#i am so normal about the poem annabel lee | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

someabsolutenonsense · 1 year

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I have been writing papers for days and have no eloquent bones left in my body, but nobody I know has read Nona so…woe, unhinged rant be upon ye.

Okay this isn’t really deep analysis I mean its fairly obvious but if I don’t get this out of my brain I will absolutely lose it. I’ve been thinking about the significance of Alecto/The Body/Earth???/Vengeful Space Barbie as connected to the poem Annabel Lee. So first of all…

“And bore her away from me,

To shut her up in a sepulchre

In this kingdom by the sea.”

Like this is right there. Literally it’s a tomb with salt water. It’s right there.

“And neither the angels in Heaven above

Nor the demons down under the sea

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee”

This is John and his whole lyctor connection to her, because even though he is the one who locked her away he still feels connected to her. (John Gaius is so twisted, if I am understanding things right then not only did he destroy the earth but he trapped the earth’s ghost TWICE. Once in a giant living Barbie body and then again in the tomb. He’s so weirdly possessive like “no this is my planet ghost Barbie, I love her but also she’s horrifying so I’m gonna put her in a box forever but she’s still mine, cool?” Not cool, Jod. Not cool.) SO THEN

“And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,

In her sepulchre there by the sea—

In her tomb by the sounding sea.”

This is very Harrow ending up in the tomb at the end of the second book, with all of her worship of The Body. And all of the themes of the sea throughout Nona and all of the themes of the sea throughout this poem. And the way John puts Alecto on a pedestal is similar to the way Annabel Lee is framed in the poem. And of course keep in mind that John chose to call her this, he chose this poem, he damn well knows what he’s doing here at least to a certain extent. And also themes of beautiful dead girls we can’t forget about that. AND ALSO THIS SHIT

“It was many and many a year ago,

In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

By the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

Than to love and be loved by me. “

Because it WAS many and many a year ago because John and the original lyctors are fucking ancient, kingdom by the sea is earth because our planet is covered in oceans (as reflected also in the way Nona gravitated towards the sea, she longs for it CAUSE SHE’S LITERALLY A FUCKING PLANET) but most insidious of all, and framing this as from John’s pov, is the “lived with no other thought/Than to love and be loved by me.” Because that was the goal, wasn’t it? Not even just about Alecto, with all of his lyctors. John Gaius said “none of you need to remember The Past, or all the terrible shit that happened. Just love me as your God and everything will be chill. Don’t think about it too hard.” But Alecto (a literal fucking planet, not to bring that up again) was Different TM, whiiiich brings us to…

“But we loved with a love that was more than love—

I and my Annabel Lee—

With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven

Coveted her and me. “

The winged seraphs of heaven of course are the other lyctors because even if they didn’t know it yet they DID want what John and Alecto had. You know, perfect lyctorhood where you don’t have to kill someone you love. And that’s the love that was more than love, and John never stopped loving her even though he permanently locked her in a tomb, CAUSE HE’S FUCKING TWISTED and I personally think everyone who wants to should get to kill Jod at least once but I’m glad Alecto got to stab him that one time. Anyway, I am very normal about this.

Also just one more thing

Edgar Allan Poe:

“That the wind came out of the cloud by night,

Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.”

Gideon Nav:

“Do you really have the hots for some chilly weirdo in a coffin?”

#the inherently English Major experience of over analyzing the most obviously things in the most annoying way possible #and then throwing it at other people #overenthusiasm about literary allusions #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #harrow the ninth spoilers #nona the ninth #nona the ninth spoilers #gideon nav #harrowhark nonagesimus #alecto the ninth #the locked tomb #tamsyn muir #john gaius #book analysis

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valleyfthdolls · 1 year

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Can’t decide on a game, so I’m gonna fall back on ol’ reliable lmao-

What songs would you associate with the entire CTW cast, or Stanley and Delilah?

You could also ask about multiple games 👉👈

For the CTW cast:

Funtime Freddy’s is the same as my Sister Location song, Circus Apocalypse by Vermilion Lies.

Millie’s grandpa’s is Annabelle Lee- as a song adapted from Edgar Allen Poe’s poem, it of course caught my eye. The lyrics of the song and those of the original poem serve well for Millie’s grandpa’s relationship with his wife, before death eventually claimed her in her forties. Just like Millie’s grandpa, the narrator keeps living on, and yet lingers, Annabel never quite out of the corners of his mind.

Millie herself is Decadence by Disturbed. She’s implied to be a fan of heavy rock based on the description of her favorite singer, and Decadence is about feeling like you’re dead- a perfect song for our dear Wednesday Addams away from home. The perspective the lyrics are sung from- the singer speaking to the person experiencing this decadence- could work either for Maurice trying to reach out to Millie (“decadence isn’t easy, is it?” sounds like an attempt to relate or comfort the listener by relating) or Funtime Freddy commenting on her state to mock her (“yes, they know you’ve hurt yourself another time” puts the listener on the spot, calls them out. They know.) The lyrics about recalling your mind, your soul going cold, and never forgetting you’re “one of the lonely” calls to mind the epilogues and overarching story, Millie’s death, and her soul eventually being put to rest through a good memory of Christmas day. The line about being “one of the lonely” also reminds me of the cryptic language used to describe the children’s ghosts, and the ending line of Lonely Freddy.

Dylan is This is How I Disappear by MCR. I don’t think he had any malicious feelings toward Millie even after their fight. He was upset with her, but I don’t think he was just going to hate her. And maybe even with enough time they could even make amends, were Millie to be willing to apologize.

That opportunity never comes. Millie- his first friend in his new home where he hardly knows anyone and fewer still like him, if we can glean anything from how Millie’s unconventional goth style is treated- dies. It was most likely ruled a suicide. He doesn’t know any better, so all he knows is he stopped talking to her and hardly a week later she killed herself on fucking Christmas Day. The loss of a friend like that fucks you up, and that’s something I think fits This is How I Disappear well. Especially the line “And if you could talk to me, tell me if it’s so, that all the good girls go to heaven”, it works really well with Dylan trying to process that. Maybe Millie’s spirit is even trying to speak to him, hence the line I quoted.

