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ozimagines · 4 months

Note

Hello, this was very much inspired by your Holly and Fiona drabble: would you consider doing a "dating would include" between Fiona and Beecher? I think that Fiona would make for a fun step-mom for Holly! Maybe Beecher and Fiona end up as cell mates after Chris dies or its an AU where Chris is less murderous and more accepting of Beecher's choices? Thank you and I hope that you are feeling better!

And the Fiona love continues absofuckinglutely I’ll write this piece!!!Honestly the chances are better that Beecher would marry Fiona in real life than it is for Keller to be less murderous 😂 So he’s dead in this. But yeah this ask made me so happy. Plus I wrote Fiona St. James (the actor that plays Fiona) on TikTok and told him your idea and he said it sounded awesome! So it’s actually had the rare honor of being actor approved! Thank you so very much for this ask!❤️❤️

Tobias Beecher dating Fiona Zonioni would include… part 1/?

He made parole. Felt like a damn dream again. Only Keller wasn’t there to wake him up. He was found innocent of killing Keller, but he didn’t feel innocent. He knew their love was till death do us part, but it never felt so real until it was.

He was signing for his belongings. A watch. A picture of his family, now half gone, his wallet.

“Didn’t feel real until now, huh?”

Beecher’s eyes flitted to Fiona. She was also signing for her belongings. Lipstick and a compact. A string of pearls and a hand fan. It had her initials on it Fiona J. Zonioni.

“Yeah. Just been wanting it for so many years and now it feels different.

“Because he’s not here?”

Beecher agreed, looking away to stop from shedding a tear.

“Your journey to who you are is an inspirational one, Beecher. Prag to stag. Geek to chic. It’s a classic.” She signed and started loading her belongings into a frilly pink purse. “I’ve enjoyed watching you succeed.”

“Thanks, Fiona.” He grabbed his items and put them in his suit pockets.

They walked each other to the door.

“What’re your plans?”

Fiona sighed and shrugged.

“Try to get back in the drag game. If I’m not too old, anyway. Father’s gone now and mother won’t speak to me. Hurts.”

“Sorry to hear about your father’s passing.”

“Don’t be, I stabbed the bastard.”

Beecher furrowed a brow and Fiona explained. Her dad always beat on her mom. Never laid a hand on her or her sister, but made her mom pay for it.

“One night, it was worse than usual. I told him to stop and he didn’t. So I did what I had to for her. And now…” she looked away. “I’m not sorry. I’m sorry it had to be that way but I’m not sorry I did it.”

“Can’t relate. I’ll hate myself for Cathy Rockwell forever.”

“And Schillinger?”

“I didn’t mean-“

“And Metzger?” She asked slyly.

“Didn’t know you knew about that.”

“The gays were a gang for a reason, Beecher, only we didn’t deal in drugs, we dealt in secrets. We kept yours for years.”

Beecher thanked her, though he wasn’t sure why. She smiled and patted his shoulder.

“You’re gonna be alright, Beecher.”

They stood at the gates together and Fiona chucked.

“Adam and Eve. The first man and woman in Eden.” She said, and left it at that. Their respective rides were waiting for them.

Beecher went to shake Fiona’s hand but she tutted and brought him into a tight hug.

“Remember who you are, Beecher. Always.”

“You, um… you can call me Tobias.”

“Are you a Theo or a Toby?”

“I’m a Toby.”

“How sweet. I’m a Fifi when I’m in a good mood.” She started to leave when Beecher stopped her and scribbled something on one of his sign out papers.

“It’s my number and address. Come over sometime, I’ll have you for dinner.”

“I’d like that Bee- I mean, Toby.” Fiona blushed which is something people rarely saw her do and said her goodbyes, rushing to the car with another girl looking just like her. Beecher assumed it was her sister.

Beecher got home that day; no one told Holly he was paroled. His mom just held a dinner for her and he walked in. Everyone cried. It was an emotional day.

That night, as he settled into his own bed, alone, his phone buzzed.

Night, Toby 🫶👑

He smiled.

Goodnight, Fiona. :)

He had her over for dinner a couple weekends later. He told Holly a friend was coming over. A friend she didn’t know.

“This person is someone I knew… in Oz.”

Holly couldn’t care less, her dad was home, that’s what she wanted.

“Is it going to be that guy you dated?”

“How do you know-“

“Gramma and Grandpa were talking. Said he might be the reason I was kidnapped. I know he wasn’t. You wouldn’t let that happen.”

Beecher was in constant awe of his daughter’s perception.

“No, it’s… she’s…”

“She?”

Beecher sat Holly down to explain some things to her. He said some princes want princesses, but some want other princes.

“I know what gay means, Dad.”

“Oh well… some princes like to dress like princesses. But they still like to be called prince. Some like to dress like a princess and like to be called-“

“She’s trans. You could just say that.”

Wow. Gen Z was really something else.

Holly helped him make dinner. She insisted on making pasta. Beecher asked several times why.

“Women like pasta. It’s romantic.” She shrugged and Beecher laughed and said okay.

There was a knock on the door. Beecher nervously went to answer. Fiona was the only person out of Oz that he invited over. He hoped it wasn’t a mistake. He opened the door to see Fiona.

She was wearing a sparkly red gown, hair done up curly, eyes a smoky purple color. Beecher was blown away by how good she looked when left to her own devices.

“I overdressed, didn’t I?”

Beecher smiled large and shook his head.

“You look FANTASTIC Fiona.” He helped her in and took her black coat.

“Aren’t you the gentleman?” She teased, but accepted the gesture proudly. She flashed something in a Tupperware container.

“I made cannoli. I hope you like it because I spent like fifteen hours on them and trashed my kitchen.”

Beecher smile and assured her that they would love them. Holly peeked out from the kitchen. Her eyes went wide and Beecher was afraid she was going to say something insensitive.

“Whoa! You look just like Jessica Rabbit!” She cheered excitedly and Fiona popped out her fan and dramatically hid her face.

“Child, you spoil me. She’s just who I was going for!” She grandly extended one of her gloved hands to the kid. Holly took it and kissed the top like she’d seen people in old movies do. Fiona was delighted and make a squeaking sound.

She pretended to be receiving her fans and extended her hand a few more times until she came to Beecher, who took the hand and mimicked Holly, kissing the top but letting his lips linger for a second.

“Chanel #5?”

Fiona put a hand over her mouth.

“And you know your perfumes?” She leaned down to Holly, as if explaining a secret. “He’s not going to be single for long. You have to be his bouncer. Make sure they’re good enough for him.”

Holly fake saluted and both Fiona and Toby laughed. He guided her to the dining room, which was made up quaintly.

Toby pulled out a chair for her and she sat down gracefully, which Beecher wasn’t sure was possible being how she was poured into that dress.

Holly pulled out her dad’s chair, and he sat down with a smile.

She left to go get their food.

“The royal treatment. I’m impressed, Beecher, most kids I meet are selfish assholes. Miss Holly’s already more of a gentleman than some of my lovers.”

Beecher accepted the compliment in the spirit in which it was given. Holly served their pasta, and Fiona clapped excitedly.

“Oh, good. I love pasta!”

Holly gave her dad and ‘I told you so’ look and sat down.

They chatted, sharing things about each other they never knew out of Oz.

“Dad can do a Rubik’s cube in like a minute!”

“Really? That’s quite impressive. Can he do this?” She turned her head and touched her nose with her tongue and turned around. Holly laughed and Beecher just stared. He realized in seven years, he never really knew how funny and charming Fiona could be.

“Tell me about yourself,” he said suddenly, and realized, how it sounded. “If you want to, I mean.”

Fiona thought for a second.

“I ever tell you I’m Chucky Pancamo’s cousin?”

Beecher choked on his drink and Fiona smiled.

“Well, I am. Distantly. We went to family reunions together. Never talked much but we knew each other. Took care of me in prison though.”

“Never realized you all talked.”

“We didn’t. But there was one guy before you got there, Derek Vaughn. Mean, nasty man. Always gave me trouble.” She shrugged with a smirk. “Until he didn’t.”

“Wow.” Was all Beecher could think to say. He told her he was starting to realize he didn’t know Oz at all.

“Oz was different for me than for you, Beecher. It’s… always different for people like me.”

She turned away to avoid from being seen as weak, biting her knuckles for a second. Holly kicked Beecher under the table and gestured toward her. Beecher put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“We’re out, Fiona. And we’re gonna stay out.”

“Not for nothing, Beecher, but our definitions of the outside world are also different.”

“I can admit that. But, Fiona, you’re you. Just always yourself. I envied you for years for that. You’re yourself even when it’s hard. It’s an admirable trait.”

Fiona smiled.

“Takes practice.” She tasted the pasta and remarked on how good it was. Beecher gave Holly all the credit. She beamed proudly as she explained it was a recipe she learned on TikTok.

They had Fiona’s cannoli with dessert. Holly had never tried one before and was blown away by how good they were.

It came to her bedtime, and Beecher hugged Holly tight.

“Goodnight, Holly Jolly.” He kissed her head and tousled her hair. Holly looked to Fiona.

“Goodnight, Miss Zamboni.”

Fiona snorted at the butchering of her last name but she thanked the girl all the same.

“Goodnight, Miss Holly.”

Beecher turned to Fiona and asked if she wanted a nightcap, and at her scandalous expression, clarified he meant a cookie and some milk.

“Why do we have figures if not to build on. Yes, Toby, I’ll take a cookie.”❤️

Toby asked what kind she’d like and she said “surprise me, darling.”

He decided on the cookie; his most complex one. Dark chocolate and sea salt with dried strawberries. He even warmed the milk up for her.

“Realize I should have asked what kind of milk you want. Holly drinks hazelnut and coconut milk. When I was a kid and someone said milk, they just meant milk.”

Fiona giggled at his boomerism, and took the tiny plate, staring gratefully at the pristine cookie. She took a piece off with her fingers and dipped it in the milk.

“Mmm dark chocolate strawberry? And sea salt? Is that what you think of me?”

Beecher told her he didn’t understand and she explained with a glee in her voice that Audrey Hepburn said you can always tell what a man thinks of you by the kind of gifts he buys you.

“Or in this case, cookie flavor. I want to know if you chose randomly.”

“No. It’s my most complex flavor. It’s salty and sweet and bitter and fruity. It’s so many things in one.” He said, trying to justify his choice, unknowingly flattering Fiona more than she had ever been.

“What’s yours?”

“Guess.”

“Chocolate chip or oatmeal raisin.”

“Why oatmeal raisin?”

“It’s not for everyone but it’s yours and you own it. Plus it’s unreasonably sweet.”

He smiled and defeatedly showed her his oatmeal raisin cookie. 🍪 Fiona did a little victory dance that got them thinking of Busmalis.

In fact they thought about a lot of their prisoner friends and foes alike, all discussing where they ended up and what they deserved.

“Robson has aids.” Fiona informed and Beecher lamented that he didn’t feel sorrier.

They got closer and closer on the couch, laughing at some of their old prison stories. After a particularly good laugh about Jewel Schillinger becoming devoutly Jewish, Beecher found he hand his hand steadying himself on Fiona’s thigh.

He apologized one he realized.

“You’re fine, Tobias.” She waved it off but relished the burn of warmth where his hand was.

“You’re so much different than I thought. And I thought I knew you after seven years.”

“I’m complex. Like the cookie you selected.”

“Yeah.”

He asked if she would come over again and she said she wouldn’t miss it.

He walked her to the door and helped her with her coat. She let, giving him a hug, and he found himself kissing her on the cheek.

“I’m so sorry Fiona, I don’t know what came over me.”

“You missed.”

He asked what and she merely grinned and slowly placed her lips on his. It lasted only a second, but the warmth of her lips burned him inside.

“Goodnight, Tobias.” She pinched his cheek, caressed his face, and left.

Gentleman though he was… he did enjoy watching her walk away. 😶‍🌫️

He talked to Fiona every day. Always texted or called or visited in some capacity. Steadied him to talk to someone who knew his experiences. He found he very much enjoyed getting to know her.

One night, she invited him to one of her shows. He couldn’t believe the artistry involved, even if the lewdness of her act made him blush.

She’d come out dressed as Marlene Dietrich. A variation of the suit she wore in Morocco. Fiona was smoking in a sparkly, woman cut suit and it turned Beecher on more than anything.

She worked the crowd. Was good at what she did. Smiling and waving and blowing smoke in everyone’s face.

When she came to Beecher’s table, she smirked and leaned down, kissing him on the lips, hiding herself with her hat. It was something out of a dream.

Beecher waited until the end to give Fiona the flowers he brought. Hyacinths.🪻🪻🪻Pink and purple.

He knocked on the dressing room and entered at her request.

His smile disappeared when he saw she had a man in there. A handsome, shirtless man. Fiona pushed him off her when Beecher entered.

He was crushed and didn’t understand why.

“These are for you.” He said lamely, and she accepted them graciously.

“Thanks for coming, Toby.”

“Always, Fiona.”

Beecher was hurt that Fiona had a lover. He wasn’t sure why he was. They certainly weren’t romantic. Flirty, sure, but Fiona was flirty with everyone. Maybe that’s all it was?

At dinner that Friday night, Beecher broached the subject.

“Who was… I mean… the guy in your dressing room?”

“Damien? Oh, you know, e pluribus unum.” She said with a wink, and Beecher flinched. Fiona noticed.

“Any reason you’re asking?”

“…just curious.” Toby said, continuing to eat his meatloaf. Fiona dropped the subject till after dinner.

“Were you hoping to meet Damien? Because while he’s entertaining in other ways, I hardly think he’s the type for scrabble night.”

They did words with friends on their phones together. Fiona won every time. Like… every time.

“No. Sorry if I made it awkward by asking.” He took a bite from his cookie and muttered something. Fiona asked him to repeat.

“Maybe this time don’t battle a mouthful of cookie.” She teased.

“It’s just… you’re so wonderful, Fiona. I’d hate to think of you entertaining people who don’t deserve you.”

He’d expected Fiona to thank him and tell him she can watch out for herself. Fiona did not react this way. She got angry. Quiet angry.

“Thank you for your concern, Mr. Beecher. That said, it hardly seems like your business.” She sniffed and left it at that, but Beecher kept pushing.

“Does it make you happy? The dressing rooms and random men-“

“Beecher, enough.” She stood up, gathering her things.

“Fiona I didn’t mean-“

“I thought you were different, Toby. Don’t think I don’t know what I am to you and everyone else. I’m a back up. Someone to flirt with just enough to keep them around but when it’s time for romance it’s always someone else. You’re just that way. Just mad that your second place has other options.” She opened the door, careful not to wake Holly.

“Fiona, please don’t go. I’m sorry! I didn’t mean that. You’re not my back up-“

“You’re right. I’m not your anything.” She sniffed as a tear rolled down her face. “I’ll never be Keller.”

She left and Toby stayed up that night and cried for the first time in a while.

Holly saw him despondent the next morning. He was making her breakfast but with none of his usual talking.

“When’s Miss Fiona coming over again?”

“…probably not for a while, pumpkin.”

“What’d you do?”

He chucked darkly and figured he had nothing to lose. He told her that he’d kissed Fiona. That he’d really fallen for her. That he saw her with another guy and got jealous.

“Do you want to date her?”

“I think so.”

“You have to make a grand gesture. Like in the old movies. Something big and romantic to let her know you’re not just interested when someone else is.”

He thanked his daughter for having the brain cells he didn’t.

Fiona was with her friends, telling them about Beecher while she was getting ready.

“Men are pigs.” She stared flatly. “Thought this one was different. But we kissed a month ago and nothing until he sees stupid Damien in my room. Damien! Of all people! The kid with fewer brain cells than my left tit! That’s who Beecher’s jealous over.”

She was narrating to no one at this point but it didn’t matter. She fixed her mascara, trying not to cry again. She’d wasted enough time on that jerk.

Suddenly, music played over the loud speaker. It was coming from the stage. Singing, but not the usual boisterous melodies. Something sad and soft. Took Fiona a second to recognize the song.

“I got it bad… and that ain’t good.”

She sprung to her feet, grabbed a robe, and made her way to the stage with the other drag queens.

Beecher was there, in his father’s old suit, red rose in the lapel, singing softly into the microphone. She stopped at stage left, just watching him. He turned to her, and changed the song.

“Dream lover, where are you, with a love, oh, so true. And the hand that I can hold to feel you near as I grow old?”

She smiled softly. Dream lover.

“Because I want. A girl. To call. My own. I want a dream lover… so I don’t have to dream alone.”

The other guys cheered him on when he finished, and he would have thanked them, if his eyes had left Fiona even for a second.

She stepped forward, arms crossed. She pretended to still be angry.

“Causing a scene at my work?”

“Needed to see you. You haven’t played your word in days.”

She shrugged and went to turn away, when Beecher stopped her and touched her face gently, forcing her to look in his eyes.

“I love you, Fiona. I’m sorry I ever made you feel like you weren’t enough. You’re more than enough. Too much. Much much too much. But I’m greedy, and I want it all. You’re not my backup. You’re not second place. And you’re right, you’re not Keller. But I’m glad. Because I’m not the same Beecher either. I love the way you are around Holly. I love the way you make pasta arrabbiata, and I love that you sing to yourself in Italian while you do it. I love that you laugh at my jokes, even the ones that aren’t funny. I love that you’re so strong. That nothing ever stops you from being yourself. I love-“

“You done?” She asked, deadpanned. He nodded and turned to leave. She stopped him with an arm on his waist. “Because I’d like to start. I love the way you are with Holly too. I love that you call cookies a nightcap and that you make terrible, terrible dad jokes all the time. I love that you love salad and to you a salad isn’t just lettuce and dressing. I love you too, Toby.”

She leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips, but he took full advantage and dipped her in his arms, absorbing her muffled squeak as he did so.

He waited for her to finish rehearsal and they left together, holding hands the whole way to his house.

“Don’t you have to explain this to Holly?”

“The suit was actually her idea.” He admitted sheepishly.

“Smart girl. Though if she were really smart, she’d have told you to pick up something chocolate and something shiny too.”

Tobias smirked triumphantly

“Check under your seat.”

Fiona pulled out a box of chocolates and a jewelry box with a shiny silver bracelet in there.

“I was looking for a necklace but Holly insisted girls like bracelets.”

They giggled the whole way home.

“Oh, Tobias, you missed my turn.”

“I was actually hoping you’d spend the night.”🔥

“Oh… I… OH.” Fiona understood what that entailed.

“Not that I’m not tickled pink by the proposal, honey, really I am. But… I look a little different without all my effects. You do know that right?”

Beecher pulled into his driveway and sat with her for a second.

“I just don’t want you to be disappointed.”😔

“Fiona, right now, you look like a million bucks. I’m gonna take you upstairs and make up for seven years of not ravishing you. And in the morning, when I see you without your makeup, and jewelry, and fancy dresses, I’m gonna kiss you and make you coffee and bring it to you in bed. That’s what’s gonna happen.”

Fiona, for the first time in her life, was speechless. 😶

“I…”

“I’ll also take you back to yours if you want. Your choice.”

She thought for a moment and in a flash, leaned over to him and kissed him passionately.

“Mmmm lets see what you got, Daddy.”

They exited the car, but before the entered the house, Beecher stopped her.

“I want this to be perfect.” He picked her up and carried her through the threshold. He carried her all the way to his room, laid her down in the bed, and started necking her.

He turned her over, placing his body weight on her and kissing her neck.

She was releasing soft “oh”s with each breath.

Fiona had been fucked many a time before but she would be hard pressed to tell you when the last time someone made love to her was.

That’s what this was. Each silent, squeaky thrust.

“Sorry if I don’t get hard. I’m back on estrogen.”

Toby chucked and husked in her ear.

“Did you honestly feel like you have to apologize for anything? Because you don’t.”🥵

They slept together that night in every sense of the term.

When they awoke the next morning, checked was spooning her, face in her neck. He took a deep breath of her natural scent.

She stirred. Tobias stared at her face for a long time. The masculine jaw and the womanly cheekbones. The soft eyes and the pursed lips. Her tanned skin and curvy body. She felt him staring and woke up.

“Hey.” she greeted him with a lower voice than usual. Beecher smirked. “Still like what you see?”

“Somehow, and impossibly, more than before.”❤️

He kept his promise, kissed her on the lips and went downstairs to make her coffee.

Holly saw him holding two coffee cups and smirked.

“I’m the greatest wingman ever. Where would you be without me?” She boasted to her dad’s blushing face.

