#i cropped it to try and make the basket scaled to them? i think it looks good the image for it is just a little tall

[funger-rips]

Fear and Hunger - Nosramus and their basket

[snickiebear]

If this inspires anything in you, and if you have the time to write it, I hope we can see how you respond to the following prompt:

Kakashi is the god Sakura has to eat and kill.

Lordt help us!

HAHAHAHA MITTENS!! this is literally one of the best prompts ever. thank you SO MUCH!!

i literally had to sit down and outline this so make sure i gave it justice LMAO also, did a little research on japanese kami! which is so interesting btw :))

side note! this is also on ao3 bc i really, really loved it

xiv.

It begins with a girl (doesn’t it always?). A girl made woman who is nothing but smiles and laughter, unfiltered sunshine and the smell of flowers on the warm breeze.

She is good, she is brave, she is kind.

And she grows, that girl made woman, she grows and her eyes open to the world around her. To the hatred of the mortal, to the disease of the gods.

She holds her mother close as she dies in her arms, her father off to war.

They never find his body.

She is the only survivor of her village, war and wreckage in her wake.

This woman made once of sweet sighs and feather light touches learns to survive, learns to harden herself against the world, to bare her teeth and not her throat, to love the scars and hard muscle of her once too soft body.

She meets a woman with too ancient eyes for a face so young and the woman smiles at her, it is a horrible, wretched look. It is a beautiful, timeless look. “Oh, you.” She murmurs, voice old and young, standing slowly. “You’ll do just fine.”

And the girl made woman bares her teeth in a smile, a warning, tilting her head to the side, “Oh? And what shall I do just fine?”

The woman assesses her, amber eyes shining with something cruel, “You will be my avenger, girl.”

And the girl made woman, well, she rather likes the sound of that.

xxiii.

She sees him for the first time at the market, it’s a cloudy day, the streets full of people and the carts slowly selling out of the limited goods available.

The very land has been dying for years now. The mortals do not know it, but Sakura does. Less and less crops, dying plants, brain soil.

The thought itself brings a slight smile of fondness to her face.

But Sakura sees him for the first time at the market, and she knows who he is, what he is. She was under Tsunade’s tutelage for years. Sakura knows a god, a kami, when she sees one, feels one.

So, she walks, shoulders back, spine straight, loose and fluidly until her boot purposely catches on a crack in the cobblestoned road and she’s airborne with a sharp gasp—

Until two strong hands wrap around her forearms, steadying her gently. Sakura looks up, face flushed and eyes wide as she makes eye contact with the Shinigami, who looks at her in concern.

The god takes the form of a tall, broadly shouldered man with a mess of gray hair. Onyx eyes stare at her and they are so black she can see her reflection. Sakura fights the full body shudder that threatens to overtake her.

She has stared into the eyes of a dying god before. Staring into a living one’s should be no different.

“Are you okay?” He asks and his voice rumbles through her, her heart pounding without her consent.

“Yes,” She breathes and offers a shy but sweet smile, slowly taking a step back. He lets his hands drop, fingers grazing her bare skin. She ignores the goosebumps that erupt in his wake. “Thank you very much…”

“Hatake Kakashi,” The liar says, eyes crinkling from over his mask. “And you are?”

“Haruno Sakura,” She replies easily, tucking her hair behind her ear. The Shinigami holds out her basket of goods and she takes it, brushing her fingers against his deliberately, calculatingly.

The wretched kami gives her another eye crinkle, taking a step back himself, “Aa, a pleasure then, Haruno-san.”

Forcing a blush, Sakura waves off the honorific, “Please, just Sakura.”

“Then I am simply Kakashi,” And with a duck of his head, the fraud turns and ambles away.

Sakura turns also, disappearing into the crowd of much too skinny humans, too poor, too stupid. She allows herself to grin, wide and unfiltered, and with teeth. And that scaled, clawed, fanged thing inside her peeks its eye open and purrs.

xvi.

Tsunade— or at least that is what she wants Sakura to call her — takes a long swig from her jug and cackles to herself. “I was right when I picked you, you know.”

Sakura glances up from her scroll of poisons, “You still have yet to tell me why it took only one look to think I can do whatever avenging you want done.”

Swirling the liquid in the jug once more, Tsunade chuckles, “Call it intuition, yeah?”

She huffs, snapping the scroll shut and stealing the jug from her master, taking a long drink herself. It is horribly bitter and disgustingly tart, and Tsunade laughs herself hoarse at the look on Sakura’s face.

“You’re going to do great, mighty, quiet things.” Tsunade says after a long silence. Sakura looks at her curiously. “You will bring war upon earth, disrupt the very heavens. Sweet child, you only know a taste of the power you could hold.”

And Sakura, well, she’s been alone since she was eight years old and surrounded by disease ridden corpses, she’s stolen and cheated and bartered her way through survival. She knows her way around a knife, a piece of glass, a sharp rock.

She has spilt blood just to eat for the night.

“You’ll teach me,” It is not a question.

That cruel, beautiful smile unfurls on her master’s face, “Of course, Avenger. Tell me what you want to know.”

“Everything.” Sakura breathes, demands, pleads.

A soft, aching laugh. “Very well, come here and listen closely.”

And Sakura is a clever girl made woman, she listens to everything Tsunade says, and everything she does not.

So, when Tsunade leaves her alone for the night, Sakura stares at the ceiling of the cheap Inn they are staying in and allows herself to smirk.

xxiii.

She sees him every time she goes to the market after that. He crinkles his eyes at her with a, “Good morning, Sakura-san.”

And in response Sakura blushes and murmurs a sweet, “Hello Kakashi-san.”

It goes like this for weeks until he changes their routine, leaning against one of the carts, tossing an apple into the air. There is only one farmer who can now produce apples, and even then the fruit is weak, no longer crispy and juicy.

The very land, the very life of this village is being drained away. Just as the other villages Sakura has traveled through. There will always be consequences to her actions, she supposes.

Kakashi tosses her the apple and Sakura makes sure to fumble with it before clutching it close to her chest, a teasing smile on her lips, “Kakashi-san, this is new.”

“Mah,” He hums, shrugging, “Just didn’t want you to miss out on your usual, is all.”

Sakura smiles, tucking the apple into her basket, the usual contents dwindled down to a simple jar of jam, a measly loaf of bread, and now the apple. She would need to make this quick and move towns soon.

“Say, would you like to come to lunch with me?” It’s a shot in the dark but she’s hoping that Tsunade was right when she said Sakura was infuriatingly charming. “I understand if you would not like—"

Kakashi cuts her off with a wave of his hand and a friendly look in his eye. Sakura wonders, idly, what he would taste like freshly baked and seasoned. “I am not one to turn down free food, of course.”

She laughs, a light and tittering thing and bares her throat the slightest bit before looping arms with him, “I shall lead the way then.”

Luckily, she has some dried meat and left over vegetables to make something decent and she smiles as him as she sits.

“You’re a healer.” Is what he says, eyeing the herbs and the bandages she had left out.

Sakura shrugs, “I try to lessen pain,” It is one of the many things Tsunade had left her.

He looks at her as if she is something new and so very interesting and she knows what he sees. A thing of life, a thing of preservation, has invited a creature of death, a creature of destruction into its domain, and allows that dark creature to live there.

It is what she wants him to see. Sakura smiles with teeth and she knows he does not see the wolf that sits in front of him.

xvi.

“Dodge!” Tsunade barks harshly and Sakura just barely avoids a direct hit, her skin still burning from the way the air sizzles from her master’s blow.

Sakura twists and flips backwards to gain some space between them, thighs quaking and sweat pouring as she pants, chest heaving. “I fucking am!” She bites back.

“Do it faster.” And then Tsunade is in her space, uppercutting and a blow to her stomach, sending Sakura flying into the corpse of trees behind them.

But Sakura is used being beaten down and she snarls loudly, landing on all fours, fingers digging deep into the ground before she lunges upwards, narrowing avoiding Tsunade’s next hit before spinning horizontally and lashing out with her foot.

And for the first time, Sakura lands a hit on Tsunade; sending her stumbling back, golden blood bleeding down her face.

She lands, gasping for breath, knees collapsing out from under her as she stares wide eyed as her master wipes blood and sweat from her face with the back of her hand. Her amber eyes sharpen to knife points as she grins, feral and oh so wild, “Very good, Sakura. Now we’re making progress.”

Despite her exhaustion, Sakura smirks, tasting blood and salt and victory. “Think you can handle more, old lady?”

“Don’t push your luck, brat.” Tsunade smirks, stalking towards Sakura to pull her up, “Now let me see that jaw of yours. And the stomach, the hell did I tell you about the sto-“

“I know,” She snaps, rolling her eyes as her body throbs something fierce. She allows herself the weakness of leaning into Tsunade’s as they trudge back to their small cottage. “I’ll do better.”

“Good.” They leave it at that. Then, “That was a good hit, my pupil.”

And Sakura, well, she’s feeling indulgent, so she smiles, a slight twitch of the lips as she murmurs, “Thank you, shishou.”

xxiv.

She finds him at the usual spot, draped over a branch like a limp curtain, book in hand. Sakura is still not quite over the fact that the death god reads awfully written porn, but at this point in her life, nothing can truly shock her.

Sakura is well past expectations.

Hiking up her pants, she climbs up the tree and to the branch he’s lounging on, straddling it so her back is to the trunk. Kakashi makes a curious noise when she pulls out her book from the waistline of her pants, “I never took you as an Icha Icha reader, Sakura-chan.”

Peering over the top of her book, Sakura quirks a brow, “If you can read porn, so can I.” A pause as she turns the page, “Plus you’re reading Paradise, I’m reading Violence. Two very different pieces of literature.”

What she will not tell him is that Tsunade taught her how to read with these books, she’s memorized every page, paragraph, and line written.

“You wound me so,” He sighs, going back to his book.

Comfortable silence descends upon them and the only sounds are of nature and the rustle of paper. Time passes and she cannot help the slight twitch of her lips whenever Kakashi giggles at a certain part. It is nice, this quiet.

But she knows it will not last. She will not allow it.

And like an omen, low rumbling of thunder rolls through their quiet, small droplets landing on her hand before the rain steadily picks up. Sakura snaps the book shut and shimmies down the tree, Kakashi landing soundly next to her.

“My place?” She asks, though she knows the answer.

Kakashi intertwines their hands, gently and slowly, his hand encompassing her own as he looks at her, dark eyes reflecting the sky as lightning strikes. Something hot pools deep in her belly when she makes eye contact with him.

And she knows. She knows that she has him.

They stand in her small cottage, dripping and studying each other before they move as one, ripping at each other’s clothes, all lips, teeth, and tongue.

She claws at his back when he thrusts into her, rough and unyielding. The rain pounds outside as her back arches and he groans deep and rasping.

He falls asleep, his face pressed into the crook of her neck and Sakura allows herself to smirk, the taste of glory on her tongue once more.

xiv.

Sakura glowers and bares her teeth at the woman, “You still haven’t fuckin’ told me what we’re supposed to be doing.”

Truly, the only reason why Sakura is even here is because of the free food and shelter. She is well aware that nothing is free in this world, Sakura has learned that the hard way.

The woman tilts her head, studying keenly and Sakura rears her head in a snarl. But the woman’s lips pick up at the corner, “What’s your name girl?”

“Sakura.” She bites out, fingers curling into fists. Glancing around the tavern, she notes the exits, the windows, the people who could be an issue. Then again, she’s sitting across the biggest threat in the room. “And yours?”

The woman hums, “Call me Tsunade.”

“And what am I supposed to be doing here?” She grounds out. Sakura nearly bites the woman when two strong hands clamp down on her shoulders, the woman’s face inches from her own.

“You are the catalyst, girl. The commination that will teach the world the very meaning of power.” Sakura’s eyes sharpen at the last word and Tsunade nods. “You like that, hm? I will teach you then, Sakura. And you will enact my vengeance on the heavens itself.”

Sakura stares, tension slowly melting from her body as she stares at this woman, at this savior. And she thinks, she remembers how cold her mother’s body was, the look of grief her father wore when he left.

She remembers tripping over the bodies of friends, of neighbors, half coherent and sickly.

Looking at Tsunade, Sakura licks her lips, “And what will you teach me?”

“How to turn that rage into a dagger and slit gods’ throats with it.” The woman purrs and Sakura smiles.

xxiv.

She wakes to a freezing cold chest to her back and puffs of air on her neck, just as she has since that night.

It is exactly as Tsunade said it would be; fishing. Lure, hook, and reel.

Sakura lets herself smile with teeth, a smug and sharp thing before she slowly extracts herself from the tangle of limbs they had become. The Shinigami slumbers in her bed, wrapped in her blankets.

Leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms, she looks at the god who she has fallen in love with. He loves her with just as much ferocity, she knows. And despite it all, she finds herself not quite hesitating when she goes to dig through her cabinets, finding the small nine pedaled flower. It once had ten and after this morning it will only have eight.

It is as if sinking into a familiar skin as she picks one of the petals, tucking the flower back where it was. Humming under her breath, Sakura grounds the petal in a small bowl before brewing some tea, sprinkling the powder into it.

The Shinigami’s arms snake around her waist, kissing her temple as he rumbles, “Good morning.”

Sakura turns her head to smile at him, offering the tea.

The scaled, clawed, fanged thing within her has its ugly maw open, head throw back as it cackles and howls.

xviii.

“Listen brat,” Tsunade says, snapping open a scroll.

“I’ve already read that,” Sakura interjects, her brows raising. “You know that.”

Tsunade slaps the back of her head, “When I say listen, I mean it.” She shoves the scroll into Sakura’s lap before striding towards a chest that had not been there before. “Come here.”

Slowly, Sakura makes her way towards the opened chest and peeks inside. She drops the scroll, “Is-is that-”

“Weapons to kill the divine,” Tsunade finishes for her, nodding. “Find one you like.”

Sakura swallows harshly as she kneels down and digs through the weapons, careful of every sharp point, as she palms a knife, a curved dagger with a golden blade. “This one.” She whispers, looking up to her master.

Tsunade nods in approval. “There are few ways to kill a kami.” She holds out one finger, “One, with an ichor dipped weapon.” A second finger. “Two, a very particular poison.”

Picking up the scroll, Sakura glances down the list before landing on one flower, “Kami koroshi.”

“That’s right.” Tsunade nods, “And do you know what to do with it?”

Sakura stands, flipping the dagger in her hand. It feels like coming home, having a blade at her side, bathing in the intimately dangerous knowledge of how to bring about the destruction of the heavens.

“Crush it for indigestion.”

xxiii.

Her stomach aches with laughter, clutching at her sides as she cramps and chokes on her tears. “An-and then wha-what happened?” She manages to get out as Kakashi laughs himself, leaning against the wall, a jug of liquor in hand.

He passes it to her and Sakura takes a long drink, reminiscing of a time similar to this.

“Then I told him, fuck off you little shit—" Kakashi wheezes and Sakura shouts with laughter, curling over as she gasps for breath. “And go blow som-someone else!”

They both dissolve into giggles and howls, Kakashi joining her on the floor. Sakura’s panting by the time she catches her breath, wiping tears from her face, and when she looks over Kakashi is not much better.

Brushing hair from his face, she points skyward, the stars winking down at him. “Hey Kakashi,” She asks, drunk off her ass and still giggly. “Where do you think we go when we die?”

Silence meets her question, and she sluggishly looks to the side to find him watching her, eyes soft and so full of— of—

“You’ll go somewhere safe,” He says softly. “Somewhere beautiful.”

“Yeah?” She mumbles, eyes dropping closed.

“I’ll make sure of it.” Is the last thing she hears before the dark overtakes her.

xix.

Tsunade sits across from her, laughing as she takes another long drink from her jug and sets it down heavily.

Sakura simply watches, leaning back in her chair, eyes cold and head tilted as her master coughs once, twice, three times.

Her arms begin to lose its color, being paler and paler and Tsunade watches with detached interest before laughing. She looks to Sakura, “Took you long enough, you fuckin’ brat.”

Snorting, Sakura stands, dagger in hand as Tsunade’s body begins to writhe, her breathes coming quick and uneven.

She yanks her master’s hair back, exposing her throat and slitting it in a single slide, so deep that she knicks bone, golden blood spraying.

The body drops forward, ichor pooling on the table and dripping onto the floor. Sakura sighs, rubbing the back of her neck as she kneels down to look into Tsunade’s lifeless eyes, “I will take it from here, Shishou.”

The promise rings out into the silence and Sakura revels in it.

xxiv.

Kakashi takes a sip of the tea as they both sit down, Sakura across from him. She takes a bite from the rest of their bread, watching him keenly.

He jerks suddenly, choking and hacking as he looks to her in horror and alarm. “You—"

“Me.” She confirms easily, getting up, dagger in hand.

The Shinigami roars and pushes the table away from himself and into the wall, Sakura ducks, the wood barely grazing her head before she lunges.

His already pale skin grays some more as he attempts to fight her off. She laughs at him, holding him down with one hand, knees on either side of his hips. And in the morning light, her dagger glints like a heaven sent prayer.

She plunges the blade into his head and drags it down his breast, carving him open as the kami screams and screams and screams.

Sakura feels his life bleed out from him under her hand. It is quiet once more.

And the girl made woman smiles, all bloodied teeth and gold stained hands. "And here we are." she whispers, caressing the corpse's cheek, reveling in her quiet victory. "Divinity dies at my wretched hands once again."

xvii.

“Shishou,” She begins, treading carefully. Her teacher looks at her in question, quirking up a brow. “Why were you outcasted from the other Kami?”

Tsunade— or more commonly known as Inari, Goddess of Everything Important, of the very Life— laughs and it is a hollow sound. “Oh, darling girl,” She says, a bland smile on her face. “Even gods hunger for power."

xiv.

Sakura sits, a feast laid out in front of her, a goblet of wine in her hand as she smiles, eyes flashing with something predatory.

Picking up her fork, Sakura spears into the first bit of meat, taking a bite and moaning at the way it melts in her mouth, the way the spices and flavors all blend.

She sips at her wine, running her tongue over her teeth before she laughs, throwing her head back and cackles at it all, with it all. Oh, she is a god killer, she is god taught and god fucked and she will be the one to rule them all.

Sakura sits, a feast laid in front of her, and eats the Shinigami’s flesh, one bite at a time until she can feel the power in her roar.

xix.

The corpse still sits at the table as Sakura rummages through the shit Tsunade had left behind, finding a thick envelope sealed in wax. Prying it open, Sakura laughs.

If you’ve found this, it means you’ve finally grown a pair and done what you were supposed to do. Well done, my pupil. You know your mission. I have trained you well. Do not disappoint me.

And behind the scrawled letter is a recipe.

She looks to the corpse and back down to the paper before she stands, going to gather the ingredients needed.

Sakura stands, flipping through the rest of the contents of the envelope until she pauses at another paper; a list of names and common dwellings.

The Shinigami’s is underlined three times in red.

xxv.

It ends with a girl (doesn't it always?), a girl made of nothing but destruction and anger, all slit throats and bleeding teeth.

She is horrid, she is wretched, she is powerful.

And she has grown, that girl made woman, she has grown and her eyes are wide open and she is intimately aware of the hated and evil of the world, of the weaknesses of the divine.

She finds them laying under a tree, peacefully existing and smiling at each other. The blonde one laughs, clutching his stomach while the raven simply watches on in adoration.

Sakura takes out the list, and under the Shinigami’s name crosses off two more, Raijin and Fujin.

Smiling, she makes her way towards them making sure to look a little lost and a bit scared.

And that thing inside her, the scaled, clawed, fanged thing, it smiles wide and hungry.

[theravencawsatmidnight]

3 and 9 with dragon kiri

Monster Prompts #3NSFW. “Im going to breed you” & #9 “If it means ill save my people” with Dragon Kirishima

Warninhs dub con

Ruby Red Eyes

The village was dying; crops were not growing , money was scarce and people were sick. Something or someone tainted the quiet village . Was it in the water? A traveler ? No one knew. One thing was for sure though, someone had to ask the king for help.

The king only left his castle when absolutely necessary or when he just wanted to fly. If you did not live in the castle you'd think he was made up. But every now and then everyone would hear a low growl rumble down from the hill. The rumour was that he was immortal , but then again no one was around long enough to confirm it now were they? Nope.

The village gave you a basket to bring with you some fresh bread and fruit, the last they had. You had no idea if the king even liked these items but you took them along anyway .

••

Once you arrived the large door opened and you went in clutching the basket close to your chest. Dragon statues followed you down the long hall , the red rug you walked on stretched just enough to take you to the throne.

You saw him for the first time; large build with scales sticking out of his shoulders , his chest cut up with claw marks. His large red wings displayed proudly behind him , and a long thick tail draped over the throne. He waved at you with his tail.

“You must be from the village.” He asked sweetly.

You shivered and set the basket down by his feet , you talked with your head low. “It's not much for an offering but please my king. My village is dying, we think it's a plague.”

He leaned on his hand watching you, his tail brought him the basket and he looked inside to see the goods. He looked over the basket down at you with a raised eyebrow. His tail set the basket down next to you.

“Look at me.” Commanded the king.

Flinching you looked up to see him mildly annoyed. “If it is the plague , why would I eat food from there huh?”

You held the basket shaking . “I.. we have nothing else to offer my king…”

The king and his tail looked at each other for a minute then down at you. “Nothing? Are you.. sure about that?”

“I don't understand my king?”

“Take off your clothes.”

You jumped up stepping back and his tail grabbed your ankle. “My .. my king?!?”

His tail dragged you closer, up the first step. He looked up at you spreading his legs with a smile. “Nothing ? Nothing… at.. all..?”

You looked up and down maybe five times till it clicked in your head. Gently you set the basket down and fiddled with the cloth buttons on your gown. “If it.. means i'll save my people..” the gown fell down to your feet , you held your stomach shivering.

His eyes ate you up, delectable. “Perfect. Do i need to explain what comes next?”

“No.. my king.” You sat down on your knees between his spread legs feeling the heat coming off his midsection hit your face. Slowly you reached up unzipping his fancy pants, taking in a deep breath.

••

He never took his eyes off you . Not once . The look of utter embarrassment was too good to miss.watching you lick his thick length all messy like. You clearly had no idea what you were doing but he appreciated the effort.

He coached you through it when you were repeating yourself too much. Even got a chuckle out of him. “Yes, like that. Use your tongue more.” He told you in his sweet voice. “Touch me here, no don't squeeze, perfect. Those hands are so soft on my dick honey.” He teased . “Aren't you forgetting something?” He tapped your forehead and you looked up with a very red face. You watched him lift his cock up and you moved closer whimpering taking his tail with you. Leaning forward you licked at his balls as best you could and the king laid his head back smiling.

His tail had been working its way in you for a while now, trying to make that first time as painless as he possibly could. He had to tease you quite a bit before he could even get the tip in.

He had to do a lot of grinding on those folds to get you nice and slick for him, a lot of clit teasing and maybe 2 or 3 orgasms. Just for good measure.

His climax was building now, and you giving his balls kitten licks was not helping. “That's-enough” he said, pulling you off him and removing his tail. You stared up at him looking like a completely different person.

“My king..?”

“Sit on my dick, now.”

You scrambled up sliding all the way down on his cock. He dug his calloused hands into your hips and moved you up and down on his length.

••

Why did you come here again? Was it for a reason? Or were you scheduled to bounce on the king's cock? That basket looks familiar , where did it come from? Your eyes lazily went back to him and he looked up at you panting. He was all sweaty and had been biting on your shoulders. “Yes?” He asked, slamming you down on his cock.

You whimpered wrapping your arms around his neck humping him back. “Why am i h-he-here?”

He sat you down on his lap holding you in place. “You dont remember? “

Slowly your hips tried to move but he held you firmly in place. “N-no..”

He licked your face over to your ear nibbling it. “You wanted to save your village from the plague i placed on it.”

“ i-i did?”

“Yes honey. I do this every few years when I want a little dragon running around my castle. They never make it though. “

“Maybe.. cuzz.”

“Of the plague? Probably. But its so fun to have a little innocent lady come up to my throne and offer me food in exchange for health. But.” He started to slam you on his cock again. “This is more fun. I'm going to breed you, and you will have my child, and many .. many more.”

You kissed at his neck and shoulder, holding him tight. “ yes, my king.”

••

@squeaky-ducky

[prouvaireafterdark]

All I See is You

Written for the Joe/Nicky prompt: Naz (Urdu) - assurance/pride in knowing that the other’s love is unconditional and unshakable.

“Come on, it’ll be easy—like Bruges, ’68,” Andy says.

Nicky and Joe share a look. Neither of them has to remind Andy that Bruges, ’68 was considerably different: For one, the seduction was a distraction tactic, not meant for intel gathering, and for another, it was Booker who did the seducing.

***

Joe is asked to seduce someone during a mission, and after nine hundred years of commitment, Nicky isn't even a little bit worried about it.

Also on AO3!

