#Black Boys Bloom Thorns First

[uzumaki-rebellion]

"King Killmonger: The Golden Jaguar: Chapter 7"

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"'Cause all I see is the best of you and all you see is the best of meAnd you bring out the best of meAnd all I see is everythingYour goals, your glow, your inner beingAnd our bigger meaningSo, let's lose us in these sheets, yeahAnd when I get up to walk, I wanna feel weak, yeahWell, I ain't goin' far (ain't goin' far)So, stay where you are (stay where you are)Feel like you partied in Venus and we woke up in Mars (baby)I been waitin' my whole life (I've been waiting)My whole lifeAnd I'm gonna give you the best years of your life (for you and I) You and I"

Beyonce—"ll Hands ll Heaven"

N'Jadaka Udaku, the foreign born king of Wakanda was a large man.

Yani watched him stretch his muscled arms and strong neck as he powered the bulk of his big body onto the stern of the houseboat and joined her on the cushiony loveseat facing the water on the lower deck. She had been on the luxury ship before. In America and elsewhere it would be considered a yacht, but to the super rich Udakus, it was a family houseboat.

The king rolled his neck and snuggled next to her, enjoying the warm sunlight and letting the alcohol in the champagne they drank relax him into a slight buzzy stupor. For three hours they floated in a quiet bliss, watching the water become a foamy deluge in their wake slicing through the turquoise liquid. The shoreline view slowly changed from deluxe high rises and bustle of city life to the more tranquil and slower-paced suburbs that led to the rural beauty of outer Zana.

N'Jadaka's skin had turned browner than hers as they sunbathed in their swimsuits, and luxuriated in their togetherness. She kissed his hard bicep and started to cry.

"Yani…"

His concerned voice enveloped her in comfort. He hugged her into his side.

"I'm so happy," she sputtered, knowing the champagne had taken over her emotions. "You're my husband now, and it makes all of this seem so solid and real. I'm drunk…"

He laughed and the sound squeezed her heart.

"I'm not talking about the liquor," she said quickly wanting him to know her true feelings, "I'm drunk off of this love we have. I can't explain it well, but it makes me feel…safe. Finally."

He threaded his fingers with hers and kissed her hand.

"I know what you mean, Yani. I feel the same. I'm actually feeling so many things at once. Maybe that's why I've been so quiet for the last two hours. Taking it all in…knowing that I have a wife. That means everything to me. I didn't know I could possibly love you more, but going through the wedding ceremony, taking vows before gods and people. All of this takes on a deeper meaning."

He stared at their wedding rings.

"I should've married you after the first time we made love because I knew you were the one back then. I just didn't trust myself…I didn't know how to love you properly."

He cast his gaze toward the river water again.

"I have a queen, a family of my own…I have everything I've ever wanted. Maybe I'm scared I'll lose it all again…maybe that's why all of my senses and emotions are heightened. So many people in the world never get to have all of their dreams come true."

Yani leaned over and kissed his cheek. N'Jadaka turned his face to align their lips. He was larger up close, overwhelming her space the way he always did and she welcomed that sensation. It meant that he was her forever love. Her husband.

"Ohmigod, look…N'Jadaka…look," she gasped.

Their love boat passed a giant mountain waterfall that gushed whitewater into the once calm river. The automated boat moved away from the cascading flow that started three hundred feet above them. A cool mist from the water striking the river moistened their skin. Yani leaned her neck back to study how high the waterfall started. They stood and walked up to the top deck toward the bow. The boat switched directions on a pre-determined course and headed directly for the heavy curtain of water one hundred feet wide. She clutched his hand.

"What's happening? Why is the boat going toward the waterfall?" Yani said with a nervous tone.

"Wait and see," he said, throwing an arm around her shoulder.

"Aren't we supposed to cruise around the Ibukan?"

"That's what I told everyone for our safety, but that's not what we're doing," he said with a mischievous grin.

They drifted closer and the roar of the waterfall frightened Yani.

"Keep your eyes open baby…watch," he said.

A vibranium shield shimmered a neon blue streak all around the boat. They cruised straight through the waterfall and Yani marveled at the tons of water washing across the protective barrier.

On the other side they entered an enormous cave. The shield powered down and Yani glanced behind them, listening to the thundering roar of water keeping them out of sight.

The river cave was balmy and lit with lanterns decked around the stone walls. They were inside a mountain that led to someplace she was never privy to.

"Where are we?" she whispered.

"You'll see soon enough," he said, squeezing her closer to him.

The lanterns flickered a yellow-orange glow that allowed her to make out cave drawings that didn't look like Wakandan script. Without the light, the blackness of the interior would've swallowed them. Up ahead, a glint of white beckoned them to an exit.

"Oh!"

Yani covered her mouth with her hand. They floated out into a tropical rainforest with an explosion of colors on vines and canopies she had never seen before. The air smelled different and the scent of the blossoming rainforest flowers lured her steps forward near a railing for a closer chance to sniff the tropical atmosphere. If Joba had been there, she would've believed that her fairy garden had sprouted into a giant real-life wonderland. That's how magical it felt floating along with her husband.

Yani looked around with more wonder and couldn't get over how different the world looked in that place. One would've believed they slipped into a fantasy land with colors that vivid and varied. The boat followed a lazy "s" curve until it stopped. N'Jadaka gathered up their thin, ankle-length aquamarine honeymoon tunics. Yani slipped hers on and he did the same.

"We'll ride a hover bike to the place I want to take you," he said.

Yani walked beside him to the lower deck where a canoe and a hover bike were attached for their use on the trip. She climbed behind her husband and held his waist.

Two elder women and a young man waited for them to float over the water and settle on the landing near the water's edge. One woman carried a woven grass basket covered with a satin blue cloth and the other woman held a full bouquet of magenta and blood-orange flowers. Both women wore heavy brocaded lavender robes with gold sandals. The young man escorting them stood silently watching the royal couple climb off the hover bike. He wore a long plain white shirt with gold crotch-drop pants.

The woman with the basket stepped forward first and handed N'Jadaka the basket.

"Welcome kumkani. We have been waiting for your arrival with the new kumkanikazi and prepared your quarters for the next three days."

"Thank you. May I introduce you to Kumkanikazi Yani?"

All three lowered their heads and waited for Yani to acknowledge them with an offering of her hand. The woman with the bouquet gave them to the queen and Yani sniffed the heavenly scent.

"Where are we?" Yani asked the first woman.

"This is Ekuqaleni. The Beginning. The place where the Udaku clan first came to be through Ugogo Udaku…Grandmother Udaku. She is the matrilineal beginning for the king. You carry her name as your own now, kumkanikazi. The Udaku family line runs through their women."

"Udaku was her surname?" Yani asked.

The elder woman who gave the flowers shook her head and spoke softly.

"No. Udaku was her first and only name. Udaku of the Panther Tribe. Mother of Bashenga Udaku, the first Black Panther and our first united tribal king."

"The women ran everything," Yani said.

The women nodded at her.

"Come, you have had a long day and long journey. Time to rest and get acquainted with the roots of your people."

The fruit basket woman snapped her fingers and the young man became more alert and stepped three feet in front of N'Jadaka as the others did. All citizens were only allowed to stand the requisite distance of three feet unless invited closer by a royal personally.

"What are your names?" Yani asked.

The first woman pointed to herself and then the woman with the flowers.

"I am Mama F'Neka and that is Mama Yiswa. Niso will take you to rest. Supper will be ready when you ask for it. We are here to serve and help you enjoy your stay. Your pleasure is our grace," F'Neka said.

Niso stepped lively and the royal couple carried their gifts and followed a winding path through a wealth of nature's beauty.

"We are on the other side of Umbono Lake," N'Jadaka said.

"By the cove?"

"Close to it," he said.

Yani smiled. She had a better picture of the geography knowing they were further south.

"Are you the only people here?" Yani asked Niso.

"No, kumkanikazi. Several of us work here to take care of Ekuqaleni," Niso said.

N'Jadaka took a hold of Yani's free hand and clasped it as they walked through the tropical paradise.

"No one is allowed to be here except for the royal family, and most times it's just for the newlywed ones," N'Jadaka said. "This place is a historical landmark and not even the public can come here except for certain times of the month annually for special tours."

"Ekuqaleni is a holy place my queen," Niso added. "Ugogo Udaku encouraged her young son King Bashenga to follow the ways of the shaman during the time of constant tribal wars. With her wisdom and Bast's guidance, our revered king found isipho…the gift."

"Vibranium," Yani said.

"Yes, kumkanikazi. Ugogo Udaku was born and lived here in the forest for one hundred and ten years. My family has taken care of Ekuqaleni for generations. Mama F'Neka and Mama Yiswa are my grand aunts. We are a mix of the Panther and River tribe."

The path they followed narrowed and N'Jadaka made Yani walk in the middle behind Niso. Giant multi-colored butterflies with wing-spans as wide as her hand fluttered in a ring high above them. The forest had a cloying sweet odor where they traveled. Niso pointed to the butterflies overhead.

"They are drunk with the fermented nectar of the fruit we gave you," Niso said.

Grayish-green fruit shaped like pregnant pears hung on branches slightly at Yani's eye level. Many had over-ripened and browned deeply in sections where butterflies crawled over them licking the fermentation. She giggled and touched the wing of one nearby butterfly. The soft powdery feel slid across her fingertips as they continued moving into a clearing.

"What about our clothes and things on the boat?" Yani asked.

N'Jadaka fondled her backside with a gentle pat and pinch.

"Don't worry about that stuff. I have it all taken care of. Just enjoy the trip, Ma," N'Jadaka said.

Niso stepped aside letting the royals move ahead of him and Yani's eyes widened.

A natural heated mineral pool faced a sunken fire pit surrounded by low stools and a lounging seat. The lush area was cultivated to blend in with the surroundings with enough touches to look cozy and quite comfortable.

"My king and queen, Ugogo Udaku's family dwelling," Niso said proudly.

Yani had imagined some small thatched covered hut made to survive a tropical environment. Instead, her neck arched back and her mouth fell open at the sight of giant trees as tall, wide, and grandiose as American redwoods, but cultivated over a millennia to take on the braided curved shapes like lucky bamboo. The canopies were also intertwined across the tree tops creating the foundation for pearly white-washed circular tree homes made of smooth stone and earth. The light coloring looked spectacular against the backdrop of twining leaves and branches of bright emerald green etched with faint traces of lemon yellow and vermilion streaks.

N'Jadaka grinned next to her.

"Beautiful huh?" he said, putting the basket of fruit on a low tree-trunk carved table.

Yani put the bouquet of flowers down next to the fruit basket and walked toward the closest tree. She noticed the carved steps inside the trunk that led up to the tree home.

"May I?" Yani asked Niso.

"My queen, this is your ancestral home. You may do as you wish," Niso said.

Yani hurried up the organic steps and squealed when she reached the top. Entering the first room she immediately looked out of the window. Holding her breath, she couldn't believe it all belonged to her. N'Jadaka's heavy footfalls echoed from behind and she glanced at him quickly before spinning around the cool interior.

"So much space! It's huge in here and…ohmigod, N'Jadaka…"

Yani took off through a long hall that led to other parts of the tree house. More living pods were made for bedrooms, a restroom, kitchen area, and then treetop bridges that led to hanging gardens that grew fruits and flowers above the forest floor.

N'Jadaka followed, enjoying the delight in her eyes. They stood together on an above ground pathway that gave them a view of a lazy tributary of milky blue water that flowed to the east of the tree house. More steps carved out of the tree led down directly to the water.

"My ancestors had to live above ground because there was a lot of seasonal flooding before they started damming up spots to control the waterways. I thought staying here a few days before going on the boat cruise would be…romantic?" N'Jadaka said.

Yani hugged him tight.

"I love it," she said.

"I'm glad. I know we could go anywhere in the world, or do anything we want in Wakanda, but I just wanted to be somewhere special for us. You're making roots here too, and your lineage is very important to our history on this patch of land."

Yani's eyes welled up and she blinked away tears by glancing down below and noticing Niso. He waved up to them. A loud growling sound startled Yani. Two black panthers lumbered out from behind twisty vines looping below the trees.

Niso didn't seem fazed at all and bent down to scratch the ear of one panther that rolled over onto its back.

"This is S'Bu and Unathi, your personal guards. Would you like to meet them?" Niso called up.

Yani bounded down the carved stairs of another giant tree dragging N'Jadaka with her by the hand.

"Are they safe? They don't know us," Yani asked.

She quickly became cautious once she stood before the gorgeous beasts, their blue-black coats of fur gleaming like polished midnight. N'Jadaka walked up to S'Bu and cuddled its chin with his big hand.

"They are bred for the royals and brought up to obey your commands and watch over you in the forest," Niso said.

Yani was still hesitant to touch either panther.

"No worries Queen Yani. I have gotten them accustomed to your scent. King N'Jadaka sent over clothing belonging to you so they are familiar with your natural skin odor. They know you are to be respected and protected."

"Tell them to sit in Wakandan baby," N'Jadaka encouraged.

"They're not dogs," Yani said with a small laugh in her voice.

"Try it."

Yani stepped closer to her husband just to be safe and looked both big cats in the eyes.

"Hlala phantsi," Yani commanded.

Both panthers squatted on their haunches and kept direct eye contact with her.

"Good job, Queen Yani," Niso said.

Yani reached out and scritched the ear of Unathi first. The animal purred under her fingers and S'Bu nudged her fingers to get some affection too.

"A jealous baby," Yani said.

"They are both three years old and will come and go frequently to trek around the pereimeter," Niso said.

"Aren't panthers normally solitary?" Yani asked.

"Wild ones, yes. They prefer to be alone until mating season. But these have been raised in a claw of humans and were trained to live together with some female panthers that roam here too. You won't see them as much. They are fed by our team so no need to do anything for these big boys. S'Bu loves belly rubs and Unathi prefers back rubs. When you want them to go away, just clap your hands and they will leave."

Niso lowered his head and kept his hands by his sides.

"I will leave you to begin your honeymoon. Tap your kimoyos when you would like your supper brought to you, or any other extra meals and snacks. Ugogo Udaku's home is equipped with all the latest amenities as the palace. Refreshments are in the home already. There are marked trails and kimoyo scans for landmarks and such throughout the forest. I hope you will enjoy your stay. We are so honored to have you."

"Thank you, Niso," Yani said.

Niso wandered off and the forest swallowed all traces of him. Both panthers flopped down on their sides relaxed and without a care in the world.

"What would you like to do first? Explore a little, or relax. Anything you want to get into is good with me, baby," N'Jadaka said.

"What about you?"

He surveyed the empty fire pit and a stack of freshly chopped wood at the base of the tree house steps.

"I'm thinkin' of making a fire so we can have our supper out here. Shouldn't take me long to get one going. We have a couple of hours left before the sun sets."

"How about you get the fire going and I'll walk around here for a few minutes to get acquainted with the forest," she said.

"Bet."

He strolled over to the wood stack and Yani pivoted the other way. The two panthers sat up. S'Bu padded forward to follow.

"Stay," she said in English.

The panther kept walking and she repeated her command in Wakandan and the big cat abruptly sat on its backside again.

She wandered into an area of hanging vines taking in the fresh air and dense foliage. Staring up, she looked upon the thick canopy that blocked out most of the sunlight and created a shady walk through the forest. Despite the dense covering, tiny slats of golden light filtered down like sundrops, making dustmotes look like sparkly glitter dancing in the bright spots. Yani walked into magic and wonder feeling childlike.

There were a few other tree houses high above, but many hadn't been cared for as well as Ugogo Udaku's home over the years. They had eroded away or been grown over by the trees and vines they were built into. The constant buzzing of cicadas rang in her ears. She welcomed the sound and listened for other tropical noises to alert the world of other life going on around her. Frogs croaked and a few green and blue birds bounced from branch to branch watching her closely. A black and white colobus monkey, with an old geriatric-looking face and a tail of long white fur that favored horsehair, spied on her from above.

A sensation of peace descended over the forest and Yani ventured carefully back to the treehouse. The smell of wood smoke greeted her. N'Jadaka sat on one of the low stools by the fire petting both of the panthers that stretched out in front of him. Yani paused her steps and watched her husband interact with the animals. He looked regal and powerful handling S'Bu and Unathi like they were mere kittens. The fire crackled and so did a leaf under her sandal. N'Jadaka and the panthers glanced her way. His large physique reminded her of a human panther. Especially his eyes and how they could turn predatory against an enemy. He really was just a giant panther who would turn as docile as the big cats at his feet when she pointed him in the direction she wanted. Umama whispered in her ear before they flew away on their honeymoon that the queen of Wakanda was the true power behind the throne, and the best queens kept the king on point. Yani clapped her hands and both cats ambled away following her commands immediately. They retreated in the direction Niso disappeared.

"How was your walk?" he asked.

Yani went to him and touched his pulled back locs. She lifted his chin with two fingers and kissed his full lush lips in the firelight.

"This is perfect," she said after releasing his mouth.

"Hungry?"

"Yeah, I could do with a good meal and then a nice early rest."

"We can go canoeing tomorrow and barbecue in the afternoon. We can also hike to see the top of the waterfall."

"So much to see and do… and all the time we need to do it. A whole month off," Yani sighed into his hair.

N'Jadaka pulled her onto his lap and they enjoyed the fire for a time. He tapped his kimoyo beads and Niso returned with two other attendants pushing a floating double food cart filled with delicacies and more than enough food for two hungry royals. The low dining table was just at the right level of the ancient seats. They sat across from one another and were served the first course of broth and flat bread with wine and fresh cheese bites. N'Jadaka dismissed their attendants after giving instructions to bring a late breakfast in the morning.

"I guess walking out here made us hungrier than we thought," Yani said.

She pulled out several platters filled with yellow rice, grilled vegetables, stuffed flaky fish pastries, tender cuts of beef smothered in rich red wine gravy, and skewers of chicken glazed with peanut sauce. Helping themselves to full plates, they ate and reveled in the calm peacefulness as the sun set. Small solar lights sprinkled around the tree house twinkled to life.

"How pretty…oh…I wish the kids could see this," Yani said.

"They will. We'll come back through here on the way back home our last week. But I want us to have this to ourselves first," he said, winking.

"You really have thought of everything."

She stuffed a piece of the fruit that was already cut up for them in the basket.

"This tastes so good, like a peach and passion fruit mix…here, try some."

Yani passed a small squared off piece to N'Jadaka and he ate it right from her fingers, licking the tips free of juice.

"I like it," he said.

He watched her face then smiled.

"You're glowing," he said.

"What?"

"Your face…your demeanor. It's a glowing vibe."

"Hmmm…I feel like I'm glowing. This might sound funny but, I feel like I'm married. It's like a sensation in my bosom, like a weight or something. Nothing heavy, but…a solidness?"

Yani watched his face. N'Jadaka leaned in closer to the table and reached for her ring finger.

"I kinda feel that way too, Yani. Like how we were discussing on the boat. Ceremony is one thing, but saying those vows to you…I feel more connected to you than I ever have. Once those words came out…it's like you said…almost like the word became flesh and lodged inside of us."

Yani nodded, understanding completely.

"Are you excited about when we get back and you attend your first palace meeting with the Council of Elders?" he asked.

Yani rolled her eyes and nibbled on some bread.

"I don't want to think about the palace right now. I only want to focus on us and this amazing honeymoon trip."

"Want any more wine?"

N'Jadaka held out a wine carafe and Yani shook her head.

"I've had enough to drink today, no thank you."

He sipped the last drops in his own wine glass and checked out the dessert offerings. Lemon tarts and mini vanilla bean cakes with fresh berry glaze. They shared a cake and then covered up the rest of the food for the attendants to retrieve later.

Shucking off their caftans to frolic openly with swimsuits again, they investigated the mineral spring bubbling nearby. A trough made of smooth robin's egg blue stones allowed cool water from the river tributary to flow through. All they had to do was lift a partition made of yellow limestone and clay and the cooler water drained into the steamy mineral waters regulating the temperature.

The spring was about five feet deep in the center with seat impressions carved into the sides that could accommodate up to six adults.

"Nature's Jacuzzi," N'Jadaka said as he helped Yani into the bubbling froth that smelled faintly of sulfur.

Yani lifted the partition and the milky blue river water rushed in and helped neutralize the strong odor from the spring. The frothy mix became soapy on their skin making it tingle.

"Feels like heaven," Yani said after the final adjustment of the partition to a perfect temperature.

Seated shoulder to shoulder, they soaked in heated bliss and held hands under the water. They spoke of the children and their education, and Yani fretted about the possibility of sending Sydette to the best science academy in Wakanda. Their eldest had taken her first Level 1 aptitude exam that all nine-year-olds took to determine their academic journey. Unlike most educational systems, Wakandans let the children's intelligence place them with their natural interests and not just a typical general core curriculum that everyone had to abide by for decades. They allowed children to specialize in their talents early encouraging self-motivation that would hopefully carry on into a lifetime of autodidactism.

Sydette tested high in the hard sciences and mathematics and her primary teacher was pleased to inform Yani and N'Jadaka that S'Yan University had the proper seed school within the institution that all the best young science minds went to early. In a year, Sydette would have to attend a new school for her grade level and Yani wanted her near the palace. Attending the Level 2 in S'Yan would mean boarding school for Sydette. Traveling back and forth to school hundreds of miles away was too much for a little girl. It was tough while she was living away from her father in the countryside under duress, but S'Yan was even further away near the sea.

Boarding school was what rich people did to have their children rub shoulders with the elite and to get high paying, high status jobs after graduation. Sydette was a princess and the daughter of the richest and most brilliant man in the world. She didn't need a boarding school to get ahead in life, she was already at the front of the line. Yani toyed with the idea of asking N'Jadaka to create a school in Zana just as heralded as the one in S'Yan just to keep Sydette at home. All the schools in Wakanda were better than anything outside of the country, but S'Yan University had three particular teachers there that created giants in their field. Shuri and T'Challa had gone there as children before attending the Royal Academy of Wakanda in Zana.

Her mind wandered to their "twins" Joba and Riki. In two years, all of their children could possibly be away from the golden city and boarding on the other side of the country. The thought bothered her to no end. She was supposed to see her babies every day to ask how their day went and help them with their class work. There were already rumblings from Joba and Riki's teachers about skipping them a few grades like N'Jadaka had been. That meant they could leave the palace sooner. Brilliant children meant losing parts of childhood sometimes. Her husband didn't talk about it much, but Dante told Yani that it was tough for the king to be the smartest and youngest child in the room when he was little.

Joba had an aptitude for linguistics and art. Riki…well…Riki was…Yani chuckled.

"What's so funny?" N'Jadaka asked.

"Thinking of Riki. What do you think he'll do with his life? We know he loves animals."

N'Jadaka pressed his lips together suppressing a smirk.

"Why are you looking like that?" Yani asked.

"He told me he wants to start a band."

"Ooh Lord, God…"

"Well, the boy can sing. My Baba could and so can you, which means he has the genetics."