She helped him make the coffee. Beecher was just going to bring it black with some creamer and sugar on the side.

“Don’t you know anything, Dad? She’s cool. Too cool for regular coffee. Make her a Frappuccino.”

Beecher couldn’t even pronounce the words she was saying so she signed and took over, sliding the blender past her dad.

Beecher carried his regular coffee and Fiona’s concoction.

Holly insisted on copious whipped cream.

“Can I come give it to her, Daddy? Please?”

Beecher told her sure but they had to make sure she was dressed first. Holly winked at him and he grimaced.

They knocked on the door.

“Honey? Are you decent? Holly wanted to say good morning.”

She told them she was and they wanted. She was sitting there in Beecher’s robe. It was everything I bush power not to take her for round two right then and there.

“Hi, Miss Fiona! I made you a hazelnut Frappuccino!” Holly gave it to her and then gave her a big hug.

“Take it easy on my dad.” She whispered in Fiona’s ear. “He doesn’t always say the right things, but he tries.”

Fiona nodded, and held Holly’s face in her hand, kissing her forehead softly.

“Thank you, child.”🫶

Fiona went to say something then turned her head. Holly and Toby shared a look. She was crying.

The both rushed to her sides.

“I’m sorry, Miss Fiona. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Holly said quietly. Fiona tutted and brushed away her tears to comfort Holly.

“You didn’t, my sweet thing. And he didn’t. These are good tears. Happy tears.” She sniffled. “Despite my face right now, I really am happy.”

“Is my dad your boyfriend now?”

Fiona giggled through the tears and stopped Beecher when he went to tell Holly that was an inappropriate question.

“I hope so.” She touched Beecher’s hair and stroked his face. “I could do much, much worse than Tobias Beecher.”❤️🫶

#hbo oz #oz meme #fiona zonioni #tobias beecher #holly beecher #more to come #it literally won’t let me type anymore without buffering lol #but I’ve already got an idea for the second part #thank you so much for this request!#love me some Fiona #love it when she’s with someone who deserves her #and I can’t WAIT for the hijinks Holly and Fiona get into.

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ronanceblogs · 2 years

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Dungeons and Dragons and what…? ( pt. 1)

Hi Tumblr! I wanted to write a small fanfic of the four main st kids before all chaos happened in Hawkins. Anywho, I hope you enjoy and please please keep in mind that I have never played D&D and only am writing off the knowledge that I know(which is very small😬) so enjoy!

December 2nd, 1980

“MIKE! SAVE YOURSELF! RUN!!” Lucas shouted on top of his lungs.

“I- I can’t! He took my powers! I’m… I’m going to die!” Mike said in a frantic voice. “Dustin is in his jail cell, he has you locked in a cage, and me?! If I can’t roll a 20…. We’re dead… All dead!!”

This has been an ongoing game for about 3 days now. At this point, it was basically the boys only priority. Especially now. Nothing was more important than Mike rolling the 20, not even the roast Karen made that the boys all love. Mike had to win this.

“No one will ever defeat Will the Wise!!” This was fun for will as he got to play a villain… he loved using his villain voice.

“Will! Please! This is not you! Let us out! Your in a trance! It’s the mindflayer!! Not you!!” Dustin plead in hopes he could help.

“It’s too late. I’ve taken over your friend. And next, all of you!! Mawhahaha!!”

“I can’t- it’s impossible. We’re going to lose. I would need the whole worlds luck if I want to roll a 20… Wil- or whatever you are, can we make a deal? A small deal…. A fair deal.” Mike crossed his fingers under the table hoping that evil thing that had Will would take his deal.

“Hmmm… depends… what kind of deal are we talking about?” Evil Will asked.

Lucas leaned over to Dustin “yes yes… he’s going to pitch the idea!”

“It’s a fair deal, I promise.” Mike told Will. “What if I roll a 14, 5, or a 10 and we can team up and bring in a character to help us.”

Mike did make it fair, well the group did. Though Dustin did disagree at first saying getting any of those numbers were risky, he was willing to take it. The 3 days couldn’t go to waste. The boys needed something.

“Let me think…” Will took a moment to think which made all three boys very anxious. “Fine, but under one condition… teams of two.” Will knew it may be hard to roll one of those numbers, but that it also wasn’t possible. Though as mentioned earlier, Will liked playing the villain, but also wants to help his friends, but he had to stay in character.

“Teams of two?!” Lucas shouted. “How can we?! That’s impossible!! Clearly you’ve lost your mind, that only leaves three of us, we don’t have enough!”

“Yeah! Totally unfair!” Dustin Dustin agreed.

Will looked at all of them with an evil smile…. “Well then, guess you’ll just have to find a sub for now… to fill in my spot.”

“A sub?! It’s 8pm at night, it’s Friday, but who in the hell are we going to find this late! We’re lucky we’re even allowed to play this late!” Dustin shouted.

“Guys guys…” Mike grabbed all their attention. “Listen, we could still get a 20, it’s rare, but possible. Let me roll the dice then we can worry about it later… just, just trust me…” Mike really didn’t have a back up plan and was just as worried as the boys. But he wanted to get it over with.

“Mike you’re insane, but okay.” Lucas followed. “Here.” He tossed the dice over to Mike.

“Thanks.”

Will looked at all three of them with a smile knowing that they would lose, but also he had his fingers crossed under the table where no one could see hoping that Mike would at least get one of the numbers he mentioned earlier and it would work out. He just couldn’t help it.

Mike held the dice close to him, closed his eyes and whispered a few hopeful words. “3… 2… 1!” He threw the dice on to the table. All four boys stood up so fast they knocked some chairs over which led to a big thud and Crashing sound which woke Baby Holly up upstairs. But the boys seemed to not notice and ran straight to the dice.

“WHERE IS IT?!” Dustin yelled.

“HERE! RIGHT HERE!” Lucas pointed to the other end of the table right on the edge. “This has to be good luck…”

All four ran up to it and looked over at the dice, but it was too crowded for them to all see and Will somehow made it to the front first.

“Well… what is it?!” Mike said in a panicky voice.

Will studied the dice for anticipation and continued with it while he spoke. “It’s… it’s a- 14!!” Will shouted happily at first, but remembered he needed to stay in character. “I mean…. Noooo! A 14! You guys have a chance…”

The three boys looked at each other with both a bit of hope, but also terrified at the same time. Where were they going to find a fourth person?! It was going to be impossible.

Just then, they heard the door open upstairs. As the boys tried to act and remain calm, they noticed the chairs on the floor and finally heard the cries coming from upstairs.

“Shi- shoot! Baby holly! We’re in deep Trouble…” Mike said. “Hurry! The chairs! Pick them up and act normal…” he loudly whispered.

Though Karen loved the fact Mike always had his friends over, it was starting to get a bit too much with Holly being so little and both Ted and Karen trying to get Holly to fall asleep on her own. This would be not the first time they work Holly up, it’s been many times. The last time the boys got told to go to bed or go home. They ended up having to quietly and awkwardly watch a movie. This couldn’t be good this time.

All boys sat the chairs up and sat down quietly looking at each other, while also looking at the stairs waiting for their real death time. This is the first time all boys were quite and sat still, but to their luck, well maybe, it wasn’t Karen who came down, it was Mike’s older sister. Nancy.

“Mike, you’re dead. Absolutely dead.” Nancy angrily said.

“Great. I don’t know what’s worse” Mike mumbled.

Mike and Nancy never fully got along really. Nancy would really only be nice to him when his friends were around, and sometimes on rare occasions they both would get along.

“Mom made me come downstairs to tell all you dumb heads to keep your voices down. She’s mad. You woke Holly up…”

“Dumb heads?” Lucas questioned.

“Sorry. Tell mom we’ll be more quite… is she going to send us home?” Mike asked.

“No. Well I don’t know. Consider yourselves lucky she sent me down even though I’m not too happy. You interrupted me and Barbs conversation.” Though the story Nancy was telling wasn’t fully true, she didn’t want to tell them it was herself who offered to tell the boys to be quite. Karen was about to come down, but Nancy just had gotten off the phone with Barb and couldn’t help but to offer. For some reason she felt bad for them last time and would’ve felt bad this time too. Karen was not happy.

“Oh… well just call her back.” Mike said.

“It’s not that easy Mike…” Nancy snapped back

“Can’t you just, you know, dial the number again and she’ll answer?” Lucas replied.

Nancy gave him a glare, though he was confused he noticed Nancy became a little more snappy with her brother and somewhat the rest of them. He knew what is was like to have siblings, and a sister, but he also knew mike and her and didn’t want to start an argument. He put both his hands up and looked away.

“So now what. We don’t have a forth person. The game is already basically over.” Dustin said. “Worse game ever.”

“I mean, there’s still a chance we can find someone….” Will said. Hoping they would get the hint.

“Who? My dad? My mom?? Baby holly?!” Mike was very annoyed with everything that just happened and the game itself. He was really stumped till he saw Will who kept glancing at his sister. He didn’t know why she was just standing there, but also this was his only chance. A chance to win a game. He took a deep breath. “Nancy… um… well…. if you would like, would you want to be in our game? Just for a round? Only to help create a character?” His friends(except Will who smiled) looked at him like he was insane. Mike knew she would say no, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask. He closed his eyes tight, and under the table he was crossing his fingers… maybe she would say yes.

“You’re asking me to help create a character for your game??” Nancy asked.

Mike already started to regret everything.

“Well I guess…. What do I have to do?”

Everyone looked at her in shocked. Dustin smiled, he missed when she used to interact with them. Mike missed it too, but unlike Dustin, he tried to hide his smile.

The boys explained the directions to what they had to do and how this happened, Nancy actually seemed intrigued and like the idea of creating a character and already had a few ideas. She actually felt a little excited for this.

“Okay so do we choose our own partners, or does cursed Will over there choose for us?” Lucas asked.

Will smiled mischievously… “I’ll choose” he said as he was taping his fingers. “Lucas and Mike, Dustin and Nancy.” It was quick. Will knew right away, he knew they would all work together well enough with no fighting or awkward tension. Again, the Evil could never take over Will. Never.

The kids all agreed and got things set up. “You all have 30 minutes to create a character. This character can only be used once for now. Make it good, I will then decide who wins and who will enter the game, may the best character win..” Will was loving his role so much. He couldn’t wait to tell his mom and Jonathan what night he had.

Everyone gathered up in their groups to start creating their characters… this was going to be exciting. The plan went much better than anyone thought. Maybe Dustin was wrong, this might’ve been one of their best games yet.

(to be continued…)

#stranger things 4 #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #dungons and dragons #mike wheeler #nancy wheeler #lucas sinclair #dustin henderson #will byers

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libidomechanica · 11 months

Text

“Max, Lois, Joe, Louise, and berde for”

A sonnet sequence

First Stanza

Max, Lois, Joe, Louise, and berde for a kiss, the hung till ioy make, and wild Decembers after þe folk at noon, in all the arrow cell in londe ledande for blys abloy Ful oft hath the maples for the most plain; as thou called in mynde; to soper and all of your conquest quat ȝe demen. He made com þe crabbed lenge in your Bosom she lies, traverse myȝt to acorde, for lo the great spirit that ye do, albe it ten for my heart, wide as he knew all. I have rented thorns and bound where trwe, clanly al same the same change art; they do swell, my inside our face and clattering crowne; who, thou art!

Second Stanza

No want to see, and he grome at thy proud humility; who his caple, and gotz away comlych fere, bot þe launde, on þe sele exellently sways at ease, how fast rennes of stone, and legs refuse: though the hollow kind and roundels fresh, at severed and I ne flaȝe fro fylþe, þat forgot, we rot and hit wharred fever. To joyne wyth no measure, that was, is, at last sleepe and pleasure to aspye wyth hit cleue schulde hard, naked faces, to shift this man’s hand’s heart to make ours, then as double-felde þat me gost lante, and bihinde eke. The young arms, and he ful tayt makes him round, and through blisse.

Third Stanza

To þe grete words, which in that he hade, ful still I may mon do as he sleep in one’s going to make now your boat and heȝly honowred with a word, their here. Is love for a white be named here are shining but for luf at þe trew night not Cinthia, she smile on his prest, and put under that the air of love? And now, And through lift vp sone; and as sadly as he thing heate? When my boast, wreȝande þis tablez, enbaned vnder lyne, þaȝ I had twenty time shoot: but stroke in courtesy. Of the secret from before says as ho stonde schal cach much, to warm? Ship in slomeryng his resound as the cup.

Fourth Stanza

Must go, and honest eyes, now, if thou pity by love that ye should shade. As wild woddes my circles, dancer, singer on their uniform. And holtwodez vnblyþe stones, and derely out þe renk and fragrant, luscious not so gret dyn to schote at hert holly in the man in old they at every rough. Those love your eyes assaid, Gee woe! Me when dead woman who like that modulated cantana of these pretty, to find and a few friendly þo haþel freke, a forwardez non so high, so it will sit besides thunderstand it will, and, green she sat with all my loue why doe his anious uyage.

Fifth Stanza

With the bell struck one, aloof. And stoffed wyth his liddez, and his armed, he com hider, brayden his frumpy home angell she hearted watz to þat stek on his window. Now Ben he watz so fashion of your worchipez quere fyue syþez hatz gered by this islands that to rule, th’other the center pillours rife, and faire faces blow in arayed, the maw-crammed be, according to the hangman with his wast were begot in Ioue with mony aþel is not rise and play in, trust, and hanging steel-mirror make that I charred aboute, clowdes of golde; hade Arþur vpon, þat mayn meruayl bi mount þe were redde.

Sixth Stanza

Composed alofte; and some say, is like smoke from love, but still loue did for drede, traylez þou go myn egge, I haf arered; a menskful þik, þat a scharp of þe wowyng of the devout with mony proud hert ful softe somewhere, whaever has met wi’ my Phillis, has made arabesques made alle þe couenaunt ȝe craueth sleep’s doubled aywhere, with laughing vault. That red Hell thy pity one less travelers they draw men’s days of a cup hast nae mind; and, and þe stabled bi woȝez, waxen torches vche burning the door into thee living forth to karp wyth þe spures vnhardeled þus he cropure, hit arn about her mouthe. With a flattering on untamed we bot neuer with light, and can returning wind began to go on littel daynté þare of water and has soul of his hed cast up from thy horrible hammer-blown rain, where he drank his quart of Morgne la Faye, þat þer mon, for a war?

Seventh Stanza

Meek forgiveness; a lowande wynnez þeroute, swez his bodi sturne, and He who have no fere he stern winding to thee, or a salt-mist orchard, lying of the Regulations busy wits to the scales is foule horror stand busk me no less, will defence: and briars and the fog. Than the sea, to tene; þe stele to row; in tempt her chambre and curls can yet themselves. We turn from your nocturnal skin. And þe wyȝe called in gyves, yet now he þat fayr þat telded by DLXS to commes to herself. Ah Willyes and heav’n drawn thy foe, to let the rivers, children of the sea places may I spende.

Eighth Stanza

That was grassy and smile can warm young and þerfore, bot neked, hit arn aboute, and left their boots. My legs. But could ye would despair for the breeze has been, and wythhaldez ful þik, and heart in þis work-day with his bronde, þe hyȝe kyng of time, I fear the ful stif mon kenne’: he gef hym Godde, ’ quoþ þe segge at þe bakbon to lyke chere, seize to-day bifore you they so formed’st creature she’s going slight giuing laughs at they loved Chick Lorimer in hert, and after wenged out what they Hymen is the grass and if I had two into stiȝtlez in þis ilk wele of any burne, bot þe lece to fonde?

Ninth Stanza

And the flowered Jasmin, and ladis þat yow lykez, felle weppen in hell, in toune. Stole my greefs augment my doole thou’t lover, and plytes ful bryȝt, with other’s shirt yellow locks the steps in their own death of what survives is godmon, now þou for the stopp’d not sink and sees but passed—praysed, and in its lone without breeze has dried me worth: here a boulder even your awen— þe heȝe ouer my Sappho’s breath of loues, like to stay. Not once a wheel of your comlyche hade in lost love’s flash and trumpets wanteth! Hit were, the Chaplayne, and I must go, thro’ the wore, her House; a Road of Right, and swing.

Tenth Stanza

If this, and þe knyȝt halde his gilt helez, and the small lies a wretch my spirit the iron staying, with my green-spread; since her side watching throughout all the whole you back Her, nor light, the golden in words this belde not me, a ghost, walk aboute, þat yow to þat tyde. He is darken’d; like a jackpot its center by trade; and longer we. Those voyce, when he came back wing. Midnight, thereunto doe daunce: my old musicke lende me grant with the harsh, but not be woods them thy husbands, and nedez hit fallen hym chefly, and ladis þat lemed vpon vs plentiously, and oþer men his cortaysy vses.

Eleventh Stanza

And hatz hetterly ho entrez. In crimson staine, and from commit are for my heart a lace honde hym þoȝt. And meled of host to war and his care of dull middle of trecherye and as ye may. Austere, so let this, I want, as language and fair Ellen of this Saints for fight, rhythm in armez, he kysses hym so þikke, a sinful and flowers, once and let thy fading many. To þe male death nor be afraid! A much baret is that the wild girl who say he put our prysoun, and swyerez comen þoȝt. Conversation of his bele cheerefully at the woods did me go to thee.

Twelfth Stanza

He hatz he hym in armez wyth a wistful eye upon your wished edge, sapphire— love evening sad those dear love my Chloris, since where you will lean Hunger and a spirit works did for a burde þe a stroke of eight: a mazer alone within us and impulse: and wonder of thralled on the carped to hys persoun, er God hym in syþes sere, and amber-colour and giueth lawn. No late, þat noȝt for ay fayth, ’ quoþ þe halue, and oft boþe, and the fooles he atled, þer is to make and your dearer name, where ȝe worchyp, ne freke þat swell; only remember may the people I had dout.

Thirteenth Stanza

Now see with his hede at þis fox þat hym swyþe, with þe lyȝten on Nw Ȝere much more vs answer and yow god þoȝt, if this Saints aside, the Ring of praise euen, al one; here in þat on, wyth a corpse! When no more death, my thou some straightway to itself. How long ere thy Bagpypes she before your Eccho ring. A voice, to your awen—þe heȝe kyng wyth in bourdyng þay bikende he watz wythinne, to hunt in þe wyȝe on his lymes so bright, blind, seemed at þe portrait that I leue me go, but who are in the woods did for greedy licorous sences thus so clene, boȝed hider fast, yts time. What!

Fourteenth Stanza

As if it were nonez, and heþe at yow ȝelde hewes, with pride, so we—the form by silence trew night moony, inlet—warm, seabathed, I wene wel, als; bot wylde, hiȝed innogh in bugle here I am becomes its poisoned hit called the young lion plain would wrong register worthiness of a royall her sunshyny face. And though on the same he went to sleepe, that he hade euermore thank heaven did passes whom I love where erst he worlde; at þe fyrst quethe of þe flet, ellez þou þro mon, myn is bihynde, preuély aproched to keep going to raunch þat ilk tyme. To the stemmed, wyth þat is gone.

Fifteenth Stanza

So it can’t feel why time in londe. The whiles should love letters, and colours rife, let the slightlest brace the wild girl keep the mair to serued, her good as Gawayn, ’ quoþ þat bred blent þer bayen hymselue þer wonder bi syþez, for Gode, my wedez, bremly þe chymné in chamber who I am. To meet at lyȝt, so that I followed hym dressing-room, like travel makest wealth, sae love the dull not reject, and lern hym a leper in pure lovers, children under þe flesh helps flesh stays no father red nor shall a glimmering on his winding-sheet he rusched þer stondez armed, he caȝt vp a wyndow, Sweet!

Sixteenth Stanza

But first I mansed the pale lips, our honour, you do breath the tabor, and you see how þat day and watches keeper …. From God than well please, dost the rye, to wastes, þat my heart, and thus it spake: o Elenor: he’s dead so sweet thou hast thou hadst set me, and loud they tripped to pray; while my woe, bende and forth roled; þe blod and day; I kisses raine, with rough, each shalt find out what you in a suit of Kings, I haf hade and a’ my days and fears as the lacquer of our shoes. I biknowez alle þe stone he watz blis and your Eccho ring. That the floating to the sun as Egypt’s peal, that euer in our tymely sleep reciting my tardy name, I schulde. Lest sorrowes þat self prove to the great Iuno, which giue to kiss, go on littel dyn at his melancholy night never, cancel all other lips toward does sad Time drew on, and let this song and patronize, and he struggle having.

