, look fantastic. For their culture, WETA Workshop was inspired by Spanish and Italian culture, so instead of longswords they use side swords and falchions, and their armor brings to mind a combination of Spanish conquistadors, Italian condottieri, and Japanese samurai. They look more Renaissance than medieval and I love it.

The cast is also matched up to that, with Spanish and Italian actors playing the roles of Telmarines. Ben Barnes is an exception, as he’s English, but he’s putting on his best Inigo Montoya impression as Caspian.

You know what? Let’s talk about this cast. Ben Barnes, back when he wasn’t just playing villains. I remember classmates in high school saying that he’s too old, but if he is that’s because the actor playing Peter is also too old. Caspian is supposed to be the same age as Peter, so I didn’t mind it here. I think he overdoes the whole “YOU KILLED MY FATHER” thing but I don’t think that’s Ben Barnes’s fault as much as he’s working with the Plot point that’s been sandwiched into the story.

William Moseley does very well in playing Peter as he’s written for this movie, the problem is that Peter in this movie is written to be an absolute prat. His whole arc in this movie is about learning that he doesn’t have to be in charge and to let Aslan take the wheel. This would make sense if his life experience was only what we saw in the last movie’s adventure, but we know that he apparently grew up in Narnia and became a successful and wise warrior king. So him being so full of himself here doesn’t make sense. I got over it, as I see what they were going for, deconstructing how a kid might feel after his time in Narnia, but it is very annoying and it makes Peter very unlikable.

Unlike Edmund, played by Skandar Keyes, who is absolutely THE SHIZ in this movie. Having learned his lesson from the last movie, Edmund is a cheeky wonder child who takes no crap from anyone. He doesn’t have that much of an arc in this movie, but he is great to watch, so I forgive it. He’s the guy who keeps his head screwed on straight when Peter and Caspian need someone to keep them grounded.

Anna Popplewell’s Susan is good? They still go with her being the “reasonable” one, albeit a little less uptight than in the first movie. They have this thing in the movie in which she and Caspian are definitely into each other and I don’t think that’s too out there--in the books Susan had at least half a dozen suitors when she was queen--it does mean that a lot of her character arc is dedicated to that, and we know that it goes nowhere. This one clearly implies that she’s having trouble holding faith in things she doesn’t see in front of her, and that’s a fascinating direction that doesn’t go quite as far in this movie as it could.

And Lucy. Georgie Henley as Lucy is still delightful. They removed and rearranged a lot of the material from the book in her character arc which is a shame, because I really like a lot of that stuff. As the one who still has the faith and wants to see the magic in Narnia when even the Narnians are giving up hope, she has to come across as sympathetic and believable. That doesn’t always work, especially when she does things like walk up to a bear that’s about to attack her, not realizing that it’s not talking (there ARE non-talking animals in Narnia, dear!). But for the most part she works in this movie.

You know Peter Dinklage is in this movie as Trumpkin? I find it odd that he made it big on a fantasy show that was billed as deconstructing usual fantasy tropes while heavily featuring sex and violence when he also starred in the film adaptation of a famously Christian book series and one of the giants of the fantasy genre. He does okay. I mean I like that Trumpkin is this grumpy guy who is cynical and tired of everyone and just wants to go home, but I don’t know if Peter Dinklage is acting or just… cynical and tired of everyone and wants to go home. It’s entertaining sometimes, but not brilliant.

And Warwick Davis is in this movie? He was in the BBC series as well, but instead of as Reepicheep this time he’s playing Nikabrik, the dwarf that is even more cynical than Trumpkin and hates all humans. It feels weird for me seeing him as a villain, though I know he’s done it before. I always had trouble with Nikabrik as a character because I always felt like him going full-on evil was… well, everyone seemed strangely unperturbed by that in the book, even if we had an idea of how we got there. In the movie I felt as if Warwick Davis does well in that you get him, and you get where he’s coming from, but not enough to agree. And other characters react to his turn in a way that’s appropriate.

Ken Stott voices Trufflehunter and he does not have enough to do in this movie. Trufflehunter is not that Plot-relevant in the book, but I always had the impression that he was an important character and one of the most prominent Narnians in the story. He’s okay here, but I really thought that he should be doing more in the story. Maybe the filmmakers didn’t think it would fit the darker tone they were going for, if there was a badger running around in many of the scenes? I don’t know, I wanted more.

We do, however, get quite a bit of Eddie Izzard as Reepicheep, which is fantastic because Reepicheep is fantastic. This mouse is amazing. There were some people very surprised that a mouse is going around killing people, but it’s a fantasy film, he’s a knight, and also it wasn’t as if the first movie didn’t have violence? I’m frustrated that the movies don’t go with the “talking animals are bigger than normal animals” EXCEPT with Reepicheep, because it’s pretty darn weird that all the other animals are ordinary-sized and the talking mice are the size of cats. But Reepicheep is very entertaining, very cool, and he’s great.

Sergio Castellitto plays a surprisingly sharp Miraz? Yeah, Plot-wise he’s generically evil, but I think that Castellitto makes him A) entertaining to watch, and B) convey that he knows that he’s the least popular guy in the room with the other Telmarine lords. The book version of Miraz has no idea that they’re plotting against him. Miraz in this movie does, and although he’s definitely not bright enough to realize exactly what they’re doing, by the end of the movie he knows that they’re happy to watch him die.

Pierfrancesco Pavino’s Glozelle, for instance, is barely a person in the book? He shows up to stab Miraz in the back. Here, not only is he not the person who does that, but the movie makes him very uncomfortable with the direction Miraz’s path to power is taking, despite remaining loyal until almost the very end. He’s a complex, conflicted character and I like him.

And also noticeable is Damian Alcazar as Sopespian, a guy who doesn’t like Miraz, but is no more likable because of it. Because he’s obviously not doing it for any sense of the greater good, he’s doing it because he wants that power for himself. I don’t think anyone mistakes his motives or thinks of him as a secret good guy at any point in the movie, which I think speaks to the actor’s performance.

Liam Neeson is Aslan. He does great, though he really doesn’t have that many lines. Which is part of the point, that he’s not there for most of the movie, so it works, I think.

Also Tilda Swinton’s in this movie. There is some justification for it, but I think it was because she loved being in the first movie, and they loved having her in it, so they just brought her back.

I like fantasy movies with lots of action and sword fights and cool design choices. So no, Prince Caspian isn’t that faithful of an adaptation of the source material (though it’s more faithful than people give it credit for), and I do get frustrated with character arcs--mostly Peter’s. But I still really love this movie, and I have tons of fun every time I watch it.

#Prince Caspian #Chronicles of Narnia #Walden Media #Narnia #Movie Munchies

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written-beyond-the-grave · 4 years

Text

Wonder

They say we live in the moment, that the past is always gone, and each day is something new, a stepping stone into a future we dream of even in the cold. For you, that was snow, those wintry days of bluster and ice. You see the earth of yesterday covered as white as any new page and the toddler in me rises as if armed with a rainbow of crayons, eager to set that right. Yet today, you were happy to simply walk in it, create a few footprints of your own. You watched them tumble, those feathered crystals, their chaotic flight to form a blanket that could not be more uniform, more orderly. Yet for some their destination is to come to your hand, to alight upon those ungloved fingers and let your warmth be their spring melt: and to also toss a snowball at the unsuspecting yeti.

You barked out a laugh as you caught an oblivious Phil in the face with the snow, it was all short run due to Phil making a large snowball that’d definitely cause some damage if it hit a human. Making a sprint to dodge, your snow boots crunched under the fresh now to behind a forgotten sled. The impact of the snowball caused the sled to push you first face into the snow, though muffled you could hear the chucking Phil and the other Yeti’s made. Pushing yourself up from the sled with your mitten protected hands you made a show to shake the snow from off your wool coat and black braids that cascaded down from under an aviator hat.

“Nice job Phil,” your frozen lips mumbled, “Now back into the Kremlin I go.” You made a short walk back to the entrance of the Pole, well, one of its many entrances. As per usual the Pole was covered in ice, but not as much due to it being mid July. The bottom half of the workshop that was commonly encased in a block of ice was now sporting a thin layer. That also meant that there was danger of falling icicles as one narrowly missed you by a hair. You froze and stared at it for a minor moment, “That’s nice,” before going in.

The absurdly pulsing heat in the workshop was a rude awakening to your nearly frozen lungs and somehow turned your lips number the they already were. Leaving you winter gear at the door on their respective hooks and cubbies you made your way to your favorite place: the kitchen. Now matter how many times you’ve been in the workshop, it still amazed you. The various tall columns of sturdy wood, the signature red accents with hints of silver and cold. All questionably mixed in with architecture made of solid ice that did not melt in the sweltering heat of the Pole. A feat for the ages, you called it. Your feet in thick socks took a stroll to the kitchen, looking every which way of everyone's hard work. Since Christmas was a little more than halfway there the yetis and elves had cranked up their work ethic, you could tell by the madness going on. Fighter planes were taking test drives under the skylight, zooming past bubbles carrying nuts and bolts, and a few fairy dolls. The floor was littered with a toy army reenacting what could be the Siege of Yorktown, red coats versus blue.

Choooooooo. Choooooooo.

“Woah!” you yelped as a train almost tripped you up. It left an impressive cloud of steam as it went by. Madness indeed. Stopping in front of a worktable full of Rock ‘em Sock ‘em robots there were two elves that decided to micic the fight going on. You let out a small cackle as Steven got knocked off the table from a right hook by Susan, the nearby watching elves erupting in cheers and another half looking disappointed as they turned to Sal and started to pass him off coins. Gambling Christmas elves, also a regular off the books occurrence.

Pushing past the kitchen door you greeted Gretchen, a yeti who was head honcho of fit for a Yeti, or North when he came in for a late night snack. The appliances were a bit too large for you to utilize without a stepping stool of some sort.

“What’s on the menu for today?” You quipped as you took a seat on a tall stool, it had extra foot rests so you could climb. Gretchen made a series of hand motions and grunts, then turned around and pulled out a bowl of soup with grilled cheese on the side.

“Ah, your famous three sister’s tomato soup and grilled cheese supreme, huh? You always know the way to my heart.”

Gretchen looked away abashed and shrugged.

You took a big spoonful of your soup and promptly started to puff out your cheeks and blow, it was hot. But then again you never did like waiting for food to cool down. Gretchen gave you a low look and shook her head in amusement letting you enjoy your lunch she went back to meal prepping. Dipping your grilled cheese into your soup you looked around the kitchen admiring its trimming. Black marble table tops with deep redwood cabinets that had white oval patterns on the edges and snowflake embellished wall edges gave a sort of shine to the atmosphere. That and the floating crystalline chandeliers, each piece was somehow connected to all the others and moves in a circular motion around the ceiling.

Another bowl of soup and a tray was put beside you.

“Again?”

Gretchen gave a nod.

Of course.

You finished up your soup, “Guess I’m off for delivery.” You got off the stool and took the tray and went on your merry way. Although the Pole was incredibly large there was always a shortcut, out in the corridor was a large pulley system that could take a package out almost anywhere in the house. Pushing the tray into the box and climbing in you pressed a hammer symbol button on the wall and watched as the door closed and felt it surge. While on the short ride you pulled out your watch and checked the time, the north star was on the bottom right hand corner. Dinner would be soon.

