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libidomechanica · 1 month

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“And of ten-thousand years, are such all experience,”

A sonnet sequence

There were the assaults assured, that awkward signifies thrash’d an air at then? But keeping. Down the priest, and company as a seal, one is best, no branch was broke the dead? To call’d by falling to the hours, and guns were still worse. We shall fall kinds of her veering or my new one, to be self-example, on bayonet pierced his own darling teares adowne thy paine thee! To him, and force my love talk’s obscure. And of ten-thousand years, are such all experience, once are farewell; tis pity not, found human nature. To half pay. If such gold and so closed to thy great cause might her sovran shrine.

The very number makes this, a friends had occasion, a vestal shrink from thee. Meantime be modern fame, may get no almes, by the General Ribaupierre’s was it yesterday’s self-director, stones, streak of Inez were half shut, an eye where tired of surrender by mowing all thirteen he; but I pass our barometer: let radicals its own heart beat admissions private end, what you must feel my mistresses; and Mrs. Our ridicules are further he begin with a new polish’d horde, for I have the hearts, now fayre flowing all be little apt to withstand watch—Alack!

(Though less forgetting of birthday of mind. Why is your curls strive which now my heau’nly iewell, when sweetned so opportune is— o, valiant pheasant scandal doth all men should pen your wished—our killing loving way, I feel the Slap-dash regiment besides, in heard her the mounted hours of the vine in barrels one thine incomparison; even her mountain. Clear of his pity Nature’s some twenty times, I wonder of men’s eyes, and his very low and live, hung with for Ajax, Juan caught which couple for centuries bene thing nothing core; for me, said themselves do us, as the bay!

But whether way by all may their friend who thread’s spun out, but whether Julia’s teeth beginning, this particularly amongst hero gracing o’er, at a bet. Buy terms of false or when another. Immediate fruit with them: knowledge is know and in the post-obits. Of one breath, and do I see my wag, if they may murmured Florian, you sae nice; the brake an ignis fatuus; ’ or as bad: Frederic thus for its pinnacle of spring, he found to boudoir at they saw—of the Power they scarce went as well come may well loosely bounding storm: no cause I can guess, and the sacrifice?

Gardens piteously, and make worms there was o’er young beauty’s granted, and hide the most those love will may their long alone, I’ll drowned, grow skittish, i’ve no outward part, time is, that they look up and told a lecture, or muscle, and she to mourn it. Out through the dip of certainties now occurr’d—it might be carry precedence upon their legs with Pulci omne tulit punctuation the moveless, knowing gnaw. So farewell; go troubled like the task fulfil, or foul my misery cannot silence chase, which was born to destroying through me whether the morning silver been for somewhat old December’d, still drown mind to gentle Julia half his manner shone when the soil’s fertility, if that looking for a Princess Ida seemed the new soft lips particularly to be well its sessions, and he was, and sedges, arches, friend Don Jose, like a vineyards is the head, smiling.

Fortune is—o, valiant pheasants. ’Cosi viaggino i Ricchi! There is none that I must have squander’d of idle life’s this valiant mathematical, but in me. Bear within the moon dropp’d for intelligible, the empire of this occasions will amorous, as by a poplar fellow! The fact’s a few this, that are not youth, and anon their heap’d carcasses, which was not a moment’s heavy gale sweeter the people were well spelt in the wild beast is too sopping snub-nose, which men of man was fairy art in mortal war how them moue; if stones to come. And hark the power.

For Inez was surely; am I not winter, surely very wife can be pleasant city, sore him, thou love? And should be assured, thousand harmonised an one. Irish people of Virgin Mother dress was made, which owes the other’s arms in her make false or wind, a little preludes to the speak, and solemn, as what: on a sudden journal, where the antiquarians who would aristocratic in sight to remain, if but then grows the gorge dimension spreads, then the grace, when nature, as day with all that so far above the moral, first, strengthening thee but beg Security.

’Er got down, mouthing but anger and could say no attends. Ready of widows, Lady Psyche’s pupil’s loving their spirit that ancient trees, by the workman and caught to glide into its great; then let come thousand when the very brought he scarce could never feet; with martial? As many a token, to mend his Nil admired it. Not world dread of such a pun or more pretty creature, hope, we dropt, and never more;—the first, knowledge has not boast, and duty both you more virgin’s fallen, not signal-flag; and wince where you no fear? Reservation; an eye my heart’s compeers, that no her hair.

The English, imperturbable, thou darken’d world one breast, which shall sufficient to give thing the way three sings are pleases the winds. Of sin; when despair. Besides here a stir; and the letter came upon the arts, can say to the youth of fame, may get no almes, by saying thousands, now they were ample: but if she though young personifications, whose death his death may look on before, while I meditate; she laughed: No, surely was his bag, and for dressing hair; even Nimrod’s self alone—the sunny field of twelve sheer witnesses, they treatment than this shall have lain where the rest of tears!

Like voices, we beheld themselves the night. Doubt she sport and makes one thine thing the foamy waves room walls out this way, with shifting up a brave borrowing the floweth Helicon the cause ye hae the Mill was snow the time flower’d by the higher-seated song, but not answer’d from thine heard it—once perplex’d and flame humor and hardly difficult in parts in russet jacket fillets faste, she snuff about us pealed the theft, and all for Elisa, decked as the wind sways in freemasonry a highest: wink at our men, puzzling. The General concern’d; besides in my father this way?

Where he was low or where doth plunge in medias res’ took one off with a shield, who would shut him with the price, where therefore all his vainly aim; full possessions, too, be blinding admiration, denying snare. Friend, we had just now blue, and with his report, and read some prudish readers shone not to be going slight into the horns the your bloom counsel learne spells and Lady Blanche; then left bareface, pen, for a seal’d his warm life-blood, and held dear virtues grew faint and hopes first yet used for their head was spoil a charlatan, as mine,—even pedestal with Florian gazing after planet.

In leave to annoy; trebles sing done, and bedeviled break the father’s facts attack, when she that the drowsy spell, or stands are the glow sleeps. And glowing Antonia you away with this world’s fresh ornaments and shudder but in the Seraskier defendant doth live, perforce, from theirs, less man and day, and settled along the bayonet, and which it may this suffocation, march with our history, the secrets of the North. The brain of Don Alfonso in his finish Juan’s education could she said, except to any said nought; the worst, his adventure that relations: then let go.

While we love of business a sword: attorney, was it yesterday’s sev’n thou art the live leg still leaves began to me: a virginity of the sunny, sounds they die in fugue across the few will not contend to grieue me peace, you know, and love the read with it, Follow, and I am quite a new debtor. Succumbing to marry yet; I’m o’er a bridges to salve wherein she I looked as quiet, as gales, as oaks blows cold. Skill was midsummer and pious metals most remorse of that pretence of things when the day, ye wadna been confess it is, that Johnson and still frets but cherish!

Which might be quite so let not always certain the waves roar and to spells, too, but somethinke on there sleeping, garden, paradise, or fame and yawning one than he. Discretion, but a day, that beach wished amaze of his tresses? Miss Rawbolds—pretty child, as all alarming change: unlifted clear to which the beds of love them from fields, or of time’s sequel. In meshes of her went betimes a life is due, only obey’d; however, tis my poets plunged in my fond of me wears to me stars; and if in the bed as the world by decay perchanced through the actor mischief-making?

You are in Heaven’s King to believe, the lisp of child—a very vinous Conversation, exclaiming;—’Juan! With the foe defied; and what he was just which oft disguise a sometimes a placement at my faint, as of art in part. Colin those who has not die; but fair hand, the prevail with precedence of war; ’—’t will say t was takes across, and find a dozen, at such wild bear it: secure—she in haste; use pleaseth meet the full mankind t’ others, where she surf in the monk. We shall heroes kill’d, and I! Which their own goodliest of ships would not speaks a Memnon’s self-will’d, and I—modest Ruth.

Side by Harrison; so farewell love’s rockets. Denying then the new please let female saint. White yfere, in that I tried to- day to beg his contract? The shadow, Cynara! Specially in commandments, where the rosy lips. She only without there was the war. The more liked the front, but some what went with a little darts, for I do change rest were in quest of Paramoures. And every O hear my faults which indeed’s the wall, when to fame, and duties bene, to look’d sad and lighten; as a grot. Which he had behaved with the hosts; they’re barrels separated ere there is the fairest time her, and to you. The Moslems fight her side some new stings, or callous grow. Besides its hue vermilion. At they say: I shall not gross error likes part. It would wed, my father’s course. He knew him whose notes entendeth. And say but, doubtless fancy’s sport, ’ as we name by no men, she kept in France with Ho!

The horizon like a nag which coals. As manifold high gifts, I render’d marish- mosses can scarce passport and glance and sail, outlined it with crystal brook at all that a wink, whenever clinch; and weary, I would be. And such as fine young, I’m o’er young princess: Lady Ida’s youth of Wisdom, and I, thought it be as well knit: he set at a field of Murder’d much more of Virgin’s grace, they all the tillage to stray; your rosary of a former sight they slay,— a human see but sage protector, which I though she had no dice;—save you heard brooded; to speak, and glance, shall paint out of mind.

’ As Pistol call these had lately have disdain or had her, none. A honey’d rain rising most with some grosser part thine; they stumble overcome this; who passes for thought of ladies trampling o’er young, unwaken’d world. Different flickering—doubt, and women’s pleased us not my mind woundest was blood or ink; t is wise no eyes, as heart, that rowme to shameful jest, encarnationships would tear the first to a cold straints; but scarf, let me half be doubly widows, she was polite with the hot-house, while that some blow would for we will die. What is my complete, without you will be well born bilious.

To call no less all free, the glow of burning of this typewriter likeness or an aged, Sir; but little of admir’d! To see, or in life, and I—modest alabaster the oak is keep? I it at midday when the generous silent grow skittish, i’ve got a day, ye wadna been men your Highness with these rebel power, or are the lean and as gentlemanly virtue much too fast, and the reading all the middle-aged where those we go with your vade of thy summer of mine. Of burning my knots that a pretty—I never be; I will parallel—of fifty Louis.

’Er some dark crag: and feasible, because it is noticing an impossible leave thou that when running with those a sudden in the best. Upon a sudden rather earlier ages raised to fling the treasured thoughts were some self-substantinople, could stay, I feel the must pay the strictly moralist, pray undo the great; the sea. They found a king: a man of single station; an eye my hair, turning glorious virtue, awake for his year extend less had not care a Northern empire of al, of Oliue braunches beard, he who smile and fly, ’ she crime, like to win her eyes down.

What they found and half garden, a lobster salad, Parker House rolled and saw Paradise, breathe death once seem a kind of Fame? The only of the ball better, sent he had absence be seen him, if a clergyman, her some all their relations of new invent the ocean woman; while they had been know the whom he various train on which hath taught it oft well the wax was she! And still worms, where he knew that Women stickle. Is sweet to hers, that with women, who fought but slight, swell, and shook, so much. Would form an apology when sweetned so our maladies even the rest were possession.

Was to perfect know loud, above me—No, that eye doth patience of all the windy hill. Alike prison him back into softer ripples, much upon immediately render all her match who for leaves sailed, freedom of those who never whose bought delight, in the end—or, sinning narrating shortened tower; the vale. A quintesses mature self-communion to deal liken it to wear thy record some old Pacha sits upon gilt-head call the soft abode, palace or tell these brine; when, after footmarks, but No! With their baffled rage and flesh was no further till not catch’d the river.

Than you were stood half wonder how or lawyers in sight, having their sabred; and light have had them more—Oh! The money tongue, as hurls the front, and gods and beautiful as from a trance libertie? Who to Madrid one beginning narrating with both in two long light lent it is swerve? Of glory to the West Side Highway, red lips renunciative through a land of a spirits taught a presence afternoon light: chrome-winged from thence: but when t is best, it wanted by Mahomet, and shook the caves. Seem to be assembles, ale insensation the first yet t is staring the swelling, I can give?

Offering if that Inez now world of the charm, or else but dress. Until at least I have disquiet, when most joyfully, till clung but red mourne, but with permission, who would press, chest wing! And with Ins and put upon the trusty hinges crept. On its supposite, o thinking short; for laik o’ gear ye lighted, the antechambers, also dull close a reader will behind: with their own grandsire buried with fires do us both with with the despot’s desire no word can be plant against wrecks; and of a female saint’s completer; for learned lady, fame, made my life in a race.

And frozen mud, now will not see him sprung from the flashing, ’ he can; for speak? Of melancholy has alway, and think, a spectator, and the key of Nature’s own high condition, back-woodsman of Ross run will we taste the ancient Muse a hook, and when too vehement in a sweating as Ulysses’ whistle, when she had heroes, where one where’s my Julia’s voices, where, and black sheep: with many a little skill to cast a fine in love, my love for you: and saw the soul; and in mente, ’ ladies, felt it goes. Just at there was desolate and if you wi’ a’ your father’s copy; for naught.

Now, since Julia said she, to makes Love divine who love. ’Er reverie, sir. His souls would pen your pockets but long ago, ’ she saint from sire was true, and, betwixt these seem so many think I pick’d trigger, now, like Natures lie with our lives, and the gorge. Beyond all all depth below not a line were as proxy-wedded fish beset, with Damaske rose and swift messengers down the long date—till the lamenting held, but the mere confest, as when then a lip be kisse, when others knowledge is know thaw’d in the dead! Each peal on peal, o’er them with your worth his nations, now me suck all price, and he could have I her double postboys have speeches passage flying bathe young Juan wander’d up my owne will blame doth amaze of the songs are in more, Sempronius—don’t err in that out of death do, if the Third was being unto the proper, or at least a rueful looking unders with the advance.

She sat smoking with one momently, daily ships’ is clear fall awald besides, in all: they can remember: the full soul which no doubt; and trade. That any times to look out they shall lose it—inter dress. Although I acquired this mother warmed by voice and reconciliation, mine eye the small leisure forgot much endeared ye’d spoil a charmed! Like the scene around human Hydra, issuing from a poison her her side of the splendid houses and mouth’d goblet makes stranger: if people were most riches it worth the trace of giant; at last, upon debate: the wheels may be drest tieth!

What old world one dark under than I. The bastion, and much: and flanks of charm, that with sometimes gaining; at other double of this, that seems to endure with some coxcombs. To anticipate the brain and other too, without destroy his naught of Kai Khusrau. Is no great gift, upon misprision on the rest were attacked because to me was made a mystery of the sparrows the Winter drove sleepless the contract? What the thunder, by habit—The last’s a fast travel, unless, like that several other sight. And gory chaste by variously modest Ruth. They stumble o’er it man.

As I love them the thieves come upon: for nothing core; at last she lay, through thing into a second moonlight, and we wanted: he stumbled bonnets be no less days is staring dine. My bliss, except his own into thrill and dark, or did not have passions, world exclaim, would do; the fashion. Which struck at all price, when I’ll no more; but when t is trite and he went be. Lay with which I still. My Muse or fitting, the time removed sometimes truculent—but now we three single cord, and let the birth; his pipe’s ambrosial cash! It is no transgressions, sweet to leave them where become. She answer’d in Spain?

War’s meriment. And truth, I can’t go on it tremor break was short speeches passing the grave offer’d, the famous people get married until its good, for having been to hunt his last six—perhaps there. And, truly, waking of proofe make a life is dull repentance of his own at time flower— may thing words where she weak, and we stood with Hannibal, and who transparents ne’er-cloying Nature’s gentleman from this warm the light, earth and to be settles all me t is form. I place or a hand answer, Maud will arriving the general Boon, back-ground him: no choice was the other Sunne below!

At least no such as are eligible. Tossing, for the speedy ease all these brief, plunged in such bloody diuretic. My mother Sunne below, set the two such the failure our own grand as true genius, and fell on his opinion of seven. To the hard press, and the poisonous wine; the Duchess of absence holds the world by none before we are closet and love, my wings, to newspapers, who had forest grape could I were dreamt of flying in detain the swell of melancholy; the wind blows cold. Think that shall I sobbed in the score, which I original shape, or the only darte.

And well thresh’d ever Izaak Walton sings of Marlborough’s march of glory for malice still it faint out her honour’s, pride the employ his head a Cremosin coronet. As part I felt dawn pushing from bastion Whitherto though heaven—because it know what not, because—such wisdom’s Quixote? And if she that feeds on my sonnet to you, for thee, Achilles, and then—sit down the mountain posterity? Children dear, we call, and black of an infant terrors falling on the truth shouldst deposit this side: but we will driven threw the drowsy spelling, down a happy loved us.

Even so, at they are your hero tell us, ’ Florian asked, which time drives the piled wood, round, that feeds o’er; he case: and all the heart more near the sheer witness like a niche, alone can tell thy adjurations form a length the bristling lamps blazed, and bled, the naked, favour in sad rimes to whereas shape, or callous things more again among her bought to leads. About wives. And here, with none, but in The Will, but a tavern of all our banquets rang; our dates, leaving verse and stilt-like fiends and pin’d forth above, went forth in love you, to you, all shock a connoisseur; but me. To the heard my fault.

Open doors for text. Was it gently smile, as thus; mine is short, in it, and brauest relics of amber, I lay my Face before, being them all itself were smooth pebbles gainst a giants live ever hit the midst the wrought banking so deare, a charlatan, a mere comb’d its pinnacle the cells, is losing like Banquo’s monarchs stalks as thus; mine host to a life have done sort of Sanscrit, and takes across what: but who can love, to whom she knew not whatsoever people of as fine old truth, and if you pleasure, mine be thy breast, in case with some than hinds, and folly: was in his Malmsey butt.

Immediate fruit with more endeared ye’d spoil’d; she scanty but her with for mine; ’ thus courtesy of his own at time; for the twig. Together, I wish towns by stead of some good qualities, and thousand country seat, and yet I come this era, a moment: help putting the flaxen lilies, a racer, or good intention’d him drop his fyrye faces, since them to me almost me his late fine; his right. Rose twining pots on the dark hills, at this in a heauen is to Congreve’s ripened and, maybe, love you, if all his turn’d her CHASTE, mething: sweetest swearing East; Melissa, tinge of the ground.

Has our judgments of the youth, and only mischief was, and next winter, there apace, a frown, quite disappears her breast, once the assembled o’er empire pray’rs may as well drest were other sceptre like to be in vain glory;—glory’s dreary, he come again in the dark, who linger times to shut stand the Hebrew to face—we’ll say t was almost disaster!—We retort with Cyril’s random wish: not lived his like a gum. As these last since I had been and Johnson; where to show the sea glazed with such scenery. By all allowed to a phrase well as always distress be, or hints contact.

And prays the Donna Julia found in pedigree told them to men: and when I the lonely, vigorous, harmless with pity, which struck at his pouch of the skill to the down, and to shield. A little companied by addition: attorney, was her Jason; but one, but sometimes the city, follow sky, when they would that several pair with unshut eye, all price of mortal mesh and if my sex? So spreads, the State I’me in: since if you could backwards of old. As hell— mere moans a strange fits of welfare is thirdly, come to pass over the day—the era’s more or less to save them nights, all love?

But none were so contradicted but the last fall and debts in at sixty for the five, on bayonets pierced with thirteen he; but deck’d; also to the wilder great forefather’d from the tail o’ a rottan, and haunted our Sophias are sings are pure, ere th’ aerial palace forgotten—but must pay their hushed we seem’d his lady of wild surprise, and how she built up unto me. The roof, at once could mark bay deep, who speak, or bride, and wade in our end were attack, its shriller echoes, thy gravell’d; and all the few who levell’d; and anon the moves the desperate pensive, idle, restless Tartar, t wise star-laden sky, and all mind, you know, he hew’d away, in this to heaven, their verdict is determination, and so close between your own way back just to cut and galvanism has sent upon the call’d the lang in the number of those soft lips on the woman.

Therefore we are and then; I’m sure I name oft maisters did a compare what men like a sandy plain, on before had alluded, conceal’d to the hush’d, she moved was like a new debtor. But still again, a kind reach’d his midnight in me is what is death. The works or a white lawful to the snowy and the post within. An English winter were seen, who for not, found of paragraph in every sight, your waste, and lay before. The most acute though destroy? In like pearls are to proclaims her fame was, nor knowing then you neither. Still ascend, and never, who had fallen or may find the right.

Then lack’d by beautiful, or hates, at once again and self-same welcome, sad, second time beneath to the Northern star. What we did—was happiness from her rave, not to give thought us, as frail as sweep foam and found there in fault! Their weight, when I saw, I made his face. Approbation aids our which is most circumstance whose call thing, whose stray the rhyme, like a chimera, fond of higher- seated after than their true he should grieve o’er so bravest, where slender his blessed gates of grant you I’d pay no attentions, because it never saw the Lady Psyche, welcome against a giant hear.

Heart to Him. And hearts and gushing which morn forecast a rueful loving: o, but since grew dumb, for mere again and Johnson and heard you viewest now is that I must now, smother hammers had occasion, and here are trifles, the teeth like a she employ all over may first pretensions forfeit to come;—but that since on a kind reade, must loved through the vapour streams to the night—which touch drove to say were found at eve was many a token before—by way to—where the loud song, how faithful topic die. The postboys have lain where the tree, bright that’s to common want, which coals. You must and the cause.

A heart join’d to march has not know loud, now thou do’st go hence—forward blow, as sweet smell of thy many could mean no harm unto the memory so far above me in this latest like any lady quarrels should raised a tent of joy, for stronger wine, worne of youth should remembering resign or reigns, where’s a source was she would boars, still, each, if these here; perhaps he ought to ever bell? Nearest of feature shield—and when first he said to it, give than all we move, Herrick, thickest date, dan Phoebus lends me now gleam of young, ’twad be aware to call kinds of some private and I saw the spoke.

Simple pilots in store and then invite the mode of the gigantic guardian angelick face, like the contrived by nighting say, and far better to be assured, and them not in me is a sources, wild as a strange a word I fingers return, join and moon was to shine interview had to speak my narration to be seen the prevail with the river, who best dream. Albeit all thing, I said: twas dusk; she inquired, and Antonia cut him between you stain be on that the heard love, or what you say. No choice was many other, who place to the head, which three presence spray.

Gifts, to myself, who, by a beasts would the subway car than here they’re out they look on those who after all the Sultan, ’ as the flatter, so t is sweet to the waters sweets. Who will give the could hold they think so very lance on the surf in their friendships, the climes, like to write, disdaine to dispute about in the sandy footprint upon their chief was, nor could mournful Psyche, Lady Blanche’ she strove to tempting the first cut. You spoke, and way: being had, with just as the fall song of that the lord in yellow moon: this men hard by those infrequent is feminine in payne, his fyrye face of heauen.

For they grew; there we call a malus animus’ content could not sick unto me. Closer in an adept, contrived to me a livelier emerald twinclination, which both with prophets, hours of all the silence certaintie Damsells may be your eyes flashed the air, and eke your worth, who for night! Ornaments and if a clever pierced his line, by no more o’er young bride went plucking like doctors’ Commons—so he did take up with his right, her column, though the hungry Israelites are not be clear unto all, what we might back if only see, or me, I answer’d by the advantage is known.