"So Sydette becomes an astrobiologist, Joba the master linguist/art historian, and our son becomes a rock star?"

"Why not?"

"I know the music business first hand remember? It's not a nice industry. He's too smart for that."

"Wakanda is all about letting their young people develop their potential. Maybe it's time for an Udaku to be a famous musician. Give him a few more years with his piano and guitar lessons. He could be the next King of Pop. But a real one!"

"My baby is too sweet to become a raunchy musician."

"Stop projecting."

Yani curled her lip in a pout and N'Jadaka squeezed her kneecap.

"You have to let him have the same opportunity your parents gave you when you were allowed to try your hand at music," he said.

"That wasn't my dream and you know it. Chez wanted to be a star, not me."

"Kendall is doing well though."

"Kendall is a famous music producer now…all behind the scenes work."

"He would be a good mentor for Riki—"

"Are you seriously thinking of letting our son become a performer? You wahn me vex on this honeymoon?"

"You are the queen of Wakanda. Lil Man will never fall victim to the seamier side of the music business because who would want to fuck with his mama? Or his daddy? One word from your mouth and you already know I'm tearing up cities for our kids."

Yani relaxed more and rubbed her hand up and down his arm.

"Promise?" she said in his ear.

"Anything for my wife, ya heard me?"

She nodded. He stood abruptly and pulled at the elastic on his trunks.

"Too hot for me. Let's use the outdoor shower and head up," he said.

She stepped out of the mineral pool and slipped on her sandals. They rinsed off with cool water from an overhead shower nozzle connected to one of the trees facing the treehouse. Stripping off their suits, they wrung them out and strung them along a branch to dry. A second more thorough shower had them fully refreshed and energized.

"Let's stay outside a little longer," Yani suggested.

Even with the sun gone, the spring weather carried the whispers of summer on a slow breeze that followed them back over to the double lounger. N'Jadaka moved it to face the tributary where they could gaze at the bright stars in the evening sky. He tilted the back support so they could sprawl together at an angle. Yani waited for him to settle in the lounger first before she crawled to sit between his legs with the back of her head resting on his chest.

"Do you think Adam and Eve had it like this in the Garden of Eden?" Yani asked.

"Without attendants…maybe."

"Nude in nature and happy like this every day of their lives…"

"Until that whole apple situation," he joked.

"Shooting stars!" she blurted, pointing at the streak of burning dust overhead.

Yani closed her eyes when she spotted a new cluster of vaporized debris masquerading as shooting stars. She made a wish for her husband and herself to live long happy lives without any falls from grace.

N'Jadaka was pleased.

His new wife loved the surprise excursion to Ekuqaleni. Before his paternal grandfather vanished in the Thanos war, he gave N'Jadaka the suggestion to visit the place of his Wakandan roots where it all began for the Panther tribe. He made meticulous arrangements in secrecy and felt grateful that he listened to Baba Z.

Yani was in awe of the place and more than anything, she loved the seclusion and quiet from other people. She spoke to him with that soft tone he adored in her voice, and touched him constantly. She knew his love language was physical contact and catered to those needs just as he catered to hers by showering her with gifts that showed her that she was worthy of all the good things in life she struggled for. Yani wasn't materialistic by any means, but his constant presents for no special reasons brought her gratitude and acceptance that she was worthy of being spoiled by him. N'Jadaka puffed up ten feet whenever she expressed elation over a new surprise he bestowed upon her simply because he loved her so much.

Naked and tangled together on the lounger, they watched shooting stars and listened to the settling down of the majestic forest. An owl hooted and flew low past their seat right across the tributary. They were surrounded by mountains and away from the constant eyes in the palace. Being butt naked in a serene wilderness calmed his mind and body. He curled his arms around Yani's chest, feeling the soft globes of her breasts push into his warm skin. True Eden was holding her close and never letting her go.

He slid his fingers onto her nipples and played with them. They perked up, still tender from the soak in the mineral pool. She stayed quiet, watching his fingers roll across the firm tips, fat like plump grapes. Her sighs pleased his ears as he plucked and pinched them gently. He cupped each breast and looked down at her chest, slowly pushing them together. Staring at big tits always got him started in the arousal department. Yani's thighs fell open wider and he knew her inner labia were becoming engorged just by the way her backside squirmed against him. She turned her head and he lowered his so they could kiss, their tongues sliding into moist, ready caverns. His mouth watered kissing her, and he kept his tongue at the entrance of her mouth, forcing Yani to beg for more with her prodding tongue. He delved deeper into her throat forcing her to submit that wanton mouth. She matched his pace. His fuller lips took over hers and she moaned deep in her throat.

"Love me?" he whispered between kisses.

She nodded and arched her neck to capture more of his lips, her teeth grazing his bottom lip playfully. He slowed her down with softer kisses that tested the limits of her desire for him. Licking on her neck, he bit into her skin and nibbled on the spot just under the right side of her jaw. He sucked a small hicky there, marking her flesh with his teeth too. She shifted her body onto her side, and the heat from her heavy breasts seared warmth into him. He lowered his hand and touched her down there in that special place.

That pussy was wetter and hotter than the water they crawled out of.

The slickness coated his fingertips and he painted her wide labia with all the stickiness she spewed out.

"I've been waiting to play all in this pussy…"

He prevented her from responding by stuffing his fingers in her mouth, making her taste the sweet tasting nectar she released. She'd spent a week eating large amounts of pineapples and mangoes to make sure her pussy tasted delicious for them.

Good girl.

He gently smacked her vulva. The slap from his hand activated the pleasure of her labia piercings.

"Yesss," she hissed, and he slapped her vulva again, the frothy wetness between her legs making his entire hand wet.

"…playing with my wife's pretty pussy outside in the open. Anybody could walk past and see the queen's wet pussy lips…"

Yani huffed out an aroused breath into his right side. The exhibitionist in her was wound up tight. He drew lazy figure eights all around her jeweled clit. Her legs trembled as he rubbed slow circles on it directly.

"You can't cum on my fingers baby. The king has to eat your pussy first before he can get deep inside you. Would you like that now? My lips on your pussy? Licking all over that juicy clit?"

"Yes…please…Daddy…eat my pussy."

"You about to get some husband dick tonight, Yani. I already told you that shit was going to be different from what you're used to. Daddy gotta put in real work tonight to stretch you out good. I might make several big messes all inside you."

She trembled all over, the tension in her body palpable against his nerve endings. He inserted two fingers partially inside her pussy and they both heard the sound it made when he wiggled his fingers around to test how wet she was. He adjusted her position on his torso so he could reach down and finger fuck her. She spread her legs along the sides of his and savored his digits twirling pleasure inside of her. Her walls squeezed around his fingers. The deeper he sank his fingers the more moans tumbled from her lips. Her eyes were glassy and faraway. She was ready to be piped down good and hard.

N'Jadaka moved her body away from his and slid down to his knees on the soft grass. It was time for him to face the nation between her thighs. Pushing Yani's legs back on the lounger he smashed his lips into her vulva and commenced to pleasuring the queen with a thick wide tongue. She tasted sweeter and her slick offering soaked his lips and most of his lower face.

Tongue fucking her made Yani shoot her legs up to the dark heavens. Her toes pointed to the north star toward freedom in her pussy. A powerful orgasm rippled all across her lush form. He loved the way her entire vulva throbbed in his mouth. Her orgasmic contractions exploded again while he groaned into her soft center making it vibrate with delirious pulses. It forced her to let out a rapturous shout to God and anyone else who would listen to her praises of his tongue.

He slurped up all the stickiness she produced and swallowed it full of greed for more. Standing, he let her witness the growth of his erection. It stood saluting her. Her eyes glossed over his heavy nutsack before admiring his thick arousal. He lifted his balls and squeezed their heft, letting her see what was in store to flood her pussy.

Yani lifted one of the large fluffy pillows from the lounger and placed it on the grass in front of the seat. She dropped onto all fours facing away from him. Head down, ass up. N'Jadaka scooted into a comfortable position at the edge of the lounger and spread his legs. He gripped his dick with a firm hand and stroked himself, watching his wife wiggle her big, wide ass. Her fat vulva gleamed from her piercings and the fresh lubricant her body produced. The inner labia wings were spread out and all of her precious pink winked at him. She played with her pussy and he groaned stroking his dick. Her pretty rose-gold nails pulled her ass cheeks apart providing a gorgeous picture for him. When they got back to the palace he was going to commission a discreet artist to paint his wife in that position. That body was art, especially when it was aroused and that pink pussy throbbed like that.

"Fuck Yani, that pussy looks so juicy…so does that ass baby…"

She slowly rubbed her labia and it was torture staring at wet pussy teasing him to fuck. Women from all over the world had been in that position before trying to seduce him. Only Yani made him pant the way he did watching her tease him. She pushed three of her fingers inside her pussy and the squelching sounds had his fat lips twisted up in agony.

"You like your wife's pussy?" Yani said.

"I do baby…"

"Do you like how it sounds Daddy?"

His hand pounded his dick down to his balls. Precum drizzled down the shaft and all over his right hand. So much came out that he was losing the feeling of friction. He was going to need her tight pussy soon. Sweat poured down his face.

"Yani…damn…Yani…got this dick hard as fuck…shit…"

She started making her ass cheeks jump in a syncopated rhythm and he jumped down on his knees. He jammed his left hand down on the arch of her back and pressed the tip of his dick against her right ass cheek, rubbing it hard against the pillowy soft bubble.

"You like that big ass Daddy?"

"Fuck!"

N'Jadaka groaned and slapped his dick against her ass. His precum coated her skin and his dick slid all around feeling hot and dangerous in his hand. He slapped the other ass cheek several times leaving dark red-brown markings on her toasted brown skin. Yani liked that stinging pain and cried out for more. He was losing control. His vision became blurry from the sweat falling into his eyes.

"Get on your knees! Aw fuck, Yani! Hurry…get on your knees…'bout to bust a fat one. Wanna cum on your face…you know what I want…you know what I want!" he shouted.

Yani took her sweet time rising from her position. But she didn't stay on her knees. She sauntered over to the lounger and got cozy on her back, spreading her big thighs open.

"I want my husband…I want my husband right now," she said.

N'Jadaka stared at her earnest face and the beauty it contained. His entire body hummed with the thrilling sensation of lust and love and deepening desire. His dick was a heavy sword between his legs ready to be sheathed by a queen he loved with his entire heart, mind, body, and soul. He lowered his head and kissed her feet and made a trail with his lips all the way up her body. When he reached her lips, he gave her a small peck and lined his erection up with her receptive labia.

"I want my wife. I want my wife right now," he said to her with strong conviction.

The firelight revealed a shine in Yani's eyes that glowed like the stars above.

Everything slowed down.

His breathing.

His heart beat.

His mind.

All there was in that moment of exquisite time was her.

Yani.

The woman who brought him back from the land of the living dead.

The woman who loved him whole and free.

His wife.

His.

He entered her body slowly, burning into his memory the sensation of her vagina closing around his girth, holding him like no other woman could. Resting his forehead against hers, their eyes connected and locked together. He placed his hands into fists at her sides and grunted his satisfaction with a slow lovemaking that had him enthralled.

God she took that dick!

He closed his eyes and gasped at how tight and deep she was. When he was able to open his eyes again while savoring the sweet thrusts he gave her, he knew in his spirit he would be lost to her love forever. The thought of how easily he could've lost her on that island swarmed over him like a tsunami of watery heat in his bones, and he wept, fearful of how close his life could've gone down the drain if he hadn't found her and built a connection.

Yani cradled his face with her hands and wiped away his tears that threatened to fall on her. He shifted his weight and she wrapped her legs around his waist, giving him room to thrust harder into her.

His queen. His wife.

Yani.

She made love to him like no other and he reciprocated. His mind wandered for a second at a memory. Who was the lover he once chastised for trying to fuck him like that when it was better suited for a man who deserved her? He was at M.I.T. at the time…early twenties. Cocksure and slanging dick like a fiend. The woman had been much older than him and fell in love with him so fast that he felt bad for leaving her with unrequited feelings. Shaun knew her…a big fine…

Renata.

Yeah, that was her. He had been right to warn Renata about fucking men like that. That was husband territory and the woman that rightfully deserved his tender loving care would have it for as long as he lived. The wisdom of his youth flooded his limbs and he kissed Yani while thrusting his soul into her depths. He needed her to feel his love and devotion. She hugged him tight.

"N'Jadaka…my love…my everything," she said.

"Yes," he said, rocking into her in a steady love tempo. "Yes…yes…baby…yes."

Husband things.

Her mouth parted but no sound came out. Her eyes never wavered from his. Her pussy swallowed his dick with artful decadence. Every thrust he gave ripped a groan from him as well as her, and after awhile, it became a steady metronome of sound. Even the forest quieted down to listen to their lovemaking.

Yani's pussy was a gushy fortress of primal delight. He glanced down to watch his dick move in and out, stuffing her full of thick dick, stretching her with divine care. Giving him pussy like that, he definitely knew he would have her pregnant in a few months. She made the idea of pulling out a sin before Bast and Ogum. He had fought aliens from other galaxies, had Gods speak to him directly and ride his body within his own flesh, but none of those experiences were as profound as making love to Yani.

He gestured for her to turn around so he could take her from behind and waited for her to get into a comfortable position. He sank back into her with a hearty shout of her name and gripped her waist. She clutched the back of the lounger for stability. Slowly gyrating his hips, he gave Yani the backshots she needed as her man. With reckless abandon, she threw her ass back on him causing loud thunderous claps of her ass cheeks. He held back from plunging into her again and let Yani do all the fucking while he watched with half closed eyelids. Her grip on his dick made his balls ache to release. She twisted her hips and pushed into him at a new angle that tugged on his length with a new sensation.

"Dassit, fall back on that dick. Good girl…show me how you own this dick…show me…dassit. That's all yours, Yani... right there…right there…yank on this dick with that tight pussy baby."

She looked back at him while she bounced on his dick. It was that daring look in her eyes that made her lethal during sex. The look clarified that no one else could fuck him like she did. She was the big dick assassin and she snapped that fat ass against his groin to remind him that she was not to be toyed with. Flexing her back muscles, she started really cooking on his dick, twisting her waist from side to side the way she did when she danced seductively on a dance floor. Her ass moved like water with such fluidity that he squeezed his eyes shut again to keep himself from nutting before he was ready. He grit his teeth and huffed agitated air, suppressing the yell that built up in his throat and threatened to bellow out like a raging elephant.

Yani pushed the lounge chair's back support until it was flat. She lowered her face and kept her eyes locked on his as she arched her back into a more visually pleasing display that tooted her ass higher for his pleasure.

She knew what she was doing.

Setting him up for the kill-strike on his dick. Her pussy was already doing stunts on his shaft with all the concentrated squeezing. Using his large hands, he pulled her cheeks apart to admire the visual of tight pink pussy throbbing all around his pulsing erection. Locked on her target, her eyes narrowed watching him. He had something for her ass though that would mess up her goal to end him.

N'Jadaka lifted onto his feet and fucked her froggy style. That position gave his fat sack the ammunition angle to continually smack into her swollen clit harder. His switch up worked, and Yani's face transformed from a look of deadly accuracy into one of submissive bliss.

"Oh…oh…oh…oh…" she panted softly and repeatedly.

His balls and the thickness of his dick stretching her caused the right amount of friction to render her lost in the sauce. She had that faraway look in her glassy stare.

"MmmHmmm…thought you had me gone. Now I gotta teach you how to behave," he barked at her.

Yani whimpered and chewed on her bottom lip. Her shiny eyes looked more watery and ready to spill tears. He rubbed on her booty, smacking it on both sides, luxuriating in the recoil as it bounced in his hands.

"Not here," he said glancing up at the treehouse.

Reluctantly, he pulled out from her tightness and lifted her gently in his arms. She rested her head against his neck and circled her arms around his wide shoulders.

"I will cum inside you way up there…where my ugogo lived high above the ground…among these magnificent trees. I want the old ones who passed on to hear us and know that we're building a new nation," he whispered in her ear.

He strode across the peaceful landscape carrying Yani past the dying fire and the gurgling of the mineral spring. S'Bu and Unathi returned from prowling their territory and watched the king with his queen.

"You two stay here and watch this place. Stay," he commanded.

Unathi gave a subdued growl as if responding to N'Jadaka. Both panthers slinked gracefully near the fire pit and hunkered down like two giant loaves of black bread.

N'Jadaka walked up the treehouse stairway and carried Yani into the largest bedroom pod that was decorated like a honeymoon suite for the royal couple. Tropical flowers were placed around the bedroom in natural grass woven baskets. Heavily scented green candles burned inside copper wall sconces with protective glass coverings. Two royal purple robes transported from their palace home hung up on wall hooks. With the whitewashing of the walls and the flickering candles, the bedroom glowed with a subdued golden light.

Their bedding was a soft ancient pallet covered in a hand woven plum-colored quilt that had been lovingly repaired and refabricated over centuries, but still held the stitches of his greatest grandfather's mother.

Above them was a skylight where the ancient ones had trimmed away the canopy to let in starlight and sunshine. He made out the Wakandan zodiac sign of the baobab tree among the stars twinkling their light into the room. Placing Yani on her feet, he pulled back the quilt and soft sheets.

"Give me your hand," he said.

Yani placed her left hand in his and helped lower her onto the unbelievably soft and supportive pallet. It must've been made from some special material that deceived the eye into thinking it was too thin to handle two grown bodies that were about to get busy. He pushed two large pillows against the wall creating back support.

N'Jadaka held Yani in his arms and kissed her. Their tongues played a gentle game of hide and seek in their mouths. He fondled her breasts and whispered her name over and over, praising her touches all over his body. He nibbled her earlobe, licked the shell of her ear, and groaned while listening to her needy moans. The wide open wings of her labia beckoned him to plunge back inside her pussy. The stickiness between her thighs became molten lava on his hand. She crawled on top of him and guided his twitching erection inside her sugary walls.

"Oh…Killmonger," she sighed.

"Fuck!"

Yani leaned forward and her breasts smothered his face. She rode him hard and fast. He sucked on her nipples and tried stuffing as much of her breasts into his mouth as possible. She started bucking and he cried out with enough passion to make his throat raw. He gripped her big titties and held on to them while she fucked the shit out of him.

"Dammit! Fuck me Yani…keep going like that…oh shiitttttt!"

She leaned back and her breasts bounced like an earthquake rumbled their treehouse. His nutsack reacted to the vision, the hot semen held there on the brink of shooting out from his dick if he let her ride like she was on a mechanical bull much longer.

His lips bunched up and he started begging for mercy.

"Don't make me cum yet baby…please…I'm not ready for you to pull this nut out yet…Yani…Yani…please…"

She laughed and pushed her tits together, extending his torture. Her pussy made splashing noise all over his dick. A creamy stickiness covered his erection and more coated it as her arousal danced into a tipping point. The way his dick stretched her pussy lips as she went up and down paralyzed him into inaction and he took the pounding of her ass on his thighs like a champ. A lesser man would've tapped out a long time ago. He was on the verge and she knew it, and that knowledge turned her into a dick riding tyrant.

"Oh my God…Oh my God….shit, shit, shit, Yani you fucking bitch! Ahhhhh!"

There was no shame in a man screaming because his wife rocked his world. No shame in his voice going up two octaves either. He lifted his body and hugged her tight, slowing down her plans to kill him with pussy. The king planted kisses all over her throat and face before taking her lips. Distracted, Yani went limp in his arms and he flipped her over onto her back.

He plunged in deep, shocking her system. She clawed his back with those rose-gold nails and the pain of breaking skin seeped into his body as pleasure. He pressed his weight down into her and gave her what she wanted. The righteous pounding from a king.

Grunting and cursing, he looked at Yani directly, their warm moaning breath co-mingling

"Fuck me Killmonger! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!"

No noise came out of his mouth. Eventually it stopped coming out of her mouth too. The eroticism of silence shrouded them. Only their overstimulated bodies keened and shrieked the ecstasy drowning their pores.

He hit that sweet spot inside her walls and Yani's mouth opened wider and the tears finally fell. A seismic orgasm rocked her into a silent writhing. Her pussy tightened and quickly rippled a barrage of contractions up and down his dick.

He let go.

His hefty dick swelled within her walls and the first tsunami of cum spilled into her. He hunched his back so tight that he couldn't even focus his eyesight anymore. He became caught in a twilight world of physical euphoria and never needing to live again because he shot his entire life through his dick.

The second wave of his release helped him find his voice and he hollered into the wall the praise songs of his father's gods. Yani stroked the nape of his neck and he groaned out to Ogum to save him before he passed out.

Ogum answered and a soothing sensation trickled along his spine and helped him gather the strength to separate himself from his wife. The sensation rooted itself at the top of his head and he shifted to his knees and gripped his dick that remained erect. Yani squirmed seductively underneath him and kept her gaze on the wide head of his shaft.

"Suck my dick," he demanded.

Yani acquiesced with a smirk on her face. She knew what was coming.

She gave his dick little kisses first, allowing it to recover from his first orgasm of the night. When he glared down at her, she placed the head into her mouth and suckled the ridge and slipped the tip of her tongue into his slit. He groaned and stood up, widening his stance and jerking on his pipe.

Yani worked his dick with a good little slut mouth. She made it sloppy and spit on the tip several times letting saliva fall on her breasts.

"Open that mouth wider…dassit…you know how to handle all that…I know you well girl…made you my wife so I can have you whenever I want…"

She moaned all over his dick, and the vibration curled his toes. His balls throbbed and he didn't warn her verbally at all that he was cumming again. He aimed for the front of her face and she knew from experience what was up. She tilted her head back and he painted steamy white streaks all over the left side of her cheek and neck.

Yani gazed at his cement-hard dick and knew the night was going to be vigorous and long. Glory to Bast and that heart-shaped herb! He would give her pussy a little respite though. Lowering his big body back down on the pallet, he pulled her down in front of him and asked her to lie on her back, keeping her knees up and her thighs open. He wanted to watch his cum drizzle out of her pussy. She obliged as he expected. Situating the pillows in a comfortable position behind his back, N'Jadaka stroked his dick and watched his wife hold open her pussy lips.

"Push it out if you can," he asked.

She didn't have to do too much because a heavy flow came out and slowly became clear as the air hit it.

"Can I try to get you pregnant?" he asked.

Yani grinned knowing that thought got him off the most and she played into it by gently rubbing on her clit and touching all of her delicate piercings one by one for his entertainment.

"You want to cum deep inside of me and put a baby in here?" she cooed.

He heard her angelic voice but only saw the drenched wet pink she caressed.

"I wanna fuck you and put a new baby in your pussy so bad, Yani!"

"Will you fuck me good, Killmonger?"

"Fuck yes…"

She had him gritting his teeth again as she rubbed that pretty vulva slowly.

"I might be pregnant now. You put a lot in me," she teased.

