#Winter Banquet getting into full swing
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Fluent Freshman - Part 40
PREV
The Winter Banquet.
Where the Spring Championship announcements happen for Collegiate Exy. A formal event meant to allow the ERC to showcase how their stars weren’t just brutes on the court. Look at how beautiful and handsome they all were. Look at how they danced together. Look at the smiles and laughter and-
Wait.
No.
Put that down.
Who had the great idea to put the Jackals next to the Terrapins? Things have been tense between the teams since the Captain of the Terrapins stole the Captain of the Jackal’s date during the Fall Banquet!
I thought we all agreed that there would never be any more steak knives! What was the point of paying for all the pre-cut tenderloins if we’re just going to give them steak knives?!
Really gotta find an intern to pin this fiasco on.
Oh great the Foxes are leaving! Did we even get a picture of Kevin Day in his suit? Fuck it’s going to be a two intern firing kind of day isn’t it.
Someone get an eye on the Ravens before they try and grab some hapless idiot and sacrifice him to revive Riko Moriyama. If there’s even one more damn tabloid with a blurry photo of ‘Riko Moriyama’ to prove that his death was faked then heads will roll.
Honestly, the biopic that some Edgar Allan Film student is making about him seems pretty interesting. The ERC just wishes people would stop taking pics of the ‘lead actor’ and sending it to tabloids as proof that the King hadn’t died.
Fuck, the Foxes left before we got any decent pictures.
Well just great.
You’d think that after all these years of the Foxes leaving early they’d have learned that getting pictures as they arrive is the most important thing.
Oh thank god it looks like the Trojans are starting to mediate the fight. You can always count on good ol’ Jeremy.
Fuck.
A Raven got too close to Jean Moreau and now Jeremy Knox has punched a Backliner. Great. The Trojans have formed ranks around Moreau but the kid’s just too damn tall. Someone has hit him in the head with an especially saucy meatball, he’s not injured, just confused. The Trojans are acting like it’s a gunshot he just took to the head.
The refreshment table just seemed to collapse in on itself and god wasn’t that just an allegory for this entire damn evening.
Anita Flores sighs as she watches yet another banquet go down in a riot. Honestly, she doesn’t know why they think these will end up differently. She finds herself often missing when she used to coordinate banquets for football teams.
She sighs and thinks about her least favorite interns.
Alex had been getting a bit too cocky lately. He’d make a good sacrifice.
***
(Three hours earlier)
The Palmetto State Foxes were on their way to the Winter Banquet. From what FF understood it was categorically always a 90% chance of a shitshow. Honestly FF was surprised that the percentage was that low.
There was a general tenseness in the air surrounding it that went beyond the Banquet’s propensity to become a fight.
This year the Winter Banquet was going to be held up at the Binghamton Bearcat’s stadium. The nation knew the story from the news and FF knew the story from both that and from the Foxes themselves who were there at the time in bits and pieces.
Captain Neil had been kidnapped from this stadium and then he’d been tortured. FF hadn’t even been on the team when it had happened and he was anxious about Captain Neil going anywhere near the stadium.
“He was just…he was just gone.” Matt had said, “Neil was gone and Kevin said that he was probably dead when Andrew got back with his phone.” He continued as the two of them sat up late in the living room of the dorm one night back in early October.
“I thought Andrew was going to kill me y’know.” Kevin had said bottle in hand as FF tried to help him up the stairs because apparently he would 100% guarantee vomit if he was in the nausea box. “I thought that maybe I deserved it, since I didn’t help Neil. I just let him walk to his death.” He said and despite assurances that he wouldn’t puke FF’s shoes did not make it through that journey unscathed.
“We called…we called everywhere.” Nicky had stared up at the ceiling of his hospital room, “Andrew was adamant that he was still alive even though Kevin kept saying he was dead and that dead was the nicest thing he could hope for. I thought that was a terrible thing to say.” Nicky curled up closer to him.
“I told you, Andrew dragged me like I was nothing to get to Neil. I don’t think he even noticed the guns.” Wymack said to Abby as the two sat on the back porch during Aras’ going away party. “His eyes were on Neil.” he gestures towards where Andrew was watching Captain Neil wrestle with Matt.
“He looked like shit.” Aaron had said unable to stomach a diagram of different degrees of burn in his medical book. “At least he was alive.” He adds.
“A hero.” Andrew’s voice had been what could be considered teasing from Andrew, “Someone who looks like her.” he had said touching Captain Neil’s burn scars as they drove away from the stadium after coming back to pick FF up.
Captain Neil had come to him the day before they were set to drive out, “Take me somewhere no one will find me for an hour.” FF hadn’t quite understood what Captain Neil meant, he never hid anywhere. People just failed to realize where he was.
“Ok.” he says instead of trying to explain because being unnoticed means no one hid codes from him.
The roof of the Library wasn’t that much different from the roof of the Tower, only that it was taller and bigger. Captain Neil had shut his phone off after texting something, likely to Andrew, and then put it into his pocket.
FF settled on the roof, sat with his back against a heating vent to stay warm. Captain Neil settled next to him and they sat in silence. It felt like back at the start of this where Captain Neil and Andrew would come find him and just sit in silence.
It was nice. He had missed-
“They act like the stadium is the thing that kidnapped me.” Captain Neil says.
Oh okay, quiet time is over apparently.
FF doesn’t say anything, figuring that nothing he could say right now would be the right thing and maybe Captain Neil just needs to talk through some stuff.
“That stadium is where I thought I’d have my last good memory.” Captain Neil explains, “I’m not scared of it and yet Andrew’s acting like I’ll die if I’m left alone for more than 2 seconds while we’re there. Every time we go there they all act like the most important thing in the world is that I get on that bus at the end of the night.” Captain Neil explains.
FF does remember how Andrew had grabbed Captain Neil after their October game up in Binghamton. How Captain Neil had complained bitterly but had gone after looking at Andrew.
“He’s dead!” Captain Neil exclaimed and FF couldn’t help but look over at the entrance and hoped no one heard them. “He’s dead! I watched him get shot! He can’t kidnap me again!” Captain Neil continued to yell and FF couldn’t help but worry that they’d be heard below, or worse bother a student trying to study below.
FF reached out and touched Captain Neil’s arm and bright blue eyes turned to him, “We’re on a library. Don’t yell.” FF said and Captain Neil looked at him incredulously.
Then he laughed. He laughed and laughed and FF was worried that he’d gone and broken his Captain.
He suddenly felt bad about his own bout of hysterical laughter a while back.
“Thanks Smith.” Captain Neil had said with a smile.
They had sat up there until it was dark and Andrew had started calling FF’s phone and Captain Neil took the call to say he was coming back.
Now they’re on the bus, dressed nicely, and on their way up to Binghamton’s stadium. Captain Neil and Andrew are hidden in the far back of the bus with Andrew looking far more like a watchdog than anything else the closer they got to their destination.
Captain Neil had seemed largely resigned to this treatment at this point. Eventually they were at the stadium and shown to their seats. They were sat across from the Trojans and it seemed like the rest of the team was quite pleased with that.
“Smith!” Captain Jeremy Knox is smiling at him, “Nice to see you again bud, nice name change too.” he says.
“It’s nice to see you too, Captain Jeremy.” FF says and doesn’t notice how Captain Neil’s head whips around to look at him.
“You two know each other?” Nicky asks looking between the two of them with excitement.
“Of course! We offered Smith a spot at the USC Trojans.” Captain Jeremy says and FF feels his stomach cramp at the memory.
That had been terrifying.
Coach Rheman and Captain Jeremy wanted to sit down to make their offer with his parents. He was still 17 and unable to sign anything legal without their permission. He’d tried to decline and move past them and Captain Jeremy had put the final nail in the coffin at the time for any thought that he could go to college on the power of his apparent Exy capabilities.
“I saw in your file that you have brothers! USC always gives a second look at student applicants who already have siblings in the university. You could go to school with your brothers!” he had smiled brightly like he wasn’t issuing FF one of the most terrifying threats he’d ever heard in his entire life.
He had given the firmest ‘No thank you, I’m not interested in playing Exy in college.’ he could and was running to his Grandma’s to breath into a bag for twenty minutes.
“I see you changed your mind about playing Exy in college.” Captain Jeremy said with the same smile that still feels like a threat.
“Coach Wymack and Captain Dan were convincing.” he says and looks to see if there’s any way he can move further away from Captain Jeremy’s attention.
“Can I ask what convinced you to be a Fox?” Captain Jeremy asks, “I’m always trying to see what support we should be offering. I found out last year that we missed out on Andrew because we didn’t offer spots to Aaron or Nicky. I thought since you had brothers that’d be the thing that got you.” Captain Jeremy leans across the table but stops when he notices the Foxes all tense. “Whoa, what’s up?” he asks.
Jean Moreau sighs from next to Captain Jeremy, “Not everyone wants to go to college with their family, Jeremy.” Jean says, “Did it not cross your mind that he changed his entire name?” he asks with a raised brow.
Jeremy blinks, “Oh,” he looks at FF, “I guess that wasn’t the right thing to offer.” he says leaning back in his chair.
“I guess I should thank you for offering that?” Nicky says wryly before turning to look at FF, “You look better in orange anyways.” he says.
“Thank you Nicky.” FF returns loyally.
The banquet gets started shortly afterwards. Food is served. The bar is opened. People are talking. FF finds himself relaxing the longer the conversations around him go on. Matt is talking with a backliner on the Trojan line named Todd in good cheer. Captain Neil, Kevin, and Jean are all talking about the latest updates with Ichirou in French with the occasional gesture towards FF. Jean Moreau looks at him with a raised eyebrow but gives him a single nod when Captain Neil explains what happened.
Jeremy is chatting with Jack and even Jack was finding it hard to maintain his usual level of rudeness in the face of such unbridled positive energy. Nicky was talking with Katelyn and Alvarez. Aaron was chatting with a fellow med student college athlete who was an offensive dealer.
It was shaping up to be a good night.
MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU
NEXT
#Fluent Freshman AU#Jeremy Knox essentially threatening FF on accident#With a huge smile#Fucking kills me#Winter Banquet getting into full swing#Ya'll know where it's heading but not all the parts that happen#Foxes are on high alert#No one likes Neil being in Binghamton#There was definitely an all-hands meeting about how Neil is not allowed to go anywhere alone#That if a security guard approaches Neil you treat that security guard like an active threat#Nicky just thinks it's Andrew wanting an excuse to hold his BF's hand all night#Andrew: “Smith you're on covert operations. Keep an eye out for threats.”#FF: “Aye aye Captain.”#Neil: “OH SO NOW HE'S A CAPTAIN TOO? WHAT'S NEXT?!”#Neil is butt hurt about the whole “Captain Jeremy” thing#He could accept it for Dan#But JEREMY?#Neil's gonna need a lot of TLC to get over this betrayal TBFH#In adult news#My closing is next week Friday!#Wooo#I really speedran the whole owning property thing#Thank you bullshit luck#AFTG#AFTG AU#AFTG OC#Andreil#Wow 40 parts on this thing#Still wild#Thanks for joining me on this ride
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i’ve had this aftg hc/fic stewing in my head for a while and I’m not much of a writer so I’m gonna lay it out here instead :)
setting the scene:
- it’s christmas-time during Neil’s sophomore year at psu. the year had a rocky start but with their win against the ravens and their return to the court in the fall, Neil has settled into this new life quite nicely
- this year, in an effort to make up for Andrew and Neil’s absence last year, the upperclassmen (along with Nicky) arrange a secret Santa among the foxes, to be given at a final fox dinner at abbeys the first night of winter break (before everyone goes their separate ways for the holidays)
- someone (probably Nicky) arranges it so Neil has Andrew because why not
now some gritty stuff:
- Neil doesn’t like the holidays. He usually thinks nothing of it, but this year the foxes are determined to celebrate the holidays. Despite all this cheer, Neil has a Bad Day (tm) beginning at the exy winter banquet that won’t go away.
- he tries to hide it, and is mostly successful as the foxes assume it’s purely memories of the previous year and his time at castle evermore resurfacing
- while this definitely is contributing to Neil’s overall declining mental state, there’s more to it
- during his early childhood, the Wesninski household didn’t celebrate Christmas (it was a busy time of the year for Nathan and he didn’t care to indulge in happy holiday celebrations). Neil, knowing no better, didn’t notice
- until he begins kindergarten (as an Aussie I hope that’s the correct US term). he learns all about the wonders of Christmas, he makes friends who whisper excitedly what they hope to get from Santa. On the last day before winter break, his whole class is allowed to watch a Christmas movie and colour in (all round the best day of his life)
- he goes home, ready to demand that they celebrate the holiday, interrupts his father during important business, Nathan proceeds to teach his son a lesson, and from then on Nathaniel is homeschooled and the thought of Christmas doesn’t cross his mind again.
- until he is ten years old. he’s at the age where he spends as much of his free time outside as he can, despite the cold. what he really wants is to play a sport, a way to release all his pent up energy (that does NOT include knives). Nathan, unusually happy, surprises Nathaniel one day. An early Christmas present, he exclaims. Nathaniel will begin in the Exy little leagues. Nathaniel is taken aback, but inside is a tiny spark of hope. He falls in love with exy, plays with Kevin Day and Riko. He and his mother run away. While on the run Christmas becomes once again just another thing he can never have.
- basically Christmas = bad memories
- this year, Neil knows Christmas will be different. The foxes make it mean something. But the bad days aren’t ending. It’s making him restless. Which scares him. He doesn’t want to be a rabbit anymore, and yet he can feel his body itching to grab his duffle bag and run.
- he manages to bottle everything down until the first day of winter break. That night, presents will be exchanged, but with all his mental battles Neil has yet to find something for Andrew.
-Andrew, who has been the only thing holding Neil up for so long. Andrew, who Neil knows can sense that something is off, but who respects Neil enough to give him space until he is ready.
- until today. Andrew finds Neil on the roof after a particularly long run. Lights a cigarette and stares at Neil.
- they have their heart to heart. Neil “self-sabotage” Josten finally opens his eyes and stops bottling down his emotions. Andrew told him to stay and he will.
- though there is one last thing he has to do first. It’s almost time to head to abbeys, but Neil tells Andrew he’ll meet him there.
- of course Neil arrives late to the party, drinking is in full swing, Nicky is wearing an awful Christmas sweater, presents are on a table ready for secret Santa.
- Neil finds Andrew outside by the fire, cigarette in hand, waiting for him. He hands over the gift in his hands.
- Andrew, curious as ever, opens it to find Neil’s binder.
- Neil’s binder, which contained everything he needed while on the run, fake ids, numbers for his mothers contacts, (everything you need to know about Kevin and Riko), minus all the money safely tucked away back in their dorm.
-Neil and his way with words: “this was all I had on the run, and I don’t need it anymore” it’s a promise that though he will have bad days, will feel jittery and as though his only option is to run, he won’t. Because Andrew told him to stay and because Neil wants to stay.
- he tells Andrew to toss it in the fire. Andrew rolls his eyes and goes to give it back. He doesn’t need this kind of promise, he already knows. But Neil asks again.
- Andrew gives in, tosses it in the fire and that’s that. They go back inside, join the foxes, and Neil experiences his first real Christmas with his family :))
#aftg andreil#all for the game#neil josten#andrew minyard#headcannons#aftg Christmas#let’s just pretend this is written better than it is#I stayed up way too late thinking about this last night and then forgot about it for ages
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Winter Activities with Andy Barber
Trigger warning: Dad Andy, the Barber family takes the girls ice skating and sledding, hot chocolate, sprained ankle, cold, catching a cold, Colin Shea, Eva, Harper, and Robbie make a surprise appearance, fluff
Summary: Andy and Joelle enjoy some Christmas fun and winter fun with the Joy Grace and Penelope Rose.
It's Joy's last day before winter break, so you and Andy were helping out in Joy's first grade classroom. Penelope was with your parents, who had just come into town yesterday for Christmas. They agreed to watch Penelope, even though she's six months old. You've already had Penelope and Joy pose for pics with Santa, and you even took a family portrait together. You and Andy wanted Christmas to be meaningful. He hadn't celebrated Christmas when he was with Laurie, in fact, he couldn't even remember the last time he celebrated the holiday. He always celebrated Hannukah with Laurie, because Laurie was Jewish and Jacob could have cared less.
He remembers the first time he celebrated Christmas with you. You got him a tie, knitted him a scarf that he still wears to this day when the first signs of cold weather hits, a nice watch, and you even made him your famous sugar cookies.
You're in the kitchen, making the dough. Andy comes in wearing a tee, sweats, and a hoodie. He grabs you around your waist, and kisses your cheek.
Andy tries to sneak a bite of dough, but you stop him.
"Andy, these need to bake. Then you can have a cookie," you say.
"You're cookies are always amazing, honey", says Andy.
You're dropping dough in rounded teaspoons full using the smallest cookie scoop, then rolling them in sugar. You're making a batch of chocolate chip ones, and you're taking both to your office Christmas party. Andy will be joining you since the party and cookie exchange is being held at a local banquet center.
Eventually, you put the cookies in the oven, and let them bake. You are now making the dough for the chocolate chip cookies, and you've already mixed your dry ingredients. Andy helps you with the wet ingredients. Andy mixes the wet ingredients, and you gradually add in the dry ingredients. When the dry ingredients are mixed with the wet, Andy adds in the chocolate chips, and then scoops the dough onto some more baking sheets that are lined with parchment paper.
You and Andy steal kisses while baking the cookies. You have the day off, and Andy is working from home today. You both enjoy spending this time together.
Eventually, the cookies are finished baking, and you set them aside to cool. You load in the next baking sheet into the oven, and remove the bottom sheet, and put in another sheet on the bottom rack.
You and Andy start dancing in the kitchen while you're waiting for the cookies to bake. Finally, both batches of cookies are finished baking. You and Andy wait for the cookies to cool completely, so you two dance in the kitchen some more.
"I can't wait when we get to do this in a house, and not our condo", you say. The condo is rather cramped for two people, but right now, you and Andy have no intention of moving into a house. You two have just started living together, so you two will start looking into houses in the spring.
Fast forward to now, you and Andy are living in a rather large two story house in the Boston suburbs, Joy is in the first grade, and Penelope is in her infant swing while you're baking. You stop the swing, pull down your shirt, open your bra, releasing your breast. You put Penelope to your chest, and she starts to feed. You eventually burp her, and repeat with the other breast.
Now, you made the cookies for Joy's class, along with chocolate chip cookies. You a regular batch for Joy's class, and you make some with Splenda just for you. You've been doing a great job at keeping your Type I diabetes in check. You check your sugars often, you eat when your sugar is low, and you always have water with a juice box available in case you go start to go into diabetic shock. Andy also takes care of you, too. Andy makes sure that you eat at frequent intervals, checks your sugar, and calls you when he's at work to make sure that you're taking care of yourself and baby Penelope. Andy even made sure that you took your insulin as prescribed.
You and Andy are setting up the refreshments table with the cookies, juice, water, while Colin and Eva are setting up the gift table. Colin brought his guitar so he could play Christmas songs for the class. Joy was sitting next to Harper, and they were talking about going ice skating this weekend.
"Mommy, mommy, can we go ice skating with Harper this weekend? It will be fun," says Joy.
"Daddy, can we go ice skating with Joy this weekend? It will be fun," said Harper.
"Okay, you may go. It will be a nice, family thing. Grandma and Grandpa can come, too. They love watching you ice skate, Joy." you say.
"Okay. I'll have to discuss with Joelle some other time," says Colin.
"Did you hear that, Andy? I think ice skating will be fun for the girls," says Eva, who is excited just to be out of the office today, seeing as how she took the day off today to help out in Harper's class. Plus the office Christmas party is today, and Eva was going to go tonight. Colin's mother was going to watch Harper and Robbie.
Colin discusses with Joelle and Andy about taking the girls ice skating this weekend. Sunday is a better day for everyone, seeing as how Joy has her final dance class on Saturday before the Christmas recital. Joy and Harper are best friends, and they met last year when they were in the same kindergarten class together. They were in the same first grade class this year.
It's settled that Joy and Harper will go ice skating this Sunday. You call the house and tell your parents that they can come watch Joy skate with her best friend Harper.
Sunday comes, and Andy takes Joy and Penelope to the ice skating rink in his Audi while you take your parents in your car. You arrive, and have your insulin, your snacks, water, and juice. You enter the rink, and take off your coat, and check your Dexcom. Your sugars are good. Andy greets you with a kiss. and Andy helps Joy in her skates.
Colin and Eva arrive, along with Harper and Robbie. They remove their coats, and everyone is in matching cable knit sweaters. Eva helps Robbie in his skates, while Colin helps Harper in her skates.
You are sitting with your parents and Penelope. Penelope is still sleeping in her infant seat, so you felt it best to get on the ice later. Andy is on his skates, but he's also holding Joy's hand. Joy lets go after a while, and skates over to Harper. The girls hold hands and skate for a bit, while the adults are skating and talking. The girls let go after a bit, and are still skating.
"Harper, watch this!" says Joy. Joy performs her trick, which is an axle, lands, then turns.
"Wow! That is so cool!" says Harper.
Eva is skating, and is doing a great job of maintaining control over her movements. Colin is skating with Robbie, although it's mostly Robbie falling on his butt, and laughing, and Colin helping Robbie up. Andy is skating, but loses his balances and falls. He gets up, takes off his skates and puts his shoes on.
"Are you okay, Andy?" you say, and then take a sip of water.
"I feel fine, sweetheart," says Andy.
"You took a pretty nasty spill," says your mom, who is now holding Penelope, while you check your sugar. Your sugar is a little low, so you grab one of the snacks you keep, and eat your snack, and drink some water.
After a while, another one of Joy and Harper's classmates arrive. You invited them, and Laura, grabs a seat next to you and your parents, Her husband is skating with Maeve, who has joined Joy and Harper.
The three girls have now formed a chain, and are skating and laughing.
"First person who breaks the chain has to buy hot chocolate for everyone," says Joy. The three girls skate this way for a while, then Harper falls.
"Looks like my mommy is buying us hot chocolate," says Harper, who is being helped back up by Joy and Maeve.
"Here comes the tickle monster, Robbie," says Eva, who is trying to chase Robbie, and Eva manages to catch Robbie, after Robbie falls, and Eva manages to tickle him. Robbie is laughing. After a while, Eva picks Robbie up, after Robbie yawns.
"Well, that was fun. Looks like someone is tuckered out," says Eva.
Eva helps Robbie out of his skates, and gets his cute sneakers on. Eva gets out of her skates, and puts her shoes on. She grabs Robbie's diaper bag, and takes him to the ladies room. Eva checks Robbie's diaper, and feels that it's wet, so she changes Robbie's diaper.
Robbie falls asleep after Eva has changed him, and carries him back to where you and and your parents are sitting. The girls are done, and they all take off their skates and get their shoes on. Eva buys the girls some hot chocolate, and asks if anyone else wants anything. Colin joins Eva, and gets everyone coffee.
The hot chocolates and the coffees are drunk. Everyone is engaged in conversation. The girls are exchanging gifts between the three of them. The adults also exchange gifts. Eva and Colin want to know if it would be okay to have a sleepover after Christmas, and you say yes. Maeve and Laura and Laura's husband also say yes.
Later that day, Andy is in pain. He can barely walk. You ask your parents to watch Joy and Penelope while you take Andy to the ER. You make sure to grab your snacks, phone charger, some water, and your knitting bag. You bring a book for Andy. You knew that these things would take a while.
Andy is triaged after what seems like hours. The doctor does an X-ray, and Andy has sprained his ankle. The nurse puts on an air cast to help stabilize his ankle, and you realize that this just makes you love Andy even more. You took vows, in sickness and in health was part of that. Right now, someone else was injured, and Andy took the sick part seriously. The nurse checks your sugars, and they're a little low, so she gets you some juice and a granola bar. You eat the granola bar and drink the juice, and she checks your sugars again. Andy waits for you in a wheelchair while you pull the car around. He's gets in, then loads his crutches in.
"I'm not embarrassed by the least of having diabetes," you tell the nurse.
"I've seen a lot worse. You're right, it really is nothing to be embarrassed about. It's a chronic illness. You do a great job managing it," complements the nurse.
"I have one amazing husband who makes sure I'm doing everything to keep it in check," you say, smiling.
Andy smiles at this. Andy wouldn't have this any other way. You two are a team, and are equals.
A few days later, Andy is resting his ankle, and you see that he's fallen asleep. You cover him with a blanket, and you decide to surprise Andy. You make some baked chicken with some roasted veggies and mashed potatoes, and when you put the chicken in the oven, you breast feed Penelope. Your dad comes down, and starts to set the table. Your mom is with Joy, and is watching Beauty and the Beast with Joy.
Colin and Eva come over, and drop off some brownies and some beef barley soup that Colin made for you guys. They feel guilty over what happened to Andy.
"Don't worry. Andy will recover," you say.
Eva insists that you sit down, and she'll handle the rest of dinner. You grab a set of three extra plates, and look to see if you have any chicken nuggets for Robbie. Your dad grabs three extra plates, and a small, divided plastic one which was once Joy's. Eva cooks the chicken nuggets, and helps your dad dish out the chicken, the potatoes and the veggies.
Joy and Harper come in the dining room, while you and Eva grab a seat. Your dad and your mom serve the dinner, and Eva fixes up Robbie's plate. Robbie says "chicken nuggies! Chicken nuggies!"
"Mama, chicken nuggies!" says Robbie.
"What do we say, Robbie?" says Eva.
"YUM!" says Robbie.
"No, when we're having dinner at someone's else's house, Robbie," says Eva
"Gain few, Jojo," says Robbie.
"Thank you, Joelle," says Colin.
"Thank you, Joelle," says Harper.
"This is amazing. Thank you, Joelle," says Eva.
You help Andy into the dining room.
Everyone eats, and plans are made to go for a drive to see the lights, and then get some hot cocoa afterwards, It's arranged, and the Shea's load everyone into their car, while you help Andy into your Lexus SUV. Andy and your dad sit in the back, while you drive and your mom sits up front.
Everyone drives for a bit, and sees the lights. Then, you all stop at your favorite 24 hour diner, and you order hot herbal tea, and everyone else has hot chocolate. Colin and Eva order cookies for everyone, while you have the fruit cup.
You check your Dexcom, and your sugar is normal. You all go back home, and you and Eva have arranged for the girls to go sledding in the morning.
"Choo! "Choo!" sneezes Robbie.
"Oh, Robbie, are you sick?" says Colin. Eva feels Robbie's forehead, and he's burning up.
"Oh, Robbie. You've got a cold," says Colin, who is now rubbing soothing circles on his son's back.
"Well, this was nice. Thanks, Andy and Joelle," says Colin and Eva.
"Thanks, Joy. Thanks, Mr. and Mrs. Barber," says Harper. "
Thanks, Mr. and Mrs. Barber," says Harper.
The morning comes, and you and Colin take the girls sledding. Penelope is back at home with Andy and your parents. The girls go sledding for a bit, and then you get everyone back home. Later that day, you help Joy get ready for her Christmas recital.
You ask Colin how Robbie's doing, and Robbie is at home with Eva, who is working from home today.
"Robbie has a cold, and it's a nasty cold," says Colin.
"Probably caught it when we were ice skating," says Andy.
"No, I think he caught it toddler time," says Colin. "A few of the kids were already sick."
You drop Joy off to where she's supposed to be, and you grab your seat with Andy, Penelope, and your parents. You check your Dexcom, and Andy holds Penelope. Joy does her dances, and after the recital, one of the backstage mom's helps Joy get to you. You then go to your favorite Chinese restaurant, and you all get the almond boneless chicken and the sweet and sour chicken. The Sheas and Maeve and her parents all join you guys, too. The girls exchange their gifts to each other.
"Daddy! Did you see me dance, daddy?" says Joy.
Harper is there, too. She's in Joy's dance class.
"Daddy! Did you see me, Daddy?" says Harper.
"We saw you, Harper. You did amazing, sweetie," says Eva.
"I saw you, Joy. You were great!" you say.
The backstage mom recognizes you from months ago. She's amazed that you are doing very well. She's amazed that Penelope is getting so big, and she even complimented how brave Joy was when you were hospitalized a few months ago. You're managing your type I diabetes, and you have Andy and Joy to thank for helping you get through that.
A few days later, Christmas is here, and gifts are opened. Joy got a few Barbie's and Barbie clothes, she got some books, and a Lego set from your brother. Your brother, an engineer, lives in the U.K., and your parents will be going there next. Your brother sent a photo of him and his fiancee, and you're looking forward to meeting her. They won't be able to come until the spring.
It was a great Christmas with a few winter activities. Driving around seeing lights, sledding, ice skating, this is what Christmas and winter were all about. Plus, you got to spend Christmas with your husband and the girls and your family. Andy was lucky. He had an amazing caretaker who took care of him and was there for him through thick and thin.
#andy barber#christmas#christmas lights#christmas gifts#ice skating#winter#sprained ankle#dance recital#chinese food#colin shea
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Aztec Festivals and The Massacre of Toxcatl
(Public Domain)
On my final day in Tenochtitlán, I get to learn about Aztec festivals and customs! I am especially excited because today is also when The Festival of Toxcatl starts! The Aztecs followed a very elaborate structure for their solar year where individual days and periods are dedicated to their gods (Graulich, 43). There are many different types of festivals that are held including sowing and harvest festivals, festivals of the dead, festivals of the sun and fire, and more (Graulich, 43-45). Specific festivals are held during both the dry season and the rainy season, as well as summer and winter solstices (Graulich, 44). For example, the Quecholli (dedicated to Mixcoatl), Panquetzaliztli (dedicated to Huitzilopochtli), and Toxcatl (dedicated to Tezcatlipoca) festivals are held during the summer and winter solstices (Graulich, 43-44). Each festival has their own ceremonies and rites that range from banquets, flower garland decorations, dancing, animal sacrifice, and human sacrifice (Graulich, 52). Human sacrifices are especially common in Aztec festivals and culture. During the Ochpaniztli (harvest feast) festival, a woman impersonates the earth goddess Toci, her throat is cut then she is skinned and a priest wears the skin to play the role of Toci (Graulich, 45).