Brooke is Orange Juice by Melanie Martinez. Mostly because it can be speculated that Brooke in He Told Me Everything is Brooke Harrison, joining a fucked up school experiment that literally steals her body and kills her all because she wants to be popular- more than that, since Harrison is already a popular girl, she wants to be liked. She wants people to like her, and yet she’s shy and seems to lack confidence, as she rarely speaks out in any of her classes. That lack of confidence and desperation to fit in and be liked is the fuel for the toxic mindset that the girl in K-12 is trapped in. This is mostly headcanon but it’s how I interpret her

I don’t think I have much of anything to say on Stanley, but the refrain of One Normal Night from the Addams Family musical fits Delilah, the repetition especially since Ella stalks Delilah and comes for her every night at 1:35 AM.

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loganscanons · 4 years

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ko’s journal - excerpt 1

Written by Ko while camping after the party exited the cave.

excerpt 1/?

Ko’s playlist

We left the mountains today and ended up in a forest, where we’ve made camp. Everything is very green and so much brighter than things in Dundrumli. I suppose it’s pretty, but I miss the sea. I miss swimming. I really, really miss swimming. I tried asking Pontius if this forest is like the forest he’s from, but I don’t think he likes talking to me. I hope he doesn’t hate me. Maryim says we’re all friends, but I think she might be a little too optimistic.

Pontius and Aydis went hunting earlier. Pendrell wanted to stay at camp – I’m not sure he’s ever seen blood or dead things before because he seems pretty grossed out by it – and I decided to stay with him. I can fish just fine, but I can’t hunt. At least I don’t think I can. I’ve never tried. Maryim decided to stay at the camp with us, and it’s a good thing she did, because some weird dudes attacked us! I suppose they were bandits. Like from tales of adventurers and heroes. They weren’t as threatening as the bandits from those tales, though.

Before we were attacked, Maryim asked Pendrell and me if we’d ever been camping before. Obviously, Pendrell hasn’t, and I haven’t either. Where would I even go camping around Dundrumli?? In the water? Among the rocks? Anyway, she taught us some survival skills, like tying ropes (which I already knew how to do, so that was cool – it’s nice to feel like I’m competent for once) and determining which berries were poisonous. Then, the magic alarm I set went off. (Side note: this is the first time I’ve gotten to put Alarm to use! It’s one of the first spells I learned. It was in an old book that Ita had, and I memorized it in case I could use it someday. I’m sure glad I did.)

We saw some shadows, heard some rustling, it was terrifying. I’m not sure I like forests. There are so many places for things to hide. Then, a guy with a bandana over his face jumped out and said we were surrounded. I hoped he was bluffing. Maryim didn’t even hesitate. She was up and had that guy in a chokehold in a second. The guy wasn’t bluffing. Five other bandits attacked us.

I think I’ve made up for fucking up in the cave, and not just because of the usefulness of my alarm spell. While Maryim had the guy in a chokehold, I channeled the power of Tutrac. I concentrated the fear and terror Tutrac inflicts upon mortals into my whalebone and directed it at the guy. It worked. He was actually terrified. Which makes sense because Tutrac is frightening, but I was the one who channeled that power. I did something helpful for once. It felt good.

The bandit leader told the other guys to grab stuff and run, but Pendrell began plucking at his mandolin and playing a tune that got my adrenaline pumping even more. (I wish I could be as confident as Pendrell under pressure). I think he amplified the fear I was causing, because a few of the guys took off. One tried to attack Maryim, but she didn’t even move. He barreled into her and she stood as still as a statue. And then she broke his finger. It was badass. Maryim is a badass.

I just wish I could’ve done more to help out. The bandits got away with 5 coin. All that for 5 coin? Banditry (banditing?) seems like a bad business to be in. Certainly not very lucrative, and a high chance of broken bones. Why not just sell fish or cloth or something like a normal person?

Pontius and Aydis got back a little after that. Pontius had a whole fucking deer over his shoulder, just carrying it like it weighed nothing. We told them about what happened, and then Pontius went to work carving up the deer. He tried to teach Pendrell how to carve a deer, and I asked to watch too. (Pendrell hurled when Pontius was carving up the deer. Gross.) Carving a deer is very different from gutting a fish or carving up a shark. Sharks don’t have bones and fish are…fish. Maybe next time I’ll ask to help Pontius with the carving. I don’t know. I don’t want to bother him. I don’t think he likes me.

Pendrell played some music for us. A song Aydis knows. She knows a lot of songs. I wonder if she knows some of the sea shanties they sing in Dundrumli. Maybe I’ll ask her. Anyway, I made the mistake of complimenting Pendrell’s ability to perform in front of crowd. Maryim asked me if I have a fear of public speaking. Maryim, I have a fear of starting conversations; of course I have a fear of public speaking. I think Maryim is into like self-improvement or whatever because she suggested I read out one of the poems Pendrell knows to work on my fear of public speaking. And then Aydis and Pontius started chanting for me to recite a poem. I would rather drown again. (Not actually, Tutrac, that was a joke). But they were relentless, so I recited a poem from one of my favorite bards, Edgar Allan Poe. It’s about a woman named Annabel Lee that he loved by the sea. And then she dies. It’s a really pretty poem.

I still feel nauseous from reciting the poem, but they all cheered me on and said it was really good. They might have just been being nice. I can’t tell. They suggested I recite a poem in The Hidden City when we go back, as an act with Pendrell. I appreciate their faith in me, but fuck no. I have enough eyes on me as it is.

Tomorrow we go to desecrate a grave. I hope this doesn’t come back to bite me. It probably will. It’s like a holy grave or something. But everyone else agrees that this is a quest we have to go on, so I’m going. What else am I gonna do? Sit in the forest? I’d rather take my chances with the dead than wait around for something to jump out at me from behind a tree. The dead don’t move. Well, they don’t move after they’ve been decomposing for a while. Usually. Fuck. What if the dead move? I need to prepare some spells.

