#Young woman embracing a thorn bush

[tomoleary]

Kay Nielsen “Young woman embracing a thorn bush” (about 1910)

Source

[angelswing236]

"Follow me if you want to live."

Fictober 24 challenge

Fandom: Downton Abbey

Fanfiction

It was only the slightest of scuffling sounds, but it made both of them look up sharply, fear gripping them.

William clutched his rifle, panic-stricken eyes landing on Matthew, who put his gloved finger to his lips. All they could do was stay silent and pray it wasn’t another German soldier on the other side of the prickly hedge by the ditch in which they were huddling, and that they were not about to be discovered and taken prisoner. Or worse.

‘Suivez-moi si vous voulez vivre,’ a voice whispered through the knotted branches of the hedge.

Matthew and William exchanged a look, surprised and relieved to realise the interloper was female and definitely not an enemy soldier.

‘What’s she saying?’ William whispered, his French no better after all these months.

‘Follow me if you want to live,’ Matthew translated. ‘At least, I think that’s what she said.’

‘Rosbifs, suivez-moi. Zat way,’ the voice repeated, the last words in heavily accented English. ‘Maintenant.’

A small, feminine hand appeared through the hedge, pointing down the ditch to a part of the hedge that dipped into a shallow hollow, the opposing bank higher than the one on which the straggly hedge clung to life.

Matthew lifted his head, peering cautiously through the low, scrubby bushes in front of them at the German soldiers encamped about 250 yards from where they lay. They were talking and laughing, one of them stirring a pot of something over a small fire, the smell of which made his empty stomach rumble. None of them were looking their way.

Hunkering back down, he nodded to William, and they began to crawl as quietly as possible towards the hollow. Once there, they could see a gap, where the hedge skimmed but just missed mingling with another equally wiry hedge. There was a gap between them just big enough for a grown man to squeeze through.

Gesturing for William to go first, Matthew rolled over, taking another cautious peek at the enemy, making sure they were still oblivious to their presence. Once his batman was through, Matthew followed, keeping low to the ground, trying not to get tangled on the thorns in either hedge, glad for the protection of his greatcoat.

On the other side, their saviour waited, a thin-faced young woman – a girl, really – dressed in a thick serge coat, boots and men’s trousers, cinched at the waist with a belt, her hair in a loose ponytail. She put her finger to her lips and then pointed at another ditch running perpendicular to the hedge that had been their hiding place. Without another word, she ran to it, dropping into its embrace and crawling along it on her belly.

Matthew and William exchanged a glance and then followed her, ignoring the mud and the leaves, trying to make as little noise as possible.

After what seemed like an eternity, with every second spent expecting a guttural German shout or a volley of bullets in their direction, they reached the end of the ditch. The French girl rolled out of it, getting to her knees and running in a crouch over to the dilapidated remnants of a stone hut.

She waited for Matthew and William to join her and then grinned at them, a flash of youthful spirit that made her seem even younger than her years.

‘Nous leur avons échappé, les Boches,’ she said, happily.

‘Merci,’ Matthew said, fervently. ‘Merci beaucoup.’

‘Aye, merci, mademoiselle,’ William echoed in an atrocious accent.

‘De rien,’ she replied, her smile shyer now.

‘Do you know which way the British lines are, mademoiselle?’ Matthew asked, scanning their surroundings for familiar landmarks and finding none. They’d been driven further into the woods than they’d been before by the German patrol that had unwittingly pinned them down.

‘Les tranchées anglaises sont par là,’ she said, gesturing towards the area his gut told him was the right direction for the British lines, but then she shook her head, pointing to the ground where they were. ‘Mais restent ici jusqu'à la tombée de la nuit. Il n'est pas prudent d'y aller en plein jour. Il y a trop de patrouilles allemandes.’

‘Can you understand what she’s saying, sir?’ William asked, watching the girl with a degree of fascination.

‘I think she’s saying stay here,’ Matthew replied as the girl watched him, listening, her brow furrowed in concentration. ‘Too many Germans about.’

She smiled, looking pleased. ‘Oui. Stay ‘ere. Jusqu’a la tombée de la nuit. La lune. Ze moon. Il est plus sûr de se déplacer au clair de lune. Vous comprendez?’

‘Au clair de la lune? That’s the song, isn’t it?’ William said, pleased to have deciphered even a small amount of her French. ‘About the moon.’

‘Yes.’

‘Restez ici jusqu'à la nuit,’ the girl said again. ‘Night. Oui?’

‘Stay here until night falls,’ Matthew repeated in English.

She smiled and nodded. ‘Et restez silencieux, vous deux.’

‘And be quiet.’

‘Oui. Soyez silencieux,’ she said, raising her finger to her lips. ‘Vous ne voulez pas qu’ils vous trouvent.’

‘We don’t want them to find us,’ Matthew translated for William’s benefit.

‘No, we surely don’t,’ the young batman said, fervently.

She beamed at them again and then raised a hand in farewell.

‘Wait! Attendez!’ Matthew whispered, urgently. ‘Comment t'appelles-tu?’

‘Hélène.’

‘Merci, Hélène.’

She dipped her head, another smile on her face.

William nodded to her. ‘Thank you, miss. I think you might be an angel.’

She frowned as she translated the English in her head, and then smiled again and shook her head. ‘Je ne suis pas un ange, monsieur. Je suis juste une fille.’

She bobbed a small curtsey and raised her hand again. ‘Bonne chance.’

With that, she darted off, leaving them alone.

‘I think I was right the first time,’ William muttered, watching her go. ‘She is an angel.’

‘Yes, I think she might be,’ Matthew agreed. ‘I might have to call my firstborn daughter Hélène.’

Hunkering down, they settled in to wait quietly for nightfall.

[silvernwillow]

“Young Woman Embracing a Thorn Bush” by Kay Nielsen (1910)

[little-diable]

Taste the Sin - Preacher!Tommy Shelby 2 (smut)

Here is a promised second part (there'll probably a third one too). Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Preacher Shelby frees the reader from her sins - at least it's the first step to a pure life.

Warnings: 18+, oral (m), flashback in italics, small deflation, religious connotations, talks about sinning and purity

Pairing: Preacher!Tommy Shelby x fem!reader

Read part 1 here

“I will free you from your sins, give into my calling, child and you shall be pure again.” Tommy’s hands found her waist, he pulled her off the altar and forced the woman to her knees, „You will pray with me, you will ask Him for forgiveness and then, only then, you shall be free.”

The words had rumbled through the priest too many times to count, filling confessionaries with his eyes pressed close and his hands folded. Speaking the words that had been burned into his mind as he had been a mere boy.

“You shall be free from your sins.” Priest John had his hand placed on the young boy’s head, staring down on Tommy. He had sinned, had punched a boy that had dared to touch his sister, forcing his knuckles against the boy’s jaw, watching blood pour from his mouth like a river of holy wine.

“God won’t be as forgiving the next time you come to confess, learn the ways of a pure life, young Shelby. Find your calling and listen to the Father’s voice.” The Priest’s eyes wandered to the couple that was standing a few feet behind them, the mother was crying, the father was smoking his pipe, both were staring at their kneeling son.

They had dragged him here, not knowing how they should pull their son out of the grave he had dug himself, engulfed by darkness and confusion. Hatred had burned through his veins, a biting poison he had no antidote for, forced to give into its embrace, falling into the dark fog with his eyes closed and his body working on its own.

“Thank you, father,” Tommy’s mother stepped closer to the two, with tears running down her pale cheeks. “Take good care of him, please.”

Tommy tried to reach for her coat, not understanding why she was saying those words - as if she was saying goodbye to the son who was still kneeling on the cold ground. His eyes flickered to his father, trying to read the emotions that were swimming in his pupils, the sadness that reached deeper than the holes his young hands had tried to dig, burying sweets and toys before his siblings could find them.

“Be good, make us proud.” The young boy was forced to watch his parents leave, disappearing into the morning as a cry bubbled out of him. He felt waves of anger, of rage clashing through him, with his hands balled into fists he tried to rip himself free. But the priest kept holding onto him.

The morning had faded all too soon, preparing the boy for a pure life, now free from his sins. With a cross dangling around his neck and his lips wrapped around a cigarette he would free other sinners, till God will call him home.

“Father God of compassion and mercy, I come to You, broken by sin and strangled by my guilt.” Tommy’s voice echoed through the church, his eyes were burning into her skull, watching her sob his name as her pleasure kept bubbling through her. A never-ending stream of heat that burned through her like the heat of the burning thorn bush.

“I am sorry for my wrongdoing. Your magnificence is beyond my comprehension. Thank You, Father, that the power of the cross is greater than my sin.” She had no chance but to murmur the words, glassy eyes found his. Tommy cupped her cheek, he ran his thumb along her lower lip, forcing them apart to push his digit down onto her tongue.

The surprised gasp that spilled from her lips clashed against his frame, forcing him closer. (Y/n) sucked on his thumb, as if she was sucking his cock, teasing the man with her hands wandering up his legs, trying to reach his crotch. But he stopped her before she could touch him.

“Hands behind your back.” His voice was sharper than the spare that had pierced into Jesus’s skin, cutting her open, leaving her no choice but to follow his command. Trembling hands were placed behind her back, eyes following the movement of his long fingers, watching them undo his black trousers. The second her eyes found his hard cock, she felt the devil creep inside her fleshcage, he nestled inside her heart, tainting her with the silent promise of pushing her into the fiery flames.

Wordlessly she parted his lips for the priest, wrapped around his cock with a moan rumbling through both of them. He threw his head back, hands buried in her hair to guide the movements of her head. His taste engulfed her, tingled on her tongue as she began to work on him. As if the devil’s whip was clashing against her back with every breath he took, she sucked on his cock, hoping to please the groaning man.

(Y/n) gagged around him, forcing salty tears from her eyes, tears that kept dropping to the ground like rain falling from the dark sky. She sucked on his tip, allowed the salty taste of his precum to stream through her. All her wishes were coming true, endless nights of praying to the father above, begging him to push the priest into her trap - she had been heard. Finally.

Tommy began to fuck her mouth, and with the corners of her mouth burning from the stretch, she gave into his rough touch. (Y/n) was paying - paying for every sin she has ever committed, for every lie that had rolled off her tongue, he was forcing her to let go, of her pain, of her shame and the confusion the fog of darkness has left behind.

The priest owned her, like he owned the early morning prayer, like Mary had owned Jesus and like all beings in this world were owned by the holy Father. Not even the snake in the Garden of Eden had whispered words so vile that one could melt from the hot waves of embarrassment.

“You will come to me, every morning and evening, to pray, to beg for forgiveness, till no sinful thought remains in your mind.” She couldn’t reply, could only stare at him as he gave into his orgasm with one last thrust. He spilled his cum down her throat, forcing her to swallow his load with her heart pounding in her chest, about to jump right out of the fleshcage it had found its shelter in.

“Show me your tongue.” His cross dangled around his neck as he tilted his head downwards, studying her clean tongue before a “good girl” bled from his lips. Tommy helped her back onto her trembling feet, he cupped her cheek, brushed his thumb along her forehead to trace a cross on her skin.

“I expect you to be here tomorrow morning.”