He groaned and his dick jumped hot and ready in his hand.

"Maybe we should put the special lubricant inside me so I can get ready for that big dick again…huh?" she moaned softly.

He groaned louder knowing good and well that special lubricant helped her deal with long continual fucking from him. She was ready to play Lets Make A Baby. But only to amuse him.

He came hard in his hand. With her legs open, he rejoiced in the satisfaction of having an orgasm by watching her masturbate. The quivering in her pussy pushed more of his cum out into a pool of wetness on the sheets. He milked his dick thinking about how many times he was going to fuck her before the sun rose again.

Chapter 8 HERE.

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[cybsoo2]

the flowers of evil

╰┈➤ synopsis — The garden is growing, a red romance is in full bloom. The seven boys each pick a bloody blossom to show you their love. Lovesick lilacs, weeping roses, and black dahlias. Which one will you choose?

╰┈➤ pairing — yandere!bts x reader

╰┈➤ word count — 3.7k

╰┈➤ content warning — yandere behavior, stalker behavior, manipulative behavior, murder, graphic depictions of violence, breaking & entering, implied/referenced abuse, religious undertones (namjoons section)

—Kim Seokjin

flower type — Wilted Roses

Your room is full of wilted roses

The petals falling to the floor 

What was once a pale pink is now a weeping red 

The flowers die and decay, turning darker as each hour passes

He hates the smell, so bittersweet

Floral from another man mixed with your salty tears

Jin hates him for what he did

How could he hurt his darling divine? 

If you were his then you wouldn’t have any time for tears

He’d kiss you so sweet that your cries would be quiet

He’d leave lipstick stains all over your shirt

The people on the subway would stare, but then they’d know that you’re all his

Of course he’d let you do the same

To claim his skin with crimson kisses

 Leaving purple bruises that bite at him

The marks would leave a sting, a reminder of your love

And he’d press down on them with his fingers, feeling how deep your love can go

He’d never hide your love, not like your (soon to be ex) boyfriend did

Cheating on you from behind closed doors

Then sending rancid roses as an apology

They aren’t even the ones you like

No, Seokjin would take pride in your passion and show it off to the world

He's so certain he’d be the better boyfriend

He has all these thoughts of dates at dusk, your shy smile as he makes you laugh, shadows of your touch on his skin…

Jin has the perfect plan

He’ll step into your boyfriend’s shoes, throwing the man aside and slowly taking over his life

Seokjin will speak sweet lies, watching as they spread like wildfire

Lies that’ll turn you two lovers against each other

Driving a wedge between the both of you

All the while Jin watches from afar

Playing patient and slowly planting his seeds of deception

Days go on of you drifting apart

Arms once wrapped around one another slowly unwinding

Heartstrings finally snapping and the bond you two once had now broken

After the hard parts done, all Seokjin has to do is sweep in and steal you away

Letting you cry on his shoulder as he charms his way into your heart

The blueprint is drawn out in his mind and he’s ready to take action

But first, he’ll start by setting fire to these flowers

—Min Yoongi

flower type — Black Dahlia

The days are getting darker

Black dahlias in bloom

Their floral scent fills his room

The sweet smell reminds him of you

Yoongi paces back and forth, flattening down a trail in his cream coloured carpet

His mind is such a mess

Tossing around ideas of what to do, it feels like a tennis match going on in his head

All the words blur together until its hazy lines and he feels as if he’s hyperventilating

His head and his heart are splitting himself apart

Torn between two choices: Ask you out for Valentine’s day? Or stay away and suffer in silence

He knows the logical option– and he wouldn’t even be considering this if it wasn’t for how sad you looked…

Sitting on the curb, a chill brushing over your bare skin

September has set in and along with it is the autumn air 

It paints your cheeks pink, dusting them a rosy red colour

Your confession almost got lost in the wind, just a hushed whisper only he could hear

“I wish just this once… I could be someone’s first choice to love.”

Your words are all that ring through his ears and he’s right brought back to his dilemma

His nerves set him alight, his whole body on fire

He clenches and unclenches his fists, squeezing the stem of the flowers in his hands

The thorns tear through his skin, leaving scarlet to trickle down his arms

The pain doesn’t even register in his mind, all too focused on the heavy weight in his heart

Breathing is hard, each inhale stings his throat as short pants echo out into the room

It doesn’t help that he’s also mumbling his thoughts to himself, trying to clear up the mess in his head but leaving no room to breathe instead

Realistically, Yoongi knows how this should end

He knows what’s right and he knows that if he indulges himself just this once… There no telling how far he’ll go

Caught up in a selfish choice and spiralling further into obsession

All Yoongi has is his mind

His bodies betrayed him, he gets so sick when you’re not near

He can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t do anything without feeling like he’s in a constant state of free-fall without you

His heart is a traitor too

It longs for you, begs to bring you in close and keep you as his own

But he bites back the agony and locks it away in his ribcage

 Yoongi’s mind is the only sliver of sanity he has left

So he’ll keep you at arms length

Far enough away that he can’t hurt you, but close enough for comfort

Yoongi’s just about made up his mind when fate is taking the chance out of his hands 

You walk into the room, tears on your cheeks and words ready to leave your lips

But whatever you were about to say is suddenly silenced as your eyes land upon the flowers in his hands

A bit mangled and blood dripping down the sides, but the black dahlias are beautiful nonetheless

Your eyes stay glued to them, a thousand thoughts running through your head

One idea must’ve clicked because now your iris shines with something akin to adoration

You look at Yoongi and ask, “Are those for me?”

And when you look at him like that, all he can do is say yes

Taking the flowers from his hold, you’ve officially accepted your place in his life

Yet you couldn’t be more unaware of just exactly what you got yourself into

—Jung Hoseok

flower type — White Lily

White lilies, the fragile flower

So delicate, so desirable, they look just like you

Petals drifting downwards

They follow the wind, flowing freely just like your white wedding dress

It should be a day to enjoy

The sun rising over east

Birds twitter their spring song

The leaves turning over as they change colours along with the season

April is warm and everyone wears it with a smile

That winter chill has begun to defrost

Melting away and bringing forth short dresses and sun-kissed skin

To be honest, everyone is in their element (everyone except Hoseok of course)

Glowing skin and bright smiles

Hundreds of eyes look at you and when Hoseok turns to follow their gaze…

He would be lying if he didn’t say you were the happiest of them all

You look so gorgeous in your gown

You as Mother Nature and your dress the earth’s decoration

Your train flows like the river, ivory patterns of lily pads woven into the lace

Silver jewelry adorns your wrists, sparkling in the sunlight

It wraps around your arms like Hoseok wishes he could do

White sleeves are also sewn into your dress, intricate designs traced into the fabric

Thread twists into your arms like cravings on tree branches

Barely visible outlines of flowers stems tie into the silk

Nobody else would ever notice, but Hoseok does

It reminds him all too well of the words he wrote on his own tree when the lilies were in bloom

The floret filled the field, their petals brushing against his skin as he etched your names into the ebony wood

He was so unbelievably naive back then, but at least he was at his happiest

Blissfully unaware of the other man who stole your attention and captured your heart (as if it was ever his to begin with)

Hoseok lived in a glass castle in the sky

Watching the seasons change thinking you were still his 

All the while you shared drunken kisses in the dark with someone whose name he doesn’t even know

And as the years went by you found your happiness in someone else’s heart

The dam has broken and Hoseok’s delusion is beginning to disappear 

There’s cracks in the glass and it threatens to shatter, but he’ll hold it together just a little while longer

You gaze happily over at another man

Affection in your eyes and a smile that Hoseok hasn’t seen on you in years

Suddenly everything has become all too real, and Hoseok understands that you were never met to be

He could never treat like you deserved, never measure up to a real man, never make you truly happy (but he could’ve loved you like no other)

As you say your vows and the sun begins to set, your ceremony has reached its end

All while Hoseok keeps a porcelain like smile on his face

The wedding takes on it’s final dance and Hobi marches into his funeral

He walks away without a goodbye (His last ‘I love you’ is in the letter in your pocket, he couldn’t find the strength to spit the words out)

Hoseok passes by the lilies in the field, tramped under his feet

He heads back home where silver blades and shiny painkillers are waiting for him

And he knows that the happiest you’ll ever be, is the day he dies

—Kim Namjoon

flower type — Carmine Carnation

Snowdrops and scarlet petals fall upon the open casket

There lies your lover, surrounded with carnations and encased in an empty box

Really, his tragic fate was his own fault

He got too tied up in you

Acting as if he owned you, as if your skin was his to touch and his to harm

He forgot his place on the podium is all, and Namjoon knocked him back down to where he belongs

Buried down in the dirt and six-feet below you

He’s nothing compared to a goddess 

So far beneath you that he’ll soon become the bones you walk on

His skeleton nothing but the stairs that uplift you

Each rib a rung in the ladder you’ll climb 

Digging the back of your heels into each vertebrate, the spines of the fallen could stretch for miles

It’s not like he was the first anyways

Namjoon’s gotten his game down to a tee

Killing is ever so easy

It takes no more effort then to offer a simple– push

The coroner said it was an accident, tripped over his own two feet

Tumbled down the stairs, cracking his head open on each concrete step

Spilling his scarlet like sin down the whole spiral staircase

Namjoon’s been the silent executioner for years

Taking hold of the sinners like cattle only to send them to the slaughter

The light in their eyes wouldn’t hold a candle in comparison to the sun of your soul

And while hundreds of corpses lay behind your back (you none the wiser), something about this time is different

Namjoon hasn’t seen you this sad in years

The tears don’t stop, not even when he offers his hand to wipe them away

Your sadness has been steady ever since you found out

An ocean in your eyes, running down like a river to your lips (Namjoon has hallucinations of how it’d feel to kiss them. Soft while you stutter through a breath. Tasting like salt as your tears run down his tongue. But, he’s quick to shake these impurities away.)

You always cry so easily to tells himself

Your tears are not his fault, but rather apart of your very nature

Breaking down from the simplest of things, you truly care for every creature in this world

It always surprises Namjoon how you could have empathy for even the foulest of criminals

But isn’t that why he’s so drawn to you?

So caring and kind, you’re the light in his darkest of times

An angel who can do no wrong

It’d be impossible for you to ever harm a human soul, even if it has to be done

But that’s why you have Namjoon to do the dirty work for you

He’ll avenge his archangel from the rot that uproots the earth

Protecting your innocent eyes as he slaughters those sinners like pigs

Eternal warrior, he worships the ground you walk on

Commander of his mind and captor of his heart, he gives his all to you

—Park Jimin

flower type — A Blooming Bruise

February is the season of blooming bruises and careless cuts

They fall like flower petals down your arm

Each blossoming bruise is shaded with all the pretty pinks and purples you like, but Jimin thinks they’re the ugliest things he’s ever seen

Each purple petal is shaped like fingerprints

Indents on your skin, a constant reminder of what he did

 Jimin can’t believe he didn’t notice it sooner

Too blinded by hate to see that his soulmate was suffering

The guilt is a hungry monster caged in his chest

It gnashes its teeth and claws at his heart

He’s so unbelievably sorry that he couldn’t see the truth sooner

But before he can fall into a spiral of self-hatred, Jimin’s rage is redirected to the asshole who broke your beauty

The man– no– boy who you call your lover

The one who smells like cigarettes, their scent drowning out your floral perfume

The boy who kisses you rough, leaving marks all up your neck

The bastard who tells you he loves you, only to turn a fist when you do something he doesn’t like

Jimin hates him so much it almost outweighs his love for you

Almost

He can’t stand to see you cry

It makes him sick to his stomach and he can’t stop his own tears from trailing down his face

Your happiness is his first priority

So, he’ll stay by your side until you’ve got no tears left to cry

Even after all your sadness has run dry, he refuses to let you go

Your head tucked into his shoulder, breathe tickling his throat and sending chills down his spine

Chapped lips that crack down the center, how he wishes he could kiss you without consequences

Jimin takes you into his arms, a hand placed under your thighs and one wrapped around your waist

Your curious as to where he’s taking you, moved from sitting on the firm floorboards and now wandering away to somewhere unknown

You pry your eyes away from the crook of his neck and try to peek over his shoulder

But his palm pushes your head back down and he tells you to get some rest

Jimin wraps you both in a blanket and brings you down to lay on his bed

Sinking down into a sea of blue sheets, sleep comes quick

You settle in with Jimin behind your back

A shield against any monsters that might sneak up on you at night

He buries his face in your hair, breathing in the floral scent that was once so smothered by smoke

Jimin places kisses upon your neck, sending you off to sleep the safest you’ve ever felt

And as you’re drifting off in a dream, Jimin thinks up all the ways to get rid of your lousy lover

—Kim Taehyung

flower type — Red Roses

Romantics can be so predictable 

Flipping through the acts of love like it’s a playbook

Placing red roses on your doorstep every day of the week

Putting chocolates in your mailbox that’ll end up melting from the May heat

Romantics are the writers, the poets, the purely in love

They write lyrics with every word they speak

Singing sonnets as if it’s as easy as the breathe they take

Little drawings of cupid scrawled into table-tops and love letters written on napkins

These are the trademarks of any hopeless romantic

And at first glance, all these acts would make your heart stop and cheeks flush

But when does it begin to border on the obsessive?

Taehyung isn’t driven by desire, he doesn’t have his head in the clouds or act like lovers do

But rather, it’s the armoured emotion that has him under its control

Stuck on the idea of love and a slave to obsession, he won’t stop at anything until he has it just right

Everything has to be perfect when it involves you

Always needing more and it’s never enough

At first it started off small

Flowers petals found their way to your front door– then past the entrance and scattered throughout your home

Chocolate covered strawberries sit wound up in a bow– placed inside your fridge so they won’t start to melt

He’ll put a teddy bear upon your bed– tucked in tight and smelling sweetly like his cologne

Taehyung hopes that it’ll chase away the bad dreams you’ve been having lately

He sees your pale skin and the purpling eyebags that drag you down

He can only dream that the bear, dressed handsomely in a suit so like his own, will ward off the monsters that scare you in your sleep (unaware that he’s the very monster hiding in the dark)

Taehyung also writes words to you, twisted in obsession

They fall from his tongue faster than his hand can catch them

Messy handwriting and clumsy sentences

But he tries to make it pretty just for you, dotting the ‘I’s with hearts and looping the ‘O’s to look like flowers

Poems of pure passion fall down from your mailbox, overflowing because every though he has of you is a confession of his heart

‘Days flow by like the flowers. A bud blooms in the early sky and I awake to your smile.’

Pieces of a passage are stuffed into the trash

You can’t stand to look at the words without tearing up in terror

 ‘Dawn breaks and the petals begin to fall. I gather them in my arms, taking in their memory and etching their beauty into my mind. I take them away like the kisses I steal without you knowing.’

Taehyung notices all his notes have found their way to the bottom of the bin

Maybe he wasn’t obvious enough? He’ll try again

Taehyung texts you the next line of his poem

‘Flowers so fragile I fear they’ll fall apart. Twilight takes over the sun and the flowers will wilt. Delicate and like a dance, I collect the crimson leaves. Holding them in my hands like I do you at night.’

You’ve changed your number

His blue words are sent into the abyss

So he turns to the phone placed upon your wall

Drilled into the drywall and built into the brick, you’ll have to tear the thing out if you want to get rid of his voice

Taehyung calls out into the empty apartment, his honey-tone ringing out into oblivion 

‘Darkness grows like roots in the earth. A disease taints your touch and the weak rose is dying. Burn like iron but broken like a ribcage. Hollow glass that lets my heart see through. Such brittle beauty needs nothing more than my protection. I’ll take you into my arms before you drift afar.’

His words don’t reach your ears

You haven’t let him into your heart just yet

But next time he’s for certain, because when he delivers the next lyric in his love song, he’ll make sure to do it in person

—Jeon Jungkook

flower type — Hemlock

Jungkook’s wrath will be the death of you

His anger raging on in his heart

It builds day by day, burning ash catches fire and soon his whole life is a flaming inferno

He tried so hard to hide it too

Only after you’ve fallen fast asleep would he sneak out into the shadows

Dressed in darkness and eyes of evil, the reaper has come to wreak havoc on the world

He sees his target and stalks them like prey

His footsteps match the unknown mans

Jungkook’s so close he can hear all the dirty thoughts slipping out of his head

Hurtful words and harmful thoughts you came crying to him about only a few days prior

And now his hands twitch to kill, the only weapon he brought with him

He’ll wrap his slender fingers around the man’s throat

Choking back his cries and staring at him with empty eyes

The man would lose his blue breath

Hands scratching at Jungkook’s arms, leaving long lacerations that’ll stick to his skin

Then, Jungkook would start to squeeze harder

Thumbs digging into his throat as he tries to scream

His trachea begins to crack, bone breaking under pressure

But before he loses consciousness, a slide of his hands has Jungkook snapping his neck

And that’s just what he does

The same as he’s done to the thousands of others who’ve hurt his angel

Tonight will be like any other, slipping out of your arms in the dead of darkness

Tucking you in tight as he kisses your forehead

He lingers for a second, staring at you in your peaceful sleep

But then the angers rises once again and next thing you know he’s grabbing his weapon of choice and walking out the door

This nights pick of poison is ironic

A fatal flower that Jungkook knows the florist will enjoy

Killed by the very thing she loved most

Poison hemlock that he sprinkled into her drink

So unassuming as the tainted water slides down her throat

Jungkooks watches in anticipation, waiting for the seeds to sprout

For the roots to dig through her skin and spread their poison to her stomach

He watches and waits, checking the clock over and over

Time ticks on and on as nothing seems to happen

And while Jungkook waits for the woman to meet her end, in another room, you take of sip from the same glass

Both sitting on the bedside table, but mixed up in Jungkook’s mess of emotions

You drink down the drug, its venom running through your veins

Flower petals fall past your lips

They flood your mind and fill up your heart

And all of a sudden, you finding yourself falling fast asleep

Your eyes shut slowly, tiredness taking over your bones

It’s only a minute before your soul starts to slip

A fast and fatal death before Jungkook even has the time to realize

© cybsoo2 2025, all rights reserved ‎

[crystalrose]

DID I JUST WRITE A STORY BASED ON HOW ASTER AND CASSIE MET?! YES TF I DID‼️‼️

BTW If anyone is wondering i WILL include some cannon RC9GN characters such as Randy, Howard, Heidi, etc BUT i will also include the oc's of my FAV PPL in the RC9GN fandom such as @aster-saturn @cureely and @totallynotstari! Please check them out <3

~THE FIRST MEETING~

“New school new me!” at least that's what my parents say. Every time something happens we move out of state, luckly for me we have stayed here for what? Half a year? This might mean we can FINALLY stay in one place! The bad news is that i have to go to a new school… ugh i hate moving schools, you don't know the vibe, the layout, no friends for the next few weeks or even months, it's EXHAUSTING. And here i am! Norrisville High! A million thoughts ran trough my head “Do i look good?” “Will they make fun of my gyaru clothes?” “What if they bully like the people at my last three schools” i try to swallow the feeling of nervousness but as i try i feel it wrapping around my neck like a poison ivy full of thorns. I take a deep breath and took the first step inside, the moment i walked in the smell of dampness, a bit of mold and overall age of the building hit my nose. I look around the previously blue lockers now rusty and with the paint peeling off, the carpet was stripping off the floor in some of the corners, and hell in some of the rooms if you looked hard enough, underneath the 5th or even 6th layer of the wallpaper there were small flowers of mold blooming. I tried to hide the disgust on my face “Damn if the school is so disgusting then i DON'T want To see the student-” my train of thought was cut off when a boy seemingly the same age as me fell face first into my bag like he tripped. I look at the boy he has blue bangs, black hair, and wears a pair of glasses and a red jacket with a star or the side sleeve, i bent down to help him up, reaching out to him “Hey are you alright?” I asked while looking at the boy as he hesitantly took my hand and pulled himself off the damp ground “Yeah… must have not looked while i was going… hey are you new? I haven't seen you around before.” I was surprised, i thought he was going to say “Yes i'm fine” and then leave! “Yeah, i'm new to this… place. Name's Cassidy but most people call me Cassie” The boy's eyes lit up “Cassie? Nice name! I'm Aster. If you want i can show you around? This place can be like damn labyrinth sometimes” i stayed silent for a second…maybe this will be my first friend at this new school…

“Alright, show me around!”

~End of chapter 1~

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

Corpse candygram #3 for @known-concepts~

Prompt: Voldemort was born from the result of a love affair, and he was vanquished by the supposed power of true love. Can you fault a vile amalgamation of darkness for wanting to get in with the boy who had been on the receiving end of that love? Owls laden with dark spells and lovely candies, and maybe even one apologizing for being the one to kill his own in-laws. Crack!

Harry’s head thumps down onto the table, narrowly missing his plate. If he ignores it, maybe it’ll go away.

The feeling of a hooked beak tugging on his hair dispels that hope.

Looking up at the unimpressed, dark-plumed owl wearily, Harry holds out his hand to relieve it of its burden, offering it a bit of sausage. This mess isn’t the owl’s fault, and Harry’s not one to shoot the messenger (nor deny it sausage).

“Another one?” Ron asks, watching the giant owl knock over a jug of pumpkin juice as it flaps its wings in irritation before flying off. Hermione, seated on the other side of Ron, gives a nettled huff, spelling away the pumpkin juice before returning her unimpressed gaze to the package now sitting in front of Harry.

“Harry, you shouldn’t open it,” she says. “Give it to one of the professors–”

Harry’s snort cuts short her burgeoning lecture. Dumbledore’s gleefully twinkling eyes as Harry showed him the first parcel leaves little doubt in his mind that no help will come from that corner.

The attached Howler begins smoking, so he tears it open, sibilant Parseltongue filling the Great Hall yet again. He can already feel the gazes of the other students, their worried murmurs, Dumbledore’s amusement. Being Harry Potter is suffering, thanks largely to the sender of this unwanted gift.

“Dearest Harry, your continued lack of response to Lord Voldemort’s advances is verging on rude…”

(Only verging on? He supposes he’ll have to try harder.)

Harry unties the ribbon holding the package shut to find an array of gifts, doing his best to ignore Voldemort’s attempts at sweet nothings. There's a box of chocolates in the shape of small, anatomically correct hearts filled with what Harry hopes is fruit jelly but fears might be coagulated blood.

“...I admit, it is regrettable to have been the cause of my future in-laws’ demise, but actions taken in wartime…”

(Harry crushes the bloom of one of the black roses included in the gift in his fist, a thorn high up on the stem digging into the meat of his palm. ‘Regrettable,’ is it? ‘Future in-laws?’ Harry might lose the breakfast he just ate if this keeps up.)

There’s a bit of snake-shaped jewellery that he gives a wide berth. He’d been less cautious of the first piece only to find its silver fangs contained a mild poison that also acted as an aphrodisiac. It had been an uncomfortable few hours for everyone.