Seventeenth Stanza

My fayth, Sir Gawayn, in þis change, time eats the heart. After your kiss. Hit semed, and to clay. So when I feel it in twynne me þerfor þat speches might, doe ye writing with þis world except possible not longer dream, then here be staid with soul to see. And alle goud wylle, and most since first bud? Half etaynez, with a standing and the tins, and þe last should keeps warm wet mouths, that walks by night, garnished it, that the colde. In a cage, puts all agree: what I loue I pyne of scorching her awake; for it not in vale, and, for me are what perfect thy servant once a whole young Lochinvar?

Eighteenth Stanza

Lepe lyȝtly he sayde, Be sayned how pure pentangel nwe he ber in our two in my pocket and fele selly longe; much pypyng þe frekez he inner cost, having spring, and solace by heuen vpon joy, when as those who would have guessed? Because through a light; faint on the day. And am becoming a jet stretched Elenor! When so þou were never stifly strydez alofte, mynned merthe to adorne: who sins fast þe corbeles fee þay wysten þe houndez þay passes between the world is filling the shepheards, til worþez to schwue ne to her; for hit is my body’s maid, you sing.

Nineteenth Stanza

To make sweet break at last, is þis Arthor. For the world with a smiled at þe large postes and holtwodez vnblyþe semblaunt sene. Those who reach other side o’ the quest any day he sayde, Iwysse, bi my face and yet I feel. Kisses again; a Wine of þe lady he sayde soberly your indifferent now to norne ȝe yowrez, al þe worchip walkez, debatande wynne me burde þeraboute þe halme gryped to cheryche ful longe as schalk schyndered if I myȝt. For helps flesh by the tape delays and knyȝtez and bidden usury, when þou wolde burne blusched on the dreary gras, twixt sleep.

Twentieth Stanza

Set in his seruaunt to swing. Now is þe lace, this Childe, how soon she sees most prik for paynefull dreriment did I learns for to dyȝe with a stake it not Thou this? He wolde no hornes; hit were; if in the centre sit, yet, wholly father day! It must since more faylez þou wypped to þe byȝt, voyded her. Wants to Lucy I will flourish. Lest guilty of your heard I none. Her giant loom the ioyous Anthea’s breach, and wroth with him night went hand? On brode paumez; for thy souerayne praye, and alle þe syde, til hit works in the Hand I and a hey nonino, for succeeds door; I try to die.

Twenty-first Stanza

Of love’s dead, the ferde for euermore with worschip þat his helez as wroth as wynde of man? And al I gif yow, so plede hit is large enow to draw men’s days are though she’s priz’d, and he store of delight, ye damsels your more. Even the flattered on þat watz tymed þi trawþe. But this wedez ar barely to-morrow will be. Into which may lurk, what now that alle þe meyny, on þe burne, as therefore I will not seen you come or harde as freke, quen yow in a sword he wende on my fyue joye warme water and hid hit watz haspe; and worthy to bedde to his function fare, how like your eccho ring.

�� Twenty-second Stanza

’ Gladly I trowe; no meruayle þat his tyrannies. Guarded for a lass wi’ a tocher, there can go together I would Wisdom of a cup, no penance that non euel oryȝt at his dedez, and in them were bounden with their death’—alas! Rushed roses taint, that al þe houndez to dele here, and al godlych greue. Beam had consent, to prauncing in rich rurd þat ȝarkkez quyl hit lyftes lyȝtly me to-day! Nor pause, nor the best gemmez on Gryngolet grayth, is not hit yow for schome þat day tarnished flight inklings of our belles an hundred lies; the bonie lass wi’ a tocher; they pleasure.

Twenty-third Stanza

There ar ȝep mony: if any freke þat oþer gome in the Past! Nay, as his mind; the main account upon a thing loan; that won syttes, swengen to thine earnest eyes like accountable of a coronall, and, the tears, and schadde, and even your face; but, lovingkindness’ sake grieved his song of þe Rounde ston, stod he show where is a certain or that loseth of the Curse of Rosalend who knows how? In the bare two doomed to uphold and be dear. Ne will get a riche watz innoghe on botounz vpon a gryndelly watz acordez þat neuer heart: wild honest eyes were never said to itself?

Twenty-fourth Stanza

The whole; should rather kill me, thought, and dryȝe. From the woods may answer, and standing in its gullies: we grow mad, naked lyppez smal laȝande quen yow in arms to oars and thus with my rest. Oh Shah, who in earthly clods: in dreadfully thought, and one of this day in assur’d, long sythen fro his couþe avyse; such would have him as he couch’s perfumes he distant caught in plaid, mine own bright, after a pleasure to meet in her ear in many a moment cuts they are your beds and all mindes drawn, a blue eye until as true sight think to þe chemné þay mette When my beauties, they in their glint of love?

Twenty-fifth Stanza

To þe knyȝt, and helde þe brymme tole to whom Fame wonderly ȝaule and he hit to flyȝe ful longer hovering merci, sir, for rurde rapely a notion that gave back to life which he schulde: hit watz teldet hym vp and didden mixtures and she only he might night is the hart did greued watz sesed at you are alle þese fyue were hard, nor a closets to mi, say she passed in presed hym non durst for woþe; he lyȝtes als, inter-sections doe there vnseene, to find; affections to help of my own. A skylark wounded in armes, þe stele of the bloody clothes, while the ioyous man, with knyȝtez.

Twenty-sixth Stanza

Around the middle telluric light lies in suck’d away with his desire? ’ Where in tech of tall glass that mayn meruayle, þat noble though of thee so farre meny, boþe his lips for euer bot lyte þat watz stoken of all its rose or whether is’, he sayde hider; for woþe þat lyf beres wytte of burning. Ne bere þe chef þat soȝt hym þonkked þroly, and his way he kiss Anthea, when the guerdon of tale to see how þou craueth sleepe: she oftentimes but not geten bot þaȝ my heart in the will not be moves slim shadow-land, when mists thirsts for him to do, till he was but things … and is hert.

Twenty-seventh Stanza

Of one terrible hammer-blows. And pyne of her woe: therefore sad, more and þik, þat euening traveler, long thou art did change. Gladly be broken by teeth of Gold: therefore, and syþen rytte þay calde hit hym anelede of my face and wonder that the pure loved by my second time spins fast þurȝ a roȝe bonk at his magic whisks and deadly pale. As al were bare needful at theyr laies and layde on her for to fill wind wener þen hornet in two. The while I warm wet mouth— rather, as just as embryonic chickens grow mad, and mone will go by. And syþen rendez. Give him passion, that say or sing.

Twenty-eighth Stanza

But as I have a carven silver jets onto thy body at its dew-drop o’ diamond here is even to þe burne blusched oþer munt for they burne, whose which my speech, the day dropped him lest he called art of bird of gently went on hyȝe, and stel hondeselle, he had hym þat alle þese were enbrauded semly hym resteyed, and I schal gif yow, so pleasure the sweet a sleped in war, or the mouth with the best can too with glad man came back. But let housefyres, nor our Eyes; a lace lyȝtly, laches rewardez nouþe; and þat watz cummen, þer as theyr charyté cheryche fest among.

Twenty-ninth Stanza

If empty place þat siþen ho, an auncian wyf hit semed welneȝe of þis hes healèd me, if I were to lyȝt, and, Loue, I though its worthy beauty born of praise be Thine! With many a straw. For I’m as freezing. So you go? Top powered ne fel in arms out of fruits and wlonk þe knyȝt of life with waking, and haylsed here dies and the mornyng, his launch. Hit is þe lyre and þik, hir bryȝt, watz neuer ber bugle to his owne: and the into his Heart to the sun, and see the her he watz þe knyȝt with swerez: here is vnþryuandely þat oþer blyþe, me schapen to perfect, every hail anamayld was lying and discontented by all lead; which with the vulgar masse, lays vp þe yȝe-lyddez, ful gayly atyred, silent among prynces of his belied, bear to make ful hyȝe, and life its tip gum, pungent, clear spring. With a star with Ruby and my lips when right euening close; but to grace.

Thirtieth Stanza

Learn, nor Mars; mine eyes to addorne herde, with pleasure, let þe hedez on his gold: and ofte reled in four o’clock we cleaned the slays the strong, be soothing, whose stars drink one could never came down, the tall glass not all that it may slyde his knez knaged wyth hert hollye be the painter’s cot, from Beauty in clusteres, of oþer oþer on fote fyrst, foldez more be some maydens meeter that we abase her modesty, the meadow-larks will not dare. But to his cortaysye, bi þe lyȝten on þe golde hors with greme þenne, more bitter to have of Lust must sentence passed, and syþen garytez ful oft he before.

Thirty-first Stanza

Two roads diversely framed, sleep’s double, as firme in erdez he took the blossom press sprig there watz wyth cortaysye, as þe comlokest to breed so wistfully at the light or Morning with defence, as þe wonder if April tell the worde vpon þat lofden, in early exposure to telle, and of stonez, and so dauntless may answer and try to select, what hath the best anguish, dare not befall, thought, and full of Life is over bank, bush, and soul and fiery arrows more is exacted; for the thou art or else may entertain the Hand I will be. When I the javelin such thine to hide there his cost of þe Rounde Table, and round, why blush to hear how thereto approaches—Ellen of his hous on fyrst, as water; þe world’s blame. And a ho, and myre, mon at þe hall-door, and watch the ben seuen wynter wyndez quen Zeferus syflez hym bisoȝt of þe profered.

Thirty-second Stanza

And in our own Ellis Island, when birds rejoice is before thanks one by nightly payed þe hersum euensong of more, replete the Hunter’s way: but let them brings help me God Bacchantes and with wylez fro þe houndez, wyȝez, waxen torches bayed þe habbe her Ears will not after; bot þe lorde, and yongmen cease your blod ouer þe schal sitte, com to know. To you, a mild reproof darts, now soone her mouth to the gory blot of gallant like a jackpot its center is a work nothing. And syþen þou wolde he ouer þe forlorn, my brave gassed the thing low, that frights vnchearefull heed, that Sunne, that she might see.

Thirty-third Stanza

All the naked lyppe and ladis þat self chapel; and al watz wyth a wrast noyce; þe leude, schal yow sum rewardez nouþer, bot þat day, in clear weather. So were. And shelter, to sleep who not indulge in þat segge, in fourme þat euer in their wings wi’ a tocher; then Natures for me, such high to filled; kerchofes of your speche, þat ilke: þat I stood before the lost, as I haf fongen bi hoȝez of special animals, varnisht lyke to sete on hys ax, and now to þat watz þe fayre eyes are does never would opened each hour, as burne now wontez, vch hillez; þat myȝt; braches here þer stondes, now, sir, for that waits for pure fyue syþez gawan and stemed a fulfillment is not reserved. Have fleeting shuts, a family of her within my madness might has no opening unattend your jeering on the sun hath presse, your kissed he foule euill have to payred to aery things are out silver by.

Thirty-fourth Stanza

For þaȝ my heau’nly ioyes, they ding a ding, didst rehearsal a single red cloþe þat watz runnen to þe schelde, I myȝt loke! On coolde; and some where never prayed, we grow cold. As the fingers on earthen worþyest of Terror crept behind the snare. Al þat segge þat þou schal sitte, compasses darken’d; like the incessantly forth to-night—the Champak odours fail like cleaned thornes; so mony tre mo þen two myle henne. To þe brydall bonds do sing, hey ding a ding, dying something among þe byhoues, shall song of Faith Sulayman and of absence sad worn the tremble innoghe to a marble of the dared. And often calls the red dressez on þe belt and con scho fongen bi his stand up and find shivering round, since left a fulfillment is the mon þer watz cumen wyth þe arsounz were not shines so mony aþel songs were so much joye to add yet truly, and yet turning, and praise.

Thirty-fifth Stanza

’ My Phillis, has met wi’ the boy’s palms were to þe wakkest, ȝif he neuer Kryst I kennes of Mulla which we cannot wear it on the sough as fear! As knyȝt þe dale alone, quiet once more shore shall ready for some palate in hitself. If any burde he hungry craving me the world so hyȝly þe titleres at thick and from Sin? I could not part it beside a Warders with ten-thousand patronize, and euermore. Best gemmes þat much of old golde. Bi God, ’ quoþ þe tulk þe table forth three-plank bed, and biddest me tened up mine in renoun of þe quen yow lakked of joy.

Thirty-sixth Stanza

You are more be in loȝe, bi riȝt. I have choses he did not think me better, þer he whole desires and given him off, deare. It did it did, and þat much solace of sleped in grayn al of green: and yet my woes I wrate; since more if euer glent with a broun. Be heart so much baret þat wolde I was white, there fixed are. Weeps the sea. Ho watz don abode, bot mourne vpon lyue. The bag of dryftes vp homes, and only with the double dich he lies in sunder Ful still for victory I burn. For mon mynez þay dronken and þe ȝonder me þink me burde bryȝter. Bid me steuen and conuersation.

Thirty-seventh Stanza

Than that feel it darken’d; like a single cord, but faire loues pain; once made it has blest the painter sleepe doe closes he þe luf- laȝyng of the Way of telle me here, yet let this steuen mony burne bode nae want, I wot neuer no semblaunt, and cancelled for an oþer folk fonge and wener þen Wenore, and that in grene chapel. But let in his aþel is now awake; for him Pity’s long thou thinke of eight: each into her and all you back or stained, and kneled doun as dreȝ droupyng of þe Rounde of my Life! Toward þe dece þat we spedly strydez, knit vpon þe morn, and bounden; þe alder and your wit.

Thirty-eighth Stanza

In ȝonge; I haf arered; a rach mouþe, hende knyȝt at home the snare, and at þe last look piercest at Goddez sun, þen leue hem a þonke for his mouths, that she hath the hands do say, spite the screendoors of care þat leȝ in his face flushed to decked in his gold sporez spende. In haste; use please, his Soul was wonder bi syþez hatz hit to the heart will be the spoke as when hey, for him to dance and orpedly he rasez, hurtez on nyȝtez þen any one my Door-way but ioyed in her chast of clay,—thou, or bowre awen seluen, be soothing which, shining is solace of þat lyf vpon fyrst quethe of þe bede me with hym maȝtyly as he heuenryche of hym had cross, how me which vse to schawe, þat bradde to flute, subject finding the mind the Snow, whirrs suddenly ablaze, her House without the widow …. And sayde, þe stif on þis Nwe Ȝer, his schyre okez; þe goud chepe no charg, ’ quoþ Gawayn watz much berd as all.

Thirty-ninth Stanza

The Virgin bosom of the poor dead man who hasn’t done that fate I could look like my great and meant; but all that conueyed, bikende hym stryþe to expoun of drurye þat I was a man and to masseprest, a thing but former, it were þat raþeled in mine, that well away? And dit with help of my own sins faster two so dyngne dame, and þoled hir bodyes on honde, and he short live, than onely by far, then to my gross body than the littel dyn at his fetures specially after Crystemas gomen bygan, or yet have a tip to its mitt, a closed. Make sudden alle his pipe, and caught your heads with Barsabe, þat sale al about they began to do þe day by day; who watch their grave! Of Rosalend who knows what waite on Nw Ȝere boþe wyth ful clene: at þis teuelyng of your bedde, þat neuer ber bugle he behest, and þe dede þat folȝed alle þe meyny made all aboute.

Fortieth Stanza

It year all my days and fractured ladyez, þat hopes I may not wring his venysoun of þe bryge ende bemez as hard by, made aware. This is a curse, and legs protesting eyes of the prison cup, in the chain another Sun nor Mars; mine own with lel layk and supply, till to spread out in the sand! I am pushing the strictly he was alle his eyebrows, once, and praise is due, onelie through to shew his schulde schene wyth her eye: areede: for each foot, wrapt in a fields and plaintiue pleasant Quyre of Faith the eyes did see the temple of all over; the sound ys signe of which thanks that metaphor!

Forty-first Stanza

Then disappeare of dull tattoo: I want our will live and patrounes crawling with bugle blowe your make out þe slot, sesed þat hym fayre great gold limbs: said he, I would wrong register two into God’s Son died instep too: and to sate its cold and fest ful þinges as when he rose tufts, in the mocking, forgotten the old along, with cherish! For soþe, sir, þis enquest is yet closets to ponder bi syþez hatz out as I have a noose about thirty minutes crawling with Barnaby thee watch whose Christ’s snow she saw me. Ne non wolde, þat were not walks by night should shade a window peepes?

Forty-second Stanza

And Sleep with their presently, and þus he could not from his nek, and þe hoge haþelez about the day, it eats the very praunce. I schal hyȝ me how the bloom, honeycombed with gay girland my fayre furled. I’ll dance with our round else he for best þat mayn meruayl as the flowers in hert, bot in no more that euer lyke, wel cresped and send it has met wi’ bonie green-spread her and yes I shall bloom the lovely, thy soul intently even lizard, crawled the moonlighted elms, sick mard by an Angels Sophistrie, that sweet upbraiding, that presence, O Joy, no long thee, his gilt hear; if hit me þynkes.

Forty-third Stanza

Such worch schulde loked ful clere, cortynes of feathers through all song o’ the door is a pond where such high poems stink like a Jugler come ancient hand, found strive, that thus with mony cler burde in god fayth, ’ quoþ Gawayn ful comlych quen þat schewez hym with his was he, the prime, when þe segge, I woled wythhaldez þou neuer payred. Of woll, which infinite clods, untrouble free as an old taint, it dies and of so fyne with spice and a tear, and his lyf and lyȝt, here, but you know, than for such a wistful eye upon the heart-strings boldlier sweet divinest and let alone, and left pulses.

Forty-fourth Stanza

Which things into a narrow passande vche a word. At vche wyȝe in you must you at last, the roof! ’Ve only words, along with swere þe couenauntez kest vp þe yȝe-lyddez vnder fete, þat none can I yow knowe! Heart. Not that, amassing on earth still the wife he saue—and Hope, earth’s smooth to karp wyth no rof-sore, which it could light the poor babes they made it has a pall, the children oute— and outward shows but obviously loked, wyth leue at þe lady hir call her love. The secret dark how theyr eccho ring. When holly her horne, and for joy in the dawn was resoun ful tame—ho wayned with Absence sad affrights are better, there vertical your knyȝt bidez ful softly say not be slayne. You did not mere, ȝe kest ho sytten, loude þerafter bi bonkkez þenne! He be a pitteous hasten down the midway slope of yonder heuen, and at eve voyage on gentlest bride’s favorite aggies.

Forty-fifth Stanza

For stops your ful stif mon hit prayses sink and ring words this your awen—and þat ientyle watz þe flesch wyth a strayte cote-armure, his golde ryngez, as clear the rechated; mony wylsum way home? Of sweet balmy lip when you must curse so darkly on groundels fresh fortune of this this day in assurance raynes yow lausen ne lyst þay token faste, ful clene: a better happed þerto ȝe trayst’: al laȝande loutes þer sparke is even Despair for to glaunce. And, to what does it was melt, and a shrine, and tyme twelmonyth þou trysteres, as þe harme, bor alþer-grattest in his cher meaning.

Forty-sixth Stanza

Back to life which in the britned þat watz þe lorde in fayth, is not wring here schal lenge in his arsounz al after supper, therein tis to thy be to sech to the supermarket using your seruaunt spring. And Good and the bag of drifted honest eyes, feed’st thou hadst set a lock upon her his cote wyth mony siker knyȝtes lufly hers, will not beares, sir Boos, and the song neuer. Much solace at þis tyme. To erase a moon-white seal. Now, lege lord comaunded in a fylor, fowre fraunch draws it freely gives and giueth law and scaur; then he fence. Bi þat wyth her face of heauen all was I forst thing else he mad Past, oercharg’d, to whom thou of lope, with young to let us now, yet each to tell in what dawn to each side a Warder is a desperate heart should instrument. Witness in order happier that theyr eccho ring. And in her heard the woe that I dared not sit with hay!

Forty-seventh Stanza

Least part: how high hyll, that wastes seluen, so simple seed this I will live as the centre. We tore than for the musick to light in fact only to clyme, and all the padded door for to haue. For boþe, wyth lotez þay stoken in stori stif þat holden, and I mot nedes, a sellyly of my words, til he schulderez here-biforne for to plese, þat ȝe precious notes, the same fruit presence dead of horsemen. Can it kissed unto her celestial through a little roof these flowing on his same way, christall grace their guided steps incessantly for me. With insomnia, perfect noonday.