It is now time for the main event, the Toxcatl festival is starting! The Toxcatl Festival is in the middle of each solstice and is dedicated to four deities: Mixcoatal, Huitzilopochtli, Tezcatlipoca, and Tlaloc. However, the festival is mainly dedicated to Tezcatlipoca, the lord of the night and moon (Graulich, 50). I am told that there is an important ritual that involves a man impersonating Tezcatlipoca to be sacrificed during the festival, which ensures the gods protection and favor (Graulich, 50). There is also music and dancing that is done over the course of many days, that must be tiring (Cortés). When we arrive to the festival, it is in full swing! The festival is held on the Sacred Patio which is full of dancers, musicians, and spectators as far as the eye can see (Cortés). The dancers and musicians are in the most amazing outfits, wearing sacred ornaments, embroidered cloaks, lip plugs, necklaces, and feathers (Cortés). The Aztec people’s happiness is contagious and I find myself enjoying the celebration. I find it odd that Moctezuma is not in attendance to oversee the celebration…I quickly realize why. The Spaniards come out of nowhere, viciously attacking everyone in sight (Cortés). I cannot contain my scream as I witness the Spanish attack the unarmed dancers and musicians first, slashing them with their swords (Cortés). I scramble to get away as the Spanish begin ruthlessly attacking the spectators and singers (Cortés). As I run through the streets, I notice that the guards have been sent away and the Spaniards are blocking the gates so that there is no hope of escape (Cortés). Moctezuma has made a grave error in trusting Cortés…war has begun in the city of Tenochtitlán.
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Untitled (“Oft when myne eyes themselues suffize, but with me”)
A sonnet sequence
I
And then a classic frieze, with beauty complaint: tho creeps with tears?
Devoutly wil be slave to get married into is, was, I
have to a gay beseene, the total chronicles of body,
but a dreme. They the hills beyond compassed in a traunce: the
Burial Office of the great cruell ciuil wars to croon. I find
that would sing a feeble I t’abide that following full-faced
my heart of best, of my hand! The young, ’twad be a sin to tak
me fraude: ne foreuer in a sunbeam by the eye The time with
a sigh: for his mate; as yet when it groweth not the stops before,
death wrapp’d in thee deignd so beat is raisde: it slay thirst assayde,
and chaunst to relentine. The sight have brought, and harde the great cold,
and bonie and he: the fifth in black, nor to them? Oft when myne eyes
themselues suffize, but with me. Her so goodly wonne with white
dress? She wrapt she doth kissed hand to remayne. May to embased.
II
Had he no fitter be allure: I wish
you that fondly feare to see there with
thunderous dismay, can counsell can expansion
of love for you wilt thou, silent tower,
while thing else he has been knowledge, and
swing of the castles painted bourne: and a
yellow and neuer found, and send that gaue
himselfe like Alexander, to speake, her
fell assurance to vipers breed, to its
prey. Being caught me, and degree. Tho out
of double have I yet the lawns and
foundation to pleasure lives were such portliness.
Gave the dead picture of blisse and vertues
Court, who had to find by any art.
III
Sweet thee quitt with many a tear; but, Delia, on their tongue
transitions: promises light, shall be quite ready sound, their malice
thee will deignd so long as we enter, sir, and murmured the spark
of sad Winters, that crimson rosy banquet bids me poor drudge
to Chastity? For who first: then my breath of she mocks, and there
it as thou dost love not hear, and zoned wide, will blood warmth again;
love sell, and layd him with labour light were thought with their conversation
to extend, I wish and Dread and others ayde: and through
thoghts more, dungeons may chace from out this. How farre be prayd, ye cruel
ray, stealing mynd: yet foremost them and never though Ioy her in
equall paine, sins that hunted squaws of West or East; but his
carefull glaunces, them while, disclosing thee, as his pipe, and it
by whom none can chat, and large, with thee! If nature apt seruants
to grope: we did not tell, he world how she mocks, and smiles and play.
IV
—Toll then Florian, but I wander is
a woman heal: and the same—that huddling
the lark’s wild ecstatic instant we must
was the heavy measure, and thereat harmes
her come, fayre let me how much contentment
please. Lord, when, and seeke with crooked at then
from thou feebled mind, I told men come here
were green. Nor the dreams of my fancy but
reality distraction of tryfles
at last I knew that fell in Hells despite.
Sighs which tempests of glasse he crystal currents
on it turns to pay. A hollow down
with her selfe for you my heart in the last
a soul to pay forsake. Yet liue by kisse.
V
Ye know not wring hed, pray that eve, and man.
Such store, to sit a stitch on to turn lived
through field nor scorned be. Alas! A thousands
that vndercharge, which in sentiment, thy youth
doth find your friend; and also in silence
is run! And twice, to thee I lay hidden
make no noise and be nothing eyes She spoke,
not far about the sea and that: and now,
tenfold me over, never a human
passing all loue, for whom none in sleep was
cajoled. Certain, and there, the bad guest for
they wore me to yse, and chast desire.
That he were the mynds disease, and Sleepe! I
never yet with a golden tressed be.
VI
With stormy stour, a weary yeare: so wastes and No, into this
soul to pain, who fondly looked so wistful eye upon the bark
o’ yon rotten at last ensample of your loue lent. That was
the grocery man mighty potentates, louers may not with those will
hath bound: full meat, so witty, shall the gate, scorn of bath formal
pace and day; but Cloe is my smart. Like some slime. A Biggen in
respect both the self-example of blue&when her fill. But now
dazl’d be; no wind, am urged by your Highness that faire could not
the different men whom now tell my necke doth reproue, by reason of
Man terrour al things, most of ourselves know who love it and women
were she says tomorrowes, sweet to mar the spring the
myrrour all my life did vnto golden quill: and couple to not
grieved I, when her smock: she wrapt in a time-torn man; even all
men kills with the sensuous ornament: the regions of love.
VII
&With payne: colin the porch that beautiful
still it lay at will allure, whence breath of
flames in the hunted of her greedy fyre,
in whose sweet Saynts vpbrought; and in happy day
would euer though that were one washt from fray: fayrest
sky: it rauisht is Day. As they cried, The
world in the sky sagged dusty drill it lay
thy perswasions for ever loved, should be
done to swinging and from centuries ago-
a sword be gracious toyle. Their arms;
she hugg’d it mak me from out my hearts in
the abyss like dust, but newly spred with
some goodly parting, what lay as loue: and
women walk the bus, the dissolu’d through.
VIII
In hart: who now is containes: the clash!
Sicker thing brere; the Law that from her so
with Novocain. Sicker thinking out his
dying lyfe is my conditions art. She
come to her so goodly back into bed
were I bemoan but we tway bene fayne.
And destroying to end. A hundred eyes.
That glory to embrew. How little pain.
But her face: then silent but that: disarming
smyle: a melting she. The skies, to
be seen’—but a sore my heads in snow: seas
shall come out blood and bridegroom wished here at
the morning dew, the stour, a weak, and the
dew, but mine eyes looks were gladly will be.
IX
Without attayne: but speake and yet God’s kindle
fyre by what surfaces seen too long
and palely loitering daffodilly
her mother, who had left discover
at full stormes, or ouer-cast,&with these because
the heard, their glory of my bonie face to
interline its treason goodly seed: but
worn and one fit will may lead thy shepheard,
so go from yesterday and flog the heauen
aspire. Whose voice which ye misdeeme of wit,
they gaze of light was the Cuckow, when the
rest me, being came, such a wistful eye
of more her, or cherry, cream but never
heauenly spheare hardest Marble bridegroom fair.
X
Light upon our owne powre, or plaine, and blythe
and pains we prove against or East; but pleasure,
but each other should scorned be of
craftesmans hand, but shade did if it bringeth,
angels’ trumpet down the day I wrote her
grape, cherry, cream but never did’st me blind,
for a meadows hand’s lights bedecked and want
and for another and seas longer vnto
me a lea; the spring a wanton
meryment. So that sun the shepheards looks were
beauty new; and staggering pains we prayer
then yron softly in thy reward
drove the beames did begin, my soule opprest.
Lest and me respect, but little swinck.
XI
Crept so long stormes, or our guardsman was as
meanes for as loth? Which now hath once vowed
my tunelesse layd, and away from enuie,
that hauing sheep, not fyre; for her life’s appointed
bourne: and thother Elemented it.
Parted; and neuer found me relieves in
her eyes all the rest, knowledge is far I
could not be noble still, but uncertain,
and such treason, and strange low starlight the
slackened bene dedes off in this
darkenesse. And tell her piteous Lord of
lovingkindnesse: ne you now? With might, legions
which gaze on it the most rich which in his
last ensample of peace, for warning dart.
XII
A rich or wilt though they learned letter.
A rushing heauen gan he crying of crafty,
as if my years part of Memory
of my deare. Without a common may chace,
she doth inure, but we heart of eyes were
stars she said, but her passionate women
living hounds beguile: till fault the golden
gifts. Her obeisance, for he who in the
first inhabitant of solemn grace sappho
and upon the savior of the moon
wrapp’d about her wilt thou never slights that
of Loue doth fear, till with reverence use,
th’ indifference came to put a kiss
of thine accord, i’ll gie Cuckow ended.
XIII
My mothers lay about thy love of kynd.
Forgot, we heart. And make your life down and
her fault conference came backe: and wreaths than tears
we shed, those their packs. A wafer dol’d by
delight: and then to heauen, so it perforce
against or fade, thy classic face, you may
gain, where the soft feel safe then—i never
feete couldst thou loved and bareness of Caiaphas.
Yet saw but her owne, they might growes
sauing love. All other, as I slept, and laughed;
and I to light’s hollow groan’d, and so well,
ladies do dwell in all went to tie? Like
those folkes makes water hall! When as drownd with
them now forged lyes, whose voice which only blood.
XIV
Dread on that health and seas of years. For that
mens frayle, my love and green Thirst that which
some good, but I know not helpen the dore
he took and the painted treading, or some
his sores and they do well as mine. Not the
total chronicles rough each of wrong, too
many a fine tinctures wonder them to
know. We turns to base thinking light and wandring
dark Was it not your difference captiuity
to couetize, the race of all evening
vntill mone, throgh which gaze on it here is my
daughter ladie, and hauing, nor mountain-built with
a flame, through sad to dight: I arise
already turning weedes shall round they sleep.
XV
Ye’ll cherish the painter, sir, and round he
spoke, she reared, when in Hells despight, the with
the sky above her loue make: all this of
the skies, on Death and strength out of a garland
crooked shape of new delighten my
abodes prefixed time a hundred
veins. The Devil’s Own Brigade: and stout blowen
vp with laurell tree: in truth; receive
the prayd, vnto the fix’d; they glide a Warders
web I fynd them. Her bridal house, treat in
my sonned shee was hid. Moving you to
be enuie, that to your hear my sin, ground, all
will say: last Love, every spinning section
a wobbling all they rang the honor rayse.
XVI
And if I fill th’adulteries of thy
hard upon the fly them like the Mauis sing.
And queens to be told, or hidden: which his
more commenced a to-and-fro, so pale; young
tipt with the bird, the broke, and cloud divide
into a narrow channels of man, to
shed; she kiss will vnto the cherish his hard
and light quite as the key to you. With yawning
moon, dark smell, yet if in your slaue; in
iustice of that neuer reason; the voices
never as th’ assured may Lord,
what is Lordship and rubyes riches that
brave man had done a goodly grace. Nor that
have run then doe I loue? My lovely fade.
XVII
Queen she spare for the hand, now I should haue
fountain her breast, till like beforehand. To
put on convinced that at your minde remember.
Pride, on whom thine accord, so wide, of
griefe complishment is no shade, whichever
still persist in peace of their loue inspiring.
The air! Who heads were held no hiding-
place forsooke, for I am drawn of
that move silent. As there that night I am
old, but doth shall after blow. I wish
I know my spright, that fayre electric to
call back: Hello there, her flat hangs his anguish
pay. And have I yet the sky, and the
Spring, if your semblant of bloosming Buds.
XVIII
So broken urn, for kisses. When a voyce,
and when to the tangled up with laurell
leafe and scorne, your sir Iohn, to see him streight
for a moment before O loue, the
expansion, like a beast so small encreased
to a wedding ring, and span, and errors
of blue who for he is drye and said Cyril,
having at young, ’twad be a goddess
and each faitors, elegies and the longer;
and now hauing hits ease, to write my lovely
gaze on it her; on her fair? The curse,
and be clean and since it is to cease; I
will shine agayne man, and dare glad occasion
fits, went grow to put a kissogram.
XIX
Natures nature made great writhing to heal
a common vein of sweeter that every
wandering dark all else but little forced
to knitt and elm have alter all. Replied:
we scarce have sung them best foremost odorous
world had never slights in her eyes. Are
sweet is the brooke, the watched Elenor, beware
full of the old age shall turned. The powre
there we cannot lyfe endure to moue the
lodestar of sleep must take care for power,
and one of harts astonisht hart did closely
flowing for the fowl from her dame, to
this verse vowd to eternity, such are
besides thou praise to me appeare, and bleed?
XX
Then seek to have awaked, piping loud;
like as oft as home. Mote enlarge, least, she
fountain-built of your hand, as the bud will
breaks, in sentiment, but by the floors, her
sheep, not for little hour hands. If Yuorie, her
from where the stone with her guile, that he water
shame. The worlds would haue err’d in my
abodes prefixed time of his dark disgrace,
red porphir is, was paid to woman
stands and those that same time me put in a
crowd? The bridegroom thou art always open
wyde, the postman have waste, do seeke her hearts,
which would once, a broken gate, and all his
was full of foule dishes o’er your name.
XXI
Or durst in the hardiment, wrapt him out,
and bouquets of war the powre of midnight
like Aurora, proue. Ne fear—the foaming
discontent with any mention spend, i’ll
borrowed name: euphelia’s cleverness, and
their rayes teare, whether winged by your scattered
still to be true, is raisde. Learning: what slowly
stately wize he flint, his newe budded
bear about him in some men a scaffold
hill silence with you and sweethearts mad, and
lie humbled harboring would not call your
freewill, as if my years ago, and these?
With ourself upon his hand in a clover,
a Fisherman mends a glimmer, sir.
XXII
Like trickling. In thy tale mould bear about
the sacred Empresse hart with his legs twayne,
that thou art well or yard, as on your divine
in air: so with appear, tis but the
general and doe not feel, or, beware thing
me again; for think you only marred. Who
are two; thy sour leisure, but Cyril, for
we did silence be sin is so enamour’d
busy bee the stormes and vassal wretched
him wrongs and have kiss’d the end who cries
of ill luck bene fayne. Come, Sleep and send
that dints the lay benighted ha’, him
caught else to what mine, your light wouldst needeth
greater glory that held by miracle.
XXIII
Make peace, or so ambitions: and has charms
and hold, and look? Now his waist, and I enter
meeds, when sudden pride sheepe runneth to
the woes a Tragedy. Shall I most mine,
ly safe in long in gentle mind that brave
man quod I that cannon’s through lean Hunger
of death such strangely to this, how we sung
to keep the sun, the flesh reposeth, of
impotent despight, that aperture become
here she, minding pool in the dedicated
words say, is only what the fly
to speake hast brought, whose souls the maker neere:
and Now, ’ she seeke and al her straight hath was
ne’er was the stubborn pride for naught to end.
XXIV
A weasel on a headless arrow-wounded
hart, thoughts, that to be prayd, then the
foundation left, a liquid kiss, all that when
I behold, that nigh. Of emptiness, gossip
and read thy worth was white face; the bud
of ioy, faire leuell in all men’s love-whispers
may I sing you bend to hear the plumes upon
a dainty is always every word
may stray. The lay benighted, nor for meane,
sith she answered Florian is altars
kept mine no pressing to kiss. For there’s
no word that gave its ravelers through the
feet fluttering; the brightened me: the kids
had each bird that heat, and in my father.
XXV
Ne stayed he knew it.&When the scarcely the
Chaplain robed in her side of blisse and span,
strong, theyr payne: for with Love’s picture. And I
know who love too sorely writ. Certain and
washed it away: sith the peeped and fading
things and the signified. Fain would never
them send, reapen the merchandise, of which
was she, Blythe inhabit on a groue most
kind of eraser and the one who could
kindle liuing done to the race of all part,
and that ye your list, put that letten tressed
be. And take me and stand amazed, but
in the fields devoid of grace the Spartan
Mother come! Adam, from Beauties prison?
XXVI
And cry o, my shortly ease: and what beauty
were told; and now betwixt the naked
salt of a’ the face, nor they once so
cruelty. The wretched the glistring in they
grew? With breede my balefull through heere are
returnd the received forth him look the happy,
happy, enviable familiar,
towing full-faced my loue wounded; they are
ye be sin awards me write above the
scene castle. As none a woman of the
while Psyche, wont to be first crackling
armada of proofe shield on grow cold. Where that
sands of deare day by day with downcast heav’n
drawn to heal a close beame of thy iollitee.
XXVII
Cruelly meek, breath, and also see. The
clarity oft will make a fluid haze of
dore, and staring of to pass, it may scarse
be countenance has been in the side and
crushed the balme of the Foxe, as well assured
arrows are breath such art old, and gave him
to me, but I wanne: thou say’st, like tiles for
a traveling sweated on to pay forsake.
I remembrance take. And neuer; nor do
like the heuens, that to his dishonor: the
narrative by your gain: if a flower
to weep, and when glad mouth too. ’ Are you your
voice of all my body that sight? Is no
divided like diamond: for this world’s end.
XXVIII
Your did I see, thou were profanation
which only twelve fair sun of all the rose
which sought for me: but fed with ayre: in the
night is whole like stone one with a safety
pin to give that high thoghts more from aboue,
wherefore, myne eyes, a thrilling to quench her
vnmoued mind, for a sigh: for he has a deare
exylde longwhile I sought in mind of
mine owne good is ygoe, the circle round and
fly far in his louely eye; the sun, follow’d
like my old excuse, ’ proving; or, if
they bear a doubt which name of wit giuing still
to sadde, for kissing praise, Vertue, alas! Was
springs: a cheek the and pure. Staving door?
XXIX
And body&said she my solace break her
prayses dead, and clatter: and warnes the wish,
and so he had none euery planet shook
the shadowes sadness, pardon a faults
do call the Kerke, whose which make no noise and
could not clears.—I’m o’er young to make all throng,
was the bared boughs! The faces the unblessed.
’ She sparkling but and grows falsely
what means the streams the fresh in Honors graine
assay, men to beare, for none. Whose who cherished
herself upon the warmth of them? There
is no grave never saw a man love thee
a theft. I see thy triumphant prize. But
fayre sunshine in a suit of praise greater.
XXX
Would find him in her eyes the bay where thoughts enriched with him we
would not love is clasped between the silence see us, but passed
here is liking staid feet flow’r in May, her selfe to looked with open
halfway through sweet loue make, and their convict lies at last for
he not thou art did he peeped out lyke behold, thy mantle words
whose ymage of shabby grey; a cricketh noone with her most: with
thick up bad habits of gold, and the bridegroom wishing heauen to
looke, with my name, the hectic stings! Today the bared boughes the
man; tattooed or word; that may not be afrayd, the great wall of
turning hits each big approaches my mother sheep, not the dame
than the fleshes burne, in his short my mind, and Fate will condemned
be halfe fordonne, and eyelids pale drug of sight: that I carry
youth beauty blend, the one looke. Around your beast, doth dwell in listening
now you at the planet shot, a childe: who cried; ah, curs’d duke!
XXXI
By that wast and flickers are siluer shall
show falles it the Faery Queene. Are you
that had been in pain, my Helicon when
I you pat it and find another’s
pocketbook. Sall be wrong cheek a rich a spring
of demirep some with my native
shore, through the secrets of blood; in the holly’s
sheen, that mens frayle, my hand. Never
canst not thy song, nor every book thou for
the one with peace such portly ease: and all
we said, but with the spheres, the fabulous
hew: but straw. Sleep of nights, nor a close that
the was wonder. Cupid lapse to take this
beauty. That may brag o’ the lofty be.
XXXII
Of child pushed to fit for she is my judgment
face, that now dazl’d be; no wind, we
entertayne, the season, in monstrous ledges
the stride, he lies a breache: see the tinsel
cling to man, sayd I thee will find the castle.
I’m o’er the wretched prayed, we are owed
for wanted me close, drove his lady in
the sound one doth goodly seed: yet many
long; for the dusk alone can lend you wilt
thou setst a ball above my despair for
the edge unturnable, we used no more
cruel wrack. With just a worke in traffic on
the little head, and streight in twaine to mell,
yet all then, we saw all dissembling she.
XXXIII
Hangs his chere: they must weeps both, if Yuorie, her
will hardly I endure nothing as
strawberry bed, circling that men prove? At euery
begin, may bus-kets and euery part
of the hangman closely did love thee with
which is high, so it with vntimely grace,
the vine; nor care doth remove the watched
manifold? The Rhodope, then, when beauty blend,
the young, but not mine, your fayre beauty shows.
The Powers by whom thou to me as laughed;
and neuer was on you lik’st not mine ear.
To my darkness the and makes it thinke to
the Mauis sing. To burn to me your kids had
ended. Delight, for Jock of Hazeldean.
XXXIV
Where the slippery asphalte ring no skill can
e’er returnd the golden-shafted her hart-
thrilling wall to hear; but grim to see thy
worthy mother’s doom creepe god blessed spot with
a bitter conquer all, but darkenesse
great halfe soone count of curious name of
brown, shot side cafe, dealing mee; let eares
and fooles talking, where nys to be
alone of faith is mail of an eyelash
dead man who had left in my faults shouldst though
their restlesse pleas’d with inmost they sang a
man’s snare: with Senses can dissuade one who
looke, for he is dide. Knight I mistake me
rue it. I’ll borrowe at the trysted hour!
XXXV
Boarding th’Idæaea playne, adornd with your hands,
and those lofty argument vplifting me,
nor his chaunge old and wreaths who for him. I
lived and welaway, and layd him softly,
all fair on that, oft I with her heart such
self! Fair creature newly-caged, commenced a
to-and-fro, so pacify: but likewise
will let this cricketh nere; how much content
poursewth, sweet selfe doth hide, with those fourty
which her huge brightnesse it with shepheards hem
to have misseth these dishes of that had
well her arms; she kissed hands. And glanced: then, were
and write her smiles with seruile bands can
history: if this hat, and you were our flight.
XXXVI
Feels all was rauisht quivering at their rents.
Say over young, I’m sad, say that wont to
leaues be so bad ended. Out of her wrath
hath endite, and one dry voice inside your
joys to tell vs that was a byrd that
did the one who such eyes doe his father’s
pocketbook. And meeknesse well. Devoutly
to the Night, that table was such a wistful
eye; the grand evill fare: mayst witnesse
raysed. A woman who tramped the broke his
rynd is buoyant as the Lord Christ calling
at her is honor and deare ensuing,
or else he hate, the things thereto, more
tender; nor did I come for they lover.
XXXVII
No otherwise’ she saw three bonie. That can
but gleg as littered the courageless,
wild carrot. Wall for such, as in another’s
row, each in her at their foes despise,
with mild pleasance, which sought needes though I
hear one believe it is, that is t but
th’ uncertaine: but if they are of
this husband’s light and day: fayre golden fleeces,
that high thou mas-kedst late hath pearlesse
mixt red and think no more or my gross body
the bands can thou kissed Briar Rose but
now appease, and a spirit in mynd. None
looks o’er youngling here is like magical
charm, that of gold: is love-kindlier the well.
XXXVIII
He does not sound of the brought, the presens
I my selfe and so heauens height: and only
Stellaes name. Searched boy, how cam’st the strong endeuoure
they rang the prease of this pride: with all
faith the soul, instead of my love me liuen,
at ease: but of promised each doe ye now
ended fast, my pining town then praying
here wild the boy forth held: then, a moment
before art lyttle maid of all for thilke
same fairest fayre eye to be blest eyes admyre:
and battle grew afraid of a hope
that more stedfast mindless; fields devoid of
her bright to name. Rose upon a wind of
pryde: through amorous smelling in her eyes.
XXXIX
Carve it ill. Me, they, that I recount. Dream
not said so strange thickened, mixt by each man
kill the worlds most fearelesse then we see,
remembrance to me&when they did knead, who,
sleep, my prison seek to teach me some of
scorching here you once more of it, or the
Bee withal, in unexpected signals,
even if it bring him he is no more
moue, least with which dare na Mary Morison.
For damzels five-words-long that Sheba
came to her sight, then i hate i look upon
my life outworne: and sithes I blessed
sore. You can stick in that Angels blest my
weak eies which was the heart of early fruit!
XL
Whom the close conuay, and she is not play the Spyder and looked
so hard harts desire, that the tips of the merchange thinks,
however, death into a star upon a breach side cafe, dealing
me throne, crowned as he approaching all aboue, when it grow to
use that is Lord vs taught: let thy tride, or looked with bloosmes,
whose smyling at you shalt between them. Only thoughts of desier;
stellas eyes, the bay quoth she none thy father wept. Art made no
sign, we said, what do I chase the glowing and glutted all they
wish the sweeter flower-enamour’d time is sweet house, my heads
did see that to the mind, that I should blushes with flattery
in my mind, for lacking its hue, and shaven head vpheld, and
distresses false Art what, but when as day doe at length descry the
Castle gaping vp waues and strength descried the swollen purpose
of sterile be allowers hand, but sharpely still beguyld.
XLI
As with tears like the morning his vice in
use, did after all men’s love-kindling this
day did not lyfe is more dead. God giueth good
tribute pay, if there one rose three scorne. And
she is of your teare, in which he doth neede
be haste those six hundred brooke, in her eyes
so fowly stately tree, cut down; hang it
thee; the devil box out of. Not quite, shame,
as both, of thanks themselues oppressed by
Flora, on the heauen aspire: when he crouched
upon her ruddy cheere; but that Death awhile.
Delight and low, sweet praise, the share a
part: so, like a silence cannot deny,
that to leaues best, and Loue inspiring.
XLII
Because she saw with the lattice edge
unturnable, our Head, the at wild ecstasy?
So I whose her proper purpose of
amendment, but I never dwell in presence
the green, robbing brow, to stay. And the
man to scarecrow has plucks the blossoms in
hart: then fayre loue which I vnto the which lay
here death. And as one is driving brow, wind
went round the knewe well as a pall, the island,
may to adorne, for I must on the
staid vnto the shady leaves until I die.
Where Beautie best what, but lothe thou setst a battle,
and nerve-twitched prayers withers ayde: that
she kissed her from me, still the glowing gall.
XLIII
He popt him in the while the west sight? But
Thanks, ’ she saw me stung thirsty place, which man
trembling back against you, ’ said Cyril, having
againe retorne, and when it rubs across
the world doth smother’s pocketbook. To
shoot ye shall at last ensample awnings
gay betwixt them and vertuous men who look
so wise do make us wise no eyes thrise
happie she, minding up in the sight, and so
much too rashly led away without
conspire To what is my selfe new yeares
and tost it seemed light upon a league-sunder,
thus medled his pillow to you. By
her fairest fayre, mixt red another bed.
XLIV
My toung wounds beguiled of the times the man?
Not worthy tottring seen whereof their scarlet
coat, things it be you love me, love taught
it was one that death. So wistful eye upon
the stroke of fraude and hand, and bred, he
took the sun the Kaffir, Hottentot, Malay,
sike worlds glorious name. For each which
we dipt in gawdy green. Whom those lyfe that
the southern thongs, mourning with that my will
all beauties pride can called me nigger never
heart that vanish: wept thought beforne when
thou speake and sighes mixt; with me. I was
by one should I will stay on your fronts, then
them. As I must dismay, and long journey.
XLV
The Rhodope, that poor treason can moue, least,
she says, I’ll never dwell in the chaff with
him not said so soone with vision into
childhood’s thick about me time it’s fun what
peace he must. Of their own when as dropped crackling.
But thinck th’ assured may leaves there
we: they did hold your unguarded, red rose-
red withered from all them a’, ye are full
of tacks around me frae naething the hands,
his heauy sledge as in snow: seas shall be the
bestrode my hoarded joy if it bring his
heauy harts desire, where nourish that sunshine
by no more endure to liggen he
was more they did gaze on that black bookes.
XLVI
In their famous city what do I know. Till to her will good
come to lutes is no my ain lasts anywhere if that chilling
it to my Damzell broken and raced the floor. Ah, how it this
mourning languour of that had done, albee rude Pan thou pray, that
i may go: today, tomorrow and could their rents. No mouth to
salue each listening, and the inner part, doth my native land, which
their shade can the prison that Psyche, Ah—Melissa hitting
the blood we had each other Element or part of filthy
lustfully at her, yf pleased be halfe againe the brave made, adorne,
the new made me wise? Lives to adorn’d with one wit: than one
and sorrowed names, an amatory banquet love, t’ accuse
of her arms a wet napkin by heauy sledge as crayfish all
weary hed: and horrible have died yesterday and scorne base
thing as rosy infants are longer vnto thee to another?
XLVII
All in some wherein I sawe a ship doth still on her, may brag
we had been poure: and reade this frenzy insufficient here in
your gentler day. She mark it with chaunge eeke our uses are full
of chekes in thralled the blood waltzed and fooles talke with
sword to his dying downe ioyous safety pin to give a dole of
their tomb the wretched form and some grows false freezing darkness down
below a prince me likeness everywhere who heads were with a
flattered in battle prods, the help lies by these things in liberty,
such excellence, dearest, sleep to decke her sex, has but proud
lived wits. And yielded a desk of sad Winters strutted up and
all, whose lighten all her trust, than ever love of monstrous, would
flie: for ever will bloudy looke, he lies a breachest he soon;
rest, but hard and drizling do adore in their ruthlesse pleasaunce,
they did gazed: I played to their dead: but fayle fall by the wall.
XLVIII
The policemen who kicked men can moue her?
You loves a man, the prince your form, as, the
father turn in the approach of Cupid
is sweet fruit of prison-clock smote on th’
anduyle of blue eyes to where Cupids
self, and him in a close that letten
tresses, she dwell. As the blood to be, and
pure. Most speak with pity—let me home to
try, where Beauties prison far astray: agayne
I wrote it is, inter-clad in each,
and make admyre, beats you have I her body
into a star upon a living
a truce and wore the queen-woman love. Out
of her eyes, and I. With wings of her bleed?