Tagging the ones that commented on Part one (I couldn't tag some of you): @earlgreydream @darkladyslytherin @datewithgianni @thomashelbyswhore @alreadybroken-ts

[thezebrawlw]

Part 2 Donna x Maiden

Part one is over here.

---

Donna was speaking through Angie's voice. The doll was sitting on the maid's bed while Donna was in her own room.

The conversation was trivial, but pleasant, until Angie fell silent.

"My lady? Are you all right?"

Angie didn't move, she was still and quiet, just like the last time the dolls attacked her.

Startled, the maid carried Angie and ran to Donna's room. Again, a large group of dolls stood in front of the door and Donna's sobs were heard from the other side.

"My lady, I have Angie, please let me in."

Donna didn't answer.

"Please, I know she will make you feel better."

The crying changed from sad to hysterical and and quite violent blows began to be heard.

"I'm sorry about this."

Desperate, the maid broke the lock with some witch's spell. She entered the room, she couldn't see anything clearly, but she was sure Donna was in her bed by the sound of the sheets.

"Ma'am, here's Angie, please stop beating yourself up"

A pair of hands snatched Angie from her grip. The maid felt helpless that she could do no more.

"I withdraw, if you need anything else--"

"Stay."

The maid froze in place, for the first time, Donna's voice was commanding her to do something.

"Yes, ma'am."

She sat down on the corner of the bed. A cold hand gripped the dress over her leg. Donna was shivering, seeking comfort in her.

The next morning came with an annoying sunshine. The maid tried to get up to close the curtain, but Donna would not let her. They lay side by side, Donna wrapped one arm around the maid. Angie was the one separating them from a real embrace.

As expected, Donna slept with her veil on, but the fabric had moved out of the way for the night, so the lady could see her mistress's cheek and the corner of a pair of pale pink lips. She also noticed some long black eyelashes fluttering in her sleep.

Gently, the maid hid her face again, she knew Donna didn't want to show her face for some reason, so she respected her privacy and waited for her mistress to wake up.

Donna almost fell out of bed when she saw the lady next to her. The young woman greeted her with a quiet "good morning" and then asked how she was.

Donna was so confused and sleepy, she ended up answering on her own.

"I'm feeling... better, thank you."

"Would you like anything for breakfast?"

"No, not right now."

"That's okay. Then would you like to snuggle some more?"

Only then did Donna realise where her hands were. The dolls were right in saying that the young lady was very warm and that the living beat of her heart lulled a tired soul like Donna.

"I don't want to impose anything on you," Donna said.

"You're not, my lady, if you remember, I said I was going to serve you after all, didn't I?"

Donna didn't answer. She was silent long enough for the maid to think she had said something wrong.

"Yes, I'd like to stay here a while longer".

From that day on, Donna stopped using Angie to answer simple questions. Shy "yeses" when offered tea. Soft "no's" when the maid asked if she wanted to go out and play with the dolls. Angie would sometimes close her mouth so that Donna would answer more than two words, then "Good morning" and "Good night" were the first and last things she said every day.

The maid one day asked how the dolls' blade mechanism worked and was surprised to hear Donna talk for over an hour about her precious dolls. The second time Donna talked so much was one day when the young girl burned a biscuit sheet for the second time and Donna explained how to bake properly.

No one blamed the maid for having a panic attack when three young women came through the door shouting "Auntie Donna, Auntie Donna, Auntie Donna"

Daniela was the first to corner the maid. Bela peppered her with questions and Cassandra sniffed her all over.

"Girls, please, stop" Donna stopped.

"Who is she, Auntie?" asked Bela.

"Is she a prey?" continued Cassandra.

"Can I eat her?" asked Daniela.

"She's my maid, she's not prey and no, Daniela, dear, you can't eat her."

The Dimitrescu sisters left the young girl alone and rushed towards their aunt. They monopolised her for most of the day, for they wanted new dolls to play with.

When they left later that evening, Bela warned her aunt that she would tell her mother about her new maid. Donna wasn't sure how her niece approached things, because it was only a few days before a huge woman pounded on the door.

"¡¡Donna Beneviento, open the door this instant!!"

Unfortunately It was the maid who opened and once Alcina Dimitrescu saw the young woman, she didn't hesitate to wrap a single hand around her neck and lift her into the air.

"You little piece of-- How dare you defile my sister!?."

Donna, again, intervened before the young woman died of suffocation.

"Alcina, no, wait, wait, wait, wait wait wait!!!"

Donna and Alcina drank a special tea in the comfort of the living room. The servant girl was cornered in the corner awaiting her mistress's orders and ready to escape again if the situation called for it.

Donna explained to the Dimitrescu leader why the young woman was in her mansion and that she was now a good friend to confide in.

"If that is the case, I apologise for the way I acted, young lady."

"No hard feelings, ma'am."

"What is your name? I didn't hear it before."

Donna realised she had never asked that question before, despite the length of time she had been living with her, so she paid special attention to the answer.

"I'm afraid I don't have a name, ma'am. I think someone once called me Acacia, but it's been a long time since then."

"Acacia is a good name," Lady Dimitrescu complimented "Your blood smells like a witch, so it's no wonder you were named that."

"I thank you, ma'am"

"Donna, My dear, I'm sorry I had to come like this, you know how much I care about you."

"I know, Alcina, thank you, but it's all right."

"It's almost a pity, Heisenberg had already prepared the heavy weapons."

The maiden shuddered in her place, she didn't want to know what "heavy weapons" meant.

"That won't be necessary"

"If you called more often, this wouldn't have happened"

"I will, Alcina, I promise"

"In that case, I'll take my leave, it was good to see you, my dear."

When Donna and the maid were alone, the young woman slumped into an armchair.

"I'm sorry for what happened."

"It's all right, ma'am" the young woman laughed "It must be nice."

"What?"

"To have someone who cares about you."

"I'm sure people care about you too."

"I beg to differ, ma'am, my parents were the only ones who cared about me until they were murdered. After that people started to push me away and those who wanted me around were to use me. I'm sure one day you will do the former or the latter."

Despite the bitterness in her voice, Donna was not offended because she felt the same way about people. That's why she shut herself away, that's why she didn't want to talk to anyone, because people were scary and she didn't know how to deal with such situations if it wasn't for Angie.

"If something happened to you, I would worry," Donna blurted out without thinking.

The statement left the young woman speechless for the first time. She didn't know how to respond, even Donna belatedly realised her words.

"I... I'm going to see where Angie is.

Donna got up and left the young woman alone.

The young lady did not believe Donna's words. On the other hand, the leader of the Beneviento had not been so serious with someone new that she began to question the reason for the affection she had taken for the girl.

Her doubts were cleared up one night when Donna was returning from a meeting with the other lords. She had gone away for a couple of days in a coach and was returning in the same one. When she entered the mansion, she noticed that the place was a mess. There were no dolls in sight and the few that weren't missing were broken.

Donna rushed to the young girl's room. There she found all the dolls burned, the bed shattered and several bloodstains. The woman started to panic, but it was the explanation of a small doll that told her that hunters had come in the middle of the night and taken the girl away.

Donna didn't think twice and infested her entire territory with the cadou so that she would have time to find the girl. Her whole troop of possessed dolls searched and found near the forest a group of men fighting violently against a huge bush full of thorns.

Dona rushed to the spot, hypnotising the hunters into attacking each other. When she arrived, there was no one alive except the huge thorn bush.

"Acacia?" Donna spoke to the bush "Is that you? Please answer, it's okay now. You can come out."

The leaf monster shuddered and let the young girl free. The girl fell face first on the ground, bleeding from her stomach and legs, surely she was injured before she could defend herself on her own.

Donna hurried to pick her up, worried that the young woman's rhythmic heart would no longer beat. She removed her veil and placed her ear to her chest.

She was alive, but barely.

The young woman was breathing shallowly. Donna spoke to her a couple of times to keep her awake to ensure her life while she returned with her to the mansion.

"I'm so sorry," Donna sobbed.

"It wasn't your fault, ma'am," the girl replied, her voice breaking.

"I should have protected the mansion better."

"They would have attacked you" she spoke again "they were coming for you."

"And when they found you, they chose to take you."

The young woman laughed and then began to cough.

"Shut up now, save your breath"

Donna nursed the maiden and healed her before starting on her dolls.

During this time, the maid remained unconscious. Donna was afraid that the mansion would be attacked again, so she didn't for a moment allow the spores of her plants to stop producing hallucinogenic gases.

Donna kept watch over the young woman, watching her sleep and admiring her peaceful face. She wished that face would smile again and even hear her voice again. She wanted to watch her play with her dolls and maybe now she would join in the games.

She wasn't sure what that feeling meant, so she decided to ask the maiden if she felt the same way once she woke up.

Four days after the attack, the young girl opened her eyes, sleepily. Angie was lying beside her, watching her. The doll alerted Donna that 'mudface' was already awake.

Donna couldn't help but run into the girl's room and hug her too tightly.

"Ma'am, ma'am! it hurts!"

"Oh, for mother miranda! I'm so sorry."

It was then that the young girl realised that Donna didn't have her veil on. Her whole face was turned into a truly worried expression. One of her eyes could not be seen because of a bulge, her other eye was dark and deep, a black hole full of worry and caring.

"Woah..."

Donna didn't understand the young woman's expression until she noticed the lack of her veil. She was so distracted that she forgot to put it back on. She got up from the bed, but the young woman grabbed her hands.

"No, please, I want to see you."

Donna shook her head, trying to hide her face under her hair.

"Please let me go," she said.

"It's my wish before I die," the young woman said.

Donna turned fully towards the girl, her brow furrowed.

"You're not going to die, you fool."

The girl giggled and raised a trembling hand to caress Donna's cheek.

"You're beautiful, ma'am."

If the blood was still coursing through her veins, Donna would have turned red, instead, she ducked her gaze and tried to hide her right eye under her fringe.

"Don't hide like that, please."

"This is why I don't like to be approached. People always make fun of it, they always tease me about it".

"You talk like you don't know me, My lady, I would never make fun of you."

"Then I hope you understand that I care about you."

Neither of them knew what their statements meant, but they were sure that, from that day on, the two were more than just a friendship between mistress and maid.

The two were spending more time together, Donna had taught the young girl how to make some outfits for the dolls and so they spent their afternoons in the workshop.

The young maid, who felt comfortable being called Acacia, became another support for Donna when she had her anxiety attacks. Many nights they slept together. Just sleeping and enjoying each other's company.

Sometimes Angie organised tea parties where she no longer had to be the go-between, because Donna no longer felt shy about talking openly with Acacia.

One afternoon, they were both reading their respective books, this time sitting next to each other. Donna had fallen asleep late making a new doll and now felt sleepy. She didn't realise when her head fell on Acacia's shoulder. When she woke up, she couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed.

She apologised for using her as a pillow, but Acacia said it was fine. Only then did they both realise how close their faces were.

That night, Angie would scold Donna for not leaning in to kiss her. She told her they were too close. How could she have missed? Donna excused herself by saying it wasn't that easy.

"Next time, you're going to have to kiss her."

"Why me?"

"Because she respects you too much and doesn't want to offend you."

"She wouldn't offend me if she did."

"Then ask her to kiss you."

"Why are we having this conversation again, Angie?"

