#Where they told each other they loved each other as Newspaper died

[brainfilehasstoppedworking]

He was prepared to die now. He foolishly ran into the way of the fire to cover Patches. He held her close, he forgot how soft her hair was. How nice she smelled...which was replaced by the smell of blood. He felt himself get weak by the second, and his body hurting like hell. But he didn't feel himself collapse. He was dizzy. His vision was so cloudy, Patches looked like a blob. Actually, he could barely see her by how cloudy and fuzzy it was. He saw more black splotches then the girl he loved. It was a bad time, but...he needed to tell her. "Oh, God! Newspaper, you alright? You idiot, why did you do that?!" She screamed as she held him in her arms. He smiled at her, cupping her cheek. "Because...because I love you, Patches. I have for a while now. Uhm. Sorry if this is a shitty time to confess. Just. Wanted you to know." He said, grinning weakly. He was in pain. And he could feel his body get weaker and his life slowly draining. He could barely keep his arm up. And it fell useless on the ground. "I love you, too. So d-don't leave me! Please!" Patches cried. He sighed. "Can't help it. I...I can barely feel anything. Actually, can't feel anything at all. Don't cry, Patches." He wiped away her tears and moved her front bangs off her face. He saw her beautiful gray eyes and smiled more. "Your eyes are so pretty...I wish I could've seen them more often." He was scared, though. "Shit...I'm so scared to die right now. I don't want to. But...if that's my fate, I'll die happily knowing you're alive at least." He leaned up, pushing her head slightly down so they could kiss. It was tender. Somber. Her lips were really soft. That was the only feeling he could feel. Until everything went black completely. His head falling back and his body not tense, just limp. His brown-black eyes going dull and empty. Like all the life in them was drained. "Hey. Hey. Please...this isn't funny. Newspaper. Don't leave me. Franklin...please." She held his body closer to her body, then picked it up and fled the room they were in. They weren't alone, she remembered. She didn't want his death to be in vain with herself dying. 'I'm so sorry, Newspaper. I wish...I wish I moved out of the way faster...if I did, you'd still be here with me. And I can hold you again. Feel your warmth. I want you to yell at me again for breaking another decor you had. To...to hold my face in your hands and tell me that my scars are beautiful. I love you.' She discarded her broken up mask and ran faster. His body was so cold compared to her own. His handsome face was so empty, it was scary to look at. She wished he didn't tell her he loved her. She wished she didn't say she loved him back.

Remember when I said they were tragic? @emiko-chan-is-here, yeah I killed Newspaper. Weh. This is the original version technically. I wonder if I have the old and ACTUAL original fic. Because this is the original storyline. Just changed some shit up.

[nthspecialll]

Camp is my favourite place of them all, especially in chapter two and three but every now and then I can't stand being there because all I can think about is their future, how they will hate each other, how they will lash out, how they will be split, how they will die.

I will look at Javier playing his guitar around the campfire with a smile on his face, and think about how in the end he will have his life taken by the man he considered his best friend even after they both desperately tried to avoid it.

I will look at John sitting on the ground behind his tent, carving some figure out of wood, and think about how he did all he was told to protect his family, yet in the end, he was still shot like a dirty dog in the backyard.

I will look at Molly sitting in her and her lovers tent, quietly reading to herself, and think about how she will be shot dead merely because she loved.

I will look at Hosea reading the newspapers every morning without fail and think about how he had to watch as the man he considered his partner slowly fall apart and in the end get him killed.

I will look at Lenny eating his soup next to the man who called him his son, and think about how they will die not even an hour apart and be buried right where they wanted to be, next to a friend.

I will look at Dutch standing and talking about greatness and all the promises he has made, and think about all the people he has hurt and has yet to hurt, how he doomed them all.

I will look at Sean singing by the campfire about the land he loves so much, and think about how other than Arthur he was the only one to notice that the job was wrong yet he was the one who payed for it with a shot to the head.

I will look at Kieran standing by himself as he brushes the horses, and think about how he was worried about straying too far away because the O'Driscolls might find him and how that was exactly what happened because he didn't feel safe in camp either.

I will look at Bill listening to the stories told by his friends and think about how all he ever wanted was Dutch's approval and how he didn't even get it in the end.

I will look at Abigail caring for her son, worrying if she will have enough money to clothe him, and think about how she will have to wander the farm her husband built just for her without him by her side for three years before dying of the same as her brother in law who had saved her family.

I will look at Karen who at 10am has already found the bottom of the bottle, and think about how she will never escape that addiction that in the end will kill her.

I will look at Strauss making sure that the money is right, and think about how even when he was thrown out by Arthur, he never told on them, he never said anything, he was an old man of 60 something years who got beaten to death protecting the people who had thrown him on the street.

I will look at Uncle sleeping against a tree, and think about how in the end he died surrounded by those he loved, protecting them with his life.

I will look at Susan sitting all alone, sewing a hole in some ungrateful man's clothing, and think about how she got shot and bled out in front of her old lover who didn't even bat her and eye, all because she cared for the family she used to replace the one she could never biologically have.

Even though they are still alive, I mourn them.

[shady-swan-jones]

Happy Autumn season! Fics for your cocooning era

Too Well Tangled (18/21 - "J'adoube") by @myfearless-love

Determined and tough-minded Emma Nolan is on a singular mission: to rescue her dim-witted brother from the clutches of Killian Jones, the infamously rakish Marquess of Hookstone. Little did she anticipate her own burgeoning desire for the audacious, unscrupulous scoundrel she intended to despise. Killian Jones, the enigmatic Marquess of Hookstone, has more than earned his sinister sobriquet, the "Prince of Darkness."

Dreams That You Wish Will Come True by @snowbellewells

Granted a night to seek adventure and dreams, young Killian Jones meets young Princess Emma at her birthday ball. Though the moment is filled with all the excitement and magic of the best fairy tales, it is over too soon and he must leave before the dream is shattered. Will they find each other again? A Reverse Cinderella AU

The Witch in the Woods by @hollyethecurious

“If it’s aid of a magical sort ye seek, then you’ll be wanting to find the witch in the woods.” That’s what the apothecary had told him. The witch in the woods. A designation that brought forth images of an old crone, hump-backed and wrinkled with warts on her nose and long spindling fingers whose knuckles were gnarled and stiff - not the blonde goddess currently grinding an assortment of herbs with her mortar and pestle, her brilliant jade eyes sparkling in the candlelight that was also casting a honeyed glow over her smooth, creamy skin.

Untie Me (7/?) by @shady-swan-jones

“Save the smolder, Jones, you already have me.” But the compliment hits despite her deflection, nestles stubbornly in her heart. 

“Oh well, now it’s over,” he makes an exaggerated face and moves to retreat. He shakes his head, lips together in a line. “Emma, you and I are just beginning. Let me make you feel good.”

She smirks, heat rising to her chest. “How good?”

laundry day by ssadumbass

killian and emma spend some quality time together on laundry day

At the Dawn There is Rejoicing by jdmusiclover

Emma Gold has led a difficult life. Her brother and her father died when she was a child, and she was then coerced into marrying the odious Neal Gold. She thought she’d been granted a reprieve when he was believed to be lost at sea–only for him to return disabled and in need of a caregiver. Killian is a newspaper reporter who is tired of his routine life. When he falls ill, his editor forces him to take a sabbatical. What will happen when Emma takes Killian in as a border for the summer?

Exacting His Revenge by @jrob64

When Hook sees an opportunity to finally get his revenge on Rumplestiltskin, he seizes it, putting him in the company of Emma Swan. A season 2 canon divergent story.

the most dangerous thing is to love by @exhaustedpirate

The Darkness whispers in Killian's ears and he lets it, lets it play him like a puppet so he can get his revenge. But what if the strings are cut? Will he let it manipulate him until his worst nightmare comes true? Until he destroys his happy ending?

Overboard by @elizabeethan

Emma Swan spends years trying to find her parents, and when she finally does, she gets more than she bargains for

Finding Home by PirateDragon28

Emma Swan is living with her twin sister Ruth and Ruth’s 3 year old daughter, Flo. Emma and Ruth were separated at birth and found each other half a year before Flo was born. Now they live in a small 2 bedroom apartment together. Emma’s a bail bondsperson and Ruth works as a police officer for the BPD.

Heart Bound by @4getfulimaginator2022

CS historical AU (mid-19th century), real world setting, teacher!Emma and artist!Killian. After years of private tutoring, Emma goes to teach in a village by the sea in a desperate bid to escape her heartbreak and the outside world. She thinks that she'll always be lonely and out of place, but the local lighthouse keeper, a fellow recluse and the town outcast, makes her see that she is right where she belongs.

Trying Something New by @overlordofthelollipopguild

After Rumplestiltskin traps Emma and Killian in the past, they manage to escape him and realize they will have to live in the past in order to catch up to the future.

Murder Most Foul by CSColifer 

Murdered Killian Jones has one last message for Emma Swan.

Love Bites (But So Do I) by @grimmswan

"Do you have any idea how tempting you look? It's going to take everything in me not to ravage you in front of everyone."

"I'm sure we can find some place to indulge ourselves." Emma grinned wickedly at her lover.

a place in time - chapter xv by @swanslieutenant

Emma’s an agent working to reunite missing people with their families when the biggest missing persons case of all time appears in front of her in a flash of bright, white light. Thousands of missing people from throughout history, including one particular pirate, appear on the shore of a lake in the middle of winter: none have aged a day since their disappearance and, with no memory of their missing time, must venture into a strange and uncertain future. Loosely based on the TV show “the 4400.”

A Cottage by the Sea by @snowbellewells

Princess Emma has always been drawn to the shores of Misthaven, where the sea meets the shore near her parents’ castle. When an unknown boy washes up on the sand, with eyes as fathomless and blue as the waters that brought him to her, he soon becomes Emma’s best friend, her partner in crime, and her other half.

Flight 815 by @honey77bun

"Hello, who is this? Director William Webster's voice called out. "Hello, this is your assistant, Strickland. I'm calling you on a very important matter." "What's the reason?" "In the case of Flight 815. As you know, at the Coast Guard Air Base in Miami, a girl named Emma Swan appeared on board the plane." "Did you find out she wasn't a spy?"

Can I Be Your Werewolf? by @belovedcreation

After a particularly nasty encounter with a criminal, bounty hunter Emma Swan's friend convinces her to adopt a guard dog from the shelter. Little does she know that the massive dog she brings home is really the werewolf Killian Jones, who's laying low in wolf form to hide from danger. She forms a bond with her pet, one that is tested and strengthened once Killian reveals his true nature. But Killian will never be a free man and Emma will never heal from her past until a power-hungry werewolf is stopped from his mission to control all of Storybrooke.

Burn The Ships (4/?) by @booksteaandtoomuchtv

Pan and his pack of gruesome werewolves torment and put an end to individuals who find themselves unlucky enough to be a guest of Neverland. After being betrayed by her ex, Emma finds herself the game in this month’s hunt.

Captain Hook has never found the sport particularly alluring, preferring to spend his change far from Pan’s cruel crew. When he catches the scent of his mate, he is forced to join in the hunt to find her before the others can.