***

Nicky is reading at the kitchen table while Joe chops parsley beside him when Andy walks through the door of their safe house and drops a thick manilla envelope on the wood in front of them.

“What’s this?” Nicky asks, placing a worn leather bookmark between the pages before he sets the book aside.

“A gift from Copley,” she says, plucking an overripe plum out of the fruit basket at the table’s center. Joe sighs when she takes a bite. “What?” she asks, mouth still full.

“You’ll spoil your dinner,” Joe scolds her lightly, pointing his knife in her direction.

Nicky misses the exchange that passes between them, the echo of banter they’ve had a thousand times before grabbing his attention less than the envelope sitting before him. The time they’ve spent lying low in Bergamo since their last job has been wonderful, but he cannot deny that the chance to get back out there and do some good is a welcome one.

“What’s the job?” Nicky asks.

“Human trafficking ring,” Andy answers before taking another bite. Juice runs down her arm, so Nicky reaches for a napkin and hands it to her. She thanks him as she takes it before she looks around and asks, “Where’s Nile?”

“Studying Russian, I think,” Nicky says, looking to Joe for confirmation.

Joe nods before adding, “On the patio.”

When he looks back to Andy, he catches her grinning, though why he cannot say.

“I’ll get her,” she says, already walking toward the back of the house. “We should get started.”

“Can it wait an hour?” Joe interrupts, setting his knife down on the cutting board before he wipes his hands off on the kitchen towel he has thrown over his shoulder. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

Andy shakes her head, not looking back as she answers, “We’ll talk while we eat.”

Joe lets out a soft sigh as the back door closes, his hopes of a nice family dinner dashed. Nicky reaches across the table for his hand, the earthy scent of fresh herbs hitting his nose when he presses his lips to his skin.

Joe smiles at him, a soft and tender thing, and Nicky feels a surge of love for him so strong he can’t help but lean forward in his chair to kiss him. Joe meets him eagerly, his hand rising from Nicky’s grip to brush his fingertips along the edge of his jaw.

“Would you like me to set the table?” Nicky asks when they part, his eyes still closed as Joe rests their foreheads together.

He feels the curve of Joe’s smile as he presses his lips to the corner of his mouth.

“Per favore, amore mio,” Joe tells him.

Nicky steals one final kiss before he stands and sets off in search of utensils.

“You want me to do what?” Joe asks, twenty minutes later with a spoonful of tajine halfway to his lips.

Nicky hides his grin in his own steaming bowl. This is going to be an interesting job.

According to Copley’s intelligence, the trafficking operation is run by a man named Victor Cross, who’s so dangerous and well-connected that most witnesses to his crimes clam up the moment the Feds come knocking, and those who don’t tend to wind up dead or vanish before they can reveal anything useful.

Well, almost.

Before an assassin claimed his life, an informant revealed to Copley’s source that Cross keeps meticulous records of all his sordid dealings at his home in Malibu. With those documents in their hands, they could expose his whole operation and save a lot of innocent people.

The catch is that these documents are, predictably, very well-guarded, and a direct assault on his home runs the risk of drawing too much attention, which would likely trigger a failsafe that would destroy the documents before they could be reached. Nicky has faith in their ability to fly under the radar, but with so many lives at stake, scattered in places they don’t yet know, he agrees they should find a safer plan.

Luckily, Copley has a suggestion. Cross appears to have one weakness: his only son Tyler, who just so happens to be throwing an extravagant party for his twenty-fifth birthday at his father’s mansion. Even better, according to his social media activity, he just so happens to be gay and have a strong attraction to older men with dark, mysterious eyes.

Which brings us to Andy telling Joe that he’s going undercover on a honey pot mission this weekend.

“Come on, it’ll be easy—like Bruges, ’68,” Andy says.

Nicky and Joe share a look. Neither of them has to remind Andy that Bruges, ’68 was considerably different: For one, the seduction was a distraction tactic, not meant for intel gathering, and for another, it was Booker who did the seducing.

Andy seems to sense their train of thought, and adds, with a touch of exasperation, “Just look at the kid like he’s Nicky and feed him drinks until he starts talking. Even if he’s not involved, he’s got to have an idea about where exactly Cross would keep those documents and anything else we might need to know about before we try to take them.”

“How do you know he’ll even take the bait?” Joe asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh, he will,” Nile pipes up from where she’s been looking over some of the papers Copley sent at the other end of the table. “According to his Twitter, he’s thirsting hard over some actor named Marwan Kenzari. Dude looks just like you.”

She holds up a paper with a screenshot of what must be Tyler’s social media profile. In it, there’s a photo of a handsome, shirtless man who does indeed bear a striking resemblance to Joe. Nicky spots the differences easily though; this man has more muscle definition than Joe does, likely won through a combination of targeted workouts and dehydration, and his beard is cropped much closer to his skin. He also has a small tattoo on his chest, but the picture is too far away from him to read it.

“Huh,” Joe says, leaning in to get a better look. Nicky is so distracted by trying to parse out the meaning of the “Hot Jafar can get itttttttttt #MarwanKenzari” written above the photo that he nearly misses Joe wondering aloud, “Should I shave?”

Nicky lets out a low, mournful sound when Joe’s words catch up with him. The weeks it would take to grow back would be a drop in the bucket of their long, long lives, but Nicky loves the feel of Joe’s beard against his skin and he isn’t prepared to give that up without a fight.

“Va bene, tesoro,” Joe assures him with a wink, sensing Nicky’s thoughts as if they were his own. “Non devo radermi.”

Nicky smiles gratefully at him.

“Anyway,” Andy interrupts. “I’ll infiltrate the catering company to do some recon before the party. Nile, unless you’ve got any objections, you’ll go in as Joe’s plus one to run interference while he pumps Tyler for information. You’ll also be his exit strategy if we need to leave unexpectedly without drawing too much attention.”

“Really?” Nile perks up.

Nicky smiles at her eagerness. “Makes sense,” he tells her. “You’re their age, you’ll fit right in.”

“And Nicolò?” Joe asks.

“Well, Copley can hack into Cross’ CCTV to guide us through the halls when we’re inside, but we’ll need someone keeping an eye on what’s going on outside. You up for it, Nicky?“

He shares a look with Joe, his eyes drawn to the subtle, downward quirk of his lips that tells him he doesn’t love the idea of Nicky being on his own out there. Nicky isn’t surprised to see it—he knows Joe has grown accustomed to being in the sniper’s nest with him to watch his six while Nicky has his attention trained on his scope—but there’s little that can be done about that now, so he nods, dragging his eyes back to Andromache.

“Si. I can set up my rifle here,” Nicky says, pointing to the best vantage point he can see on the satellite photos. “I’ll have a view of the front of the house and the backyard. If anyone suspicious enters or exits the property, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Hey, speaking of cameras: should we be worried about that?” Nile asks. “I’m sure people will be posting pics of everything if the scale of this party is as big as it sounds.”

“With Copley covering our tracks, I think it’s a risk we can afford to take,” Andy says.

“Alright,” Joe says. “When do we leave?”

Before they pack up and head to California, Joe and Nile need new clothes. The next morning, Nicky wakes up extra early to make them coffee before they take a train into Milan.

“Where’s Joe?” Nile croaks, her eyes still weighed down by sleep as she stumbles into the kitchen.

“In the shower,” Nicky answers. “Andy?”

“Still sleeping,” Nile explains.

Nicky nods, recalling that she took the first watch last night. He’ll wake her up in an hour or so, once he finishes packing their belongings for the flight to California.

In the mean time, he pours Nile a cup of coffee from the Moka pot on the stove, the sugar bowl and a small carafe of milk already on the table waiting for her. The moment the smell hits her nose a grateful smile breaks out on her face.

“Bless you,” Nile says, accepting the cup and sliding into a seat at the table.

“Prego,” Nicky says in response before pouring himself one and joining her.

They sip their coffee in silence, until Nile asks suddenly, “Hey, how are you feeling about the plan?”

“Good,” Nicky answers over his cup. “Why, are you having second thoughts?”

“No,” Nile says quickly. “I just thought maybe part of it might bother you.”

“Which part?”

“You know,” she says, like it’s obvious.

Nicky looks at her blankly.

“The part where Joe has to seduce someone and I apparently have to be his wingman?” she says expectantly.

Nicky laughs as understanding sets in, which only seems to confuse Nile further.

“No, I’m not bothered by that,” Nicky answers honestly.

“Really?” Nile asks, sounding surprised. “Why not?”

“Because if there is one thing I can be certain of after a millennium of sharing a life with Yusuf, it is that his heart is mine and mine alone,” Nicky says, feeling the truth of those words as they leave his mouth. “He will do what he must to get the information we need, and afterward he will come to bed with me like he has every night since we first cast our swords aside and allowed ourselves to love each other.”

Nile blinks at him in stunned silence. Nicky smiles as he takes another sip of coffee.

“Damn,” Nile says at last. “You two really invented love, huh?”

“I like to think so,” Joe says as he wanders into the kitchen, his curls still damp from his shower. He looks more alert than he did when Nicky left him in bed, but soft around the edges like he always gets whenever Nicky talks about how much they love each other.

“All lovers do,” Nicky agrees.

That’s certainly what it had felt like that first time they surrendered to their passions, when Nicky was Nicolò di Genova and Joe was Yusuf al-Kaysani and they’d spent the whole night mapping each others bodies with hands and lips and tongues. Each kiss was a revelation, every gasp, moan, and sigh, a shining new discovery, and in that moment, as Yusuf took him into his mouth with the vault of heaven twinkling above them, Nicolò could not have fathomed that anyone else in the history of the world had ever felt so worshipped by another—save perhaps God himself. After nine hundred years of loving this man, of bleeding and dying and living beside him, Nicky is as happy as he is unsurprised to report that he still feels exactly the same way.

Returning Joe’s soft smile, Nicky gets up from his seat to fix him a cup of coffee from the pot on the stove. He hears Joe’s footsteps approaching from behind and sighs contentedly when he feels Joe’s hands settle on his waist and his lips brush the back of his neck.

“So I will have no jealousy from you this weekend?” Joe asks, sounding a touch disappointed.

Nicky’s smile grows. “You are a very beautiful man, Yusuf,” he answers, turning in Joe’s arms to hand him his coffee. Joe accepts it and takes a sip as Nicky adds, “If I got angry every time you caught the eye of another, madness would have consumed me centuries ago.”

Joe laughs softly at Nicky’s words and sets his cup back down on the counter.

“Do you hear this?” Joe asks incredulously, throwing a look at Nile over his shoulder. “My Nicolò flatters me too much.”

“No,” Nicky disagrees with a fond smile. “I speak only the truth.”

Joe’s eyes soften before he leans in to kiss him, slow and wet and so very distracting. Nicky sighs into the kiss when he feels the warmth of Joe’s palm against the side of his neck, keeping him still as he licks into his mouth, bitter notes of coffee on his tongue.

“Oh my god,” he hears Nile mutter to herself before her chair scrapes against the broken tile. “Y’all are too much. I’m gonna grab my shoes and then we have a train to catch, Joe.”

Joe hums in acknowledgement, but only presses Nicky back into the counter more firmly once Nile’s footsteps fade. Nicky gasps as tendrils of heat stoke low in his belly, but he manages to find the will to put his hands flat against Joe’s chest and ease him back. Joe looks betrayed when he does it, but there’s a brightness in his eyes that tells Nicky he’s only teasing.

“As much as I want to keep kissing you, Nile is right,” Nicky says, knocking their noses together. “You have a train to catch.”

“I know,” Joe says, raking his fingers through Nicky’s sleep-tousled hair, “but you are just so tempting first thing in the morning, I don’t know how you expect me to resist you.”

Heat sparks inside Nicky once more as Joe’s nails scrape gently against his scalp, and his eyes slip closed, his own self-control dangling by a thread. They’d been too tired to have sex last night and Nicky curses their former selves for not taking advantage of each other while they had the time.

Nicky’s eyes flit back down toward the smug curve of Joe’s mouth, but before he can make a questionable decision, the door to Nile’s bedroom creaks open.

“Ready?” she asks.

“Yeah, just a sec,” Joe says, and for a moment, Nicky thinks Joe is going to kiss him again, but instead he reaches for the cup of coffee he left on the counter. He drains it in one go before he steps aside to place it in the sink, leaving Nicky unpleasantly cold without the heat of his body to warm him.

“Thank you for the coffee, habibi,” he says, dropping a kiss on Nicky’s cheek as he passes him. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Of course,” Nicky says, offering Joe a smile as he folds his arms across his chest. “Have fun in Milano.”

“Without you?” Joe asks, shooting him a look over his shoulder. “Never.”

The next night finds them at a hotel in Malibu, not far from Cross’ mansion. Nicky reclines on the bed he’ll share with Joe tonight if all goes well, dressed head to toe in black, while Joe gets ready for the party in their ensuite.

Nicky is resting his eyes when the bathroom door swings open.

“How do I look?” Joe asks as he steps into the room. Nicky pushes himself up onto his elbows to see, swallowing as his eyes travel the length of him.

Joe’s suit is of Italian make and exceptional quality, its rich burgundy hue eye-catching without being garish. The button down beneath is crisp and white, in stark contrast to the plain black bowtie that circles his neck. As he adjusts his cufflinks, Nicky’s eyes catch on the silver rings glinting on his fingers and the expensive watch on his wrist—a gift Nicky picked up for him the last time they were in Geneva. He looks like sin standing there, the well-tailored fabric clinging to his waist and thighs in a way that would have sent Nicky to his knees were he not already lying down.

“Bellissimo,” Nicky answers, and when Joe smiles brightly in response, Nicky beckons him closer with a gesture, unable to stop himself from playfully adding, “Tyler will not be able to resist.”

Joe scoffs and continues his approach toward the bed.

“And you?” he asks, eyes darkening as he pushes Nicky gently back until he’s lying against the mattress again. “Could you resist me?”

Nicky lets his thighs fall open in answer as Joe moves to settle in the cradle of his hips. The moment Nicky feels the solid weight of him rest between his thighs, Joe rolls his hips forward, a tease that pulls a soft moan from Nicky’s lips. Joe stifles the sound with his mouth as he moves in for a greedy kiss, nipping Nicky’s bottom lip between his teeth before soothing the bite with his tongue.

It never ceases to amaze Nicky that, after all the lifetimes they’ve lived, Joe’s kisses still have the power to steal his breath and make his heart pound against his ribs, that they still feel so fucking good. Nicky melts against him, any coherent thoughts that remain slipping away with every press of Joe’s mouth against his, leaving him dizzy and warm and utterly lost in the feel of Joe’s tongue delving into his mouth and his beard brushing against his skin.

It’s not until Joe snakes a hand between them to rub against Nicky’s rapidly hardening cock through the thick fabric of his tactical pants that Nicky remembers they have a job to do.

Nicky pulls away from Joe’s mouth with a soft gasp, but Joe just fits his mouth against the side of his neck instead as he continues to palm him through his clothes.

“We will be late,” Nicky pants, reaching down to cover Joe’s hand with his own—to stop him or urge him on, he isn’t quite sure.

“It’s a party,” Joe mumbles before tugging the neckline of Nicky’s shirt down with his free hand to suck a fleeting mark onto his collarbone. “We’re meant to be late.”

“You’re going to wrinkle your suit,” he tries weakly.

“I don’t mind,” Joe counters, unbuckling Nicky’s belt. Nicky makes no move to stop him as he unzips his pants and gets a hand on his cock, his thumb swiping through the pre-come gathering at the tip. It occurs to Nicky that Joe better be careful if he doesn’t want a stain on his new suit. He opens his mouth to say so, but Joe must sense his thoughts because before he can speak, he adds, “Don’t worry. I’ll finish you off with my mouth so you don’t make a mess.”

“Oh?” Nicky asks, flushing at the thought even as he teases, “Do you think Tyler will be able to tell where your mouth has been when he kisses you?”

Joe groans and sinks his teeth into Nicky’s skin, making him gasp as a heady mix of pleasure and pain washes over him. He moves up toward Nicky’s ear then, tracing the path up his neck with his tongue.

“Would you like that?” Joe asks in a low whisper before he nips his earlobe between his teeth, his hand still working Nicky’s cock in steady strokes. “For him to taste you on my tongue and know that I am yours, body and soul?”

Nicky lets out a shuddering breath and rolls his hips into Joe’s touch.

“Would you?” Nicky asks.

Before Joe can answer, there’s a sudden, harsh knock at the door, startling them both.

“Joe? Nicky? We’ve gotta leave in like ten minutes so make yourselves decent,” Nile calls from behind the wood before her footsteps quickly retreat.

Joe huffs in disappointment.

Nicky cannot help but share the feeling when Joe releases his cock, leaving it hard and aching against his belly. Just as he’s resigning himself to jerking off while Joe finishes getting ready, he feels Joe start to pull his pants down his thighs.

“Joe?” Nicky asks, the question obvious on his lips.

“We still have nine minutes,” Joe explains, shuffling down his body until Nicky can feel his breath on the tip of his cock.

“That’s not much time,” Nicky comments, reaching down to cup Joe’s cheek.

“It’s enough,” Joe says, pressing a kiss to his palm, and before Nicky can even think to argue, he leans down to lick a long stripe up his shaft, from base to tip.

Joe seals his lips over the leaking head of Nicky’s cock when he reaches it, sucking at it softly in that way that drives Nicky mad. He hums at the taste before taking him deeper, eager to make the most of their time. Nicky has to bite down on his lower lip to stifle a cry, his hips twitching forward to push himself deeper into the welcoming, wet heat of Joe’s mouth.

Nicky’s eyes stay fixed on those plush pink lips, watching his thick cock disappear between them again and again and again, the tip edging closer to the back of Joe’s throat with every bob of his head over Nicky’s lap. It’s a sight he’s seen countless times before, but it never fails to make the liquid heat pooling in his belly simmer to a boil, and Nicky is writhing against the mattress in no time at all.

Joe anchors his arm across Nicky’s hips to keep him from moving too much, and the confining pressure somehow turns Nicky on even more. Nicky squirms in Joe’s hold as he keeps working his cock just the way he likes it, the movements second nature after nearly a millennium of practice—Joe knows just when to take Nicky deep into his throat, when to slide his fist up and down his length while he gives the flushed head a little more attention, and, finally, when to slip his hand between Nicky’s thighs to rub slow, agonizing circles into his perineum until Nicky doesn’t have a prayer of keeping quiet anymore.

Nicky moans high in his throat at every pass of Joe’s fingers against his prostate, the pleasure mounting inside of him making his thighs tremble. His orgasm is so close he can taste it, and Joe must sense it too because when Nicky locks eyes with him again, he slides his cock deeper into his throat and presses his fingers more firmly into his perineum.

Nicky cries out as his orgasm hits, his cock pulsing between Joe’s lips as he fills his mouth with come. Joe swallows every drop, humming as his hand continues pumping his shaft, wringing every drop of pleasure from him that he can.

He lies there boneless as he comes back down, his chest heaving with every breath. His eyes slip closed as Joe tucks him away in his tactical pants, and a moment later he feels it when Joe climbs up the bed to seek out Nicky’s mouth with his own.

Joe crowds him even closer against the bed, and Nicky offers no resistance as Joe deepens the kiss, relishing the taste of himself on his tongue with a quiet moan. The weight of Joe on top of him is more than welcome, and when Joe’s hips roll instinctively against his stomach, he can feel how hard he still is. Without a second thought, Nicky reaches between them and unzips Joe’s pants.

“Do we have time?” Joe asks as Nicky pulls him out through his underwear and licks his palm.

“Ti importa?” Nicky asks, rucking his own t-shirt up to expose his stomach.

Joe huffs a laugh against his lips. “Credo di no,” he says before Nicky feels his lips on his once more.

Nicky swallows the precious sounds Joe makes as he jerks him off, fast and rough. Between how worked up he got sucking Nicky off and the adrenaline coursing through him as Nile’s ten minutes wear thin, it doesn’t take long—it must be barely three minutes before Joe grunts and spills over Nicky’s fist, painting the pale skin of his belly with streaks of white.

As soon as he comes, Nicky pushes him gently to the side so he won’t collapse right into the mess he’s made and reaches for a tissue on the bedside table. Joe pants beside him in a post-orgasm daze while Nicky cleans himself up with practiced efficiency before putting Joe’s cock back in his trousers.

“I didn’t get any on me, right?” Joe asks a moment later, still sounding winded.

“No, tesoro,” Nicky answers after he gives him a once-over. “Your suit is clean for now.”

“Good,” Joe sighs in relief, and then raises his head to look at Nicky as he asks, “Wait, ‘for now’?”

Nicky only raises an eyebrow coyly in response. Joe laughs and rolls onto his side to kiss him.

By the time they pull themselves out of bed and into their hotel suite’s living room, their ten minutes are long over.

They find Nile waiting on the couch, dressed head to toe in a sparkling gold gown and playing a game on her phone. She looks surprised to see them when she glances up.

Nicky is about to apologize for their tardiness and unprofessionalism when she says, “Huh. Thought you’d be in there at least another ten minutes.”

“We can come back later if you like,” Joe quips, but Nicky’s still stuck on his confusion.

“I thought you said we had to leave in ten minutes,” he says, head tilting to one side.

“I lied,” she answers simply.

The thought that their sweet, innocent Nile would lie is somewhat scandalizing, and Joe and Nicky share a look.

“Oh, come on, don’t be so surprised,” Nile says, sounding amused as she stands up and brushes the fabric of her dress down her thighs. “Joe looks stupid hot in that suit and you two are the most predictable people I’ve ever met, immortal or not. If I told you thirty minutes, I’d be sitting here for an hour.”

“That’s fair, I suppose,” Nicky says at the same time Joe asks, “You think I’m hot?”

Nicky laughs and nudges Joe with his shoulder. “Save your flirting for the mark, Joe,” he says.

“If you insist,” Joe sighs. “Though I’d rather save it for you.”

Nicky smiles, ignoring Nile’s dramatic sigh in the background.

“Can we go now?” she asks. “This guy’s burn book isn’t gonna steal itself.”

“Si,” Nicky says, and goes to grab the rifle case he left sitting on the table.

“I just have one question,” Joe asks.

“Yeah, okay, what’s up?” Nile asks, pausing by the door.

“What’s a burn book?”

[ds-ts-smut-fics]

Lovely Boys [Chapter Three]

Summary: Janus and Logan are both in love with Remus, it’s just a matter of who can convince Remus of their feelings first. 

Trigger warnings: NSFW, real hardcore insecurity, not the healthiest habits, rough sex, being caught (kind of, they’re not walked in on), mention of abusive and negligent past exes who neglected proper BDSM rules, some very rude degrading self talk, sl*t as an endearing term, pretty heavy pet play, Janus is a brat 

Genre: Hurt/Comfort smut (Sub Remus, dom Logan, switch Janus), intruloceit 

Written by: Virgil & Claire

Edited by: Virgil 

A/N: One more after this! It’s more of an epilogue. <3 Also! I’ve been having trouble with read mores lately, so pls lmk if it doesn’t show up ~Virgil 

Remus’ hand was warm and soft in Janus’, and completely restless. Remus bounced excitedly. Janus was… In a sort of daze, not quite caught up with reality. 

"Remus wanted to make a stop on the way, but…” Logan glanced over his shoulder at them. “If we're adding J, maybe a postpone on the collar, pet?"

He pouted. “O-okay…” 

“Why postpone the collar?” Janus held Remus closer. 

"You're okay with getting a collar for him, some toys? I didn't want to assume, but…" Logan nibbled his lips. Both of you in collars… Hands bound and waiting orders~ 

“Well, I certainly don’t like this look on his face.” Janus tapped Remus’ nose. “You want your collar tonight?”

Remus nodded sheepishly. “If that’s okay.”

"Very true…" Cupping Remus' face, he smiled. "If my pup wants a collar, a collar he shall have… Kiss?" 

Remus kissed him excitedly, and pulled away quickly to throw open the door. “C’mon, c’mon, can we go?”

Chuckling, he nodded, offering Janus his arm. "Shall we, dear? The pup is anxious to go…"

Janus took his arm with a little, embarrassed nod. “Yes, I’m ready.”

"Good boy…" Patting the hand on his arm, he followed Remus out, offering the other hand to him. 

Remus took his hand as Janus spluttered a bit, blushing. “That is not…”

Grinning, Logan winked. "Shhh… It's okay, J!" 

Janus scowled and climbed into the backseat, letting Remus take the front. 

Bending to steal a kiss, Logan sighed. "Janus… Did I say something wrong, dear?"

He crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged.

"I'm sorry…. How can I make it right?" Tapping the steering wheel, he sighed.  I want you both happy, Janus.

“He’s just being a drama brat,” Remus giggled, “isn’t that right, Jan-Jan?”

“Fuck off,” he grumbled, face pink. 

"Oh… You scared me a moment, Janus!!" A soft smile breaking, he sighed. "I don't want to lose either of my precious boys!"