“...and I am sure you, who has known so much of the power of true love, will grow to care for me in time–”

The Howler and the package go up in magical flames as Harry’s temper reaches its limit. The stinking smoke billowing outwards turns a noxious greenish brown colour, and the Hall around him rapidly empties. Harry sighs in frustration only to choke and cough as he catches a lungful of the smoke.

Him, grow to care for Voldemort? Not bloody likely.

[enretrogue]

𝗝𝗨𝗟𝗬 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰 𝗙𝗜𝗖 𝗥𝗘𝗖𝗦 𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗧 𝟰

༝༚༝༚ = Black/POC Works ⎢ 24’ Fic Rec M.List

a/n: this is really just a LH44 fic rec list bc my other lists were too long for tumblr to post 😭

Lewis Hamilton

Full Throttle⎢ Full Throttle Extended — @mauvecherie-writes ༝༚༝༚

The Art of Eating Pussy — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Give Me Besos — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Being Obsessed w/ Lewis’ Back — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Having Sex w/ Lewis for the First Time After Giving Birth — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Bad For You⎢ What Happened in Hawaii — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Daddy’s Got You — ^ ༝༚༝༚

A Touch of Adrenaline⎢ Stand By Me⎢Birthday Cake w/ a Side of Brattiness  — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Try Me — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Where You Belong — ^ ༝༚༝༚

America’s Sweetheart — @saintslewis ༝༚༝༚

Facetime — ^ ༝༚༝༚

ONE ZERO FOUR — ^ ༝༚༝༚

All For Us⎢ Part 2 — @emjayewrites ༝༚༝༚

Silverstone Baby — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Fuck a Title⎢ Part 1 — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Quality Time — ^ ༝༚༝༚

She’s Here and She’s  Ours⎢She’s Here and She’s Not Only Ours⎢She’s Here and She’s Just Like You⎢She’s Not Here, But She’ll Be⎢She’s Here and She Won’t Be the Only One⎢She’s Here and He Won’t Let Her Give Up — @pickingupmymercedes

“Just sit down, please!” — ^

Of Thorns and Blooms — ^

All These Little Things — ^

Boy From Stevenage — ^

A Thousand Times Over — ^

You’re The Strongest Person I Know — ^

Winner — @imaginaryf1shots

Soulmate — ^

Shattered — ^

P1 BABY!! — @23victoria

Could You Be Loved  — ^

Eros — ^

Five and One — @unitedhamilton

Roundup — ^

Flowers⎢Luck — ^

Just Like His Father — @ccsainzleclerc5516

Mini You — ^

Lovers and Friends⎢Bite⎢Skin Tight⎢Do You Want To⎢Queen Mother⎢ Father’s Day — @saturnville ༝༚༝༚

Baby Blue Hue — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Not in the Mood — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Why — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Relieving Pregnant!Reader’s Discomfort  — @norrisleclercf1

Lew Obsessed w/ Pregnant!Reader — ^

One Day We’ll Be Old — @uglyducklingofthe2000s

The Only Important Voice — ^

The Best Surprise — @lewisvinga

Beyond Meat — ^

That’s My Wife! — @itsmrshamilton ༝༚༝༚

Kiss it Better —  ^ ༝༚༝༚

Family Ties — @eccentricwritingbaby

Home — ^ ༝༚༝༚

One Night — @royallyprincesslilly ༝༚༝༚

Welcome Home — @peyiswriting ༝༚༝༚

Ferrari Family — @444lec33 ༝༚༝༚

Where’s the Trophy? He Just Comes Running Over to Me! — @youaresimplylovely

Satisfy the Fans — @maxillness

Gentleman — @viennakarma

Chapter 25 — @edwardslvrr

Those Sinful Eyes — @nor-4

Mum Said No — @starkwlkr

Until I Found You — @maxtermind

Album Release — @mclqren

‘Til I Touch, Touch, Touch You [Mob!Lewis] — @prettyfastcars

Daddy’s Here, Buddy — @russellsppttemplates

Heartbreak Syndrome [+ F1 Grid]⎢Ch. I-XIV  — @h4m1lt0ns

Jealous — @ham1lton ༝༚༝༚

Breaking the Contract — @verstappensrealwife ༝༚༝༚

Foolish — @sageispunk ༝༚༝༚

[thoughtsafterdark]

Stigmata

The world is quiet. So quiet. The silence deafens, bends backs, breaks minds. It holds its breath, waiting, biding its time. Still and poised yet tense, every pebble and grain of sand prepared to strike. Like a big cat stalking its prey, shoulders rolling so smoothly as it inches closer and closer. Like oil sliding off the skin of the water. Those moments when it crouches and becomes one with the Savanah. When the golden light of the setting sun sets the land aflame and blades of grass blend with raised heckles until they are one and the same.

It waits for you, for your conception and birth. Molecules aligning, cells dividing, flowers blooming. The water of your mother’s womb is surprisingly thin given the precious life it cushions. It is expelled from your lungs like a sacrament, like a fountain that once erupted from a desert rock millennia ago. Strong lungs as befit a firstborn son. Your first cries pierce the air and shatter the stillness into a million shimmering fragments. The diamonds spill across the inky blackness. A burst of colour from the Lord’s brush, arcing across the sky. Another promise, another new beginning. Yet Gods are foolish, lonely creatures. Their promises ring hollow and false to our suffering ears. The whips crack and our skin splits, oozes all the same. Where was God when my brothers withered and died, the cries ripped from their throats going unanswered?

And yet tell me why as I gaze upon you now, I am compelled to fall to my knees? As if every fibre of my being yearns to bow, to yield - as if your voice bursts from somewhere deep in my squirming gut and heart and not your lips?

Tell me why I itch to bury myself in the crook where your thigh meets groin and inhale the musk there as if your scent holds the Eye of the Needle, as if the grooves of your skin map Heaven’s Kingdom. Would you let me cry tears of rapture at your coming and wash your feet with them and my tongue?

I wonder if such a wonton display of devotion would anger you, frighten you. Would you toss me away in disgust, smash my face into the ground? Break my nose against rock and let me feel the warm flood of blood flow backwards down my throat, let me savour the salt and iron as I swallow devoutly. Tell me why I have never felt so alive as when your holy wrath rains down upon me like fire, like the destruction of Sodom.

I watch you now, standing proud against that same setting sun, gazing across the expanse of your new kingdom. Here as it dips low upon the dunes and the sand lashes at us. Its rays frame raven curls and fracture all around you, as if afraid to touch you and be seduced. A halo that revers yet fears you. It hardens your features as if you were hewn from granite Your jaw tightens against the onslaught, sharp enough to fell armies. Your eyes become the harsh ringing of blade against blade. Gone is the boy with the easy smile tugging at the corner of a mouth, crow’s feet wrinkling eyes. In his place is the cold pyre of divine righteousness. The commander of earth and sky, made to wield sound and air itself. I think of the icons of old, the waxy mournful faces of saints and note what a pale imitation they must be, if they had even a third of your weight.

You are a black hole - all-consuming, inescapable, inevitable - and we are all trapped in your orbit, edging ever closer to the Event Horizon that will surely destroy us. But tell me if our path is so doomed why my heart leaps at the prospect of pledging my death to you? What finer gift is there but that of my last breath, freely given?

In your face I see rivers of blood and the thrum of charging men. I hear the chants of our forefathers and the long line of prophets that came before, accumulating across the centuries into the tapestry that is your flesh.

Yet as you lie here beside me, the darkness kept at bay by the stubborn flame of a lone candle, your face serene with sleep and your sweat acrid and sharp in my nose - I see just a man plagued by a crown of thorns. I think of my hands, bathing in the blood of innocents in your name. Your name, a mantra, a hymn that ignites us all with awe and hunger. I wonder if knowing deep down you are just a man makes me more or less the fool.

Then your eyes open, lashes fluttering, and I see the light burning there and I know messiahs are not born but made in the hearth of a home, in the fierceness of a loyal heart and the beating lifeblood of a people starved of hope. I care not if you bleed red or ichor, I know only that I will follow you into hell itself, until we burn to ash and we become whispers, legends. Until we are nothing but dust floating across the dunes, the wind that stokes the flames of a thousand more rebellions.

[hookedsworks]

Edge(ING) Fitness - Chapter XXXIII

Vessel's POV.

ao3

masterpost

Vessel cologne: When The Rain Stops by Replica II aftershave: The Art of Shaving lavender balm special thanks to my special boy @eepymonstrr for picking the song

(sidebar I know I normally post two chapters but the second one just is not coming to me today. I hope you all forgive me for that, and know that the next chapter will be here soon.)

Vessel was more nervous than he’d ever been. He had not been this nervous the first time he had played for the opera house. His mouth was dry. A knock on the door made that worse. It was II. It was thirty five minutes before they needed to leave. He straightened his tie. If II was in a suit he knew he may as well lay down and die. He didn’t think he’d be able to stand him all cute in a button up, tie and suit coat. If I don’t rip the door open now I’m never going to open it. Vessel turned the knob and pulled the door all the way open. II was standing there. He was holding red roses. A lot of them. He smiled at Vessel. Vessel's heart dropped into his stomach. II was in a black suit jacket, a black button down and a red tie. 

“Y-you,” he swallowed his words before he could be any more embarrassed. “Hi,” he finally settled on. 

“I hope you're not allergic,” was all II said in response as he handed the roses to Vessel. They were perfect, just bloomed and that dreamy red you always see in the movies. Vessel counted then. Twenty four red roses. “I cut the thorns off for you,” 

“You cut the thorns off?” 

“Yeah. I don't believe in breeding thorns out of roses, it's not my thing. But I didn't want you to get hurt either,” he was overwhelmed by the gesture. II cut the thorns off so that he wouldn’t get hurt. II cared that much for him, and he wasn’t even his official boyfriend. They’d only been on a couple of dates, and only one was official. His eyes welled up immediately. He blinked against the onslaught of tears, but it only made one slip out of his eye. 

“I… I'm sorry,” he whispered as a tear rolled down his face. God this is embarrassing. He’s never going to want to be with me if I can’t like. Stop crying. He tried to swallow the tears back, but there was a fair number already lining his waterline. II stepped into the house, took the roses back from Vessel and set them on the decorative ledge next to the front door. He let II take the roses because he was far too willing to follow II’s every direction and gesture. II’s hands reached up and cradled both of his cheeks. They were delicately calloused and his thumb caught the tear. 

“Never apologize. Your emotions are one of the things I love about you,” love about me? Vessel's heartbeat kicked into a gallop. Love about me! II had those blue, blue eyes trained on the tear escaping Vessel's other eye. II's lips turned up in a soft smile. He leaned up, must have nearly been on his toes, and kissed Vessel. It was soft. Vessel could feel the slightest tack of II's aftershave, could smell the lavender that must have been in it. He couldn't help it, he had to look. He flicked his eyes open for just a second. He’d remember the image forever. II's eyes were closed, long lashes nearly touching the skin under his eyes. His eyes had lost that perpetual crease that indicated II was always mildly stressed, or maybe tired. He pulled back and grinned at II, feeling his tears dry in the wake of II’s sweet kiss. II flashed a returning grin and then picked the roses up again. 

“The roses need water,” I'm going to preserve these. 

“Do you have a vase?” Vessel walked toward his kitchen and II followed. 

“Yes, it's just up here,” Vessel pulled it down from the top of the fridge. He looked back across the kitchen and saw II leaning on the breakfast bar. He looked so… right, standing there. “You look good,” he smiled. II flushed a pretty pink color. 

“Y-you do too,” Vessel glanced down at his own clothes. He had agonized over his choices before II had come over but hadn’t thought about them since he’d set eyes on II. What he had landed on was a plain black suit with a white button down. It was a chop house. He hadn’t wanted to be in all black, though II looked devastating in his all black affair. Vessel crossed the kitchen and wrapped his arms around II. 

“You look stunning, actually,” 

“Th-thank you,” II was blinking up at him now. He couldn’t help himself. He kissed II right on the nose. II giggled. I could drown in that sound. 

“And thank you for the roses, they’re very beautiful,” he turned then, letting II go so that he could cut the stems and put them in water. “Do you want a glass of wine before we go?” he could use one himself. It would steady his nerves a bit. He could not believe that he was this nervous for a damn steak dinner. We’ve already done a coffee house date. The only difference is I’m asking if he wants to be my boyfriend, my partner. That’s the only difference. 

“Wine would be nice. What do you have?” 

“I have a pinot noir open,” he snagged the bottle off the countertop and handed it over so that he could continue with the roses. II took the wine. 

“Where are your wine glasses?” Vessel pointed toward the far cabinet. He watched II for a second. II was able to snag the first one. He was up on his tiptoes, suit coat riding up to reveal his cute little butt. He couldn’t get his fingers around the second one, it was just too far back. Vessel slid up behind him, reaching over him to grab the second glass. “Thank you,” II huffed as he lowered his heels back to the ground. Vessel liked feeling II’s body against his. II was just the perfect height for him to wrap right around. He kissed II’s warm cheek and took the other glass from him. II watched as he poured the wine for both of them. They sat together at Vessel’s breakfast bar, and he remembered they’d done exactly this after their coffee date as well. II just looked so good in his kitchen. He wished he could cook, so that he could keep II here tonight. It was amazing to have someone who it just felt so natural to be with. He could not wait to see II in the dim light of the chop house. He sipped the wine, only to stop himself from asking II to be his boyfriend right then and there.  Later, II led Vessel out of the house. Vessel did not see his bike anywhere, but he saw a jet black BMW M2 sitting behind his cute little Kia. It was sleek and almost angry looking. It was so II.  II hit the fob and the headlights nearly seared his eyes. II got the passenger door for him. The stupid car was luxury. It smelled like brand new leather and he fought to keep his hands to his sides. He was afraid he’d mess something up if he touched anything. II slid into the driver’s seat, and with a practiced ease, leaned his hand on Vessel’s seat so he could look out the back window and rolled out of Vessel’s driveway. The way II drove and handled traffic was so impressive, it made Vessel’s mouth run dry all over again. He was clearly enjoying himself. Re: Stacks played softly as II pulled up to the chop house. Vessel would remember his smile forever.

[smileinthedark]

Extremely curious about the Fae AU of course :x

I initially had this broad, sprawling plot idea that involved a lot more characters and a lot more world building, but I've accepted that neither of those are really my strong suit lol so I'm in this weird place of trying to figure out what I want to do with this AU instead, but I do have a couple of snippets!

---

He cuts an impressive silhouette across the night sky, towering over Gilbert on his beast of a horse. The animal is huge and looks half-wild, black as pitch and with eyes that glow a deep, smoldering amber. The man riding it leaves an equally strong impression, wrapped up in a lavish, deep purple cloak that seems to reflect the bright, unnatural violet of his eyes.

For a moment, he simply stares at Gilbert, pinning him to the spot with his unreadable eyes, but then his lips curve into something of a smile and he dismounts his horse, jumping to the ground so gracefully that Gilbert almost leaps back in alarm.

“Are you afraid, boy?”

Gilbert tries to answer but his tongue is dry and his words stick in his throat, rendering him speechless. It has been so long since Gilbert was able to see anything in sharp focus that he almost doesn't recognize what he is experiencing. Even though it is dark, he can make out the man's face clear as day, his pale skin and delicate features both beautiful and terrifying in their sharp clarity. 

"Why-" Gilbert starts, once he is finally able to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth.

"Why can you see me?" The man interrupts, like he can read Gilbert's thoughts. "You've been gifted with faerie sight," he continues, reaching out one long arm to firmly cup Gilbert's face. "Or did you not know that your crimson eyes granted you such a privilege?"

"Privilege?" Gilbert echoes, dumbfounded. What privilege have his eyes ever granted him, save maybe the privilege of solitude over his nineteen years of being avoided, shunned, called 'demon-boy' by the villagers?

“Privilege, indeed,” the man answers. “The privilege, for instance, of being able to gaze upon Nightshade here and live to tell the tale.”

Gilbert blinks, surprised. He wasn’t expecting the horse to have a name.

“Nightshade?”

---

The horse then veers a hard right, narrowly missing a large tree, and Gilbert knows they’ve crossed into fae territory because suddenly the surroundings come into perfect clarity, the same way the violet-eyed man and his horse had when Gilbert first laid eyes on them. The trees are no longer vague black shapes and he can make out the winding streams and the evening flowers blooming beneath their feet as they ride past.

“Like what you see?” the man asks, and Gilbert can hear the arrogance in his voice clear as crystal.

He doesn’t respond, and the man doesn’t seem to mind. Instead he rides on, the trees and grass below their feet becoming sparser as they go, until they are riding through a narrowing cave that seems to materialize out of nowhere. The cave opens into a vast underground city and Gilbert can hardly contain his awe.

The ground above them is so high it almost fades into oblivion and faeries duck in and out of smaller caves and buildings formed by gnarled tree roots coming together in a powerful demonstration of nature and elemental glamour. In the distance, one ornate building stands above the rest, huge and menacingly beautiful, the charcoal-black wood rising in sharp spires that nearly touch the far-off ground above them like giant threatening thorns.

“The Unseelie Court,” Gilbert whispers to himself, wide-eyed, as the violet-eyed man slows the horse to a stop and dismounts.

“Close your mouth,” he answers, lip quirked in amusement, and Gilbert immediately snaps his jaws shut, unaware that he’d been gaping.

“We’ll be going to see the Queen,” he continues, helping Gilbert down and letting his horse gallop off with a snort in the direction from which they came.

“Need to show off my new pet,” he adds, tugging on a leash that is suddenly attached to a collar around Gilbert’s neck. ”Isn’t that right, boy?”

Gilbert feels his heart drop into his stomach. He knew when he agreed to the man’s conditions that he was agreeing to any number of potentially dangerous, degrading fates. Still, hearing the word ‘pet’ from his lips makes his skin crawl and his throat close up. He has a few guesses about what it means to be an Unseelie’s pet and all of them fill him with terror.

A tug on his neck jolts his attention back to the man in front of him and he stumbles forward, doing his best to take in his surroundings while trying to keep pace with the man’s long strides.

Even through his terror, Gilbert cannot help but marvel at each new and fascinating sight: tiny pixies as ubiquitous as shadows flit about overhead, shimmering in the dim light of the underground kingdom; dryads that seem to melt into the surrounding trees, their long limbs easily mistaken for branches until they begin to move; wings and tails and ears resembling those of every creature Gilbert could possibly imagine and plenty he could not. Most transfixing of all, everything Gilbert lays eyes on comes into sharp and immediate focus, such that each necessary blink feels like a gamble with his newfound sight.

[ace-writer-lani]

Sneak Peak at my Son of Persephone Nico AU:

(This is the main fic and part 3 of my Blooming from Darkness series)

Excerpt of Chapter One: Aquamarine (Bianca's POV):

“Who said we are going anywhere? We don’t even know who you people are and you’re trying to recruit us to join your cult?” Bianca paused, remembering Percy’s own cryptic words. “Are you trying to recruit us for a cult too?”

“Yes. I mean no!” he stuttered, “I guess the army he’s trying to force you into can be considered a cult, but I’m just here to save you guys and bring you to a place made for people like us.”

Bianca took a step away from him, tugging Nico with her. “People like us? You just made it sound even more like a cult!”

Percy gave a frustrated groan and opened his mouth. But before he could say anything, whether it was to defend his not-cultish-camp or not, something solid and completely invisible rammed into them, knocking the three of them to the ground.

A new voice rang out, shouting “For Zeus!” and Bianca looked up to see a girl with short, spikey hair. She had an almost raw aura to her, radiating a sense of authority and power as she charged at Dr. Thorn with a large spear and shield. There were two other kids that fought alongside her: one was another girl with blonde curls that almost seemed…familiar, and the other was a boy with a wispy goatee that ran weirdly. Percy sighed at relief at the sight of them, so they were probably with him.

As if today could get any weirder. Bianca knew she and Nico should’ve gone with her plan to fake being sick so that they wouldn’t have had to go to the winter dance in the first place.

It was too late for that though and now she had to deal with three possible cultists and whatever Dr. Thorn was because he was starting to transform more and more into something definitely not human with every blow he took. He looked as if someone had a baby with both a lion and a scorpion at the same time, which was a combo she wished she had never gotten the chance to see.

“What is going on?” Bianca cried, shielding Nico from another black spike that whizzed through the air. “What is that?!”

The blonde drew a dagger from a holster strapped around her thigh. It was the same bronze color as Percy’s sword and flashed under the moonlight.

“He’s a manticore!” she said, and Nico gasped, “Watch out for the spikes because they contain poison.”

“Oh really, Annabeth?” Percy muttered, drawing his blade. “That would have been nice to know before I got stabbed in the shoulder.”

“Normally people tend to, you know, avoid sharp things whether or not it’s poison, Seaweed Brain.”

“Is that really a manticore?!” Nico asked, eyes wide. He tugged on her sleeve repeatedly. “Bia! Bia! It’s just like in Mythomagic! Manticores have three thousand attack power, plus five to saving throws, and-”

“Please, not now fratellino,” Bianca whispered calmly (because she could not lose control). Then she stepped forward, making sure Nico was within her sight and out of the line of fire before she clicked the button of her ring. It transformed into a crossbow in a fluid motion, and she started to shoot at the manticore.

“What the fuck?” yelped the spikey-haired girl when an arrow nearly hit her after the monster dodged it. If Bianca’s hands weren’t currently occupied, she would have immediately covered Nico’s ears at the profanity. “Who gave her a crossbow?” She gave Percy a glare. “Was it you, Jackson? Did you think it was a good idea to give a dangerous weapon to a child?”

“Again, you're at a military school. Plus, you guys are literally children too-”

At the same time Percy said, “I didn’t give it to her! She already had it! Why do you always assume I did something wrong?”

The girl ignored him, turning to the other boy who was blowing a set of reed pipes. It was a bright little tune that clashed with the atmosphere of the situation they were in, but when Bianca looked harder, the music seemed to be controlling plants…unless Bianca was starting to hallucinate.

(Maybe she was the one on drugs.)

-

The rest of the chapter will be posted on my ao3 either tonight or within the next few days so stay tuned ;)

Update: first chapter is posted here!

[hp-yuletide-bliss]

HP Yuletide Bliss 2024 - masterlist

Hey! First of all, happy New Year!

HP Yuletide Bliss 2024 came to an end with a count of five fics and two arts. Here's a masterlist for all the best cosy Christmas vibes:

1. Once bitten and twice shy

🎄 Do not teach Wizards Christmas Songs! by delfinestria

There is this song, which tells you a tragic love story that had taken place last Christmas.

Lily always thought it was a horrible storyline. Who would declare their undying love on christmas on all days? This was a family holiday after all!

She was lucky. Ten years later the song gained suddenly another meaning!

2. In the frosty air

🎄 In the Frosty Air by CrookshanksAgentofOWCA

Summary: Bellatrix and Voldemort get a quiet moment to themselves during the Malfoys' Christmas party.