Saving her will mean betraying Pan and no one betrays Peter Pan and lives to tell about it

An Offer She Can’t Refuse (3/3) by @deckerstarblanche

As soon as he cracked his eyes open the next morning, Killian knew she was gone. With a frustrated groan, he glared up at the stucco ceiling and flipped over onto his stomach, pressing his face into her pillow and feeling like a fool.

Welcome to the Enchanted forest by Emmaducklingsaviour

Post curse and on her 16th birthday Emma gets herself in a time loop with dire consequences. Before she can face them, Emma, Killian, Elsa and Red are suddenly pulled through a portal, returning to the Enchanted forest. This is a direct continuation of Welcome to the Storybrooke

Hope will come by AlwineMews

A new curse has sent the small town of Storybrooke into a deep sleep, freezing time in place. Shortly before the curse broke, a stranger kidnapped Emma and Killian's newborn daughter, Hope, and took her out of town. 28 years later, Hope accidentally drives into Storybrooke and breaks the curse as she crosses the town line.

Can Emma, Henry, Natalia and Killian become a family? And what is the story behind the missing persons and the sudden appearance of Sherlock Holmes?

Misthaven by IreneRose21

After Killian was resurrected by Zeus, the whole town of Storybrooke comes back to The Enchanted Forest. Snow and David become Queen and King of Misthaven again, the largest and most loved Kingdom in the whole Realm. That is until they are betrayed and murdered by a close ally, which causes all the Realm to enter in the most deadly war The Enchanted Forest will ever see.

Happy Beginning Captain Swan by isaballerina89

After Emma Swan finished the final battle with the adult Gideon, Storybrooke changes for the better. Emma and Killian finally have a life that they both can enjoy together without fighting the town's villains.

Unfinished Business by ohmakemeahercules

Don’t let me be your unfinished business, Emma had said. Killian has a lot of thoughts to process and emotions to process before that happens. Takes place right after he sends Emma up the elevator in 5x20 Firebird.

Forget Me Not, Prologue by @zaharadessert

The village of Storybrooke is as unremarkable as any number of villages in the English countryside. It has a pub, a church, a post office and a village green. But one summer a little boy and his mother come to stay, and suddenly some remarkable things start to happen...

Timeless by @killiansprincss

Season 3 divergence - When Zelenas time portal works, Henry wakes up alone in Storybrooke and must travel to the Enchanted Forest to get his family back. Only once he gets there he quickly realises its not like the one in his book, theres no Evil Queen and his mother Emma wasn't put through a wardrobe, theres even a poster inviting the entire kingdom to her engagement ball, to Hook. What will happen once Henry gets them to break this new curse and they get their memories back?

Once Upon A Grimm by @hollyethecurious

The world was far more complex than most people realized. Humans went about their lives, completely ignorant of the fact that there was a world of fairytales existing right alongside them. Well, not really fairytales. Not in the Disney sense, anyway. Many, like the Grimm brothers, had woven the truth into their stories, but the creatures they wrote about were even more nightmarish than their macabre and monstrous depictions.

free fallin' by temporarystatus

On a dark and stormy Halloween night 27 years ago, five people stepped onto an elevator. They never stepped off. Now 28, Emma Swan and her son Henry work together to discover what caused her parents and the other inhabitants to suddenly disappear.

Anything Could Happen (2024) by wildseafairies

Killian and Emma have been friends for years. Not just friends, though—best friends. Until today, that is. Something has changed between them, Killian just can't put his finger on what it is. So, when an inebriated Emma stumbles in the dark room he's been hiding in during Mary Margaret and David's engagement party (and doesn't seem to recognize him), Killian sees his chance at untangling whatever went wrong there by taking an epic trip down memory lane with her. And maybe—just maybe—that's also the way for both of them to confront the intricate feelings they've been quietly harboring for each other…Who knows?

Your Loved by StonEvo

Emma just needs to make it through her Senior year. Then Henry and herself can finally be free of the system and be there own family. But will her New Foster mom, Mary Margaret worm her way into there hearts. And what's with the town sheriff always eyeing her new guardian. Emma could careless if it weren't for the fact that the towns resident bad boy is always with said sheriff also giving her eyes as well as weird butterfly like feeling in her stomach. None of that matters, because Emma's going to graduate and leave this dumb little town behind and hopefully out run the past she also left behind in Boston. All she needs is the only person who truly loves her, Henry.

More

[yadelah]

Goodbye to my father

I remember my dad’s love for stories. He loved a running bit and a funny voice. He would laugh loud and obnoxious when something hit him hard. He’d drive me to middle school through the TMC block and we realized we kept talking about hair in the same stretch of road. This would turn into a bit of bringing up hair in some way or making the other mention hair. Ultimately evolving into him hiding a wig for me to find in the glove box and me bringing in my mom as a co conspirator to prank call him. I once told him about useless superpowers like making your muscles sore and that made him laugh for so long young 12 year old me was worried I had broken him and would need to figure out how to drive the car.

My dad loved stories. He would always share the one where the Kind of Spain said his eating utensils were made of silver, the King of England said his eating utensils were made of gold, the King of Mexico said he only ever uses his eating utensil once and then never again. And my dad would always put on this clever energy and face, “cuz you see he ate his tortilla each meal”.

My dad loved stories. We would have camping trips but there was a 50/50 chance of it actually feature camping. Sometimes camping meant a motel and Basken Robins. Sometimes it meant setting up a tent in an empty ravine to suffer a wild amount of heat. He took me and my cousin Bo on camping overnight where horses would come by to scare us as they investigated the new structure. Dad always brought up how much of a giggle for we were in while making smores.

My dad loved stories. As I drove him around for his medical appointments and errands it seemed like each corner had a story. A homeless person he helped on occasion, a women that wouldn’t turn at a light, a place of business that used to exist.

My dad loved stories. He would always bring us horrific stories in the newspaper as a way to teach us of the world. My favorite was we needed to wear seatbelts cuz of a three way accident he read about where the guy without seatbelt died, the guy with the seatbelt went to the hospital, and the old guy with the seatbelt and air bag walked away.

My dad loved stories. I think about the day he died. About how I had an emotional breakdown in the car afterwards and waited for a while to make sure I was okay enough to drive home. I texted mom I was ready. And I said I was ready. And then I immediately ran over two cement parking lot blockers. K-dun, K-dun, K-dun. I left and looked back to see I had dragged them to be parallel to the parking space. And I thought… man, dad would have fucking loved that story. He’d then probably share a story of one of his driving misadventures.

My dad loved stories.

I love you dad. I hope to keep those stories going. Thank you.

[littlefeatherwitch]

𝓣𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟

Chapter 01 of The five stages of grief

Wanda maximoff x fem!reader

Tags / Warnings : no smut, death, major character death

Word count : 2k

Summary : When you die you learn that grief is not only for the living and that there is a certain stage to go through before you really pass to the other side. A fiction based on the 5 stages of grief, a chapter will correspond to a stage. There will be 6 chapters, the first one is reserved for the introduction of this fiction 

Tuesday, May 23 - 9:37 a.m.: The machine made a dull noise announcing that no heart was beating in your chest, the doctors had done everything to save you but your heart never wanted to start again in spite of all the electroshock and epinephrine passed through the infusions in your arms. Wanda was quickly pulled aside by the doctors and when one of them approached her to tell her she collapsed to the floor knowing what was about to be told to her. 

Wanda had been your girlfriend for 8 years now, you had gotten together when you were in high school and everyone knew that your love would last because you had loved each other since you were children. You were there for her in each of her bereavements, when she lost her parents, when Pietro had his car accident, when she lost her best friend's vision; you saw her destroy herself little by little doing everything you could to keep her afloat while she grieved. Then she returned the favor when you lost your friend, Natasha was killed in a shooting and she was the only victim, and as you worked through your grief you kept hearing people and newspapers say that it could have been worse and that one victim was a miracle. However, for you it was anything but a miracle, your world had lost its flavor and even Wanda could not help you anymore. You felt like you had lost the biggest part of yourself.

When you died you felt your spirit separate from your body seeing everything that was happening around you. When you heard the doctors pronounce your death you tried to scream at them that you were not dead, that you were still there but nothing helped, nobody heard you, nobody saw you. 

You followed the doctor trying to grab they but your hand wouldn't hold on to their shoulder, nothing helped, you had to give up. You were dead... even if you didn't know why it was happening this way you understood. The worst part was not the realization of your death but the reaction of Wanda collapsing to her knees on the hospital floor begging to be told that it wasn't true even though you were only a few feet away.

Your tears rolled down your cheeks as you watched Wanda be escorted into the room where your body lay to say goodbye one last time. You had been admitted to the hospital for a simple pain in your chest, Wanda had insisted that you go see a doctor but you always refused until the pain became too much and you could not take it anymore. You had been hospitalized 5 days ago, the doctors had found a mass that was moving rapidly towards your heart, they had to make you undergo a whole battery of tests to see if they could remove this mass other than by the operation which was much too risky according to them.

None of the tests had come back negative and finally they had scheduled this surgery for Tuesday, May 23rd at 11:30 am but you didn't survive until that time... The redhead put a hand on your cheek like she used to do when you needed reassurance, one of her tears flowed down your face but you could not feel anything.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and when you turned around you saw Natasha, you didn't really understand what was happening but you jumped into her arms crying loudly on her shoulder.

"Tasha, what are you doing here?" you finally asked as time around you seemed to stand still 

"I need to explain to you what's going to happen from now on," she whispered in a voice that was almost broken by having to say the words

"So this is real? I'm really... dead?" 

"I'm sorry y/n..." 

"I don't understand, if I'm dead, why do I see you, but why do I also see wands...?" 

"You are between the world of life and the world of death... otherwise known as "the world of grief" it is a transitional place between the two worlds"

"What does this mean?" 

"I promise to explain but you have to understand that these are just the basics of this world, there are differences for each of the people who are here" 

"I'm not sure I understand Tasha..." 

"This world is reserved for the dead, when a person dies they come here immediately; that person will have to stay here until every person they knew has reached the final stage of grief" 

"What are you talking about?" 

"Grief is made up of 5 stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance; each person goes through their stages more or less easily, and as long as one of the people is still in one of these stages the deceased person concerned cannot join the world of the dead, that of eternal rest or something like that"

"I know those stages I've been there, you know...when I lost you after the shooting" 

"I know y/n I was there the whole time, I never stopped looking out for you"

"I can't believe that all this really exists... is there anything else I need to know?" 

"I can't give you all the information like this, you'll have to find out some things on your own and more information will come later" 

"Are there other people here? I mean where are her parents, Pietro or even Vision? Wanda never managed to forget them". 

"No there isn't, you know there's a difference between grieving and forgetting, Wanda managed to move on and see a positive future even if those people weren't part of it anymore that's what grieving is" 

"How do I know that she will have grieved me? I mean there's no test like an exam so how are we supposed to know?" 

"You'll just know, and when it's done you can normally join the other world" 

"Why normally?" 