Until next time,

Ko 👁️

#ko the cleric #aydis the paladin #pendrell the bard #pontius the ranger #maryim the fighter #i don't think ko knows aydis' name has accents that's my excuse #dungeon world #my writing #ko's journal

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teamatsumu · 5 years

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Stable - Chapter 5

Series Summary: Bucky is a shy bookworm. Y/N is an adventurous ER nurse. Two completely different lives, yet they’re coming together perfectly.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (Bookstore AU)

Word Count: 1,940

Warnings: Swearing.

A/N: So this is it! Thank you so much for all you read this series and supported it. you all are the reason this shaped into smth beautiful. i love all of you xx

Series Masterlist \ Main Masterlist

Tiredness was settling into Bucky's bones, making him look up at the clock on the far wall. It was nearing midnight. He fidgeted a bit, trying to get comfortable in the plastic chair that barely fitted all of him, flinching a bit when it dug into his back. His foot was tapping quietly on the marble floor, anything to distract himself. He looked up at the clock for what felt like the hundredth time.

“Bucky Barnes?” His head snapped up in attention, eyes landing on a woman in scrubs looking down at him. Her eyes were clouded with worry, short red hair framing her face in pretty curls. Bucky recognized her immediately. This had to be Natasha, Y/N’s friend from work. He had seen pictures of the two of them on Y/N’s phone.

He nodded and stood up, body tensing up a bit as he awaited news. His wrung his fingers, lip biting the inside of his cheek. Natasha nodded to him in reassurance.

“She's stable.” She informed. “Blood pressure is within normal range. Her body temperature is significantly higher than when she was brought in, and they put her on a sedative so she could get some sleep. The hospital has an appointment fixed with a specialist for her so they can work on whatever therapy regime they can build for her to help her deal with the insomnia.”

Bucky let out a breath of relief, feeling his body slump. As the anxiety drained out of him slowly, I got replaced by even more exhaustion, the worry transforming into tiredness the longer he stood there. It was like a huge weight off his chest, like he was able to breathe again. Natasha gave him a reassuring smile.

“She'll be knocked out for quite a while, 24 hours at least. You should go home, get some sleep. I'll call you when she wakes up.”

Bucky shuffled a bit, uncertain, before she gave him another nod. “It's okay, go on.”

He finally listened, managing to give her a grateful smile before he began walking to the exit doors, trying to push past the many people that crowded the County Hospital's waiting area.

The walk home was slow but deliberate, Bucky's hands buried deep in his hoodie pockets, hair falling over his face like it usually did. His mind was still trying to process all that had happened. His hand reached up absent-mindedly, thumbing at the small paper crane that hung from his neck. He remembered the night Y/N had given it to him, the night they had talked and laughed in a quiet, abandoned building, sitting on the floor next to a printing press and making fun of everything and everyone. It seemed forever ago now.

“Am I your Annabel Lee?”

She'd asked him that one night, her head on his lap, wet hair dampening his sweatpants, not that he minded. It was the night she first told him about her insomnia, about her sister. It was the night they slept together. It was only half a week ago. Why then did it feel like a lifetime had passed since then?

He remembered being hesitant about calling her his Annabel Lee, because he couldn't help remembering the other half of the poem.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven, Went envying her and me— Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

How true it had been, now that he thought about it. He had almost lost his Annabel Lee, exactly as the poem said he would. Exactly how Edgar Allan Poe had. It made his face scrunch up again, his steps falter, as he neared the bookstore. It took him several deep breaths to calm down enough to shove the key into the hole, pushing the door open with a ringing bell that sounded distant to his own ears.

Bucky didn't feel like sleeping just yet, ironically, as he lay down in bed that night. He looked to the side table to see his copy of For One More Day, by Mitch Albom. It was a story of how the narrator had one more day with his dead mother, to ask her all the questions he had and to apologize for all he couldn't do. Bucky huffed out a breath, looking pointedly away from the book and shaking his head.

All these talks of death, of departure and loneliness, they weren't doing him much good. He sat up abruptly, reaching for the book and opening it to a random page. Then, he tore the page out.

Any other day he would be horrified at what he had just done, defiled a book like this. He remembered the utter horror of Y/N showing up with The Kite Runner in her grasp, a book she had underlined and highlighted and scribbled words in. He had nearly fainted when he went through it, being an avid believer in keeping books mark-free.

But things had changed since then.

He remembered their first date, when Y/N had pushed his hair behind his ears and told him to stop hiding behind it. With the page in one hand, Bucky used the other to push his hair back, exactly as she had done, feeling a wave of tears rush to his eyes. How had he let her come to this? He had been so caught up in his own happiness that he had forgotten about the person who was bringing him said happiness.

Bucky read what was written on the page, letting the words consume him, before he placed it flat before him and started folding. He folded until the flat rectangle had taken the shape of a brown bird covered in writing, sitting before him as if making a statement of its own. Bucky stared at it for a bit, before moving to tear another page.

It took him all night, and by the end of it, his bed was overflowing with little, origami birds.

………………

It was early evening the next day when Bucky reentered the hospital, showered and changed, looking much better than last night. Natasha ran into him in a hallway as he was heading to Y/N’s room.

“She's awake.” She informed, making Bucky's breath hitch. “I shouldn't say more. You should see for yourself.”

Bucky had no idea if that was meant to be positive or negative, so he stopped himself from over evaluating the words and continued to where he knew she was admitted. He stopped in the open doorway of her room, eyes falling on the only person that had been on his mind for so long.

Her eyes were darting slowly from left to right, absorbing the words on the page before her. The book was held propped up by her hands, so Bucky could see the cover. Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell.

“Interesting choice.” He blurted out, making her eyes snap up. Her smile was immediate, and Bucky noticed how bright it was, something that had been lacking the past two days. He crushed himself again for not noticing. She seemed calm and well rested, closing the book and placing it on the table beside her bed as Bucky walked in.