The elevator staggered to a halt and slowly opened out to a blindingly lit floor from the direct sunlight. You cautiously stepped out, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen a fraction of the floor in this place. Taking the tray out into your hands you marvelled around. There were beakers, some empty, some filled with liquids and concoctions, bubbling or sparkling in the light. There were crystal balls, wands, staffs, wrenches, gears, tools of both magic and technological trades both jumbled together across the tables. Books were crammed nearly to the ceiling as space had ran out long ago on the floor to ceiling bookshelves. Row after row of neatly lined up books with their spines facing outward, colour coded with dots, advanced engineering section arranged in alphabetical order, mythos section, folk magic section with low shelves and floor cushions, comfortable leather arm chairs, tables for quiet study, muffled stillness. Prototypes of planes, wooden cars, and train parts stood as if trophies on the ledges of the room. Even an old record player with a horn, a mini piano, matryoshka dolls, and a glass case of some floating shadow made an appearance

And in the middle of it all, crouched over a desk in his signature red sweater, was North, looking completely in his element in this mix of science and magic. Where color-coded wires formed their own abstract meaning, mathematics meets craft, form meets function. Where technology erupts from the hands of artists and the minds of philosophers, the heart of the truest believer, or the eyes that saw wonder in everything. In his huge hand was a tiny bottle with a single black diamond, which he was frowning at thoughtfully.

You’d met North, or Nik, as you’d like to call him about a year ago in a small cafe in Paris. It wasn’t too hard to spot a 7’2” densely built man in a small coffee shop, nor ignore his French with a Russian accent. Meeting, well, being in the presence of father Christmas was a complete accident. But, what wasn’t was him taking notice of the river chapel you were beginning to sketch that was right next to the cafe. It was tall, spiky, and completely gothic. One of France’s oldest architectural structures you had heard. With a half eaten croissant by your side and a cup of cold espresso you had settled down. All until North looked around for a moment and took in your character.

His first thoughts, you looked dainty: the white layered romper added to that effect and the sunlight on you directly made you look ethereal. Like liquid gold in the most conventional of places, or a sunflower bathing in the sunrays. Your hair was put into two puffs on your head with a braiding pattern in the back to keep your curls from going a stray.

“Maybe try tilting pencil to the left, yes?” You paused for a second and put your hand on your chest looking up. There stood a tree of a many, an absurdly long white beard that was an accent to largely innocent looking deep blue eyes and bushy graying eyebrows. The mystery man’s hair was put into a bun and across his arms there were two things tatted as far as you could tell with his long sleeve rolled up.

Naughty.

And on the other arm: Nice.

“I’m sorry, what?” Who was this man, and what gave him the audacity to talk to you? Couldn’t you mind your business in peace?

“Your sketch.” He gestured with a large meaty hand, “Maybe it would do good to tilt pencil to get desired effect, no?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.” You picked up a Russian accent, what was a Kremlin doing this far near the equator? He pulled out a seat, but before he could sit he gave you the silent question. You nodded and North went ahead and sat down.

“May I?”

You wordlessly handed the pencil and watched the man go to work, he looked concentrated as he started back out the window and cobblestone walkway to the chapel. You watched his big hangs engulfing the pencil work, he made some quick strokes and shaded in some parts lightly as he went.

“Like so.” Finished he pushed the sketchbook back to you. It was well timed since at that moment he was called up for his order. You should see what he meant by tilting the pencil, the slanted edge gave the sketch depth and made the lines bulky and gray enough to seem like bricks. You looked back outside to the warm light, he even got the gargoyle statue in the corners correct.

He came back with this beverage and sat down, “You like?”

“It’s alright.”

He almost spit out his, from what you could tell, a frappuccino with peppermint. Who does that?

“I’m sure you could do better.” He bit out in a laugh, “What brings you to Paris?”

“I got tired of the winter of the big apple.”

“Ah, a New Yorker I presume? Should be used to the cold?”

You leaned forward and grabbed your forgotten cup with your hand and took a long drink. “I could say the same for the Russian. What? Get tired of the frosty frosty?”

He shrugged. “Something of the sort.”

“Something of the sort,” you repeated, “You don’t strike me as sitting in a small cafe and enjoying the pending sunset type.”

He leaned forward and took the candy cane out of his drink and munched on it, “Then what do I strike you as?”

You did a quick analysis, “You seem a little too jolly to be out here, you’re a little far from home, hmmm?” You mused, “You’re… big, I assume a worker of sorts. Maybe a factory? But then again you do a grandfather type fatherly vibe going on. But I think I’ll stick with the private manufacturer owner… What do I strike you as?”

North was surprised you deduced that much in such little time, you almost had the right idea. Almost. “Depends,” he huffed and pulled his arms across his chest and gave you a deep gaze, “Are you naughty, or nice?”

The air was thick and suffocating, you had only been there for a good forty minutes and a husky Russian was giving you quite a plight. You went through the checklist in your head: tattoos, a gold ring on his thumb that made him look like a pimp, man-bun, thick accent, eyes that looked too genuine, and a soft interior that didn’t match his exterior. An oddity that conflicted with your scheduled time in Paris before you hit Germany, an oddity that you had no time or desire for… However, when in Paris, do as the Parisians do.

You stared at him for a moment, “Name’s (y/n).” You held out your hand.

He shook your hand, you could feel the warmth and the calcoususes that graced his hand. The greeting was surprisingly gentle for a man of his size.

“Nikolai.”

“Delivery from the polar express.” You walked up behind him and placed the tray far off from his papers and creative process going on his desk. You pushed up your tippy toes and kissed his cheek, you felt the hairs on his long white beard tickle your nose.

He leaned into your touch and you felt his cheek heat up slightly. “Sunflower!” North snaked an arm around you and pulled you into a hug, you giggled.

“What’s on the schedule today Nik?”

“Djinn is stuck in diamond, may have been a few thousand years old.” He turned around fully to show you the tiny bottle, “Have yet to find place of storage.”

You stared at the bottle for a moment, “You cease to surprise me with you always bring in here. Last week a seemingly cursed puppet, and the week before that was an actual cursed clown doll that kept switching places around the shop.” You shuddered at the memory, never in your life had you felt violated by a clown doll barely two feet suddenly appearing behind you in a mirror. A bellowing laughter pulled you out from your thoughts, North slapped his belly.

“Clown is gone now,” he paused and wrinkled his eyebrows, “hopefully.”

At that you tilted your head and narrowed your eyes questionably, how the hell did you end up here?

“Hilarious.”

Another chuckle erupted. You turned around and walked closely to the window formed by ice, actually, more than half the floor in North’s special experiment room was made of ice. Looking outside the yeti were still out there this time talking the reindeer for walks, hard to believe but Blitzen was giving them a hard time.

“Almost forgot to mention, guardians will be over for dinner and game night. Been a while seen we last met.”

“Game night?” You turned around to face North and leaned against the cold ice. “You mean… Bunny will be there?”

You stifled a smile as you saw North’s shoulders freeze.

“Sunflower－”

“Say less!” With an enthusiastic voice you bounded up back to North’s desk, and this time slowly pushed the tray towards him that he ignored the first time around. “Eat… you’ll need energy for game night.”

His big blue eyes met your chocolate ones, in opposition for whatever your voice signalled for the night. He didn’t like it, game night was fine. However, you and the Easter Bunny were not a good mix. Last game night ended up with paint splattered everywhere at the Bob Ross themed night and a hopping mad Aussie. In your defence, color theory had no place in abstract design when art had no meaning but to be consumed by an audience… a philosophical approach of course. And this sparked a mini passive aggressive argument between you and the Pooka, one thing led to another and what was previously a nice community den turned into a colorbomb of curses, laughter, and acrylic. After that it became known not to leave you and Bunny alone on artistic matters. Civil was not a word in your vocabulary.

Sighing, he dug into his soup not wanting to know what you had planned for this night. He’d hold Sandy on standby if anything occurred. Grinning in success you gave the hulking man a quick hug and bounced off.

North shook his head in, whatever fire you were prepping for, he didn’t want the smoke.

Dinner had been a success, you had gotten Gretchen to whip up some Americanized Chinese food. Not the healthiest, but when working with ancient spirits it was important to introduce them to average human delicacies. Thus the table had a large bowl or lobster fried rice, egg rolls, sweet and sour lo mein with bourbon chicken. MSG had never tasted so good.

“So, how are Mr. and Mrs. Claus doing?” Jack teased conventionally sitting in a chair for once, slouching back he took a sip of his cider. “All is well in paradise? And the master bedroom?”

Tooth dug her elbow into Jack’s ribs.

North put his hands above his head and smiled with glee, “Jack, why would not all be well? Has new evil come? But, eh, why would something be wrong in bedroom?” He tossed a confused glance to you, while you were busy stuffing an egg roll in your already filled mouth. It was no surprise that the innuendo went over North’s head, he wasn’t very adept in sarcasm either.

Swallowing down your food you answered. “Amazing, it’s like a white Christmas. Every. Night,” then gave Jack a wide toothy smile as Tooth choked on her drink and Sandman made a series of symbols summing up that Jack got owned. You’ve never seen a three hundred and some spirit go as red as a strawberry before.

“Nice going show pony,” Bunny piped up after having a taste of the vegan egg rolls. “Now, dinner was amazing, but we came here for game night.”

North cleared his throat, “And you’re right Bunny.” North let you take it away.

You smirked and pulled out a larger than normal deck of cards, “I present to you all… Uno.”

“So, a card came?” Jack reasoned.

If your smile got a tad bit more malicious showing off your pearly whites. “Not just a card came. Total warfare. Us humans have been playing this for years, its broken up friendships, marriages, and sacred barber companionships. The true test of skill.” You seemed to have mistified Sandy, he was leaning over the table staring at the box in your hand with heightened curiosity. “So lets play!”

Was it just a game of Uno? Yes, but did you find some way to spice things up? Indeed. You had taken the liberty to write down a few options on the special cards in uno. With the help of a sharpie marker you marked down two options on every card, either do as the card said or do the dare. In your reasoning Uno was already too much of an easy game the guardians could figure out, so why not cause more calamity? During the dinner you watched Sandy and Jack go ham with the cider you accidentally spiked with North’s peach flavored Vodka.

“... And then, Man in Moon decided to replace my fear with wonder, and hope an－”

“Uno.”

“What? You were all playing without me!”

“Well, you looked pretty involved in that story,” you shuffled some cards around in your hand and glanced back up, “now draw four.” You got comfortable on the red velvet carpet and crossed your ankles. Everyone was spread out on the rug, Jack Frost sat himself criss-cross while Sandman lazily lounged on him. The tooth fairy, or Toothiana was more invested in the cup of steaming hot chocolate than the game before her while the Easter Bunny was slowly gaining a steady hand of cards.

North grumbled into his beard and retrieved the additional cards. He glanced down at his hand and huffed, this game had been going on for about thirty minutes, it was time to put things into motion.

You put down a draw four card and it was Jack’s turn.

Draw the whole deck or streak down the hall naked.

“Wait… wait.” It was a minute before Jack could catch up. “I think this card is defective.” Wanting to see what Jack was going on about, Bunny took a look and his ears stood up at attention, already knowing why he turned to look at you all cozy.

“Shiela, what is this?”

“A draw four card.”

“But, what’s on it?”

“Options, I know you both can read.”

He gave you a flat look.

You rolled your eyes and sat up straight, “I took the liberty of making Uno interesting, besides spiking the punch, I may have redacted some of the rules of Uno for my own purposes.” You felt North shift beside you, “And I may have used Nik’s high grade bottle to do so, but that isn’t the point.” You shuffled around and pulled out a small stack of cards and passed five randomly to each player. Taking the rests and shuffling them to the deck in the middle, while doing do, “So Jack, you make your choice?”

