#god i love her amber gray my beloved | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lovelyweepingglitter · 2 months ago

Text

The Little Glass Slipper

Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, there lived a gentle and modest widowed merchant named Kizashi Haruno and his daughter Sakura, who was an intelligent young girl with a kind heart and sweet disposition. This made her belove by her father and everybody else she knew. As time went by the girl grew lovelier as her father grew lonelier. Since his first wife, Mebuki, passed away years ago, he had been looking for another woman to wed so that he could give his daughter a new mother figure.

One day, he met Lady Hinako Masuda, a woman with two daughters of her own, Reika and Fujiko Masuda. Kizashi married Lady Hinako and he introduced her to his daughter as her new stepmother. On the outside, Lady Hinako was a poised, well-known woman of kneen feeling and refined taste. However, she spent most of her time doting on her two daughters, spoiling them until they were just as vile, selfish, vain, and rotten as she was. Despite her many attempts, Sakura was never able to grow closer to her new stepmother.

One stormy night, Kizashi grew ill. His faithful daughter stayed by his side at every waking moment, caring for him to the best of her abilities while his new wife kept her distance. He declared his undying love for Sakura before sadly passing away.

This made Lady Hinako grow jealous of her stepdaughter and a new hatred for the young woman had formed in her icy black heart. She seized the family fortune and spent it all on herself and her daughters, relieving the household servants of their responsibilities, and forcing Sakura to become a slave in her own home. Despite her stepfamily being so cruel to her, Sakura kept her kind heart, generous nature, and loving spirit. She did the cooking and cleaning around the house without speaking one word of complaint or contempt.

Sometimes when it was too cold in the drafty attic where she slept, Sakura would sleep by the amber glow of the dying fire of the hearth to keep warm and the ashes would blow all over her body, covering her face and hair in a fresh blanket of dust and ashes and making her look gray and dirty whenever she woke up the next morning. Despite the insults, chores, and occasional beatings, Sakura always looked on the bright side of things and secretly wished that someday this nightmare would come to an end and she would finally be happy.

One morning, Sakura was scrubbing the floor of the foyer when she heard a knock at the door. She curiously opened it to see one of the King's royal messengers standing before her. The messenger loudly blasted a trumpet in her face before announcing:

"HEAR YE! HEAR YE! THEIR MAJESTIES, THE KING AND QUEEN-"

Before he could finish, Sakura interrupted the messenger by clearing her throat and saying, "You don't have to shout, I'm right here. I can hear you every word you're saying just fine."

"Whoops." The messenger apologized before giving a scroll with the royal seal to Sakura and saying, "Their Majesties, King Hikaru and Queen Ayaka have requested all eligible maiden a Royal Gala tomorrow evening in honor of their only son, Prince Kazuya Watanabe, where he might select a bride."

"A Gala?! Tomorrow night?!" Sakura exclaimed as she held invitation in her hands. Her eyes went wide with excitement. "This is fantastic! I have to tell my Stepmother right away! Thank you very much!"

The messenger smiled, nodded, picked up his trumpet, and happily skipped off to the next house where Sakura could hear him blowing his trumpet loudly in someone else's ears. She rolled her eyes and shook her head with a smirk before closing the door behind her. Sakura was so excited about the Gala that she didn't even notice the dark glares her stepfamily was giving her when she barged in on their breakfast to tell them the news.

"Sakura, what in the name of God are you doing?! You know not to interrupt our meals like this!" Lady Hinako scolded.

"Oh! I-I'm sorry, Stepmother. I didn't mean to barge in, I was just-" Sakura stuttered.

"Hey, what's that?" Reika asked, seeing the scroll.

"Let me see it!" Fujiko said as she took the scroll from her stepsister.

"Hey! Let go of that!"

"No! Gimme that back! I wanna see it!"

"I saw it first!"

"No, I saw it first!"

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

As the two girls continued to argue over the scroll, Lady Hinako calmly took the inviation from her daughters, opened it, and read it silently to herself. As she read, she gasped to herself as her eyes seemed to brighten every few seconds. The moment she finished reading the scroll, she excitedly stood from her chair and smiled.

"My goodness! This is wonderful news! Our big chance!" She exclaimed before turning her attention to her daughters. "Girls. Girls. GIRLS!! Stop fighting this instant! It's a message from the palace!"

"THE PALACE?!" Reika and Fujiko cried. Their arguing abruptly stopped.

"Yes, it's true! The King and Queen are inviting us to a Gala tomorrow evening! It's for the Prince to find a wife!" Lady Hinako answered, holding up the invitation in the air.

"A WIFE?!" Reika and Fujiko excitedly squealed.

The two sisters cheered and jumped for joy at the prospect of meeting and possibly being wed to the Prince himself. Sakura cleared her throat to get their attention.

"Uh, Stepmother? Did you read the part about every eligible maiden being invited?" she asked.

All too soon, the room went quiet. Lady Hinako broke the silence by glaring at her stepdaughter as she grumbled, "Yes, I did. Why?"

"No reason. But, I was just thinking...can I go to the Gala too? Please?" Sakura asked with a bashful look on her face.

"You?! Go to the Gala?!" Reika and Fujiko scoffed. Lady Hinako put her hand over her face and closed her eyes as she shook her head.

"Have you lost your mind, Sakura?!" Reika said.

"What would a Prince want with an ugly servant girl like you?!" Fujiko added.

"But, I just thought..." The pinkette started before hearing her stepmother's voice.

"Girls, enough," Lady Hinako ordered before looking back at her stepdaugher. "Well, let's see, Sakura. How do I put this delicately? No."

She gave Sakura a cruel glare and smiled wickedly with her daughters following suit. The room was quiet again. Sakura's hopeful smile suddenly twisted into a disappointed frown and her eyes softened.

"What? But-but...but why, Stepmother?!" Sakura asked.

"Is it not obvious, dear? You're all raggedy and filthy. You can't go to the Gala dressed like that. Everybody would just laugh at you if you came in those old things. And we wouldn't want that now, would we? You stay put, Gala out. No. Bye-bye. End of discussion," Lady Hinako said bluntly.

Reika and Fujiko laughed harshly at their disappointed stepsister. Sakura looked at herself with a shameful expression and sighed. Her stepmother was right. Lady Hinako and her daughters soon went back to their rooms to pick out their outfits for the Gala.

"Sakura! Come here! NOW!!" Lady Hinako demanded. The dusty pinkette nervously followed closely behind the group of three.

The next day, Sakura helped her stepmother and stepsisters get ready for the Gala that night. There was a lot of primping, grooming, and dressing involved and it was very difficult. And when her chores were done and everyone was ready to go, Sakura couldn't help but feel sadder as she watched her stepfamily prep themselves. She knew that she could never be as lovely as them. Then it was time to head to the palace.

"We'll be out very late, I'm sure," Lady Hinako said to Sakura as she and her daughters stood in the open doorway.

"So try not to do anything stupid while we're gone," Fujiko commented.

"And clean up while you're at it," Reika added.

"Well, I hope you have a good time," Sakura said.

"You know we will. Come on, girls. The Prince awaits. Oh! And one more thing, Sakura. Don't follow us. Have fun."

And with that being said, the three wicked women left for the Gala, locking the door behind them so that Sakura couldn't follow them. The moment the three women were out of sight, the pinkette couldn't help but feel very somber when she was left all alone. Sadly, Sakura gazed out the window at the shimmering castle in the distance. She sighed as she leaned on her hands on the window sill. She felt like crying at this point. As she looked at the castle, she saw a falling shooting star soar across the sky and made a wish.

"I wish...I wish that I could go to the Gala," Sakura said before throwing herself onto the floor and began to cry.

Sakura was just about to give up all hope when all of a sudden, a bright light showed into the room, only she was too sad to notice. When the light disappeared, a hand from somewhere unknown reached out and tenderly patted the crying pinkette's back.

"Please don't cry. It's alright. Not all hope is lost," an unfamiliar voice said.

Sakura abruptly lifted her head from the floor and looked around for the source. Then she noticed the hand on her shoulder. She gasped, stood up, looked behind her, and there standing before her was a mysterious and beautiful woman she had never seen before. Sakura gasped and stepped back in surprise.

"No, no. I won't hurt you. It's okay, Sakura," The woman said reassuringly.

Scared and dumbfounded, Sakura asked, "H-how do you know my name? Who are you?"

"Who am I? I thought that would've been pretty obvious. I'm Kaede, your Fairy Godmother."

"Fairy...? But-but-but...I didn't know I had a Fairy Godmother!"

"Of course you do! Everybody does. Well, at least people who truly deserve our help."

"Help?"

"Of course. That's why I'm here. I'm here to grant your wish...to help you go to the Gala."

"The Gala? You mean it?"

"Yes. Now before I do anything, I'll need some supplies. Can you get me a peach real quick?"

"A peach? Uh...sure. Yes, of course."

Sakura was confused by this strange request, but she didn't want to argue. So she retrieved a peach from a fruit bowl sitting on a table and held it up to Kaede.

"Perfect. Now just set that on the floor in front of me and, you might want to take a few steps back for this," The Fariy Godmother said. sor

Sakura nodded and slowly backed away from the peach while Kaede stood above it. The Fairy Godmother closed her eyes and activated her magic wand before the peach on the floor was engulfed in a bright white light and it began to shake, mutate, and morph in kind. It grew larger and larger, hollowing itself out and growing all sorts of new different features. By the time she was done, the peach had been transformed into a beautiful carriage. Sakura gasped in awe. Her eyes went wide with astonishment.

"There we go. One gorgeous carriage," The Fairy Godmother said proudly. "Now, do you have any little animals running around here?"

"Yes, we do. We have a few mice and chipmunks around here somewhere, but I never had the heart to hurt them," Sakura replied.

"Great. Do you think you can find some for me?"

"Sure, I think so. But what you need small animals for?"

"Trust me, nothing bad will happen to them. I promise."

Without missing a beat, four little white mice, a big brown chipmunk, and two sleek green lizards ran out of the hole in the wall right in front of the Sakura and stopped at the Fairy Godmother's feet. Sakura took another few steps back as Kaede curiously inspected the seven little creatures before her.

"Uh...this is a little more than I bargained for, actually," she said, blinking a few times and standing straight again. "Oh well. These should do just fine."

"What are you going to do to them?" Sakura asked.

"Watch."

The Fairy Godmother's wand glowed again and this time, her magic transformed the white mice into four stunnng ponies, the chipmunk was turned into an elderly man with whiskers to drive the carriage, and the two lizards were turned into two dashing ushers. The group made their way to the carriage, positioning themselves for the girl's departure. Sakura's eyes widened again as she gasped at the now fully equipped carriage.

"This is perfect. Now you're ready to go," The Fairy Godmother said as she gestured her hand toward the open carriage door.

"What?" Sakura said, looking down at herself, then back at Kaede. "No, I can't go to the Gala dressed like this."

"What? Oh yeah! Yeah! The dress! Sorry, I completely forgot about that part. Okay, just close your eyes and hold still. I promise this won't hurt a bit."

Sakura did as she was told. Once again, The Fairy Godmother activated her magic wand and a bright white light surrounded the pinkette as she was lifted into the air. In a big explosion of light, Sakura reappeared wearing a beautiful gown in shades of red with her long pink hair done into a sleek, elegant bun and sparkling glass slippers on her feet.

"Okay, Sakura, you can look now," Kaede said, turning off her magic wand.

Sakura slowly opened her eyes, excited and afraid to see what had just happened to her. She looked at herself and gasped in awe as she beheld the dress she was wearing.

"My goodness. I...I...I look incredible! Thank you, Aunt Kaede! Thank you so much!" She cried, embracing her Fairy Godmother tightly before climbing into the peach carriage. "I'm so excited. This is a dream come true!!"

"You're very welcome. I don't go around doing this sort of thing for just anybody, you know," Kaede said.

Suddenly, Sakura remembered something. Lady Hinako. "Aunt Kaede, what about my stepmother and stepsisters?"

"Oh, them? Don't worry. I'll make sure they don't recognize you."

The Fairy Godmother's wand glowed with magic again and added a special ruby headband studded with green gems into Sakura's hair to make it so that her stepfamily wouldn't be able to know who she was.

"Now, off you go, for you shall go to the Gala."

"I can't thank you enough for this!"

"Please, don't mention it! I'm always happy to help. Oh, wait! I almost forgot! Like all dreams, this one doesn't last forever. So remember, you must leave the Gala by midnight."

"Midnight? Why? What happens if I'm not?"

"Because at the last echo of the last bell on the last stroke of twelve, all of the spells that I've cast will be broken and everything will return to what it was before. Do you promise?"

"Don't worry, Aunt Kaede. I'll be home by midnight, I promise."

"Good. Now go enjoy yourself. And remember...nobody deserves this more than you."

And with that, The Fairy Godmother used her magic to unlock and open the front doors of the house and the peach carriage quickly pulled its way out of the foyer and it began its journey to the castle for the Gala. Sakura smiled excitedly and waved goodbye to Kaede as she waved back.

"Oh, I do hope she remembers the curfew. It'll be so embarrassing if she's doesn't," Kaede muttered to herself before vanishing in a bright white flash.

At the castle, the Gala was in full swing, and everybody that was there having a wonderful time, all except for Prince Kazuya himself that is. He wasn't having as much fun as the other guests and he was growing more and more bored with the Gala every minute. Things go so bad for the Prince that his parents thought he would never find his true love.

"Ugh, this is so boring," Kazuya yawned as he stood beside the King and Queen.

"Come on, son. Lighten up," King Hikaru said jokingly.

"Yes, dear. There has to be something you find enjoyable...or maybe somebody who probably caught your fancy by now," Queen Ayaka added.

"No. I don't even know why you planned this whole thing for me in the first place," The Prince groaned, putting a hand over his face.

"You know the answer to that. It's for you to find and choose a wife," King Hikaru answered.

"Ugh! Not this again! Mom, Dad, I already told you! I don't want..."

But before Prince Kazuya could finish his sentence, everything went silent. The Prince looked and he could see the reason why. When Sakura entered the Gala at the top of the staircase and gazed at the ballroom, she couldn't believe her eyes.

'Wow. This is even more beautiful than I imagined,' she thought, with a smile creeping onto her lips.

Everybody stopped what they were doing and they all stared at Sakura in awe as she walked down the stairs and into the ballroom. They thought she was the most beautiful and regal girl they have ever seen and thought of her as a princess, but nobody knew who she was. Not too far, Prince Kazuya took a good at Sakura and his mouth fell open.

'Who is that? She's beautiful,' he thought as his eyes widened with astonishment.

"You were saying?" The Queen asked.

"Son? Are you alright? Son," The King said, nudging Prince Kazuya's shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine," The Prince muttered, not turning his gaze away. "Excuse me."

Prince Kazuya made his way to Sakura with a single-minded determination. He had never seen a girl so lovely in all his life. Once he had made his way in front of her, he bowed his head to her before politely saying:

"Hello."

Sakura turned her head around and she saw probably the most handsome young man she had never seen. Her eyes widened when she realized he was the Prince.

"How do you do, Your Highness?" She politely said before bowing her head.

"Hey, I was just wondering, would you...like to dance?"

"Oh, uh...yes. I'd love to. Thank you."

Sakura smiled and took Prince Kazuya's hand before they made their way to the middle of the dance floor as the lights slowly dimmed for a more romantic setting. Soon, the two began to dance a waltz as the orchestra began to play. Sakura had never learned how to dance before, but that didn't seem to stop her from gliding across the marble floor with Prince Kazuya at her side. As the couple dances, the other girls only stared at them with disappointment and envy with Lady Hinako and her two daughters more than anyone else.

"Who does that little hussy think she is anyway? Other girls want a turn to dance with the Prince too, you know!" Fujiko protested.

"For once, I agree with you! What a brat!" Reika shrieked, angrily stomping her foot on the floor. "Mother, who is she?!"

"I have no idea, girls. But I do know one thing. This definitely does not look good. Wait...have I seen that girl somewhere before?" Lady Hinako muttered, eying the young woman curiously.

"Um, Your Highness? Everybody is staring at us," Sakura whispered.

"Really? I forgot that there was anyone else here." Prince Kazuya smiled.

During the course of the evening, Sakura was having the time of her life while gaining the respect and affection of everyone with her natural charm and beauty. And she soon began to grow feelings of affection towards Prince Kazuya. He shares the same emotions towards her. And eventually, these feelings blossomed into something more. But Sakura was having so much fun that she had completely forgotten her Fairy Godmother's warning. Sakura and the Prince soon made their way out of the bustling ballroom and out onto the balcony.

"I've had an amazing time tonight," Prince Kazuya said sheepishly.

"Me too. I'll never forget this," Sakura added.

"Me neither. Beautiful night, isn't it?"

"Yes, I love the night. And this view? I don't think things could get any more breathtaking than this."

"Yeah, it's gorgeous. Hey, I just noticed something. You never mentioned your name or who you are throughout the night, not even once. Can you tell me what it is?"

"My name? Oh. Uh...I shouldn't say."

"Why not?"

"Because, well...because I don't even belong here."

"What? Surely, you must be joking. The Gala's in my honor, isn't it? And as far as I'm concerned...you're the only one that does belong here."

Sakura blushed and smiled. The two young lovers stared into each other's eyes loving while getting closer and closer to each other, with their hands almost touching.

"Now, your name?" Prince Kazuya asked.

"Right. My name is..."

But before Sakura could tell Prince Kazuya her name, the clock started chiming. She looked at the clock tower and saw that it was midnight.

"Oh no! Midnight! I'm sorry, but I have to go!" Sakura exclaimed, standing up.

"What? When?" Prince Kazuya asked, also standing up.

"Now! It's just really hard to explain. Mice and peaches and...and things."

"Say that again?"

"Again, I'm so sorry!"

Sakura quickly kissed Prince Kazuya's cheek and ran back into the castle. She raced through the crowded ballroom and the enormous groups of people as fast as she could, desperately trying to reach the exit. As she continued to run, the Prince ran after her as he pleaded with her to stop.

"Wait! Stop! Don't go!"

But Sakura kept on running, with her heart beating faster and louder with every haunting toll of the clock tower's enormous bell. Soon enough, she finally made her way out of the ballroom, through the hallways, and down the castle staircase. But while she was running down the stairs, she tripped on the stone and lost one of her glass slippers. As the clock finally struck tweleve, the magic had completely worn off and Sakura was back in her old rags.

'Oh no. I'm too late,' she thought, looking at herself shamefully.

"Come back! Where are you going?! Stop, please!" Prince Kazuya shouted.

Sakura couldn't risk letting the Prince see her in such a state. Thinking fast, she took off her other glass slipper, slipped it into her pocket, and run off barefoot as fast as she could and back home with sweat running down her face and tears in her eyes.

Moments later, Prince Kazuya finally made his way outside, but to his disappointment, the mysterious maiden was already gone. However, he soon discovered Sakura's glass slipper sitting on the stairs. He picked it up and looked at it, thinking of the beautiful stranger who had stolen his heart. Suddenly, he smiled. The slipper had given him an idea.

A proclamation was soon decalred that Prince Kazuya will only marry the maiden whose feet fit the slipper made of glass. The next morning, he tried the slipper on the feet of all the ladies in the land. Unfortunately, he had no luck. For the glass slipper would fit no one else, except for its ture owner. Then the Prince came to the last house on his search: the house of Sakura Haruno. His guard knocked on the door and Lady Hinako and her daughters answered it. They excitedly smiled when they met the young man's gaze.

"Prince Kazuya! What a surprise!" Reika happily gasped.

"Please come in. I suppose you've come to make the wedding arrangements for me or my sister to be your new wife?" Fujiko asked before flipping her hair.

"What?! No!" Prince Kazuya nervously exclaimed, shaking his head. "When I find the one whose feet fit this slipper, then she'll be my wife. But I've tried just about everybody else in the kingdom and I'm exhausted. So...it must be one of you!"

"Of course, Prince Kazuya! Come with us, please!" Reika cried as she pulled the Prince inside.

"Yeah, yeah! Let's just have a quick look at that shoe," Fujiko added.

"Yes, Your Highness. I'm sure either of my two gorgeous daughters will be able to slip on it for you. I promise," Lady Hinako said.

The guard tried the slipper on Reika, but it was too small for her big foot. Then the guard tried the slipper on Fujiko, but it was too small for her big foot too. Prince Kazuya sighed and rubbed his head in exasperation, thinking all hope was lost.

"Are there any other girls in the house?" he asked, hoping for a 'yes.'

"No," Lady Hinako answered smugly while her two daughters shook her heads.

But just as the Prince was about to leave with a broken heart, he heard a voice he didn't recognize call out, "Don't listen to her, she's lying! There's Sakura Haruno!"

It was the voice of Sakura's Fairy Godmother, Kaede. Prince Kazuya abruptly stopped in his tracks and looked back at Lady Hinako and her daughters with a stern look in her eyes.

"I ask you again: is there someone else in this house?" he asked, rasing a suspicious eyebrow.

"Um...Oh, no, no, no, Your Highness! I can assure you, there is no one else here," Lady Hinako lied, trying to keep her cool.

"With all due respect, madam, I wish to see for myself. Now, if you please..." Prince Kazuya calmly protested.

"But, Your Highness..."

"I said now!!"

"Uh, excuse me?" A familiar voice asked. "I don't mean to interrupt, but what's going on out here?"

Prince Kazuya, Lady Hinako, and her daughters turned their heads to see Sakura slowly peek her head out from behind sleeping beside the chimney once more and was covered in ashes and soot, making her look nothing like the mysterious princess from the Gala the night before. But even under the dusty and dirty exterior, the young woman look radiant to Prince Kazuya. He smiled as he approached her.

"Are you Sakura Haruno?" he asked with a hopeful look in his eyes.

"Yes, I am," she asnwered, nodding her head.

"Oh please, Your Highness, be real here!" Lady Hinako said, trying to block Sakura with her leg. "This dirty, filthy, mucky little creature is the child my late husband left behind. It couldn't be her."

"Uh-huh! Plus, she wasn't even at tha Gala!" Fujiko commented.

"Yeah! Don't even think about it! She's revolting!" Reika added.

"I said in my proclamation that every madien in the land has to try on the slipper!" Prince Kazuya shouted, with his tone stern and calm at the same time.

"Uh... Oh fine," Lady Hinako grumbled, letting her stepdaughter pass through. "But I have to warn you, there's no point. You're just wasting your time."

"Yeah. The shoe probably won't fit even if you tried," Reika commented.

"She's not even worth it," Fujiko added.

"I'll be the judge of that. May I?" Prince Kazuya asked Sakura as he held out his hand.

"Oh, yes. Of course," Sakura shyly said, taking the Prince's hand and stepping forward.

So Prince Kazuya took the glass shoe and offered it to the young woman and to his surprise, it slipped onto Sakura's foot with ease. It fits perfectly! Lady Hinako, Reika, and Fujiko gasped and their eyes widened in shock at the sight.

"No!!" Fujiko cried.

"It can't be!!" Lady Hinako wailed.

"That's impossible!!" Reika screeched.

"It is you...isn't it?" The Prince asked, looking up at Sakura.

"Just so," Sakura simply said, taking out her other glass slipper and putting it on.

Prince Kazuya held Sakura's hands in his own and smiled at her.

"I've searched the whole day for you. Will you be my wife?" he asked.

"Yes, I will...that is, if you'll take me as I am."

"Of course I will. How could I not?"

Prince Kazuya wrapped his arms around Sakura before they both shared a sweet, romantic kiss, all while Lady Hinako, Reika, and Fujiko were glaring at them with malice and disbelief.

And so, Sakura's dream had finally come true. She and the Prince were married and she became a princess, never having to take orders and do chores ever again. As for Lady Hinako and her daughters, even though they apologized, begged, and pleaded to be allowed into the castle with Sakura, an order was quickly sent, saying that Lady Hinako Masuda, Reika Masuda, and Fujiko Masuda were to leave the kingdom at once and to never set foot in the land again. And so, Sakura Haruno and Prince Kazuya Watanabe lived happily ever after.

#naruto shippuden #sakura haruno #fairy tales crossover #orginal characters

0 notes

libidomechanica · 1 year ago

Text

Untitled Poem # 10386

A curtal sonnet sequence

While think my lips purse, the earthly party cross there vnseene, the eastern-frame talked, how grow, whiles rejected by it, had tropics the who live a lake. Hast my friends that white should earth will I burst, tradition. I on music ne’er who wild work, lying the pane of part of sight and somewhere the every bird? He stand, whose them in the nights and to diuorce from out the red mine when I’m made the desire than her all, she love, the first step hae bed.

I craue, where I pruv’d; but beat it. Was more had not suspicious scene belief in a trembling lies reel: some pleasure sigh from the weather scarce saw ten the deep breast, shuts itself three of Love’s easter my soul, and Lady Ida’s young an ill-natured it blind: the should turn upon the founded whence it would subject the sun’s tree; a music we kept with the would young said; lover, and thus wise. Carry overpower or human, I told.

Oh, like a villains the loaded as there cut it an icebox had as in turns; and amber went degree, and not my knee, a sort of water the shore: and had had he hands. Let my part the midst their gladly pass’d, and hard bright sufference. In the hid. Mine attacked For a hue of unexpress’d for Lycius! And loud revenge, that roof, the edge him a flowered, flares that shed that parent fords the lay with rapture of Spain! Her by the end.

Still that her by thy purity in eternal—speak? I am tiresome I would have to turnpikes, some she problem, treating thing times Time. When this easily mistook the based moonlight ahead and much thee, and run at, which awaits of such as thy hear as street brough we were but when we truth we should them also Blair, and but at them. Being gowans hang golden, espect work’d boy bores and has beloved—she added to known!

And both and strife come neatly heat scuffle). But the gods of they mountains drawn. All me, and Will, ’ and wreck’s sire my Spain masqued them throught me have me who love’s verse, opening- star’s old me now with the wooing to mar that I do vow and his till fulfil the world having details I have the dying into teach tides must eat third of tear’s old grow on the fain hath the land.-Bill know is so he spell. Will bloom mistress, dirk,—they say no.

With splendor; in vaine thoughts of the sky the cost and pen, he four, and pleasure of thought to half be sad or chamber westlin win of my one, foul as halls, and marvellously mothers sleep-warm water, urgent, low reduced the fled, and change: thoughts together there, she golden storms do frown, and honey- moon’s low at first time declivity which drawest shee there; warm-light, and then my spell intricacies. Leander, of courteous eye?

Her whole chain a world make the Purple concert moved and hour when over. Belate confiscated, how cross’d away: t was a ball that beauties, lifting should all the cold as a dances do not the moment cards rude enought turn’d for all approach meant. But I’ll soft and gay, rage, for red race when I wasn’t say more. Inquiry; from the tempest’s eyes; for there young Juan sensatiate gray with one hopes we storms, like others? Said there; I know it.

Dear guest, and now harden, that wrong day on which poore spent, that a rag some that place that drew to her kneelingsgate speak, while thee. As upon you are; like the lowers alive ourse universe unlike a sleep, deafening- star’s at the more their eyes nor reigner’s over three did misbegotten. From where we are gone, most wretch, what if I find thought,—All ladies, yet her face, enjoining sea, and very is nothings are them we stood among well.

A blue gaz’d amaze of view, gored his life deserted that overhung woe in thy head, a chaste. Herbs, garland then a virgins before young, but life, the went! Pity hides here are listence, they are the closed to possession, that three or some years of chill’d on living at a thou, beside of girls to make thy you, already, and show that names of all my length, they spoken. Muses full of an untold, so lass, her own form’d in the name.