XLIX
For the gods are skild, him caught was of day
thee, ’ and help of burning pyne I, you dickhead.
With my numbered to make holy seas:
theyr strife, that which them vphold. It’s ok with
flawless demons that nether souls, poets,
which ever love you that same my dear virtue
hath my sister. And from others withers
will last company would love not thilke
sam? Thy absence, it down the crank, or twice
a theft. Beyond that Angels face, your
ministering open and a slice of that she
but vaine and peacocks with me. Their heritaunce,
her lightning rose as long shall make vnpitteid
spoile, with they brooke. The trouble eyed.
L
She shroud, his agonizing the heat of
his body marred: for with vnkindly earth th’
anguish moist and so he had entertayne,
whilest my poor of Art? Had such a
wistfull of the weeping caught in theyr greater
meet, leese but walks; we mixt with Cupid
fourty yeares annoy to solitary
pain I could I wed a fair on th’
assurance need were pride amongst his
hand’s heart, unstained, unto his sores and gone
from the form, that gaue him caught to correspond
with a ship of such brighten my
epitaph above, on earth bringen in Hells
despise. The moon up with girland grieue me.
LI
Break the measure their deadly place, the heauenly
mark her grapes or choked before henceforth
think the moat, stifling to her lips,
possessive and walked the tears. Not pointing
reuengefull speech no more endure. Without a
sight? This be heart’s grown you scarce have sung and
who tramped in skins, raw from the fyre of the
same time-torn man; even awe, justlier balanced:
then, in faith the pilgrim bore to which
his ydle boast; I was a bar of
shepeheards God so well he cannot fades out
of prisoners called and were that’s end. But her
yet would be the liberty? Dungeons may
I sing that we sat, but your felicitie.
LII
I hate your his might be, sits downe in the
make that can their tongues. To write, and deare away
in easy death and ben; Blythe, blythe by
change my near thee, that table of my body
shall be said, I must give up a flight:
and her with love? As arguing long hath
made woman of the sweet hair sheene, but branches
from dream; the very man eats the hugg’d
it mend wit; if vaine bubble blowen vp
with salue of scorching from where was searched, I
did leaues doth pride, and the body, fortune
may befall in listen and rest, but mine,
smoothed a petted peacocks within my spring-
time with Tithonus the shepheards swaine.
LIII
And now what slanted me when we weight in
twain, by praise in distres of years themselues
oppresse mixt red Hell lest that, he who
had they were be, if this front build therewith
doe ye play my paine: aswage your force,
so that me die, will sterilized childe: who
cries only cured its thirteenth birthday of
dread of dark square a deadly arrayd. The
wants, to thy blisse and blythe by the light t’encrease
a wretch, he popt him lie: no mouths, thinking
ordered in the cannon-bullet get
her at her way was like as well many
a tear; but, wo is meant. My wombe think now
quoth henceforth some respect of time machine.
LIV
The fayre sunshine for three castles patch my
seruice fit for a shelter for grace that
will come thought was sweet is time of his sharp
theyr sleep for with its giant loom the court’
said Cyril, Madam, you were to see how
comes to ask: for complaint: tho creeps with ouer
all the was, alas the Rose, but hast that,
the must to entertain zest to sulk upon!
Make him in the floor, and the cattle
gaping so to immortal off, see where
is no my ain lassie, kind of those smyling
such, as if these thine eye well ycond
hear my sister of body, whose voice when
an offspring and fragrant in poverty?
LV
By each draws his request. When we touches
your like stranger: after so wide, and wise
it doth take, through sufferaunce: the fading
gaol rose hearse. Fresh spring I tarry night
and ben; Blythe, blythe waues and no spurre can they
do well away is like the Persian, Grecian,
Roman loves a man not of sad Winters
steals shadowed from the found my wants, to
thy sweet than all be so witen ech other
kind love is in her too sick, and the
sound, around the kind love and yet attaint
o’erlook thou art not grieve; which Cupid is
sweet household thing else saw me laugh at his
form, the sea, looking hall glittering kind.
LVI
Which is gone, but with his faynt thee; thou’rt like diamond: for one may
escape the light with smiles and shaven, loving your tiny
infinity, for every blooming waters books compeers by night:
such a rosie Morne, what the tree. Embrace the world, vnto the heart
has a pall, there at all that we hae seen, that had done that Psyche’s
daughter eyes darkens after it a dreamt the tears down like
a things that one time were vnprouide for this chinne. He lay sweet is the
sky, and the fulfillment, but when as his be heartfelt plagues and
the same time not, with waking not content at last ornament:
and twixt earnes in whom fresh growing in fleshly send, reapen
them on the green, and sand the powre and other entered shoot: but
even if the while euery one, sleep. Volume as their ends denied,
ran for the air som heuenly ray at sight to write, o’er young
girl with might, then my ioy, faire faces slide our mynds disease shore.
LVII
Which, like a things of life, and her beastes
of whales steered tomb. The wants to short my métier,
yet shook their tomb the world, two in thy
true-telling ball, flyes backe, as rivers, your
kitchen the hire, whilest my self-example
mayst with me doth houe, can yet dare noble
forth they with such store of human deeds
like dew,—and Death had coverlet’s limp as
old compare; bold aspire? I grant that had
goods.&When shock them in search of you, from where,
gaue by fame: my loue, that bears its make; thou’rt
like stranger: after so goodly table
peddlers should scorne, I ne’er was lost, and theyr
strife, and blindly. They, the other will be.
LVIII
And nerve-twitched staring cloud they bene so
richly spredd, my pining that sang all round,
that stretch to salue both seeme to see hooked like
the bitter lot the mincing mimicry!
When Natures the air that was dead my loue,
that my former flight to naebody; i’ll
take anew: she mote haue purest what’s in
her cruelty, then the rent, whose body
health to all day droopt; then gan over. Let
me may it were one rose intent they have
know how much did Loue did not what’s in her
heau’nly guest looks were to vew: but maketh
me the Lucius Junius Brutus of
my weak with a shipwreck, doe interlace.
LIX
Others, through many a one. The Charioteer
and heard nor borrowe ne need not fitly
doth to a laurell leafe and follow’d
on a thoughts cannot boast, father watches
woe, the grot, who would followed. Let’s stately
wize he fell, and the more he cannon-bullet
holes never gaze on it the hills beyond
they sleep, your pray. Made when she’s alone
one that wonts to thee as his harp I take:
for one man that loue, that gave and growes
to let my bed, and thou shalt remaine, the
green Thirst the liberal office the chace could
not dare not sit with a sense—cannot hold
me back of Hazeldean. Daddy? A prince?
LX
In a groue most sad? That, which hollow groan’d
her locks stopped. My darling, to beguiled of
her young, I’m sorry, you to get married
instead of her way was so richly spred
with doe ye playing burn, wi’ unco folk
I wear his step seeme he lover my five
with her vnawares while they were not leaves
slim shadows? Why then of men; and I awoke,
and we known to hate, hate of Nature
made me bold, so wistful eye; there natures
goodly light doth share the heart beside your
Academic silks shallowers, as when
I laugh at here is nothing. With a flames
of my father wilfull they are my head.
LXI
God help it, did for a traveller
campfires in height, no plot, ’ he answering
chance haue shot: yet euen in Heaven a blessed
Saynts vpbrought there in honour unto the earth
doth the peek or pine, but if your arms she
gan to sue, cannot, when her sacred peacocks
with all worldes child is the martini
he is contemplation, each wishing
from all day long; for the cast men, and their
speech, faine wouldst answered Go: we had never
to the greedinesse bewray it seemed to
pray became like a starred, since your margins,
your selfe like before my Last Love, I once
vouchsafe my prison-yard, witnesse raysed.
LXII
Great carouse knocks hard you shalt in his time,
and fawning moon, as mine. But purple dyes;
carve it is parching grace concluded, and
then of the actual lightning round is but
don’t read in each man kills the flowre: I see
your so hard your imperious July
day till to walked before growing full-faced
wel we paced, be both pure yvory: but
Diane hunted of this of your leaves, nor
evermore he took him oppresse: yet men
borrowes them threw around and frame his
waist, and look on me, letting armada
of proofe shield on things be soon: it stoppeth
the same—that like glory seemes to win.
LXIII
As with a kernel in it then praying.
When those which they golden quill: thinck euer liuing
dying lyfe is morrowe, that every Muse
tumbled foe: in finding a Navy dream,
a worke the merry Cuckow, messenger
campfires in thy affairs, fall lowly
flowers your glory that, through the Idoll
of the pillow to they trod a saraband:
about, instead, women if this, and
true, making about him of her breast, over-
loving, living had a mortall hye.
If on anothers vied with Lar and when
he hath once beare, my inwardly do
Another with her golden quill: the heart.
LXIV
His fall doffe her captiuing long halfe trembling
in taking with a most freedom by. Replies,
dry as the mark it within my
silently, invisibly. With glory seeme
a myle. It will stay of her beames
darkens after blow. It’s a bird on ever
which thought to say, or ouer-wise. Of their
inheritaunce: but her archers close the
bitter content poursewth, if they letting
to a Comedy: so pretty one, and
maidens over anchors; it’s no soon absolvèd;
if to feel my father the exactly
four kirtle, and look at my fathers
lay at will tell vs that not your feet.
LXV
Or giue apt seruants the world vnworthy thinks
of light, and that faire sights, all those archers
clutch his heard, some sidled up to the truth,
sorrow and now, through Faery land, I am
cunning near that countenance still dawn
was of desier; stella, in which I haue
waste the same—that primal night not yet forth
aboue thee deignd so he has crept so long. I
didn’t want and gay, but that i may give three
leathers lap: a gentle death my brother!
We have please, I care doth she at will
comfortlesse wel vnder crescent-wise. You are he;
the bloody cloth unfold it to his numb
with its giant loom thought ungentle space.
LXVI
She, that fill the centre set a lock upon
a heaven—such a rose; her love for
they ydly sits beholds this, that to light
the wise? When a man was longer for euer
then my pain height: and want to asswagement
of his look of everything love me,
love, t’ accuse of Lordship like a worke
assoyle, strand, and drank the sound of chekes
in the game from mother, O father.
Devoutly to rest under the hyghest
is hart: but there, and tell the cast and sweet
in spotlesse cold sorowe, that blesse great hope
of new delight shall get a rich which her
their Sunday suits, but fairest paines are.
LXVII
Part of eyes more and Life are blood again
and spilling short houres do not liueryes
bene dead, the peasant mew, and of men,
that he was told Rose-Armed Dawn, love smitten,
care. A land of solemn psalms, and turmoyle,
or gives. Let thy name way, did see. Which
man’s, if your sweet odour diminutive
village greedy fyre. On the charm of blisse
I gladly will blooms on the same beneath
her too well, Sir—and to his lips; she had
sette to do it was Rome. I know that, Virtue,
all happie she, Blythe by the conquest challeng
needs fight full delight. And the hypnotist’s
snow-white as straight his leafe, which her looke.
LXVIII
About me prepare: I speak with the edges
the first love not see you, from the chaff
with rare perfections of lights in her mouths,
think no more endure, her most: when that than
my free, ah! And makes me greater fires in
immemories prison I will from enuied,
and mask in my selfe sustayne, if any
ill: and walked no man so firmely,
too, and you make hasty hand here is in
my epitaph above my life to lead
my head, women weepe, such excellent, on
Death was to save a prince will get. The most
fear: some more ended talking and fever
dew; and bidding roses—too bold aspire.
LXIX
Sweet cordialls passionate heart’s citadel, her will doe, as we
enter touch the figurehead, smiling still, steal a blink, be high
looked with prostrate: finding sweated on, what was Rome. For as lothsome
sparke of the monstrous, not Itself another’s hall the gate,
such poore I seem worth a loyalties’ expense, whose deare and feel
anothers; arts of bloody napkin by heauy spring if theyr
make, the things that thought feared; and oh, it mak me agayne I wrote
it is, the sky sagged dusty as spider clothes. Growing: astrophel,
sayd to fly, my kneecap and gay; but each doe praise grew fair
beneath the gallant gentle mates, nor treasures are sent on the
strongly part may likest be more or other cruell pryde depraues
each let troubled with the glass. That love for great Voices roll in
passionate heart’s citadel, he shape of yore, to see a fountain
searched, I did, and I without her pale a star in her witt.
LXX
And eke my will be quite forlorne: fayre flower
heart cries to his dying lime, and learned
be of my old age haue my sight. She
comes not cleaned the only tears down from the
light so is far to auenge here and saw the
stopped are the more taketh gloom is a
genital fire, her fifteenth faintly said: your
heard of war with infinity, your form,
limpid lapse to tak me frae sun took exact
opposite of weed the second is pure
affects, we beforne when we set at nought
hauing, now, in dark disgrace, heaping vp waues
of touched, her great Pan accursed hyre: and
all greater doth pointed the care doth yield.
LXXI
Some kills with the trees turned into my
seruile bands ye by no more I am
laughed; and yet it little town, I sigh’d, and
of pryde, and where are not that touch your
immortal mesh and can finding upon the
white-haired of brown fa’ for ever; for waiting
shut her selfe new begin his gust is
the Earth with her vndonne. Till night and can no
more life, all by my despair: he only
blood that Hope should pleasure of Byrds resounded
the plumes of my hearth is ready to
commenced a to-and-fro, so pacify:
that through many for the Herald came to
base thoughts in they faint and exorcised.
LXXII
With us do dwell in this wouen all burden, thy cruel stoure, when
two mouth to all our true still. I was as meanes shall enemies.—
Blythe, blythely was I bide the Doctors! And hoary frost
and leasure not disdaynfull vice, may blood we had sunk a
flocculent dust on a heart in gawdy green or dry, a man not
with sails of whose body health and somebody die? Was it to
my heart to speaks of our bright thee; or seek heau’ns insight, since you,
yours shall the kids had never still to be alone bent over
again and she is ouer-wise. He does not die. Doth pride in the
castles need were was fawn’s blood was spun: and, and never, then both
of the will once a lilly on the rose-briar, friends: but it
eats thing, and my griefe more commenced a to-and-fro, so pale; young
to you. A year, or his altogether: keep it clear morn: she
brow to use and yet testifying kind. With the while the dead.
LXXIII
If I might beams of your first defynd: for to the firbloome, but
since it is, into a spirit world chosen Love’s an aik, on
Yarrow mind your cells of this, or ouer-cast, in whom at the equal
and the starry tides, and they sleep and sunk a flocculent
dust die before her cry lord, with white as to thee, wretch, howling
after so with true harder walk by night, that I thus to shame.
Eyes now, ready to beare: attempt to wonders heau’nly stately
them deep will hear my mother end of chief musick, which loue, when
he dark Was it seemed lights not with Bab-o lest any though euery
bit, which a sights, where lives were liuen, at ease me, thee to get
married him when clouds ally your unguarded, red rose! Such cruel
stounds, the old sorowes sauing prison. Than not watered limbs, stiffens
in the hunted the heat: he forth into you here? Forming
a slumbered to go, while my heart, my mother’s body die?
LXXIV
And al her vnmoued mind, those fleet aspect,
however their famous city gone himself
doth chace, and saw, with a second life to
give you him that mine eyes of blisse huntsman
after the clears. The loftiest little lackt
the morning fountain in that with hellish
accents of the villages, will break. To
teach to wave and the kids will tell, he world:
the blackened he knew myself in my breast.
And, last Tuesday a certain zest to sulk
upon the sense of pupil, there is my
heart cries to prove And things and the marble
men make a child is the hinny he’ll nourish
that in: say I’m sorry, you dickhead.
LXXV
Thou still winter wisht, yet thou had’st pity.
With seruice fit will; and, as if for shade
of best, of my old age shall countryman,
affianced, scales is kindle this foolishly,
to Life’s iron heel it slays the feet
of one ten in walls sudden pride: such loyal
obeysaunce, and watched wight, that iron
heel it slays the colour black which prisoners
called in fresh and Dread and exchangels’ trumpet
murm’ring, and why he loot the day builds
a Hell in its sum, you wept. For Oh! Human
passion to marry yet; I’m o’er young,
I’m fley’d it to be pure and guilefull
smith winter campfires in her flat hand?
LXXVI
Mark when all is highest, i’ve heart—slower,
that I thus vse their winges, such unholy
ground and eek my native land, I am
sad assay, which the gods themselves know
that Colin Clout doth fleshes before the
broke him paine: and wealth, the kind of faded
frae the measur’d time. Little thing in treason,
that sweet smile me driues amend It’s not
the thine eyes of my stonished on a
crystal currents of collusion: for
wantoning within the approach, leaning wind
of vowels a voice, when that Lady, pray you
not formost plain; as thou feel’st it is witless
summer bloody hands of death such death.
LXXVII
Lest and thus him aid, my vow binds me plaste.
I love be supprest. Wind went round the strike
mine eye: but what’s wrong cheek of frozen night
doth make me unaware. Love sells the rest.
Your prison. But when I waile and doth
make his lily in termes her mate; and
teach man kills with emotions rage: scourge of
wolves! That much lovers blowne and make one
engendering planet fix my worshipt be,
to know. Ne none that, the windy sigh, she
says I’m growing, hair was she, Blythe by the
broad worldes childe: who took the strife, three long-
needy Fame doth euen grow cold. And still may
with fairy had a chrism is on thy hands.
LXXVIII
So after scrubbing brave man it be no
long growing thrugh your kitchen is your forest
ye hideous prison-wall, and the
handed brest, as you biblically around
its spotted peacocks with the dewy
downs dulled the sea would end then we touch my
springs: a cheek of fraude: ne for the glory
to end where Beauties mine! Back starts had
not worth waste in please all those which they pynen
in from this world subdew, that least be
poison walls suddenly display, sweet, and
rolling nature vex, to proue, by reason
fit to be proud heard not long, the other
enter me? It with time it ill. They take.
LXXIX
Sharp pittances of pure and round there one
washt from you, in Tempe or the future;
everywhere white-haired old, and zoned wide, that
heuens wryte your mind to slip away today
them it sits mourne again doth neede were pittying
him to that from churches rich lay his
due, the heart’s wise no more she canna hae
luve o’ my kindly colours gayer than
one and vitamins. As Diane beauty
by succession did bear that cleave me leads
summers. Is that long, his lily in the
empty place of this wretches woe, the holly-
tree—the Champak odours for leaues and
rarest Silvia, yet was drunkard grows?
LXXX
Nights, to be the mind a faery’s song. Being
board are wrongs and knows. The heart is going
town then that is t but love is inflamed
without the voices of yre, that may
escape the grace my mammny’s ae bairn, wi’
Chloris in her back a huge bright Sunne gynneth
to pay forsake. Nor evermore on
Death rattles in her victorious
magnanimity of the same at night to
be first love for my troublers of weale,
lips asundered in thrall, in which is
come, the wall will bloud divide into a
hears deep disconsolate, can expressed, through
my kneecap and some of silk and temples?
LXXXI
To heal his separate Hell. Where that wondrous
vertues stall; Cupids colder, but a photo
of grain: Love is how I seeke and
palely loitering smyles weake forth, I
dared to tell the purpose of gold and
palely loitering under their Hell, are
castles to Rosalind again, that all
whose knees are seen upon a thorns to do
with my mouths, this is not the eye With my
eye doth frosty winter come! Sing between.
In Seattle, somewhile there is
to confest my mouth a red, red rose nor
mark it with a heel, her with many a
light? And the foreuer in equal and here.
LXXXII
‘I brought; and not chosen Love lives were dead.
However thin finding heauenly seed: the
Regulation shall at her locks lurch past
wet window-niche how saw your sweet, as colours
could harder wonne with her greedy fyre.
My lord hath their uniforms were dead soul,
as if for Man’s granary is full and
foundress us, and O that blesse whylest
I fill for the sun itself shalt betweene
my wing of impotentates, loue they
lie wi’ naebody’s lord, i’ll be by his
best relicks to hand to the foaming
draperies, headed like a stupid stock in
his returne to receiv’d into his drest?
LXXXIII
Numbers as louely play the Spartan Mother
hart. A princes tried the Lambe? Repeated
should scorn, we issued gorged with the
rest again, unafraid of that all. With
sencelesse beauty’s dead ride amongst which
some sidled upon the kissed his face the
woman in red with thou be told can no
more salue each in her hand on to sun, could
pleasure of Loue and still vouchsafe to ligge
soft awhit; nor vnto the heart such end haughties
iewell. She to what fayre flock, this precept
proud full of the sea inside my sonne,
petal, a lethal musket shook the and
we touches richly are change thickset fruit.
#poetry#automatically generated text#Patrick Mooney#Markov chains#Markov chain length: 6#139 texts#sonnet sequence
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Soft Touches | Draco Malfoy x Reader Part One
Summary: When Y/N had first met Harry and Ron on the train, she would have never thought that that interaction would have led to years of adventures and near-death experiences. Throughout their time at Hogwarts, several things had become clear. First, there will be at least one thing that tries to kill you a year. Second, Draco Malfoy was Harry’s archenemy. Third, no matter how hard she tried, Y/N still had just as big a crush on the blond as the first day they met. Harry and Ron would never let her live that one down while Hermione was at least a little understanding. Y/N knew that some of the things that Draco had done were horrible, and she would probably never forgive him for the things he had said to Hermione. And yet, she still liked him.
Warnings: No warnings yet!
Words: 1779
AO3 Link
Masterlist
A/N: Lmao I’m back and I’ve been on draco tiktok
As expected, being a fifth year student was far more stressful than anyone could have imagined. Not only did they have the O.W.L.s to study for, but ever since Umbridge had been brought on as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, you had to practically teach yourself if you wanted a proper defense theory. At this rate, a muggle would probably know more about defense against dark magic. Either you practiced on the weekends, which almost no one aside from Hermione did, or during free periods.
It was only a few weeks from Halloween and autumn was in full swing. The grounds were painted with trees that held an array of yellow, orange, and gold leaves and there was a strong smell of bonfire, hot cider, and butterscotch that wafted across the hills during the day. On late afternoons, when the air was crisp and the sky slightly darker than what it had been during the first month of term, the courtyards and hills near the Black Lake were the perfect places for students to relax.
Y/N was sitting on the sill of one of the arches that opened into the courtyard, writing in a leatherbound journal with her green quill when one of her textbooks slipped out of the opening of her bag and smacked onto the stone floor below. She had barely registered the sound when someone had reached down and picked it up, extending their hand to her. Y/N’s eyes followed the line up the owner of the hand’s toned arm until she had reached their face.
Instead of Draco’s usual sneer, there was no wrinkle between his brow, and his features were soft. Her hand slowly extended to meet his, and their fingers brushed against one another as she grasped the book. His startling blue eyes were veiled with an unreadable expression.
She was still too shocked to say anything, but the corner of her lips turned up slightly in a silent thank you. Draco stared for a few more seconds before his hand fell back down to his side and he turned, striding down the empty corridor. Y/N stared at his retreating figure. He wasn’t wearing his robes, despite the crisp chill that hung in the air, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, displaying his forearms and the distinct veins that ran across his skin.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was nearly nightfall when Hermione had found her, still staring at the end of the corridor, deep in thought.
“Where have you been? It’s time for dinner, Harry and Ron have already started without us.” Hermione questioned softly. Y/N turned her head, looking a little dazed.
“I’ll tell you later tonight, in the dormitories.” Hermione tilted her head and smiled a little.
“Knowing you, you’ve probably been out here for hours. Come on, before Ron eats all the best parts.” She stretched her hand out and pulled Y/N from her seat. Together, they walked arm in arm to the Great Hall, taking in the setting sun through the tall window panes and the lingering chill that had swept over Hogwarts over the past few days.
It was getting colder, and the Winter recess was creeping closer day by day. As the two girls walked to the Great Hall, all they could smell as they walked through the open-air corridors was birch smoke coming from Hagrid’s hut and cold air. Y/N breathed deeply and sighed contentedly. She was convinced that there was absolutely nothing better than autumn at Hogwarts, and not even Professor Umbridge could spoil that.
The second they opened the door to the Great Hall, it was like being hit by a wall of warmth, light, and the wonderful smells of the banquet. Y/N finally snapped out of the haze she had been in all afternoon once she realized how hungry she truly was. Hurriedly, the two of them sat down on the bench across from Ron and Harry, both of whom were animatedly discussing the upcoming quidditch game against Slytherin. They were discussing different strategies to use, especially since the Slytherin team was notorious for cheating.
Y/N had joined the Gryffindor team as a Chaser only a year after Harry had and had experienced her fair share of Slytherin fouls to last a lifetime. Y/N caught sight of some serving platters and began serving herself along with Hermione.
“So what were you doing all day? I haven’t seen you since breakfast this morning.” Y/N asked as she filled the corner of her plate with mashed potatoes.
“Isn’t the answer obvious? She was in the library of course, where else would she be?” Ron interjected as he stole a roll of bread off of Hermione’s plate. Evidently he and Harry were done talking about quidditch, Ron had piled loads of food on his plate and Harry was stuffing chicken into his mouth. The two started to bicker until Ron shoved the entire roll into his mouth.
Y/N was watching amused as Ron tried to speak around the bread roll when a flash of blond hair caught her eye. Just over Ron’s shoulder, Draco was just beginning to sit down next to Pansy Parkinson who was absorbed in a conversation with Blaise Zabini who sat across from her. Draco and Y/N’s eyes met briefly before both of them shifted their gazes. Hermione paused for a moment, looking at Y/N and then to Draco before a subtle look of realization dawned across her face. Suddenly, she switched the conversation to their History of Magic paper that was due by the end of the week.
“What have you two chosen for your topics?” Hermione questioned, making Harry and Ron freeze. They obviously hadn’t chosen a topic yet, let alone begun writing.
“Erm, well… Here’s the thing Hermione-” Ron had begun stammering when Hermione cut him off.
“What is wrong with you? Professor Binns assigned this paper over two weeks ago!”
“I haven’t had time, I’ve had quidditch practice nearly every day and Snape hasn’t exactly eased up on Potions assignments, has he?” Harry defended himself, poking at a carrot on his plate and avoiding Hermione’s gaze.
“Harry, I’ve been at the exact same quidditch practices as you and I’m almost finished with my paper. I’m writing about Grindelwald’s rise to power. You need to find a topic and fast!” Y/N said pointedly. Ron sat up at the mention of Y/N’s topic. “And no, you cannot use that topic, pick something else!” Ron deflated once again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They eventually finished their dinners, filed out of the Great Hall, and began heading towards Gryffindor Tower. Once they had finally entered through the portrait hole, Hermione grabbed Y/N by the crook of her elbow and pulled her up to their shared dormitories. Once she had shut the door behind them, she whirled around to face Y/N and pointed to her bed.
“Sit. We need to talk.” Hermione walked over and sat across from her. “What was that look that you gave Draco at dinner?”
Y/N looked down at her hands, an embarrassed flush across her cheeks. She was fiddling with the hem of her skirt and refused to look Hermione in the eye.
“Well, earlier today I was by myself writing in the courtyard, and I guess I must have knocked over one of my books because the next thing I know, Draco was just standing there, handing it to me. It felt like I was in a dream, he didn’t say anything, but he looked… different. I don’t really know how to describe it. He looked… soft, almost?” Y/N groaned and threw herself backwards onto the pillows, her legs hanging off the side of the bed. Hermione shifted so that she was lying next to Y/N and facing her.
“Okay,” she said carefully, “what does that mean exactly?”
Y/N paused for a moment in thought. What did it mean? Y/N had never thought about Draco in that way before, and the spark she felt when their fingers brushed together couldn’t have just been her imagination.
“I… don’t know. I don’t really know how to explain it. Whenever I start thinking about it, I feel this squeezing in my chest, like I can’t breathe properly.” Y/N closed her eyes and pictured Draco’s face once again. Hermione also seemed to be lost in thought, but those thoughts were most likely not about how handsome Draco looked with his hair pushed back and his sleeves rolled up. Hermione stretched her hand out and grasped Y/N’s hand.
“Well, I suppose it could be worse. It could have been Goyle handing your book back to you.” The two girls looked at each other before bursting into laughter. Goyle wouldn’t touch a book, let alone read one. In fact, it was unclear of whether or not he could actually read.
Once their laughter had died down and the two were sitting in comfortable silence, a thought dawned upon Y/N.
“You won’t tell Harry or Ron about this, will you? Knowing them, they’ll make a fuss about it and then never let me live it down.”
Hermione smiled in response.
“‘A fuss’ is a bit of an understatement. ‘What do you mean you fancy Malfoy?! He’s a git!’” Hermione’s impersonation was spot on and the two girls laughed once again.
The two girls then spent the next few hours talking about their classes, Y/N and Harry’s upcoming quidditch match, and making plans for their weekend in Hogsmeade. Y/N wouldn’t have to worry about Draco until the quidditch match, and that wasn’t for another 3 days. So for 3 days, Y/N would avoid him and distract herself with studying for midterm exams and Quidditch practice.
#draco malfoy x reader#draco imagine#Draco Malfoy#draco malfoy x gryffindor#draco malfoy x female#Harry Potter#harry potter x reader#harry potter x friend!reader#Ron Weasley#ron weasley x reader#ron weasley x friend!reader#Hermione Granger#hermione granger x reader#hermione granger x friend!reader#fred weasley#fred weasley x reader#fred weasley x friend!reader#george weasley#george weasley x reader#george weasley x friend!reader
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Christmas mass
Silent night
“I half expected to not be able to cross the threshold” Angelo said as he stepped into the church, the hat covering his face from any on lookers.
“Don’t be silly, Angie, that's demons. Not things like us” Mai said quietly as she walked in behind him, her hand laced together with his and face hidden a black mourning veil. After a couple of months hiding from the Galassias it didn’t bother her anymore that she had to cover her face. The two of them hadn’t planned to come into the church, only went to pick up a few things from the marketplace but Angelo had pulled her in and seated them in the back. It was surprisingly empty save for a few people. They sat there in silence for a while, letting the sound of the priest wash over them.
“My dad used to take me to church sometimes” Mai said, breaking the silence that had fallen over them.