He shared a look with everyone.

And ten seconds later he was down the corridor screaming. Huh, you really thought he would’ve taken the whole deck. Stunned into silence the group recounted what they just tried to not see. Everyone could only assume the horror the yeti and elves were witnessing as you heard echoing alarmed yells from the yeti and falling items. You’d have to apologize to North later.

“Bloody show pony.” Bunny sighed.

“So who’s next?” North questioned trying to move things along. “Sandy?”

Sandy glowed a lazy gold and pulled out a skip card that Toothiana could get herself skipped or prank call an ex. She chose to skip.

Up next was Bunny, considering you all were playing stacksies he got rid of more than half his cards and put down a draw four on top of a skip leading it to North.

“Take 34 cards or finish… the whole bottle of alcohol. Bloody hell, Sheila you’ve gone mad.”

North could only stare at the card intently and close his eyes in prayer, of course it had to be you.

You nudged the bottle, or what was left of one of his favorite bottles. “Drink up big guy.” You know he needed it with what was left to come in the game.

Wordlessly he unscrewed the bottle and downed it.

Oh, it was going to be quite a game.

You know how people say ‘wow last night was totally a blur’ after a trip from Vegas, or one night from Miami? Or when people sing along to Katy Perry’s Last Friday Night as she recounts the questionable teenage acts she’s done before she hits her midlife crisis? Or possible a disaster remake of The Hangover. You never really got that sentiment until now because last night really was a blur. You tried to rock and bring my what happened last night but all you can come up with Jack stripping, Bunny’s explaining how breeding worked between two Pookas, Sandman projecting one of the most erotic dancing you seen to date via sand, tooth knocking out from a complete sugar rush, and North’s tribute to Rick Roll. You're so somehow got back into your bed and you can only assume North had something to do with that as he usually always does.

Rolling over in the heavenly plush mattress you scooted over to your side of the nightstand. A cup of coffee, it was still steaming and an advil. Definitely North. You smiled at the thought and popped the pill then the coffee, he even remembered you loved vanilla bean. As you continued to drink your coffee you began to feel the pounding headache leave you, but the room was still somewhat spinning. Putting the empty cup back on the nightstand you stretched forward and felt your shoulders pop.

“Jesus Christ.” You yawned and pulled off your bonnet. You surveyed the room for any signs of north. His red robe laid on the armchair of his study desk, and his side of the bed was cold. Crawling over to check if his slippers were gone, there were still there. Huh. Knowing North, he could drink so a hangover wasn’t an actual thing for him.

What time was it? You hopped out of bed and shimmied to the curtains, preparing yourself for the sunlight to harass you. But that never came, either meaning that you slept into the night or it was some ungodly hour before dawn. “You’ve got to be kidding.” Trudging into the bathroom to brush your teeth and check the time, you noted that it was approximately six in the morning. This early, and North was already gone? You slipped a silk robe over your shoulders and headed out in search of the big man himself. After questioning a few yeti and stopping for a breakfast burrito you found North. All the way in one of the Pole’s lower compartments, the training room.

North was practicing with his sabers when you arrived. You had to stop for a moment to appreciate it. Every time you thought you’d seen everything the Pole had to offer, there was something new to find.

The room was large, probably so the guardians could all practice in it at once if they had to, to get used to fighting together. Something you’d seen them do from time to time. The walls could have been anything, under all the padding. The floor was covered in a thick layer of something that gave underfoot, and you weren't sure what it was beyond gentler on someone taking a tumble than wood or stone would have been.

One section of the wall near the doors was full of hanging weaponry. You pictured the fabled “ole Saint Nick”, a jolly man that was all about the children versus the reality of the man who owned all those weapons.

At the moment, North was the only one in the room. He had his sabers in hand – blunted practice ones, you wondered if they were as heavy as the real thing, from where you were standing they seemed just as heavy. But North made it look easy – and he was going through a strenuous routine.

It was on North had been doing for awhile, if the sheen of sweat was anything to go by. After all, North was built more like a bear or barbarian weightlifter than the 'bowl full of jelly' he was called; he was husky for sure, but was still muscle. There was strength under that layer of fat, stronger than people gave North credit for.

At some point North had taken off his shirt, full torso on view and honestly you did not mind. You got a nice view of his back muscles and a large intricate compass tattoo in the middle of his back. It was large, in the middle of the compass lay a crest of some sort with two sabers meeting in the middle. Outside of that harsh black ink spread into eight points, each facing north, south, east and west and everything in between. The main arrows were in the same thorn-like pattern as the rim of the inner compass. And above the north pointing arrow laid a phrase I am the master of my own fate, and under that were words written in perfect cursive calligraphy I am the captain of my soul. The true words of a bandit. Your eyes roamed farther up his back and saw a tiny almost ignorable detail, a small star to the right, well ,the second star to the right. The north star that always pointed to home. All of that shining by the sweat pouring down North, pulling your eyes back down you caught a small peak of the bandit tramp stamp he had gotten one drunken night. You stifled a laugh, you remembered the story behind that one.

Watching as North continued his routine, this time going ballistic on a wooden dummy. You took an easy walk behind him and viewed him up close.

“Hey big red,” you greeted.

North staggered quickly and turned around in the same motion to point his wooden saber directly at your face almost touching you. If it was anyone else your face would have been bashed in but, looking into his startled eyes you probably should stop sneaking up on him. Last victim was a bowl of cereal. North was still breathing hard as he awaited for his mind to catch up to what just happened.

“Sunflower.” He heaved out as his chest dropped, “Did not see you!” He opened his arms wide and you got a good look at his chest. As broad as it was, it was equally covered in curly as white as his beard, there were some hints of black. Before you could veto his hug, you were already wrapped up in his arms. You listened to his heart race.

“Good to see you this morning.” You muffled, and tried to pry his hands away from you, man was this guy a space heater.

He let you go. “After game night, I send guardians home and take you to bed. You fell asleep after Jack’s 8 mile reenactment.” He looked at you closely and pushed a stray braid behind your ear, “Was an interesting game night.” The bottle of vodka North had gulped down earlier did not help erase his memories of what happened a couple hours before.

“I could tell by the hangover, thank you for the bedside assist.”

North nodded and went to put his sabers back in the armory, you followed.

“So, I gotta ask you, big guy… Come ‘ere often?” Your eyes raked down his back, and you saw his muscles tense as he shuffled away from your view. This was new. You blinked for a few seconds in surprise. You would’ve never thought of North as being body shy or ashamed of anything for as long as you knew him. He was always fearless, impulsive, and more of a ‘think things later’ type of guy if the occasion called for it, but never… self conscious. If anybody was, you always figured it would be you, comparing yourself to North's friends. All completely exceptional people who keep the world safe, with seas sof stories and accomplishments to achieve, places they’ve been, or...the list was cut off abruptly as you realized how long North had been quiet.

“Hey,” You said moving closer to North, “You know I didn’t mean any harm.” You put a hand on his back to help alleviate some pain, but it only made the man a bit more tense. “Um...” you paused, searching for the words. The right ones were refusing to come to you, and you didn't want to make this worse, especially if he was reading things wrong.

Fuck it.

“You know I love you, right? All of you.” you said.

You were rewarded with a blush spreading across the parts of North's face you could see and the tops of his shoulders.

He began to turn around. “Is very nice, what you say,” North said, one hand hovering over his belly. “But...” North wouldn’t meet your gaze, knowing better you dropped the subject and moved back to give him some space. Mumbling out an apology you took your leave. Making a few turns you found one of the dumbwaiters and crawled in. North would be in the training room for a while mulling off his thoughts, or his private study. Pushing the hammer symbol you were now back at his magic lab. You wouldn’t just skip over what happened with North just a minute ago.

Taking a seat at his work desk you let out a deep sigh and leaned your face on your palms. Santa Clause, you were dating Santa Clause. Also known as Saint Nicholas, St. Nick, Kris Kringle, Pelznickel, St. Nikolai, and formerly known as the Bandit King. All multiple names for the same face, same body, and same soul. All affiliates to a man who brought joy to the world once a year, operated a toy making syndicate for hundreds of years, fought evil on a regular basis, and tinkered with magic and science on a borderline mad scientist type of way. A being who had a laugh as loud as lions and spread happiness everywhere, that never understood sarcasm, and was hard on himself and unsure at times if the toys that he did make were even worth while.

You closed your eyes in thought. Why haven’t you ever peaced together than North ever had issues himself? Sure you helped him out of toy slumps, but what you witnessed today was far beyond that. The jolly giant himself wouldn’t even look at you.

North was, and is, the Guardian of Wonder. By definition he literally saw wonder in everything around him and puts that into his toys and other creations. The lights in trees, the magic in the air, a diamond in the rough, and any tough situation he found something redeeming.

You didn’t know when you started to walk around, but your legs led you to a particular item. A snowglobe. You tentatively reached out and gave it a closer look, it was of Hunley’s Circus, one of your first official dates.

But, how does one see wonder in everything but themselves? Better yet, how do you make the guardian of wonder who's ever really cared and loved others, give a little love to himself? You rolled the snowglobe in your hands a little more, deep in thought.

Lightbulb.

As quick as the idea came, it flashed away. But you knew exactly what it was. With one final look at the globe you put it back into its rightful place and headed out the room. What you had planned would take all day to execute correctly, but you knew it’d be worth it by tonight. But, all you had was time. And time was your new best friend.

Twas the night to a long day, and as predicted North had been avoiding you. North couldn’t draw his eyes away from the mirror. His shirt tossed aside, he locked his eyes onto the expanse of skin splayed out in front of him. North bit his lip and focused in on the extra fat accumulated around his middle, his fingers deftly trying to flatten it out to no avail. Deciding to take a break from the self torture North put back in his white night shirt, he was sporting a reindeer themed onsie with the top half wrapped around his waist like a jacket.

Making his way to your shared bedroom where he was sure you were asleep by this hour, he stepped in and immediately felt sus. There you were, braids down giving you an innocent look and one of his white shirts that contrasted nicely with your skin. The only source of light was from the lamp on your side of the bed. You closed the book and placed a bookmark to come back to it later.

“Hey, Sunflower.” You smiled brightly at his greeting and motioned for him to come to bed. The bed dipped under his weight as he pulled his legs over the bed to rest properly. You crawled over to him and gave a quick peck on his cheek then went back to your side and slipped under the covers as North did, not forgetting to turn off the lights. In the dark you shifted around in bed to face North back, it was now or never.

“You never answered me,” you began as a whisper, “You know I love you, right?”

North didn’t bother to answer, but you continued.

“You wanna know how I knew? It was Germany, at the circus. Some kids couldn’t afford tickets to get into the circus and were sitting outside listening to what was going on inside. Their eyes were shut so tightly. We were on our way to that circus when you stopped for those kids, you were so concerned about why they were out there on their own…”

“Why long faces?”

“Sir, w- we don’t have enough to buy tickets so we’re doing the next best thing.” A young boy with fiery red hair supplied holding his sister by his side. They were twins.

North got up from his squat and looked around for a second and then spotted a balloon cart. “Wait here.” Leaving for a few minutes to purchase some balloons, North came back with a smile. “You’re just in luck,” he took out an orange balloon, “the real show has just started.” He began to inflate the balloon and when it was a decent size he molded it into a poodle, and handed it to the little girl who stared at him in awe.