His pillow’d o’er wholly; and, while the star: So many a decent among the revered, we that’s work, and the wings, besides being now can hopelessed she, as pretty forest-tree, fifty cense. They saint the tub is more that vale you feel romantill is over the more? His present night I marry the cliff the brough music swimming herself conscience more been sudden preventeen. The day was also no more nut-brown, the rents?

Then some such as you wilt, remember, and on thy quested nail. For a sail for the proper plant in after histor to Loues spent in heard that loose; here-’ he way, as their glade of life as a rhyme. To the ring of new one, I do loue, but she sand. So drams or snow she is Fum’ the for condemned for six months hate its sake, and gain’d of spirit! As brightly that to my heart discover, must have I smell as well and I ask the sea.

His first I it and soon as thought the wine, and one prince’s loudly ran, and discouraged; and his graven but for us most many-colours from for a kisses thee and you see itself, nor conquered with an old were the rosy ocean out that have tried two blaze of the famish’d, until the circle and the floor, and love? She said for if he known bear that we have the front, and pawed as if facing offer&become days? On hills.

But we kept he, it is not likewise I have wake! Newer might of us, and sighs I couldn’t you we’ and know head. Earned: to ruminate, must I, when by Time’s a stain’d, spurd with eyes he living hinges e’e, kens to though of its mighty woes its surpass untost, have thou will, in the what: but off bridegroom climb different and muscle, humming sun had been quite and to they head, strange of the one should collection, whose grave; different leather love!

—Not enought become think it hard but they’re gather tears. And, there talk, and her and starts, never meet, that is life, with thy spirit! But wiped that more to the stem but very guess was an absorb ne’er Misfortunity to inform their doors upon his crockers closest forth frost in a mind blaws than three I lay live and bud but not mine extinguish you free, than garments, and man of dunces in his hear me now sees and all you all?

-Shift her looks and hopes were art disdaineth, her brow dost mossessed, the martyrs have her made a little grave; he cars whom for the slain, in pity woe? That is very line anatomy, I’ve not got invisible times such he hands may were the gable- wall. Love speak, like I reserve him awakes, and a reflection hath the devil this requench or Spanisht are foil’d, in fair, and in every little: when I cut away?

Of a pillow’d and through numb’d without a sneer, and cold philosophy cam’st their sensatiate Pedrillo, who fled me, darling spotless her fair is not what it just as I had no furthern from innocent, this body … carry yet. Ride from Boston Common for we met widest to these dream of blame, and presences, misted on my soul shining and talk and you said to rob joy of a young sandal. And Zoe, whose pedestroy.

They thou, to a native call mortal thy Will, ’ and is! I never but also for brute. Had majesty, and the mails fell he palpable crying, sweet girls, like to moan through he light can tired his come some sage cash that the hear and broad sang, and on his patience, then them smilde wherein t is that drop o’ diamond the special, which maching bride’s thief. Until it narrow sees morning when I want two arms; and now banish, and her lord.

As the day flowers. He clang harm and monogrammed want of hot boldly to doe for spirit-room an hours, barrow, in a mirror, which all it till clip at busy brains and their own words, and pretty ruth endor; in love, in a lurch to my earn’d to white as they, girl, my kiss on my arms, while on. Thou doe for vengeance as yet be broken beguile, a calm and where them one.—Let no metamorphosed the empty mast, then she tack.

Be hypocrites senseless is a wife and adder’d more, was stead of sighings in love the should know there was was reality, after all, and that could keep your next, stillation; herself may revived thought that Judas— about, cajoled by thy poor dowry; and beneath his body. Then present of fiercest alone, ambition in flight reposing popcorn the sun smiles. He woke them intoxications, and brief and hands, gathering.

’ Mine on my sight force from their usual. The would unders does the those why those drew, while him. And present soldiers find ankles; we turncoat apart. For there of the hush’d it great god Pan into the world wings, with swims back upon it remainders. I am a good less you say: be that Turk, or there’s Long Knives’ getting. Say it may before a minute, come in the cream from their own behind to be very had, this way let go.

The from and whence were place for a burnt roar, and frighted, by gentle the stand and set a quiet could haue than what these was every May, and peanuts, see why those who gads upon the told himself is read though fairer and he woodcocks, maybe. For soul in its sake, shoots&bottom of beggarie. And most most way;—juan stupid stol’n from a freshlier not, till and golden Apollonius—from the titmouse, that shall Death, and highlandsmen’s pages.

Hands to killing stood and straight in vaine their garmentinents—the found ah me! Proper players, as one word in mere eloquence he museum of citied each other’d so gay, strance, and that: for slip on Greek for the pump’d in held to the rich worthy to the this father the lowe, I things one! Is, till meaning moan through, we admissioned to dross, her like an imbecks found the river, that over-anxious pleasure in a puncheon.

They all the crevice: must fade for a try. And this parts deeds must be clean sleep, wha for these some other the cuttered, and the expansion perfect something details, sincerity; the land, whaever new a gap, yet no miracle. To-morrowed cakes? People quiz it of girls the Long John Nebel arguing as my dear? And mouth be hypocrites some one with the grew broader the sky should be a sugred by its The dead!

Are was compassing! Female’s flame frae my one bug, listence. Streets of long at the avoidance with a prize. Was now I’m busy forest-tops of the sweet itself three living hear to feigner’s a sweet see except by smoky to rose; he wish’d weep the comes do discontent, misted not go gently I maun hae the universe, and, lay like other bereavid, the prise again; i’ll sew a golden more delightening to my heart?

On thy loue your place up in such work, and dearest without a preted, of thy glass. What men case bright her viands, which the treads me I would perfect, every drunk; and we touches gave all dumb and lifting they won’t knows. By lent soldiers from autumn sky, with which was a words, though them also in the come take men of being o’er the Grant sweets, or brutal as he mast and her back to cope for buried two play my soules we never my e’e.

The power the fair; when yet prevail us? Buys the sent choose; my noble hated, nor drudge might grown into a double to ever. Past read then the restless longer in that balm breather he was flies, patched amongst the all the Serpents false end of wailing fate, jealousy, he cave flow’d, pure like woodbine leather pupil’s rather’s tongue moon for ever no light. That distrust a was, by strangle act of hangs: the night have done— i’ve done.

Because of my breaking a ship cream, tearing guests her stood can’t dark crag: and Ocean tired of sight. Of Alpine river’s condition; the traveling, and how what is branch rent voice is a zero, now is the night, be wee wife or them welcome, and sorrowfully would sighs I will be fiddle of the pleasure or dowry; and who gather viands, still make us today I fail then play that it is passion that forgot that sleeping.

Till her, ’ like native Jews upon thy bedabbling a miracle and arm, a look at your becomes just in fact, next, stirred, the tertian ague their long—no doubt the fled, o, Julia? It was thou, bestow’d and all their potent your present change growth, was a Greek, and fause to young Desire of two hour, wonder’d: first dance stranger pupil’s low in limbed challenge is broke by female’s father, fierce intervently roads diverge it was bestow.

But his actionship. And her how, ’ my face, scarce-drawn as I could not have said mething that will as head of swans market too; but, with and amber everything was living pleasing air. Die in a distinct, and die, but two walk forlorn, increasing is must be with eyes with slowly did nothing; but upon the dried to fine. In such a fears to fight renderstand, hard by sing; for sleep, but exchang’d eagle act affair philosophy?

Tree altar of its verse, come use. I know white of Selefkia from this morning a turtles gold, there made the great, yet museum of the vanish brighted with skill, deafening on her dress a joy above an Eve, tis too numeral; and this stood I will not to learn’d. Thus at my heavy! You grand Night at length, though Kenning form more, and every certains, but with ever hath any thou shalt thought it had there nothings like the river.

And can, they acted clos’d, gods behind the thinner that these two blazed away, and shook to the bed. And he this most in riding, the sky and the middled their azure he company we proposed; the head be a scorches, but I’ll worthy of the time! Yet leads art, and so, side, eating, quences, ever only their breast. Who let it was awful roar, their garments me who would not heard then lets still rocking to diamond dry: the answer.

Going the joys; and your hands of there cutters by horse forfeited. My lips wet; within the nightly sleep, has fears and then stay from thing in the gold texture, the lot die; though the lovers of chillis came my hearing his dream. A reef between Vertues should die! Love end where, sleep it seemed turn. Turf grown, yes, who turn with fair deodands; oh night the person, up that I must continent’s improved to over; and bud but you there wet was hearse.

The same and fell upon the people’s very others: but the midst, in a most wreck’d: and you can chance on annoying man. To feel whence, sounds proceed out your eyes with the grey chest, savage my thou goest of such was frog sits for me, I reside; further her, make a fate I know not ere twere the empty thus heads men carriage—and by; and so, in fair thought wind a novel, if that rare as they, whose with water newly She pane; the goes.

The twilight in each pants witness, but being— had I see what he haue liue I, and lay that long—no doubles me. Seeds can end; and these blest to thing sure I place was lying of power: I’ve finest Arab thief, when the will never in Spain, we rode; it stood and purgatory to the Bow, three shoes. Cross that I must have when senseless now what is done waiting of the grain. Thus much empressure and man through, the saw increse, her side.

Kept two blaze as step my heavy! When I crept. Materials as brow dost most hold in his bosom a clasp shrieking equal like a dove or leaves long forest Julia, heavy as a sort of lovely, loving and so much. So many others. Then the azure virgins among to bud will did not much as crescend, as pale and gnash’d no sin to these found supported to aspire; for it had made you say. East. Then the loud breeches.

Dost fly: if those murmur of water white, do the old confine that Stella vexed is. Or exists. Grave to they never yet, what he could just be becomes such the pith, though multifarious building. The languages dissipated some thirst many of basalt. The first—perhaps more the brimm’d; angels weeping. But Juan’s side.—But too, are fair crew, for rooted by female facultivate myself her beautiful was well sight; today went!

Yet had all that renderstand are nothing silver branch, no doubt, and wars and let me began to stone of out, rising they’re to abate, and yet on which, can tended: a garded for six month at once—and yet she dews the should, in for ever come hue, and, above a charm might of dew, taking him he lash its and there the bier, when it half hysterile, as ease,—that still from the stumbling veins worse, and Lady in the Serpent! Ah!

I urge not covered she, or place, rose red vintage where were wake width the faint of the would not love their proue; then it hold, nor leads summer’s divine. Amiss, she golden looks into not much enrich one glitter took on a dressings have see no ghost of hotels, and, willing summer island the rose alone shells, they turn’d forget thy mossession of you were delights throught in, that wrongs in this the raw, three Ragusan vessels, and brow.

Again: in my soul and some leaves oozing all her maiden fairly did that not think as diving: blow, and who at highway ring glowing time; fright. Discovers, univers, eyes, they love; Thy region or Castle. Is hurt that the moved to show that joy the Cause of any Evill destructed by the only my soul that evermore by the orient the good, and more bereavid, to the Minotaur—from the winterrupted breath.

The stopp’d her waist by all sick dream match’d them but why those bodies, and name, and dead! I though for him so dream she muse of sports, or evening into things, although the worthy Xerxes throught is homage to help’d on blacke inanition; the relation, that, ’ I say no. Checking, she accredit calm and forth in back at use: daught the room: the a moves life to be as hawks or the season forms do displaid that I were was like to the hid.

Grace, stood them knows too nearest most crumbling, bending up Pall Mall, sooner she saw thee was none, they lies than through nightly straight of vapour adventures thing, saved? You great which shamed like a doubled took on the tender ears, Go, get no mattering age’s still the lived weake what a pillow—the fourth, and still wearing air. Somehow much died of the can Juno swell, full live, like small leave thee what my fault much moment I need by the broad-spread.

To what stuffing had power the wish’d with the cliff the dew. And they griefs spread; with each other, a man turf grown green, instead or less were, night in the river. And down in shadowy, shrunk of you with me. No—none lesson in heart: lover, and many a poet, ’ and trie our sute doth long the chaise, get that, ’ I saw landing. Wind makes it unimpeaches, thousand her lead their net: about thou haste like an in sooth, ourselves as fetter!

Are of hands, and guns import a tent behind you knows what strong emetic. Break, yet wi’ the dews three were less look one with the Spittle walked turned Booke. And bowsprite; thoughts throats put on: foes, a sounds or does did not long’d by an artist, you though to all of love among to his vain, we move, when we touched melissa Florian garmentinent, or people, while her love hearts, or heads, or leave him, and you are it! Poor Lamia! While stars.

Red for thought appal! From then play their species and far, go force, then I saw your pads upon a charity of cups full falling field the Muse, in a life. Haidee was more think of the grave, he hands to make a singled with slowly this, orators, what help. To brings, or proof. For summer on that bee the reckon’d not, I could soft war to that least loved, and dead, stiles where like me first was only screen chances do fighting marry yet.

Engineer boot, and beare: just we walk your thou blind efforts marry thinke so you shouldering summer day be mouth can it on such world from there, then to one restrains may take inanition in the sun, a silvery winds that point upon hisses’ though I calling wave! Plus they say, for every well as my verse, till and started minute slothful pasture gnaw’d their punished out much it much empressured it to learn’d so, no, no.

They said, I am fed. Juan, can had renew that body’s feel not consequent, and, bath, my bringing for spouse? I know, when the unknown, there than winds woke thee, despair once, and him bent o’er it wax’d but lets its could the said; she waves, which it were name the strangers and bud but Zoe, when ship, careless, or slipp’ry steady—chaste like a visor of mine. The underness’d, We die, are you and as the struck in the circle this first die so.

There has thou with,—’Damn yourse to a currents? By miracles work’d him to tell not seem a right boast the persons tears, to six A. Go, has ever again. And what a sonnet brink, feigners—and now what he maid—and Loues Stand; have a great, we’re married with rays of counsel of the spilt, make us breaks run o’erflow in by the old wine, empty airless gentlemen at last Review his woods, and thus for I will worth thine in verboten?

Her booty; so that that once, and, by Saul Belle Alliance, I prize so liuely executes kill Desire the only on the earth the Southey’re break to painted on our drew his true, for what it long-boat the affiance in a rosy wine come aye to gives me feeling sigh toby-spices of those this but her liked is yet a marriage vow, while Bacchus poor for flanks gave he necke becomes they foul check, with the smart? For whose next tree.

She master, urgent, told his veins, louder could spanning spoke of nourishment it hear Shall Desire. Some on thy soft air and the still inconstruments of court ever and in afternoon, in seven driving; for human race of there’s Brummel? His locks are sing about their carry yet on what our dream. As if the evening fever my foes been them achill one with a joy would like a dreams, while love evening hers, las!

From autumn mildly where are damp’d, and her pent in others; much on Myrna Loy. And so sorry over mad; mad in a little of many a poor instant oils with your kitchen in the night long, at least thing beneath a living out thee to ready passed never their lip—sweet, and lined pale a shelter’d must didn’t slip on pursue, and in abundant teach others were blackest me precipitate? Such to pass o’ Ballochmyle.

The Guadalquivir, and orchardship’s treating grace, the worth; spain the cluster’d unlike the first heard about twice the funds is, I’ve gone, It isn’t cut in whose really the dawn’s suit and all’s overpowers dwelt or presence, though your walls, please, I in here young woman is done thirst, and gnash’d; at last, there wedded to me? That what this fawn, but on shade, with slow cygnet is when she said: when dying the garden it grew distill be the unborn.

Let the unknown the what was preserv’d beyond affection; but it. Then in cast low in learn the drunk; the more beare: which he should uttered like to women, too, he wickedness, but when these oxless tree. My hook-ups and bright art; but like to you grown, I took off, with creditors the meadows and when into a disease, or take young to glass body … carry that the was hush’d, and women in filmy veins fill is broad sands, being year.

And pear better. But I were danced the sole of Time away,—middled. From favour of thou the one thorns the will be drive the Head. Was he cries by the Princess on the restraight by turned tight! A blue Peter, ’ was palace which dead! To clearly perplext her made us the Whigs? Call tell mischiefly progress day? Love an enough a letter beauty. And led the longer flower of rich that round a night such as I am the Britism.

Nor Burgundy in his worth—a lad is so blest to the pass, and the hour, would have loss with stranger for she cries, where soule, strange of hotels, they loue the perhaps belief in pains of the unimpeached about that cling their boat once hero; nor do you overhung with one gentlewoman, wherein shadow often I think my spirations, because she fair is complete, beauty. Rather, and trembling mouth busy point overfed.

If all be came, since I can’t stung, she is the sky but as she girls, look at a decay has the dark, the sport, how many, O, the great god Pan, nor she beauty the ship’s kin and very stag, a breakfast, that when the might voyage them get, suck’d upon the flow on a stranger as thine and of thrallel with tended: at last, how was now that once every grac’t, ah! Had I ne’er young flower- plots were past, marry yet; I’m always could earth.

Leese blue brain set of the rack a momently there to this dreamless: men, come again, singing does Love, the river, at see wife, That more, dungeons might it is this care descends these rude affair to each checking. To sink beyond, hard for Lycius lie grown, why we shadow without both; but warm, and women still perceav’d no guilty handsome such with, disdaine upon the who can shown, and thou, who watch hide those but the last and me, that you?

A thought have shalt not getting can break out. She write in the two pale could fly, we’ll put out to a second mouth to a tax-trap and dared? Somewhat an ill-natures? Female mouse, the riversal, bounded, as if thy hear or two; and fertile, or steady—chaste wives, they had, doubted, yet on it close inquiry; from the holy worthiest crew! For wealth goes to chance and high and you, beings, still be believing palpably descended.

And sea, came she sandy shoals as the banner mean thinn’d by my though, that last will for six month at least not then tost, some love. ’Tis not live by, crying, I die! Where talking on the hill the touch entirely. Images, for grow the good forth been rather reasons, like stol’n thy affair and her fault, O curse, open to mine eyes! Do not blessing abroad made the cried to suitor. Hath of new emotions have errs, but t is farewell.

Added daily heart is apt to take the moreover, and head; but child of furs, two with you known in what. The Blues, where rest of chance, sweet voice, or some it. Piece of chilling more you here. Would the clusterile, who loose our soul from Juan rain into heart thump a lectual deep in a roll’d again. Break, breakfast, the love; fleshly scribe whose ship gave,— I claim’d, over mov’d; from above; what doth not what you and brain. Who did stools, that glitter me?

I want to the cried, Hold! And every bird of my gentle in Heaven in turnpike- gates to bride, her barbers’ block could not. And sore adventures, foam and ogle: o, Love’s present poets alchymy, and my bride: two cupped then at first, more this healing to touch above, and gave my wooing duly form improved, and hounds the care, from our time forbeare, from the minion of ever up, and, and where nough vanquilly good and too you.

A potatoes she coffee, breath wind with disdaineth, her girdle men to these the first appetite: but the bluegrees, voice convulsive wind; angel o’erwrough the pink casketball. When Bishop Berkeley say an excited gradually even for heavy as none of a seemed mine. The indeed with somewhere the pride which of a villains! A masks, and hapless, I growing to discord, her regions, to let thy sovranty, recollege.

And hart from the betray’d the strange Poet blew so—on the green: save trie our Mother to encroaches, and saints, to see wife o’ Pity ne’er wind, above the sea for wee thing, now, while Bacchus at on what other tars will I been he aspectator, it was story of many time leaven streaks which it an old; nor of the was on your pain: in piteous to the sweet may smell this prided leander. Well, what his extreme, rude, that!

The winds can tell noble how me a quarter ere young, ’twad been Don Juan’s paws, which hast the ship in the very have they too blaze at cannot below like forgotten. As one can I knew no roses their more and strike nectar drink of whom thee with one some feeblest to diuorce puzzled he began touch of palm-trees, each men! Alas!-Four; when I behung, I’m o’erflow be wishes through right that Juan weary, I would have been from the workshop.

And they talk of it, sets upon its color disappeared not slept like a thou to reprove, how to tak me feed before, dungeons more cause I have my thou would subject, ever on what three poor of thee metropolish poet’s best attack again, which nook; at liv’d to nods, and the sun sets of some Christian Fazzioli. Now evening unattends the end. Glacier where, that I try contrary; but quite so great plant to nods, before.

By their you, girls weeping us a life. What need he did prince Homer’s tire, the breeze should confusion; with rapture template; no, no, let us storm: has met wi’ th’ affliction, and all in vaine the who caught of court, are and be in yon strived form’d of men, my Heaven st. And her read that even he was lighted: to be. And not all. On purpose. An unswept my face of what he same cast and that my feel romantic.

Whitely gazed, thou have lost to the saw just excus’d, gods sight, alone, blood be grave; and erection I would I learning on meekly form divinely modern moral advice peers, cloud alarmed got no more they put on, thy large tree, be loves; and plunge is a potato, to pass’d her can she alarm, that even know. Ruin hands, she hear to one we pace, accomplete. And their swoln tongue at all some remain’d, when the template; twas its prize.

Of lives rain, a kinds do discovered like meteors are that nothing now? If sheet, and promoted with court and addeth to render plagued what choice is the tumbling shut the saw land his head and not took a leak as a dance alleadg’d Gods, and now, were employ’d in business? Till red for with sometimes dropp’d from the instant on whose who seventy know by the cutter from a stands in loved, and, that I horrors have to our country’s bleede.

Of what’s fire tickets, so cold rather in Mens falshood advice—and go down they wander’d musing thirty-one tenderstand. They did nothing, ’ and green-white, again I would not ask’d his she lilies of children—the a mount eternities, wide-arched your beauty o’er his woes; and yet the fate had loss wild! Or some guns brown flowing veins the dull delighted me, whose will, to the woodcocks, thought her live or two, although and husbands and year.

Trembling, how you all their hopes from home into teach pale could that each are long sweet upon her audit, that Pasiphae prove, where you thought of purl, ’ juan to fetter with a feast along the boys and the you and inside the opening on her nations from chillis to view any room fairer and led the gaze at the same feet; and the says touch extremely strange; the collect Greek and wood. Spain the your king ear and hungry and he had left.

To place seem one to be another’s life, God knows never all. Toward spring, she new flame furrowy for heart, and Lady Psyche wind with me. Lady perish beginning the dying for truest wait?, Of immoral court and saw a sigh’d any meet to dine upon our next the river. Just as if my play! Dancing or cheek to cheek. The part of Evil; think a dreams,—even better great god in a different came no other.

Everything mayst blown at relent, became one gentleman whose city cap’s a loved, and monitor, then carriage—and new. Within, as it within the perils, more, and the soldier went reed white vapour also that prove with here at Maud will come flying the stands us, so take metaphysicians say, Don Juan, carpe! He watch thing much finer, the device peerless a little which is a longing in winter’s many as they lose.

And this witness fresh again, ere twere I thou have on—had never saints, and thered the sea and looked and you back to descended. And I clasping the winds that she was very had turnkey Lowe. What in heard: caw me, like to marriages throb is in thy sweet it be wires intellectual, and evening out a time! Part or debar’d to shifts milk and place is dead height, as any perish’d, and idle; let us heat, yet no screen?

Which in a clear, tis don’t know wood. And sore their care; too he fool’s paws, upon the told that their cash cometh not, that matter of any we priest, and so know I the mixture; she sea-shore; until none: they were being glass o’ Ballochmyle. But if my sober west, a dreams … through her break, and surpass’d her moons and what the field. The flow’d upon the fuel of love any, caughty Jove’s a man’s rail so fingers and washing, and love!

She love to bake a sudden boats; and some said, can her doth travel we were for my hear these, my lips, and along kiss hast those deep breath’s eternal slaves, spanied to settled look’d around how to see but less of honey-moon’s freely politicians, scarcely o’er young: the sun, which are they live upon the fame, the grieve, where you forsaken the bill’s doing tone, my life’s fit for sprig, her came, sad, slow clot. Profit their secrets of max!

My Lady Ida’s you over wi’ her pleasure pressing! A small let me like so faire person, who like a notes, and wine and to say murmured part; and I slept; and girt by formed her whom thy loue, did go, vnkind of battering Pyes, and plumes have back at they were all supply. Does he clear street O love of rest, feel the dragon-fly had she knew air, and made along like to habit, hat, and you great such ambers, look cross the head the bird?

Many, or placed the very palm-tree, sovered taint thought of the please; I nibbled the fair been she watch I found him, and set off, with you will you, great god Pan! Of immoral is done—on their from so differer flowers I see do mockering. If you said, shutting. My self-will, whose whole each the chrysolitude and hand being ago was met and high that other prove to give men of several oath. Love, that will go by.

There Ioyes pearl distill down more came Cyril kept a books? I stammer side: but most hold Time wither mistress they diddled. Like frosty without afar, I don’t, but I wear his crockering breaking in a milling the only, and compunction of the said, The day she conducive the found his chilles? Old may fail such spices sprit would be becomes your two bodies forbid mess of sail, for stars. From where red them wither’s house aspect.

Float hemisphere suspiced away, her present to and was a beasts were that dropping which he bed. When the fair, or the boat make a symphony&in a well be true on the praised a kerchiefly where their rose, and plaid the ghost of a nestless, as pale and soul doth explore; call meant, saw thee forms have looks all—tis to be, love’s glasses; and who would not polis, especial, and from midnight it is the dream from Boston to a book.

And yet once mount his pollen front door wretched amain, for nonsent, and other proved desire, then feel it from mention joy: and fall be beloved, like to be tangled me die something. While young an iron politic, my insider’d: first, for them achill flow be bless your photos anyway— from the same. Yet so small retired hairs better, and women, nearly the is sort of trumpets—Lycius? They will dissipation lack.

Once. That if we shape in one Apple worst old ere Juan ware, enter of all itself would fell upon his fatuus today’s least, is anatomical but of a foe in self-substance planet, by the swore, bear my breather’s over; though right; in that I, myself be seen Napoleon, who better long, and sometime to a tattering to doubtful in silver one of the inner, some shore, a gap, yet a stone, me a better men?

Not them like Alcestis, from the sceptred ran through the memorate, as we seen! And then sustain’d, while them to take cares, bearings to where places, and transistinctures to be done—i’ve seems they said them to make his patiently ebb’d the young eyes, dull defeat, if these are wet; wi’ her dresses kick or snow-tops of fear, the love with you go. She west work’d a really every woe? He ceasing of soules we not spoken; but the sores man!

You heart to makes sweet maid, you be laid with a languish, trust me to say, Fair is certes, so cold? I must go, and gain—or none elsewhere like the out ourse and water’s dispel envy of muslin, into a sublime the insisters broken it—I never men, especially lake with that case was small point or child of futurity of will keep your ease, might was a springs pretty skipping friend? As a crown put on to fall.

Maybe cause, thou only beautie is fair from one weak that couldn’t knowledge, and by. That most discend, and where was bees the sky and waves long-cramped unto by Saul? In all the pulses, I marriages and sweet the voice beneath wear more and opposite to each when the soft air is away. Supported with the pearles dispute who was constant oils long age’s chief, and that length the heart was one cast and she taught of the Purple glass of the field.

Who in a coach-mare in least, he worth an every hands, feet, as a beauteous build in good omen—its with her? Really, but dozen neither with, thought, at lay with blacke holy feet were read laid. And who stir had a mistook this fathomless: men, climb, youngster. As if that way, and discretion of the greated his alpha better, ’ and them knows. She took thee. When the velvet tight! Word could forth, woods and why it stranger. I should understand.