“In the middle of the night usually. I don’t remember it much, was too young to be honest. After I turned five we only went to Church round Christmas time. The psychic energy in church is different then” she nodded around the church.
“Your mom never went too?” he questioned.
“Mum and Gomez worship different gods” Mai said plainly, as if that was that and was totally normal. It probably was to her. After meeting some of her distant relations Angelo could see what she meant. He looked back at the choir, full of young boys like he was. If he looked hard enough, he could almost see himself there.
“Both of my parents went to church. Took me and Luce too. Every Sunday and Holiday, we would be there - fourth roll on the right” Mai stayed silent, her eyes slowly shifting colour under the veil as she watched Angelo, letting him get it off his chest. He was thankful for that. The words spilled out him like blood from a stab wound.
“Was a choir boy too, once” he added. She made a surprised noise then.
“You never told me that” he turned his head to look at her.
“Lots I’ve never told you” it was the truth too. For as much as they love each other their missing families were hard to talk about. Both were lost to them. His to death and hers to time, it was a heavy burden, a wound in their hearts that never closed no matter how much time passed.
“When we were kids” she started, smiling as she changed the subject.
“Me and my cousin Cardan would often sneak around the banquets at the winter solstice. We used to grab armfuls of all types of fruit and tarts and wine and puddings before I would teleport us to the ceiling. We would sit there, amongst the vines and flowers and watch the revel as they would dance around a fire. Cardan used to use his tail to grasp onto the beams and would swing us from vine to beams. We looked like two wild acrobatic monkeys!” she laughed loudly, bringing a few judging stares over to them. Angelo didn’t mind and just glared back. When he looked down he saw Mai already looking at him, fondness shinning though her eyes. It brought a rare smile to Angelo's face that he didn't know he needed.
They spent most of the night like that, telling stories of their families and listening to the mass. When it came to singing the hymns they both stood up. Mai didn’t know many of the words and stumbled over them at times but what she did know, she sang sweeter than any robin ever could. Angelo sang along too, more quietly and Intune than his lover but no less beautiful. Deep and soothing the sound seemed to make Mai relax. A Christmas miracle in itself.
“That was the prettiest sound I've ever heard.” Mai said quietly when the hymn was finished. Angelo didn’t look at her but he felt her as she leaned into him, her head on his shoulder and clasped her laced gloved hands with his. With a kiss to her head, they fell into another silence again, this time comfortable as the choir sang on.
#Angelo Lagusa#Hedone talks#Hedone writes#self ship#self shipping community#selfship community#selfship#self insert community#self ship community#self shipping#self insert#fo community#f/o community#romantic f/o#91 days#feel free to like or reblog
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Lonely Stars Chapter 3
Trigger Warnings: child abuse, homophobia, homophobic slurs, conversion therapy, internalized homophobia
Age 13
The red and black velvet dress I wore was uncomfortable. I missed wearing Sirius' old t-shirts he bought from the Muggle world and soft jeans around the Ravenclaw common room when I wasn't required to wear the black robes. But even the uniformed robes were much more comfortable than this ensemble Mother had insisted I wear to dinner tonight.
I sat at the large dinner table in the dining room. The table was made from such rich and polished mahogany wood that I could practically see my reflection on the surface, and across the table I could see where my brother Sirius had carved his initials onto the beautiful wood much to my Mother's demise. Sirius had not attended this family dinner as he had chosen to spend the beginning of the winter holidays with the Potters instead of us, it stung a small amount that he chose to spend more time with friends rather than his own blood. Beside me sat Regulus as always, his hair had grown to a slightly ragged mullet that he was attempting to grow longer similar to Sirius, we had used almost a full package of bobby pins in order to hide the messiness from our parents. Regulus also shifted uncomfortably, while I know he often wore dress pants and shirts while not in uniform at Hogwarts, he chose to more comfortable materials rather than the stiff bleached cotton he was currently wearing.
To an outsider, this family dinner may have just looked quiet, but in reality you could cut the tension between my family members with a knife. Barely fifty words had been spoken between my parents and I since I had returned home four days ago. While Regulus was given more attention than I, I knew it made him uncomfortable to watch me be ignored or shushed while speaking.
"When is Sirius coming home?" I ask, looking at both my Mother and Father who sit at the head of the table but on opposite sides. My Father sighed and placed his fork and knife down on his plate before looking up at me, he wiped the corners of his mouth with the blood red cloth napkin he had.
"Sirius will be returning tomorrow morning. We will be sending a driver to collect him as usual Aurelia."
"He will be here just in time for the Christmas banquet." My Mother piped up, looking at me.
The majority of the meal was ate in silence, with the quiet squeal of a knife running along the china plates or the tiny clinks of the dishes as they were cleared and another course of food replaced the empty dishes.
"Regulus, your Mother tells me that you may try out for Quidditch in the fall? Is this correct son?" Father inquires, looking at Regulus with interest. Regulus clears his throat after taking a sip of his water and looks at our Father and nods,
"Yes, I'm thinking of trying out for Seeker," He smiles as he speaks, a gleam in his pale grey eyes.
"Well you did always have a eye for things Regulus," My Mother smiles, raising her cup of red wine towards him in admiration.
"And very good grades from what we hear from your professors!" Father boasted, a smile now on his face. Regulus was smiling with pride, until he saw my face with a fake smile on it. I try to be happy for my brother, I'm very happy with his accomplishments, but it would be nice to get the same encouragement from my parents that he got.
"You should ask Lia about her semester, I heard it was very interesting," Regulus smiled, trying to focus the conversation on me instead of him.
"Aurelia, how was your semester?" My Mother asks, her voice had less enthusiasm than when she was speaking to Regulus.
"I've been learning about undetectable poisons in Potions. I like my Potions partner, she's very good," I smiled, thinking about my Potions partner and hoping she was enjoying her winter holiday.
"Nice Slytherin girl?" My Mother inquired, hoping I was choosing to interact as closely to Slytherins as possible.
"She's in Hufflepuff actually, she made this joke that I could've poisoned her at any time and she wouldn't even know. She has beautiful brown eyes and her voice is so-"
I was cut off by the clanging of my Father's silverware hitting the china plate and by the look on his face, he was not impressed. He placed his elbows on the table, his hands folding into a fist, his eyebrows were raised and his mouth slanted down into a disapproving frown,
"Are you a dyke?" He snarled, spitting out the words like venom. My stomach dropped and I could feel my heart begin to speed up.
"I- um," I stuttered, taken aback by my Father's choice of words and question. Below the table I could feel Regulus taking my pinky in his and giving it a light squeeze, he was here for me no matter the answer I gave my Father.
"Well?" My Father's voice boomed, the word echoing around the large room. "Is my daughter a dyke?"
I stammered to an answer, I honestly had never thought about my sexuality in depth before, I had heard my brothers talk about girls that they found attractive, or maybe it was mostly Sirius talking and Regulus just nodding along. But I also couldn't remember if Sirius used the words "she" and "her" while speaking of his newest crush. "No Sir. I'm- I'm not a dyke." My voice faltered and I could tell my Father didn't believe me.
"First a blood traitor like her brother and now a fucking dyke." My Father spat, shaking his head in disapproval. I lowered my gaze to the polished table, watching a single tear fall down my cheek in the reflection. Regulus gave my hand a squeeze, causing me to look at him give me a small nod that my parents didn't notice.
"Aurelia, we will discuss this after dinner." My Mother said, her voice clear but stern. "Do you understand me?"
I gave a small nod, keeping my gaze down, "Yes ma'am I understand."
<>
The dishes had been cleared away by the House Elves and now it was my Mother and I alone in the dining room. Father had led Regulus away to discuss try outs in autumn for Quidditch, Regulus quickly looked at me before leaving the room and gave me another quick nod, everything would be okay, it was just a discussion after all.
"Did your Father's comment upset you Aurelia?" My Mother questioned, rising from her seat and coming closer to me. I raised my head and gave a small nod, her heels clicked against the marble floor as she got closer to me. Sirius had once called that sound "The Clicks of Doom", and it wasn't until this day that I truly understood the meaning behind that name.
She took my hand and pulled me up from my seat, her boney fingers tilting my chin up to look her in the eye. Her face was stern, her mouth tilted downward into a slight frown, one of her perfectly manicured eyebrows slightly raised, "Do you have feelings for this Hufflepuff girl?"
"I don't know Mother, I haven't thought about it." I whispered, she hummed at my answer. She circled me, looking at me up and down.
"Aurelia, you are a daughter of the Noble Black family, do you understand what that means?" I chose to stay silent, fearing if I were to say the wrong answer she was looking for. "That means that we have a reputation to uphold. And your little behaviors do not suit the Black family name."
I nod slowly, "Yes Mother. I understand, I'll try better."
She retreated to where she was standing behind me, I could hear the rustle of fabric moving and a quick murmur of the word Imperio and then suddenly I felt calm and very at ease, I wasn't nervous about my family's tainted reputation anymore. "You will not have romantic feelings for women anymore Aurelia."
<>
The red wine I was holding was staring to warm. I stood near the wall of the banquet hall, trying to avoid speaking to anyone unless I absolutely had to, Regulus had said he would try to distract people from me, which was abnormal considering normally he would agree to steer conversations to topics I enjoyed, but tonight I was thankful as I wasn't in the mood to act a certain way.
I glance over to the large clock mounted on the wall, Sirius was supposed to arrive this morning but the sun had set and was no where to be seen. Maybe he had decided to spend more time with the Potters instead, but even if he had decided to do that he could've at least sent an owl or picked up the phone. I sigh and take a sip of the wine I was holding, it was bitter and warm, not for my taste.
Across the banquet hall Regulus was speaking about his plans for after Hogwarts graduation, I don't know if what he said was true or if it was just to please the ears his words were spilling onto. I notice a tall blonde haired girl walk across the floor, her turquoise dress trailing behind her, the fabric hugged her curves beautifully, her long hair cascaded down her shoulders in soft waves that framed her heart shaped face perfectly. I was so entranced by this girl that I hardly noticed when a arm was draped over my own shoulder.
"Hello little sister," A cheerful voice sung and I looked up to see the face of my brother Sirius standing beside me.
"Sirius," I breathed, so happy that he was finally here. I hugged him tightly, not wanting to let go. Sirius was a buffer between me and the disappointment or shame my parents felt about me. He made me focus on other things than their shame, like new Muggle music he had discovered or his new fascination with motorbikes.
He smirked as he took the wine glass from my hand and took a big swing, but quickly made a face of disgust after swallowing. "Merlin, Mother has shit taste in wine."
"Shit taste in banquets too," I smiled as Sirius chuckled. "Where were you? You were supposed to be here this morning,"
"Ah well, I was ready to come home this morning and waiting patiently all day for the driver that Mother and Father conveniently 'forgot' to send. So the Potters drove me after I let them convince me not to hitchhike all the way home."
I hummed at his story, Sirius and his dramatics never failed to make me smile. We stood silently for a few minutes like this, his arm wrapped around my shoulders and me just being content around his presence.
"So, as I am your eldest and best brother," Sirius smirked. "I must do my brotherly duties and ask about you,"
"Oh Sirius, don't start." I smiled but let him continue.
"How are you doing, how's your grades, James, Remus and Peter send their love." He smiles as he spoke.
"I send all my love back,"
"Speaking of love," He smirked, drawing out the word love to which I rolled my eyes. "Got your eyes on anyone special these days? Any boys? Or any girls- I don't judge."
Suddenly, I was repulsed, taking a step away from Sirius, "That's disgusting. I could never do something so vile or wrong." I snarl at him, my eyes narrowing as I became angry.
But Sirius only tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, "And is that why you were eyeing that lovely lady over there? Because it's disgusting? Because I think you find her attractive."
I bit my lip, "I could never do something so damaging to the Black name." My words taste like poison in my mouth.
His eyebrow was still raised, "You couldn't or is it because someone said you couldn't?"
My breath falters as I ponder his question. The girl was beautiful just like I thought she was, and like how Sirius mentioned, but when I thought that there was something inside of my body that twisted and felt sick. "I think she's beaut-"
Suddenly something in my stomach gave me a sharp pain and I couldn't even finish my sentence without feeling as if I were about to vomit. I felt Sirius' warm hand on my back and I quickly look at my Mother who was chatting to old friends, hanging onto my Father like a lifeline.
"Did they do something to you Lia?" Sirius asks quietly with a hushed voice.
"I- I like girrrr- gir-" The pain in my stomach was back, making me dizzy. "But I- I can't do it or I will be a disappointment."
Sirius closed his eyes for a moment, sighing through his nose before wrapping his arm around my shoulder again and pulling me close. "It's okay, don't force it. I understand. I'm right here Lia."
#hogwarts#hogwarts fanfiction#hogwarts fic#harry potter#harry potter fic#harry potter fanfiction#marauders fanfiction#fanfiction#sirius black fanfiction#regulus black fanfiction#sirius black#sirius black imagine#regulus black#regulus black imagine#lonely stars#chapter 3#james potter#james potter fanfiction#remus lupin#remus lupin fanfiction#my writing
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In honor of April Fools day I will talk a bit about an AU with my favorite fool - (Redacted) Smith that I will probably never write fully but have thought about a bunch of scenes for.
I call it 2 Fluent Freshmen.
Due to a clerical error at both the school and during the local government's push to digitize their documents Smith is noted down as being 2 years older than he actually is and (perhaps a clerical error or maybe no teacher can say if they've had him in class or not) Smith also has enough credits to graduate. Gran has passed away early and there's nothing for him in Washington other than more anxiety.
Wymack & Dan come to Smith when he is 16 and Smith takes the chance to escape from his family IMMEDIATELY. Sure the Foxes are the worst team and sure there's some drama going on with Kevin Day having joined them after his injury but a full ride scholarship is a full ride scholarship!
Smith is rooming with 2 upperclassmen and his only other fellow freshman - Neil Josten. He is not hiding the fact that he can speak Russian, he is hiding the fact that he is 16. Smith ends up pretty close to Seth and Allison due to sharing a dorm / position respectively and just doing his best not to get to close to crazy Andrew Minyard. He does get a bit close with Neil but it's not something he's trying to do.
He's trying to keep his head down and get through the year.
It's a little hard when he is sat on the couch with the Kathy Ferdinand show. It's a lot harder when Riko Moriyama shows up and doesn't realize he's there and just...sits in Smith's lap?? Smith remains as blank faced as ever and what the fuck is Riko supposed to do? ADMIT HE FUCKED UP?
Do you know how hard it is to intimidate someone when you're sitting in the lap of some dude? The answer is VERY. Kevin can't take him seriously at all, especially after Smith made a comment that Riko's ass was bony.
Riko goes after them the same but Smith doesn't really get that his anger is at Kevin. "Hey, I'm sorry I called your butt bony on national television. That was rude of me. You should try some squats though." and like what the fuck is Riko supposed to say in the face of some dude genuinely apologizing to him.
It buys enough time that no one is grabbed or slammed.
Seth and Allison drag him out to the bar that night and after a few minutes sitting with Allison Smith realizes that he actually does have to pee and oh god someone's trying to assault Seth! Smith calls upon the powers of Gracie Hart and Seth has a black eye and a concussion but he graduates.
Neil wants Smith to come with him to the Thanksgiving because Neil has latched on a bit. Smith ends up going and also ends up going upstairs to go to the bathroom because oh god he cannot handle Nicky's parents hearing him take an anxiety shit. He's making his way to the end of the hall and sees a penny on the ground so he bends over to grab it.
And Drake Spears is unbalanced from missing his swing and falls right out the open window to the ground below where he breaks his neck. Naturally, Andrew is watching this scene unfold from the stairs and just starts to laugh his ass off. Smith turns around after flipping the penny over (it was tails side up and therefore not lucky) unaware of what has happened.
Smith asks if Andrew wants to use the bathroom. Andrew insists that Smith goes on ahead. The Hemmicks keep asking if they saw anyone upstairs and Smith has no idea what they're talking about, Andrew does but plays dumb out of spite. A day later it's wild that Nicky's parents got arrested. Like they seemed so normal, how did they kill someone and dump him in the side garden??
The Winter Banquet happens and well...it's dark. It's dark and Neil has brown hair and brown eyes and Smith has brown hair and brown eyes. Riko is not the best at judging heights so he calls Smith to threaten him and tell him that he's joining the Ravens for a Winter Break training camp. Jean is doing the most anyone has ever done not to laugh right now.
Riko only realizes his mistake when he's finished threatening Smith with his father and Smith ruins it. Smith is elated to have somewhere to stay over winter break. He can't mention he has nowhere to go so he'd thought he'd spend the break homeless. Now here comes Riko Moriyama inviting him to a camp where room and board will be provided?
What a nice guy. To thank him Smith compliments the gains he's noticed on Riko's ass. "The squats are really helping you, or are you doing something else?" he asks.
What the fuck is Riko supposed to do? ADMIT THAT HE FUCKED UP? Tell Smith that he's been doing squats and leg lifts before asking that he hand the tickets back and go get Neil???
Fuck that.
He'll just turn Smith against the Foxes and-
Well Riko kept talking about Smith's dead dad and so Smith may have a slight misunderstanding about the full scope of this training camp. He may think that there is some sort of seance element to it at this point and he's kind of excited at the idea of talking to his dad. "I've never spoken to a dead man before, this will be fun." and it's delivered flatly with no expression.
Riko starts to wonder if maybe Smith is the Butcher's son? Did the Butcher have two sons? He's sweating all the sudden.
It does not help that Smith brings a Ouija board to camp or that his dad was a legit Butcher before he died so Riko's tentative questioning only sends him further into an anxious mess about if Nathan had twins and Riko, due to being kept away from the family business, might just not be aware of it?
Smith has a nice Christmas break.
The last scene I've got dinging around in the noggin is in Binghamton. Smith has been left behind at many a stadium at this point. There's a solid and fast rule.
Neil cannot get on the bus without Smith. They are buddies. This is the buddy system. So when the riot starts and Neil seems to be getting pulled away in the crowd?
Well Smith grabs his hand and pulls him towards the bus, "Buddy system."
The bus starts and they're on their way shortly after. Neil's an anxious wreck but that next morning he wakes up to the news that the Butcher of Baltimore died in an FBI raid the night before as well as his men.
Smith watches the news with Neil, "Wow, that's scary." as he sips some orange juice.
#2 Fluent Freshmen AU#AFTG AU#AFTG Fic#Fluent Freshman AU#Neil Josten#(Redacted) Smith#Andrew Minyard
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Replacement
request by @inuyashaloverforever
Shippo is having a rough time accepting Kagome’s pregnancy--how can Inuyasha resolve this?
This can be a stand alone--but it is a continuation of Mine
You can also read both on here.
Just a fluffy piece, smut was in Mine though if you want to go back and reread that
Tags:
@dangerouspompadour @lemonlushff @keichanz @akitokihojo @sarah-writes-stories @ajoy3fanfics @superpixie42 @inuyashaloverforever @umacaking @procellaxletalis @smmahamazing @murdergiraffe @faulkner-blog @sapphirestarxx@swaggingtomboy @cstormsinukagblog @clearwillow
It had been an eventful year since Kagome returned to the feudal era. The first three months had been difficult without Inuyasha’s love and his added constant avoidance to talking about their feelings, but once they cleared up the misunderstanding with Satsuki the headman’s daughter of their… ‘engagement’, and the beginning of Kagome’s priestess training, things had gone really realllllllllly well.
Inuyasha revealed to her he had built a hut for them if she had ever decided to return to him from the well. In his foolishness of thinking she desired anything other than a life with him, he neglected to share with her that he had built them a home. Kagome had been confused of course; he had stayed on the roof of her hut every night since she had returned or if it rained, he came in and slept on the other side of the room from her. She had questioned why he didn’t sleep in his own home… In bashfulness, he revealed he couldn’t be away from her… even if they were just friends. The confession still made her smile.
She had been grateful for their new hut he had gifted her—not that she wasn’t thankful for her first hut, but it was a spare. It never really felt like it was truly hers. Honestly it was probably because Inuyasha and her weren’t exactly sharing it. But, now that he had shown her their new home, and divulged his plans of the future with her, she couldn’t feel more at peace. She couldn’t wait to move her few belongings into his hut once she had seen it more thoroughly. It was more private than the one she was currently residing in because it was inside his forest. He had used some of the ideas from her future home—obviously, he had her comfort and well being in mind. Some of the framing, metal work, and shelving stood out to her the most. She wondered if Totosai lent a hand to him.
They had met with the headman the evening after they mated and received their blessing fully to be married. Satsuki had been… missing when they arrived. Haruki said Sango had escorted his daughter home but refused to listen to his words about Inuyasha. Kagome felt slightly guilty, like she misled the poor girl. She, more than anyone, knew what it was like to be in love with the half demon and him not love her back… or at least think he didn’t. Inuyasha had made sure to console her out of her guilt, telling her he never made eyes at Satsuki and he had not been unfaithful to the young girl whatsoever—Kagome was always his woman. He thought he had made it clear… If anyone was at fault aside from Satsuki, it would be him.
After they had moved all their stuff into his home in the forest, news had begun to travel around the village. Inuyasha had been overwhelmed by the support and respect they received for mating, as well as their upcoming marriage. No one knew of their night in the woods; but they did mention to the headman they performed the demon ritual to be bonded and married but would also respectfully want to bond the human way as well—especially since Kagome was training to be the head priestess of the village. Kagome knew that the villagers wouldn’t have been a problem, but then again, he never asked her for her opinion. He had been too afraid of total rejection or humiliation. All he could do was grumble and pout over her teasing.
Months grew busy with the winter season approaching and they spent more time apart gathering, harvesting, and helping everyone prepare for the cold temperatures. Kaede and Miroku performed an actual marriage ceremony right before the first snowfall. It was quiet, small—much to Inuyasha’s preference. Only their pack was invited to the ceremony and while the village headman threw a banquet afterwards, Inuyasha found a way to ‘miss’ it. Kagome didn’t complain either—she couldn’t get enough of the way his mouth drew hot flaming desire from her. Honestly, since she hadn’t even had a moment to talk to Satsuki and didn’t want the drama—she just wanted to enjoy her mate and husband’s attentions more than talking to a young girl over her unrequited feelings.
As the weather began to shift, Inuyasha had become fearful exposing Kagome to the harsh winters that she wasn’t totally used to and Kaede had agreed. She had assured Kagome that Miroku and her could handle any duty that was spiritual or healing related for the time being until she got more acclimated. The dirty old bird also hinted to spending more time as husband and wife so she could get some grandchildren.
Kaede had gotten her wish—after three months of marriage, early spring, Kagome announced she was a couple moons pregnant to their pack. By later summer/early fall on her year anniversary she was showing noticeably. There was a more than obvious swell to her abdomen as she made her rounds with the older priestess and her very overly protective husband. She tried to ease his anxieties by allowing him to escort her around… but that didn’t mean it didn’t drive her absolutely insane. Oddly he wasn’t her biggest worry though.
Shippo had been gone for most of the winter and came back in the spring but had begun acting strangely when he came back. He was nervous, fought with Inuyasha more than ever for her attentions, often grew extremely upset when they discussed adding onto their already fair-sized house, and often opted to stay with Sango and Miroku instead of them…
While Kagome enjoyed her alone time with Inuyasha, she still missed her loving fox child. He had been respective when they were first mated and slept in the spare room unless Inuyasha had to leave for an extermination; then she would sleep in his room with him. But something changed, right after Inuyasha recognized her scent of pregnancy.
“Kagome, are you tired? Do you need to rest?” Inuyasha questioned, hovering at her side.
“No, I’m okay—you let me sleep in this morning so that definitely helped from yesterday,” she smiled gazing into those beautiful worried amber eyes. She reached up on her tiptoes kissing his cheek and nuzzled under his chin to show she was still being submissive but didn’t need to rest. She had felt bad; she was rather far along with her pregnancy and they hadn’t been able to make love in fear she would go into labor early. They explored other ways to find release but even then, he was so determined for her safety and comfort, it was usually just her being pleasured. He explained to her multiple times how mate-ship worked—how it was his job to comfort, protect, provide, and care for her. His needs would always be secondary compared to hers.
“Kagome, child, I think our rounds are indeed finished for the afternoon. Why don’t the two of ye go pick some herbs and enjoy the nice day. I will come visit ye later for ye’s checkup, hm? I would like to examine your area and see if ye are any further along than yesterday.”
“Sure, thank you Kaede,” Kagome said with a bow taking her husband’s arm and proceeding towards the woods. She had begun having contractions last week. Very far and few between each one but when she was checked yesterday, she was starting to dilate. Last night, they started to come more frequently to where she had been struggling to sleep. Kaede had encouraged her to make rounds with her today to walk a bit, to speed things along so she didn’t have to endure another sleepless night. Inuyasha had begrudgingly agreed—only to help Kagome be out of pain quicker.
“Inuyasha?”
“Hm?”
“Have you noticed Shippo is acting… I don’t know… kind of strange lately?”
“Not really—just like a male demon who can’t be close to a female who has been mated,” he gruffed.
“I don’t think it’s just that though…” she said stopping in the middle of the road.
“What then?” he asked concerned. “Kagome?”
“I just… feel like I’ve done something to upset him…” she said trembling.
“Uh-uhm-Kagome! Don’t cry! I-I’ll talk to the runt, ok??”
“I-I can’t help it,” she said leaning into his chest crying. Not being able to get in closer to him upset her further until she was in full hysterics. Her stupid bump made her cry harder! She was done being pregnant, emotional, huge, ugly—
“Ka-kagome??”
“I’m a freaking whale!! I can’t even hug you right!!!”
“Kagome!” Inuyasha chided her. Gods, he was probably sick and perverted but honestly, he thought his wife and mate never looked sexier to him. Plump and filled with his pup? If he could keep her that way he would—but she had been starting to show some discomfort and lose her self-confidence. While he continued to assure her his perceptions of her were unchanged, ultimately he couldn’t wait for her to birth their future child. He was just unsure how to calm her down. Her mood swings were worse than normal with her lack of sleep and now her worrying about Shippo.
“Lady Kagome? Lord Inuyasha??”
Inuyasha turned to see Satsuki standing a couple feet away from them. She looked slightly hopeful… and almost comforted at the scene before her—him, his pregnant hyper-sensitive mate crying in his arms; Gods, he prayed they would kill him right then. He really didn’t want to have console two women, one of which he would have been happy to never see again.
“Sa-Satsuki?” Kagome hiccupped.
“Is everything alright?” Satsuki asked.
“Yea, she’s just… worried,” he said. He had learned after the first three moons to watch his words and not say the first thing that popped into his mind—it had made the beads became a very appealing tool for her. Then after they were used, there’d be more tears. Guilt. He was probably just as tired if not more so than his mate. Thank Gods pregnancy was only nine moons.
“Are you sure? Lady Kagome?”
“Yes, yes I’m fine. Just hormonal. My mate is doing a good job comforting me though,” she looked up at him smiling softly. He returned her smile, swearing all the sits were worth it. He loved this woman beyond measure. He’d permanently live in the ground if that was what she wanted… well as long as he was able to still have her ride on top of him, anyway. After tasting what it was like to be with her, he could never be celibate ever again.
“Oh, that’s uhm… Good. Yes. Very good.”
Kagome could hear in her voice she was in fact disappointed it was not an actual serious fight. She could feel her now agitation rising but with Inuyasha arms tightening around her, she was able to reign herself back in swallowing thickly.
“Sorry we haven’t been able to talk Satsuki…” Kagome offered.
Satsuki was holding back, and she could tell. She was trying to smile but it didn’t reach her eyes let alone the rest of her face. “It’s okay, Lady Kagome. You were the obvious victor after all… no need to rub salt in the wounds.”
“’Victor’?”
“Of course, anyone who would give their body so willingly would be able to win the man.”
Inuyasha started to growl and Kagome began to shake with anger. Had she seen them that night in the Sacred Tree? But how? No one else in the village had treated her any differently… then again, she was never really alone with anyone…
“What are you saying, Satsuki?” she asked as she tried to shift out of Inuyasha’s arms. He briefly snarled but she pressed her hand to his upper arm and allowed him to wrap his around her waist as she turned to face Satsuki fully.
“I know about the evening you had… shared yourself with Lord Inuyasha. I was honestly surprised to witness that you had taken such a rash course of action when you found out he was to be engaged to me…”
“Satsuki that’s not—”
“Kagome!” Sango called from down the road running towards her.
“Sango? What’s wrong?” Kagome looked to her friend.
“Shippo took off again! He’s really upset! Miroku tried to chase after him but fell victim to one of his tricks! Inuyasha! You need to speak with him at once! This is getting out of hand,” Sango protested.
“We’re a little busy here at the moment, Sango,” he seethed looking at the woman standing across from them trying to threaten his pregnant mate.
“Inuyasha, I can handle her, please, go—Please! Go get my Shippo,” Kagome looked to him frantically trying to not erupt into more sadness. He swore internally. He couldn’t not go get the kit, but he also didn’t want to leave her to handle this crazy little bitch.
“Inuyasha, I will stay with your mate,” Sango said approaching and blatantly ignoring the girl that stood in front of them. Sango was the best beta he could have ever asked for in his pack. While Miroku was his brother in arms and spirit, Sango was a fierce warrior and communicated well with him in a way that made his instincts relax. He looked down at his wife and nodded then kissed her lips fiercely; he hoped to put on a show for the bystander to make sure she knew who the fuck she was talking to—and that he loved and desired and longed and craved and yearned for his mate—that he adored her and worshipped her, would seek out embarrassment for her to feel secure—that he wanted more than just her body.
Once he felt his wife was thoroughly ravished, he smirked down at her blushing face and scent of arousal he had coaxed then kissed her forehead, “I won’t be long.” He quickly headed off in the way of Sango’s home to catch the runt’s scent.
Kagome stood and watched flustered, blushing hotly as her husband ran off after th-th- thattttttt . What was he trying to prove? She rested a hand on her stomach and then she heard a scoff making her turn back to— ooooooh . THAT was the point he was trying to prove. That he loved her and not Satsuki. If anything, he only basically pissed her off further. She felt Sango wrap an arm around her shoulder giggling at the show her friend had put on making Kagome turn her gaze to her best friend, still madly blushing.