"Because I know how you feel and I know you love that girl."

Angie was right.

It was springtime, and though the dollmaker didn't like to go out, she would occasionally sit with Acacia on the porch to braid each other's hair and fill each other's hair with flowers.

"There, beautiful, as always," Acacia praised.

"Thank you."

When Acacia looked down to make a wreath for Angie, Donna spoke, her voice trembling.

"Hum... Acacia... have you ever? I mean..."

"Yeah?"

Donna couldn't help but resort to an old habit and carried Angie in her arms. Angie refused to move her mouth. Donna frowned and murmured for her to help. Angie didn't speak.

Acacia laughed at the unusual interaction between the lady and the doll. So she cleared her throat.

"My lady, I can turn away if it makes you uncomfortable to tell me something."

Donna gave up and nodded. The girl turned around and waited for Donna to speak. It was quite some time before Donna embraced Acacia and wrapped her slender arms around her neck.

"Can I kiss you?"

The girl stood still, blushing up to her ears.

"Yes, my lady, of course you may."

[mulberrytea]

new year - Jan 1st 2021

north country (Mary Oliver) // le feu (George Barbier) // i am running into a new year (Lucille Clifton) // drie vrouwen in de sneeuw (George Hendrik Breitner) // chinese new year (sales) // wandering along a snowy lane (Louis Apol) // new year’s day (Kim Addonizio) // people walk on the street to make the first shrine visit of the year at Yasaka Jinja Shrine on January 1, 1954 in Kokura, Fukuoka, Japan (Yasuo Tomishige) // snow and dirty rain (Richard Siken) // new year’s day (Hector Hyppolite) // the new year (Mary Karr) // fireworks (Walasse Ting) // thanks (William Stanley Merwin) // new year's eve at studio 54, 1978 (Tod Papageorge) // new beginnings (Lang Leav) // young woman embracing a thorn bush (Kay Nielsen) // burning the old year (Naomi Shihab Nye) // a new year, 1981 (Cathleen Clarke) // a pumpkin at new year's (Sandra McPherson) // Tito Corbella (1885-1966) // as consciousness is harnessed to flesh (Susan Sontag) 

[foreveradreamlover]

amores que matan parte 1

so yes, here it is. My first attempt at writing a semi-decent body of work. There will be a number of warnings so make sure to go through them before preceding. Enjoy! (I apologize in advance for the formatting, I use Tumblr on my phone 🥴) @lavenderhoney12 thank you for inspiring me to write this, I wouldn’t have wrote it at all without you 🤩💖

warnings: young naive reader, terrible Spanish and English translations, work has not been proofread, angst, hurt, power dynamics, future throuple between Miguel-Maria-Reader, possible dubious consent because of the power dynamic, possible dark undertones, talk of abortion and infedelity. Idk what else I’m missing but I’m sure I hit all the marks without giving it all away.

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Sometimes you wished you hadn’t met Felix and Maria. Your life would have been so much easier if you hadn’t crossed paths with them and fallen for both of them. And as you laid between them in their marital bed, you realized your life was going to get a lot more complicated now. You stared at the ceiling, feeling tears well up in your eyes. The guilt began to eat you up, the regret sank in.

You don’t belong here, you have no place here. There was no room for you in their marriage, no matter how spacious their bed was. A marriage is a commitment between two people, a third was not possible. You managed to hold in your sobs as you realized how royally fucked you were because you didn’t want to wake them up. You already felt terrible enough, you didn’t want them to make you feel even worse by trying to justify it.

But how did you get into this mess?

The events of the night before were hazy but as you wiped your tears it all became clear again.

You began yesterday morning like any other morning in the Felix household. It was your responsibility to wake up Abril and Miguelito, as you were the full time nanny, and get them ready for the day. It was the best job you ever had, honestly. You love those two like your own and they were great kids. After the kids were taken to school, you left a two weeks notice letter on Maria’s desk when you returned back to the house.

The rest of the day was anxiety inducing, you spent the majority of your time trying to steer clear from Maria but also trying to complete the chores like organizing Abril’s closet. Eventually, you couldn’t hide from her anymore when Maria managed to have Abril trick you into meeting outside by the pool.

“Gracias mi amor. (Thank you my love)” María smiled at Abril as the little girl practically dragged you outside, knowing that the plan had worked just as she predicted. “Ahora puedes jugar con tu hermanito. Pero no juegan aquí, necesito hablar con tu niñera. (You van go play with your brother now. But you cannot play here, I need to speak with your nanny)”

Abril nodded and before you could make up another excuse, Maria held up your letter.

“¿Qué chingados es esto? (What the fuck is this?)” Maria was never one to beat around the bush, it almost made you regret dropping the notice on Maria’s desk instead of Felix’s.

Felix at least would have accepted it and not confronted you about it. He knew you were replaceable. Maria on the other hand surprised you. At the most you expected a slight sadness but never anger.

“¿Lo leíste? (You read it?)” you cringed, watching Maria’s eyebrows furrow even deeper.

“¡Cómo no! (Of course!)” she noticed you taking a step back before reeling her anger back in, “Perdón, a la mejor estoy un poco confundida. Pense que estabas feliz aqui, cuidando a mis hijos. Fue hace unas pocas semanas cuando me dijiste que estabas la mas feliz que ha sentido en tu vida. ¿Qué cambió? Y no quiero mentiras, quiero la verdad. (Sorry, maybe I’m a bit confused. I thought you were happy here, taking care of my kids. It was just a few weeks ago when you told me that you were the happiest you have ever felt in your life. What changed? And I don’t want to hear your lies, I want the truth.)”

When she asked you that question, you felt your heart beat so fast that you swore even Maria could hear it. You looked at Maria’s face and you knew in that instant that no matter how hard you tried, you would never be able to lie to her. You cared too much about her to lie. Especially in her face when she’s asking for the truth. Even if the truth may scare her or make her despise you, she would have to respect it. She asked so you had to deliver.

You took a deep breath, feeling your eyes starting to water up and causing Maria to give a concerning look. She was about to walk closer to you when you lightly put you hand up to indicate her that you were fine.

“Yo - yo no sé cómo decir esto. Honestamente, no pensé que te lo diría, cara a cara pronto así. No estoy segura que puedo hacerlo. Es different pensarlo que decirlo. Creo que podría morir aquí antes de poder decirlo...(I—I don’t know how to say this. Honestly, I didn’t think I would say it, face to face this soon. I’m not sure if I can do it. It’s different thinking it than saying it aloud. I think I could die before I could say it)” Your voice wavered, Maria’s face suddenly blurry from the tears shedding from your eyes at an alarming rate.

It was like all the tears you had refused to shed for months had finally decided to come out now.

“Mija... puedes decirlo. No sé qué es lo que tienes dentro pero tienes que dejarlo salir. Puedo ver que está haciendo más daño solo por estar dentro de ti. Suéltalo, te vas a sentir mejor si lo hagas. (Honey, you can say it. I don’t know what it is inside you but you have to let it out. I can see that it’s doing more bad being inside of you. Let it go, you’ll feel better if you do that)”

You didn’t know how but those words gave you the last needed to push to finally say it.

“Maria, me gustas desmiasado. No tenía idea de que querer a alguien así podría doler tanto. Pensé que enamorarme de alguien sería hermoso como una rosa, pero las espinas me pellizcaron... Si hubiera sabido que enamorarme de ti me haría sentir así, me habría ido antes. Me quedé porque pensé que podría superarlo. Pero no puedo, así que es mejor que me vaya. Te ruego que me dejes ir. (María, I like you too much. I had no idea that liking someone would hurt so much. I thought falling in love with someone would be beautiful like a rose but the thorns pinched me. If I knew that loving you would make me feel this way, I would have left sooner. I stayed longer than I should have because I thought I would get over it. But I can’t, so it’s better if I leave. I beg you to let me leave.)” Your words came out slurred, you weren’t even sure if it was audible through the sobs.

You felt incredibly vulnerable, your vision unclear and your mind foggy. You hadn’t a clue where Maria stood or if she was even there. All you felt was your heart breaking each passing second you heard silence. You just poured out your heart of all the thoughts you harbored for months, did she know you were happy because you were in love with her? Your happiness was just a facade, it was the rose colored glasses that made you think this was love. Love couldn’t possibly feel this cruel and hurtful.

You were about to wipe your tears when you felt a pair of hands cup your face. The thumbs carefully wiped away your tears, allowing for some relief from the waterfalls pouring out of your eyes. You relished in their touch, not knowing how good it was just to be in contact with another person. You were truly touch starved and even their simple brush of your tears was enough to heal some of your deep-seated wounds you possessed. You were broken and it took one unattainable love to make you realize.

“Ya, ya. Suelta todo que tienes dentro de ti. Te vas a sentir mejor cuando todo esto se termine. (Now, now. Let go of everything inside you. You’ll feel much better when all of this is done.)” María whispered, pulling you closer to her and stroking your hair. You shuddered and felt like the tears would never be able to stop. Maria didn’t yell at you like expected, she pitied you. You honestly didn’t know what was worse. You got to be in Maria’s arms but for the wrong reasons.

You’re so stupid, you thought to yourself. You can’t compete with Felix, which you still had unrealized feelings for by the way. He’s the breadwinner and father to her children, you’re just a stupid nanny who fell in love with someone she couldn’t have.

Having your face buried in Maria’s shoulder only made you feel more in love with her in a fucked up away. Her compassion towards you made you fall harder. With this embrace, you could smell the expensive floral and sweet perfume and feel her in a way you could have only imagined before this exchange. It would have probably hurt you less if she pushed you off her and refused to see you again. At least then you would know to move on. This unexpected reaction from Maria has left you confused. This hug seemed too friendly for a simple embrace.

“¡Señora! (Mrs!)” fellow employee called out, a phone in her hand. “Habla Señor Felix! (Mr. Felix is calling!)”

And just like that, the things you thought you could only dream of crumbled as Maria took her hand out of your hair and sighed. Maria turned to the elderly woman, giving a weak smile, “Por favor dígale que no puedo atender el teléfono. Estoy un poco preocupada en este momento. (Please tell him I’m not able to come to the phone. I’m busy at the moment.)”

The older woman nodded, heading back inside as Maria pulled you back in for another warm hug. You tried to make words, feeling your lips tremble every time you attempted to say something. Your mouth felt dry and your head throbbed with pain. You weren’t sure if you would have any tears left after this episode, they were coming all at once.

“Creo que deberíamos entrar a la casa. Tu cara se siente caliente. (I think we should head inside. Your face feels hot.)” María pulled back to examine your face, a worried expression on her own face when she put the back of her hand on your forehead.

You nodded weakly, suddenly remembering you two were talking outside the whole time. You really hoped nobody heard walking by. The future was uncertain now. Maria neither accepted or rejected your two weeks notice and now that she knows that you loved her, the chances of her being comfortable around you were probably slim to none. You couldn’t blame her if she was uncomfortable with this situation, she was married and you worked for her. You also didn’t know if she even liked women.

You didn’t think you did either until you saw Maria for the first time.

Maria wrapped an arm around your shoulder as she lead the way into the house and to your bedroom. Your eyes kept steady to the ground, averting any possible eye contact with anyone who happened to be nearby. The whole walk to your bedroom was so eerie and tense that you wished nothing more than to disappear.