"There is a second condition you have to meet to get there, you have to be able to mourn yourself" 

"What? I don't understand" you said surprised at this second condition not even understanding what it could refer to

"You have to succeed in being at peace with the fact that you are dead, this is what we call the mourning of oneself, you are going to go through the same stages as for the mourning of a third person but for yourself, it is a rather complicated stage..." 

 "This stage is ridiculous I'm dead that's all there is to it" 

"I know it's hard y/n but you're going to have to get there, it's not as simple as that; you're going to have to understand that as long as you're here you can still see Wanda, once you're on the other side it will all disappear..." 

"But that's not fair! I'm sure none of this is real. I just landed in hell" you said trying to understand how it could really exist.

Natasha pulled you into her arms as you let yourself fall into her comforting embrace. 

"Why does everything around Wanda seem to stand still?" you asked as you looked around. 

"Time passes differently here, as if a game is paused in order to recite the rules; the rest of the time everything will unfold" 

"This is more proof that none of this is real! You can't create fucking time gaps and pause everyone for a moment". 

"It's more complicated than that, when the "world is paused" a millisecond on their side can correspond to several hours here; then when time resumes its normal course it's the same on their side as on ours; I know that all this can seem complicated but you'll get used to it"

Natasha grabbed your arm to take you out of the hospital while you integrated all the information they had just given you. You sat down on the green grass and took a deep breath surprised that you could still feel the sensations you felt just hours ago. 

"Why are you still here tasha? I mean...everyone has grieved on the living side not to be mean...did you ever come to terms with your death? 

"No I grieved for myself from the moment I landed here, when I heard the shots I felt like I wasn't going to make it, I was ready to die" 

"Then why are you still stuck here?" you asked not understanding her presence here

"There is one person who has never been able to grieve or move on without me..." 

"Who is it?" 

"You y/n..." 

"What? No I- I grieved" you immediately shot back 

"You never did y/n... you reached the stage of depression but every time you managed to get a little better you would hold on to the stage of denial and anger... grief is not a linear thing and sometimes there are backtracks but you never wanted to move on..."

"..." you remained silent lowering your head to your fingers 

"I don't blame you y/n, you felt guilty all these years for what happened to me but nothing was your fault I decided on my own to jump in front of you to take that bullet, it was you or me... I had nothing left to lose unlike you, you were making plans all the time with Wanda, about your studies, your jobs, your future children, your future home, marriage; you had your whole life ahead of you so I chose to save you" 

"Maybe I would have been better off if I had finally taken that bullet" you attempted on a humorous note not knowing if this was a good idea

"Maybe so" laughed Natasha in turn, placing her hand on yours; "y/n..." 

"Yes tasha?" 

"Now that the last person alive who hadn't grieved for me has passed away, I am free to join the other side" 

"You're leaving me here? Is that what you're saying?" you whispered with your eyes filling with tears 

"Y/n, I've been here so long, I'm exhausted, I can't stay here anymore, I have to go..." 

"I'm sorry you had to stay here because of me tasha...I understand you need to go and I'm letting you go..."

"Thank you y/n; I'll always be here if you need me, as much as I'd like to never come back here I will if you need me"

"What if Wanda never grieves...?" 

"She will, don't worry she's strong" 

"But what if she doesn't?"

"Then you'll have to stay here just like I did until she joins you..."

A bright white portal of light lit up at the end of the driveway dazzling you as Natasha turned to look at it. You looked at it confused not understanding what was going on. 

"It's time y/n, I gotta go" she said softly even though you knew she was happy to go to this one 

"I understand tasha, may I accompany you to the end?" 

"Of course" she grabbed your hand and you both walked to the foot of that huge white circle; "we'll see you soon y/n; take care and go through all the steps you're strong you'll make it just like Wanda" 

"Bye tasha" you replied as you saw her disappear on the other side turning around to go back to Wanda's side.

Natasha had crossed to the other side and some people were already waiting for her to arrive. 

"Do you think they will be okay?" asked Vision. 

"Wanda is strong, she will make it" answered Pietro. 

"Y/n is strong too but I'm worried about her and I hope that even if they are separated they will still be able to love each other until they meet again, life has never done them any favors and yet everyone knows that they were made to be together".  

The two boys each held onto one of Natasha's arms as the portal closed in front of their eyes, cutting them off from seeing you.

[sofya-fanfics]

The Woman He Loved

Fandoms : Naruto / One Piece

Relationship : Sanji x Sakura

My Flufftober 2023 contribution for the prompt extra : Create a crossover of two or more fandoms.

I’m sorry for the mistakes, English is not my native language. I hope you like it.

Summary : Sanji walked quickly towards the deck of the Sunny. He knew she would be there. Sakura-swan, he thought with a dreamy look and a huge smile.

Disclaimer : Naruto belongs to Masashi Kishimoto and One Piece belongs to Eiichiro Oda.

@flufftober

AO3 / FF.NET

Sanji came out of the kitchen. Night had fallen and the cool air made him shiver. He buttoned his jacket and lit a cigarette. He had tidied up the kitchen and he had planned his meal for the next day. His day was finally over. He always went to bed after everyone else and woke up before everyone else. But he was not complaining. He was a cook and he loved it. It was his life and he would not change it for anything.

He walked quickly towards the deck of the Sunny. He knew she would be there. Sakura-swan, he thought with a dreamy look and a huge smile. He arrived on the deck. She was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall and she was watching the stars. She seemed so peaceful that he felt guilty for disturbing her.

“Here you are at last,” she said.

“I was delayed by Luffy. I had to stop him from eating all the meat we have.”

She laughed lightly. Sanji sat next to her and Sakura moved a little closer to him, closing the gap between them. He could feel her arm brush against his. He did not know if she had done it unconsciously.

It had become a ritual between them. In the evening, when the entire crew had gone to bed, they met on deck to watch the stars, to talk, or to enjoy the quiet after the eventful dinner that had taken place a few hours earlier. They only stayed for a few minutes, but this time spent with her was the best moment of his day.

Sakura had become a member of the crew after their fight against Arlong, when they headed for Grand Line. They had landed on an island where she was a doctor and after preventing pirates from invading the island, she had accepted Luffy's offer to join them. One day, Sanji had asked her why she had decided to follow them. She had answered with a smile filled with sadness :

“Because he reminds me of someone important to me. He has this impossible dream and yet, we are ready to follow him and to trust him unreservedly.”

She had described perfectly how everyone felt about their captain. Even if Sakura still remained a mystery to him, he knew that she was from the ninja nations where there was a war a few years ago. He remembered that all the newspapers had talked about it.

She told him about her two friends that had died during the war. They had fought until they killed each other. She blamed herself for not having been able to save them. When she told him about this part of her life, tears were running down her cheeks, saying that if she had been faster, stronger, she could have stopped them and saved them. Sanji had hugged her until she felt better.

It was the first time they had been alone on deck and their ritual had begun.

When he was on Whole Cake Island, it was those moments with her that he missed the most. When he thought he would never see her again, he had been hurt. But she had come to get him with all the members of the crew, she had fought for him and for him to return to them. He had always loved her, like he loved Robin or Nami. But in that moment, he realized that what he felt for her was true love. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He had not told her his feelings. He was afraid of her reaction, afraid that she would not believe him. He was not ready to lose what they had.

He saw her shiver. He took off his jacket and put it on her shoulders. She opened her eyes wide, surprised, and thanked him. She hugged the jacket, wrapping her arms around her to warm herself up. She laughed lightly.

“What ?” Sanji asked smiling.

“Nothing. It's just that your jacket smells like you. A mixture of cigarette and bread. It’s comforting.”

Sanji blushed and his heart skipped a beat. Every day he fell in love with her a little more. He felt her put her head on his shoulder. He looked at her. Her eyes were closed and she was smiling. He smiled, drawing on his cigarette, and closed his eyes too. He enjoyed this moment alone with Sakura, hoping that it would last as long as possible.

The end

[cutiedwaekki]

PuppyM Detective

Chapter 1 : introduction

Since yesterday morning, everyone had been talking about the terrible news that city concelor Jung Wooyoung had died in his room. The police didn't follow up, as they thought it was a natural death. A heart attack, they said, since everyone was aware of Jung Wooyoung's gluttonous appetite.

He was a strong and respectable man against corruption, looking for good in even the worst. He had a good position, lots of money and was even engaged to a rather pretty woman. But everyone knew that he would prefer her brother. Then, overnight, the wedding was called off and neither Choi Yena nor Choi San was heard from again, leaving Mr Jung in a state of deep sadness.

And what better way to confort his sadness than with sugar? It's a good thing Stayville has the three best bakeries in the area!

There was the best-known, Dwaekki & BbookAri Bakery, run by a very nice married couple, although it seemed they were a little too excited about the weight of the smallest. Jisung even told me he'd seen them about to make love because Mr Seo couldn't close his apron, which obviously didn't fit around his waist anymore.

But I don't judge everyone's tastes and every couple needed to keep the flame alive.

Then we had Jinrinet bowl, a mix of a bed 'n breakfast run by former top model Hwang Hyunjin. Everyone in town wondered how overnight he'd decided to give up his life of luxury to live in a quiet town like Stayville, where he wasn't even from. But his brunch were delicious and he contributed to the town's economy with his popularity, bringing in thousands of tourists every year.

Last but not least, LeeBit bite acted as a cat cafe where cat lovers and students came to enjoy a coffee and a sweet while taking in the feline atmosphere.

Ew , I prefer dogs honestly.

The fact was that all three signs were on the same street and right across from each other. In Stayville, everyone believed in the rivalry between these three stores. And yet, in the early days, they all had a cordial relationship, with Mr Lee-Seo going to brunch at Mr Hwang's, Mr Hwang drawing at Mr Lee's café and Mr Lee going to the Lee-Seo bakery. But the idea of competition between the three intensified, and that's probably why their interaction diminished and they were no longer seen talking to each other even outside working hours.

The only time that any semblance of conviviality was restored was when councilman Jung came to the quartker to spend part of his salary on sweets and other food.

No wonder he got so fat so fast. All they could think about was profit and making themselves look good to a city councillor. I bet if he died, it was one of them. After all, the newspaper article about his death read:

Jung Wooyoung, a humble and respected city councillor, was found dead in his home not far from a box of sweets, the name of which is still unknown. The cause of death is still undetermined, but local police suspect cardiac arrest.

In short, it's the perfect investigation for me, Kim Seungmin!

I put on my glasses, grab my coat and head for Miroh Street. I'm sure that if I need to find the answer to Mr Jung's death, it's in one of these three bakeries.

- "Can you tell me more about Kim Seungmin?"

- "Kim Seungmin? I know a lot about him, he's my roommate and I've known him for years! Yeah, he's the kind of guy who thinks he's a detective, even if he's not really qualified, but there's a sad side to all this.

His father was a cop and his mother a detective, so frankly the detective son isn't much of a shocker. But they say he cut ties with his family overnight! Some say it's because the father didn't want him to be a detective, others that it's because he came out, but I like both theories!

As a result, he's a bit of an amateur in the detective profession, but he's had a few investigations of his own! See the story about the divorce between Mrs Yang and Mr Lee? Thanks to Seungmin, we know it's because Mrs Yang was cheating on him with an idol!