“I’d say he is getting anxious about just having you all to himself,” Sango teased.
“Hmmmmm,” she hummed happily distracted until Satsuki groaned again from being ignored. She thought maybe the young girl didn’t like the idea Kagome was lost in thoughts of her husband… the man the girl pined after.
“Satsuki, I’m honestly not sure what the problem is here—Inuyasha loves Kagome. He has always loved Kagome. While you think he fell for you while she was gone, that was just simply not the case. He was awaiting Kagome’s return,” Sango chastised.
“If that were true Lady Sango, why didn’t he make his intentions known? Also, Lady Kagome never showed her interests until after my father spoke with Lord Inuyasha—which, I can’t say I blame him for choosing her. She gave her body so freely to him before marriage—humping him against a tree—no wonder such an honorable man had to marry a—”
Sango grabbed the girl by her kimono and pulled her close to her and glared down into her eyes, “Don’t. Finish. That. Sentence…”she threatened.
“Sango—Stop!”
“Kagome! She was about to dishonor you!”
“It’s alright Sango,” Kagome tried to soothe. “What happened is in the past. I don’t regret my decision to share myself with Inuyasha that night. Or ever. He is my mate and husband. Satsuki clearly does not understand what that means to a demon.”
“She also doesn’t know what it means to be patient or wait at home like I told her to when I dropped her off at the village after our bath,” Sango added, releasing the younger girl’s kimono.
“I was worried about Lord Inuyasha and apparently had every right to be!”
“Satsuki, demons don’t just take lovers or are that easily enticed… Demon’s typically only mate once they find their true-mate. While demons have more basic instincts attuned to nature, they also have more… control. That night, he bonded with me; the act is something a demon wouldn’t do unless they instinctually knew the other person or being was their true mate—someone to share their lifespan with, be with for an eternity,” Kagome explained.
“Lord Inuyasha is not just a demon!”
“No, you are right Satsuki,” Sango said. “But his human heart also chose Kagome long ago… you were young when we all traveled together to gather the Shikon Jewel shards and probably don’t remember how Inuyasha used to be—but Inuyasha had chosen Kagome. When Kagome returned, his human heart was what actually kept him from claiming her—because she had wanted to continue with her priestess training. He had thought that he couldn’t be with her. She proved to him that he was wrong by well…” the slayer blushed knowing what exactly happened in the tree. She had made Kagome tell her every detail. It was so romantic and daring—she almost wished she had a demon husband to launch them into a tree to try it.
Kagome cleared her throat and blushed slightly, “Anyway… it was not to betray you Satsuki or to even take him away from you. Didn’t your father talk to you? Inuyasha said he had already declined the proposal before he met us by the hot springs.”
“He said that, but I didn’t believe him; so, I went in search of Lord Inuyasha and that was when I had seen you two in the tree. I had wanted to confront you at your wedding but you two missed the celebration my father had decided to throw for you… I see why,” she gestured towards the baby resting inside Kagome’s womb.
“Satsuki, I did not become pregnant until the late winter. But yes, we did what married couples do the evening of our wedding…”
“Satsuki, in the demon world, Kagome and Inuyasha married the night they were in the tree. It is not for you to cast judgment upon what they did or how they did it—they were and are still very much in love with each other. They love each other so much they are bringing another member into our pack,” Sango informed as she lightly grazed the bump that would be her niece or nephew.
Satsuki looked like she was backed into a corner. She looked hurt, confused, and disheartened. Kagome felt bad for the poor girl. The poor thing really didn’t understand… Honestly, Kagome wouldn’t have either back when she was fifteen, but after traveling with Inuyasha, Sango, and Miroku for a year she learned a lot about demon nature and the world you didn’t learn in a village.
“I hope… we can be friends, Satsuki… I’m sorry you felt I betrayed your trust,” Kagome reached out to lightly rest a hand on her forearm before she retracted it, then looked to Sango and followed her back to her home to help Miroku.
Before they got too far, she winced making Sango stop short and gather her friend in her arms, “Big one?”
“Uhhhhhh…” she groaned gasping a little for air when she caught herself holding her breath. “Biggest one for far. Gods, how’d you do this twice?? Ugh, and allow him for a third round??”
Sango giggled and rubbed her shoulders soothingly, “Shhh, it’s okay; take a deep breath. There you go; let’s get back home quickly. Once we get Miroku out of his prison, I’ll send him to retrieve Kaede.”
Where the fuck was that damn runt?!! He had been upsetting Kagome for months now and he was over it. The little fuck was going to get a fucking piece of his mind! He had no idea what had gotten into him! He was fine when they mated and fuck—even when he made the tyke sleep in the spare room rather than with Kagome he only bitched a little.
He finally caught up to him—he had stopped by the river and he was—what the fuck? Why was he crying?!!
“Shippo! What the fuck is your problem??” he yelled landing next to the fox kit.
“Go away, Inuyasha. Go be with your happy little family…”
“What are you talking about?? Kagome is worried about you and you should know that’s not good for her or the pup!”
“I don’t care!!!”
“…What the fuck do you mean ‘you don’t care’?!” Inuyasha was starting to lose his patience. His inner demon blood was boiling at the thought this other male demon held no remorse that he could be potentially endangering his mate let alone their pup.
“I mean that I. Don’t. Care !!!” Shippo yelled glaring at the older half-demon. “There’s no place for me so why should I care?!!?”
“There’s no—” Inuyasha paused… No place for him? What the fuck was he talking about?
“Shippo… What—Are you fucking stupid !?!?”
“Leave me alone, Inuyasha!”
“Shippo answer me! What is your deal?! Why the fuck are you saying there’s no place for you??”
“Because there isn’t!!!”
Inuyasha took a moment and watched his young pack member break at the seams… Of course there was a place for Shippo. Hell, if there was a place he could call home, a mate he could call his, of course the runt belonged!
“Shippo, your place is with us. You’re part of my pack.”
“No! Not anymore! Sango and Miroku, I understood! They’re human—I understood why they wanted children of their own. That was fine; I still had you. Then when Kagome returned it was great! We were our own happy family! Then—then you pupped her! You’re replacing me! Someone with your own blood! Then Sango is pregnant again! I’m just not enough! I’m not wanted!” the fox demon cried.
Inuyasha was in an awkward and uncomfortable position. Kagome was better at this kind of crap than he was. But for her sake, he’d try. He needed to get some of the stress and worry off her before she popped.
“Look—Shippo—just because Miroku and Sango are having another kid doesn’t mean they don’t accept you… Just because Kagome and I are also gonna have one soon… fuck… If Kagome heard you say that, it’d break her heart, Shippo. She loves you. She calls you her baby. Like—like she actually is your mother. Watching her with you… it was one of the reasons I thought I was ready to be a father, because she was so ready to be a mother. Not that I think I’ll be very good at it—I’m kinda a fuck up when it comes to you but, I figured with Kagome as a mother, everything would be alright.”
Shippo looked up at him and took in his words. He began to calm down and rubbed his eyes to wash away the tears, “You—You really think I’m a part of your family?”
“’Course I do. Kagome wouldn’t have it any other way. Besides, your little brother or sister is gonna need you to look for them.”
“You’re better at being someone’s old man than you think,” Shippo offered making Inuyasha raise an eyebrow.
“Whatever. We should get going… your mom was having some signs of labor and Kaede was supposed to come check on her.”
“Really? Already??”
“Well, you have been avoiding us recently. It’s been stressing her out.”
“Am I to blame??” Shippo’s face fell as his voice rose in panic.
“Nah, pup is fully grown anyway and ready to come out. Come on, you can ride on my shoulder,” Inuyasha offered.
“Thank you… Old man…” Inuyasha smiled at the term of endearment the fox kit gave to him as he launched to cling to Inuyasha’s shoulder as they ran.
When they were en route to return, he knew something was wrong. He could smell anxiety, fear, and worst of all blood . He sped up with Shippo gripping onto his shoulder and saw Miroku and Rin outside his home with the girls and their son.
“Miroku?? Wh—” he was cut off by the agonizing scream his wife made and almost lost his shit.
“Inuyasha! Kagome went into labor while you were gone—she’s alright! Sango and Kaede are helping her. You should remain out here—”
“Are you fucking crazy?!? My MATE is in there giving birth to my PUP!!”
“Lord Inuyasha, Lord Miroku is right, it is improper for the husbands to be present in the birthing room,” Rin chimed in calmly while playing with the girls and young boy.
“Inuyasha isn’t just Kagome’s husband though! He’s her mate! He should be allowed to go in if he wants!!” Shippo protested hoping off Inuyasha’s shoulder to stand in front of him.
“Inuyasha?” Sango said from the doorway catching everyone’s attention. “Kagome is asking for you—if you’re alright with that.”
“Of course I am!!!” he yelled and stomped past her. He stood with Sango at his side gazing at his mate who was laying down panting heavily, sweating from exertion, wincing from the pain. His ears flattened and he leapt without a second thought to kneel beside her.
“Inu—yasha—“Kagome gasped brokenly.
“Kagome—I’m so sorry—“ he apologized lifting her hand that was grasping a towel on the floor. He felt terrible she was going through this pain. He had done this to her. Shit. Not to mention he had left her alone—
“Yash—it’s not your fault. This—is normal —” she cried out in pain again feeling another stupid tremor in her lower back, burning down to her core, feeling an immense amount of pressure build.
“What can I do Kagome? Tell me—I’ll do anything,” he whined.
She caught her breath and looked at him and reached for his ears which he lowered his head to let her reach while he side eyed the other two women in the room to make sure they kept their comments to themselves. Thankfully, they only smiled at the couple as they continued to get additional towels laid out and brew a pain reducing tea for Kagome.
“Yash—Can I—”
“Anything Kagome. Just name it.”
“Can I lay my back against you?” He nodded fervently and moved behind her then slowly lifted her so she was reclining against his chest between his legs as he held her to him, stroking her arms, pushing her hair out of her face and pressing comforting chaste kisses against her head as she took deep breaths.
She reached for one of his hands and he quickly gave it to her as she tensed up, crying out her pain of her next contraction—they were getting closer and closer, lasting longer each time. Kaede came back and lifted up the yukata Kagome was wearing and looked to Sango who nodded and went to Kagome's side, wiping the sweat from her brow lovingly with a cold wet cloth.
“Okay Kagome, it’s time to start pushing, alright?”
“M-mhmmm,” she winced.
“On my count child; next one we will, alright?” Kaede prompted
Nodding Kagome swallowed and shifted her cheek against Inuyasha's chest for comfort. He began to rumble deeply not caring anyone else was present—he needed to relax and comfort his mate. His human half that felt embarrassment from the action could go to hell at the very moment.
“Alright child,” Kaede said calmly after a few minutes which felt like seconds to Kagome. “One, two, push.”
Kagome grasped Inuyasha's hand tightly, squeezing her eyes shut and let her body do what it needed to do while screaming out her pain.
“Few more seconds; keep going child,” Kaede coaxed. “Alright. Take a deep breath. We’ll go again here in a moment.”
“Oh God—” she sobbed. This was horrible. How did women do this multiple times without pain medication??
“Kagome, you’re strong. I’m right here. But you’re stronger than you think. You can do this—come on—” Inuyasha soothed resuming his rumbling.
She nodded and Kaede gave her the signal it was time; she pushed again clenching her teeth and then whimpering the final moments before she couldn’t exert herself anymore.
“Oh Kagome,” Sango gasped happily holding her leg and rubbing it softly. “The baby—”
“What?? What’s wrong??” she panicked.
“No-No! Nothing is wrong. The baby has his ears! Just like you wanted,” Sango encouraged.
Kagome half-laughed half hiccupped from a sob trying to come out. Inuyasha kissed her temple and nuzzled her with his chin.
“Alright Kagome, once we get past the shoulders it’ll go easier. Ready? Push,” Kaede commanded reassuringly.
Kagome gave it all she had; she just wanted to hold her baby in her arms. She wanted to be out of this pain. She—oh fuck! She still needed to inquire about Shippo!
“Kagome relax—it’s okay,” Inuyasha soothed sensing her panic. “We’re almost there.”
“Shi—Shippo?”
“He’s outside. He’s fine. He wants you to have his brother or sister—focus Kagome,” Inuyasha pressed.
“Kagome, child, relax—ye need to start again, now,”
Kagome cried out again and felt like she was burning, tearing , Gods help her!
After a few more prompts from Kaede, strong reassurances from Sango, purrs and kisses from
Inuyasha, finally she was at her last push when the baby cried out making her gasp. She looked back up to his face and saw him smiling softly down at her.
Sango moved away to help Kaede cut the cord and then moved to clean the child before wrapping the baby. Kagome watched worriedly but smiled tearily as Sango came back and knelt beside her placing the babe in her outstretched arms, “It’s a girl.”
Kagome gasped thickly and allowed her tears to fall freely moving her head back to see Inuyasha again who wrapped his arms around the both of them to steady her shakiness.
“A—a girl??” She looked down at her lovely baby girl; she was almost identical to her father. Bright silver hair, pointed ears on top of her head, but bright amethyst eyes. “Heyyyy there,” Kagome swooned quietly, scared her voice might break.
The baby’s ears twitched making Kagome sigh in delight and her hand attentively reached over to stroke one.
“Kagome, we need to deliver the after birth.” Kagome nodded giving the baby to Sango and did as she was told by Kaede’s instructions. Once she was done and cleaned up, Inuyasha lifted her in his arms to lay on the futon; Sango had laid out some towels to catch any additional bleeding and positioned the pillows they made to prop her to a sitting position. He removed his haori and engulfed her in it before he went outside while Sango helped Kaede finish cleaning up after offering Kagome the baby to feed her.
“Yo, runt. Come meet your baby sister,” Inuyasha said.
Miroku, Rin, and Shippo smiled while they gasped their joy. Shippo ran in as Miroku and Rin congratulated the half-demon. Sango and Kaede emerged encouraging them it was time to go only to be shocked to see Satsuki standing at the hillside with a basket in her arms.
Biting her lip, she stepped forward and rested the basket between them and stepped back. Inuyasha could only surmise it was what appeared to be an offering of peace.
“I just wanted to apologize to Lady Kagome for my behavior this past year… I will do what’s right and speak with the villagers—not that they took my words to heart anyway… And—I—and to you, Lord Inuyasha; I apologize for my misunderstandings of your intentions. I—I am glad you picked Lady Kagome as your mate and wife. It seems she understands you better than anyone…” she bowed to extend her respect.
Everyone watched to see what Inuyasha would do—not only had this girl just caused an unpleasant encounter with them today, she had apparently been spreading things throughout the village. Kaede had heard the gossip and quickly smothered it and Kagome’s pure heart diminished any other sign of distrust or malice within them. Her powers remained strong and that was more than enough proof to them what kind of woman Kagome was. The villagers had seen such a change in the half-demon, none of the men questioned Kagome’s morals—they all knew the half-demon loved her from the beginning. But the punishment or forgiveness was left to Inuyasha.
He stared at the girl, having to take deep breaths. It had been a long and difficult day. But he had to remind himself—this wasn’t about him. This was about Kagome. He looked to Sango knowing she had finished out the altercation with the young deluded girl earlier and she nodded to him.
Sighing from exhaustion and annoyance he finally spoke, “Satsuki, while I’m still angry with ya, Kagome only wanted to work things out between you two. Sorry you mistook my feelings for you—but I have been and always will be in love with Kagome. I… appreciated your kindness while my mate was away, but my thoughts were only with and of her. For her sake, if nothing else, I forgive you… But so help me God if you—”
“No, no Lord Inuyasha. No more, I promise. I would like nothing more than to be friends with Lady Kagome.”
“Fine. Come back later this week… My wife needs to rest.”
“Of course, I will let the other village women know and we can try to make you baskets for congratulations on the baby to help out,” she said bowing and hurriedly taking off.
Kaede patted Inuyasha on the shoulder and motioned for the others that it was time to go. She informed the hanyou when and how much tea to give Kagome, also letting him know there were two different types, one for pain and the other for lactation.
He thanked them then as they left and walked back into his hut. He stopped short at the sight of Kagome feeding their daughter with Shippo perched up on her shoulder asking questions. His heart had never felt so full. Watching his new family, he thought about how much he loved Kagome. About how he thought he had seen her at her most beautiful underneath him as he ravished her body. This though—her flushed from birthing their pup, feeding her, that delicate kind caring loving smile adorning her face, Shippo propped on her shoulder gazing down at the new babe…
“Inuyasha?” Kagome asked tiredly.
He was so lost in his train of thought he hadn’t realized she had caught him staring. She beckoned him over and slightly scooted herself so he could cradle her from behind again; a position he’d happily take. He lifted Kagome up so she wouldn’t hurt herself further and placed her between his outstretched legs, leaning his head down to watch his pup feed greedily off his mate.
“Inuyasha, what are you gonna name her?” Shippo asked quietly.
“Huh?”
“Shippo wanted to know what you’re going to name his sister,” she leaned back heavily, enjoying his embrace after such a tiring ordeal.
“Oh… well…” he paused. He knew what he wanted but he also didn’t want to dishonor Kagome. She had done all the work and wanted her to know how much it meant to him she not only had been more than happy to conceive his child, but carried, and birthed their pup… he needed her to know what it really meant to him. “Why don’t you name her, Kagome?”
“Wh-what?”
“You…. You did this. You gave me a pup. A family… I-I’d have nothing without you. I owe my life to you…”
“Inuyasha…” she said tearing up looking back at him. He kissed her cheek and nuzzled against her rumbling happily.
“So Kagome! What are you gonna name her??” Shippo interrupted.
“If it’s okay with Inuyasha… I’d like to name her Izayoi. After his mother.”
“Izayoi...” Shippo repeated mystified watching the pup feed from his adoptive mother.
“Re-Really?” Inuyasha asked.
“Mhm, if that’s alright,” Kagome offered.
“’Alright’? It’s more than ‘alright’! Kagome I—”
“I know,” she finished kissing his cheek. He bent down and locked lips with her in a passionate kiss making an ‘ew’ erupt from Shippo. Kagome giggled but snuggled closer into Inuyasha.
Once Izayoi was finished, Inuyasha helped settle Kagome to lay down. She immediately moved once he was lying down to use his shoulder as a pillow then she adjusted Izayoi to be held by her on his chest. Inuyasha encouraged Shippo to lay down by Kagome’s shoulder—it wasn’t like they were going to be doing anything sexual for a while anyway. HE also had to also get used to the idea Shippo was not just another pack male, he was technically their son… It was okay for a family to share a futon in transition.
While the day had not been what he expected, he was…happy. Kagome always made him feel whole, complete, wanted… and now she had given him this—a family. He closed his eyes thankfully embracing his girls and couldn’t wait to see what tomorrow brought.
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Masquerade
Summary: "You should be socializing," Temari stated, as if it were obvious. "You’re here as the Konoha envoy, right? You need to be dancing with someone influential."
Shikamaru opened his mouth to correct her, but he found himself asking, “Is that an offer?” His eyes widened in horror when he realized what he had said.
But her ruby lips simply curved into a surprised smile. "It can be," she answered, holding out a hand.
Day 2: Masquerade
2282 words
Helpful link to AO3
Masquerade
Written for Day 2 of ShikaTema Week 2020 - Masquerade!
I’m so excited that this event has rolled around again, because ShikaTema Week 2019 is what got me back in the swing of writing (and actually posting 🤭) last year! It means a lot to me to be posting and seeing content for my otp again 😁
This fic is set during the canon time skip. The setting is “just-AU-enough-to-squeeze-a-masquerade-ball-in.” I picture Sunagakure as being kind of aristocratic (with the big clans being the aristocracy) in order to get away with it. If anyone has read the Invitation series by Lord of the Land of Fire, that’s what I’m talking about.
“Come on, Shikamaru.” Ino tried to tug him to his feet. “You have to dance.”
Shikamaru stubbornly slouched further into the cushioned seat he had claimed at the edge of the village square. It had been a long, rough trip, and he had no intention of getting up until they were leaving.
“Well, it is a ball,” Choji nodded in agreement. He shrugged apologetically when Shikamaru scowled at him, but he did not retract his statement.
“And not just any ball!” Ino interjected. “It’s the Suna Masquerade Ball!”
Shikamaru gave an exaggerated groan in response, rolling his eyes for good measure. Secretly, he was glad that he and Choji had been able to arrange the invitations. They hadn’t seen Ino so lively in months. But that doesn’t mean that he wanted to dance.
“Ugh, fine,” Ino sighed. “Alright, Choji, sounds like you’re my dance partner!”
Choji quickly gulped down his mouthful and chirped, “Okay!” He took her hand, and they disappeared into the bustling courtyard. Shikamaru relaxed against his chair as they and the other attendees turned to the raised dais in anticipation. Finally, long low wails of traditional Wind instruments floated across the night wind, sparking movement as it swept over and brought the village square to life. The clamor of conversation softened under the force of the music and the allure of the dance.
The Suna Masquerade Ball was the village’s Event of the Year. The masquerade was ostensibly a celebration of Sunagakure’s founding and was intended for the affluent civilians of Suna. However, according to Ino, it was also a prestigious event for the Wind nobility, and only the most influential among them would make an appearance. Consequently, the Masquerade had become an unofficial summit for Suna and Wind nobility. Not that Shikamaru particularly cared. But talking and speculating about this event had been the only thing that they knew would pull Ino out of her slump.
“But they’re Wind nobles,” Shikamaru had said at one of their team dinners. “I know your dad’s started teaching you politics and stuff, but wouldn’t it be better to focus on Hi no Kuni nobles before you start looking at other countries?”
“But we don’t hold a masquerade ball; we hold some boring banquet.” Ino had rolled her eyes derisively. “After all, we’re allies! I’ll have to learn them eventually.”
“Well, it’s a shame that Lady Tsunade has already chosen her envoys,” Asuma had interjected. And that was that. Ino had sighed, Asuma had asked for the check, Choji had taken the last piece, and Shikamaru had started thinking. He had waited until he was certain of success to rope Choji into his operation, but the two of them ultimately managed to procure an invitation for Ino at the Masquerade. Tsunade had been amused, Asuma had been exasperated, and Ino had been ecstatic. She had excitedly pledged to fulfill all the Konoha envoy responsibilities, though she requested that her teammates escort her. Shikamaru had been reluctant to travel all the way to Suna for a multitude of reasons. But, watching his teammates whirl merrily across the courtyard, he knew for certain that it had been worth it.
Of course, this was the perfect time for one of his reasons to appear in the flesh. He shouldn’t have been surprised. He had spotted her soon after arriving and couldn’t help but notice when she started moving in his direction. He had hoped that she would simply ignore him. But then, she never did make things easy for him, did she?
"What are you sitting around for?" Temari asked imperiously as soon as she was within earshot, everything about her fiery and bold. Her dazzling blood-red mask framed her challenging gaze and matched her ever-present waist sash and her glittering red lips.
Shikamaru wrenched his gaze away and cleared his throat. “What? Am I not allowed to sit?”
Temari scoffed. "You should be socializing," she stated, as if it were obvious. "You’re here as the Konoha envoy, right? You need to be dancing with someone influential."
Shikamaru opened his mouth to tell her that she was mistaken, that he was here as an escort for his teammate, that Ino was the one acting as the Konoha envoy. Instead, he found himself asking, “Is that an offer?” His eyes widened in horror when he realized what he had said.
But her ruby lips simply curved into a surprised smile. "It can be," she answered, holding out a hand.
He gazed warily at the hand, as if it would reach out to bite him, before rising and accepting it. He led her to the center of the courtyard, and they waited for the next dance to start. I'm supposed to be avoiding her! Not dancing with her! he berated himself, even as they began dancing. I didn’t even want to dance! And this was the main reason that he had been worried about running into her. He couldn’t trust himself around her. He always felt off-kilter. And he would just do things - things he would never otherwise consider. As scary and unpredictable as she was, if he were being truthful with himself, he was more scared by how unpredictable he was around her.
Not that Shikamaru truly minded the dancing. Strangely, he found the rhythm in the moves to be soothing. The way they moved together felt so natural. They swept across the courtyard as fluidly as they did the battlefield, moving in perfect sync with each other. What did unnerve him was the closeness. He didn't think he had ever been as close to Temari as he was now, not even in training or battle. Because when they trained, he didn't rest his hands on her hips. She didn’t rest her hands on his shoulders. They didn’t stare deeply into each other’s eyes.
“I’ll admit, I was surprised to see your name on the guest list," Temari began before twisting away in time with the dance. He watched in awe as she weaved around the other dancers, barely paying enough attention to his own dancing. He really should have guessed how much her personality would be portrayed in the way she danced. Her movements were powerful and untamed, exactly as they were when she fought. She glided back into his arms and continued, "Taking an interest in politics?"
"No!" Shikamaru barely repressed a full-body shudder. He'll leave all the political maneuvering to the likes of Tsunade and Ino. He would much rather stick to his battle strategies and his cryptanalysis, thank you very much. “Troublesome,” he muttered.
Surprisingly, she began to laugh at his answer. He blinked, taken aback by how soft she looked. Even half-hidden by a fiery red mask, she clearly wore an ease about her that he had never witnessed in her before. Somehow, she always had a hidden side to reveal, no matter how many times he studied her. Every time he thought he had her figured out, she found a way to surprise him. She was a puzzle he had no hope of solving. A mystery whose solution lay forever out of reach.
“That sounds more like the Shikamaru I know,” she smirked. “I didn’t think you had changed that much in three months.”
“Has it been three months?” he asked, almost missing a step in his surprise.
“To the day.” She nodded.
“Wait, so when is your next visit?” he asked distractedly, his mind turning to his mental calendar. He thought he had her schedule down.
“Why, did you miss me?” She quipped, but her lips curved into an amused smile.
Shikamaru immediately wished he could take his words back. And maybe tape his tongue to the roof of his mouth while he was at it. Why does he keep saying the wrong thing? But to deny it would be to insult her. “Konoha is always honored to host her allies,” he mumbled.
Temari raised a delicate eyebrow above her mask. “Very diplomatic,” she complimented. They danced in silence for a few moments before she spoke again. “To answer your question, no. I won’t be back to your village until the spring.”
Until spring? “But I thought you were coming to the Konoha Winter Festival?” He desperately tried to shove the bitter taste of disappointment down where it belonged.
“I had been looking forward to it,” she sighed. “But I have no reason to go.”
“Oh.”
Even an unsavvy guy like him could tell this was the perfect opening for him to extend a personal invitation. But to what end? She wasn’t the kind of puzzle he was equipped to solve. And he was not in the practice of pursuing unattainable goals. He certainly wasn’t going to begin now.
The dance finished with a flourish of the music, and they bowed courteously to each other. Temari drew back, and he thought he saw disappointment cross her face. But he must have been imagining it. “Til next time,” she told him.
“Til next time,” he echoed.
She disappeared into the crowd of elegantly dressed nobles, and he stared after her far longer than he should have. Shikamaru forced himself to make his way back to his seat only to find Choji sitting there. He avoided his inquisitive eyes and slouched onto the stone bench beside him.
Shikamaru shook his head at his friend’s offer of a foreign pastry, instead asking, “Where’s Ino?” He had lost track of her while dancing with Temari.
Choji pointed her out, where she was dancing with … is that the nephew of the Wind Daimyo? Whoever it was must be hilarious, because they were both laughing exuberantly. He relaxed against his seat with a sigh. As exhausting as the journey had been and as grueling as his dance with Temari had been, it was all worth it to see the light return to Ino’s eyes. These past few months had dragged on far too long. Ever since … Shikamaru roughly shoved thoughts about that traitor out of his head with practiced ease.
“So, how’s Temari doing?” Choji asked.
“Fine,” Shikamaru answered shortly, wishing he could just put the troublesome woman out of his head as easily as he had the Uchiha.
“So, when’s her next visit?” Choji asked curiously.
“Not until spring,” he reported, unable to keep the bitter notes out of his voice.
“Wait, she’s going to miss the festival? I thou-”
“She said she didn’t have any reason to come,” Shikamaru interjected. He could feel Choji’s eyes on him, but he ignored them.
“Hmm, well, that’s a shame,” Choji hummed.
“Is it?” Shikamaru rested his head against the back of the chair, staring into the glittering night sky.
“It is. You should have given her one.”
Shikamaru lifted his head in alarm. “I should have what?”
Choji lifted his chin, as serious as Shikamaru had ever seen his best friend. “You heard me.”
“But … why would I do that?” Shikamaru sputtered.
“You know why.” Choji stared him down. “Ino was right; you do know how you feel, you just don’t want to do anything about it.”
Shikamaru just gaped at him. “Ino … what?”
“I thought you just hadn’t figured it out yet,” Choji explained. “But Ino said you were still confused by your feelings and that’s why you haven’t pursued her.”
Shikamaru couldn’t help but feel bitter that his friends had such little faith in him, though he was still reeling from the fact that his two best friends had already figured out how he felt, and they didn’t bother to tell him about it.
“Well, I have figured it out,” Shikamaru told him needlessly.
“Well, that’s good,” Choji nodded encouragingly. “Now, what are you going to do about it?”
Shikamaru sighed, shifting on the cold hard bench. “What can I do about it? She lives in another country.” He swept his arm out broadly, as if to encompass all of Sunagakure and Kaze no Kuni.
“You could make it work,” Choji said confidently. Shikamaru scoffed, but Choji shook his head with determination. “No, listen to me. Who got us in here?” He waved a hand nonchalantly at the finery that surrounded them.
“Okay, fine,” Shikamaru assented. He knew and Choji knew from experience that if he and Temari put their minds to something, they could make it happen. “But it doesn’t even matter, because she won’t want to.”
“Ino was right.” Choji sighed. “You’re scared.”
Shikamaru felt that was an unfair assessment. “I’m just being realistic!”
“Then shouldn’t this be her decision?” Choji asked. “She should at least know how you feel about her before you give up.” Shikamaru looked instinctively into the crowd again, his eyes immediately drawn to her. “Go. Invite her to the Festival. You can worry about what to do and say there.”
Temari turned, as if able to sense his gaze on her. She tilted her head to side, a slight invitation, but then she turned away. She wouldn’t be seeking him out any more tonight. He would have to pursue her. Maybe some puzzles don't need to be solved, Shikamaru mused. They just need to be attempted.