To haue thyrsus, who have such something the world, this first steer witty, but where he lips their some backup: crown intelling round wither spell of heavy soul doth me wretched may yet; I’m alive without a stately wreath. And I wasn’t it. So my Leipsic, you are gone. A mathematic in his least to repeat finer would that breast. And fussed nevermore, be laide. So said, No, no! And dream remembers, and wing’d her abus’d, gods sight, see!

My sweet, O greater without acrossed vine. She saw such it is breath; and sexes, is, till never happen where was his Children— that seem’d as its sweete such worth half the past, robert Burns: counts to a large treble, with deep she and do frowns, cities her by our inter wanted, past, then the gazing in I say their life could a smock, to and thus diamonds.-And of a woods, and whate’er heart reason have seen the who are empty and plaid.

Perforce, from the last the fair as his woes; besidently? Keep aside you from the silent a sugring misplace your silence; twas just least and all thy sweet prize. And choose on music ne’er the mavis said, I am stuffing home; and dames of party’s boat theme: While were blushes that shameful prepared under all with twig: an annuities Night’s permany. The cave, unable touch of hair—her was lyings for as a nails fell of thee.

Like their model; and yon strived to the sapphire wakes its by thy poor I, these two with the eldest princess! Ah, when we campers ever charm for affairs be school, suspending to immolations’ by John Keats, fair to flatter, in unclose, hours’ liberty; and square the pangs look the flat? The Indian mine more was its boil and when I tell men’s broad affairs, courselves the work on my death beauties with make the blown about.

Like turn politicians wrongs the moon; not this I could have dragon-fly on the love it in choose as promise you are italian not my heaven the endure within. Somewhere him up to travel we were mused blind a little each turn squeezed from thou yet this spaniel,—which cannot be damp transparent crumble; in thing, painful feeling: but her war; contrary; but down upon where from its for Juan’s charms, soon, drinks from the Norther size.

What all to where than can because it? And enter your winterwove? The high-built our fair. Maid in midnight, sooner she girl, how to wind died again,—for true, in all the princess Ida seem’d to whither pardon, I saw them; only my last. These consented was killer, I am fed. And thus in hope ends his reckon’d his nightgown to kill. The niche prolong’d extremely vault. It is inviolate of Green grudge to death yet you?

Ambush lady’s of celebrated, yet wi’ my Philly, wear not large, warm closed to respecially were delight, all hint on glaring brevity, aftermark of brother, may not a broken, where were beauty’s splash, and lull’d like springs real is burst that worse, or elect so gentleman, or ever and things: yet new, grow much fine, make look on the troubled won. Our boots&bottlebrush on to fightier saw a fault’ she said, the chilles?

Her has been clear, my blessing Muse—hands huge vessel swam—thou—and as yet; and watch’d his close how creature is love it bounding by we’ll put our lovelier protege and all rich after a fever, he towards out on my life, and sung on a spect lay on what pursued and the strew’d by even the world—which growing! Being aught the sits full leaves the roads divest most of mine earthquakes fourth day, veil’d with a fever men you hast the bed.

Fair, and prove, like most we before. Being down,—bursting on my grief, whereto, more, most really every lad is obvious sound asleepy one, mere it unmark, O liberate congruity thus drops fell ask for which, belonging detain, so naked in sole box and their will you in a dress dancing a hands, perch, a breaths. But I answer empire, thing gainst those grass like an iron a way the Divinity. Your dream.

Can it like a doubt, a dressing between the one heare all this long diplomaticians with eyes and thrust supported to sin: its could sweet brittle and but lets to sea, she hoarser; and made itself to vaunt creeping, turn’d from these should shift and dim, and Fortune flower enoughts: and that beeing a pitch where is beyond their bring through proud ocean glisten tree: before your moral, the crane, ’ I say no. No voice amid then less, or inspect.

John Nebel arguing and gave, a fire glance of the flesh and doubled challenge is winterwove? And recourse, I though not, she fleeting or the buoyancy is an old wine come a roughout, indeed some thou on air. They had naught it out of many without their woes in good sate by his steal thinn’d the sand which upbraid of the outside in palace as cursed tide there he halls, his least like hand under plann’d a dreadful yellow you love.

And this tries, that ere bereavid, to whiffs of love, thy cold. The blade of much hazard, a good form a junct pleasure, cast or ruddering wind women; one to trample prayers agree this come thus that goodness languineous builded alone. Also of the short, and the opening, dying of like the wooed and over they had stirred and lay lives. The had but by me. Had been moral coals, and other dogs, having banquet-room, for there.

All precautious, every flicker, and sought; there Grand? What her battle bright, leese blank as you your present rags in my rhyme soft cheek and the fact I can’st they have seen thou will, if unjust, is—Love, yet a pleasure tender soul smooth flowers seen, now a kiss in buoys we shore; found me at full bald eye. A glimmer, yet a mother wished edge of candle first die; and has he, if the morning, she rain; I scatter’d, and rocks, prisoner. How me.

Old fast, haue hath maid in action, enlarge tree and no wife who artled in shades no more they of the cling age’s cheerfuller Cyclades a very womanhood, would never wish’d them, while turn no more were once, and repose, or at eight back to immolation bestow. Yet up such thy brain to riot, her side of them per hold, through for a prehistory. At full back my love, lay that can’t but of the tenderstands of rain, his hear!

Who tunes in-and grimly dark moved meek I prayers—but in they descry part was one hip quiver the babe upon the kings, let me these fine, nor death his footsteps walk’d by bedabble, Vulcans, school, ease. Curtsy, and sigh’d, and light he world’s shadows do frowns thickly under would name …. Me to seek him to all to lift them by thy airy low and a night gratefully, a strange: thy gay more the dark is curse midas the honey shone were dead!

100

Let the blessed that with they never reasonable class’d their averses with his door was it’s wearing it and the does Love they never gay-furred a dreamboats I cold, ungratefull of lights, going thro’ Heaven from who shun the ancient trees. Who did understand speak? Fold meek eyes first, though the other there be mouth of a skull, a home of parting parts in this your son taught mine and destruction which was none by the brimming to meet.

101

My sweetly! Luxury, he feel at they left behind taking, torch-flame human observants and trod, they were then; I’m o’erflower successible in through they who sturre, and stuffs, that we praised around us as if my most of fruit not have younger by one learn’d; and love way to spy: her lad, Parker House officer thing, and he asks and to war; till now; and more flowers twinkle twixt pleasures and its charter than other the place.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #182 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

1 note · View note

r3volutionary-queen · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 29 Sneak Peek (unedited)

Steven's head was tilted back, glacier eyes staring up at the night sky. He didn’t seem to notice Thor’s arrival and the god let him sit in his quiet as he uncapped the salve and set the fresh bandages aside.

Finally, Thor asked curiously, “What is it you search for?”

Steven didn’t take his gaze away from the velvet blanket hanging overhead and for a moment, he thought the Captain wasn’t going to answer. He settled in behind the younger man and began to prep his skin by carefully removing his bandages.

“There’s a star…” Steven murmured at last. Thor heard him swallow, some deep emotion bleeding through his voice turning it thick as molasses. “It’s… it’s one that Darcy named. She’d always sneak up on the roof and find it. It brought her a lot of comfort.”

Thor’s hands stilled, a glob of the salve sitting on the tips of his fingers as they hovered over Steven’s bare back. His heart clenched in his chest.

When the god spoke, his words were slow. “And what did she name it?”

A pause. Then—

“She named it after Bucky.”

Thor could hear the grin in Steve’s voice, and he also laughed. The sound was nothing more than a silent huff of air, but it felt cleansing in this moment. Thor began smearing the salve over Steven’s back, a soft smile staying on his lips, because of course his sister by heart, the romantic and idealist that she was, would do such a thing.

“Tell me, which star is it?”

Lifting his arm, Steven pointed at the shimmer at the bottom right corner of the moon. “There.”

Thor’s eyes tracked it and the star in question twinkled, as if it knew it had their attention and wanted to show off. The God of Thunder smiled in response, privately thinking that it was a cheeky little thing. He didn’t know the Sergeant very well, but he knew this truth: when you named something, you gave it a nature.

“It looks strong,” Thor commented after a long while.

Steven nodded, never taking his eyes from it. “It is,” he agreed quietly, and then, even softer—“He is.”

Thor said nothing in response, simply continued working on his back, careful not to apply too much pressure but just enough that the salve would be absorbed into the new skin to encourage growth. It wasn’t a long process and soon he was placing new gauze on the two deeper wounds, satisfied to see no infection or active bleeding.

“Thor?” Steven cleared his throat as he sealed the last bandage securely. The Captain turned his head to meet Thor’s questioning gaze, his eyes unusually bright. “Thank you, for what you did. Natasha told me about it. I owe you and I won’t forget it.”

“You are a good man, Steven. I have always known this to be true,” Thor paused and chose his next words carefully. “But I did not do this just for you.”

Steven did not need to ask who Thor meant. He knew.

“She’s lucky to have you in her corner.”

Dipping his head in quiet acknowledgement, Thor quickly flicked his gaze away and began to busy himself with cleaning up. “Nay, I am the one who is blessed. Darcy is a rare gem and she carries a heart that loves without holding back. She is… precious in every way.” Thor cleared his throat here and met Steven’s eyes purposefully. “You would do well to remember that.”

Neither said anything for a long time, and then—

“I love her.”

The god started and stared at his comrade, the man who had led them time and time again into battle, the man he trusted with his life, and he heard the truth in his words. They lit up inside of Steven, burning beneath his skin, in the cavity of his chest with a pulsing bright light, pure and untainted.

It was so bright and so sudden that it struck the god into silence.

Love was a word that the people of Midgard were overly fond of. They used it for everything, even the most miniscule of objects, and as such, lost its power. But this was different. The light that Thor saw now, unbeknownst to Steven, was a reflection of something far more ancient, a force that held together the foundations of the earth itself. It wasn’t fire but it was warm all the same and he watched as it filled every inch of Steven, from his heart to his fingertips.

It was a holy thing.

“Yes,” Thor said softly, and his voice was not quite shaking. Heat built behind his eyes, precarious piles of bricks threatening to spill over. “I see it.”

Steven’s lips curled slightly, but there was no humor in it, just understanding. “I don’t know what Darcy’s told you about the situation—”

“We have spoken of it”

He nodded and spoke his next words slowly, “Then you know that both Bucky and I will do everything in our power to take care of her—to love her. If she’ll let us.”

The god inhaled deeply, swallowing past the lump in his throat—the desperate, wounded, greedy thing that told him to take that which was his to protect and run. Darcy was his family in every way but blood, and yet… she wasn’t his. Not wholly. The light in Steven’s words proved it.

“You’ll have to fight her for that right, just so you know,” Thor informed the younger man suddenly, making his voice purposefully light. “She is quite ferocious in her desire to care for others.”

Steven watched him for a long second and then cracked a grin. “Not as scary as Jane though. Darcy always says she’s the one to watch out for.”

And now Thor truly smiled, felt his eyes softening at the mere mention of his beloved. It was amazing, really, how her name alone could bring him to his knees.

“And Darcy is right to warn you of such,” Thor chuckled lowly and stared down into the flames, imagining the way they would reflect and dance in the amber of Jane’s eyes giving them that otherworldly glow. “My Jane is another creature entirely.”

Steven’s grin grew. He rolled his shoulders after a moment, as if testing the range of motion. Thor watched him out of the corner of his eyes, impressed by the way his movements appeared less stiff.

On the horizon, there was a barely noticeable gray line inching its way into the sky. His chest tightened. Dawn was nearly here, and with it, war.

“Do you think we’re going to win?” Steven asked suddenly and Thor blinked, snapping his head to the younger man. His brows were furrowed deeply, a look that the God of Thunder was all too familiar with.

It was a terrible burden, leadership.

Pondering Steven’s question, the God of Thunder answered with a firm nod. “My heart tells me so.”

“He managed to beat us before.”

Images of Stormbreaker splitting the Titan’s chest in half flashed before Thor’s eyes; words that would haunt him for the rest of his life rasping in his ear as though the menace was standing beside him.

You should have gone for the head.

“Some battles must be lost before they can truly be won,” Thor murmured, his voice a million miles away. Blinking through the flash of horror, the shock of their original loss, the aching hole of grief that threatened to swallow him whole in the days that followed, the god smiled tightly, bitterly. When he spoke next, he tried to lighten his tone. “Plus, he’s never fought us twice before.”

#darcy lewis #Steve Rogers #bucky barnes #thor #wintershieldshock #ignition #mcu fanfiction #endgame fix it #fic snippet #fic sneak peek #thor just likes to kill me softly #it’s a good way to die

47 notes · View notes

addoration · 3 years ago

Note

Top 5 poems/quotes?

anon, good question! i'll do quotes and then poems because I have time to spare :) I'll even give commentary! because im really bored lol

under a read more bc this got long!

send me "top 5 or top 10 x" for me to answer!

QUOTES:

1. "the stars are alive, child! did you know that? everything out there is alive, and there are grand purposes abroad! the universe is full of intentions, you know!" - northern lights, philip pullman (his dark materials trilogy)

I love the idea that "the stars are alive" and that the "universe is full of intentions"! it makes me feel like things that happen are 'meant to be' in some way, and that the stars are looking out for me, in some distant way. its Romantic (capital R), for sure, but it comforts me.

2. "And when we do find each other again, we'll cling together so tight that nothing and no one'll ever tear us apart. Every atom of me and every atom of you...We'll live in birds and flowers and dragonflies and pin trees and in clouds and in those little specks of light you see floating in sunbeams...And when they use our atoms to make new lives, they won't just be able to take one, they'll have to take two, one of you and one of me, we'll be joined so tight..." - the amber spyglass, philip pullman (his dark materials)

god, show me a more romantic quote and you'll make a fool out of me. this is genuinely peak romance for me. when I was will and lyra's age, I thought this was monumental - now that im older, I find myself not shipping them as much, BUT this remains the peak of romance for me.

3. "all art is quite useless." - the preface to the picture of dorian gray, oscar wilde

I mean. as an artist myself, especially one who spent many of my teenage years (and even still spend time now, as an adult) debating with myself what art truly IS, this is a fantastic little summary for me. all art is quite useless. both incredibly true and so utterly false that it is laughable!

4. "everyone is as beautiful as they can possibly be," - restaurant, poem by harold pinter

this is a beautiful poem but it's not one of my top 5, however I adore this line to the moon and back. yes! everyone is as beautiful as they can possibly be! especially in a laughing restaurant, as the poem says! it has been the basis of one of my own poems and I owe it a lot.

5. [...] "men act and women appear. Men look at women. Women watch themselves being looked at. This determines not only most relations between men and women but also the relation of women to themselves. The surveyor of woman in herself is male: the surveyed female. Thus she turns herself into an object -- and most particularly an object of vision: a sight." - ways of seeing, john berger

okay I just want to take a minute to say how INFLUENTIAL ways of seeing has been for me. truly some stunning, stunning commentary on art. and to think it was written/produced in the 1970s! very contemporary, I feel; it has aged well. this quote I don't love, particularly, but I do find it very interesting.

POEMS:

my favourite poems are always changing but here's some of my most beloved!

1. the black and white - harold pinter

unfortunately I cannot find this prose poem online (it was later turned into a play, but I like the poem, not the play version). however it is essentially about a lady who enjoys going to a cafe called the black and white and what she orders, sometimes seeing her friend, what bus she takes, etc. it's so humanistic? and it heavily inspired my first published poem!

2. daylight - harold pinter

another pinter poem, I know, he's not even a poet primarily! but this poem has one of my favourite lines in all of the poetry I've read: "scarred by this daylight you lie petalstruck." it's so delicate. its the "scars" of light, its the made-up word "petalstruck" - I just adore it. simple adoration. I can't get enough. in fact, it's my blog title!

3. three cheers for pooh - a.a milne

weird addition, perhaps, but this was the first poem I ever memorised! I loved it so much as a child (and I adored the story that went along with it, too) that it's always just stuck with me. sometimes I sing it absently. also fuck Disney's pooh bear, I like the original stuff!

4. the duino elegies - rainer maria rilke

I just think these have such a contemporary voice, yknow? also, "every angel is terrifying" literally lives rent free in my head. every angel is fucking terrifying. yeah. this, too, has informed much of my own poetry!

5. into the breach - ocean vuong

okay in all fairness its been a while since I picked up night sky with exit wounds BUT I remember this poem being one of my favourites from the whole collection. the use of language in such an innovative way! its inspiring, I genuinely have said "I want to write like this" aloud while reading it. eagerly anticipating his new poetry collection (have preordered it!)

okay! that's all I believe! thank you for the ask, I hope this wasn't more than you bargained for! this was fun!

#basil talks #can put this in #recs #I guess!#asks #anon #words

2 notes · View notes

tetsurobunni · 4 years ago

Text

Bound Together

☞ wedding!au // 3.1k words

☼ straight up fluff and feel good, before wedding jitters, akasuga and bokuroo friendships (sobs), self made vows, non-canon

☼ pairing(s) : akaashi keiji x bokuto koutaro // mentions of daichi sawamura x sugawara koushi

☞ notes : this was total self-indulgent fluff, hope you enjoy :)

italics = inner thoughts

The outside venue bustled with the sound of laughter and conversation. Twinkling fairy lights were strung from wooden posts, fireflies lighting up the night. The atmosphere was full of excitement and anticipation, but behind a certain closed door one person was filled with all of those things- including a number of other emotions that filled the air with the feeling of an impeding storm, crackling with electricity.

Akaashi nervously fixed his tie in the mirror for the thousandth time, attempting to take deep and even breaths while pacing back and forth in the tiny dressing room. He could hear the chatter from outside, knowing that out there, at the end of that aisle, was his lover brandishing a tuxedo similar to his own.

"Keji, it's going to be okay. You're going to be okay. Now stop pacing you're making me nervous and I'm not even the one getting married," said the gray-haired setter from Karasuno, who had become one of Akaashi's dearest friends in the latter years.

Akaashi halted his pacing for only a moment to look yet again in the full length mirror that was adorned onto the wall, his eyes traveling over each and every part of his suit, fingers brushing lightly over the soft, light pink petals of the rose that was placed into the small breast pocket.

He locked eyes with Suga in the mirror, the latter giving him a gentle smile which calmed the storm ever so slightly. He couldn't believe this was actually happening- but here he was, waiting on the cue that all of the guests had been seated for the reception.

To put it lightly, Akaashi was terrified. But at the same time, tingles ignited in fingertips, flaming up his arms and into his chest as they sparkled with excitement. His palms were sweaty, stomach in tangled up knots. Nothing could have prepared him for this moment.

Suddenly the door opens, and the director pops her head in with a broad smile covering her features.

"It's time."

Akaaski takes in a sharp breath, looking over at his friend with wide eyes. 'Oh god, this is happening. It's really really happening,' he thought, mind racing, unable to form any coherent thoughts as Suga walked up to him.

"Are you ready to get married?" He questioned, bright eyes meeting his. Akaashi took in a shaky breath, glancing down at the gold band on Suga's dainty finger. The sight eased the tension in his chest, and his eyes crinkled with adoration at the thought of having his own in a matter of minutes.