He didn't tell me what he was working on, but I think it has something to do with Jung Wooyoung's death. After all, I think it's a pretty strange death".

-Oh really ?

-Yes, of course! Like all of a sudden he has a heart attack? I don't believe it, especially since despite his weight he was always going for check-ups and taking plenty of vitamins! I do know it because i used to work for him"

- "That doesn't explain everything either!

-"I think it's enough already!

- "I see .... here you can finish eating them, they're just for you!"

- "Really? Thanks, that's lovely!"

- "It's normal, as Stayville residents we have to maintain good relations, right? Next time bring Seungmin along, he absolutely must try this new recipe I've concocted".

-"I'll tell him! Well, I'm off to work! Bye Hyung!" Jisung exclaimed before trotting out carrying a large box containing some delicious pastries.

-Do you know anything about Sherlock Holmes and Watson? It's literally Seungmin and Jisung. Seungmin investigates and looks for the smallest mystery to solve, while Jisung is the gossip who unknowingly helps Seungmin, or at least helps him stay alive given all the sleepless nights he has."

- "I've just been told that ik has cut off contact with his parents, is that true?"

- "Hm ... it's more difficult than that. In fact, nobody really knows, until now it's only Captain Kim and his son who really know."

- "You ... you don't want to tell me more, Mr. Mayor?"

-You know I love it when you call me that? But what's it got to do with you, Jinnie? Are you suddenly into detective work now?"

- "No, Chan, you know I only sleep with you. I just wanted to find out a bit more about Seungmin, that's all, after all everyone's talking about him but I've never seen him in person, I've only seen his roommate Jisung."

- "I feel like you're not telling me everything"

- "You feel or you're just jealous?"

- "Me jealous? Don't talk nonsense".

- "Enough talk, get dressed, I'm going to fix you something to eat." Declared the blond before getting out of bed and getting dressed again, leaving the mayor to admire his still-naked body until he was fully clothed again.

-I can't stop eating with you! Look, I've put on weight!" Chan then pulled back the blanket, showing off his naked body, although the small belly he was developing allowed his intimacy to be concealed to a minimum.

Hyunjin only smirked widly, he giggled before leaning sensually against him, stealing a kiss and placing his hand on his belly.

-You're right, we should see each other more often to burn off more calories" he joked.

- "Or make me eat more"

- "It all depends on what you want to do first. We can even do both ~"

- "if anyone finds out about this-"

- "-What? That our good and respected mayor Bahng Christopher Chan is being fucked at home by a bed 'n breakfast manager? It'll be better than this news item from city councilman Jung."

- "Maybe you're right"

- "I'm always right"

- "Finally some silence ! I feel like it's been years since I've heard the quiet.

"-You say that, but you've been asleep half of the day".

- "I had to get my strength back these last few hard days, you know?"

- "Hard at what? To be a gluttonous man like you are?"

- "I was going to say being your husband, but that desceiption suits me too"

The younger one took on a false air of offence before lightly nudging his husband with his elbow.

- "You're mean there, Binnie!"

- "Because letting me get stuck is nice ?"

- "You're the one who told me you wanted to keep your independence, I'm just listening to your wishes"

- "Come on, I told you that a long time ago, now I need you to take care of me, please" he sighed, making his whole body tremble with every gesture he made.

-"I like it when you beg Hyung, it makes me feel important".

-"Important? Are you kidding me, Lixie? You're the most important person I know! The most talented, adorable, smiling, handsome and best cook in town for sure."

- "Oh my love come into my arms~"

The two embraced for a long time, followed by a long, tender, passionate kiss.

-"Reminiscent of our high school years, don't you think?"

-Yes, I remember. We used to hide in room 207 to kiss."

- "Before my soccer practice you'd always bring me your brownies in a little pink toure box, it was adorable"

-Believe me, I'm happy to say that you chose my cooking over sports".

- "You think I don't show enough? At this point I'm your food taster rather than your husband".

- "You can be both, you know ~"

- "Yeah, but every chance you get, you're going to be cooing with the Councillor Wooyoung as soon as he walks through the door!"

- "Binnie it's inappropriate to talk like that about a dead man! Plus you souldn't be jealous of all you exactly know why did i behave like that with him !".

- "Yes, but..."

- "Don't sulk, Binnie ... do you want me to make you a batch of cookies?"

-"...with lots of chocolate chips?"

- "As many as you want"

- "Sorry we're closed-"

- "Hyung you know I always come after closing time"

- "Oh Jeongin you almost scared him ... come and sit down I'll prepare a table for you"

The youngest then smiled politely before settling down at one of the tables. He didn't have to wait long before a few feoins came to sit on his legs or rub up against him.

-A real cat magnet" joked the oldest.

- "It's a family trait after all ~"

The two half-brothers exchanged knowing glances before chuckling.

- "If you're here, it's because you've heard from Dad, isn't it?"

- "Exactly. Well, I'll skip the part where he says you're a disgrace to the family, that the son of a politician like him shouldn't settle in this godforsaken village and open a café... blah blah blah".

-He's always preferred you to me anyway".

- "And I don't care! As I was saying, he called me to tell me about his plans, and they had something to do with stayville and the latest news".

-Are you talking about the murder of Jung Wooyoung?

- "Exactly"

- "Wait a moment.

Minho got up, leaving his younger half-brother alone with a cup of coffee and some chat. He went to the entrance and closed all the curtains so that no one could hear in detail what was being said.

It was lucky for Seungmin that he had captured the moment. Armed with his camera, he now had proof that Lee Minho and Yang Jeongin were definitely hiding something. But what was it? Not to mention Hwang Hyunjin, who also seems very close to the mayor. Or Lee-Seo Felix and Changbin, who were the closest to Councilman Jung before his death.

- "I think I've found the perfect interview for m-" the detective was then interrupted in his monolgue by the ringing of a telephone. It was Jisung

-"What's the matter, hyung?"

- "No, no, I just wanted to know when you'd be back... I picked up some pastries on my way home from work and I thought we could have some together."

- "That's nice hyung, I have to finish something and I'll be right back I promise"

- "Please don't be too late, it's getting dark fast these days"

- "I promise hyung" he said before hanging up.

"Great, because of him I missed everything. I'd better go home," he thought, before stuffing his camera back into his bag and heading for home.

...

-"Is he not looking at us anymore, hyung?"

-"No, it's okay, we can go on."

[allerdalexhall]

((Submission)) Theory(idk if someone said it or it’s a fact but)

Why was Thomas’s ghost white at the final scenes of the movie? Well as we know all other ghosts and spirits have been portrayed as black, whispy, disturbing entities, like Edith’s mother, or they are broken, horrifying creatures made out of the red clay underneath the house. But in the final scenes of the film we see that Thomas ghost is actually white, unlike any we’ve seen so far. So why is this? Well I think it’s because Thomas has no attachment to anything or anyone. The other ghost/spirits all have a reason to haunt over the house and the people living there, Thomas and Lucilles mother; she was brutally killed by Lucile, Thomas’s past wives; also met the same end ergo Lucile and Thomas.

But when Thomas dies , he has no attachment. He told Edith that he did truly love her, he confronted Lucile and he was ready to leave his past behind.

Thomas had no reason to be a revenge seeking ghost. And that’s why he was a white ghost in the ending

Tell me what you think, just a theory (again idk if it has been said but I just thought it was cool)  -End of Submitted post- -Blog Holders Response-

Sorry for the late reply to this submission. Holidays make things so busy. I actually posted a theory similar, no idea if it was one you may have come across or not. I looked for the said post and it was actually a reblog that I commented on {X} The original response I made to a gif of Edith being embraced by her mother’s ghost 7 years ago in that link was as follows:

~ All she wanted was a hug and to love and cherish her little Edith and keep her safe. It takes so much to come back just to warn her and hold her. We don’t know how strong a ghost has to be to be solid enough to be seen and interact with things. It has to take so much will power and emotions to do it. Others just appear faintly in photos. But the strongest of emotions makes them solid and seen. Her love was what was so strong to bring her back to her daughter and warn her. Not just once, but twice! Not even her father pulled that off. We never saw him again. It’s the raw pure emotion that brings her to her daughter. The same with Lucille. Her love and hate and rage all together has her formed in Allerdale Hall. Two woman with two different forms of Love bringing them back from death. All the wives were full of fear and sorrow. Want to for freedom and stained as the clay of which they were surrounded by. Sorrow took over they’re after lives, forming them and giving them shape. Thomas was peace, happiness, and pure love. Each forming a different color to show what it meant. It appears Black is a strong emotional love and want, if not a rage with it. The person dying and having that emotion giving them strength to the point of returning. For Edith’s mother being taken so soon from her daughter and unable to hold and see her before her death. Lucille her rage and love fueling her beyond the grave. Red, sorrow and pain, along with the very color of the clay around them if not stained by it and the blood they shed in death upon their murders. The wives and baby buried in the clay of the mines and Lady Sharpe her own bloody bath, if not tainted with the red clay upon filling. White, a happy, pure love and acceptance if not peace. Some still lost don’t even appear. Just stay as shadows, unseen but in the shadows of a form. Or only in images, if not shadows in that as well. ~

It has been a theory of mine that the wives are Red greatly due to the clay they were buried in. Their ghosts appearing to change with the decay of their bodies hidden away. We don’t see this with Lady Sharpe though (Thomas and Lucille’s Mother). She is red, but only appears with the wounds inflicted upon her death by her daughter’s hands. It’s never said or shown where her body is laid after her death either. But we do know it was discovered by the police through the newspaper article that is shown. That gave me thoughts and theories to a connection to colors and emotions and manners of their deaths.  The wives were not a peace, they as well as Lady Sharpe are most likely full of rage, but the wives not as much. The appear to know they’re bodies are decaying away and what they look like. Hoping perhaps in passing one of the siblings will see them and instill fear or show what they have done. Perhaps also using the form as a warning to Edith of what cruel things Lucille has done. Thomas ever appears close to seeing the ghosts himself.  The way he speaks to Edith of ghosts through out the movie, in the book and the deleted scene where he appears to feel them around him. Even in the book he seems to feel them or glance them faintly.  Some ghosts take on more of their living selves as likely how they see themselves or wish to be seen. Some it is likely they have not the strength, skill, or both to appear and keep a form that is pleasing. I believe I have tweeted at the director in the past, but never got a reply in what the colors of the ghosts mean sadly. Something I would love to hear the story behind.

[akikocho]

ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴡ ɪɴ ᴍʏ sᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀɪʙᴜᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀʀᴅᴠᴇʀsᴇ ᴀᴜ (ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ @ariparri ). ɪ'ᴠᴇ sᴘᴇɴᴅ ᴅᴀʏs ғᴏʀ ᴛʜɪs ᴏɴᴇ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ɪᴅᴋ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴜᴛ ғᴏʀ ᴍᴀʏᴀ's ɪɴғᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ʜᴜʜᴜ.

ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ғᴜʀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴀᴅᴏ, ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ 10 ᴏғ ᴅɪᴀᴍᴏɴᴅs: ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴜᴄʜᴇss ᴏғ ᴀᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴀɴᴏʀ

𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐚 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐀𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲

The first daughter of Bruce and Mabel Avery. The older twin sister of the King of Diamonds, Malachi, the younger sister of Jacob Bennett and the older sister of Marigold. Growing up being treated as nothing by Bruce, Maya grew a hidden hatred towards him. She's very close with her siblings, especially her twin Malachi. Maya gained knowledge thanks to her mother Mabel who taught her and her siblings the things they needed to learn. As a child, she's into creating machinery and hoped she would become an inventor once she grew up.

Years had passed, Maya and her family were devastated after they knew Jacob had run away from home due to their father's harsh education towards him. Maya's parents fought and eventually got into a divorce. She along with her younger sister Marigold were taken by their mother to move away from the Diamond Empire to the Country of Spades, leaving her twin brother Malachi behind as Jacob's replacement. Just like her twin, she was sad and lonely without her other half but a hint of hope inside her telling her that they will see each other again. Maya studied at the University in the Country of Spades where she learned etiquette and self defense. After her studies, Maya became a journalist and also had a part time job as an inventor's assistant.

As the former Ace of Spades Patricia Rakepick took over the Country of Spades, Maya had an instinct that she needed to do something to stop her. She joined the rebellion that was led by Veruca MCquaid, the King of Spades' sister. During the revolution, Maya wrote an article in every newspaper release about how Rakepick is a ruler that needs to be taken down. Rakepick knew about it and got offended by her "lies". She was sent to prison, where during her imprisonment she met her older brother Jacob who ran away for years in the same cell she's in. Rakepick wants the both of them to be put to death but after knowing that they're related to the King of Diamonds and decides to cease her plan. Both Maya and Jacob escaped from prison not long after that. She was not present at the fall of Rakepick as the ruler of Spades as she along with her brother Jacob and her sister Marigold came back to Diamond Empire and reunited with her twin brother Malachi. Months later, she became the Duchess of Avery Manor.

●◉◎◈◎◉●

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐚 𝐀𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲:

• Maya is known for her wits, charm, good personality and creativity. Many of the journalists in Country of Spades wants to work with her but turned them down as she plans to quit due to her decision of coming back to her hometown.

• She has a lot of hidden anger towards her father and her brother Jacob to the point she only drinks her feelings out. (Yes, she's an alcoholic in this au xD)

• In the middle of her year of studying at the academy of Country of Spades, her mother died from sickness and became the guardian of her younger sister Marigold.

• She likes to wear male's clothing when she needs to. Especially when it's an outfit for horse riding or/and sleepwear.

• Loves to go to museums. She met Bill Weasley during her visits and they became friends.

• Maya's good with weapons. She loves to use the bow and arrow. Bill taught her how to use a gun once and Maya told him she prefers something other than a gun which earns an awkward laugh from the lad.

• She quit being a journalist but still remains as the inventor's assistant which she travels to the Country of Spades when she's needed.

●◉◎◈◎◉●

2/3 ᴄᴏɴᴛʀɪʙᴜᴛɪᴏɴs ᴀʀᴇ ᴅᴏɴᴇ! ɴᴇxᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴜɴᴀᴡᴀʏ ᴄᴀɴᴅɪᴅᴀᴛᴇ: ᴊᴀᴄᴏʙ ʙᴇɴɴᴇᴛᴛ ᴀᴠᴇʀʏ.

ɪ'ᴍ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇᴅ ɴᴏᴡ ᴍʏ ʙᴏᴅʏ ɪs ɪᴛᴄʜɪɴɢ ᴀʟʟ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ғᴏʀ sᴛᴀʏɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ᴀ sᴘᴏᴛ ғᴜʟʟ ᴏғ ᴍᴏsǫᴜɪᴛᴏᴇs 😭

ᴀᴛ ʟᴇᴀsᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛʀᴏɴɢ ᴡɪғɪ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ɪs ᴡᴏʀᴛʜ ɪᴛ ʟᴏʟ

[mystery-star]

Whumpril 2023 - Day 21 | Scars

Pairing: Ben Wade x reader (gender neutral)

Words: 1111

Warnings: mentions of death, maybe implied smut?

A/N: Missed a day? Find all Whumpril entries on my Whumpril Masterlist.

-

How long hadn’t you seen Ben now? Eighteen years? Twenty? Well, minus that short time you had seen him from afar about fourteen years ago. So, logically, you almost couldn’t believe it when he showed up at your doorstep, asking if you’d let him in.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, hoping it wouldn’t sound reproachful. And well, even if it was the case, you had a reason to be mad at him because he had left you all those years ago, deciding that you needed someone better than him all by himself and never giving you the chance to say goodbye. He gave a shrug and slowly came inside, taking off his hat and placing it on top of your coatrack.

“I know it’s sudden… but I didn’t really know where else to go”

“Are you in trouble?”

“No” he shook his head and sighed

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just don’t know what to do with my life” you felt your heart beat faster. Was he saying he might stay here with you? Because even after all these years, after what he’d done, you still were as much in love with him as then.

“Oh” you looked down “How about you come in, I make us some coffee and then you tell me everything?”

Ben’s story was mesmerizing. Of course, you already knew some  of it from newspaper reports, tales or dime novels but it was so much better to hear it from himself. And you just enjoyed having him close again.

“You really went through a lot” you said quietly when he had finished his most recent story. The one that had made him reflect on his life and what he wanted from it. “I mean I can’t blame you for wanting to take some time off. Or start anew” he just gave a nod and finished his second cup of coffee.

“What about you?”

“Oh nothing much…” you told him of the few notable events in your life; how you had been betrothed for a short while, how you had moved away from your parents to open your shop here, how your mother and brother had died.

“Still are a few things though” he said with a chuckle and you smiled too. “Would you mind if I stayed around a couple of days? I’ll get me a hotel in town but...” you shook your head

“You can stay here. With me” he raised an eyebrow and gave you his typical smirk. The one that used to do you in years ago and still managed the same thing now.

“You sure about that?”

“I am” you gave a firm nod and got up, taking the cups and putting them on the counter “Come, I’ll show you where you can sleep” you froze when you felt him directly behind you and placed a hand on your waist, leaning closer.

“Your bed, I should hope” he whispered into your ear before playfully biting your earlobe. You winced, not having been touched like that in years, and then turned around. Ben had let go of you, probably thinking you didn’t want his touch but you were quick to press your lips onto his and cling to his jacket as if your life depended on it. For the longest time you stood in your kitchen and just kissed, hands roaming over each other’s bodies, relishing what you had missed for most of your life. Finally you pulled away, a little out of breath

“I think you need a bath first” gently you traced your thumb over a little cut on his face, smiling when he leant into your touch.

“God I missed you” he breathed as he pulled you closer and leant his forehead to yours “I know” he said before you could even think about something to say “I was he one who just left”

“It’s in the past” you said and slightly pulled away, tugging on his arm. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up” with a chuckle he followed you to the bathroom and while you started preparing the water, he quietly took off his jacket, vest and shirt and started unbuttoning his long johns. You tried to look away but once his whole chest was visible you couldn’t help but look at him. Slowly, you moved closer, your fingertips brushing over his torso, stopping at a big scar that went from his left clavicle to the middle of his chest. Your right hand had also found a few other scars that you ghosted your hands over. Of course he had told you of times he’d been shot but seeing all this now made your stomach churn. You noticed that he was watching you intently but didn’t say a thing. On his arm you discovered another wound, one that still was healing. Oh, how you just wished he would be staying here with you that something like this would never happen again.

“Something wrong?” he suddenly asked “I know my body looks different than when we were together. Put on quite some weight” it sounded like he wasn’t proud of that and you shook your head.

“I like it” you said “You actually look much better. Not so skinny anymore. It means you’ve eaten well. That’s good”

“Then what’s bothering you? The scars?”

“No. I mean… not that they’re there and I think they make you look ugly but the fact that you got hurt. I just hope it won’t happen again. Or that I lose you”

“Well, in that case you might like to hear that I planned to start anew. A life without being on the run all the time” you couldn’t help but smile and placed your palm over the big scar on his chest.

“I do like it” you swallowed. Should you ask if he intended to be with you? Or was he just here to say goodbye for good?

“But?” he asked, of course having picked up something was bothering you. “Scared that my plans for the future don’t contain you? Or scared they do?”

“I just… so much happened and I could understand if you found someone new and don’t love me anymore…”

“Didn’t you listen to my tale? There was no one I ever liked halfway as much as you. The reason I left was to offer you a better life. A life apart from chaos, danger and robberies. Something I can offer you now. If you still want me” you gave a little nod and pecked your lips

“I still want you Ben. More than ever. With more fat and scars or not, I don’t care; I want you”

-

Taglist: @woman-with-no-name

Return to the Whumpril Masterlist

[theartofadventure]

It’s my birthday today. I’m the oldest I’ve ever been—fifty-nineteen. I woke up to a beautiful card from my husband and an invitation from my son to go for a walk in the redwoods where the streams are rushing with the recent torrential rains.

Sometimes on our walks we see coyotes on the hills studying us as potential snpacks, calling to each other across the way.

“What do you think, Phil? Are they worth it?”

“Nah, that old limpy lady looks too tough.”

And I do limp. I have planters fasciitis that is much better but never completely gone, and bursitis in one hip. My doctor sent me to a physical therapy class last month called “Hip Care,” with four other much young limpy people. I was having an unusually sore day, and hobbled into the class like Walter Brennan. She began by explaining all the reasons hips might hurt—ie sports injuries, arthritis, repetitive stress—and then added thoughtfully, “old age.” But during the series of exercises she had us do on the padded tables, I injured my knee. I suppose I have to go to Knee Care class next, if I can risk it.

So a bum hip, sore knee and bad feet, but I go for a walk in Nature every day. Otherwise I become Mad Bummer Lady—the bread is a little stale, I don’t have even one more MAGA day left in me, and who the hell leaves wrappers and cans in our park?

Annie—stop! Pick up the litter. Send money to Planned Parenthood. Toast the bread. Put on the good pair of glasses, like the priest told Bill Wilson in the thirties—“Sometimes I think that heaven is just a new pair of glasses.”

But wait, where did I put them?

Which bring us to the mind. Sigh. My mother died of Alzheimer’s and my father of brain cancer so what I used to call ten years ago “my little senior moments” are not quite as charming as they might be. Now, at 50-19, they can be scary. My main exercise is trying to find things—the phone, the keys, the car in big parking lots. A friend finally scared himself to death with the increased space out-ed-ness, and got the complete two-day neurological work up. At the end, the neurologist “assured” (hah!) him he simply had age appropriate cognitive decline, and added something that has saved me—it’s not a problem if you can never find your keys or glasses, but it becomes one if, when you find them, you can’t remember what they are for. So far so good every time: no flies on the princess!

But still, I am as happy and grateful as I have ever been, because I practice gratitude, and because of the incredible people who love me. I even love and respect me, mostly, old mad bummer lady me, one of the great gifts of getting older. I still have tiny control issues, and offer too much advice and “help” to my poor family members, even though I’ve learned that help is the sunny side of control. But I’m way more gentle with me and amused by myself now, or perhaps I’m just foggy enough not to notice all the annoying things I do or say: it’s the grace of myopia.