Maria helped you onto your bed and you accepted the comfort of the bed instantly because you had a feeling that the bed was going to be your only companion from now onwards. At least you got to hug her twice, you thought bitterly. To avoid any more conversation, you turned away from Maria and to the wall, hoping she would walk out and leave you be. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself but more so her anymore. You said enough and for that, you felt that you deserved to be excommunicated.

Instead, you felt her sit at the front of the bed.

“Siempre supe que me amabas. (I always knew you loved me)” She sighed loudly, hearing the instant relief washing over her. The fact shocked you, how did she know? When did she find out? Was it that obvious? The questions came faster than the possible answers and it was as if she knew what you thought because immediately after the short silence she said, “No me interrumpas. Has hablado bastante. Ahora es mi turno. (Don’t interrupt me. You’ve talked a lot already. It’s my turn now.)”

You kept quiet, looking at the wall to try to stop the thinking.

“Sé que te estás preguntando cómo lo supe. Creo que lo supe cuando me dijiste que eras feliz hace unas semanas. Sé cuando a alguien le gusta otra persona y lo vi en ti. Traté de no pensar en la posibilidad de que yo te gustara, no quería pensar eso porque no quería verte de manera extraña. También crecí en una casa muy religiosa ... Nunca le he dicho esto a nadie, ni siquiera a Miguel ... pero siempre supe que también me gustaban las chicas. Y por eso, me asusté cuando me dijiste que me amabas. Mi primer pensamiento fue rechazarte ... fingir que esto no sucedió y dejarte ir como pediste. Pero luego recordé cómo me sentí cuando mi mejor amiga me llamó lesbiana sucia...(I know you’re asking yourself how I knew. I found out when you told me you were happy a few weeks ago. I know when someone likes another person and I saw it on your face. I tried not to think about the possibility of you liking me, I didn’t want to view you weirdly. I also grew up in a religious household...I never told anyone this, not even Miguel but I knew from a young age that I also liked girls along with boys. That is why I was scared when you told me you loved me. My first thought was to deny what you said, to pretend it never happened and let you go like you asked. But I began to remember when my best friend called me a dirty lesbian...)” Maria’s voice wavered a bit before she cleared her throat to continue with her little story, “Recuerdo sentirme tan mal conmigo misma. Pensé que mis sentimientos eran repugnantes y eso me hizo dejar esos sentimientos a un lado. No fue hasta que llegaste cuando empecé a recordarlos. (I remember feeling terrible with myself. I thought my feelings were disgusting and that caused me to put my feelings to the side. It’s what until you came into my life that I began to remember them.)”

“M—María... ¿Porqué me estas diciendo esto? (Why are you telling me this?)” your voice cracked, turning to your other side to see her back was facing towards you. “No es necesario que me explique. No sé qué decir ... Has sido amable conmigo en los pocos meses que trabajo aquí. Realmente amo mi trabajo pero no entiendo el sentido de esta conversación. Estoy despedida ... al menos creo que estoy despedida. (You don’t need to explain to me all of this. I don’t know what to say. You’ve been so kind to me in the few months I’ve worked here. I really love my job but I don’t know why you’re telling me all this. I’m fired...at least I think I am fired.)”

Maria turned to you, her face streaming with tears, “No estas despedida. Te lo digo para que cuando empiece a besarte, no te sorprendas. (You are not fired. I am telling you all of this because when I start to kiss you, you won’t be surprised.)”

The words almost didn’t register fast enough as Maria leaned down to kiss you, slowly at first so it didn’t overwhelm you. Once it began to sink in, you kissed back eagerly. You didn’t know if you were dreaming or dead, everything seemed to happen so fast. Never in a million years did you think your feelings would be reciprocated.

Maria’s hand gripped the hair on the back of your head, intending to keep your face in place when she broke the messy kiss to peck at your neck. Even though you two only kissed once, it told you a lot about Maria. Things you suspected but never truly could have known until this moment.

Maria is domineering. She’s the one in control and you were the one to be controlled. You didn’t mind, you were taking anything you could get from her.

Maria was also playful, her free hand was playing with your necklace as she kissed around the exposed skin on you neck and upper chest.

But above all, she was passionate. You were so under her spell and past sanity that you didn’t notice when she unbuttoned your white shirt. Your face flushed as you looked down to see that she had taken off her own top, wondering if this was a signal to take off the rest of your clothes. You fumbled with your hands to reach your back to begin unhooking your bra when she stopped you.

“Creo que deberíamos continuar con los besos. Lo que queremos no puede suceder porque no tenemos suficiente tiempo. No pensé que me pondría cachonda tan rápido.” She smiled as she traced a finger along your collarbone, “Te ves tan hermosa sin camisa puesta, casi no puedo esperar para ver más. (We should continue with only kissing. What we want cannot happen because we don’t have enough time. I didn’t think I would get horny so fast. You look beautiful without a shirt on, I can hardly wait to see more of you).”

You blushed and leaned in to continue making out with her. Maria pulled you onto her lap to straddle her, her hand immediately grabbing your ass. You gave a surprised gasp, making Maria laugh in response. You both kiss each other, your lips feeling swollen when you parted. You pulled away, breathless and laid down on the bed.

“Esto se siente mal. Usted es mi patrona, cuido a los niños... eres una mujer casada. (This feels wrong. You’re my boss, I watch the kids...you’re a married woman).” You began to panic, sitting up instantly in fright when Maria placed her hand on your stomach to push you back down.

“Querida, tengo una pregunta y quiero una respuesta. (Darling, I have a question and I want an answer from you)” Maria turned to you and made sure you two shared eye contact, “Te gusta mi marido, ¿no? (You like my husband, don’t you?)”

You gave her a confused look. Did Maria know all? Had she been spying on you? How does she know that you like Miguel as well? I guess I’m not as secretive as I thought, you thought to yourself. But how can you answer her? What was the right answer? What did she want to hear?

“No no. ¡No pienses! No me gusta cuando haces eso. (No, no. Don’t think about it! I don’t like when you do that.)” Maria shook her head, “Quiero que me des una respuesta honesta. No quiero escuchar una mentira, quiero escuchar la verdad. Usted me puede decir. Realmente me gustaría saber. (I want you to give me an honest answer. I don’t want to hear a lie, I want to hear the truth. You can tell me. I would really like to know.)”

You felt your heart beat faster, suddenly feeling dizzy. You barely realized your dehydration from crying so much earlier.

“Bueno ... parece que ya sabes la respuesta. (Well...it sounds like you already know the answer to your question)” You bit your lip, wiping the slight precipitation on your upper lip.

“Me conoces bien. (You know me well)” Maria gave a wide grin, leaning down to kiss your forehead, “Quiero oírte decirlo. Quiero escucharlo de tus labios. Si no dices nada, haré que uses tus labios de otras formas. (I want to hear you say it. I want to hear it from your lips. If you don’t say anything, I will have you use your lips in other ways).”

Your eyes widened, “Para mí, eso suena maravilloso. (For me, that sounds wonderful)” Maria shot you an unamused expression, prompting you to finally confess, “Tu esposo también me gusta. Lo siento. No eres solo tú. También es él. Y me hace sentir aún más repugnante. (I like Miguel too. I’m sorry. It’s not just you. It’s him as well. And it makes me feel even more disgusting.)”

Maria wasn’t phased, deciding to lay down next to you finally and looking up at the ceiling, “Tuviste ojos en él desde que llegaste. Pensé que ustedes dos ya habrían dormido juntos antes de esto. Todo el mundo sabe que se acuesta con putas. Supongo que elegí no darme cuenta. Todo estuvo bien hasta que me encontré con esa puta que quedó embarazada de él. (You’ve has eyes on him since you’ve arrived. I thought you two would have already slept together by now. The whole word knows that Miguel sleeps with whores. I guess I chose to be ignorant to the fact. I was fine with pretending it wasn’t an issue until I found the whore he impregnated).”

You gasped but quickly regretting it. You had heard the rumors from other employees but didn’t think there was any truth to them.

“Le di dos opciones. La primera fue abortar al bebé y recibir algo de dinero como compensación por el trauma de perder a un hijo. La segunda era tener el bebé y recibir el dinero suficiente para salir de Guadalajara. Me vale madres que pasará con el bebé o ella, me costó mucho no matar a Miguel cuando me contó lo que pasó. Me avergonzó al hacerme hablar con ella en lugar de hablar con ella él mismo. Para abreviar la historia, eligió el aborto. Por mucho que odié a Miguel en ese momento, todavía amo a ese idiota. Sentí pena por esa mujer que pensó que a Miguel le importaría lo suficiente como para hablar con ella. Miguel apenas se preocupa por nuestros hijos, por eso tenemos una niñera. Le rompió el corazón y el mío al mismo tiempo. Qué hombre. (I gave her two options. The first was to abort the baby and receive money as compensation for the trauma of losing a baby. The second was to have the baby and get enough money to leave Guadalajara. I don’t give a fuck what happened with the baby or her, it took everything to not kill Miguel when he told me what happened. He embarrassed me when he made me talk to her instead of talking to her himself. To make a long story short, she chose the abortion. Although in that moment I hated Miguel, I still love that idiot. I felt terrible for the woman who thought Miguel cared enough to talk to her. Miguel barely cares about our children’s, that’s why we have you. He broke her heart and mine at the same time. What a guy.)”

The two of you laid silent, you looked at her and she up at the ceiling. You noticed a stray tear falling from her eye and you were quick to wipe it away.

“Lo peor de todo es que yo también la odiaba. No porque se acostó con él, sino porque quedó embarazada. ¿Por qué todas las putas quedan embarazadas? Solo pude tener dos hijos, quería uno o dos más. ¿es mucho para preguntar? Dolía sugerir el aborto, pero no soportaba que otra mujer tuviera a su hijo bastardo como recordatorio de su infedilidad. (The worst of all is that I hated her too. I didn’t hate her because she slept with him, but because she got pregnant. Why do all the whores get pregnant? I only had two, I wanted one or two more. That’s all. Is that too much to ask for? It hurt to suggest the abortion but I couldn’t stand another woman having his bastard child. That child would always be a reminder to me if his infidelity)” Maria’s eyes closed to stop the tears and even through non sexual ways, you learned more about Maria.

She was broken. As were you. She was just better at hiding it. You didn’t know what to say to make her feel better, you didn’t think you could cheer her up from admitting to forcing a woman getting an abortion. She needed to get this off her chest.

In your mind, you thought Maria was cruel for giving that woman an ultimatum. Maria may have said she had given the woman two options but it was obvious which one the young woman would take. Even if she was carrying the bastard child of Miguel, that baby deserved a chance to live. The baby did nothing wrong but be conceived. It wasn’t like Maria couldn’t have adopted it, she wanted more children. Maybe this child was the chance for her to have the third child she’s always wanted. What was the difference if the baby came from a different woman? Maria was going to be the mom all the same.