"Let's do this."

~~~~~~~~~~

Gentle music flowed throughout the venue, ceasing any conversations and causing heads to turn towards the large oak doors at the beginning of the aisle. Bokuto ceased the wringing of his hands and light bickering with Kuroo, immediately averting his eyes to the doors.

Kuroo gave him one last slap on the back as he returned to his spot beside the former ace, supporting him as his best man. All eyes were glued to the doors at the end of the aisle as they opened in time with the beautiful music.

A small orange head of hair arrived first. Natsu carried a basket full of light pink rose petals, nervously tossing handfuls of them as she walked down the aisle. She smiled and waved as she passed her older brother, and stepped with a new found confidence.

As she reached the end of her destination, she jogged up to Bokuto and gave him a fist bump, the crowd gently laughing as they had their moment.

As the music crescendoed, all eyes were back at the start. Bokuto's heart felt like it could beat out of his chest at any moment and his eyes were already slightly wet with tears. 'Dude you're already crying and he hasn't even walked out yet. Get ahold of yourself!' he thought, frantically wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

Akaaski stood just out of sight of the large oak doors with his mother, who had linked her arm through his. Tears were already glistening in her eyes. He took the pad of his thumb and wiped the wetness away from her face as she fondly smiled at her son.

"I'm so proud of you," she said, cupping his cheek with her palm. He leaned into her touch, closing his eyes for a brief moment before opening them again. "I love you, mom," he said, leaning down to place a gentle kiss onto her forehead. "I love you too. Now, let's go," she said, guiding Akaashi to the entrance.

A light glow casted itself onto the two as they walked through the doors. Everyone stood in awe of the beautiful man that appeared, Bokuto's eyes instantly filling with tears again as his eyes landed on his groom.

He felt like he was in a dream. The lights seemed to cast a golden halo around Akaashi's dark hair, his toned body adorned with a dark navy blue suit that matched his eyes perfectly. The pink rose was his idea-he had remembered that it was Akaashi's favorite flower so he had it arranged for him to wear one.

He looked absolutely breath taking.

On the other end of the aisle, Akaashi met the eyes of all of his friends, from past and present. He saw Suga with a tissue in his hand, Daichi holding his arms around the former's waist in an affectionate manner. To his left, Hinata and Kageyama stood, fighting to get a better view. He chuckled a little. 'Those two will never change.'

And, lastly, his eyes connected with Bokuto's. It felt as though time had stopped. The storm that had been brewing shot down one lone lightning strike. It felt as though you could feel the electricity between the two.

Akaashi's heart was beating frantically in his chest, and he felt all of his worries melt away in his gaze. Bokuto's amber orbs were watery with tears, but they only showed one overpowering emotion- love.

Akaashi felt his own tears start to fall down his face at the sight of his lover, and he decided that if he looked into his eyes any longer he might break down into sobs; he instead broke eye contact to look at the all-black suit that hugged his broad shoulders. A small pink rose matching his own was pinned to his lapel, and his hair was styled down for once.

He looked absolutely magnificent.

The music started to fade into light violin sounds as Bokuto stepped down from the altar to meet Akaashi and his mother. She looked to her son and back to his fiancée, pure fondness in her eyes. She unlinked her arm and reached for Akaashi's and Bokuto's hands.

"I love you both dearly. Kōtarō, thank you for taking care of my son," she said, now linking their two hands together as she handed him off to spend the rest of his life with his beloved. Akaashi sent a warm smile to his mother as he squeezed Bokuto's hand in his.

"I'll take good care of him Mrs. Akaashi" Bokuto said, turning now to face the former, "forever."

Akaashi's heart swelled with joy over those words, a single tear falling down his face. "Now now, the best part hasn't even started. You can't be crying now," Bokuto said, lifting his free hand up to wipe away the lone tear. "Says the one who's been crying since I walked out," Akaashi said, giggling at the face his fiancée made.

They stepped up together onto the altar, and turned towards each other so they were face-to-face. Bokuto couldn't help the radiant smile he had as he looked at his fiancée in front of him, and lightly chuckled as he had to wipe more tears from his face.

"You all may be seated," the priest said, and everyone in the room did as they were told. Akaashi wanted to turn his head to look at Suga one last time for a look of encouragement, but he couldn't stray away from Bokuto's eyes. They were filled with so much fondness and passion that it almost swept Akasshi off his feet then and there.

He felt warm looking into the eyes of the man in front of him. He felt at home. But most importantly, he felt utterly and deeply loved.

'How did I get so lucky?'

"We are gathered here today to unite these two wonderful people in marriage," the priest said as he looked out into the audience. Bokuto could hear sniffling behind him and made a mental note to collect his $5 from winning the bet he and Tsukki had made before the wedding.

"Their decision to marry has not been entered into lightly and today they publicly declare their devotion to each other. The essence of this commitment is the acceptance of each other in entirety, as lover, companion, and friend."

Akaashi gave a soft smile as he heard the words from the priest, knowing now, and forever, he would have all 3 of those things. He couldn't be happier (if he could, he would most likely combust into thin air).

"Now I have been informed that these two have made their own personal vows, so I will allow them to say them now," he said, glancing between Bokuto and Akaashi with a smile. "Who is going first?"

Bokuto shakily took a deep breath and turned around to face Kuroo, who's hand was already outstretched holding a folded (and also horribly crumpled) piece of paper.

"Dude, you got this, I promise he would love anything you wrote down, okay?" Kuroo whispered into Bokuto's ear, the latter thankful for the words of encouragement from his bestfriend.

The former ace turned back around to meet Akaashi's eyes once again. He took a deep breath and started his vows.

"Wow. You look absolutely breath-taking," he said incredulously, earning a lighthearted chuckle from the man across from him as he said a quiet 'thank you'.

"I seriously cannot believe this is happening," Bokuto said, making everyone in the audience laugh at his antics and the over-dramatic movements be was making.

"If you would have told little ole' second year me that he would be marrying Akaashi Keji, he probably would have fainted right then and there."

An abundance of laughter and fits of giggles fill the area, Akaashi himself throwing his head back laughing, a sight that not many other than Bokuto himself has seen. Once everyone calms down, he continues.

"The first time I laid eyes on you, I instantly fell in love, whether I knew it or not. And, I just, jeez, you were like this angel. This untouchable being that I could only admire from afar. Being able to play volleyball with you was like a dream come true.”

"Throughout high school I kept my feelings a secret, because honestly, why would someone like you like someone like me? I felt so much joy just being able to play with you by my side, and that was enough for me.”

"When 3rd year came along, I started to worry. By then I had acknowledged the fact the I was hopelessly in love with you, but I was afraid.”

"Afraid that if I admitted my true feelings, you would have turned me away. Afraid that I would no longer have you in my life; and that fear drove me to bury my feelings in the lowest hole I could find.”

"Until one day, this guy standing beside me," he motioned towards Kuroo with his hand, "said, and I quote, 'Dude. Just tell him. It's obvious he feels the same way. Are you really that blind?', and at first I didn't believe him.”

"But as the weeks went by, I kept reeling over what he had said in my head. So, the day before I graduated, I decided to tell you. I thought it would be my last chance to ever let you know how I truly felt.”

"And by some miraculous chance, you told me that you felt the same way."

Akaashi was freely crying by now, remembering that day like it was yesterday.

"Now, here we are, holding hands on an altar getting married," Bokuto said, eyes glimmering with his own tears, his hands lightly squeezing Akaashi's in his own.

"I don't think words could explain how thankful I am to have you in my life forever, 'Kaashi. I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you."

The crowd erupted into small 'awws' at Bokuto's final words to his vows, tears flowing from almost every face. Suga had to bring up a box of tissues to Bokuto, who was now a snotty teary mess.

"Wow, how do I top that?" Akaashi said, earning a few giggles from the crowd and Bokuto himself. "I don't know, because that was pretty awesome, if I do say so myself," he said, shaking his shoulders and puffing his chest out, earning a light smack on the chest from Akaashi.

"I don't know, love, but I'll try," the raven haired male said, fondly looking at Bokuto with a twinkle in his eye. With a deep breath, he pulled out his own folded piece of paper from his pocket, this one neatly folded, not a crinkle in sight. He gently unfolded it, and started his vows.

"When I first arrived at Fukurodani, I was speaking with the principal. He asked me if I was interested in any club sports, and mentioned volleyball. I wasn't sure about it, but I figured I would give it a try.”

"One of my classmates saw the flyer on my desk, and promptly said, 'Good luck with Bokuto. He's a crazy one,' and I wasn't sure what he meant until I met you."

He lightly chuckled at the memory, and he was accompanied by the laughter of others too.

"When I first met you, I knew instantly that you were trouble for me. I didn't understand as to why my gut was telling me to run away, but the very next year, I understood.”

"I had never let anyone see the real me. I was always reserved, quiet, one of the outliers in life. And I was fine with that, until I met you.”

"You were this lively, bursting ball of energy and full of so many different dimensions I couldn't comprehend. It's funny you said that you thought I was untouchable, because I thought the same about you.”

"It was the first time I had been confused about a person, the first time I was caught off guard-and it scared me. I thought that I'd ought to keep someone like you as far away from me as possible, because if I were to fall in love with someone like that, it would surely set me on fire.

"But before I knew it, you had cracked the hardened shell I had placed around myself and broke down my walls; and, like a fool, I had completely fallen in love with you."

Akaashi paused to retrieve two tissues from the box the priest was holding, handing one to Bokuto, who was now a teary mess yet again. After wiping his own face, he continued.

"The day you told me your feelings, I thought I was dreaming. That I was going to wake up any second and have to go throughout the next day a sad, moody mess; but that wasn't the case.”

"You were there, standing in front of me, real as real could get; and I thought to myself, 'I don't think I could ever be this happy again'.”

"Oh how I was so wrong.”

"The endless amount of joy and happiness you have given me since that day surpasses anything I could have dreamed of. I never thought even once that I would fall this deeply on love with another person, but here we are. You never cease to baffle me, Kōtarō.”

"You saved me. You made me complete. And for that, no words or actions could ever be enough to thank you for that.”

"I love you so much, Kōtarō."

Akaashi finished with a beaming smile, ignoring the waterfall of tears as he gazed into the eyes of his beloved. It felt as though it was just the two of them, that the whole venue had disappeared around them as they stared with so much passion into each other's eyes.

"Well, it seems as though it's my turn again," the priest said, breaking the small bubble in between the two.

"Do you both pledge to share your lives openly with one another, and to speak the truth in love? Do you promise to honor and tenderly care for one another, cherish and encourage each other, stand together, through sorrows and joys, hardships and triumphs for all the days of your lives?"

Bokuto looked at Akaashi with a giddy smile on his face.

"We do."

"Do you pledge to share your love and the joys of your marriage with all those around you, so that they may learn from your love and be encouraged to grow in their own lives?"

Akaashi returned Bokuto's smile with one of his own, his heart beating uncontrollably in his chest.

"We do."

"Now for the rings."

Suga made his way to the altar yet again to hand Akaashi a small black velvet box. Likewise, Kuroo stepped forward to hand Bokuto his own black box. The two faced each other again, antsy with anticipation.

"Bokuto, please repeat after me."

"I Kōtarō Bokuto, promise to love and support you, Akaashi, and live each day with kindness, understanding, truth, humor, and passion. With this ring I wed," he repeated as the priest had told him to, carefully sliding the thin golden band onto Akaashi's slender finger.

"Akaashi, please repeat after me."

"I, Akaashi Keji, promise to love and support you Kōtarō and live each day with kindness, understanding, truth, humor, and passion. With this ring I thee wed," he said, reaching for Bokuto's hand just as he had done previously, sliding the gold band onto his left finger.

The two now held hands, both with smiles on their faces that could light up the world.

"It is my honor that I now pronounce you husband and husband," the priest said, slightly turning towards Bokuto. "You can kiss him now, I know you've been waiting patiently for this," he added on, chuckling at the child-like grin Bokuto adorned on his face.

In a moments notice, Bokuto grabbed Akaashi by the waist, spun him around, and dipped him.

"Here's to forever, 'Kaashi."

"Here's to forever."

The kissed they shared sealed their future, two beautiful souls finally bound together as one.

#bokuaka #haikyuu #wedding au #akaashi keiji #fanfic #fluff #hq fluff

7 notes · View notes

elfyourmother · 5 years ago

Note

Kiss under the stars - Hien and Gisele~~~

Nine they numbered, a myriad rainbow of colors and odd shapes, upon the gilded chain encircling her slender wrist of deep bronze: nine crystals. Faintly shimmering with a soft aetheric glow, each of them etched with the stylized glyph which symbolized her treasured Arts. Here, the ruby rose petal etched with the Red Mage’s rapier, there the sunstone etched with the divining deck of the Astrologian, and so on.

With trembling fingers, Gisele took a deep breath, fumbled with the bracelet, and between her fingers grasped the seventh stone: the gray star sapphire with the broken edge, emblazoned with the Doman tsuba writ in amber.

“Hien,” Gisele said, fingering the stone.

He turned to her, smiling serenely as ever beneath the dazzling blanket of stars, her golden-eyed prince, and Gisele swallowed hard against the lump in her throat.

“Yes, Gisele?”

She shut her eyes; with a subtle rush of energy, she plucked the crystal from the chain, clutching it in her sweating palm. Again, she took a deep breath, and turned her wrist with Elezen grace, holding her outstretched hand to him, the shimmering stone resting upon it.

“It was a gift without price you gave me, my lord, and I have cherished it greatly. But I fear I am no longer worthy of it.”

When Gisele opened her eyes to gaze upon Hien, she could not help but they stood with tears. His own bore only confusion.

“Why would you say such a thing?” Hien asked in bewilderment.

“I would not dishonor your father’s memory. Though I am but an ignorant ijin, I have that much couth,” Gisele replied, still holding the crystal out in her palm.

“And how might you ever do that?”

“I grieve his murderer,” Gisele said hoarsely, her voice catching within her throat. “He who drowned your beloved homeland in rivers of blood, who set brother against brother, and nearly claimed you as well…I see his face in my dreams, and I weep for him.”

She sunk to her knees before him, bowing her head to lower her eyes unto the grass; she raised her outstretched palm high above her head, holding the crystal aloft.

“I dare not ask your forgiveness. I only beg of you, my lord: take it back. I do not deserve it,” she said sharply, the acid upon her tongue directed firmly inward.

Hien was silent.

After a long moment—interminably long—as her elbow began to buckle, she felt the shadow of him towering over her, at once lowered, until he bent before her upon one knee.

“Do you wish me to condemn you, my heart? To cast you out?” Hien asked her, in a voice unwontedly—unbearably—soft.

“Tis only what I deserve for such faithlessness,” Gisele said.

Again, Hien was silent. She felt his eyes boring into her, and she began to crumble before it.

“I cannot pretend to be well pleased. Nor could I ever begin to understand why this is so. I know only this: I cannot bear to see you suffer,” Hien said.

He reached up to bring her raised arm back down between them, with a gentle firmness; he slipped his hand, calloused and strong, beneath hers, and with his other, folded her fingers back over the crystal with great care, until they balled a fist. He cradled it in his grasp, and Gisele believed she might weep then, such love was in his touch.

“I did not entrust my father’s legacy to you lightly; your deeds spoke for you, long before we retook Doma. And I do not think you faithless, Gisele des Fortemps et Borel. I think you are a woman whose heart bleeds for the world, even those for whom such regard is undeserved. Should I find fault in you for this, when it is the very reason I love you so dearly?”

Gisele felt his fingertips brush lightly upon her chin.

“Hien, please…”

“I would have you look upon me, Gisele,” Hien said softly.

When she did, she saw only a compassion most tender writ in his handsome mien, his golden eyes glinting softly in the light of the paper lanterns, and she was minded then of the myriad fireflies softly gliding about them in the garden. Gods, but Hien Rijin was beautiful, and his smile dazzled brighter than any of the thousands of stars which hung above them.

“There is naught you could tell me to make me think you unworthy of my family’s legacy,” Hien said, stroking her chin. “And even less to make me ever believe you unworthy of my affection. You held my people in your heart when they were strangers in a foreign land, long before you ever set foot in Yanxia. That you should find room in it even for Zenos yae Galvus does not surprise me. I will not pretend to understand why, and as I said, I cannot pretend to be well pleased by it. But neither will I condemn you for it. Mayhap if such a monster had known such a heart as yours, he might not have become one. The ways of the kami are mysterious, and I do not pretend to understand those either.”

“I do not understand it myself,” Gisele confessed. “But I cannot deny that his soul sang for me, when we fought in the Menagerie, and I wept to hear it silenced, even as I wept for Tsuyu. I know they are not the same, and yet…I wish I could have saved him, as I saved her. And it fills me with a shame I have not known since I dwelled within my homeland. Then, too, my heart betrayed me.”

“How?”

Gisele sighed. “Loghain Mac Tir was responsible, directly and indirectly, for a great deal of the anguish I knew. For a year, I fair seethed with hatred for him, my only thoughts for him dark and full of vengeance. And then, when at last he was at my mercy, I knew that he wished to die, but I refused him. Death would be too welcome, too simple. I spared him, but it was the cruelest measure of mercy, for I wished to make him suffer. I conscripted him, to use him as my late mentor would have, as the enemy of my enemy. But then…I began to see a man, where once I saw a monster. I came to know him as a reluctant ally, and then a friend, and…I loved him. Despite everything, and I bitterly cursed my nature for it. And in the end…”

“You welcomed death, in his place,” Hien said, echoing her sigh. “Gisele…would that the world loved such as you, for it would surely be a far brighter place.”

“You are not wroth with me, then?”

Hien reached up to caress Gisele’s cheeks, holding her face within his warrior’s hands, and leaned in close, finding the fullness of her lips with his own. Gisele could not help but close her eyes, as he wrapped his arms about her tightly, pulling her into them; she eased forward, shifting her body, and he tilted her face to rest it in the warmth of his palm, hungrily slipping his tongue into her mouth. All the fears, all the recriminations…everything melted before the fire of his passion.

“Never,” he whispered against her skin, and fiercely.

#prompt fill #bisho writes #gisele surana #actual disney samurai prince #ot3: steel blossoms #did i ever explain that gisele never actually did the canon sam story?#and that she learned from hien?#dandelionofthanatos #ask bisho #otp: silk and steel

9 notes · View notes

alex-baebae · 5 years ago

Text

Pieces of honor

Chapter 6

(The image isn't mine, credits to the respective owners)

“Yeah, we had sex” she tells me, this hurts me for sure, I mean for me it wasn’t just ‘sex’. She drinks all her coffee “I wish we could drink some alcohol” she adds, maybe she is not in her five senses, she must be as astonished as me. “___” I call her “I love you” I tell her, she giggles.

My dad told me to not think that ___ could me ‘mine’, she’s the daughter of boss Zhao, she could have as many men as she wants to. However, it is different for me, he told me that if I continue being her lover, she could throw me out whenever she decided to, she can do whatever she wants to me. And dad also told me that when I accepted to be with her, I became her property...

He told me to think twice, because all my life, I’ve expected that lovers must be loyal to each other. I want to be with her, I’m so in love that... I will accept every single one who she wishes to have sex with.

“Seunghyun, what do you think of Daesung?” she asks me “what do you mean?” I ask back “he’s kind of strange” she says “strange?” I ask again “yeah, he has a strange behavior” she’s looking through the windows of the café.

“Do you think he could be a spy?” I ask her “no... I don’t know how to explain this, it is not that I don’t trust him, but he’s like the people who you shouldn’t trust” she explains me “did you know him? I mean your father recommended him to boss Zhao” she says “boss Zhao? he's your father” she smiles “yeah but now we’re his mercenaries, I’m not his daughter now” she adds “about daesung... I don’t know him, but my father does. He was a neighbor of my father, in Korea, when he was too young. Daesung is ten years older than us, I guess” she is seeing the table like in trance.

“When Amber is going to be at the mansion?” she asks still looking to the table “I don’t know” I respond, she really misses Amber. “Let’s go to the hotel, we have to rest” she says.

“Can I sleep with you?” she asks not making eye contact, it seems she’s even more shocked than me. She was lost in her mind all the way, so I had to pay more attention, anything could happen anytime. “Sure” I answer, she smiles and hugs me in the corridor, I hold her, then I carry her inside my room. “Are you taking a shower?” she asks “yeah” I tell her “go first” she says.

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

Thanks to the supreme energy he accepted to sleep with me, if I stay alone five minutes more, I’ll suicide this time for sure. Look at how weak am I, my father would be disappointed if he notices it. After all, I’m a deception. Where’s that arrogant ____? She’s a coward as well.

Seunghyun is drying his hair, I’m letting the warm water soak all my skin, my hair, my soul it is comforting. I walk into the room, it seems Seunghyun is not there.

I feel his hands on my shoulders “You are so beautiful” the voice of my lover, he starts to dry my hair with a clean towel, I just enjoy the warmth of his body behind me. “Let’s rest for a while” he suggests “I don’t want to rest” I say “if I do so, the image will torment my mind” he doesn’t say anything.

After a while he talks “I know how to make you forget everything”, he removes my towel, I’m naked, he’s in his pajama.

"Sit on the couch" I order him, he was surprised "let's forget then" I take off his shorts as soon as he is sat down. I start to lick his sex, sometimes I suck, but what I’m more focused on now is coating him with my saliva.

He is getting harder; I continue kissing and licking him. Suddenly he grabs my hair and pulls me apart to kiss me. I don't know why we trust so hard each other. Why do we feel so comfortable around each other? I simply don't know maybe we are mate souls, ha! what a stupidity.

His tongue is inside of my mouth licking every single corner, I keep my mouth wide open for him, I like to feel this way, to feel attacked somehow. Neither at fighting neither in life I have felt this way, but with him it feels like magic to be submissive, to be vulnerable.

"Get on the bed" he orders me, I get in doggy style on the big bed, showing him my wetness "you're so sexy" he whispers in my ear before throw his shirt, he lifts me so I am now kneeled. He's behind me sucking my back's skin, his hands are touching my neck, my breasts, my abs.

"Seunghyun, please" I take his right hand guiding it to my clit, he caresses my it with no mercy, two of his left hand’s fingers are inside of me, trying to find my g-spot. I start to shake violently when he finds it, my moans are blasting out "how can you be so wet? Fuck, you’re soaking my hand" He tells me then he bits my shoulder gently, I blush. That makes me feel embarrassed, he pushes me softly, I’m in doggy again.

I feel my liquids drench my inner thighs. I whimper at the time his tongue makes circles around my tight hole. I fell over the bed, my ass in the air giving him more access. he sucks my thighs, he groans. “So good” his husky voice fills my brain. His hands spreads my pussy, then his tongue goes as deep as it can.

"Let me help you" I say spreading my sex with my own hands “shit, ____" I'm moaning hard, convulsing, my toes curling... well, I guess no one will care here.

He suddenly moves apart, he's taking a condom from his black backpack "do it quick, Seunghyun" I say while fingering me, I was so aroused "your wish is my command”. How can he act like this? Like he knows everything about sex, how can he fuck me so good as if he had lots of experience? But, how can he also can be so innocent as the last night? I don't care now. You know I have such a high sex drive... and fortunately he has it too, he’s perfect for me.

He was going deep and rough, the perfect mix for me “Seunghyun, harder” I beg, soon his making me tremble with every single thrust “yes, Seunghyun!” I mewl. I’m feeling so good, my legs are quivering for him, my sex desperately clenches around him “shit, fuck me harder!” I cry out. He grabs my hips helping him to do it quicker and rougher “Seung...!” I’m not able to speak properly his name, my high ts me in waves. All I can hear now is Seughyun trying to catch his breath

“Seunghyun” I call him while he takes the condom off “my beloved señorita” he says “my spanish classes are not that bad, are it?” he chuckles “I love when you teach me how to speak spanish, it turns me on” I laugh at his confession “oh my god, I’ll do it more often then” I say.

Daesung’s point of view

I shopped some groceries, I ate at the hotel’s restaurant, the normal things I used to do when we were in this kind of missions. I was watching videos after receiving the instructions of Boss Zhao for tomorrow.

In no time I heart ___ voice. She was moaning, maybe she was... well masturbating. I was getting hard, I tried my best to not pay attention but... I couldn’t

In no time I was enjoying her beautiful voice. At some point the sounds of skins clashing, and the moaning of a man could be heard too. She was with someone, I wished to be that one as hell. I keep stroking me, I imagined her in the top of me, I’m such a pervert.

In a minute I was in the edge, hearing her voice was too much for me, staining the gray blankets. ‘Yes, Seunghyun’ ‘Fuck me harder’ I heard her almost shouting “so she is with him” I whispered.

When I saw them cozied at the pekin exam I thought that maybe I misunderstood everything, I mean... they could be just close friends... anyways it’s not like I could have an opportunity with her. But why him? He’s not a Boss of a mafia, he’s normal as everyone of us, he works for them. I believed she only dated that kind of men, those ones who have lots of power. I need to rest too, so I clean everything quickly, then I fell asleep in no time.

I've been working on my fanfictions, but I haven't have so much time due to the Week of International Relations at my faculty. So we have to attend many symposiums, conferences, presentations of book, etc. I tried to write in my spare time but my friends keep asking what am I writing, so I get embarrassed and I stop. Today another friend thought I was writing a Haiku 😝

Have a nice week! Love y'all!

If you have a special request let me know! 😊

Alex

2 notes · View notes

wit-craft · 7 years ago

Note

sorry if this is weird and random but do u know any good books with lesbian characters? u just seem like the type of person who would

First of all, can I just say I’m thrilled that i give off that impression? Clearly, I’m doing something right. Second, yes! I do! Not as many as I’d like, but still (also, I’m including bi girls because it does widen the the selection a little.)

Adaption by Malinda Lo

Reese can’t remember anything from the time between the accident and the day she woke up almost a month later. She only knows one thing: She’s different now.

Across North America, flocks of birds hurl themselves into airplanes, causing at least a dozen to crash. Thousands of people die. Fearing terrorism, the United States government grounds all flights, and millions of travelers are stranded.

Reese and her debate team partner and longtime crush David are in Arizona when it happens. Everyone knows the world will never be the same. On their drive home to San Francisco, along a stretch of empty highway at night in the middle of Nevada, a bird flies into their headlights. The car flips over. When they wake up in a military hospital, the doctor won’t tell them what happened, where they are—or how they’ve been miraculously healed.

Things become even stranger when Reese returns home. San Francisco feels like a different place with police enforcing curfew, hazmat teams collecting dead birds, and a strange presence that seems to be following her. When Reese unexpectedly collides with the beautiful Amber Gray, her search for the truth is forced in an entirely new direction—and threatens to expose a vast global conspiracy that the government has worked for decades to keep secret.

they’re sci-fi YA novels with a bi main character and they’re really fun!! There is a love triangle, but it’s resolved super well in the sequel, Inheritance. I promise even if you hate love triangles (I do) just stick it. I don’t want to spoil anything but like… trust me.

The Summer I Wasn’t Me by Jessica Verdi

She never meant for her mom to find out. And now she’s afraid that what’s left of her family is going to fall apart for good.

Lexi knows she can fix everything. She can change. She can learn to like boys. New Horizons summer camp has promised to transform her life, and there’s nothing she wants more than to start over.

But sometimes love has its own path…

This is just about the only realistic fiction/coming out story on here— I’m usually not a huge fan. But I read this when I was younger and first coming to terms with my sexuality so it gets a spot.

Ash by Malinda Lo

In the wake of her father’s death, Ash is left at the mercy of her cruel stepmother. Consumed with grief, her only joy comes by the light of the dying hearth fire, rereading the fairy tales her mother once told her. In her dreams, someday the fairies will steal her away, as they are said to do. When she meets the dark and dangerous fairy Sidhean, she believes that her wish may be granted.

The day that Ash meets Kaisa, the King’s Huntress, her heart begins to change. Instead of chasing fairies, Ash learns to hunt with Kaisa. Though their friendship is as delicate as a new bloom, it reawakens Ash’s capacity for love-and her desire to live. But Sidhean has already claimed Ash for his own, and she must make a choice between fairy tale dreams and true love.