They both blushed bright red, Remus squealing and kissing Logan’s knuckles, Janus scowling and looking out the window. 

Turning to driving, he stroked Remus gently. "Should we get him something pretty too, Rem? You're getting a collar…"

“Yeah!” Remus turned back to grin at Janus, and Janus couldn’t help but return it. “You deserve something pretty, too, Jan!”

"Both of you pick whatever you want, okay? No kink shaming… Just love!" Grinning happily, he hummed as they made their way to the shop, parking the car.

“Yes, sir!” Remus giggled and grabbed Janus’ hand as they walked into the store. 

Walking behind them, Logan grinned, coming up to take Janus' other hand. "Stay close to one of us at all times, my pup… I don't want to lose either of you."

“Good luck keeping him from wandering,” Janus chuckled. He reached out and grabbed Remus’ shirt as he got distracted by something, pulling Remus back to the group.

"Collar and leash set will certainly help…" Reaching out, he took Remus' hand.  

Remus flushed deep red and glanced back at him. “Yeah?”

Janus shifted awkwardly and grinned. “What, do you like that idea, little pup?” Janus wasn’t actually surprised. He’d seen plenty of Remus’ magazines spread around the apartment. 

"I think he likes the idea of someone else holding the reins… Would you heel for me if requested? Should we train you to commands~?" Stroking Remus' cheek, he kissed him softly.

Remus moaned softly, kissing him back. Janus tugged on the back of his shirt. “Let’s go look at the leashes,” he said eagerly. 

One arm around Remus, Logan nodded, leading them over. "Indeed… Perhaps one for each of us? He can choose who he wants to guide him at that time?"

“God, you really do have money, huh?” Janus rubbed down Remus’ back. “Go on, go crazy.” 

Remus wasted no time in obeying, rushing over to the selection and trying each of them. 

Logan nodded as he watched. "I have quite enough to support all three of us, yes. What do you want, Janus?"

“I’m okay,” he said instantly. “I don’t need anything.”

Gently taking Janus by the chin, Logan hummed. "Tell me, baby? You've been so good… Let daddy get you a treat?"

Janus flushed deep red and looked away. He forced a little scoff. “Don’t patronize me. What happened to thinking I was too dominant for you?” 

He pulled Janus into his arms, holding him gently. "The way you seem to want to melt into my arms and be protected… It makes me want to cuddle and protect you, give you everything that I can."

Janus hated that he said that, only because Janus did exactly that: Melt into his arms, nuzzle into his neck, all without his own permission. 

“I’m not a sub,” he grumbled, but it wasn’t all too convincing. “You can try to collar me, but it won’t be easy.” 

"I don't want to collar you, love… Remus needs it, the structure. You, you're a precious jewel because you want support but not control. We share~" Kissing his cheek, he hummed. 

Janus shuddered. “I don’t need anything,” he mumbled. 

“Janny! Look!” Remus bounded forward with two collars in hand and thrusted them out. “This one has spikes!” 

Chuckling, Logan released Janus to let him coo over Remus, smiling. "Perhaps a dinner or just cuddling then, but do tell me if something does catch your eye, dear? Remus… Do you want them both, hun?"

He nodded excitedly. “This one for Janus!” He held up the spiked one, and the thrusted a soft velvet one in Logan’s direction. “And this one for you!” He practically vibrated with excitement as he whirled on Janus. “Which one are you getting?” 

Janus faltered. “Uh…” 

"He's getting the one that speaks to him, pet.. and that might not be in this shop." Stroking Remus, he smiled. "Which do you want, little one?"

Remus glanced between the two of them, and then decided his attention fully on Janus. “You’re not getting a collar?” He whined. 

Janus hesitated. Remus stared up at him with wide, sad eyes. “Of course I’m getting a collar. Just waiting for Master here to pick one out.” 

Remus immediately brightened up and put his in the basket, then rushed off to explore more.

Logan watched a moment before turning to Janus. "Do you want me to choose or are you just putting him off, lovely?"

“Just pick a collar,” he huffed. 

Sliding an arm around Janus, he smiled, taking him to the faux leather section and picking up a black collar with a snake scale look and gold buckles. "I'd love to see you in this, baby~"

Janus blushed as he looked at the collar. “That looks pretty sick,” he mumbled. 

"Classy and wild, just like you!" Stroking a thumb down Janus' cheek, he smiled, setting it in the basket.

“We should find Remus. Who knows what chaos he’s gotten himself into without supervision.” Janus looked away, but Logan didn’t miss the way he leaned into his touch. 

Grinning, he nodded. "Of course, sweetheart… He was headed towards the paddles and crops."

Janus rolled his eyes with a fond laugh. “Of course he was.” 

They found him staring at what may have been the most… Extra paddle Janus and Logan had ever seen in their lives. It looked like it could cause some real damage. 

“Remus,” Janus said in concern, “have you ever actually engaged in pain play before?”

Remus looked at them with a blush and nodded. “Yeah!”

Janus crossed his arms over his chest, remembering Remus had never had aftercare before Logan. “Your partner hitting you in the middle of sex without negotiation first isn’t pain play.”

Remus’ smile faltered, just a bit. “Oh. Well, then no, not technically.” 

Humming, Logan gave Remus a squeeze. "We can talk about what you like, okay, darling? Things like this can actually damage you if you're not careful, and you deserve to be safe even if you want a little hurt with the pleasure."

Remus frowned in confusion. “Damage… Isn’t that the point?” 

Janus dragged his hands down his face and sucked in a breath. He peeked at Remus between his fingers, eyes narrowed and cold. “Do you still have your ex’s numbers in your phone? Their addresses?” 

Sighing, his hand clenching, Logan frowns. "Pup… The cornerstones of play are safe, sane, and consensual… That's why we talk, and consent is so important. Pain is okay only if you want it. Same goes for marks, restraints, all of it."

“But… I want whatever you want,” Remus mumbled. 

Janus grabbed Remus’ hand and tugged him away. “If you really want to try it, we’ll start with something small. And you have to swear you’ll safe word if you don’t like it. Got it?”

Remus kissed Janus on the corner of the mouth. “Okay!” 

Turning to the display, Logan hummed, testing a smaller paddle, trusting Janus to talk sense into the pup. "My lovely boy, it's good that you trust your partner, but we need you to give us feedback in both the good and bad, okay?"

Remus nuzzled into Janus’ neck, who held him like Remus was some sort of hurt angel. “Yes, sir.” 

“We don’t want to actually hurt you,” Janus murmured. “It would… It would break my heart if I put you through pain. Please don’t let us.”

Remus finally seemed to understand the gravity of the situation. He frowned and looked between the two, shrinking in on himself. “Okay. I won’t. I’m sorry. I didn’t know it wasn’t…” 

Hugging him gently, Logan nodded. "It's okay, baby. You didn't know… We're so glad that you're safe, and we want to keep it that way, okay?"

Janus hugged him from the other side. "You're a good boy."

Remus let out a little squeak and covered his face. “I’m not… Not a good boy,” he said, flustered. 

Logan nuzzled him. "We see you as a good boy, our sweet pup… Let us show you how good and lovely you are, honey?" 

Remus buried his red face in Logan’s neck. His legs were wobbly. “Nng…”

“Oh,” Janus smirked, “maybe we should finish up shopping before there’s a problem.” 

Laughing, Logan nodded. "Leash, pet bed… I'm thinking a tail and ear set and some padded socks for when he wants to be a four legged pup…"

Remus rubbed his legs together with a little whine. “Can I put the bed by your desk?” 

Janus ruffled Remus’ hair and kissed his cheek, tugging him towards the pet play section. 

"I'm thinking one by my desk and one in the kitchen by your bowls so you can watch one of us cook for you, pup… Sound good?" Smiling, Logan followed them with the basket.

He nodded excitedly. He squealed as Janus picked him up and settled him on his hip. He kissed Remus’ nose, suddenly very angry that he hadn’t been doing this the entire time. He pulled Remus in for a close kiss, and swallowed down the fact that he loved him. 

Sighing, Logan took another picture. "My lovely boys…"

Janus blushed and glowered at him. “Put your phone down,” he snapped, while Remus giggled and nuzzled into him. 

Winking, Logan grinned, coming over to kiss them both. "I'll send you the picture!"

Janus’s glare deepened, but he didn’t oppose. He set Remus down with a kiss to the top of his head. “Go pick out some things, baby boy.”

Remus wasted no time, excitedly perusing the selection, occasionally picking some things out. 

Hugging Janus lightly, Logan smiled. "He's so happy…"

“I’ve never seen him this happy,” Janus admitted, trying not to sound frustrated. 

"Because we're both here… And he's getting away from his toxic parents. I pushed and gave the way, but you got him here, sugar. Thank you." Kissing his cheek, he gave Janus a squeeze.

Janus rolled his eyes. “Don’t patronize me. It was all you, you don’t have to pretend.”

Tipping his face with a frown, Logan sighed. "I'm not patronizing. He was singing your praises while you were out today, telling me how you set schedules, made him healthy food, encouraged him to rest and study… You kept him alive, baby. I'm very grateful for your loving care of our boy!"

Janus shrugged a little, but didn’t deny it anymore. Remus came back with a basket full of equipment, grin spread ear to ear. 

Attention shifting, Logan grinned. "Show us what you got, puppy?!"

Remus happily took them through the leashes he found, the puppy ears and little outfits, and the big, fluffy bed. Janus was hardly surprised to see he’d snuck some baby bottles in there, too. 

Ruffling his hair, Logan praised him. "Such a good boy, going to be even cuter all dressed up for your masters!" Remus squealed and threw himself into Logan’s arms. Scooping him up, Logan chuckled softly. "Such a good puppy, yes you are!"

Remus kissed along his neck, shaking with happiness. He hunched his hips a little. 

“We should get going,” Janus said with a grin. 

"Mmm, probably right, pup needs a full reward…" He nuzzled Remus, giving his ass a squeeze. 

Janus took the baskets and followed them to the register. Watching what Janus' gaze lingered on, Logan picks up a few more things, adding in nipple clamps that are adjustable and petting a black and yellow outfit for a moment. 

"What's your size, J~?"

Both boys glanced back, and Janus’s face flushed red. “Right. Like I’ll let you make me look like a bumblebee.”

“Medium!” Remus said excitedly. “But he likes things bigger, so get him an extra large!” 

Janus pressed his hand to his forehead. 

Snickering, he moved his hand back to the deep blue outfit behind it, getting an extra large for Janus. "Good to know!"

“Would you knock it off?” He whispered as the clerk giggled at them. “I don’t need anything!”

Kissing Janus' cheek, Logan adds it to the pile anyway. "Ah, but I want to treat you… Even if you don't need it, wear it for me, baby~?"

He crossed his arms over his chest and looked away. “Fine.”

Logan grinned wider. "Thank you, honey… It just felt wrong not getting you treats too."

Janus got into the backseat with the bags as Logan and Remus once again claimed the front. His heart rate quickened as he realized they were going to Logan’s home, unknown territory. Janus wouldn’t have the upper hand anymore. 

Smiling back, Logan started towards his home again. "Do you want separate rooms for now, dears? Your own spaces as well as shared ones?"

Janus grimaced. “That’d be fine.”

Remus pouted. “Do we have to?”

"You don't have to, lovely, and it's okay either way. Janus can have his own space and you can be in my room and both are valid, sweet pup!" Squeezing Remus' knee, he hummed.

As Remus kissed Logan’s cheek, Janus wrapped his arms around himself and stared out the window. 

Logan glanced back. "Janus? What activities other than debate interest you, dear one?" 

He shrugged. “I like theatre. Music. Makeup and clothes.”

Smiling softly, he nodded. "I have a few rooms that I haven't done anything with… I was planning to make Remus an art space, would you be interested in some interior design?"

Janus straightened up and barely repressed a smile. “I suppose.”

"Perfect! I want this to be our home… Not just mine." He grinned, turning towards his home, pointing out good restaurants and parks as they got closer.

Remus giggled gleefully as Janus smiled. “I should call my parents!” Remus squealed, and before anyone could stop him, he whipped his phone out and dialed, putting them on speaker. 

"Oh my…" Logan frowned, looking for a place to pull over just in case. 

"Remus, darling…” a bland voice crackled through the phone, “I hope you have some good news, I was just on my way out to the salon!"

“I do! Where’s Dad?” Remus vibrated with excitement. 

"Out to golf… Is it important? Have you finally been attending classes? Your grades are abysmal… How will we ever find you a job, a wife— You're just so unfocussed!"

Janus bit his lip to bite back the scathing responses. Remus wilted a little. It was okay, they’ll be proud! “No, I’m dropping out! I have a boyfriend— Two boyfriends! One of them is rich!” 

Janus dropped his head in his hands. Oh, boy. 

Squeezing Remus' knee, Logan cleared his throat as she inhaled. "Indeed… You won't be needing to pay his expenses any longer, we shall provide for our dear Remus." 

"Who is this?! YOU RELEASE YOUR CORRUPTING GRASP FROM MY BOY NOW!!" 

"Look to the issues covering the spring gala, madam, I'm sure you'll figure it out…" 

“Wait, wait- Tell her your name!” Remus said in panic. “Your last name, what’s your last name again? Tell her!” 

Logan’s family was famous, and successful… Surely being with him was ‘presentable’ enough, right?

Smirking, Logan nodded. "I am Logan Taylor… And I am your son's boyfriend. I will protect and love this precious man as well as I am able."

"Taylor?! As in the corporation?! Remus Alexander Duke! What have you done…" She trailed off in shocked sputters.

“You’re…” Remus swallowed and blinked frantically. “You’re not… Proud?”

Janus seethed in the back seat. He couldn’t have expected her to be happy he was dropping out of college, but her reaction to Logan? More fear than excitement? Just how did she view her son? 

"I am shocked… I… We— We had appointments for you to meet some girls. I thought you agreed with our plan, honey." She tried to be placating, gentle, though it was clear she was fuming. 

“I told you I don’t like girls,” he mumbled sadly. 

Janus lurched forward and snatched the phone. “If you want to talk to your son, it can wait until you learn to act like a mother. Bye.” Janus hung up and tossed the phone to the side, face red and hands shaking. 

Logan tugged Remus into a hug. "I'm sorry, baby… Maybe she'll come around? Either way you have us, and we support you."

Remus sucked in a breath and buried his face in Logan’s shoulder. “I just… I thought this is what she wanted. Is this not…”

"I'm sure if I were a rich woman she'd be thrilled, my sweet pup… If I had to guess, she jumped to you blackmailing me or some nonsense because it's what she would do. Do you want to be mine on your own terms, baby? It's what's important to me, your happiness, and Janus' happiness… Not hers, not anyone else's." Petting down his back, he reached for Janus as well.

Janus held Logan’s hand with pursed lips. Remus nodded. “You make me happy.”

Smiling, Logan hummed. "Then let's be happy, together… She'll calm and accept us, or she won't. Maybe your father will be better?"

Remus shrugged. “She’s the laid back one. I don’t… Really wanna talk to my dad.”

Sighing softly, Logan nodded. "Mmm, I volunteer my parents for cuddles and extra support?"

Janus grimaced. “You like your parents?”

Smiling softly, he nodded. "Want me to call them? Try that announcement again?"

Remus huddled into himself and shrugged. “Sure.”

“You don’t have to,” Janus insisted. 

"True… Home and cuddles first maybe?" Stroking Remus, he sighed. "Want to hold you…."

“Are we almost home?” He asked quietly. 

Janus’ heart ached. He already saw Logan’s place as home? What about all the months they spent together in their apartment?

"We're halfway between the apartment and my house… Which home do you want, baby?" Stroking Remus' cheek, he sighed, giving Janus a sad look. Janus looked away uncomfortable. 

Remus frowned. “I thought we were going to your house.” 

"That is my home, yes… I was just… You were with Janus for quite some time, wasn't that home? Or is it more the person that makes it home…" Humming, he petted Remus softly.

Janus blushed. “Shut up, Logan.”

“I just want to be with both of you.” Remus sounded confused. “Did I say something wrong?”

"No, pet, just clarifying…" Stealing a kiss, he started driving again, taking them to his house and parking in the garage.

Janus hesitated, but Remus jumped out with so much excitement that he couldn’t help but follow, wrapping an arm around his waist. Remus was the sweetest, cutest boy Janus had ever met— He would do anything for him. 

Giving them a soft hug, Logan smiles. "Welcome to my home… Now our home!"

When they got inside, Janus held Remus close and looked around warily. 

Logan flicked the lights on, starting a small tour and offering a hand for support. "Main floor is all common spaces, kitchen, living room, a pair of small rooms I think will work for an art area perhaps as well as maybe another office for Janus to do school work? Upstairs is three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and my office…"

Janus scowled. “Why do you have a four bedroom house to yourself? How old are you?”

“Why not?” Remus asked excitedly. “If I had enough money, I’d buy a castle!” 

Janus sighed. 

Logan hummed. "I am 28, and I mainly bought it to be able to be close to business and school but have space to myself. Also, there's a nice backyard. I like to garden."

“A lot of space,” Janus grumbled. 

"Well, yes… But I wanted to plan for a family. Being pan, and poly… I was expecting at least two partners and hopefully children." He blushed. "As an only child I wanted something different?"

Janus’ face went pink and Remus giggled, poking Janus’ tummy. “Ohh, you found Janny’s soft spot!” 

"Hmm? Oh! The family or the garden space? I was planning for a future with this place…” Coming over, he stroked his pink face. "I want to share it with those I care about."

“I don’t have a soft spot,” Janus managed, trying not to lean into Logan’s touch. 

“It’s both,” Remus said helpfully, cuddling into Janus’ back. 

Humming, Logan shifted to hug them both. "I have a soft spot for you two so… Don't be shy, my dear?"

Janus just shrugged, hiding his face in Logan’s shoulder. Remus kissed the back of his neck, and he shivered. 

"You're beautiful… both of you. Welcome home, my lovely boys." 

Janus could have melted right there, trying not to show how desperately he wanted to hide in Logan’s arms and never come out, to hold Remus close and force him to believe he’s loved. Remus bounced behind him with naive excitement, squealing and cooing at Logan. 

Shifting to better hold Janus, Logan grinned, tugging Remus in better so they can both cuddle him. "Mmm, to the couch, babies?"

Janus held back a groan and nodded weakly. Remus gripped their hands and bounced after Logan to the living room. 

Nuzzling, Logan sighed softly. "Perfect… Get your collar for me, pup?"

Remus lit up. “Okay! I’ll get Jan-Jan’s, too!”

He was out the room before Janus could protest. Now left alone with Logan, he stiffened marginally and tilted his head away. 

Humming, Logan rubbed the stiff back. "You don't have to wear it until you ask for it, baby… I respect your choices. You're not a sub, you're a switch, yes?"

Janus blanched. The idea of asking for it was… Not favorable. He hesitated on an answer. “I’ve never subbed before,” he settled on. “Didn’t think it’d ever…” Be an option, “cross my path.”

Nodding, he kept the hold light and gentle as he settled behind Janus on the couch. "Understood… I won't ask for more than you're willing to give. Even if it's just hugs and kisses as we share the ball of energy that is our puppy, I'm willing to just be your support, Janus." 

Janus smiled a little— Remus always made him smile. He pretended Logan didn’t make him feel the same way. 

He looked over his shoulder, forcing himself to meet Logan’s eyes. “I can give whatever you need me to.”

Stroking his cheek, Logan nodded. "Be honest with me… Don't hide yourself, or guess what you think I want. I wish for partners that I can care for but also tell me when I'm wrong?"

Janus swallowed and dropped his gaze. “I don’t know what I want,” he whispered. “I just want you to…”

Lightly lifting his head, Logan smiled. "Kiss me, be with me… We'll figure out the rest as we go?"

Janus barely let Logan finish his sentence before leaning in and kissing him softly, arms crossed over his chest. Cuddling him into his arms, Logan moaned softly into the kiss, curling protectively around Janus. Janus gripped onto his shoulders and pressed closer, biting back his own soft sounds of pleasure. 

Stroking down his back, he hummed into the kiss, nibbling Janus' lips for entrance. More, want to taste you, baby~!

Janus immediately obeyed, mouth dropping open and pushing his tongue into Logan’s mouth. Gasping, he squeezed Janus' ass, grinding gently as he twined their tongues. 

Janus pulled away just enough to whisper, “If you’re going to have me submit, it won’t be easy.”

Voice husky, he purred, taking Janus' head to kiss down his throat. "Mmm, I don't mind one bit, baby… You're worth it~!"

Janus bit back a groan, tipping his head back. “Good luck.”

Licking a stripe to his ear, he chuckled. "Thank you, baby~!" 

Janus dug his fingers into Logan’s shoulders, dragging his nails down Logan’s back. 

Chuckling, Logan nipped his ear softly. "Making you feel good, baby~?"

Janus gasped a bit. “Take a guess.” He tangled one of his hands in Logan’s hair, tugging hard. 

Licking his ear, he nibbled it again, before moving back to his neck. "I think you like it when I go vampire on your neck, baby~!"

“Is that what you think?” Janus managed. He dragged one hand down Logan’s chest, his stomach. 

"Mmm…. among other things~!" Gently guiding him to a wall, he pressed Janus against it, lifting him up for more kisses and nips.

Any leverage Janus had been working up to vanished as Logan lifted him up. He let out a groan through clenched teeth and wrapped his legs around Logan’s waist, gripping his shoulders for stability. 

Smirking, he stroked his thighs, grinding lightly. "Mine… My pretty baby~!"

Janus whined and squeezed his eyes shut. 

Kissing his face softly, he hummed. "Look at me, darling one?"”

Janus cracked his eyes open, and met Remus’ eyes over Logan’s shoulder. Embarrassment curdled deep in Janus’ stomach and he almost made Logan put him down, but the way Remus stared at them, holding their collars, like Logan and Janus was everything he’d ever been waiting for—

He flicked his bleary gaze to Logan. 

Cupping his face gently like he's memorizing every line, he hummed. "Don't be ashamed… I want you to feel good in my care, love~!"

Remus bounced over to them with a grin. He kissed Janus’s red cheek. “I have the collars! And my leash.” He smiled cutely. 

Letting Janus slide down, he stole a deep kiss before taking Remus' face to kiss him as well. Remus giggled against his lips and kissed him back impatiently, and then pulled away and thrusted out the collars. 

Taking them, he chuckled. "Eager pup… Kneel, my dear pet?"

Remus dropped to his knees hard enough for Janus to wince, looking up at the both of them with wide, shining eyes. 

"Slower next time, puppy… No hurting yourself, hmm?" Cupping the eager face, he gently tipped his head and settled the collar on, snapping it into place and adding the leash. 

Remus rubbed his fingers against the collar with a grin. “Jan-Jan?” He held out Janus’ with a hopeful smile. 

Taking Janus' hand, he squeezed. "As you please, baby… Your choice."

Janus crossed his arms over his chest and grumbled, “You can do what you want,” but Logan didn’t miss the way he tilted his head back and presented his purpling throat. 

Sliding a finger under the offered neck, he smiled, sliding the collar slowly around, giving time to back away. "Mmm, thank you, baby~!"

Janus felt the collar in a more tentative fashion than Remus did, his eyes lidded. He shakily dropped to his knees. 

Petting them both, he encouraged them to lean. "There's my babies… I've got you, safe and sound."

Janus had to remind himself that it was just the two of them there, that no one could see him… Acting like this. He leaned into Logan’s touch while Remus giggled beside him. 

"Only like this for me, baby… Just relax, let me care for you today, hmm?" Cupping the tenser face, he rubbed behind Remus' ears. 

“Yeah,” Janus whispered as Remus melted and whined into Logan’s touch, “I’ll try.”

"That's all I want, little one… How about you curl up in the couch blankets, get them all ready and I'll get pup his knee socks, ears, and tail?"

Remus perked up, and Janus nodded, trying to ignore the fluttering in his chest. He stole the remote and curled up in the corner of the couch, stealing all the blankets, and finding his favourite show. Remus followed Logan excitedly. 

Smiling, Logan scooped him up, making for the bags and settling the pup next to the table. "Strip, pet… Then lean over the table for your tail!"

Janus’ eyes widened and his face flushed. He pushed out the thought that he’s going to see Remus naked— Remus himself didn’t seem too shy. He did exactly as Logan asked, clothes flinging everywhere, and bent himself over the table. Janus kept his gaze firmly on the T.V. 

Stroking his boy, he hummed, rubbing some lube into his hole as he started to stretch him for the plug. "Such a messy boy… You'll be picking that up with your teeth and making a pile under the table afterwards, pup."

Remus whined and started to protest, but Janus cleared his throat. He flicked his gaze to Remus for just a second, shifted under the blankets, and looked back at the T.V as he said, “Puppies don’t speak, unless I’m mistaken.” 

"Quite correct. Pups may whine, bark, yip, howl, or growl… But no words, are we understood, my slutty little bitch~?"