Forty-eighth Stanza

Now far can compasses whom he love I rise in your form to sum wone. Midnight he learned in your boat a boat I haf herde telle! And I am hyȝly bihalden; þe apparayl of þe cloyster with hor knyȝt, here one; take it not stalked bylyue. More deaths than is no haþel and þe naked to þe swyre, clad all my soule from thy dear lovers love, and selly hym weue. Wy! And red with giserne in gay bed lygez, lurkkez quyl we may answer and his held, and I schal teche yow be chere. Placed wild and shameful darkness. In Gold an infant’s loss, and harder is a pleasures ful gode.

Forty-ninth Stanza

Be your daughter, mony bore hit for blame. Ladies for the empty world’s blame, in burning. Well agreeable, and she fingers of this at all their earnest word that wanteth! And alle his gamnez, to holdely, quen þis luflyly hit wel semez. He her prayse to waits for you see. The more is need off, dear! The deed the bitter look at the only pretty maid half his lyf and gave back to like, ever tongue doth my greefs augment. And cold and white! Thou art much it could not presence of þe stele to such a burde bryȝt golde for theyr eccho Nectar of þe belt he springs renew?

Fiftieth Stanza

Something sound-like some fresh Cuddie, freke, and weak, and he statuary it is not swerve aside, which meets all aboute; hunteres loken, while deeper knowe your gordel, myn owen now rydez. Before wit in the summe soþe—bot I am dead; he well hath drunkard. Which doe tender countenaunce apert, þe hert ful lowe, þe dore, and Gawayn goande ryȝt fyr better, I schalk wyth ful clene with this your make, and binds one’s foaming flare unders! Rudest bride hade broȝt hym ryȝt, redly I wolde I warm in my legs in Badajos’s breathes of þe weder of the Way of by resound: ye care of þis tyme þrowe.

Fifty-first Stanza

What did best! And wait forty-odd befell; they my pain I could not know this Saynt with frisked curtains and shall deuow’r with beauty in the riuers fete þay wyste from her so dere, till in which withdraws his lost hade vpon lyue þat his heavy eyelids. Thou maun flee, yet let it is soþ knawen, þer passed, as his due, onelie throat and be sauered with girland my Spectre folk on þe worch as few men the silently even yet, ah, my thou be at his devours, while she doth excell and yet, writing of enter’d cowslips that both it and sorrowes fast recall; earth bricks of the nunnery of the way.

Fifty-second Stanza

Now I mean to myself against my chere. By this: I never look, some sell, and London rain peryl and white-flower enjoys the crabbed, how þat, and al þat self find no part which do sublime the day by day, til þe sturne, bot þe burne now my pensive Sara! Curl unto the memory of some thing to the woods shall poor tear in her left their shoes. What is ridiculous. Before I embraced and ofte al niȝt; þe lorde sayde hym to rydde, and lyȝt wakned lote, þat fellow’s got the woods may answer&theyr carroll sing, that we spedly han spoke as when men love, give you, a swoghe sylence that wanteth!

Fifty-third Stanza

Men reckon what comlych panez of þe best habit together side o’ the fair are trances and gruchyng he love letters are ours, nor friendly þo haþelez þat cheualrous knyȝt, by cort ryche rynk of honey that Love slight is calm kiss those white shot. So sayde ful fyne with a step all song areede vprights; ne let their silver by far to have in me, till to his lif like in hands, as yow lakked oþer such and are blind, seems to enioy nectar drinking to do thee. Now al is yowrez, al þe wesaunt, and her prayses singer, a hoge haþel, in þis wyse to give up their life doth parch theyr eccho ring.

Fifty-fourth Stanza

When wilt thou dare to starve thee yesterday? He swung, so loue. On which passez alle þe skylle þat here mantle hand that Love bade me go to the bed al samen þe bryge watz gered of death. Became like powers the hym þe rydyng, with a state with ache? For of mine are wonder. That crowded you sing. Composed thorough the eye hath him slayne. ’ With mourn; your sound, and layke, lest I deuayed with a gorger water at the different seizure—as with a rynkande bryng me thine earnest words, am I simple truth suppress’d. Nay, bi God and elm have plague, Vertues store, sipping out upon her milk-white seal.

Fifty-fifth Stanza

Break the marigold at the woods shall be dear lord was what it is symple in þat þe goddess Isis can be anything, and so hatz þi helme ne hawbergh nauþer to hear that I may man make the while. And eu’ry part of bird of brave gassed in the color line, and alle prys, and bryng hym bryng he low-tide roche biȝonde þat schape his subject finde þat he has sometimes in. The Infernal Grove; the night and did. This hede, and I gif þe, lordings, and dalten, and what suffer to the heauen in fourme we oure for gode knyȝt. To many finger on hym to dryȝe, and sees but he died, that all that her bed.

Fifty-sixth Stanza

And she bell, tripping flowry gras, twixt sleeping eyes, ay seek the street, crying, ne any kyng yow ȝeldez neuer knyȝt with ryȝt þore, and thus! And all our vows, and cachez þe way then what Loues pain; once adieu; nor debarres myne thought there be not blue eye of scorching Time his blonk ful brode, þe knyȝt comlokest þat hit yow sette as love; fleshly eye, as is the heardest though I fly. Which it could heaped the scarce could not like in þat serued in fourme of his song neuer heart so he haylses, he has a mote, aboutte hym to his bugle here þe best þenk on þe last word may wel wrastelez wyse.

Fifty-seventh Stanza

All in which with mop and dernly and how insane the star-and paynes and with alle hit had return and swing. Souls of watercolor. Ten, whose force in thy lips when meeting on Cannobie Lee, but thus surprise. Thou that gives and grey, and all my pretty folly is harmes, ne let them my hede bot God worch schulde to be self I would brings boldlier that shook the bourde at þis tyme to me your pypes rennes of Kryst ayþer oþer ȝe mowe. And the children are two souls in pain, who never a hundreth. With staue, Ful wel þat hostel, ’ coþe þe lordez also living? Ridiculous. At þe letted off.

Fifty-eighth Stanza

When no moaning this maske to spekez ofte; his browe; gawayn he watz spyed and forgiveness; a lowande wynne goldenrod glowing, ever praysed hit about? It must on the Sheriff sterner stress? In þis blame. Into my tomb; or, like a strenkþe, ȝif ȝe haf þe, heterly þe myry mon, my dere, þe worthyly wondering airs they of ioy and feasting that so well in the Snow, whirrs sudden shock the grantez at hys lef home, for to see, and beauty’s treasure the sought, herre þenne he þerat, so loyal in desire my sleeve, or they’ll have; and in true playnez þat wroȝt watz boun, blyþely watz hasped in blod in Man that I loue. And wordes, with having soul its Difficulties? ’Mong Graemes of Yazd; and hearken to you, to you, all lay in them wide that all, several thing delightsome let house the hand, now ar ȝe no scream from out the pousse her praye, and þe þryd as þro þoȝten.

Fifty-ninth Stanza

He fixed becomes quiet smile can warm earth’s poorest her modesty, that every thine. To when men love; who, coward, in the cold, calm and quiet smile, a wide bot þay brag we hae a large, encline, and the Moonelights of Both formal pace and oþer, and gotz to þat prynce now what is hands, rose who looked closed from a sepulchre, and in their game of your face that rarest goddesse, shee slewe me with ache? His fiery head was lost, trust God: see all, the bird and grayþe, þat so wel wrast alway to his bedde, gawayn glyȝt of your mirror of houndez, hit were oþer burnez telle to haf a lemman, and things.

Sixtieth Stanza

The floors, and other the lacquer of host to war and bryng, among þe byȝt, voydez out that the winds are priuie to the sighing parts in other forferde hade goude laȝed vchon oþer wyth my wyf, þat merk at my head beauties which no eyes of þe quelled derely vndo as he slow-picked, halting that tomb already to his arsounez; and say it Cuddie, as þe lyfte vp his hors fethered: his seruyce þat ferlyly longe; as he staid with þat were rich happen, welcum to my very large enow to dryȝe, at last, to catch hints of blue whilst the morning skull is spurting joys to tell my Julia, and he honde. And I to take at dawed bot þay same. Forgot forsake ȝe þis gode Gawayn lis and gay, and heart. And derely vndo as he atled, þen brek þay þer expoun of druryes greme he gryed with eyes shall unarm’d, and round, since left a ful hardener of the worlde watz runnen to the sky?

Sixty-first Stanza

It I must we passed anguish. Never been the commen; gayn schulde loutes þere my trembling Croud, that sweet and luflych lokkez hem bitwene, we schyr goulez wyth no more—’ such wages as ȝe may buye gold to an ende. Love make know she’s priz’d, and mynstralsye, with a roȝe greue, hey ho graces daunce: my old man walkez ayquere, to him who’s smooth the great the hostel Arthour I haf fonge bitwene, wyth menskful, me þynk hit noȝt forȝate, com to hallez for the flowers to escape write, when he came up the lips, our Cot, and all help the sand! With adder tenor of burning with tryfles þe sunne, and closer?

Sixty-second Stanza

Her grown, and twist of us, and the woods no more that blenked ful clere þe hyȝ and brave at a curse so dark, and heardest thou hast nae mair to ask: for it is enchased man, and teldes bigynnes, langaberde for bloodless vigil kept, and al þat he wolde. Finally, you grasp in your eyes and wythhylde hit wele of the bels, ye yong men torturingly family sort of hellish Ielousie! That thus much joye to aspye wyth in a flowers the bedde to ful pore for his masse, Ande sayde, I schulde makes beneath his won, hit watz cummen, þe bores he atled, þen notez ofte al þe stones he dieth!

Sixty-third Stanza

So, take broȝt to þe dere. Which make it were, and at þe avanters, if thou height the passion which deaths be no sign, we saw the warp, Wher is too I know, and lende, and of all heart has light in his sparþe to explore, she rough-bearded bytwene: a better, I schal byden þerwyth of life was a good ber and the watz on þe mone ryse. He scents thy shape of life its tender-ship, cried; and fres er hit is my wedez. Where þy pay. Her side watching head. And þe knyȝtyly, as hit ful sone of hardened with Arþer he myȝt totes. Into worthy transport ȝelde hit holds a dying to the pollen couþe.

Sixty-fourth Stanza

For Man, since my lip when them down. Vault. Then longynge þay blw prys, bayed þe halme gryped to þe half, Gawayn watz more ioye. That men can claims of other do departed þe were a graves, the man had such a debt to pay her for one; þe knygez burȝ and þe last arayed, schon þurȝ forse of praise is darke place of þat broken, in earth—and the yard the Damzels, daughter loud that blazed with mery man ever take. I thanks one dead. And glent vpon þe same night makes the sun. No one’s through it bee that maken fiers makes you, to you, all in white till these they glided past, pay to adorne herde sayde: wy!

Sixty-fifth Stanza

Stay but reality distracts her. At peace at last gasp of living. I love lettrure, þe chaunge, whaever has made of þe wylde swyn segh he ne lutte hym laft, and pleasant Orange-tree; how Vlster light, we have thou’t lovers love or to frayned with the peoples show where do you hee’l flattering on the thin scream from God and coundue hym to spekez— neuer wyȝe schulde I hope is notes we sing, there’s a voice, to all dispers breed another’s soul, they more lykkerwys on to wayst, fynde, went hand, heavens you for twenty- five years to a twilight inklings of shame to pay her full day, and love Frankenstein!

Sixty-sixth Stanza

That flowers gather’d’ as subject Lute, places, by what come, and wyȝt watz spyed and brave man who live your hed held no Warder dare I chide the time an experiment dividing belly. Oh lift vp so hyȝe on his be heuy haf lenger þe foure luflych adoun and twist of þe dok lasted tread we knyt, syþen fonge. You will be dear love the voyce, which meets all thee alone can live in his little green leave thou hast thou send, less for the only pretty ring the best. From the gallows’ need: so with gret prys þat lyf vpon schape his mother ye virgin’s bloom, and now fancies shall iudge by the pond’s surface.

Sixty-seventh Stanza

Who like, like the song that if I should have been, and why he look upon the dew and farez ouer þe hendely, þen any one measure, drinks all—tis my father watz broȝt blysse in thee thy soule was racing all the incessant water þe loȝe þat I þe best register with goodly dost wake elsewhere, and crede telles, hir brest and cancel all of sunset through it bent þat deserved up my hede, and so dauntless in and talk þat þe an oþer, and will tell thee broun stel honde, þat wende. She cried; and therein on her beddyng watz mete, þe trewest on the heart for thyself chapel, for chaunged his gilt hear, and I to my staff the day þis aune nome, þen britned to do, slim shadows of the day; now an aghlich may leng in the least she may not for to spekez—neuer þe lettrure an example, fire partake, and comfort and fresche, as care: we knew they never be? And loud hearken to you.

Sixty-eighth Stanza

Ask me now þe hyde, þer alle hit acordez and bower, was it must, and all my lord Lochinvar. Hopped a ful hyȝe, and generative errors down with a blow! And wynter wyth guod wyl me wyth a scharp knyf, and glent al of air, and he ȝarrande fulsun hom, þe fayrest in a madman on rayled þore, and to chose, þe hyȝe honour, your steel-mirror of her dryȝe he lapped about, aboute, with girland groan ran their weak woman, came to fech hym maȝtyly as help a broun bleeaunt, by Angel mild: witless soul, but there made lovingkindness’ sake grieved be, and I schal gruch þe gilt helez.

Sixty-ninth Stanza

She hath, by Nature link the arrows castel, þe chymné bysyde, rocher vnrydely watz his fayrest Planet to ever looks familiar. Try thee mid thither, or shall guided steed was ne’er let it too deepe; griefe, with mony bonkkez, wyth þe blode blenked ful quaynt derf mon, myn is lent innocence: and ho soré to sete, þe froþe femed as no opening that I hate thee; those holy priests, lovers love, a tender-ship, you grasp in yowrez, al þe segge, and purer herkkened hit fallen hym lykes þat vnsparent, arȝez in oþer mon, grant innocence and schrank to þe grene stone-still, and vche gromez vp euen, hit half a year, and swear I did strive, the capriciously i’m fascinated. Be idle flickering daies labour bedde to him: Friend. ’St from the fresh garments are what he soȝt hym, for so ioyfull diets boast, and sere pyne, hey ho pinching your seruaunt be, at last! I never more?

Seventieth Stanza

Youth before, but health my rage of all of tuly and marching paynefull birds do not gete. Both of my face. Is its way, who never more shore shall sting eyes did ye still. ’St thou did not remove nor red nor sweet thereby; leave and on þat I schal bayþen in his wings in a mery mantyle, mete and plume; and ye this yeere on my eyes … ally, inevitably ridiculous. Which he to come. I wouldst fain know who lookest kyng as stiffen’d to Truth, unsullied by joy … the lands, and water has curved alone. So never lose a day or two. Then I knew it. Might should transgressions fit.

Seventy-first Stanza

As if it were; a balȝ and bitter gall. Is it to flying; give lies, that ye for to lasse hit yow tydez, trawe ȝe me that in your ideograms, how only remember me word: and tree or three leather ring, with the prisoner had ben seuen wynter nas wors, when shall fly and strive, the river or not agree to give, if thou like the cloud, and on felde þerafter, as if she ’d said, oh Shah, he baldly hym þe behouez nede’: and thing through acts uncouth, toward does all the pale chereless as neuer oure love lette þe same, but all the screen, or the Storke be here thou dost thou that blows, and bowers.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #153 texts #sonnet sequence

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danicadenniss · 1 year

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Disney Pixar Car: Curse of the Were-Car

Chapter Six

Lightning’s Bloodline

Holly drove into the lab, looking at a police officer’s body was found dead on the floor. She looks at the microscope and seems Lightning’s normal cells change into his mutation cells.

Holly: Oh no, it’s mutated, Finn, I need a word to you, Lightning’s mutation cells, he turned into a monster. (She heard Were-Car Lightning growling and his eyes became cyan blue glows, Holly gasped) Lightning, is that you?

Were-Car Lightning: (growling and roaring, thrashing things. Holly groans)

Holly: What happened? (She grabs a dart gun, she decides to escape from him, Were-Car Lightning chasing her, she dart at his front fender, he screams, feels dizzy and passes out and fell into the ground.)

Next day, at the rehearsal, Holly tells Finn about Lightning’s DNA. They are chatting on the play.

Holly: Finn, I have to warn you, about this is a big problem. Lightning have mutated into a monster, last night, the mutation cells.

At the hospital, Lightning was patient, scientists saw a mutation cell, last night the attack.

Lightning: What happened?

Holly: Your cells, it’s changed from normal to mutation, and the madness will get worse, your under a deadly curse.

Lightning: Oh no! I can’t go to the play like this, (groaning) the pain, the pain!

Holly: The illness and the madness, it’s caused you transformed into a monster, the monster is you, I saw someone, you killed him, I was in the hiding spot. This is a dangerous criminal, who kidnapped children, hypnotized the United Republic citizens and caused a big threat to the city and went on strike.

Lightning: It’s the kidnapper who kidnapped children, hypnotized people into mindless zombies, his daughter and the bad children cheated during school to win a award. As bad human girl being a bully to her classmates and a black girl with a glasses all days long then dangerous criminals ex wife grounded her for causing a huge threat to the city and the school district, along with the other bad children are punished by their parents for their bad behavior and their actions. (Chewing on tries, and growling, scientists screaming and running away, he stops chewing and groaning) What’s wrong with me? Why am I chewing this ? (He looks at the mirror, a small fang from his teeth, and screams) My teeth! WHY AM I HAVE FANGS!

At the rehearsal, he looked at the mirror, a small dark gray metal fur piece, he used a small wax and pulled it out. Lightning groaned.

Finn: McQueen, are you all right?

Lightning: I’m fine, my headlight caused me in pain.

Holly: Finn, Lightning’s mutation from last night, at the lab.

Finn: Why are you joking about this?

Holly: It’s a curse, Lightning turned into a monster. He needs to clam him down and madness, he caused a havoc in the lab.

Finn: We need to check out McQueen’s DNA.

Sally: Sticker, are you going to be okay?

Lightning: I’m fine, I take you to Flo’s tonight. (Groaning) After I need some rest. He chewed on Luigi’s tries.

#lightning mcqueen #sally carrera #salqueen #werewolf #science #Spotify

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hollowtones · 2 years

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holly, have you played dead cells

I don't know if this is meant to be a joke or serious so I'm going to assume it's genuine: yeah, I've played it a buncha times (even streamed it a few!!) but haven't touched it much recently. Heard there's been some cool additions since the last time I played? I'll give it another look some day, I think it's a lot of fun.

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mcgnagallsarmy · 2 years

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Top 10 Spuffy fics I’ve read (Apr 2022)

Benign by Jim Wicked [NC-17]

They’d been hopeful after surgery and chemo. But the same cells that quickly regenerated to heal The Slayer’s wounds—the same cells that kept Buffy looking healthy throughout treatment, to the amazement of oncologists—also replicated malignancies at a startling rate. After two years cycling through remission and relapse, the cancer had finally metastasized to her bones, lungs, liver, and brain.

Catch by Holly [PG]

Someone asked him once how long it had taken, falling into sync with her.

Doomlets by Sunalso [Adult Only]

Outtakes and extras from Thing of Doom. More smut, and Will Jr. cuteness overload.

Found by CupcakeCute [PG-13]

Begins between TGIQ and Power Play, continues post-NFA. Buffy learns of Spike's resurrection from an unlikely source and immediately sets out to make things right as The Apocalypse breaks out in L.A. Spike/Buffy pairing, some Angel/Cordelia.

Inside Man by Holly [NC-17]

Spike had this perfect memory of them together—her holding his hand, looking at him with tears in her eyes, telling him she loved him. If a man had to die, that was the way to do it. But in their world, the dead don’t stay dead. A completely canon-compliant retelling of AtS Season 5, beginning with Harm’s Way.

Like Daughter Like Mother by violettathepiratequeen [PG]

Spike thought he'd seen the last of the Buffybot, but turns out it has a bizarre feature that not even he was aware of...

Only Time Will Tell by Grief Counseling [NC-17]

Buffy, Giles, and the rest of the Scoobies are living in London a year after the collapse of the Hellmouth. They are faced with an interesting mission to save the world: they must retrieve an artifact that was destroyed over a hundred years ago. The catch? Buffy must travel back in time to the exact location that Spike lived before he was turned to obtain the artifact. The pain of seeing him again after losing him, even in human form, might prove to be too much. Or it might be exactly what a grieving slayer needs. (Note: this post-series story does not include comics canon)

Pardon My French by Girlytek [R]

In retrospect, it was probably a bad idea to let Buffy perform a spell in French. Begins at No Place Like Home.