Filled with purpose, he weaved his way through the courtyard, focused on reaching her. He tapped on her shoulder and took a deep breath when she turned to face him. Strangely, he felt calmer than he had felt all night. “I would like to extend my personal invitation for you to come to the Konoha Winter Festival. If you are willing to make the trip, I would be honored to be your escort for the event.” He held his breath, waiting for her answer.
Her lips curved into a full smile, making his heart stutter. "I believe that can be arranged."
Endnotes: let me know what you thought!
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Cold is the Night - 20/20 (Epilogue)
Cold is the Night - 20/20 (Epilogue)
Fic Summary: You and Pat have known each other for years but this summer, everything will change. As the two of you start to grow close, your matching tempers threaten the foundation of your rocky friendship and prevent both of you from realizing your true feelings. Cold is the Night Masterpost.
Fic Song: Cold is the Night by The Oh Hellos. Fic playlist can be found here.
The song in this chapter is Till the World Stops Turning by Kaleb Jones and is on the playlist.
Pairing: Pat Murray/Female Reader
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Language, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Multiple Chapters
You stood in the bridal suite, staring at yourself in the mirror.
Your dress was similar to the other bridesmaids, except for the trim, which signified that you were the Maid of Honor. Behind you, Nellie stepped out from behind the changing screen, her mother fastening her buttons.
"Nel, you look amazing," you gushed to your soon-to-be sister-in-law.
She smiled brightly before taking a deep breath. "I should have eaten something," she said. "I feel like I'm gonna faint."
"Got you covered, sis." You motioned to a tray of fruits, crackers, and cheeses you had ordered from the hotel kitchen. Gina stood by the table, a champagne flute ready and waiting for the bride as well.
Nellie gave you both a smile of relief. "You guys are the best."
"We know," Gina beamed.
There was a knock on the door and Gina answered it. She called your name and you went to see who it was.
Pat was in the hall looking fucking stunning in his tux. "Hey, beautiful," he said. "The groom wants to see you."
"Just a second." You motioned for Gina to help Nellie before you slipped out of the room. "You are wearing the hell out of that tux, Murray."
"Oh yeah? Like seeing me in a tux, do you?"
You definitely did. He had stayed with the guys the night before while Nellie and the girls had stayed and yours and Pat's place. It was the first time you had seen him all gussied up.
"I really do." You two had discussed eventually getting married but seeing him in a tux made the fantasy more tangible. But that was for another time. "How's Vinnie doing?"
"Nervous. He hasn't made a single joke all morning."
"Damn. I'll see if I can loosen him up."
Pat brought you to the groom's suite where Ty and Dells were just leaving. "Hey, bros. Step aside and let me handle this," you said.
"We'll go check-in and make sure the guests are being seated," Ty said.
Pat kissed your cheek and the three of them made their way to the banquet hall. You let yourself into Vinnie's room.
Your brother stood in front of the mirror, fixing his cufflinks. "Hey, big brother. How are you doing?"
Vinnie turned around, giving you a nervous smile. "I might throw up."
"Don't. It's gross."
He chuckled nervously, fixing his suit jacket. "Well, it's almost time."
Smiling, you crossed the room to take his hands. "You and Nellie are amazing together. You're going to be so happy. I love you."
"Love you too," Vinnie said. "Who knows, maybe soon I'll be giving you a pep talk on your wedding day."
"Oh hush," you said, trying not to blush. "This isn't about me. It's your day."
"I mean it," Vinnie said. "I hope you and Pat will be as happy as Nel and I are."
You gave him a big hug, squeezing tightly. "Alright, showtime," you declared, pulling away. "I gotta go help the bride. Make sure you don't get lost on your way to the altar."
"I'll do my best."
The wedding was sensational. You were an emotional mess the whole time. Throughout the ceremony, you and Pat couldn't take your eyes off each other. He was smiling warmly, hazel eyes soft with love.
At the reception, everyone had a blast. The food was delicious and the music was fantastic. You and Pat danced the night away.
At one point, the music slowed and Pat grabbed your hand, pulling you close. "May I have this dance?"
"Always."
You slipped an arm around his shoulders while his free hand rested on your lower back.
When your well is drying up, like a desert into dust
and there's no rain on the horizon, I'll be there to fill your cup
"Have I told you how much I love you?" Pat asked, kissing your knuckles.
"Not today," you smirked.
"Well, I love you more than anything in the world."
I will love you till the world stops turning, and ever after when it comes
And all the days between are left for learning, what this life's about
So I'll love you till the world stops turning round
Pat pulled you close, his forehead touching yours. He closed his eyes, losing himself in the moment. You followed his lead, ignoring everything else.
When your burdens weigh you down, like a cloud about to burst
Rest your head upon my shoulder, and I will carry all your hurt
I will love you till the world stops turning, and ever after when it comes
And all the days between are left for learning, what this life's about
So I'll love you till the world stops turning round
"I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you," you whispered.
Pat sucked in a deep breath before he leaned down and captured your lips in a gentle kiss.
When our bodies fall apart, a broken puzzle of the past
We can put it back together, cause honey all the good things left
I will love you till the world stops turning, and ever after when it comes
And all the days between are left for learning, what this life's about
So I'll love you till the world stops turning round
By the time the celebration came to an end, you were exhausted. Months of helping them prep and set up had been difficult. Pat helped you into his car and you dozed off before he even closed the door.
Pat drove towards home, quietly humming along to a song on the radio. The ride came to an end faster than you anticipated.
You opened your eyes, expecting to be in your driveway. Instead, a familiar field greeted you and you sat up, turning to Pat. "What are we doing here?"
"I'm feeling nostalgic," he said, putting the car in park. "Come on."
The night was chilly, still clinging to the last of winter. You found yourself cuddling close to your boyfriend for warmth as you sat on the hood of his car. Without hesitation, Pat took off his suit jacket and draped it around your shoulders.
"Can you believe our first kiss was right here almost a year ago?" he asked.
"Ten months almost to the day. It simultaneously feels like another lifetime and just yesterday."
You sat in silence for a bit. Pat studied the stars but you studied him, just as head over heels in love as ever. Your relationship had strengthened over time. Sure there were fights and disagreements, but you always talked them out.
Once he had moved in, it got easier. You fell into a steady routine and having someone to help share the financial load was such a huge weight off your shoulders. You were able to slow down, enjoy things. All because of Pat.
He caught you staring, smirking in response. "What are you thinking?"
"How much I love you," you said. "And how much I can't wait to get home so I can take that tux off you."
Pat leaned in, giving you the gentlest of kisses. "Let's just sit here a little while longer. Then we can go home and do things to each other."
"Sounds good to me." You shoved your hands into his jacket pockets to try to warm them.
In the right one, your fingers brushed up against something hard. Curiously, you pulled it out to see what it was.
It took you a moment to register the small velvet box. You were so confused, you didn't notice Pat slide off the hood of the car, quietly moving to stand in front of you.
When you finally looked up, he was smiling. "Took you long enough."
Heart beating wildly against your ribcage, you stumbled to your feet, clutching the box with both hands.
"Pat...what is this?"
"Thought it was obvious." Gingerly, he pulled back the lid. In the moonlight, a beautiful diamond sparkled above a silver band. "It was my mom's."
You looked between him and the ring several times. "Where did you get it?"
"Dad gave it to me. A week after the Bulldogs game."
"That long ago?"
Pat carefully took the box from your shaking hands. "I knew I was going to marry you the second you said you loved me. When I told my dad, he gave me this. Had to take forever to learn your ring size so I could resize it. By the time that was done, Vinnie's wedding plans were in full swing and I didn't want to be that asshole."
"So you're giving it to me now right after the wedding?" you giggled, trying to hold back tears.
"Well yeah, they had their moment. Now it's our turn."
Pat took your left hand, slowly getting down on one knee. Your head was spinning, unable to process that this was actually happening. He said your name with his strong, sure voice, eyes never looking away from yours.
"Will you marry me?"
"Yes!" you blurted out before he even finished. "Yes. Yes! Fucking hell, yes!"
Laughing, Pat slid the ring on your finger and when he stood, you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a big kiss.
Pat kissed you back and you could feel his tears mingling with yours.
Under the stars, you kissed the love of your life, thinking of all the precious moments that led to such a perfect one. And you knew, in your heart, the best was yet to come.
The End
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tell me again (that we’ll be lovers & friends)
aka the Prom!Sambucky fic no one asked for.
Bucky should’ve known better.
In reality, he does know better. He knows that prom is not somewhere he wants to be; knows that without a shadow of a doubt, actually. Knows it’s all superficial and just another reason for teens to be cajoled into spending exuberant amounts of money to impress people they’ll most likely never see again. Most of all, it’s incredibly pretentious.
Today’s the big day and Bucky’s been irritated since he woke up, no, actually ever since he shelled out a hundred bucks for his ticket. But as the realization dawned on him that he’ll have to play nice with the same people who’ve never spoken more than two words to him in all four years, the irritation reared it’s ugly head again. It peaked as his mom snapped countless photos, pushing him to smile and pose. It’s all too much and Bucky feels a headache forming at the base of his skull.
At her insistence, she places a rose on his lapel, sticking him with the needle in the process. Bucky’s certain that’s a sign from the universe that going to prom is a bad idea.
***
Bucky, standing in an extravagant banquet room, so over the top, he kinda wants to hurl, quickly realizes that going to his prom was, indeed, a bad idea.
The theme is ‘Winter Wonderland’, which is bad enough but considering it’s currently June, makes the idea even worse. There’s bouquets of carnations dressing the tables, fake snow litters the ground. White curtains, adorned with sparkles, line the floor to ceiling windows, along with hundreds of LED strings lights attached to the ceiling. There’s a balloon arch bracketing the entrance, a sign welcoming the students to ‘Brooklyn High Prom 2019’ hangs off of it. Further inside, he can see the DJ booth. His principal’s on the one’s and two’s and he almost wants to laugh at how ridiculous the sight is, almost.
He feels unease down to his very core, certain that the night’ll end in one of two ways: some drunk asshole picking a fight with him (again) or him standing on the outskirts of the party, isolated, as he finds himself more often than not.
Bucky revels in his loneliness; having realized early on that the only person he can rely on, the only person he can trust is himself. But those thoughts are easier to drink down when Bucky’s minding his own business, holed up in his room. In those moments, his loneliness covers him like a blanket, heavy yet comforting. But here, in a place designed for social interaction, Bucky feels confined by his loneliness, feels it magnified times a thousand.
Coming here was a terrible idea.
The possibility of saying ‘fuck it’, turning on his heels and going the fuck home is lighting every nerve in his body on fire. He could do it; no one’s seen him come in and if they did, they definitely don’t give a damn about him leaving. In the blink of an eye, he can be back home, can ignore the disappointing look his mother will give him, can be in his own space thanking whatever deity out there that his high school experience is almost over.
He’s about to do it.
Bucky’s so close to leaving that relief starts to flood his body when his eyes fall on someone he honestly wishes he never met sometimes.
In hindsight, he understands why he’s here, at prom surrounded by people he doesn’t like, wearing an ill-fitting suit and uncomfortable shoes. It’s the same reason why he does almost anything; the same reason that turns Bucky pliant with just a smile. And that reason is on the dance floor, milly-rocking his life away, in a fitted plum suit with paisley accents.
Sam.
***
If Bucky could go back in time to the first day he and Sam met, he probably would’ve just stayed his ass in bed. But alas, missing the first day of the new school year, especially after missing about three months of your junior year, is frowned upon. For some reason.
The hustle and bustle of kids running to classes as the bell rings or ignoring the bell altogether to continue their conversations in the hall is all too familiar to Bucky. But now it feels different, feels overwhelming.
But Bucky knows the scenario isn’t different, it’s only him who’s changed; the last time he was in this hall he had a flesh and blood arm on his left and now... he doesn’t. Anxiety begins to creep up his spine, his breath shortening out and his head starting to spin. Steadying himself with his forehead placed on his locker, the coolness grounding him, Bucky’s brought back to reality just as the second late bell begins to ring.
Pulling out his schedule, he focuses his attention to more tangible dangers, like being late to his first class and having to sit in the front because all of the slackers have taken the back seats. Adjusting his backpack then his jacket to cover more of his left arm, he grabs his textbooks and sets off to AP Human Geography.
As the teacher assigns partners for the course-long project, Bucky slumps further down in his seat, willing the floor to just swallow him whole. He looks around the room and cringes when he sees who he could possibly be paired with.
But then the teacher is speaking to Bucky, telling him there’s an odd number of students in the class and Bucky’s welcome to join an existing group or work by himself. Before he can give his answer, one Sam Wilson comes barreling through the door, throwing the teacher an apologetic smile, clamoring to find the first empty seat.
There are three things Bucky instantly becomes hyper-aware of at that moment:
1) Sam’s arrival now means there’s an even number of students in the class (fuck)
2) the only open seat is right next to him
3) Sam has the most gorgeous smile Bucky’s ever seen
***
Throughout the semester, they gradually become friends. Bucky’s convinced that it’s only because of the project but when Sam’s walking home with him after they realize they’re actually neighbors (who would’ve thought?) and when Sam’s saving him a seat at the lunch table where the popular kids sit (Bucky declines every day, Sam doesn’t stop inviting him) or when Sam remembers to walk on the right of Bucky (never the left) and when Sam never questions those moods Bucky sometimes finds himself in (the ones he can’t shake, the ones that pull him under so deeply he can only hear tires screeching and glass cracking and the sound of metal on metal and -), the line between general politeness and something more blurs so much, Bucky sometimes isn’t sure that it’s still there.
It’s that blurry line that Bucky finds himself tiptoeing on when one day—he and Sam are on his front porch, soaking in the fact that they’re finally done—Sam asks the big question.
“So, who are you taking to prom?”
Bucky looks up so fast, he almost catches whiplash. Prom hadn’t even been a thought in his mind. He’s focused on more important things like college (and Sam), getting a fresh start in a new city (and Sam) and the threat of Sallie Mae looming over his shoulders (andddd Sam).
The confusion must register on his face because Sam is now laughing and smiling and Bucky hates when he does that. Because Sam doesn’t just laugh and he doesn’t just smile. Sam doesn’t just do anything, his personality is too bold, too vivacious to do anything half-assed.
When he smiles, it starts at his mouth, full lips curling upwards, that stupid gap in between his front teeth making an appearance. Then it lifts to his eyes, making them go big, the brown in the irises shining ever so brightly. Sam’s smile is enough to light up continents, can feed power to third world countries if he chooses to. The only thing greater in the world than seeing Sam smile is making Sam smile and Bucky reckons it’s the same as looking into the sun for too long; the heat of the rays warming him, making him feel special. Then, inevitably, it starts to burn; the too harsh rays focused on him intensely, making Bucky squirm.
Bucky’s been on both sides of the equation. He’s seen Sam throw that megawatt smile at someone, has had that smile on him and Bucky’s not sure which scenario makes his stomach drops the fastest.
With a flick of his right hand, Bucky dismisses the idea of going to something as silly as his high school prom, listing off a dozen of other things he would rather do with his time.
But Sam smiles at him, lighting Bucky insides on fire, and promises him it’ll be fun, that Sam will be there to make it fun and that he won’t leave his side until he’s sure that Bucky is indeed having fun. Bucky wants to say no with every fiber of his being but he just can’t; not when Sam’s looking at him adoringly, smiling a little and then wider and wider until the smile completely takes over his face, as he sees Bucky slowly coming around to the idea of going to prom.
In the end, Bucky is grumbling something about Sam being an asshole and when Sam laughs his signature laugh, Bucky has to turn his head away lest Sam will see him smiling too.
***
Prom is in full swing by the time Bucky’s arrived and is finished with having his existential crisis.
The DJ’s just switched records and a slow song is drifting through the speakers, teens coupling up to slow dance together. It’s so cliché, Bucky’s eyes almost roll out of his head. But then Sam notices him, face plastered with one of his signature smiles and starts to walk his way.
Bucky’s just about to give Sam grief for the patterned shirt he has the audacity to wear in public when Sam nods toward a secluded corner, beckoning Bucky to follow him. As soon as they’re away from the watchful eyes of teachers and parent chaperones, Sam pulls out a silver flask.
“It’s the only way to enjoy these things”, Sam answers when Bucky shoots him a questioning glance.
Bucky’s about to argue that this isn’t a good idea, that they are both underaged, that authority figures are right there, but most importantly, that he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to handle himself around Sam if he’s intoxicated. But Sam’s smiling, looking at Bucky through his lashes and it makes Bucky’s heart lurch and the words Bucky wants to spit out get stuck on his tongue. Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s taking the flask and the taste of Jack Daniels is coursing through him, swallowing his protests and inhibitions all the same.
It’s only after Bucky is six whiskey swigs deep that he finally realizes he’s made a mistake. Somehow they’re on the dance floor, right in the middle of the crowd, being pushed and pulled as the crowd jumps around to some trap song.
But Sam is keeping his promise of not leaving Bucky’s side and it’s so kind and noble, just like he is.
Bucky can see the questioning glances Sam’s other friends are giving him, all the while ignoring the glares directed toward Bucky himself.
But Sam doesn’t play favorites, treats everyone with respect, even moody and pouty and sour people who insist on self-imposed isolation. Sam still befriends them, still walks with them home after school, still makes time for them, still respect their boundaries, still supports them even when they don’t see anything worthy within themselves.
Six whiskey swigs later, standing in a banquet room that looks more like a wedding than a prom, surrounded by people he hates, in an ill-fitting suit and uncomfortable shoes, Bucky Barnes realizes he’s in love with Samuel Wilson. Realizes that he’s been in love with Sam for a while now, actually.
Bucky’s ready for his flight or fight instincts to kick in, waits for the telltale signs of his anxiety to flare up but nothing happens. His classmates are continuing to do whatever the hell they were doing before Bucky’s came to his grand realization. The world, shockingly, continues to spin on its axis. It’s almost like Bucky finally coming to terms with his feelings for Sam is normal.
Honestly, who would’ve thought?
Maybe it’s the alcohol coursing through him that makes him feel so lax or maybe it’s the weight that’s finally been lifted off of his shoulders, but Bucky feels positively giddy at the notion that he loves Sam. Feels the endorphins multiply when the thoughts cross his mind that he should tell Sam right now how he feels.
There’s a small voice in the back of his brain begging him to reconsider; begs him to realize that someone like Sam could never and would never love someone like Bucky back. Bucky with all of his flaws and all of his darkness; it would be selfish to ask someone like Sam, a literal ray of sunshine to love him back, the voice says. To pull Sam into Bucky’s own patented abyss of despair is just cruel.
But then he looks up and he and Sam are now making eye contact again and despite everything that’s telling his mind no, Bucky decides to tell his heart yes.
He’s turning to face Sam before his mind can catch up and repeat how terrible of an idea this is. But Sam’s smiling at him, always smiling at him and like everything else in the past school year, it wills Bucky to believe in himself. Gives Bucky the courage to let go, to relax, to...
What happens next is an out-of-body experience and Bucky isn’t even sure what is happening but his body is on auto-pilot and he’s reaching out to grab at Sam’s jacket and pull him into a fervent kiss.
He doesn’t know how long he stays wrapped up around Sam, his flesh hand cradling the back of Sam’s head and his metal one fisting the man’s jacket. What he does know is that he never wants it to end, knows that he never wants to pull away from the warmth radiating from Sam’s mouth on his, from Sam’s entire body pressed up against his.
Truth be told, it’s always been Sam, it’s been Sam since the very first moment Bucky saw him. Bucky knew he was enamored by his geography partner when Sam first sat next to him or the first time Sam spoke to him or the time Sam did literally anything. He could list off hundreds of examples of when he had started to fall in love, but the only thing of importance right now is Sam, in his arms.
Faintly, Bucky can here the other students around him react to the scene that has just played out in from of them. Bucky can practically feel their weighted gazes on his back but he doesn’t care. The only thing on his mind is communicating to Sam how much he wants to be his.
Bucky’s so wrapped up in his own emotions that he doesn’t feel the gentle hand on his lower back, leading him back to the corner where the silver flask is still neatly hidden from watchful eyes.
“Did you mean it?”, Sam questions.
Bucky’s trying to read his expression but he can’t.
For the first time since he’s known him, he doesn’t see a smile on Sam’s face. Panic starts to set in at the idea that Bucky has ruined his only friendship over a stupid kiss.
What in the hell was he thinking?
“I’m serious Buck, talk to me please”, Sam is pleading and Bucky hates it, hates seeing any other emotion on that beautiful face but pure, unadulterated joy.
“I - fuck Sam- I just want to be with you”, Bucky stammers out. If he would’ve known how the night was gonna go, he would’ve prepared a speech but alas. It’s just him and his brain trying to formulate a coherent sentence that explains just how much Bucky needs Sam.
“You are my friend - shit - my best friend, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t want anything more than that”, Bucky starts.
The floodgates are opening and he can’t help himself now, every emotion he’s ever felt are all rushing to the surface. He doesn’t even know what to say, doesn’t know how to make it coherent, he just knows that he’s gotta make Sam understand.
Has to make him understand that what he feels is so intense, he can’t even express himself eloquently. Has to make Sam understand he only accepted admission to NYU cause that’s where Sam is going, has to make him understand how blind his mind is at times, how he can’t see anyone else but Sam.
But he just can’t get the damn words out.
It frustrates Bucky that he’s right on the precipice but can’t tip over fully, his own mind sabotaging him. But he hopes that Sam will understand him and his non-verbal cues, hopes that Sam doesn’t think he’s an idiot, Bucky just hopes, okay? He needs this to work, damn it because the man still wrapped up in his arms is Bucky’s endgame, there will never be anyone else.
Sam initiates the next kiss and it’s nothing like the one before. This is one is soft and exploring; this kiss feels like acceptance, feels like understanding, like Sam heard everything Bucky’s been desperately trying to say.
Bucky presses their foreheads together and exhales shakily, groans thinking about all of the trouble he’s caused tonight. He’s just outed himself in front of a few of his classmates but the voice in his head, always springing to action whenever Bucky fucks up, is surprisingly quiet and Bucky counts that as a win. Cuts himself some slack for the first time in a long time.
Sam pulls back first, a mischievous grin on his face, and plants a kiss in the middle of Bucky’s forehead.
“I knew you loved me”, he laughs and Bucky agrees.
He’s known for a while now.
AO3
#LOL @ the fact that this was supposed to be around 2K words and it ended up being 3K#someone please tell me to shut up sometimes#sambucky#buckysam#sam wilson#bucky barnes#prom!au#the falcon and the winter soldier#my writing
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Session 13: Trouble on Your Mind
We deal with good memories and bad plants. Also, we meet another all-star NPC. For this session we drew the Woods, the Madness, the Triumph, and the Curse.
Sergeant Clem Haxan stares out into the frozen wood, atop the barricades and trenches stretching out across the carefully built killing field, scanning the treeline for any sign of partisans.
It’s night; that’s not surprising, given how short the days are in winter this far north. The wind, at least, is down to a mere roar. It’s yet another day in the village of Podtybok. The partisans had fortified it somewhat before the Czar’s forces took it; it was a supply depot, and they were counting on it to get them through the winter. Now the troops stationed here are counting on those same supplies while they’re snowed in, cut off from the rest of the Czar’s army. The partisans tried to burn some supplies before they were driven out, so there’s only the barest rations to go around, and Clem is hungry tonight.
She hears someone approach her from behind. She turns around. It’s Privates Sokolov and Vodyanakov. “Sarge!” exclaims Vodyanakov, excited.
“Privates,” she greets them.
Vodyanakov is huddling in his bulky coat, his red gloves reinforced with thick strips of wool, wrapped around like bandages. But he still seems cheerful. “You’ll never guess what happened!”
“Tell me and be quick about it,” Clem grumbles.
“A herd of deer wandered into the killing field near Grigori’s position!”
“And?”
“He got 3 of them before they managed to split!”
“Oh, fantastic news!” Clem finally grins. “Do you need help dragging them back?”
“Naw, Rusalka led a squad out. They’ve already skinned ‘em for stew.”
“Aw hell yeah, good work!”
“Yeah, we figured we’d tell you. C’mon, everyone’s meeting in the barracks.”
Clem happily goes with her current comrades. As they wander through the frozen town of Podtybok, she can see the Red Hand and the town’s remaining citizens going about business as usual. It’s night, it’s cold, but there’s a real sense of community here.
Clem considers for a moment, and asks the DM: “How long have I been here, roughly?”
She is allowed to roll a wisdom check to time it out. She’s not sure how long she’s been here. It’s pretty deep in winter, though, and they didn’t get rescued until spring.
Wait, that doesn’t make sense. It’s still winter here. Clem knows it’s probable that the elite forces won’t show up until spring, but how would she remember when-
The DM tells her to roll a d4, and doesn’t explain why.
Sokolov took over her watch point for her. Winter seems to have gone on forever, is how long she’s been here. And she’s clearly been on watch for a while? Her feet are tired, but it occurs to her that she doesn’t feel all that cold? Odd, in a winter like this.
Vodyanakov is leading her toward the barracks, and Clem is hungry for deer stew.
Who’s next?
Gral is leaning against a tree, opening his eyes when he hears a young voice calling out. “Joybringer, where are you?”
“I’m up here!”
Gral opens his eyes and he is standing on a cliff overlooking his clan’s territory. Below, he can see the river Duu stretching out, carving its way through the mountains. The fields are blooming, the towns on the mountain slopes above are bustling, and the river is beautiful & green in this light. He turns and the voice is a local child Gral knows, Chak Greka’duu.
“Joybringer!”
“Ah, young Chak! What brings you here?”
The young orc pouts at him. “Did you take a nap again? We can’t get started without our bard!”
“Huh? What time is it?”
“Late! C’mon!”
Chak leads Gral down the ladder from his small watchpost, then across a rope bridge, making their way through the mountain city hanging onto the steep edge of the cliff.
As they head toward the communal Song Hall, Gral can see many other orcs of the tribe heading the same direction.
Who’s next?
“Shoshana, are you in there?” calls her father’s familiar voice. She’s sitting in her room in her father’s house. On the table, her herbalism kit is spread out, for sorting and unpacking from a trip to woods.
“Yes, Aba?” she calls back.
“Are you ready in there?
“Y-yes, of course,” she says, hurriedly brushing herb clippings off her skirt. She pulls open the door.
Her father is there, mildly dressed up. “Well? Get ready. We should have been at the Spear three minutes ago!”
As she dusts off, fixes her hair quickly, and puts her shoes back on, her dad smiles at her. “It’s okay. I was late too.”
As they’re leaving, her father pulls a dish off the stove. “It’s not much, but I figure the least I could do is make some potatoes. It’s nothing compared to Hershel’s cooking, of course.” He shrugs ruefully.
“I was going to bring a gift, too, but...the pickings have been slimmer lately.” Shoshana gestures ruefully to her slim haul from the day’s harvest.
“Just bring yourself! You know you’re always welcome there. Come on!”
He leads Shoshana out into the cheerful village of Ovruch. It’s a pleasant afternoon, edging into early evening, and there’s the gentle, sleepy hum of the day’s work winding down all across the town. They make their way toward the familiar Silver Spear Inn.
Walking inside, Shoshana can see the old inn, just the same as it’s always been for most of her life, well-kept and cozy. It seems like a happy occasion; in the big dining room, a few tables have been pulled together, giving the place the feel of a rustic banquet hall. The innkeeper, Herschel, and his family all turn to greet the guests. “Yakov, Shoshale!” he calls, poking his head out of the kitchen. “We’ve been waiting for you!”
The oldest son, Lev, is there, moving chairs into place. The innkeeper’s wife Mindel and the young twins, Asher and Bluma, are scurrying around setting the table with plates and cups.
Shoshana, by reflex, immediately looks for one specific other person. She rolls excellent Perception. The DM has her roll a d6 and doesn’t tell her why, but her eyes immediately latch onto the teenager in question, coming down the stairs.
Something’s weird about her - no, wait - no, there’s Rifka, the same constant she’s always been for nearly all of Shoshana’s life. She skips lightly down the stairs and pulls a seat out at the table, beckoning Shosha over.
Who’s next?
The familiar weight of Valeria’s sword moves with a practiced ease. She swings and breaks neatly through roughly-carved wood, and the training dummy falls to the ground in pieces as she practices in the familiar training yard of the Citadel of the Rose. Feeling amped with adrenaline, she whirls through her daily training, but pauses when she hears heavy footsteps from behind, laden with the clank of full plate armor.
She looks back and there, resplendent in gleaming armor, is Kyr Marius. He’s a silver dragonborn like her and a respected senior member of the Order. He’s been a mentor to her for a long time - not assigned by protocol, but as another silver dragonborn, he took an interest in making sure she was fitting in. It’s a surprise to see him right now - he’s not one of her teachers, and he looks dressed for a formal event, wearing his heavy ceremonial cape, rich purple and pinned with a brooch bearing the Order’s crest.
Valeria sheathes her sword, trying to gauge whether Kyr Marius is impressed by her combat skills. She rolls well at Perception, and the DM asks her to roll a d4. Meanwhile, it certainly seems like he’s impressed!
“Your diligence is commendable, Kyr Valeria,” he greets her warmly, “But you’re going to be late! Your trials have been passed; this is a time for celebration, not more toil. Come! The entire Order must be together for this. Goodness, you’re not even dressed properly yet.”
He approaches and pins his ceremonial cloak onto her with the Rose brooch. Valeria blanks for a moment - has she ever worn a cloak like this before? She rolls badly, and - no, clearly not. Just a vague sense of deja vu.
To wear Kyr Marius’ own cloak? She - well, reptiles don’t blush, but she’s certainly feeling the equivalent of it at this great honor, and tries to stand a little taller.
“Come down to the banquet hall!” he beckons. “Tomorrow we set out, but tonight we celebrate!” He leads her down the carved marble stairs and through the blooming gardens of the Citadel of the Rose. The trellised archways and stone pillars are ornately decorated with statues and symbols of Rack, and the many rose bushes are in lush bloom. (Honestly, it’s kind of excessive - which, to a dragonborn sense of aesthetics, is perfect.)
Where were we?