“What’s your colour in regards to that, darling?” Janus asked, barely managing to keep his gaze away. 

“Green,” Remus squeaked, eyes wide. 

Smiling, Logan worked him with two fingers, humming. "That's a good pup…"

Remus whined and whimpered, thrusting back against him. Janus couldn’t tear his gaze away anymore; he took in all of Remus’ beautiful form, everything he’d been wanting to see for so long, and hunched his hips even as guilt settled in his stomach. 

Humming, he beckoned Janus over. "Baby? Can you get me his ears?"

Janus hesitated. There was no way he could get up without them noticing how hard he was. “Get them yourself,” he said and moved his gaze back to the T.V. 

"Come here, baby… Or I'll send pup to you. Maybe he can help you with your problem~?"

“I don’t have a problem,” he snapped. “Get it yourself.” 

Settling the tail plug in, he hummed, sliding the padded socks into place. "Well, then… His mouth is amazing though~!" 

Janus ignored him, face bright red as he burrowed further in the blankets. Snapping softly to get Remus to kneel again, Logan dressed him in green lingerie and set the ears in place, before whispering something to him. Remus grinned and bounded over to the couch. He leapt up and Janus yelped as Remus landed in his lap. He curled up and nuzzled his head into Janus’ tummy, who very, very slowly rested his hands on Remus’ arm and head. Remus nuzzled into him for pets, and Janus felt like he was going to explode. 

Grinning Logan came over to watch. "Isn't he adorable?"

“Mhm.” Janus’ voice was strangled. 

Remus whimpered and looked up at him with wide eyes. Janus brushed Remus’ hair back tentatively, and Remus smiled and nuzzled into his palm. 

"Go on, pup… Make him feel even better~!" 

Remus eagerly tugged at the blankets, Janus tensing. Remus stopped with his hands on Janus’ pants and frowned up at him. 

“Colour?” Remus asked softly. 

Janus melted a little. “You really want to do this?” Remus nodded. “...Green.” 

Remus smiled and unbuttoned Janus’s pants, yanking them down the best he could before ducking his head. Janus let out a choked whine and tipped his head back. 

"Good boys…" Smiling proudly, Logan leaned in and stroked Janus' face, kissing his cheek.

Any guilt Janus had felt melted away as Remus sucked his cock eagerly, and he leaned into Logan’s touch. “Remus,” Janus panted, bucking his hips. 

"Just give his hair a tug when you're close… He likes to swallow, but also likes being painted~!" Rubbing at Janus' shoulders and face, he kissed more. "Watch him~!"

Just the thought of covering Remus in his come, marking him as Janus’, had him tangling his fingers in Remus’ hair and tugging hard. Remus whined and pulled off half way just in time for Janus to come, half in his mouth and half over his nose and cheek. 

Janus whimpered as he stared down at Remus with lidded eyes. He only felt so incredible for a moment before the guilt crept back in. 

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Janus whispered, frantically wiping away his come. “Use your words.”

“I’m okay!” Remus laughed kind of nervously, and grabbed one of Janus’ hands. “I’m okay. Master’s right, I like it. That was really fun!”

Taking one of Janus' hands, Logan hummed, licking it clean. "It's okay, baby…"

Janus shuddered, slipping his fingers into Logan’s mouth. Remus curled back up happily, not bothering to tuck Janus’ cock back away as he nuzzled into Janus’ stomach. 

"Mmm, so delicious, baby… Almost jealous of the pup~!" Licking and sucking, Logan grinned.

Janus groaned and laid back, letting Logan do what he will with his fingers as Remus practically purred in his lap. He felt like he was in a dream. There was no way this was real. 

Logan nibbled his palm. "Happy, baby~?"

He nodded dazily, and made a vague sound of agreement.  

Stealing another kiss, Logan slid onto the couch, petting their pup and he kissed Janus deeply, content. Janus kissed him back with a sigh, fingers raking through Remus’ hair. 

Smiling, Logan tucked Janus closer, stroking down his chest lightly. Mmm, my beautiful babies!

“I never thought I’d be here with you,” Janus mumbled, and after a moment of hesitation, “or him.” Remus had fallen asleep, snoring quietly and gripping onto Janus’s shirt. 

"Mmm, same… But here we are and isn't it lovely?" Kissing Janus on the forehead, he smiled softly.

Janus squeezed his eyes shut as they welled with tears. “I’m sorry I… Acted, how I did. I was… Jealous. And upset.”

Petting him gently, he hushed Janus. "Baby, it's okay…. Really, it is."

Janus wiped his eyes and looked up, trying to keep his tears in. “I don’t deserve you two. Remus is… He’s so good, and you…” 

Nuzzling, he hummed. "Baby, you're good, too. So good. One of the only people to out debate me, ever… You're a handsome, strong… Amazing man. I am lucky to have you and Remus at my side, baby!"

“You had to go through hell to get through to us,” Janus laughed weakly. “We’re both so stupid. You’re sure it was worth your energy?”

Nodding, he smiled. "So worth it… I would have no others at my side~!"

Janus kissed him softly. “Hopefully that lasts.” 

Humming into the kiss, he nodded. "I want this to last, too… But even if something pulls us from a romantic relationship… I will always be your friend and supporter, Janus."

Janus wiped his eyes roughly. “Shut up,” he snapped. 

Voice soft and fond, he hummed, taking his chin. "Never. I do not like falsehoods… Especially when it's about someone I love."

“You don’t love me,” he scoffed, pressing their foreheads together. “You barely know me. This whole thing…” He laughed wetly, “is ridiculous.” 

"I am not in love with you yet, but I care for you deeply. I know that you are someone I want in my life, to get to know. Please let me care for you, Janus?" Touching the collar lightly, he smiled. "This is my promise, you are wanted. You are special and I want to date you. Your problems are mine, let me assist you with them. My arms are yours… Come to me when you have need or desire and I will catch you."

Part of him still believed this was some trick, that neither of them actually wanted him and they were putting him on. It probably wasn’t true, but if it was… Janus wasn’t so sure he cared. 

He leaned into Logan’s touch and nodded, eyes fluttering closed. Stroking his hair, Logan sighed happily as they fell asleep in a cuddle pile.

Also a reminder that Virgil does smut commissions, each coffee equals 300 words

[lousylark]

blue lace

(Part 8. Ready the previous part here, read the next part here (coming soon), check out chapter summaries and masterpost here (coming soon). Check my “blue lace” archive for chapters/updates. Enjoy! <3)  

Spring 8th. Early morning. The Goddess Spring.

Once a week, Minori wakes up extra early so she can pay a little visit to Dessie and Witchie.

She used to go midday after she finished her chores, but occasionally she’d get strange looks from other villagers who happened to see her scaling the lily pads in the Spring. After all, as far as she knows, Minori is the only one who can see the deities’ shared abode, so it must look rather odd indeed to see a farmer sitting on a giant lily pad talking to no one in particular.

So now she goes early in the morning to avoid as much awkwardness as possible. This particular morning begins like any other: she brings a basket packed with fruit, cheeses, and flowers, and finds Dessie and Witchie outside playfully squabbling and practicing their respective magics.

“Good morning, Minori!” Dessie chirps, seeing her approach. “How are you?”

Minori plops down on the giant lily pad. “Oh, I’m alright. How are you two?”

“Practicing,” Witchie replies. She snaps, and a frog appears in her hands, which she presents to Minori. “Look at my new trick!”

Minori giggles, taking the frog in her hands briefly before it disappears into a cloud of glitter-magic again. “How useful.” She turns to Dessie. “What about you? Any new tricks to show me?”

Dessie’s face falls a little. It’s unusual to see the tiny Harvest Goddess frown in such a way, so Minori is taken aback.

“I’m trying to practice controlling the weather,” she explains, crossing her arms over her chest. “I dunno if you noticed, but this winter got a little out of hand.”

Minori scoffs. “Yeah, just a little.” Seeing Dessie’s eyes flash with hurt, she adds, “But surely that isn’t totally your fault, Dessie.”

Witchie snaps her fingers. More frogs appear. One boldly hops into Minori’s lap, causing her to jump.

“The Harvest Goddess is supposed to maintain the balance of the weather,” Dessie explains. “I don’t make the weather, I just nudge it in the right direction.” She sighs, hanging her head. “But I had a really hard time pushing winter away this year. I don’t know why.”

“So we’ve been practicing making thunderstorms,” Witchie cuts in. With a rare bubbliness, she adds, “You wanna see?”

“Maybe not right at this moment,” Minori replies, smiling. “If you conjure a thunderstorm now, we’ll get rained on. Plus, I already watered my crops this morning.”

To stop Witchie from being too disappointed, Minori starts unpacking her little picnic basket. Dessie conjures a pink teapot from thin air while Witchie provides some black cups and saucers. Within moments, they’ve started their weekly girls’ brunch.

“So I heard you’re planning a White Day festival!” Dessie says, her mouth half-full of cheese. “That’s so cute! I wanna go.”

“A White Day festival? Blegh,” Witchie says. She takes a sip of tea. “That’s so mushy.”

Dessie frowns at her friend. “It’s not mushy! Plus, there’ll be lots of food.”

“Oh, well then count me in, too.” Witchie replies.

Minori grins. “Thanks, guys. I’ll be sure to add an extra two when Veronica takes attendance.”

“Why’re you making a White Day festival, anyway?” Witchie asks, munching on a bagel. “Doesn’t this town have enough festivals?”

Minori explains her role in the New Leaf competition to them, starting all the way back from the New Year’s Festival and working through the conquest with Elise, the incident with her wine shed, and the conception of the White Day festival.

“Wow,” Dessie breathes when she’s finished. “It’s been a busy week for you, huh?”

“Got that right,” she replies. Then, a thought occurs to her. “Hey, since you guys are divine beings and all, you wouldn’t happen to know what actually happened with my wine shed, right? I’m pretty sure it was just an animal that broke in, but Elise thinks it might’ve been, like, a person.”

“Definitely a person,” Witchie replies.

Dessie stares at her with wide eyes. “What! How do you know?”

Witchie shrugs. “Oh, I dunno. It’s just more spooky that way.”

“Oh, so you don’t actually know,” Dessie says, relieved. She turns to Minori. “Sorry, Nori — I might be divine, but I’m still working on the whole ‘omniscience’ thing.”

“Yeah, after all, she can barely control the weather,” Wichie teases. Dessie gives her a sour look in response.

Despite their light-heartedness, Minori just sighs. “That’s too bad. Elise sent over her locksmith, and that helped my peace of mind a little, but, like you said,” she says, looking toward Witchie, “it’s spooky.”

A crow caws somewhere in the distance, as if supporting Minori’s statement. She stares into her cup of tea. Could it really have been a person who destroyed her stock of orange wine? But who in Oak Tree Town despises her so much that they would do such a thing? Unless it wasn’t a move against her so much as it was a move to support Elise? If that’s the case, then it would have to be someone who really likes Elise.

She frowns — as terrible as it is, she can’t think of a single person in town who might like Elise enough to destroy her wine shed over it.

“Don’t worry, Nori,” Dessie replies, putting her hands on her hips. “We’ll keep a close eye out for any sketchy people.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” she says, suddenly. “Where are the Nature Sprites? I’ve got a job for them.”

“I’ll summon them. They’ll want some of the flour you brought, anyway.”

She whistles a four-note tune, sounding almost identical to a sparrow as she does so. Within moments, little sparkly puffs of air appear around them, each a different color of the rainbow. From them, the Nature Sprites emerge.

“Minori!” Pepita cries, scurrying toward her. “Hi hi!”

“Didja bring any flour?” Gusto asks. “I’m so hungry!”

Each sprite approaches her in turn, asking what feels like hundreds of questions: where she’s been, how the winter treated her, why is there a new patch in the knee of her jeans —

“Now, now,” Dessie begins, calming the flurrying sprites. “Minori has a job for you all. Perhaps if you do it well, she’ll give you some flour.”

“A job?” Flik asks, his curiosity piqued.

Minori nods. “Yeah. I need you guys to help me find something.”

Torque pushes her tiny glasses up further on her nose. “Like a scavenger hunt?”

“Uh, yeah, actually, kind of like that.” She crosses her arms over her chest, shivering just a little. Though the worst of the winter has passed, the early morning spring air is awfully chilly. “We’re looking for some of Mistel’s blueprints. Someone took them, but I’m hoping it was an accident or that they’re at least still in town.”

“Oooh, yay!” Pepita squeals. “I love scavenger hunts!”

“But we can’t read,” Torque points out sullenly. “How do we know when we’ve found the right blueprints?”

Minori purses her lips. Truthfully, she hadn’t really thought of that. For all of their magic powers, the Nature Sprites are illiterate when it comes to human languages.

“Well, it’ll look kind of like a grocery list,” she finally says, “with a picture drawn at the bottom that has really straight lines. And it’ll probably be written on fancy, thick paper.”

“And the reward?” Gusto asks.

Dessie tuts a bit. “Gusto, you can’t just —“

“No, no, it’s fine,” Minori says, smiling. “If one of you finds the blueprints, I’ll give you an extra-large bag of flour all to yourself.”

At the mention of the prize, the Nature Sprites completely lose it. They clamor over each other, Mora starts to drool, and Gusto immediately disappears into a puff of glitter with only the phrase, “I’m on it!”

Minori mouths the word “sorry” to Dessie, who just giggles at her.

“Hey,” Witchie says as the Nature Sprites bombard her with more questions, her mouth half-full of bagel, “You did this to yourself.”

“But at least now you’ll probably find those blueprints!” Dessie adds, gently corralling the sprites back toward her.

“Thanks, everyone,” Minori says, fixing her hair after having received some tugs from Pepita. As the sprites finally calm down, she starts again. “Alright. So what other questions can I answer?”

Elise’s Manor. Mid-Morning.

By the time Elise manages to drag her hungover self out of bed, the sun has risen fairly high into the sky. It’s at least three hours later than she would normally get up, but with the incessant pounding in her head and the dryness of her throat, she finds she doesn’t mind the late start.

When Jenny comes in to take her dirty laundry, she asks in a groggy voice, “And how is Madame this morning?”

Her servant just shrugs. “Her door is locked and I haven’t heard a word from her since last night.”

A tiny smile plays on Elise’s lips. “Well, no point trying to slip a coin from the dragon’s horde. We ought to let her rest.”

Jenny nods understandingly. “Yes, miss.”

Her eyes flicker to where minou snoozes in a patch of sunlight on the bed. The kitten looks terribly cute; despite the hanging memory of her drunk episode last night, she can’t bring herself to regret adopting the creature.

“Will she be staying in the house?” Jenny asks. “I can ask Gilbert to bring a litter box from the pet house.”

Elise hums. “Yes, that would be ideal.  Thank you, Jenny.”

And thus, the morning proceeds. Elise slinks down to the kitchen in her pajamas, sneaking past Cookie and grabbing a muffin to hold her over until lunch. She guzzles down two glasses of water whilst staring out the parlor window, thinking. Planning. Then, with a somewhat lazy resolution, she starts toward her office to finally get to work.

When she unlocks and opens the door, however, she finds none other than Nadi seated at her desk. Chaton slips through her legs into the room, stalking up to Nadi and rubbing against his legs.

“Ugh,” Nadi says, not even bothering with a greeting. “Cats.”

“Oh, hush,” Elise chides, walking toward him so she can scoop up the kitten. “She’s a darling creature.”

“I don’t like cat hair on my clothes,” he says, brushing off his pant leg.

“And I don’t like squatters in my office,” she counters, crossing to sit in her big leather chair. “How did you even get in here?”

He shrugs. “Jenny let me in.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Don’t blame her, though,” he continues, not looking up from what looks like a landscape draft. “I told her you had given me permission to get some parchment from in here.”

“Ah. Well, you have your paper,” she says, looking pointedly at the scroll he’s writing on. “So why do you remain?”

He shrugs. “Haven’t really moved my stuff back to the Inn yet. Plus, this room has the best natural lighting in the house.”

She can’t argue with him there. The office faces an ideal direction for reading, writing, drawing — any sort of activity for which one might prefer natural light to fluorescent. It had been one of the only things she’d liked about the mansion when she first moved here.

“I can leave, if you want,” he says, sighing. Finally looking up at her. She suddenly notices that he, too, is still in pajamas — though his hair is tied away from his face, a little differently than it usually is. Messier than usual.

She just shrugs. “I see no reason why you shouldn’t stay, if it helps you to work better — as long as you don’t disturb my work, seeing as this is indeed my office.”

He smirks. “Of course, your highness.”

A scowl tugs on the corner of her mouth. She vaguely remembers Nadi giving her that epitaph last night, too. While only some years ago she had dreamed of nothing more than marrying into a noble family, she finds her adulthood goals have changed rather drastically. The nickname is a sharp reminder of her own child-like foolishness.

Perhaps Nadi detects her sudden sourness, because his tone softens when he asks, “How are you feeling this morning?”

She opens a desk drawer. Scoffs. “You mean besides my raging hangover?”

“Besides that, yes.”

She sighs. Sinks back into her chair with a pair of scissors in hand. “Fine, I suppose.”

“Do you, uh, remember what happened last night?”

She looks up at him, but he’s still staring down at his landscape designs. Still, from the way his knuckles are lighter in color from clenching his pen so hard, she can tell he feels nervous asking the question. It’s funny, she thinks, a tiny smile wiling its way onto her lips. He asks the question like he’s a lovestruck man wondering if his partner remembers their drunken affair.

“Well, let’s see,” she says, folding her hands. “Are you asking if I remember Madame’s French temper tantrum, being threatened with the shard of a vase, or adopting a kitten?”

“You forgot throwing up on the floor.”

She glares at him. “You know, you’d be much more charming if you weren’t quite so blunt.”

He kicks his feet up and rests them on the corner of her desk. “And you say you’re self-aware.”

She rolls up a nearby piece of paper and swats his feet with it. “Not on my desk, thank you very much.”

Nadi grins but removes his feet from the desk, moving forward so that he’s leaning over his work again. Though she wouldn’t dare show it, she’s glad that he seems to have let the topic of last night go, for the time being. The episode isn’t exactly what she’d call one of her finest moments.

A soft mew comes from the window sill, and then minou has leapt up onto the desk, taking a particular interest in the bookmark tassel sticking out from one of her farming anthologies.

“So you’re keeping the cat?” Nadi asks.

“Kitten — and yes.” She moves a finger to try and tempt minou to play. “It would be terribly unfair to just return her to Agate. Besides,” she pauses, a smirk tugging at her lips, “Madame is allergic.”

He scoffs. “You’re asking for another fight.”

“Indeed,” she muses, trailing her finger on the edge of the desk for the kitten to bat at. “Perhaps if I pick enough fights, she’ll decide to stay at the Inn.”

“With me for company? I doubt it.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t dare expose you to such torture. If she were to move to the inn, you would continue staying here as my guest.”

He shrugs, but she doesn’t miss the blatant pleased surprise in his eyes. “I have to admit, the natural lighting is a lot better here.”

As if on cue, a beam of sunlight streams in from the window. The white-light lands on a strip of Nadi’s hair, making it glow like snow on a winter morning.

She shakes her head, scooping up her kitten and standing from the chair. “Come, minou. Let’s pick out a fabric for this dress.”

“Is that its name? Minou?” Nadi asks.

“You know, we did have an agreement that you could work here only if you were quiet.”

“I’m just trying to defend your kitten’s honor.”

She clicks her tongue. “Fair.” Keeping minou in one hand, she uses the other to open up her office closet, which has shelves upon shelves of fabric organized by color, material, and weight. “Minou isn’t really a name — it just means kitten in French.”

She doesn’t turn to look at him, but she can hear the smugness in his voice when he responds, “That’s not a name — that’s like if I called Minori farmer, or you self-righteous princess-wannabe.”

“Very funny.” She touches a few different breeds of silky red fabric, and then decides on the ruby tone, pulling the bolt out of the stack. “Why don’t you give her a name, then, if you’re such a master of epitaphs?”

She watches him shrug as she moves back toward the desk. “Whenever I’ve had pets, I name them after flowers.”

“How utterly predictable.” She sets the bolt of fabric — and minou — down on the surface, and then opens one of the long drawers to find a cutting mat.

They fall into an easy silence, Nadi suddenly taken with an aspect of his landscaping design and Elise gathering the supplies to start on Lillie’s dress. Every so often she looks up at minou and wonders about names. Everything she tries in her mind — Blossom, Princess, Victoria — none of the names fit, and she would hate to give the darling kitten an ill-fitting name.

As she starts to cut the fabric, she finally asks, “What flower would you name the kitten after, then?”

He doesn’t look up from his paper. “I dunno. I’m partial to roses.”

She pauses in her cutting. Smiles.

“Rose.” Looks toward minou, and tries the name again. “Rose. I like it.”

He raises an eyebrow. Stares at her, incredulous. “You do?”

She nods. “It has a double meaning — I drank far too much of the rosé that Minori brought to the party last night. If I hadn’t, I probably wouldn’t have agreed to adopting her.”

“Huh.” He raises his pen, as if in toast. “To rosé, then.”

“And to Rose,” she adds, putting down her scissors so that she can rub Rose’s soft little cheek.

Another lull as Nadi returns to his work, and Elise to her dress-making. The design that the girls made for Lillie’s modeling escapade is terribly simple, but, if she succeeds in making the dress correctly — which she no doubt will — it should achieve the goal of making Lillie look rather sumptuous for their humble fashion show. Hopefully, Raeger won’t be able to deny that she’s a catch.

She bites her tongue in guilt, remembering how Lillie’s fascination with Raeger wasn’t the only girlish crush to come to light the night before. Her revealing of Licorice’s feelings for Kamil had — thankfully — only ratcheted up the awkwardness in the room for just a few minutes. When Licorice had come out of the bathroom, she’d avoided eye contact with Elise, but she engaged in conversation with the other girls. Elise didn’t mind taking the brunt of her feelings — and if she’d felt a little bad about the ordeal, she’d drowned her feelings in rosé.

There’s a knock at the door. Elise stiffens.

“Yes?” she asks, careful not to reveal her slight spike in anxiety.

The wooden door opens. Jenny pops her head in. She barely manages to hold in a sigh of relief.

“Miss Elise,” Jenny starts, “Madame Dupont requests your presence in the parlor.”

Elise shakes her head, pretending to be preoccupied with her fabric cutting. “I’m rather busy. If Madame truly wishes to speak, she’s welcome to come here to my office.”

Jenny shifts from one foot to the other. “Um, she insists, Miss Elise.”

Her mouth curls into a wily smile. “As do I — and you may tell her so.”

Jenny nods her head, pursing her lips with a braveness that Elise recognizes all too well. “Insisting” anything to Madame is a task only for the stone-faced.

When the door closes, Nadi asks, “Should I leave?”

“Oh, absolutely not,” she replies, standing so that she can reach across the large desk to grab a ruler. “It will infuriate her that you’re here.”

“Which is exactly why I think I should leave, Elise —“

“Stay, or I’ll fire you.”

He looks like he’s got a biting response ready to fire, but the door to the office swings open with an aggressive creaking sound.

Madame stands in the doorway, terse, poised to pounce. She holds a large stack of papers blackened with typeface. Elise watches as her gaze moves from Rose to Nadi and then finally rests on herself, becoming more pointed.

“P’tite.” The greeting is neutral, except for her eyes, which reveal that she hasn’t forgotten last night’s humiliation.

“Madame,” she replies, setting down her scissors. “Whatever is so urgent that you insist on interrupting my important work?”

She sticks her nose up a little. “If it were truly so important, you wouldn’t still be in your nightwear.”

Elise grins. “It’s a Sunday morning and I have absolutely no plans. Do live a little, Madame.” She looks briefly down at her t-shirt and sweatpants and adds, “Also, in the twenty-first century we call these pajamas, not nightwear.”

Nadi snorts — and then covers it up as a cough. Elise sits back down in her desk chair, kicking him under the table as she does so.

“Pourquoi est-ce qu’il est encore là?” Madame asks without looking at Nadi.

“English please, Madame, or else little Rose here won’t be able to understand you,” she replies, scratching Rose’s chin.

Madame huffs. “I refuse to share the house with that beast for three seasons. You will return it from wherever it came from immediately.”

“Oh, but look at her darling little face,” she says, scooping up the kitten and standing from her desk. “Would you like to hold her?”

Madame’s nose crinkles. “Keep that thing away from me.”

“Gladly,” Elise murmurs, holding Rose against her a little tighter. “Now,” she starts again, mockingly bright, “I suppose you’re going to tell me about that loomingly large stack of papers there?”

Madame puts her weight on one side so that her hip juts out of her pencil skirt, making her upper half look like the Tower of Pisa. “Indeed.”

She strolls into the office and lumps the stack of papers right on top of Elise’s project. It’s at least two feet high, all on standard letter paper. The font is so small she has to squint to read it.