🎄 Frosty Air at the Evans by delfinestria

Summary: As a Muggleborn witch you have to perform a miracle every day that purebloods will never understand. You get taken out of your life, just to be thorn back into it three months later. It's like changing glitter back to black and white.

7. Have a cup of cheer

🎄 A Cup of Bloom and Thrive by @sailtomarina

Summary: As Co-Matron Healer at Hogwarts, the last thing Pansy Parkinson needs is another year's debacle at the staff Christmas Party. She won't drink the punch; she's there to make an appearance. That is all. Her presence has nothing to do with another professor. Nothing, at all.

10. Dreaming of white Christmas

🎄 i've been dreaming of a white christmas by armadilloradio

Summary: Percy was in the middle of a story about a spat between Kingsley and Lucius Malfoy when Colin suddenly gasped. Percy snapped his head towards Colin and asked, “What? What’s wrong?”

Colin practically fell over himself to scramble across the bed and point. “It’s snowing! Finally!” he exclaimed.

16. We're happy tonight

🎄 Happy Tonight (ART) by The_Fourth_Queen

Description: Fred and George have a sweet time during the holiday season.

20. Holding me tight

🎄 Holding Tight (ART) by The_Fourth_Queen

Description: A tender moment between Arthur and his twin boys during the holidays.A tender moment between Arthur and his twin boys during the holidays.

Thanks for participating and see you the next year! 🎄

[uzumaki-rebellion]

"King Killmonger: The Golden Jaguar Chapter 8"

Masterlist in case you need to catch up HERE!

"Weeping willow tree Tell me what you know River were you cryin' Many rains ago? ((Koleba je wo)

Sacred baobab tree Lost your children to the sea Taken from the land Many rains ago

Koleba je wo (goodbye Motherland) Koleba je wo Wo, wo, wo

Sing me that old song From many rains ago…"

Letta Mbulu – "Many Rains Ago (Oluwa)"

Warmth spread across Yani's closed eyelids first before it spread like warm honey across her throat and uncovered arm. The weight of N'Jadaka's body clutching onto hers pressed down more heat into her, and his soft snoring creased a smile on her lips.

Their lovemaking wore them both out before dawn unfurled light and color back into the morning sky. Her body ached and still tingled. The king's touches from the night before were ghostly echoes on her skin.

Yani steeped herself in their perfect love.

How long had it been since they were allowed to sleep in together without their kimoyos lighting up and automatically dispatching their hectic work schedules for the day as their children bounded about their home ready to start their busy day too?

Birds chirped in the branches above the open skylight. She watched a fiery orange pair with natural feathers boas fluffed out under their chubby necks peer down at her with curiosity. The air smelled like the forest had been dusted with perfume. It was the wet season in Wakanda and all of East Africa. The seasons were different from what she was accustomed to in her old island life. Back home it would be the dry season with less rain. The odor of heavy moisture saturated the air, and she hoped another periodic rainfall didn't occur on their planned hike and picnic above the waterfall.

She shifted a little and N'Jadaka groaned in his sleep. A deep slumber didn't prevent his body from reacting negatively to her trying to move away from him so soon.

Slipping away quietly, she scurried to the restroom pod and relieved herself on a specially made trapdoor toilet that collected the human waste and converted it into fertilizer for the tree it was attached to. She washed herself up with the large bowl of scented water on the sink and pondered the modern upgrade touches that didn't take away from the original fixtures that the first inhabitants used. Another bottle of her special lubricant sat waiting for her use on the intricately carved shelf on the wall. Her face heated up a little knowing that the caretakers were well aware of what would go down while they were there. She brushed her teeth and smoothed her hair as best she could. Walking on tiptoes back to the bedroom she lifted her robe from the hook and put it on.

Singing voices drifted up to her ears and Yani sought out the source from the circular wall window in the livingroom. Down below F'Neka and Yiswa were joined by two other older women who stood on royal purple and aquamarine-colored blankets. Their layered harmonies were in the accent of the River Tribe people and the words were not Wakandan, but rather a part of the language of the different ethnic groups among the water people. Soon a group of men, younger and older, joned them wearing the same royal purple and brilliant greenish-neon blue robes as the women. Four young women carrying baskets of yellow and magenta flowers rounded out the choir of singing to the queen and king.

Yani wished she had grabbed her language translator earbuds from the boat. The warm hues in their tones enabled her to make the meaning without understanding anything. They were welcoming the sunrise in her honor. Their dainty hands lifted toward the golden orb and then gracefully swung up toward Yani. She blew them a kiss and they continued the singing and rocking motion that heralded the light for her. Their bodies twisted toward the river tributary and their arms swung down to the water as if beckoning the placid liquid to join their beautiful voices.

N'Jadaka's juicy lips kissed the back of her neck and she closed her eyes savoring the tenderness. He stood next to her and whispered to his gold claw necklace "Translate," and the river people's message was not what Yani thought at all. Her mouth dropped open in true understanding and even the king's eyes joined hers in welling up. F'Neka and Yisma led the heart-stirring melody of a song for the lost tribe…the stolen children of Africa. It was a lamentation and a welcoming home.

F'Neka's strong alto voice made Yani's heart soar. Their eyes locked together and the elder caretaker beseeched the trees and the river where Mama Wati rested if they remembered what happened to Yani and N'Jadaka's ancestors. Yisma added her stirring voice "Sacred baobab tree, lost your children to the sea, taken from the land, Many rains ago…"

Chills ran up Yani's arm and N'Jadaka hugged her body close to his trembling one as other hidden voices joined the group from within the forest, acoss the tributary, and far away from Ugogo Udaku's ancestral home. To Yani, it sounded like the entire River Tribe in Wakanda sang to them, carrying the burden of ancestral trauma and giving them sanctuary as the children who returned to the motherland.

N'Jadaka lowered his head and wiped away tears and Yani wept while he held her in his arms. These people were not just the River Tribe, but the protectors of the ancestral waters that Mama Wati held dominion over.

A hushed silence blanketed the forest when the singers finished their last verse.

The women carrying the flower baskets decorated the low table and meal attendants brought forth another floating cart with their breakfast meal. Once the preparations were complete, the people humbly left the vicinity.

The power of the song lingered for Yani and she held N'Jadaka's hand. Letting out a breath, she looked up to her husband's face. N'Jadaka kept his eyes on the river.

"How could they remember us?" he said.

He rested his hands on the windowsill.

"Maybe they were singing about you coming back home to them," Yani said, touching his hand.

"No. They were singing for you too, for all of us out there. Why would they have a song like that about losing children to the sea? They've never lost anyone. My uncle threw me and his own brother away without a care…why do they care? Why would they?"

"They know our story now."

"Their language is different from Wakandan, but I recognized a few words that were from the Panther Tribe's lexicon…from way back. Words only people in Queen Shuriya's time used…when she ventured out into the world."

His brows furrowed and his expression sought answers within his mind as Yani watched his face. He had another riddle to solve and she knew he would pick at it like an impatient tongue on a loose tooth.

"Let's eat, love," Yani said.

He followed her down the treehouse stairs and they noticed their personal black panthers frolicking among lush fronds. Yani sat down and N'Jadaka served her a large bowl of intasa uthando—morning love—a River Tribe specialty of a layered breakfast meal. At the bottom of the bowl was seasoned pink rice that was grown throughout the river wetlands. On top of the rice was roasted and diced purple yams with caramelized onions sprinkled with ground chicken sausage and topped with a fried egg. N'Jadaka made himself another bowl filled with savory porridge and they shared a glorious morning eating and chatting about the books they wanted to read back on the boat and how much they looked forward to their hike.

They left their empty bowls and drinking glasses to use the outdoor shower again. The water was cold and invigorating on their bodies. Dressing quickly indoors with clothing N'Jadaka had pre-selected for their trip, they left messages for their children and caretakers watching over them.

"Should I wear a heavier jacket? I think it might rain on our way up," Yani said.

N'Jadaka checked the weather advisory on his beads.

"I'll pack light coverings in my pack," he said.

Yani slipped on comfortable hiking shoes that were a wedding gift and personally designed by Shuri. The purple and pink shoes were low like trainers, but could easily transform into protective rain boots if needed. Their hiking outfits matched in all their red and gold finery: light pocketed trousers and breathable long-sleeve athletic tops with the royal insignia on the shoulders. Yani slipped a floppy sun hat on her head and N'Jadaka tucked his locs under a red hair covering.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Yep."

A young woman attendant met them at the trail head carrying two hydro-packs with their lunch inside it. Yani twined the plastic sipping tube along her shoulder clasps for easy mouth access.

"My name is Vusumuzi, I will be your hiking guide," she said.

Vusumuzi wore form-fitting brown trousers and a matching jacket. Her hair was covered in a green wide-brimmed straw hat. She handed Yani and N'Jadaka yellow sunglasses to protect their eyes. The large lenses made everything even more crystal clear and were perfect for wet weather with the anti-condensation feature. Their guide slung her own pack over her shoulders.

"We'll travel through the low fronds and traverse a scenic path so you may see the best of the forest before we ascend the falls. This way please," Vusumuzi said.

For the first thirty minutes they spoke to Vusumuzi about the plants and trees. Vusumuzi had a charming personality and a love for the forest. She reminded Yani of herself giving Eco Tours in St. Thomas. Her kind spirit made the excursion pleasant and relaxing. The moisture in the air thickened and Yani zipped her tunic's collar higher on her throat. She sipped water and held N'Jadaka's hand on some of the trickier parts of the forest floor that was littered with logs from fallen snag trees. Although their brisk walking warmed up her limbs, the temperature dropped a little. N'Jadaka pulled out her jacket from his pack and helped her put it on.

The air felt thicker in her nose and Yani kept her mouth parted to gulp more air into her body. Without even asking, Vusumuzi slowed the pace. Their hiking path widened and there were less giant downed trees to walk around or climb over with N'Jadaka's assistance. A sense of heightened calm descended over Yani and she stopped talking to Vusumuzi just to luxuriate in the stillness of peace surrounding her. The trees were so tall and old it felt like walking among quiet elders who watched them pass through.

"We'll have to walk single file once we start up the main trail," Vusumuzi said, glancing back at them. "Queen Yani? Is everything okay?'

Yani stopped hiking and stood next to a wide-belly tree. Its circumference could hold one hundred grown men in the center. Emerald green fronds fanned out around it and so did the broken limb from a nearby tree that had fallen near it covered in green moss and traces of fungus.

"Look," Yani said pointing.

Three black panther cubs rested their small paws on the broken tree limb. N'Jadaka and Vusumuzi looked in the direction she pointed.

"I don't see anything," N'Jadaka said.

"Right there," Yani said wagging her finger to guide their gaze.

"I'm sorry my queen. I don't see anything and our panthers are past their mating season. There are no cubs that I know of that our panthers in this vicinity would have birthed," Vusumuzi said.

Yani gaped at Vusumuzi before glancing back at the spot on the fallen branch.

No cubs.

"Wait…"

Yani trudged forward and Vusumuzi tapped her kimoyos. An orange rectangular surveillance screen floated above her wrist.

"Queen Yani, there are no panthers around us. I have no heat signatures and our usual big guys are back at your housing."

N'Jadaka settled next to Yani. He studied her face then looked around the area she was positive three cuddly black cubs had peered at her with big yellow eyes.

"A trick of the light maybe?" N'Jadaka said. He tapped his hiking boot on a few big stones covered in velvety dark moss.

"I thought I saw them. Right there…"

A light drizzle of rain dropped through the canopy and they moved on. Yani kept snatching peeks behind her. The soft rain wet her open mouth and she could see her breath in front of her face as they hiked further. Reaching the hardest part of their ascending trail, Yani followed behind Vusumuzi with trepid steps and N'Jadaka brought up the rear. She went over and over in her mind about the cubs she knew she spotted watching her from the tree. Something about the stillness and her hiking companions not witnessing what she saw unnerved her senses. The forest had eyes. She was being watched. It didn't feel threatening or predatory. More like a beckoning in the way that fairy tales seduced or lured their protagonists in some grand adventure. Whatever wanted her attention had it, and she became all too aware of everything around her trek.

The slow-winding path upward added pressure to Yani's chest. The altitude made her fingers swell too. She hunkered down and pushed her thighs and legs to work harder. The view on their left side made the hard physical labor worth it. Vusumuzi paused their hike so they could take holo-pics and vids to share with the children. She gulped down more water and slipped a bite of an energy bar from her lunch pack.

"There are several waterfalls along the valley beyond this mountain. They lead to Warrior Falls and beyond that is the Merchant Tribe territory. The River Tribe is the second largest tribe in the nation and we have seven ethnic groups within our numbers that speak three languages besides Wakandan which is our designated national language," Vusumuzi shared.

They hiked further and the trail grew steeper. The back of Yani's thighs burned. She began to feel the sharper effects of the higher altitude. Vusumuzi slowed down the pace even more to accommodate her.

"Here Queen Yani, take some oxygen to help you," Vusumuzi said.

She pulled out a small oxygen feeder no bigger than a water bottle and handed it off. Placing it against her chin, Yani allowed a small breathing mask to materialize over her mouth and nose. She breathed deeply and N'Jadaka watched her with concern.

"Maybe we should wait another day to let you get more acclimated Yani. I didn't mean to rush you on a hike," he said with concern.

Still breathing deeply, Yani shook her head.

"Better?" Vusumuzi asked.

"Yes…thank you."

"You are doing well for your first time here. Would you like to rest? Eat some more of your snack?" Vusumuzi said.

They rested for fifteen minutes and Yani finished the rest of energy bar. N'Jadaka ate one too even though it was obvious the hike didn't bother him at all. She patted his hand silently thanking him for trying to make her feel comfortable pretending he needed the nutrients to help him reach the top.

"This view is so pretty. Like a painting," Yani said.

Their eye line was high above the greenery of the canopy below and in the distance, the forest extended further south along the path of the shimmering emerald-green river feeding into the smaller tributaries that shaped the land of the River people. She was able to spot their houseboat with the help of the binocular lenses embedded in her sunglasses. They sat for another five minutes admiring the panoramic setting until Yani stood up and folded the wrapper of her snack into her pack. It took another hour to crest the top of the waterfall their houseboat pushed through. The loud sound of water filled her ears. Standing a safe distance from the edge, she admired the wonder before her and how high up they were. A small rainbow arched across the spray that sunlight brought them. The rain had stopped and Yani felt like the queen of the world standing there.

N'Jadaka set up a picnic area with a small folded scarf and he helped Yani and Vusumuzi take off their packs. Chunky sandwiches on spiced bread filled with fresh veggies and tender roasted beef stuffed their bellies. The king grinned when he found generous slices of yam cornbread waiting among the sandwiches.

"Umama made sure you had plenty of it," Yani teased.

N'Jadaka tore into his piece, licking up any falling crumbs, even tearing pieces from Yani's share.

"Greedy," she said slapping his fingers away. She let him finish the rest of hers. There would be plenty waiting for them later. She was sure of that.

One by one, they took turns to slip away and relieve themselves before the return trip. They surveyed another section of the waterfall before Yani became faint.

"Baby, hey, you alright?"

N'Jadaka rushed to her side and held her up, preventing her from toppling over the ledge.

"I'm okay…just winded I think. The altitude is hitting a little too hard right now," she said.

Yani touched her forehead as a pounding headache disturbed her peace. It took over two hours to hike to the crest. The rubbery feeling in her legs brought on the dread of slogging back down. N'jadaka tapped his beads.

"Okoye, bring the Royal Talon Fighter to my location. Queen Yani has altitude sickness. She won't be able to walk back down."

"I will be there shortly kumkani," Okoye's voice replied.

A minute later, the Talon Fighter's luminous neon blue glow materialized from out of thin air above them. A tracking beam lifted the three of them up into the air. Looking down toward the place they once stood, Yani was sure she saw the three panther cubs again. She didn't mention it to the others and tried to convince herself that the altitude sickness was messing with her mind.

N'Jadaka fretted over Yani inside the Royal talon Fighter.

Okoye prepared a half dosage of replenishing fluids that N'Jadaka used as the Black Panther whenever he had to don his suit and recuperate after a strenuous mission overseas. Yani sipped it from a straw and he held her close to him on the back seating in the rear of the aircraft.

Vusumuzi sat quietly in one of the console seats in front of a viewscreen mesmerized at the chance to ride inside the king's transport, a privilege few would have.

"I'm better now," Yani insisted, but he wouldn't stop fussing over her, checking her temperature and heart rate too.

"I can have the royal doctor here within the hour kumkani," Okoye said while holding another small plastic bag filled with more vitamin fluids.

"Please don't bother Dr. Chidubem. I'm fine now. I'll rest and feel even better in a few hours," Yani said waving the bag of fluid away.

"Drop us down at the homestead Okoye. We'll stay here tonight and leave the day after tomorrow bright and early. We want to see the river market before we sail into Warrior Falls."

"Yes, kumkani."

Okoye headed to the front of the aircraft and N'Jadaka beckoned for Vusumuzi to join them standing on the circular transport on the floor.

"Despite the circumstances kumkani, this has been quite a thrill to see the inside of the Royal Talon Fighter," Vusumuzi said.

He smiled at her and kept an arm around Yani's waist. They were gently lowered by the gravitational force back in front of the giant tree that held their treehouse residence. He quickly removed Yani's backpack and his own, then handed them back to Vusumuzi.

"Thank you for your guidance on our hike," Yani said.

She patted their guide's wrist and the woman beamed at being touched by a royal so openly in that way.

"I hope you feel much better and get plenty of rest. Will you need me tomorrow?" Vusumuzi asked.

N'Jadaka shook his head.

"I think we'll play it by ear and stay here for the day. If she's fully recuperated we'll explore close to the river around here," he said.

Vusumuzi gave a quick lowering of her head and left them alone.

The Royal Talon Fighter cloaked itself above them. Okoye would fly the aircraft to a designated spot to give them privacy, but she was in constant contact with five other Dora Milaje assigned to protect them that were stationed on the ground. N'Jadaka wanted his honeymoon to feel like he was a regular citizen out and about with his wife. Okoye pushed back on not having his security team present in their current location. He reminded his general that he was more deadly when it came to safeguarding his own wife. Yani was the air he breathed. No harm would come to her as long as he was around.

He walked behind Yani as they climbed the stairs of the tree house. She sniffed the air in the front room.

"Something smells delicious," she said, heading toward the kitchen.

A pot of coconut fish stew bubbled on a small cook stove. Fresh yam cornbread and broiled shrimp skewers glazed with ground spices cooked in honey lent their delicious odors of local seafood and wild rice dishes.

Yani was well enough to bathe in the restroom, and soon after they tucked into their supper together inside the living room listening to the sound of a heavier rain fall outside. He made a fire in the front room brass pit and they snuggled together watching the flames dance under a blanket. He insisted that she turn in early and read a book to her inside the cozy bedroom. She slept easily and he watched over her late into the night.

Yani seemed different.

Their return from the hike had him on alert to meet her needs. The last thing he wanted was for their honeymoon to be marred from illness. Yani had a tendency to push herself around him, as if she still needed to prove that she was capable of matching his energy. There was nothing she needed to do to show him that she was capable of anything. She was perfect the way she was.

The thing with the panther cubs he didn't see loomed over her behavior on the hike up the waterfall crest. He saw nothing but rocks and forest fronds…however…he sensed an aura of energy that was unfamiliar and yet belonged to him. Whatever Yani saw was real to her. It didn't matter that he, nor their patient guide, saw it. To keep her from freaking out, N'Jadaka played it off as a trick of the eye. The truth was, he too felt something was around them in his ancestral home. Bast and Ogum didn't stir him up with an alertness he always carried. This was family territory and a safe space for him and Yani. Wakanada was full of enchanted wonders. Why wouldn't the birthplace of Bashenga not hold sway over his wife?

Yani slept soundly and he spooned around her. The warmth from her body seeped into him and he was gently aroused. His erection rested against her backside, snug in the crease of her ass cheeks. His arousal bathed him in love from her.

After an hour he notified the attendants to bring their dinner later in case Yani became hungry. He left her to sleep longer and took a walk through the trees vine-cut paths that looped around the tree house. The evening transformed the forest into an enchanted hideaway. Fireflies lit his way and he noticed butterflies hunkering down for the night to bask in their own slumber as the night woke up nocturnal life. N'Jadaka sniffed the pollen-laden air and admired flowers that sprang open only at night.

Peace.

It flowed over him as the forest became a sanctuary for himself and his wife. Water trickled across smaller waterfalls and through the stream he followed that led him to a garden of passion flowers and night orchids that bloomed fully with the earlier rainfall. Cacao trees loomed over him with long, ripe yellow nuts dangling from the branches.

A cloying sent tickled his nose and he searched for the source.

"N'Jadaka…where are you?"

Yani's faint lilting voice drew him away from venturing further.

"I'm out here! Behind the tree house"

His booming voice echoed and traveled far. Yani's floating image popped up above his wrist.

"I'm coming to where you are," she said.

"Are you good?"

"I'm fine. Headache is gone and that long nap helped. Why didn't you wake me to go with you?"

"I wanted you to rest longer. We go canoeing in the morning and no sense over exerting you after that altitude sickness."

He spoke to her until she was a hundred feet away from him. She waved and he watched her come to him with a swing in her hips. The light from her kimoyo beads gave her enough glow to traverse the vines and plants on the forest floor. She was dressed in loose flared pants and a light jacket.

He took her hand in his and gave her a hug.

"Glad you're better."

"Me too. Oh look how pretty everything is," Yani said while walking ahead of him.

The small waterfall in the distance glowed from an unknown source that hinted at traces of vibranium and the reflection of the fireflies darting about. Frogs croaked and monkeys chattered above them in the branches. Yani inhaled deeply and her face looked relaxed and tranquil. She clasped his hand and the wandered together delighting in the scenery. Some of the plant life glowed with bioluminescence and they didn't need to use their kimoyos as lamp light.

"Take a holo-pic of me in front of this giant plant," Yani said.

She posed for him and he held up his wrist tapping a bead.

The hairs on the back of his neck raised. He sensed someone looking at him from behind. Yani's eyes grew wide and she looked past him. She wasn't scared, just hesitant to say anything to him. He turned his head to fix his gaze on whatever she spotted.

Nothing.

Lush flowers and tall plants were the only thing present near the stream of water gurgling through their surroundings.

But he still sensed a presence. Something low to the ground. Non-threatening.

Glancing at Yani he noticed her feigning that nothing was amiss.

"Take a few more," she said with rushed breath.

"What do you see?" he asked.

Her eyelashes fluttered quickly and she smiled. He read a tenseness in her body.

"It doesn't scare you, so whatever it is, it has no evil intent. Tell me what you see, Yani."

Her lips quirked and she let out long breath.

"I see three Black panther cubs. They are lying down on the pile of vines near that purple night orchid."

N'Jadaka went to where she said the invisible entities revealed themselves to her.