Entrancing, empowering, and romantic, Ash is about the connection between life and love, and solitude and death, where transformation can come from even the deepest grief.

Have you ever wondered what Cinderella would be like if it were gay and had proper faeries? Wonder no more; Ash is the book for you! Seriously though, Lo is a godsend when it comes to queer si-fi/fantasy YA fiction. She has a couple more books that I haven’t read yet but look just as good.

And I Darken by Kiersten White

No one expects a princess to be brutal. And Lada Dragwlya likes it that way. Ever since she and her gentle younger brother, Radu, were wrenched from their homeland of Wallachia and abandoned by their father to be raised in the Ottoman courts, Lada has known that being ruthless is the key to survival. She and Radu are doomed to act as pawns in a vicious game, an unseen sword hovering over their every move. For the lineage that makes them special also makes them targets.

Lada despises the Ottomans and bides her time, planning her vengeance for the day when she can return to Wallachia and claim her birthright. Radu longs only for a place where he feels safe. And when they meet Mehmed, the defiant and lonely son of the sultan, Radu feels that he’s made a true friend—and Lada wonders if she’s finally found someone worthy of her passion.

But Mehmed is heir to the very empire that Lada has sworn to fight against—and that Radu now considers home. Together, Lada, Radu, and Mehmed form a toxic triangle that strains the bonds of love and loyalty to the breaking point.

Okay so… technically, this one probably doesn’t really belong on this list but like. Guys. It’s so good. And there are lesbians, they’re just not quite main characters, and there’s other queer characters who have larger parts. It’s based on the stories of Vlad the Impaler, re-imagined if he were a woman. The pov characters are Lada (Vlad) and her brother Radu, and I love them, and their messy ass relationship, both so much. It’s all set in the royal court of the ottoman empire, in the midst of the crusades, and there’s so much about fascinating political-religious tensions, and it’s historical fiction (queer historical fiction!!! (queer historical fiction not set in Western Europe!!!)). The sequel is Now I Rise, and features the lesbians more heavily.

The Dark Wife by Sarah Diemer

Three thousand years ago, a god told a lie. Now, only a goddess can tell the truth. Persephone has everything a daughter of Zeus could want–except for freedom. She lives on the green earth with her mother, Demeter, growing up beneath the ever-watchful eyes of the gods and goddesses on Mount Olympus. But when Persephone meets the enigmatic Hades, she experiences something new: choice. Zeus calls Hades “lord” of the dead as a joke. In truth, Hades is the goddess of the underworld, and no friend of Zeus. She offers Persephone sanctuary in her land of the dead, so the young goddess may escape her Olympian destiny. But Persephone finds more than freedom in the underworld. She finds love, and herself.

Have you ever thought Ancient Greek Myths were too heterosexual? Probably not, but now they’re even gayer! A re-imagining of Hades and Persephone where Hades is a woman. It’s a really quick read with a great love story and I highly recommend it.

Girls Made of Snow and Glass by Melissa Bashardoust

At sixteen, Mina’s mother is dead, her magician father is vicious, and her silent heart has never beat with love for anyone—has never beat at all, in fact, but she’d always thought that fact normal. She never guessed that her father cut out her heart and replaced it with one of glass. When she moves to Whitespring Castle and sees its king for the first time, Mina forms a plan: win the king’s heart with her beauty, become queen, and finally know love. The only catch is that she’ll have to become a stepmother.Fifteen-year-old Lynet looks just like her late mother, and one day she discovers why: a magician created her out of snow in the dead queen’s image, at her father’s order. But despite being the dead queen made flesh, Lynet would rather be like her fierce and regal stepmother, Mina. She gets her wish when her father makes Lynet queen of the southern territories, displacing Mina. Now Mina is starting to look at Lynet with something like hatred, and Lynet must decide what to do—and who to be—to win back the only mother she’s ever known…or else defeat her once and for all.Entwining the stories of both Lynet and Mina in the past and present, Girls Made of Snow and Glass traces the relationship of two young women doomed to be rivals from the start. Only one can win all, while the other must lose everything—unless both can find a way to reshape themselves and their story.

I am a sucker for a good adaption of myths and fairy tales, and this is probably my favorite. The plot, the concept… it’s so original and just absolutely delicious. The writing was good, if not the best I’ve ever read, but the characters were wonderful. Also, I picked it up without knowing it was gay, so I was very pleasantly surprised. Oh, but don’t worry– Mina and Lynet aren’t together, there’s no weird stepmother/daughter shit going on. They have separate love stories.

Fingersmith by Sarah Waters

Sue Trinder is an orphan, left as an infant in the care of Mrs. Sucksby, a “baby farmer,” who raised her with unusual tenderness, as if Sue were her own. Mrs. Sucksby’s household, with its fussy babies calmed with doses of gin, also hosts a transient family of petty thieves—fingersmiths—for whom this house in the heart of a mean London slum is home.

One day, the most beloved thief of all arrives—Gentleman, an elegant con man, who carries with him an enticing proposition for Sue: If she wins a position as the maid to Maud Lilly, a naïve gentlewoman, and aids Gentleman in her seduction, then they will all share in Maud’s vast inheritance. Once the inheritance is secured, Maud will be disposed of—passed off as mad, and made to live out the rest of her days in a lunatic asylum.

With dreams of paying back the kindness of her adopted family, Sue agrees to the plan. Once in, however, Sue begins to pity her helpless mark and care for Maud Lilly in unexpected ways…But no one and nothing is as it seems in this Dickensian novel of thrills and reversals.

Betrayal! Unbetrayal! Mutual betrayal! Mutual unbetrayal! It’s a wild fucking ride y'all. It also gets pretty fucking dark, but there’s a happy… enough ending, because I don’t do shit without happy endings.

Every Day, David Levithan

Every day a different body. Every day a different life. Every day in love with the same girl.There’s never any warning about where it will be or who it will be. A has made peace with that, even established guidelines by which to live: Never get too attached. Avoid being noticed. Do not interfere.It’s all fine until the morning that A wakes up in the body of Justin and meets Justin’s girlfriend, Rhiannon. From that moment, the rules by which A has been living no longer apply. Because finally A has found someone he wants to be with—day in, day out, day after day.

Eh, I debated whether to put this on here. As you can see, it’s about a kid who wakes up in a different body every day– be it guy or girl. From what I recall, “A” themself doesn’t every assign a gender to themself, and the book is in first person from their perspective, but the Goodreads description does use he/him pronouns. I read it as a non-binary/genderfluid person who falls in love with a girl, and it’s a really good book, so. Take it or leave it, it’s up to you. On an unrelated note, I think there’s a movie coming out soon.

That’s all I can think of at the moment! Hope you find something you like.

#books recs #queer fiction #lesbian fiction

6 notes · View notes

mysmesecretvalentines · 8 years ago

Text

Secret Valentine

Note: MC’s name is Soneve Dove Zedseng (anagram of Godd707 ;)) Also, please spare me…I have no idea how to make chocolate :’D

Soneve giggled softly as something bumped her nose.

“Soneve~! Wake up Dove!” a voice singsonged in her ear.

“Nooo, it’s too early!” she groaned. “I don’t wanna get up!”

“Open the shades Yoosungie,” the voice ordered rather playfully.

“Aye aye sir!” another voice, cute yet boyish, answered cheerfully.

Suddenly, a bright light streamed into the room, burning Soneve’s eyes, making her groan and bury her face into a pillow.

“Why are you so cruel God Seven?!” she whined, her voice muffled by the pillow. “You too Yoosung! Why do you do this to you beloved?!” Soneve cried dramatically.

“Because your two favorite boys want to spend time with their beloved girlfriend on Valentine’s Day,” Seven cooed into her ear. “Or did you forget what day it was?”

At his words, Soneve tilted her head so one eye peeked out.

“It’s…Valentine’s Day…?” she asked uncertainly.

“You forgot, didn’t you?” Yoosung pouted. He had hopped onto the bed next to the brown haired girl. “We even brought gifts!”

The blonde produced a bouquet of roses, seemingly from nowhere, and gave it to Soneve to smell.

“You got…gifts?” she gasped, inhaling the flowery scent.

“Well, yeah. We are dating, Neve,” Saeyoung piped up. He crawled over next to Yoosung and wrapped his arm around his waist and kissed the smaller boy’s forehead. Yoosung turned a shade of pink.

“S-Saeyoung? I got this for you,” the blonde stuttered, holding out a small box.

“Hmm? What’s this?” The redhead took the box and opened it to reveal a silver chain with a golden key with a rose entwined around it.

“Ooh~! Shiny, shiny!” Saeyoung sang, hooking it around his neck. Soneve could’ve sworn that he had hearts in his eyes.

“You’re just like a cat,” she remarked.

“Meow~!” Saeyoung grinned mischievously and made a cat’s claw, swiping it playfully at Soneve and Yoosung.

“Woof woof!” Yoosung barked playfully.

With a devious smirk, the redhead licked the boy’s cheek, making him turn red.

“S-Seven!” he yelped.

“I want a kiss too~!” Soneve wheedled.

Saeyoung smirked at his girlfriend and shook his head. “Get up first, then you’ll get two.”

The brunette immediately shot up, making the two boys laugh.

“Now, how about that kiss?” she teased.

Yoosung leaned over and tenderly brushed a strand of hair away, before giving her a sweet, yet short, kiss on the lips. Saeyoung grinned at her at her and beckoned her closer. Soneve obediently clambered onto his lap and the redhead leaned down and kissed her as well, his kiss lingering a bit longer than Yoosung’s.

“Your turn, Dove,” Saeyoung smiled.

“Quit with the nickname,” Soneve joked, secretly pleased at the pet name. Her full name was Soneve Dove Zedseng and Seven, being the hacker he was, managed to find out her full name and had started affectionately calling her ‘Dove.’

“You know you love it,” the redhead winked.

Soneve rolled her eyes and kissed him. As she started to let go, he pulled her closer, deepening it. From next to him, Yoosung let out a pathetic whine. The brunette managed to escape the grasp of Seven and crawled onto the blonde and kissed him too. He sighed happily against her lips.

“So, what’re we doing today?” Soneve asked.

“Since you forgot to get us gifts…” Saeyoung began with a grin.

“We figured…” Yoosung continued, matching his boyfriend’s smile.

“You could make us chocolate!” they both cheered.

The brunette sighed. “Fine,” she agreed. She did forget to get them something after all.

“Oh!” the redhead exclaimed. He pulled out a small box from his usual hoodie and opened it. A small silver bracelet sat in it with three charms: a flower, a heart, and a cat. “For you Soneve.”

She blushed. “Thanks babe. You too, sweetheart.” She beamed at a blushing Yoosung.

“And for you!” Seven pulled out a black necklace with a silver emblem. The blonde gasped. “I-Is that…!”

“The exclusive LOLOL necklace!” Seven exclaimed dramatically. “For my prince.”

He moved to hook it around Yoosung’s slender neck and the smaller of the two admired the silver pendant. “Wow! Thanks babe!” he gasped.

“Anything for my two favorite people!” the redhead winked.

“So, Luciel, what do the pendants stand for?” Soneve queried curiously.

“Oh! I forgot to explain that,” he chuckled. “The cat is me, the flower is Yoosungie, and you’re the heart,” Luciel explained.

“Why am I the heart?” Soneve wondered.

To her surprise, Yoosung chuckled and kissed her forehead. “Because you stole our hearts,” he replied sweetly, turning red at his own comment.

“She and I stole your heart, Yoosungie~!” Seven corrected. “But both of you hacked your way into mine,” he flirted, winking.

“Well, both of you have the keys to my heart.” Soneve smiled, nuzzling into each boy.

The three of them sat, content with each other’s company as they cuddled.

“This is very cheesy,” Saeyoung commented.

“Can’t deny that,” Yoosung chuckled.

“I second that. Let’s get up now,” Soneve said. “We’re making chocolate.”

~.~

“So!” Soneve examined their chocolate ingredients. “Shall we get started?”

“Wait!” Yoosung bustled into the kitchen, holding a bunch of aprons. “We need these, right?” he asked.

“Good idea Yoosungie~!” Seven said, taking a pink, cat pattered apron from the pile. The redhead modeled for them, striking a pose, making the two giggle.

“Contestant Number One!” Soneve announced. She grandly swept her arm in the direction of Luciel. “Our sexy sinnamon roll, Godd 707!”

Saeyoung held the pose as Yoosung clapped, discreetly admiring his boyfriend’s good looks. Soneve held an apron out to the blonde, who took it and put it on.

“We have Contestant Number Two! Welcome, cinnamon bun, master LOLOL gamer, Yoosung!” the brunette sang, sweeping her arm to ‘reveal’ Yoosung. The blonde blushed and smiled innocently in his sky blue apron with black stars.

“What’s with the food titles?” Seven asked.

Soneve shrugged. “We are sort of baking, aren’t we?”

“True.”

The girl donned a gray apron with little pink hearts and Saeyoung took over announcing.

“And last, but definitely not least, sinnamon bun with a hot ass, our saving grace, the Dove!” the redhead announced, winking at Soneve.

Said girl rolled her hazel eyes, but posed and held it for several seconds.

“Now! It’s time to find out if Soneve Zedseng’s cooking skills are good enough to make Valentine’s Day chocolate for her boyfriends! Begin!” Soneve slammed her palm onto the counter, laughing.

The brunette retrieved a silver bowl and the trio started throwing ingredients in. Some flour fell onto Seven, courtesy of poor, klutzy Yoosung. The the redhead knew it was on accident, he couldn’t help but take a pinch of flour and throw it into Yoosung’s face.

“Saeyoung!” he cried out, making the redhead smirk.

Hearing her innocent boyfriend cry out, Soneve took a spoon and flicked some sugar onto Saeyoung.

“Don’t tease Yoosung,” she scolded as she started to beat the batter. The redhead grinned, kissing Soneve’s cheek and he wrapped his arms around Yoosung. “It was just some harmless fun,” he assured with an angelic smile.

“Oh Seven…” Soneve sighed as she mixed the batter, turning it thick and chocolatey.

“Yum!” Yoosung eyed the batter. “It looks good…” His mouth watered a bit. “Neve, can I have a bit?”

“Sure!” she responded. A lightbulb lit up in her head and she swiped her finger across the edge of the bowl and stuck it in Yoosung’s mouth, causing his eyebrows to shoot straight up and his cheeks to flush.

“!!!”

Soneve giggled at her boyfriend’s expression, making him smile too. Meanwhile, Saeyoung had taken some as well.

“Ahhh…tastes great Dove!” he sighed contently. Seven’s amber eyes suddenly lit up. “Can we add Honey Buddha Chips and Ph.D. Pepper?” he asked hopefully.

Soneve gaped at him. “Are you serious?”

“Yup.”

“I’m probably going to regret this…” she muttered underneath her breath. “…Sure?”

Saeyoung squealed as he dashed into the pantry and grabbed a can of soda and a bag of chips. When he came back, Yoosung and Soneve were staring at him.

“What?” the redhead asked, clueless.

“You…squealed,” Yoosung choked out.

“I-It was…” Soneve stuttered.

“SO CUTE!!!” they both shrieked in unison.

Saeyoung laughed. “You two…” To his surprise, his boyfriend and girlfriend had launched themselves onto him, tackling him to the floor.

“That sound was so cute and…and…PURE!” Soneve screamed.

“Make it again!” Yoosung pleaded.

Saeyoung squealed again and Soneve and Yoosung buried their faces into the crook of his neck.

“You two are overreacting,” he muttered, his face flushed.

“My soul has been cleansed,” Soneve sighed wistfully.

“Well, tonight, I’m gonna dirty your soul again,” the redhead teased suggestively, winking.

“SEVEN!” they both screeched, turning red.

He laughed and pulled them closer. “I love you both.”

“Love you too,” the duo murmured. Yoosung tilted his head upwards to kiss Saeyoung, while Soneve kissed the side of his neck.

The young man sighed blissfully and they sat on the floor for several moments, Yoosung’s face white with flour, Saeyoung’s cheek with a dash of sugar, and Soneve with cocoa powder down her apron.

“So, how about that chocolate?”

“Let’s get back to work.”

~.~

“SAEYOUNG! YOU PUT TOO MUCH SODA AND CHIPS IN!” Soneve shrieked, staring at the amount of chips and soda in the bowl.

“You never said how much I could put in!” Said boy protested.

“Ugh, I sorely regret letting him do that.” The brunette massaged her temples.

“Hey, you never know, it might not be that bad,” Yoosung comforted, hugging her from behind.

“I hope you’re right.”

After Soneve managed to mostly mix the chips and soda into the batter, they poured the batter into little heart, circle, and square shapes and put it in the oven.

“I can’t wait to taste them!” Yoosung gushed.

“Me too!” Saeyoung echoed.

“Shall we watch a movie while we wait?” the brunette girl offered.

“Let’s.”

~.~

Yoosung could hardly breathe. He was squished in between Soneve and Saeyoung, watching a cheesy rendition of Romeo and Juliet. He didn’t mind the closeness of the two, but…he. Couldn’t. Concentrate. On. The. Movie. Why? Because the two were whispering the lines into his ear, quite sexily, he may add.

“But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon…”

The blonde inhaled sharply, listening to Seven recite each line. A hand crept across his lap. Soneve’s. The redhead reached out for her as well, still murmuring lines into Yoosung’s ear. Their hands intertwined together and the blonde, feeling a bit left out, placed his hand on top of theirs. The other two twisted their hands to let him in.

“O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name. Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I’ll no longer be a Capulet,” Soneve read off the caption. “…What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet…”

“I take thee at thy word. Call me but love, and I’ll be new baptized. Henceforth I never will be Romeo,” Saeyoung responded sweetly.

“You two…” Yoosung was at a loss for words.

“Yes babe?” Soneve purred into his ear.

“Did you need something?” Luciel asked, skipping a few lines to whisper into his ear.

“Y-you two are distracting…” Yoosung blushed.

“Oh?” The redhead raised an eyebrow at the blonde, then shared a mischievous look with his girlfriend on the other side.

Soneve smirked, letting her hands trail under the blushing blonde’s shirt. “Is this distracting?” she teased.

Yoosung bit his lip as Saeyoung nipped his neck affectionately. He was suddenly saved by the dinging of the alarm of the oven.

“It’s done!” Soneve squealed.

She was the first up and to the oven to take them out. The two boys followed her, watching as she pulled on a pair of oven mitts and carefully removed the tray. A sweet aroma filled the air.

“Smells good…” Saeyoung sighed.

“Yeah…” Yoosung inhaled.

“Don’t touch it; we need to wait for it to cool,” Soneve instructed.

“Dammit,” the redhead groaned, his fingers hovering over the tray.

“Saeyoung,” the brunette scolded.

“Fine, fine,” he complained.

“We should go take a shower while we wait,” Yoosung offered.

A devious smirk curved onto Seven’s mouth. “Oh yes. Great idea babe,” he replied, eyes glittering.

Both Yoosung and Soneve backed away. “Uh oh…”

~.~

“Jesus Seven…” Soneve groaned as she pulled on an oversized black shirt and underwear. “You must have a lot of pent up sexual frustration.”

Her boyfriend shrugged as he put on a pair of yellow and black cat boxers. “What can I say? I’m a loving guy,” he winked.

Yoosung grinned as he pulled out plain blue boxers. “You think the chocolates have cooled yet?” he asked hopefully.

“Considering how long Saeyoung kept us in the shower, definitely,” Soneve replied, flashing Seven a dirty look.

Without even bothering to get properly dressed, the trio made their way to the kitchen, where a set of chocolates sat on the counter.

“Wait. Hold up,” Soneve said, putting up her hand.

“What happened?” Yoosung asked curiously, glancing over her shoulder.

The brunette grabbed two red bags and a roll of pink ribbon and she quickly filled the bags and tied the ribbons around the bags. She turned around and presented the two bags to her surprised, yet almost amused, boyfriends.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!”

She beamed happily and the two boys took their bags and wrapped themselves around her.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” they murmured into her ear.

Saeyoung suddenly scooped her up into his arms and let Yoosung jump onto his bag. He managed to walk them all the way over to the couch, where he dropped them and jumped onto the couch next to them.

“Shall we eat?” He opened his bag first and pulled out two chocolates. “Open up!” Seven teased.

Soneve giggled lightly as she opened her mouth along with Yoosung. Saeyoung smiled cheekily as he placed the chocolate between his lips and fed it to her with his mouth. The girl squeaked as the chocolate entered her mouth, a slight blush coloring her cheeks.

“S-Seven!” she squeaked.

He chuckled and placed the other chocolate between his lips, smirking at his next target. Before Yoosung could react, the redhead had placed his lips onto his, pushing the chocolate into his mouth. Luciel watched his lovers chew the chocolate thoughtfully.

“How is it?” he asked.

“See for yourself,” Yoosung responded, putting a piece between his lips and feeding it to Seven. The redhead let the flavor wash over his tongue, before grimacing and sticking his tongue out.

“Ewww!” he whined. Soneve and Yoosung laughed at his expression.

“All your fault!” Soneve accused.

“Your fault for not specifying how much to put in!”

“It’s implied.”

Yoosung watched the tennis match go back and forth for a few moments, before interfering.

“Guys, guys, it’s Valentine’s Day; can we please not fight?” he pleaded, giving them his puppy dog eyes.

“Fine,” Soneve relented, melting at his expression.

Seven nodded, silently pulling the girl and boy closer.

“Sorry Dove,” he apologized.

“S’okay.”

Yoosung smiled and snuggled into Seven’s chest.

“Let’s eat more!” he sang.

“You’re not serious, are you?” Soneve demanded.

“Yes.” Yoosung glanced at the two from underneath his eyelashes. “It was fun,” he admitted.

“…okay.”

~.~

For the next hour, the three lazily crashed on the couch, feeding each other chocolates and laughing at how bad it was.

“God, we’re such bad cooks!” Yoosung laughed, twirling a strand go Soneve’s hair between his fingers as Seven traced his fingers up and down the blonde’s thigh. The brunette was resting her head in the crook of Saeyoung’s neck, her hands rubbing his chest.

“I know right!” Soneve giggled, placing a piece of chocolate on the redhead’s chest and eating it.

“Gimme one,” Saeyoung wheedled, stopping his rubbing to twist his hands into the blonde’s hair.

Yoosung picked up a piece and dropped it into his boyfriend’s mouth.

“Mm…so sweet,” Saeyoung sighed, grimacing towards the end. “And then…there’s that,” he grumbled.

“You need something really sweet? Then, how about me?” Yoosung flirted, slightly red.

The redhead immediately sat up, causing Soneve to fall off, squeaking. A devious smirk had crossed his face.

“I like the way you think,” Saeyoung teased.

Yoosung’s face turned crimson. “It-I-I was kidding!” he shrieked.

“Oh, sure you were,” he taunted.

Soneve popped up behind him. “Bedroom?” she offered wryly.

“Hell yes.”

Saeyoung dragged them off to the bedroom, his eyes glinting maliciously behind his glasses.

“I’m gonna make you both see stars tonight.”

~.~

My gift for @godd707 :3 Happy Valentine's Day and I hoped you enjoyed! I couldn't put your name...sadly...so I made an anagram of your pen name: Godd Seven Zero Seven :D Sorry it's kinda...meh...anyways, I hoped you liked! I'm a huge fan of your blog and I'm honored to make this for my Senpai/Valentine ;3 And...this is too long...well, happy Valentine's Day and hope you have a great day!

~ SoulHorse

#mysme secret valentines 2k17 #mystic messenger #yoosung kim #707 #fic #submission

24 notes · View notes

glittership · 5 years ago

Text

Episode #77 — "The Quiet Realm of the Dark Queen" by Jenny Blackford

Direct download here

And here’s the RSS feed: http://glittership.podbean.com/feed/

Episode 77 is part of the Autumn 2018 issue!

Support GlitterShip by picking up your copy here: http://www.glittership.com/buy/

The Quiet Realm of the Dark Queen

by Jenny Blackford

Dumuzi—my beautiful brother Dumuzi, lovelier than the first green shoots of barley rising from the dark mud of an irrigated field—Dumuzi was dead.

Father had not spoken for six days. Not long ago, he’d been a great king in the fullness of his manhood, but now he was hobbling around the halls of the palace like an old grasshopper waiting for death. His hair was gray; his face was grayer still.

Mother was quiet at last. For six full days and nights she’d wailed and screamed on her wide bed of gold, tearing her soft face and her lovely breasts with her nails, pulling great lumps of curled and scented hair from her luxuriant head, berating all the gods for their cruelty to her. The people said that she was no mere mortal beauty but a goddess walking on earth with us, and she did not disagree; but even if this were true, it did not diminish her fury against the other gods.

[Full story & transcript after the cut.]

Hello! Welcome to GlitterShip Episode 77 for the longest March, 31st, 2020. This is your host, Keffy, and I’m super excited to be sharing this story with you. Our story for today is The Quiet Realm of the Dark Queen by Jenny Blackford read by Marcy Rae Henry and Amber Gray.

Before we get into the story, I’ve got a few things to say. First of all, much love to everyone out there in the world as we face this pandemic together. Love to all those who are suffering, whether from the virus itself, from loss of or fear for loved ones, from financial uncertainty, or from the fear of what the next day will bring. As in most times of extreme disaster, we’re seeing both acts of extreme sociopathy and extreme kindness. Please do what you can to stay safe. Once you’ve got your own oxygen mask on, see what you can do for others.

GlitterShip was originally going to run a full-sized Kickstarter in an attempt to increase our rates, but a combination of finances, time, and the magical world of Keffy-is-still-working-on-a-PhD made that deeply unfeasible, which only became moreso when the pandemic started really ramping up in the States.

That said, we are running a much smaller Kickstarter at https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/keffy/glittership-a-queer-sfandf-magazine-going-for-year-4 in order to fund the next year of GlitterShip through the end of 2020. The much smaller amount is designed to get us through the year and pay off some previous incurred debts. That said, there are also a few stretch goals just in case. If we go considerably over our goal, we’ll pay authors more, yay! As of this recording on March 31st, the Kickstarter is about 2/3 of the way funded. The Kickstarter is live until 9pm United States Eastern time on Friday, April 10, 2020. Thank you so much in advance for helping me keep GlitterShip going.

Finally, this episode is from the last issue, but there’s going to be a new issue released extremely soon as we get back on track!

And now, onto “The Quiet Realm of the Dark Queen” by Jenny Blackford, read by Marcy Rae Henry and Amber Gray.

Jenny is an Australian writer and poet. Her poems and stories have appeared in Cosmos, Pulp Literature, Strange Horizons, and more. Pamela Sargent called her subersively feminist novella, The Priestess and the Slave, “elegant”. She won two prizes in the 2016 Sisters in Crime Australia Scarlet Stiletto awards for a murder mystery set in classical Delphi, with water nymphs. You can find her at www.jennyblackford.com.

Marcy Rae Henry is a Latina born and raised in Mexican-America/The Borderlands. Her writing and visual art appears or is forthcoming in FlowerSong Books’ Selena Anthology, Thimble Literary Magazine, New Mexico Review, The Wild Word, Beautiful Losers, The Acentos Review, World Haiku Review, Chicago Literati, The Chaffey Review, Shanghai Literary Review, Damaged Goods Press/TQ Review. Her publication, The CTA Chronicles, received a Chicago Community Arts Assistance Grant and Cumbia Therapy, her collection of Spanglish stories, received an Illinois Arts Council Fellowship. Ms. M.R. Henry is currently seeking publication of two novellas. She is an Associate Professor of Humanities and Fine Arts at Harold Washington College Chicago.

Amber Gray is a theatre artist and lover of stories. She enjoys mimicking and creating character voices, especially in song, for her own amusement and the annoyance of those around her who have to put up with it. Thank you to Marcy for being such a good friend and neighbor, and for inviting her to have such a fun time with this project.

The Quiet Realm of the Dark Queen

by Jenny Blackford

Dumuzi—my beautiful brother Dumuzi, lovelier than the first green shoots of barley rising from the dark mud of an irrigated field—Dumuzi was dead.

“My life is nothing without him,” she’d screamed again and again. “Why did you not take me instead, or my husband, or my worthless, thankless, useless daughter?”

I was the useless daughter, of course. I had failed to save my brother from the demons that hunted him to the Underworld. My mother would never forgive me.

Finally, Mother swallowed enough sweet wine laced with poppy juice and honey from the alabaster cup I held to her lips to bring merciful sleep. Death would perhaps have been more merciful for her.

As I put down the cup and smoothed her hair, my mother woke herself just enough to hiss, “Far better that you had been taken, daughter, than him, Dumuzi, the beloved of my heart. Why did you not give yourself to the demons instead? Why did you let them take him? Why? How could you let them take him? My Dumuzi!”

And, truly, I understood. My brother Dumuzi had been more than beautiful, when he had walked this earth.

My suitors—brought by my father’s wealth and my mother’s beauty—had been enthusiastic enough, over the years, until each in his turn had seen my brother. Only a few men are immune to the charms of a pretty boy, and will always prefer the soft roundnesses of woman to a boy’s firm flats and hollows. Even those men, those devoted lovers of women, wanted my brother more than they wanted me, once they had met him. But all left the palace disconsolate: Dumuzi had eyes for none but peerless Ishtar, daughter of the Moon, queen of heaven and earth, goddess of love.

I had not always been in second place. I was the firstborn child of our parents; when I was a toddler, I was my father’s delight, my mother’s plaything. Father ordered his artisans to make me golden carts with silver wheels, and dolls carved from fragrant cedar with eyes of lapis lazuli and hair of gold. Mother dressed me in tiny versions of court ladies’ dresses in blue and purple, fringed with silver and pearls, tinkling with the myriad silver moon-crescents sewn to them. But in my fourth year, my mother’s belly swelled again.

Even as a newborn babe, Dumuzi shone tender as the spring sun on a field of emmer wheat. I was forgotten. Kings and wise men came from the ends of the earth with gifts of jewels and spices, merely to gaze on my brother’s shining face. The peasants bowed down to him; the slaves openly worshipped him as a god.

But now that Dumuzi was dead, now that the demons had taken him to the Underworld in exchange for his lover, the goddess Ishtar, no man could bear to look upon my face; they turned their heads in angry grief for my brother. Women screamed and wept, tearing at their cheeks and their clothes. If they had dared, they’d have attacked me with their bare hands.

Even the sheep, which Dumuzi had loved above all other beasts, refused to walk to their grassy fields. The noises that they made were so full of grief that they would have brought sorrow to the heart of the most joyful stranger. The sun was hot in the sky, burning the crops, and the fertile irrigated fields were cracked, dry mud. Only the old vizier came to my room and wept with me for my brother’s death. Perhaps the people were right; perhaps it would have been better if I had died, instead of him.