“I’ve decided to be merciful,” Madame begins, crossing her arms in a way that suggests she’s decided to be anything but. “If you’re so insistent on being allowed to participate in the board meetings, the least you could do is some clerical work. Complete these documents by sunset, and I’ll consider allowing you to attend our meeting tonight.”

Elise purses her lips. This is a test, and she knows it — the stack of papers is probably mostly busy work that Madame has concocted for the sole purpose of making her life miserable for a few hours. She’s testing Elise’s resolve.

“Very well,” she says, not uttering a single word about the impossibility of the task considering she also needs to finish Lillie’s dress. “But I request that you leave me alone for the afternoon so I can work.”

Madame’s lips curl into a smirk. “Gladly, p’tite.”

When she leaves the room, the door creaking shut behind her, Elise folds in on herself like a deflating balloon.

“Ouch,” Nadi says, seemingly reading her thoughts as his eyes move to the giant stack of documents. “Is this really worth it?”

“Oh, this is nothing,” she replies, kicking her feet up on her desk in precisely the way she had told Nadi not to do only minutes ago. “When I was thirteen, she locked me in the mansion cellar for a whole day because I wanted to eat pumpkin pie at the harvest festival the next day.” A pause, as she remembers the dampness of that cellar and wonders why she would reveal this particular vulnerability to Nadi. “She, um, said that the hunger I felt would make me appreciate the pie more, but looking back I guess it was a little much.”

He raises an eyebrow. “And your father just let that happen?”

She scoffs. “My father never knew, nor cared. My sister would’ve tried to fight her, I think, but she’d been tasked with giving a handsome ambassador from Silk Country a tour of the city that weekend.”

“What about your mother?”

For an instant, there’s a fire that flashes in her chest at the question. But she sucks a breath in and then forces it out until the flames go up in smoke.

“I need to get started on these documents.”

She removes her feet from the desk and stands to grab the stack of papers.

“But what about your dress?” Nadi asks — thankfully not pushing the topic of her mother again.

“Not my dress — Lillie’s.” She grazes the soft ruby-tone fabric with her fingers, frowning.

Nadi cocks his head to one side like a confused puppy. “Lillie? You mean the weather reporter? Raeger’s girlfriend?”

“They’re actually not dating, believe it or not — yet. Hence the dress.”

“I don’t understand.”

She blows out another big breath, exasperated. “Really, Nadi, you’ll need to be a little quicker if you want to work in this office. Obviously the dress is for Lillie to wear as my model in the fashion festival so that she can use her womanly wiles to win Raeger’s heart. Do keep up.”

Nadi’s brow furrows. “But isn’t the fashion contest in, like, two days?”

“Yes, which is precisely why I need to get started on these finances —“

“Why don’t you let me help?”

Now it’s her turn to look like a confused puppy. “You can sew?”

He barks out a laugh. “No, idiot. The treasury stuff.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, prepped to give a cutting response — but bites her tongue, deciding against it. Scanning the stack of papers again, and then looking down at Lillie’s dress, she realizes he’s right: she doesn’t have time to do both, and she doesn’t really want to choose between the two of them, either.

“Normally,” she begins, slowly, “I would be a fool to allow my landscaper to come within nine feet of important financial documents —“

“Ouch.”

“I’m not finished. However, I do seem to be in a bit of a pickle.” She pulls out one of her desk drawers. “You know how to operate a calculator?”

He rolls his eyes, to which she can’t help revealing a tiny smile. “Yes, Elise. Believe it or not, I had a really great maths tutor when I was growing up. And I do all my own financial work for landscaping, as you know.”

A spark in her eyes. She almost feels embarrassed at selling him so short — not that she’d ever tell him that. “Indeed, I suppose you do.” She covers her feelings by brusquely grabbing the calculator and holding it out to him across the desk. He doesn’t take it.

“Just answer me one thing,” he says, carefully.

“Questions about my mother are off-limits.”

“Yeah, I figured that out a while ago. It’s not about your mother.”

She eyes him carefully. Lowers the calculator. “Continue.”

“Why are you helping Lillie?” he asks, carefully. “You never help anyone.”

The observation should hurt, but it doesn’t. Coming from Nadi, who also isn’t the most socially blessed person in Oak Tree Town, the comment holds little sting. Instead, she sees genuine curiosity in his eyes — and perhaps a touch of pride, too, which for whatever reason makes her cheeks feel suddenly warm.

“I may be cold, but I’m not heartless,” she responds simply. “It’s beating somewhere in there.”

“Deep down,” Nadi agrees, but with a small, contagious smile that makes her stomach flop.

“Oh, stop looking at me like that,” she snaps, shoving the calculator toward him. “You’ve got a lot of work to do if you’re going to finish this clerical work by sunset.”

“We’ve got a lot of work to do.” He takes the calculator. “As soon as you’re done with the dress, you’re helping me.”

“We shall see.”

Nadi chuckles, and perhaps she smiles a little, too, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Watching him reach for the first paper on the stack, his question turns over in her mind: when did she start doing favors for others? And, perhaps more importantly, when did she start becoming a person others do favors for?

Mid-afternoon. Norchester; the Buchanan Estate.

The Buchanan Estate, with its spire-pointed iron gates and perfectly trimmed shrubbery, sits at the top of a hill in Norchester’s oldest quarter, overlooking dozens of other large mansions that dot the hillside. But none are quite so intricately beautiful in design — nor quite so simultaneously leering — as that of the Buchanan family.

Klaus fiddles with his tie as the limousine driver enters the code at the security gate. He hasn’t seen Todd Buchanan in person in several weeks, likely because he’s been so preoccupied with his campaign. Elections are in the fall, and he has two seasons to win over the majority of the district populace — many of whom are farmers and small town folks, much like the residents of Oak Tree Town.

In his own personal opinion, Buchanan’s superficiality and penchant for greed has no chance with his constituents when compared to his much more humble opponent — but seeing as Buchanan is his employer, he wouldn’t ever dare to say such a thing aloud, especially given his acute aversion to any and all counsel, however well-intended.

When they arrive at the front porch, Buchanan’s butler, a short, stout old man by the name of Baxter, stands at the steps holding two umbrellas: one for himself and the other, presumably, for Klaus. From what Klaus can tell, Baxter is a good and honest man, if a bit bumbling at times.  

The chauffeur opens Klaus’ door, and Baxter holds the second umbrella out for him. Shifting his briefcase to his other hand, he grabs the handle and stands from the car, tipping his hat to the chauffeur as he does so.

“Mr. Schulz,” Baxter greets over the symphony of rainfall. “How are you on this fine day?”

“A little damp, I must admit,” Klaus replies, following him up the long train of marble stairs leading to the estate. “And yourself?”

“Oh, chipper as always.” His bushy gray mustache quivers above his smile. “You’re in luck; Mr. Buchanan is in fine spirits today.”

“Is he?”

“Indeed. Not sure why, though.”

As they reach the mansion overhang, Klaus closes his umbrella. Baxter follows suit, wrapping his up and then reaching to open the door for Klaus.

The first time Klaus ever entered the Buchanan mansion — which must’ve been at least fifteen years ago now, he realizes with a slight pang of existential dread — he had been amazed at the majesty of the grand entry hall, with its two spiraling marble staircases and hallways leading off in every direction. A huge iron clock hangs from the wall in the center of the room; underneath it is a portrait of Buchanan’s family: himself in the middle, accompanied by his oldest daughter, Chloe, and of course Elise, who could’ve only been sixteen or seventeen when the photo was taken.

Many years ago, another portrait hung in its place — one where Mrs. Buchanan stood next to her husband, gazing adoringly in his eyes. But that particular painting had long since been taken down — and now, no traces of Elise’s mother remain in the house, as if she’d never existed in the first place.

Klaus can’t help his sadness every time he sees the new painting. Mrs. Buchanan used to decorate the entry hall with giant vases of flowers. Now, the marble floors are barren; the stairway railings are gleamingly clean but no garlands of white lilies adorn them. The hall smells like dusting spray rather than roses.

“Shall I accompany you to Mr. Buchanan’s office, Mr. Schulz?” Baxter asks like he does every visit, taking his coat to hang on the rack.

And, like every time, he responds, “No, that won’t be necessary — thank you, Baxter.”

Buchanan’s office is on the second floor of the mansion, nestled all the way at the back of the house so that it overlooks downtown Norchester. On most days, the office is host to a beautiful view of the city — of course, Klaus has always thought that it’s easy to think Norchester is beautiful when one looks at it from so far away. Being in the thick of it is another matter, but, to the current government’s credit, they’d come a long way in the last fifteen years preventing further crime in the marginalized and impoverished neighborhoods.

When he reaches Buchanan’s door, he sucks in a breath and then forces himself to release it slowly. Buchanan’s vampire-like countenance doesn’t scare him — not a lot scares him anymore, other than his nightmares. But there is a certain dark-Victorian-poet-meets-modern-technology quality to the office that makes Klaus want to spend as little time in there as possible.

Finally, he raises a hand to knock on the door. A moment passes, and then another. And then the unmistakable bass timbre of Todd’s voice from the other side of the door: “Come in.”

When Klaus opens the door, he’s surprised to find that the office has been completely redecorated — rather than being crammed with old oak bookshelves and looming portraits of old relatives, the space has been transformed to emit a much more minimalistic ambience. Gone are the plush red velvet armchairs, replaced with small, black leather stools surrounding a solid white coffee table.

Buchanan’s desk appears to be the only thing that remains the same — as well as the thick plum-colored curtains, saturated with dust, that frame the window at the south end of the room.

“You’ll pardon the dust, please, Klaus,” Buchanan says, folding his arms over his chest. “I recently had an associate over for tea and she was rather insistent that, given my current political state, my office décor be up-to-date.”

“No, it’s, er, very nice,” Klaus says. He can’t decide if he likes the barrenness of the new look any more than he liked the crypt-like qualities of the old one. “Very chic, I think.”

He smiles coolly. “Your pleasantries don’t fool me.” Gesturing to one of the blacks tools, he adds, “Sit.”

Klaus obeys, trying as hard as he can to perch comfortably on such an uncomfortable chair. He settles with keeping one foot on the ground and crossing the other over his knee.

Buchanan pulls a file out of one of his desk drawers. Klaus recognizes the handwriting in the upper-right corner of the manilla folder — Marian’s notes on his physical state, no doubt.

“So, is there anything of interest going on in Oak Tree Town?” Buchanan asks, hardly bothering to glance over the papers before splaying them out on his desk.

“I thought you’d know, sir,” Klaus replies casually. “I’m sure you’ve heard of Elise’s involvement in the Green Leaf competition?”

Buchanan’s tongue clicks. “Ah, but surely you know my daughter has no official involvement in that affair.”

Klaus hums. He’s known Buchanan long enough to understand that comment. Indeed, Minori won the conquest competition — but how much of that was orchestrated by Buchanan’s desire to keep his daughter out of the Green Leaf competition for his own political gain, he wonders?

“I may be mistaken,” Klaus starts, then, “but the town’s Business Mentor for the competition is Elise’s childhood nanny, yes?”

Buchanan, surprisingly enough, lets out an uncharacteristic snort. “Angélique, yes. I received an especially interesting phone call from her last night.” He smirks. “It seems my Elise has been giving her quite a lot of lip.”

“Respectfully, sir, Elise gives everyone quite a lot of lip,” he replies. A few years ago, he would’ve been afraid to let such a comment leave his mouth. But after so many meetings with Mr. Buchanan, the two have become quite candid with each other — or, as candid as someone like Todd Buchanan can be with his glorified freelance spy.

As he suspected, Buchanan finds this comment worthy of a curt grin. “As she learned from her father, no doubt.”

“Likely,” Klaus agrees.

“In case you’re wondering — which I have no doubt you are,” Buchanan begins, pointedly looking toward him, “it was not my choice to have Angélique installed as the Business Mentor for the town.”

“But it was your choice to install Minori as the agricultural representative.”

He shrugs. “Oh, I rather don’t care who took the title in the end, so long as it wasn’t my Elise.”

And thus Klaus’ suspicions are confirmed. The affirmation leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, and he decides immediately that he won’t ever tell Minori. Not that he would break the confidentiality of these meetings to begin with, but in a theoretical world where he could tell her everything, he still wouldn’t tell her. He isn’t sure how she would react to knowing that Elise was forced to let her win.  

“Well, your marks are above average as usual, Klaus,” Todd says, replacing the contents of the manilla folder and sliding it back into his desk drawer. “I see no reason to keep you any longer than necessary on this dreary day.”

Klaus raises an eyebrow. Usually their meetings go a lot longer. He can’t help but feel like there’s something Buchanan —

“Unless…” he begins, stretching the word and its consequent pause like a piece of bubble gum.

— Ah. There it is.

“Unless?” he prompts.

Buchanan leans forward a bit so that his elbows rest on his desk, perched like a cat waiting to pounce.

“There is a more…delicate matter,” he says, his voice accessing that higher register that he sometimes uses when speaking of such ‘delicate’ matters — usually highly political and questionable in moral nature. “If you’re interested.”

“As long as it’s within my contract.”

He rubs one temple with two fingers. “While the Green Leaf competition is charming in its intentions, Oak Tree Town’s involvement is proving to be something of a wrinkle in my campaign plans. Even though Elise isn’t publicly involved in the competition, Angélique tells me that she wishes to have a private input in their little meetings.”

“Sounds like Elise,” Klaus says, careful to keep his face straight. He remembers Minori saying something about how Elise’s presence at the first meeting had actually been helpful, and not a hinderance, but he decides he’s better off keeping that from Buchanan.

“In any case,” Buchanan continues, removing his glasses and folding them. “If Oak Tree Town wins the competition, it will reflect badly on myself and the town: people will think my connection to Elise is interference, regardless of whether or not she’s publicly involved.” He removes a handkerchief from his coat pocket. “However, if the town comes in last, that would also reflect poorly on me — and on my daughter’s capabilities, as well.”

“What are you proposing, sir?”

“Straight to the point, as always,” Buchanan says, wiping his glasses with the handkerchief. “That’s what I like about you, Klaus — you’re not afraid of being candid. Amidst my war in the Great Game, it’s remarkably…” He takes a deep breath through the nose, then finishes with another cool smile, “Refreshing.”

Klaus decides not to point out that, in complimenting his behavior, Buchanan is once again dancing around the subject of conversation. It’s a game he used to enjoy, but now rather detests — unless, of course, the subject is coquettish in nature. But talking politics with Buchanan isn’t exactly what he might call flirtatious subject matter.

“Well, Klaus, I’m prepared to offer you a generous bonus,” Buchanan says, replacing his glasses on his nose, “if you find a way to have Oak Tree Town place between fourth and sixth in the competition.”

Klaus snorts. “Sir, you know I gave up sabotage long ago.”

“Oh, but my friend, it’s possible you might not have to do much at all,” he says. Brushes a nonexistent bit of dust from his desk. “Tell me: how competent is the Agricultural Representative?”

“Minori? She’s, er…” he struggles to find the right word. If he tells Buchanan his honest opinion — which would be that, given her simultaneous stubborn tenacity and social charm, Minori will likely leave her opponents in the dust — he risks making her specifically out to be a threat to Buchanan. But if he undersells her, he does a disservice to her talents. “She’s, er, capable.”

“Capable, you say?” Buchanan rubs his beard, one corner of his mouth tugged upward. “Do you know her well?”

“Well, I would consider us acquaintances, surely,” Klaus replies. “Perhaps friends.”

“And is she pretty, too?”

“Sir?”

Buchanan raises a newspaper that’s sitting on his desk just enough so that Klaus can see the cover page — the headline reads, Green Leaf Ag-Reps Announced! In the top left corner in tacky font is a column labeled, “ones to watch” — with a candid photo of Minori plastered in the number one spot, beaming as she accepts the blue ribbon at some contest.

Buchanan tosses the paper toward Klaus, who fumbles only slightly before catching it in both hands. He doesn’t have to even glance at the article to know what it says — that Minori far out-ranks his description of “capable.”

“I thought,” Buchanan begins, his voice low, “I was doing myself a favor by denying my daughter entry in the contest. But it turns out I’ve put a far worse beast in her place — a girl who genuinely wants to do ‘good.’” He rolls his eyes. “Do you know how hard it is to buy over those kinds of girls with money or fame?”

“I can only imagine,” Klaus says dryly.

“Thus, my friend, here is my proposal,” Buchanan begins again, lacing his fingers together on the desk. “There’s two ways you can go about this: first, you sabotage the Oak Tree Town team’s efforts just enough for them to come in, at the very maximum, fourth out of tenth place — it’s possible, indeed, that you won’t have to do any sabotaging at all, should this Minori prove a disappointment.”

Klaus frowns disapprovingly. “You know I swore off sabotage a long time ago, Buchanan. I already said I didn’t want to breach my contract.”

“Consider the second choice, then.” He signals for Klaus to return the newspaper, which he does — standing to pass it to him instead of throwing it across the desk. “You court this Minori Awald until she’s so enamored with you that she can’t help but focus on you rather than the competition.”

At this, Klaus can’t help but let out a snort. “Oh, I think you’ll find it would take a lot more than the likes of me to distract Minori from something she’s got her heart so set on.”

“But who can resist a tall and brooding man such as yourself, my dear boy?”

“She’s good at multitasking.” He uncrosses his legs, thinking. “Perhaps the plan backfires. What if she not only wins the competition, but she falls for me in my efforts to court her, as well?” As the words leave his lips, his chest feels warm — a lovely, though fantastical, scenario that would be, indeed. “What would you do then?”

Buchanan smirks. Klaus’ stomach drops. He has a feeling he doesn’t want to hear what’s next.

“Well, I was rather hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but I had Baxter read up on Miss Awald’s background — she has a degree in design from L’Universitaire de Beauchamp, does she not?”

Klaus frowns. “She does.”

“You know, Angélique has some very famous fashion designers in her circle who are looking for new assistants,” Buchanan says casually. He turns his chair just a little more toward the window, so that a quarter of his face is hidden in shadow. “It would be so unfortunate if she were to receive a job offer that begins before the end of the competition — wouldn’t it? Then she’d have to choose between a tiny town in the middle of nowhere and her lifelong dream of being a big-time designer.”

Klaus purses his lips. “Tough choice,” he says, with a hint of bitterness.

“And then this whole town, who seems to rather adore her from what Baxter gathered,” Buchanan continues, “would resent her for disqualifying them from the competition by leaving. Wouldn’t that be a pity?”

There’s a rather interesting spot in the new area rug, Klaus finds, where the pattern seems to have a flaw in it. He tries to focus on that for a moment, ignoring the way he’s gritting his teeth so hard his head might explode.

Buchanan sighs. “The choice is rather simple, Klaus. Find a way to ensure that Oak Tree Town places fourth at the very highest, or I’ll draw Minori Awald away and disqualify them from the competition altogether.” He turns his chair away from the window. “What’s your choice?”

A long pause. The seconds seem to stretch out before him as he considers his options. Would it be kinder, he wonders, to give Minori the option to accept a position as a fashion designer, to give her the option of abandoning Oak Tree Town in favor of her “lifelong dream,” as Buchanan calls it?

But then he remembers their conversation only yesterday — about how she was unsure if she truly ever wanted to leave Oak Tree Town, or if she even wanted to be a fashion designer, or what her future held. Is it wrong for him to not give her the option, or is he saving her the struggle of making such a monumental decision when she is on the cusp of what is sure to be a very important two months of her life?

And what about Elise’s involvement, and the rest of the town’s investment in the competition? Is it fair of him to make the decision for them?

He sighs. He needs to buy himself time. He also needs to talk to Marian about it — the only person with whom he ever considers breaking his confidentiality clause. Only one of the two options Buchanan has given him will buy him any guaranteed amount of time.

“I’ll do it myself, on one condition,” Klaus says, keeping his tone even so as not to betray his intentions.

“Which is?”

“You allow them to place third — not fourth,” Klaus replies. “They deserve a spot on the podium, at the very least.”

Buchanan’s mouth curves into a wily smile.

“Fair enough. I’ll cede that point. Anything else?”

He’s about to deny the question — but then a thought occurs to him.

“Actually, yes,” Klaus says. “I need a cotton candy machine.”

Buchanan’s gaze flickers. Klaus can only see the confusion in his eyes after years of practice. “A…cotton candy machine?”

“By tomorrow, yes. Delivered to Oak Tree Town. Specifically one that looks like it might belong in a 1950’s ice cream social — you know, vintage style.”

Buchanan looks like he might ask questions, but then decides better of it, resting his forehead in his hand with a resigned sigh. “Very well, Klaus. I’ll have Baxter look into it today. Do we have an agreement?”

Klaus nods. “We do.”

They shake hands, and the gears in his mind are already turning.

Oak Tree Town; Trade Depot. Early Evening.  

“You know, I don’t understand why you wore that big heavy coat when it’s finally gotten warm outside.” Lillie stares at her with a suspicious gaze. “Wait…where’d you even get that coat, anyway? I don’t recognize it.”

The Trade Depot bustles with activity. It hasn’t been this busy so close to closing time in weeks — Minori would know, since she comes here usually twice a day, once when the vendors open to stock up on what she needs before the stock runs out and once near closing time to sell all she’s ready to part with. Now that the weather has finally warmed up, she figures that a lot more people are willing to make the hike even though the sun is close to setting.

“Minori?”

“Huh? Oh, the jacket.” She shoves her hands into the pockets defensively. “I’ve had this forever.” Lies. It’s Klaus’ jacket. “I just haven’t worn it this winter.”

Lillie isn’t fooled. Her suspicious stare grows into a big, goofy grin. “Uh huh. Did you buy it when you were two feet taller?” she asks, gesturing to how the hem of the coat brushes against her calves.

“Something like that,” Minori replies, and if she blushes she hides it in the woolen collar of the jacket. “Now come on — you’re only allowed to help me sell stuff if you aren’t gonna ask me weird questions about my wardrobe choices.”

Lillie grins. “What, so you can drag me into being the model for Elise’s fashion show, but I can’t tease you about this jacket that you definitely stole from Klaus?”

“Exactly. And it was borrowed, not stolen, I’ll have you know.”

They’re all giggles as Lillie starts to help unload Minori’s wagon next to Marielle’s stall — and Minori is glad. She was a little worried that after the girl’s gathering the night before Lillie would be feeling nervous, or even betrayed. But if anything, she seems to be looking forward to the fashion festival.

She has to hand it to Elise — it’s a pretty solid plan. There aren’t a lot of ways it can go wrong, even if it doesn’t go right.

“I wonder how Elise is getting on with the dress,” Lillie muses then, setting several bottles of milk down on the ground.

“Hopefully pretty well, though I’m sure she had a rotten hangover this morning,” Minori replies, grinning. “I can’t believe she agreed to take that kitten home.”

“And that she drank so much rosé!” Lillie agrees. “We should’ve invited her sooner.”

“We’ll make up for it — we could make her throw the next get-together, actually. If the eclairs from last night were any indication, I’m sure she’d supply lovely snacks.”

As Minori is dragging some bolts of fabric from the wagon, Lillie says, “Oh, but isn’t that creepy  French lady staying with her? I’d hate to have a party with her watching over us.”

“Ugh. True.”

At that moment, Marielle starts to make her way over. She, too, has followed Lillie’s lead and dropped her heavy fur coats for a more Spring-ish outfit, complete with a straw hat.

“Small load today, Nor,” she comments, observing the wagon. “The farm doing okay? You need any discounts on feed?”

Minori giggles. “No, I’m good — but thank you, Marielle. I’m building my stockpile back up after the conquest with Elise.”

“Oh, ‘course. My bad.” She pulls out her purse and starts to count up some bills. “You know, we’re all really glad you won that. You’ll let us know if there’s anything you need, won’t ya?”

Minori takes the money, pulling out her wallet to organize the change. “Definitely. Thanks Marielle, you’re a gem.”

Marielle winks before turning away, her blue eyes dazzling in the setting sun. “My pleasure, love.”

Just as she’s about to put away her wallet, Lillie grips her arm.

“Ooh, Minori, what is that?” She squeaks, pointing at —

— pointing at none other than the tiny portrait Klaus had drawn of her yesterday, which she had forgotten to take out of her wallet and hide in her nightstand drawer, as intended.

“Oh, uh, just a self-portrait,” she replies, hurriedly zipping up the wallet and stuffing it back in the oversized pocket of Klaus’ coat.

Lillie crosses her arms over her chest. “Nori.”

“Lillie?”

“Why are you so intent on hiding stuff from me?” she asks, still gripping her arm. “We’re best friends. I told you about Raeger!”

“Look, Lillie, if there were anything to say about Klaus, I’d tell you.”

“Ha!” She points a finger at Minori’s face, grinning. “So it does have to do with Klaus! Did he draw it? Ohmigoddess, how romantic!” She puts a hand against her own cheek. “I’m blushing! I’m literally blushing, Nori.”

Minori just shakes her head, grabbing the handle of her red wagon again. “Fine, Lil. Klaus stopped by for a chat in the West Town Park yesterday and he drew a little picture of me while we were talking. But that’s it, I swear.”