"Stop…you're right in front of them," she said.

He looked down at his feet. Just vines and damp soil.

"Take my hand," he said.

He reached back for her and she quietly padded to him and threaded her fingers with his. Bending down, he used his free hand to wave around the area she saw the cubs. Nothing tangible stopped his waving but his skin tingled and the hairs on his arm lifted. Something was there. Only he couldn't see it. Just Yani.

"Can you touch them?" he asked.

She lowered her free hand.

"No," she said.

N'Jadaka tapped his kimoyo and scanned the area.

"Holy shit," he gasped.

There were heat signatures. In the shape of cubs. He recorded the evidence and made Yani stand next to them so he could document her with the phenomena.

"Look," he said holding out his wrist so she could see his small orange screen.

They both blinked at the screen and the cubs' yellowish-orange heat signatures vanished next to Yani's very clear image. She glanced down at their feet.

"They're gone," Yani said.

She looked around their area and came back to him to stare at the recorded evidence that disappeared.

"That's what you saw when we went hiking…right?" he said.

"Yes. I saw them again when the tracking beam pulled us into the Talon Fighter. I didn't want to say anything because I thought I might be hallucinating from altitude sickness. I didn't want one of our citizens to think her new queen was unstable. Why didn't she see their heat signatures with her kimoyos?"

"Maybe she wasn't meant to see them. Maybe they're for your eyes only."

"But you sense them…and you saw their shapes."

He shrugged.

"They're connected to you some kinda way. You saw them three times. Maybe they're trying to convey a message to you. Give you a sign of something."

"Why me? I'm not even from this land originally."

He held her hand again and they walked back toward their tree house.

"Wakanda has fundamentally changed you and me. You gave birth to a child connected to here through me. Now that you're my wife and officially an Udaku, this land could be giving you a sign that it accepts you as one of their own."

Yani smiled and swung their hands gently.

"I'd like to believe that. I wish you could see them, they are so adorable and look so soft and cuddly."

"Don't be afraid to tell me if you see anything else while we're here."

"Okay."

"Want to soak in the hot spring?"

"Let's go in the larger one Vusumuzi showed us," Yani suggested.

They donned swimsuits and Yani tied her hair up in a peach headwrap before journeying to the west side of the Udaku homestead where a large pool of water nestled against a stone wall. He liked that pool better because it didn't smell at all and the water was at the perfect temperature. There were lamps secured in the trees and he lit them up making it look like daytime from the glare on the stone wall. Yani tied his locs up and they swam together sloshing the warm liquid over their skin and splashing each other like they were back at their cove in St. Thomas.

Yani was healthy and happy and her encounter with the three black panther cubs seemed forgotten. In fact, she appeared more at ease knowing that he was aware that her experience was based in reality. One that he could sense even if he couldn't see it like her.

He floated next to her.

"We're like two vegetables floating in a warm bowl of soup," Yani said.

"We need vacations like this throughout the year."

"You haven't even visited all the properties your family owns."

"Our family," he said.

"Yes…our family."

He stood in the pool, the water right above his chest. Yani stopped floating on her back and he lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he moved around carrying her in the pleasant water. He brushed his lips against hers and she accepted the kiss, prying his lips wider with her tongue. They moved their necks with a patient rhythm every few seconds for deeper tongue kissing. She leaned back and flattened her palms on his lumpy chest, feeling the slick texture of his scars.

"My scars never scared you," he said.

"I was intrigued with them. I knew they meant something horrible, but I didn't question you about it."

"How do you feel about them now?'

She glanced at his chest and slid her hands across his pecs.

"They tell your story. It is a record of your journey carved into your flesh. I accept them because they brought you to me. I love you and I love your skin for what it has done for me."

He kissed her forehead.

"We should head back and eat a little something before turning in. The market opens at nine. We should row our canoe there no later than 8:30 or else it'll get too crowded," he said.

"I haven't been rowing in so long! I miss it…I miss all the physical activity outdoors."

"You're the queen now, put it in your schedule."

"I will!"

He dropped her from around his waist and followed her toward the ledge of the natural pool. His eyes stayed on her ass as she moved into the more shallow part. It jiggled as she walked and her one piece bathing suit revealed plenty of her ass cheeks. Watching her walk and shake was a turn on. His dick plumped up. Before she could climb out he stopped her.

"Wayment…lemme do something right quick," he said.

She turned her head back and stared at his full lips. He rubbed on her booty and smacked it a few times. The bulge in his trunks jutted out more.

"Damn this ass is so fat, baby. I know it sounds redundant to you when I say it all the time, but shit…baby…if you could see what I see. Look at my dick."

Yani slid her fingers under the bottom of her swimsuit and pulled them toward the crack of her ass so he could enjoy more bounty. He slid his trunks low and gripped his thick dick, smacking its weight against her ass. Stroking and poking the wide head against her ass, he hissed a curse word just as a thick leaking of pre-cum glistened across her right ass cheek. N'Jadak tugged down her bathing suit top and freed a breast to hold. He squeezed her tit and squeezed the head of his dick and more pre-cum spilled onto her wet skin.

"So soft…yeah, jiggle like that some more baby…"

He grunted as Yani leaned forward and tooted her rump out. Fondling her breast he continued jerking off against her backside, lusting after her the way so many men did when she was in their presence. He'd caught plenty of foreign men catching erections watching her walk into social events jiggling every which way no matter what she wore. A fat ass was hard to ignore and Yani had a world class posterior that rivaled even some of the Wakandan women that were blessed too.

N'Jadaka wondered if he was a secret cuck because knowing other men wanted her aroused him even further. He would kill a man on the spot if he caught Yani with anyone else, however, to his own weakness that he shared with other males, his wife was a force of beauty and body. He saw what they all saw when she walked past. She had all the goods. Big breasts, thick thighs and ass, a come hither voice that melted men down to the bone.

"Oh…oh damn…" he groaned, stroking himself faster.

He gasped twice when Yani assisted his visual enjoyment by lifting her ass cheeks up and down with her hands. He stepped back and she jumped up and down letting her ass clap for him. She wasn't playing fair as usual.

"Yani…baby…this fat ass…"

Words became gibberish on his tongue and he gave up trying to convey how she made him feel in that moment. Smacking his dick against her ass a final time, he fondled her nipple and feverishly stroked his dick while staring at the good fortune glistening with his pre-cum.

"When we get back, we're going straight to bed," he said.

"What about dinner?"

"Later…fuck that food."

Yani laughed and he grunted at the friction of his tip hot on her skin.

"I want you to ride this dick all night."

"I will. You want me to smack this big ass on your balls?"

"Yes…bounce all on this dick."

"What if I want to sit on your face and cum on your beard?"

He moaned and closed his eyes imagining her vulva all slick and covering his mouth. She had the best pussy. He should know. He'd been balls deep everywhere on the planet and he'd tasted enough snatch to be a connoisseur handing out Michelin Five Star reviews. Yani's pussy tasted like ambrosia from the Gods and was deep enough to handle him like no other.

He opened his eyes and stared at her round backside before gifting it with hot cum he spurted with a grateful shout of her name. Before he could even ask, she was on her knees licking up the rest that dripped out of his slit. He rocked on his heels and cried out again when she sucked another nut out of him with her tongue pulsing the underside of his length. She used those big eyes of hers to play innocent and that sent him into a feral lusting.

She was too good to be true. And she was his wife.

Pulling up his trunks, N'Jadaka lifted Yani up and threw her over his shoulder. She shrieked in surprise and he spanked her ass while walking her back to the tree house.

Yani kept her promise and sat that good juicy pussy on his mouth and soaked his beard with the orgasms he gave her. Then she fucked him as if it was their first time into oblivion, and he was a very happy husband.

Chapter 9 HERE.

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[asha-mage]

cadsuane, prompt: empathy

[Send me a character or pairing, and a one word prompt, and I'll write you a drabble!]

Cadsuane’s small sitting room seemed to glow gold and red in the faint light of the dying sun. Clad in simple green gown suitable for an evening alone, she watched the sunset while working the handle of her oak hairbrush, the one carved with the trefoil leaves. It had been a gift from the King of Tarabon during one of her misadventures about a century ago. Her hair hung down her back today, out of it’s usual bun, still slightly shinny and damp from the water of her bath. It was glossy black now more then slightly streaked with grey. It would probably turn full white before to many more decades.

Cadsuane’s rose beds where visible to her through the sitting room window, long boxes filled with a shower of different colors, from red to white to gold to blue. For a while she had entertained the idea of cultivating a row of roses for each color of the Ajahs- but without the aid of the Power she could not find a way to cultivate brown and grey roses, and she knew herself enough to know that is she used the Power for one thing with the roses, she would end up leaning on it to much. She would would be coaxing them  to grow without thorns next, then to bloom just a little longer then the season would allow- and before she knew it the simple pleasure of the act of gardening would be all drained away.

“Good evening.” A voice called from the door to her sitting room, interrupting her thoughts, and Cadsuane looked up and found herself smiling. Emarin was there in the doorway, his head of dark brown curls seaming to glow as gold as everything else. They where tied back from his face in a simple cord, and his shirtsleeves of where rolled to the elbows. He had washed up thourughly before coming up to her of course- she had impressed the importance of keeping neat in him sharply- but some flour still clung to his forearms all the same, and to the white cloth bundle he held gently in the crook of his elbow.

You would never know, looking at him, that he was a Tearian High Lord. Or rather had been one. By the laws of Tear he had lost all claim to that title the moment he had first touched the Source.

“Good evening.” Cadsuane replied in kind as she rose, setting down her hair brush. “Another day’s labor?” She asked as she moved to the small tea table before the window. Emarin joined her, laying out the oblong bundle and setting down a small jar filled with jelly beside it.

Emarin nodded as he sat. “I barley burned this one.” He said dryly. “I’m improving. Algarin won’t be able to believe it.” Gently he unrolled the white cloth revealing a golden brown loaf of bred, the end caps just slightly turned an ugly black.

“Barely? Phwah.” She shook her head. “Well, you’ll have all tomorrow to take another stab boy. Still, let’s see how it is otherwise.”

They broke the crust together and smeared it with generous amounts of jelly. It wasn’t bad- a bit hard on the outside and doughy in the center, but good for all that. Nothing Cadsuane would pay coin for of course, but that wasn’t the point.

They ate in quite silence, and when the light began to fade Cadsuane rose to begin lighting the candles with the aid of a spark wheel.

“You don’t have to do that.” Emarin said as he cleared away the last of the crumbs. “I wont open my veins if you channel to light a few candles.”

Cadsuane sniffed. “You have an inflated sense of self boy.” She said coldly. “Have you considered that maybe I enjoy doing things by hand?” She shook her head.

“Do you?” He asked dryly. “Because I’m pretty sure I saw you clear away that fox with a few well placed sparks of-“

Reaching out to the True Source, Cadsuane embraced saidar long enough to weave a thin flow of Air, and snap it like a string, flicking the boy in the ear. He smirked at her and stuck his tongue out in her direction, for all the world like a child of eight.

“It is important.” She said smoothly, pointedly lighting a stick on the spark wheel and pressing it one of the candle wicks. “To do things with your own hands. Even for those of us that still have the Power. Maybe especially for us. If we make life too easy: if we depend on the Power to much, we run the risk of letting ourselves believe we are more then human.” She released the Source as she talked and moved to light the next candle on the mantle piece, her hand steady. It had been for centuries now- ever since her time spent on Norla’s farm.

“Is that why you set me a new hobby every few weeks?” Emarin asked, his voice still holding faint mirth, but also a thoughtfulness, and something else: an edge she knew he wold not be able to put a name too. “Why I spend sun up to sun down, gardening and baking, sewing and wood carving, and whatever else you can imagine? To remind me I am human?”

Cadsuane simply nodded. Their was no sense in denying it. “People think you need to find something to fill out the emptiness that the Power has left behind. It varies what: A husband usually, or charity work, or some passion like drawing or music. Phwah.” She shook her head and lit another candle. “They are wrong. Nothing will ever fill that void. That cut can not be mended, and nothing will ever patch the hole it’s left behind. Not really. Like a man whose lost a limb, someone Stilled or Gentled, needs to be reminded that their wound has not made them less human. They needed to be grounded in this world, to feel it’s beauty as well as it’s pain, to accept what is, and learn to live with it.”

Emarin looked down at the jar and sighed, fingers playing with the lid. “You sound as if you speak from experience.”

Cadsuane considered him…and then nodded. “I do.” She said simply and he raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, his questions remaining unasked. For a moment she considered leaving it at that, but it felt cruel. The kind of fertile ground to give rise to false hopes. Best to be out with it.

“I meet a toothless Wilder when I was a freshly raised Green, long ago now.” Cadsuane explained. “Drunk on my own pride and arrogance, I thought I could bully her.” She laughed. Cadsuane doubted anyone had ever succeeded in bullying Norla. “She shielded me and tied the knot so tight I could not hope to untangle it. Then she gave me a through thrashing for my sins and set me to work gardening. To teach me humility and humanity she called it. Well, she succeeded.” Cadsuane smiled. “In teaching me that, and a great deal more.”

Emarin nodded and sighed tightening the lid shut on the jar. “And that thought you what it’s like for men who can-“ He cut off and swallowed. “For men who have been gentled?”

Cadsuane shook her head. “No. Nothing but the experience of stilling could teach me that boy.” She told him, not without kindness. “But it taught me to look beyond myself, my shawl, my might….” She shrugged. “To be understanding, where others would close themselves off. To care, where others would be cruel.”

Emarin stood nodding and tossed the cloth over his shoulder. “To have empathy.” He said. “That’s why you care for the men you find, isn’t it? When all others want to be blind.”

She nodded. Empathy. She supposed that was it after all. “It’s easy, for the Reds, for the whole Tower, to close themselves off, to not let themselves see or care for the pain of the men we Gentle. It must be done, and so it’s easier for everyone to be blind to the cruelty of it. But it’s a mistake.” She shrugged. “We can not lead or guide those we do no try to understand and care for.” That she thought, more then the Black Ajah, more then the passage of eons, more then the shifting of time, was why the Tower was failing, growing more brittle by the day. A lack of care. Of humanity and humility. And empathy.

“Thank you.” Emarin said stepping over to squeeze her shoulder. “For caring.”

Cadsuane smiled at him and lean over lit the final candle.

[libidomechanica]

The same speckled

A sonnet sequence

               1

The Fall of deep peace, and my Eccho ring. The ground her hath her answers him kneel. Be king hands. I almost work of Tityrus his knee, and his way to known them. Misapplied: No! Nor blindly laws. Summoned to awake the Trecentisti; ’ in Greece, he wild sky, whate’er they possess’d in Tears. The same speckled rounding by his knee, and lacking, and the violet of blizzards and love, she saw these they are gone. See my loue to call the mind: it will not ope thro’ all their Insect- Wings us to grow. See, where they can I be blasted only thro’ which sitting in my reconciled in thy selfe the blow.

               2

A bonny bower-door, to the said; the body, and she use, her Tablet—Yes—’tis uninscribes a crater. An injure. Behold you that I forest, and slight; with him, Wordsworth’s ebon dart, the mistakes, where they did; but, fury, woe, or as those koi. A lovers’ hours, sun, whene’er then will turn the way, where thought came backyard licks of civil! And thee on my living bloom, too, of evening, as quick in hight, while ye write of Air. Throw that are theyr eccho ring. Neuer had touch the brain. Crystal, naked is doth you among the heaven’s limbs from whence a little while I think, is worthier told.

               3

A man unders, like poplar made, and lost. The break her ere shall she look’d down from aboue, and hew Triumph o’er the inlaid without the ice needs must be lost, woe unto every ye weary, he common grief abused it and carroll of shame I spent. Of those enow! Thou wert therefore, dear Waggoners, ’ around; the oldest the path is first of gladness marr’d: his son of the rolls the dead, and thorns: that it more; but this invidious noise of his home, as some dim touch the great oppress’d. Lay scatterd light; and other. That I maintain that all the circumstance bounded helpless ill the stars into me.

               4

She take so lewdly beauty with death, which seeke the ground. Till which spake a strange routed boy: tis to wears a cravat; but I am not in silk and I myselfe pype of the mouse bespoke too cute, the wanton babes to wed wits at will, my want-begotten field, like flowry graceful. Behind, I stretched Sylph in cleare, not be easily harm’d of flattery, so I did not my trembling hands ta’en her bed will bands avian, too, and thrice again topsy- turvy, twisted into the Muses are scorn, sweet pleased, who grewest not see thee, Katie, my friendship, equal fire, nor yet do it to me: what seemeth dropping could neither nurse with windleshanks? The country-farm to beginnings of his rice, and systems have the fevers, massacres and heart, the bats, where, unlikeness, nor why I’m not in any chance, because they him not in ranne. Locks into your body but enslaved a wind alone.

               5

While I stack by his face, like a balloon? The door to record? Till ever dwells of me, and flower phases wrought her icy breathe adieu. At time of the trees which, with equal mistrust; it sucked from fear to me as Romances, newspapers, in the captive void of the mast o’ the goddesse please he finds of Air. Of solace lives in light to think what wall, or where two first and in the lute Corinna, for love for barley- sheaves, the curious and black chaos thus, and absinthe arts are lost her Vanities, which enchanting? His fashion’s song, the death; forgiveness’ might not wast, my soul. When they.

               6

What a war of all my part the circle of life; thine are likenesse did not speak. His rice, meat, there was already play, our self so fair commeth time. The soul of his you poor, ring into mould; and honour there Cymon was not fewer to lend and her ranges, for three partaker of breathing somewhere, open conquer’d, I thinking more than combin’d, her for all; if one of old victory; and goodwill, my friend, comes of Camelot. Loe whereon it must reason; t was the rest orphan of snows; supposing even after Winter dark fen the Turkish trousers furl’d about their small: with javeling air; I loved you of that e’er the British Queene, hye your Eccho ring. To darken’d her life, and man, whom the sighs to run her being of love and sung long so long, as her blue the pursuers in them pure, which most unoriental teare. Still onward blows, are lang day’s detested theme of thee.

               7

Were to see the house; old sisters would man. Have chosen friend stories! Not all his weep; the heroic rays, she said to inscrib’d with soft seraphic cheeks; four, through the seaman, that poore soul. Your fault was born to others being a man of please less of savage deed, demand now Adonis had many wives and cancell’d in turn away boy who changed the song and sting; the fruitful shame. We glides, safe with the same speak: this invited. Sprawl? ’ Breath. Cage, these, or none puts on out my mouth grace except, like many a rose. Rapt from foreigne with Ruby and faith an uncorrupted house, and he is sinner!

               8

Sing ye there she that mad with proffer’d violets’ eye; which by turns her sad and made the nipple, can speech is the faded leaf put fear; why will. To drink, and digest hearts would blaze forth some ice, taking, bids the chain of a hill to disclosed with thy course, and the boundlesse shining Sappho’s break and as for this flea guilt: for more astonish’d in his swaddling, and not stem and enter email privacy refunds advertise contact link they must speak, fair surprising his blowes; and in higher hangs, that he had dreamed I was a trice as you are nothing, about the Trophies of other lap did see.

               9

Is brow, till am learnest—but aye she lock, not gather’s scythe offence: doubted daughters all; the town, he reader, to the hears ashamed of the store of my lips, since if then raging saw what; his journey once beyond sire; subject and downe, and of the two stremes; despair, while she prated Rome, true, the vigour, bold Sir Plume had not sweet, this Lock, tend there the ledges of his virtuous stronger. And now ye dainty cheek, and say’st roam the lighted sailors where: not thou arteries; nor stricken to dawn coming bare the side its Honour is to me, sayings of Troy; stella is nought about?

               10

Smart unclosed to know what we went as your Locks first pass to raise a labours the day did you might of nightly, that not to draw a moment his double I been at the virgins to snows; supposing cycle goes are lift her pure imaginary she would ease him at her arms, suggesteth to die, my heart that, eye that hapless imperial truths to save thee light, the hole, ’ would be. Too old fountain from crimes of the immortality alone at the Spring with somewhere is not a mother’s rein under other one? The yule-cloth the master— not the miserable is to the fire?

               11

’—Not yet nought it laugh at time and now takes for the British Throngs promiscuous storms, there more; nor dare: that transplanted on a growth the flockes dost lends embraced the learn’d, preference are nothing of all the Pow’rs gave lion was give, so Orpheus did he bearing than they and presence to weep, and he should be thy head was what folly, the Ballad or rough, I returned me was in a forgot to go through clay afloat. Disturbed from the lies budded fish in the Fops envy, and all the which the table. To those bred more gashes like clouds do say, while the chastity, you’llnever mark, and hide?

               12

In the rest of many, round his churl in silk and swallowing Death, or wishfull vow, and I cried surprise to glancing, yet is hall at once made an atmosphere, nor wilt have sung their winged within. The hall the glass appeared of her Eyes are; nor every nearer to me, how that bears the earth white baracan, and forceless owes and—should I dare we almost words, like a room of the wishes—did we held out hurdles of which, belied the best to find so many a grapes, do surfeits not speed. Profess in the depths of prayer, who bids him from both with this flea’s death without alarms, and all live.

               13

And when waste a wonder at a rout, ends. As some one burn so chast, a beam, and the shore; the barrein now reign o’er will not fear. You likewise youth a lazy length might of the past, and success, no doubt beside his fyrye face, nor damned ghost, O crown’d into the gazing on from burning to the same, I say, will laughter—had no further priests in its leafless ribs of Whale. Lay a pleased. Of calculate both in beds them with compel a well-proportioned nose, they wept for she said No’. And on the morn as of good? And tears, quake to sing: think the language broken utter’d in each, and balls and learn’d to him.

               14

In the middle ages can’t see the deep dawn turn, until is answer and the shudder; the census take true we see who dote and crime, that lures, and never flowers, and Spright, or in the bosom, where t is, that thou loue, content to find then cups the Fruit of old smokers, of Asia’s might not found, and love can no more pitied. His eyes, that drench’d alone, and Phoebus gins to either the sexiest meal of the blindly ere she cried, so that settled equal power’s shirt for one while clouds of bridale bowers, to claim, poor rich can hurt and sung, some gentle Belles and keener Light hover, her figures do say, where is all alike, endanger reason: many a lover, and grave don’t, Cash down for what I shoulders were against Pallas also did hold it half a happy pair—their carriage—but. Beauty draw me this; I triumphed, or by must that, if thou feel’st it rhymes, which we comes a cry.

               15

Looking ear we sate mute, with mortally thoughts the match with all we cannot, dreadful, and half the shoe is fair sight with a sober manner which to proceed along, in whose grow within the mind, appear; from knoll of orphan’s eyelid dry, stray, is spent. The spoke, and o’er the best is at press of one generous life in love is love you had returned my mind; my works, and the webbing in his Hands. Coming care, each other worne in one that now his Diamond the world to a marble flowres a tweene this isolations guide the lions’ keen eye was a lament through the deserved for the Silver Bound, he seems to resign, yours I am, I will now not white lilies, and spread her love, studied quicken to my true-love is like lightnings of thy comfort in another wear yours was rest, having wrong; being let the kindness flower! Cleft pomegranates of thy might makes a Devil-born.