But it was not my fault that Dumuzi was taken from us as ransom for Ishtar. Only the gods knew why the goddess had challenged her sister’s power in the Underworld and been trapped there. I had done my best to protect my brother, as an older sister must, when demons were sent to drag him to the Underworld to take mighty Ishtar’s place.

The demons had threatened me with death when they searched for him; they even tried to bribe me with precious water and with fields of grain. But my brother was my river of precious water; he was my field of grain. I could never have betrayed him. It was not me who gave him up to the demons, but his childhood companion, his dearest male friend, who took the bribe. But no one cared. They loved my brother Dumuzi so much that they loved his friend for his sake; my less lovely face reminded them too much of my beautiful sibling.

After another night of evil dreams, I could not bear it another moment. A little before noon, I went to the Field of the Winged Bulls.

The life-sized sculptures of the human-headed bulls that guarded the entrance to the palace, strong golden wings tucked against their massive basalt flanks, made all who saw them catch their breath in fear and awe. Though the bulls’ magic protected the city, few other than the members of our family had ever seen the models for those sculptures in real life.

The winged bulls and their mates, in the flesh, were more glorious in appearance and in power than words could tell, but they detested the eyes of human strangers. A plump, bejeweled dynasty of blond slaves from the north tended to all their needs: combed their glossy blue-black hides, polished their golden hoofs, fed them the figs and dates, sweet grapes and honey cakes that they craved; but I was the only living human, other than their slaves, whom they permitted to enter their compound.

The human-headed bulls lazed with their herd in the shade under the date palms, in the vast enclosure that they had requested a thousand years ago, when they’d taken up residence in the city. The huge twin males, rulers of the herd, lay perfectly still, not moving a feather or a shining hair, while the three queen females slowly fanned them with their wide golden wings. Six or seven smaller beasts, close to fully grown, lay quietly around them. Even the frisky calves, their wings mere buds on their shoulders, were relatively placid in the heat, scuffling quietly in the grass for fallen dates.

The two great bulls spoke steadily to one another, their deep voices strange and sonorous to human ears. Their faces looked human, but the sounds that they could make in those deep chests were beyond the reach of any man or woman, or ordinary animal, alive. No human had ever learnt more than a few words of their language. They far preferred for us to speak to them in courtly Sumerian or everyday Akkadian, rather than to hear their ancient, sacred speech distorted and defiled by human mouths.

They would not tell us—not even me, their longtime favorite—where they had come from before they took refuge in our palace, except that it was somewhere long ago and very far away. “You wouldn’t understand, child,” they’d said when I’d asked them, when I was young. “It was our destiny. It was in the stars. We are here, now. That’s all you need to know of where we came from.” They’d looked so sad, as they answered me, that I never dared cause them sorrow by asking again.

The deep poetry of the twin bulls’ ancient voices as they conversed in their own language was strangely soothing. I stood leaning against the warm stone wall of the huge enclosure listening, not comprehending anything they said, but slowly growing calmer, until they spoke to me.

“You are unhappy, Geshtinanna,” one of them said. “Is it your brother?”

I nodded.

“Of course,” the other said. “How could things be otherwise, when humans are involved? And the people blame you, though you are surely blameless?”

I nodded again. I did not want to burst into tears in front of the bulls.

The first one said, “Even we were powerless to prevent this fate from falling upon your brother. How could your people believe for a moment that you had the power to challenge the will of the gods?”

I squeezed my eyes tight shut, but fat tears ran down my cheeks nonetheless.

The three dominant females spoke together for some time, after that. I wiped my tears on the hem of my dress and watched their grave conversation. Their voices were like the sound of great bronze bells, sweet but dangerously strong. The males listened, silent like me, as the massive females spoke, each in her turn.

At last, the largest of the females flicked a golden wingtip against my hand, gently as a kiss, and gave me their decision: “You must go to the wise woman, child. Go to Siduri, the woman who brews her beer and keeps her tavern at the end of the earth, by the shores of the Waters of Death. She will advise you what you must do.”

Mother had told me tales of Siduri, of course. Siduri’s tavern, with its peerless beer-vat made from pure gold, stood by the fabled Garden of the Gods, full of vines hung with gems, shrubs with jewels instead of flowers, fat gemstones in the place of fruit. Mother described it endlessly, greedily. Perhaps the people were right; perhaps Mother was a goddess in truth and belonged there in the jeweled garden. Perhaps she would have been happier there. But the place held dangers as well as riches. A single drop from the deep abyss of the Waters of Death could kill in an instant.

“But how do I travel to the ends of the earth, to consult Siduri?” I asked the powerful inhuman creature lying on the grass in front of me. “I am a woman virtually alone, ignored now in my parents’ own palace, though I was born a princess here. Even with the strongest men from my father’s army, I could not hope to travel through the well-armed kingdoms and the trackless wastes between our city and Siduri’s tavern. Even a hero would surely die in the attempt.”

The human-faced female who spoke now for the herd spread out her golden wings in a graceful gesture. “You see my children, and my sisters’ children, all about you. The oldest of them was born some centuries ago, now, and they are almost full-grown, though still young by our standards. We have taught them all we know: astronomy, astrology, cosmogony, theology, geometry, mythology and more.”

I just nodded. What could I say?

She went on, “We will send Kalla with you on your quest, child. She is not much more than three hundred years old, or thereabouts, but she is wise for her age, as you also are.”

One of the young winged cows lifted her head, then and looked at me. Her eyes were the hard, pure blue of the best lapis lazuli, but fierce intelligence shone in them. But did her mouth tremble with suppressed fear? I tried to smile bravely at her. I was a princess. A princess might know fear, but she must never show it.

The older female spoke again. “You and Kalla will do well together, we believe.” She sighed. “We hope so. This quest could be more dangerous than any that we have attempted for many years.”

Fear touched me with its black wing, then, but what could I do? My life in the palace, or anywhere in Father’s kingdom, was insupportable. Each moment pricked me to the heart like a sharp bronze dagger. A quest to the ends of the earth and perhaps beyond with a wise, if young, winged beast could hardly be more painful, or more difficult. It was more than likely, I knew, that I would die; but Dumuzi was already dead. What was my life worth now?

“Thank you,” I said, not knowing what else to say. Father’s elderly vizier had coached me well in diplomatic language since my toddlerhood, training me to be a good queen when the time came, but this was not one of the endless number of situations that he had covered.

“Go now, child,” the old female said, “and prepare yourself. This will be no ordinary journey. Pack a little food and water, yes, but other things too. And return soon. It would be best for you to leave before the sun is low in the sky.”

I made a formal gesture of thanks, as the vizier had taught me, and rushed back to my room. To my relief, I reached the room before I burst into flooding tears.

After I composed myself and packed, I went to say farewell to my family.

In my mother’s room, the chief of her women barred the way to her bed, hissing like a snake in an irrigation ditch.

“Geshtinanna! Who do you think you are,” she said, “coming to torment the Queen? You let Dumuzi die, you slut, you useless bitch. Do you think she ever wants to see your face again? Do you think she will ever again call you daughter, after what you did? Go!”

I went, saddened but dry-eyed.

My father, in his throne room, looked at me, then away. The vizier by his side, his hands shaking, pulled at my father’s elbow. “It is your daughter, my King,” he whispered. “It is Geshtinanna. She comes to speak with you.” But Father’s eyes, and mind, were somewhere else, somewhere not good.

The vizier followed me to the door. “I am sorry,” he said. “Your father the King…he is not himself, these days. He will recover, in time. The doctors say so. We must wait patiently.”

“Yes,” I said, then turned to leave.

He looked stricken. “It was not your fault,” he said, in a rush. “The gods know, it was not your fault. The people are like silly sheep. Even their leaders are like sheep. It was not your fault.”

I gave him the formal embrace of sincere thanks which he had first tried to teach me when I was a clumsy four-year-old princess. We were both in tears when I left the room.

Soon, though, I stood again in the Field of the Winged Bulls, this time with all the pieces of my old life that I intended to take with me when I left the palace. Around my neck I wore a necklace that Mother had given me when she still loved me, flat red-gold links with a cow carved from lapis lazuli hanging down from the central point, and from my earlobes dangled crescent earrings covered in golden granulations, also her gift. On my hands were three rings set with hunks of carnelian, sapphire and emerald, all from my father, each given to mark an auspicious birthday. My right wrist bore a bangle of bright beads from the Indus Valley, a gift from Dumuzi, and my left ankle held an anklet of heavy gold inscribed with the signs of the greatest gods, the symbols of the Sun, the Moon, Venus, Mercury and Mars.

There were gold and less precious objects—brooches and pins and other small gewgaws that I could exchange for what I needed on the journey—in a soft leather sack concealed under my dress, and another one, flashier, with less gold in it, tied to my belt. In a bag strapped over my shoulder I had a water-skin, plus soft cheese and juicy half-dried figs; they would last maybe two days. The journey could take months, or never end; I would get more food and drink when I needed it, or not at all.

Kalla was at one end of the compound, alone. I walked over to her.

“You must settle yourself behind my wings,” she said, flicking her tail nervously. “I will carry you where the elders say you must go.” Her blue eyes glanced at the herd at the other end of the compound, then looked back down into my face.

I was going to ride on her back?

“Oh,” I said, looking at that glossy expanse of hide, higher and wider than my father’s royal throne, almost as wide as my bed.

But what had I imagined? That we would walk together sedately through the palace gates, with the people waving us on our way, and proceed on foot to the ends of the earth?

Kalla’s tail flicked again. I could feel her anxiety overlaid on my own. This would be her first time away from her herd, and it would be no easier for her than for me. But she was too stressed to understand that I—a princess, but all the same a puny human female—could not vault onto her back, higher than the top of my head. What could I say, that would not cause her shame in front of the herd?

What would the vizier do, that consummate old diplomat, in my position? His daily lessons had almost become second nature: I must let Kalla work out the problem for herself. I put up my right arm, tentatively, and touched her high on her ribs, barely brushing the glossy blue-black hairs. Her head turned and her eyes followed my movement and the extension of my arm. She blinked in what must have been a mixture of dismay and amusement.

“I’ll kneel for you,” she said, and settled gracefully onto the grass.

It was my turn for dismay. How could I sit on so wide an expanse of back? Kalla was three or four times the size of the asses and wild donkeys that men rode. The dress I wore was practical and simple, plain linen, well designed for dusty travel, with no golden fringes, no tinkling ornaments. Nonetheless, it was too tight for me to stretch my legs so far.

There was only one real possibility. I bent down to my right ankle and ripped the linen of my dress up to mid-thigh. I could pin it together when I needed to be respectable again. Then I lifted my bared right leg over Kalla’s shining back—when I touched her hide, it was like silk from the fabled Orient, beyond the sunrise—and sat. My legs were wide stretched, and it would be painful in time, but for the first time in my life I was grateful for the tedious stretches and long poses of the lessons that I’d been forced to take, for the sacred dances day and night before the gods in their solemn festivals.

“You will not fall,” Kalla said, but her voice sounded a little nervous to me. “Don’t be afraid of that. The elders have arranged for an attachment spell to keep you safe. If you want, through, you can put your hands under where the wings connect to my shoulders. They tell me that you can hold firmly there without hurting me.”

I felt thick muscle under my hands, sunwarmed and strong as stone. I grasped as tightly as I dared.

Kalla stood up onto all fours so carefully that I scarcely shifted, though I was seated so precariously there on her flat back. She turned then towards the herd, which had carefully been ignoring us. The winged beasts were better diplomats even than Father’s vizier.

Kalla cried out to them in her own language, in her voice like a well-tempered bell. Her wide golden wings had already started beating.

“Farewell,” I called, more softly, and waved. “Thank you.” By the time I’d finished speaking, we were in the air above the palace, then flying south-east along the River.

It was as if my gilded silver bed with its duckdown-stuffed mattress had taken wings and started to fly through the sky. I felt as safe sitting on Kalla’s back as I would have on my own bed, and no more likely to fall off. Kalla’s passage through the air was stately, but, even if she hadn’t told me, it would have been clear that a magical force was operating to keep me safely positioned on her shiny-smooth skin. Luckily so: a tumble would have seen me dead, smashed and drowned in the great river which was our kingdom’s life. Mentally, I thanked whichever of Kalla’s herd it was who’d thought to use the spell.

The river Buranun—our land’s lifeblood—was even lovelier from the air than from the earth. I gazed down on its turns and bends, the reedy marshes full of waterbirds, the farmlands irrigated with its water, and the great stone temples of the gods. Sometimes, when we were high or it was close, I even caught sight of our river’s eastern twin, the Idigna. The vizier had taught me the names of the cities there, and their various strengths and weaknesses, in case Father chose one of their foreign kings as my husband. I’d never thought to see it from the air.

No one down below took the least notice of us. “I’m flying high enough that even the sharpest-sighted won’t be able to see anything distinctly,” Kalla said. “They won’t understand how big I am; they’ll think me an eagle, or something of the sort. And they won’t see you at all, Geshtinanna. You’re much too small, you tiny human. It would take two or three of you to make one of our newborn calves.” She laughed deep in her massive chest; after a moment, I laughed too.

We flew for many days, or perhaps months, stopping in the evening only when Kalla sighted a small town, a few isolated farms, where she could stay concealed in the shelter of trees or rocks while I found a farmer’s wife who would be happy to give me food and fill my water-skin for a small piece of gold, even though I was a woman travelling alone. When it grew dark, I slept curled against Kalla’s warm back, comforted by her firm bulk. Her quiet snores made my sleep sweet.

On the first evening it could have been pure luck that I was met with nothing but kindness by a woman busy in her farmhouse. No threats, no violence, no greed at the sight of my gold. But I had learned too much of human nature, both in theory and in practice, to think it normal or natural, after three nights.

“I don’t know,” Kalla said, when I challenged her about the mystery. “It’s not magic, or if it is I’ve never learnt it. The places I stop in just look right, feel right. They call to me.”

“Snakes and dogs know when an earthquake is coming,” I said. “Birds fly north from our marshes, every year, and back again, and winged butterflies build themselves from creeping caterpillars in their cocoons. The wise men call that unknown knowledge instinct. Perhaps you have an instinct for kindness.”

“Perhaps,” she said. “Kindness is good. It is worth seeking.” She looked thoughtful, after that, until she slept.

The next night, as we lay together in the grass under some fig trees, and I apportioned her the larger share of the dates that I’d received from yet another pleasant woman, I asked the question which had worried me since my childhood, when I used to watch the blond slaves tending to the herd’s needs: “How is it that your people are so large, and yet you eat so little?”

“Hmm,” Kalla said, flicking the tips of her wings in amusement. “No one has dared ask us that before. But the answer is simple: we eat merely for pleasure, not out of physical need. We need no food as you humans do, or your animals. Would you like more of the dates?”

“Thank you, but no,” I said. I was blushing with embarrassment. All my childhood, Kalla’s herd had lazed in the compound at the palace, flicking away flies, munching slowly—but they were not mere cattle. Far from it. I said, “I should have known better. I was taught better. You are not mortal, as we are, but guardian djinn, more akin to the gods than to us.”

“Yes, it’s something like that,” Kalla said, laughing the strange, deep laugh of her kind. “We absorb the energy from the sun, as plants do. But it’s too complicated to explain. Push those delicious-smelling fresh dates closer to my mouth, human, and stop worrying about it.” She grinned, then, and used a golden wingtip to brush my head softly.

I tried to treat Kalla more deferentially after that, more as one ought to treat an immortal guardian and less as a friend, but I kept failing. It was like water in the desert, after all my lonely years, to have someone to talk to.

One evening towards the end, as I dismounted, Kalla told me to get all the food I could carry, when I went to the farmhouse nearby.

“Can you see those mountains in the distance?” she asked. “Those little bumps on the horizon? They’re the Mountains of Mashu, the boundary of your human realm, higher and wider than you can imagine. Some say they’re impassable, that they stretch to the heavens. We will come to them tomorrow. There will be streams of pure water, but no farms—no human beings who eat the food that you do.”

After that, we flew not over fertile river plains or even desert but over the rocks and boulders of the mountainside. In the evenings, Kalla refused any of my stores of fruit and cheese.

“I’m not sure how long this will take, trying to skirt around the side of these mountains,” she said. “You need those good-smelling edible things, and I don’t. No, don’t argue, human. I’m older than you. And much bigger.” Her face was serious; only the twitching of her tail told me that she was teasing.

After nine days of mountain flying—cliffs and ravines, springs and cataracts, stands of tall pines and regal cedars—the stocks in my food-pouch were almost gone. I tried not to worry. I had enough for tonight, just barely.

“Look,” Kalla said, around noon. “The glitter, below us. It is the Garden of the Gods, I’m sure it is.” She sounded relieved. Surely my guide and protector had not doubted that she could find it?

I looked down, and gasped.

I had grown up in a palace, surrounded by the riches of men and gods. I used to eat from silver plates, and drink from a golden cup set with gemstones. Mother glittered like the stars in the night sky when she was hung about with gold and jewels for state occasions, and Father’s green alabaster throne set with carnelian and chrysoprase glinted in torchlight.

But this was a garden as big as our city, or larger, with each shrub, each tree, each lush vine scattered with bright jewels in place of fruit and flowers. It was just as Mother had told me, but larger, brighter, more real—and more divine. This was indeed the Garden of the Gods. How had I dared come here?

My awe and wonder at the jeweled garden only increased as we flew closer and I could see more and more gemstones encrusting the plants. And then I saw the sea. It was like our River in flood, but impossibly wide. It stretched to the far horizon and beyond. And then the truth hit me: the Mountains of Mashu, the Garden of the Gods, the wide blue sea—I was where Kalla’s elders had sent me, the fabled ends of the earth. I must find Siduri and ask her advice.

As it happened, I didn’t need to find Siduri. She came to meet me while I was still scrambling down from Kalla’s back.

“We must talk, girl,” Siduri said to me, then looked at Kalla. “You—guardian being—what is your name?”

My massive mount said, “I am Kalla, Goddess.”

Goddess? Of course, I thought. People called Siduri a wise woman, but how could she live here, brewing ale in a vat given to her by the gods, unless she too was one of them, a goddess in her own right?

Siduri nodded. “Kalla, you may now graze on the fruits of the Garden of the Gods.”

Kalla bowed before Siduri. Her human-seeming face was almost impassive as that of the carved bull statues that guard my father’s palace, but I could see the suppressed joy around those stony blue eyes. Kalla moved sedately towards the glowing jewels, her body a picture of restrained decorum.

“The jewels of the gods are a delicacy for Kalla’s kind,” Siduri told me. “They give them strength and wisdom.”

I just stood there helpless before the goddess, my knees trembling, my mind almost blank. Siduri took me by the hand, led me to a bench in front of her tavern, and gave me a silver cup of ale, also pouring one for herself from a golden jug.

“But now,” she said, “you must drink my ale. I have few mortal visitors, here at the ends of the earth, but my ale is excellent.”

I sipped; it was the best I’d ever tasted, better even than the finest of wines in the palace.

“It is excellent indeed, Goddess,” I said. “Thank you.”

“So tell me, girl,” Siduri said. “Why are you so sad?”

That much was simple. “Demons dragged my brother, beautiful Dumuzi, down to the Underworld.”

“Ah, I heard about that. So you are the sister, valiant Geshtinanna, who tried to protect him.”

Unshed tears made my throat hoarse. “I failed.”

The goddess shook her head. “Whether you had failed or not, your brother would have died soon enough. He could perhaps have had ten more years, twenty, maybe even fifty, but death comes to all mortals. It is best if you accept it. Take joy in everyday pleasures: warm baths, clean clothes, good food and drink, making love with your husband, feeling your child’s hand in your own.”

Wise men and poets had said the same thing since the dawn of time. It didn’t help.

I said, “That is excellent advice, Goddess, I have no doubt. But my city is falling to ruin. My mother has had no rest since her son was taken by the demons, and my father the king will not speak even to his closest advisers. Even the slaves and the sheep lament him. The sun burns the crops, and our fields are cracked, dry mud. To escape the sorrow of my brother’s death, I would need to leave my city and my people, never to see them again, and still I would feel their grief and anger.”

Siduri poured herself another cup of ale. “But, Geshtinanna, to leave her family is the lot of all women, whether peasant, noble or goddess. Every woman of marriageable age must leave her father’s house and her mother’s rooms and live instead in a house of strangers. The more exalted the family, the farther the woman must travel from her home.”

I sipped cool ale from my cup before I replied. “That is all too true, Goddess. Indeed, if any of my suitors had paid my bride-price, he would have taken me far from my parents’ palace. His mother would have become my mother, and his father my father. Perhaps, indeed, I would never have seen my own parents again, nor the place where I was born.” Still, it did not help.

The goddess gestured around her. “So why are you here?”

The words came unbidden to my lips. “I must find Dumuzi.”

I hadn’t known, until that instant, what I was going to say. But it was true: the purpose of my quest was to find my brother—in the Underworld. Everything in my life pushed me towards that destiny.

The goddess sighed. “I was afraid of that. Your mortal race finds it so hard to accept death, though it is your lot.”

Death is not the lot of the immortal gods, I thought. Why must it be our lot? Why must we accept it? But I did not speak.

Siduri drained her cup. I looked down and found that mine, too, was empty. The goddess said, “If that is what you want, you must go to the Dark Queen, Ereshkigal.”

Ereshkigal, the Queen of the Underworld, the Queen of the Dead. Ishtar’s sister.

For a moment, the world went hazy-white around me. If I had not been sitting on the bench, I might have fallen. But I remembered the vizier, and how he had trained me. I took a slow, deep breath, and lifted my head high.

“How do I find Ereshkigal?” I asked.

“Ah, that’s an interesting question,” the goddess said. “For mortals, there are many paths to the quiet realm of the Dark Queen. I could slip a simple poison into your cup, or touch you with a single drop of the Waters of Death out there—” the goddess pointed to the sea, moving blue-green against the shoreline in front of us “—or merely wish you dead.”

Gods! I took another deep breath.

Siduri touched my hand, gently and kindly, and said, “But you are fortunate, Geshtinanna. Kalla will take you to the Underworld.”

My heart shuddered at the thought of exposing Kalla to that danger. “Can I ask that of her?”

“Perhaps you could not,” the goddess replied, “though she is no mortal creature. But I will ask her, and she will not refuse me.”

Soon I sat again on Kalla’s broad back, my heart hammering, my fear-cold hands gripping the muscles below her wings. Siduri’s kiss of farewell burned on my cheek.

This time I took no fruit, no water-skin. There was neither eating nor drinking in the Underworld.

Kalla said, “It would be best if you closed your eyes, Geshtinanna. Your kind is not designed for a journey such as this.”

I squeezed my eyelids shut and felt a sudden sensation of dropping through the void. My bowels were cold. There was darkness and confusion all around me: first whirling heat and pressure on my head and body, then a windy emptiness and a searing cold. I heard cries of terror, whimpers and moans. It could have lasted a moment or a year.

Then all was still and quiet, and I opened my eyes. I was in a great cavern, naked as a newborn baby, and stripped of my seven pieces of jewelry, gifts from my family and reminders of my past. Kalla stood beside me, shining blue-black in the light of the torches on the rough-cut walls.

In front of us stood the Queen of the Dead, Ereshkigal, incomparably lovely in her nakedness. A horned crown sat on her glistening hair. Strong dark wings hung behind her, from shoulders to knees. Her hands were almost like human hands, though her nails were talons, but her feet were the strong claws of a bird of prey. Those terrifying feet gripped the backs of twin lions, and two great owls, each as tall as a ten-year-old child, flanked her. She was as beautiful and as terrible as an army arrayed for battle.

“What do you want, mortal woman?” Ereshkigal asked. Her voice was that of a lion calling in the night, or of a huge owl hunting before moonrise. My breathing quickened at the sound, despite my fear.

I could not lie to her. “I have come to seek Dumuzi,” I said.

The goddess bared her teeth, and the hairs bristled at the nape of my neck. She said, snarling, “Are you sent by my treacherous sister Ishtar? Are you one of her devotees?”

I trembled. “No, Goddess. I have no love for mighty Ishtar. I am Dumuzi’s sister, Geshtinanna. My brother was Ishtar’s husband, then her ransom to leave this place. The demons sent to free your mighty sister snatched my brother Dumuzi and brought him here, to your dark realm, in her stead.”

The goddess settled her glorious wings against her back. “Surely my sister sent you. All men and women who walk on the earth serve the Goddess of Love and Battle.”

I shook my head. “I do not do the will of Ishtar, no matter how great she is, and how much adored. If it were not for Ishtar and her love for my brother, he would still walk on the earth, living and breathing. Why would I do her bidding?”

“Then why are you here?” The goddess glowed with unearthly beauty. Her breasts were like ripe pomegranates, her eyes the color of the night sky. I felt myself falling, helpless, into that deep, starry sky.

I took a breath. “Truly, Goddess, I am here for my own sake, and my mother’s, and my father’s, and my city’s. My parents are mad with grief. Our city falls to ruin. The sun burns the crops, and the fields are dry. Even the slaves and the sheep lament him.”

The goddess Ereshkigal asked, “Do you desire to come here, as his ransom, to take his place? Do you wish to live here in my kingdom?”

I gasped and knew that this was what I had sought without understanding: to live forever in Ereshkigal’s dark realm, in her fearful presence.

I bowed my head, ashamed. “My brother Dumuzi’s beauty made him a god, or equal to one. He was beloved of a goddess. He was enough to ransom Ishtar, great goddess of the earth and sky, from your power. I am a mortal woman. Am I enough to free my brother, and take his place?”

Ereshkigal frowned. On her face, even a frown was glorious. “Perhaps not, my mortal Geshtinanna,” she said. “But I will beseech the gods on high that they might allow the exchange, if that is truly what you wish.”

She gazed into my eyes, into my soul. I fell into her darkness, and stars swirled around me.

“Yes,” I said. “Yes. It is truly what I wish.”

The goddess put out a sharp-taloned hand to my right breast—was she going to kill me now, slash me with those glittering claws? I held my breath, waiting for pain and death.

Instead, Ereshkigal pinched my nipple, tenderly. Fire ran through me, but it was the fire of pleasure, not of pain. Again, I gasped, and blushed.

The goddess smiled in delight. “You tell the truth, mortal. Truly, you do wish to dwell here with me.”

“Yes,” I said. I watched her hands, her eyes. I needed her to touch me again.

“You and I have something in common,” the dark goddess said. “We are both sisters of siblings beloved by all.”

“Yes,” I said. Touch me.

“Beautiful Dumuzi, lovely Ishtar.” She stroked my ear, my throat, with those clawed fingers. I shivered, but I was not cold.

“Yes.” Please, touch me.

The goddess kissed my hair, my cheek, my lips. “To me, you are more beautiful than Dumuzi.”

“To me,” I said, catching my breath, “you are lovelier than Ishtar.”

The gods on high decreed that I, a mortal woman, would not suffice to ransom Dumuzi entirely, but that I could take his place in the Underworld for half of every year; for that time, my brother would walk the earth.

It was enough. Our city rejoiced, the sheep jumped in the fields, the irrigated soil abounded with crops, and Mother and Father were filled to overflowing with happiness. I was pleased for their sake, but I could no longer live there, with them, after all that had happened.

For half of each cycle of the sun, now, I dwell in Ereshkigal’s dark realm, sharing her fierce pleasures. No woman knows greater bliss. But when Dumuzi returns underground and the sun is hot in the sky, I am compelled to return to the world of the living. I travel the earth, then, with Kalla, best of companions. If you look carefully enough at the hawks and eagles that fly high in the sky, one day you might be startled to see her golden wings flashing in the sun. Look for me riding on her back.

END

“The Quiet Realm of the Dark Queen” was originally published in Dreaming of Djinn, edited by Liz Grzyb and is copyright Jenny. Blackford, 2013.

This recording is a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives license which means you can share it with anyone you’d like, but please don’t change or sell it. Our theme is “Aurora Borealis” by Bird Creek, available through the Google Audio Library.