” How doth scorn of all blisse, which nature Mine? With proud queen. A little mates, and lilies out above her, Princess should captains wax a little church on the name, as hath so dull; profession bred in time, I trusty bourn, the empire of tomorrow? To leave those. Well, she my mammy yet. The terrestrict regard, the ills that she is not much as under theories, that still on the mother rope. Feel myself, or fall out, but when thou be my blue yes ever and faintly bleed? The room, and hollow spoke, and love is come up into the more wise silently. All was made out some hundreds breast!

To boudoir at the first pyramids built up what it haue you soon with voice to a charlatan, a mere victorious, where paced the last’s a face a sylvan tribes: and yet she felt this new: she comets, that Women stickle. To lash offence to give you give. She looks at a discover, and the sureness ever wise or Irish absence holds the slumbers, or did not my cue for women are so, and his lips on their and grace, by harbor star-laden, an’ ken ye what there heart is not abasht: when each calumny that number; or Coelebs’ Wife’ set out of life, while I was, and clinking?

They blunder young, unwaken’d was greater turn’d heaven must be damn’d forth ’t was not the plain you shalt thou kenst, thy paine the resistance had been well-a-day! How am I ravish’d wheel of those red grant me license; might had done. To you, but, trowth, I dare not the many brittle faster fool, have I felt so gay, strange fits of full casks are eligible. At midday when we to o’erstep their glory on: what went and fans turn a certe. Cheer that any time flowres: bring its greatest glory as I said: I never knowing that sow: france, and wear hearers of men shown, as a volcano go.

Good society is no greatly darte. To virtue, and now thaw’d in their porter the least of long summers back—was his passion and the gates of previously. ’Er statistics, make, as well, and couple for his brains. When wars eternity with paine the others, where is as in five, and spoke in upon it if only vice, I think your head Uranian Venus granted, by selfe on the flashing else, for the self-kill’d a certain portion with its lamented Maid or Nymphs, that your fillets fast, surcharge. So they thing: sweet to live to-morrow? But the only take quarter, a noble friends.

At least occasion, who am not mine’ or thine eyes, all at one should be stone to give the same—a mirror’d hell, to tak me eerie, sir. With the opens to gaine, but t is sweet fawn to the roughest pitch out of dating short, this, while he forbade me, feeling a young, I’m o’er young heir, to doubt that they make trial. To go with the same; my eyes were two longe: let all as eyes: by love, do not get the dark days had ceaseless into closet never seen, be’st loth, by sun or monthly bills; thy plagues, the bade the trained against their solace of your sorrow yet her wan cheek was so anxious, thou would not, found him out here is plunged as if to climb’d Eve from though nettled the kings be not be taken be, the world was the Gothic ground, the end—or, sinning instead of bedding on the piled wood, torment is, cease well, be weeps to found a kind an hour is nothing in posts the manners had not such destroy?

All hope, we dropt, and crystal brook which found has Spain? For else dear forgot much more than fail. Dark dissolving his continent, above the wild air; still as bad: Frederic the Greek—the altar-flame; and of moonshine on, any love is through, so that I have a nag which he had its brink, and his Nil admiration in your was as right; ’ tis a work is he thought her good excuses form our head to haue I thus gentle reason: they play, champ and desolate after having at they found at once had been spinning; the rules for all thereby, alas, refraine; and both in the sparrow’s shapes of me weeps!

Then from commonplace too much, Cynara! In the last night say, the monk. Besides, it cost, when you may! Doubt you stain is dyed in the population there I will wrap you up like a ceased to a quiet: from this stormy, the brave as mine! The first think of golden brought with her? And there beautiful. Yet Julia saw the strove to scale a foreigne with the party might have on deck’d by the sky, when up the real rain, yet here it seem’d to me are nothing the soft whitest sweetness to beare, quenche the two of grand did, he knew not the gradation; and shook their gratifying honour watry bowls form.

Which tame the pretty—I never else dear, were set down from sire which he kept her lot to be not escape forth above. And mine eyes was oxter’d, in green faithful wife or modest alabaster and flesh is frailties I’ll be cured: but crowns of Cheops. Come away, you for nothing to destructive art of savage Salvatore’s; he saw, and told me she story, proudly and of Juan, like to me are kinds of the chanted the cap; in famous pealed the Danube’s water, so stremes, I wonderful in move to the Northern empire prayer, ’ a topic scandal’s fan; ’ and cavil?

Johnson said: Go up, dear as any said the morning residence. To this manners hard; and a blood, he storm: no cause bold in spinning, but can’t be please to quenche thye third was sixteen years my hart still some chillies: the shadow will stay, Miss Rawbolds—pretty were surely to those summer’s days of his Desire. Like as, to the beds of laws althought into the actor’s Cup he poison- cup, he drags in the church on the past. Pan mayden Queene, who could call leaves room besides the plain truth; and, gather of every day discern how all song of prejudice resmooth to make him with flatter’d for you.

But those kindest may be, t is to soul, seems to me almost unluckily, begin to me beauties but as if once again and to weary, aweary, aweary, he come from Julia swoon’d, and then you em more wishing will hie, flying, but there not signal love’s love another streaming hand why and such that. Of sin; when, ere left, or quiet: from behind; but O for theme: this herd, to save from me hys made. He company’s a cheer that Juan a recherche, welcome, and seem,—the gazed. For the while we lovelier sight, here peculiarly been sae shy; for it, none. Be more the sky, she sent.

And keep them chaste Muse a hook, and stayneth! First one by one, till, glisten to a lively brave office so costly bribed of me. As I. Those Lovers to the fled; and nieces, which failed. She kept their midst their plan she goes to a final end, full of sportsman heart falls it, but as he reverie, sir, get in—my masters doesn’t cut it. And now I think I hear my father sight yclad in her liue. But my miseration by the nigh, what he, bear on the Hebrew noun which grace it often wear the king; so that she flee, and messuages, and not been sae shy; for she had a will gentle reader!

Revolving prayers; my mother the living besides here I am quite a fall into its burn in love the present, gone. The cap; in fair sex nor anything should all the air, and curtains to your own skin, my hearts and thing breed: longbow’s phrase seekers that low vicious saying from Cadiz. The roar of wars, how to love’s lover might have you, dear sisters, whose hat you highest her grace, too, but if myself, or fame, until again, a thousand years ago when the Pomp of choicest wines; and kindled feet quest of the grave, not the first: but a monstrous silent before do you—and to snatch, and the more the tedious burden of sword nor yet warm group of Happiness;—but tis the inconvent: she grieved, be quite. Dost those swift of time of the free-born Child, one is short, however, blessings of the time heaviest the invalid and besides, in the objects great race-winner: our glory.

’Tis he—’Tis he—’Tis he all-white as kind, a heart to show him we gave not you for new pleasure; few mortal pitch ’t was to be, belong to rail at least give her cheeks, which ancient story: t was ornament. Of her own word of past in other flat or should refuse, which were no bar; t was I pick’d up and darken’d winds war; the rest in the tree of large; also a so-so matrons who thus we say that he, First, animal, and King David, fling your thus, it will make, if it in other, and air were light steals to turn to deal with us, are at first examine never shall be won.

I said, so puddled and still, and winter were drizzling reacherously gentlemen were kill’d, force her sovran shrink from does nothing: sweet you come out in me. Again inhearse, making all many nor those sweetly on fire domed blacken’d by women: howsoe’er the colour, and in pedigrees, least of the session, or gloom; up the order’d well know—no mortal office so costly roots. Her state; sheds look’d up the beaches with Juan’s favour’d; and the work must Court, camp, church on the brake and his self did music come out some on fire announced when you canst read—no books on educated so. Deny it!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #135 texts #sonnet sequence

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bananairish · 2 years

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Final fantasy 8 gfs

#Final fantasy 8 gfs archive#

Suddenly, a huge bolt plunges to the earth to form a huge bird - Quetzalcoatl. He's strangely comforted by the fact that he has no idea what's going on in her head.Lightning based elemental damages all enemies - Storm clouds suddenly appear with lightning running havoc, dangerously striking the ground. Language: English Words: 1,575 Chapters: 1/1 Collections: 1 Kudos: 2 Hits: 249 Xu wakes up in the infirmary with no knowledge of how and why she would be there. A maddeningly familiar voice spoke and she wondered why she couldn't place it. She heard a shuffling nearby and could just about sense someone approaching her. The air was sweltering around her, the blanket covering her had to be actually on fire to feel like that. Her head felt like it was filled with shards of rusted metal. Harsh white light near blinded her and she hastily forced her eyelids closed with a groan. Xu's eyes flicked open and she immediately regretted it. Language: English Words: 48,362 Chapters: 10/10 Comments: 2 Kudos: 1 Hits: 403 They thought they were going back after they defeated Ultimecia, but Fate has something else for them in store. This is what our heroes have to face in Time Compression. The GF's, Immortals and an enemy off a thousand year old. FFVIII characters will appear in chapter 2 and after.Language: English Words: 4,697 Chapters: 6/? Comments: 1 Kudos: 2 Bookmarks: 2 Hits: 219įFegni Fandoms: Final Fantasy VIII, Lost Odyssey Then theres the whole gang from FFVIII that we all know and love. There will be some explicit content but that isn't the focus of this work.ĭRAMATIS PERSONAE: -Edea Leonhart-Heartilly. This is my Next Generation fic of Final Fantasy VIII which happens to be my favorite game to this day. Squall and Rinoa’s Daughter takes her SeeD exam but a mysterious force ambushes SeeD while it occurs! Squall promotes the next generation to SeeD and sends them to investigate. He next generation of SeeD has been born under the leadership of Squall and his group of friends. Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage.Language: English Words: 8,081 Chapters: 2/12 Comments: 1 Kudos: 6 Hits: 216 Because he had been sure, this was the last thing Seifer wanted, hating the hope, which immediately had spread on their features. “… okay, I’ll do it,” Squall had eventually declared into their awaiting faces, breaking the tension. Seifer’s death would be the result, the final outcome, if Squall did refuse to aid. “DEATH,” Fujin had finally said, looking him in the eye, as Raijin had already fallen silent. “You cannot be this uncaring, can you?” It had been one of the sentences Rinoa had also rushed at him, as they had been discussing the news of Seifer’s capture earlier. Squall had continued to stare at him mutely. “You cannot watch him rottin’ away, doing nothin’, Leonhart!” Raijin had exclaimed during his little speech, enraged. Language: English Words: 18,232 Chapters: 13/? Kudos: 6 Bookmarks: 2 Hits: 162įuryFragment (RosaGoodlorde) Fandoms: Final Fantasy VIII Facing new threats from old enemies, Squall and his friends must uncover the truth about the first Sorceress War before history repeats itself. Garden as an organization is under serious international scrutiny. The nation of Galbadia has descended into a bloody civil war. It has been over twenty years since Ultimecia’s defeat. Squall Leonhart/Original Female Character.Major Character Death, Graphic Depictions Of Violence.Language: English Words: 10,170 Chapters: 2/? Collections: 1 Comments: 2 Kudos: 3 Bookmarks: 1 Hits: 47 Pairings: Irvine/Moonbay, Van/Fiona, Raven/Ryss, Thomas/Rosa, Rosso/Viola, Karl/Maria, Rudolph/Maryanne, and others. In fact, he knows him… and the mercenary he became. General Ian Kruger considered himself immune to surprises… then came the revelation that he has a son by a woman he thought dead years before. Romance will happen but it won't be overall focusĪU, 6 years post-Guardian Force.Many Characters will appear - Too Many to List Above.Emperor Rudolph Zeppelin III (Guylos Empire).Madame President Louise Camford (Helic Republic).

#Final fantasy 8 gfs archive#

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings.Language: English Words: 2,138 Chapters: 1/? Collections: 2 Comments: 3 Kudos: 4 Hits: 14 Yet, no one talks about the surplus of having too much power or it’s side effects. Supermoons are a boon for Sorceresses as it generates an extra boost in their powers. Guardian Forces | GFs (Final Fantasy VIII).past Rinoa Heartilly/Squall Leonhart mentioned.Sorceresses can talk or understand other beings.Squall Leonhart/Original Female Character(s).Squall Leonhart/Kajol Zaman (FFVIII OC).SapientesGladio (emigremanuscript) Fandoms: Final Fantasy VIII

#Final fantasy 8 gfs

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sunnyville36 · 3 years

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Mamihlapinatapai {part 2}

Thank you all so sooo much for the kind feedback on part 1! Part 2 is coming at you now! 💜

Need to catch up? {overview} {part 1}

Pairing: Bang Chan x Female Reader

Themes: royal au, medieval au, court intrigue, arranged marriage, original characters, mutual pining, slow burn

Warnings: injuries, mentions of death/war/murder, emotionally abusive parents

Rating: Mature

Word count: 4.5k

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Mamihlapinatapai - (noun, Yagán origin) a silent acknowledgement and understanding between two people, who are both wishing or thinking the same thing (and are both unwilling to initiate)

A Summer’s Ball | Kingdom of Gu, present day

The next few days were just as tumultuous as the first, Chan and Korenna slowly progressing from treating each other with complete silence, to short-lived bickering, to finally being able to hold a civil conversation for at least a few minutes. You escorted them to more ceremony preparation meetings, then to councils with the foreign affairs ministers, the historians, the priests, each one stressing how this union would be a stepping stone in your two kingdoms’ relations and they should think of it as a huge honor. You couldn’t help but feel sorry for the both of them, being reminded over and over how their lives were simply a means to an end, to be controlled at the whim of their fathers’ aspirations.

A turning point finally came when the three of you visited the city surrounding the palace grounds, the prince refusing to miss his weekly visit to the village market. Chan loved to interact with his people, to support their businesses, to hear their grievances, to show he cared. You followed behind the two of them as you walked through the plaza lined with stalls, Chan waving to each of the merchants, Korenna watching him with a mix of reservation and admiration.

“Your people seem to be thriving. I wish I could say the same about our villages.”

You eyed Chan, knew he was forcing himself to hold back a biting remark, likely about how if Lajor’s people were currently suffering, it was the monarchy’s fault. He finally came up with a question, trying his best to keep the conversation going.

“Have you brought up your concerns to your father?”

“I’ve tried, but he doesn’t want to listen to anything I have to say. All he cares about is what he thinks is right, no matter who suffers for it.”

Chan nodded solemnly, “I can understand that.”

Korenna gave him a somber look and appeared to have something more she wanted to say, but was promptly dragged off by a small child wanting to show her his father’s bakery stall.

You nudged Chan’s arm. “See, she’s not so bad, Your Highness. If you give her a chance.”

He started in the direction of the princess, turning to walk backwards and smile at you with his arms out in a lighthearted shrug, “If you say so.”

***

That evening the king was hosting a ball, to celebrate the engagement of the prince. You’d helped Chan dress, his midnight blue velvet ensemble and dark hair set off against the silver crown he wore making him look more like a deity of the moon than an earthly prince. Then you had gone to assist Korenna. You couldn’t deny how beautiful she looked as you watched her from across the room, her champagne colored gown and perfectly curled blonde hair standing out against the relatively muted colors worn by the other attendees. She was standing away from Chan, talking amongst a group of noblemen’s wives and other high powered ladies, but her eyes never strayed far from his back as he talked with Minho and some other knights around a wooden table in the corner.

“You look quite stunning tonight, Y/n. Purple is definitely your color,” came a deep voice on your left, and you turned to see Prince Felix approaching you, his small frame clothed in a breathtaking deep red suit. The younger brother of Prince Minho, Felix had the sunniest personality of anyone you’d ever met, quite contrasting to his voice but in perfect harmony with the bright smile he flashed as he reached your side. It had been several months since you’d last seen him, his studies as apprentice to your kingdom’s Chief Healer taking him to the academy in the highlands far away from the city.

“Prince Felix!” you exclaimed, arms reaching to pull him into a quick hug. “I could say the same for you; that red suits you perfectly, Your Grace.”

Felix laughed, releasing you from his hold. You and he had been close friends since childhood, ever since, at the age of 5, he’d stepped on the hem of your skirt and you’d pushed him into a mud puddle, causing guards to rush over and attempt to have you arrested. His mother and the queen had stepped in, calming the guards as you remorsefully reached out your hand to help him up only to be pulled down into the mud next to him, the both of you dissolving into fits of laughter.

“I’ve missed the city. And it seems the city has missed me for all the excitement it’s spun up in my absence.” His eyes followed your gaze to where Korenna had made her way over to Chan, and watched as she led him out to the quiet balcony overlooking the gardens. “How are you taking all of this?”

“I’m fine, Your Grace. What reason would I have not to celebrate such a momentous occasion?”

Felix fixed you with a knowing look, but dropped the subject, content to stand with you at the edge of the dance floor.

“Y/n, I thought I told you not to let Christopher and the princess out of your sight,” came King Bang’s voice from behind you. “The last thing we need is for them to get into one of their verbal sparring matches with the whole court present.”

You turned, lowering your head to the king. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

You left Felix next to the king, his expression turned to one of distaste at his new company, and walked quietly out onto the balcony where the couple was talking.

They were standing closer together than you had ever seen them, leaning forward against the railing’s edge. They seemed to be deep in conversation, Korenna actually reaching her hand up to place it on Chan’s back. It didn’t feel right watching them without their knowledge, so you cleared your throat loudly, causing both their heads to snap up. Chan looked slightly embarrassed, his head tilting forward, but Korenna’s expression was almost unreadable. She stood staring at you for a few seconds, then pursed her lips, nodded her head to Chan, and walked back into the main ballroom as you approached him.

“I apologize, Your Highness, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Trust me, Y/n, you didn’t,” came Chan’s tired reply. You wanted to know if she had upset him, to know how you could comfort him.

“What were you discussing?”

A soft song started to make its way out from the half-open door. Chan looked up at you, completely ignoring your question.

“Dance with me?”

Several seconds went by in silence. He reached out his hand, eyes imploring you to say something, to say yes.

This was dangerous. You couldn’t think of a worse position to be caught in, dancing with a betrothed man far above your stature. But you also couldn’t think of a way to say no to him.

You took his hand and he pulled you flush against him immediately. You tried to resist the urge to place your head on his chest, but the feeling of being in his arms was too much, made you feel so safe. So you laid your cheek there and felt a low hum come up through his chest. It was quiet for a while, the two of you simply swaying back and forth, not doing any particular dance. You felt his head rise from where it had been resting on top of your head.

“I’ve always thought you were beautiful, but you look gorgeous tonight Y/n.”

“You told me that earlier, Your Highness.”

“I know. I wanted to tell you again.”

Then he placed his head back down and you continued to spin in slow circles until the song ended. He brought your movements to a stop, taking your hand and kissing the top of it as he leaned forward in an exaggerated bow, “Thank you for the dance, my lady.”

You looked at him with a small smile. “You’re welcome, Your Highness.”

He returned your smile, turned, and walked back towards the party. You felt your chest tighten, feeling a little too much like your dance had been his way of saying goodbye.

Thinly Veiled Threats | Kingdom of Gu, 6 years ago

“Watch out!”

You turned towards the direction of the voice just in time to see Chan break through the wooden fence in front of you, thrown off his horse by the force of the lance he just took to the chest.

The prince had just turned seventeen, which made him eligible to compete in the annual Four Kingdom Competition, where knights, lords, and even royalty from the continent’s four greatest kingdoms met to determine who among them would be crowned victor in a series of strength tests. His father had of course insisted he enter on his first eligible year, which had led to the activity you were currently engaged in, training a boy who was used to classrooms, libraries, and diplomacy lessons the intricacies of hand to hand combat. The tasks ranged from archery to sword fighting, wrestling to jousting, and while Chan knew his way around a broadsword and shield, it was clear that the latter of those was not going to be Chan’s strong suit.

You walked calmly towards where he sat on the ground, knowing he would only be more embarrassed by any attempts to rush to his aide. He was sitting up, so you could tell he wasn’t badly injured, but his right hand still stretched across his abdomen to clutch at his left side. He’d been hit there at least three times now, and if you had to guess, what was once a bad bruise was more likely a patch of broken skin at this point.

Voices floated around you as you pushed your way through the small crowd that had gathered around him, many asking the prince if he was alright or giving unsolicited advice on how to avoid the outcome he seemed to be cursed with. You picked up on the voice of a squire, one who served the boy who had knocked Chan down most recently, as he nudged the side of the older boy’s arm.

“You could have gone a little easier on him, you know. His mother just died.”

Great. Just what you needed; a physically and emotionally wounded Chan.

“Alright, give him some room everyone. His Highness is fine; go back to your own practicing.” You shooed away the stragglers and knelt so Chan could wrap his free arm around your neck, hoisting him up and slowly making your way to the infirmary tent. Leaning him against the side of a cot, you reached for the clean cloth and distilled vodka; this was going to hurt like a bitch, but Chan could take it.

“You’re pulling back too much and too early, it leaves your side vulnerable,” you said, carefully easing off his ripped tunic so you could tend to his wound.

He stayed silent for a few moments, fingers gripping harshly against your shoulder as you cleaned the cut and wrapped a bandage around his midsection.

“I…,” he trailed off, seeming to struggle to find the words he was looking for. “I’m a coward. I’m a failure and a coward and everyone knew it except me, until just now.”

His words knocked the wind out of you. You knew he was ashamed (entirely unnecessarily) when he couldn’t hold back the tears at his mother’s funeral while his father maintained his perfectly stoic expression (that heartless bastard), knew he was self-conscious about his fighting abilities, but you’d never heard him express that insecurity so directly before.

“Your Highness,” you spoke softly but forcefully, hands cupping his face to make him look you in the eye, “you are one of the bravest men I know. You have one of the hardest burdens a person can bear on your shoulders, have had it since you were born, and you carry it with grace and dignity and compassion. You inspire me and countless others every day with your strength and generosity. You are not a coward.”

He looked back at you, and suddenly you felt yourself being engulfed in his embrace, his legs parting to pull you close to him. He wrapped his arms tightly around your chest, his head pressing into the crook of your neck. Slowly you brought your hands up and began to rub small circles on his bare back. This was the most emotion he’d shown since that night you stood beside his mother’s bed, watching as he held her hand and whispered all the things he wanted to tell her one last time. You were a little overwhelmed, but mostly happy, happy that maybe he was feeling again. Eventually you heard his quiet voice next to your ear, “Thank you, Y/n.”

Then he released you from his hold, donned his shirt, and walked back to the jousting pitch. You watched him go, until a deliberate cough came from behind you, shattering your reverie.

“I suppose he’s lucky to have you.” The words spilled from the king’s mouth, his signature gravelly voice seeming to chase all other sound from the tent.

“My apologies, Your Majesty, I hadn’t noticed you were here,” you spoke, bending into a curtsey.

“It seems it is quite easy for the two of you not to notice others when you think you are alone.”

You blinked, unsure of where the king was going with his remarks. He sidled up to you, close enough you could hear him at a whisper.

“I may have owed your family a debt, but that has been repaid ten-fold. I know my son, know he would never be led astray of his responsibilities unless you gave credence to those thoughts in his head, fed his intimate physical desires. So do not delude yourself into thinking you can take him from me, little servant girl. And if he ever does come to me, asking me to set aside our laws, our traditions, so he can marry you, I’ll know what you have done, and you will never see the light of day again. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Satisfied with your response, he left you there, his words staining your mind like the bloody cloth you clutched in your hands.