Lillie grabs the handle and helps her pull. There really isn’t enough room for two hands, but Minori appreciates the sweetness of the gesture nonetheless.

“What do you mean, ‘that’s it’?” Lillie cries. “Nori, you do realize —“

“Keep your voice down!”

“Sorry.” Quieter, so that not every person in the Trade Depot can easily listen in on their conversation, Lillie continues, “You do realize that for him to draw a picture of you, he had to stare at your face for, what, ten minutes? Twenty?”

“Half an hour,” she admits, digging the toe of her boot into the cobblestone.

“Goddess,” Lillie breathes. “Nori, he’s into you. There’s no way he isn’t.”

Just in front of the welcome desk of the Depot, Minori pulls the wagon to a stop. “Well it doesn’t matter how he feels about me, ‘cause I don’t feel anything for him.”

Lillie smiles. “Liar.”

But Minori doesn’t let up. She keeps her gaze even. So even, in fact, that Lillie’s face falls a little.

“Wait, really?” she asks, her voice lower in pitch. “I could have sworn —“

She sighs. “He’s got a lot of secrets, Lillie. It’s complicated. And with Iris —“

“Iris wouldn’t care, and you know that,” Lillie objects. “She’s not like that. Besides, didn’t you notice the way she was looking at Agate last night? She’s way over Klaus.”

“I know she isn’t, but —“ she cuts off abruptly. “Wait, what? Iris and Agate?”

Lillie looks at her strangely. “I mean — what, do you think I’m wrong?”

Minori tries to remember to the night before. Sure, they were cuddling on the sofa, and Iris kissed Agate’s forehead a few times, and they went downstairs together once or twice, and Iris’ eyes sort of went soft whenever she looked at Agate, like she was looking at the moon —

“Oh,” she breathes. “Wow. You’re so right. How did I not notice? We even had a whole conversation together after you all left!”

“Probably because you drank all that pinot noir,” Lillie teases, bumping her shoulder.

“I had, like, two glasses.”

“Okay, Nori, I counted, like, four, but if that’s the story you wanna tell —“

Their banter is interrupted by a loud call from her left.

“Minori!”

She turns toward the voice — it’s Kenneth, who’s waving her down from his stall. She looks from Kenneth, to Lillie, and then back again.

“Well, go on,” Lillie says, waving her away. “I’ve gotta get home so I can help dad with dinner anyway. But I’m not letting the Klaus thing go — okay?”

Minori grins. Backstepping toward Kenneth’s stall — and taking the wagon with her — she replies, “Wouldn’t dream of letting you forget, Lillie.”

She waves as she leaves. “See you tomorrow!”

“No doubt!” she says, returning the gesture.

Kenneth’s stall is furthest from the Trade Depot entrance, so it’s a bit of a jaunt to get there with the wagon. She probably should’ve brought her horse, she thinks, but she was so eager to finally get some travel on foot now that most of the snow has melted.

“Hi Kenneth,” she greets when she arrives, just a tad breathless from dragging the wagon with her.

“You’re so bundled up underneath all that jacket I almost didn’t recognize you,” Kenneth says, smiling widely. “Why’re you wearing that when the weather’s so nice?”

“Sentimental value, and it smells nice,” she replies. Quickly to cover her candor, she continues, “Um, anyway. Sorry. What can I do for you?”

“Well, I’m in a pickle,” he starts. “My wife’s and my anniversary is coming up next week, and I’d really like to get her this all-natural vanilla-scented perfume she likes to wear, but the farmer I usually get it from passed on recently.”

“Oh,” she breathes. “How horrible.”

“Indeed,” Kenneth says, taking off his hat. “I was wondering if you sell any perfume at your farm? I’d be willing to part with a whole lot of lumber for it.”

She purses her lips. “No, I don’t. I’m —“ She pauses. Mind racing. “Wait. Uh, how much lumber are we talking?”

“Uh, probably eighty logs or so?”

She lets out a long whistle. That would certainly be a huge help in upgrading the safari.

“Okay, Kenneth. We’ve got a perfumist here in town — I’ll touch base with him tonight and see what I can do.” She takes out the mini notepad and pencil she keeps on her for reminders and to-do lists. “When’s the absolute latest I can get you the perfume?”

“A week from today.”

“And you want it all-natural, totally organic?”

“Yep,” he replies. “And just vanilla. None of that fancy flowery stuff.”

She flips the notepad shut and shoves it in her pocket. “Perfect. I’ll figure it out, okay?”

Kenneth beams. “Thanks, Minori. You’re a real lifesaver.”

“No problem!”

As she starts to lug her red wagon to the exit of the Trade Depot, she can’t help smiling just a bit. As much as she was being honest with Lillie — that she really shouldn’t have feelings for Klaus, given his penchant for taking mysterious inexplicable trips to the city — there’s a small part of her that is happy to have an excuse to see him again.

Norchester; The Angèle Hotel; Night.

By the time Klaus returns from the rest of his errands in Norchester, the sun has sunk well below the horizon line. As his taxi pulls up next to the hotel, he can’t help but sigh in relief.

He tips the driver generously, says a quick word of thanks, and then ducks out of the car. A bellhop is already grabbing his bags from the trunk; he nods his thanks and hands them a small tip, as well.

He makes his way into the lobby, pulling out the key access card that sits in the furthest back pocket of his wallet. The little light above the automatic sliding door turns green, granting him entry.

Karen, the night-shift worker, stands behind the desk. When she sees him, her cherry-painted lips part to reveal a perfect white smile. Karen only started working at the hotel two years ago — two years, he realizes with dread; he’s getting old — but he’s always thought she’d be better suited to a more adventurous job.

“And so he returns,” she says, lounging over the counter in a sultry way he’s more than used to by now. “My dark and handsome Silver Suite chevalier. I was starting to wonder if you’d ever grace us with your presence again.”

He smiles, not quite flattered by her flirtatious remarks — mostly just amused. Karen has always been forthcoming in her desires — perhaps too much so for his tastes, if he could be cited as having any specific tastes to begin with.

“I’ve been doing mostly day trips the past couple weeks,” he replies, handing her his access card.

She scans it into the system, as is protocol. With shining eyes, she asks, “No top-secret missions to warrant an overnight stay?”

He scoffs. “Not lately, no.”

Returning the card, she says, “How disappointing. If only you’d come around just three weeks ago; I’d just about worked up the courage to sneak up to your room and propose some midnight lovemaking.”

He clears his throat. “Ah.”

But Karen just giggles. “Oh, don’t look so worried, love. I’ve started seeing someone — you know Angie, the day receptionist?”

“I thought Yolanda was the day receptionist?”

She shook her head. “Retired a few weeks ago, thank goodness, else I’d never have met Ange. She’s a sweetheart — and blonde.” Flipping her long brown ponytail over her shoulder, she continues, “Always wished I were blonde, but I’m alright dating one, too.” With a bit of a softer look in her eyes, she adds, “Ange is gorgeous, and sweeter than anything. I’m really lucky.”

Klaus smiles — genuinely, this time. “I’m happy for you, Karen.”

She sighs, leaning back in the black leather chair that’s far too big for her thin frame. “Yeah, yeah, don’t tell anybody I got starry-eyed, though. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

“Of course,” he replies.

The bellhop has long since sent his bags up to the thirtieth floor — they all know where Klaus lives. It’s not like the silver suite ever gets rented to anyone else.

“Well, I’ll let you go,” Karen says finally, smiling at him. “But just because I’m with Ange now doesn’t mean I’m not still dying to know all your dark secrets. Do ring the phone if you feel like sharing, okay?” She leans back even further into the chair, blowing air through her lips like a horse. “Gets boring down here ‘round one AM.”

“Well, I suppose one secret can’t hurt.”

“What, really?”

Leaning closer to her, he says in a low voice, “During the day, I’m a perfumist in a tiny town not too far from here.”

She scoffs. “Ugh. Quit lying.”

He shrugs, smiling good-naturedly at her but starting to collect his wallet from the counter. “I only ever tell the truth, Karen.”

“Only ever tell the truth my ass,” she replies as he starts walking away.  “Sleep well, Bruce Wayne.”

He chuckles. “Have a good shift, Karen.”

The elevator up to the thirtieth floor is made of glass. Just like Buchanan’s office, there’s a built-in window all the way up so that one can overlook the entirety of Norchester as they make the climb. Klaus wonders if Buchanan considered this when he was approving the designs of the hotel or if it was pure coincidence.

The ride takes about a minute, accompanied by soft jazz music. Klaus sighs. As physically tired as he is, he rather loathes the idea of going to sleep. The apartment always feels so empty when he arrives, which just makes his nightmares worse.

The elevator dings, signaling that he’s arrived. He grabs his briefcase and exits into the hallway.

The silver suite is the only suite on the thirtieth floor. It’s not the best suite in the hotel — there’s still five more floors of single suites — but it’s certainly lightyears nicer than anything he could have imagined himself staying in when he was a child. Sometimes he’s still astonished at the grandeur of it all when he walks in the lobby of the hotel.

“Alright,” he says to himself, pulling out his card again. The door clicks unlocked as he holds it up next to the card reader.

Sure enough, the apartment feels as cold as it always does. His little suitcase is just inside the entry. There’s a sticky note from the cleaning staff accompanied by two chocolates on the kitchen bar to his left; he pockets the chocolates and lays a twenty dollar bill next to the note, as he always does.

The air conditioner hums, the surfaces are spotless, the curtains are open to reveal the shining city of Norchester. Everything is as it always is — except —

— except for the landline phone on the coffee table. The answering machine light is blinking green at him.

He raises an eyebrow. Breathes to himself, “What?” Sets down his briefcase, moves toward the phone. No one has ever left a message before. He’s pretty sure the only people who have the number are Buchanan, himself, and Marian — and Marian would certainly call him on his cell phone before calling him here.

Half-cautiously and half-eagerly, he picks up the telephone and holds it to his ear.

“Please enter voicemail password.”

He stops. Checks the little piece of paper taped to the answering machine for a voicemail password. Nothing there.

Sighs. Punches in the numbers: 3-4-7-8. Buchanan’s security gate number.

It works.

“You have one new message.”

There’s a bit of rustling on the other end. Klaus holds the phone closer to his ear, barely breathing as he waits with anticipation to hear who somehow got a hold of this number.

Then:

“Hi, Klaus! It’s Minori. Minori Awald. You know. From Oak Tree Town.”

He smiles. He does indeed know Minori Awald from Oak Tree Town.

“Uh, I tried stopping by your house but you weren’t there — but Marian was on a round nearby and gave me this number to call you at. Sorry if I’m intruding. I know you’re in the city — and you’re probably coming back tomorrow, so I don’t know why I didn’t just wait until then to tell you, but, whatever, here I am.”

His knees feel a little shaky, so he decides to sit on the couch behind him. There’s a warmth blossoming in his chest that he doesn’t even try to withhold.

“Anyway, okay, so I’m just calling because one of the Trade Depot vendors needs some vanilla perfume — and I was wondering if maybe you could help me with that? We can talk about it in more detail when you get back, but I thought, like, I’d give you a heads up in case you need to buy some supplies while you’re in the city.”

A good call, he thinks — he’s out of vanilla extract, but he’ll be able to pick some up before his return to Oak Tree Town the next day.

“Well, um, anyway. I started thinking about what I might put in my White Day picnic basket — if you find me a cotton candy machine, I guess I could be persuaded to throw some bouillabaisse into the mix.”

His stomach growls at the thought. Minori made him bouillabaisse once, for his birthday the year before. It had been absolutely delicious, but he hasn’t dared to ask her for some again out of fear of seeming desperate.

“Well yep. That’s, um, that’s everything! I’ll see you tomorrow, hopefully, unless you get back late — then maybe not, because I go to sleep, like, super early. Who’s the old geezer now? Anyway. Yup. Well, bye!”

The line clicks.

“End of new message. To delete this message, press seven. To hear this message again, press star.”

And despite what transpired in his meeting with Buchanan earlier in the day, despite the gnawing feeling in the back of his mind that falling further for Minori Awald will only lead to complications — he presses star.

[midnightstar789]

Free Day Sabriel week day 4

Warnings: Fire, Destruction, Dragons, Shapeshifters, broken bones, Setting of broken bones

I actully have more written for this one, but it also is suffering a block, will attempt to get at least this one up on AO3.

@sabrielevents

“Damn it, not again! Fucking Dragons!” the golden-haired man cursed as a torrent of flame ignited his roof. None of the other villagers bothered to reply to him, busy as they were with trying to control the other burning buildings. He grabbed the nearest water bucket and twisted to throw it onto his roof. It vaporized in the heat of the flame.

“What the Hell?” he muttered as he ran to the central well and scooped more water into his bucket. Turning around he blinked at the sight of ruby eyes hovering just behind the inferno his home had turned into. Knowing a lost battle, the golden-haired man turned and followed the others with his bucket, to the field nearest the village. They soon turned it into a bucket line trying to save their crops.

It was nearing dawn when the dragon finally left. As they started to rest from the all-night work there came a cry from the west side of the village near the healer’s house. Gabriel’s blood ran cold, his baby brother was at the healers. He ran over with a few other people, stopping in horror at the burnt-out husk of the healer’s home.

“No…Cas!” he started shifting the debris despite the burns he was getting on his hands and arms. He tried to shake off the arms that wrapped around his chest, but they were stronger than he was. He didn’t even realize he was crying, the tears cutting through the soot and dirt on his face. Turning his face, he saw that it was Joshua holding him.

“Cas…Castiel was at the healers last night. I got to find him Joshua!” he hiccupped, faintly struggling to get free.

“I know Gabriel, but you aren’t gonna help him with burns all over you, boy.” He turned to the rest of the people nearby. “Get another line going the Healers house may have a body in it.” The people nodded tiredly grabbing their buckets. “you go get your bucket Gabriel, and we’ll get to Castiel, alright?” he told Gabriel letting him go when he nodded. Gabe retrieved his bucket and found a spot in line near the smoldering ruins. The umpteenth bucket slid out of his hand, the handle slick with blood, his blood he realized dazedly.

“What the hell?” Alfie asked when he didn’t get a bucket. He glanced behind him to see Gabriel swaying on his feet, he reached out to wave his hand in front of his face when two things happened simintonsly. Gabriel’s eyes rolled back as he fell like a puppet that’s strings have been cut, and something heaved a roof beam out of the ruble they were attempting to cool. Alfie held onto Gabriel as a humanoid figure rose from the ruble where the sick was tended to.

It coughed as it turned back to where it had been laying, grabbing something and hauling it upright. There were gasps as the healer Missouri stumbled upright, hacking the ash and dirt from her lungs. They both looked towards the gathered villagers, Missouri quickly looking to her left at the sight of Gabriel passed out. Her breath hitched. The other support beam shifted upwards revealing another figure crouched over a prone human. She stumbled towards them being supported by the humanoid that had kept the beams from crushing her, dropping to her knees she checked the pulse of her patient. Letting out a relived breath she looked up into the eyes of the crouching humanoid, green emeralds stared back at her. A quiet churr caught her attention, turning she saw the worry on the other humanoid’s face. It crouched next to her running a long-fingered hand over its companion. The next instant it was wrenching the rest of the fallen timber off the other revealing a sickening sight, the closer leg was bent unnaturally at the ankle with bone sticking through the skin. Missouri stood swaying.

“We need four men here, NOW!” she hollered catching the creature’s attention. Hissing it scooped its companion into its arms and stood stepping over the fallen human as it went to leave. Four men walked cautiously forward into the ruble and picked up the soot covered form of Castiel. As they picked their way towards the rest of the village a growl was heard behind her. Turning she watched as the now conscious creature argued with the one carrying it and tensed when it turned towards them walking until it stood next to the nervous men who held Castiel.

“Where do you want them, Healer Missouri?” asked Robert one of the men holding Castiel. She sighed as Michael picked his way to her to help get her out of the ruble of her house.

“Take them to the Meeting Hall. Everyone should retreat there, bring everything you don’t want the bastards getting.” Missouri said. The villagers grumbled but complied. Missouri tasked a few of the younger warriors with finding the extra medical supplies, while she arranged Gabriel and Castiel in two pallet beds next to each other. She mostly ignored the two creatures standing in her space. Alfie who had been tasked with getting the washing equipment, came back holding the basket of cloths with the two basins on top. He sat them down near the two beds. Shaking his head, he left and came back with enough bedding for a few more beds. Missouri nodded in thanks to him as the rest of the younglings came back with the medical supplies.

“Would you like us to remove them, Healer?” one of the young men asked causing both Missouri and Alfie to scoff. Alfie replied for Missouri while she worked on clearing the soot and ash from Castiel’s face.

“You’re welcome to try, they were leaving until the one woke up and decided otherwise.” The younger warriors looked at each other before the leader of the group strode up to the two creatures leaning on each other near the wall. The taller didn’t take notice until the warrior was an arm’s length away from them, it cocked its head to the side making a soft churr. Thinking he had the advantage the warrior puffed himself up, and pointed at them eliciting an inaudible hiss, then at the exit.  He repeated the motion when they didn’t move. The hissing was audible now, and it had moved the other one to leaning on the wall to fully face the warrior. Eyes wide he pointed at the creature before stumbling backwards away from the lethal claws heading for his head. The creature behind it made a questioning churr. It replied with a snarling rumble, causing the other one to open its emerald eyes, snorting at the stance of its companion it tried to step away from the wall. Only to hiss and fall as it put its weight on the broken joint. The taller of the two spun and kept the other from faceplanting before hauling it to one of the unused beds near the two unconscious men. Missouri cleared her throat causing the two creatures to look at her.

“Help? Uh…churrrrr??” she tried confusing everyone around her. The two creatures looked at her then at the injury, before the injured one nodded. She moved to kneel by its ankle brow furrowing in thought, glancing repeatedly at the other ankle and the other watchful creature. Licking her lips, she motioned for someone to get her rag basket. As they watched the basket be set down she worked quickly to set the bone back to where it looked like it belonged. It screeched as the bones returned to their proper places, lunging at her claws reaching for her face. The other creature’s quick reflexes kept them from reaching their goal. She quickly tied off the brace she had made around the joint and scooted backwards as the uninjured one crouched to look at it. After studying the knot on the brace, it gestured to her. Missouri watched as it indicated that she should move the knot down an inch, she was cautious as she undid that part of the brace before re-knotting it where the creature was indicating. When her patient didn’t try to claw her face again she sighed in relief.

“Uh Healer Missouri?” Alfie asked quietly as the Elders marched closer causing her to look towards him. Her eyes closed as she sighed, drooping her shoulders as she slowly stood. The Elders stopped in front of her.

“What do you have to say for yourself, Witch?” Elder 1 snarled as the rest of the elders watched her with narrowed eyes. Missouri straitened her spine, taking a deep breath only to cough as it irritated her lungs. As she struggled to breathe Alfie quickly grabbed a rag and after dunking it in some water placed it over her mouth. The Elders watched with narrowed eyes and contemplation on a few faces as they studied Alfie. Finally, she replied to them.

“My name is Healer Missouri, not witch. Now what am I being asked?”

“Only a Witch would bring Creatures into a Village!” Elder 1 exclaimed.

“Really? I was surprised I survived my home collapsing around me, I woke up with the taller of the two already protecting me.” She snarked back at them, letting Alfie support her weight. The Elders securitized them, when Castiel began coughing. Missouri turned from the Elders to check on Castiel, leaving Alfie to watch the Elders. The conscious creatures also watched them, albeit for different reasons.

“Alfie get me my smelling salts please.” Missouri asked holding her damp rag over the bottom of her face. Turning Alfie located the salts quickly and tried to hand them to Missouri, she motioned for him to use them on Castiel, so he uncorked the bottle and gently waved the open end of the bottle under Castiel’s nose. Causing his nose to wrinkle before he woke with a gasping cough. Alfie quickly re-corked the salts bottle and grabbed a second rag from the basket to dunk in the water when there was an all too familiar growl sounding inside the meeting hall. Every human froze in place.

Castiel looked up at scales from his prone position on the pallet. Alfie saw the coiled back legs, tension vibrating them. Missouri could see the open maw, revealing deadly teeth, attached to the long serpentine neck of the dragon crouched over them. Beyond the dragon’s snout two of the younger warriors were frozen mid attack. One had aimed for Alfie and the other for Missouri, only the dragon had gotten between them. Alfie slowly placed the damp rag over Castiel’s lower face, doing his best to not attract the dragon’s attention. The two warriors inched backwards eye’s never leaving the dragon. As soon as they had gone back to the elders they had been guarding the dragon’s mouth shut and it shifted its feet around to put the Healing area under its belly. No one moved as it turned and sniffed the injured creature. The injured one giving a low rumble as it rubbed the dragons’ snout almost affectionately.

[cerastes]

HEY DRIMO it's been a while since you did a big myth post so how about you tell me a cool story about my boi karna

Oh dear me, Hindu mythos, damn, ok, so, first rule of Hindu mythos is that you all have to wear your seat belts while reading this. If you don’t, you are susceptible to immense physical and spiritual damage, enough that it might kick you right out of the cycle of reincarnation, and then the Mythos Retelling Collective (MRC) will revoke my license due to Irresponsible Sharing of Intense Tales (art. 23847). Are you all strapped in? Y’all got your helmets? Alright alright, let’s get this show on the road.

SO, KARNA. I assume most of you are familiar with Karna having Big Strength and being god damn unkillable. Ok, so, it goes beyond that. It goes at least three Milky Ways in width beyond that. Originally known by his other name, Vasusena (and this dude has like 14 different names), Karna is the main protagonist of the Hindu epic, Mahabharata, and–

Oh, right, before I can tell you anything about the Mahabharata, or about Hindu mythos in general, I need to explain power levels. So you know how in Dragon Ball Z Abridged, Vegeta and Nappa use “Raditz” as a unit of measure for power levels and ki? “My power level is 500 Raditz.” “My power level is 23000 Raditz”, the joke being that Raditz was such a weak grunt that his meager total power can be used as a unit as you would with centimeters? Ok, this is actually canon in Hindu mythos. They have a scale of power levels, referred to as “Levels of Warrior Excellence”. The levels are:

Ardha-rathi: The lowest level, meaning literally “Half of a Rathi”. Read the next section for a more elaborate explanation, but this is Yamcha-tier, basically, the weakest of the badasses.

Rathi: It almost sounds like Raditz, doesn’t it? Well, Rathi is the unit by which all the other levels of Warrior Excellence are measured, as well as a rank by itself. A Rathi is an individual so powerful and skilled, that they can do battle with 1000 regular warriors simultaneously. This is the “Dynasty Warriors Playable Character” tier: Strong, but still susceptible to frames per seconds drops and getting stunlocked by arrows.

Atirathi: HERE is where things get spicy. An Atirathi is a warrior that can fight with six Rathi simultaneously. This is the level of strength possessed by Kevin by the time of Home Alone 2.

Ekarathi: You thought six was impressive? TRY EIGHT RATHI SIMULTANEOUSLY. We are entering Popeye-with-spinach levels of world-ending strength now.

Maharathi: The top level, the cream of the crop, the true definition of “Fuckhouse”. Those who reach this level are immensely powerful, and can do battle with 12 or more Rathi simultaneously. That is 12000 asses worth of whoopings. This is where you favorite Touhou is, obviously, and fuck what everyone else says.

Their measure of unit is basically “How many thousands of dudes can this person fight, or how many people that can fight a thousand people at once can this person fight?”, which, in other words, means that India has not fucked around a single day in it history.

So you might be wondering, “where’s Karna in all of this?”. Well, Chili Con Karna is SO MINDBOGGLINGLY STRONG AND SPICY that he is, literally, a Double Maharathi. Karna is stated to be “in terms of strength and skill, equal to two Maharathi warriors”. These peak jokers made this elaborate power level chart just so they could say “AND KARNA IS DOUBLE AS STRONG AS THE STRONGEST”. He is Two Gokus. Karna could literally look at you, without the laser, and you would just be atomized, restructured, and atomized again in the span of minus three seconds, and you would thank him for it. And damn RIGHT you would thank him for it, because he probably didn’t mean to do that to you. That’s because Karna, despite having more powers than Superman and God combined, is the Ultimate Good Boy. This dude is Puppy Kiss Central, this dude chips in on Pizza Thursday every week, and makes up for those who didn’t chip in. Karna lets you take the last chicken nugget. Karna lets you use Player 1 when you hang out at his place. Karna tells you to text him or call him once you get home after hanging out and he gets worried if you don’t. That dashing guy you saw doing volunteer work at the homeless shelter the other day? Probably Karna. The owner of Old Friends Dog Sanctuary? Definitely Karna.

He’s GOOD.