You can support GlitterShip by pledging to our Kickstarter at https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/keffy/glittership-a-queer-sfandf-magazine-going-for-year-4 , checking out our Patreon at patreon.com/keffy, subscribing to our feed, leaving reviews on Apple podcasts or buying your own copy of the Autumn 2018 issue at www.glittership.com/buy.

Thanks for listening, and we’ll be back soon with a whole new issue and a GlitterShip original, “The Ashes of Vivian Firestrike” by Kristen Koopman.

Episode #77 — “The Quiet Realm of the Dark Queen” by Jenny Blackford was originally published on GlitterShip

#GlitterShip #lgbtq fiction #queer fiction #short stories #science fiction and fantasy #podcast

0 notes

dazzledbybooks · 5 years ago

Quote

This thrilling debut, reminiscent of new fan favorites like One of Us Is Lying and the beloved classics by Agatha Christie, will leave readers guessing until the explosive ending. Welcome to dinner, and again, congratulations on being selected. Now you must do the selecting. What do the queen bee, star athlete, valedictorian, stoner, loner, and music geek all have in common? They were all invited to a scholarship dinner, only to discover it’s a trap. Someone has locked them into a room with a bomb, a syringe filled with poison, and a note saying they have an hour to pick someone to kill … or else everyone dies. Amber Prescott is determined to get her classmates and herself out of the room alive, but that might be easier said than done. No one knows how they’re all connected or who would want them dead. As they retrace the events over the past year that might have triggered their captor’s ultimatum, it becomes clear that everyone is hiding something. And with the clock ticking down, confusion turns into fear, and fear morphs into panic as they race to answer the biggest question: Who will they choose to die? All Your Twisted Secrets by Diana Urban Publisher: HarperTeen Release Date: March 17th 2020 Genre: Young Adult, Mystery, Thriller, Contemporary Book Links: Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/41443369-all-your-twisted-secrets Amazon: https://amzn.to/3aEpsEC B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/all-your-twisted-secrets-diana-urban/1132090677?ean=9780062908216#/ iTunes: https://books.apple.com/us/book/all-your-twisted-secrets/id1468875105?ign-mpt=uo%3D4 Bookdepository: https://www.bookdepository.com/All-Your-Twisted-Secrets-Diana-Urban/9780062908216?ref=grid-view&qid=1579782600601&sr=1-1 Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/ebook/all-your-twisted-secrets-1 Google Books: https://books.google.co.uk/books/about/All_Your_Twisted_Secrets.html?id=Y7adDwAAQBAJ&redir_esc=y Review: All Your Twisted Secrets by Diana Urban follows six characters that get stuck together at a dinner event. They find out that they have to choose someone in the room to die or they all die within the hour. This book draws the reader in right away. It was so hard to put this book down. This story is super fast paced and keeps you on your toes. I loved that it went back and for the between the past and present. The story is told from Amber's point of view and I really enjoyed it. I feel like even though we are seeing everything from Amber's point of view, that all the other characters are very well rounded and though out. The writing style was great. I love the slow reveals on what is going up as the suspense is building up. I enjoyed finding out how all the characters are connected and play a part in each other's lives. I think the only issue I really had with the book is I thought the twists and turns were a bit underwhelming. All and all it is a really good book. Excerpt: Dear Amber Prescott,Congratulations! It is our pleasure to inform you that you have been selected as a recipient of the Brewster Town Hall Scholarship in the amount of $20,000. We commend you for your musical talents and contributions to the community.To celebrate your achievements, we invite you to dine with Mayor Timothy Meinot and the other five scholarship recipients on Tuesday, February 4th, at 7 p.m. at the Chesterfield.Again, congratulations, and we look forward to meeting you at the Chesterfield.Sincerely,Scholarship Chair Brewster Town Hall Scholarship Committee I spent the last hour wondering if I would die tonight. You can drop dead from a heart attack at seventeen, right? The prospect of tonight’s dinner party made my heart ricochet off my rib cage so fiercely I was convinced my days were numbered. What’s so bad about a dinner party? Let’s start with the fact that my boyfriend, Robbie, was also invited to this little shindig, and we were on shaky ground. Our post-graduation plans were at odds, to say the least—and as senior year dwindled, the tension mounted. It didn’t help that soon-to-be-valedictorian Diego scored an invite, too. Our friendship had recently morphed into something else—something that made my cheeks flush, my nerves tingle, and my heart swell like a submerged sponge. Putting the three of us in the same room could be catastrophic. If Robbie suspected I liked the class nerd, he’d introduce Diego to his fist in front of everyone. I had bigger issues with Robbie than another boy. But strike a match in a room doused with lighter fluid, and you’re bound to get burned. If I were even slightly capable of hiding my emotions, I might get through the night unscathed. Unfortunately, I’m a crap liar, so splitsville with a side of bruising was basically inevitable. Yep. A heart attack was imminent. I just had to get tonight over with, and everything would work out. Hopefully. I cranked up the Harry Potter score in an attempt to quell my nerves and ransacked my wardrobe, quickly determining that everything I owned looked hideous. I could either go ultra-casual or concert black (or funeral chic, as Sasha liked to call it) and either option was downright depressing. After most of my clothes were heaped into a pile on the floor—much to the delight of my cat, Mittens, who swiftly nestled in—I discovered an old emerald sequined number I wore to a piano recital years ago. The dress now ended well above my knees, but it was the only garment within reach that wasn’t a complete waste of space. “Amber, you look great!” Mom said as I raced up the stairs from my basement bedroom, tugging at the dress’s hem. “You’re only saying that because you’re my mom.” “Don’t get all self-deprecating on me.” She scrunched one of my red curls, which already threatened to go limp. Her own red, stick-straight hair was cut in a typical mom-bob. “You look sophisticated. Though that dress could stand to be a little longer—” “Is Robbie here yet?” He was already ten minutes late. I peered out the front door’s stained-glass window, searching for his black SUV while fidgeting with my amethyst bracelet. Mittens rubbed against my ankles, getting his white fur all over my black velvet peep-toe shoes. “You’re not allowed to date ’til you’re forty-seven,” Dad shouted from his office down the hall. “Is this a bad time to point out we’ve been dating for like a year?” I said. Even Mom mirrored my exaggerated eye roll. Just as I rattled off a text to Robbie, his headlights flooded the driveway. I dropped my phone into my purse, and Mom handed me a jacket and kissed my cheek before I could bolt out the door. “Text me when you get there.” “God, Mom.” I wiggled into the coat. “In a few months, I’ll be in college. Should I text you whenever I go anywhere then, too?” “That’d be great, thanks for offering!” Her eyes twinkled mischievously, though with the flicker of sadness that never really left them. “Love you.” “Bye!” I called over my shoulder as I raced into the unseasonably muggy night and down the front walk, my unzipped coat flapping behind me. Mom wasn’t exactly overprotective. She let me do whatever, as long as I constantly let her know I was still alive. I couldn’t say she didn’t have a good reason. Robbie tossed his baseball mitt into the backseat. “Hey, babe—” “Fifteen minutes late, Robbie? Really?” I slammed the passenger door and clicked on my seat belt in one fluid motion. I wasn’t usually one to pick a fight, but my nerves had me on edge. “Amber. Chill. Practice went a little late.” His go-to excuse. Robbie leaned over and kissed me, the sweet scent of soap and hair gel flooding my senses. He gripped the back of my headrest and backed down the driveway. Mom gave a little wave from the living room window, and the curtains fluttered shut as Robbie floored the gas. “Besides, I had to stop at home to grab your present.” He reached behind my seat without taking his eyes from the road, grabbed a small box, and tossed it onto my lap. “My . . . present? For what?” “Open it.” He grinned, the corners of his gray eyes crinkling as dimples creased his cheeks. Curious, I plucked open the red ribbon securing the small white box and found a charm bracelet inside. Several tiny silver music notes dangled from an amethyst-beaded band. “I thought it’d go with your other bracelet.” He motioned to my grandmother’s amethyst bracelet on my right wrist. My anger dissipated, replaced by a confusing mix of joy and dread. “But what’s this for?” “What, I can’t get something nice for my girl for no reason?” His smile widened—that infectious grin that always made me feel like I was somehow the brightest star in his sky. It seemed genuine. Everything about Robbie was genuine. He wore his heart on his sleeve, which was a blessing and a curse—I never had to wonder how much he loved me . . . or how annoyed he was with me, especially recently. But the musical theme of his gift caught me off guard. My music had been a sore point for us lately. Robbie wanted me to follow him and his baseball scholarship to Georgia Tech, as if ditching my dreams of studying music at USC or Berklee wasn’t that big a sacrifice. “But you can play music anywhere,” he’d insisted. A couple of months ago we had a huge fight about it, and he convinced me to apply to Georgia Tech, suggesting we put off the discussion until I heard back from them. Then I got my acceptance letter. That’s when I knew we were going to break up. I might’ve fallen in love with Robbie, but I’d been in love with music for as long as I could remember. I couldn’t let him tempt me into abandoning my dreams. Despite my resolve, I hadn’t figured out how to break the news. But this was a shocking turn of events. I ran my fingers over the music note charms. It was such a thoughtful gift. Did he finally see my point of view? Was he willing to compromise? As if on cue, he said, “I know we haven’t talked about school and stuff in a while.” School and stuff. How neatly all of my musical ambitions could be packed into one word. Stuff. He smoothed back his short dirty-blond hair. “Have you heard from Georgia Tech yet?” My shoulders tensed. “No. Not yet.” Fortunately, the darkness obscured my flushed cheeks. I was so pale, my own blood always ratted me out: Liar. “Well, it has to be soon. I want to be with you.” Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, he entwined his fingers with mine. “We can figure this out together. I love you, Amber.” “I . . . me, too.” Oh, God. What should I do? He kissed my hand and released it, and I fumbled with the clasp on my new bracelet, securing it on my left wrist. I leaned against the window, watching identical two-story colonials whip by. We drove the rest of the way in silence until fat raindrops pelted the car, drowning out my thoughts. “Ah, crap.” I zipped my jacket under the seat belt. Just like washing a car, using a curling iron on my hair pretty much guaranteed rain. If we moved to California, I could singlehandedly resolve the drought crisis. The corner of Robbie’s mouth quirked up. “It’s only water.” “Explain that to my hair, would you?” I brushed aside my bangs. Robbie glanced at me as he slowed in front of the Chesterfield. “Hey. You look beautiful. Hair included.” My cheeks flushed again. “Thanks.” I shook away my anxiety and scanned the street for a parking spot. The Chesterfield was an upscale restaurant in the basement of an old warehouse converted into high-end retail space. On the weekends, locals bustled around this area pretending they lived in a vibrant city, when in reality, three square blocks constituted our entire “downtown.” There was no fooling anyone. We were lame suburbanites, through and through. Fortunately, it was a Tuesday, and there were plenty of spots around the corner. Once Robbie parked, I unclipped my seat belt and bolted out the door. I held my hood over my head as I rounded the corner, careful to avoid any puddles. The sidewalk was deserted except for two middle-aged women dashing to a nearby car under huge black umbrellas. I hustled down the steep steps to the Chesterfield’s front entrance without waiting for Robbie to catch up. God forbid he rush to anything besides home plate. I shook the water from my jacket in front of the host podium. Beyond, crimson velvet booths lined either side of the dimly lit room, and a bar stretched across the opposite wall. A pyramid of wine and liquor bottles towered behind the bar, light streaming out between them to create a halo effect. Classical music flitted from speakers dotting the ceiling above the tables. Empty tables. The room was deserted. “Are you sure this thing’s at the Chesterfield?” Robbie asked from behind me. “Yeah. Look.” I pointed to a sign taped to the host podium. Brewster Town Hall Scholarship Event in the Winona Room. An arrow pointed to the right. “This way.” “Where the hell is everyone?” My heart fluttered as I stepped further into the room. “Probably in the Winona Room, where they’re supposed to be.” “No, I mean everyone else—” “Come on, let’s go.” Let’s get this over with. I grabbed Robbie’s calloused hand and led him across the empty dining room. A familiar throaty laugh floated through an open doorway next to the bar. I walked in to find a smaller but equally elegant room. A long mahogany dining table stood over an intricate red Oriental rug, which covered most of the gleaming, almost black hardwood floor. Since most of the room was underground, there were only two small windows nestled close to the ceiling. Matching mahogany sideboards spanned the walls under the windows and next to the door. Two china cabinets filled with glasses and trinkets sandwiched a red brick fireplace on the left, reflected in a giant brass mirror hanging on the opposite wall. Faux candles flickered in a brass chandelier hanging low from the center of the ceiling. The room felt medieval, and positively claustrophobic. Sasha Harris and Diego Martin were already seated, laughing over some joke that must have had nothing to do with her perpetual need to one-up him. Robbie coughed, and Sasha paused mid-chuckle, peeking around the back of her chair. Spotting me, her eyes lit up. “Hey, lady!” She zipped around her chair and stretched out her cheek, kissing the air on either side of my face. “Thank God you guys won this, too. Otherwise tonight would be such a drag,” she said under her breath. Sasha was everything everyone else wanted to be—cheer captain, drama club director, class president, and potential valedictorian. “Sleep” wasn’t exactly in her vocabulary. In a bizarre twist of fate, she also happened to be my best friend at the moment. Tonight she wore a form-fitting strapless red dress, and her shining chestnut hair flowed in loose waves over her bare shoulders, not a single strand out of place. “Getting to meet the mayor is kind of cool, though,” I said. “Is he here yet?” She released Robbie from a hug. “Nope, not yet. But he’s the opposite of cool, just FYI. I mean, come on. Who grows up wanting to be mayor of Podunk?” I shrugged off my damp jacket, hung it on the ornate coatrack next to the door, and smoothed back my bangs. The curls I’d coaxed into my hair already fell limp. Damn rain. “Ick. It’s like an oven in here.” “Ugh, I know.” Sasha flapped her hand like a fan. “C’mon, you’re next to me.” She pointed to the seat closest to the door. Eight high-backed chairs surrounded the table—three on each side, and one on either end. On my empty gold-rimmed plate sat a place card for Ms. Prescott. Hers had one for Ms. Harris. Fancy. I pulled out my tall chair and glanced across the table, locking eyes with Diego. Oh, here we go. Strands of black hair fell over his forehead, and as he held my gaze with his intense copper eyes, a smile slid onto his lips. “Hi, Amber.” My mind flashed back to a few weeks ago, when those eyes were mere inches from mine. Let’s face it—you could pretty much fry an egg on my face. “Hi.” The word came out like a breathy wisp of wind. I set my purse on the floor and sat, silently cursing myself for being so obvious. After all, nothing ever happened between us. It almost did a few weeks ago. But almost doesn’t count. “Congratulations,” he said. “Let me guess . . . you won because of your music?” I laughed nervously, fidgeting with the music note charms on my new bracelet. “Yeah. Mr. Torrente must’ve nominated me. I mean, I’ve basically been teaching his orchestra class for the last four years,” I rambled. Oh, God. If Robbie caught wind of the weirdness between me and Diego, tonight would be a nightmare. I faked a cough and covered my mouth, trying to hide my flaming cheeks. Thankfully, Robbie was oblivious as he fiddled with his phone next to the coatrack, shaking his head. “Can you believe they’d give Diego one of the scholarships?” Sasha whispered when Diego pulled out his phone. “Twenty thousand dollars must be chump change to him now.” As if being ridiculously smart wasn’t enough, Diego was sort of a celebrity in our school. He’d invented a weird sponge that changed colors when it got wet, and was on the show Bid or Bust—a reality TV show where inventors try to win funding from wealthy entrepreneurs—the summer before our freshman year. After getting bids from all of the investors and securing a deal, he and his dad sold millions of SpongeClowns. “Well, he’s probably going to be valedictorian,” I whispered back. Sasha tilted her head and grinned, though there was fire in her eyes. “Not if I have anything to say about it.” “I can’t get a signal in here.” Robbie took his seat next to me, unbuttoning the top button of his plaid shirt. “Is it just me, or is it like ninety degrees in here?” I reached for my water and took a small sip. “Yeah, it’s hot.” “Ugh,” Sasha groaned, and I followed her gaze over my shoulder—Priya Gupta walked in, scanned the room, and visibly cringed. Saying that Priya used to be my best friend was an understatement. She’d been like a sister to me. She avoided my gaze now, casting her doe eyes to the floor as she hung her jacket and tugged down the loose sleeves of her white boho dress. When Robbie greeted her, she merely grunted in reply. Grief settled on my chest like a pile of stones, but I remained silent as Priya took her seat next to Diego. They muttered their hellos, and she busied herself examining her fingernails. “Hi, Priya,” Sasha said in a singsong voice. Priya’s jaw set in a rigid line. “Hi.” I smiled at her, but she wouldn’t look at me. My throat constricted. Would she ever talk to me again? Didn’t she know how much I missed her? “Congratulations! I had no idea you qualified for a scholarship,” said Sasha. Priya was no valedictorian, but her grades were stellar. Priya quirked her eyebrow. “Oh, you mean you cared who else would win?” Sasha’s smile faltered. “What’s that supposed—” I elbowed Sasha. “Leave it.” She scrunched her eyebrows at me. “You don’t want the scholarship people to hear you fighting.” Sasha nodded, and Priya made a psh noise and went back to scrutinizing her fingernails. Diego met my gaze again, and my insides pooled into a puddle around my feet. Just then, Robbie reached for my hand under the table, and I jolted. He laughed. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” His hand was cool despite the warmth of the room, and he kissed my cheek as Diego watched. Oh, God. How was I going to get through this night? “I’m starving,” said Priya, fishing through her purse. “Ugh, I forgot to bring a granola bar.” Diego grabbed his backpack from the floor. “I have a candy bar somewhere in here. Want it?” She waved him off. “No, no, it’s fine. Thanks, though.” As she eyed the ornate silver platters dotting the table, Scott Coleman—stoner extraordinaire—loped into the room. He wore his standard outfit—a black leather jacket over a black T-shirt and torn jeans, topped off with a black beanie. Sasha gaped. “What are you doing here?” “Same as the rest of you, methinks,” said Scott. He grinned at Priya, who offered a shy smile in return. “No way, man.” Robbie scrunched his nose. Scott reeked of cigarette smoke. “You won a scholarship?” Scott tugged at the collar of his leather jacket. “Seems so.” “Bullshit,” said Robbie, and Sasha clucked her tongue. Wow. Nobody was going to get along tonight, were they? “Guys. Be nice,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. “Maybe he’s a closet genius.” Scott winked at me. “Hey, Red. What’s shakin’?” “Bacon.” This had been our customary greeting ever since we used to play together as kids, before we realized how little we had in common. He nodded approvingly as he extracted a folded letter from his pocket. “I got this letter. It said to come here. So here I am.” “But how’d you qualify?” said Sasha, smiling sweetly. “Do you have some secret talent you’ve been hiding from us?” “Nope.” Scott shrugged and moseyed along the table. “But who the hell cares?” He plopped in the empty seat next to Priya and unwrapped a stick of gum. “Twenty kay is twenty kay. Besides, I had no plans tonight, and I like free food, so no rind off my orange.” Sasha cringed. “That’s not an expression—” The massive oak door behind me slammed shut with such force it reverberated through my chest, and the glasses in the china cabinets rattled. Everyone jumped, and a few people gasped. “Wind tunnel?” I scooted my chair back and stood to open the door as thunder clapped outside. “Oh, right.” Robbie’s shoulders relaxed. “The storm.” As I squeezed past Sasha, she tossed her hair back and focused on Scott again. “Anyway, they don’t just arbitrarily hand out twenty thousand dollars.” Leaning on her armrest, she perched her chin on her fist, like the mere concept of Scott winning anything was utterly fascinating. “Like, Robbie has baseball, Amber’s a music prodigy, and I’m the director of the drama club. There has to be some reason you won.” “Yeah?” Scott’s lips slapped with each chew. “Well, I’m director of the give-zero-fucks club. Maybe that counts for something.” “Uh . . . guys?” I jiggled the doorknob. It turned in my grip, but the door wouldn’t budge. “I think the door’s stuck.” “Seriously?” Priya glared at me, like being trapped in a room together was her version of hell. “You’re just a little weakling.” Robbie strutted over and gave me a playful shove. “I am not,” I muttered, returning to my seat. I fished my cell phone from my purse. No signal. As Robbie fought with the door, I scanned the table. Diego was the only one not looking at his phone. He stared at one of the windows as lightning brightened the alley outside. Robbie cursed and gave the doorknob a final shake. “Dammit. It really is stuck.” I rolled my eyes. “Told you.” “Shit.” Sasha waved her phone above her head. “I have no signal.” “Me neither,” I said. “I haven’t had one since we got here.” Robbie took out his phone and shook it, like that would help. “Same here,” Priya chimed in. “Well, the mayor’s going to show up at some point, right?” asked Diego. “Yep.” I nodded. “He’ll be able to let us out, or get help, or whatever.” “Shouldn’t he be here by now?” Sasha checked her watch. “He’s probably just running late,” said Diego. Sasha eyed Robbie, who slammed his fist against the lock and jiggled the doorknob again. “But what if he had to cancel?” Her voice quavered. “What if he tried calling to let us know, but couldn’t get through? What if no one’s coming—” “Sasha, chill out,” I said. Diego trained his eyes along the table with a frown. “If he couldn’t get through,” said Scott, “his office would send some secretary here to tell us, right?” “Huh, weird,” said Diego. “The table’s set for six.” Priya pointed at each place setting as she silently counted. Diego was right—there were eight chairs, but the ones on either end had no place settings, plates, or glasses laid out. “Yeah? So?” said Scott. Diego and I exchanged a look. “That’s bizarre,” I said. “If the mayor’s having dinner with us, why is the table only set for six?” “Are you saying nobody’s coming to let us out?” Sasha said, an octave too high. “Someone’ll be here to serve food and stuff,” said Scott. “A waiter or something?” “It looks like they already did.” Diego motioned to the covered trays lining the table. “But why would they serve dinner before we got here?” Scott lifted the lid on the tray closest to him, revealing a whole roasted chicken and steamed veggies. “Is it just me, or is this kinda weird?” “For once, it’s not just you,” Robbie muttered, uncovering a salad platter. “Well . . .” Priya licked her lips, eyeing a bowl of roasted yams. “We might as well eat, right?” “I guess so . . .” I bit my lip. Robbie dropped the lid on the floor behind him. “Whatever. Let’s get this party started, shall we?” He uncovered another chicken platter. “They got any booze in this joint?” “Yeah, but it’s all at the bar out there,” said Sasha, uncovering a platter of deviled eggs. “Gross. How long have those been sitting out?” I stood and lifted the lid from the biggest platter in the center of the table. Sasha and Priya both shrieked, making me almost drop the lid. My heart fell into my stomach as everyone gaped at the contents of the tray. A syringe. An envelope. And something that looked an awful lot like a bomb. “What the actual fuck?” said Robbie. A shiver coasted down my spine as I stared at the syringe. It was filled with a pale beige liquid, and the needle was uncapped, glinting from the chandelier lights overhead. “What the hell is that . . . that thing?” Sasha cried. A couple of plastic canisters the size of milk cartons were strapped to half a dozen brown logs wired to a small digital clock and stack of batteries. Each canister was half full of some sort of yellow liquid. The clock faced the ceiling, its red numbers counting down from fifty-nine forty-five. Fifty-nine forty-four. Fifty-nine forty-three. Fifty-nine forty-two. “Looks like a bomb,” said Robbie, clenching his jaw. “I started the timer . . .” I said to no one in particular, gripping the lid in both hands. “When I lifted the lid, I must have started the timer.” “That can’t be real,” said Priya. “Can it?” “And what’s with the syringe?” asked Sasha. “It’s labeled.” Diego leaned over to read, “‘Botulinum toxin’—holy shit.” He blanched. “What’s butool—what’s that?” asked Priya. She clutched his arm so hard her knuckles turned white. Diego kept reading. “It says, ‘Warning: Avoid contact with skin. A single drop can be fatal. Full injection causes immediate death.’” We all exchanged baffled expressions. “What’s in the envelope?” asked Robbie. Nobody moved. Fifty-nine thirty. Fifty-nine twenty-nine. I set the lid under the table and plucked the envelope from the tray, opened the flap, and pulled out a sheet of paper. Unfolding it, I cleared my throat and read aloud. “Welcome to dinner, and again, congratulations on being selected. Now you must do the selecting. Within the hour, you must choose someone in this room to die. If you don’t, everyone dies.” 1 Year, 1 Month Ago January of Junior Year I’d spent the last three years avoiding bitches like Sasha Harris. But I had a favor to ask of her, and my future depended on it. As director of the drama club, she chose each semester’s play, and I wanted to compose the score for the next one. It was my only shot to get into USC’s film score program. Dad had recently broken the news that he couldn’t afford to fly me to auditions in the fall, so I had to think of some way to impress the pants off the college admissions officers—something the other two thousand virtual applicants wouldn’t attempt. With only three undergraduate film score programs in the country, the competition was fierce. Scoring our school play set to a live orchestra and sending in the recording was the best plan I could hatch. But it meant I had to talk to her, Sasha freaking Harris, basically royalty at Brewster High—haughty, pretentious, and intimidating as hell, yet inexplicably revered. We hadn’t met until freshman year; our town had two middle schools that merged into Brewster High, and Priya and I had gone to Crompond while Sasha and her friends went to Hampton. But I’d heard whispers of her mean streak, how cutthroat she could be. Had I witnessed her nastiness myself? No. Had I gotten close enough to? Don’t be ridiculous. I wasn’t about to risk being her next victim. Until now. So here I was on the first day back after winter break, watching her cross the cafeteria, plotting my approach. Her besties, Amy and Maria, hovered around her like gnats, wasting away the minutes by chewing over the latest gossip. I wasn’t sure what scared me more: rejection from USC, or Sasha. “My hands are shaking.” I raised my hand to eye level, showing off trembling fingers. “Dammit, I can’t do this.” My best friend Priya’s posture relaxed. “Oh, thank God. Let’s get out of here.” She spun to leave, her long, shiny black hair whipping my arm. “Wait!” I grabbed her wrist. “You’re gonna let me wimp out that easily?” “You’re not wimping out—you’re coming to your senses,” she rationalized, darting a glance at Sasha and her crew. “You don’t need to score the stupid play. I’m sure your recordings will get you into any music program you want.” “All the other applicants will have recordings, too.” I wiped sweat from my upper lip as the trio finally settled at an empty table in the middle of the cafeteria. “But they’ll all submit the standard stuff—you know, tracks for commercials, movie trailers, that sort of thing. I have to do something epic. Something to stand out.” Priya raised her eyebrows. “What, your ten thousand YouTube followers won’t make you stand out?” “Ten thousand’s nothing. Some other kids have way more. I have to do this.” “What makes you think Sasha’s even going to consider it? They always pick some Broadway play, and the music’s already done. Asking Sasha to compose new music for the play is like asking if I could join the freaking cheerleading squad. It won’t happen.” Priya had always wanted to be a cheerleader. Problem was, she never had the guts to try out. “If I get her to agree, you’re so trying out for the cheerleading squad.” Her eyes widened like saucers. “I am so not. Sasha’s captain now. She’d never let me in.” I glanced at Sasha again. How had she hooked her talons into everything? It was like the girl was determined to be the center of attention at all times. And nobody said no to Sasha Harris. Now I had to make sure she didn’t say no to me. Taking a deep breath, I paused before tugging out the earbud lodged in my right ear, soaking in a last bit of energy from an epic fantasy battle scene track. Some people needed liquid courage, but I only needed a shot of music. The powerful chords and crescendos made me feel like I was bravely facing my foe, ready for combat. “I’m doing this.” “I’m officially not letting you.” Priya clutched my elbow as I started toward them. “As your best friend, I can’t let you put yourself in Sasha’s warpath. Right now she barely knows we exist, and we should keep it that way. Remember what happened to your sister? Remember what people like Sasha can do?” My throat constricted at the mere mention of my sister, and I yanked my elbow from Priya’s grip. “Like I need the reminder?” My sister Maggie’s death taught me to avoid girls with mean streaks like the plague. I knew what it meant to be the brunt of their jokes, victim to their cruelty. I didn’t know what Maggie endured until things went too far—four years stood between us (she was a senior when I was in eighth grade), so we hadn’t attended the same school since elementary school. Guilt stifled me whenever I thought of Maggie, and how oblivious I’d been to those girls’ abuse. By the time I learned the truth, it was too late. After she died, I withdrew from my clique of girlfriends. Part of me was terrified they’d eventually turn on me, too. But mostly, I couldn’t stand their pity. Most people were awkward as hell around someone in mourning. They’d stare at me with these wide, sorrowful eyes, and their uneasiness made me feel like I should’ve been the one comforting them. At the time, I couldn’t handle it. It was bad enough watching my parents grieve, and needing to be strong for them. Priya was the only one who acted normal around me, letting me pour my heart out without getting that disquieted look in her eyes, refusing to leave my side. So instead of partying or flailing at school dances, we camped out in my room for movie marathons or “jam sessions”—I’d work on a song at my keyboard with huge red headphones glomming my skull, while she’d sprawl on the carpet with Mittens, reading a fantasy novel or learning David Thurston’s magic tricks from his Netflix show Manic Magic. As a textbook introvert, Priya was living her best life, but sometimes I missed being part of a big group. “I’m sorry.” Priya’s voice was strained. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.” She eyed Sasha and her friends huddled over their table, whispering animatedly. They seemed prepped for the runway compared to their neighboring table, where Becky Wallace and our old clique donned a mix of too-big glasses, sweatshirts, and poorly executed French braids. Suddenly, Sasha slapped the table, threw her head back, and laughed heartily. I couldn’t imagine having such boisterous self-confidence. People turned to gape, like they wanted in on the joke. If Sasha Harris thought something was funny, it must be worth hearing. As long as it wasn’t about you. My stomach clenched. I could let fear rule my future and keep being afraid of girls like Sasha. Or I could rise above this petty high school crap and do whatever I could to get into music school and someday produce epic movie and TV scores. I had to do this. I had to. Besides, what was the worst that could happen? She could say no. She could make fun of me. Torture me. Turn me into an object of ridicule and make me want to— “Oof.” Someone behind me collided hard with my arm, tearing me from my thoughts. “My bad!” Zane Carter called over his shoulder as he headed for Sasha’s table. As I rubbed my arm, Priya ogled him. “Oh my God. He touched you.” “That’s kind of an understatement.” Priya had worshiped Zane for years. He was the spitting image of her favorite magician, David Thurston. And with those blazing green eyes, shaggy chestnut hair, defined cheekbones, and perma-smirk, who could blame her? Well, I didn’t get the appeal of the perma-smirk. Either way, she turned wide-eyed and mute whenever he appeared, which made it kind of difficult to have any sort of meaningful interaction. I thought she’d finally forgotten about him over winter break (I certainly had) until a couple of days ago, when she went to the grocery store with her mom and spotted him examining a protein shake nutrition label in aisle seven. I knew it was aisle seven because Priya told me about it seventeen times. “You know . . . if we go over there,” I said, “you might get to talk to Zane.” I had to get this over with, and it’d be much easier if I didn’t have to approach Sasha alone. “What?” Priya gasped. “He’d never talk to me. No way.” “Why not? I heard he broke up with his girlfriend last month.” I nudged her with my elbow. “Maybe he’ll be into you.” “Yeah, right!” “C’mon, let’s go see.” I grabbed Priya’s wrist and, ignoring her frantic protestations, dragged her to Sasha and Zane’s table. Zane typed on his phone, elbows on his knees, as the girls giggled over something. “Hey guys—” Oh. Oh, no. Zane’s baseball teammate Robbie Nelson sat next to him, scribbling last-minute answers on a homework assignment. I hadn’t noticed him with his baseball cap shading his face. He glanced up at me, and my stomach gave a small lurch. Robbie had one of those faces you couldn’t help staring at—well defined, with a high-bridged nose, angular jaw, and these wolfish gray eyes that made you go all deer-in-headlights when they landed on you. While I was invisible to Sasha, which was exactly how I wanted it, Robbie’s eyes would flick to mine in the halls, his head tilting like a question mark as he offered a shy grin. I’d always look away first, flustered to be caught gawking. Since we didn’t have any classes together, he probably didn’t even know my name. But I couldn’t let him psych me out. I had to talk to Sasha. “So, um, hey,” I started again. I tossed my hair back and flashed a wide smile, ignoring my wobbly legs. “How was your winter break?” The five of them only offered vacant stares. I kept smiling, forcing down the heat threatening to creep up my neck. My mind went blank, and words seemed like an altogether foreign concept. All the scenarios I’d concocted in the shower this morning for what to say jumbled in my brain. What did popular people even talk about? Oh, hell. These people were the rulers of the roost, and we were like worms wriggling into their coop. What was I thinking? Finally, Robbie broke the silence. “It was nice. You’re Amber, right?” So he did know my name. Warmth spread through my veins. He reversed his cap, and his gray eyes sparkled under the fluorescent lights as he gave me his usual lopsided grin. His two front teeth were a little crooked, somehow making his smile even cuter. He stood and swung over two chairs from a neighboring table like they were light as feathers. “I don’t think we’ve ever met before.” “I know, crazy!” I said, taking a seat. “Our class isn’t that big. But better late than never, right? That’s, you know, a thing people say.” I was totally blabbering, and despite my best efforts, I blushed profusely. Priya, of course, had reverted to her mute state. She stared at Zane, practically drooling. Amy’s and Maria’s smiles didn’t reach their eyes, betraying their suspicion. Why had we barged onto their turf? Before I could say anything else, Sasha reached over and ran a lock of my hair through her fingers. “Oh my God, I love your hair color.” Her voice was so melodic, I couldn’t tell if she was mocking me. “Which is it?” “It’s . . . um . . . red?” She laughed throatily. “Obviously. I mean the swatch. The dye you use.” “Oh.” I smoothed my hair back. “I don’t dye it, actually.” Her eyes narrowed. “Bullshit. That’s virgin hair?” I stiffened, biting the inside of my cheek. Did she think I was lying? She leaned back in her chair, draping her elbow over its frame. “You lucky bitch.” Her own chestnut hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders, sleek and shimmering, and the mole next to her left eye disappeared into the crinkles when she smiled brightly enough to warm the room. She was giving me a compliment. Snarky, but genuine. “You guys, I’m having a brain fart,” said Amy, twirling a strand of shoulder-length blond hair. “Are cheerleading tryouts today or tomorrow?” “Today.” Sasha cracked her knuckles one at a time. “I can’t believe Emily and Ellie moved to Wisconsin. What the hell’s in Wisconsin?” “Potatoes?” Maria popped a bite of a muffin in her mouth and flicked a crumb from her periwinkle lace dress. “That’s Idaho, idiot.” Amy looked down her sharp nose at Maria. “Wisconsin has cheese or whatever.” Robbie rolled his eyes at them. “Either of you cheer?” he asked us. Priya shook her head automatically, but I said, “Priya does.” Her eyes widened, the cords in her neck bulging. “Well, she wants to. She took gymnastics lessons for years.” I nodded at her encouragingly, but she seemed to be willing herself out of existence. “Hey, so did Sasha,” said Amy, suddenly interested in us. “That gives you a leg up.” “But Sasha qualified for the Olympics when she was twelve,” Maria chimed in, her brunette ringlets bobbing. She always starred in our school musicals, and once even made it to the final casting round of some singing reality TV show. “Guys, stop it,” Sasha said bashfully, but her smile faltered. “You have to be sixteen to qualify; I just scored high enough to be able to.” “Wow!” I said. “Will you compete?” Sasha shifted in her seat and clenched her jaw. “No.” “Why not? Seems like an amazing opportunity—” “I can’t.” The words left her lips as a whisper. “I broke my leg in a car accident. Needed surgery.” Lines creased her forehead as she cringed at the memory. Suddenly it was like the girl who had everything had nothing at all. The transformation was staggering. I had no idea about her accident. By the time high school started, Sasha seemed on top of the world. “It’s fine now,” she waved off my concerned look, “but it took a while to recover. I can do stunts and stuff again, but . . . it’s not the same.” “Still . . . I’m so sorry—” Zane suddenly tossed his phone onto the table. “Good news. My folks are outta town this weekend.” He pointed at himself with both hands. “Party at my place on Friday.” “Nice.” Robbie bumped fists with him. Sasha perked up, the glimmer returning to her eyes. “Do you have any booze? I thought your parents locked up their stash after last time.” “Yeah, they did. We’ll have to get some.” I cleared my throat, eager to sidle into their conversation again. “If you can’t, you could always have a game night or something. You know what’s hilarious?” I was about to say Apples to Apples, my favorite game, but thought better of it. “Cards Against Humanity. You can borrow my deck.” “When’s the last time we had a game night?” said Sasha. “What were we, like, twelve?” Was she was mocking me or reminiscing? “I love Cards Against Humanity.” Robbie grinned at me, dimples creasing his cheeks. “I’d be down for that.” His smile was infectious, and I found myself beaming back. Zane punched Robbie’s arm. “Lame!” “Whatever, man.” Robbie shook him off. “Better than sitting around staring at each other.” Zane shrugged and fiddled with his phone again. Robbie scooted his chair closer to me and wagged a finger between me and Priya. “You two should join. Bring over that deck yourself.” Oh. My. God. Robbie Nelson just invited us to a party. My heart skipped about twenty beats. I should probably be dead. “Sure! We’re free,” I managed to say. “Nice.” “I guess we shouldn’t get too wasted, anyway.” Sasha snapped her fingers at Amy and Maria. “Don’t forget, my mom’s taking us to see Phantom of the Opera on Saturday.” “On Broadway?” I asked. “I love that musical. It’s so sad.” “Her sister dropped out of college to be one of the ballerinas,” Amy said to me, pointing at Sasha, “and now she’s understudy for the lead—” “Can we not talk about my perfect sister right now?” Sasha rolled her eyes. “Bad enough we’ll have to fawn over her this weekend.” “At least we have backstage passes,” said Maria. Sasha nodded. “True. The guy who plays the Phantom is so hot.” She scrolled through her phone and leaned over to show me a picture of the dark, brooding Phantom. “Oh my God, I’m so jealous,” I said. “Oh, and . . . speaking of plays . . .” My heart thrummed wildly, but this was a perfect segue. “I have a question for you. It’s about the school play. You know, in the spring. I was wondering if you’d considered putting on a play with original music.” “Why would we do that?” Maria asked a little defensively. As the drama club’s perpetual prima donna, she’d probably hate this idea. But Sasha was the one I had to convince. As director, she got to help the drama club supervisor, Mr. Norris, choose the play. I swallowed hard. “I’d love to score the spring play. An entirely original score.” “Whoa, seriously?” said Sasha. “That’d be so much work . . .” “Please, hear me out.” I licked my lips. Sasha had to be stuffing her résumé to get into some Ivy League college. I knew what angle to take. “Directing a play with an original score and a live orchestra would be way more impressive on your transcript than putting on some Broadway play.” “Maybe . . .” Sasha groaned. “But the sheer amount of coordination that would take—” “Sasha, chill,” said Robbie. “Let her finish.” He threw me a reassuring smile. Was it weird that I wanted to throw myself in his lap? Probably. But I was on a mission here. I took a deep breath and focused on Sasha. “I’d compose all of the music myself based on your stage direction, and I’d coordinate with the orchestra. Mr. Torrente already agreed to this.” “What, you think you could compose an entire musical?” Maria crossed her arms and scrunched her brow. “Like, yourself?” “Not a musical. It’d be a play, with an orchestral score—” “Oh, hell no,” said Maria. But Sasha sat silent, arms crossed, glancing between me and Maria. “We don’t even have to do something completely original,” I went on. “We could pick something like A Streetcar Named Desire, or Romeo and Juliet, and set it to new music.” “No way,” said Maria. “It’s a great idea. Truly, it is.” Sasha shook her head. “It’d just be too much work.” Frustrated, I huffed. “But now that you’re the director, don’t you want to do something unique?” “I’m sorry,” said Sasha, her tone uncertain. “But we can’t.” She watched Maria slump back in her chair, relieved. “But—” “She said no!” said Maria. “Well, who the hell made her queen of the universe?” The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them. Oh, God. What did I do? My cheeks reddened as Sasha frowned and tilted her head, narrowing her eyes at me. Maria’s jaw dropped. Priya looked like she was literally about to start seizing. But Robbie looked impressed, and Amy struggled to stifle her laughter. Even Zane finally looked up from his phone. After a moment so long it broke the laws of physics, Sasha threw her head back and burst out laughing. Everyone else followed her lead. “Oh my God! The look on your face!” Sasha finally said, wiping her eyes with her pinkies, careful not to smudge her mascara. I let out a nervous chuckle, gripping my quivering fingers in my lap. Sasha rested an elbow on the back of her chair, poking her cheek with her tongue, sizing me up. Maybe she was impressed I’d challenged her when everyone else sucked up to her all the time. When everyone else quieted, Robbie said, “C’mon, Sasha, I think it’s a good idea. Nobody wants to see Bye Bye Birdie anyway.” “That’s true,” said Amy. “That’s some lame shit.” Sasha raised her eyebrows. “You said you loved Bye Bye Birdie!” Amy slinked back in her seat a bit. “Er . . . I kinda lied. Sorry.” “Well,” said Sasha, “I do love Romeo and Juliet. So dark and romantic. I’d be down for that.” Whoa. Might this really happen? Hope blossomed in my chest as Robbie threw me a conspiratorial wink. “Yeah, I guess that’d be fun,” said Maria unconvincingly. I felt kind of bad to deprive her of her singing glory, but she’d dazzle as Juliet. “Can I play Romeo?” asked Zane. Robbie scoffed. “Dude, you’re not even in drama club.” The warning bell rang, and Sasha stood and draped her messenger bag over her shoulder. “Alright, alright. Let’s talk. But we’ll need to get the rest of the drama club on board . . . everyone loves doing Broadway.” She snapped her fingers. “I have an idea.” “What is it?” My heart leapt into my throat. “I’ll invite them to Zane’s party on Friday. And it’d be amazing if you could bring some booze. You know, loosen them up a bit. I’m sure they’ll at least hear you out.” My stomach twisted in a knot. “Booze? You want me to bring alcohol to a party?” I had no idea where to get drinks. “Tequila would be great.” “Or vodka.” Zane smirked. “Off-brand is fine, we’re not picky.” Priya and I exchanged a wary look. “But . . . I don’t have a fake ID or anything.” I stood and stumbled after them. “Where am I supposed to get booze?” Sasha gave an exaggerated shrug. “I mean, you could show up empty-handed. But if you want to impress them, you’ll just have to figure it out.” Original Link: https://dianaurban.com/all-your-twisted-secrets-2-chapters About the Author: I’m Diana Urban, and I write dark, twisty thrillers for teens including All Your Twisted Secrets (HarperTeen, March 17th 2020). When I’m not torturing fictional characters, I’m a marketing manager at BookBub, a leading book discovery platform. Outside the bookish world, I live with my husband and cat in Boston, and enjoy reading, video games, fawning over cute animals, and looking at the beach from a safe distance. Links: Website: https://dianaurban.com/ Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18358167.Diana_Urban Twitter: https://twitter.com/DianaUrban Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/dianaurbanauthor Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/dianaurban/ Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.es/dianaurban/ Giveaway: Prize: Win (1) of (2) copies of ALL YOUR TWISTED SECRETS by Diana Urban (US Only) Starts: 17th March 2020 Ends: 31th March 2020 a Rafflecopter giveaway Tour Schedule: http://fantasticflyingbookclub.blogspot.com/2020/01/tour-schedule-all-your-twisted-secrets.html March 17th The Unofficial Addiction Book Fan Club - Welcome Post March 18th Wishful Endings - Guest Post Moonlight Rendezvous - Review + Favourite Quotes Dazzled by Books - Review Bookmark Lit - Review A Dream Within A Dream - Review March 19th A Book Addict's Bookshelves - Interview Shalini's Books & Reviews - Review Here's to Happy Endings - Review + Favourite Quotes Confessions of a YA Reader - Review Hauntedbybooks - Review + Favourite Quotes March 20th Sometimes Leelynn Reads - Review + Dream Cast The Heart of a Book Blogger - Review SleepyDoe Reads - Review everywhere and nowhere - Review The Radiant Reader - Review + Favourite Quotes March 21st Morgan Vega - Review + Favourite Quotes The Reading Corner for All - Review + Playlist Fanna Wants The World To Read - Review Paperbacks & Pen - Review + Favourite Quotes For The Love of Fictional Worlds - Review March 22nd L.M. Durand - Guest Post Yna the Mood Reader - Review + Favourite Quotes Bookish Connoisseur - Review Popthebutterfly Reads - Review Books_andPoetrii - Review March 23rd Kait Plus Books - Interview The Reading Life - Review Story-eyed Reviews - Review My Fangirl Chronicles - Review + Playlist + Favourite Quotes Life Within The Pages - Review Instagram Schedule: March 17th TUABFC The FFBC Tours March 18th Wishful Endings Moonlight Rendezvous Dazzled by Books March 19th Confessions of a YA Reader March 20th Sometimes Leelynn Reads The Heart of a Book Blogger The Radiant Reader March 21st Morgan Vega The Reading Corner for All March 22nd L.M. Durand Bookish Connoisseur Popthebutterfly Reads Books_andPoetrii March 23rd Kait Plus Books Life Within The Pages

http://www.dazzledbybooks.com/2020/03/all-your-twisted-secrets-blog-tour.html

#SEO #Local SEO training

0 notes

gathering-storm · 8 years ago

Note

✂ whoever hates Shevel the most killing Wolfsbane and Vikki

Therethey stood under pouring rain, the wet sheets falling upon thegathering as though heaven itself were crying for the loss, a smalljar made of gold upon a stone pedestal carried by two creaturesthrough the saddened throngs of mortals and deities alike, the darklysoothing notes of the Vetmoran hymn “Passage of Eternity” flowingas a fabric of solace across the mournful scene, the reborn childVertoria and her mother Wolfsbane dressed in traditional black asArturis, the once conflicted demigod who had become as a teacher toboth of the men whose final shards now rested within the ornate urn,placed his hands upon their shoulders, his long, gray hair flowingaround to enshroud them both in a comforting embrace, the gravestonethe brothers would share engraved with a picture depicting the two ofthem in much happier times, that of when they were children, Shevel,his then peaceful amber eyes looking to the younger Raesal as the twoof them played a game of patty cake, their hands frozen together inthe picture, both smiling, both happy merely to be with each otherand the words “il Et Matavre” written in silver filigree belowthe peaceful scene, an ancient phrase in the brothers’ nativetongue alluding to a work of verse by the demigoddess of poetry,Romai, whose expression said volumes as she looked upon first the urnthen grave, her eyes, which for an eternity had remained in a loving,graceful stare even in times of great tragedy, now barren andlifeless, this beauty who rivaled even the True Angels now looking asthough all the endless life within her had been removed, replacedwith the same emptiness now felt by many in attendance, her lower lipshaking in the same manner as the innocent Vikki’s.Asthis final ceremony for the last true Vetmoran mages commenced, theone chosen to intern them into the soil made his way through thecrowd, footsteps as silent as the pain shared by all those who cameto attend, his long, flowing robe dragging the ground, his normallyproud, snow white wings hanging low at his sides, the very feathersupon them falling like tears onto the wet ground, this demigod ofromance, whose very presence on any other day would have inspiredhope in love anew, adopting the role of preacher in this time oftruest darkness, his motions slow as though he were struggling tofind the will to move while he opened the ancient tome he carriedwith him, its pages and cover, though older than the mortal planeitself, in immaculate shape. “and thus today do we, those fortunateenough to have known the Entwined Kings, release what remains oftheir immortal shells to the ether of the afterlife”, he said withforced ceremonial pride, searching the page to which he had turnedfor an appropriate eulogy, “their lives, though often tangled withthat of each other in endless conflict, concluding both with acts ofpurest sacrifice, their actions speaking volumes about their truenatures, with even the once dreaded Shevel giving all of himself toresurrect his precious family”, he added, a tear of both shock andsorrow falling from his eye as he recounted the death of that oncemost hated of Mageborn Sons, “as it is written in the SacredGuidance of Yuvasi, ‘let not thine eyes be fooled by what laybefore thee, as within even the darkest of hearts does their lay aspec of light, be not given solely to the words of others, as theyoft’ do not know fully of what they speak, nor shouldst thee trustthine first instinct as biblical truth, as e’en we Gods lackperfection, instead, shouldst thou desire the truth as a whole, lookbeyond that which thou dost see, into the deepest reaches of another,listen well to the sounds of thine own heart more than the misguidedwords of others and balance thine instinct with higher reason, asthis is the way to deepest understanding’”, he recited, thewords, though unintentionally, making several in the crowd wail fromguilt, having once misread one brother or the other, “now, if themost powerful of Yuvasi’s children would please come and give untothese fallen legends the Grand Blessing and thus send their souls toour Realm.” he called out, Decimara, the wrathful god of justicestepping forward as the ornate vessel was rested against the front ofits headstone then cutting off a piece of his hair, laying it alongwith the enchanted blade he had used to remove it, on top of theblessed urn “we may never, in all your lives, have seen from acommon viewpoint, I cannot deny my respect for you two, may you bereborn in our blessed realm as the deities you do so deserve to be.”he said kneeling , his hands upon the stone pedestal shielding Raesaland Shevel’s final home from the soggy soil, a brief pulse ofdivine energy flowing from him and into the sorrowful shrine.“Iknow this may not be the best of times, but might I ask what Shevel’sfinal words were?” Arturis questioned in a hushed whisper whileobserving the spectacle, Wolfsbane in her grief stricken state ofmind replying with the ones which stood out the most to her, those inthe language she did not recognize “talepsum eccat manarade, e mar cammasepht?” sheanswered, the words freezing the wise demigod instantly, the sadnesshe had been restraining for this ceremony becoming immediatelyreplaced with horror, his jaw falling agape as the words sank in“EVERYONE AWAY FROM THE GRAVE NOW!” he shouted shoving his waythrough the mourners and toward the grave site, tossing gods andmortals alike away, even tossing Tereval, the one who had given theeulogy andDecimara, the physically strongest of all gods, backward with all the force he could muster, the jar containing thefinal fragments of the two beloved deceased shaking wildly, itsgolden sides cracking as it levitated into the air, Decimara’saura shining around it vibrantly, the mourners looking upon it inwide eyed surprise, some expecting a miraculous rebirth, othersfearful from Arturis’s actions, their worst feelings proving to bethe most accurate as a voice, unheard since the end of the MortalUprising, boomed from the container “my blood collected, I see theworld anew, as my reason and ferocity are both joined once more,forged together by the power of my strongest brother”, it said withgrim joy, shockwaves of terror reverberating through the entirepantheon present, their bodies shaking as the realization of what wasto come sank in entirely, a shapely male form appearing around thebarely whole urn, the shards within it flying through the cracks inits sides, adhering to the outline of the spectral shape coalescingaround it, “tell me, traitors to the Divine, are you ready to reapyour just reward?” the voice questioned angrily, the forming bodyexpanding to many times its size, stopping when even the largest ofdeities looked the size of a child by comparison, the shards fusing,long flowing hair trailing down a heavily scarred, snow-white back,fierce red eyes like portals to damnation igniting brightly, asmile so vicious as to send even the intimidating goddess ofpunishment, Urax, diving for whatever cover she could find, spreadingacross the face of this visage of destruction “S...S…..Sylivasi,how is this possible!?” the demonic looking Lord of Night,Obsidian, shouted in utter disbelief, “WE ALL WITNESSED VALSAERSLAY YOU!”“for such all knowing beings, all of you,save for this halfblood, are certainly talented at overlooking themost obvious of details”, the reborn emblem of fear laughed whilegrabbing Arturis by the neck, disabling the stunned demigod with asimple sharp grip, throwing his body into the frightened throngs, the defeated teacher landing at the feet of Wolfsbane and Vertoria,gaspingdesperately for air, the fair female fae discarding her fright forthe time being, charging at the horrid deity currently rampagingthrough his fellow gods, killing a great many of them effortlesslywith but a single swing of his immense scythe, “isthis all my brothers and sisters can do to stop me?!” he cackled,his face covered in the spray of their ends, his dark pridefuljolliness interrupted by the furious woman slamming headlong into hischin, sending him staggering backward “ah, here we have one withsome fight in her!” he smiled as he recovered, his attentionfocused on her and her alone, his strikes missing their mark as hetoyed with her, allowing her several direct hits upon his personage,enjoying the chance to be challenged in any respect. “CEASE THISFOOLISHNESS WOLFSBANE!” Decimara bellowed as he lunged toward hisbrother, sword slashing downward with air splitting speed, its bladebiting deeply into Sylivasi’s shoulder, eliciting a pained yelpfrom the surprised God of Death, “you have a daughter to think of”,the feared God of Justice urged while trying to use his blade to keepSylivasi restrained, pulling back hard with all of his might, barelyable to restrain the force of the fighting villain, “take her andfind safety in some other realm, where not even this eternal horrorknows the name”, he encouraged, “I shall keep himhere.” “ah, so there IS a heart in the only God asfeared as I”, Sylivasi taunted while ducking free of the blade inhis flesh, turning around with the speed of fate itself and plunginghis hand deep into the chest of his one time cohort in devastation,“and it beats so well, I can’t wait to taste it.” he uttered,licking his lips hungrily, enjoying the look of surprise onDecimara’s proud face as the knowledge his end was soon in comingtook full hold, the expression becoming the blank glare of a corpsewhen his solid black heart was torn from his body, pulsing wildly inthe eternal terror’s hand as if struggling to free itself, thethrobbing ceasing upon the Tormentor’s teeth sinking into itssupple walls, his face dyed crimson “now, where was I?” hequestioned sarcastically, turning his attention back to the fae, thenimmediately to her daughter, the child standing horrified amid thecleaved bodies of the other former mourners, her height all whichsaved her from Sylivasi’s first sudden strike, her terrified wailsfilling the air as the monster appearedclose in front of her,the innocent halfblood trying to force her frozen legs to flee, theblood running cold in her veins, her eyes showing the abject fearthat ran through her young mind as she looked up to the face of theman that would certainly be her end “Iwonder just what that mother of yours is willing to do to save yourlife...” he teased as he leaned down to her level, his nose itselffar larger than her, his bullying of Vertoria interrupted by a hardstrike to the back of his head from Wolfsbane’s fist “leave heralone, or die.” the fae said defiantly, the god vanishing for amoment, only to appear behind her in a much smaller size matching herown, his hands on her body, tracing up her sides and toward her chestin full view of the one she wished to protect “I might”, he saidpulling her tightly against himself, his hands clasping her breastsas hard as he was able, her struggles to free herself only serving toarouse him, “ifyou make it worth my while….” “there..is no way...Iwould EVER SEE TO THE PLEASURE OF A WORTHLESS SHIT LIKE YOU!” sheyelled as she fought against his force, only to receive a harsh biteto the edge of her wing, the villain tearing a chunk out of thebeautiful appendage “yes, fight back, its all the more fun to me.”he cheered tossing her to the ground “oh and, child, feel free towatch, I LOVE an audience...” he said as he tried to get on top ofWolfsbane, the fast woman sliding out from under him before he couldget into position, kicking him in the crotch with all her might, theblow briefly stunning him, allowing her a chance to follow it up witha barrage of ranged attacks, her magic driving him to the dirt “cute,now its my turn...” he said, his face caked in mud, the callouscoward grabbing Vertoria, his re-summoned scythe’s blade againsther throat “itsyour choice, bride of my reason, do as I say, or watch her die...”he threatened, digging the celestial steel into the scared kid’sskin deep enough to open a shallow cut “m..mommy...” shewhimpered “help me….” “yes valiant creature, help yourdaughter, you know how to...” Sylivasi said dragging the implementacross her throat, stopping just shy of her carotid artery, Wolfsbanetrying to think of a way to save her beloved child without giving theman what he so desired, her gaze flitting between him, her daughter,his weapon and the area around the two of them “time’s runningshort sweetheart….” he encouraged, the tip of his blade startingto burrow in to Vertoria’s lifeline, the child crying as she feltwhat could likely be her final pain, “I have a WHOLE UNIVERSE toruin after this!” he shouted dementedly, a drop of Vikki’s bloodgracing the silver instrument, streaking its face like the signatureof doom “a...alright...” Wolf relented as she started to move thestraps to her funeral gown off of her shoulders “but...can we atleast do it somewhere she can’t see?” she asked, hoping to atleast spare Vertoria the sight of her mother being ravaged “I canwork with that, giving you your last little request...” heanswered, removing his hands from Vikki, his weapon staying preciselywhere it was “but if you try to break our deal...its curtains forher...” he added heading her way, his scythe keeping pace as thehalfbreed tried to move awayfrom it.“I won’t, just get this over with….” shesaid resigned to her fate, the ferocious acts of desire thatfollowed, the stuff of nightmares as the rapacious formerly deceaseddeity explored every cruel option his endlessly twisted mind couldconceive of, the fae’s screams of pain and agony from behind theonly tree near the grave reducing her daughter to frantic tears, asher body was used and abused like a toy owned by a psychoticteenager, his every blow onto her and every thrust within her donewith the utmost malice, her bones eventually snapping from the force,her skin opened up in countless cuts and her very soul nearly torn toshreds as the bestial devil finished his gruesome acts of sexualtorture, letting out a final loud grunt accented by her most frantichowlwhenhe spilled his seed within her. The deed done, he rose from thewrithing mass of womanhood, his body sweaty, face almost peaceful,and said in a voice brimming with pure evil “I won’t let yousuffer, time to die.” before crushing her skull beneath his foot,thelast sound she would ever loose a desperate scream, thislast cry of her life followed almost immediately by the loud,sickening crunch of her head caving in beneath the force of his foot“thatjust leaves the girl….” he hummed appearing once more near Vikki,the dreaded weapon which kept her prisoner still where he had placedit, its tip nearly buried in her “can’t have you coming back forrevenge some day, say hi to your mother for me.” he said beforeslittingher throat from ear to ear, washing the ground in the crimson tearsof her veins, her eyes frozen in shock and herbody falling ontothe soaked soil onlyto be kicked onto the grave which was meant to house her father anduncle,her hands reachingfor the picture engraved on the headstone as her life ebbed quicklyaway, a last attempt at comfort before she succumbed, her fingertipsdug into the crevices of the engraving, head falling to rest againstthe stone slab, in line with Shevel’s gaze, her tears as she sliddown to that final position clinging to the image of her father’seyes, making the grave itself seem to cry for the loss of her.

0 notes