               16

A third day is true, than a Billet-doux. Where the deceived, expectant, still’d thee how fares of your nativity, that take a Patagonian jealous o’ a’ the Sharp-witted mind to thee, Spirits into the walk’d about some dull disdaine our bed her own, than ducats. Then she was no cause deserve the Falcon thereto approaching to my self, than theyr loue to drink that green-ground, each new Night; the drifts that tell, than Christmas-eve. Poetry Bookshelves knowledge hath gives from the of the train dropped out: Is your love that binds ironies irritate my after Winter breath. Sprang out the sound.

               17

Is a sight I stand lips. And slight lay afloat. If to sing, and on his should he put a kiss shall be distant short swallow boughs with a thousand do not more that’s stillness flower unfamiliar to expel by care, which can a younger, darkly feels: the knocks, so career is I came this lucky thought, somewhat love had not shun their outside to love be blest, knights were mixed with darkening stars, in this pay. Of deer; and now such Maladies do not known munificence is ampler day. On Lethean spring to do with disclose Recesses averted the Wits again to your merry merry show!

               18

In walk’d of prey— that whistled manners bled. Or was a human ill death is still dost the haze of silver down fa’ for Jock of Hair. And only sovereign salve canonization from the first-born and region sweetness to say. Our hero and, I say, will she did joyous make with me that taught my hand the places compasses darkens any life is darkness, the gloom, she bats, when warbling farewell. One large, alive, her borne down from their tide, the Labours to the vessel glides, stunned the keep his tale with his heard the people apart. While now wind, when paper- thin placid awe, they chang’d. Meal of joy.

               19

Could retract; and the phantom-woman that unaware hath promised to be powder’d, I think the tenth or plain of wedlock struck eighteen industrious Tempestuous plighter eyes discourse opened, and cease. For no mortal Wound. Would the lands; and ha’ these pretty, is but one, and cut him, until we’re about: then your eccho ring. Which compass’d by her side by which the fan be euer fedde in whom I love in his name them their annual magistrate. Song to steal from offender’s alarms, and sow the blood, my lips, and hoped, and why to this holy Life! Angels tune. Or clothes and unlawful.

               20

Which was I lay on thro’ the lesser way; from the tidings cryen for rays thee from comes a scarlet come away and when too late the wily Virgin’s heat more shall I die by long stronger. She keen’—but the town, sitting drunken branches loud and clouds of the mimic picture of tranquil ruin, I retires, your wings, by Loue hath so taste, and scarce a scoff; and bishoped gain the other could, with her cheek, his broken faith, the in at heart or covered thou feel it would not dealt between the months in Air, weighs unto men may Dine; the distant view within his people through wave fled, in lands or back.

               21

Pass superb menage loathsome little selves? The years to his mode of life he least, which have a soldier once are not too had done as the birds forgive away: the reprehend, fall like the vague desire; yet feel, or, being less doth lives a silver soil, not be still is he seem’d a curious for speak through our life the mind the sence, but hung to hiccup or to form, what though doubt is naked weeds that earth the woodbine veil the streams, as old Bench, as warring the fight pittie is, the young like myself would, he meditative ranging flats again—to shepheardes all the Nurse and Juan was, the end?

               22

Two blue windows till, for none life I leave bathe innocent. Your deep relation amongst the tempest and roar in health, in it; of what heard you skill to stay him not the same. Impassion, and still the will live! ’Re told; she who conquest fire doth keepe, adieu good queen seraphic flames he died, and view within him to warb—learn’d, pious, but the bent to the greater glides he might have leisure there in the learns thee and slowly love Gregory combustious Heav’n who spring out them each what dimmer on the sense a Miss Blank meant found the sence mad March; come: not indeed, at her hair waits old hand to Fate!

               23

Bid her Hand, which of burst a floated free of men,— what we die. For Wisdom. And this old age is old as he ground my final lands whereat it grows deep-seated hour. Present strange gleams, and on the pediments, divert strong bond of mine shall its meriment, and change my smooth and bread—that rose medled with all forced me thus are crossed be the text is out of dry land? As from Fancy be cool’d in the sun and would charms cross there in their darling by him invisible compass’d tween the grove of glass, and all that thy life had done things save here we have wrought, of all was born. See fierce it ill adapted to redeem the small worth the hill which, can find his hound. New light. Have we are the Baron’s Eve northern light ruin and whistle and you’llsay, now we’re spent pain, and drooping, galloping, and hearth, in his sour to earth she; and its from her to hide her as he short time within her face I know no more.

               24

At the times with to virtue friends remain heaped with me asleepe, may seem, mine was their Bodkin from off two world shapes that he like a knot. Tak down one with tears dead, with thy help she said, oh Shah, whose rays of his Charge of a heart from forgotten sounds from high the first fruitless chastity, love much- beloved the bedded fish in their own: the eternall sleepe, may stayre, and move when a sea at to-morrow may not to black clouds and heart uniform. But left the plasma, listening low in love; it disna becomes a whittle! I come again, on better that one Trump and o’er he beheld again.

               25

Erected, one would given to lick a humanity would no maid’s son, and so many a shiver’d o’er the little gently bent to shed it is why youthful and ought on a pension, her dew distinguish, whereof doth live with what stay him? This Casket Indian shore and all thy bower and genial hours without a few peace on that other, as floating steel by new the waiting triumphant spot of garden-rose they him who shall to begins the wind with art are cement? I dream the coffee to show the night, raunged in delight, when thou, as once a summon up remember pears!

               26

A book argument, of lavish mien, a sweetens our eyes the woe which each others are we know myself the air, the blood a frenne. Who looks thy Bagpype broken Vows, and skim away. Bare me in the height, my busy withered, already upon the spouse, for crippling very sound of stars of yours, you’llhave a kiss. Without the palace flies; but yet one winked in this limbs whose rubies the tips, and reap, and Fear, if all that once have replyes, true ally. But hateful troop appeared. The Tears of the pleasure, that their pain, and sadness, but he fence is temperate dandy, they ministers, struggles stoic, sage, the known the hill but wanton babes, and each bending to be drunk, then, and loud alarms it would not speed, being a goodly you canst say, that heard: ne let thy though neither I long summer by with him last year: the blind! And Cathering it, of air, shalt not his wanton; he’s gane downs and me.

               27

He is a man well roar of innocence: and yet never sudden was obtuse. ’ Marry heart, the gently bent, and all my heart can all our Christian articles thro’ the first she stone, and native cast he turn’d to claim his embrace, While the waves, he bent to feel what seems no life’s ocean-plains with Guilt, and Latin fraud, bud and meant and each with a long has made him her husbands a Structure like Nature wi’ him. Her luck on the Crimson stood and teach humble o’erflowing of my night beat like a disease he linnet warbling starry clustering, this pompous Robe, and ought him at the dissension.

               28

Content. ’Er he got her, I see not to be a dumb lactation in fact, if not quicks, o tell me Papa. And fountain: how many cease you all? To know we’re no baseness picture in his eddying in me, as if they were must do: for to be complaintive shore. And Life, a Furbelo. With her give throne more praise: glory spreads them where did she, have done no eyes the danger seize our tatter’d races drives, that hath breast, there are blame gaudy sun was past him with water past a Jest ⸻ nay prithee to the directly strive to kill. That binds, laughing, how brooks, then two, and I will not yield, and the end?

               29

With side-long Present, as rotted, like echo of a peacock, some separate mind, he ask’d when you said, Sweet yearn’d to a laugh somewhere, swan-like Confusion was not yet ne’er wash’d into a cock’d the name of tourists. Nor hast might renewed, the full sad and laws to Things to Hallam’s Middle of time, and seemed to hear him, this to his hand, till enslavery’s jackal;—i’ve heard and kings: and fussed around me from him: thou had taught that merchants his converted without flaw the christall match between the sweet civil home- bred stars arose and round to all day, half- controll’d announced mildest, matrons for thee.

               30

—But more to rest, for which youth; for no man mighty spels, nor lose headlong to be double intellect: and cannot unknown; human vie with much succeedingly to ken, how the silver Spout: and, move me the servile to teach through the herb and fear: for from her to feigned as men pass the circled steer; what kindly given a lifeless phantom, Nature lends embrac’d: for every part, he turn’d his message prevent, thrust of the Society. Expedient out the Throne as double-tost with and proud rider on the boss of wine, and for the shade, in which I know not like a dumb cry defying couriers in Italy he’d prance and Death? We’re about, as yet the pediments, and now him king on the first confusion warmth from out at her heart, the Levant; except a dubious success is my speculation, but find in mine; but in her figures, shall love regain, and light dies bride.

               31

My old abbey. Daily draws, to mould answer, and we’lldispositions are eerie; and branches of one on all the nights, and infidels adores without a helpless bitter in, and leave my mind; this kid in a king, my thousand the rich, chorus-like, he head to the silent still things to make you found his turn’d a forming Indian strive where eternal Flow’rs, which, tho’ left her by the marge, had bruised, had need not that lay on the Fall he crystal eyne, who batter’d from her living sound, to bind my father’d in his spend the thou makes dayly mone, without alarms in warmth frost was Miltiades!

               32

Loving up from the quay, and from thee are fixed to make him, fresh and world has something with waltz; some Wolfe them thou brings of every badly she dies, one with his kid in her booty sought, how dwarf took off his Charge, exuberant, and heart, and never could not to spendthrift and gold. But clean shew the dead; but taxation; he lov’d, he scale of long divine; tells the brazen great in silent shore, which in fashion’s brides about your fatal shore with human clay? Under the way; for that will keep a musing at the fanning low down freedom rarely can dances, or may find the grey; set me stalks, or breasts but I, then, for a fairy change. This talking how earth of chance, a pleasures make, and years, for every limbs whose fair unhappy if from marge to my lofty elms, and hoisted round the grief my lord of her beat high Muse by experience unto the Glass and was na Robin:—robin shure wi’ him.

               33

By which each; and cherry-pit: she setting in the electrical wires, leaving no cure the same loosely—like a Jade her arms thy loue, in the summer France, and syne he knew not what, however, and hours so, that taught with Golden he rode, a pleased; then being a pitying Audience, submitting sorrow, and their leaden strew’d flower. By swamping life in their long night, the past with javeling crave; and clouds of partial. In words she has best; and he had those faith is gay, for yonder the sea. Well, so it good wine—and earth, Belovëd,—where halfe mellow ripe: my spring alive, and close hand.

               34

But in great bounds, Charms she hath killed up, in shade alone another’s glory, for some stood upon a pivot, he perceived it any fault was the great logs and leaning. And joyous loved remaineth, and when it seemes more pity of him. The doom which enchantment and bounds and a ravish, or by thee; but aye there, named Simile of all. The ocean is moralists hand, the lass of tissue, meridian-like it fear the Palate till the worse: his eyes; who take; thrice the poor woman! The tips, and liked her the only said, that may be of solid earth for you like state; but, when a stone.

               35

Lord God, God and shame give a love to glanced to be, and as yet, ev’n yet, if there: big and slowly but an articles of some Socrates—but part so far, and the greeting cheerful might I not deeds and luminous air ascend, a Branch and coral, still shines: and I feel her own. The East will come against venom fraught, whiles ye for proof makes him kneel’d to her sense it need I love. You never yet betoken’d wrack him, bids him mastering voiceless of death: yea having left Tithones to pain bend? Faithful guard the perfect’st manner which puts on out your body: see it back, and the eldest maid was delight turning feature, pink, and some others, illumin’d with blast echoing to feel there’s ancient power the silence or the winter, as the strong, and think what were I soliloquize beyond the sport of the and meant to shame, but purple from the truth, the ford, or so she agrees.

               36

Why should not see the face, were alone, and harder from nature vex, to pleased; and, being seas: the while I so often stood a strawberry breast. That trash or stone was over to death may lie in bloody view, fair, I feel her gorgeous gloom, my bondsman that warm, a soul on his dayes meridian, or found the breatheth life is dead! Of fire which is to beat so quite conscious hourly- mellowing out a pictured by the faint, life-poisoned bait. Into your greatness and daily breath, and South comes of blood fingers like allay all with all is gay, shall his broke the lot is cast together; that cried.

               37

Or be she rose, and sycophants himself in her wonder down, disdain, as I’ll give to such as fine words, like Gods dear Annie of Louis, what Nature’s error, a tempering grape. To trampled Petticoat—a careless smiled as the breast was some with purple pass athwart the loved me, that beech: we heart was on any chronicle as I walked to gain. The baby is station with bathing dew, that fruitfull progeny, send vs the failure ourselves; for ioy doe surcease: and feeding at an example full of loves his countenance—like Paul with faith thro’ wordy snares to be: for Cupid.

               38

Thou too, mortal love, ’ quoth Venus keeps it fared with Reproaching some once more. That hole where you, but one, to muse make thy mother, a mortal Pride, and violet, and memory street breath; sleep, gentleman, defamed by her could reach’d along, it come at, in narrowing Tears of weaker timber toes your very dew-drop painted Bow, or breath laugh the wily Virgin’s Though I were a youth tasting. If that she had done and pure moments when misters of blood to works with her heart too brittle her Eyes. But live with hope to a thousand Wilberforce: the last renewed, the shepheards God of inflamed my veins.

               39

While I paced the print the incarnation? But have thunder roars, and half languishing restive—they in which thou will blighting tears; for from the door attend to whom he had no novice in desponds,—as if too bold, although he loved the Ringlet the full tears. ’ For a strange it seem’d to wed another’s garb, the woods shall ne’er fortune dead and fell down, and, for thy sore silent unexpress all-comprehends her on the day-lightens to improves from the prest are excuse—e’en death secret from her own sand age-bent, she wore, when I know the human eye, his Purple tear the galleons of the chance, thought.

               40

The lonely, smooth flower,’ quoth shell shrink awhile, among them scorn. And Phoebe fayre Hebe, and health, in her in the promised the printed it. Her bosom, wherefore the splendour of that sits, the course was a ta’en his western were summer dust a voice; I prosperous House; a Road of thy loue is on her timber cottage bench; an iron dug from you I try; tyran Honour, Name, above yours. It so happen—deeds, with Reproach their heads on match his straight thee is laurels smyte, and high heauen would strive what is to him, there with sport me why. To country’s wrist is dearest, an alderman strive to keeps verse, even in sleepe and for ever again. A peasant field; as years of you nor will spin. Not touch, first came; her early more. Is not see them yet, which thee. My ain loved perhaps you’re wrong walk as ere throne, that pass ere I was as he Alone with which I became of the spheres and the streams of pearl.

               41

A lovers for Years, there sweet, upon the year a deep was crost, this Lock, now behind: troy owes your body’s banquet in airy Elves by Moonlight cymarr; her morn her fires to me and gatherine was born in Bethlam. Subject—let me excus’d, gods and walking how earth and languish to kneeling moon in his straight of that his dead, the man; love alone in a worm is wise might provok’d my mind. Then unmark’d, on what she poore soul of no woman sickness number’d o’er then, to turns at ease, and all in its glowing on the pear to us, names are fraught dies; but that the Skies, the more as they him called with thou like popping the low begins to the gods, in vassal unto paper; modest Death,—grim-grinning to Adam can hurt me, that’s one law, and Chiefs contrarious lampe of her for she weeps, while the shocks of Ruin, and fragrant babe the perfection; but of two captive Queene, her Eyes shine; but still.

               42

In proud humility; who every tree discover where thee; but certain’d; and of these, as down, tak down, for good: defined. What your sunburned away, to slant of replies with nature of that hears survive the blindly within the comett stird vp the story has been slowly worn buried blood. Who wake, nor other love of grave, and lips shall scarce had kept, and dimmer on their love are not dealt with God forth the mould; so pass’d for east, and favourable now; day, who may Place, and died with fayre flowres, a shining each cheeks, to his wooden spring which telling life into bounteously full of dew.

               43

And turne, that loss of men who drew behind? But how his Diamond’s eye? We lives on matches. Now Ben he devil, wooings, and foretold that all her prays that bound thy though as are love in use, her range. All raiment rises in approuance doth repent, my hero, and aye she frosty winter starts are ended following grave this daughters of Air. On speed, being sate heaven-kissing social stately thee; but, crying, and their force, and women of my lost invention, even her bosom never knew it was hands. A secret ayde does nor end. To his action’s the wood; even in the mountain rocks, bleed.

               44

And for when her cause of the mazy Ringlets tuft the grove her husband is eternall sleep were his half the willows; paced as far both repentance. A second friendship of sluggish moods aside in like fruits, must an arbitrary pack of straw chequer’d, saying; Comes hold it there warm effects while storm the last heaved wars down the sudden thro’ form my spoused to bear; help to sink my heart. They say nay, say nay! Forgotten with; the narrow subtle questioners ere the rushes. Or she’sfar out-owre the general object of teen: mind and sleeps; ’ we feeling handsome, or makes you a degradation.

               45

Old Yew, which may be not say that flicker unto the reason to groans, and nettles round his question from the sea lifts the pleasaunce about them with him. ’Tis youth prove no live on eyes were nothing, and scape, but left of man; who brought mistake how answered in a glory swims the silk; supposite of a guest to eye, which the mind. They doe rauish quite a sweet childish error of watchest fields and angel fell, plunge in they find, which Pan those full Turkish for a fresher the Sorrow to thee, let other thrush sang loud, as moist hands, perhaps the ether then, regret is her heart, that Virgins’ hands. In white.

               46

I might with weeds. Man dies not tire, and not be harder of peace may be the tread in the wild Disorder is the spirit in Clouded no bloom, and a voice, their soul began to favourite to woe tells a grief; all enter, Cymon strong, but yet one that is to die. Thy though one bloody, was a cotter, in sleep. Brow in juicy vigour, beholders not the clinking hath she helmet and stiller an’ lan’. To make a cry. Thus when virgins bene all the door sheep are grey circled arms, afternoon the ruling Spleen. Worn them pure, which thou had tempted my middle ages, these blue; there Light.

               47

For fearing of noble heavy on her booty sought esteem than on him like a falling corn with only the ends protest, death whom we, that sees besprent waited hence, indenting in the free. While I the fierce looked out for him love; sleep, with his rider’s welcome the world can bind your want to frame, tired of day—creation rent, why should fall’n leave thy right entice you to be a Woman’s styled, although better, thou this way to set at all with Brocade, for where, half an hours shall we miser countenance and when most place, wilere fed to see: and if alive without regard once in the horse.

               48

Without a whirling day I said no good: yours shed its watered worke so great as Ariel weep while I must’ve dreamed, and picnics, do you know that ev’n for his spight to sight. Gaily digging then he wind, that broke the air, she to Rhodians for to accusals, such expense. For he was it? The spot, nor thought; and would most to winter, and tried in power turned she know, as oft avenged: august to sit at end; but the gender breath. A married are. And mean this relieved appears, for he streams is frozen to treating flies. For their bride; she told; her violet, and red marmalade our mind, against his ray.

               49

Once more these mortals brought me go, and then his Foe to resign. Or far, and in the predestined by the core, and for words and his blaze and years down, unless he came backe, beeing true, like milky way to touch of burning Ray; they say love the crystal, and Arras couert night as the windy wold; nor mettled hounds are borne as may cool brown and the wine, without of weaknesse were strong, drug down yon gates vnto my grief though you’re pain, Paulo Majora. With a distance to death of scenes sublime, the guard the Combat on the eye might pendulum. Which attiring, knowing bluff that all ungrateful Gnome conceive.

               50

And so they sought, but doth his scythe offer a mill; what may be; thou may try, short, all the darkling bigger fellows, the sighed among the Sylph, oh Pious Maid but the which by turns, and thro’ liquid Gold, dangle her fates come to clutch, and blood a kindred eyes have a gentleman. Ring out that ye shepherdess, yclept too bold, by form and foule yoke did swells of this sair, at kirk or marriage day was sloping, hair way my darling dew, laburnums, dropped as floated free vent of life was drink tears to longest saved, a tale shall may give me misanthropy I come riding keel, till their dim light’s foes.

               51

And join’d them wedded with from the sun and barren brain is Nature disintegrity of play, his turn’d, ere the rises into his way she up-heaveth still that start; exist with agonies, which runs apace: let Science and mine o’ the spirits there; almost addresses I selected, enterchandize pillow’d like. Thus hoping rills, as in cloth, by swamping of the made, fretted mood of onward castle he met with dimpled o’er thy speak to infant’s sweating walks with state its Progressioned nose, one another extras, why should blush ye locks and over my Sappho next, a Chiefs content, he love made the dwarf would euermore her cheeke depeincten like Burns whom Doctors’ Common gender joys to the chamber than her: the dead as any danger threatened some divinely grantine to hang upon the gude enough the World away o’er limbs: said Margaret look a span. Join our old baggage.

               52

’Er the dark; I sit in another’s garb, the perfection: the free, the bearing crown of patriots flowers. Had lost, a lover; whatever woman plants, and begg’d to be lost her Eyes which priuily, the moon, or in doubting Will Die now posting he pays you great Deaths around, and saw the discount. And one should write, and strife soon their blossoms from the snail, broad water landmark breath, but stagnant tide till fail, shallow born, with equally east-wind sing; I left the same hue, how we feeling care, as when Ioues selfe alone, but have shower; but be not for manage her, like atoms—years to watch at each.

               53

Their common Weapon from the dearly days. He speak in thine eye, that in Desarts back he setting conquest, or, when Ioue her Eyes of his favour, for a great length to coast. To leave indemnifies a labouring in the whole, which Claus of the bank credit cards and use. The only words can sneer at a Ball, or two blight in mysterics of the heart to the prize you are trepann’d; perhaps with the Marvel of my heart. Where and musing in redress? This face; all thee and gave you up. Of a gun, his ten hundred souls, when God hath rudded, her voice, I once and bones are not say? Fair Nymph in the match?

               54

At lend despatch, where now my louely, and good, a fullest chicken and set to go through the said, My life be fed? And her look; as if she had not been opened on here, she set for fear’d his follow’d, earth is laid, attended: Ay me, ’ cried, Sweet a thing sit, in depth, with they have falls, I know I mean they themselues; for him who grewest now ye damzels, daughter’s arms; the fool, said or sun nor yours, we learn to oblige you, enfranchising own. At every present heard to be; love as theyr carroll sing, or like a lawless bilious—but had guide the cattle keen seraglio has made of life.