“Ahora sabes más sobre el tipo de hombre que es Félix. Es un lobo a la vista, obtiene lo que quiere. Siempre. Eres joven, amable, pero un poco ingenua, te comerá y te dejará sin nada. Te romperá el alma como si nada. Solo te lastimarás en el proceso. (Now you know what kind of man Felix is. He’s a wolf in plain sight, he gets what he wants. Always. You’re young, loving, but a bit naive. He will eat you up and leave you with nothing. He will break your soul like it was nothing. You’ll just hurt yourself in the process)” Maria stroked your hair, leaving a small kiss on your forehead as she shifted towards you.

You turned to her, cupping her face gently. You felt like you hadn’t been looking at her in the eyes enough so you made sure this time to make a point, “Te amo Maria y si lo que dices es cierto sobre Felix, no lo aceptaré. Solo quiero estar contigo, sea lo que sea que eso signifique. No quiero irme, quiero quedarme aquí y cuidar de los niños. Me preocupo por ellos. (I love you Maria and if what you say about Felix is true, I won’t accept him. I just want to be with you, whatever that entails. I don’t want to go, I want to stay here and take care of the kids. I care for them.)”

“Sé que has estado hablando de el amor todo este tiempo, pero ¿sabes siquiera qué es el amor en realidad? Sé que no has estado con nadie, eres apenas una adulta. ¿cómo sabes de lo que estás hablando? Puedes pensar que me amas, puedes pensar que amas a los niños, incluso puedes pensar que puedes cambiar a Miguel. (I know you’ve been talking about love this whole time but do you even know what real love is? I know you haven’t been with anyone, you’re barely an adult. How do you know what you’re talking about? You can think you love me, the kids, you may even think about being able to change Miguel)” she ran a finger over your bottom lip, smiling softly at how you slightly trembled from the sensation, “No sé si te estoy contando todas las cosas malas que tiene Félix para protegerte o para ser egoísta. No me gusta compartir. Eres tan preciosa que no merece ni siquiera tocar un solo cabello tuyo. Está mal querer tanto a alguien. Pero se siente tan bien. Finalmente entiendo a Félix y por qué se coje a mujeres que no son su esposa. (I don’t know if I’m telling you about Felix to project you or to be selfish. I don’t like to share. You’re just so precious that he doesn’t deserve to even touch a single hair on your head. I finally understand why Felix fucks other women who aren’t his wife.)”

You saw the passion in Maria’s eyes and that let you know that she meant what she was saying. She had reason to believe that maybe you weren’t really in love and that it was just lust. You didn’t want to believe it but with every passing moment, you couldn’t help but fall more deep than before. At first you felt terrible at the idea of betraying her marriage and being the home wrecker but how could you wreck a home that was already on its way to be demolished? Maria just wanted to be loved and you planned on doing just that.

You felt that it was the right time to lean in for another passionate kiss when you heard Miguelito pound on your door.

“¿Bebita, estas en tu cuarto? Necesito ayuda con mi tarea, por favor. Te prometo que no voy a dar lata. (*Nickname*, are you in there? I need help with my homework please. I promise I won’t be difficult.)” He whined, continuing to knock softly in the hopes that gig will respond back.

You smiled softly, instantly getting off the bed and freshening up. You had a job to do and you were momentarily sidetracked. “Si estoy aquí. Estaré allí en un momento. Espero que te mantengas fiel a tu promesa, cariño. (I am in here. I will be there in a second. I hope you can keep your promise, sweetheart)”

As you gave an apologetic glance to Maria, you quickly made yourself presentable and happily helped Miguelito with his homework. Anything to get your mind off of everything that had happened before he interrupted.

You were walking out when you saw Felix in the hallway, walking towards you. You tried your best to seem nonchalant in the hopes he would not stop you but right when you walked next to him, his hand gripped your arm tightly to get you to stop in your tracks.

“¿Sabes dónde está mi esposa? (Do you know where my wife is?”

And that’s it folks. For now. 😋 This series will be dialogue heavy so I apologize in advance. Thank you so much for reading!

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Kingdom Collisions IX

masterlist

This is a fic I’m writing to incorporate more description into my work. There are no prewritten chapters so updates are sporadic on top of that I am just as in the dark as you about what happens next. Also how are we already on part nine????? Like that is crazy!

assafir means sparrows (i went through about six million translation sites to make sure but there is every possibility i am still wrong so if anyone knows Arabic please let me know)

"Percy" The little girl squealed running towards him, her dark braids flying behind her.

He gave a toothy grin, slamming into her. "Hello Little Dove."

"When momma told me you were coming I immediately asked Anisa to set up a picnic for us."

"Did you manage to get the stuff?" He whispered conspiratorially.

Naturally her voice lowered as well as their heads knocked softly together, "I did but why do we need it?"

"I'll show you. But we have to go to the house."

"The house house?" Her coffee eyes widened.

He nodded gravely, and the eight year old that he was disappeared under that expression.

"Okay, let's go." She took a deep breath and pulled him along.

"Anisa!" Her little voice rung out against the cold stone of the castle, "Anisa are you here?"

A lady rounded the corner. She fidgeted briefly with the soft pink scarf around her head and then bent down so she was eye level with them. "What do you need Princess?"

Her voice was still a whisper as she replied, "Is the basket ready?"

"Yes," Anisa said softly, "Why are we whispering."

But the princess didn't respond, instead squeezing Percy's hand. "We're going to the house."

"Okay Princess I'll send two guards to go with you."

"No!" She shouted in alarm, and then quieter, "Please no. Will you just come with us? I know you can protect us."

Anisa looked between them, studied their little hands clasped together, and the serious expressions on their faces.

"Okay. But we can't be gone too long without guards."

"We will protect each other." Percy finally spoke up, black eyebrows furrowing in determination.

Anisa smiled, "Shall we then?"

They all made their way through the gardens, roses and chrysanthemums, and dahlias growing in abundance. Colour bloomed from every crevice and spilled over the pathways like an ever-growing rainbow. Percy let his free hand trail over the petals as they walked. His little feet stumbled over uneven pavement, racing along just slow enough to not raise suspicion. The Maze of Madness spread before them and he was tempted to ask if they could go in. It was his favourite part about the castle and he tried to go at every opportunity. It was his life long mission to learn all the ways to get through. But right now their mission at hand was much more important. He would as if they could go later. Finally they reached the edge of the maze and the divided area that led to their house. Anisa jangled the keys as she found the right one and opened the garden gate.

"You are sure no guards Princess?"

She shook her head adamantly. "You will protect us. You know how."

And then they were through the castle borders and into the Sylvastine Woods. The trees grew taller than he could see, taller than the clouds and the free birds. He's sure they touched the sun. The underfoot was rough, dangerous, full of traps. But they recognized his step, his smell, the frequency he vibrated at, and the embraced him silently. He didn't know of the forests malevolence. He was too little. The world was still full of wonder and adventure and everyone was a friend.

They walked and walked and walked until the sounds of the castle and the city were far behind. Now all they could hear was a little brook bubbling through the trees, and the white noise of sunshine, ringing in their ears. The trees were quiet.

"Are we almost there?" He asked.

"Just behind that tree little one," Anisa pointed to a sapling just sprouting from the ground on an unsteady trunk.

And then they crossed it and the woods fell away. Morphed. Molded. There was nothing of the giant, looming trees and shadowed undergrowth. Instead there was sunshine and open fields and wild flowers of ever kind dancing before them. Percy laughed as the breeze tickled his flushed cheek. Magic is real. He was sure of it. They stood in front of a little cottage surrounded by creeping rose vines and the sweet scent of honey. The structure could not have been bigger than his bedroom at home but somehow he knew it held everything they could ever need.

"I will wait on the bench Assafir." Anisa pointed to a wooden swing a little way down.

"Thank you Anisa. We will call you when we are done."

And then she turned to Percy, their small hands clammy from refusing to let go, and pulled him into the cottage.

The first thing he noticed was the painting on the wall. In it stood a woman, her back facing them, her gaze to the sprawling hills before her and on her right was a little child. They were still as the dead but he swore the grass they stood on swayed gently. He blinked. It still moved. He blinked again. Everything swayed. He turned away. A small table sat in one corner and couch in the other but save for that there wasn't much else.

"Okay," She said, her whisper rough with impatience, "Tell me the secret!"

"Where are they?" He held out a hand.

She moved around him and dived over the couch, reaching for something. Her poufy navy blue dress scrunching underneath her. If her mother saw that she'd have a heart attack.

"Okay here!" She huffed.

Suddenly seven red roses were shoved into his hands. 

He plonked himself down on the floor and waited for her to settle next to him. "You ready?"

Her already loose braids came undone as she nodded her head enthusiastically. He grabbed a rose gently between his fingers, taking a deep breath. 

"Watch."

And then he swiped his thumb across a thorn and let the drops of blood fall onto the petals.

She frowned at him but didn't say anything. The dark blood pooled into the center of the rose, making the already red rose maroon with vibrancy.

"Percy what is—"

"Shhhh Little Dove," He stared intently at the rose.

Ever so slowly it turned black. First just the center, where the had blood pooled but slowly it spread, like a shadow, like the night. Like death.

The rose became the colour of darkness. And crumbled in his hands.

The Princess of Hanaan let out a gasp, little hands covering her mouth in shock. Her brown eyes were wide as she took in her friend. He let her see him. Let her see all that he was and waited for her reaction.

"How did you do that?" She muttered.

"I don't know," He stared at her. "I hurt myself in the garden the other day and a little blood spilled on the grass and it.... did that."

They went quiet for a while. Everything felt on the edge, dangling from a cliff. It felt unbalanced. He knew this was the moment that decided the rest of their lives. Even this young he knew the weight of her decision. He could lose his friend forever. And it made him want to cry. Because he loved her very much and if she did not understand, no-one will. 

"Can you do it again?"

So he did. And when she smiled, and then giggled, and then laughed as he kept at it he knew he she would love him to the end of the earth.

"Can we show people?" She bubbled.

"No," He shook his head, scared, "I don't want them to take it away."

"But how can they?" She looked at him in confusion, "Let's show Anisa at least."

He could see the exhilaration in her eyes. "Okay," He agreed reluctantly, "We can tell Anisa. But only Anisa."

She squealed and pulled him up from the dusty wood floor, flying out of the house and to where her caretaker faithfully sat.

"Anisa!" She yelled, "Look at what Percy can do!"

Anisa turned around to watch then come towards her and then smiled at the brightness in their eyes. The brightness of joy and innocence and wonder and childhood. She held a bunch of wild roses in her hands, picked only moments before from the bushes down by the brook.

"What is it Princess?"

"Show her Percy!"

So he swiped yet another finger across a thorn and dropped the blood into the middle of the last rose the princess had brought.

"What are you doing?" Anisa exclaimed, arms already reaching to yank his shredded fingers towards her so she could see them.

"Just watch!" The princess said gleefully.

The rose did what all the others had done. And the two children looked up at their caretaker with wide smiles.

Anisa looked pale, her brown skin greyed. Eight wild roses fell to the floor.

"You cannot show this to anyone." She choked out, "Not a single person."

"What's wrong?" The princess frowned, "Don't you think it's cool?"

Anisa gives her a pained smile, "You cannot show this to people. They will— just don't show it."

"Okay," He whispered, because all of a sudden he was scared. What will happen if someone knows? Will he get into trouble? Will they? Tears pooled in his eyes.