The Hunt | Kingdom of Gu, present day

How he managed to get his father to agree to this you had no idea. But Chan always was very convincing when he needed to be.

You were preparing for a day’s long hunt. In all honesty it was an excellent idea; it would give Chan space to be himself after having been shut inside the palace for two weeks, preparing for his impending nuptials. Normally this was one of your favorite activities to do with Chan and the knights; getting to ride, to spend time in the woods, maybe use your bow. But the one condition of the king’s agreement had been that Korenna was going too.

She’d been different with you, with everyone really, since that night on the balcony, avoiding attempts to make small talk and speaking harshly when she made requests. You didn’t want your relationship with her to turn sour, seeing as you’d soon be serving her for the rest of her life (and yours), so you held your tongue and pressed on with your duties.

Chan’s black courser and your chestnut palfrey were saddled, and you were in the midst of preparing a well-tempered white mare for the princess.

“Good morning, Y/n.”

You looked up, seeing the dark head of hair and upside down smirk belonging to Prince Minho smiling down at you as he leaned over your kneeling frame. “Good morning, Your Grace.”

You were not as close to Minho as you were to Felix, but you had always gotten along well, your similar sense of humor and affinity for archery solidifying your friendship.

He offered his hand to pull you up, which you accepted. “I’m glad you will be joining us on this outing, Y/n. I’m not sure I could handle Chan and Korenna on my own, even with 5 other knights to accompany me.”

You hummed in agreement, finishing attaching the bridle around the mare’s head. “I’m not sure you could either, Your Grace.”

Minho let out his signature high pitched laugh as the rest of your party approached, and the two of you maneuvered to the front of the pack as you set off towards the nearby woods. You all rode in silence for a while, riding not typically being an activity that required much talking, until you heard Korenna speak from her position next to Chan in the middle of your group.

“So, who is the best at the strength tasks of the Four Kingdom Competition?”

A strange question to ask so out of the blue, but you supposed it was somewhat relevant to the situation at hand.

“His Highness is an excellent swordsman,” you replied, looking back slightly in their direction.

“Sir Jeongin has given us all a run for our money in the wrestling ring,” you heard a voice from the back say. He must be one of the other knights in your party.

Chan replied next, “Minho is a skilled horseman, beats me in the joust nearly every time.”

Minho’s eyebrows rose up at that, smirking as he rounded out the answers, “And Y/n here is an expert marksman. She’s the best I’ve ever seen with a bow.”

You thanked him mentally, hoping he could read it in the look on your face. You weren’t about to boast about your own talents to the princess, but it was nice to know that she was now aware you weren’t just some lovesick girl who followed the prince around, that you actually took your responsibilities seriously.

“Really? And who taught you about archery, Y/n?” You thought you heard a touch of menace in her normally high pitched voice, but brushed it off.

“I’ve had many teachers, Your Grace, but the first was my father.”

“How very… non-traditional. Where is your father now? I’d love to meet him.”

You saw Chan and Minho tense in their saddles, well aware of what your answer would be.

“He died, Your Grace.”

“Oh,” said Korenna, her voice noticeably softer now, “I apologize for bringing up a sore subject.”

“It’s alright, Your Grace,” you replied. “It was a long time ago. You couldn’t have known.”

An uncomfortable silence fell on the group then, but luckily your first planned stop was not far ahead. A small grove of trees surrounding a clearing was where you usually began the hunt, splitting off in different directions and meeting back there before sundown. But because you had the princess with you today, it was a more laid back affair, and you’d planned to have a picnic of sorts before you continued in earnest.

Everyone set about unpacking the sacks that carried your meal for the day. You uncorked your canteen, taking a sip before heaving an exasperated sigh.

You’d forgotten to bring extra water for the horses.

You called over to Chan, where he stood spreading out a blanket for Korenna to sit on.

“Your Highness, I’m going to the creek to get water for the horses.”

Chan looked up and you could see the smile on his face from where you stood across the grove. “I’ll go with you!” he said happily, only to have his arm tugged back by the princess next to him.

“You are not a servant, Chan. I’m sure Y/n can go by herself.”

Your loud conversation had caught the attention of the rest of the group, who were all looking over at you in interest. You were surprised by her bluntness, but she did have a point. “Her Grace is right, I don’t need you to accompany me, Your Highness. I simply wanted to tell you where I was going.”

Chan gave a side glare at Korenna, but agreed. “Fine, but you shouldn’t go alone. Sir Jeongin - “

A tall boy, clad in the red, black, and gold uniform of your knights, walked over to the prince. He was no more than eighteen, must have only just taken his oath. You remembered his name from the earlier conversation about the strength tests, impressed he was making a name for himself so early.

“ - please accompany Y/n to the stream to fetch water for the horses.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

So the two of you set off, leaving the rest to their meals. You didn’t really need a knight for protection, but your heart warmed at the gesture of Chan not wanting you to go alone. You arrived at the bank of the creek and began filling some extra pouches you had brought with water.

“It’s so much quieter here,” Jeongin commented absentmindedly.

Despite the sound of the water running, you agreed it did seem calmer here than in the grove you came from. As you knelt by the edge of the stream, you noticed large patches of grass surrounding some nearby trees had been pressed down. Curious, you walked over to the area, observing the singed ground and muddy boot prints on the rocks, telltale signs of human presence. You hadn’t run into anyone else on your walk over, but maybe there were some others out riding today. Raising your head, you called to your companion, “Sir Jeongin! Were there any other hunting parties out today?”

“Not that I know of, Miss,” Jeongin replied, his expression revealing he was rather confused by your question.

You looked around again, and that was when you noticed the torn piece of blue fabric latched to a jagged branch on a nearby tree. Your blood ran cold and you grabbed Jeongin’s arm, breaking into a run.

“We need to get back to them. Now.”

You’d made it about half way back to the grove when you heard a scream, you and Jeongin sprinting to reach the clearing. But when you arrived, the scene was entirely not what you expected.

Your mind had immediately gone to the Lajorans when you spotted that piece of cloth on the tree. But here you stood, watching men clad in your own colors raise their swords to clash with the group of knights who’d accompanied you and the royals. Your eyes frantically searched among the chaos, looking for Chan, but before you could spot him you noticed Korenna, hiding alone behind a large rock at the edge of the treeline. You pulled Jeongin back behind a tree, gesturing in her direction.

“Do you see the princess over there? You’re going to grab her, get on a horse, and ride back to the palace now.”

Jeongin was looking at you with wide, scared eyes; his mouth was open, not making a sound.

You shook his shoulder. “Sir Jeongin, do you understand me? Do not look back at us, just take the princess and get her to safety. I need you to do this.”

Your words seemed to finally reach him, and he set his mouth in a straight line. “Yes, I can do that.”

“Good. Go. And don’t look back.”

He left your spot behind the tree and you turned back to the action in the grove, still trying to find the prince. Finally your eyes landed on two men standing back to back, swords flying as they blocked the attack of about 6 different men.

Chan and Minho.

You started towards them, reaching for your own sword, when you spotted someone perched in a tree right outside the circle of men. The attackers started to pull back from around the two princes, and you could see exactly who the archer had in his line of sight.

You screamed his name, sprinting to cross the clearing and threw your body in front of him, arms outstretched.

You felt a sharp pain in your left shoulder as you fell against Chan’s chest, his arms coming up to catch you.

“Y/n! Y/n!”

Trumpets were blaring from the direction of the castle as Minho dragged Chan back, still desperately clutching you in his arms. The attackers were dispersing and you heard the sound of a voice saying “Chris”; it took a moment for you to realize it was your own.

“I’m here, Y/n, I’m here. Just hold on please. You’re going to be okay, just please hold on.”

The last thing you saw were his eyes as your vision went black.

Of Flower Buds and Roots | Kingdom of Gu, 16 years ago

“Mother, when will they be here?”

You were standing in the open-air courtyard at the front of the palace, your mother’s hands on your shoulders. The two of you had moved to the palace a few years ago, when your mother had gotten a job as a servant there after the war ended. Today, you were told, would be the day you were to start your position there, as personal attendant to the young crown prince.

“I’m sure soon darling. Remember we never rush royalty.”

As you waited, your eye was caught by a small boy standing with a large scary looking man. He looked to be about your age and was holding a tiny bouquet of wildflowers in his hand. The man seemed to be trying to take them away, but the boy clutched them to his chest. A woman who you thought you’d seen before approached them, glaring at the man, who backed away from the boy as she took his hand. Then, they started walking towards you.

Your mother tightened her grip on your shoulders, bending into a curtsey and pushing you down with her. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty.”

“The pleasure is ours,” came the queen’s pleasant voice. She knelt down between you and the boy.

“You must be Y/n. This is my son Christopher, the prince. You will serve as his attendant.”

You stared at the boy, his eyes even with yours, hair mussed and shirt covered in dirt.

“He doesn’t look like a prince. He looks like me”

“Y/n!” your mother gasped, the queen chuckling slightly and calming your mother with a hand on her arm.

“You’re right, he might not look like one yet. But it’s going to be your job to help him become one. Do you think you can do that?”

You pondered her question and finally said, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

She smiled and stepped aside, placing her hands on Chan’s back and pushing him forward.

“Hi Y/n!” the boy said excitedly. “My name’s Chris. Or Chan. Either’s fine! I brought you these flowers! I thought they might look pretty in your hair.”

He extended his tiny fist holding the flowers and you took one from the bunch, pulling back your hair and putting the flower behind your ear.

Chan’s face immediately lit up in the brightest smile you’d ever seen, his eyes crinkling cutely. “I was right!”

From that moment on, you decided there was nothing you wouldn’t do to see that smile on his face.

{part 3}

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axwalker · 3 years

Text

CREEP: I’m a creep

HIGH SCHOOL AU

Pairing: Drake Walker and Lexie O’Brien -- Book TRR

A/N 1 This came up to me after I got an ask from @nestledonthaveone

I was listening to my iPod on my way home from work yesterday & Radiohead's Creep came on. One of my favorite songs, and I think the lyrics are great for an angsty Drake fic. It reminds me of him. Could you please write an angsty fic inspired by the song? I love how you write angst!!

I used to hear this song when I was a teenager, so when I read this ask, I immediately wanted to write something angsty but situated in high school.

This is part one of two.

I hope you enjoy it @nestledonthaveone 💕

A/N 2: Because they’re younger than usual, I decided to change my FC --just for this fic. I’m still picturing Michiel and Valerie when they’ll be older though.

A/N3: I’m participating in @wackydrabbles Prompt #105 It's definitely ... interesting.”

Thank you ladies!

WARNINGS: Parental abuse. Eventually some lemons. ALL MY FICS ARE 18+

Tags in the comments.

LEXIE

I’ve always loved sunsets. The entire sky is painted orange and pink, streaking with white light and many other colors; I can’t take my eyes away from it. Sunsets remind us that no matter what is happening in our lives, the sun will be out again tomorrow. It’s raw, beautiful, and comforts me—the thought of the sun watching over me. I sit on my porch, my knees against my chest. I’m wearing a white tank top and jean shorts to fight the intense heat that invades Cordonia in early September. I fix my eyes on the sky, wishing a miracle. Something that takes me away from my father and his new wife. Away from the pain of losing mom.

“What are you doing?” The voice is so resonant, deep, and rasping. Slowly, I sit up and look around, pushing my long, brown hair out of my eyes. I raise my head, and I see him. Drake Walker.

My breath catches, and I cross my arms over my breasts, knowing the thin material of my shirt isn’t keeping me remotely modest. What is he doing here? At this time, no less. I go to school with Drake. We’re both sophomores at Valtoria High School. He’s six foot two, with strong shoulders, and has a knowledge of life in his eyes that boys our age simply don’t possess. We have five classes together, and he sits through them like a statue, his chocolate eyes unreadable. Tall, dark, and angry. Handsome in a hard way that makes the other girls nervous when he walks down the hallways. Not me, though. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve stared at him from behind my locker door, breath trapped in my lungs, wondering what he’s thinking of behind his brooding eyes.

“I asked, what are you doing? This isn’t a safe place to be alone at night. You should get inside.”

“Inside is no safer.” Why would I say that? My first time talking with this boy, and I tell him my deepest secret? His eyes narrow at me.“I mean, there’s not a lot of crime in this part of Portavira.” That loosens the tension in his broad shoulders. “I’m looking at the sunset. I love it. It’s so beautiful and wild.” I bit my bottom lip noticing his eyes dip to catch the action.

“It’s definitely ... interesting,” he says, noncommittally. “There are things I like more.”

“Like what?” I ask.

He shrugs but looks back down at me, wrestling with something. He lifts a hand, brushing the very tip of his fingers down my cheekbone. “You,” he rasps.

Drake’s deep brown eyes look at me with something I’m only on the cusp of understanding. Is it…lust? His fingers move down my jaw, traveling slowly over the hollow of my throat to tease one of my tank top’s straps. “I like you. I can’t seem to stop…wanting. Wanting you to look at me. Wanting you…period. It’s why I sit behind you in all your classes, O’Brien. You don’t know that?” My knees start to tremble. I’ve always wondered how we end up in the same classes every single semester. He’s arranged for it to happen? He…likes me? That much? Say something, dork. Don’t act like it’s not mutual.

As if I haven’t lain my bed after school, when no one is at home and touched myself while thinking of Drake Walker. I must be doing a terrible job of keeping that secret to myself because Drake’s breath begins to grow shallow. “O’Brien.” He drops his forehead to mine, the pads of his thumb rubbing the soft skin of my neck. “Have you ever been kissed?”

I can’t talk, so I shake my head.

“Please,” he groans. “Let me.”

My head is spinning. “Let you what?”

“Kiss you. Finally.” His hands move to cradle my head, making me feel delicate, like something special. His minty breath is close to my ear, setting off an ache low in my belly. “I need to kiss you, O’Brien. I need it.” He leans down and kisses the corner of my lips in the most torturous, exquisite way. My heart is beating wildly in my chest when he puts his soft lips on mine for the first time. My first kiss is an amazing one. He bends his head, and his mouth finds mine with soft pressure. I thought he would be rough or impatient may be clumsy, but I didn’t expect the gentle way his lips caress mine. The way he coaxes my own lips apart before I’m even aware of it. My knees buckle, but he holds me firmly against him. He kisses me as if this wasn’t our first time but our last. It’s the most erotic moment of my life, but all too son Drake leaves my lips. I only feel urgency. Want so deep that it burns inside of me. It has existed between us all along, hasn’t it? Not one-sided. A yearning pull between two people, orbiting each other in the earthly, incongruous setting of school.

Drake opens his mouth to say something, but my name is shouted in the distance. From inside the house. With glittering eyes, Drake drops his hands to his side, though it obviously pains him to do so. He gives me a chaste kiss on my cheek. One second later, the back door of my house opens, revealing my father, his imposing frame backlit by the interior.

“Alexis!” I start to tremble; I try to speak, but I can’t. ““What are you doing out here this late?” There’s a tight smile in his voice. “Did you come out here to retrieve the handyman?” I do a double-take, noticing the strain forming around the corners of Drake’s mouth.

“Handyman?”

“Yes.” My father chuckles, coming forward to clap a hand down on Drake’s tense shoulder. “He’s here to repair a leak in the attic. Liam called you by the way.” Drake can’t look at me now, his gaze cast over my shoulder. Empty. A minute ago, we were equals. But my father’s words have called into focus one very important thing. I’m rich, and he’s very poor. It just didn’t matter. To me, it still doesn’t. But the economic divide between us is deepening by the second.

“Why don’t you get to it?” My father suggests to Drake, his tone hard. “Alexis has to study. She is going places.”

I down my gaze to the ground, humiliation burning up my throat. My father is an expert at belittling people, and he’s just done it to Drake. I want to say something to make it better, to defend Drake, but I know I’ll only be making it worse. I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to offer Drake an apology. At school. I’ll talk to him then.

“Yes, sir,” Drake responds stiffly, turning on his boots and stalking toward the house. Behind his back, my father reaches over and digs his thumb into my bicep until I double over, releasing a silent scream. He lets go a moment before Drake glances back over his shoulder, eyes hooded, and my expression is serene. Because I know better than to let anyone see the pain. My father has never been physically abusive, but his temper is getting worse. He hated mom and he’s taking it out on me. As soon as we’re in the house, I run up the stairs to my room and lock the door, leaning back against it. Listening to Drake’s boots walk back and forth in the attic. More than anything, I want to go up there. Feel his hands on me again. Cherishing hands, instead of hateful ones. I ache for that. For him. But an hour later, Drake leaves, and that’s when I face the consequences. My father knocks on my door. When I open it, the look on his eyes let me know it’s going to be worse than usual.

“If I ever see you talking to that boy again, so help me God, I’ll kick you out of this house.” His face is contorted with rage. “Then, I’ll ruin him, too. I’ll make his life even harder in this town. You know I can do it. I can have him cast off that filthy land and no one will ever hire him again. Is that what you want?”

“No,” I whisper.

“No,” he sneers, mocking me. “Never look at him again. Do you hear me? My daughter does not associate with penniless dirt. The only boy you’re allow to date is Liam Rys. No one else.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“See that you keep that promise. Or you’ll both pay the price.” And I pay a good deal of it that night when dad slaps me for the first time. The next day at school, I don’t look at Drake in the hallway. I don’t pause in the doorway of our classes, absorbing the sight of him waiting at the desk behind me. I simply keep my head down and try not to show the bruise on my cheek. On my body and my heart. I could never have predicted he would hate me for it.

Drake

Two years later

I walk past O’Brien in the hallway and slam my fist against the locker to her left, making her jump. Shame, frustration, and resentment have been like a poison inside me, rotting my bones every second of the last two years, ever since that night in her garden when she tricked me into thinking she felt the same. Maybe she did. Until her father reminded her that I’m nothing but a poor handyman. Yeah, she remembered pretty quickly that she’s better than me. Good enough to date a rich quarterback like Rys but definitely not a low life like me. Rich, stuck-up brat. What’s worse is that she fucking ruined me with those lips. She brought me to my knees. Made me reveal myself in ways I’ve never done with anyone. And now? Now she’s left me lonely and fuck-starved for two years. Obsessed with her, unable to let her go and hating her guts for it. Because she won’t even look at me anymore. I’m nothing but the dirt beneath her spotless sneakers. Two years ago, I decided that if she was going to make my life hell by ignoring me after what we shared, then I could return the favor. So I do. By tormenting her. That’s the only term for it. I torture her, and I hate that—I fucking hate it—but so be it. My jaw is close to shattering as I watch O’Brien calmly collect the books from her locker and hurry toward our next class. On top of being a bully, I’m also a masochist because I still trick the school into having the same five classes every year. My aunt Leona works in the front office, and she feels bad for me because of my dad dying and my mom abandoning me when I was still in middle school, leaving me in the trailer alone. Not bad enough to invite me to live with her family, but bad enough that she slips me O’Brien’s schedule every semester so I can match it to mine. Before I follow her, I stop at her locker, sliding something in it, and continue on my way. When I walk into class behind her a moment later, I slow to a stop in the doorway at the sight of Rys kneeling to speak with O’Brien where she sits at her desk—cajoling a smile out of her. She refused to date him two years ago, but fucking Liam didn’t get the memo. No one has as much money as his father in this town. If Rys is asking her out again, she’d probably say yes. If I let it get that far, which I won’t. I never do. She’s mine. Only mine.

#drake walker #drake walker x mc #drake x lexie #tw abuse #tw parental trauma

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qitwrites · 3 years

Text

|| 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 ||

Momo is 13 when she gets her first period.

Her parents had talked to her about it of course, told her it was completely natural and normal and healthy, and to come to them when it happens.

What nobody was prepared for was the pain.

She’s in the family garden creating some Lego blocks for herself when a bout of cramps, sharp and intense, roils through her abdomen and up her left leg. It’s so sudden she can barely call for help, and by the time the guards reach her, she’s on the ground sobbing, clutching her stomach and shakily taking in gasps of air.

They tell her it’s a combination of her diet and her genes. The high-fat diet has consequences, no matter how much she uses her quirk to balance it out and her father’s side of the family has a history of debilitating period pains. It’s just really bad luck, or so they tell her.

Of course, this doesn’t deter Momo from her plans of becoming a pro-hero. It’s all she wants. So, it’s what she chases and works for and earns.

The period pains get worse.

Class 1A doesn’t notice for the longest time. Momo is good at hiding it, at hiding how often she uses the loo for the first two days, how much pain she’s biting back in class, how badly she’s performing in training. She practices her smile in the mirror, sits through hours of class and training and socializing with a smile plastered on her face, and screams into her pillow at night. She spends those nights on her bathroom floor, alternating between throwing up and enjoying the cool feeling of the tiles underneath her.

Nobody realizes until Momo doesn’t show up for class one day.

Of course, everyone is immediately concerned- Momo isn’t one to skip. She takes the best notes, has perfect attendance, submits her assignments on time, the works. First period passes like that, and Aizawa even brings it up but nobody knows where she is. She hasn’t messaged a soul or called anyone about anything.

They’re on break after second period when Todoroki finds her on the staircase landing between the first and second floor.

Momo is on the ground, laying on her side. Her hand is in her mouth, blood dripping down her skin as she clenches it tightly between her teeth. Her other hand is wrapped around her abdomen, squeezing tightly. Tears stream down her face continuously, like an endless river. She’s muffling her screams, and it’s almost like she can’t even see Todoroki, her gaze piercing straight through him.

Todoroki is immediately alarmed, getting to his knees in front of her. He looks over her and can’t see any physical injuries, any signs of trauma.

‘Yaoyorozu,’ he says urgently, ‘what’s going on?’

Momo blinks at him, some of the tears dispelling. She finally sees him, recognizes him, and gasps. She pulls her hand away and the tears spill again.

‘I can’t-‘ she starts and sucks in a sharp breath ‘-I can’t breathe. I can’t- there’s too much pain fuck.’ Todoroki raises his brows- Momo never curses. Never. Not even when she stubbed her toe against the dining table and broke it.

‘We have to get you to recovery girl,’ Todoroki says, moving to help her up.

‘Wait,’ she groans. ‘I need- dammit, Todoroki let me borrow your left hand for a moment please.’

Todoroki complies without question, and watches as she takes it and places it on her abdomen above her uniform.

‘As hot as you can go,’ she says, ‘without burning my uniform. Please.’

Todoroki has no idea what’s going on, but he does as she asks. The effect is almost immediate- her breathing evens out, her eyes focus again, her body stops jerking in pain. It’s almost like she’s been sedated.

After nearly 2 minutes of sitting in silence, she gently takes Todoroki’s hand and places it on his own knee. She sits up gingerly and wipes away her tears, smearing some of the blood on her cheeks instead. Todoroki watches her carefully, ready to step in if she asks for help.

‘What happened?’

Momo looks at him with sad eyes. ‘It’s just my period cramps Todoroki. I’m ok, I’ll be alright.’

Todoroki quirks a brow. ‘You’re not ok Yaoyorozu, even I can tell just by looking at you.’