“I would think you'd read something a little less…. depressing at a time like this. A little less upsetting. Something happier.” He was still taking her in, hungry for the sight of her, trying his best to not break down on the spot and start apologizing on his knees.

“In the immortal words of Rhett Butler, ‘Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn.’” She replied, grinning. Bucky let out a little chuckle at that, nodding and shuffling around on his feet. His hands dug themselves into his pockets for lack of doing anything better. She was still watching him, amusement lingering on her face.

“C’mere.” She gestured to the space next to her on the bed, making Bucky sit down on the edge. Her head tilted a bit as she looked at him, reaching forward to tug at a free strand of his hair.

“This is new.” She commented, obviously referring to the little bun at the back of Bucky's head that held his hair away from his face, though a few stubborn strands still came loose. He shrugged, feeling his face burn as she continued playing with his hair.

“I thought you'd like it.” He mumbled, staring down at his hands.

“I do. Allows me to really look at those baby blues.” She replied. Bucky let out a little laugh. Silence descended over them again, Bucky's fingers playing with the hem of the sheet that covered Y/N’s legs.

“Something’s bothering you.” She finally addressed the awkward pauses, her fingers wandering from the hair to his jaw, running over the rough stubble. “Tell me.”

Bucky breathed deep, trying to put his overwhelming emotions in words. “I just- I wanted to help you. I mean, I can't believe I let this happen. I should have been there. I should have done something.”

She was already shaking his head halfway through his mumbled sentences, nudging at his face until he looked at her.

“You couldn't have helped me, Buck.” Her voice was soft and calm. There was no malice, no judgment in her tone. “You can't help anyone who refuses to help themselves. I was stubborn and in denial. I didn't see a problem in the way I was living. The minute you pointed that out, I got defensive and pushed you away. And I'm sorry for that.”

Now Bucky shushed her, taking her hand in his own, laying little kissed on her fingers. “Don't apologize for any of it to me. I'm not the victim here.”

She sighed then, cracking a little smile. “Truth be told, I didn't make an effort because I had no reason to. But I'm looking at you now and-” She leaned forward until her forehead met Bucky's making him breathe in shakily and squeeze her hand tightly. “-I have someone to fight for.”

Bucky felt his lips twitch. “You've been reading too many romance novels.”

She laughed a bit, tilting her head to peck his lips. “Please, this is my natural talent of waxing poetic.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but his smile fell as he looked at her. “I want you to promise me you'll look after you for yourself. Not me. Not anyone else. You shouldn't make other people the reason you try. You should try because you want to make yourself happy.”

Her eyebrow raised in surprise. “Wow. This turned super heavy and emotional.”

Bucky gave her a look and she huffed. “Okay, I'm sorry. I get what you mean. And you're right. I promise, okay?”

It was Bucky's turn to nudge her, making her giggle. The sound was infectious, and it made Bucky smile too. He leaned into her more until their lips met, making her hum in approval.

Bucky grinned into her lips, kissing her deeper. He felt her sigh and go pliant against him, making him run his hand over her hair, gently scratching at her scalp. She pulled back just an inch, lips still gliding over his.

“Unless you want me to fall asleep right here, you'll stop that.”

Bucky kissed her again. “Darling, nothing would bring me greater pleasure than watching you sleep.”

She pinched his arm a bit, making him jump and laugh, lips parting from hers.

“Who's waxing poetic now?”

..................

As always, feedback is appreciated!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fic #bookstore au #bookstore owner!bucky #nurse au #nurse!reader

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jasminehoneytea · 4 years

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on the jet

even though private jets can travel at up to 500 miles an hour, the clouds moved by so slowly. the sunrise was just now overtaking the dark blue of the night, a blend of orange and blush pink foreshadowing a warm sunny morning.

“mind if i join you?” a voice asks quietly to not disturb the sleeping agents around us.

i rip my gaze from the window and turn my head to see spencer standing with two steaming mugs. i give him the best smile i could and pat the seat next to me. he hands me a mug, too light for a normal cup of coffee but i’ll take whatever i can get. “i tried to get your coffee order right, i just-“

“i like all coffee, spence. thank you.”

he nods and i hold the mug to my cheek, trying to get some sort of warmth. “you alright? you haven’t slept and you...you only do that when you’re tired or upset.”

damn profilers.

i sigh lightly. “you’ve got me all figured out, haven’t you?” he dips his head to hide embarrassment. i nudge his shoulder softly with my own. “i’m alright. this case just took a lot out of me and considering that we didn’t get on the jet till 3 am, i just thought i’d rather watch the sunrise than have a nightmare.”

“that’s a very you thing to do.” spencer says.

i laugh. he might know me too well. i lift the mug from my cheek and bring it to my lips, sipping slowly. it’s not bad, considering who made it. “we still have ways to go.” he says.

“yeah.”

“once the sun rises all the way, you should try to sleep. then you won’t miss anything.”

“you know how terribly that would mess up my sleep schedule, reid.”

it’s his turn to bump my shoulder gently. “sleep’s important.”

“did you sleep at all?”

spencer chuckles and shrugs. “i tried.”

“we’re in the same boat then, doctor reid. besides, it’s hard to sleep when i don’t have a pillow to hold on to”

“you cuddle with a pillow to fall asleep?” spencer grins teasingly.

i roll my eyes and fixate back on the now more vivid colors outside the window: coral striped across lavender. “reid, unless you have a better idea, you can’t judge.”

i look over at him studying the swirls in his drink, which was more of a sugar bowl rather than coffee. he’s quiet for a while, like he wants to say something but he knows he shouldn’t. i decide against asking him what it’s about.

my eyes land on a book that’s about to fall out of his overflowing satchel and an idea pops into mind. “reid?”

“hm?” his eyes are more tired than he lets on.