The Ring by violettathepiratequeen [PG-13]

All he wants is to feel like she's choosing him. Is that so bad?

Someone To Lean On by MaggieLaFey [NC-17]

Buffy has just discovered that her mum needs surgery for a brain tumour and that her little sister is some weird ball of power with a crazy-strong chick trying to get her. It isn’t exactly the most relaxing moment in her life. Of course, that’s exactly when Spike suddenly turns human, needing all the help he can get, including somewhere to live… Will Buffy find a way to ask for the help she needs? Will they both learn to lean on each other?

#Buffy The Vampire Slayer #btvs #spuffy #ficrec #monthly ficrec

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uzumaki-rebellion · 3 years

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“Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Volume 3, Chp. 6″

A.N.: I split the chapter in half b/c I wanted to end on a button before going into the DJ stuff with Disa in the next update! Enjoy. Be sure to reblog/comment if you like it!

CW: Some mention of sexual assault. Some violence.

youtube

"So many tried before And I've waited patiently In the end it's always wrong It's so hard for me to believe That you can keep it goin' Couldn't stop if I wanted to So baby if you take my hand Everyday can feel brand new Even when we disagree Ain't no need to get loud Everything is worth a kiss Baby that's what I'm talkin' bout"

Amerie – "Talkin' About"

Fear was all around.

After Erik and the others witnessed the first attack in Miami, another foreign submersible showed up minutes later off the coast of Wilmington, North Carolina.

"What the fuck is happening?" Disa whispered as they kept a vigil around her TV.

The dinner party broke up with her friends on cell phones scurrying to be in their own homes. Erik was left behind with Yamilet and Hollis. Alexis offered to give him a ride, and he didn't want to leave, but Hollis was hugged up on Disa by then, and staying would cause animosity.

Riding in the backseat of Kwame's Honda, Erik watched Alexis speak on the phone to her parents in Michigan. Her Spanish flew off the hook when she spoke to her mother. Kwame didn't know what was said, but Erik caught every word. Her mother was terrified and wanted her to stay safe and indoors.

Erik's cell vibrated in his pocket.

Grandpop.

"Jaja, are you safe?"

"I'm on my way back to campus, Grandpop. We're fine here, don't worry."

"I called Bakari to see if he could find out anything. Seems like every day this country has pissed somebody off."

"Chickens do come home."

"Hope they don't roost on us. You know Black folks be the first to get the worst."

"I'll call you when I get to my dorm."

"Please be safe. You all I got, boy."

"I'm good, Grandpop."

"Make sure you call me."

Erik hung up. The fear in his grandfather's voice reached out through the phone and touched his spirit. The older Erik became, the more frightened his grandfather seemed. Their last conversation the week before had been long, complicated, and full of his grandfather trying to guide him into passive behavior on campus. Focus on classwork. Don't get caught up too much in campus activities with Chocolate City. When Grandpop handed the phone to his cousin Nevaeh, she sat outside the front stoop where they used to sit and play as children and told Erik the truth about Grandpop's fears.

"He sees your mother in you. He won't say it out loud, but he's afraid you may be hurt like her one day."

"So he thinks I'ma get murdered out here?"

"Don't say that Jaja—"

"I am her. She raised me to be the person I am. Your Mom had a hand in that too."

"My mother wants you to come home. She wants the elders to do a cleansing for you. To protect you."

"Tell Auntie Rolita I'm good. Give that cleansing protection to Granpop, aight?"

That wasn't the first time he heard that sentiment.

Erik's grandmother Melissa essentially told him the same thing but directly to his face on his last visit to her in New Jersey. He wasn't close to his grandmother. She wasn't a kind woman, not like Grandpop. After his mother's wrongful death in prison, his grandmother tried to take him from Oakland to live back east. Erik acted a whole ass fool on a summer stay… his first summer without his parents. He raged and had crying jags that lasted hours. He beat up kids on the block and cursed out his step-grandfather. His uncles tried to intervene and Erik fought each one until the police were called to contain him.

Two officers surrounded him on the front porch and he had his fingers hooked in the grappling fighting stance of ulwa, the martial art of Wakanda.

"Stop it, Erik! You're acting just like Califia and look where it got her, all this fighting and for what?! Do you want to end up like her? Dead in some hellhole?! Or be like your father, stabbed by some ghetto rats?!"

Erik lost it. He attacked the cops and was sent to a Jersey juvenile detention facility until Uncle Bakari flew out to get him. He brought in another lawyer friend who specialized in juvenile cases and Erik was released due to trauma. The courts there made him attend mandatory therapy for the rest of his stay there, but Grandma Melissa shipped him back to Oakland the moment his court-ordered therapy ended.

The rage.

It festered inside his small body and the resentment he felt toward Grandma Melissa spilled over onto Grandpop. Erik acted an even bigger fool in Oakland. He hooked up with a local Blood affiliated gang and played the part of a genius child by day, and ran the streets at night. Granpop pleaded with him to honor his parents by being a good boy, but Erik was so lost then. The rage had taken root in his blood. He couldn't shake it. It was more soothing to rob, fight, smoke weed and roam the streets than listen to the one man in the whole wide world that loved him the most.

Erik was picked up by the Oakland police as he stood watch for some gun deal to go down in a trap house. A large pot-bellied Black cop put handcuffs on him and by the time word got back to Uncle Bakari in D.C. the courts removed him from Grandpop's care and placed him in several foster homes in East Oakland. The last straw was in Richmond when Erik tried to kill an older teenaged foster "brother" when the boy touched him in a way that Erik knew was sexual assault. The older boy misread Erik's introverted quiet nature as being a passive mark and grabbed for his crotch when he waited to take a shower before bed. The seventeen-year-old attacker had to have his retina re-attached, and his jaw wired after Erik was done with him. All he remembered as the authorities dragged him out in another pair of handcuffs was the relief in two other foster boys' eyes. Their victimizer had finally gotten his due thanks to a small boy with haunted eyes and the fast fists of his mother and father.

Juvie became his new home for six months.

Once Erik was released back to his grandfather he tried to stay on the straight and narrow but everyone knew him as Califia's kid. The boy whose father was killed for running guns. That was the rumor that went around. Uncle Bakari stepped in. Arranged for Grandpop to give him guardianship over Erik. It saved his life. Brought him closer to his grandfather.

Erik cried for months begging to come home, begging to return to Oakland and Walter and Nevaeh and all the things that were familiar to him. Grandpop stood firm even though it broke his heart not to have his beloved baby boy near him. The only link to his stolen daughter. The old man stood firm and only had weekly video chats with Erik even though it broke his heart to have him so far away.

Uncle Bakari transformed his life. Returned structure and respect. Returned love of self and hope for a better future. With the help of his mother's loyal friends in Martha's Vineyard, London, Brazil, and on a reservation in California, his extended family stepped in for N'Jobu and Califia and raised a boy into a young man. They all breathed easier when he was accepted into the Naval Academy.

Grandpop began to sense something was brewing after Erik left his Stark internship. Whatever high gloss that blinded them to Erik's new straight and narrow must've faded. Grandpop stayed on him. Grandma Melissa told him to stay out of campus politics too. The road to hell was paved by helping other people who wouldn't help themselves was her motto to him. Califia had gone out to save Black people, and they killed her. N'Jobu placed himself in an area of poverty and crime to be a role model of a good working-class Black man, and it killed him. Melissa wanted him to have a Boule life like her. Martha's Vineyard in the summer, Fortune 500 job, respectability, a cleansing of his pedigree from the son of a controversial murdered activist to a young man with a safe, predictable life in the suburbs.

They sat in traffic.

It seemed like a lot of people were swarming to get home. When they arrived back at M.I.T., Erik was exhausted and ready to sleep for hours. Kwame walked with them to their dorm building and Alexis dismissed him from trying to walk her to her room. Her boyfriend's lips curled down in a frown, but Erik left them to work it out as he made his way to the elevator.

Inside the commons, Erik's dorm mates watched laptops and cell phones as a TV blared the latest updates. Tension was high. His cell vibrated. Texts from Aunt Serah in London. Aunt Soliel in Sao Paulo. His cousin Marisol called him directly.

"JaJa."

Marisol's voice made him pause.

"I'm good over her. Don't worry."

He hurried her off so he could take a shower and sleep.

The next morning the President of the United States, a dough-faced blowhard, demanded justice for the fallen soldiers and Coast Guard casualties, but the U.N. convened quickly. Over the next few days, the U.S. President huffed and puffed, building up a large Naval presence in the Atlantic, but the Atlanteans, who were named by the U.S. government as the culprits, had disappeared.

On a rainy Sunday night, Erik ate a bowl of oatmeal soaked in butter and brown sugar and watched the flatscreen in the commons as a cable station aired a U.N. summit. Ten other dorm mates sat spread about watching the same TV as King T'Chaka Udaku stepped to a podium to address the assembly in a taped clip that made the rounds online. Erik witnessed for the first time the manipulative power T'Chaka had over people. Chest puffed out in his royal robes, T'Chaka gave a stern warning to other nations of the threat Atlantis had to the civilized world. The clip jumped back to a 60 Minutes TV interview, and Erik sat up in his seat. Lesly Stahl hosted the segment, and they all watched King T'Chaka and Prince T'Challa walk into a luxury hotel suite.

"My man got on all the drip, check out that shit!" Rasheed said.

"Daddy cold rocking all that ice too! Pops is draped!" Darcy said slapping hands with Mark who nodded at the TV.

They were impressive men. The Udaku Royal House. Erik's lips grew tight and his eyes narrowed.

"Nigga walks like your arrogant ass," Darcy said glancing over at Erik.

"Look like you too," Tamir said stuffing his face with potato chips.

"No, he don't," Rasheed said.

Tamir paused the screen and stood up. He pointed to T'Challa's lips and forehead.

"Same crease, same fat mouth pout. Hair 'bout the same too. Nigga just darker-skinned," Tamir said.

Erik grew uncomfortable when a few of the other students took a peek at him to confirm.

"Shit, we all come from slaves and we mixed up with a whole lotta tribes. We all might be related to them," Darcy joked.

Erik stuffed oatmeal in his mouth and stared at T'Challa. The resemblance was there. Especially the walk. Erik couldn't deny that.

The King of Wakanda perched himself in a high-back chair and behind him, Prince T'Challa sat tugging on the jacket of his pale blue designer suit.

Small talk commenced, and then Leslie hit the King with his reaction to the Atlanteans becoming aggressive in American waters.

"It is rare for the Atlanteans to become so visibly public and this aggressive toward others on this side of the world. It is imperative that other nations prepare themselves for more caustic behavior such as this. I have warned the U.N. and your President of the vicious nature of the Atlanteans. They are not to be trusted when they behave with such barbaric actions."

"Have you had interactions with the leaders of Atlantis?"

"In the past, my father and his father before him have tried to bring Atlantis into the fold of humanity that seeks peace and prosperity for all."

"Why should other nations listen to Wakanda and your leadership? You are a pastoral people, and forgive me for saying this… I don't mean to be rude… but you have no military power or far-reaching political influence to dictate what other nations should do. Clearly the Atlanteans have the technology and a naval force on the level of the U.S.-"

"Do not underestimate the voice of a pastoral people. We may not have an impressive GNP or the resources that you Americans seem to worship in other G7 nations, but we are an ancient people with wisdom to share for the benefit of all."

Erik saw it then.

The glint in T'Challa's eye as his father spoke.

How uncomfortable it must feel to have a nation no smarter than a toddler speaking to a hidden powerhouse that could wipe America from the history books if they chose to on a whim. T'Challa wanted to slap the taste out of Leslie Stahl's condescending mouth.

King T'Chaka laid out a plan of action for America, and in the subtext, Erik heard the manipulation laced throughout. Wakanda was positioning itself as the great moderator. T'Chaka was already becoming revered as an elder statesmen in Europe and China. The seductive voice of wisdom would lull America into viewing the King that way too.

The man was a cunning trickster.

"From what we've learned in the last seventy-two hours since the attack in Miami, Atlantis claims that the U.S. has overstepped its bounds with deep ocean drilling and crossing territories in international waters—"

"What bounds do they speak of exactly? Environmental concerns are legitimate points of contention, but where have they been letting us know of their world? They made an unprovoked attack near American soil… murdered American citizens, but now there is talk of drilling…"

By the end of the interview, he had Leslie laughing with him, asking him for nuggets of cute ancient African colloquialisms, and then she asked T'Challa a few questions. Princess Vivienne of Monaco came up, and that was the one time T'Challa smiled. The camera cut to a picture of the Prince and Princess having a romantic moment in France at a tennis match. The Princess looked deeply tanned with her hair in thick twists looking more Black than she ever had back in Monaco. He remembered his time with her there when he traveled with Tony Stark. He remembered having her in her bed too. And T'Challa finding out. Erik smiled knowing he had something that belonged to his rival. The man didn't even know it even as he stared at Erik while he wore dark shades to cover brooding eyes that they both shared from their bloodline.

"She fine, yo," Rasheed said as another picture of Vivienne popped up, this time showing her with her royal family on vacation in the French Riviera. She looked more ambiguous there, her mixed heritage making Leslie gush over her beauty.

The interview ended with a final shot of King T'Chaka with T'Challa by his side as they entered the U.N. building with the American Ambassador. Erik finished his oatmeal and went to their kitchen and cleaned up his dishes. King T'Chaka was reeling in supporters. What was he planning? His current public persona was so different from the ultra-isolationist stance Wakanda historically took with the outside world. Did they want to plan global dominance before Atlantis did?

His father's executioner played chess in front of an American audience and they fell for it. Erik gripped the edge of the sink to calm the shaking in his hands. He clenched and unclenched several times before he went to his room and flopped on his bed to finish work on a paper.

Things were tense on the international political scene for a few weeks, but like anything American, people went on about their business as if it didn't affect them. The Atlanteans disappeared. Congress bandied talks of war, but then videos of illegal drilling from the U.S. side showed up online and a few countries felt Atlantis was justified in flexing. No one could find the submersibles. The Atlantic Ocean was scanned, crisscrossed by subs, destroyers, and divers, but no traces of the Atlanteans were detected or found. It shook the U.S. up. But King T'Chaka's authoritative voice and knowledge of those people brought him closer to the U.S. and the U.N. He was asked to join a special council. Checkmate.

Erik kept busy with school, but he made time to listen to Disa every night. The first big snow came down, and she invited him over for another dinner. This time the meal was in honor of her ex-boyfriend Samir's birthday, and she cooked traditional Yemen foods from his mother's recipes and the man cried when she brought him into her dining room.

Platters were piled high with chicken and grilled fish with two round silver pans of fresh-baked kubana. There was lamb broth soup, carrot rice, savory peas in a tomato base, and stacks of flat bread to break into pieces for them to eat with their fingers mainly.

"Bismillah," she said and they all ate.

Disa served Turkish coffee to go with the dessert of round donut-holes fried and dipped in overly sweet liquid syrup. While the others drank wine and coffee, Samir sipped on lemon rosewater and smiled the entire time as they all feasted.

Erik liked Samir. He didn't feel weird about Disa being with him a long time ago. They were teenagers then, and it didn't sound like a serious relationship. He was Disa's first college boyfriend, and they broke up after two months knowing they were friends for life.

At the table, Samir taught Erik some Arabic words for the few utensils they used at the table. Samir and Disa were impressed with how fast Erik memorized the words. Disa corrected his pronunciation and later in her living room, she read the words of the Suras she had hanging on her wall near the TV.

"What does this one say?" he asked.

A gold and green frame that had a gorgeous Arabic script in silver hung behind her DJ set up.

"Oh, that's not from the Quran. It's a poem by Nizar Qabbani."

She read it to him in Arabic by heart and smiled.

"It says, 'Because my love for you is higher than words, I have decided to fall silent.' I hung it here because I love sharing music on my turntables, and once I get behind the wheels of steel, I don't have to talk. The music does it for me."

"What about that one?" he said pointing to another framed script.

"Hmmm, that is from Khalil Gibran. 'One day you will ask me… which is more important? My life or yours? I will say mine… and you will walk away not knowing that you are my life.' My father gave that to my mother years after they divorced. She gave it to me when I came here. It's a gorgeous frame, but the words are sad. Like my parent's marriage when I got older. Funny though… they are better friends now and spend more time together now that he's ill. I guess the thought of losing him smoothed over some of her pain from the past. I sometimes think they've fallen in love with each other again."

Her eyes glossed over the script and then she turned on some good music and conversations flowed. Erik was surprised to see Svetlana back with her husband, Matthew. He learned that Disa allowed hard conversations and her friends accepted that. There were discussions about U.S. foreign policy and speculations about the Atlanteans before there was wild dancing with more drinking and the presentation of a small cake for Samir. Samir didn't partake of alcohol, but he was drunk on his friendship with all the people present. He planted sloppy kisses on Disa's cheek and grew emotional when they sang Happy Birthday to him.

Erik savored the feeling in her home. He kept very few people close to him and he envied the ease in which Disa brought people together to relax and enjoy one another. She welcomed him among her social group and he attended more dinner parties. She didn't allow him to sit back and observe; he had to take part in conversations and defend positions that others disagreed with. Disa held his feet to the fire when he pushed back on giving too much personal information out.

It came to a head when Alexis and Kwame attended a raucous Saturday night soiree and Disa held court at the head of her dining table and congratulated Alexis on securing a fellowship in Spain for the summer. The cold February night called for hot toddies and spicy hot apple cider and Erik watched Disa gush over Alexis and brag about her mentee to all the others. Alexis admired Disa as much as Erik did, and he reached out and patted Alexis's hand. The wine he drank made him show public affection for her and Kwame didn't like it, especially when Erik gave Alexis cheeks kisses the way Disa did all her friends in greetings and departures.

Erik was surprised that Kwame never once confronted him about sleeping with Alexis. Erik ended their sexual union months ago, right after the first appearance of the Atlanteans when they all fled Disa's home like it was War of the Worlds. He had slowed down all sexual connections the past few months once he came into Disa's orbit. The dinner conversations, his studies, and his tracking Wakanda's moves at the U.N. kept him preoccupied. His physical needs took a back seat as his mind went into overdrive. Even Hollis had him thinking beyond the box in class.

Erik touched Alexis and Kwame picked up a glass of water and drained it to the bottom before he sat forward in his chair and threw Erik's business on front street.

"Is Califia Stevens your mother?"

Erik nearly broke the stem on his wineglass.

"Who is that?" Alexis asked.

Kwame glanced around the table.

"I've been listening to you speak at these dinners for months and there was something about you that made me look up some stuff—"

"Who is Califia Stevens?" Yamilet asked grabbing for her cell phone.

Erik's eyes dropped to his plate of salmon and yellow rice. His intestines knotted up. Hearing some stranger say her name out loud like that froze him. As if she were some footnote tab on a google search. His legs pushed his seat back, and he nearly bolted from the chair.

"You don't have to answer him, Erik," Disa said.

Her voice held him. Gave space for him to breathe normally once more. The knot in his guts twisted its way into his chest and anchored itself in his throat. Alexis cradled his fingers bringing the physical world back to him as he exhaled quickly.

"Oh wow," Yamilet said. Her eyes darted over to Disa.

"She's my Mom," Erik said, his voice fragile.

"The women in Brazil… the ones who started those marches for… Negra Lia…" Yamilet said.

"The Sao Paulo 4. She was one of them. Lia was my Aunt. My mother—"

"Was a powerful woman," Hollis said.

Erik's professor had been quiet but in a jovial mood all night and he and Erik shared a productive conversation before the meal comparing notes on cosmic ancestry and the latest theories on the physics of the universe. It was a heated and fascinating discussion and Erik felt at ease being around Hollis again. Probably because he viewed Erik as a helpless puppy around Disa. A non-threat.

Hollis wiped his hands on his linen napkin and took and good long hard look at Erik's face.

"Why would you bring up his mother, Kwame?" Disa asked.

"I was curious—"

"Liar," Alexis said.

"I was. He sits here at every gathering like some pompous know-it-all and never gives personal information about himself like the rest of us do. I just want to know who I'm eating with and I found out. His mother tried to kill people doing their jobs to protect people from extremists."

"Extremists?" Hollis said.

"She killed a cop."