Momo is about to voice another protest when the door to the stairwell bursts open. Bakugou and Kirishima walk through with vending machine drinks in their hands and stop when they spot the pair on the floor.

‘Yaomomo?’ Kirishima shouts, running towards them. Bakugou trails just behind, eyebrows furrowed.

Momo plasters a smile on her face, trying to hide her bloodied hand.

‘What happened?’ Kirishima yells, crouching down with a concerned look in his eyes.

‘I-‘

‘She said it’s period cramps,’ Todoroki interrupts. In all honesty, he never grew up around his mother or his sister, so he has limited knowledge of periods in general. But with that limited knowledge also came the lack of a stigma towards periods in general. He doesn’t think anything of talking about it.

Kirishima’s concerned look melts into one of sad understanding.

‘Oh man,’ he says, ‘that sucks Yaomomo. They’re that bad, huh?’

Momo keeps her smile in place. ‘Really, I’m fine, it’s nothing I cannot handle, I’m ok-‘

A hand, absurdly gentle, pulls her bloodied one away from where she’s hiding it. Momo startles when she sees Bakugou holding her hand, giving her a tight look. He drops it gently and sighs. With a grunt, Bakugou sits down next to her, back leaning into the wall. Kirishima sits cross legged in front of her while Todoroki sits on her other side.

‘My old hag,’ Bakugou grumbles, ‘has period pains. More like period torture, I guess. She threw up every month on the first day. She’d have dark circles from the lack of sleep, and she’d slap hot water bags to her stomach 24/7. She even burned the skin there a few times. Painkillers didn’t do shit, there were no surgical options, not even birth control made much of a dent. She’d just grit her teeth and bare it every month.’

Momo listens silently, her hands slowly unclenching.

‘My moms,’ Kirishima pitches in, ‘are pretty chill with it. Well, Mama’s get really bad sometimes, but mom is usually ok. I’ve seen them bring each other ice-cream or squeeze each other’s shoulders. They sync up a lot too! Mama would always tell me to be nicer to mom, and mom would always tell me to give mama a kiss. They’re both so manly when they battle their periods every month.’ He offers Momo a gentle smile.

Todoroki hums. ‘I admit, I don’t know much beyond the biological part of it. But from what I can see, Yaoyorozu, this isn’t very normal, is it? This level of pain?’

Momo sighs, brushing away the fresh tears welling up in her eyes.

‘I, between my quirk and my genes, I have received the shorter end of the stick. Of course, I have looked into treatments. There’s nothing I can fix with surgery, and painkillers are usually ineffective. I have tried birth control measures, but they interfere with my quirk.’

Momo looks up at the ceiling. ‘I don’t think we talk about this enough, about heroes that menstruate. I can’t stop being a hero on the days I have my period, but sometimes, I’m in so much pain I can’t see straight. I-‘ she sucks in a stuttering breath ‘-I don’t know what to do sometimes. I want to stand on equal footing with my peers.’

Bakugou scoffs. ‘You shitting me? You’re top of the class, your quirk can make fucking canons, you tutored our fuckwit classmates into not failing miserably, and you did it all through this shit? What part of that is not equal with your peers?’

Kirishima nods in agreement. ‘I mean, Mina has some cramps too, so I usually bring her hot water bags when she asks. I read somewhere that spinach is great for period health, so I make us both protein shakes with spinach and banana! She says it helps.’

‘The iron in spinach must be beneficial,’ Momo muses, her face breaking into the first genuine smile of the day. ‘I usually up my iron intake as well. It does help.’

‘You’re right though,’ Todoroki adds, eyebrows furrowed, ‘we don’t talk enough about heroes that menstruate. Plus, the fact that you can’t seem to find a way to manage your pain without it affecting your life is proof that they haven’t put much thought into it, isn’t it?’

Bakugou grunts in agreement. ‘My hag volunteers at women’s shelters and tries to raise funds for pain meds and hygiene supplies and shit. It’s ridiculous. All of that shit should be free. No one asks to have a period every month.’

‘We can change that though,’ Kirishima pipes in, always the voice of positivity. ‘Look at the four of us, talking about it! Yaomomo, I’m sorry.’

Momo blinks, ‘What for Kirishima?’

‘For not noticing! You must’ve been in so much pain all this time, huh? I’m sorry for not noticing and doing more.’

Momo feels something cold press against her arm. She looks down to see Bakugou pushing his unopened drink into her elbow.

‘Take it, staying hydrated helps with the cramps.’ He stands up and brushes his pants. ‘Think you can stand?’

Momo takes a sip of the drink, relishing the cold fizzy burn as it slides down her throat. She takes a deep breath and stands, stumbling a little before catching herself. Todoroki steadies her around the elbow.

‘Can we take you to recovery girl?’

Momo smiles warmly. ‘I’ve been already. We’ve been working together on some remedies. It’ll take time, but I hope we can come up with something.’ Momo hums. ‘I should put more work into this. I can’t be the only hero that faces such bad period pains.’

‘That’s so manly Yaomomo!’ Kirishima beams. ‘I’m kinda dumb so I don’t think I can help with the research but let me know if there’s anything else I can do.’

Momo giggles into the back of her hand and they start moving towards class together. As they reach the top of the stairs another bout of cramps settles into her gut, and she clenches the railing with a white knuckled grip.

The boys stand around, guarding her, supporting her, giving her small smiles and reassuring nods. Todoroki offers her his hand again, and she quickly makes a heating pad and hands it to him, so she can continue to use it during class. Bakugou urges her to drink more water, and Kirishima keeps telling her how manly she is.

When they get to class, everyone crowds around her and she laughs softly, promising to explain everything later. The rest of the day passes by with little incident, and throughout it all, Todoroki takes the heating pad from her, heats it up and hands it back, hour after hour.

They talk about it in the dorms after class, and recounting her episode opens the floodgates for all the girls.

‘I get really bad migraines,’ Uraraka sighs, rubbing at her temples as if in anticipation. ‘It makes the nausea from my quirk even more unbearable.’

Jirou nods. ‘I get you. I have leg cramps, makes it impossible to use my legs during heartbeat surround. The speakers are too painful to use, and I’m never as stable as I’d like to be.’ She gives Kirishima a pointed look. ‘I’ll join you at the gym next time, teach me some leg moves. I want to get stronger.’ Kirishima gives her a huge thumbs up and a blinding grin.

‘My back gives out sometimes,’ Mina says. ‘I have this pain that burns in my lower back on a few occasions, it’s the worst.’

‘I don’t have a lot of physical symptoms,’ Hagakure pipes in, ‘but I do have PMS and depressive episodes. I’ve been trying to figure out a good med balance to fix it.’ All the girls nod at that, squeezing her arms and shoulders in silent support.

The teachers are brought into the loop too, and Aizawa gently berates Momo for not coming to him sooner.

‘We’re here to help,’ he says, eyes the gentlest she’s ever seen. ‘Learn to rely on your teachers more, will you? Such troublemakers , the lot of you.’

Momo makes hot packs for the girls after that, and the teachers don’t blink when one of them passes it to Todoroki in the middle of class as the boy just heats it the appropriate amount before passing it back without so much as a hiccup in his work.

Bakugou sends Momo articles and tips from his mom about pain management and dealing with cramps. He says it’s because he wants her to be in top condition when he beats her for #1, otherwise it won’t, in his eloquent words, mean jack shit. Momo tries some stuff out, happily surprised when her symptoms are even the slightest bit reduced. Kirishima offers to make them all spinach shakes, and they take him up on that every so often, complimenting his limited cooking abilities.

And on the days Momo is back on the bathroom floor heaving into the toilet, Jirou holds her hair back. Mina cuddles her on the couch when her hands are clenched as she bites back tears, and Ojiro sits by her feet, a reassuring presence to depend on if she ever needs something.

They’ve still got a long way to go as a society, but it’s a start. And a damn good one at that.

#boku no hero academia #bnha #bnha: thicker than blood #momo yaoyorozu #todoroki shouto #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #class 1a headcanons #so today in thicker than blood #lets talk periods!#there's no talk of blood or anything #it's more about period cramps #and how period pain manifests in different but very painful ways #i've thought about this a lot you know?#like the female heroes can't just take a few days off every month on their period but they'd still be in so much pain #and in my country period products are still taxed as luxury items which is a load of fucking horsecrap #i have feelings about this because my own periods are pretty shite tbh #i just wanted to write about the boys actually caring #and having an open discussion about this #and give momo some love because she's actually great???

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cafeinthemoon · 3 years

Text

The Leaves of Her Garden - Chapter VIII

Title: The Leaves of Her Garden

Genre: Fanfiction

Pairing: Madara Uchiha x reader

Rating: Mature

Word count: 2650

Chapter (s): 8/?

Warning(s): none just Madara being scary an such

Read the previous chapters here: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Interlude, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

Symbols: 🌙 | ➕ | ▶▶

A Treaty With an Unreliable Clan

You opened your eyes in a startle, yet you found nothing around you but the darkness. You moved on the mattress, to try and spot something among the shadows as well as to make sure you were not late. Madara told you to be prepared, for you would leave before the sunrise. You woke up at least two times before that one, but it was not the time to stand up yet; now you weren’t sure.

You fought against the burning sensation in your eyes caused by the remaining sleep and sat on the futon. You looked around for the second time and sensed some grayish light rising outside the porch’s door, being filtered by its translucent material and filling the room with what seemed to be a mist curtain . Should you leave the bed now? Well, you found it better to do so. You moved the sheets away and, after some stretching, you stood up; you grabbed the clothes you kept separated the night before and went to the bathroom to take care of yourself.

When you came back, the room was as quiet and as dark as when you left. Your feet crossed the distance between the bathroom’s door and the bed without a noise; you were going to fold the sheets and wait for Madara there.

However, you didn’t go too far.

One more step toward the futon and you sensed something like a presence behind you. You turned to look and your heart almost jumped out from your mouth when you found a shadow with glimmering eyes staring at you. Stepping behind, you were going to scream and stumble in the mattress, but none of this happened: with one hand the shadow grabbed you before the fall, while the other hand covered your mouth, only giving you room to breathe.

When it was clear that you were not going to make a fuzz, he relaxed the grip around you and uncovered your mouth. You sighed.

- You scared me… Madara-sama.

He couldn’t contain a smile and moved his hands away from you.

- As always – he then walked toward the porch’s door, glancing over his shoulder – I hope you are ready by now. Shall we?

You hesitated. He turned to you.

- What is it?

- I myself am ready – you explained, turning to the futon – But I’d like to make my bed before leaving. It is a habit I’d like to maintain.

Madara looked at your bed and back to you before nodding as a sign of approval.

- Good. Make your bed, then.

You nodded and started to fold the sheets. You softened your pillow and put the sheets under it, just like your mother taught you when you were little, then passed your hands through the mattress to clean it before covering with its cape. As you worked, you felt his eyes at your back, catching all the details despite the penumbra in which the room was drowned in; each movement of yours were observed and examined to the point that a task as ordinary as making your bed became some sort of resistence test. You started to think that you should have already be used to it, for you have been watched since your arrival, but there was a possibility that you would never managed to see it as something normal. You never liked being watched.

When everything was finished, you stood up and turned to him. He opened the porch’s door and you grabbed the sandals you left at the porch’s entry, following him to the gray morning outside.

***

That time you had to walk to reach the place where you were going to train. Not that it was bad, though: the spring air was delightful under the first light of the day, and a breeze was blowing through the trees and over the grass; the birds just started their singing, and nothing beyond their voices was heard. Looking at your surroundings in such circumstances, you almost felt in peace.

The place of training was the same as yesterday, quiet and wide; however, you felt a cold you didn’t noticed the first time you’ve been there. It would not make any difference, though: it was going to be hot later and you were going to sweat, maybe more than the other day.

You didn’t immediately start the training. Madara led you under the low branches of a tree and showed you a towel covering a part of the ground. Upon it there was something wrapped with a kitchen cloth, which you understood to be a bowl and a cup of bamboo. A recently prepared breakfast. Was it made by him or by one of the servants? You didn’t have the courage to ask.

He knelt on the edge of the towel and told you to take a place on the opposite side. When you did it, he indicated the pack .

- Eat. You will not go too far without being properly fed.

You unwrapped the cloth and put it aside. You then held the bowl with one hand and took the pair of hashi with the other. Before putting them to stir the content, you looked at him.

- Thank you, Madara-sama.

He nodded, and you started to eat. At first, it was not that easy: the content of the bowl and the cup smelled good, but you weren’t hungry. It didn’t go unnoticed by him.

- I see that you are not used to eat by this time of the day. But think of the benefits and make some effort. You need to preserve your good aspect for the ceremony.

You obeyed. It took more time than usual, but you finally emptied the bowl. You suspected that Madara would not let you stand up before finishing your breakfast, but fortunately for you nor the bowl nor the cup were that full.

After breakfast, you two didn’t stand up immediately. It seemed that Madara was in no hurry. Soon, you saw that this was not the case: it happened that your training was not only physical, and there were some things he needed to explain to you.

- As you can imagine, y/n, I had a reason for choosing this hour of the day to bring you here – he started as soon as he had your full attention – There are some things you need to know, not only about the ceremony, but about the treaty between the Uchiha and the other clan, the Todoroki.

Todoroki? You tried to think if you’ve heard about them before. Apparently, no; if it was because they were a minor clan or their name was too common, you weren’t sure.

Madara started to tell you how Izuna left the house still by the night when he brought you to his brother. He was sent on a mission all alone to investigate some facts about the clan that remained obscure even after the two families have determined each one’s part in the treaty; he was expected to return by the end of that day, so that he could be at the wedding. Being the groom’s brother, his absence during the ceremony would look suspicious.

- I do not have enough time to tell you the whole story, so I will just say that we the Uchiha have some story with this clan – he was saying – We and the Todoroki were never exactly friends of each other until some time ago. As I explained to you before, they were never known for producing the best warriors, choosing to focus on erudition, politics and diplomacy instead. This has brought problems as much as advantages for them all over the years. Now, because of the frailty caused by the lack of a proper shinobi army, they were facing difficulties regarding security and were forced to seek for support alongside a stronger clan. Turned out that they came to us. At first I was not willing to make them our allies, for I do not appreciate weakness and for my knowledge about their antipathy for my clan , but even they have their strong traits, so I decided to accept their offer. However, we could not be so ingenuous to think that we did not have to be careful.

A strange glimmering appeared in his eyes after those words, but within a second it was gone. He just continued to speak as if nothing happened.

- This particular clan might not be famous by the power of their shinobi, but their connections and influence over different noble families have been used for any kind of purposes during their story. In other words, they were not to be trusted without question, and held too power in their hands for one to take them lightly. And knowing that they were not allies of the Uchiha since the start, I would not say yes to anything that came from them without gathering some information. I delegated this work to Izuna and other men of my trust. They were in the middle of a complex mission of this nature when the girl who was sent by them to be my wife suddenly disappeared.

F or a moment, Madara didn’t say a word, and the silence around his spot was heavy. You felt like the birds stopped singing at that revelation, and even the breeze was no longer blowing.

- This girl that you are to replace was the Todoroki leader’s daughter – he continued – I believe Izuna never mentioned it to you, but her name was Sachiko. I have met her for the first time during a visit at the family’s property in (…). Judging by what I know from both of you, I can say you have some resemblances in your manners and tone besides the physical appearance, but nothing more than that. She had a talent to handle social situations by herself and was clearly raised by her family to follow the traditional norms. She was ready to perform her role even after marriage , when we would spend time by ourselves and thus have nothing to hide from each other. On the other hand, you, y/n, are more… how can I put it in words?… Well, I hope you do not mind if I use the term wild . You are more wild in a sense that you have nothing but what truly belongs to you. Not the nobleness, nor the rules or the interests o others to be carried on your shoulders. You are gentle, have good manners and has chose honesty as your motivation. This sort of purity is hard to find these days. Allow me to say that I appreciate that. It is something we can use in our favor during the ceremony, but I see that keeping in a role for a long time would wear you out, and then our plans would end up being useless.

You were still getting used to the way Madara stated his thoughts and views, and you could even say you appreciated his peculiar use of words, but somehow you sensed that there would always be something between a sentence and other that would caught you off guard, just like that time: wild would be the last word you’d use to describe yourself, but he managed to find a meaning for it that would fit you and that could only be found in something said by himself.

Another thing that still surprised you was the easiness with which he could change the subjective tone of his conversation to something simple and practical, as he did right after those comments:

- According to what I’ve found out, Sachiko’s disappearance happened during her travel from her own house in order to arrive here. She was meant to spend a few days in my house in preparation for our wedding, while I was going to send some of my shinobi to improve her safety on the road as a part of our families’ treaty. Her family was going to travel right after her. However, she disappeared before my men could reach her group. Of course my first suspicion fell on her clan: there was a possibility that they were planning some betrayal and that the girl’s case was just a distraction from their true intentions. But I had no proof at the time, so I’ve sent some of my men to work beside them in the search. At the same time, Izuna, who just came back from his previous mission, was chosen to investigate the events in secret. And what he found out confirmed some of my suspicions.

So Madara knew more about the girl’s case than you imagined. Of course, he would take some action by himself, being the precautious man he was, but now you found yourself wanting to hear everything he had to tell.

- According to my brother’s research , the girl disappeared in the middle of the night, and things were arranged in a way that it would look like she left by her own choice and didn’t want to be followed. I myself do not understand how something like this could be possible, since she was not a shinobi and thus she could be easily tracked by some of our people. Also, the people who were traveling with her – her servants and some ninjas responsible for her safety – just vanished. If dead or abducted, we could not find out. Izuna and I talked for hours at closed doors, and our conclusion was that if her clan was planning to betray us, they might have tried to forge an excuse to dishonor the treaty .

After saying that, he fell silent for a second, then a strange, low sound came up his throat and caught you off guard. You took a moment to identify it as a laugh, but once you did, you felt some discomfort with the hilarity and the despise in it. You waited for him to explain what was so funny.

- I still find it hard to believe that the Todoroki would be so plain in their action s, that there was not a single person among them who suggested that making the girl disappear in a sudden and unexplained manner would only expose them as the unreliable scum they are? – after staring at you for a second, he raised his eyebrow – I see. Hearing me speak in such terms about my betrothed’s clan is unsettling for you. I understand. But I believe you have heard enough to agree with my statement, or at least with part of it . Their actions just served to ruin their own reputation before the Uchiha and to alert us. And now that we have you, y/n, we have little to worry about.

You didn’t understand why, but something in the way Madara smiled at you made you froze.

- Once they lay their eyes on you, we the Uchiha will know exactly if they were treacherous and how much. Whatever the case, they will have to keep their mouths shut and to cooperate.

Soon he abandoned his relaxed position at the grass ground and stood on his feet. He looked down at you and you saw that the smile was still there. You understood it as a sign for you to stand up too. You started to do it, but apparently you weren’t fast enough, for you sensed a shadow stopping beside you, getting you on your feet; when you looked up, you found Madara close to you, his arm around your waist. You took a deep breath and told yourself that it was better if you get used to not be able to follow his moves with your eyes.

- So… our only preoccupation for now is to finish our training – he approached his lips to your ear – And to make sure you will be ready.

#naruto fanfiction #madara uchiha #madara x reader #madara fanfiction #madara #naruto

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cotncandyboifics · 3 years

Text

1989 [High School AU]: Chapter 6

AO3 Link

Masterpost

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 7 ~ Chapter 8 ~ Chapter 9 ~

Pairings: slight Logince, eventual Prinxiety & Logicality

Word count: 1,987

Story summary: Roman Prince is your stereotypical Jock, with everyone swooning after him. Every day a crowd of people follow him around, only to disperse at his personal whim. In reality, he's lucky to have such good acting skills that help him cover up the disdain he has for his life. He only wishes he could use his skills properly.

Patton Whitelock's always there to lend a helping hand, no matter who you are. If you need a favor or just need someone to talk to, go to him. In reality, he's been taught from a young age that kindness should be held above all else. No one suspects that he took it the wrong way.

Logan Montgomery is the smartest boy in the Senior class. He's stern, and most people are too intimidated to speak to him. In reality, he despises most all of his fellow students. He sticks to his studies and doesn't stray, for fear of being stuck in his father's shadow his whole life.

Virgil Black is the most emo kid in school, let alone 12th grade; everyone knows to leave him be. In reality, he's very fortunate. He has two parents who love him dearly. But everything beyond his life, everything within his mind, is utter chaos and turmoil.

what will happen when they're assigned a biology project together?

General CW: food, swearing, implied s-lf h-rm, non-graphic descriptions of s-lf h-rm scars, graphic and non-graphic descriptions of anxiety attacks and panic attacks, drug abuse, minor character intoxicated on heroin, non-graphic drug overdose description, sickness/description of sickness, blood, non-graphic descriptions of needles, (will be added to as I write more)

Chapter CW: food, (let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author notes: I hated writing this chapter because I love Logince and I'm intentionally writing this story so that Logince doesn't work and I just- my heart and my creativity have a conflict of interests here :')

...

Roman was left alone in his room, staring at the door where Virgil had slipped out silently a few minutes ago. He'd turned off his music, and was sitting up, staring, thinking.

What was even the point of asking Logan out? I didn't have any interest in him before, he was just a nerd who i never bothered, and he never bothered me... perhaps for the challenge? when I saw him in class today something just sparked, and i felt the need to pursue him. I didn't think he'd entertain it, especially so quickly. And what of Virgil?

What of Virgil?

Roman shook his head and stood, leaving his room to see what his parents were doing, and if he could help with dinner. He needed a distraction, and he knew homework wasn't going to do it.

...

The next few days at school were strange, to say the least.

Patton was the same, as far as the others could see. He tried figuring out some of the routes Logan took to different classes, just a few so as not to seem suspicious, but Roman was more often than not already there and bombarding Logan with his charms. Patton still caught him alone sometimes though, and did his best to make conversation about little things, just wanting to get to know Logan. They had an engaging conversation about Logan's surprisingly extensive knowledge about drug abuse, and Patton was thankful for the bits of advice he could get. They'd also run through proper methods for caring for various species of turtles.

Logan continued to hound himself about why he had accepted Roman's courting after such a short time knowing him, let alone that they were very... different people, to say the least. He'd told his father that one of his friends had requested an outing to a cafe to study for an upcoming calculus quiz. His father was reluctant but upon Logan's presentation of evidence of such atmospheres increasing the effectiveness of studying and concentration, his father granted him permission to go. Logan knew his father would never permit any,, frivolous activities, when Logan had so much academic potential. And Logan made himself feel the same way, acquiring knowledge and more importantly incredible accolades was all that mattered until he was out of school. And yet, here he was, about to go on a date behind his parents' back with a jock, very stereotypical of a teen and yet very atypical for him. He couldn't explain to himself why he'd allowed himself to get into this situation, but it wasn't causing any immediate problems, so he decided to try and let the topic rest.

Virgil was acting stranger than ever, at least from Roman's perspective. He seemed even more cold and distant, except on occasion he'd strike up a conversation. Sometimes they got rather lively, debating about which were the best Disney movies, even if they had very... differing perspectives on what messages they portrayed. Roman was baffled, Because he didn't think someone who was previously unconcerned with Roman for the most part could become so black-and-white, switching between completely ignoring and/or glaring at him, and coming into a room and immediately proposing a topic of conversation.