“read to me? that might help...y’know...with sleeping and stuff.” apparently exhaustion prohibits my ability to speak somewhat intelligently.

reid pauses and i catch him bite back a smile. he reaches into his satchel. “i would, but all of these books are in the original russian translation and i’m afraid that’s not very calming.”

“translate them for me.”

reid shakes his head. “that takes me too long.”

i roll my eyes. in spencer reid’s mind, ‘taking too long’ is just an extra second or two. “all of them are in russian?”

“yes, well, except...” he trails off and reaches for his coffee.

i sit up and narrow my eyebrows. “except...?”

he mumbles into his mug. “no, all of them.”

“liar.” that’s all i have to say. he can’t get anything past me and he knows it. same goes for me.

he gives in and i lean over his shoulder to watch him pull out a thin paperback. it was faded and worm, the name ‘poe’ was the only thing printed on the cover in a tiny typewriter font. the pages were pale with gold tips. it was simple but perfectly spencer reid. “i keep this little book of poems with me. my mom gave it to me a long time ago.” he says. “when i, uh...” he pauses to clear his throat lightly. “whenever i’m feeling...” a pause. “i read it to calm down. that’s all.”

“that’s a very you thing to do.” i repeat his words from earlier. he sits up straighter and opens the book, thumb running across the edge of the cover. the book looks like it’s meant for only his hands. i watch the way he looks at it, a warm nostalgia fading into his eyes.

spencer asks which poems he should read. “if you read annabel lee, i’ll cry.” i tell him.

“oh so you do know his poems?”

“doesn’t everyone?” i ask, slowly resting my head on his shoulder and preparing for him to move away. surprisingly he doesn’t. what’s more surprising was while he flips through the pages, he slips his arm around me, resting on my waist. he does it so instinctively, i wonder if he even notices.

“i’m gonna read annabel lee.”

“spence what did i j-“

“it was many and many a year ago...”

#spencer reid x reader

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lostjulys · 2 years

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anyways its one of my favorites various songs are based off of poems (i know there's annabel lee, somewhere i have never travelled, possibly one more im forgetting) and then others based off his own experience. its overall one of my favorite albums, i connect some songs to dsmp but mostly listen to it not thinking of anything in particular aside from how incredible it is, la dispute as a whole is amazing but something about that album hits so very different its so good. im so normal about somewhere at the bottom of the river between vega and altair, i really am.

YEAHHH yes i. ouhg. i'm feeling so very normal about it i promise. literally just the fucking name is sparking shrimp emotions holy fuckign shit.

#also tbh. i fucking love consuming art like that (on its own terms not through a fandom lens). :]#I WILL. I WILL DEFINITELY BE CONTINUING TO FUCKING LIVEBLOG LMAO #asks :)#CATKISS anon TYYYYYYYYYYYYYY ;-;

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sky-writes-daydreams · 6 years

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Happily Ever After

A/N: Hi guys! :) So.... I recently found out about @corleonisweek and Today’s prompt was Happiness. now sticking with my current writing theme of Reading aloud... I decided to mix them :) So Have a Cor X Reader Fluff. It’l be under a readmore.

@themissimmortal @the-wallflower-artist

It was finally here. After weeks of waiting and dealing with work, it was finally your week long vacation with your lover. It took a lot of planning and reworking a few things to get this time off for your lover. Sadly, what could you two expect? He was the Crownsguard Marshall.

You had gotten home before him. It was a lucky move for sure. You had already taken an amazing hot bubble bath and changed into pjs. Dinner was ordered since you two had agreed on chinese takeout tonight. You had just found something interesting to watch on tv when the door opened. You quickly sat up from your lounging on the couch and beamed. Shoes were already discarded and Cor quickly dropped his coat on his normal chair as he walked in towards you.

“Well aren’t you looking comfy?”

“And aren’t you looking sexy as always? About time.” He chuckled then and gave you a quick kiss.

“Clarus had a last minute thing to talk to me about… but now I’m all yours. He swore on his son’s life.” You laughed then and kissed him back trying to pull him down to your level.

“Then he better not break it… I need my lover.” He nodded but stayed standing. You backed off pouting and he smiled.

“What? I want pjs too. By then, dinner will be here right?” You looked down at your phone and nodded. You had set an alarm. He smiled then and quickly started taking off his shirt.

“Then… Wanna come talk or do you want to pick out the movie lineup for tonight?”

“Um… Movies! You take too long if we talk.” He shrugged then completely shirtless. You wouldn’t think he was built with his shirt on but once that came off, holy six, Cor was built. Defined lines accented by scars covered his upper torso. You had spent hours tracing those scars and muscles. You felt him tap your chin and you jumped. He laughed then and smiled.

“You were drooling over me again.”

“Was not!”

“Oh yeah? Check your chin hon.” You did without thinking and mentally facepalmed. He got you again. Cor started laughing and you got up. He moved quickly but it didn’t stop you from kicking that toned ass.

“Oh go get your shower, you immortal jerk!” He was still laughing even behind the closed bathroom door. You shook your head smiling. Both of you needed this time off. That was the first time he’s really laughed like that in a week. You sighed thinking about it as you went over to the movie bookcase and smiled. That meant you really needed to pick at least one comedy movie for tonight. You didn’t mind at all. You had a huge collection after all.

Time went by once cor came out of the shower. Dinner arrived right as he came out dressed in a baggy shirt and sweatpants. You two had everything on the coffee table next to a few drinks and started the night off with a romcom. It was a ridiculous movie and you two spent more time making fun of the couple screaming at the tv for them just to kiss. A few psychological horrors got blended in which led to you leaning close to Cor with his arm over you. You never did well with jumpscares so he always held you. The last one though was a newer movie he had never seen.

“The raven?” You nodded as you switched out the discs.

“What’s this one about?”

“Edgar Allen poe.”

“Wait the poet?” You nodded as the player sucked the disc in before walking back over and curling up next to him.

“Yeah.”

“But you said it was a horror movie.”