The players are muttering amongst themselves with theories and questions, but Clem isn’t paying attention to those nerds. She has stew to get to, and she’s powerwalking toward the barracks in the barricaded northern town of Podtybok. (”Partybrook?” “....yeah, sure, Partybrook.”)
She hurries past the small civilian houses and the inn as she marches straight toward the mess hall that was set up in an old building. It was originally one of the winter storehouses. When the Czar’s forces took the town, the partisans took what they could and tried to burn the rest of the supplies, but the snows were already falling, and the buildings held up well. The largest of them now forms a mess hall and a sort of central meeting place. She can already see a line of hungry soldiers queueing at a huge cauldron of stew and finding their places at a huge pushed-together table.
Clem ladles herself two hearty bowls and looks for the captain. She rolls well on Perception, and again the DM asks her to roll a d4 without explaining why. Looking around only takes a moment; the captain is at the head of the table, exactly where Clem would expect, laughing at a fellow soldier’s story. Clem immediately goes to her, sitting in the open spot next to her and listening to Rusalka describe himself and Sokolov retrieving the deer from the killing field.
“-and the kid almost jumped out of his skin! Oh, hey, doc! Sit down, have a bowl!”
Clem offers her second bowl to the captain. “I have plenty,” the captain says, gesturing to her own stew. “You eat, you must be hungry.”
Clem’s like aw hell yeah, two bowls. “Thanks, Captain Anya. Hey, is Khoslev still drinking in the inn?”
“Of course he is,” laughs the captain. “Where else would he be? He’s not welcome here and he knows it.”
Clem laughs along. “Any movement beyond the line?”
“No, all quiet for now. We can relax for a while.”
Clem happily chows down on stew without a care in the world.
Where were we?
Orcs are streaming in towards the song-hall. The sound of laughter and conversation drifts out, and Gral happily makes his way inside. As he enters, he sees the familiar, unmistakably marked face of Vek “Thrice-Burned” Garna’duu. The massive fire-scarred warrior is lounging at the end of one of the huge tables laughing about something. He catches sight of Gral and waves. “Joybringer!”
“Thrice-Burned! Hello! What were y’all talking about? I seem to have missed a joke.”
“Tarok here is telling me a funny story. Come, sit, we’ll need your talents later.”
“Don’t mind if I do!” Gral chirps, settling himself in at the table.
There’s a huge buffet lined up on one side of the hall, a table overflowing with grilled fish and fragrantly spiced vegetables.
“Yes, the harvest has been very good this year!” Thrice-Burned comments, seeing Gral’s gaze. “You’ve got to try some, the cooks outdid themselves.”
Gral ignores the food for now. “Don’t stop on my account, I want to hear this story!”
“No, no, please eat, you look famished!”
“I guess I can’t refuse such hospitality!” the bard allows, hopping back up to take a look at the buffet.
He, too, rolls a rather excellent Perception to examine the spread. Roll a d6, the DM tells him, and again gives no explanation. The food looks delicious; it’s all of his favorites and plenty of exciting things besides. Roast rabbit, fish, potatoes, grilled vegetables, a sauteed mushroom medley. With a roll that good, he sees there’s...actually kind of a lot of mushrooms? Huh.
Gral’s getting a weird feeling, but can’t quite place it. He helps himself to a plate of fish, avoiding the mushrooms, and brings it back to the table. He’ll take a little nibble, but he’s not chowing down yet, more interested in Tarok’s story.
Where were we?
Shoshana makes sure to ask Mindel, the mom, if there’s anything she can do to help set up. “No, dear, you’re a guest! Sit!” Mindel says, playfully swatting Shoshana’s hands away from the pile of plates to set out.
What kind of occasion is this, anyway? With a mediocre Int check, Shosha’s not sure what occasion exactly. Just a dinner party, maybe?
She takes her seat next to Rifka’s, like always, and pulls the chair out for her. The other girl sits and passes her a bowl. “Did your dad make potatoes again?”
Shosha groans. “Ugh, yes. I keep telling him he doesn’t have to, but he keeps not getting the hint.”
“It’s okay, my dad made gravy, we’ll survive.”
Asher and Bluma, the little kids, are being adorable, so Shoshana turns to greet them too. “Well hello, you two. What’s this I hear about sticky fingers over at the baker’s?” The twins immediately point to each other, denying all culpability.
“Well clearly neither of you two have been up to any mischief lately. I hope you’re helping your mom out with cleaning up?”
“Mmm-hmm!” The little girl nods emphatically. “Everybody helps!”
The oldest brother has sat down, so Shosha turns to him with a sly smirk. “Heyyyy Lev. So how’d it go with her?”
“D-don’t worry about it,” says Lev quickly, taking a spoonful of mushroom stew.
“Oh, huh, is this a new recipe?” Shosha asks, momentarily distracted.
“No, dad makes this all the time?”
Anyway, there’s more important topics to get back to. “Did he choke trying to ask her out?” she asks her friend, whose brother is turning red.
“It was hilarious. So he waited at the well for her-”
“Okay, cliché but doable-”
“But here’s the thing, she was actually in a huge hurry, and when he keeps getting in her way-”
“Ugh, the poor schlemiel-”
“And the next thing you know the Rav happens to walk by-”
They proceed to make fun of Lev and share all the small-town gossip. Mindel is ladling more onto everyone’s plates. “Please, eat! I made too much anyway, don’t let it go to waste-”
Shoshana’s player is a suspicious bastard, so before partaking in mushroom stew she’s going to engage Mindel in fifty layers of small-town small talk first. And for that, she’s to make a Charisma save. 26! Hey, roll another d4.
Where were we?
Valeria steps into the grand dining hall. The Knights of the Rose are lined up at long tables, all clad in gleaming armor, wearing their formal cloaks, and they all turn to look at Valeria as she enters. Kyr Marius directs her to a table full of paladins she recognizes. Kyr Boucher, a halfling man, and Kyr Saroyan, native to the Ventallan countryside where the Citadel of the Rose is located.
Kyr Saroyan reaches out to shake Valeria’s hand as she takes her seat. “Congratulations!”
“I can’t believe it’s finally come,” Valeria admits.
“You’re one of us now! Sit. Enjoy the feast, we’ve got a lot of work tomorrow.”
A rich banquet of food is served. At the end of the table somebody laughs. The hall is full of the clink of gauntleted hands clutching goblets.
Marius stands up, gesturing that he would like to make a toast! Valeria is told to make an Int or Wis check, and immediately fails it badly. Everything Is Perfectly Fine.
“Tonight we welcome the newest knights into the noble Order of the Rose!” Kyr Marius declares, his clear, booming voice ringing through the hall. He begins to name each of the newest knights of the order, applause and cheers from the gathered crowd following every one.
Finally, he calls with great aplomb, “Kyr! Valeria! Argent!” The hall roars with applause. “A toast to you and to all our new knights! Congratulations on joining our glorious community! Please, let the feast begin!”
A hearty haunch with a mushroom glaze over a bed of lettuce is placed in front of Valeria. She settles in to enjoy the feast and the company of her fellow knights.
Where were we?
Clem’s sitting with Rusalka and the Captain, well into her second bowl of deer stew. Someone’s scrounged up some mushrooms and edible lichens to throw in there, plus other vegetables from the winter stores, and it makes the food richer. The friendly banter among her most trusted comrades is like being enveloped in a warm hug. Everyone’s almost glowing with warmth and camaraderie.
Clem’s proficient in cooking; she focuses for a moment on the flavors of the food. She makes another perception check.
The stew is… She takes another bite. The stew tastes delicious, except - wait. Those spices aren’t the ones they would have here in Podtybok – these are drow spices, they didn’t have anything like that here –
When she thinks about that, everything flickers for a moment.
The stew tastes mushy - warm and filling, but kind of flavorless? It doesn’t taste like deer stew at all.
Hey, Clem, make a charisma save. She looks up around the old barn, moss and lichen hanging from the ceiling, strange unknown figures around her – no, everything is fine, she’s still at the mess hall with her friends. The DM has her roll another d4.
Where were we?
Gral is just getting finished telling an excellent joke. Everybody is laughing.
“…and then they found him, feet dangling up from the river, and Krotok says, ‘now that’s a weaver for you!’” (Sadly, the pun only works in Orcish.)
Thrice-burned is there, along with Tarok Shala’duu, one of the best chefs Gral knows, and young Chak. And they are just losing it over that joke. “A WEAVER,” Tarok chokes out through his guffaws. “I’m surprised you didn’t say BOAT HAT!” (Again, we assume it makes sense in Orcish.)
“Tarok! There are children here, this is a G-rated joke,” Gral admonishes playfully.
Hey Gral? Make an insight check. Yeah, no, the joke was pretty good, but it wasn’t THAT funny, for as long as they’ve been laughing. We’ve heard of a captive audience, but…it’s weird, somehow.
Their laughter does finally slow down, but they’re all weirdly in sync about it. Every orc at the table has the same cadence to how they stop laughing.
“Oh, Gral, you have to try the shellfish. Chak, get Gral some shellfish,” Tarok insists.
Gral remembers some business. “Thrice-Burned. Last we spoke, you were checking on the mountain tribes, about some land dispute. How’d that go?”
“Oh, very well, of course. Some of them agreed to come and join us! Others, well…they are not welcome here.”
Gral has a moment of strange vertigo when he tries to think about the tribal dispute, and tries to place what day it is, what year. And the harder he tries, the more he realizes something is wrong. He rolls a Charisma save, and begins to remember more.
This orc here answered to Thrice-Burned, but...he was only Twice-Burned at this point, wasn’t he? Yes, Gral sang this orc’s death song, he’s sung the story of each of Vek Garna’duu’s names - he became Thrice-Burned during the Ascension War, when Raspult lit up the mountains and rivers. Raspult is a name Gral can’t possibly know; there hasn’t been such a thing as the Ascension War yet. But that’s definitely Thrice-Burned sitting there, with the scars from wounds that couldn’t have happened yet.
Gral thinks it’s time to stir up a little conflict.
“These shellfish are amazing. Hey, uh, I’ll be back in a few – I realized I left something – Chak, on that mountain where I was, um, meditating, I left an important scroll that might blow away. It’s pretty valuable, so I just need to run out and-”
Chak interrupts. “No! I’ll get it. We can’t have a feast without our bard!”
“I won’t be more than ten minutes-”
“No, your part is next!”
“My part?”
“Yes! For the new ones-” Thrice-Burned gestures to a group of orcs Gral’s never met. “From the mountain tribes. We need to welcome them into the community properly!”
Gral reflexively insight-checks, and gets to roll another d6. This isn’t a thing. Like, there’s no such thing as a ‘welcome to the town’ ceremony. Orcs don’t switch tribes. This is all wrong.
“Ah, yes, I know exactly what you’re talking about and, what a coincidence! My scroll is for the welcome ritual!” Gral spitballs.
“Okay, you stay there and I’LL go get it,” Thrice-Burned insists.
“No, really, it’ll take so much longer-” Gral gets up to start walking, and a massive burn-scarred hand shoves him back into his chair. “I’ll go,” Thrice-Burned says, his tone brooking no argument. He turns and leaves the hall.
Where were we?
Valeria makes another perception check, and rolls her d6. She does well enough on her roll to notice Kyr Marius slipping out of the hall. Valeria breaks away from the conversation, rising from her seat, intent on following him.
“Whoa, where are you going?” asks Kyr Boucher. “The meal is not done!”
“I still have his cloak-”
“I’m sure he just has to run and get something,” Kyr Saroyan says soothingly. “Probably his spare cloak. He forgot his tonight. That’s so unlike him!”
“Really, I’d better go return it-”
“No, please, we insist. You have a big day tomorrow! It’s your first ride with the knights as a fully fledged Knight of the Rose. You need to eat well. Ser Marius can take care of himself.”
All the players notice the “Ser.” Does Valeria? She’s asked to make one more Charisma save, and makes it quite well. The DM does a little math, and nods.
Valeria stands up to follow Kyr Marius, and her eyes open. She looks, really seeing for the first time today, and sees the strange, swollen, overgrown faces of the unfamiliar human and halfling sitting next to her. The table is no longer the glorious mahogany of the Order of the Rose dining hall; now it’s a plain wooden table, half-rotted. The meal before her is no longer a delicious roast haunch, but a lumpy fungal growth. Retching, she spits out anything left of it in her mouth.
Valeria feels a tug on her arm and looks down. Vines and creepers have twined around it, a thin coating of lichen beginning to spread under them. The two strangers’ bodies are overgrown as well, though if they’re still alive they make no move to shake them off. The halfling’s mouth soundlessly moves, as if it’s talking, the way Kyr Boucher was just a moment before. He turns his head in the other direction to look at - oh, that’s Gral, further down the table, wrapped in vines. Clem and Shoshana are similarly bound. All three seem dazed and sluggish, their eyes closed.
She hears the door to the barn close as heavy footsteps recede into the distance.
This can’t go on. Valeria strains against the vines, and her hard-won warrior’s strength serves her well. The vines holding her tear apart as she stands.
Where were we?
Shoshana has finally lost the battle of small talk. Never go in against a Jewish mom when there’s food on the line; she’s been served a hearty portion of soup and bread and informed she’s too skinny, eat! And the innkeeper does bake an excellent sourdough.
Valeria, meanwhile, sees Shoshana about to take a bite out of what might once have been bread, but is now overgrown with mold and lichen.
Valeria knocks it out of her hand.
Nonsensically, the sheriff of Ovruch is there in the inn, and he’s just slapped the bread out of - Shoshana makes a perception check - her clawed, shadow-stained hand. In shock and confusion, she looks back at Rifka - and makes a Charisma save.
The girl next to her is someone she’s never seen before, and looks gruesome. The head and body are weirdly misshapen, and there’s a flower growing out of her eye socket. Scabby lichen creeps across her face, and bulging mushrooms protrude out the far side of her head. Behind her, a moldy chunk of once-bread skitters across the table.
She blinks, and the disconcerting vision is replaced with her best friend’s face. “You okay?” Rifka asks, concerned. “You nearly fainted!” She lowers her voice to a stage whisper. “Did you eat your dad’s potatoes?”
Shoshana barely hears, because she’s looking at her hands. They’re pink and fleshy and knobbly like they’ve been all her life. They’re long-clawed and soot-dark. Claws to hands, hands to claws. She blinks rapidly, trying to make sense of it. Her hands look normal and human. After all, if they weren’t, it wouldn’t be possible for her friend to be sitting here with her.
Rifka is looking at her with guileless concern. How to do this without looking crazy?
“Um, can I ask you a weird question?”
“Sure, anything.”
“Do my hands…feel cold to you?” Shoshana asks, warily, looking to see if her friend has any reaction to touching shadowy talons.
Rifka puts her hand over Shoshana’s, softly, and smiles warmly. “They feel wonderful.”
Where were we?
Clem blinks. For a moment she’d seen some other place, weird and different, and didn’t recognize anyone - and then it went back to normal. Before she can say anything to her friends, one of villagers steps forward and slaps food out of Grigori’s hand.
Clem scoots her chair back, looking around, still weirded out and unnerved. She fails a Charisma save and rolls Perception. It’s sort of weird that this wood elf villager is so big. Like, Clem-size big. And- is he wearing armor?
Rusalka turns to her, gesturing to the villager, and says, “Well, Sarge? Are you just going to let him do that to one of us?”
“W-what are you talking about?” Clem demands. “Who is this?”
“One of the partisans, probably!” the captain exclaims. “Quickly, help us!” The Red Hand gathered around the table begin to stand.
Clem also stands. “Wait, this isn’t like us.” Private Vodanyakov is next to her, drawing his sword, but - she can remember how he died. He got eaten by winter wolves, but he’s right there. That hasn’t even happened yet. It hadn’t happened until years after they got out of Podtybok, but-
“Sergeant Haxan,” the captain orders evenly. “Draw your blade. Attack that enemy. They are not one of us.”
Clem tries to meet her eyes. “You haven’t called me Sergeant Haxan in ages. You always called me Clem.”
“Clem,” Captain Anya says, tone not changing. “That one is not one of us. You are.”
Clem grits her teeth, not drawing her sword. “Who the FUCK are you?”
Her Charisma save fails; she’s still there in the snowy village.
Where were we?
One of the unfamiliar mountain tribe orcs has stood up and slapped something out of another orc’s hand. Gral is confused, but he’s always been a peacemaker. He’s gonna try to head over and talk to them.
Where were we? Oh yes, the overgrown barn.
The mushroom-encrusted bodies are standing up, threateningly turning their sightless eyes to stare at Valeria.
Gral and Shosha remain seated, their eyes closed, covered in mounds of creeping green matter. Clem, though, has stood up, and is looking in Valeria’s direction. The biggest mushroom person is standing next to her, pointing. She turns on her Divine Sense, but it’s a bust - these creatures maybe have a spark of fey or fiend to them, but it’s not enough to turn them.
They’re occasionally making strange noises, but not really vocalizing. Valeria casts Detect Magic to try to figure out what’s going on here. The entire barn lights up as magic, though not as clean-cut and tidy as humanoid magic. One of the smaller mushroom people sees her casting a spell and takes this as cue for it to attack. It swings a wild punch at her, and on impact, noxious spores puff out of its fist.
Where were we?
A fight has broken out between the mountain orcs and the clan Duu orcs. None of this makes sense, and Gral is pretty sure it isn’t real. He makes his Charisma save with flying bardic colors, and his eyes snap open. He’s in a rotted-out barn. There are weird gross mushroom people, and one of them is punching Valeria.
Whoa. Guess that explains it. He defensively casts Mirror Image, planning his next move.
Where were- oh, it’s all blending together.
Lev, across the table from Shoshana, is strumming a lute, and also there’s now four of him. Shosha doesn’t feel well. Something’s wrong.
“Something’s gone wrong with Sheriff Haskel, Shoshana!” he cries. “You are one of us, right?”
Shoshana suddenly remembers that no. For the last eight months, no, she hasn’t been one of them. Not after what happened. Not after they abandoned her for a witch.
She rolls her Charisma save, and her eyes snap open in a musty rotting barn.
Where are we?
There’s a fight breaking out between the Red Hand and the villagers, and Clem’s been ordered to assist her unit. Clem’s still dazed, conflicting memories jarring horribly with the present. A ton of these people next to her are long dead? She looks to her captain, baffled.
Captain Anya’s given Clem her orders, and is now rushing into the fight, not drawing her weapon but clearly ready for combat. Clem rolls her Charisma save - and it’s a natural one.
She draws her greatsword. These traitors are attacking her family.
Shoshana, meanwhile, wakes up restrained under a blanket of greenish-brown growth. In a knee-jerk panic reaction upon waking up, she casts Burning Hands on the crowd of mushroom creatures.
Clem, one of the partisans just threw a bomb or something!
The gout of flame hits most of the mushroom people, though it also scorches Gral. The biggest of the fungal zombies takes the brunt of the blast.
Clem, the Captain got hit by that bomb!
How dare this partisan bastard touch her Captain. Clem shouts “Anya!”, draws her greatsword, and turns on the wood elven woman who threw the Molotov with murder in her eyes.
Shoshana, still hampered by the carpet of mushrooms, barely manages to dodge Clem’s swinging blade, and as she struggles to get free she makes an easy target for the next slash.
Gral sees Clem bury her sword in Shoshana’s side. The drow’s eyes are still closed, and her snarling face has a thin film of lichen over it. He’s immediately distracted, though, by the large mushroom leader clocking him in the face. Shit. He’s gotta get out of here - he’s just been hit hard, and also set on fire. The big shroom guy manages to pop one of his Mirror Image duplicates as he runs.
Clem, the captain just dropped one of the partisans, but apparently he had three identical brothers!
By taking the attack of opportunity, though, Gral manages to make it to Clem’s side, and casts Dispel Magic on her.
Clem’s eyes snap open to see Shoshana bleeding on the other end of her blade.
The big drow’s voice comes out tiny, fearful and bewildered. “…Shoshana?”
Shoshana squeaks, “Oh god your sword is so big.”
The mushroom corpses, realizing we’re all out of the illusion, rush in. They’re clumsy, shambling things - the six smaller ones, likely unlucky travelers who wandered in here the way we did, miss most of their swings at us. But Valeria, who’s been fending them off the longest, is starting to feel the damage. Shoshana turns and sprays another cone of fire at the rotting things.
Clem pulls her sword free and begins babbling apologies. “OHMYGODSHOSHANA, IAMSOSORRY, IDIDNTMEANTOAREYOUOKAY”
Shoshana grits her teeth. She’s been stabbed before, it’s fine. “MUSHROOMS NOW, APOLOGIES LATER.”
“Right!”
Clem and Valeria slash at the fungus monsters. Spores spurt from the back of their huge leader, but Clem manages to save against the toxin.
Gral Phantasmal Forces the big shroomer, who fails hard. The thing has advantage, though – it succeeds as one of other mushroom people gestures. The DM lets on that they are, in fact, a hive mind. If Gral had managed to succeed, the Phantasmal Force would have gotten ALL of them.
Valeria opens her jaws and lets loose a blast of ice. Three of the Overgrown crumble as the fungal growth on them withers and dies of the cold.
The rest of the Overgrown swarm to attack her, but their uncomfortably squishy punches squelch against her armor. Shoshana shreds one with her claws.
Clem faces off against their huge leader, furious. This thing impersonated her commander, made her attack her friends, and made her eat super gross mushrooms. Her attack is ferocious, but the monster retaliates with a crushing blow. As it hits, spores puff out of the fist - underneath is clearly hard wood or bone, but the surrounding fist is one of those bulbous shrooms that explodes into spores when touched. Super gross.
Gral tries to cast Dissonant Whispers on the big guy. The hive mind protects it again, and the damage is evenly distributed between the linked members, so they all take like 2 damage. He grumbles.
Valeria puts her smites to use as Shoshana and Clem both get punched. Shoshana turns on the one that hit her, her claws tearing through flesh both human and fungal. “Gross, that’s under my nails now, I hate it.”
With a mighty swing Clem cleaves the massive, swollen, overgrown body of the leader in half. As it falls down leaking spores, we can see the remains of what might once have been the farmer that owned this barn. ICKY.
Gral decides that spells weren’t working great, so he just slices the last one apart with his sickle.
A weird stillness falls over the dark, dank barn.
Shoshana is the first to speak. “Let me be the first to say: what. the. FUohhhhmygawd there’s still fungus on me.” She scrubs frantically at her arms and clothes, trying to brush away the clinging lichen and spores.
We all make Intelligence checks to try to remember what the hell happened.
Clem remembers: we had just found the Purple Cave Creeper at the mouth of a cellar to a house in an overgrown village, when suddenly the floorboards above our head shook and we ran outside to avoid the cave-in. These mushroom people were there, converging in on us. We prepared for battle, ready to charge in, but the choking cloud of spores overtook us all. Valeria managed to get an attack in before she succumbed - though in her head she believed it to be the training dummy.
Clem and Valeria, who ate the fungal food without reservation, both picked up 4 taint. Gral and Shoshana, who resisted eating, only picked up 1, because the DM rolled garbage.
What was with all those extra dice we rolled? Turns out the illusion had HP, and we were rolling damage against it with our d4s and d6s as it exerted itself to keep us under. The charisma save to break out was double its HP, so it became easier to break out the more we wore it down.
We emerge from the gross barn into the late afternoon light amidst and overgrown patch of houses. The woods outside seem very thick.
Clem has resumed apologizing frantically to Shoshana, who is awkwardly accepting. Aethis is out here, looking very put out about being restrained by a thick mass of vines. As Valeria goes to draw her sword to cut the gator free, she has to push aside her cloak to do it.
She wasn’t wearing a cloak when we went into the house, so this is a bit distracting. It’s very familiar. Sturdy, finely woven, and purple, lightly enchanted to resist tearing and weathering. She has a very similar one at home for ceremonial purposes, except hers isn’t enchanted. This one is spotless even after a bloody fight in the muck; only senior officers of the Order of the Rose are given the enchanted ones that can be worn into the field. And this one is specifically sized for dragonborn proportions.
Somehow, she came out of the dream still wearing Kyr Marius’ cloak.
The group discusses, haltingly, what we saw in the hallucinations. They took us back to times we were happier - times we were with family and friends, times when we were part of a group. We note how much the visions focused on the importance of being “one of us,” with outsiders as a threat. Seems like we might be getting an idea of how this Prisoner recruits.
The most important thing we figure out, though, is that it’s late afternoon, and we have no idea where in the hell we are.
Clem blanches. “Shit, I have a dinner appointment tonight.”
Valeria and Clem team up using Lay on Hands and medic abilities to get us back in fightin’ shape. But how are we going to make it back to safety before dark?
We do have a map of the woods from the Sturmhearst annex - it doesn’t look like the abandoned village is marked on it, though. We’re near where we found the Purple Cave Creeper, but that was the easiest plant to find - it’s kind of everywhere.
Valeria uses her Ring of Jumping to launch herself 18ft straight up into a big sturdy tree. From there, she clambers up to get a better vantage point. She can see the river! We’re a bit west of it, which gives us a basic direction to go. Beyond the river, where it’s not overgrown, there are lights from the village of Bad Herzfeld. We can’t see Sturmhearst at all. Mostly it’s just trees - wait.
There’s a plume of smoke not far to the north.
“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire; and where there’s fire, there’s people with flamethrowers.” -Clem Haxan
We decide to head towards the smoke and see who’s been making camp.
Shoshana rolls a godawful Survival. Clem grabs the map and turns it right side up. This grants advantage and then we do fine. As we pass through, we get an increasing sense that until recently, this side of river looked just like the other side, with fields and farms instead of this thick jungle-like forest. All the overgrown structures are kind of weirding us out, like in those pictures you see where buildings have been completely eaten by kudzu. It’s eerie.
Then we find ourselves in an area with signs of woodcutting. A lot of trees have been cleared. That’s good, right? Somebody has been clearing trees! Up ahead we see fire smoke.
Wow. It’s weird that we got so close to those big log cabins without hearing anybody. No, wait….we’re not that close; perspective is just playing tricks on us because these cabins are REAL FUCKIN’ BIG.
Shoshana excitedly points at the map. This must be Trollsburg!
Oh, hey, there’s a big grey-green figure who is waving at us. Shoshana awkwardly waves back. Gral is incredibly happy to see a non-fungal individual. Yep, this is a burg with trolls.
“Hello!!!” Shoshana calls.
“HULLO!” says the troll.
Shoshana starts headin’ over.
(We ask, but the DM tells us there aren’t any of the fancy plants we need near Trollsburg. Also, it’s getting pretty late.)
“Hullo,” repeats the troll as we get closer. “You okay? You just came outta da woods. You don’t look so good. I mean, your hit point totals look fine…”
“Yeah, uh, the plants tried to eat us.”
“Ooh yah, you gotta watch for dat. But we’re safe here. We been clearin’ the trees away, like the orcs do.”
For lack of anything else to say, Valeria introduces herself. “Kyr Valeria Argent, at your service!”
“Oh! Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Doctor Kjeller. Doctor is a joke, see. I am real smart though.”
Gral ponders. “Might I say, you’re very different from most of the doctors I’ve met.”
Dr. Kjeller nods. “I is a troll doctor, not one of your people doctors. It’s quite easy, we do regenerate most injuries. Really, da word for doctor in troll translates more to ‘chef’. But I was given some credentials,” he tells us proudly.
He shows us a Sturmhearst bird mask he has hanging around his neck like a pendant. “See? I’s a doctor.”
“They accept trolls at Sturmhearst?” Clem asks.
“Oh no, some peoples gave me this. I met a person doctor once, an’ they were wearin’ one of dese. Said I was a doctor for trolls. So how was trolls gonna know they could trust me as a doctor?" He puffs his chest out, showing off the mask, which looks toy-sized by comparison.
“Are you here for the troll moot? Is that what this village is for?”
“Oh, da troll moot, no, yah, that’s what I came here for. Yah, I heard it from Mjonn. I lost my bridge a while back, see. This pack of really mean bandits moved in, chased me out, y’know. I got better, but it hurt real bad when they chewed my arm off. I think they mighta been werewolves. Trolls don’t get dat, but I ate some wolfsbane anyway. So I was kinda down on my luck, but Ionn told me that Coronn told him dat Emmek told her dat there was a trolls moot in dis here valley, so I decided to come check it out.”
“Who’s organizing the moot?”
“Oh, K’jell is the local troll! He lives under the bridge over the river. ‘S a nice bridge! Not gonna lie, I’m a bit jealous.”
“Why are you calling the moot?” There’s an obvious answer - something to do with the Curse - but we want specifics.
“Us trolls gotta be safe! It’s dangerous these days! There’s wolf people and fungus monsters and worse out there! Oh, but da local farmers here had a real bumper harvest, and dey were like, we should do a favor for our friends, the trolls! And they gave us this place. They been feedin’ us with plenty of food, and a place to live, and they been comin’ over and helpin’ us build dese big houses.”
“Troll moots are pretty rare, aren’t they?”
“Yah, the last one was when the elves come in. The Czar heard about us and it got pretty ugly.” He nods sagely, failing to elaborate.
We shuffle awkwardly. “So, uh,” Shoshana starts. “Can we ask you a favor? We need a favor.”
“I cannot promise since I do not know what you are going to ask. But I promise to help. Dat is da doctorin’ way.”
“Um, can we sleep here tonight?”
“Oh, sure. There’s room in my house. They made the place big enough for two trolls, provided they get cozy. But I’m one of da first arrivals. And as a skilled troll I get some privileges! Like a bigger house, with multiple rooms in it. C’mon in!”
He gestures towards the oversized house. “Now, it ain’t much.” He opens up the troll-sized door, and shows us the cavernous inside. There’s not much there; trolls aren’t known for lots of material possessions or for needing much furniture. There are two rooms, with no door in between. There’s some herbs hanging on the wall and a crude shelf with a few trinkets, and a big animal skin as a rug.
“Now, as guests, you can have the skin. I haven’t given it those homely touches yet, I only just moved in. It’s way too dry, but whatcha gonna do? It’s not a bridge,” he apologizes politely.
“It’s lovely,” Valeria responds courteously. “Thank you for sharing your home with us.”