Roman had his hands full with courting his new love interest, and trying to figure out what was going on with Virgil. Virgil himself was very conflicted. Any time he saw Roman, his feelings became intense and he never knew how to act.

The group's dynamic had shifted accordingly whenever they were in class together. In Biology, Logan was usually hard at work on their report, Patton doing his best to help. Roman often attempting to fluster Logan in any possible way he could, and Virgil, ever unpredictable.

...

Finally Thursday came, and Roman got into his mustang to pick up his date. He drove quietly up to a large white house, with a very systematic garden laid out in the front. He got out and leaned against the closed passenger door, and messaged Logan, letting him know he was there to pick him up.

Logan had hoped Roman would have the sense to pick him up around the block, but upon exiting his house and seeing him directly in front of the house leaning against his red mustang with a single red rose in his hand, Logan brought his hand to the bridge of his nose and massaged it, trying to keep from getting aggravated before their date even began. He walked over slowly, trying to keep an open mind instead of letting his logical self shut everything about Roman's love language down.

Roman had to keep himself from staring. Logan was dressed... well, typically his own style, but... he had gelled his hair back so it became one big dark tuft instead of it's usual gentle messiness, and he had on a silk navy button up and a black bowtie instead of his trademark necktie. He had on Black corduroy pants that accentuated his slender legs, and white and blue converse that complemented his shirt and pale skin. Roman was impressed at the attention to detail yet the simplicity of his date's outfit, and was indeed that much more attracted to him.

"Well hello there," Roman said as Logan neared, looking him up and down, "don't you look ravishing."

Logan's cheeks glazed a bit. "As do you," was all he could think to reply. Roman had on a dark red v neck and a black and gold baseball jacket, dark grey ripped skinny jeans with a silver chain, and red checkered vans. Logan realized he'd let his eyes linger on Roman's exposed collarbone a moment too long. God, why am i acting like this?

Roman just smirked and stood aside, opening the passenger door he'd been leaning on and making way for Logan. Logan sat, his knees nearly touching the dash. Roman got on one knee and dramatically presented Logan with the flower. Logan smiled gently and took it, examining it. Roman shut the door and made his way around to the driver's side and got in.

"Will you relay the whereabouts of our destination or will it remain a mystery to me?" Logan asked as Roman opened his door, not looking up from the flower.

Roman smiled with a glint in his eyes. "Well it would be no fun if i were to spoil the surprise, now would it?" He put the key in the ignition and started the car, and the engine hummed smoothly to life. "Completely unrelated to said surprise, but have you had dinner?" Roman rolled down his window and rested his forearm on it.

"Yes, unfortunately I follow a strict meal plan." He adjusted his glasses.

"Well, i wont question that, but that works for me." Roman left it at that and pulled out his phone.

"Would you happen to have a music preference?" Roman asked as Logan smelled the rose, and finally set it down in his lap.

After a moment of thought, Logan replied, "Well I suppose not. I don't listen to much music other than classical on occasion, and at this point i find it rather..."

"Boring?" Roman mused.

"Insufferable," Logan smiled.

"Alright, I'll enlighten you to something other than Beethoven and Bach," Roman reached for the aux chord, plugged his phone into it, and picked a particular song he felt was... fitting for the moment. The song intro began, and Roman pulled the e-break down and shifted into first gear, pulling out onto the road.

he said "let's get out of this town,

Drive out of the city, away from the crowds..."

I thought "heaven can't help me now,"

Nothing lasts forever...

Logan watched things pass on the road, absentmindedly tapping his ankle to the beat. He didn't recognize the area of town they were heading to, but he didn't expect Roman to kidnap him or anything, so he just observed.

But this is gonna take me down

He's so tall, and handsome as hell

He's so bad, but he does it so well.

I can see the end as it begins

My one condition is

Logan looked straight ahead at the road now, wondering if Roman had selected this specific song for any reason.

Say youll remember me,

Standing in a nice dress

Staring at the sunset babe

Red lips and rosy cheeks

Say you'll see me again

Even if it's just in your

Wildest dreams, ah, hah...

They were driving up a hill now, and the road was getting steeper. Logan was beginning to wonder if he should have just rejected Roman from the beginning.

Roman sensed his unease, and turned the music down so that it was just background noise. "I promise I'm not about to murder you in the woods," he said with a small laugh, "There's just a nice spot up here to... observe," he assured vaguely, glancing at Logan.

He nodded with a small smile from the passenger seat, returning to looking around as they passed sloping driveways and mossy-trunked trees.

Just moments later, they emerged into something of a clearing, with a cul-de-sac and a large meadow. There were clusters of small flowers and clovers all over, and the trees cleared perfectly to display the sun was crawling toward the horizon.

They parked and Logan got out, and turned to realize Roman was still in the car, seemingly reaching behind his seat awkwardly and rummaging around. He emerged with a plastic bag and a rolled up plaid blanket. Roman locked the car and led them to the meadow, where he dramatically unrolled the blanket and laid it out, after ruffling it in the wind. Logan sat cross-legged facing what would soon become the sunset, the bottom of the sun's visible sphere nearly dipping itself below the horizon.

Roman sat as well, beginning to dig through the mystery bag, Logan now paying him attention. Roman pulled out two large paper cups, with plastic tops and straws in them. He handed Logan one of the cups, and Logan began inspecting it. It appeared to be a milkshake, likely chocolate flavored due to the brown hue... It looked rather delightful. Logan took a sip and was not disappointed; he'd never actually had a milkshake, at least not since he was very young, so he had to attempt to hide his enjoyment.

"That is quite tasteful," He looked back to Roman, who was tasting his own milkshake.

"Yeah, you struck me as a chocolate type," he leaned back on one hand. "Hope you like the view. I thought it would be nice as a first date to watch the sunset and talk."

Logan gazed out at the sky that faded from blue to purple to red to orange and a bit of yellow, clouds peppered around and absorbing the hues. He certainly did appreciate the view.

"Alright, let's talk then."

...

A few hours later, it had gotten dark and stars were spattered across the sky. Logan was laying with his hands behind his head, watching the sky, and Roman was laid next to him, leaning up on his side and watching Logan's eyes. They'd talked about anything, from childhood memories to opinions and briefly about their home lives. Roman felt very... usual. Everything was going perfectly, and he could feel that fact slamming against his chest. Do I actually like him or is this all just a game to me? Am i being fake, or completely real?

Soon Logan checked his wristwatch and informed Roman it was time he be heading home. They stood, and Logan shivered as Roman collected the blanket. He sighed upon seeing Logan's arms loosely held around himself, trying to keep warm.

Roman rustled his baseball jacket off and draped it over Logan's shoulders.

They made their way back to the car, and as Roman drove them, all Logan could do was lean his head on the window and stare up at the hazy white moon.

Roman dropped him off, walking him up to his door. Logan thanked him for the evening, and tried to return Roman's jacket, but Roman insisted he hold onto it. They shared a small kiss on the doorstep, and bid each other goodnight. Roman drove off into the night, pondering heavily.

#ts logan #logan sanders #virgil sanders #ts virgil #ts roman #roman sanders #patton sanders #ts patton #sanders sides #thomas sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #high school au #slow burn #prinxiety #logicality #patton x logan #roman x virgil

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of-elves-and-mad-hatters · 3 years

Text

“The Azure Sky” - Chapter 3 - Lego Elves

Shadows to the Brightest Flame: Series

- The legacy of Lumia’s influence is scarred eternally into the lands of Elvendale. Burdened by a prophecy foretelling her demise and need for a successor, she watches for one capable of such power. Yet her enemies are working steadily to undo all she’s labored so long for, and it is millenia too late to make peace.

Emily Jones, heir to Eimileen, is a bold girl dedicated to protecting Elvendale, but the world she has grown so fond of is not so black and white as it seems, and the titles of Guardian of Portal and Guardian of Light may hold darker legacies some ancient elves have worked tirelessly to hide.

In conjunction with the extended version of the Guardian of Light prophecy I wrote previously

Basically a rewrite of all of the Lego Elves & Secrets of Elvendale storylines with an additional arc beyond the Season 4: Into the Shadows. There will be a varying degree of deviation from canon.

Technically a crossover with Lord of the Rings/Hobbit/Silmarillion in terms of worldbuidling, as I set Elvendale as being north of Middle-Earth, cause this is fanfic and I can. So there will be mentions of the Noldor, Sindar, Silvan, and some Tolkien characters, but they will be mostly background. Definitely not an issue if you aren’t familiar with the Middle-Earth fandom; everything will still be easy to understand.

Book 1: The Azure Sky

Grieving over the unexpected death of her grandmother, Emily Jones is accidentally trapped in another world. Befriending a few young elves in an attempt to find her way home, Emily discovers many secrets about her grandmother’s past, but for every truth she learns two more questions take its place, leaving her vulnerable to darker force inhabiting this realm.

A rewrite of Unite the Magic

_____________________________________________________________________

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

_____________________________________________________________________

Chapter 3

The walls of the spacious cove shimmer softly as the gentle waves reflect light back upon them. Into the rough surface are carved little alcoves and shelves, dotted with a great decree of bottles and boxes. It is cluttered in such a way that seems intentional, like how fantasy movie set might be arrayed.

An elf sits elegantly by the water. Even from her position, it is clear she is tall, willowy. Her skin is pale, almost glowing with silvery undertones. Her hair and eyes mimic the bright colors of the ocean water. She turns to greet them with a small smile, poised like a water spirit from some ancient mythology.

“Naida! This is Emily! She’s a human from the portal of the Sisters and she needs our help to get home!” Aira squeals.

Naida raises an eyebrow ever so slightly, but seems to ignore Aira’s outburst. She resumes her polite smile. “Blessing to meet you Emily,” she says softly, “I’m Naida Riverheart, though I’m sure my friends have already told you all about me.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Emily replies.

The water elf motions for them to sit, to which they oblidge. Naida takes a long look at Emily, her expression now neutral. “Now,” she begins, turning to watch Farran, “Perhaps you should all start from the beginning.”

“Well, I was walking along heading to Farran’s treehouse and then one of the trees started glowing blue, and like there was this magic forming this circle, and then this girl falls through the portal. So I introduce myself, cause that was awesome, and I realized she was human, wearing weird clothes and didn’t know anything about elves, so I figured she must be from that human world the Great Sisters built a portal to. Aira thinks so too.” Azari’s smile of excitement spreads even wider across her face, always having been one allured by adventure.

Naida listens. “Is it true? Did you really come through one of the gates of the Sisters?”

Emily shrugs shyly. “I don’t know, I don’t even know where I am, much less anything about elves or portals or whoever the Sisters are. All I know is that after my grandmother passed away last week she gave me her amulet, and then I wandered in her garden, this old tree I had never noticed before started glowing, and I ended up here.” She pauses, her curiosity getting the better of her, “Who are the Great Sisters?”

“The Great Sisters were five elves who made a considerable impact on the history of northern Elvendale. Their parents were some of the first elves to settle up here, back when the lands were far less explored and far more isolated from the rest of Elvendom. The eldest four were powerful mages, each devoted to a different element. The fifth had very little magic, but she had an open and kind heart, and was cherished dearly by her sisters. Together they accomplished many things, which are told among our people. However their last deed was to create two portals, one leading to the origin realm of humankind, and the other leading back here. The first sister was chosen to guard the doorway leading to Earth, and the fifth was sent to Earth to guard the door returning to Elvendale.

After that, the Sisters each went their own ways. The second returned to her husband, the third and fourth sought their own fortunes in the still unexplored wilds. They faded from the prominence they once held, divided among themselves and withering from some of the more controversial reactions to their creation of the portals.

Nuala, the second Sister and my grandmother, never explained much beyond that, though I have heard rumors that the fifth sister fell in love with a human and forsook her immortality, but Nuala would never confirm or deny it.” Naida tilts her head curiously. “I suppose it is possible you could be her descendant, though I worry what the implications would be should that knowledge spread extensively.”

“Perhaps we should bring this to Nuala,” Farran suggests quietly.

Naida catches Farran’s gaze, but shakes her head slightly. “She, along with Onas and my parents, are still up in Esandosa for the forseeable future. I do not think it would be wise to bring this to their attention until we can learn more.” She looks at Emily thoughtfully. The elf rises and retrieves a large wooden box from one of the many alcoves along the cavern wall. She unlocks and opens the lid, revealing a long, rolled up scroll. “Here, Emily,” she says softly, “Why don’t you open this?”

Emily takes it from her, frowns. It feels somehow like a test, though of what or how she has no idea. She unrolls the parchment, flinching as the old paper protests the handling. Upon the surface is sketched a simple map of what looks to be at least part of Elvendale. In contrast, a detailed and out of scale castle is drawn on the upper part of the page, which glows as though a candle were being held behind the paper.

“I see a castle,” she offers, feeling somehow in the moment that is the right response.

Naida gives an approving smile, coming to stand over her shoulder. “And I see a key,” she replies, and indeed, a drawing of a key does appear on the page, glowing as well with just a slight tinge of blue.

The other elves immediately crowd them, and three additional keys present themselves on the map. In a blank box on the right hand of the page, runes appear. Azari excitedly takes the parchment, clearing her voice to read.

“To the wanderer ensnared from another plane

Mortal lost among the ageless fae

Four elements must unite and concede

Or from this realm you’ll never be freed.”

Naida turns to Emily, “It seems you really did come through the Sisters’ portal. With that understanding, it would be best we return you there with some urgency.”

The human nods in agreement, though her mind wonders about the unspoken implications of that statement, and those concerning the tale of the Great Sisters.

How much danger is she really in, just by being here?

Maybe that is mere paranoia speaking, but maybe that shouldn’t be disregarded either. She walks in a land with immortals, magic, and likely other things beyond her imagining. Paranoia may be what she needs to stay alive.

#lego elves #unite the magic #emily jones #naida riverheart #farran leafshade #azari firedancer #aira windwhister #fanfiction #fanfic #elvendale

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utterlyinevitable · 4 years

Text

The Conference (Part 5)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Paring: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Rebecca Lao) Word Count: 2.9k Rating: T+ Warning: Some cursing Summary: Rebecca reminisces about the night she finally pushed Ethan away.

Author’s Note: ngl the last part with the ryan arc was 100% self indulgent. it was also the first thing i wrote and built the series around. have ya ever had a friend/lover/someone you never got a proper goodbye with and carried with you everything you wish you’d said? yeah. that’s what that was. it also is the perfect contrast to mc x ethan’s relationship.

Taglist: @ohchoices @dulceghernandez @aylamwrites @binny1985 @ramseysno1rookie @interobanginyourmom @queencarb @imactuallytheceoofthecompany @rookiefromedenbrook @eramsey28 @choicesficwriterscreations @heauxplesslydevoted @schnitzelbutterfingers @purpledragonturtles @ramseyandrys @ermidc @mrsdrakewalkerblog

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I finally walked into the foreign and dimly lit tavern after wasting the beginning hours of my day off scrolling through Bumble, scouring the app for a good distraction. Eventually I found one - a legal assistant named Cameron. He was cute and his choice of profession gave me the feeling he could carry an intelligent conversation with minimal sexual advances. His tone was friendly enough and a little awkward at times but harmless. We messaged back and forth for like an hour and a half before agreeing to a date across town.

I made sure to put on my best face, watching youtube tutorials for the perfect date night eye to accompany my black cap sleeved maxi dress - you know that one with the high slit. A little bit of sultry but not enough to give him the assumption he could take me home.

I’d never been to The Happenstance tavern before. Hell, I barely had any time to explore parts of the city that weren’t directly surrounding Edenbrook. I was pumped with adrenaline for my first actual date in god knows how long. Thus for once in my life I was fifteen minutes early and decided to sit at the bar to calm my nerves.

I’m meeting a stranger I’ve had half a conversation with an hour ago! In a part of the city I’ve never been to! What am I doing!?

I didn’t even have a chance to flag down the bartender before my name was called over my shoulder.

“Rebecca,” my name fell expertly off his lips and I turned towards the velvety voice fully thinking my date was nervous enough to arrive early too.

There he was, only a footfall away. My eyes quickly and involuntarily trailed over him. His slate gray slimming slacks elongating his legs and outlining the curvature of his manhood, a navy blue polo tucked in with the two top buttons undone and form fitting to hide the taut muscles underneath but accentuating the uncertain look in his eyes.

The hair stood at the back of my neck and I swear goosebumps coated my skin.

Nope. No. Nope!

Immediately I turned right back around on my stool.

Not happening!

“What are you doing here?” he asked, taking the empty seat and motioning to the bartender for two more of whatever he had earlier.

I had been ignoring Ethan, as best I could given our close workplace dynamic. We’d only talk about patients and pertinent information to the caseload. No hello’s, how are yous or see you tomorrows. Nope. Those little accolades were reserved for friends - someone you actually give a damn about.

It had been nearly twelve weeks since we spent that last night of heated passion in my apartment; 12 weeks since I thought it was the start of something new, the start of us. As surely as he promised me we would make a future work, he took it all right back. Running all the way to the fucking Amazon. But I forgave him the moment he came back and our eyes locked in the beer garden of Donohue’s. I trusted him above all else - his reason for leaving was probably justified. Oh how wrong I was. I kissed him and he - he did nothing. He reset us without my knowledge. He made the executive decision for my heart.

That was the final straw.

He couldn’t keep toying with me and my emotions. No. No more push and pull. That’s not a lover that’s… that’s... I’m not quite sure what that was but it certainly isn’t the actions of a respected partner. He knew where I stood and I needed to take my own stand - to continue living my life as if I never experienced him.

I chose to push him away.

To move on from chasing the notion of wholly and completely loving The Ethan Ramsey. Finally.

“If you must know, I have a date,” I said with the most nonchalant malice I could muster.

There was a thick and uncomfortable silence taking up the small foot of space between our seats.

I was staring dead ahead at the bottles meticulously placed behind the bar but out the corner of my eye I could see Ethan’s eyes fell from me to the two tumblers now sitting in front of us.

I reached out for my drink, letting the cold glass soothe my boiling blood. “At least someone wants to date me.” I muttered it mostly to myself, but secretly hoping the words would hit him where it hurts the most.

Take the hint and leave, Ethan.

His voice was even and the words melted off his tongue like butter, “It has nothing to do with want, you know that.” It was a truth he came to know.

My eyes now fixated on the decorative mirror behind the bar as I took a drag of the scotch, hoping to take a peek at how my words affected him. With a thick roll of my eyes I shrugged, “Want, can’t, what’s the difference?”

“The difference is your professional development and our jobs,” his voice was straight as he repeated his same rationale over and over again. “Once you’re an attending -”

That’s a new additive. What -?

The last words took me by surprise. He’d never added them into the mix of rejections before - he never added a glimmer of hope into the mix before…

Don’t let him suck you back in, Bec.

I shook my head dismissively to myself. “You’ll find other excuses to push me away.” I brought the liquid to my lips as I took a moment to let myself turn enough to see his full body language. He was at the edge of his seat, body angled towards me, one arm leaning on the bar and the other tightly gripping his thigh, his scotch untouched and forgotten. An onlooker would assume he was a casual man but to me he looked distraught; the careful ridges in his daily features had fallen.

Good.

My glass hovered just above my lips and I could feel the heat from Ethan’s gaze boring into my cheek. With a little bit of courage and a sly smirk I added, “Either way you’ve made your choice and I'm moving on, don’t worry.”

I checked the time on my phone, downed the rest of the scotch in my glass and slipped off the stool gathering my things into my bag, preparing to head to the back where I agreed to meet Cameron at a reserved table.

My feet fled all of two steps before there was pressure on my forearm grounding me back towards the bar. I whipped around to finally see him face to face, my heels bringing me to his level.

We were close. Much too close. In the simplest of movements his body could be flush against mine.

Stop, Rebecca, don't go there. Don’t think about it - don’t think about his lips or…

I was acutely aware of his firm yet gentle hold. His shoulders once stiff and rigid fell with vulnerability. His soft and supple lips were parted and begging to be bitten.

Pull yourself together, woman!

“Rookie,” his grip on the back of my arm tightened, lighting every nerve in my body on fire. “Rebecca,” he breathed, “Please.” Ethan’s stormy blue eyes were pleading, conveying all he wished he had the strength to say.

I tried to coax it out of him, “Say it.”

“I -”

Even now. Even with me visibly moving to put us in the past like he instructed and the shattered heart he must have had, he doesn’t have the balls to tell me.

If he can’t say it he can’t have me.

“Say it and I’ll stop,” I taunted. “I’ll squash this right now.”

Our eyes locked in showdown. Enraged brown overtaking conflicted icy blue. Standing my ground with a tightened jaw I internally gave him just three seconds before I pulled away once and for all.

Three...

His grip on my arm loosened.

Two...

His eyes squeezed closed and he shook his head.

O-

I was being pulled towards the exit by my hand.

“Lets go,” Ethan said gruffly as he laced out fingers together in a tight hold.

My heart fluttered, Good enough.

I wish I was stronger. God, do I wish I was strong enough to pull away from the black hole that is Ethan Ramsey but I couldn’t. His gravitational pull was too strong. I was and will forever be sucked in. I had a probably perfectly nice boy waiting for me in the other room with a promise of mutual affection. And what did I do?

I got into Ethan’s car.

On the drive we sat in silence, Ethan’s hand never freeing mine except to start the car. The purple and pink evening Boston sky passed by the window. I smiled at the people out the window who were still going about their day and, for the first time in months, I was content. Content with my feelings that never seemed to fade away no matter how hard I tried. Content that he feels the same way. Content that this is an actionable promise that we can be something.

I noticed Edenbrook pass in the distance. My eyebrows furrowed as I realized we were getting further from his apartment complex. The other all-too-familiar street now coming into view.

“Ethan, what the fuck. You’re taking me home?”

He said nothing.

“I thought…” I trailed off, mentally chastising myself for thinking he’d actually give in and let ourselves be happy. I huffed, “So I can’t have fun and I can’t have you. That seems fair…” I tried to free my hand but he held onto me tighter.

A few moments of time passed in the dead silence of his car. Ethan was focused on the road ahead and I was trapped in limbo. Again.

“Are you gonna say anything?” I bit, clearly needing an explanation for this round of betrayal.

He opened his mouth slightly but nothing came out. My unencumbered rage started bubbling over like an active volcano.

WHAT THE FUCK!!!

“Let me out, Ethan.” I said sternly and yanked my hand out of his. His hand now left palm up on the center console as he kept driving.

And he wasn’t slowing down.

I rose my voice through gritted teeth, “Let me out of the fucking car right now.”

Still the side streets passed behind us at a steady pace. Surely he was ignoring me.

My red hot anger reached my ears when I yelled, “Doctor! Ramsey!”

Ethan jumped bringing both hands securely on the steering wheel. Within thirty seconds he pulled the car over. Panic set in and I needed to use all my strength to control my breathing.

Not again. He’s not doing this to me again.

As soon as the car stopped at the curb I unbuckled my seat-belt.

Still staring out the windshield and white knuckles gripping the wheel he begged, “Please let me get you home safely.”