“It is. You’ll see. I promise. You’ll like it cor.” He shrugged a bit then and got a drink of his one beer. Even now he was a cautious drinker. A few too many wild nights when he was younger taught him that from what you could understand. You just smiled and settled down to watch one of your favorite movies.

All throughout the movie, Cor was silent. He was totally into it and even one of the jumpscares got him. You couldn’t help but giggle when he jumped earning a stern look. You went quiet until the end. Slowly the credits started rolling and you looked over at Cor. He seemed to have a stunned look on his face.

“So?”

“He….? Wow….” you nodded and smiled.

“No one is really sure what killed him to be honest… but this is an interesting take on it.”

“I’ll agree there…. But that last poem. A dream..?”

“A dream within a dream!” You said happily. Cor looked over and you smiled.

“It’s one of my favorites of his.”

“So you know a lot of his works?” You nodded and got up. You checked your phone and smiled. It was already two am. You felt Cor look at it over your shoulder. He hugged you close then from behind.

“Here’s an idea…. I’m curious about that one pendulum one… so if you’ve got them… How about we read his works before bed?” You relaxed in his embrace trying not to smile. He was getting tired. He was slipping back into his natural accent.

“You sure you won’t have nightmares?”

“Isn’t that what you’re there for?” He muttered against your neck before giving it a kiss. You sighed contently and nodded.

“I am.. So let’s go.” He didn’t need to be told twice. He let you go slowly and while he cleaned up, you turned off the tv and player before grabbing your collection off the normal bookcase. You held the book tightly as you headed to your room and got it ready for sleep. You had just gotten over the blanket when he walked in. He fell onto his side of the bed making you laugh. He smiled then and slowly crawled up giving you a kiss as he slid under the covers. You kissed back and got comfy with him next to you on his pillow. You cracked the book open and smiled.

“So what do you want me to start with?”

“What’s your favorite poem of his?” You stopped then before looking down and giving the pages a gentle smile. You quickly flipped to the page and smiled.

“It’s called… Annabel Lee.” You glanced over to find those crystal blue eyes trained on you and you just smiled before looking back and reading.

“It was many and many a year ago, in a kingdom by the sea, that a maiden there lived whom you may know, by the name of Annabel Lee… and this maiden lived with no other thought, than to love and be loved by me.”

He was dead silent as you read the whole poem aloud. Your voice clear and filled with love for cor and for the words. Slowly as the last syllable fell from your lips, a silence crept over you two. You took a light breathe before feeling his hand get your arm. You looked over and Cor was smiling.

“Undying love…” you nodded then with a smile.

“He never wanted to lose her… but she got sick. There was no cure back there and it took her.”

“A real lover?” You nodded then and he moved closer.

“Damn…. At least I get where he’s coming from though.” You let him take your hand then and gave him a small squeeze. That was all he had to say. You never wanted to lose cor either. He was your happiness and you were his.

He had you read a few others, like the pit and the pendulum, the tell tale heart and the cask of amontillado. By the end of the last one though, it was close to three and you were getting tired as well. Having him close by relaxed and gently rubbing the back of your hand was lulling you both to sleep.

“Hey…”

“Hm?” You were trying to find one last poem honestly.

“I love you.” You stopped when he said it. His eyes were almost closed but the words rang with truth. You slipped lower into the bed then and gave him a gentle kiss.

“I love you too cor…” He hummed gently then and you just smiled. He was fading into sleep now. You looked back at your book and smiled. You closed it gently and put it down next to the bed before turning off your lamp, letting the city lights filter in through his window. This life was truly a dream within a dream. Only this time, you two were going to live Happily Ever After.

#writing #Cor x reader #cor leonis week #day one happiness

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chasingforeverandaday · 6 years

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To Find a Home

Happy holidays everyone! I had the honor of being the secret santa for the-piece-of-toast this year, who requested something with Lenore. I hope you enjoy this little glimpse into a post-dinner party world. Enjoy!

After that disaster of a dinner party, life and afterlife at Poe’s house had initially returned to a state of normality. Well, what Edgar and Lenore would have called their state of normality. Edgar hid in his study all day, writing poems of ravens and of Annabel’s eyes. Lenore experimented with the vodka left behind by Dostoyevsky, playing bartender for none but herself. It was quiet, almost like the kind of simple quiet they had both relished in the past, for it meant they did not have to see each other. But it felt like something was missing, a piece of the puzzle that they hadn’t noticed before was now gone. And then a fabulous tornado blew back into their house to turn everything upside down in the best possible way.

It was dark and quiet and altogether far too still in the library. The abrupt slam of the front door startled Lenore, who had been lounging there, reading an incredibly bizarre novel involving time travel as she sipped a martini. Dropping the book, she reached for one of the knives she and Edgar had hidden all around the house after, well, everything (one can never be too careful). Once she could hear who was rambling loudly in the front hall, she relaxed back into her chair. “Edgaaaaar! Stop brooding and get down here! Where’s Lenore? Lenore, get your frilly little butt- ah, there you are.” The door opened and Lenore saw a velvet frock coat entire the room. The wearer took in the ghost draped across the chair and the book on the floor, and his eyes lit up. “Ooooh, which of my works are you reading? I’m rather partial to The Importance of Being Earnest myself, but really, they’re all spectacular. So which is it?”

She grinned at him, feeling the notion to tease someone for the first time in months. “Well, none of them, of course.”

“Blasphemy!”

“Like you could talk, when was the last time you-” She was cut off as Edgar rushed in, panting and wielding a fire poker like a sword. “Who is it? Where are they? Lenore, what’s going on?”

Raising one eyebrow, Oscar’s lips twitched into a sly smile as he turned around. “Edgar, darling, we really need to work on your sense of style. Or rather, find you one.”

“Oscar, what are you doing here?” Exasperated, Edgar turned around to leave before being forcefully pulled by the back of his waistcoat by Oscar.

“Oh no, you can’t leave. I’m about to change your lives.” Lenore cocked her head and gestured at herself. “Okay, Edgar’s life and your afterlife of course, Lenore. Because while you two have been sitting here moping, I’ve come up with a plan!”