"No little one," Anisa gave him a sorrowful look, "Do not cry."

"I'm scared." He sniffled, "What happens if someone finds out?"

"Come sit on the bench, both of you." She suddenly got up and shuffled them into their place.

"Okay I want you to close your eyes and make a wish for me. Anything in the whole world. And don't open your eyes until I say so."

And being children they were curious and excited and past worries are just that. In the past.

So they squeeze their eyes shut, join hands. And wish on every shooting star, every 11:11, and full moon, and ember in the fire. Anisa put a cool palm to their foreheads and muttered something in a language they did not know. Their skin grew warm, and she reassured them it was just the angels taking their wishes.

They smiled, eyes still closed, and nodded as her hand pressed against them.

Percy's body felt tired and he was glad his eyes were already shut.

"I'm tired." The princess yawned.

"Me too," He agreed.

Anisa shushed them softly, "Go to sleep then, Assafir."

"Goodnight Prince Percy."

"Goodnight Little Dove."

The breeze quieted, wrapping around them like a blanket and the little royals drifted off.

They woke up in a bed, warmed by the sun.

"Hello," The Princess smiled, "When did you get here?"

"I don't know," He frowned, "But want to go play?"

"Sure. But first you were supposed to tell me something?"

"Only that we should use your new paint-set to paint my piano.”

"You got a new piano?" She clapped, "When are you going to play for me?"

"I promise the next time you come to my castle."

Her returning smile made his heart flutter.

"Come on Prince!" She bounded out of bed. "We haven't gone to the house in a while. Let's go have a picnic."

And so he grabbed Princess Piper's hand and they raced for the gardens, stopping by the Maze of Madness because nothing was urgent enough to skip it.

Crown Prince Percy Jackson groans, his head spinning as he tries to sit up. His hands meet rough concrete and confusion floods his senses. Why is he not feeling the silk of his sheets, or the leather of his couch, or the velvet of his cushions? He tries to open his eyes but they feel glued shut by something that can't possibly be natural. The world is heavy on his shoulders, aching and weighted. Where is he?

His stomach growls and he wonders why he hasn't eaten, and then his nose catches the smell of something truly vile and all that hunger turns into nausea in an instant.

"Fuck" He mutters, slapping a hand over this mouth and forcing his eyes open.

The room is dull; save for a single fluorescent on the far side there is nothing that emits light. No windows or candles or anything really. The floor is in fact concrete and it scrapes against his nails. He tries to lift himself up but is slammed back into the ground by the weight of chains around his ankle.

What the fuck?

Panic fills his bloodstream. What is going on?

Frantically he looks around the room trying to find anything that'll help him, clue him in, get him out.

That's when he spots the shape curled into a ball on the opposite wall. He squints to see who it is in the minimal light. Recognition punches him and his stomach lurches. Oh gods is that...... Jason!

His heart is in his throat and his lungs are in on the floor as he scrambles to get to his husband.

"Jason," He rasps. "Prince! Please wake up!"

He can't get close enough. These chains are too short and so heavy. He needs to be there, he needs to make sure he's alive. He needs to—

Crown Prince Jason Grace gasps and bolts straight up. "Percy!"

"I'm here," He sobs, relief and fear marrying themselves in his tears, "I'm here."

"What happened?" The blonde chokes out, "What's going on?"

"We were drugged." He cries. This is not a time to be brave. He doesn't care if he's supposed to be anyway. "I don't know who or how or why."

Jason attempts to get closer, to move towards him but his chains, black and heavy against his skin pull taut and he crashes to the floor with a crack of his palm.

"We can't move far." He winces, "I tried getting to you but I'm just out of reach."

"What are these chains made of?" The blonde groans, "I feel like they're burning my leg."

"Really?" His eyes snap up, "They just feel cold against mine."

The blonde turns to cradle his leg, inspecting the chain and tugging at it unsuccessfully. “It’s getting hotter.” He frowns, scratching at it.

He tries to move towards the Prince but it is no use, the chain just rips against his already bruised skin. 

"They're so hot," His husband claws at his skin, "I need to get it off!" Tears threaten to spill over his blue yes but he is too worried about getting the metal off him.

He tries to move again, tries to get to the other side, but his fingers miss the blonde by mere inches.

"Please!" Jason is screaming now, "Please get them off!"

Percy sobs, ribs stabbing at the agony he can hear so clearly in the Prince’s voice. He yanks at his own chains. Yanks hard, breaks his nails as he attempts to pry them off. He only succeeds in slicing his palm. With a curse he cradles it to him, staining the crumpled white shirt he has on.

"Are you okay?" His husband manages to gasp between his own pain.

"Fine," He winces, "I'm sorry I can't help."

Jason weeps, pain making him wretch, filling the room with an acidic tinge. 

"Here." Percy has to do something, he can't watch others be in pain. He can’t watch his husband be in pain. No matter how up in arms their relationship might be. So he shrugs the shirt off his back, bloodstain and all and throws it to the blonde. "Try putting this under the chain and against your skin, maybe that will help."

The Prince quickly scrambles for the shirt and shoves the material into the small space between the metal and his leg. The bloodstain touches the metal. They don't notice, don’t care. They should.

"Better?" Percy asks.

"I think so, the burning is still intense but there's no new waves." He heaves a sigh.

They sit in silence as their pain ebb away to something tolerable. It gives him a chance to look around the room. Four walls, all concrete. No door. or at least no visible one. And certainly no windows. There are lines all over the walls. Tally marks and choppy images and there, behind Jason’s head, scratched deeply into the concrete are nine roses. He wonders who made those, what made those. Because next to them are four claws marks. 

"How's your hand?"

"Stinging," His face scrunches, "But I'll live."

"Here let me see," The blonde shuffles as close as possible and he does the same, holding out his palm.

"I can almost reach you." His husband strains, fingers barely brushing against each other.

He pulls against his confinement trying to reach that golden hand.

Jason's chain snaps and he lurches forward.

"How?" They stare at the dust where the chain once was.

"What just happened?" Blue eyes are wide and bright with shock.

"I don't know but you think you can do that to me?"

"The chain is not hurting you right?" He asks all of sudden.

Percy frowns, "No but what does that have to do with anything?"

"Then let me see your hand first. Well have to figure the chain thing out so better make sure your hand is okay because I don't know how long it's going to take and this floor is filthy. I don't want you getting an infection.

He doesn't know what to say. The idea is so thoughtful, so sweet he tears up a little. "Oh, okay."

The Prince gently takes his injured palm and inspects the deep gash running through it.

"You're probably going to need stitches but the best we can do for now is wrap it in some cloth until we get out of here."

The blonde starts to move to where the discarded shirt lay but Percy stops him.

"Wait."

They turn to each other, something deep burning in their eyes, an inferno of emotions. Thoughts. Feelings.

He cups a golden cheek with his uninjured hand, and swipes the lingering tears gently. "Thank you," He whispers.

Those lightning eyes flash, heat flaring under golden skin. "I think we should talk when we get out of here." He grabs Percy's hands, kisses the knuckles gently.

"This sounds like a divorce?"

The blonde snorts, "Not quite yet."

And then the blonde grabs the shirt from the other side, the bloodstain still bright and rips a strip off.

"Guess I won't be getting that back," He laughs.

"Sorry," Jason shrugs, "Now let's see that cut."

And when Percy unfurls his fingers he nearly faints. Because there is nothing on his hand. No gash, or blood, not even a scar.

"What the fuck?" He mutters.

His husband looks pale.

"What is going on? Are we hallucinating?"

A door clicks open and ten figures walk in. Shadows cling to them like sweat and the dismal light in the room makes it hard to see their features. But both Princes notice the rose pin on each of their breast pockets. Glinting gold and bronze.

"So you haven't figured it out yet?" A clear, resonating voice says

"Figured what out?" He hesitates. This is a trap.

"Who you are, what you are capable of."

He wishes she would step into the light so he could see her.

"What the fuck do you want from us?" The Prince spits.

"The world Little Prince." They could hear the smile in her voice and it sounded lethal.

"Let us go. There is nothing we can give you here. And I don't have authorization to hand currency to anyone. You'll have to take it up with my father." His voice is hard as he moves closer to Percy.

"I'm of no use either."

"They really do not know," She giggles and the nine other people with her, still as robots only moments before, burst out laughing.

"What don't we know?" He spits.

"There's no need to worry right now Little Prince." She grins, and her teeth flash white.

"Reyna," She says, "Pin them."

A women steps towards them and they can finally see one person clearly. Her skin is the colour of copper and her hair the colour of mahogany, but it’s her eyes that make her dangerous. They are bright with violence. Her smile is gleeful.

"Hello Princes."

They feel a small prick in their necks and the world goes fuzzy.

"At last," The first voice sighs, "We have captured them. The healer and the destroyer."

Jason grabs his hand and interlaces their fingers. Squeezing once.

"Who are you?" Percy rasps.

He can see her smile as he falls to the floor, eyes already losing the fight to stay open.

"Annabeth Chase."

The world disappears.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

OOOOOHHHHH we getting scary villain Annabeth. Feel like i should just make this entire group a Sapphic evil squad? How does that sound?

Tags (if you want to be added to/ taken off the tag list just let me know, all my channels of communication are open):

@nishlicious-01​​

@queen-of-demons-and-hell​​

@leydiangelo​​

@sparkythunderstorm​​

@makos-bi-awakening​​

@aalikun​​

[sisi-halloway]

🌸

This is very old and I’m sorry I let this get stale in my inbox. I didn’t forget about you, I promise:

__________________________________________________________

“You do have the most gorgeous hair. You understand this, don’t you?”

While in the rocking chair, Salice combed through Morgan’s hair, letting the thick blue locks fall through her fingers like heavy ropes of water. Morgan sat between her friend’s legs in the garden, her eyes closed serenely. She leaned back into Salice’s embrace. Goosebumps raised on Morgan’s skin from the cool touch of manicured fingers. She chuckled.

“You’ve told me a million times, Salice. You’ve told me half of those times, just today.”

Morgan gently swivels around, her pants barely scraping against the cobblestone walk. It was quiet in the outdoor garden, the sounds of the approaching night becoming louder and louder as the sun commenced to set. Locusts and crickets echoed in a cacophony of a conversation. Fireflies lazily came out of their hiding places and lit up the space around the two women.

“Well, I mean it. Besides, I feel that you like the praise, Morgan. Deep down.”

Salice reached over and picked an Osiria Rose from a nearby bush. After picking off all the thorns, the Iliochorís swept some of Morgan’s hair behind her ear and tucked the rose along with it. The beautiful red and white petals created such a sharp contrast with the young woman’s brilliant green eyes and soft tan skin. Salice admired Morgan’s grace as she leaned her head on the lap of Salice’s dress. 

“Maybe... maybe not,” Morgan teases. “You can tell me again if you want.”

“Oh, hush.” Salice and Morgan laugh together, their voices carrying through the garden. “But you are, in fact, so utterly gorgeous. Do me a favor and please don’t forget, yeah?”