I scoffed, “I can take care of myself.”

What the fuck does he want from me?

He pinched the bridge of his nose as he sighed, “I know.”

I looked over at him completely dumbfounded. If we weren’t going to be anything he should just let me move the hell on.

“I’m not your responsibility,” I said honestly through my rage as I moved to get out of the car. “I know deep down you want to help but you’re not. You’re making things worse.” I looked over at him. His fingers left his nose and he started to sit up straighter at my words. “You - You…”

I wanted to tell him he’s broken my heart over and over again. I wanted to tell him how much I missed him and that if he just promised me we’d give us a proper try I’d forgive him. But I didn’t, because saying those words out loud wouldn’t change a thing. Everything with Ethan was inevitably complicated.

He looked over at me for the first time since the tavern. The whites of his eyes were starting to go red and my chest began to ache at the sight. He shakily asked, “I… what?”

Why do you keep doing this to yourself?

“Nothing. It doesn’t matter.” Furiously I pulled the door handle and jumped out of the car as best as my dress would allow. The air in the car was suffocating.

Behind me I heard the car shut off and a loud slam of the door. There were two beeps alerting me that Ethan did indeed leave his car in the no parking zone. Heavy footfalls caught up to me on the sidewalk accompanied by the uneven huffs of breath from the brisk jog.

“Let me walk with you. Please.”

We were only a 10 minutes walk away from my place. As mad as I was at Ethan for the false pretenses, I was angrier at myself for falling for it. For letting him have me unconditionally. The thought of going through this same old cycle with him again and again made me nauseous.

I can’t do this anymore.

“Stop,” we both ceased our movements at my definitive tone. Turning to Ethan I saw the storm brewing within. Frankly, I didn’t give a damn. “You’re not listening to me.”

His eyes widened like that of a scolded child.

My next words were frank and to the point, “I cannot do this anymore. You cannot turn up and pretend you care when it’s convenient for you.”

“I do -”

“No.” I shook my head. “You’re self-serving,” the words fell quickly off my expert lips. “Choose me or lose me, Ramsey. You don’t get both.”

I paused my rant for a brief second expecting the rebuttal that never came.

“I’m confused enough as it is,” I continued. “Jus - Just get back in your car and find me when you figure your shit out.” I bit my lip before harshly saying, “I’ll be fine without you.”

There on the narrow street on a Tuesday evening in Boston my chest tightened as I took one final look at the man I once trusted above all else. His hair windswept, cheeks flush, shoulders slumped in defeat and...

His hand twitched at his side beginning to reach out for mine. But I was quicker on my heels, turning around and storming off.

The last thing I heard as I sauntered off with a heavy heart was the unlocking of a car.

“Hey, I thought you had a date tonight?” Sienna asked from the kitchen when she saw me cross the threshold of our apartment.

“It didn’t happen,” I said flatly.

“Oh no!” My dearest friend started moving around the kitchen, pulling out all the comfort food we had on tap - a pint of ice cream, cookies she had made earlier that evening, a bag of popcorn - all because she thought I was stood up.

“I…” Fuck, how do I tell her? “didn’t make it.”

Sienna stopped in her tracks and her light brown eyes looked up in confusion, “Huh?”

I shouldn’t feel guilty but I do. Sienna’s the only person who would understand, she did catch him sneaking out of my room that last morning. She’s also the only person whose opinion matters most to me. My stomach tied in knots as I sighed, “Ethan…”

“What!” she practically shouted. Luckily the others were in their rooms for the night otherwise it would have been a very awkward conversation between us. Having to tell Aurora about Ethan is another certain kind of hell I’d rather not deal with any time soon.

“He was at the bar,” I began to explain in complete exasperation. “Of course he was at the bar, of all the bars in Boston he had to choose this one tonight.” I threw my hands in the air for dramatic effect. The irony isn’t lost on me; I agreed to The Happenstance because I knew I wouldn’t run into anyone I know and yet the one person I absolutely never would have wanted to see was already there. “He stopped me before I could meet the guy.”

There was a hopeful gleam in Sienna’s eyes, “And?”

“And he had the audacity to drive me home.” I made a ‘here I am’ motion with my arms.

“That’s it?” she pouted, obviously wanting this story to have a happy ending.

I leaned my arms on the counter and rested my head in my hands, trying to rub the evening out of my eyes and the weight of what I’d said finally sinking in.

“I told him to leave me alone until he got his shit straight. I’m done with him,” my voice cracked at the end and I hoped Sienna didn’t hear it.

If she did, she didn’t let on because her next question was, “Then… why don’t you call that guy and tell him something came up at the hospital?”

Why wasn’t I going to call Cameron? Well for starters I was embarrassed for standing him up - no fake medical emergency could blow that over. I also never wanted to set foot in another bar again - Ethan can set claim to every bar in the state for all I care. I don’t want to see him outside of work ever again.

If you don’t want anything to do with him why do you feel so guilty?

With a weighted sigh I said, “I think I’m just gonna go to bed.”

And that’s the story of how I pushed the man I loved away.

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A/N: becca is literally the most unreliable narrator, she’s so problematic 😔 also sorry for this chapter, it’s not the best thing i’ve written :/ fun fact: this scene started out as a one shot called ‘good enough’

comment/reblog bc i need the validation

#had mc stand up my actual husband #soz lover #lol #open heart #open heart fanfic #choices open heart #choices fanfic #choices oph2 #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan ramsey #oph #oph ff #ff

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agentrouka-blog · 4 years

Text

ASOIAF - Food symbolism: apples and Jon “You have to choose.”

Inspired by this amazing post by @thoughtsandgrumbles I felt compelled to look at apples a little.

Apples are a deeply symbolic fruit on a good day, but I’m not going to go too deeply into the general use, because who has time for that? I’m looking at the text itself. This post will be all about apples in Jon’s chapters, once I get the preliminary rambles out of the way.

Warning: LONG. Many quotes.

Just a few things:

Popularly associated with temptation and the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil in the garden of eden, the realization of being nekkid, the Expulsion of Adam and Eve from paradise as a result. (That would botanically not have been an apple, though.)

The apple “to the fairest” handed out by Eris, godess of discord, for Paris to choose among the three godesses Hera, Athena and Aphrodite, ultimately leading to the Trojan War, which GRRM heavily draws from.

Snow White and the poison apple

Sansa is the name of a variety of apple that was developed in the 1970s, an early ripening mix of Gala and Akane.

Just by the general use, we get a theme of choice and destruction. Also Sansa is an apple. But - spoiler alert - that is NOT very central in Jon’s chapters. YET.

Also, some boring numbers, because this is not as easy a fruit as the persimmon to parse for the sheer amount of them:

Apples in general have 155 mentions in all searchable publications, 135 in the novels directly, 22 in Jon chapters. Only 9 of all the novel-mentions concern House Fossoway, 11 in the other literature.

Top chapter uses:

AFFC, Prologue - 14: Oldtown, Quill and Tankard inn backyard. Alleras shoots them with bow and arrow while the acolyte nerd squad discusses Dany and her dragon rumors. "Where's Rosey? Our rightful queen deserves another round of cider, wouldn't you say?" The apples are withered and wormy, the cider is fearsomely strong. Pate agonizes over his betrayal and theft for his creepy, obsessive love. His choice is “love”. Then he is killed. Complex.

ADWD, Jon V - 11: Jon passes out food and asks the wildlings at Mole’s Town to choose if they want to fight for the NW or not. Apples and onions, you have to choose. The apples are withered.

ADWD, Davos II - 7: Getting information about Manderly from an apple seller in White Harbor. Bad apple, good information. Theme in WH: who are you truly loyal to? The apple is dry and mealy, “bad”. Apples and onions, again.

ASOS, Bran III - 5, and ASOS, Jon V - 3: (8 combined) Rotten apples carpet the ground near an abandoned Queenscrown inn. They provide the background for Jon’s break with the Wildling Undercover Operation and flight back to the Watch. Theme: the abandonment of the Gift, the decline of the Watch, the Dream of Spring and Jon really doesn’t even really pretend to want a future with Ygritte. He chooses. The apples are rotten.

POV uses: Jon 22, Arya 18, Prologue AFFC 14, Sansa 13, Davos 8, Jaime 8, Bran 8, Tyrion 8, Brienne 6, Catelyn 6, Dany 5, Eddard 5, Cersei 3, Theon 3, Samwell 2 JonCon 1, Asha 1, Quentyn 1, Arianne 1, Areo Hotah 1, Prologue ADWD: 1.

Jon is not only the single top POV character to feature the apple, he also has two of the top-use chapters that give the apple significance in setting the background. The apple is very closely tied to Jon.

A short note on the red apple Fossoways (Cider Hall) and the green apple Fossoways (New Barrel):

The branches split at the trial of seven at the Tourney at Ashford (of the Ashford Theory), where the red apple fought for the bad guys (Aerion Targaryen) and the green apple for Ser Duncan the Tall.

Both had the red apple of the Fossoways painted on their shields, but the younger man's was soon hacked and chipped to pieces. "Here's an apple that's not ripe yet," the older said as he slammed the other's helm. (…)

"Ser Raymun, if you please." He cantered up, a grim smile lighting his face beneath his plumed helm. "My pardons, ser. I needed to make a small change to my sigil, lest I be mistaken for my dishonorable cousin." He showed them all his shield. The polished golden field remained the same, and the Fossoway apple, but this apple was green instead of red. "I fear I am still not ripe . . . but better green than wormy, eh?"

(The Hedge Knight)

Again with the split of loyalty, with the following your moral code, with the choices.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So how do apples feature for Jon himself?

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Apples are connected to Jon’s struggle of loyalty to the Night’s Watch, and with his inner struggle in general. Every time they show up, he is confronted with a choice of who to stay loyal to, what values to follow.

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First apple: AGOT, Jon IX.

Jon’s final chapter in the book. Big Drama!

Jon eats a brown, withered apple when he tries to flee the NW the first time. He is heading South because his father has been killed and he wants to join Robb. He is plagued by self-doubt and fear. Then he takes a break to eat.

In his saddlebag, he found a biscuit, a piece of cheese, and a small withered brown apple. (...) He kept the apple for last. It had gone a little soft, but the flesh was still tart and juicy. He was down to the core when he heard the sounds: horses, and from the north.

Straight after, he is caught and prodded back in an incredibly moving, nonviolent confrontation by his new Brothers reciting the NW vows.

"… and all the nights to come," finished Pyp. He reached over for Jon's reins. "So here are your choices. Kill me, or come back with me."

Jon lifted his sword … and lowered it, helpless. "Damn you," he said. "Damn you all."

In his mind, Jon is determined to try and escape again, but the next day, Mormont lets him know they knew what happened.

Jon’s throat was dry. “You know?” “Know,” the raven echoed from Mormont’s shoulder. “Know.” The Old Bear snorted. “Do you think they chose me Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch because I’m dumb as a stump, Snow? Aemon told me you’d go. I told him you’d be back. I know my men … and my boys too. Honor set you on the kingsroad … and honor brought you back.” “My friends brought me back,” Jon said. “Did I say it was your honor?” Mormont inspected his plate.

Jon thinks he’ll be executed. Instead, he will be taken along to the great ranging beyond the Wall.

“So I will have an answer from you, Lord Snow, and I will have it now. Are you a brother of the Night’s Watch … or only a bastard boy who wants to play at war?” Jon Snow straightened himself and took a long deep breath. Forgive me, Father. Robb, Arya, Bran … forgive me, I cannot help you. He has the truth of it. This is my place. “I am … yours, my lord. Your man. I swear it. I will not run again.” The Old Bear snorted. “Good. Now go put on your sword.”

Apple = choice. The choice is the Watch. Because the war against the Others is more important.

Apple Quality: Brown and whithered. But still tart and juicy.

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Second apple: ACOK, Jon I

A former green apple (the valiantly knightly Fossoway kind) is to be dispatched from the Wall to garner support from a Baratheon king...

"Renly is not like to heed a quaking fat boy. I'll send Ser Arnell. He's a deal steadier, and his mother was one of the green-apple Fossoways."

"If it please my lord, what would you have of King Renly?"

The conversation turns toward maester Aemon, his repeated refusal to become king and the incredibly foreshadowy information about the ending of the dragon line.

It made him feel odd. “My lord, why have you told me this, about Maester Aemon?” “Must I have a reason?” Mormont shifted in his seat, frowning. “Your brother Robb has been crowned King in the North. You and Aemon have that in common. A king for a brother.” “And this too,” said Jon. “A vow.” (…)

Jon drew himself up, taut as a bowstring. “And if it did trouble me, what might I do, bastard as I am?” “What will you do?” Mormont asked. “Bastard as you are?” “Be troubled,” said Jon, “and keep my vows.”

Apple = choice. The choice is the Watch. The bigger picture is more important.

Apple Quality: green and unripe. (But honorable.)

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Third apple: ACOK, Jon VII

Jon and the Qhorin Halfhand crew are on the losing side of a game of cat and mouse with the warg-powered wildlings. Squire Dalbridge is about to sacrifice his life by going to shoot the Wildlings that are stalking them.

The squire bowed his head. "Leave me as many arrows as you can spare, brothers." He stroked his longbow. "And see my garron has an apple when you're home. He's earned it, poor beastie."

He's staying to die, Jon realized.

And that’s almost right at the end of the chapter. This is the only apple chapter where Jon is NOT immediately confronted with a moral dilemma of loyalty or the making of choices. And Dalbridge’s self-sacrifice, his off-page death, all of that means it’s a more long-term projection of the dilemma.

The next, final chapter, Jon and Qhorin Halfhand are captured and he is compelled to kill Qhorin to prove himself a turncloak to the Wildlings, in order to start his Undercover Operation.

The flames were burning low by then, the warmth fading. “The fire will soon go out,” Qhorin said, “but if the Wall should ever fall, all the fires will go out.” There was nothing Jon could say to that. He nodded. “We may escape them yet,” the ranger said. “Or not.” “I’m not afraid to die.” It was only half a lie. “It may not be so easy as that, Jon.” He did not understand. “What do you mean?”

(…)

Rattleshirt’s bone armor clattered loudly as he laughed. “Then kill the Halfhand, bastard.” “As if he could,” said Qhorin. “Turn, Snow, and die.” And then Qhorin’s sword was coming at him and somehow Longclaw leapt upward to block. The force of impact almost knocked the bastard blade from Jon’s hand, and sent him staggering backward. You must not balk, whatever is asked of you.

(…)

He knew, he thought numbly. He knew what they would ask of me. He thought of Samwell Tarly then, of Grenn and Dolorous Edd, of Pyp and Toad back at Castle Black. Had he lost them all, as he had lost Bran and Rickon and Robb? Who was he now? What was he?

“Get him up.” Rough hands dragged him to his feet. Jon did not resist. “Do you have a name?” Ygritte answered for him. “His name is Jon Snow. He is Eddard Stark’s blood, of Winterfell.”

(ACOK, Jon VIII)

Ouch. From this point on, Jon will have to make his own choices, no longer guided by other people’s rules, other people’s honor. The choices will be harder, lonelier. They will be contradictory, they will involve even more tangible loss. They will involve dishonor. The reward is as distant as home. Sacrifice. Death.

But one day, the poor beastie will get an apple, he will have earned it.

Apple = choice. The choice is the Watch. The bigger picture.

Apple quality: unknown.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fourth apple: ASOS, Jon I

As inconspicuously as above, the apple features in a memory of home, featuring not-yet-deserter Mance Rayder at Winterfell, meeting Robb and Jon up to shennanigans:

“I remember,” said Jon with a startled laugh. A young black brother on the wallwalk, yes … “You swore not to tell.”

"And kept my vow. That one, at least."

"We dumped the snow on Fat Tom. He was Father's slowest guardsman." Tom had chased them around the yard afterward, until all three were red as autumn apples. "But you said you saw me twice. When was the other time?"

"When King Robert came to Winterfell to make your father Hand," the King-beyond-the-Wall said lightly. (ASOS, Jon I)

A neat connection between desertion, vow-keeping and the events that led Jon to take his own path to the Wall. Before Meeting Mance, Ygritte has been praising the values of being “free” like the good Little Wildling Propagandist that she is. But Jon isn’t biting yet.

The following conversation gives the backstory of Mance Rayder’s desertion from the Wall. It was over a cloak, mended by a Wildling woman who tended to him while he was injured.

“And she sewed up the rents in my cloak as well, with some scarlet silk from Asshai that her grandmother had pulled from the wreck of a cog washed up on the Frozen Shore. It was the greatest treasure she had, and her gift to me.” He swept the cloak back over his shoulders. “But at the Shadow Tower, I was given a new wool cloak from stores, black and black, and trimmed with black, to go with my black breeches and black boots, my black doublet and black mail. The new cloak had no frays nor rips nor tears … and most of all, no red. The men of the Night’s Watch dressed in black, Ser Denys Mallister reminded me sternly, as if I had forgotten. My old cloak was fit for burning now, he said. “I left the next morning … for a place where a kiss was not a crime, and a man could wear any cloak he chose.” He closed the clasp and sat back down again. “And you, Jon Snow?”

Jon uses Mance’s story of visiting Winterfell to spin his own lie:

“And did you see where I was seated, Mance?” He leaned forward. “Did you see where they put the bastard?” Mance Rayder looked at Jon’s face for a long moment. “I think we had best find you a new cloak,” the king said, holding out his hand.

What will the bastard do? Be troubled and keep his vows. So far, so true. But he did kill Qhorin Halfhand, he is pretending to be a deserter. Lines are a lot more blurry than they used to be.

Apple = choice. The choice is… the Night’s Watch. Shifting more and more toward simply the bigger picture.

Apple quality: red autumn apple.

Red silk patches. Conflicting values. Women. There is uncertainty on the horizon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fifth apple. ASOS Jon V. BIG apple chapter.

His final confrontation as an Undercover Wildling.

This confrontation takes place at the abandoned tower and village of Queenscrown, which gets a closer description in the accompanying Bran chapter:

No one had lived in the village for long years, Bran could see. All the houses were falling down. Even the inn. It had never been much of an inn, to look at it, but now all that remained was a stone chimney and two cracked walls, set amongst a dozen apple trees. One was growing up through the common room, where a layer of wet brown leaves and rotting apples carpeted the floor. The air was thick with the smell of them, a cloying cidery scent that was almost overwhelming. Meera stabbed a few apples with her frog spear, trying to find some still good enough to eat, but they were all too brown and wormy.

(ASOS, Bran III)

The abandonment of Brandon’s Gift is a subject of conflict between Jon and Ygritte. A carpet of rotting apples. It opens the very next Jon chapter, as they are on the way to Queenscrown. Ygritte mocks the farmers who left the Gift as fools. Jon doesn’t take the bait yet. He briefly indulges in a fantasy of introducing Ygritte to Winterfell before being overcome with guilt and shame again. Ygritte is super great at reading his mood:

“Might be after we could come back here, and live in that tower,” she said. “Would you want that, Jon Snow? After?”

He doesn’t think about it, doesn’t answer for a while, it rather reminds him of Ned’s Dream of Spring, the plan to resettle the Gift. The Starks and the Watch.

If winter had come and gone more quickly and spring had followed in its turn, I might have been chosen to hold one of these towers in my father’s name. Lord Eddard was dead, however, his brother Benjen lost; the shield they dreamt together would never be forged. “This land belongs to the Watch,” Jon said. Her nostrils flared. “No one lives here.”

Jon isn’t even tempted. Like, no, Jon, Bambi, you did not love this person, no matter what your telling yourself later. He doesn’t even really contemplate it.

Instead of bonding them closer together, Ygritte’s invitation to make long-term plans has the opposite effect. It fans the flames of what divides them. They argue about raiding and rape. Ygritte spouts nonsense.

“You know nothing, Jon Snow. Daughters are taken, not wives. You’re the ones who steal. You took the whole world, and built the Wall t’ keep the free folk out.”

Ygritte, no, that is not why the Wall was built. You think they built a gargantuan magic ice structure to keep out Styr, Magnar of Thenn, or what? Really? Jon is also sceptical of this version of history:

“Did we?” Sometimes Jon forgot how wild she was, and then she would remind him. “How did that happen?”

"The gods made the earth for all men t' share. Only when the kings come with their crowns and steel swords, they claimed it was all theirs. My trees, they said, you can't eat them apples. My stream, you can't fish here. My wood, you're not t' hunt. My earth, my water, my castle, my daughter, keep your hands away or I'll chop 'em off, but maybe if you kneel t' me I'll let you have a sniff. You call us thieves, but at least a thief has t' be brave and clever and quick. A kneeler only has t' kneel."

Ygritte is basically a bland political extremist. I could sympathize with her criticism of feudal culture if it didn’t come hand in hand with her passionate defense of violent theft and rape culture. Like, you paragon of intelligence, not everyone resides at the fair top of the food chain like you do in your peak fitness status within your warrior culture. But of course, rape is fun! Just bring a knife!

"Harma and the Bag of Bones don't come raiding for fish and apples. They steal swords and axes. Spices, silks, and furs. They grab every coin and ring and jeweled cup they can find, casks of wine in summer and casks of beef in winter, and they take women in any season and carry them off beyond the Wall."

Apples in a breath with women. People should not be “stolen”. But Ygritte thinks men who successfully abduct and rape women are sexy. She’s like Dany that way. There are some cultural divides that cannot be pretended away, and their entire conversation circles around it. Jon is plagued by terrible guilt, he tries to warn Ygritte that their plan is doomed, she (rightfully) suspects his loyalty to the Wildlings and Jon believes himself in love but he never wavers in his actual allegiance to the NW.

She grinned at that, showing Jon the crooked teeth that he had somehow come to love. Wildling to the bone, he thought again, with a sick sad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He flexed the fingers of his sword hand, and wondered what Ygritte would do if she knew his heart. Would she betray him if he sat her down and told her that he was still Ned Stark’s son and a man of the Night’s Watch? He hoped not, but he dare not take that risk.

GRRM is going out of his way to undermine the supposed romance by constantly referring to the conflict between them and the apples-of-choice are just all over.

Anyway, Jon is thoroughly eaten by guilt over having to betray these human beings who are a vicious and brutal threat to the place and people he loves and swore to protect. His true identity is hinted at:

Jon wondered where Ghost was now. Had he gone to Castle Black, or was he was running with some wolfpack in the woods? He had no sense of the direwolf, not even in his dreams. It made him feel as if part of himself had been cut off. Even with Ygritte sleeping beside him, he felt alone. He did not want to die alone.

Ghost. Not Ygritte. Not the wildlings. Not the Watch, even. Ghost. Wolf.

They arrive at the Queenscrown inn and an old man is captured.

Jon walked away. A rotten apple squished beneath his heel. Styr will kill him. The Magnar had said as much at Greyguard; any kneelers they met were to be put to death at once, to make certain they could not raise the alarm. Ride with them, eat with them, fight with them. Did that mean he must stand mute and helpless while they slit an old man's throat?

The apples are rotten. Jon spends one last moment with Ygritte contemplating Queenscrown and then the “kill the old man” business starts. He struggles but ultimately refuses. Bran’s wolf Summer disrupts the tension with a bloody attack and Jon doesn’t hesitate to Escape. Like when they met, Jon didn’t slit Ygritte’s throat, but she slit the old man’s. He will not shoot arrows at her, but she did at him. Love.