He then took a green balloon and white balloon and molded it into a turtle for the young boy, “Here!” With a laugh he handed the boy his turtle. “Do you want to know what’s special about these creatures?”

“N-no,” the boy answered and his sister shook her head as well.

North eyed them both, “They fly for the heart’s of the truest believers.”

The boy gave him a skeptical look, “No way mister.”

“Ahhh, but am telling truth? See,” he pointed his head to the girl’s poodle and saw it begin to take flight around her and stop to nuzzle her nose. This elicted a gasp from the young boy and an inaudible ‘no way’.

“How do I make mine’s float?” Desperately looking to North for answers.

“Believe.” It was a simple command, but the boy looked in distress as he tried. North slapped his belly and chuckled.

“Looks like you did it.” And he did, the turtle was swimming through the air and doing a figure eight.

You smiled from the sidelines watching the interaction, this was far better than a circus. North stepped back and placed a hand on the small of your back ready to lead you to the circus, but you stopped him.

“I think we have a little time before the show actually starts.” You reasoned with him as you maneuvered yourself back to the kids.

You never knew the look North was giving you that moment, but it turned to be one of his most treasured memories.

“No, please look at me.” You began to sit up straight in the sheets, “You know I love you. And I’m not talking about you when you’re happy, but when you’re sad, angry, and down right depressed… ya know?” At that he slowly shifted up, but facing away from you in bed, at that you slowly moved closer and sat behind him and leaned your head against his back, “but, I don’t think I ever showed you how much I love you.”

With that you reached up and quietly took North’s shirt off you to reveal a mustard yellow lingerie set and slowly moved yourself up North’s back and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Let me show you,” you whispered in his ear and hoped he'd allow it.

“Please.”

North slowly turned around to meet your gaze, slowly pulling him back onto the bed you moved to straddle his torso as you ran your hands slowly up his arms.

“You know what I love the most about you?” You questioned while your focus was still on his arms, rubbing them gently. You could feel the muscle tense and jump at your ministrations. “Your hands,” you slip your hand into his and played with his, “it's created so many marvelous things.” You brought it up to your lips for a quick kiss and held it near your chest. “Its punched through who knows what, fought so many battles, and sustained so much damage, and yet it can still be gentle. Drying tears, or holding me tight when I need it.”

You were looking at him, taking your free hand you tilted his head to have your eyes meet. “They’re calcoused, but know passion when you trace my face when I’m asleep, or rub circles on my back when I can’t sleep.” You leaned in closer and got quieter, “They’re hands that love.”

And then kissed him, North’s lips were slightly chapped in contrast to your soft ones. He kissed you back and squeezed your hand, pulling back you put his hand next to your face and held it there. Pulling your hands down, you toyed with the bottom of his shirt and nonverbally asked permission. He didn’t make a move to stop you, so you slipped it off as he lifted his hands to aid you. Placing your hands back on his chest you raked your hands through his hair and kissed him once again.

Gradually you moved your kisses down his neck and past his stomach and over his thighs. As you made your journey, you gave his nipple a little suck and nip, and you took his onesie down too. You slowly spread his legs and got between them, without breaking eye contact you began to kiss between his thighs. You could feel him tense again.

The room was suddenly illuminated, North quickly looked up and saw that the usual wooden ceiling was temporarily changed to a night sky. Looking at you he searched your eyes for an answer. You gave no tells. It seemed as if the sky was truly in your joined presence, North stared a little more and noticed the one star shining brightly than the rest. The second star to the left.

“I love your thighs,” you gave his thick thighs a squeeze, “You're so sexy." you half moaned, half sighing you kissed a lazy, open mouthed trail along the curve of North’s thigh as your hands smoothed up and down his flesh. You stopped to grope gently at the supple skin of his thighs, quivering with tension as North struggled not to instinctively shy away.

“Trust me.”

You continued up and body and splayed yourself over his belly and laid a soft kiss on it. He was burning up and you could tell.

“I-I trust you.” Came a breathy whisper. He couldn’t believe you were doing this just for him, North’s eyes moved up your body and slowly relaxed at the attention.

You took a point to admire his belly, as round as it was and decorated with stretch marks that were shades of pink and purple.

“You talk down on yourself, and don’t even see the wonder of yourself.” You began and slowly traced a stray mark that curved onto his back. “You don’t even realize how you carry the autonomy of the universe within your skin. The holy bodies that made you the way you are decided to leave a mark, a reminder of where you come from.” You laid another kiss as you began to make your way back up, “A place of infinancy, a place of wonder, and place were the north star guides you home from way up above.” You wrapped both arms around him, “A plac- no, kingdom of beauty that I refuse to let you crumble.”

North’s eyes began to water, but you continued, “A perfectly constructed man, who has a heart purer than gold or the untouched waters of the amazons, with the spirit of unbridled fire, and voice as loud as thunder.” You slowly wiped his tears away as you felt his arms come to circle around you.

“A man worthy of love.”

You stared directly into his eyes, even while crying he still looked heavenly.

“You’re beautiful.”

You breathlessly whispered and watched North crumble completely into cries and whimpers. Holding him close you ran your hands through his hair and massaged his scalp, you kissed his temple and let him let it out. You let him know what he was, not his body, but his hands, his mind, his own north star.

His own piece of wonder.

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libertyreads · 3 years

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Anticipated Releases: 2021

These are the major books coming out in 2021 for me. I know there are a ton of books coming out in the new year. These are just the ones I’ve been looking forward to reading next year.

1. Enjoy the View (Moose Springs, Alaska #3) by Sarah Morgenthaler-- The final book in the Moose Springs, Alaska companion series. This series is about a small town in Alaska that doesn’t really love the tourists who visit throughout the year. They’re all cute and easy to read romances between an out of towner and a local. These books are seriously one or two sitting reads for me. Light and fluffy and great for breaking up all my bigger reads.

2. Bridge of Souls (Cassidy Blake #3) by Victoria Schwab-- I picked up the first two books in this Middle Grade series this Fall and loved them. It’s a series about a girl who can see ghosts who is traveling with her parents who have a TV show about ghost hunting. Her best friend is a ghost and these books are so cute. Despite me not being the target audience there were still moments that made me nervous for our main character and moments where the sweetness touched my poor shriveled heart.

3. Namesake (Fable #2) by Adrienne Young-- The final book in the Fable duology. I’m a big fan of Adrienne Young. This series is about a girl who was abandoned on an island by her pirate father after her mother dies. Her goal is to get to her father and finally receive her inheritance. Book one was so much fun and so heart breaking at times.

4. Rule of Wolves (Nikolai #2) by Leigh Bardugo-- The final book of the Nikolai duology and book 7 of the Grisha Verse. I liked but didn’t love the first book. I felt like the author has a lot of explaining to do for the chaos that was the end of King of Scars.

5. Fugitive Telemetry (The Murderbot Diaries #6) by Martha Wells-- I discovered and marathoned this series while I was stuck in bed with Covid. The Murderbot Diaries is a futuristic sci-fi about a Security Bot who doesn’t want to do their job. They just want to watch their Serials all day. Instead they get drug along while their humans make some of the worst decisions.

6. The Box in the Woods (Truly Devious #4) by Maureen Johnson-- Originally, I thought the Truly Devious series was only going to be a 3 book series, but apparently there’s more to come. It seems like The Box in the Woods is going to be a new ARC featuring Stevie Bell and her friends from Ellingham Academy. This time they’re going to be camp counselors. I can’t wait to see how this rattles our anxiety prone main character. Of course murder and mystery abound.

7. Witchshadow (The Witchlands #4) by Susan Dennard-- This was another series I marathoned while I was stuck in bed with Covid. I read them so quickly that I need to do a reread before the next one comes out. This is a Fantasy series that is so complex with such wonderful characters. I’m also planning on picking up the novella before I read this one.

8. Untitled (Crescent City #2) by Sarah J. Maas-- Am I a little bit Maas Trash? Just a little. I read and thoroughly enjoyed the Throne of Glass series, but never picked up the A Court of Thorns and Roses. But when I saw this urban fantasy come out last year I had to read the first one. I’m a little nervous because I thought the first kind of stood on its own a little. I don’t know where the story is going to go from here. I just know that I’ll enjoy the ride. The first book is about a girl attempting to solve her best friend’s murder with an angel who’s got a bit of an attitude.

9. Nowhere (Skyward #3) by Brandon Sanderson-- This is one of the ones that we still aren’t 100% sure it’s coming out in 2021, but I need it. I loved reading Skyward and Starsight so much. I love the characters and the adventures that they’ve gone on. Plus Sanderson can write some damn good space fight sequences. Skyward is about a girl who wants to becoming a pilot but struggles against her coward father’s legacy. And when she finds a spaceship the higher ups of this struggling Air Force can’t say no.

10. The Hawthorne Legacy (The Inheritance Games #2) by Jennifer Lynn Barnes-- The first book in this series left me shook. I shouldn’t be surprised because I love this author. But I have to know how the cliffhanger gets resolved. I need it in my life now. The book only recently got a title and a release date so I’m a little nervous is could get pushed back. The first one was like a combination of Knives out and Clue without all the murder.

11. The Righteous (The Beautiful #3) by Renee Ahdieh-- I am a little on the fence for this book. The Beautiful is a vampire story set in late 19th century New Orleans. And that’s all I needed to know before I bought the book. I was sold. And it does a good job of putting you there with the setting and the characters. But book 2 wasn’t my favorite. We had a character who was compelled to forget someone who was a vampire and therefore forget about all the magical/mystical things about the town. We also explored other realms with a portal which felt like it didn’t fit in this story. So, book 3 is going to have its work cut out for it if it’s going to get me to love it. At the same time, it’s Renee Ahdieh whose writing has always smacked me directly between the eyes.

12. Black Tabs by V.E. Schwab-- From GoodReads: “Forthcoming. Starring a female assassin in a future version of New York City. Tentatively titled ‘Black Tabs.’” That’s it. That is all I need to know. I love Schwab’s writing and a female assassin? In New York? Where’s the preorder button? Take my money.

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average-luck-charlie · 3 years

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A/N; this is probably the only work I’m going to post on here, but I was very proud of this one. Word Count: 2.6k

TW: Sad/Angsty. Talks about war, although not in a lot of detail.

Edmund Pevensie - The Kings Go To War

*************************************************

'Tomorrow he’ll be gone, and I’ll be left wondering if he’d come back to me or not. Tomorrow I am going to be curled up in my bed refusing to come out. Tomorrow the whole castle will be quiet and solemn. Tomorrow the kings go to war.'

**********************************************

“Y/N? Are you alright? You haven’t been paying attention, it’s not like you.” The young king asked, as he tried to meet my gaze.

I glanced up at him to see him staring intently at me. “I’m fine, I just have a lot on my mind.”

Instead of answering me, he started placing all the pieces on the chess board back where they belonged. We had previously been in the middle of a game, when Peter informed us about Archenland's need for help. The war between them and Calormen had been going on for a few months, and Archenland was in need of resources. Everyone had been planning and making arrangements, with no time to spare. So there sat the chess pieces, unmoved for a week in a study that went unused.

“You always feel better after we play.” Edmund said as he placed the last pieces down. “I’ll even let you win if you want. Since you can’t do it on your own.”

I scoffed as I moved my first piece “I could beat you any day.”

He grinned as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Game on.”

**********************************************

“Stop cheating!” I groaned as Edmund dramatically hit my king off of the table and onto the floor for the 7th time.