And that’s why the Mahabharata is so painful: I don’t speak Hindi, but I am pretty sure “mahabharata” translates directly to “Karna Has Bad Day :(”. Today, we’ll be talking about Karna’s Three Curses, with a little bit of his childhood for context on the first one, and because I just want to talk about his dumbass mom. Also that one time he clowned Arjuna and Planet Fucking Earth got mad at him.

SO, there was this lady named Kunti, princess of the Kunti Kingdom (yeah), and this one time she was the host to a sage named Durvasa, who was visiting. She is a most Excellent Host, and provided Durvasa with the best of services, the most delicious food, the most luxurious of drinks, and every volume of Detective Conan, and Durvasa was so stoked at this 10/10 Would Come Again service, that he gave Kunti a special boon: With a mantra he taught her, she now had the amazing power to get knocked up by any deity of her selection. Kunti was really happy with her new pregnancy powers, and couldn’t wait to try them out, so she did to call upon the Sun God Surya, and guess what fucking happened: That’s right, fucking happened. It was a violent and intense cyclone of sex so kinky that the baby was born with armor and earrings (in some versions, Surya “handed” the child to Kunti, but in others, which I opt to believe, Kunti bore his child, and his fat solar load was so powerful that the fetus was armored). And then Kunti was like “oh fuck it worked lol but I am not wed” and since she didn’t want to be an unmarried mother (refer to Hindu tradition for this one), so she did like many other Mothers In Mythology and she put Armor Baby on a basket and set him afloat on the rivER LIKE A REAL KUNT, IT WAS IN HER NAME ALL ALONG, WHY DO YOU ASSHOLES KEEP DOING THIS.

THE REST IS UNDER THE CUT BECAUSE THIS IS TURNING LONG.

Like many other Babies In Mythology, Armor Baby was found by someone, this someone being a charioteer named Adhiratha, but not just ANY charioteer, this was the chief charioteer of King Dhritarashtra, who I hope will forgive me if I wrote his name wrong, and was adopted by the charioteer and his wife, Radha. Armor Baby was given a name, Vasusena, and his pet name was Radheya among the locals. Being born an armored baby, it should come as no surprise Vasusena was interested in the military arts, and so he approached this really cool dude named Dronacharya who taught princes about warfare, BUT Drone told the armor kid to fuck the off because he only taught Kshatriyas (the military social caste in Hindu culture), but he was very impressed by Vasusena’s guts because this shit ass kid more or less just strolled into his house and said “HEY TEACH ME HOW TO BE A BADASS”, so he suggested to his father to change his name to Karna, which means “one who peels his own skin”, as a reference to his guts and totally not any sort of foreshadowing to anything NO SIR WHY WOULD YOU THINK THAT.

So ok he got a cool name and whatever, bUT SEE, he still got told to fuck off, which he DIDN’T LIKE, so Cartman, not one to be daunted, sought out Dron’s own teacher instead, because fuck you, that’s why. So Kane finds him, name of Parashurama, and asks him BUT FIRST he disguises himself as a Brahmin, because Futurama only teaches Brahmins, and Karlos was not gonna make THE SAME MISTAKE TWICE. Panasonic agrees, seeing potential in this Double Goku kid and so begins the training arc. Result: Parashurama proudly announces that Karna is his equal in the art of warfare and archery. All this heaving and hoing gets my man Parmesan tired, though, so Karna, ever the good boy, offers his sensei his lap so he can sleep, sensei says fuck yeah and he uses his lap pillow. While he is sleeping, however, a very angry bee goes and stings the hell out of Karna’s thigh, but he’s got his sensei on his lap, which is like when you have a cat or a puppy on your lap and it falls asleep and you do not DARE move. So he didn’t, and this leads to a very important lesson to be learned in the Mahabharata: NO GOOD DEED GOES UNPUNISHED. When he woke up, Parashurama saw the wound and the blood that flowed from it (and from this, I take bees in India are Cazadores from Fallout New Vegas) and immediately realized that Kane was NOT a Brahmin. This lie meant he had ILLEGALLY STOLEN INFORMATION, and so he cast a curse on Karna that made him forget everything about how to wield the divine weapon Brahmandra-astra, an immensely powerful divine weapon he learned to use, but Karna pleaded to please be reasonable, at which point Par realized, hey, maybe this is kinda excessive and impulsive, so he reduced the curse to make it so Karna would only forget it when he needed it the most against an equally powerful warrior, which IS NOT ANY FUCKING BETTER, and then he felt EVEN WORSE because Karna had basically been his best student ever and is a Good Person, so he gave him his own divine weapon, the Bhagavastra, as well as his bow, Vijaya. I mean, you could’ve just. Undone the curse. But hey. New weapons!

So Karna, a dedicated and excellent archer, was VERY HYPED to try out this new legendary bow he had come to own! There’s a thing in Hindu martial arts called “Shabdavedi Vidhya”, the art of hitting a target by detecting the source of the sound. What Karna didn’t consider is that shooting things by just detecting their sound, you know, means you are not REALLY LOOKING AT WHAT YOU ARE SHOOTING, but hey, like eager-to-try-new-toys mother, like eager-to-try-new-toys son. Three guesses as to what happened. You are RIGHT, HE SHOT A FUCKING COW. And it’s not with a little arrow or a harmless stick, this was with the Vijaya, which means that cow was obliterated off the face of this god damn planet. My dude was practicing “shooting at sounds” with a tactical nuke launcher. What the tits did he expect to happen. SEE, I’m sure you know, but shooting cows in India is not exactly something you just apologize about. But Karna, albeit not the brightest crayon in the box, was still Ultimate Good Boy, so he went to apologize to the owner of the cow, who happened to be an actual Brahmin who had performed the Agnihotra rite daily, which made him extra holy. Brahmin, of course, was pissed, and since apparently people in India just have a full moveset of curses ready to sling at a moment’s noticed, cursed Karna AGAIN, with this curse being “fated to die a helpless and callous death”. Not the best series of days for Karna. He could’ve just walked away, but he’s a Good Boy, so he had to take responsibility. NO GOOD DEED GOES UNPUNISHED.

So I want to call attention to this bitch of a life for a second: Baby is born because some cunt used her super pregnancy powers to see if they worked without considering the consequences of, you know, getting super pregnant, Baby is chucked into a basket and sent to fuck off on the rapids, is picked up, immediately tries to enroll with a fighting master, instead enrolls with a SUPER fighting master that taught the previous fighting master, and gets double cursed for being a good boy and having bad trigger discipline.

Now, let’s skip a couple of chapters, and we arrive at the moment where the Pandava princes, all demi-gods, hosted a “tournament” of sorts to show off their skills to the people and to their guru, Drona. They were all having a good time, being badass and superpowered WHEN SUDDENLY Karna shows up and arrogantly challenges them because he knows he can do better, from what he has seen. One of the princes, Arjuna (kept you waiting, huh?), who was regarded by Drona to be the most powerful and skilled on the Pandava, told him to maybe fuck off, and that they couldn’t compete because they were above him, as his caste was no doubt lower than theirs. A certain pair of ears DID NOT LIKE THIS and jumped to Karna’s defense: Duryodhana is the name of the owner of said ears, and he’s got Authority. How much of it? Well, he just up and named Karna King of Anga then and there, just so he could compete. Holy SHIT. Now, see, Duryo hates the Pandava. Duryo REALLY, REALLY HATES the Pandava, and he was 100% behind supporting this random stranger if it meant he could possibly maybe humiliate these ugly sumbitches. Maybe. Ok, see, here’s where it gets a bit weird, but depending on who tells the tale, Duryo and Karna actually already knew each other and were childhood friends, but most tellings make this their first meeting, and I am absolutely on board with that, because it only goes on to show how much Duryo hated the Pandava, and divine people in general. He just fucking HATED gods, man. Can relate. So Karna goes and UTTERLY OUTDOES AND UPSTAGES the Pandava princes. Outright beats all their highscores and writes “ASS” in the 1st Place billboard on each entry as his name. They are all FURIOUS at him, especially Arjuna, who had aced every single event, and now had to wear a nice 2nd place on all of them because this absolutely nobody (no one knew Karna was the sun’s son yet) showed up and utterly pulverized them. This also starts his relationship with Duryo, with whom he’d become fast, and eventually, best friends.

BUT, SEE, HE KINDA GOT MADE A KING, SO HEY, HE HAD TO GO, UH, TEND TO THAT. He was checking his brand new sudden kingdom, when he came across a WEEPING CHILD. If there is one thing Ultimate Good Boy can’t stand, that’s the tears of children, so he approached the girl and asked what’s wrong. See, the girl had accidentally dropped her ghee (kinda like butter but less dense) and she was going to get her ass whooped by her step mother. Karna kindly offered to buy her new ghee, but she said it had to be THAT SPECIFIC ghee with the dirt on it, and that she didn’t want any other. Karna, in his infinite kindness, said “oh, sure, lol”, so he grabbed the dirt and squeezed it with all of his extremely godly might, extracting the ghee back into the jar as if squeezing water out of a sponge, because that’s just the kind of solution you come up with when you are the strongest person in Ever.

hey

hey

you guys remember what I said a while ago?

WHY YES

NO GOOD DEED GOES UNPUNISHED.

Guess what happened. Guess whose anger he incurred. He got Bhumi Devi/Mother Earth herself pissed at him. And what was her beef, you ask? Well, see, Karna squeezed that soil SO DAMN HARD that she took offense. Yes. Really. And guess whSHE FUCKING CURSED HIM TOO, OH MY GOD, CEASE THIS, YOU CAN’T JUST HEX A DUDE FOR SQUEEZING DIRTY, COME ON. The curse this time was that she would one day trap his chariot’s wheel during a crucial moment in his life. All because that little girl wouldn’t make do with a new jar of I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter.

WORST. WORLD. EVER.

And guess how Karna dies.

Yes.

His chariot’s wheel gets trapped on the earth (third curse) during a crucial confrontation with Arjuna, he attempts to defend himself with his astral weapon, but forgets how to conjure it (first curse), and is decapitated by a shot of Arjuna’s Gandiva as he helplessly leans against the chariot’s wheel, unable to free it (second curse).

The moral of the story is don’t fucking help anyone, ever, and don’t own up to your mistakes, because if you do, you’ll be triple cursed.

                                                                                       Karna deserved better.

[hrjmspttr-blog]

Well, I lie and I'm easy all the time but I am never sure | ensemble, September 1

Several things happen to Harry Potter in the weeks leading up to his return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry of varying importance. 

He moves into number twelve Grimmauld Place, which is no longer a secret and but remains still a derelict mess. This happens in mid July, before Harry’s birthday, because he no longer feels welcome on the first floor of the Burrow, neither in Charlie Weasley’s old room or Ginny Weasley’s room.

This is because of the next thing, which is that Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter break up. It is their third and their last break up, because Ginny so kindly informs Harry that she is ‘no longer interested in being with a ghost.’ Which is, fair, Harry thinks. It’s not that Ginny doesn’t love him, she says, just that it isn’t supposed to hurt.

That bit, Harry is surprised by. He hasn’t been unkind towards Ginny. He has not wished her ill. Then Ginny explains the ghost thing and it makes more sense. And so he says his goodbyes – to Ginny, to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, to a confused-looking Ron, and to a stricken-looking Hermione – and Apparates to the only place he has left, really. 

It’s bloody miserable, until Luna Lovegood floos him one day and says Hermione told her there might be literature on Crumple-Horned Snorkacks in the Black family’s library. Harry knows Hermione well enough to recognize Luna’s call for what it is, but he says yes anyway. 

Which is how the third thing happens, and that is that Luna Lovegood moves in with Harry. She sleeps in a room across the hall and Harry thinks she might be charming a room in another wing of the house to be either a very elaborate garden or perhaps some sort of large-scale terrarium for creatures Harry doesn’t want to know about. 

And he gets new glasses for the first time in ten years.

In the week before their impending return to Hogwarts, Ron and Hermione arrive on the steps of Grimmauld Place and stay the week. The four of them make the annual trip to Diagon Alley and shop off the list mailed to them by a great horned owl bearing a Hogwarts crest. 

Harry is still owl-less and even sending the letters confirming that yes, both Harry J. Potter and Luna Lovegood will be returning to Hogwarts for the upcoming academic year makes his chest ache. 

It’s surreal, in a way, to push his trolley through the gate to platform 9 3/4 and see the big red Hogwarts Express steaming in the track. There are children and families, more than ever before, actually, rushing and adjusting coats and cloaks. The Weasley clan – uneven, but still smiling – is already inside, calling them all over to give them hugs goodbye. Harry and Ginny avoid each other’s gazes, but smile and stare just past the other’s shoulders. Mrs. Weasley gives them a basket of lumpy cakes and dry corned beef sandwiches. 

Harry naps on the train in, happy to listen to his friends chat – Luna and Ginny talk about their plans for their NEWTS, since they have to retake their sixth years. Ron and Dean Thomas debate if the eighth years will be allowed to try out for Quidditch. 

On the platform, Hagrid is calling for first years and the scene is so familiar, Harry can almost forget that the last time he was on the grounds of Hogwarts, there was a very different reason to be here. 

“Bloody hell,” Ron curses, low, his eyes past Harry and Hermione. The entire group turns to follow Ron’s gaze. It’s very subtle. 

They’re very stealthy in their staring as Pansy Parkinson steps off the train, hard-faced as ever and arm-in-arm with Blaise Zambini. And then, like a lean and pale ghost, Draco Malfoy.

“What do you think they’re playing at, letting them back in?” Seamus mutters. 

Draco’s cheekbones are high. His face is lean and his hair is cropped short. Harry can’t quiet see his eyes. 

[cladeymoore]

What will happen to cryptocurrency in the 2020s

Yesterday I recapped the last decade in crypto. Today, let’s look ahead to the future and what I think will happen in the 2020s. Of course, no one can predict the future with much accuracy, but one way to predict it more accurately is to invent it!

In short, I think over the next decade we’ll see a blockchain, that is both more scalable and includes privacy features, reach about 1B users by the end of the decade (up from about 50M at the start of the decade). Adoption will happen both in emerging markets, where the financial systems are most broken, and from a crop of new crypto first startups producing products people want. By the end of the decade, most tech startups will have a crypto component, just like most tech startups use the internet and machine learning today. Governments and institutions will move into the cryptocurrency space in a big way as well.

Scalability In the 2020s, I believe we’ll see layer two solutions, or new blockchains come out which increase transaction throughput by several orders of magnitude. Just like broadband replacing 56k modems led to many new applications on the internet (YouTube, Uber, etc), I believe scalability is a pre-requisite for the utility phase of crypto to really get going. Once we see blockchains with several orders of magnitude scalability improvements, we will new applications start to develop more rapidly (see “the rise of the crypto startup” below).

Privacy In addition to scalability, I think we’ll also see privacy integrated into one of the dominant chains in the 2020s. Just like how the internet launched with HTTP, and only later introduced HTTPS as a default on many websites, I believe we’ll eventually see a “privacy coin” or blockchain with built in privacy features get mainstream adoption in the 2020s. It doesn’t make sense in most cases to broadcast every payment you make on a transparent ledger.

Consolidation There are a number of high quality teams working on next generation protocols today (Dfinity, Cosmos, Polkadot, Ethereum 2, Algorand, etc) and there are great teams working on layer two scaling solutions for existing chains. My prediction is that we will see consolidation of chains (in developer mindshare, user base, and market cap) in the decade to come. The chains that make the most progress on scalability, privacy, developer tools, and other features will see the most gains. We may even see M&A amongst these teams, a reverse-fork if you will where one chain is deprecated and each token becomes exchangeable at a fixed rate to the acquiring token. There will be as many tokens as there are companies/open source projects/DAOs/charities in the world (so millions) but only a handful of chains will power the underlying infrastructure for these. The winning chains will likely follow a power law distribution on outcomes, just like any other industry.

From trading to utility The 2010’s were largely about speculation and investment in cryptocurrency, with trading driving most of the activity and best business models. This trend will continue to play out in the 2020’s (see market structure, and institutions, below) but I believe the best new companies that get created in the crypto space in the 2020’s will be about driving the utility phase (people using crypto for non-trading purposes). We’ve already started to see the beginnings of this trend, with more customers doing non-trading activity (staking, borrow/lend/margin, debit cards, earn, commerce, etc).

The rise of the crypto startup This decade we will see a new type of startup become commonplace: the crypto startup. Just like the dot com craze kicked off the idea of an internet startup (and a decade later, just about every tech startup uses the internet in some way), I believe that by the end of the 2020’s almost every tech startup will have some sort of cryptocurrency component. What defines a crypto startup? Three things. First, it will raise money using crypto (from a much larger pool of global capital, unbundling advice from money in the VC industry). Second, it will utilize cryptocurrency to achieve product market fit by issuing tokens to early adopters of the product (turning them into evangelists), similar to early employees getting equity in the company. Third, they will bring together global communities and marketplaces at a pace we have never seen before in traditional startups (which have to painfully expand country by country, integrating each countries payment methods and regulations one at a time). There are myriad regulatory questions this open up, but the advantages are so strong, I think the market will find a way. These crypto startups will have the challenge that all startups have: making something people want. The next 100M people who get exposure to cryptocurrency will not come from them caring about cryptocurrency, but because they are trying to play some game, use a decentralized social network, or earn a living, and using cryptocurrency is the only way to use that particular application.

Emerging markets Other than crypto startups (which will start off being a first world phenomenon), the other area of adoption will be in emerging markets where the existing financial systems are a much bigger pain point. In particular, countries with high inflation rates and large remittance markets. In 2019, GiveCrypto.org made cryptocurrency payments to 5,000 people in Venezuela, and over 90% of them were able to create at least one transaction with a local store that accepts crypto or a local cash out partner. This indicates that the tools have started to cross a threshold of usability in emerging markets (where unreliable internet, older smartphones, and a lack of education can be challenges). In the 2020’s, I think we will see cryptocurrency adoption in emerging markets scale to hundreds of millions of users, with at least one country “tipping” so that the majority of transactions in their economy happen in cryptocurrency.

Institutions We’ve already started to see small institutions enter the cryptocurrency space. Hundreds have joined Coinbase Custody in the past 18 months. I would expect this rapid growth to continue in 2020, with larger and larger institutions coming on board. Eventually just about every financial institution will have some sort of cryptocurrency operation, and most funds will keep a portion of their assets in cryptocurrencies, partially due to it’s uncorrelated returns. Something like 90% of the money in the world is locked up in institutions, so this will likely drive a lot of demand for crypto assets.

Central Bank Digital Currencies (CBDCs) While Libra drew the ire of just about everyone in Washington DC, China took the initiative by beginning to digitize the yuan, and making blockchain one of their core technology investments. The U.S. is playing a bit of catch up now, and active discussions are taking place about how the dolllar can be digitized. CENTRE, with its USD Coin, may be the solution that U.S. turns to, or the Fed may try to implement their own digitized dollar using blockchain. I think we will then see basket digital currencies come out, either by a consortium like Libra or CENTRE, or possibly the IMF itself.

Maturing market structure During the last decade, many of the companies we think of as cryptocurrency exchanges were actually brokerages, exchanges, custodians, and clearing houses bundled into one. During the 2020’s I think we’ll see the cryptocurrency market structure evolve to more closely resemble the traditional financial world, with these functions being separated out from a legal and regulatory point of view. This is already happening to some extent. Coinbase Custody, for instance, is a separate company with it’s own board, regulated as a NY Trust Company. Coinbase Pro will separate into a brokerage and exchange as well. As in the traditional financial services world, customers of one product will be competitors of another, and there will be a lot of cross pollination. With these separate components in place, I predict the SEC and others will get more comfortable creating a cryptocurrency index fund for retail investors.

Decentralization will grow While the fiat-to-crypto exchanges will largely follow a traditional financial services model, a separate world will evolve in the purely decentralized crypto-to-crypto area. In other words, once you get your fiat currency into crypto, you can then enter a magical place of innovation that is purely crypto-to-crypto. In this world, non-custodial wallets, DEXs, Defi, and Dapps will continue to improve in terms of usability and security, and we’ll see a lot of new applications emerge, from games, to online communities, to virtual worlds with their own economies. Many of the apps and non-custodial wallets in this world, since they never store customer funds, will be regulated like software companies instead of financial service companies. This will dramatically accelerate the pace of innovation. There will be greater privacy in this world as well, with privacy coins and non-custodial wallets seeing greater adoption. We’ll also see the rise of decentralized identity, and reputation scores associated with those identies. As the cryptoeconomy grows, more people will earn a living in crypto and find opportunities in this new global online economy, moving the needle on global economic freedom.

The billionaire flippening As a bonus final item, my friends Olaf Carlson-Wee and Balaji Srinivasan estimate that at a price of $200,000 per Bitcoin, more than half the world’s billionaires will be from cryptocurrency. Whether you think this is a good thing or a bad thing, it would mean that more pro technology people will have access to large amounts of capital in the 2020s. Presumably, this will increase the amount of investment made in science and technology, and I think we’ll also see more crypto folks turn to philanthropy (we’ve seen this already with efforts like the Pineapple fund, GiveCrypto.org, and the GivingPledge).

We’ll see how many of these predictions turn out to be true. By shifting cryptocurrency from being primarily about trading and speculation to being about real world utility, the 2020s will see a huge increase in the number of people holding and using cryptocurrency, and start to really move the needle on global economic freedom.

What will happen to cryptocurrency in the 2020s was originally published in The Coinbase Blog on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

from Money 101 https://blog.coinbase.com/what-will-happen-to-cryptocurrency-in-the-2020s-d93746744a8f?source=rss----c114225aeaf7---4 via http://www.rssmix.com/

[strawberryveird]

Dead Leaves

    Crunch, crunch, crunch goes the grass and small sticks as they are rustled around underneath the bare feet of small children at play. Warm, soothing sunlight beaming down leaving a nice sheam through the town. Little spots of sunlight peeks through the newly grown leaves of spring onto the grass littered with flowers. Birds chirping with their harmonious tones as squirrels scurry across the ground to leap onto the next tree of their adventure. Women walking across dirt paths with woven baskets full of miscellaneous crops they got from their small farms. Children bouncing alongside their mothers as they played with their friends. Some natives were just sitting along the grass enjoying the view of the green trees with a surplus of luscious leaves. All was peaceful and in order as life continued and flourished in the tribes small and secluded area of land. Except for two little ones, away from the tribe, exploring the thick forest of oak trees.

 “Come on Hisaki!” shouted a small boy from behind an upright log with little spots of moss upon it. The kid was cheekily hiding where the other small boy would not find him, for it was “out of bounds”. The boy shouting the name of the other was Asaki, he was typical looking for someone of his culture and age, except for his almost spiking type hair. It went in all directions almost as if it were random dragon scales shooting out of his head. It fit his prickly personality quite well. He was a hot-headed individual who could be quite narcissistic at times. He would pick on those who were below him and sometimes those who were on his level or higher as well. No one was quite safe from the bullying of this kid except for Hisaki. This personality was an effect from having friendship with the chief’s son (Hisaki) who often let the explosive boy get away with picking on others because he was just happy to have a friend to be with. Hisaki thought the boy was so high and mighty, Hisaki praised and worshipped the other. It made the boy think quite highly of himself. The town allowed him to be destructive and mean because they thought he was going to be the next Chief of the tribe. Most of the Cherokee people thought Hisaki wouldn't be able to rule so they picked the closest boy to Hisaki they could.

              You could clearly hear puffs of frustration come out of the nostrils of the seeker, Hisaki. He was a mute boy who was constantly going out and wanting to explore. He would write down notes about the hunters of his tribe that would go out and hunt for bucks and sometimes bears. It was the most impressive thing he could ever think of. Of course, his father wouldn't let the boy go and train to go hunting as it was unsafe for someone like him. He would never admit it but, he would sneak out of his hut early in the morning to watch all of the hunters prepare for their all-day scavenge. He would sometimes be spotted and get in trouble by his father, but he couldn’t help it. All Hisaki wanted to do was become a big strong chief for his tribe. But the sad reality was that he was an underweight and weak little boy, who probably couldn’t even fight a mouse even if he tried. He was just too weak.

 Hisaki was being groomed to almost be like a wife of the future chief rather than be the chief himself. The chores he would perform were mostly with the girls. Hisaki would be constantly weaving baskets and knitting rather than performing tasks that all the other boys would be doing. That is why Hisaki loves the company of Asaki; Asaki would always tell him the stories after he came back from a hunt or how amazing he was at shooting a bow or how he was the greatest at setting up traps for dear. The community, along with Hisaki’s parents, thought Asaki to be a nice substitute to Hisaki. Asaki could carry the tribe when he was of the age and he could hold the hand of his dear friend who could support the other with knowledge(as Asaki wasn’t allowed to learn more than basic knowledge do to him still being on the low end of the social hierarchy). Everyone in the tribe seemed to be in agreement that it was the best option for the two boys futures. Hisaki was smaller than Asaki by five inches and it was quite noticeable when Hisaki tried to appear tall and muscular like the hunters. 