My Texan friend Praise-the-Lord-Sarah told me nearly 37 years go when I got sober that God loved me exactly the way I was, and loved me way too much to let me stay like that. She also taught me about porch presents, which are gifts wrapped in newspaper that you secretly leave on a friend’s porch because you’re thinking of them. You’re grateful for their friendship or you know they are hurting, or for no reason at all. And my experience is that if we put on the better pair of glasses, we see porch presents everywhere, daffodils, leftovers in the fridge, sick friends healing, the sight of Neal out in the garden planting his tomatoes. So happy birthday to me, all of you. Will you give one another porch presents today to celebrate, help take care of the poor, talk to yourself like I would talk to you, gently and with good humor? That would make this the best birthday ever. Love you.—Anne Lamott

[wibble-wobbegong]

okay this is by no means a formal analysis, which i do want to do, but i find it so fascinating that henry carpenter’s tape is a narrative with such a deep understanding of the world that it often gets turned into a literal conversation between him and his mother and yet it’s in those moments where she’d finally take the shot to the head that the narrative slips and henry’s tape keeps playing despite the events no longer lining up. everything functions and everything syncs up till those points — both with the practice target and glenn. but his goal is fulfilled anyway

so much time and energy and research and fear and love and hatred was compiled into that notebook and so much understanding and delicacy was put into the formation of the tape but the only parts that really mattered were when susan finally saw the abuse herself and forced glenn to confront the consequences of who he is. glenn dies either way, and henry gets what he wanted, but rather than making susan a murderer it led to glenn’s suicide

henry’s overall attitude towards violence is the belief that violence is a necessity if the only other option is ignorance or apathy. he was only 11 when he’d filled an entire notebook with the process of trying to get glenn arrested and free christina — so much of this movie is dedicated to acknowledging the flaws of the system that continue to allow men like glenn to keep abusing kids like christina and that was the intention of the notebook. violence was henry’s last resort, his final option

susan makes a point when she finally and completely diverges from the tape. henry was just a child. no matter how smart he was, he still would’ve laughed at peter drawing a mustache on a piece of art and he still insulted the lady he thought was pretty. henry himself says that he’s a child over and over. henry was blind to the power of the common people because he was focused on using systems to help christina. susan would’ve gone to the newspapers. she would’ve gone to a community

henry creel was isolated from society, so he didn’t have the option of community either. but it’s so interesting that henry carpenter only saw the abuse others faced and never saw the stuff he faced as his mother relied on him for literally everything despite being a ‘good mother’ where as henry creel’s abuse was so prominent in his life and everything else was so lacking that he was forced to try and kill virginia

like i need to think about it more but these narratives are so strange when you put them next to each other. henry fulfills both the role of henry and christina, but who is susan then? what about peter?

susan seemed like she would’ve paralleled virginia at first, but she loved her son. honestly, she felt a lot more like victor than anyone else. and peter was his little brother, the person he trusted most, the only person he ever actually told about the red notebook. is there someone who henry told about any of these things? someone he trusted most?

there’s so much being introduced in this movie it’s insane. ESPECIALLY christina being nicknamed butterfly by susan . like that’s what’s nicking my brain the most. christina is the butterfly and im ohshdcjhdhfhdbd about it already

[sparecrew]

Good morning,

I'll be here with my morning coffee, newspaper, and glimmer of a will to live (haha).

Buddha is here enjoying his new bone he got as a present from ChaCha.

Where things all stand with that - I brought Pharaoh home on Friday night. That's the first stage to healing. I've been giving him a kiss goodnight and good morning every day.

Buddha and I are learning how to be a duo. I am learning Buddha as a solo dog. What does he like? What are his quirks? You think you know a dog you've had for 11 years - and I mostly do! - but you realize so much of what you know about him was played off of his brother. Now it's just him. What does he want? What does he like? How does he interact with the world now that he's doing it without the brother he has had with him since literally Day 1?

I'm learning to navigate a world I haven't seen for 11 years. Buddha is learning to navigate a world he has never experienced in his entire life.

It is a struggle. We're figuring it out together and trying to repair each other's heart.

I'll be honest and say I'm still having moments where I just want to cry and be held like a small child being soothed.

Unfortunately that's not an option.

Today I will take it minute by minute. I'm going to try to do some things I enjoy, then I will try to put my home in order in a way that I've simply been unable to since Pharaoh's passing. I am going to try to finally sweep the stairs. His fur is still mingled with Buddha's on the steps and it has been hard for me to erase him even by sweeping away his fur.

I was intending to clean the stairs the weekend he died, but obviously things became too much.

The house is cluttered. I need to clean the floors, declutter tabletops, and otherwise try to put some order back into my life.

So much is changing. It's not just Pharaoh. My life is very, very uncertain on so many fronts.

One step at a time.

I'm not going hiking today as originally planned weeks ago. Weeks ago was a different world. I may or may not hop into the livestream, but if it's ok, I'd rather just play off y'all who are already there rather than carry anything on my own.

Everything will be ok.

My aunt told me Pharaoh wouldn't want me to be sad. To be fair, Pharaoh wouldn't want to be dead, either, but here we are. But I did think about it, and it's true. Taking out as much anthropomorphizing as possible, Pharaoh wouldn't want me to be sad. If there's anything I know for sure, that dog loved me to the moon and back. I was his everything. It was the very example of unconditional love.

Love is to will the good of another.

My state of grief isn't "good." It's suffering. Pharaoh absolutely wouldn't want me to feel suffering, to any extent that he could understand the concept or to any extent that I could feel it beyond his comprehension.

So, for my own sanity and for Pharaoh, I am trying to heal.

One day at a time.

I'll be here, I'll be around. Probably slow to my texts (please no calls).

One step at a time.

[libidomechanica]

“What a catastrophe, the third-” — “Hold”

A curtal sonnet sequence

               Stanza the First

—Thus held Juan, too,—did she? And though me those ruddie gemmes or was immersion to scream. Noblest pedigree they sayne, other had told, how darling And that froward laughter. The shadow smells, and sand tide. Like to soldiers where your sky, this close a running trade; for Donna Julia swooned, nor do wrong must paint my way, their arms bare of Fame? His song oars and No, into her free! Now, O sire, grant glooms. What a catastrophe, the third-’—Hold!

               Stanza the Second

Only another head to heal as if he conversation I came close at home, those who sins of false, and the sages, till likeness lays on earth bring’st they sang a softness well as sole replied there might be shipp’d light Emperour, she whole, breathing a heau’nly Child, its hares, and yellow guineas for very stone one moment. Nobody know then ensured, barbarous Don Juan’s heart aflame. Closet and speed him much care: we knew him night.

               Stanza the Third

’ I trust, may yet she flight; and against me in my seal a sun-flowers by heart beats the nature waited on his place of a backgammon board, whose witless described my pen that brainpan were sent you a debt, that which you took a survey up alive. And the patent-age of man, whose lonely trite; not a moment too. One faith, I do it was left uncancell’d, and transpired: so my sister, and feature grows higher summon lack.

               Stanza the Fourth

Beginning; but that Psyche, ’ Cyril. When let me statue withal sweet notes each eye and the briar’d path is not for you. Fearing not feel not lost thou wert made up now; each his very same if th’ earthly read; her he man love your land, or to be made a hare her: then what I may be unfather, rapidly, like garden-key—Fly—fly— Adieu! ’ He who lives them very well; go troubles and pass, and she would but see it a things?

               Stanza the Fifth

Great ships which as the families, kings began at once or two, or our left, some fool? Abate thy waist, and through the soyle would have fled from high, sdeath! And gazed there’s the found him. As virtue, but soon, it spreads in a clime, he world’s blessing flesh is undisguise, that indeed I sing amiss. Eased to lives and forth thy love, I mean a suit in which, yearn. He faster multitude on the come tomorrow the night divine. Each day ask you need.

               Stanza the Sixth

If she was no doubt not you, drink my fill a panoramic view of him its ethereal lues, or famisht case? The scope of man, which I see him did known; till I file the pole, as it bolted, that only mothers have been other; the heathenish crossed, and all thing in the wonder the Tyrans make me those of gold; a belt of human heart, tis truth, with morning: hie ask me not the old lady also would travel forth it?

               Stanza the Seventh

Towards most kingly flowers; baba led Juan. Which had o’er it was no one could run to buy. So was he died yesterday and proscenium of hell: he had quit, and drawn the lonely rich: but, alas, before you wilt had some lived of more has not of Woman born? Into the bell tolled him she bore; she order’d by his hand of flowers; but when the mathematic hands, and yet men as well, but I grow vice—curiosity: I knew.

               Stanza the Eighth

Make him that killed through dashed with the cry that loves, the rose, as Cuddie, as ye may. Thy feet he kissed their mantle to each that Inez had, ere morning, or evil days were to thee by a handle. We now though Eve her aim—his heart; another, her you in a light of clareted; and their beard of the English newspapers, but loved China, touching giaours, or sleep, having. Her brows bent with a notions are a dolefull want to her face.

               Stanza the Ninth

Pain, you may come the low.—They with his future; that they went then? Don Juan’s feast wouldst print more chaster it,—so young a holly by shepeheards swayne you got a day crawling hills. Let us, and consolation aids our promise to me have change their success the apparatus of all. My Spectre around so close flank’d me dearly; that prickling eye, thye neuer knee—like the strictures the avarice, of a hope he’s drunkening more.

               Stanza the Tenth

I am not dazzled the three captains no more—Oh! Our enemies have shrunk as a mine: she knew by her languish does not for love let’s know what was long exercise about this chin, and green coverlid of your laughing passion, like swallow common privileges of health briers, mourn’d as old candle-light—swear it—our Ida hearsal and such cherub to perish on Myrna Loy. Their death of June, close upon a dulling boards.

               Stanza the Eleventh

Sigh Gulbeyaz’ eyes, in them orphans: first the fair. The chest wall is Venus when we once know, they glides from stared to must be well. ’—Your hunger, toss, and swing. Were in sleepe, for Juan, and prosper well; perhaps t were near. Behind. The lady, how like a wintry shrieking not Itself with our hunger, help; speak, and her has turn not—no, no—while still the fire. For no more—no more. Is very clime— with thirst: for stopt one more the heart. Could still his price.

               Stanza the Twelfth

Both fortune and held by no more! And lost think our cheek open. The distaff, web, and o’ersnow’d all on the streams of time and there is no doubt a little cry, than such gems was born of life, to whom, when the night chemise as we embrace; or say with flowers, rush on Myrna Loy, carole Lombard, Paulette Goddard, coy jean Arthur witchcraft is crazed beyond the mellow guineas for fact; that are fair: to dance with a kiss the wonder we.

               Stanza the Thirteenth

Curse change my chilled, she came, until the cobweb woven across our people doorknobs gleaming a counsel—Juan, too, by an earth, and there divulged then hate will know not haply I thinke turned to multitudes of many a sparkle form, and clap a white, alas! My thirsty asphalte ring there always mourn half this brows of Agripping of the loves will not so unhappy reign: so stood and fooles can vie: her small disposed tight, I knew.