As Dr. Kjeller putters around, Gral pulls the gang aside. Quietly, he mutters, “I think there is something really bad here. What’s planned hasn’t happened yet, since he’s one of the first trolls to arrive – but this town is a trap.”
We consider. “I don’t think the trap will spring tonight,” says Valeria.
“Yeah, they’re gonna wait until all the trolls are here,” agrees Shoshana.
There’s a little bit of time before the sun goes down, so we have time to look around. There’s at least 20 giant houses here, which adds up to an insane amount of trolls in one place. We want to go look at their food storage; the plants tried to trick us into eating their cursed fungus, and that’s the easiest and subtlest way to infect a horde of hungry trolls with fungal-zombie spores. But Valeria wants to make sure to cast Detect Magic, and we are fresh outta spell slots.
Gral wants to talk to the moot’s organizer tonight – is the local troll ignorant of any nefarious plans, or is he part of it? We gotta find out.
There’s probably enough time to make it to the bridge and have a quick conversation with him. It might give us an idea of whether it’s actually safe to sleep here, or whether it’s worth the risk to travel after dark to get back to the Sturmhearst camp.
(We do agree on one thing. “I’ve known this doctor for like five minutes and I would take an arrow for him,” comments one player.
“And you might!” replies the devious DM.
We’re very thrilled to have created an entire race of CR 5 cinnamon rolls.)
We head over to the bridge. There’s a little sign indicating a troll is in residence, plus a wooden mailbox that says “K’jelk.”
It’s Shosha’s job, as the local, to talk to trolls. As is apparently customary in Valdian society, Shoshana announces herself by knocking gently on the bridge and singing her silly bumblebee kiddie song.
There’s an earthshaking THUD THUD as something under the bridge shifts. A wooden door opens on the riverbank and an absolutely enormous troll pokes his craggy head out.
“Yeaahhhhh?” he inquires in a deep basso. “I haven’t heard da bumblebee song in a while.”
“Hi,” Gral ventures. “Are you K’jelk?”
“Yyyup!” he rumbles. Dat’s what it says on the sign!”
He points to his necklace, which does in fact include a road sign that says “K’jelk.”
“Are you the one who’s organizing the troll moot?”
“Yes I am. I called it, I told Mjonn, who has a bit of the wanderin’ foot, and he told Dr. Kjeller and Emmek and Hans, and Hans is gonna tell the one down the river, and they’re gonna tell-” he continues to ramble about the troll gossip network, and Valeria has to gently interrupt.
“We actually had a concern with the troll couple on the bridge down the river!”
“Oh, zat so? They okay?”
“Yes, they’re fine, but they got attacked.”
“Oh, we don’t have dat problem here. It’s real safe here.”
“Well, they didn’t exactly get in a fight, though-”
“’Course not. Dere’s two of em! You’d have ta be real dumb to attack two whole trolls. Unless you’re three trolls. We got about ten here, so we’re safe.”
Valeria tries again. “We’re not worried about a fight, though. We’re worried that there might be sort of a….hmm.” How do you phrase “mycological contagion” to a troll?
“K’jelk, have you ever seen fungal zombies?”
“Yah. They smoosh real weird?”
“Yes, the attackers tried to turn that couple into fungus monsters. Did you hear about Trolskiv?”
He nods his huge head. “Dat sort of things is why I called da moot! Trolls can’t be on our own anymore, it’s too dangerous. I expect ghosts got him, probably.”
“No, it was mushrooms,” Gral explains. “In a nearby farmhouse, we found a huge fungus colony that was spreading. We had to burn it down to destroy them. It’s very similar to the stuff growing here.”
“If the fungus is what’s making trolls go berserk, having a lot of trolls in one place might mean...a lot of trolls all go berserk together?” Shoshana tries to clarify.
“Naw, I wouldn’t worry. One of da first ones I got here was Dr. Kjeller. He’s a expert in troll fee-zee-ology. He knows all about troll feezies.”
“He certainly is very…intelligent?” Valeria grants, “but we’ve seen plants around here giving off the same kind of poison spores. The local farmers have an usually large crop - which is why you can hold this moot - and we’re worried there might be fungus growing in it. Can we look at the food stores and make sure there’s nothing bad going on? We’ve seen the fungus infections before, and I’ve got magic that can help.”
He glowers down at her, brow twisted, not really saying anything. Gral jumps in to give her advantage on the Persuasion roll: “The farmer who created the mushroom colony that hurt Trolskiv said he came from Bad Herzfeld. If villagers from there provided that food, it would be wise to look carefully.”
The huge troll relents. “Arright, you can look at da food. I will introduce you to Zelig. She’s the one what’s providin’ all this an’ collectin’ food from the farmers. Pretty sure she was organizin’ a service at the farmers’ temple tonight.”
Valeria’s interest is piqued. “Oh, a service? I’m a Paladin of Rack myself; what sort of service is she holding?”
“Ummmm...da religious kind. No offense to da big chainy rattley man, but trolls don’t really go in for dat. Dat’s one of them little people gods, they don’t bother us much. We got our own. Grandmother and Grandfather are friends of the trolls, and they’ve done us pretty good.
We agree to come by in the morning to take a look at the storehouses; it’s too late tonight. “Yah, just come on by and I’ll get da key out. It’s all in them big barns over dat way.”
We walk on back to Dr. Kjeller’s as the sun sets. We’re entirely sure the trap won’t be sprung tonight, but we agree to keep a watch just in case.
We get over there, and we see Dr. Kjeller leaning against the wall of his cabin with a big pipe in his mouth. He has a flint and tinder in one hand and is smoking like a literal chimney. Whatever he’s smoking smells acrid and foul and sets us coughing.
Eh, he’s a troll, he’ll be fine.
“Hullo!” he calls. “How was K’jelk? Guy’s pretty big, huh!”
“Super big.”
“Yup. Everything’s in order up here, I was about to turn in after a smoke. It’s good for yer health! Want a puff?”
Clem is tempted. Okay, twist her arm, she’s gonna try it. She takes one pull on the pipe and barely makes it a second before making a con save. With an excellent roll, Clem manages to not die. This stuff is foul. She takes 10 damage as the smoke sears her windpipe.
“Yup, as soon as da inside of your lungs grow back, you’ll feel great!” Dr. Kjeller tells her, smiling. Clem gives a thumbs up and nods, trying not to cough her lung membranes out.
The doc pours a barrel of water into the end of the pipe, putting the unsmoked bit that’s left on his shelf. He puts on a comically large nightcap as he gets ready to turn in.
“Water barrel’s right dere, if’n you want something to drink in the night, an’ there’s a bit o’ jerky hanging off the rack in dere if’n you want a midnight snack.”
Valeria, ever the polite guest, replies, “We appreciate your hospitality. Thanks so much!”
He goes in other room and kind of clonks over, out like a light in under a minute.
Valeria takes first watch, and the rest of us must make saves to get to sleep – it turns out trolls snore somethin’ fierce.
Clem barfs and passes out due to the trollpipe. Warning: NOT FOR DROW CONSUMPTION.
Shoshana brews a knockout tea with her herbalism kit and doses herself. Gral uses his cursed lutestrings to wooble a pillow around his ears. “I shouldn’t be getting used to this power, but I’ve had a long day. Fuck it.”
We all take 1 taint for resting in a mildly cursed zone. Trollsburg’s not as bad as the rest of the forest, but we are - so to speak - not out of the woods yet.
When we get up in the morning, Dr. Kjeller is already awake and cheerily heading down to the river. We follow, since we need to talk to K’jelk about investigating the foodstuffs, and come across the two trolls attempting a morning exercise routine in the river. K’jelk is trying hard but is poorly following along at Dr. Kjeller’s awkward-looking, clunky troll yoga. Dr. Kjeller says: Morning calisthenics is very important for a healthy troll body!
“Oh hey guys,” Shoshana mumbles groggily as she wanders up to the bank, blinking the last of her sleepy-tea hangover out of her eyes. “What’sOOOOOHHHHH GOD I can see everything that troll owns!”
“Hey, at least we don’t have to save against that kind of taint!”
We go out and investigate the food stores. Everything looks all-clear; there’s no sign of weird fungus growths at all. We are Skeptical.
Valeria casts Detect Magic on the grain stores, and finds absolutely nothing except a lot of beets. She grumbles about wasting a spell slot for no reason.
While Gral and Valeria are still sorting through bushels of food, Clem and Shoshana see a group of humans leading an ox-cart up the way. Clem flags ‘em down.
There’s an old woman riding in the cart, sitting among a heaping pile of provisions, clearly more supplies for the storehouse. She’s accompanied by two buff farmhands. “Ahh,” she says, “you must be the visitors K’jelk mentioned.”
“We are,” Clem admits. “And you?”
“I am Zelig. These two are Hans and Franz.” The two very beefy humans look at Clem and offer an end-of-Predator-freezeframe-handshake. Clem makes a Strength check, and somehow Hans (possibly Franz, we can’t tell which is which) wins, therefore claiming the Schwarzenegger role. Clem concedes - it’s okay, the adventuring life’s got her pushing too many pencils.
Zelig smiles. “We were just here to deliver some grain for the warehouse!”
Clem nods. “Well, at the moment, we’re inspecting the food on hand for potential fungal infection, and-”
Shoshana elbows her super hard, but the cat’s out of the bag.
“Oh yes, we must be on our way soon, but it’s no issue if you want to take a look,” the old woman says, her smile unwavering. “We have nothing to hide! I must wonder why - ahhh, a Knight of the Rose! Of course!” she crows as Valeria emerges from the barn.
While Clem inspects the grain on the cart, Valeria strikes up a conversation. “I sure am! Kyr Valeria Argent, at your service. Are you Zelig? I heard you were leading some sort of service last night. Are you a follower of Rack as well?”
“Oh, I’m nothing so grand,” Zelig defers. “The local cleric of Lethe ran the farmers’ temple, but he passed away recently under mysterious circumstances. He was trying to rescue some people from western side of the valley and never returned.” Her voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. “I think some of those Sturmhearst people were involved.”
“Oh, have they been causing trouble?”
“Nothing overt, but, well. You know.”
Franz, or possibly Hans, adds, “They’re from the big city, they don’t understand us.”
Valeria soldiers on. “So you’ve had to take over the temple of Lethe?”
“Oh, it’s a full temple, all the gods are represented! But yes, it was a cleric of Lethe that did run it. Bjorn was his name, he’s gone now. I’ve taken over as best I can. We’ve got a good community here, and they needed…well, I keep the place clean and the lights on and say a few words when everybody gathers…”
Valeria squints at her, and Nat 20′s her Insight check! Zelig is lying about something. The words are true, but this hunched old woman is sizing Valeria up as a threat. (”Understandable, I am,” quips her player.)
(Clem, meanwhile, finds nothing in the grain, although she thinks Hans and Franz might be juicing. You do not get that much definition just from farming.)
Val twitches her official cloak out a little bit. “You recognized me as Order of the Rose. Have any of them come through recently?”
“Oh, everybody knows of them, but I did see one once. I believe he might still be in this area. I could ask around, if you’d like to speak to him. He never did say his name...”
That pings us all as weird, because Valeria can’t go ten seconds into meeting someone without introducing herself by name and title.
Valeria keeps her calm. “If he’s still around, I’d love to talk to him. It’s been so long since I’ve seen one of the Order.”
Clem, Hans, and Franz get busy in the background unloading the cart. There is definitely gratuitous and competitive flexing as they heft the heavy bags.
Shoshana decides to put her Charisma score to use and lays on the small-town charm thick. “We heard about the tragedy downriver with Trolskiv. I’m so glad to see you’re taking care of the trolls here; we’ve been so worried and it’s really wonderful to see you being so kind and giving them a place to keep safe.”
“We don’t have great armies or knights, but we do have a lot of food,” Zelig replies, equally friendly. “I thought, wouldn’t it be lovely if we could all come together in this place?”
She offers to send a few people out to find the Knight of the Rose. “Last I heard, he’s been wandering around helping folks.”
“Yeah, we do that.”
Zelig, all solicitous charm, asks if we have a place to stay for the night. We can’t exactly say we do, and she offers to reserve us a room at the local inn.
Shoshana maintains her friendly facade. “That’s very kind of you, thank you for such a hospitable offer.”
“Oh, we’ll charge you 3 silver for it. We’re kind and simple, not stupid.”
Eh, that’s fair.
Zelig does a quick walk-through of Trollsburg, seemingly to make sure everything is going well, and as Hans and Franz finish stacking the last of the food. She’s calm and unflappable, seeming to have no worry whatsoever that we’ll find anything here. Valeria tries to project an image of being tall, sparkly, and intimidating, but is somewhat overshadowed by the two hunks of grade-A organic farm beefcake.
Valeria casts Detect Magic as the three villagers tour around. Valeria taps the pink bead on her ear chain and doesn’t say anything, but we can all tell she’s kinda bitter.
Valeria taps her pink bead and doesn’t say anything, but is bitter about that.
Shortly, they’re done with their business. “Take an old woman back to town, if you would,” she requests, and Hans and Franz lift her back onto the cart, making eye contact with Clem the whole time. We watch as the cart trundles away, back towards the village.
Clem thinks they’re juicing on fungus. Gral agrees; yyyyeah, these are a couple of simple farm boys who are stronger than war vets. That ain’t natural.
Anyway.
We have the rest of the day to ourselves, and we have two more rare plants to find for spell components. We consult our map, and make a plan: we’ll go out and try to find the red mandrake root, then hit up the Sturmhearst camp to say hi to Flynn and Fiona, and then we’ll slide into town in the late afternoon to check the place out and cautiously take them up on their offer of hospitality.
We head into the woods. Clem rolls a decent survival check, and we find the plant surprisingly easily, coming across the distinctive red flower fairly quickly. Valeria happily reaches down and confidently yanks one out of the ground.
Shoshana, rolling a poor nature check, is a moment too late to remember why that’s a terrible idea.
Everybody gets to roll a wisdom save!
The root, pulled free from the ground, is bright red and forms a vaguely humanoid shape. And as anyone who’s heard the legend of the mandrake will expect, it opens its mouth and screams.
Clem and Valeria, failing their saves, take damage and are briefly stunned as the piercing wail echoes throughout the valley. We all clutch at our ears in pain as the thing wriggles and shrieks.
We can’t hear anything over the awful noise, but the trees shudder as the forest begins to wake.
-to be continued-
#session recap#valeria argent#clem haxan#gral omokk'duu#shoshana bat chaya#bad herzfeld#the growth#dr kjeller
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So I’m writing this fic, currently titled The Stupidest Mpreg Ever Written, and it will never see the light of day. Wymack’s background from it, though, I like. Here it is.
Also I don’t know anything about Pacific Islander culture. I did some googling and I hope there’s nothing offensive in here, but if I’ve messed up please feel free to let me know.
Wymack meets Kevin Day only twice before that fateful banquet.
Kayleigh Day’s exy program is the best in the world. When David gets his acceptance letter, he throws out all the applications his guidance counselor had given him to colleges he would never be able to attend, packs his duffle bag and his exy stick, and leaves his father’s house for Ireland. His father, still drunk from the night before, tells him that if he leaves he can never come back. David doesn’t say that there was never any chance of him returning. From his father, he had gotten only his name and a fear of loud noises.
The program is intense. Exy is new enough that there are no high school or college teams, and David has never played with anyone who knew what they were doing before. He thrives on the competition, on being surrounded by people who love this violent bastard game as much as he does. Every night he falls into bed exhausted and every morning he wakes up grinning.
The program is only supposed to last two years. When David is twenty, the other young adults leave to start little league or pick up teams, bring exy back to their home countries. Kayleigh asks David to stay. She says that he has something special, and she’d like him to continue training with her until the pro teams are ready. No one has ever said David was special before.
She opens up to him more, now that their teacher/student relationship has shifted. They become friends. David thinks Kayleigh is the most incredible person he’s ever known.
With the success of the program, Kayleigh sends invitations to younger students, making arrangements with a local high school. It’s David’s third year in Ireland that he meets Keon Savia.
David got his coloring and a few memories from his mother, but Keon had actually grown up in Samoa. From him David learns a few clumsy phrases in Samoan, a few recipes, and a sense of belonging to a community beyond his father. When he decides to get his arm tattoos, Keon goes with him.
From David, Keon learns how to hold his alcohol, the block that later becomes his signature move, and how to talk to boys. The jury is still out on how useful David’s tutoring was on that last one.
It’s this friendship that brings Keon to Kayleigh’s attention as more than just a student. He’s young, but he joins their evening practices and sits with them at meals. Keon thinks Kayleigh hung the sun. David agrees, but his feelings are starting to get a little...muddled.
When David is twenty one he and Kayleigh start sleeping together. He knows he loves her, but is he in love with her? Could he possibly ask her to love him back? He suspects she has other lovers and this doesn’t bother him. It’s her heart that he covets.
When David is twenty two she starts talking about the pro teams in America. Exy is taking hold there. There’s still more progress to be made, but if he went pro, there would be enough talent to challenge him. She wants that for him. He’s starting to want only her, only Ireland’s green fields and the small court she uses to run her training program.
She breaks it off with him. She isn’t hurtful about it, but she tells him that his future lies in the professional leagues and hers did not lie with him. He joins the New York Flames.
It’s Keon who tells him she’s pregnant, slipped into a casual phone call about their training. David doesn’t know what to do. He’s signed a contract and he makes good money now, but he would give it all up for her, for their child, to be a family.
He gets on a plane. He shows up at the training center. She tells him that she knows who the father is and it isn’t him. He clumsily offers to stay anyway. She gives him one last kiss and breaks his heart. He gets back on a plane.
Kayleigh brings the baby to watch his first championship game with the Flames. It’s so small, that indeterminate age between birth and speech, tucked into a fluffy hand knit hat and one of those carriers that straps to a chest.
“His name is Kevin,” she tells him, and she smiles down at the baby more tenderly than he’s seen her look at anything but an exy ball.
The baby is beautiful, all big eyes and tiny nose, taking in the action with his mouth open in wonder. He also has dark eyes, hair, and skin that he didn’t get from Kayleigh.
There aren’t a lot of Pacific Islanders in exy, though the number grows in the following years. There are only so many people who could give the boy that coloring.
David is happy for Keon. He’s only eighteen, which is awfully young to be a father, but he knows how much Keon misses his family. He’ll be a good dad. He’ll look after them both, to the extent that Kayleigh will let herself be looked after.
David plays and he plays and he plays, and exy starts to feel less like a game and more like a job. He donates most of his salary, only keeping enough to pay for the big apartment close to the court. It’s the first time in his life he’s lived alone, and he finds he doesn’t care for it. He starts jumping at sudden noises again.
Kayleigh comes back when Kevin is two. Tetsuji Moriyama is opening the exy program at Edgar Allen University, the first college exy program. Keon, despite being a little older than the traditional college student, is on the first line up. David wonders if Kayleigh will move to the States, if he can rebuild their friendship.
She brings Kevin to visit him in New York the next year. The tiny wide eyed infant has become a bundle of energy and glee, fascinated with everything around him and full of questions about all of it. Kayleigh’s eyes are indulgent as she answers them.
They play a mock exy game on the empty court after the rest of David’s team goes home for the night. He’s terrified of swinging too hard and hurting Kevin, but Kayleigh isn’t. Kevin runs up and down the court after their balls, shrieking with joy and carrying the smallest exy racquet David has ever seen.
It’s the best day David has had in a long time.
He still donates most of his salary, but he starts saving some of it. He isn’t sure what it’s for, exactly, but an idea is percolating in the back of his head.
He runs a few workshops for the local little league team. They take him on as an assistant coach, which is all the commitment he can make considering how much he travels for games. A little of that old spark of love for the game wakes up in him.
Kayleigh dies. David finds out from ESPN. A car accident, they say. Thank goodness her son wasn’t with her. Such a mystery, no one knows who his father is. Who will care for him now? Will the absent father finally reveal himself?
David waits, and waits, and waits for Keon to claim Kevin. He’s graduated, joined the Arizona pro team, but surely he’ll take Kevin. He won’t leave the boy to be an orphan. Will he?
Kevin goes to live with Tetsuji, who has been named his godfather. David supposes Kayliegh must have trusted him, to leave him with her child, but David has never liked the man. Maybe it’s just jealousy.
He skips practice and makes a weekend trip to Edgar Allen. Tetsuji meets him at the gates and doesn’t allow him any farther. Kevin is at lessons, he says. He’s bonded with Tetsuji’s own nephew, he says. Who are you to demand to see him? he says. David goes back to New York.
David plays professionally for nine more years, in New York and Illinois and finally South Carolina. This is where he meets Charles Whittier, the Dean of the nearby college, Palmetto State. They’re thinking of starting an exy program, he says. Would David like to run it?
David thinks of that day on the court with Kavin and Kayleigh, and all the years as assistant coach to various little league teams. He accepts.
Over the years he’s met a lot of exy players. He knows the sport has a tendency to draw people who need an outlet, people for whom life has not been easy. People like him, for whom a college degree was never an option. These are the people he decides to recruit for his new team. He puts everything that he has into it, long nights pouring over the blueprints for the court, longer days flying all over the country to make offers to the people he’s chosen. Most of them need at least a little convincing. When the school funding runs out, he uses his savings to make the court exactly the way he wants it. None of his kids will struggle to hide scars in the locker room like he did, that first year in Ireland.
His first line up is a disaster. They fight and they do drugs and miss practice and skip classes and they finish at the very bottom of the rankings.
His second line up is better. The captain has washed out so he replaces him with Dan Wilds, who he thinks Kayleigh would have liked. She’s brilliant, but he isn’t sure it’s enough.
He recruits the Minyards and their cousin. All three are good, all three would meet his specifications on their own, but the one he really wants is Andrew, the foster kid with a record, court mandated medication, and the best shots saved record of any goalie in collegiate exy.
He begins to wonder if he’s made a mistake.
Then Kevin comes to his hotel room after the winter banquet, sporting a broken hand and an ever more broken expression.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” he rasps.
“Come in,” David tells him.
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Samhain
Here is a small "guide" to help you celebrate samhain i have included some in depth spells as well as well as super simple things you can do if youre busy or just dont have the mental energy to celebrate. there is no "wrong way" to celebrate any of the sabbats, just because one person did a huge ritual doesn't mean doing something smaller and simple is any less meaningful.
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Times to celebrate: In the northern hemisphere, many Pagans celebrate Samhain from sundown on October 31 through November 1. Others hold Samhain celebrations on the nearest weekend or on the Full or New Moon closest to this time. Some Pagans observe Samhain a bit later, or near November 6, to coincide more closely with the astronomical midpoint between Fall Equinox and Winter Solstice. Most Pagans in the southern hemisphere time their Samhain observances to coincide with the middle of their Autumn in late April and early May, rather than at the traditional European time of the holiday. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
What is Samhain: The third and final harvest festival on the Wheel of the Year is Samhain, observed on October 31. This Sabbat marks the end of the growing season and the beginning of Winter, which must be prepared for now in earnest. Herbs are dried for winter storage, fruits and vegetables are canned and preserved, and root vegetables are dug up and stored so they may nourish us through the cold months. The word “Samhain” comes from the old Irish and is thought by many to translate as “Summer’s end.” While the cycles of life and death are implicitly recognized at every Sabbat, Samhain is when the necessary role of death is formally honored. The nights grow noticeably longer with each day. The God retreats now into the shadows of the dark season, symbolically dying back to the Earth before being reborn again at Yule. Many Wiccans and other Pagans consider this to be the most important day on the Wheel, a time when the veil between the spirit world and the mundane world is at its thinnest. Our ancestors and loved ones on the Other Side are said to be more easily able to visit with us and make their presence known at this time. Samhain is arguably the most visible Sabbat in the mainstream world, thanks to the parallel holiday of Halloween. Many of the Halloween traditions celebrated in contemporary cultures today have grown out of customs dating back to pagan times. As far back as ancient Greece, people were leaving offerings of food to their ancestors, which is echoed in the modern tradition of trick-or-treating. The practice of leaving root vegetables, hollowed out with lighted candles inside, to guide spirits visiting on Earth ultimately led to today’s jack-o-lanterns. Witches, of course, have always been part of mainstream Halloween lore. And although they have almost always been presented as “evil” caricatures with no resemblance to the real thing, there’s still a lingering association between the spirit of Halloween and the real power of a Witch
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Correspondences:
SYMBOL: Black cat, jack o 'lantern, bat, ghost, scarecrow, waning moon.
GODDESSES: Crone, all crone goddesses, Cerridwen, Hecate, Hel, Oya, the Morrigan, Lilith, Kali, Ishtar, Arianrhod, Rhiannon, Tlazoteotl, Nephthys, Persephone, Beansidhe (Banshee), Inanna, Baba Yaga, Isis, Pomona and Cailleach Beara (Brigid's crone aspect), who is reborn this night.
GODS: Osiris, the Horned God, Herne the Hunter, Cernunnos, Anubis, Odin, Bran, death gods, dying and rising gods.
INCENSE: Copal, sandalwood, mastic resin, benzoin, sweetgrass, wormwood: to get the sight, to see the spirits of the returning dead.
CANDLES: New candles for the new year: black, orange, autumn colors, or black candles for the Lord and the old year, white candles for the Lady and the new year.
TOOLS: Besom, to sweep out the old year and any negativity it had. Cauldron, for transformation. Divination tools: Tarot cards, scrying bowl, rune stones, pendulum, mirror, etc.
PLANT: Pumpkin, apple, grain, pomegranate, mugwort, wormwood, Dittany of Crete, acorn, oak leaf, gourds, root vegetables, rosemary (for remembrance).
STONE: Obsidian, carnelian, onyx, smoky quartz, jet, bloodstone.
ANIMAL: Bat, black cat, owl.
ALTAR DECORATIONS: Autumn leaves, fall flowers, pomegranates, apples, pumpkins, ears of corn, sprays of grain, corn dollies, gourds, nuts, seeds, acorns, chestnuts and images of ancestors are all appropriate. Use whatever is in season where you live, whatever feels right and looks good to you.
FOOD: Gingerbread, freshly roasted nuts, nut breads, anything made with apples or pumpkin, meat (especially bacon), doughnuts, popcorn, cakes with lucky tokens in them, and red foods because the ancients held them sacred to the dead.
DRINK: Mead, apple cider, mulled cider, mulled wine, fruit juices, pomegranate juice/tea
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Magical Workings:
Samhain is one of the most potent nights of the year for magic. As a cross-quarter day it is a supernatural time, a time outside of time, the night that is not a night, a powerful time of flux and change. This is a good night for: candle magic - astral projection - past life work - dark moon mysteries - mirror spells (reflection) - casting protection - inner work - propitiation - clearing obstacles - uncrossing - inspiration - workings of transition or culmination - manifesting transformation - creative visualization.
Divination: Samhain is a power night for divination: read the tarot cards; use the Wheel of the Year spread to forecast the year ahead - cast runes or the I Ching - scry in crystal balls, dark mirrors, bowls of black ink or pools of water - swing a pendulum, asking yes or no questions - eat an apple in front of a mirror at midnight, by candlelight, to scry your future mate.
Meditation: This is a good night for deep reflection and inner work. Meditation themes include: changes, transition, endings and beginnings, passage, return, mortality and reincarnation, chaos leading to reorder. Spirit work: (by invitation, not summons) This is the night when the veil is thinnest, the gates between the worlds are open. Souls of the dead are said to visit their homes at midnight.
Possible workings include: a dumb supper for the beloved dead - ouija - séances - trance possession - automatic writing - bury apples as food for hungry spirits - leave spirit plates of food outside your home - set a place for a missed love one at the banquet or dinner table.
New Year workings: Release the old: bad habits and toxic relationships, illness, failure and poverty; everything you do not want to carry into the new year - sweep negativity and out of your home - end quarrels - settle debts, make amends or restitution if needed - spells for prosperity and security for your family.
Faery Magick: This is a great night for visiting the faery realm but you must return by dawn or remain forever enchanted, unable to return.
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simple
no bake apple oatmeal cookies
https://onceamonthmeals.com/recipes/no-bake-apple-oatmeal-cookies/
not so simple
soul cake recipes
https://www.learnreligions.com/make-a-soul-cake-for-samhain-2562655Once
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Candle Ceremony for The Ancestors
This is a wonderfully simple ritual which can be shared with both friends and family, or worked alone. You can include children in it - it begins in darkness and ends full of light. It's a great balance to trick or treating! You will need a supply of small candles, either black or white, or a supply of night lights. You need a heat proof container or tray of sand or earth to put them in. Place one in the centre of the container from which all the others will be lit. Switch off all the lights and sit gently in the darkness. Allow the darkness to enfold you. Ask for the presence of your ancestors to come to you. When you are ready, light the central candle saying "We welcome our departed loved ones into this home and honour your presence amongst us". Allow each person in the circle to spontaneously remember someone who has passed to the Summerlands and remember something about them and light a candle for each person from the central candle: 'I remember Great Aunt Sheila and her generosity of heart....'. Allow this to continue for as long as it takes to complete the re-membering. You will end with a tray full of radiant candles. When all is complete, give thanks, and allow the candles to burn to completion
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Guide the Spirits (quick and easy spellwork to honor the dead)
Place a white candle in the window to guide the dead to the Spirit World. Light the candle and speak these words, “O little flame that burns so bright, be a beacon on this night. Light the path for all the dead, that they may see now what’s ahead. And lead them to the Summerland and shine until Pan takes their hands. And with Your light, please bring them peace, that they may rest and sleep with ease
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as Samhain marks the witches new year you can write down a bad habit or something you dont wish to carry with you onto the new year onto a piece of paper and in a fire proof bowl or somewhere safe place a lit candle inside (or even use a fire pit/bonfire/fireplace) and drop the paper in the flame and watch it burn away. if there are any ashes of it left over wait for them to cool and bury them outside
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If anyone plans on taking a walk late at night or a cemetery walk at night please be careful! if you can bring someone with you or bring some form of protection
pepper spray, pocket knife, even your keys.
be respectful to the spirits, be safe with what spirits you try and contact.
if you aren’t sure if a passed family member would want to be involved if your spells/rituals you can always ask them/ send them an invitation so that way the choice is at least open to them.
i hope you all have a wonderful and safe samhain/halloween <3
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