“To do what?” Tentatively, Edgar

“Oh you’ll see.” Smirking, he pranced out in the direction of the kitchen. “Come along now my brooding little friends, this is definitely a discussion that will require alcohol.”

Looking at each other, Edgar and Lenore could only shrug and follow, as neither could deny that the spark of life, of hope that Oscar had brought was striking their curiosity.

Slamming a hand down on the table, Lenore stared into the beady eyes hidden behind a gauzy veil. Huffing, she started again. “Look lady, I want my best friend back, and she’s unfortunately dead, so I need your help to do that. Her name is Annabel Lee, she was strangled eight months ago.”

Looking around Lenore, the medium tried to gain the attention of the men hiding at the entrance to her stall. “Sir, I don’t just raise spirits, I can also get rid of them.” Looking an irate Lenore up and down, she added, “This one I’ll banish for a reduced charge, she’s really quite annoying. How long has she been haunting you precisely?”

Summoning all of her inner strength, Lenore reached across and grabbed the chin of the woman, forcing them face to face. “Hey no, don’t look at Edgar, I’m the one talking to you here. I don’t need to be banished, I have an afterlife I am very much enjoying, thank you very much, it would just be like so much better if it had Annabel in it. It’s not like I don’t know how to help her, I mean, hello, I’m already a ghost! Now, hang on, I am not done talking here...”

A few steps away, her far more lively allies were watching the spectacle with wide eyes. “She does realize we do actually need this woman’s help right? I mean, I don’t know how to raise a ghost, otherwise I’d have brought Mary Anne back forever ago. You obviously don’t know how. And we’re trying to rise quite a few,” Oscar muttered under his breath.

Amused at someone else finally being on the sharp end of Lenore’s tongue, Edgar held up his hands in surrender. “Eh, it’s Lenore, she feels better when she can argue with someone. And besides, have you ever seen her not get her way?”

“True, it’s rather terrifying really.” As Lenore and the medium finally started bartering pricing and services, Oscar began calculating the odds of walking out of here with an empty purse, which were unfortunately high, but expected considering Lenore’s antagonism of their only lead. “Why did we let her talk to the psychic again?”

“We lost rock-paper-scissors, which was truly a terrible way of determining this now that I think about it.”

“Oops.”

It may have taken a few weeks to gather all the items needed to perform a summoning of this magnitude, but they did it. Everyone who had died that night came back, with the exceptions of HG and Eddie-Eduardo-whatever his name was. No one quite knew why HG didn’t return right away, but the mystery quickly became irrelevant when he popped up in a puff of smoke. Not really knowing what to do with themselves, all the ghosts returned to their previous homes, but everyone drifted back to the old house in the woods over time.

In the beginning, Lenore had to give the rest of them a crash course in ghosting. There were only so many times falling through the floor or accidentally dropping a glass mid-sip was funny. Shelley fell into haunting the halls as a spirit unnaturally quickly, but Lenore was going to write that off as her innate creepiness coming to the forefront. It took Annabel a while to embrace the spookiness, but she tended to stay with Edgar most of the time anyways. Learning how to properly haunt someone never quite reached the top of her to do list. Mary Anne took to projecting herself in the paintings hung throughout the halls. She referred to it as poetic justice and loved scaring the crap out of Ernest whenever he came over to attempt wooing Annabel again. Louisa generally stayed outside in the greenhouse and the trees, frolicking like the nature spirit she had always wished to be.

The creaky old house finally felt like a home. It was typically filled with the constant arguments of its inhabitants (Edgar and Lenore) (or Ernest) (or Oscar) (they all argued quite a bit, let’s be honest), the cawing of attention and treat seeking ravens, muffled explosions from the basement, and an assortment of other strange noises that had melded into a comfortable cacophony that meant all was well. Their friends (and yes, Edgar could actually call them his friends now) were constantly coming and going, both those alive and dead. Life (and afterlife) was good.

#poe party secret santa #the-piece-of-toast #poe party

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clockworkopera · 7 years

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Ty, Livvy and Ultima Thule...

Ty, Livvy, ‘Ultima Thule’ and the Wicked Powers:

Ok, so I’ve got multiple theories here: I’m going to try to braid them together into a cohesive piece. They interconnect in some ways and overlap in others. These ideas are my own interpretations and extrapolations. I have done previous posts individually, so those that may have missed stuff from earlier, I have added links throughout.

1-Dreamland Poem, by Edgar Allan Poe—Titles of all the Chapters

2- Whatever Ty does that allows the Wicked Powers to happen

3- (Bronze) Riders of Mannan: Bronze to Summon the Wicked Powers

Dreamland

First, Ultima Thule means: a distant place located beyond the borders of the known world. Cassie used the reference of Thule twice in the book. The first was in Porthollow church when the demon called himself “I am Sabnock of Thule” (So beyond the borders of this world into a demon realm), and the second for the inscription of the clock at the ending (and the reference of heaven, another place beyond this world).

The chapter titles of LoS are all lines from the poem Dreamland by Edgar Allan Poe (Full poem here: http://apoemaday.tumblr.com/post/103571634145/dream-land). The last stanza of the poem:

By a route obscure and lonely, Where an Eidolon, name NIGHT, On a black throne reigns upright, I have wandered home buy newly From this ultimate dim Thule.