[keyenuta]

Oscar Trailer: (Team Oxalis)

The sun beams down with golden light atop an emerald canopy, blanketing the woods with its warm embrace while at its end stands a stone structure. Sitting high atop an ancient grass cracked building stands two middle aged people. A man with messy silver locks, and a woman with wavy blonde hair in a tight-nit bun. These two people are the headmaster, and vice headmistress of Beacon academy respectively. Professor Ozpin, and Glynda Goodwitch now shuffle on the stone, gazing at a screen restless, pacing lightly as they follow the progress of one short stature boy.

"Are you sure about this Ozpin? Do you truly think Oscar is ready for this?" Though her voice cane out even, her hands gripped her riding crop tightly. Feeling its handle dig deep within her palm. Ozpin's brows furrowed before he went for a sip of his cocoa. Taking in a quick drink, the chocolate on his tongue turned bitter quick as he gazed upon his partner and back to the screen.

"Believe me, I've asked myself that same question many times." He paused, as if tasting for the right way to say this. "But whether we like it or not, she won't give us that time."

"He's only 13 Ozpin! He shouldn't have to fight like this so young!" Glynda said exasperated.

"I wish he didn't, but he has to learn to protect himself, if not now then when?" Sighing, Ozpin began again. "Have faith in him please, he's stronger than we give him credit for, i know he will succeed, he's our son after all."

"Huff, that's what makes me even more worried, but I hope you're right" she finished

Speaking of which, a boy with tanned skin, and a mop of messy black hair struts through the winding vines and roots about him. His hazel eyes frantically looking in each direction while his orange gloves hands squeezes the floral etched hilt in his hands. Taking in a deep breath, the scent of pine and dew fills his lungs while at the sound pf a crow's call, a blood curdling growl echoes all around. Snapping his eyes open, Oscar ground to a halt and watches sickening red eyes glaring back at him. Shining through the shadows like a ruby in the sun. Smirking as the drumming feet drew closer to him, Oscar unfurled The long memory's shaft and stood ready.

Thump, thump, thump pounds their feet, as a mangled bear of bones and inky flesh splinters the wood. Charging dead straight as the ursa surround this freckled boy. Approaching ever closer with their gnarled fangs and razor sharp claws, they get as close as a hair onto the boy, but that's all. As with one motion, using the cane as a spring, the green clothed boy leapt from the sleuth of ursa and towards a tree branch. Feet touching the supple wood, the cane wielder leaps once more, aiming at one of the ursa, cracking the cane's black shaft across an ursa's jaw, careening them into a tree thanks to its previous motion.

Not a moment to lose, the other members charge at his flanks, dropping to low run, Oscar feels his adrenaline spike as he rushes towards the one on his left, it's massive paws reflected in his glasses as he rushed forward. Knowing a test of strength wouldn't work, he instead used the beast's size against itself. Sliding under its last attack, with dirt and grass flung into the air, Oscar gives a bright yell before striking the beast's hind leg.

Tripping it forward only to be caught in the maw of its fellow grim. Turning to a black dust as the ursa from earlier made its second warpath. Not learning from its previous encounter, the boy shrugged and ran forward, rushing up the trunk of a nearby tree before kipping back as again this Ursa rushed forward. Flipping into the air, Oscar yelled and thrusted his cane into the back of the ursa's neck. Killing it dead with one last strike.

Falling into a roll, the boy rested on his knee, using the cane for support as he motioned the Grimm to follow him. Tearing and vaulting through the trees, Oscar led the Grimm into a maze of branches only to be stopped by a large bush of thorns. As soon the two pack members left stalked him more and more. Slowly approaching the boy as they snarled and snapped with glee. Thinking they finally had the pipsqueak cornered. Giving a sheepish grin, Oscar slowly walked around the small clearing, approaching the thorny mound more and more as the from got closer and closer. Their sludge like forms as they ran for all their worth. Thinking they finally had this annoying human in their grasps, but as they both dove, Oscar jumped between their gap, spinning like a top in between the two Ursa, cracking the cane up into an uppercut, and a strike on top of both Grimm's heads respectively, sending them tumbling into the thorny brambles. Until they finally dissipated.

Slumping in relief, Oscar sat on the ground breathlessly looking up as his now arriving parents with a beaming smile.

Huff "so, how did I do?" He asked brightly

@littlemisssquiggles @miki-13 @lookyeekiti @nykamito-x @beaver-sen @ezroar @che1sea-xiao-long

[ipaintwithwords]

Inktober 2020 #1

The Tenth Tail

Nightfall came earlier than usual that day. Under the fiery oranges and deep blues of the autumn sky, the murmuring of the woods was beginning to turn silent. The birds of the canopy tucked their heads under their wings and the small rodents of the ground retreated to their burrows, as the crickets woke and reached for their violins right when the moon emerged from behind the clouds. Their song filled the crisp, earthy air of the forest, a soft, endless twitter of hundreds of tiny legs, peaceful and quiet, almost eerie as nothing else made a sound.

No owls hooted, no leaves rustled, no twigs snapped under the hoof of no lost fawn - nothing but the crickets, serenading the stars in neverending verses. At least that was the only thing the boy could hear, besides the ragged, painful breaths of his own.

He was laying on the ground, one hand full of luscious berries bleeding crimson poison on his fingers, the other one digging into the dirt, trying to hold onto it with all that was left inside him. The golden ocean of fallen leaves was warm around him, like the comforting embrace of a blanket, but somehow he still felt the cold creeping up his spine under his sweat-soaked, tattered clothes, digging its way deep into his bones - spreading everywhere, except for his throat and the bitter, scorching flames of hellfire raging under his tongue. 

It was way past the point where he was scared. He was scared twenty minutes ago when the berries first started burning his mouth, when the world started spinning and vertigo took over and his legs collapsed under him. He wasn’t scared anymore - he was petrified with fear, and he had no idea what to do.

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He could only stare at the night sky and blink, but he couldn’t bring himself to close his eyes, not even for a heartbeat. He couldn’t bring himself to blink, because he was terrified to get lost in the dark, so instead, he stared at the constellations floating right above him, following the playful dance of soft, flickering, yellow lights with his eyes, only to keep himself awake and alive, while he was waiting for a miracle. 

But the longer he waited, the more certain it became that no miracle was going to come his way. 

That it was only a matter of time until he couldn’t even grasp for air anymore, and that everything was in vain. All those months spent planning his great escape, all the troubles he faced along the way, from the moment he made his decision ‘til the day he bid farewell to the pointy iron gates of the orphanage for the last time; all the time he spent walking until his toes bled and his shoes fell apart, chasing a dream he borrowed from someone else… He suffered and fought and pushed himself through all this only to die from a handful of poisonous berries under the trees of an unfamiliar, cold, dark forest in the dead of night.

“Pathetic”, hissed a hateful voice in the depths of the chaos swarming inside his head. “A useless, homeless, pathetic wreck from no man’s land, that is what you are, boy” crackled the voice with a sour, pitiful laugh, and the boy felt his stomach shrink to the size of a pea. The voice of his cruel, gruesome orphanage matron was the last thing he wanted to hear on his deathbed of fallen leaves - but somehow, it was the only thing he could think of, as angry, miserable tears filled his foggy eyes.

If only he weren’t so restless. So desperate to find his way out of this vast forest, so committed to making it there… Wherever that place he always dreamed of reaching one day might be. If only he stayed put, only for one more night… If only he chose to stargaze at the small clearing instead of wandering off at dusk. If only he had some more of the cheese he stole from that old man with the crooked nose from the market a few days back...

If only he weren’t so lost, so tired, and so very, terribly hungry.

Suddenly, the glimmering starlight grew brighter around him, and the thorns in his throat started to wither. As if the Devil himself commanded them, the raging flames retreated behind the gates of hell, and for a magical moment, the pain almost completely disappeared, leaving nothing but lightweight relief in its place. 

Then a firefly brushed his tear-stained cheek, and the boy felt his entire chest harden.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

When the foxes found him, his heart was barely beating.

He was frozen to the marrow, his whole body trembling, poison berries staining his lips dark blue and the cold turning his sunkissed skin pale as porcelain. It was a miracle that he was still breathing. It was a miracle that he was still holding onto life, that his spirit refused to leave him; alone in the dark and in this weary, exhausted, fragile little body in which the boy was born barely ten years ago, in a land far, far away - the body which already ached enough for a lifetime, and yet, was strong enough to keep him alive. 

The boy didn’t even flinch when half a dozen jaws locked around his wrists and ankles, pointy fangs sinking into his cold skin to lift him up, onto the back of the biggest, oldest, wisest fox of the pack. The foxes moved without a sound, graceful and swift like the morning breeze, as they carried the boy across the valley, following wayfarer’s mushrooms and the signs of the fae folk along hidden trails and crystal-clear streams, crawling under moss-covered roots and dashing through bushes with an unrelenting, unstoppable, urgent force. 

After a while, the foxes reached a small, hidden clearing, illuminated by warm light coming from the windows of an old, cozy-looking cottage. Normally, they would’ve stopped at the door and waited until it opened for them, but this time, they didn’t. They rushed inside with the boy, a flood of orange fur filling up the cottage with alerting sounds and demanding sparks of danger - all of which was met with a pair of piercing, amber eyes of a slightly frightened, slightly confused, slightly furious woman, trying to enjoy her dinner in peace.

“What’s the meaning of this?!” snapped the woman with a disapproving frown that was gone the next moment when she spotted the small child amongst the foxes. Her eyes widened and she jumped to her feet, nearly tripping over them as she ran to the foxes, faster than a fired arrow. “Son...? Dear gods of Shangri-La, is that… Is that you, son…?”

“No, he is not” said the fox who carried the boy on his back, looking at the woman with sad, golden eyes. “But he is one of us, Mistress”, he added softly, as the woman wrapped her arms around the child and carefully turned his head towards her - and when she saw the boy’s face, she couldn’t swallow the hoarse, painful sigh crawling up her throat, filling her chest with disappointment, guilt and grief.

“That he is, my dear friend… He’s one of us indeed” she said after a moment of silence, gently pushing the boy’s ruffled hair back from his forehead, letting her eyes roam the sight and her heart thrive in the feeling of holding a child in her arms - a feeling she yearned so desperately for, ever since she was brutally stripped of it years ago, along with a part of her soul that nothing could replace, fix or heal. 

But for the first time since that fateful, nightmarish afternoon, she felt at peace, as she gazed upon the boy, this tiny stranger, someone she knew nothing and everything about at the same time; someone who lived through the same terrors in the same war in the same faraway land as she did, and somehow, years later, found his way to her cottage when she needed him the most. All the walls she built around herself crumbled to dust as she stared at the boy, and she couldn’t help but imagine him in another life, in the arms of another woman - someone who loved him more than anyone else, and who probably gave her own life to protect him. Her heart ached with sorrow as she imagined the mother of the boy, her endless love for this darling little child, the way her face must have lit up whenever she saw him. 

His kind face, his adorable, pointy nose, the long, curly lashes framing his eyes, his chubby cheeks and his pouty lips covered in dark stains…

All the color drained from her face as the realization hit her, and she immediately slid her fingers down the child’s neck, just below his ear. The moment she felt the boy’s slow, weak heartbeat, she picked herself up from the floor and stormed across the cottage, laying the child in her bed. Following the magic surging from a single, hasty wave of her hand, all the curtains shut themselves close, and with the next one, the embers in the fireplace ignited with a cloud of fiery sparks, as she grabbed a stool and sat next to the bed, hunching over the boy.