“I’m not cheating you are just predictable.” He said with a laugh before setting the pieces back up.

I got up, smoothing out my dress a bit as I ran my fingers along the spines of the books lining the walls. It was supposed to be Edmund's study, but he ended up turning it into his own personal library.

Once Edmund had gotten tired of my nagging about picking up the books he had taken from the real library and never returned, he decided to make shelves. It gave us something to do, and it only took about two weeks.They weren’t very tall, only about 6 feet, and they lined the top and bottom stories of the study. A few of them had carvings on the sides, one from each of his siblings, and one from me.

Lucy’s design was the most intricate, with different flowers, leaves, trees, and lion heads scattered among the wood. Peter’s was simple yet beautiful. He carved the Narnian crest into the sides of his. Susan carved daffodils, and suns onto hers, while Edmund refused to carve one because he said he didn’t want his own work on display in his study.

I didn’t want to carve one either, mostly because I couldn’t come up with what to carve, but also because I wasn’t a very good artist. I was very particular,and if it didn’t turn out the way I pictured I wouldn’t want it where anyone would see it. Once Edmund had pestered me about it for 5 hours straight I gave in and carved a moon, and a lake with some flowers around the edges. I said it looked awful and asked if we could use it for firewood instead but he waved me off and put it in its spot “Oh shut up it’s great.” He had said before placing it next to the others.

I smiled softly as my fingers dragged along the books, before tracing some of the carvings.

"Edmund?" I asked, not turning around. I knew how the conversation would turn out but I had to try one last time before he left.

"Yeah?"

"Couldn't I go with you and Peter?" When he didn't answer I turned towards him to see him looking at me. I assumed he would look annoyed since I had been asking him all week, but he wasn't. His eyes shined, like he was about to cry but he didn't. He just smiled sadly. "I'm a good fighter so you wouldn't have to worry about me on the battle field. I could help tend to the wounded as well, I do train with the court physician after all. Please?" As I spoke, I moved back to my chair, leaning against the side of it.

"Y/N-" he started before I cut in again.

"I don't even have to fight, I can just help out in the medical tent! Or I could-"

"Y/N!" He said louder.

I didn't bother looking at him. Suddenly my hands were very interesting because I didn't take my eyes off of them. I just sat down silently, playing with my dress, or tapping my thigh.

"We've already been over this. You are staying here with Susan and Lucy. You guys have to take care of things here." He said again. It was the same excuse each time.

" I want a real reason! It's not like I'm queen. Besides Susan and Lucy can handle running the kingdom on their own. If you give me a good reason. A real reason. I'll drop it."

Silence filled the room, as Edmund ran his fingers through his hair. The only sounds that could be heard where our breathing, and Edmund's silent plea to end the conversation. When I finally looked up from my hands, he was messing with the knight piece of the chess board. After several minutes of silence, a knock came at the door.

"Edmund, Y/N? Come downstairs, dinner is ready." Susan called out before the sound of her footsteps faded away.

I rose out of my chair and left the room without my answer. I knew he couldn't have had a good reason, but I also knew that if he asked me to stay behind I would. If it was anyone else, I would have told them I was going whether they approved or not. With Edmund it was different. It was hard to say no to him. The amount of times we got in trouble together was astounding, and most of them were because I wouldn't say no. Not that I very much minded, since Peter, Susan and Lucy would just scold us a bit before letting us go. The whole time I was walking, I never heard his footsteps, nor did I hear him leave the study.

When I entered the dining room alone, the others gave me questioning looks. I just stayed quiet and sat in my seat, only speaking to say thank you for the food. Lucy started talking with her siblings like normal, which was nice. She always told nice stories, and it gave me something to focus on. About 20 minutes later Edmund finally decided to show up. He apologized for being late, and when he was asked why he just said "I was taking care of something."

The whole room felt apprehensive. I couldn't tell if it was because of the war the next day or if it was because of the tension between Edmund and I. Either way it was uncomfortable. Lucy tried to be her usual happy self, but you could tell her heart wasn't truly in the stories. I finished before the others, but that's only because I hadn't eaten very much. I had lost my appetite, and spent most of the dinner pushing the food around the plate. Deciding against staying, I excused myself and headed up to my room.

My room wasn't anything grand, but it was very pleasant. There was a desk against one wall, with papers and ink. Next to it was a small bookshelf. On the opposite wall there was a vanity with different drawers for makeup, and brushes among other things. There was a small box on top for jewelry. On the same wall was a wardrobe with different dresses and shirts inside. There was a queen sized bed, neatly made, with a nightstand on one side. At the far end of the room was a door that lead to the washroom. It was the same as every other guest room in terms of furniture. It was smaller compared to the bedrooms of the kings and queens, but I didn't mind. After all I was just a friend of the royal family. I didn't actually have any status.

Once I had entered my room, and shut the heavy wooden doors behind me, I moved to stand in front of the open window. Directly below was the training grounds, and straight out was open fields of green. Spring was one of the nicest times in Narnia. All of the flowers were blooming, beautiful cherry blossom and apple trees were growing. The ground was soft, green, and dewy in the mornings. The sky was always a bright blue, with little clouds in the sky, but it stayed rather warm. The only differences between Spring and Summer in Narnia were the types of plants that grew, and the temperature. In summer it got hot, but not unbearably so. In spring though it was still rather cool, especially in the mornings but warmed up nicely by the afternoon. Spring was one of my favorite times of year.

I spent a few minutes just looking outside, but eventually went to the washroom to take a quick bath. I didn't take very long, only about 15 minutes. I only really needed to wash my hair, but I figured a full bath couldn't hurt. I got out and changed into a green tunic, that I had stolen from Edmund, and a pair of brown pants. It was getting late and I normally slept in a shirt anyway, so I figured there was no reason to put on a dress again. While sitting at the vanity and untangling my hair, I heard a knock at the door.

"Come In!" I called out as I brushed out the ends of my hair. The big doors swung open, and Edmund walked into the room, shutting them behind him. I glanced to see who it was before turning back to the mirror. "Have you come to tell me I can go?" I asked hopefully.

"No. Actually I came to give you my reason." He said as I turned to face him. "You said if I gave you a good reason you would stop asking to go right?"

I nodded, finally giving him my full attention. He sat on the end of the bed leaning back slightly on his hands. He looked tired, not like he hadn't slept, but like he had done too much.

"Nevermind" I said with a sigh as I moved to sit next to him. "I don't need a reason. If you want me to stay behind and help here.....I will." I felt guilty giving him another thing to worry about. With all the plans, and having to go to war, he didn't need me causing anymore stress. It was going to be just as hard on him if not more so, he was leaving his sisters behind as well.

He smiled at me, before laying all the way back, his hands resting behind his head. "Thank you."

"I do have one condition though." I said, earning a confused look from him. "You do everything you can to come home. I want you and Peter home in one piece. So don't do anything stupid, although that might be hard for you." I said with a grin, as Edmund started laughing.

"I promise." He said

"One more thing?" I asked as he rolled his eyes. "I get to stay with you tonight. Seeing as how you are going to be gone for a long while."

"I don't know... that might be asking too much.” He said with a grin before lying all the way back on the bed.

“I’ll miss you.... you know that right?” I said quietly as I kept my gaze on the floor “You’re my best friend and I-“

“Will you stop talking like I’m not coming back? I already promised I’d come back to you and that I would drag Peter with me.” Edmund said cutting me off. His breathing was calm, and his voice was level.

I glanced back at him and noticed his eyes were closed. His soft brown curls fell into his face, and he had a small smile on his face. He looked peaceful and happy.

How can he be happy? He’s going to war tomorrow for who knows how long. Why is he smiling?

“How can you do that?” I whispered, as I shifted my gaze to my hands shakily playing with the hem of my shirt.

“Hmm?” He mumbled, as I felt him moving a bit on the bed.

“How can you be smiling!? How can you lay there and act like this doesn’t bother you. YOU ARE GOING TO WAR! People are going to die Edmund, lots of them! You are leaving me behind to go fight a war and I’m gonna be STUCK HERE DOING NOTHING, WAITING TO FIND OUT IF YOU ARE GONNA BREAK YOUR PROMISE! HOW CAN YOU NOT BE WORRIED OR UPSET OR ANYTHING!?” I shouted as tears poured down my cheeks and rained onto my clenched fists.

Silence.... not a word was said, just quiet. I couldn’t hear anything over the sounds of my sobs, and my breathing getting heavier. My chest started to burn and ache as I dug my nails into the palms of my hands. The birds weren’t chirping, the wind wasn’t whistling, the sea wasn’t singing. It’s like everything could tell there wasn’t anything to be happy or cheerful about.

Edmunds calloused hands softly cupped my cheeks, as his thumbs brushed away some of the tears. Carefully he slid a hand to the back of my head, and the other down to my waist before pulling me down to lay on top of him. He didn’t speak, he just let me sob into his shoulder as his fingers wove in and out of my hair, and his thumb traced circles on my back.

I don’t know how long we laid there, but it felt like forever. I eventually calmed down enough to stop crying, and for my breathing to even out. I didn’t try to get up, and neither did Edmund. We just laid there.

“It does bother me you know. I have to watch Peter and the Narnian’s fight, and I am going to see my friends die. I’m going to be away from you, and away from Susan and Lucy. It’s not easy for me either.” He said finally breaking the silence. His voice was quiet and a little raspy, but he never raised it to its normal level. It was like he was worried someone would hear him. “If I said I was scared what kind of example would that be? People are looking for me to lead them, they don’t want a coward they want a leader. If Susan and Lucy saw me scared, they’d just be more worried when I left. I have to be strong for them. For all of them.”

It was quiet and it was brief, but I heard it clearly. His voice cracked. I realized too late why he didn’t raise his voice, and why his hand stayed on the back of my head. Why he kept me facing away from him.

He was crying.

“Being scared doesn’t make you a coward. It makes you human. Anyone who isn’t scared to fight a war is either a liar or doesn’t care about living.” I whispered as I tightened my grip around his waist. “I’ll be strong for you Ed I promise. I’ll look after Susan and Lucy. You don’t have to worry about them. Just focus on winning okay? Focus on coming home.”

“Thank you”

#the chronicles of narnia #edmund pevensie #peter pevensie #susan pevensie #lucy pevensie #narnia #pevensie siblings

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nataliedanovelist · 4 years

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GF - Beauty Within the Fallen ch.I

Summary: Two misfit twins come across an enchanted castle, home of a mysterious beast, and slowly begin to form a strong bond that just might survive through anything. Even evil demons.

AU and artwork belong to the beautiful and very talented @artsycrapfromsai. Go give her some love, guys!!!

ch. II

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Once upon a time, deep within the woods of France, a wealthy man lived in a shining castle. While this man had all one could dream of - money, fame, a beautiful and intelligent wife, and three sons who were handsome in all aspects - the cup this man had chosen to fill had no bottom; it was never enough for him. Behind a mask of silver and gold, the family suffered. The eldest son, a humble man, broke away from the rich family and found love in a small, poor town. The mother, while heartbroken, was happy for her son and wished him nothing but joy, but the father disowned him and forbade any further contact.