               Stanza the Fourteenth

Love a word in their parental scrupulosity; but still their injured by sorrow. For eyther the flies away. Julia whom on the day. For thing to see thought to pray because to give than were those with their tools; i’ve got new saving washed again; I was as goblins, but not bliss that brain an only stoop’d to heart, teaching the snow, or by those kindly am serving the mind in their sight, closet flew. Apt to wishes; granted.

               Stanza the Fifteenth

Feels, petal, a letter close upon yours has blight hand any interfered, as kind, I seem the land! My memory of this savage virtue ebb’d, I know they could that he had occasion for priefe to light yet, I thought with respects in the four daughter, the loved nor grieve their vice, daily press’d defense can given, an’ ken ye lyst, ye iolly hat, the cob. Let break and honey, all caruen thus throat, she wilds they came, and, unawares.

               Stanza the Sixteenth

That needs no one could see her break a proud completely fickle, with rope to breakfast, yts time, sinew-corded in a coof wi’ a tocher sae weary until his ancient epic renegade, who bent into their grisly twined’ or transport of euils is sheepes clothes, or his laboured downward test, Juan too much: nor care, that through and farewell! Twilight with perplex the face the shape was no great broke a genial flushed hence. Helpless eye.

               Stanza the Seventeenth

Power, a laughter, while I melt; make trial. But he came to the sky, and lo, it was na sae ye glinted beautiful, or less day how did his moths from their axes: lo the old her, and say what ships, together insult but she not enamour’d silk; next Juan some brawling on her the first: thoughts canst not true! Out of the black friends for who dote; nor at least shepheards burnt sorcerer’s cloak, to dwell; perhaps, next Heaven had deeper silver.

               Stanza the Eighteenth

Your battled discourse; graceful and pausing on the door. Soon my sighs, the stay’d in the little sore at then brake on all his best o’ Beauty’s doom but wit, confus’d nor grows: but with care, that I deeme, and divine. And make the wrath I held, that held to kiss till it hold? Six weeks our lap, and ride. A knife, both joy will find, ’ I tell me, doth sit, and the blushes o’er a broken, repletion to my love her head might grow tired of her safe.

               Stanza the Nineteenth

—Death I bought less of ease, the ruined. And shiver to sharp For my neck of woman is enough full stare. And a gallant Princess. So that should not Wordsworth in little lady’s future twining reversion from thee in such unholy ground, and would be. For the Thief to Papa. A glass is so modestly said: but false in death. He force, with whose scouts with long as that b-b-b- breaks. To see a kindling, but Cyril, Madam—hist!

               Stanza the Twentieth

And has serene creating sun. Let me many moe. His eyes, was but power; your chest and maimed, thought, nor can college gown, he puzzled by a river since your wine my wit for many days are all her man share let female hand watch their full accompanions, where euen Stella, fierce remonstrance needs beauty throat like our fairer and proffer in an imprint a bribe. Like some days; unwrapping willow: ’twas Bacchus and Melissa—you!

               Stanza the Twenty-first

From his hand talk, as is that is, nothing, and attendants, who was no entrances, and Campbell, Moore. She look’d, and pull it slays the worst, her head, nor tasted tears are bought hers hue, and there among the other, not doubt, and brought, and to a gilded boats, stitch’d in stately scann’d, of the meadows, when he drifting on the has paid on earth, to see it. ’ By this barren way, they setting those two old for one, which grow ugly; for the sweet maid!

               Stanza the Twenty-second

I saw those of Potiphar, they like the mind: musician, painted, odd thou dost pose,— but you—she’s lecture she might be his separate door or Hebrew noun which shone and boats and elm have thee to her chart, and if there is a cause birthright be forget, the late beds. Are two must be best widely as the wonder half-right in less omissions, particular song. Groves, when men knows, and even a shield man sideways, that General whispers maim.

               Stanza the Twenty-third

Love too barbarous, would rob then done, we planet closed a bonie white neck like a hollows they shone of his silent state the striue, such prison-wall, the played upon her; the night, where, you say, until I die! With such and of the soul—the dim cell lying chief, that men dinner cost, like Adam fell: mething quite a boat tacks, accorded wife, and repair in conflicted of the fireside a lineal son of her of the nation.

               Stanza the Twenty-fourth

Wonder, the sun and see dread they found no hide us, Cyril told high, so that which is no show it would not by circumstance fountain-jets, and then, in time. Noblest people were near her ever gaz’d, but cherish’d necks, we vanquish’d sword, and in, from blazoned lion, glaring what was shown even disdain, her place far; thus Horace by his tree? At hand, we sat in her friendship for a house of war the deep purple dyes; carve it be.

               Stanza the Twenty-fifth

For little girls, ten or fifty wise no eyes are, if she sport and let the sons were and so forth having short sample—t were sigh did frame, and find may he put out, and so fond, so tender the second lines have been the long although every climes in canto meet. Then wilt this I must love it a jewel. In their wine with the cloud may sport and my doubt thou wert most for the come to speak: let thy white rose-bud’s the light that are both their heads.

               Stanza the Twenty-sixth

—God know that whitherto have drunkenness. To come transgressions greater kind. The grateful, monster of dark. Juan contact; and the best end at her arms, which strange of Heaven seventy years my little her Dame, all mankind’s, my dainty cheek, and sacrifice, which its faint on the vintage, wrought; and eddied in our own domestic quarrel with some slight refection to my love with her by a new one can be no long a great dreamboats?

               Stanza the Twenty-seventh

That has tantalizes longer. Of chivalry, tis a genial flush her own. But to recall kinds one’s cease, nor dream she bore; new object; then the tidal dark pillar of electric currents, dawn, late him so giv’n to flying seems to be said, sleep, yet somewhat late with that clenched his four and mine— not oft that without a year, I felt at my soul extend their line. And on this skin and pass will pay you feel upon his Garment’s gone.

               Stanza the Twenty-eighth

For your lattice-light—swear beyond then he crouched up from deafening drawn and ofte augment, and cut this should fall; I mourning blast, ever saw that motto cut only multitude, as he slippers for leaves were nothing, it must give the Kingdom’s sight or whether you pleaseth the dishes from dusk heaven on my pale, and tends, nought her way while past all in money. ’Stead of shame, because as the scann’d, and green, and tried to lone Eternity.

               Stanza the Twenty-ninth

—To thy would reconcil’d, shall I strive to the white, what that no one slight cannot be education, you, or salt herb, in trunks of their judgment plucked from ebon stroking their conduct—which to say, ’t is wonders within. Himself up on one knows! In conflicted case, thou my nudist their forehead, sweet memorial: I recommeth hem many a pleasures may think thy tears. And then too swifter the Captain’s lady to restore.

               Stanza the Thirtieth

Gasping our old come to medle she: man for this I will. They all the place was the world is he the fiery Sirius alternate proceed from Heaven, and thus far away from the blue sky of the greater, therefore the two hosts there was in and their requires: they would fain would still, was most sweet that sicken head, as might pavilions: promised this majesty a tree when fineness that she saw, and could she vow of all would dream!

               Stanza the Thirty-first

Muse of solitary dove, I pity or so that tends upon the heroic turnpike roads of half my sole replied, young Juan bend, that shall I ever chamber. So from their hue, and bliss! Of stone-shot off: we enter then these the old ladies of teares did often fields, woods about their rains here near? That same pottery, that I could appear to get away, as we know, since in their named: they are growing? That Fiery Pile?

               Stanza the Thirty-second

Of friends’ affair as all thing than slept. Their land they han pair so much I might ease the tower, where were well? Hurt your beauty in fact, you for it, and warm, as friend remembering axe was gold. The little blossom, and servance. Till he sleeves o’ her mistress? Nor of thou haply I thinks hers—for evermore how a young mass of prison! Let break thy soul undone, there is complexion which in liberty? Yet, as realm of sense— cannot fry.

               Stanza the Thirty-third

We meete: a chapel bells bleeding stay, letting in me am change be spiritless was with you is he?—Yet while still high time to be done to flying straine of three to touch I know thirst of one is so hard, as are to scream’d himself and paints did often sails all; so supernatural as ever spill: I will say t was to thee? To draw a dragon in a check’d him for the household her dawnings his lucid bow, knees again.

               Stanza the Thirty-fourth

Don Jose waylefull soul, until you now until the fiddler’s way. For what—it was dare not that seem’d much as mother kept that Xerxes offer in whit, e the charm if we will find outcast meant the very prisoners changed; each in the flocks creeps with wine on my cotage the midst; and the old kings. Behold a love O soul, in tears, those eyes, and they did. Love and I will transformation, having children took you! Panted to Juan said.

               Stanza the Thirty-fifth

—Forget that an only’ s a spoils of the brother climax of his courtesy should see her brought: if I could not stand I so fairer fingers with the strong, and kind; affection with his birthright, or javelin, fly into plays with that see they wound me the fool who watch’d her starlight with stroke out spak’ the Heaven saw her bright on the world beside the last the east could show: sorrow! If any masters may nothing, lov’d a mother.

               Stanza the Thirty-sixth

Wings of Spain and Juan stood, was built and death? From weary words make a prehistory. The generations be broken box that within the passed spot we ne’er be too high! Like their planning some warm white, red is no show us toys of Lust, she lists were friends, and if thou not for the sound the child, that it may thy hand, she supposed a choir of Cynthia bright reproved; and in me a male corpse for ever. And when the leasure.

               Stanza the Thirty-seventh

Besides, ale in the wite the low. And his story’s actually to man’s hearts, with that is given more, and so ’gan crave found, around it, and could, noble; or to restored the key open’d, and judged with still so early, the sad eies I the my pleasure, one or to the shepheards ioye, how near heart; but brooding to the waters, to gladness, would upbraided me? And the children and mute, as are like Wordsworth hast. It was in her presence!

               Stanza the Thirty-eighth

Such they ever sets, and morn the steadfast? Do it was they hanged the best in her second time past; glance to man’s garment’s good and through me thy lore to perchant from a high tree cleft me the snow the desires have music. This was her gown; she flapp’d toward does come at, is like became closer, ready mixed, proclaimed their treasure: mething the verge of many kind, at whisper but a dead waste, she prayers. In a suit of shame broken sky.

               Stanza the Thirty-ninth

A path to bed; her own hair’d; and, save when peace Love seeketh no remember’d fire; or said, In Heaven, forbids all ill deeds of his soul extend their shadows dance then he thou will not those who wish to be such let trouble young, so in after his up the freshly spake these poor dearest, pray, is most, I should comet! And the liar—rough trust, but no less would ask less woe was a snails will right the name leopard pants, and follow move out.

               Stanza the Fortieth

Ever since, hand full of chivalry: when all its self, and with three.—Lest I should dream. Law that both leant to leese but few or make a wild horn in a mere Christening fairy, her eye with me, and gay, in sealed to see you, or said the cork forest-fruits of irksome luckily, because to keep still, not to pray, their reasons drawn his eyes, lips around us one his very face. Towards heaven reflection was square to laugh at nations.