“Quick, there’s no time to waste, he’s fading!” she said, urging both herself and the foxes gathering around her with curious eyes. “You two, go back and get rid of his tracks before anyone notices” she instructed the foxes, two of whom immediately turned around and stormed out of the cottage. 

“You go to the garden and dig up some beetroot for me... You two, I need you to guard the door”, she continued as she began to unbutton the child’s shirt, ordering a flock of elixir bottles and herb pouches to her side by twisting her fingers in the air. “And you… I need you to stay by my side in case something goes wrong” she looked at the young vixen still waiting at her feet, digging her hand in the thick, coarse fur of the fox and closing her eyes for a long second. 

And when she opened them again, the celestial, ancient magic inside her awakened, pouring its bright, blue light into the world, as the facade of the witch of the woodlands disappeared with nine voluminous, opulent tails covered in golden fur.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Hey! Thank you for reading! ❤  This little snippet is from the book I’m currently working on. If you guys liked it, I might share some more in the future!

Inktober 2020 Writing Challenge #1. Character count: 9673 | Written on October 4th. You can find more of my 2020 Inktober works here.

[sundayohsunday]

Young woman embracing a thorn bush by #KayNielsen, about 1910. “Kay Nielsen’s Enchanted Vision” on view now @mfaboston until January 20th.

http://instagram.com/the_art_of_dress/

[dearparentheses]

Young woman embracing a thorn bush.

Kay Nielsen, about 1910.

Pen and brush and ink, transparent and opaque watercolor, over graphite.

[deepintoforestwego]

Yarilo

The world awakens.

The bare ground bursts to life, moss and grass racing to cover earth turned soft and sweet. Trees arise to provide shade as swallows return from south, as bears and turtles  crawl out of their burrows, and berries grace each path. This is the morning of beginning, the start of all new dreams and goals.

You wander through meadows as flowers spread around you, through fields as seeds dig in and start to bud, through valleys where branches dance and wave and draw on streams of clearest water,  where bushes weave into each other and create perfect hedge. And so you walk forward, following soft, easy scents of young flowers, the whisper of west breeze through new leaves, the song of distant children.

He awaits you at place as boundless as sky and as fragile and incredible as hope, there in place that is mountain forest and valley meadow, in field that had never been tamed, in garden that had never been cultivated, where all things grow and prosper as they want, by his leave and desire. Trees as tall as mountains, lost and dead before there  were eyes to gaze on them, and in air swirl falling petals, as small as grains of sand, petals of flowers that are yet to come, when no human walks anymore. All scents and all tastes fill you, in slow and gentle harmony, such that you can feel each, such that none overpowers or taints another. You want to leap in air, to dance until you fall beneath moss and leaves, to kneel and roll in hay and dirt and peeled skins of fruits, to trace your hands over barks as you climb crowns of trees and sing songs to call forth rye and oak.

He is beautiful, and that is only thing anybody ever got right about him. No description, no portrayal or form could have prepared you for him, as there is no man who resembles him, as all other beauties are known and faded and passed, and his is newest, the greatest, the shiniest. He is the most beautiful thing you had ever seen, unlike any before. You cannot accurately describe him, because there are no words for what you see, hear, taste, smell, feel, experience. You are thing raised in darkness that now knows light, you are prisoner of world of endless clear glass that learns of colour,  you are  empty shape given form, you are nobody gifted with a name, you are something fed cruelty and malice shown kindness and mercy. You could watch him for thousand years and you would get as far as only glimpse, only hint, for in him are as many beauties as there are blades of grass. You love him, and shy away from him, and you would have loved him even if he brought you nothing, even if he didn’t feed you.

You see faces of people you knew, you see yourself in him, for all things young and growing come because of him, for him, and even old men with no hair and memories full of dust are young and new to him, who is older then first seed and is yet younger than dreams of tomorrow, eternally young and strong and new and growing. He is you and your brothers and fathers and loves and cousins through all of ages, he is tall as greatest pine and slim as loveliest willow, he is petite as forest strawberry and as stout as field whose harvest feeds world, and he is a woman too for he is all who tended and cared  and fed ( all but one, though she has fed thousands and tended so many lands and saved so many lives, for your Auntie’s girlhood had been brittle and melted like ice in desert under her drive and knowledge, as she left human paths for lands where nothing lives or ends), and you seek to bow to him but he seats you upon his horse and lets you dance with him.

He wears a crown, and he made it himself. It is a perfect wreath, woven from each flower, no matter how small and unworthy some may call them, for to him there are no weeds, as each herb and plant has a purpose in planet’s system. they live, and they move and grow into each other, feeding their neighbors, as people are fed once he waves his arms, as crops turn vibrant and ready under his gaze, even if it means  harvest is imminent.  With his smile, the children come in world, with his blink the eggs hatch, with his steps the plants and mushrooms spread forth. He is nude but for ornaments he takes from spring, for he has nothing to hide, nothing to be ashamed of, as neither should you.

Some call his domain weak, powerless, useless, passive and helpless. What poor fools they are, how sad and simple must their world be. For thought he is lord of battle and soldiers too, and his rage is terrible to behold ( for war he presides over is not that of expansion and greed, of mighty seeking more, but of those who won’t be remembered, of poor peasants rising to defend their homes), where would men be without him? Without food he provides, without spring whose memory comforts them in midwinter blizzards, without vegetation that allow them to have homes and air? Without youth that is his gift, fertility that is his blessing, without life and renewal that are made possible because of him? And how can any call weak the one who dies each year, and descends beneath earth in lands of dead, so that others could harvest their crops, so that earth might rest, so another god might take his place?

‘Come.’‘ He says, doesn’t order, even if he has every right,because he doesn’t need to, because you chose this, again and again, and you come into his embrace, in hold as strong as cage of oak and thorns and as gentle as buds of oranges upon wind, and you are made fresh and new and all tiredness and withering is gone, and you are becoming fuller and stronger and better,  nd you smile, smile,  for there is no monster and no nightmare that can stand against what you devoted yourself to, against He who accepted you.

[super-turtlephant]

Once upon a time, there was a young woman named Rapunzel. She was not noble-born, or from any particularly interesting background, but she had a beautiful voice. 

One day, a prince heard her singing and was entranced by the beautiful music. He followed it to the source and found Rapunzel. While she was frightened of him at first, they grew to talking, and she agreed that he could come back the next day. 

So he came back every day for a year, before asking to marry her. She happily agreed, and so they were wed. 

They lived in happiness for another year before a spiteful witch grew jealous of all Rapunzel had; she had lovely hair, a beautiful voice, and a doting husband. Rapunzel had all the things the witch had once wished for, before she turned to black magic and let it corrupt her soul. 

So, the witch stole Rapunzel away in the night, neither of the women knowing that Rapunzel was pregnant. The witch locked Rapunzel away in a high, stone tower with no way of entrance other than Rapunzel’s long hair. 

The witch bade Rapunzel to sing, but she would not. She missed her husband, and she had realized she was pregnant. Melancholy overtook her, and the witch laughed as Rapunzel’s joy faded. 

The prince searched for his beloved wife far and wide to no avail. One day, as he was wandering the forest, he heard a child wailing. He followed the sound to a stone tower and called “Hello? Is anyone there?”

A familiar golden head popped from the tower window. “Oh, my prince!” Rapunzel tossed her long braid down, and the prince hurried up. 

They embraced and the prince met his daughter. Before the joyous couple could devise a way out, the spiteful witch returned to the base of the tower, calling “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair.”

Rapunzel did so, and the prince drew his sword. When the witch entered, he stepped in front of Rapunzel and their daughter. 

The witch hissed and slashed at Rapunzel with her wicked nails, severing her braid, ensuring that no one without magic could escape. She then made to cast the prince from the window, but before he fell, the prince grabbed the sleeve of her black robes. 

So, both the prince and the witch fell into the thorn bushes at the base of the tower. The witch died on impact, her dark magic not enough to save her, while the prince was blinded. 

Rapunzel wept, and her rain of tears fell from the tower onto the prince’s upturned face. His eyes cleared and he called to her, “Rapunzel, hold your braid down.”

She did so, and he climbed up to her and their child. Rapunzel again wept that her tormentor was dead. 

Her prince whispered to her, “let us stay here, away from the cruel world. Perhaps my people will find us, perhaps they won’t. They never managed to find you.”

So, Rapunzel and the prince raised their daughter in the tower until she longed to see the world. 

They did not let her… 

… until a brave prince came…

[rataprimus]

For your ladies: Think of the most perfect person in the world, what would you describe them as?

OaklinnaThe sylvari’s face lights up along bioluminescent lines of pink, as if blushing deeply. Then she coughs, looking away as she shuffles her feet. “Someone determined, focused… sometimes perhaps a bit bookish. I suppose occasionally a bit too caught up in his work, but… charming all the same. And very… very missed.”

Qirri“About seven feet tall, big broad shoulders, has a wonky arm from necromagical infection, is the absolute best friend a brilliant young asura could have…” Qirri taps her chin thoughtfully, red eyes bright as her ears flip up. “Uh. Ranger… grumpy gus, like, all the time… does that describe him pretty good?”

RhoslinnShe takes a moment, gently brushing leafy vines over her shoulder as she purses her lips. “Gentle and quiet. Forgiving. As beautiful but dangerous as frost on an early spring morning. Sharp like thorns, with a sting just as quick. But an embrace as tight as tangled vine…”

NaqaiThe thief just pins her ears back, looking uneasy for a moment. “I… don’t really know. I don’t know anyone who seems perfect to me. At all. I guess Dhass and Vezz are okay, and Phee too, but… I don’t know. Honestly.”

PheazzaLaughing, Pheazza shakes her head, folding her arms across her chest as she smiles wistfully. “At this point? My perfect person is someone who’s willing to be a parent too. Kinna’s the world to me, so… someone smart, someone who can keep up with me, and someone who’s willing to love my daughter as much as I do.”

Deshauna“I’m afraid I may take that secret to my grave, darling.” The tall woman laughs after that, though, waving a hand as if to dispel what she’d said. “I’m kidding, of course. First off, perfection is truly in the eye of the beholder, is it not? Ideally my perfect person is a woman. Race truly doesn’t matter to me, so long as they are respectful and of good breeding. Willing to take my family name would also be ideal. And… good humored. I enjoy a good sense of humor.”

Agaue“Me. I’ve survived this long, haven’t I?” Her response is blunt, tail lashing. “But if I would have to choose someone else, a mother. One who risked great odds to escape a Flame Legion camp and find her way to safety. Brave, selfless, thinking only of a good future for the cubs she was days from whelping. That person is the most perfect to me.”

LiathThe old charr barks out a laugh as a crooked grin splits her broken muzzle, amusement written on her grizzled face. “Two words, of course: Cassius Fairweld. I don’t see the need to beat around the bush. We’re mated for good reason, after all.”

SylviSylvi is very quiet for several moments before shaking her head, looking away. “I would rather not discuss that, honestly.”

LaxzziHer expression is very hard and cold, and she seems far less confident in herself for several long moments. “…take the smartest, funniest, most clever asura you’ve ever met and multiply that by three. She was just… amazing.”