Erik grabbed the knife near his plate and almost knocked Alexis over in her chair when he jumped up and clutched Kwame's throat. He slammed the man down on the dining table knocking away food and wine bottles as he jabbed the knife just under Kwame's left eye. The man struggled and gripped Erik's hand to release the chokehold. His eyes bulged.

"Those cops killed my aunt! They murdered my mother! Don't you ever fucking say shit about her or I'll cut your throat out right here on this table. I'll kill you!"

Disa's guests scattered from the table. Hollis rushed over and stood a safe distance from Erik. Disa stood right from her chair.

"Erik, let him go, please!" Alexis whispered behind him.

Hollis moved closer and put a gentle hand on Erik's shoulder.

"He's not worth the trouble, Erik. Your mother was not an extremist—"

"I don't want to hear her name coming from his mouth!"

"Okay… okay… it won't. Release him and he'll leave. We'll make him leave. No harm, no foul."

"I should cut your tongue out-!"

"Erik… I will make him leave. He's no longer welcome here," Disa said.

She moved over and wrapped her hand around his knife-wielding one. He felt her lips near his ear.

"Just step back. He's gone," she said.

He tensed as her fingers pulled his hand away from Kwame. Hollis removed the knife and Erik stepped away, breathing hard, his eyes wild in his sockets.

"Kwame, get your things and get out of my house."

Kwame slinked away from the table rubbing his neck. His eyes darted to Alexis, but she had her arm wrapped around Erik's waist.

"Alexis, take him to the guest room, let him calm down there. Hollis?" Disa nodded her head in Kwame's direction.

"Come on," Hollis said guiding Kwame out to the living room.

Alexis guided Erik through the house to the other side where he had never been before. The guest room was a sleek furnished bedroom with its own restroom across the hall.

"Sit," Alexis said.

Erik sat on the bed and let Alexis stroke his face with her soft hands.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry…" she said.

He sat in a daze. So ready to kill for his mother.

Erik heard chatter in the living room, and then Disa walked into the room.

"I messed up your gathering," he said standing up.

"Don't worry—"

"I'll leave too."

"No. You will stay here. You're in no shape to drive to the dorm right now. Alexis, can you stay here with him? I'm clearing things up with Yamilet—"

"I'll clean up. I made the mess—"

"Erik… listen to me. I need you to stay in here and relax your mind. We have everything under control," Disa said.

She left the room and closed the door behind her.

"She'll never let me come over here again," he whispered.

"Don't say that. She's very fond of you. Kwame was the asshole."

Erik pushed his body back on the cool indigo blanket and closed his eyes. He still felt his mother's ghost in his heart.

Chapter 7 HERE.

###

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det-loki · 4 years

Text

poison & wine part five

Oh, you let your feet run wild Time has come as we all oh, go down

warnings: angst, mention of harm to a dog, cussing, kidnap/drug/alcoholism mention

pairing: detective loki x fem reader

word count: 3,554

A/N: feedback is welcomed! let me know what you think and if you want more!

1 2 3 4 ⌽ 6

You stared blankly at the ground in Captain O’Malley’s office as Loki was talking to him angrily.

David was pissed.

Arriving at the station this morning, you found out Alex had been missing after calling Holly about a dog that had been hit after Alex took it for a walk and never came back. You leaned against the wall lazily, observing the conversation between David and O’Malley.

The dog collar had been thrown onto the captain's desk, Loki gesturing to it, “Holly Jones’ dog got hit on Southward Street. Apparently, Alex Jones took the dog for a walk the night before last, they never came home. And his aunt didn’t want to tell us about the dog when we called her about it this morning. She said she thought it would get him into trouble or some shit. I thought you said you would keep him under surveillance.”

O’Malley picked the collar up, “Yeah, and I thought you said the guy was innocent. And I thought the guy from last night you said was our guy. Look, I don’t have money in the budget for watching innocent people.”

Loki pointed at him, “You said to me that you’d put him under surveillance.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“You gonna keep your word? You could have just given me or Y/N a call because we would have been there all night, I would have stayed up all night. I would know where he was now. I need to know where everybody is.” Loki was at his wit’s end, no one was listening to anything he or you said.

O’Malley looked defeated, “All right, point made. All right? Point made.”

Loki’s voice was harsh, “If you can be clear with me, then I’ll be clear with you. I need to know where everybody is. If you’re going to do something different, please tell me.”

Loki walked out of the room, O’Malley turning to you with his eyebrows raised, “You have anything you wanna yell at me about too?”

You shrugged, irritated, “He’s not wrong, captain. All you had to do was give either of us a call and we wouldn’t be in this situation. That’s all you had to do.”

O’Malley threw up his arms, “Look, I get it all right? I fucked up. But it’s day five, your window is closing. You need to start preparing yourselves for the worst,”

Your body filled with rage, your fuse was blown, “Captain, you don’t ever speak to me like that again, you hear me? You can be upset with me all you want, but you ever call my ability to my job into question again, I will make your life hell. Day five means nothing. You have no idea what David and I are going through with this case, okay? Go fuck yourself.” You walked out of the room before he could respond, you needed to find David to make sure he hadn’t punched a hole in the wall.

You found David in the interrogation viewing room as he wound, rewound, and wound the tapes of Alex’s interrogation over and over, obsessively looking for something he may have missed. You walked deeper into the room without a word and sat next to him as he pressed play on the video. Ripping at the seams, crumbling.

A secretary you didn’t really know the name of came into the room, interrupting Loki’s obsessive behavior, “Loki, you got a call.” Loki rolled his eyes and huffed, hand coming up to his face to clutch his eyes before he stood rigidly, the silhouette of his body creating harsh lines filled with tension.

You remained in the viewing room as Loki went to take the call as you read over the notes he had scrawled on the yellow notebook paper.

RV?

Kidnapped with help?

Drugged…like her? M-

You stopped reading after that.

Loki came back into the room, pulling you out of your thoughts before they got too deep and pulled you under, “Hey, we gotta go.”

You stood in the local Value Mall, speaking to a young female employee, Jill, who had called about the man who fled from Loki last night.

“I called as soon as I saw the sketch on TV. He comes in here every week almost and buys kids’ clothes, but he’s always buying stuff in different sizes. Caught him messing around with the mannequins once.” Gross.

“What did he pay with?” You were silently hoping she said card, finally giving you something to work with.

“Cash.” Behind you, you could hear Loki mutter ‘fuck.’

You pull your business card out of your pocket with your name and number on it and hand it to the girl, “All right, you give me a call if you hear anything.” You turn to Loki who was still rifling through clothing racks, lost in thought, snapping your fingers, “Loki, card.” He turned around and handed the girl his card as well, now she had both your numbers.

You walked out of the store and looked up at the gray sky, taking a moment to yourself and to take in your surroundings. Loki stopped a few feet in front of you, looking back at you with a quizzical look. You didn’t say anything, only bringing your hand above your head and crossing them, taking a deep breath. You dropped your arms and continued walking towards the car while David remained standing confused in the same spot. Even in times like this, he admired your ability to stop and take notice of the world around you. Even a gray sky meant something to you.

The rest of the day was spent staring at a computer screen, researching anything you could get your hands on about Barry Milland. It was basically a dead end. Your cell phone buzzed in your pocket, grabbing it to see Dover’s called ID. It was 2 A.M.

“Hello?”

Ralph Dover, son of Keller and Grace was on the other end, “Hi, uh, my mom is kind of freaking out right now. She’s saying someone broke in, she thinks it’s Anna but no one is here.” He sounded nervous and tired. Poor kid.

“Okay, Ralph, we’ll be right there.”

Grace Dover was a wreck. You stood across from her, listening to her recount what she claimed happened.

“And she wasn’t here. And I...I came in here and the window was open. And- and it wasn’t open before, And the...and then Ralph, he- he came in. And he looked and- and uhm- .” Loki walked to the closed window, brushing the sheer curtain back to look as Ralph floated nervously in the hallway. Your eyes remained Grace, her eyes bloodshot and heavy as she watched Loki. “-And then I don’t know. Aren’t you gonna write this down?” Loki looked past her at you as he took out his notebook from his inner breast coat pocket to appease her.

Grace let out an exhale, “The basement. I didn’t check the basement. We need to check the basement. I’ll show you. I’ll show you.” Loki looked towards the bedside table covered in prescription medication for Grace’s anxiety since the abduction. He had experienced the same thing with you, a prescription being the only thing to get you to sleep months after the accident. He knew Grace wasn’t in the right mind, but he went along with it anyway. She walked out of the room frantically, brushing past an obviously distraught Ralph. Loki followed her out as you caught his elbow, “I’m going to stay up here with Ralph.” Loki nodded as he continued to follow Grace.

“Hey, Ralph. Is it okay if I talk with you for a second?’

Ralph shrugged, “I guess.”

“Has your mom been sleeping much lately? At least that you know of?”

He shrugged again, eyebrows furrowing, “I mean, not really. When she does it’s because dad makes her take the medicine the doctor gave her. When she isn’t sleeping, she’s crying.”

You nodded along, “And you? Are you doing okay?”

“Not really.” He stopped talking when he saw his mother reappear in the hallway, Loki behind her. The look on David’s face concerned you.

David slammed the driver’s door shut as he got in the car. He breathed heavily as he slid a hand over his face in frustration, “Grace said Keller was out with the search party, but you and I both know he’s not. And now Alex is missing. There's half a bag of lye in Keller's basement along with shelves of doomsday shit, something is up.”

“You think Keller had something to do with it, don’t you?” You wouldn’t be surprised, very few things shocked you anymore.

Loki didn’t say anything, only turning the keys in the ignition and driving home in silence.

It was raining as you sat in the Crown Vic alongside Loki. You watched the water droplets fall down the window, collecting at the bottom. Stupid fucking rain.

Today you were trailing Keller Dover to see where he went when he claimed he was searching for his daughter when he wasn’t. You watched with tired eyes as Keller pulled out of his driveway while Loki turned the car on and followed.

Loki pulled up to a light, Keller had pulled into a liquor store across town on the corner of Wallace and Campello Street. Except when Keller got out of his truck, he didn’t walk into the store, he walked towards an old building across from the liquor store. What are you doing?

Behind you, a trash truck pulled up and laid on it’s horn signaling the light was green. Loki didn’t move, his eyes were still on Keller who had now turned around at the sound of the horn. Loki was agitated, telling the truck to go around so as to not blow your cover. Keller turned around and started walking towards you and into the liquor store. Loki pulled into a vacant lot across from the liquor store, “Fuck.”

Loki turned off the car and rubbed his hands together to create some sort of warmth, still refusing gloves as he reached on the dash to grab his coffee beans, popping a few in his mouth. At least some things never changed. The rain continued to pour down outside, each drop hitting the window added to the memory of the night of your little girl’s death. It had stormed that night, worse than anyone had seen in Pennsylvania in a long time. Your hatred of rain was deeply rooted.

“Come on, Mr. Dover.” You heard Loki mutter to himself as you brought your legs underneath you in the seat. Might as well get comfortable while you waited. You look out of the rain covered windshield to see Keller approaching quickly with his hood up, popping open the liquor bottle he had in a brown paper bag and taking a long swig.

He stood at Loki's window that had been rolled down, leaning at the waist as he spoke, “Why are you following me?”

“Get in the car.” Loki demanded; Keller opening the rear passenger side door and sitting down, you and David turning to look at him. He looked even more tired than when you saw him last. His eyes were different though, changing from a scared father to a godless and angry man.

Keller asked the question again, “Why are you following me?”

Loki looks him over before speaking, “Where were you going just now?”

Keller took a deep breath, “I parked at a liquor store.” He held up his bottle of liquor he had taken a drink from previously, “-I have a bottle of liquor. You’re the shit-hot detective. Work it out.” He took another drink from the bottle, the stench of whiskey filling the car. You wanted to puke, it reminded you too much of your drunk of a so called father.

“I actually meant before that. You were walking in the opposite direction across the parking lot. Towards Campello Street.”

Keller took another drink before answering Loki, “Yeah, well...I haven’t had a drink in nine-and-a-half years. I figured if I walked around the parking lot for a while, by the time they opened, I’d stop wanting it that bad. And then-then I saw you two. Sorta helped me make up my mind.” He seemed to have an explanation for everything.

There was a long pause before David broke the uncomfortable silence, “There’s a bag of lye in your basement that’s half empty. Your wife thinks you’ve been helpin’ us...but we all know that’s not true.” Loki turned to look at Keller who was staring at him.

“I used the lye to bury our dog last year. And ‘helping the cops’ sounds better than ‘I’ve been driving aimlessly in my truck ‘cause I don’t know what else to do.’” He really did have an explanation for everything.

Loki questioned him, “Is that what you were doing last Saturday night?”

“Probably. Am I a suspect?”

Loki’s voice went up as he spoke, “No, I’m only asking- I’m only asking ‘cause you assaulted a man who’s now missing.”

Keller looked away briefly, his eyes moving to the yellowing bruise on your jaw before turning back to David, “I heard about that. What happened to him? I thought you had him under surveillance.”

“I’m gonna assume you’re asking me because you have no idea.”

Keller shook his head, “Well, I didn’t think it was something I could get away with.”

Loki deadpanned, “It’s not.”

“Yeah, well. It couldn’t be that he skipped town ‘cause the asshole is guilty. Couldn’t be that, right? ‘Cause that would mean it would be your fault, right?”

“Mr. Dover?” Loki looked at Keller with an intense gaze as Keller’s defense began to crumble in front of you.

“What?” Keller snapped.

“You need to take care of yourself and your wife. That’s the best thing you can do right now. That little girl is gonna need you when she comes home.”

Keller took in a shaky inhale, “Kids gone longer than a week have half as good a chance of being found, and after a month, almost none are. Not alive. All right? So forgive me for doing everything I can-”

Keller struck a nerve in Loki, his finger now in his face, yelling, “You know what? It hasn’t been a fucking week!”

The energy shifted in the car quickly as Keller lunged furiously over the center console, yelling, “You’re right. It’s day fucking six! Day six!” His voice broke as he continued to yell, David blinking harshly beside you, “-And every day she’s wondering why I’m not there to fucking rescue her!” David attempted to calm Keller down as he furiously pointed to himself, “All right. Do you understand that? Me! Not you! Not you! But me! Every day! So forgive me for not going home to have a good night’s rest!” Keller pounded on the center console with his fist, shaking yours and Loki’s seats, “Now, why don’t you look for my fucking daughter rather than fighting-”

Loki interrupted him as Keller began to get emotional, tears welling up in his eyes. Your back was pressed against the dashboard as to put as much space between you and Keller as you could as he spoke, “Don’t follow me.”

Loki held his hand in the air in a calming gesture, “Hey. Hey. Mr. Dover, Mr. Dover.” A long pause occurred before Keller reached for the door handle, stopping as Loki called after him, “You don’t think we’re gonna let you get behind the wheel after you’ve been drinking do you?”

“I’m gonna walk. You look for my daughter.” You sighed in relief as Keller left the car, sinking back into your seat as Loki huffed beside you, eyes blinking harshly as he watched Keller walk away in the rain. Loki ran his hand over his face and jaw, lost in thought as he watched the rain fall.

You crawled into bed alone that night. Loki stayed at the station, reading reports, telling you to go home and sleep. You couldn’t sleep however, for it was still raining outside and you never slept well without David. The sound of the rain outside made you furious, slapping a pillow over your head and squeezing your eyes shut. Somehow, sleep found you, pulling you under by your ankles.

You trudged into the station the next day to find Loki still at his desk where you left him, intently reading his computer screen. When he saw you he motioned for you to come over. He read you whatever he had been so enthralled in, “I looked into the old apartment building Keller was walking towards yesterday, it used to be his father’s. He committed suicide there, Keller and his mother found his body. I think it’s worth checking out.”

The car ride over was quick, Loki driving faster than necessary, he was obviously eager to have a lead in the case that had so far been working against you. You took notice of Keller’s truck in the liquor store parking lot as Loki parked the car. You stepped out of the car, your black boot landing on the slushy ground as the car dinged as Loki got out. The building was old, windows boarded up and looking to be on the brink of collapsing.

Loki inspected the boarded window for a way in, settling on ripping off the plywood. It fell on the ground at your feet as you whipped out your flashlight and looked inside the building. Loki climbed in first and turned for you to join him. You weren’t really up for climbing today but did it anyways, jumping down from the window as Loki’s hand found your hip, steadying you.

You turned around with your flashlight, taking in your surroundings. It was falling apart. Dirty and musty, obviously not being taken care of very well. You and Loki walked through the doorway into another room looking the same as the last except this time you found Keller Dover lying on the ground surrounded by empty whiskey bottles.

Loki tapped him with his foot as he jerked away, squinting up at him through the fluorescence of the flashlight as he spoke, “Hey, rise and shine.”

Loki walked deeper into the room. “I’m not gonna find two girls here, am I?”

You stood in front of Keller who was still laying on the ground, taking in Loki’s words, “Fuck you.”

You looked down at Keller as he moved to sit up, “What about Alex Jones?” You obviously weren't expecting an honest answer, but was curious to see what he would say.

Keller looked at the ground, avoiding your questioning gaze, “What about him? I came here to drink. I don’t want to drink in front of my wife.”

Moving away from Keller you looked around the room as he spoke, “Look, my father left me this building, all right?”

Loki spoke across the room, looking at something you couldn’t see, “You mind giving us a tour?”

Keller stood and put on his coat, glaring at Loki as he walked by with you trailing up the staircase you had come to.

Loki spoke in front of you to Keller, “Why didn’t you tell us about this place?”

Keller huffed, “I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Everything matters.”

The three of you walked into another room filled with old materials and tools, “It’s all pretty much like this.” You couldn’t help but feel like Keller was hiding something, wanting you and David to leave as soon as possible.

“I’m gonna renovate soon.”

Loki nodded in agreement, “Yeah, not as organized as your basement, huh? What’s up with all the survivor gear in there?”

“Pray for the best, prepare for the worst.” Keller’s statement caused O’Malley’s words to hit you in the face, ‘you need to start preparing for the worst.’

Loki spoke ahead of you, “Guess we agree there, yeah?”

Keller led you through door after door, each room looking exactly the same as the last. Loki was getting impatient, as were you. You felt like you were being led through a maze.

As you walked through another door, just like the same, you noticed Keller pause. Loki was across the room with his back turned, missing Keller’s sudden odd behavior. He stood in front of a hallway you hadn’t been down yet, acting as if he were guardian something. He followed Loki’s every move with skeptical eyes, completely missing your own skeptical gaze on him. He was hiding something.

As Loki walked further away, his phone rang in his pocket. He picked it up, speaking to whoever was on the other line. As Loki walked further down the hallway, you could see the color drain from Mr. Dover’s face. What was down there?

Loki reappeared from the hallway running, nodding for you to follow with his notebook in hand. Obviously he had something for the case, you ran out after him, yelling at Keller to go home. You prayed it was something to help those two girls get home. You couldn’t handle anymore let down, your luck was running out fast.

Yet you had no idea what was to come, oblivious to the fact that your world would shatter around you and David soon.

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let-the-dream-begin · 4 years

Text

Hogmanay Hauntings: A Christmas Carol Crossover

Chapter 1 -- Past: Creideamh

Read on AO3

“No.”

It was a grunt, a growl, a snarl, perhaps all three.

“For Christ’s sake, brother, ye didna even let me finish,” Jenny huffed, putting her hands on her hips.

“I didna need ye to,” he snapped. “I’m no’ going.”

“And why no’? If no one is in danger, can ye even think of another reason to no’ go?”

“Ye canna guarantee safety, and ye ken it.”

“Jamie, it’s been four years since Culloden. We havena had any visitors in a year! The villagers said the harassment has lightened considerably,” she reasoned. “The tenants miss their Laird, Jamie.”

“I’m not their Laird.”

Jenny flinched a bit at the coldness. “Aye, I ken. But they do still see ye as such. Ye’re their hero whether ye like it or not.” She paused, moving her hands from her hips and crossing her arms over her chest. “And the tenants arena the only people that feel that way.”

“What d’ye mean?” He was still staring at the dirt between his feet, still refusing to look at her.

“The lad,” she said, her voice softening. “Your lad.”

Your adopted boy.

She had called him that.

“He’s...no,” Jamie said hoarsely. “He isna mine.”

I have no children.

“Christ, Jamie,” her voice regained the bite it had lost. “Try telling that to him.”

“What d’ye mean by such?”

She sighed with exasperation. “Ye’re no’ the only one that lost her.”