I admit I was surprised the poem didn’t seem to have a significant role to the story in the same way Annabel Lee had for Lady Midnight. I have a hard time with understanding poetry (and English is my first language—I know there are a lot of international folk out there), but the website Shmoop did an excellent line by line analysis. https://www.shmoop.com/dream-land-poe/summary.html

The story of the poem goes that there is a human traveler that ventures beyond the ultima thule (maybe in his dreams). The place he visits is described visually much like Faerie, a place “out of SPACE—out of TIME”, that is “haunted by ill angels only, Where an Eidolon, named Night, On a black throne reigns upright”. On his journey through this land he sees a range of beings from ghouls to ghosts of the traveler’s past: “White—robed forms of friends long given, In agony, to Earth—and Heaven.” Schmoop translates this line: “The speaker recognizes these ghosts! They appear in the shape of dead friends, people who have been buried…and gone to heaven”. But the traveler cannot stay indefinitely, and like a dream his stay is only temporary—even if this place makes the speaker thinks the place is ‘peaceful and soothing’—“Maybe that’s because the world is so bad that he’d go anywhere to escape it, or maybe it’s because he gets to see his dead love ones.”

This reminds me of Ty.

What does Ty do?

I keep thinking back to the scene between Ragnor and James at the Academy, after James turned into a Shadow in Nothing But Shadows:

“I waited for you to ask me for help,” Ragnor told him. “I thought perhaps you might make a warlock.”

“I never wanted to be anything but a Shadowhunter,” James said helplessly.

Ragnor said, sounding disgusted as usual: “You Shadowhunters never do.”

Does this mean that James could have chosen to leave the Clave to become a Warlock? It’s sounds like a definite possibility. Since Ty is a descendent of Lucie’s, could he then have a latent warlock ability as well?

We don’t know how all the genetics work in Nephilim, and since Tessa was the only one of her kind to be born, it is all uncharted territory as to how her demon ancestry will affect or present in her descendants (there is Thule again—beyond the borders of known genetics). It could be a hidden gene is carried, and if you subscribe to the idea of epigenetics it will only get ‘activated’ under certain stressful conditions. I have a theory that stress is what triggers warlock abilities from these examples: Tessa’s was triggered by her imprisonment with the Dark Sisters, James by nearly dying, and Magnus when his step-father tried to kill him. I can’t even imagine the ‘stress’ to Ty, caused by Livvy’s death.

If the poem has deeper meaning and significance, then I think it is about Ty. His thinking pattern is different from whatever everybody else considers ‘normal’. Maybe with his unusual way of thinking, his first instinct is to go after to where Livvy is—rather than thinking like all the rest of us do, with theories of necromancy and bringing her back from the dead. This may not even be a conscious thought in his mind, more of an unconscious automatic response as his heart tries to follow her. They were going to be parabatai: “Entreat me not to leave thee, Or return from following after thee—for whither thou goest, I will go”. Ty takes the meaning of things very literally—and I would think only more so with it being such an important oath.

Riders of Mannan: Bronze to Summon the Wicked Powers

https://clockworkopera.tumblr.com/post/163610362312/mythologies-of-mannan-and-the-faerie-weapon and https://clockworkopera.tumblr.com/post/162715976952/and-bronze-to-summon-wicked-power

Manannan mac Lir is a Sea God in Celtic Mythology. His name is shortened in Manx Gaelic to Mannan.

When the Rider Fal was killed, Gwyn asked the other Riders: “A Rider has passed into the Shadow Lands,” said Gwyn. “Would you like me to sound the horn for him?”

Mannan is the guardian of the Otherworld, who ferries souls to the afterlife (Shadow Lands?). He is the Celtic equivalent of Hades. He is also a Necromancer (I would think he would have more use for the Black Volume than the Unseelie King). And the Seven Riders call him their ‘father’. The Riders of Mannan are described multiple times as bronze: cloaked in glimmering bronze, bronze riders, bronze hair, masks, horses, shortsword, skin, irises, armor. Almost every physical description includes bronze.

And then there is the Nephilim children’s rhyme: “And Bronze to Summon the Wicked Powers”

And how well do angel’s weapons work on the Riders? Kit couldn’t help but notice that the angel blades didn’t seem to be cutting through the Riders’ armor, or even slicing their skin as he’d managed to do with his shortsword. There was puzzlement on Ty’s face, rage on Livvy’s as she stabbed at Eochaid’s heart with her seraph blade. The weapon snapped off at the hilt, the force of the rebound sending her staggering back almost into the river. (I won’t even make parallels to the Mortal Sword because that isn’t what this post is about)

Could this ancient pagan SEA god play into the water symbolism of the books, especially Emma’s fear of the ocean and her nightmares, or even the big HINT of the book covers? Could a path to the Shadowlands be forged through the sea, in the same way souls have to cross the River Styx in Greek Mythology?

Picture 1): This was found on Cassie’s Pinterest page, titled THULE. 2) Basis for Cover of LoS 3) Cover for LM 4) Cassie’s Pinterest: Titled: EMMA

Uniting Theory: Ty uses his newly awakened warlock power, not even understanding what he is doing to build some sort of bridge to the Shadow Lands. The problem is bridges run two ways, so if he does find a path through, that means that whatever is on the other side can get back into this world too. Wicked Powers.

And then Cassie has this teaser for Queen of Air and Darkness:

Fear prickled up and down Emma’s arms like goosebumps. Since she was twelve, she had been terrified of the ocean: she had always believed her parents had died in it, dragged below the surface by Raziel knew what, choked to death on bitter seawater. The surge and crash of waves, the imagined black velvet of the ocean’s depths, had filled her nightmares.

Even when she found out her parents had been murdered on dry land by Malcolm Fade, their bodies thrown into the sea after death, the fear remained. She reached for it now, welcomed it in. She could feel it filling the empty spaces, the hollows left by grief.

She glanced back down at the sea. The surging whirlpool below, the waves slamming like dark blue walls against sheer needles of stone, looking like a painting of a maelstrom, a photograph of a hellscape taken from a safe distance.

The wind screamed in Emma’s ears like a warning. Another wave hurled itself against the cliffs, sending up an explosion of spray. Emma smiled grimly into the wind and salt, and jumped.

Am I the only one who wondered WHY?? This is Emma’s greatest fear—what would could possibly be so important she would voluntarily jump into the ocean? Maybe going after Ty…

#ultima thule #tiberius blackthorn #the wicked powers #the dark artifices #livvy blackthorn #mythologies #theories #TDA #original post

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