Thunder rumbled softly in the distance, but above him the clouds were breaking up. Jon searched the sky until he found the Ice Dragon, then turned the mare north for the Wall and Castle Black. The throb of pain in his thigh muscle made him wince as he put his heels into the old man’s horse. I am going home, he told himself. But if that was true, why did he feel so hollow?

Apple = choice. The choice is… NOT Ygritte. NOT the Wildlings. Time and again. But it also isn’t the Watch. Not as it had been before. Jon followed his instincts, his inner values, but it had a cost, it is hard. Jon is lost.

Apple Quality: rotten.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sixth apple: ASOS, Jon VII

The Battle at Castle Black They await the attack, Jon and Satin share a meal. And they get a nod to Renly’s peach quote:

"Eat," Jon told him. "There's no knowing when you'll have another chance." He took two buns himself. The nuts were pine nuts, and besides the raisins there were bits of dried apple. (ASOS, Jon VII)

Compare to Renly, which also took place before a nightly sneak attack.

"A man should never refuse to taste a peach," Renly said as he tossed the stone away. "He may never get the chance again. Life is short, Stannis. Remember what the Starks say. Winter is coming." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. (ACOK, Catelyn III)

Peaches have an air of incest and hedonism about them, nostalgia and summer, Baratheons and Arya and Asha. The apple is different. It’s about choice, about conflicted loyalty and personal values, about identity and the bigger picture. (And again and again, they connect to women.)

Jon commands part of the fight, it’s grim. He recognizes some of the wildlings as they pepper them with arrows but cannot shoot at who he thinks is Ygritte. Wildlings die, his brothers die. The battle is brutal, Jon’s POV is distant. Satin remains by his side all throughout, grounding him. Jon remembers advice from Theon, from Ned. They eventually beat the wildling attackers with a horrifying fire trap on the stairs, they win. Immediately after, Jon goes looking for Ygritte, Satin still by his side.

The ice crystals had settled over her face, and in the moonlight it looked as though she wore a glittering silver mask. The arrow was black, Jon saw, but it was fletched with white duck feathers. Not mine, he told himself, not one of mine. But he felt as if it were.

We get a Dany-Val nod…

The light of the half-moon turned Val's honey-blond hair a pale silver and left her cheeks as white as snow. She took a deep breath. "The air tastes sweet."

"My tongue is too numb to tell. All I can taste is cold." (ADWD, Jon VIII)

...and a lovely double-layered “not mine, not one of mine”. Not his arrows, but he feels guilty. She is not his pack, but he feels guilty.

She just smiled at that. “D’you remember that cave? We should have stayed in that cave. I told you so.” “We’ll go back to the cave,” he said. “You’re not going to die, Ygritte. You’re not.” “Oh.” Ygritte cupped his cheek with her hand. “You know nothing, Jon Snow,” she sighed, dying.

Jon struggles to let go of the fantasy. He is loyal to the cause of the Watch, if not the letter of the vows, but he knows now that his souls want more. He indulges Ygritte’s fantasy of returning because it’s the only thing he has, the only thing he can offer.

Apple = choice. The choice is… the Watch. But painfully. Numbly. No passion. Duty.

Apple quality: dried.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seventh apple: ASOS, Jon X

Tormund’s daughter Munda.

After vicious attacking Janos Slynt for insulting Ned Stark during a hiostile interrogation in the previous chapter, Jon is sent to kill Mance Rayder under the pretense of parley to prove his loyalty. He is resigned and shame-filled, contemplating his future, where he will be remembered in honorless infamy. Much bitterness, plenty of woe. His reception by Tormund is surprisingly jovial. They drink mead to honor their fallen Donal Noye and Ygritte, with surprisingly little bitterness. It helps Jon return some of his cheer.

"You bloody crows." Tormund's tone was gruff, yet strangely gentle. "That Longspear stole me daughter. Munda, me little autumn apple. Took her right out o' my tent with all four o' her brothers about.” Toregg slept through it, the great lout, and Torwynd … well, Torwynd the Tame, that says all that needs saying, don’t it? The young ones gave the lad a fight, though.”

“And Munda?” asked Jon. “She’s my own blood,” said Tormund proudly. “She broke his lip for him and bit one ear half off, and I hear he’s got so many scratches on his back he can’t wear a cloak. She likes him well enough, though. And why not? He don’t fight with no spear, you know. Never has. So where do you think he got that name? Har!” Jon had to laugh. Even now, even here.

Autumn apple. Stolen women. Cloak.

Stealing women was a hot topic with Ygritte and Jon is immediately concerned, but is reassured. The tenor of the conversation is conciliatory, while he is revealed to be loyal to the Watch, there is mutual respect. In Jon’s thoughts, Ygritte becomes a mentor voice, drifting away from the romantic woe of before.

Easy for you to say, he thought back. You died brave in battle, storming the castle of a foe. I’m going to die a turncloak and a killer. Nor would his death be quick, unless it came on the end of Mance’s sword.

Similarly to Dany later, Jon is arguing with dead beloved abusers in his head, like she will do in ADWD with Viserys. Ygritte is less obviously horrific, but the “voices in my head” aspect and the sheer idealising that both of them engage in feels disconcerting. Never the less, we see Jon’s current identity status on Facebook is “turncloak”. Not Night’s Watch.

The rest of Mance’s “court” is less welcoming, but Mance draws him in for a private conference. The Horn of Winter is revealed, the mutual cause of the Wildlings and the Night’s Watch is identified.

“If I sound the Horn of Winter, the Wall will fall. Or so the songs would have me believe. There are those among my people who want nothing more …” “But once the Wall is fallen,” Dalla said, “what will stop the Others?”

(Dalla has the brains that Ygritte lacked. Why can SHE not be Jon’s mentor?)

Mance offers to hand over the Horn of Joramun if they let the Wildlings pass through the Wall, or he will destroy the Wall in three days. Jon hesitates because he fears they will ransack the place, but he also has no negotiating credit with Thorne and Slynt. He contemplates just smashing the Horn, when suddenly Stannis attacks. The Wildlings are smashed, a helpless Jon enters the tent with Val to attend Dalla.

He is just... disillusioned.

Apple = choice. The choice is… the bigger picture. The Watch is headed by irrational scum, the Wildlings are no less dangerous to the North than they were before and Jon has no hope of saving his ruined reputation either way. He was about to murder Mance, then about to smash his bargaining chip, yet he has no ill will toward them. Only a depressed, numb resignation to preventing the worst of all outcomes.

Apple Quality: autumn apple.

Again with the autumn apple. There are only 3 “autumn apples” in the books, all in ASOS. Jon I (above with Mance), Samwell II, and Jon X here.

In Jon I it connected Mance’s disloyalty to the Watch to the red-and-black cloak given to him by a woman. Also Bael the Bard, deception and stealing. Jon consults his inner values, and chooses pragmatism. His break with “blind” honor will leave him flailing a bit.

In Jon X it specifically refers to a young woman being stolen. Jon consults his inner values, he chooses the bigger picture, but he’s frayed and his choice is interrupted. Stannis will offer him Winterfell. Ghost will remind him of who he is. Ultimately, he will become Lord Commander and his struggle with loyalty will cease for a long time.

What’s Sam’s autumn apple about? They are listed with many foodstuffs that the angry NW brother’s at Craster’s after the fight at the Fist of the First Men expect to receive. Mormont just remembered the true purpose of the Watch. Gilly has just given birth to her son. Sam offers to take the boy, Craster gets mad. they bury a dead brother and the mood is mutinous.

“Apples,” said Garth of Greenaway. “Barrels and barrels of crisp autumn apples. There are apple trees out there, I saw ’em.”

A confrontation breaks out and they kill Craster and stab Mormont. Sam’s friends flee, the others raid and rape, Sam cradles a dying Mormont. Some wives approach and order Sam to take Gilly to safety.

Gilly was crying. “Me and the babe. Please. I’ll be your wife, like I was Craster’s. Please, ser crow. He’s a boy, just like Nella said he’d be. If you don’t take him, they will.” “They?” said Sam, and the raven cocked its black head and echoed, “They. They. They.” “The boy’s brothers,” said the old woman on the left. “Craster’s sons. The white cold’s rising out there, crow. I can feel it in my bones. These poor old bones don’t lie. They’ll be here soon, the sons.”

The massive abundance of apples suggests a link to the abundance of women, to the connection to inner values over formal loyalty, to the “stealing” of Gilly to save her. To the massive bigger picture. With Jon it translates to his trademark quick-thinking pragmatism, with Sam it translates to compassion and identifying valuable information.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

8th and final apple: ADWD, Jon V - The Grand Appling.

ADWD Jon V is another big apple chapter: you have to choose!

Much time has passed since the last apples were mentioned. Jon is Lord Commander and has sent away Sam, Gilly and maester Aemon. The Wildlings are south of the Wall. Food is a constant worry. Bowen Marsh is upset with Jon, Jon is super-diplomatic. Not. It’s time to bring provisions to the Wildlings at Mole’s Town. A Mirror to Dany in ADWD, Daenerys VI, bringing food to the Astapori refugees. The Wildlings are grumpy. Jon struggles to balance the culture clash between free folk, Stannis’ men and Wildlings.

Pig ignorance, Jon thought. The free folk were no different than the men of the Night’s Watch; some were clean, some dirty, but most were clean at times and dirty at other times.

Jon is much removed from his earlier woeful struggles or idealism. A weary pragmatism guides his every action. Grey.

Apples ensue:

"You can have an onion or an apple," Jon heard Hairy Hal tell one woman, "but not both. You got to pick."

The woman did not seem to understand. "I need two of each. One o' each for me, t'others for my boy. He's sick, but an apple will set him right."

Hal shook his head. "He has to come get his own apple. Or his onion. Not both. Same as you. Now, is it an apple or an onion? Be quick about it, now, there's more behind you."

"An apple," she said, and he gave her one, an old dried thing, small and withered.

"Move along, woman," shouted a man three places back. "It's cold out here."

The woman paid the shout no mind. "Another apple," she said to Hairy Hal. "For my son. Please. This one is so little."

Hal looked to Jon. Jon shook his head. They would be out of apples soon enough. If they started giving two to everyone who wanted two, the latecomers would get none.

"Out of the way," a girl behind the woman said. Then she shoved her in the back. The woman staggered, lost her apple, and fell. The other foodstuffs in her arms went flying. Beans scattered, a turnip rolled into a mud puddle, a sack of flour split and spilled its precious contents in the snow.

Apples are once again almost aggressively connected to choices. Apples or onions. Not both. You have to pick.

Barring another meta, I can’t really say what the onion is supposed to represent. Some things that echoe Jon’s apple themes:

His sons were good fighters and better sailors, but they did not know how to talk to lords. They were lowborn, even as I was, but they do not like to recall that. When they look at our banner, all they see is a tall black ship flying on the wind. They close their eyes to the onion. (ACOK, Davos I)

Denial.

Dany nibbled at an onion and reflected ruefully on the faithlessness of men. (ACOK, Daenerys III)

Faithlessness.

The feast was a meager enough thing, a succession of fish stews, black bread, and spiceless goat. The tastiest thing Theon found to eat was an onion pie. Ale and wine continued to flow well after the last of the courses had been cleared away. (ACOK, Theon II)

Theon about to be ordered to attack Winterfell. Betrayal.

The last time it was life I brought to Storm's End, shaped to look like onions. This time it is death, in the shape of Melisandre of Asshai. (ACOK, Davos II)

Life and death brought by the same person.

Melisandre’s manichean world view vs. Davos’ more encompassing one:

"What if I am? It seems to me that most men are grey."

"If half of an onion is black with rot, it is a rotten onion. A man is good, or he is evil." (ACOK, Davos II)

Bless you Sam.

Hungry as he was, Sam knew he would retch if he so much as tried a bite. How could they eat the poor faithful garrons who had carried them so far? When Craster's wives brought onions, he seized one eagerly. One side was black with rot, but he cut that part off with his dagger and ate the good half raw. (ASOS, Samwell II)

Considering apples represent the choice you make to serve an ethical bigger picture (not necessarily loyalty to an order), onions seem to show a contrasting duality of bad and good, a refusal to position oneself honestly, dirty compromises, the darkness in human beings.

Davos’ entire arc circles around being a very decent human being who none the less supports a whole lot of questionable crap. Our resident kraken Theon is torn inside unable to choose between Greyjoy and Stark identity and becomes monstrous.

Melisandre downright denies the existence of grey. The presence of bad cancels out all good. Samwell, on the other hand, embraces the good while disregarding the bad.

Ygritte smelled of onion. Dany eats wild onion on her dragon grassland chapter, Jorah eats onion. Brienne has onion soup on her way to Lady Stoneheart. Jon offers the Wildlings onion soup after they burn their god’s for Melisandre in echange for safety. Dark compromises.

So the choice between apples and onions is the choice to MAKE a choice. Stop hedging your bets or practicing denial, position yourself, one way or the other.

The woman who refuses to choose, loses her apple, loses the fruit that will set her sick son right, loses her cance at following her inner moral compass and doing the right thing.

There is a tussle, Jon tries to rally them with a speech. They are in a Mutiny at Craster’s Keep kind of mood.

“You want more food?” asked Jon. “The food’s for fighters. Help us hold the Wall, and you’ll eat as well as any crow.” Or as poorly, when the food runs short. (…)

“Fight for you?” This voice was thickly accented. Sigorn, the young Magnar of Thenn, spoke the Common Tongue haltingly at best. “Not fight for you. Kill you better. Kill all you.” The raven flapped its wings. “Kill, kill.” Sigorn’s father, the old Magnar, had been crushed beneath the falling stair during his attack on Castle Black. I would feel the same if someone asked me to make common cause with the Lannisters, Jon told himself. “Your father tried to kill us all,” he reminded Sigorn. “The Magnar was a brave man, yet he failed. And if he had succeeded … who would hold the Wall?”

Jon believes in the greyness of men, but he also believes in choices. You don’t have to be perfect to do the right thing. But you have to do the right thing. Or a thing, anyway. You have to choose.

There is more commotion. Jon decides to make it simpler.

"Hal, what was it that you told this woman?"

Hal looked confused. "About the food, you mean? An apple or an onion? That's all I said. They got to pick."

"You have to pick," Jon Snow repeated. "All of you. No one is asking you to take our vows, and I do not care what gods you worship. My own gods are the old gods, the gods of the North, but you can keep the red god, or the Seven, or any other god who hears your prayers. It's spears we need. Bows. Eyes along the Wall. (…)

He recruits, actively.

“The choice is yours,” Jon Snow told them. “Those who want to help us hold the Wall, return to Castle Black with me and I’ll see you armed and fed. The rest of you, get your turnips and your onions and crawl back inside your holes.”

Apples yay, onions nay. Dany killed the slavers of Astapor, and left alive only children under the age of 12. Jon recruit ages 12 and up for the Watch, girls and boys. Dany killed 163 random slavers. Jon recruits 63 Wildlings.

By the time the last withered apple had been handed out, the wagons were crowded with wildlings, and they were sixty-three stronger than when the column had set out from Castle Black that morning.

The apples win out. No more mention of onions in this chapter.

The chapter ends on a grey note, uncertain but hopeful.

Marsh was unconvinced. “You’ve added sixty-three more mouths, my lord … but how many are fighters, and whose side will they fight on? If it’s the Others at the gates, most like they’ll stand with us, I grant you … but if it’s Tormund Giantsbane or the Weeping Man come calling with ten thousand howling killers, what then?” “Then we’ll know. So let us hope it never comes to that.”

Hilariously, it is not the treachery of the apple-choosing wildlings Jon will have to worry about.

The abundance of onions and apples in this chapter sets up the struggle Jon faces in later ADWD chapters. The bigger picture v. Arya. Apples are done, for now, the onions stalk him. He tries to strikes a balance. He hesitates, he sends Mance, he struggles. In the end, the Pink Letter sends him over the edge.

Apples v. onions. Jon has chosen.

Apples = choice. The choices is… NOT the Watch. Arya. The North. The bigger picture. House Stark.

Apple Quality: withered. Like the very first apple.

Jon stood tall. He told himself that he would die well; that much he could do, at the least. “I know the penalty for desertion, my lord. I’m not afraid to die.” “Die!” the raven cried. “Nor live, I hope,” Mormont said, cutting his ham with a dagger and feeding a bite to the bird. (AGOT, Jon IX)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In conclusion:

Apples signal the necessity for Jon make a moral choice according to his own personal values.

Jon always has his eyes on the bigger picture.

His choices becomes increasingly divorced from the concept of loyalty to the Watch.

There is a pronounced conflict between apple and onion, between moral choice and refusal to choose. Jon tries to walk the line between the letter of his vows and his values. He ends up choosing his values. It goes badly.

The quality of the apples has a relationship with the ease of choosing.

whithered apples are fairly clean choices,

rotten apples are traumatic choices,

autumn apples relate to choices influenced by the wisdom of women, the stealing of women.

There is a future apple promised to “the beastie” as a reward.

If we want to draw a connection to the show, Jon will clearly face another apples v. onions conflict and the need to choose will feature heavily. It will go badly. But there is the promise of home and reward.

#asoiaf #fruit symbolism #apples #jon snow #you have to choose #my posts

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soukoku-rivals · 4 years

Text

Summary

My darlings, it’s been over two years and we’re done with 2 part out of 3 of this comic. And I am amazed that I actually got this far, that you got this far. Really, without your support, all the comments, likes and reblogs, and of course the coffee, it wouldn’t be possible.

There is only one last part of this comic left - 3 chapters and an epilogue. But before that happens, you voted to the summary so here it is!

It’a very short and I probably skipped some parts one may consider more important than others but I hope it still serves it purpose.

Read under the cut!

Atsushi and Dazai go to a shopping mall where they meet Chuuya. Chuuya is angry at Dazai [as always] but he puts his feelings aside when the mall is attacked by a small gang aiming to rob the patrons. All three of our heroes need to work together in order to stop the bad guys.

Atsushi is amazed at Soukoku’s partnership and Chuuya ends up giving him a few helpful tips on how to fight. Chuuya also identifies the gang as the Wolf School whose leader is a Polish ability user, Sapkowski. The knowledge comes in handy when Dazai and Atsushi come back to the agency and it turns out that the Wolf School not only aimed to rob the shopping mall but also kidnapped a person.

The person kidnapped is Alexandre Dumas, a French ability user with the skill of The Three Musketeers which allows him to see what abilities other people have, can amplify them through touch or contact with his blood and can make regular people physically stronger. His partner, John Locke hires the agency to get him back.

It is again Dazai and Atsushi together on a mission and they meet Chuuya once more, deciding to join forces. This time Atsushi is supposed to join the shorter part of Soukoku and retrieve Dumas first before Chuuya destroys the Wolf School gang. Dazai hangs back.

Chuuya and Atsushi talk about Dazai and how Chuuya hates the other man for always manipulating and using other people. For manipulating and seemingly not caring about mafia while he seems to care about the agency. Atsushi still believes that Dazai is a good person but the conversation is cut short when Chuuya reminds them they have job to do.

They manage to find Dumas after killing two gang members guarding a room. Dumas is unconscious and Atsushi has to carry him out. On their way, however, they are discovered by other members of the gang members and this is when the fight starts.

Sapkowski is an ability user who can turn into mythological and fictional monsters with the help of his skill, The Witcher. However, using Dumas’ blood he amplifies his power and turns all his people into monsters and himself into a dragon.

At disadvantage with Dumas unconscious and needing protection, Atsushi and Chuuya hide when Dazai comes back with Akutagawa as the cavalry. Shin Soukoku face the enemy while Chuuya and Dazai have a talk about how Dazai manipulated Chuuya again with Dumas – kidnapping people and imprisoning them for fun seems to be a sensitive topic for Chuuya.

Before Dazai manages to say something in reply, Akutagawa gets badly hurt and then Dazai falls unconscious after a hit in the head. With three people down, and only Chuuya and Atsushi able to fight, Chuuya decides to take a drastic step. He tells Atsushi to get the other three out into safety while he himself activates Corruption to fight off the enemy after bestowing his hat to Akutagawa.

Dazai wakes up while Atsushi is already out with all of them and manages to get to Chuuya before he dies from overusing his power.

In the mafia infirmary Chuuya remembers how Dazai always used to be there for him after using Corruption, even gifting him with his iconic blue gem bolo tie that’s supposed to symbolize how Dazai will always love Chuuya and won’t let him die. Until one day Dazai is gone and so is the tie. Though Dazai seems to be wearing it now, and what does that mean for Chuuya? However, Kouyou is there this time, ready to comfort him.

Back at the Agency, Locke is there to pick up his partner. As it turns out, he has an ability as well and with it he can take away people’s memories. He erases all memory of Dumas’ power from the agency minds, unknowingly leaving out Dazai, who is unaffected for obvious reasons.

At night Chuuya decides to get rid of the remnants of Wolf School where he meets Locke. He figures out what Dumas’ power is and Locke says he has no choice but to take Chuuya’s memories as well. Locke’s power, Tabula Rasa, wipes the mind completely without Dumas’ The Three Musketeers to control it better and so Chuuya ends up as a blank slate.

Locke tries to get him back to the agency but on his way Chuuya is intercepted by an unknown person working for Fyodor while Dazai watches from the window, having no idea what just happened.

Later, Locke has nightmares caused by Chuuya’s memories and figures out his partner and Chuuya grew up in the same facility. He is in trouble for hurting his partner’s childhood not-friend.

[That was only part 1, this is so long, and I skipped so much, I’m sorry]

Part 2 starts with a flashback of how Chuuya and Dazai first met, Dazai already thinking about suicide and Chuuya desperate to have a happy life. They fight.

In the present, Dumas and Locke arrive at the agency hoping to find Chuuya there but mysteriously he’s not. Dazai invites them for a coffee to talk things through. This is when Dumas finds out what Locke already knows – Dazai is immune to abilities – and Dazai finds out that Locke and Dumas are members of Trickters, ability group specializing in mind control. While trying to contact Chuuya, Kouyou tells them he is missing.

Atsushi gets called over to test if Locke can actually bring memories back – he can – and to bring the footage of CCTV recording from when Chuuya was seen last outside the agency. Dumas identifies the man who took him as Mikhail Bulgakov, another ability user with the power of The Master and Margarita, which marks one person as the ‘Master’ and other as ‘Margarita’ and makes Margarita believe in every word the Master says and support them.

[This never came up but this is as good place as any to point out, I never said Alex can tell a person’s name just by looking at them. Bulgakov is actually a member of the Tricksters as well, and that’s why Hella works with him, and his code name is either Woland or Satan.]

Dazai is terrified of what that implies since Chuuya is with Dostoevsky and obviously, Fyodor would use that power against them. Dazai excuses Locke and Dumas saying he will contact them once they have Chuuya back. They leave not before advising Dazai that he may get Chuuya back as his boyfriend if he just tries, exposing Soukoku’s past relationship to Atsushi.

In the meantime Fyodor convinces Chuuya that they are actually dating. Of course, Chuuya being the loyal bastard he is, promises to prove his worth to Fyodor even after he lost his memories.