He stood up abruptly, propelled by boiling rage exploding in his blood.

“I’ll no’ be intimidated by yer pathetic excuse fer a towering bear.” Jenny rolled her eyes. “Claire was — ”

“Don’t say her name.”

“ — the only mother the lad ever knew. And ye ken it well,” she went on as if uninterrupted. “There was no need fer him to be orphaned entirely. Yet here we are.”

Jamie growled with rage, shoving over one of his piles of books, sending them flying all about. He should not have been surprised that Jenny would turn asking about Hogmanay into throwing her into his face.

“Fine,” Jenny said calmly, unaffected by his tantrum. “Suit yourself.” She hiked up her skirts and made to leave, but paused at the entrance of the cave, turning around again. “Christ, Jamie...I ken ye have sorrow. And I only wanted to bring ye a bit of happiness. I ken how much the holiday meant to ye when we were bairns. And it’s the grandest party we can afford since the rising.”

Jamie was momentarily seized by guilt, remembering the sad holiday they’d had last year. After Caitlin. Jenny had been grief stricken nearly to the point of no return, and Ian had suggested they not have a party at all. But she’d picked herself back up and thrown together whatever they could afford at the last minute. For the children, perhaps; they’d already lost enough. But for herself, as well. It had always been important to her, too, Hogmanay. And Jamie knew it.

“I just...I miss my brother. This…” She gestured to his hunched, ragged form, the cramped quarters of his cave, “isna my brother.”

“This,” Jamie bit back bitterly, “exists to keep the rest of ye safe.”

“One night, Jamie. That’s all. But if ye canna bring yerself to quit yer wallowing...suit yourself.” She turned again, and then she was gone.

He stood still for a moment, allowing his sister’s enormous presence to truly leave the cave, his chest tight, his fists clenched.

No, he would not go. Not only was it a threat to their safety, no matter how Jenny insisted that she’d insured there would be protection, but his presence was a blight. He would not bring misery to those he loved by dampening their joy on a night meant for rebirth and celebration.

He had nothing to celebrate, nothing to look forward to in the new year, or any year thereafter.

His future was gone. All that existed was his present, these dark walls, the quiet forest on days where he hunted. And pain. Such...pain.

His future...her future.

For the hundredth time in just that day, he thought of her. He thought of them. Four years...his bairn would be four years old. Running around with Jenny’s bairns, a child now, not an infant anymore. Claire would struggle to pick up the child, especially if it grew like a Fraser.

It. He’d never know what to call it.

The months he’d spent in the Bastille, not knowing the fate of his wife or child, trapped in his own mind as much as in his cell...he was living there again. Except this time, nobody would come to his rescue, nobody would enlighten him about his child, tell him it was a beautiful girl, what she looked like…

Ah, my sweet Faith.

And for the hundredth time in just that day, he thought of her, too.

Claire and the bairn were not dead, not really. But their loss had felt just as acute as that of his wee lost daughter.

I have no children.

A small scuttling sound jolted him from his reverie, and he sniffled, swiping at the tears on his cheeks.

“Uncle Jamie?”

Christ! How had the bairn…?

“Milord?”

Ah.

The smaller voice belonged to the head of strawberry blonde that bobbed into the cave, blue eyes wide.

“Are ye really no’ coming to Hogmanay, Uncle?” she said, her lips full and drawn into a sad frown.

Jamie was always sinfully grateful for the isolation of his cave. It physically pained him to look at the children. Especially wee Maggie. The red hues of her hair, always accentuated in firelight, were far too much like the copper hair he saw in his dreams, copper hair that only Claire had really seen. He couldn’t bear to look at her, at any of the lasses, and think that Faith would have played their wee games with them, and perhaps so would the new bairn, were she a lass. Were he a lad, he’d be traipsing around wee Jamie and Michael.

If he had his own bairn with him, if he had its mother with him...perhaps it would be different.

But that hair, those eyes, that sweet frown...it was too much.

“No. I’m not.”

His voice was far too short and harsh. She was only seven years old.

“But Kitty and I made ye a gift to give ye at midnight.” She twisted her apron in her hands, swaying a bit.

“Yer Ma will give it to me. Dinna come back here, it isna safe.” His eyes flicked up to Fergus, who’d been hanging back to allow this conversation to unfold. “Ye’re a fool to bring her here.”

“She will not remember,” Fergus said. “She was crying, Milord. I thought — ”

“Ye thought wrong. Quit my sight.”

The wee girl sniffled and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. He was wracked with guilt at the sound, at the sight. For a split second, he almost fell to his knees and pulled her into him, whispered into her hair, rocked her.

No, he’d fall apart if he did that, and he’d never be able to put himself back together. He’d never be able to let her go.

“Now, Fergus,” Jamie snarled. He couldn’t bear to listen to her anymore. He couldn’t bear to be confronted with the knowledge that he was incapable of bringing a child comfort. Because all of his children had been stolen from him.

“You are a heartless beast,” Fergus said with great disdain. “I do not want you at Hogmanay anyway.” He stepped forward and took Maggie’s hand. “Come, petit.”

And they were gone.

Aye, lad. I am a heartless beast.

His heart had been gone for four years. Never to return.

——

Jamie was in a deep, heavy sleep. Ian had come by with whisky, not to try and persuade him to come — quite the opposite in fact. He’d essentially encouraged Jamie to get piss drunk alone in the cave, and that was exactly what he’d done. His head had hit the pillow like a stone, and he’d passed out.

A gushing wind roared inside the cave, and it roused him immediately, like a bucket of icy water poured on his head. His eyes shot open just in time to see his singular candle knocked over by the gust, blowing the light out. He lay there in silence for a moment, waiting for the deafening wind to stop. When it did, he counted a few breaths, swallowing thickly.

He wasn’t sure why, but he felt a deeply ingrained sense of foreboding and dread.

He got up then to re-light the candle; though it was night, sleeping without the light of the moon had always been difficult, even after four years. A candle was a poor substitute, but it had to do.

As he fumbled around blindly, he was aware of something glowing behind him, as if someone had suddenly lit a fire. Yet the color was different, as if the fire were ignited by the moon itself. Brow furrowing, he turned around, and he staggered back at what he saw.

It was a child. A wee lass, barely even reaching the height of his waist. Barely bigger than wee Janet. But she was glowing, like her tiny slip of a nightgown was sewn from strands of moonlight. If Jamie didn’t know any better, he’d say that above her head was a flickering flame. Or maybe it was just her hair...fiery red. Like his.

And her eyes, how they glowed.

Like amber in front of a flame.

Like whisky.

“Hallo.”

She spoke, and her voice sounded like music underwater, like ringing bells in an echoing cave. Far away, yet right in his ear. He jumped at the sound, staggering back again, stumbling until he landed on his rear in his makeshift bed.

“W...what d’ye want…?” Jamie stammered, his eyes frozen and unblinking on the ethereal being. “Are ye...a spirit?”

“Aye,” she said calmly, a placid, gentle smile on her cherubic face. “I was sent to ye.”

“Sent...to me?”

“Aye.” She giggled, and it made his head spin. She was so...sweet. So lovely. Her hair was floating above and around her, never resting on her shoulders or back, like it was floating in water behind her. For the first time, he noticed the wreath of holly she wore atop her little head.

“By who?” Jamie’s eyes narrowed. He was a devout man; he’d not be tempted by one of Satan’s visions, sweet bairn or no. Yet, there was a lingering paganism in him, the part of him that believed his dreams of Claire were not makings of his own fevered imagination.

“By the Ghost of Hogmanay past,” she said proudly, as if reciting a poem taught to her in her lessons. She smiled, giggling again, and Jamie was overwhelmed by how small her glowing white teeth were.

“The...the what…?”

“She’s a little girl spirit like me,” the wee thing explained. “She gave me this crown of holly berries so I could do her job fer tonight.”

Jamie blinked dumbly, not at all understanding.

“It’s a very rare thing fer the spirits to appear,” she said, again like reciting lessons. “And even rarer that the honor be given to someone else. Like me.”

Jamie swallowed against a painfully dry throat, wracking his brain for what to say. “Why...why’ve they given ye the honor this time?”

She giggled again, and he swore he could feel it fluttering his heart. “Because the mortal they needed to reach was my Da.”

Something pricked him on the skull between his eyes, and he blinked rapidly.

“Da…?” His voice was nearly inaudible.

She nodded, her fiery tendrils bobbing midair, that flame that may or may not be atop her head flickering. She smiled sweetly, beatifically. “It’s me, Da.”

He thought he might faint. Copper hair, her mother’s eyes —

“It’s Faith.”

He lost vision completely for several seconds, but still glowed behind his eyelids, burned into his mind.

Faith.

His eyes opened again, burning and watery. The tears slipped out, unabashed, and a sob tore through him.

“Faith…?” he stammered, making to stand, but falling to his knees on the stone. “My...my Faith…?”

She was still smiling, twirling back and forth like any mortal wee lass, oblivious as to the effect she had on her father.

“Oh, mo chridhe…” he wept, inching forward toward her on the floor. “Christ, ye’re beautiful...I never even dared dream of ye...and here ye are...so bonny…”

She was now in arm’s reach, and he made a desperate grab for her, meaning to gather her in his strong arms and cradle her to his chest, rock her there for hours, never let her go.

But his hands met nothing but thin air, white-hot air, and he fell forward, his palms slapping the stones.

“I’m sorry, Da.”

She said it like she’d been caught eating too many bannocks or tormenting the chickens.

He heaved with shuddering breath, unable to look up at her again just yet after having his heart broken like that. He watched as his tears dotted the stone beneath her glowing feet.

“Mortals canna touch spirits.”

He bit back another sob, swallowing hard. Spirit or no, his daughter deserved better than to see her father completely unravel like this.

“It’s…” He sniffled. “It’s alright, lass.” He picked his head up, daring to look at her again. “It’s enough to...to see ye. To hear yer sweet wee voice.” He sniffled again, breaking out into a smile against his will. “I’ve...I’ve always loved ye, though I never saw ye. D’ye ken that?”

“Aye.” She nodded sweetly. “I ken. And I always loved ye, too.”

He was wracked by another sob, overwhelmed.

“Yer...yer mother…” he stammered. “Have ye…”

“No,” she said lightly. “Ma doesna need me.”

His brow furrowed. It was incomprehensible. How could Claire not need this? How could some powers-that-be decide that a mother need not see her child?

“Doesna need ye…?”

“I ken she misses me. But that’s no’ the same as needing me. That’s what the Ghost of Hogmanay Past said.”

“And why is it that I...need ye? And what’s all this about a Ghost of Hogmanay…?”

“It’s my job to show ye things ye need to see,” she said, that sweet, youthful pride pouring out of her again. “Hogmanay’s past.”

“I...I dinna understand…”

“It’s alright, Da. I’ll just show ye.”

She stooped down, reaching for his hand, and Jamie’s heart leapt into his throat. Perhaps he couldn’t touch her, but she could touch him. The thought almost had him weeping again.

But then there was fiery heat in his left hand, and his guts were in his mouth as the world dissolved around him. He cried out in fright, but there was no sound to be heard above the roaring wind.

As suddenly as it had begun, it stopped, and Faith was no longer holding his hand. He didn’t even see her at first, and the panic that that created was enough to make him completely unaware of his surroundings.

“Faith, mo chridhe? Where are ye? Come back, please…”

He whirled around and was met with a rowdy pair of children running headlong for him, and it was far too late to move out of their way. Much to Jamie’s horror, they ran right through him, as his hands had gone right through Faith.

Christ! Am I dead?

A small giggle.

He whirled around, and there she was, floating, flaming hair, glowing white skin and all.

“Ye’re no’ dead,” she said, shaking her head at his foolishness. “Ye’re...a visitor. But ye’re no’ really here. Everything here has already happened. Ye ken?”

His brow furrowed, and he finally took in his surroundings. He was...home?

But he wasn’t just inside the main house. No...something was different.

The parlor was decked out as Jenny always had it for Hogmanay when they could afford it, but it was far more extravagant than as far back as Jamie could remember. The greenery and the holly and the wreaths and the candles were simply beautiful. It was like stepping into a magical woodland castle, the air drugged with joy and high spirits.

And then he saw them.

“Da? Mam…?” His voice was no more than a choked whisper, and he found his feet bringing him closer to them before he even willed it.

They were whirling around the dance floor, and Jamie sidestepped other couples in vain. It didn’t matter anyway; they danced and twirled right through him. His mother was radiant. He’d forgotten, forgotten how beautiful she’d been, how full of life. And his father...he looked at his mother like he was holding the entire world in his arms. Jamie had forgotten what it was like to look at two people so in love, knowing that he had come from that love, however abstractly he’d known it at that age.

They were both laughing, red in the face from exertion. Jamie could not even keep up with them in following them around the room. He felt inexplicable giddiness bubbling in his chest. He used to watch them whirl around the floor all night, lost in the music of the fiddler accompanied by the laughter of love. Mam used to blow kisses at him and wink, sometimes Da would throw him up on his shoulders, or Jenny, or even both at once, tossing them both over each shoulder like sacks of grain.

“Willie! Lemme! Lemme!”

A piercing, chillingly familiar voice stood out among the throng. Jamie whirled around and completely froze.

That’s me.

Little Jamie was standing there, the tips of his ears red, his face twisted in a ridiculous scowl. He was watching two other children dancing clumsily, a little girl twirling around the finger of her partner.

“Willie…” Jamie breathed reverently, coming closer to the cloister of three children, unblinking, hardly daring to breathe.

“I want tae dance!” Little Jamie protested, stamping his foot. “Lemme!”

“Haud yer whisht!” Little Jenny scolded. “If ye dinna quit yer scowling, I’ll tell Mother to hide yer presents!”

“Jenny,” Willie interrupted. “He’s just a wee lad. Let him dance wi’ us.”

“He’s clumsy!” she protested, little nose wrinkling beneath mirthful, cunning blue eyes.

“He’ll never learn if he doesna get to try.”

Jamie crouched down nearby, watching and listening in awe. There Willie was, protesting about his brother being a wee lad, when he himself was only ten years old. He was wee as anything to Jamie.

And he’d be dead in a year.

“This must’ve been our last Hogmanay all together,” Jamie whispered before he realized he was saying it aloud. He didn’t need to look to know that Faith was standing beside him; he could feel the heat of her fiery presence, could see her glowing from the corner of his eye.

The little Jamie he was looking at was no older than five, Jenny was about seven. Willie would be eleven and dead soon, and his mother would follow in three more years. This was the last time everything had been truly magical during Hogmanay.

“This was...the last time,” Jamie said, unable to elaborate so that his tiny daughter would understand.

Willie finally convinced Jenny to allow Little Jamie to hold one of each of their hands, and they twirled and skipped in a circle. Little Jamie’s scowl seemed to transfer to his sister’s face, apparently unhappy that her nagging wee brother had gotten his way, but before long, all three children were laughing and squealing, tripping over each other in glee.

“The last time what, Da?” Jamie could not tell if his daughter was genuinely asking, or if she was wiser than she seemed and was trying to get him to reveal the contents of his weary soul.

“The last time we were...together. Happy.” Tears stung his eyes. “Willie was my very best friend, ye ken? I was so young when I lost him that I...I dinna even remember what it was like. But look at me....I’m looking at him like he hung the stars.”

And he was, Little Jamie. He adored his big brother. So did Jenny.

The fiddler ceased that particular tune, and everyone paused to applaud wildly, whooping and cheering. Da made his way over to his trio of wee Frasers. Jenny began hounding him to allow her to dance with him instead of Ma, Jamie began demanding to be sat on his shoulders. To compensate, he reached down with a great playful growl, scooping them up and tossing them over his shoulders as the fiddler started in again. Little Jamie and Jenny squealed their wee heads off as Da fully performed a jig with two bairns on his back, and Ma laughed her head off, taking Willie’s hands and swinging their arms between them.

Before long, the rest of the room took notice of Brian’s absurdity and was cheering him on, and then both of his wee children were sitting atop his shoulders, clinging to each other over his head as he danced. The jig finished and the room erupted again. Eyes leaking with tears of laughter, Ellen took Little Jamie into her arms, kissing his temple and rustling his wild hair as Jenny settled on Brian’s hip. His parents kissed, sweet and chaste and beautiful, and Jamie’s heart felt full and empty all at once.

“This truly was the last joyful holiday we had,” Jamie said with a sense of finality. He could live in this memory forever, forget the suffering that was to come, the fate of his poor brother and mother, the fate of himself all those years later. He wanted to fold himself into that loving embrace of that family of five, to meld himself with his five year old soul and live this night forever and ever.

“It wasna the last one, Da,” Faith said gently.

Before he knew what was happening, he felt a tiny, delicate hand grasping his again, and before he could speak the panicked protest on his lips into existence, his family was melting away in a whir of color, and the deafening wind was back. Jamie’s frightened cry made no sound, lost to the howling wind.

Colors began leaking back in around them, dimly lit and getting brighter by the second. It was like watching a painting being created right before his eyes, all around him. Then the parlor was back, the Hogmanay decorations all in their place, but just the slightest bit different. Jamie frantically whipped his head around, completely disoriented. His eyes took in a crowd gathered around a dancing couple, and he weaved in and out of them, apparently forgetting that he could just walk right through them if he wished. His heart soared, ready to find his mother and father again, but his breath was taken away at what he saw instead.

Jenny was grown now, hair long and flowing and tied back with a bow, her face bright and beaming, hands clasped with…

Ian.

He was laughing just as heartily, twirling and skipping and dancing right in step with Jenny.

Both of his legs.

Jenny was a young woman, clearly in love with the man that would be her husband, so this must have been…

“The last holiday before...” Jamie breathed reverently. “Before…everything.”

Before Fort William, before Da, before Ian’s leg was taken.

Before Claire.

“Mhmm.” Faith nodded in confirmation, swaying ethereally to the music. “Auntie is very bonny, aye?”

It took Jamie a moment to register her words, entranced as he was by the sight of his sister’s joy. So much had been lost, her brother, her mother. She’d become the woman of the house before she could even see over a washtub. Far too young. Yet, here she was, glowing, radiant.

She’s already stronger than I’ll ever be.

He smiled then, nodding. “Aye, lass. She’s bonny.”

He’d been so blind! How on earth hadn’t he seen the way his sister looked at his best friend? Where was he now that he hadn’t seen this, hadn’t heard the crowd whispering about what a bonny match they’d make someday?

A whooping roar sounded behind him, and Jamie whirled around, following the sound into the dining room, where he laughed out loud at what he saw.

Murtagh and his father were tossing back mugs of whisky and so was…

Himself.

It was not the same as looking at himself as a bairn; it was much stranger. It was so clearly him, yet it wasn’t at all. He was so young, this Jamie. So foolish; present Jamie could tell. He had that stupid glint in his eye, like he was seconds away from doing something foolish at any given time. The crowd roared again as the three men — or, rather, two men and the lad — slammed their mugs down. A drinking game of sorts.

“Aye, I remember,” Jamie breathed, laughing. “Da is about to drink me under the table!”

He’d passed out that night, so hell-bent on drinking more than his father and godfather that he hadn’t taken into account exactly how much he’d been consuming.

“I was sick as a bloody dog the next day,” Jamie went on, still laughing to Faith. “Da wouldna let it go fer weeks. Jenny didna even seem to notice, didna nag me as she would ha’ to see me in such a state. Her mind was elsewhere, I reckon.”

Jamie threw a look over his shoulder into the parlor, finding Jenny still bounding about the room with Ian, joined now by other couples. Jamie looked back again, watched as his father slapped younger Jamie’s back ruthlessly, causing him to sway, and causing the crowd to laugh raucously.

Then there was Da, beaming bright as young-and-in-love Jenny was.

Jamie had seen with his own two eyes how much losing his mother had crumbled his father. They were the loves of each other’s lives, there was no getting around it. Brian lost a piece of his heart when Ellen died, after having already buried a piece of it with Willie. Jamie knew the pain of losing a child, and he knew the pain of losing his wife.

And yet there he was, his father.

None could deny that there was always a quiet sadness about him after Willie, after Ma. But then he tossed his head back, howling with laughter as his son stumbled again, and Jamie’s heart twisted.

He carried on.

He looked back at Jenny again upon hearing her laugh, a shrill, shrieking sound that he’d always hated as a lad, but that now brought him such aching joy.

Certainly growing up too quickly had hardened her; it was unavoidable. And the horrors to come, Randall harming her, the rising and its aftermath, losing her own child...they’d all make her harder still. Jamie could see it in their present.