With the heir and eldest gone, more pressure fell on the man’s twin sons than ever before. Already far too used to shouldering impossible demands and harboring guilt and responsibility, the eldest twin looked elsewhere for comfort, since it had been proven that family was not the place to go to. His brother, younger by fifteen minutes, was worried for him and acted as he felt was best. One day he confronted the problem and tried to aid the older twin. Together, as a family, they had won the battle, but they would lose the war. A furious demon soon haunted their home, cackling and proclaiming that if one loved his precious journal so much why does he not become one. The younger twin tried to fight back, to once again remain victorious and to right the wrong he had started, but the demon, who sees all and knows all, could not be fought or conned; he knew what this man was and how he saw himself, so he decided to pair the human with his twin and he turned into what he saw himself as. The younger twin was transformed into a hideous monster, and all the servants of the castle were cursed, as well. All who had loved these people, all outside the castle’s walls, were freed of their memories of them, leaving the servants and the brothers forgotten. Confident that the younger brother would never accomplish such a task, the demon had it be known that only if he could find someone to love him the curse would be lifted. They did not have all the time in the world, however; since the older twin was the first to deal with the demon, the journal would slowly lose pages as time went on. When the last page of the journal leaves the cover, the curse would remain forever and the elder twin would be nothing more than an empty shell and the younger twin would remain a beast for all time. Years passed. The brothers lost all hope, coming to face the reality that all they had left in the entire world was each other. For who could ever care for such monsters? ~~~~~~~~~~ Sandwiched in the quiet village, made of stone and bricks and hard work, sat an odd house. Odd for it’s tiny porch full of flowers and herbs. Odd for it’s pig snoozing on the top of the small set of stairs leading to the garden. Odd for it’s residence and their interests, but it was home. Boots clicked against the wood as the little girl skipped out the door and picked up her pig and hugged him, leaving a laundry basket on the floor. Her brother slapped on his blue cap and made sure his matching vest was on well. His sister followed him down the steps with the big basket and the pig followed them down the street of the little town. “Bonjour!” “Bonjour!” “Bonjour, Monsieur!” “Oui, oui, Madame! Mon plaisir!” Mabel, in her peasant girl’s dress with a pink jacket and cloth for a headband, grinned and waved at an old lady across the slow street. “Bonjour, Susan!” Lazy Susan paused her job, walking into the shop with fresh cookies, and held the tray out to the twins. “Good morning, little pinetrees! Where are you off to?” “The library.” Dipper shared while his sister munched on a cookie. He gave Lazy Susan some money and took some bread from a tray on the window. “We just finished one about a knight and a swamp and a princess.” “It was wonderful!” Mabel cheered, her cheeks full of delicious cookie. “I preferred Shakespeare.” “Well, would you like a cookie, too, Dipper?” Lazy Susan asked, knowing the boy all too well to know he would only take one when directly offered. Dipper smiled, took a cookie, and he and Mabel said “merci” before heading on their way. “Bonjour. How is your family?” Tad Strange asked the red-haired lumberjack. “Bonjour! How is your wife?” A creepy old lady asked Mr. Gleeful. “Attrape les! Attrape les!” Tyler cheered Manly Dan on as he lifted some heavy logs. “There, Dipper!” Mabel said, tugging on his vest, and the kids ran for the little library in the midst of the chaos. The library was only one room with only one wall filled with books. With Dipper being an advanced reader and Mabel as an advent storyteller, the two made their evenings entertaining with stories taking them far away. “Good morning!” The curly-haired man said behind the counter with his wife by his side. “Happy day!” “Bonjour, Madame et Monsieur Valentino.” Dipper greeted politely. Mabel rushed to one book and held it out to her twin brother. “Let’s borrow this one!” “We’ve read it three times already.” Dipper said with a roll of his eyes and a small smile. He pulled out the book they were returning from his vest and put it back on the shelf. “But it’s my favorite!” Mabel climbed up the ladder and pretended to sword fight an enemy. “New places! Daring fight! Spells and magic! Great character development!” Dipper chuckled and hushed Mabel, taking the book. “Okay, okay. We’ll read it again, but then I want to pick up Hamlet again.” “Deal!” Mabel cheered and hopped down. While Mabel was at the counter with Mr. and Mrs. Valentino, Dipper was elbowed harsly by a black-haired teenager with bad acne. “What are you doing back here, chief?” Dipper glared at him. “What does it look like I’m doing, actually using my brain.” “Oh yeah,” Robbie snarled and leaned down, his big nose almost touching the boy. “How’s that going for you, twerp?” “Dipper, c’mon!” Mabel called, the laundry basket in her arms by the door. “Let’s go!” “Coming!” Dipper ran after her, but he tripped over Robbie’s foot and fell on his face, but he quickly got up and followed his sister. The kids raced around with their pet pig, Waddles, at their heels, and laughed at each other’s company. They made their way to the Washing Well and began to do the laundry. Beforehand, they had invented a new way of doing laundry; once again, Dipper and Mabel made the perfect team, with the girl’s imagination and the boy’s intelligence harmoniously coexisting to create new inventions and ideas. Borrowing some rope and having Waddles help them, they used gears from Dipper’s vest to hook up the pig to the barrel with rope and they used gears so the barrel would turn with the special sticks inside, mixing the soap with the clothes and saving energy and work. Mabel used oats to make a circle around the well for waddles to follow, and then the twins watched proudly as their washing machine seemed to be working. “We did it!” Mabel cheered and high-fived her twin brother. Dipper then punched her shoulder lightly and said, “I told you it would work! Maybe next time we should borrow Gompers, though. Waddles is kind of slow.” “What?” Mabel dragged and laughed. “No way, Waddles is perfect! You’ll see, those clothes will be cleaner than the Northwests!” Dipper smiled as he opened the book and laid it on the stone wall, using it as a desk as he and his sister watched the washing. “Okay, okay, we should keep working on your reading. You’re getting better. Why not try to read the introduction?” Mabel smiled, a little shy when it comes to being a better reader, but she loved stories and she wanted to prove that she was smart, too, so she nodded and began to read outloud. She hoped her fond memory of the book would make it easier, guessing the words, but that proved to be false. Still, Dipper and patient and a good teacher and slowly Mabel finished the first chapter all on her own. “That was great!” Dipper congratulated and Mabel’s cheeks turned rosy. “What are you two doing?” The twins looked ahead to find Blubs and Durland staring at them, looking both shocked and unapproving. Mabel’s cheeks turned a darker red, but she tried to smile and be friendly. “Bonjour, mes capitaines!” Mabel greeted warmly. “Having a good day?” “We were, until we saw the commotion you two are up to.” Blubs said. “What’s a girl doing reading? And what on Earth is all this? Another invention?” Mabel grinned, choosing to ignore his first comment. “Yeah! Isn’t it great? Think of all the work this’ll get done!” “Mabel,” Dipper whispered warningly. “You’re usin’ up the whole well!” Durland scolded. “And no pigs inside the well!” “That’s not a rule.” “You questioning our authority, boy?” Blubs growled. “I’m questioning your objectivity.” “I dunno what that means, but I don’t like it.” Durland sneered and the two policemen pulled the barrel out of the well and bumped the soapy laundry on the dirt. “You two take your freaky readin’ somewhere else!” Dipper and Mabel hurried to pick up their clothes. Waddles waddled to them and rubbed his head on Dipper, who hugged him for comfort before continuing to clean up the mess. The twins turned for home and simultaneously groaned; hurrying to them with white hair and pale skin was the ten-year-old, Gideon Gleeful. He grinned at the sight of them and hopped on over in his baby-blue junior army uniform. He bowed a little and said, “Why, Mabel! You look absolutely radiant today!” “Thanks.” She mumbled. “Here, lemme help y’all.” Gideon said and picked up some stray laundry. “I think your invention was really neat.” Dipper raised an eyebrow at him. “You do?” “Oh, sure!” Gideon said. “Laundry’s sucha pain, but y’all made it bearable! Great job!” “Gee thanks, Gideon.” Mabel said sincerely with a smile and took the laundry from his arms. “You know,” Gideon said slyly and wiggled his eyebrows at her. “If you wanna read to me or show me some more inventions, I’m not busy tonight.” Mabel’s smile went away, suddenly very uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, not tonight.” “Oh. Already got plans?” “No.” Dipper grabbed her hand. “Come on, let’s go back home. Fiddleford will need our help soon.” Gideon and the policemen watched them go away. A big muscular man with no pupils emerged from a shop and said, “I’m sorry that girl isn’t into you, Lil’ Gideon.” “She loves me!” Gideon insisted. “She just doesn’t know it yet.” “What makes you wanna date the Pines girl, anyway?” Blubs asked. “She’s the prettiest!” Gideon explained. “And the nicest! That makes her the best! If I’m gonna be the best I need the best as my queen!” “Yeah,” Durland said. “But she and her brother are nothing like the rest of us.” Gideon didn’t care, and hurried to catch up to his friends. Or at least former-friends. He shoved his way past busy peasants and called out to the twins. Dipper kept on muttering “Ignorer, ignorer, ignorer!” to himself and his sister. Ever since Gideon’s little crush got out of hand and he joined the military, he had been pestering Mabel to be with him and Dipper to join the army. What used to be annoying was now toxic and they were taught not to meddle with that. Mabel, Dipper, and Waddles made it into their house just before Gideon could catch up, leaving him to switch his eye and say to himself, “Sure… kiss those other frogs, Mabel Pines… this prince can wait…” The twins sighed with relief inside their childhood home. Dipper locked the door and Mabel hugged Waddles. They were both still as they heard music and they smiled and followed it. In the main room, what was supposed to be a living room but was mostly a study and work room, an old man with a long beard and nose sat at a desk, working on a music box. The machine was small and plain on the outside, but on the inside it was many beautiful colors and had pretty iron gears. Fiddleford glanced up from his work and smiled at the children. “Y’all back. How was it in town today?” “It was okay.” Mabel said and sat next to him. “Mabel sweetie, will ya hand me… thank ya.” Fiddleford chuckled as Mabel had the piece in her hand already, smart enough to know just what he needed. “What made it only okay?” “Gideon.” Dipper said and sat on Fiddleford’s other side. “Oh. My boy, will ya hand me… no, no, not… actually…” Fiddleford smiled with pride for the boy to have known of the correct piece before he did. Both of the children were bright in their own right, as he always said. “Well, m’sorry that boy won’t quit botherin’ y’all. Shall I talk with his parents?” Mabel sighed and rested her cheek on her fist. “Nah, I just wish things could go back to the way they were before. You know, friends.” Dipper was off in his own little world. Mabel might have been oblivious to it all, but Dipper was not. Between all the polite greetings, the people had hissed rumors and comments about the Pines twins. Poor orphaned children who were stuck with their grandfather’s best friend ever since the plague. Maybe if they only had proper parents to raise them they would be so odd, like a boy with no interest in fighting and a girl who loves to read. Mabel was always told she wasn’t smart enough to read and Dipper was always told he wasn’t strong enough and should fix it. It became suffocating at times. “Fiddleford,” He said out of the blue. “Are we odd?” Fiddleford blinked rapidly and readjusted his glasses. “Odd? My kids? Odd? Never. What got that into your head?” Dipper shrugged. “People talk.” Mabel sighed, sorry for her brother. “It’s all my fault.” “What?” The boys gasped. “If only I wasn’t so… different.” Mabel picked up a bigger music box Fiddleford had built but had not yet decorated. She saw her reflection, the reflection of a girl with fat cheeks and not-perfect teeth, someone every other boy but creeps had rejected. “Ya ain’t different.” Fiddleford said firmly. “You’re special. Wanna know why?” “Cuz we’re made of stars?” Mabel guessed, eyeing her twin. Dipper smiled and took off his hat and pushed his hair back, showing off his birthmark. Fiddleford told them ever since they were little that they were made out of the same stuff as stars, both full of light and goodness. The old man smiled and gently combed Dipper’s brown hair. “That’s right, Sweet Tea. Ya remember me tellin’ ya that I was there when y’all were born?” The children nodded. “You said Grandpa Shermie woke you up in the middle of the night, but you didn’t care.” Dipper said. “You wanted to see us.” “I was born first and punched the doctor in the jaw!” Mabel declared victoriously. “That’s right, sweetie, ya were.” Fiddleford laughed and went on with his story. “Ya were so new but your eyes already shined so bright. Dipper came next, but his skin was blue n’ he was sick. Thank the Lord we knew he’d be okay soon, n’ your grandpa saw your birthmark n’ grinned n’ said, ‘Hah! That’s my weirdos! Nothing can take ‘em down!’” Dipper and Mabel smiled over fond memories of their grandfather. Their parents had died when they were babies and that was when Fiddleford moved in permanently to help take care of the kids. Grandpa Shermie died four years ago, and it still hurt a little, but now they could all remember him with smiles on their faces. “It’s a good thang y’all are weird. Ain’t nothin’ better than bein’ different.” Fiddleford assured them. “I know it’s been hard - small town leads to small minds, ya know - but hurtin’ makes ya kind n’ strong, n’ there’s no doubt in my mind that y’all are gonna do big thangs one day n’ make ‘em all feel like fools.” Dipper and Mabel smiled, but their eyes seemed unsure. Fiddleford closed the little music box and pushed his chair back. “I think that’s enough work for now.” He leaned back and grabbed the banjo that was leaning against the wall. “What should we sing first?” Mabel grinned; growing up, their lives had been full of music. Fiddleford sang to them since they were babies and taught them how to dance and sing. Dipper smiled and let Mabel and Fiddleford create good background music while he read the book from the library. “Take a little journey, Let’s go to the unknown. Let’s come back changed, We’ll feel it in our bones. It may be scary, It may be hard, But I’ll go as long as I have you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note: I tried to put in a lot of different Disney references in this story, outside of GF and BatB; if I could draw I would have totally put some Mickey Mouse ears in the background or something.