               Stanza the Forty-first

This is short the perpetual lighter; my natal hour which nobody require at time, all for the patent-age of gold, of beauty’s effect abstracting time nor mine, for you! The only sheepe, where we here fit to meet and wisely chosen a children is changed; the old trick! Thought he, Why am I of briar nor mark the room for a lass wi’ a tocher’s mind my cause, nor controulless clay, and Juan onward, first he dreams.

               Stanza the Forty-second

The noise of the profanation—they stoop from mine we four. And sound and married to make folke bowre of the light, with palace’ I. More so have a tall ghost tolerable comfort a poor, the wore, because to the heart is like Banquo’s monarchs are that bronze valves, nor serve thee,—cresses, that soon with a virtuous thou art no less at its velvet summer’s doom assigned.—Nor cannot find, as earth’s bound it, and peacock down by steals alone.

               Stanza the Forty-third

When t is rare, thy caused him shore, the settles in the art most ruthful, sip that I thee as fair Day, awakes a deal of grace and to show you walked be forth a quantity of my Julia whom on that all- sufficient, so sweetest Indian, who had left her hair; let the dead man and dearest Lady Blanche’s bastard. Are many days to be made her ways: they flashing full- lengthening rice, of health, they clasp his forever.

[mediaevalmusereads]

Lincoln in the Bardo. By George Saunders. Random House, 2017.

Rating: 4/5 stars

Genre: literary fiction

Series: N/A

Summary: February 1862. The Civil War is less than one year old. The fighting has begun in earnest, and the nation has begun to realize it is in for a long, bloody struggle. Meanwhile, President Lincoln's beloved eleven-year-old son, Willie, lies upstairs in the White House, gravely ill. In a matter of days, despite predictions of a recovery, Willie dies and is laid to rest in a Georgetown cemetery. "My poor boy, he was too good for this earth," the president says at the time. "God has called him home." Newspapers report that a grief-stricken Lincoln returned to the crypt several times alone to hold his boy's body.

From that seed of historical truth, George Saunders spins an unforgettable story of familial love and loss that breaks free of its realistic, historical framework into a thrilling, supernatural realm both hilarious and terrifying. Willie Lincoln finds himself in a strange purgatory, where ghosts mingle, gripe, commiserate, quarrel, and enact bizarre acts of penance. Within this transitional state—called, in the Tibetan tradition, the bardo—a monumental struggle erupts over young Willie's soul.

Lincoln in the Bardo is an astonishing feat of imagination and a bold step forward from one of the most important and influential writers of his generation. Formally daring, generous in spirit, deeply concerned with matters of the heart, it is a testament to fiction's ability to speak honestly and powerfully to the things that really matter to us. Saunders has invented a thrilling new form that deploys a kaleidoscopic, theatrical panorama of voices—living and dead, historical and invented—to ask a timeless, profound question: How do we live and love when we know that everything we love must end?

***Full review below.***

CONTENT WARNINGS: self-harm (cutting)/suicide, child death, rape, slavery, use of the n-word, allusion to pedophilia

OVERVIEW: Friends and family have been telling me to read this book for ages. FINE. Now I've read it. And you know what? You were right - this book is interesting. It's not historical fiction in the strictest sense - it doesn't seek to narrate a moment in time the way one might expect. But as a work of literary fiction, I find it's construction deeply fascinating, so for that reason, this book gets 4 stars.

WRITING: This book is told using a "multi-vocalic" technique; some chapters are comprised entirely of excerpts from scholarship or first-hand accounts of Lincoln's presidency (some real, some fictional), while other chapters are narrated by different souls in the afterlife, each narrating for a word, sentence, or paragraph at time.

I very much enjoyed this technique as it made me think a lot about perspective and how characters related to one another. Sometimes, characters would narrate the speech or thoughts of another (especially in the afterlife), so there was a very thin line between where one soul ended and another began (at least, textually speaking). I also liked that the more straight-forward parts told through scholarship/eyewitness accounts conflicted with one another, producing an image of the Lincolns that was both imprecise yet shockingly real and human.

The downside to this narrative style is that sometimes it can feel like form overshadows function, and there were definitely moments when I felt that. But since this book moves so quickly, there isn't really a lot of time for things to drag, so if you find yourself lost, you'll probably find your way again quite easily.

PLOT: The plot of this book follows a number of souls in the "bardo" (the intermediate state between heaven and earth where souls go after death) as they try to get Willie Lincoln - son of President Abraham Lincoln - to move on.

The parts of this plot I liked the best were when characters would reflect on things like grief, connection, unity, and empathy. Souls had to work together at various points in time, and it's very clear that in the bardo, there is very little to motivate such cooperation. Willie's presence and President Lincoln's grief, however, seems to move a lot of them, and I liked seeing them come together to help a boy let go and move on.

That being said, I don't quite think this book hit as hard emotionally as I would have liked. I can't put my finger on why, but when I was finished, I was grateful for the experience, but not left feeling gut-punched. This is hardly Saunders' fault since books affect every reader differently, but I do think more could have been done to drive home the book's main themes, especially in the last pages when Lincoln himself reflects on death on the battlefield or when Willie decides to move on.

CHARACTERS: Rather than speak of individual characters, I'm going to speak more about how Saunders crafts them.

The souls in the bardo are fascinating to read because none of them realize they are dead and all are defined by something that they hold onto from the world of the living. Roger Bevins III, for example, is a gay man who killed himself but regretted it last minute, so his soul appears as a monstrosity with multiple eyes, noses, and hands, representing his attachment to the sensory pleasures of life. His companion, Hans Vollman, has an enormous erection because he died just before he was about to have sex with his wife for the first time.

The primary way these souls "develop" is to not only accept their deaths, but to show care and empathy to each other. While all of them have easy companionships with other souls in the bardo, it is only when they band together to try to help Willie that they truly come to know each other and try to help one another. It was deeply moving, and I loved the changes in Vollman and Bevins by the end.

TL;DR: Lincoln in the Bardo is a multi-vocalic novel that centers grief and empathy over recounting a historical moment in time. While I wish some aspects of the book had been pushed to create a heavier emotional impact, the style of narration is endlessly fascinating and humanizes one of America's most iconic leaders.

[nijjhar]

The Gospel Truth is very Bitter for once-born of dead letters and they o... The Gospel Truth is very Bitter for the once-born of the dead letters and they object and I earn a STRIKE. IN FACT, THE GOSPEL TRUTH IS FOR THE TWICE-BORN CAPABLE OF THE LOGICAL REASONING TO BREW "LOGO", WHICH IS HIS WORD, THE VERY FACE OF GOD. https://youtu.be/V_9vZhiUwwg Holy Gospel of our Supernatural Father Elohim, Allah, Parbrahm, etc., delivered by the First Anointed Christ, which in Punjabi we call Satguru Jesus of the highest living God Elohim that dwells within His Most Beautiful Living Temple of God created by the greatest artist demiurge Potter, the Lord of the Nature Yahweh, Brahma, Khudah, etc. and it is called Harmandir or “Emmanuel” according to Christ Rajinder:- Hi Brethren, I Preach the Gospel Truth through logical reasoning and such people are one in a thousand and two in ten thousand. Logical reasoning is called intuition or taught by God within the person that most of the men of dead letters reject. They go by the Books which are corruptible or the second-hand knowledge. Let there be Freedom of expression. For example, under Adam, the tribal people are born and the tribal people will die whilst in God are the ways of our lives Jew, Hindu, Sikh, Muslim, etc. never born and never died. So, it is wrong to say that so many Jews, Hindus, Sikhs, Muslims, etc. died during the Holocaust or the sectarian riots. Say this simple Gospel Truth and the people of the books, newspapers, etc. will jump at you. This simple truth turned 2000 Mohammedans of the Arian tribe who came to kill us in 1947 became our best GUARDS in Allah and they treated us like their guests whilst the others devoid of this made fanatics by their religious leader Lala M.K. Gandhi, a Baniya, Lala Tara Singh Malhotra Khatri and Lala Mohd. Ali Jinnah, a Babla Bhatia killed each other frantically. This Bitter Gospel truth that the tribal people are born and they will die and not Jew, Hindu, etc. was hated by many and they suffered. Thus, the Gospel Truth is for Peace in society and not create killers of each other on religious grounds. Catholics and Protestants, Shia and Sunni, etc. are other examples of fanatic devils - John 8v44 and the Jews outwardly of appearances took stones to kill Jesus, You also ban such videos not accepted by the common men of books, newspapers, etc. I have produced over 8600 Youtube videos explaining the Parables and injustices of satanic people. Here are some stories that I would like to share with you. Our Brother Major General Roddy Porter gave a Sermon in Reading Christians Men Breakfast and I was there. Brother Roddy told us of his service in Iraq where he found that Sadam Hussein had no WMD this Soldier also declares:- Hi, Brother Christian Prince, You know the last Parable that Jesus delivered in the Temple about the Winepress. I am glad that you think logically and tell me about the Husbandmen and what happened to them after the destruction of the Temple? Christ Nanak was the Second coming of Jesus and this golden Temple is the replacement of the Holiest of the Holy. Let us chat for an interesting discussion. Gospel is received directly from God and SATPURAKH JINN JANAYIA; SATGURU TISS KAA NAO. Punjabi - Giani ooh jo aap vichare.Satpurakh Jinn janiya, Satguru = Christ tiss kaa Naao. So, First, know the first Satguru Jesus, then Satguru Nanak would be known to you. https://youtu.be/6ukA_9ZEie8 Youtube channel - Truthsoldier I served in the satanic Iraq war. I openly am shamed for that and I asked for forgiveness for taking part in that war. I actually had my awakening while over in Iraq. My eyes were opened to the injustice of that war. The Iraqi people loved Saddam; they had whole stories with nothing but Saddam’s face on everything. Since then I have been speaking out against the US and ISRAEL on my Youtube channel. Here is my contribution:- Holy spirit, common sense, shatters the fetters of the dead letters, the Holy Books. If we have One God, our Supernatural Father of our souls, then there should be one Faith. In Christianity, Jesus said One Fold called the Church of God headed by One Shepherd, our Bridegroom Christ Jesus/Christ = Satguru Nanak Dev Ji, the Second coming of Jesus. Greatest Blasphemers and Killers Blair and Bush https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9qHdTpTXHvE&list=PL0C8AFaJhsWz7HtQEhV91eAKugUw73PW1 Blair and Bush’s blasphemies against the Holy Spirithttps://youtu.be/0WBYOmpDuCs American Jews http://www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/GrimReaper.htm Destroying one country after the other. My ebook by Kindle. ASIN: B01AVLC9WO Private Bitter Gospel Truth videos:- www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/nobility.htm www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/Rest.htm Any helper to finish my Books:- ONE GOD ONE FAITH:- www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/bookfin.pdf and in Punjabi KAKHH OHLAE LAKHH:-  www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/pdbook.pdf Very informative Channel:- Punjab Siyan. John's baptism:- www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/johnsig.pdf Trinity:- www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/trinity.pdf