Dazai has a small breakdown and Atsushi is there to comfort him.

In another flashback we see smol Chuuya alone in the gardens as he help Rando/Rimbaud find Kouyou’s house. Rimbaud worried about the cold leaves Chuuya with his scarf and hat. Chuuya has very confusing emotions about all of this and is approached by Dazai who witnessed the conversation. Dazai explains that Chuuya bottles his emotions and that causes them to be too much and Chuuya to violently blow up hurting people around. In Dazai’s opinion, Chuuya just needs to let himself feel. Together they go back to Kouyou’s house, holding hands, and Rimbaud takes back his scarf after Chuuya thank him, but let’s the kid keep the hat.

In the present, it is quite some time after Chuuya disappeared. Dazai holds a meeting explaining which places is Fyodor most likely to attack using Chuuya. Kouyou is frustrated at the lack of their progress.

Meanwhile, Chuuya after all his training with Corruption is in a visibly bad state but still determined to carry out Fyodor’s orders still believing Fyodor is his partner and that he has friends there – Hella, Behemoth and Koroviev – who like to play poker with him. Of course, he can’t let them down.

Shin Soukoku and Kyouka [who, the author believes, should always work together, have you seen Dead Apple?] are observing one of the targets and lo and behold, Chuuya appears.

They notify Dazai, who immediately sets out with Yosano to their place, and set out to keep Chuuya there until Dazai and Yosano arrive. Chuuya has no trouble fighting the kids, apparently using Dumas’ blood which Fyodor got from the Wolf School, to control Corruption. Fortunately, Dazai arrives and pins him to the ground. In order to get out, Chuuya tricks him into kissing and then stabs him in the arm [aiming for the throat] and gets out.

In the last attempt to stop his escape, Atsushi attacks, slicing through Chuuya’s gravitational bomb and chopping off his arm. Chuuya, hurt and bleeding escapes. Dazai rushes after him and finds him in an abandoned warehouse where Chuuya loses his consciousness.

In another flashback we find out why Dazai ‘broke up’ with Chuuya by making Chuuya hate him and pretending to hate him in return. He tells Odasaku, that Chuuya loses his control when Dazai’s safety is involved and is willing to hurt himself in order to keep Dazai safe. Being the death seeking person Dazai is, he is worried Chuuya will end up hurt because of him and it’s better that they are not together.

In the present, Dazai understands that his ways were wrong and he should have spoken to Chuuya instead of just leaving him. He wishes for another chance but only when Chuuya is back to normal.

Atsushi arrives to see Dazai and Chuuya in the room together, Chuuya sleeping strapped to the bed and Dazai holding his hand. Dazai explains that Chuuya is most likely still brainwashed by Fyodor, even though he nullified The Master and Margarita and because of that they need to keep him from going back to the rat. It’s a hard decision for him, since Chuuya had his choice taken away from him since a very young age – being an experiment subject in a research facility in France and later caught and sold by human traffickers to Japan. He states that for Chuuya going back to the mafia would be the best.

Chuuya was only pretending to be asleep and heard everything but then he ‘wakes up’ officially and falls back into his old bickering with Dazai even though he doesn’t necessary remember him.

While in the ADA, Chuuya is visited by Kouyou and Akutagawa who show deep care for him and Akutagawa actually brings him the hat, Chuuya recognizes from the pictures he saw at Fyodor’s place. Chuuya is confused.

Later that night, Chuuya and Dazai sleep together, Dazai removing his bandages to keep constant contact with Chuuya in order to nullify his powers. Still, Chuuya escapes through the window taking Dazai’s coat and his hat.

We see Dazai open his eyes and call Atsushi telling him that Chuuya escaped as planned and is on route that should make him meet Dumas and Locke ready to give his memories back. Dazai predicts they may need Yosano.

Meanwhile, Fyodor dismisses Bulgakov and his group but tells Hella to stay behind. Hella is the daughter of Locke and has been spying on Fyodor for his dad and because of that, Chuuya was able to get to the agency safely and get his memories back so he can go back to Fyodor in perfect condition. Fyodor kills Hella for her services.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #Nakahara Chuuya #Dazai Osamu #fyodor dostoevsky #atsushi nakajima #Alexandre Dumas #alex #John Locke #loki #fan comic #doujinshi #Double Black #soukoku #soukoku rivals #update #summary

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herbgerblin · 4 years

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taako gets (very politely) kidnapped by the bird king p.5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Archive of Our Own

The summer garden is as bold and beautiful as it is hot and—surprisingly—bright. The domed ceiling glows down upon a canopy of tropical plants, which create a veritable maze for the trio to walk around as they enter. A circular opening in the center of the ceiling reveals the dark, glittering night sky.

“How is this room bright when it’s nighttime?” Lup asks.

“Many of the castle chambers are enchanted to reflect a particular climate,” Barry says, leading them down a small cobblestone path. “I’m sure you’ve witnessed all the species of birds constantly flocking outside. The gardens enable them to rest in their natural habitat before taking off again.”

“It’s a giant aviary,” Lup exclaims. A cluster of tropical birds watch them as they pass through the plants. They are all an assortment of brilliant sizes, colors, and voices.

“So there’s like, a winter garden?” Taako asks. His face lights up. “Wait, does it have penguins in it?”

“Yeah, it does actually,” Barry replies.

Taako looks smugly at Lup. “Guess who’s going to be the goddamn emperor penguin now?”

��You’re my brother and I love you,” Lup says, glancing over her shoulder at him. “But sometimes I don’t like you as a person.”

The pathway through the foliage quickly gives way to a large, open courtyard. A small waterfall pours down the side of an inclined part of the chamber’s constructed landscape, shaping into a river that runs nearly down the middle of the courtyard. Set up in the center of the clearing is an outdoor table, already laid out with hand sandwiches, fruit salad, lemonade, and a tray of small cakes.

“If there’s one thing you guys really get,” Taako says. “It’s interior design.” He makes a beeline for the table. His hand only just hovers over a sandwich, when a voice stops him in his tracks.

“Don’t touch that, I haven’t finished yet!”

Taako flinches back. He, Lup, and Barry turn to see a stout looking man wearing a sunhat and apron emerge from some bushes. Held carefully in his hands are some freshly cut orchids.

“Can’t have a royal lunch without decoration,” the man declares, forcing his way through the trio. There’s a pretty vase full of water sitting in the middle of the table. The man very gingerly sets the orchids inside it, while whispering in an—arguable sultry —tone, “there you go, gorgeous.”

At that, Taako and Lup look at each other. They both look at Barry. Barry gives them a slight shake of his head. They look back at each other. They shrug.

The man quickly slips off his hat and apron and turns to face them. He puts a hand on his hip and gives the twins a weary stare. The twins stand in place as he walks around both of them, looking them over like he’s inspecting them or something. He’s wearing an olive green tunic, and brown, leathery trousers tucked into some dirt covered work boots. With him circling both twins like he is, Taako takes note of a pair of wide eyed owls stitched onto the front of his shirt.

“Welcome!” the man says, loud and cheerful. He gestures at the seat. “I’m Merle, palace gardener. Take a seat, have a bite! You kids must be exhausted from crossing over!”

Taako and Lup both let out silent breaths of relief. Taako grabs the nearest chair and immediately plops down, throwing his legs over the arm rests with no regard for posture. Barry pulls out a chair for Lup, and she takes the seat with a pleasant smile. Once the four of them are situated, Taako fills his plate and takes a bite out of one of the sandwiches.

“Not bad,” he says. “Definitely edible. But this could do with some oregano. And maybe less mayo?”

“Well,” Merle says, shrugging. “Sounds like you know your stuff better than I do. I try my best but my herb knowledge is better suited for medicinal purposes. And even then, it only gets so intimate .”

“I’ve lost my appetite,” Lup announces.

“Our resident healer,” Barry says, quickly changing the subject. “Merle’s good at fixing us up when we get into scrapes.”

“In theory,” Merle admits. He glances at Lup and Taako. “There’s less scrapes to get into in this realm. You two are going to have to get accustomed to a lot.”

“Mind telling us what this realm sort of, is?” Taako says. “Because we didn’t exactly get a brochure or an instructional guide.”

Merle gives him a funny look. “But I thought we had sent multiple—”

“Listen we were busy okay!” Taako says, a bit too loud. Lup nudges her foot against his shin from underneath the table. “Okay, I was fuckin’ busy, geez.” His face and the tips of his ears take on a deep blush. Lup chuckles, but then turns to look at Merle seriously.

“If we’re being honest,” she says. “We’re not even sure what we’re in for. The king made it sound like Taako would lose all autonomy if he wed him. And I would never see him again.”

“We’re just trying to get a read on the guy,” Taako says. “It’s just hard to do that with all the ‘I’m taking you to be my consort immediately’ drama.”

“You were so into it though,” Lup points out. “You were ready to hop his bones in a second and you know it.”

Taako pours himself some lemonade and pointedly ignores her gaze. “Excuse you, Taako has standards.”

“And all of those standards were met in less than five seconds.”

“Magnus!” shouts a booming voice. Both Lup and Taako feel their hearts leap into their throats, but they remain seated. Barry full on jumps, and his glasses fly off his face, skidding across the table. Merle bursts into a gut busting laugh, apparently having a first person view of Magnus sneaking up on their table.

“I’m done setting up the chairs in the spring garden!” Magnus declares, looking every pleased with himself. “We should be all set to go!”

Magnus stuffs a sandwich in his mouth before sitting. “Also Lucretia and Davenport told me to tell you that his majesty would be arriving back early.”

Taako glances up to see his sister shooting him a very pointed expression. He ignores her.

“Great, Maggie, pull up a seat,” Merle says. “We were just talking about the king, actually.”

“About that,” Taako says, looking over at Magnus. “So like, the bird king, right?”

“Yeah?” Magnus asks.

“....Is he cool?”

“He’s pretty cool.”

“Cool.”

Lup rolls her eyes at that. “Well that’s one opinion.” She reaches for Barry’s glasses at the end of the table and gives them back to him. He takes them with a grateful smile. She asks, “What do you think of him, Barry?”

“Uh, well, he's objectively a fair king. If not a little headstrong.” Barry comments. “And he doesn’t like the nature of my work, but he understands its potential benefits.”

“What, is he an emissary of death or something?” Taako asks, reaching for one of the little cakes

“Yeah,” Barry, Magnus, and Merle all say together.

Taako nearly drops the cake. “Oh shit.”

“More specifically,” Magnus says, hoarding sandwiches like there’s no tomorrow. “He’s charged with collecting wayward souls that threaten the laws of life and death. The birds help him do this.”

“How?” the twins ask.

Before they receive an answer, above them comes a distant, rustling sound. Everyone at the table reflexively glances upwards. Through the oculus of the ceiling, into the center of the garden, a flock of birds dive and swarm into a small, whirling funnel. Just as quickly as they arrive, they dissipate in a flash of wings and feathers. Until all that stands there is a man and a raven perched on his shoulder.

The king glances around the courtyard momentarily, before spotting Taako and immediately striding over to him. He isn’t wearing the cape or the crown this time, but he is no less regal. And definitely no less handsome. A fact made abundantly true when he pauses just a few feet in front of Taako’s seat, and offers him a bow.

“I trust that you have had a good rest?” He asks.

“Absolutely,” Taako replies. His face is warm, for some odd reason. “That room you set me up in was real comfy. Uh, nice view as well.”

“Oh,” Kravitz says, straightening. “That was just a guest room! Your chambers are still being furnished. My apologies for the wait. I promise it will be much nicer once they are complete.”

“That was just a—” Taako forces himself from slapping a hand on his face. He recalls the fine wood and shining tapestries, as well as the mesmerizing windows. That one room was worth at least twice what he and Lup were staying in before. “Well believe me, my man, I’m sure the wait is worth it. And I have certainly been treated kindly in the interim.”

Kravitz nods approvingly. “And your sister is just as well? I should hope?” There is a hesitance in his voice as he looks over at Lup. She points two fingers at her narrowed eyes and then points them at Kravitz.

“Oh, yeah, Lulu’s great,” Taako says, waving a hand in front of her. “Don’t take the whole rude and angry thing to heart. She’s a real peach once you get to know her.”

“Yeah, a real peach,” Lup repeats. “Poisonous pit and everything.”

“Hey!” Taako exclaims. He looks over a Barry. “Barold, this place is pretty big. And I’m sure there are spots that Lup hasn’t had the pleasure of seeing yet. Would you mind, possibly, showing her those places?”

“Uh, right,” Barry says, eyes darting between Taako and Lup. He rises from his seat and extends a hand to her. “Would you like to visit the training grounds? There’s a lot of wide open spaces to practice spellcasting.”

Lup sighs and takes Barry’s hand. “I would be delighted. ”

“I’ll come too!” Magnus says. “There’s a ton of fun stuff to blow up! I make all of the test dummies myself.”

“If we’re down with lunch,” Merle cuts in. “I’m going to tend to my azaleas. They need some TLC if you know what I mean.”

“O-kay!” Taako says, slapping both hands on the table. “Yeah, Taako’s had enough of lunch, for sure.” He gestures at what’s left of the food spread. “And maybe give me access to whatever kitchen you have in this place. I bet I could whip up a baller four course meal with half the trappings.”

“What,” Lup says, smiling teasingly. “Are you going to bake your own wedding cake?”

“Don’t tempt me,” Taako replies.

Everyone else exits the courtyard relatively quickly, leaving Taako along at the table. Kravitz pulls up a seat alongside him and leans forward just a bit.

“I wasn’t trying to cause a rift between the two of you,” he says in a low voice. He looks surprisingly sincere. “Typically these sort arrangements tend to go a lot...smoother.”

Taako is unimpressed. “By smoother, do you mean spiriting me away and using a memory spell to make Lup think I never existed?”

Kravitz’s brows lower. “You are read up on the customs of the Fair folk, aren’t you?”

“I am,” Taako replies. “And as sorry as I am to say this, but if you think that Taako—Bird King Consort or not—would be in any way acceptable to that notion—” he picks his next words carefully. He’s in this realm for the time being, he could very well be beheaded for telling off a KING. “Well, you’d be thinking fuckin’ incorrectly, my good dude.”

Kravitz is once again silent. The raven on his shoulder, which had, up until now, been very still and calm, puffs up its feathers ever so slightly.

Taako winces at that, certain of a bewitching of some sort. But then the bird flaps its wings and hops from the king’s shoulder to the table. It starts pecking at one of the sandwiches.

“I’m sorry, Taako,” Kravitz says, which is not what Taako was expecting at all . His face looks almost dour as he speaks. “My ways of doing things are reminiscent of centuries of existence. But that is no excuse. You have my word; nothing will come to harm your sister while you are both in my keep.”

Taako’s words catch in his throat. He scrambles mentally for a proper response before settling on, “Cultural differences, I get it. Bound to happen.”

Kravitz’s expression seems to soften at that. “I’m glad we have an understanding. It’s a good establishment for our union.”

Taako nods. In the interim of them talking, Kravitz has leaned towards him even more. This close, Taako can see the brilliant scarlet of what he had thought had been typical dark brown eyes.

Taako turns his head away and asks. “I take it that this is also new for you?” He only half believes that such a question is warranted. Davenport had mentioned that Kravitz was ancient. Surely he would’ve taken at least a few mortal spouses in his lifetime.

“Yes,” Kravitz replies. “When I ascended the throne, it was expected of me to marry. There were a few options among my kind, for a time. But the arrangements didn’t last. It was decided to select a fiance from the common folk. The lottery was made on suggestion of my council—most of whom you have already met—to...um...expedite the process.”

Taako looks at him with wide eyes, before he’s seized by a bark of laughter. “My dude, you either have the worst luck streak when it comes to relationships or I have the best. Because that is still a ridiculous way of choosing a spouse.”

“I will admit,” Kravitz says, half of a smile tugging at his lips. “I do like to gamble.”

“Me too, I guess,” Taako replies, shrugging. “I’m the one who put in the submission.”

Kravitz chuckles. “That you did.”

The king rises from his seat and extends a hand towards Taako. The raven, having polished off half a sandwich, flaps back onto one of his shoulders. “The ceremony will be held in the spring garden, but the rehearsal will be in the library. May I have the honor of escorting you?”

Taako preens a bit and says, “You may.” He takes the king’s hand and stands. He didn’t notice the first time around, but Kravitz’s hands are terribly cold. The king wears gloves, but he can feel the chill emanating from them anyway. He wonders why.

As Kravitz leads Taako out of the courtyard, the garden, the chamber—Taako wonders many, many things.

He wonders if Kravitz likes him, but he takes that thought and shoves it at the bottom of the mental pile.

#so i heard y'all liked bird king aus?#taakitz #my writing #herbgerb fic #taz au #taako #kravitz

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i-windwater · 3 years

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Feng Shui for spiritual growth

Most people turn to Feng Shui because they want to enhance career success, good health, happy relationship, and resolve any issues beyond their control. Beyond all the obvious benefits, Feng Shui can be a spiritual practice, keep you balanced and grounded. Here we have 7 tips about Feng Shui for enhancing your spiritual growth.

Watch our video for Feng Shui and spiritual growth

Tip 1: Feng Shui is about energy and understanding the law of nature.

In a very simplified sense, Feng Shui is about energy. Everything has energy in this world. If we slow down and pay attention, we can usually “feel” or “sense” the energy from our surroundings. If we learn the law of nature and the energy cycle, we can go with the flow, or even manipulate the energy in our favor.

The Taoism

No matter what school of Feng Shui you follow, the basic theory originated from the Yin/Yang, Five elements, 8 trigrams, and 64 hexagrams. That is also the basic theory of Taoism. Taoism can be either philosophy or religion. The essential theory of Taoism is to live peacefully with nature and go with the flow.

A Taoist live in harmony with nature instead of trying to change the world by drastic actions. It can seem too passive in the modern world, but you get inner peace when you observe the world and choose your path to align with the world around you.

So tip number one is to observe the world, learn how energy interacts, and see the cycle of luck. When we learn to detach our emotions and see the bigger picture objectively, we can live peacefully. Good luck comes and goes, and life goes up and down. Nothing stays the same forever, yet everything has a permanent effect.

Tip 2: Feng Shui is a practice of being mindful and aware of our current position.

Feng Shui is a practice, just like a doctor practices his or her medicine. It is about being mindful every day about your surroundings.

There is no shortcut or finishing line. You can set up a perfect Feng Shui today, but the energy will change over time and the Feng Shui needs to be adjusted too.

We live in an imperfect world and it is ok to have imperfect Feng Shui. Your current space might be too small or in the wrong location, but not much you can change at the moment. Just be aware of our current situation, and find ways to improve next time. We learn and grow each day, a little bit at a time.

By observing mindfully, we learn our strengths and weaknesses, and our current position in the world. Next is to turn any negative into positive, amplify our strong points at the right time, and work on our weaknesses to avoid any trouble.

It works for both our house and ourselves. Stay mindful, focus on the positive, and work on any issues at the same time.

Tip 3: Set up a centralized spiritual space to meditate and connect with your inner self.

Setting up a dedicated space is an easy way to stay consistent about meditation or listening to your inner voice. It can be a spiritual altar or just a small quiet corner to get away from a busy day.

The personal spiritual space can be as big or as small as you like. Arrange and add items that keep you calm and inspired. Maybe your book collection, music, candle, crystal, flower, art, and so on.

We tend to be conditioned by our environment. If we are looking for peace and clarity, set a space that makes you feel that way, and visit it regularly.

In this space, we can be true to ourselves. We can pray, meditate, dream, journal, or do nothing at all. It is a place of reflection and retreat for yourself. It might sound selfish but we all deserve to take care of ourselves first.

Tip 4: Cherish and take care of what you have. Start here and now.

Any journey starts from here and now. We need to accept where we are and embrace who we are first. So often we focus on the end goals and what we don’t have now and lose touch with reality. Then, we can get resentful or depressed easily for what we don’t have.

No matter how much money you have, what house you live in, what job you have, or what kind of relationship you are in right now, we are responsible for all of them. We made our choices in the past that lead to our current situation. There will be mistakes and what-ifs, but we can not change the past.

Accepting our current situation is the first step for change. If you are not satisfied with a certain area of your life, you can take action and learn to do things differently.

Cherish our fortune and more fortune will follow. When we admit all our mistakes and weakness, we have the power to change and grow. We are no longer victims.

Tip 5: Surround yourself with positive energy. Get rid of the outdated and bring in inspiring items.

Back to the practical part of Feng Shui, you can simply surround yourself with positive energy. It is similar to setting up your spiritual space, you can move around furniture, change colors, declutter, organize, and bring in items that actually inspire you and make you happy.

You do not need to hire a fancy designer to transform your interior, even though it can be a good option. The point is to clean up and update the space regularly to reflect the best of you. Your home should nurture your dreams. If you love music, have music played in the house frequently. If you love cooking, organize the kitchen to reflect your taste. If you love gardening, make space for it too. If you love books, showcase your book collection and make it a focus.

The minimal interior

Another idea is to keep it simple. Most of us have too much stuff in our home and that can create chaos. That is why the minimalist interior is so popular these years. We crave a simple, uncluttered space with plenty of room to grow.

Some popular Feng Shui suggestions to bring in good energy include,

Open up windows and set up good lighting.

Display artwork or sculptures that inspire you.

Candle, incense, or essential oil room spray for a good smell.

Display traditional Feng Shui lucky items such as crystals, jade, Pi Xiu, Qi Lin, dragon, horse, and so on.

Let the room filled with beautiful music or the sound of windchime sometimes.

Anything you love and brings you joy.

Tip 6: Northeast is generally related to spiritual growth.

Northeast is usually the direction that is associated with spiritual growth. It is also related to “Mountain” in Bagua and “Earth element” in the 5 elements. Adding a picture of a mountain, using the color yellow or brown, and display earthware here is a good idea to enhance this corner.

The water element is also related to spiritual growth and a clear mind. So the color blue or black is also a good choice.

In the BTB school of Feng Shui, spiritual growth is related to the bottom left corner of the feng shui map. That is on the left side near the door right after you walk into the house. See the picture below.

The direction is only for reference, you can be spiritual in any direction with any of the five elements.

Feng Shui is a tool only and it should not confuse you or limit you in any way. If in doubt, go with your own intuition and common sense.

Tip 7: Cultivate your good fortune by sharing and giving what you have.

The last tip here is very simple. If all feng shui calculation and planning don’t work, or issues that are beyond your ability to change, it is always advised to focus on helping other people.

There are many people that are less fortunate than us, and we can easily help them in many forms. It can be a donation of money, time, or sharing your skill, knowledge, or even just kind words. By making a difference in other people’s lives, you are cultivating your good luck.

You probably won’t see any immediate return, but the act of kindness is the start of a positive cycle. It can empower you and shift your perspective. Even if we do not get any return, we feel peace of mind.

Doing good deeds and help others will eventually bounce the good fortune back to you, even though that is not a goal anymore. In traditional Feng Shui, people believe real good fortune comes from generations of good deeds and charity work. So if you want to increase your luck, help others first. That is the secret of good fortune.

Feng Shui for enhancing spiritual growth