One thing that was interesting to write about was Dipper and Mabel’s backstory and Fiddleford’s friendship with their grandfather. Honestly, Shermie doesn’t get enough attention, in canon or in the fandom, so it’s always fun to include him when I can. Sorry I had to be a jerk and kill him off.

In case anyone is wondering, the song the family sings at the end of the chapter is based off of “Find Me in the Woods”, basically the perfect song for Gravity Falls (and Over the Garden Wall).

One last thing; primarily this crossover is based off of the animated BatB movie, but I did pull some ideas from the 2017 live-action movie. My opinion of the live-action movie is a tad bias, I’ll admit it (the casting of Emma Watson sold me instantly), but while it’s certainly not better than the animated movie, there are some elements I love, like the piano and the wardrobe’s love story, Lefou’s character development and Josh’s performance, the mob scene I felt was better executed, and I like this version of Maurese better. Expect SOME elements of the live-action in here, like Dipper and Mabel being inventors and their washing machine, but note that it’s mainly based off of the original animated movie.

Thank you so much for reading, and I hope y’all enjoy it!

#GF #gravity falls #batb au #mabel pines #dipper pines #fiddleford mcgucket #gideon gleeful #beauty within the fallen #fanfiction #feel free to tell me what you guys think #sai

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inquisitorcastellanos · 4 years

Note

“I can’t keep sleeping with strangers and pretending they are you!” 👀👀👀

Yaaassss... John x Reader because I was in a John mood when I started and my thirst is showing oopssss....

“Hey!”

You turn your head in the direction the shout had come from and spot John storming through the camp, heading straight towards you with a determined stride and an intense frown. “I need to talk to you.”

You look over your shoulder to make sure that it’s you that he’s talking to and not someone standing behind you. But you are the only one there, so it has to be you that John’s hollering at. “Me?” Instantly you get nervous, wondering what you could have done to warrant John Marston chasing through the camp to reach you.

“Yeah, you,” John says. He sounds more frustrated than you’d like. You can tell that something is bothering him, and from the looks of it, John is straight-up angry.

Gulping, you shift your weight from one leg to the other, where you stand with half a cup of coffee in your hand. “What’s up?” You ask, attempting to sound normal and to avoid fueling whatever craze John is in.

“I need to talk to you right now.” John all but slaps the coffee out of your hand, grabbing the cup and setting it aside on the nearest table and spilling its content in the process. “Right now.” He grabs hold of your wrist and drags you down towards the shore.

You get a feeling that this might be the beginning of a fight, and you aren’t in the mood for another shouting match. Dutch and Molly had been at it all morning, and not five minutes after they were done, Karen and Susan picked up a fight of their own. Tired of fighting and shouting, most of the gang have dispersed for the day. Even Uncle had rolled out of the camp to get away.

John pulls you along, heading down along the shore towards the wooded area nearby. “Where are we going?” You ask him when you step down into the sand. “John?” He doesn’t answer, but his expression makes it quite clear that he’s even more angry and frustrated than he was just a moment ago. You stop, digging your heels into the ground, and pulls your arm free from his grasp. “John!” You repeat, a bit more forceful. “Talk to me!”

He turns to you with a sigh and smothers a hand over his face, being far too rough on the still-healing scars and stitches on his cheek and jaw. He grunts softly and lets his hands drop back to his sides. “We need to talk.”

“About what?”

He lets out another even longer and more exasperated sigh. “I need to talk to you,” he mumbles, less harsh but no less frustrated. “Need to come clean. Have wanted to do that for a while.”

“What’s happened?” You ask, worry pooling in the pit of your stomach. “Are you alright?”

“Just… shut up for a moment,” John grunts, and your mouth shuts as if on its own. “I ain’t a good man, ain’t even been one might never be and... I don’t think it’s going to change anytime soon, but I’d like it to.” He shifts where he stands, scratching the back of his neck and glaring down at his boots. “Wanna be a good man. To you.”

“To me?” The words leave your mouth before you can stop yourself.

John nods. “Yeah, you,” he mumbles. “I want you.”

“Want me?” You echo in slight disbelief and perhaps a bit of confusion.

He glares at you, softly but sternly as if he’s not pleased about having to explain himself. “Don’t act all dense on me. Not now. You know what I mean,” he growls. “I want you.”

Perhaps it’s because the cogs in your mind are still spinning, or maybe it’s because you actually want him to explain that you shake your head. “I don’t understand.”

John looks about ready to start tearing his hair out and smothers a hand over his mouth before he gets closer, stepping far into your personal space. His hands are suddenly on your hips, yanking you to him, and you feel his want between you. He looks you in the eyes, his gaze so intense you can’t help but get flustered. “I’m tired of this damn dance,” he says. “Tired of pretending you ain’t driving me crazy.”

“John-”

“I’ve tried to make it go away,” he continues. “Tried to quench the feelings, the needing…” His hands squeeze your hips slightly. “I’ve tried,” he repeats. “But I can’t pretend any longer. Can’t be with other people and pretend they’re you.”

You stutter out a mess of words, your thoughts jumbled, and the words tangling in your tongue. “John?” You squeak - the only word that comes out audible.

“Please.” John’s voice is low and husky, barely louder than a breath. “I want you. I need you,” he murmurs into your ear. His lips ghost over your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine. “I need you,” he urges you, more desperate.

“John...”

His hands move from your hips, up along your sides until they’re cupping your face, pulling you closer and leaning so close his nose touches yours. “Yes?” he whispers, his breath warm on your lips.

“John, I-...”

John blinks slowly, peering into your eyes with not only desire and lust but deep and genuine affection. Your heart flutters in your chest. He opens his mouth, his lover lip brushing over yours. “What do you say?”

Open ending because I HAD to stop for... reasons... and like do what you will with it and imagine what happens next I guess

#my writing #john marston #john marston x reader #gender netural reader #request #thank youuuu for the request #sorry it took time #i've been writing sebthur xD #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2

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elwinged · 4 years

Text

narnia analysis

so i’m just gathering here all of the analysis i’ve read about narnia so far?? I think it’s pretty cool ngl

a note: i’m not going to hecking mention the v obvious and already explained christian allegory with aslan being jesus and edmund representing humanity and the witch being satan and all that jazz.

DISCLAIMER: absolutely none of this belongs to me except for the odd bit of prose in the edmund section

⠀

first up, names! credit for this goes to @thoughtfox72 (you can find the original post here)

- peter means rock, which ties in well as he’s the “rock” of the family. It’s also a reference to good ol’ st. peter- in matthew 16:18 (the bible), peter is called “the rock upon which my church was founded”.

- edmund means protector, which again ties in well with his actions against the witch, but it also ties into shakespeare’s king lear. in king lear, edmund is the bastard son of the duke of glouchester, who betrays his entire family to gain power. sound familiar? yeah, i thought so too. shakespeare’s edmund is never redeemed, however, but it is a direct parallel to narnia’s edmund.

- lucy means light, and it’s pretty obvious that she’s the light of her family, illuminating the path to aslan.

- susan, however, means lily and it’s pretty hard to figure out why that’s so important. like yeah, lilies are typically used at funerals (which, um, pretty dark bit of foreshadowing there, mr. lewis) but like?? compared to the others, that doesn’t seem deep enough. and that’s when you realise- at the end of vodt, what does the dawn treader have to sail past to get to aslan’s country? a sea. of. hecking. lilies.

- and so the flower that susan is named for is the ones that grow on the path to aslan’s country, which is a pretty strong hint about her eventually returning to aslan’s country.

- also, if you look at the points of the compass, aslan’s country (and therefore the sea of lilies) are in the east. it’s implied that susan beginning to forget narnia started when she went to america (heading west). this is really paying a lot of attention to direction, which brings me to my next point…

⠀

direction, and points of the compass! credit for this goes partly to @thoughtfox72 (because of the above point) but mostly to @elecktrum , from the most noble order of the table from the sword and shield, jewel and song series.

- so as was stated above, susan’s journey away from aslan’s starts with her going west, but the flowers that she’s named for are in the east, near aslan’s country, thus signifying that she will probably return.

- as well as that, aslan gives edmund and peter the west and north (“to the great western woods, king edmund the just” and “and to the clear northern sky, i give you king peter the magnificent”), respectively, while susan and lucy receive the south and east (“to the radiant southern sun, queen susan the gentle” and “to the glistening eastern sea, i give you queen lucy the valiant”).

- edmund and peter have the directions of their enemies (to the north are the wild lands of the north, where the giants live, and to the west are the western wilds and telmar).

- susan and lucy get narnia’s “allies” and protection (i put allies in quotation marks as calormen isn’t really an ally, but it isn’t quite an enemy either)- archenland, calormen and the eastern sea.

- this highlights that the brothers are the ones who protect, and the sisters gather allies and friends (a teensy bit sexist, don’t you think?).

⠀

there’s also a bit of character analysis!

i’ll start with Peter (credit for this goes to @thoughtfox72 ) (post found here)

- so like loads of people have said that peter is boring, because he doesn’t have complexity, and the heart of this boils down to the fact that c.s. lewis keeps us at a distance from peter. we don’t get to see what he thinks or feels, whereas we do with the younger siblings.