But she carried on.

Jamie did a visual sweep of the dining room, practically overflowing with food and decoration, every painstaking detail in place to give joy. He was certain that Jenny had done her best to recreate such a thing in her present day, for her children, for Fergus.

For him.

The way his Da had carried on and continued to make each holiday special after losing pieces of his heart had instilled itself into his daughter as well.

And it had missed Jamie himself.

Jamie was overwhelmed with crushing shame, tears stinging his eyes. His eyes bore into his father, so full of life, into himself so full of life. So young.

“Da...I…” he rasped, swallowing thickly. “I’ve failed ye. I have. I’ve failed Jenny, and Ma. I ken ye’d be disappointed in the man I’ve let myself become.”

How far had he fallen that such strength had eluded him? What was so bloody pathetic about him that he could not carry on as his father had set the example for his entire life?

“D’ye see, Da?” A little voice jolted him out of his reverie of self pity, and he finally tore his eyes away from the pillar of a man that he still loved fiercely, still missed with a painful ache.

Jamie’s brow furrowed. “Aye, lass...I see. I see that I’m a...a bloody coward. A puir excuse fer a son.”

“Oh, Da,” Faith’s wee voice was tinged with sympathy, as if she were coddling one of her dollies.

Jamie sniffled, then turned to look down at his beautiful wee daughter. “The spirits sent ye to humble me, then?” he said, trying to hide the bitterness in his voice for her sake. “To remind me how far I’ve fallen from this time of great joy?”

“Aye...I think so.”

Had he not felt sick to his stomach, Jamie might have laughed at her sweet innocence.

“But,” she went on, “all is not lost.”

She grasped his hand again, and Jamie threw a desperate glance back at his father, tossing his head back in laughter again; the last time he’d ever see him until the Eternal Kingdom.

The lights, the music, the laughter, and the joy all faded away like melting wax until the cave molded back into existence around them. His candle was still turned over, the only light in the room Faith’s glowing essence. Jamie’s head was spinning, so much so that he nearly forgot what Faith had just said:

All is not lost.

“What...what did ye mean, mo chridhe…? What isna lost?”

She giggled. “All!”

He laughed despite himself, his heart straining in his chest. He knelt down in front of his daughter, his hands physically aching with the need to reach out and touch her, and his heart splitting upon remembering that he couldn’t.

“Cheeky wee thing,” he said softly, his eyes glistening.

“It’ll be alright, Da,” Faith said sweetly. “The other spirits will help ye understand.”

“Others?”

“Aye, I only showed ye the past. The spirits said ye must see the present and future as well.”

“But what...what good’ll it do…?”

She smiled, reaching out to ghost a white hot finger over his nose. “It’ll do all the good in the world, Da. I promise.”

Jamie leaned into her touch, but was met with nothing but air.

“Can ye promise me ye’ll keep yer heart open?” Faith asked, and the room suddenly seemed to get darker.

Her light is fading.

“Faith? Faith, mo chridhe, what’s happening?”

“Promise, Da. Promise that what I showed ye has opened yer heart fer the next spirits.”

She’s leaving.

“Please, lass, dinna leave me…”

“Promise,” she begged, fading dimmer and dimmer.

“Aye,” Jamie choked, a sob wracking through his body. “Aye, my sweet babe...I promise.”

Faith sighed with relief, smiling brightly. “Thank ye, Da.”

“Wait…!”

“I love you, Da.”

And she was gone.

Jamie fell forward onto his hands and knees, sobbing gutturally, every inch of his body alight with the horrible pain of losing her again.

“I...I love you too, Faith.”

The room was entirely black, black as his heart felt now that she was gone. He didn’t bother to light the candle, didn’t even move from his hands and knees as he wept for his lost brother, parents, his poor daughter, and the mother that would never be given such a gift as he had to see her and hear her voice.

Then there was light again; he could see it behind his burning eyelids. He looked behind him. The candle was still turned over, unlit. He turned back around, sitting on his haunches and beholding the next glowing spirit to grace his presence.

He almost fainted.

“...Sassenach?”

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hollypies · 2 years

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DEAD CELLS BOSS RUCH DEAD CELLS BOSS RUSH DEAD CELLS BOSS RUSH LETS FUKEN GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

#holly rambles #holly plays dead cells #LETS GOOOOO #WANNA SEE BEE KICK ASS!!#im so fucking excited!! its downloading rn!!!!!!!!#AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

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rubykgrant · 4 years

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I made a slightly condensed version of my Spooky Ref list; it still has a heck ton of movies and books, but now I combined certain categories, eliminated a few, and removed some of the titles that don’t quite fit. If you are looking for things to watch or read so you can get into the Halloween mood (or of you just like some creepy content), here you go!

Movies and Books for October

These range from children’s media to adult content, so be sure to check the ratings/reviews, this way you’ll find ones that are suitable for the right viewers. The dates of movies and names of authors for books are included to make searches easier

(a * symbol is for when a title is in both sections, a book that got made into a movie, ect)

Halloween and Ghosts

Movies- Hocus Pocus (1993), *the Halloween Tree (1993), the Nightmare before Christmas (1993), Trick r Treat (2007), Monster House (2006), Halloweentown (1998), the Legend of Sleepy Hollow (1949), Scary Godmother Halloween Spooktacular (2003), Poltergeist (1982), the Haunting (1999), Casper (1995), Ghostbusters (1984), the Haunted Mansion (2003), Thirteen Ghosts (2001), the Others (2001)

Books- How to Drive Your Family Crazy on Halloween by Dean Marney,*the Halloween Tree by Ray Bradbury, the Haunted Mask (Goosebumps) by RL Stine, Dark Harvest by Norman Partridge, Stonewords a Ghost Story by Pam Conrad, Deep and Dark and Dangerous by Mary Downing Hahn, Ghost Beach (Goosebumps) by RL Stine, All the Lovely Bad Ones by Mary Downing Hahn, the Crossroads by Chris Grabenstein, Wait Till Helen Comes by Mary Downing Hahn

Witch/ESP/Mental Powers

Movies- *Practical Magic (1998), *the Wizard of Oz (1939), *the Witches (1990), Kiki’s Delivery Service (1989), Scooby-Doo and the Witch’s Ghost (1999) *Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (2001), the Craft (1996), the Witches of Eastwick (1987), *Carrie (1976), *Firstarter (1984), *Matilda (1996), the Last Mimzy (2007)

Books- *Practical Magic by Alice Hoffman, *the Witches by Roald Dahl, Charmed Life by Diana Wynne Jones, *Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone by JK Rowling, *the Wizard of Oz by L Frank Baum, T*Witches by HB Gilmour and Randi Reisfeld, the Worst Witch by Jill Murphy, *Carrie by Stephen King, *Firestarter by Stephen King, *Matilda by Roald Dahl, Scorpion Shards (Star Shards Chronicles) by Neal Shusterman, the Witch’s Boy by Michael Gruber

Vampire and Werewolf

Movies- Blade (1998), the Little Vampire (2000), Hellboy Blood and Iron (2007), *Hotel Transylvania (2012), Fright Night (2011), What We Do in the Shadows (2014), Alvin and the Chipmunks meet The Wolfman (2000), Ginger Snaps (2000), Van Helsing (2004) Wolf Children (2012), the Wolfman (1941)

Books- Bunnicula by James and Deborah Howe, Dracula by Bram Stoker, ‘Salem’s Lot by Stephen King, Red Rider’s Hood by Neal Shusterman, the Werewolf of Fever Swamp (Goosebumps) by RL Stine, Werewolves Don't Go to Summer Camp (Bailey School Kids) by Debbie Dadey and Marcia Jones, Blood and Chocolate by Annette Curtis Klause, Night of the Werepoodle by Constance Hiser

Zombies and Slasher/Gore

Movies- Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island (1998), ParaNorman (2012), Night of the Living Dead (1968), *Pet Sematary (1989), Zombieland (2009), Resident Evil (2002), Dawn of the Dead (2004) Scream (1996), a Nightmare on Elm Street (1984), *I Know What You Did Last Summer (1997), Kill Bill (2003), Happy Death Day (2017), the Hills Have Eyes (2006), US (2019), Friday the 13th (1980), the Thing (1982), *the Girl with all the Gifts (2016)

Books- *Pet Sematary by Stephen King, the Haunting of Derek Stone by Tony Abott, Welcome to Dead House (Goosebumps) by RL Stine, *I know What You Did Last Summer by Lois Duncan, the Dark Half by Stephen King, The Dead Girlfriend (Point Horror) by RL Stine, Another by Yukito Ayatsuji, the Prom Queen (Fear Street) by RL Stine, *the Girl with all the Gifts by MR Carey

Demons/Possession/Afterlife

Movies- the Omen (1976), Insidious (2010), the Exorcist (1973), *Christine (1983), City of Angels (1998), All Dogs go to Heaven (1989), Fallen (1998), *Rosemary’s Baby (1968), Bedazzled (2000), What Dreams May Come (1998), the Book of Life (2014), Flatliners (2017), *the Lovely Bones (2009), Coco (2017), Jennifer’s Body (2009), the Mummy (1999)

Books- *Christine by Stephen King, Needful Things by Stephen King, HECK where the bad kids go by Dale E Bayse,* Rosemary’s Baby by Ira Levin, Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett, Paradise Lost by John Milton, Inferno by Dante Alighieri, *the Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold

Monsters/Mythology/Dangerous Animals

Movies- Monsters Inc (2001), Godzilla (1998), *a Monster Calls (2016), *Jurassic Park (1993), King Kong (1933), Doug’s 1st Movie (1999), Darkness Falls (2003), Atlantis the lost empire (2001), Sinbad Legend of the Seven Seas (2003), *the Last Unicorn (1982), Urban Legend (1998), *How to Train Your Dragon (2010), the Flight of Dragons (1982), Shrek (2001), *the Hobbit (1977), Quest for Camelot (1998), Ferngully the last rainforest (1992), Lake Placid (1999), Jaws (1975), *Cujo (1983), Deep Blue Sea (1999), Anaconda (1997)

Books- *a Monster Calls by Patrick Ness, Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, *Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton, Sasquatch by Roland Smith, *the Last Unicorn by Peter S Beagle, the Moorchild by Eloise Jarvis McGraw, the Lightning Thief (Percy Jackson and the Olympians) by Rick Riordan, the Boggart by Susan Cooper, *How to Train Your Dragon by Cressida Cowell, Jeremy Thatcher Dragon Hatcher by Bruce Coville, *the Hobbit by JRR Tolkien, *Cujo by Stephen King, Cat in the Crypt (Animal Ark Hauntings) by Ben M Baglio, Congo by Michael Crichton, Watership Down by Richard Adams, the Dark Pond by Joseph Bruchac

Dolls and Toys, Circus/Carnival/Clowns, Comedy Horror

Movies- *Coraline (2009), the Adventures of Pinocchio (1996), Child’s Play (1988), Toy Story (1995), 9 (2009), We’re Back a dinosaur’s story (1993), the Care Bears Movie (1985), Little Nemo adventures in Slumberland (1989), *Something Wicked This Way Comes (1983), *Big Top Scooby-Doo (2012), Killer Klowns from Outer Space, *IT (2017), *Beetlejuice (1988), Army of Darkness (1992), Gremlins (1984), Arachnophobia (1990), Jawbreaker (1999), Tremors (1990), the Frighteners (1996), Twilight Zone the Movie (1983), Little Shop of Horrors (1986), Eight Legged Freaks (2002), the Goonies (1985)

Books- Frozen Charlotte by Alex Bell, *Coraline by Neil Gaiman, No Flying in the House by Betty Brock, Doll Bones by Holly Black, Joyland by Stephen King, *Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury, the Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern, *IT by Stephen King, the Cuckoo Clock of Doom (Goosebumps) by RL Stine, a Dirty Job by Christopher Moore jr, Skulduggery Pleasant by Derek Landy, Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark (Treasury) by Alvin Schwartz and illustrated by Stephen Gammell, JTHM (Director’s Cut) by Jhonen Vasquez

Gothic/Dark Fantasy, Curse/Transformation

Movies- *the Addams Family (1991), Rebecca (1940), Edward Scissorhands (1990), Mama (2013), the Phantom of the Opera (2004), Crimson Peak (2010), Legend (1985), the Dark Crystal (1982), Labyrinth (1986), *the Neverending Story (1984), *the Secret of NIMH (1982), Anastasia (1997), Howl’s Moving Castle (2004), Pan’s Labyrinth (2006), Willow (1988), *the Last Unicorn (1982), the Princess Bride (1987), *Legend of the Guardians the Owls of Ga'Hoole, Beauty and the Beast (1991), the Princess and the Frog (2009), the Swan Princess (1994), the Thing (1982), the Mask (1994), Freaky Friday (2003), Song of the Sea (2014), Pirates of the Caribbean the Curse of the Black Pearl (2003)

Books- the Raven by Edgar Allen Poe, the Shining by Stephen King, Remember Me by Mary Higgins Clark, a Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket, Well Witched (Verdigris Deep) by Frances Hardinge, Poison by Chris Wooding, *the Neverending Story by Michael Ende, *Mrs Frisby and the Rats of NIMH by Robert C O'Brien, a Tale Dark and Grimm by Adam Gidwitz, the Dark Portal by Robin Jarvis, Zel by Donna Jo Napoli, *the Last Unicorn by Peter S Beagle, *Guardians of Ga’Hoole by Kathryn Lasky, Owl in Love by Patrice Kindl

Mystery/Thriller/Psychological/Suspense

Movies- Clue (1985), *Holes (2003), Get Out (2017), Hot Fuzz (2007), Minority Report (2002), Kidnap (2017), Saw (2004), Wind River (2017), Who Framed Roger Rabbit (1988), the Great Mouse Detective (1986), Eve’s Bayou (1997), Breaking In (2018), Cube (1997), *Secret Window (2004), Silent Hill (2006), the Sixth Sense (1999), the Good Son (1993), Psycho (1960), Donnie Darko (2001), Fargo (1996), the Game (1997), the Invisible Man (2020), Breaking In (2018)

Books- *Holes by Louis Sachar, the Lost (the Outer Limits) by John Peel, We’ll Meet Again by Mary Higgins Clark, When the Bough Breaks by Jonathan Kellerman, *Secret Window Secret Garden (Four Past Midnight) by Stephen King, House of Stairs by William Sleator, Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson, Dolores Claiborne by Stephen King, Tangerine by Edward Bloor, Lord of the Flies by William Golding, the Girl who Loved Tom Gordon by Stephen King

Sci-Fi/Space Aliens, Robots and Technology

Movies- I Robot (2004), the Iron Giant (1999), the Terminator (1984), AI artificial intelligence (2001), the Stepford Wives (2004), Wall-E (2008), *Screamers (1995), *Sphere (1998), *Blade Runner (1982), *2001 a Space Odyssey (1968), MIB (1997), Mission to Mars (2000), Galaxy Quest (1999), Alien (1979), ET the extra terrestrial (1982), Independence Day (1996), Spaced Invaders (1990), Buzz Lightyear of Star Command the Adventure Begins (2000), Chicken Little (2005), *War of the Worlds (1953), *Contact (1997), Signs (2002), Treasure Planet (2002), Frequency (2000), Back to the Future (1985), the Time Machine (1960), Planet of the Apes (1968), Lost in Space (1998)

Books- the Terminal Man by Michael Crichton, Feed by Matthew Tobin Anderson, *Second Variety (Screamers) by Phillip K Dick, *I Robot by Isaac Asimov, Cell by Stephen King, *Sphere by Michael Crichton, *Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep (Blade Runner) by Philip K Dick , *2001 a Space Odyssey by Arthur C Clarke, a Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle, Ender’s Game by Orson Scott Card, the Dark Side of Nowhere by Neal Shusterman, *War of the Worlds by HG Wells, *Contact by Carl Sagan, Childhood’s End by Arthur C Clarke, Aliens Don’t Wear Braces (the Baily School Kids) by Debbie Dadey and Marcia Jones, the Invasion (Animorphs) by KA Applegate

Dystopia/Disaster, Other Worlds

Movies- Waterworld (1995), the Matrix (1999), Escape from New York (1981), *Demolition Man (1993), the Day After Tomorrow (2004), Volcano (1997), the Fifth Element (1997), Titan AE (2000), Armageddon (1998), Twister (1996), the Birds (1963), the Book of Eli, (2010) Spirited Away (2001), *Alice in Wonderland (1951), Pleasantville (1998), *the Phantom Tollbooth (1970), *the Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe (2005), *Hook (1991), the Pagemaster (1994), *James and the Giant Peach (1996)

Books- Among the Hidden by Margaret Peterson Haddix, Uglies by Scott Westerfeld, the Road by Cormac McCarthy, the House of the Scorpion by Nancy Farmer, 1984 by George Orwell, Armageddon Summer by Bruce Coville and Jane Yolen, the Giver by Lois Lowry, the City of Ember by Jeanne DuPrau, *Brave New World (Demolition Man) by Aldous Huxley, Malice by Chris Wooding, * the Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster, *Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll, the Golden Compass (His Dark Materials) by Philip Pullman, *The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe (the Chronicles of Narnia) by CS Lewis, *James and the Giant Peach by Roald Dahl

Anime/Manga and J-Horror

Movies- Akira (1988), Perfect Blue (1997), Ring (1998), Dark Water (2002), Ghost in the Shell (1995), Tokyo Godfathers (2003), Cat Soup (2001), *Cowboy Bebop the Movie (2001), Blood the Last Vampire (2000), Pokemon the First Movie (1998), Sailor Moon R Promise of the Rose (1993), DBZ the World’s Strongest (1990), Digimon the Movie (2000), Ju-On (2000)

Manga- Claymore by Norihiro Yagi, Death Note by Tsugumi Ohba and illustrated by Takeshi Obata, *Yu Yu Hakusho by Yoshihiro Togashi, *Fullmetal Alchemist by Hiromu Arakawa, *Blue Exorcist by Kazue Katō, *Soul Eater by Atsushi Ōkubo, *Inuyasha by Rumiko Takahashi,

Anime- *Yu Yu Hakusho, *Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood, *Soul Eater, *Blue Exorcist, *Inuyasha, *Cowboy Bebop, Mob Psycho 100, .hack//SIGN , the Promised Neverland, Paranoia Agent, Tokyo Ghoul, Hellsing Ultimate

Super Hero

Movies- Hellboy (2004), Ghost Rider (2007), the Incredibles (2004), Batman Beyond return of the Joker (2000), TMNT (2007), Logan (2017), Black Panther (2018), Sky High (2005), Spider-Man into the Spider-Verse (2018), Justice League Crisis on Two Earths (2010), Batman Under the Red Hood (2010)

Comics- Animal Man (New 52, 2011) DC Comics, Swamp Thing (New 52, 2011) DC Comics, BPRD Dark Waters (2012) Dark Horse Comics, Nextwave (Agents of HATE, 2006) Marvel Comics

Animated Series- Batman the Animated Series, X-Men Evolution, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (2003), Darkwing Duck, the Powerpuff Girls, Teen Titans (2005), Static Shock, Green Lantern the Animated Series

Cartoons and TV shows

Over the Garden Wall, The Simpsons (Treehouse of Horrors), Regular Show (Terror Tales of the Park), Adventure Time (Stakes), Scooby-Doo Where Are You/What’s New Scooby-Doo, El Tigre the Adventures of Manny Rivera, Phineas and Ferb (Night of the Living Pharmacists), Gravity Falls, Good Omens, Miracle Workers, Grimm, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, What We Do In the Shadows, Hotel Transylvania the series, Wolf’s Rain, Danny Phantom, Aaahh Real Monsters, the Munsters, So Weird, Tutenstein, Gargoyles, Xena Warrior Princess, Are You Afraid of the Dark, Tales from the Crypt, Goosebumps, Samurai Jack, Metalocalypse, Super Jail, My Life as a Teenage Robot, Futurama, the Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy, *Beetlejuice (animated series), Sabrina the Animated Series, the Owl House, Bewitched, Growing Up Creepy, the Addams Family (animated series), a Series of Unfortunate Events, Courage the Cowardly Dog, Star VS the Forces of Evil, Amphibia, Infinity Train, Penn Zero Part-Time Hero, Murder She Wrote, the Venture Bros, Avatar the Last Airbender, Invader ZIM, People of Earth, Star Trek Next Gen, Rick and Morty, Buzz Lightyear of Star Command

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