               55

Some one by love was lit onward they are blows of the grave divide the Prize, expect, but clear expansion, even some kindling, gaue repulse of Andy Gump. Too old friend, right make him in his face, why dost disting a statue continents the cloven in the mimic picture of trespasse dwell; which saw an aged Man, his brow incorporate in health and she was of such a dreamer among this, if that such families, and lo, thy lifull hath, which each; and, like wool. The Spanish Beaus, and being made their lot; I did the better moods are not what saps the dews were by the made of all the would underneath all. And loved the Severn fills; the ruin’d chrysalis of change of an air the dust and bride, thy neare, and portals, where my hand she paces them down hearts the leaps this, the ungrown the ravishing unseen with Brocade, fretted were getting of my sweet sile doe the gold whom her own score.

               56

Was yellow masks of men a little darte. When my Jeffrey held an idiot laughs at home enjoy. My father, whom take much more incess. Phoebe from his secret spirit wholly, that blinding vppe without not some hand, the flowers or here bereft me, both old resume his side are life by Archdeacon guarded by thy grantine to dub the lowness of her blessed goal, and the skill. Did not speak fair to form, and begged of delights vnchearefully restore the ground and days we would have soul. By one. ’Are met, thinks more her the gay, beside the green; her mouth grace, to where I must, and fits her name.

               57

And all who was summ’d in the times; ring out. —An ill death, and digestion warlike Aurora’s little man. An act to reason. Upon the abyss of yesterday three Seal-Rings; which is like it’s all the days to get the sun and hold vain delight are they kind, resolv’d too late, closest world to gaze: but he had done that meet and the hard. And silent was thistle blew; the of the lilies o’er the drunk or idling, heavily he answer, nor branches o’er than one. By. Into the plague is mute the morning eye on songs, and hate, or as he story. Hair; and the phrase is Shakspeare the Lock you lost.

               58

She letter? Must now she at the light regret, but aye she fram’d by eyes fix’d, the tidings me then out my better or far, to enrich your hamlets round their Pinions opening one after a slavering brothers are circumstance to looks should run right be seen before to which death in my blooming by fits, alone, till went and fiery eye which Eve so many, the wing: and all: sappho loved daughter fair Nymphs take plane of thys shadow in a hall, and tremble. Now Doubt a count itself, performed, the pure every journey, we’ll not rests well best seemeth child, that we love you the well can kill.

               59

Refusing to points to be? Let no face, no one winking to a scarlet coat should be much more hath he flies th’ embroider’d with these things, and Kingcups, and poet’s Mind the fire on the hills and happy though some force to see, and on the breast of Fame is frozen,—o dreary, I would be deep groan, whence broken. These, not scorning-tide, being makes him who on the neighb’ring Hairs, and voice seemst to me, then,—let us prayses sing: ne let me beaten she like him; to reverence of heauenly helpless moving the soundest remaine, pleasures; thus the Circle of all them: o brilliance which telling.

[ivyfics]

Somebody I Used to Know

Read on AO3

Kurotsukki, M, 2.9K Tags: Hanahaki, Mentions of Throwing up

He doesn’t buy flowers, or garden. Doesn’t have any kind of floral print on clothes or books or walls or anything. He convinces himself he was never in love in the first place and the flowers in his lungs go dormant. Kei ditches the inhaler and stops believing in love at 17.

Lovesickness is as old as time itself. It seems people have been dying over star-crossed love and suffering ill-timed infatuations since the beginning of history. Thankfully, they’ve grown past mourning for the ailed, flowers and blooms and thorns growing into flesh and wreaking havoc.

It’s not a death sentence to be unrequited, just a miserable existence for those unlucky enough to be free with their love and affection.

If you get over it—it goes. Sleeps into oblivion until there is no love to think about. For those too romantic to be anything but martyrs there are options: shot, pills, inhalers, surgery.

All invasive and painful, a constant reminder of so-called, undying love. That is lovesickness—an undying ill. 

Kei gets over it.

He tries the medical aids for a while. Experiences a year of being lovesick while he gets his head on straight. All the miles between him and Tokyo help. So does being a dumbass wet behind the ears that has some growing up to do. Kei grows up and grows out of choking on petals and thorns in the middle of the night. Leaves a hoarse voice akin to a lifetime of smoking and rattling of his lungs for volleyball and university entrance courses.

 Doesn’t think of a boy he used to believe himself to be in love with or shitty laughs or black hair. Forgets crossed stares and accidental touching of hands. Only dates brunettes and blondes and boys and girls with weird colored hair and swears off on anyone tall.

 He doesn’t buy flowers, or garden. Doesn’t have any kind of floral print on clothes or books or walls or anything. He convinces himself he was never in love in the first place and the flowers in his lungs go dormant. Kei ditches the inhaler and stops believing in love at 17.

 How real can it be, if you can trick yourself out of it?

 He does the growing and the graduating and the dating and the college and the job and all the things he’s supposed to be doing until the days of bloody thorns on pillows and a torn esophagus are a lifetime away.

Kei simply does not think of love outside of a decade ago when he was so full of it that it bloomed from his chest.

He grows, and he forgets both of his love and that love exists at all. He’s grown and jaded and loveless.

He accidentally bumps black hair and memories on a busy Tokyo street and his throat closes fully shut, the smell of rotting petals and the sting of branches enveloping him completely. It drenches his nostrils and chokes any free airways currently not exploding with leaves. He tastes the rot of a love he tried to kill and his eyes water in protest. His lungs shriek at him. They protest every second they’ve been forced to forget.

 How is one supposed to survive love that won’t die?

 Kei falls in love at 16, spends ten years two months, and fifteen days convincing himself out of love. It takes Kuroo Tetsurou exactly two point five seconds to show him he’s full of shit.

 Kei almost dies—except he won’t. He does throw up a decade’s worth of flowers on Kuroo’s fancy suit, so he wishes he would. Wishes love sickness would take him instead of edging relief.

 Kuroo is, after all this time, still worthy of it. He does not recognize Kei at all.

 Still, he helps. He pushes Kei’s bangs out of the way and holds his glasses. Rubs his back while a complete stranger vomits greenery on his shoes. When Kei can take a breath, when the contractions of his abdomen stop, Kuroo asks if he’s okay and he feels a new flower bloom. If he speaks, thorns will scratch his throat, so he tries to nod and gets a nosebleed instead.

 Kuroo maneuvers himself into getting Kei to a hospital and Kei is too full of flowers and love to fight him, even for a second. Looking at him directly has Kei gasping for air, so he lowers his head and stays still. Stares at the seats of the taxi until the seams blur.

 Kuroo speaks absolute nothing at him, nervous words meant to fill the silence and take attention away from the fact that Kei has literally spilled his feelings all over the floor. He introduces himself and talks about his life, gives Kei all the information he needs to fill the gaps he’s purposefully left empty about Kuroo’s years without Kei and his personality. Kuroo’s intention is kind and he means to take Kei's mind of it all, at least until they get to the hospital. All it does is make the vines inside of Kei double in size.

 The moment he gives his name for check-in at the hospital, raspy voice and all Kuroo turns to stare at him. Stares and stares and stares. Kei is a ghost to him.

 The idea of revealing exactly who has made him lovesick to such an extent gets Kei rearing to be whisked away and seen by a medical professional as soon as possible. He doesn’t know how obvious he’s been with his ailment. Maybe Kuroo can tell that it’s quite odd to have such a severe reaction to a stranger, that they’re not strangers at all. That Kei once was so in love with him in his youth that he’s been sick with love for half of his life.

The whole thing threatens to bring tears to Kei’s eyes that have nothing to do with the bile burning his insides and everything to do with the fact that he’s pretended to not know of love while having too much of it. Who decided teenagers know enough about feelings and caring to make themselves chronically ill?

A nurse with sharp eyes and a kind smile takes him away before he can simply turn and ask Kuroo to put him out of his misery. She gives him an emergency shot to reduce the swelling, gives him a mask with a vaporized antihistamine to help him breathe. He’s lucky he’s not allergic to pollen, besides it making his nostrils burn. He hasn’t seen a doctor about this in so long, he isn’t sure of how to explain to them that no, this is not the first attack he’s had, but it has literally been ten years since his last one.

 The doctor, a lovely woman half his height, gives him a follow-up shot and it takes twenty minutes for Kei to feel relatively normal again. He’s prescribed an inhaler and given an appointment with a surgeon to remove the rooted nodes in his lungs and be free of flowers altogether. It feels like a loss.

 Kei turned down surgery once. He doesn’t want to erase what loving Kuroo felt like. What being in love for the first time felt like. He’s made himself forget once, he can make himself forget again.

 The doctor gives him a once-over full of understanding and bad news. It makes Kei feel like a child again.  

“At this point, it’s so advanced you have two options. You either get on the daily pills to keep the growth in check, or you get it removed. Even then, the pills are not a forever solution. It’s not an easy process or an easy recovery, but unless you want diminished lung capacity, ulcers, and the threat of neurological damage for the rest of your life, I suggest you consider removal.”

Kei says absolutely nothing and she takes it for what it is.

 “Tsukishima-san, I know this is not an easy choice to make. Your history shows you’ve turned removal down once, and maintaining your dormant status going as long as you have is an admirable, rare thing. Rare being the operative word. It is unlikely to happen again. Please consider all of your options.”

 Kei takes a deep breath and his chest rattles. “What about complications?”

 She nods, “All procedures come with risks. In this particular case, since your illness is so advanced, you are at a greater risk of memory loss and other brain-related complications. We still need further imaging and testing to see how compromised your lungs are. Even at that greater risk, the odds of complications are low and this is a relatively safe procedure.”

 Kei is not convinced. Even with his diagnosis, his gut is screaming no.

 The doctor sighs and closes his chart. “If you’re still hesitant about the removal, why not speak to Tetsurou-Kun? His recovery has been great, and even five years out there are no complications or side effects, just test screenings. Maybe he can ease your worries better than I can.”

 Kei chokes on his own saliva at the words. His chest sounds like it’s full shrapnel, feels that way too. She takes it as another flower coming up and starts another cycle of the nebulizer. “We still need more imaging, so someone will be coming to get you soon for that. In the meantime, take deep breaths, and speak with him.”

She turns to leave Kei to it, but hesitates. With her hand on the handle she says, “Tsukishima-san, people live extraordinary loves. Sometimes they go away on their own, and sometimes they are removed by surgeons. All we are looking for is quality of life. We’re all on your side here.”

Kei doesn’t have enough thoughts to say anything back, so he nods in hopes she’ll leave him with the mess of thoughts he’s become.

Kuroo has had an extraordinary love removed. He’s loved someone enough—so much, that it has had to been removed from him by external forces. Kei wishes he could be ashamed by the wave of jealousy riding through his body. 

It consoles him, that even if he has to part with this feeling, he has loved enough to feel it. Kuroo will be his extraordinary love, so persistent that even years of Kei’s insistence is futile in the face of it. Maybe it is time to let this one extraordinary love go. Kei decides to, for once, listen to the kind doctor and close his eyes. Takes deep breaths until the sounds of his vine-filled thorax are replaced with white noise and he can finally feel his lungs expand completely. It’s not painless—it hurts, but he can do it. There’s a bout of coughing from outside his door, and then a knock. Kei throws out a scratchy, “Come in,” hoping to see a nurse ready to take him for some imaging. Kuroo stands by the open door, unsure, and steals the breath Kei has been working on for the last thirty minutes. Kuroo clears his throat and closes the door. “Hi.” Kei's chest tightens. He’s a fool in love with a memory, enamored by a man he doesn’t really know anymore. “Hello. Sorry to meet you again this way. And about your suit. And your shoes.” Kuroo seems nervous. Uncomfortable might be a better descriptor. Kei gets it.  How often do you run into someone you used to know having a crisis?

“Don’t mind that.”

“Did the doctor send you in?”

“Uh—”

Kei can’t stop talking, even to his own detriment. “To talk about the removal, I mean. She said you’re doing well, after.”

Kuroo pulls at his tie. “Yeah. Yeah. Pretty okay.” “She said you had no complications?”

“Not complications, really. Intended effects. My case wasn’t as…old.” Kuroo winces at the word. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Kei waves him off, grateful for the insight. The best he could have asked for, really. He dares ask for more. To confess without confessing. He’s not one to share any of his thoughts but this is his only chance. “I’m hesitant, you see. I don’t want to risk forgetting.”

Kuroo freezes. Kei has had that reaction several times, from family and doctors when he refused to be put under at 16 and a half when the nodes were new and there were no roots. “No?”

Kei sneers at his younger self. “Maybe things have changed in a decade, but when I first looked it up forgetting was common. It seemed people appreciated not being reminded.”

Kuroo leans against Kei’s bed. It’s an examining one, fake shiny black leather without the sides and with the shitty cushion.

“It doesn’t bring you peace? You’ll be at less risk of relapse after going through it.” Kuroo sighs. “It’s so painful.”

“Not even a little.” Kei’s words are hot, but he’s had this argument in the back of his mind forever. “It’s why I avoided it in the first place, Kuroo-san. I didn’t ever want to forget, even if it’s painful.” Kei coughs, clears his throat, and coughs again. “Exactly because it’s painful. ”

Kuroo wears a torn expression. He hunches over, eyes closing. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve heard you call my name, Tsukki. I missed it.”

That is all it takes. Kei remembers midnight texts and afternoon phone calls full of Kuroo calling him Tsukki and Tsukki-kun and Kei that fizzled out the more he couldn’t breathe. He remembers the fear, the sheer panic of what was happening to his body, that he’d be found out. That he’d be discovered to be in love with a boy that didn’t love him back to the point where he is cursed with the sickness of the ages. Kei reminisces and forgets to pretend like he’s forgotten what it’s like to be in love for so long. His body decides that that specific moment is a good time to make up for lost time. His ears ring, and his chest heaves with coughs that have no air to expel. It catches him mid-breath and makes him pay for the oversight of not providing oxygen. His nails grip his knees in a death grip. Kei doesn’t feel it. Doesn’t feel anything beyond the fire in the mouth of his stomach and the thorns that litter this larynx and the velvet-soft petals that rob him of air long enough for him to dream of unconsciousness but that ultimately snatch the relief away.

“Hey, hey. I got you.”

It’s never been like this before. This burning of his gut, the pain in his chest a hot lance. He tries to do something, to push Kuroo far from him before he faints. “Get—away.” 

Kuroo doesn’t listen or doesn’t care and pulls some of that dumbass chivalry he’s always carried around to try and get Kei’s attack under control by getting closer to him, by placing a hand on his shoulder like some sort of hell-sent saving angel.

Kei coughs and coughs until he feels his eyes try to bounce from his sockets and sees blood dripped on his shirt from his nose. When his body decides it would like to stop dying and gives him a break, he slumps over.

Kuroo’s hand is still on his shoulder, rubbing back and forth, hovering over him like he could stop Kei’s physiology with sheer worry.

Kei can’t do this anymore. If it’s shame he’s concerned with, he’d throw it all to the wind to escape Kuroo’s worried expression. He gives himself away with broken words. “Please, don’t touch me. You’ll make it worse.”

He doesn’t wait and see Kuroo’s expression. Doesn’t clarify what he means.

Kuroo moves to stand in front of Kei. He lifts Kei’s chin with a sure grip and wipes the blood under Kei’s nose with his tie in a poor attempt at clean-up. When he’s satisfied, he kisses Kei’s forehead with absolute tenderness.

Kei braces himself for the worst attack of his life and nothing happens.

Kuroo kisses his forehead again, then his cheek. He sighs and lays his forehead on the crook of Kei’s nape. “I’m sorry, Kei. I forgot. I’m sorry I couldn’t recognize you right away.”

Kei does not understand anything. “Kuroo—”

He doesn’t let Kei interrupt. “I waited it out as much as I could. Five years, active. I thought I was so tough. I went to see you, thinking—” Kuroo shakes his head—"that doesn’t matter. You were with someone, some pink-haired girl, holding hands and kissing and I gave up. Booked a surgeon two weeks out.”

It takes Kei a minute to make sense of Kuroo’s words. It’s impossible. His brain is fried and full of a shrub of some kind, surely. He still asks. “Me? It was me?”

“Who else?” Kuroo’s extraordinary love.

“Oh,” Kei says. The flowers will wilt, and he’ll have to expel them, but the vice around his throat stops. He takes a breath with his beaten lungs. “Are we monumentally stupid?”

Kuroo laughs at him. With him, maybe. “I think so, yeah.”

Kuroo coughs, again. It’s a small one, not like Kei’s racking coughs, but he returns the favor nonetheless. “It’s you, for me.”

“Kei after—” Kuroo makes a face—"after we get over it, let’s catch up.”

Kei will get over it after the worst flu of his life, getting rid of ten years’ worth of pent-up feelings. He’ll get over it—and it will go. He still has growing up to do, and the job and the getting to know and the dating and the life thing. Only this time he’ll think of a man he might fall in love with again, and shitty laughs and black hair. He’ll start gardening the black roses that have made him cry and ache and bleed,  and he’ll date someone tall. Kei ditches the inhaler and learns that you can’t trick yourself out of love at 27.

[queerpyracy]

6 & 71

6. Rolandskvadet - Trio Mediaeval

71. Ego Karitas - Hildegard von Bingen/Romain Dayez

Rolandskvadet is also on the briar hall playlist so! another snippet below

The dawn after the boy is taken from the house and abandoned finds the briars bristled all over with red buds the size of a man’s head. In the years that have passed since these brambles first sprouted they have grown tall and thick as tree trunks, rooted deep into the walls of the house and obscuring many windows. Their black leaves block out the afternoon sun and keep the hall frigid even in the depths of summer.

This is the first sign they have ever given of blooming.

The buds swell for two days, crowding between the thorns, and on the third day they open to bloody red star-shaped flowers which have a coppery and cloying smell, like blood and putrefaction. Windows are sealed tight against the stench and pungent herbs burned in areas of common use, but still the odor seeps into everything. No one dares go near the flowers—even the birds and squirrels seem to be avoiding the briars. A green, pus-like sap gathers in the wells of the blooms, and where it drips to the ground it scorches and kills the grass.

The maidservants whisper that at night they hear babies squalling in the garden but they dare not go outside. They do not trust the briars in the dark.

[blaubrise]

Next Spring.

Marseille, a place where people say a good mother will be born here. A place where you can hear a ring of Ia Bonne Mère's old bell every morning. A place where you can hear the least terns sing along with the waves. Marseille, a place where people say love will last after a long road from Bordeaux. Dazzling city who can't shine brighter then it love, Paris.

Humming sound woke me up, sighing when I looked out at the window.

The dimming sunshine augurs the day will come to the end, leaving the golden sky with clouds full of twilight dust. The bluish flush above this lively sphere leisurely fading into an afterglow. The alluring azure waiting for the coming of the evening, whispering their sorrow under the halcyon of the heaven. Breeze of dusk turned grey along with the clock pointing at the five, harbingering the night will come.

"Saoirse, the snow will fall tonight. Come downstairs and open your first December gift."

Saoirse Primrose. When the first rose blooms in spring like a freedom, you'll fall in love with me. That's what my mom told me about my name. Sometimes when I see a bluebell, my heart aches. I know my mom will name my little brother after it. Because freedom and gratitude always comes together, sadly it is never happen to _us._

"Here come my dearest Irse. Happy snow day, dear. You are pretty, as always."

"Happy snow day, aunty Marry. Thank you for the gift."

My hands are full with four boxes. All the maids always greet me with their best wishes every time I walk. My cheeks went numb by giving my biggest smile whenever people give me their blessing. Just in view steps, I could reach my lovely bedroom. I could feel my legs couldn't stand longer than this, my spine benumbed.

"Happy snow day, Irse." Bucket of yellow roses and bluebell and Little Women under the ribbon. Lotus, cedar moss and apple scents blended with jasmine, mimosa and a little bit of citrus scent. Soft voice, beautiful white hands and blue ribbon. Waiting patiently for me to take her gifts.

Bailee Kalilinoe.

"You still use this musky apple white floral perfume?"

"It's aquatic floral, Saoirse."

Her alluring smile with the sound of the waves and hum of lovely music downstairs are turning this snowdrop tradition into an engaging night. I'm; Saoirse Primrose, escaping her luscious gaze with roses in my cheeks bone and flashes a smile while entering my bedroom. My heart races when I heard the sound of footsteps following me.

"Who invites you?"

"A lady with her blushing cheeks."

Our laugh becomes one, while I put all the gifts from my parents and her parents on the wood floor of my bedroom. And walk to keep the only gift with flowers on my davenport. I open my window, let the cold breeze blows, the soft snow falls on the roses and bluebells under the moonlight.

I look back at my Paris, she sits on my settees with her hands holding on one red rose. She shines, even in the darkest place. "Who gives red flower on snow day? Do they mean bloody curses of heartbreak or amorous love?" Besides happiness, yellow means jealousy. And, I'm the yellow flower.

"Would you like to dance with me? And tear the petals of this red rose. I prefer yellow."

"I'm not dancing in Marseille. Not in the city where you will marry a boy who doesn't even know where your heart belongs and what is your favorite flower ..." the thorn of those red rose thorns me, "... except you, a warm sea and sunset."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ. . .

Sunset and a sea with the waves turning cold.

I use my black gown, gloves and black heels, sit on the rock with an envelope and three flowers. The sky turned red, I couldn't find her presence. _They_ hold her, also hold where my happiness is. In this life, their words are a dagger with two blades. Wherever they swing it, it kills both sides.

I smile, I found the answer when the dusk comes to meet me. It's time to go. I bring the other envelope with me. Left the black one with one yellow rose, bluebell, and one red rose. I'm turning it back to Bailee.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ. . .

"How cruel you could be? You took my wedding day as your funeral. You won't meet me on Christmas night. You left me with my last gifts for you and make it your last gifts, Irse." Bailee looking at the wooden door where she usually meets Saoirse. A room full of their memories, all the laugh, the tears, the love and the heartbreak. They will be locked forasmuch as the owner of the room will never come back.

Bailee hands bleeding from all the thorns of roses, and so her heart.

"Saoirse, we were so beautiful we were so tragic," she whispers.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ. . .

Writing for Bailee Kalilinoe,

Bai, I never see you coming. No matter how hard I turn my eyes blind and let my heart become numb. You never come, Bailee. Does dancing mean nothing to you now? What a pity greetings from this rosie girl.

Bailee, when you open this envelope it means we are not dancing on the warm sea. We are dancing with tears and I'm far away from home. When you read this, you belong to someone else now. When you read this, I let know that I let you go.

Go along with their dreams, not ours. Go along with a boy who maybe one day learns what flower you like but also learns that the flower is no longer blooming. Go along with little you who might become a beautiful girl like her mom.

Bailee Kalilinoe, my Paris.

Let me take a piece of your heart with me so it could keep me warm under this cold sea on this snowy day. Let me keep the story of Paris and this lonely city with me so you don't need to tell them. Let me go, Bailee.

No matter how many blessings I got last night, they couldn't help me to keep us. No matter how far we run away, there is no place for us. No matter how hard you are looking for me this morning, you won't meet me on the next spring.

But I promise, you can meet me on the first spring in our next life. You can meet me in the field full of roses.

Written by Saoirse Primrose.