- also, and this is connected to the point above, peter seemingly rushes into things without any warning (e.g. the duel with miraz, pc book canon). but honestly, it’s not that he rushes into things, it’s that we don’t see his reasons for doing it. an example of this is in the prince caspian book- peter is the only one to realise that they’re in cair paravel and he actually numbers his goddamn reasons, like it’s a slideshow or something. this, of course, tells us that he’s been thinking about it for a while, but just hasn’t chosen to share it. peter keeps things close to his chest.

- peter doesn’t share things that much- this even shows in his title. valiant, gentle- heck, even just are quite descriptive and specific. magnificent, on the other hand is like “??? what does it mean?" this is done on purpose, as it’s an effective way to maintain awe. he’ll always meet an individual’s sense of what a great king should be because he’s left to the imagination. “High King Peter the Magnificent is more an idea than a person, like King Arthur.”

- but peter is a person. he’s a good king, but still a person. examples: when they have to vote on which way to go (book pc), he doesn’t want to vote until trumpkin says that it’s his duty. basically the first thing he says to caspian (again, book) is “i haven’t come to take your place, you know, but to put you in it”. though he’s the one in charge, it’s his duty, not something he seeks.

- this is also shown during acts of violence. think about it- most of peter’s most famous acts (save the last battle) are to do with violence- killing the wolf, fighting the witch, duelling with miraz. this all emotionally affects him- he cries after killing maugrim, it’s shown that he’s pale and drawn after fighting the witch... i could go on. although he’s good at this stuff, he doesn’t like it- it’s not easy for him. this ties in well with the whole series’ idea of kingship- “For this is what it means to be a king: to be first in every desperate attack, and last in every desperate retreat.”- and c.s. lewis knew this. lewis had fought in the war and knew how bad it got, but he had peter do it anyway, because he’s the high king, and the hardest tasks fall to him. this, matched with peter liking to keep things to himself, is a lonely task.

- as well as that, it’s more than likely that peter would’ve served in the war back in england as well- the timelines do match up.

- and peter has a super strong sense of duty and responsibility as well- why, at the end of prince caspian (book. again.), he tells aslan that he was leading them wrong, even though he was being pulled in opposite directions by both his sisters. he’s trying to take everything that’s wrong onto himself, including his siblings’ faults.

- tldr; peter is good at being a king but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. he’s a good warrior and a good person but he’s been given really hard tasks and he’s trying to keep it together. he only looks perfect and boring on the surface because he’s not very open and is kept at a distance from the reader. his job is lonely, because he’s high king and that’s what it means.

⠀

okay. peter’s done. hopefully that make sense.

onto the problem of susan (credit for this goes to @ncfan-1 ) (find the original post here)

- to start off, here’s a reference:

“Sir,” said Tirian, when he had greeted all these. “If I have read the chronicles aright, there should be another. Has not your Majesty two sisters? Where is Queen Susan?”

“My sister Susan,” answered Peter shortly and gravely, “is no longer a friend of Narnia.”

“Yes,” said Eustace, “and whenever you’ve tried to get her to come and talk about Narnia or do anything about Narnia, she says ‘What wonderful memories you have! Fancy you still thinking about all those funny games we used to play when we were children.’ ”

“Oh Susan!” said Jill. “She’s interested in nothing nowadays except nylons and lipstick and invitations. She always was a jolly sight too keen on being grow-up.”

“Grown-up, indeed,” said the Lady Polly. “I wish she would grow up. She wasted all her school time wanting to be the age she is now, and she’ll waste all the rest of her life trying to stay that age. Her whole idea is to race on to the silliest time of one’s life as quick as she can and then stop there as long as she can.”

“Well, don’t let’s talk about that now,” said Peter. “Look! Here are lovely fruit trees. Let us taste them.”

–The Last Battle, page 135

- please notice who speaks. tirian asks, peter gives a very tense, very abbreviated explanation (which probably means he doesn’t intend to take it further than that). however, eustace, polly and jill jump in and defame her to tirian, despite the fact that what she’s been doing on earth is very clearly none of their business. lucy, edmund and digory don’t speak at all.

- i’d like to point out that the four people who knew her best contributed nothing to her defamation, and that three of them are pointedly silent.

- now, onto the three that did talk.

- how well did they know susan? there’s no canon evidence (book, movie, or otherwise) that any of them interacted with her.

- eustace was susan’s cousin, yes, but up until vodt she thought he was an annoying brat and we only know that he made friends with edmund and lucy- it’s not sure if he made friends with the rest of the pevensies as well.

- polly was digory’s friend, but we don’t know when she was introduced to the pevensies- if it was before susan “forgot” narnia, or after. it was possibly and probably after, given that there was no mention of her at all pre-prince caspian (save the magician’s nephew, but that’s not the point)

- and we know for a fact that jill and eustace didn’t meet until a few years after pc. we don’t even know if susan and jill ever met, or if jill just knew of her.

- so there are a few questions raised. how well did eustace, polly and jill know susan? were any of them even close to her? how reliable a judge are they?

- well, eustace, jill and polly are shown to be the kind of people who, when they know that susan has received the new that they’re dead and is being asked to identify their bodies, instead of expressing sympathy for her (she has to bury them, bury them, and they can’t even express sympathy? talk about heartless), they just talk about how silly and vain she is- so no, they’re probably not the best judges of susan pevensie.

- what this tells us is that none of the three were really interested in knowing susan. none of them really wanted to get to know her side of the story. if they treat her like that when she isn’t even around to defend herself, imagine what they were like to her in person! small wonder that susan pevensie didn’t confide in them.

- let’s look at the other four, the four who knew her best. her siblings and digory, who would have known her better. while none of them express sympathy for her (seriously, guys? not good), none of them gossip about her either. as mentioned above, peter gives a short explanation that is obviously meant to wrap it up and also cuts off the three gossips. also mentioned above is that the other three who knew her best say nothing. absolutely nothing.

- that might suggest they agree with the others, or, perhaps more likely, that there was a lot more going on with susan that eustace, polly and jill didn’t know about.

- there’s a continuation of this, as well. everything pre-the last battle suggests that when aslan sent them back to earth for good, he wanted them to live their lives there. we’re not completely sure what aslan said to susan and peter at the end of prince caspian, but it’s probably somewhat similar to what he said to edmund and lucy (vodt):

“Dearest, said Aslan very gently, “you and your brother will never come back to Narnia.”

“Oh, Aslan!” said Edmund and Lucy both together in despairing voices.

“You are too old, children,” said Aslan, “and you must begin to come close to your own world now.”

“It isn’t Narnia, you know,” sobbed Lucy. “It’s you. We shan’t meet you there. And how can we live, never meeting you?”

“But you shall meet me, dear one,” said Aslan.

“Are—are you there too, Sir?” said Edmund.

“I am,” said Aslan. “But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there.”

–Voyage of the Dawn Treader, pages 215-216

- everyone who was brought to narnia, and then sent back, had a super specific purpose. aslan wanted them to live on earth, and find meaning in their lives there. he wanted them to look for him there.

- we don’t know if susan tried to look for aslan on earth. we only have eustace, jill and polly’s word for that, and as stated above, they are unreliable.

- susan did live on earth, and she tried to make a life for herself, and she made it her home and “[came] close” to it. she probably missed narnia, despite what she said to the three gossips. but she didn’t spend her life pining after something she could never have.

- aslan told the others to live lives in their own world, and to look for him there. and what did they do? spent the rest of there lives wanting nothing more but to go back to narnia.

- aslan told them to look for him on earth, and they didn’t do that. their eyes were focused on another world.

- now aslan was responsible for pulling them back to narnia one last time, but it probably wasn’t meant as a reward. they were pulled back to narnia because they failed. they were brought back because aslan realised that they were never going to do what he wanted them to do, they were never going to look for him there, and so he just “bit the bullet and gave them what they wanted”.

- in the end, it looks less like susan deserted narnia, and more like she was the only one of them who did what aslan wanted her to do.

⠀

and edmund! credit goes to @softlyblues , from weeds spring high, and @quecksilvereyes , from Putting the Gentle Queen Back Into Her Own Narrative, A Suggestion In Ten Parts

- this analysis is directed at the viewpoint that “edmund is a traitor and betrayed them all for sweets”, and while that is true (to a certain extent), there are some certain points made (below)

“I’m not a very good person,” Edmund says, looking up at the clouds.

(He’s thirteen at this point.)

“You’re thirteen,” Susan says sensibly. Sensible Susan with her sensible shoes.

Edmund does that snotty breath that young boys are often wont to do when they think they might cry, breathing a whole cloud of stuff in through his nose. “Father Christmas didn’t give me a gift,” he says, all wet and damp. “You got two. Luce got - you know. Peter got Rhindon. I got to be Edmund the Betrayer.”

“You were eleven,” Susan says. Sensibly.

Her brother looks to the sky and she can see how shiny his eyes are. His cheeks have freckled in the summer. “I’m not anymore and I don’t feel any different to how I did then. What if I’m not any better? What if we go back and I do the same thing again?”

But privately, Susan thinks there isn’t much wrong with being cold and trusting a woman who says she will warm you up, who offers you treats to eat and drink and makes sure your fingers won’t freeze of frostbite. Susan thinks there isn’t much wrong with being eleven and upset that you’ve been sent away from your home, away from your parents. Not much wrong with being eleven and wondering if you’ll still have a house left to come back to.

Aslan used to be someone you couldn’t help but disappoint.

–weeds spring high, by softlyblue on ao3

and

VII. Perhaps then, finally, I can look at the lion and tell it what I think of its inaction in the face of genocide, its inaction in the face of its people starving and dying away. Maybe then I can tell it that a nine year old boy who misses his parents like the food he’s starving for, who hasn’t had sweets in a year didn’t deserve to be called a traitor because he was upset and hurt and a Witch spelled him.

–Putting the Gentle Queen Back Into Her Own Narrative, A Suggestion In Ten Parts, by Quecksilver_Eyes on ao3

- i’m not sure i even have to say much after those two excerpts, but i will say this

-imagine this. you’re lonely. you’re tired. you’ve been sent away from your parents, and you miss them you miss them you miss them. you’re surviving on war rations. you’re criticized by your siblings. when you enter this new world, you’re all alone. you’re cold. your sister, who went in with you, is gone. you’ve been left alone. again.

- and then, a woman. a kind, gentle, beautiful woman. she gives you food to eat and a warm drink. you’re warm. finally. you haven’t had anything this nice to eat since before the war. you barely remember that.

- in the end, it all comes down to this: you’re cold and hungry and tired and you miss your parents so much it hurts and there’s a kind woman who offers you food and drink and warmth and love, and so of course you accept, because what else would you do?

⠀

on numbers (credit to @nothinggold13 ) (post found here):

- in the bible, the number 7 means completion. this has direct parallels in the bible and narnia: 7 churches, 7 lampstands (bible) and in narnia, 7 books (although out of world rather than in-world) and the 7 friends of narnia. and so 7 is completion.

- but that leads you to think- what about susan?

- with susan, the 7 friends of narnia would have become 8.

- and do you know what the number 8 means in the bible? do you?

- new beginnings. resurrection. regeneration. new life.

- susan is the 8th. there is a hope and a plan for her.

- “Yes, the Seven stand in completion, but after the end, God makes all things new.”

that's all, folks! will update if i spot any more analysis!

#the chronicles of narnia #narnia #susan pevensie #edmund pevensie #peter pevensie #prince caspian #lucy pevensie #the last battle #jill pole #eustace scrubb #polly plummer #digory kirke #tirian #analysis #narnia analysis #narnia meta #the truth of queue

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