 Hisaki’s admiration for hunters was one that ranged far and wide, he had 15 notebooks full of notes on each individual like their weapon of choice, clothing of choice, tactical method of killing, their personality, he had everything on them. Some of his information of course was passed down from Asaki (so there might be some lies) to his notebooks but it interested him nonetheless. Hisaki’s favorite hunter was his father of course. He loved his father so much, he was a strong man who was starting to show his age and ware but he was the Cherokees leader and their pillar for peace. His name was Itsuki the strongest man around, the one who lead the people, the one with the most caring wife, Itsuki was like a god to the society of the Cherokee. He cared for his people dearly and loved his family very greatly. He wants what he thinks is best for everyone and wants everyone to remain happy.

 The crunching of the grass and rocks began to get closer to the log as Hisaki began to close in on Asaki position. Asaki looked to his left noticing a small river about a mile away, it was fresh and blue, looked perfect to drink from. He then looked to his right where his tribe’s settlement was, it looked almost like a utopia from the forest view. He then was tackled from his left side and taken down by the smaller boy. He screamed out a not so manly scream then fell to the ground, the grass thankfully cushioning the fall of the two small children. The giggling of Asaki didn’t make it to far out as the forest muffled most sounds from the outside world, it was perfect for the two to escape the struggles the had and just relax and hang out with one another without being forced to train to become the next rulers. The stresses of this knowledge could wear on them a lot, being only 2 years away from their ceremonial duties.

 Got you Hisaki mouthed as he began to convulse into a silent laugh. His face showcasing just how happy he could look. That smile always made Asaki brighten up no matter if he liked it or not, he would always go into a laughing fit from just how much happiness can be conveyed from someone who couldn’t even produce a sound.

 The two got up and began to chase each other across the trees. They made their way to the grand tree that towered over the rest of the tall furrs and birch. It was a giant oak tree, it was massive and carried a lot of life in its branches. The oak tree branched out for almost 50 feet. Underneath the tree was the most green grass both boys have ever seen, it was a luscious green it wasn’t to vibrant but it was a nice dark green. They ran all the way to the tree and stopped about half way through it’s covered area before they sat down, smiles on their faces, and sweat dripping down their foreheads. The shaded, cool air felt good on their overheating bodies, the wind cooling their hot cheeks while rustling the beautiful leaves of the great oak tree.

 “So guess I am seeking now?” Asaki began, “Or are we gonna do a game where you don’t cheat?” he gave a grin to the other. Hisaki  looked at him with a scowl then gave him a face of mock shock.

 Hey don’t try to place the blame on me for something you did  Hisaki mouthed slowly for the ease of understanding his long sentence. Besides, you are the one that went out of bounds! Of course I had to follow he smirked at the spiky haired boy.

 The two sat there for a while enjoying the peace of the forest that surrounded them. The two 12 year olds began to doze off and enjoyed the tranquility of the quiet chirps and squeaks of nature. This would be one of the last times they heard those beautiful noises again.

 A couple days after their nap, something happened… it was strange. The boys weren’t told that there was anything wrong but the feel of the atmosphere changed from a calm tribe to a tribe full of anger and fear but it was subtle. The adults and people of high status began to appear stressed and the people were starting to riot a bit. It was bizarre to see such violence from the people like this, it was  as if they both woke up into an alternate reality. 

The town being so aggressive got the two curious about what was going on. It was not like the tribe at all to be so vicious especially toward Itsuki, he was typically very highly regarded and the town never had big issues with his leadership. But now they were getting antsy and seemed over all hostile.

 Once nightfall sprung upon the tribe and all were asleep the two snuck out into the cold night. It was an unsettling feeling to be out in the pitch black of night, especially when you are doing a deed that could land you in deep trouble. The sound of wind and nocturnal animals were the only things that kept the two company as they quietly and slowly crept along the paths leading to Itsuki's work den. They soon got accustomed to the dark of night as they crept closer to their destination.

Once they reached the outside of the entrance they took one big breath for a wish of good luck. They lifted the flap of fabric that acted as a door and began their journey into the tent. It was dark but you could faintly make out writing enough so they could find what they were looking for. When the people were rioting people were speaking about a “letter” and a “removal act” they didn't know what a “removal act” was but they knew what a letter was. So they knew they were searching for some letter. Asaki then ran his eyes over a large paper, the only one written differently from the other documents, and carefully picked the paper up as to not awake the town or anyone that might be near they tent. He then waved Hisaki over and then they exited the tent putting everything back in place before they headed out.

As to not lose track of each other they held hands as they went into the forest, they didn't go in to far as to not get lost but they still were far enough in to muffle any noise they might make.  The boys were one behind the other. Hand in hand still quietly paced to their normal spot and Hisaki rustled through his bag then grabbed a torch from out of his bag and a flint and steel. The flame he started ignited and illuminated a wide piece of paper with what looked to be gibberish to them. They knew it was the English handwriting but it was still extremely new to them. They were however, able to decipher some words most were unimportant like words “how” and “the” which appeared a lot. Though some words seemed important like “new country” and “Mississippi” they knew that the word was the official English name for where they lived.

“Hey, Hisaki.” Asaki whisper yelled as loud as he could without being too loud to alert anyone of their presence but also loud enough to be heard over the loud crackling of fire placed in Hisaki's hand. Hisaki turned his head in a questioning form to alert Asaki that he was listening. It would be hard for Asaki to try and read his lips in such dim lighting from the fire. “It sounds like we are going somewhere, like a new home or something.” Asaki said. Hisaki nodded in agreement. “It sounds fun! Guess there is no reason to worry probably just the people getting their feathers ruffled over moving probably!” Asaki's face had been in a worried expression for a while until he read the letter which was barely legible. Hisaki now was bright and full of happiness again. It made the other grin. They were okay and everything was going to be fine.

The next morning the two woke up and put on a spare change of clothing and headed out for the daily chores. They would be separated as always Hikari to weaving and Asaki to fishing and physical training. That wasn't the case though, all the kids were out laughing and playing as the parents and adults were all gather around the center area, made for big announcements. The two chopped the strange meeting up as the adults just planning for the great move to a new home and went into the forest to go play hide and seek again. They weren't going to complain if they were allowed to spend more time together. One day spent together was a day well spent in their eyes. Everything was fine.

Things were not fine. Nothing was fine. The entire tribe was in danger. What were they gonna do? Was the soldiers in their stations enough to fend off these clearly American soldiers? Was this the end of peace between them and the U.S.?

Panic broke out as 20,000 troops were slowly approaching the tribe area. It was a grueling wait, tribal hunters and regular adults were stationed on the defense. Spears and small knives littered the tribe as the women were scurrying to get the kids all in one safe place. The two boys were already inside the dedicated area for the citizens before most, so they sat and held each other close as they shivered and rocked back and forth, back and forth, back and forth in a synchronized form. The confusion swimming through their heads was almost maddening as the pounding of troops boots hitting the grass could be heard over the crunching of leaves and the muffling of the forest. Residents of the tribe were piling into the one area and it was now crammed full of elderly, women, and children.

It was a bad idea to pack them all in one spot. The tribes defences were nothing compared to the amount of manpower the army had and within a matter of seconds the defenses were breached and destroyed. Screams and gunshots could be heard while everyone in the small compact area was now panicking. Hisaki and Asaki were huddling together when the doors were opened by the troops and the stampede happened. A massive mob of Cherokee women, children, and elderly burst through the first dozen soldiers. Then gunshots and hysterical screaming was all there was from the doorway as red splattered across the walls and floor. Bodies fell to the ground one by one as every gunshot landed another innocent women or child down onto the ground.

Asaki and Hisaki just sat there huddled together both sobbing as the harsh reality of this situation was starting to settle into their minds. Small hands grabbing at each others clothes as more people fell down and blood started to pool around at the front entrance. They hunched over and sat there paralyzed in fear. The screaming, the way some bodies were trampled over although in vain as the ones moving over them soon fell as well until the firing ceased and it left the remaining majority of the barn still paralyzed with fear sitting in a corner completely broken and terrified.

One by one they were dragged out and scrambled to grab as many of their valuables as possible before they were forced to start moving. The troops had to scrape the dead bodies out of the way of the entrance so that the people could exit. It was a massacre.

The two got up still shivering and tears pooling down their faces as they held onto each other while they wobbled over to the blood stained exit. Hisaki's parents, though his father injured, were waiting for them and both scooped up the two and headed to go pack up their things as their home was no longer allowed to be such. Packing their things and meeting in the center of town troops were waiting with wagons. They coldy instructed everyone to put their belongings in the wagons.

When everyone was done cramming as much of their personal items in the small wagons, the troops commanded the Cherokee people to walk. This was what they did day in day out for months. Once sunrise was upon the people, they had to awake from their uncomfortable slumber opon dirt and grass and start walking barefoot on hot and rugged terrain. The army did not care for the people they were escorting the troops were cold to them and paid them no attention no matter the reason. Many Cherokees became severely dehydrated and starving. Those who were too weak to stay in that condition would either pass out and be left behind by all or they would collapse and die in which the bodies would not be recovered.

Hisaki was hit the most by this way of moving. He became sickly. It started out as a cough. The cough of someone with just a sore throat. Then it proceeded to sneezing and itching. His condition slowly worsened over a stretch of a couple months and only barely did it ever so slightly get worse but it did. The sneezing and coughing turned into sneezing and coughing fits to the point he would have to stop for five minutes to catch his breath and be able to move again. The itchy skin started to turn into red bumps and rashes. Both the kids had scrapes all over their small bodies that got infected and only became more troublesome and overbearing on them. Their skin then would get continuously sunburned without a let up and the skin would peel and bubble into infected skin that hurt every time they did any movement at all.

Slowly though over time Hisaki got worse and soon it became too much for his fragile body and he then had to be carried on the back of his father, for he no longer had the strength to walk. He would lie there clinging onto his father's back just gazing off into nowhere sometimes tears spilling out of the corners of his eyes with a lifeless face the whole time. Even though he was no longer walking his body still could not recover and he would try but fail to even be able to stand upright without two people on each side of him helping him take a step.

One night when the troops had the groups stop and they were allowed to rest Hisaki was able to choose where he wanted to sleep and he chose a cozy little pocket underneath a big oak tree that sat upon a great hill. His parents slept under the hill to let Hisaki and Asaki sleep alone so they could finally have some time to spend with one another. Asaki would have to haul the 90 pound kid somewhere to rest.

“It's a quiet night isn't it Hisaki?” Asaki raspy voice spoke as well as he could. Hisaki only looked at him and gave a weak smile then turned his head back to look at the top of the tree with it's great oak leaves dangling above. Asaki gazed down at his sunburn, blistered hands. He stared at them for a while until he heard rustling. 

Hisaki laid his head onto Asaki's lap and spoke silently The light is fading out. I'm scared that when the sunsets that I won't see anymore. 

“Hisaki what do you mean the light? The sun set quite a while ago.” Asaki immediately regretted even asking.

My light. My life it is going. I don't wanna leave you yet. I'm scared. Hisaki answered tears streaming down his face as he began to shift sideways and put his arms around Asaki.

“Hey no you can't leave me! Not now, we haven't even made it to our new home yet!” Asaki started to panic but didn't want to move much as it would hurt the both of them. Hisaki then began to doze off with a tired expression in his eyes, his eyes greying, as if it was a final goodbye to the cruel world he had to deal with for only 12 years.

Hisaki woke himself up with one last jolt before giving his last statement before death crept in on his figure This tree reminds me of the one at home, I think it is fitting that the place I go at least resembles my happiest memories, right? Hisaki gave no time for Asaki to respond I'm tired now I am gonna sleep now. Night Asaki. Hisaki's eyes closing as his face bares a smile. Hisaki gripping harder onto his friend before he lets go and his light fades out.

Sources

“Removing Native Americans from their Land.” Library of Congress,

https://www.loc.gov/teachers/classroommaterials/presentationsandactivities/presentations/immigration/native_american2.html. Accessed 23 April 2019.

“Indian Treaties and the Removal Act of 1830.” Office of the Historian

https://history.state.gov/milestones/1830-1860/indian-treaties. Accessed 23 April 2019.

“Trail of Tears.” A&E Television Networks, 9 November 2009

https://www.history.com/topics/native-american-history/trail-of-tears. Accessed 23 April 2019

[athertonjc]

This is why I don’t grow my own vegetables  by  Elizabeth Licata

Daniel Oles, Oles Family Farm (photo: Stephen Gabris)

Normally, we try not to repeat recent topics, but I, too, have been thinking about small family farms, which Allen posted about yesterday. Like Allen, I am a frequent patron of farmers markets. I am also a CSA (community-supported agriculture) customer. I’ve chosen one of the best sustainable farms in the area, Oles Family Farm, which dropped off corn, tomatoes, peppers, kale, Napa cabbage, potatoes, onions, and yellow beans today. I expect an avalanche of beets and kohlrabi very soon, when the fall crops begin to arrive.

Daniel and Jane Oles participated, along with three other area farms, in a recent roundtable discussion published in the magazine I edit (the discussion is not online yet). While the Oles are largely known for their vegetables, the other farmers specialize in dairy, fruit, and meat production. The outlook is not good, but nobody’s giving up—yet. Here are some of their statements:

On labor: “In terms of labor, we’re small and rely on family and member labor, but other farms are affected by the threat of shutting off the migrant worker path. There isn’t enough help, and I don’t know who they think will do this work.”

On economics: “So much of our food system is subsidized to stay falsely cheap, so people got used to paying less than what food costs to grow a long time ago. We have to raise prices sometimes, but you can’t do it often.”

How can there be better consumer access to locally grown/produced food? “More emphasis needs to be placed on the quality and flavor of our regional foods, educating on quality, taste, nutritional value, and uses, while making sure a realistic agricultural story is being told.”

Nate Whitehead, Milky Hill Dairy (photo: Stephen Gabris)

“If we could get milk back into schools, that would help. Kids are learning that milk is bad for you, so they won’t be buying dairy in ten years when they’re grown up and shopping for themselves.”

“We try to grow what people want. We still grow rutabagas for our winter shares, but people want green and fresh all year round instead of the traditional storage crops, so we’ve increased greens, like spinach, that can be grown in hoop houses in the winter. And then we teach people how to use things differently [through the CSA newsletter], like a shaved fresh beet salad instead of boiling them like grandma did.”

Is there a future in this kind of farming? “On a small scale, no. There will be people who will still try, maybe as a hobby or because it still sounds cute, and a certain number will do okay for a few years. But to raise a family on a small farm income – that’s barely possible, even if you love it.”

“If we hadn’t switched to the CSA and restaurant model, we might not be here. Hang on to beliefs and principles and don’t let them go, but adapt everything else where you can.”

Julie Blackman, Blackman Homestead Farm (photo: Stephen Gabris)

I’ll admit, it isn’t always easy using up my CSA bounty. But then I look at friends who do grow their own and are giving away or even composting baskets of veggies every week, and I think I’d rather do it my way. Oles has bent over backwards to make its CSA more attractive, including, now, a biweekly option, for small households like mine. The farm also delivers to my doorstep, for which I pay an extra fee.

Another CSA model, called Fresh Fix, is arising in Western New York; it allows members to cancel weeks when they don’t want a box, delete items they don’t want, substitute items they do, and add on extras, like artisanal bakery goods. Sort of like a meal delivery model.

Truth be told, I suck at growing food; there are shade issues, and I prefer an ornamental garden. But I also love living in a city surrounded by rural acreage and small farms. It’s terrifying to think of it irretrievably replaced by patio home developments, “lifestyle centers,” and office “parks.”

Many thanks to writer Devon Dams-O’Connor, the writer who put together the discussion from which these excerpts came and to photographer Stephen Gabris, who did some great shoots at the farms.

This is why I don’t grow my own vegetables originally appeared on Garden Rant on September 13, 2018.

from Garden Rant http://www.gardenrant.com/2018/09/this-is-why-i-dont-grow-my-own-vegetables.html

[punalavaflow]

Temporary canopies approved as Hilo Farmers Market makes progress to comply with codes

New tarp-tent structures were installed on the produce side of Hilo Farmers Market. The new tarps are fire-retardant and comply with the county’s standards for temporary structures in the Special Management Area where the popular open-air market operates.

Whether the market, recognized as one of the nation’s best, is in complete compliance with county building, zoning and fire codes appears to be a trickier proposition, however.

Since March 19, the county had been fining the market $4,000 a day — $1,000 a day for each of four tax-map-key parcels the market occupies — for continued noncompliance with codes.

The pop-up tents on the produce side of the market were removed June 14, and the fire-retardant tarp-tents were installed by June 18, according to the county.

“By erecting these approved improvements, the daily violation fines will stop for the parcels where these improvements have been approved and erected,” said Roy Takemoto, an executive assistant to Mayor Harry Kim, in an email. “These temporary improvements are allowed to stay up for 180 days. During this time of the temporary structures, we expect the owner to submit building permit plans for the permanent improvements and have these financed and constructed by the end of the 180 days.”

“We’ve already started on our permitting process for our permanent structures with the county. That is already in the works,” market owner and operator Keith De La Cruz said Tuesday. De La Cruz said he’s working with Koa Architects, a Big Island firm with Hilo and Waimea offices.

According to an email from Barett Otani, spokesman for the county’s Public Works Department, a permit application for permanent plans has not been submitted. He said the market has been fined $88,000 as of May 21, the last date for which a “solid figure” has been tabulated.

“All the days that nothing was erected, they were in compliance. When the canopy, the fire-retardant one they got the approval for went up, they were in compliance,” Otani said. “But one day after that, somebody put something else up and they’re not in compliance. So it’s hard to nail down days when they are in compliance and when they aren’t. So some days fines are being accrued and other days not. It changes day to day.”

According to Otani, De La Cruz has paid $4,000 in fines. He added that inspectors are still monitoring the market for compliance “on a daily basis.”

Pop-up tents De La Cruz required merchants to supply, erect and dismantle daily are still evident on the arts-and-crafts side of the market, across Mamo Street from the produce vendors. Otani said in April those tents “do not comply with code.”

The market closed for a day March 25 to remove the original tarp and some wiring the county said didn’t meet fire codes. It was then that the 10-by-10-foot pop-up tents appeared, giving the market what one vendor described as “the appearance of a favela” — the Brazilian term for a shanty town.

De La Cruz said he’s awaiting another shipment of fire-retardant tarp-tents for the crafts market.

“We’re hoping to get our other shipment sometime next week. And we hope to have the rest of the market done … sometime early next week.”

Takemoto said in March the county has been working with De La Cruz to try to get the market in compliance with SMA permit requirements. The SMA permit is needed because of the market’s proximity to the shoreline and its location in a tsunami inundation and flood hazard zone.

“We’re trying to work with him as best we can but he, all this time, was noncompliant,” Otani said. “As far as the (fines) go, they’re being negotiated with Corporation Counsel’s office.”

“We’re working with them on that; we can’t go into details on that,” De La Cruz acknowledged Tuesday. “We’ve had several meetings, and they’re all pretty positive. We’re moving forward.”

The original permanent structure plans submitted by De La Cruz, with an estimated price tag of about $5 million, were scrapped, despite an SMA permit issued by the Planning Commission, because of the economic downturn during the Great Recession. De La Cruz’s second set of plans, submitted in 2015, called for a 20-foot-high prefab structure with a cost of about $1 million.

De La Cruz said in March that he was in the process of “scaling down the scaled-down version” for resubmittal.

According to De La Cruz, the market “did lose a few vendors when we had to take down the tarps.”

He also noted the market has been negatively affected by the ongoing eruption in the lower East Rift Zone of Kilauea volcano in lower Puna.

“I can’t put a number on it, but it’s had an effect on the farmers and the products at the market,” De La Cruz said. “We have a number of vendors at our market that have lost homes. Crops have been affected negatively because of the laze and the fumes. Orchid farmers, papaya farmers, general vegetable farmers, they’ve all been affected in that immediate area. It’s a sad situation, and we are trying to help. We’re co-sponsoring, along with the Food Basket and the national company Sioux Honey, doing a fresh produce food drive to get fresh produce and raise donations for those affected by the lava.”

The Food Basket, Hawaii Island’s food bank, started the drive this past Saturday. Plans are for the donation booth to be at the market from 7 a.m.-noon today and Saturday.

De La Cruz thanked customers, vendors and the community “for their continued patience.”

County Councilman Aaron Chung, who represents downtown Hilo, sponsored a bill, since approved by the council, allowing the county to set up a farmers market in Mooheau Park, across the street from Hilo Farmers Market.

“Basically, this was just a fallback position for the county and for our community,” Chung said Tuesday. “… It may never be used as a farmers market, and I’m hoping that it never will be used. I think Mr. De La Cruz and Roy Takemoto have done a good job of working together, and it appears to me that progress is being made. And, I think, in the end, something good will happen, and the community is going to benefit from it.”

Email John Burnett at jburnett@hawaiitribune-herald.com.

The post Temporary canopies approved as Hilo Farmers Market makes progress to comply with codes appeared first on Hawaii Tribune-Herald.

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[junne-basketcase]

Is landscape gardeners Still Relevant?

Please RT #interiordesign #decoration #architecture #home 12 professional insider tips for landscaping http://tinyurl.com/hkt5b5k pic.twitter.com/akwPyukQH2 — Architecture Minds (@architecminds) December 4, 2017

For a gardener who's taking on some landscaping it will be important for them to know the basics of landscaping. There are particular components of good panorama design. When most people think of landscaping, they consider a beautifully decorated entrance yard. But what in regards to the again? There are various reasons why you need to consider yard landscaping, if you haven't already. Some of them embody: - To take pleasure in for your self. Writer: kathy jhones A patio within the backyard is indeed an thrilling thought to make your private home look stunning. It is a beneficial and great addition to the home. Patio is the place where the inmates of the family can have a get collectively and chill out through the week ends and holidays. Publisher: John Desert landscaping is different in comparison with different varieties of landscaping since it requires the use of desert plants.

Are you aware the key about natural gardening?

Provide safety for your tender or early flowering plants like rhododendrons, camellias, azaleas and daphne by staking round, then covering them with burlap if a severe chilly spell is forecasted. Go to your local STIHL Supplier to service your lawn and backyard tools before spring arrives to save you weeks of ready through the rising season. Also, have your lawn mower serviced to sharpen the blade(s), change out the air filter and set up new spark plug(s). Have you learnt the key about natural gardening? It is not any totally different from common gardening.Sure , you did read that right! There may be little or no difference between the 2. You continue to must plan your garden and your work whether or not you're growing vegetables the organic way or the regular way. In this article I'll look at both the similarities and variations between organic vegetable gardening and common vegetable gardening. A very good mower will mow wet turf and pick up clippings higher. Consider a mulching mower, it permits a lot of the water and nutrients within the clippings to return to the soil, thus decreasing the need for watering and fertilizers. A very good edge to the turf keeps the lawn trying great and creates separation between bed areas and turf. A gas powered edger works properly, but a weedeater held vertically may also do the job. Edging every other mow helps keep grass from growing into the beds. You did you really could having slightly make it easier to labored to use what sources you had available to you you used your natural talent and the nurturing you still have. Landscaping Tips Springtime If you are a fan of golf you should have known these courses as it is often featured or played on by the likes of Tiger Woods and other golf icons. Landscaping Tips Springtime BEER Fall is recognized as as beer season which means that there are wide ranging beer festivals occurring for the pair of you recognize! If you are having a tough time discovering beer festivals take a look at this hyperlink and register! I'd also cant assist but recommend making a necklace out of pretzels assistance soak up some for the booze you drink at this stuff! Writer: Michelle Day There's nothing to make one recognize a shade garden greater than the blazing heat of a summer season's day. Shade gardens present a cool and soothing place to chill out, and will be the ideal place to entertain mates and family outdoors during the recent days of summer time. They can be an especially gratifying house if they're filled with stunning and fragrant blooming flowers. Publisher: AgneS CelinA The term landscape backyard is expounded to the English garden design and elegance which is the characteristic of the eighteenth century. A landscape gardener is a one who designs, develops, maintains and remodels gardens and landscapes which beautify the environment. Writer: Dennis Dees I beg your pardon, did you say you have been planning an elaborate rose backyard. Each work needs proper planning to succeed, and likewise landscaping additionally required an excellent workable plan to do correctly. A superb plan has the nature of adjusting the yard into an oasis, so first an individual want to assemble all particulars relating to the world to place every component corresponding to garden art, boulders, statuary, gazebos, and rocks. Also, appropriately map the places of any timber, flowery gardens, bushes, and completely different plants in the garden. Create a visual relationship between the home and the site by using plants discovered growing naturally on the location, repeating architectural strains of the house and using constructing materials that blends effectively in the natural setting. Your design ought to give attention to the flow, scale and rhythm among all residing and non-dwelling objects. A great steadiness of development and plant supplies is a characteristic of a nicely-designed panorama. Don’t overlook about these non-living gadgets akin to brick, fencing, benches, backyard furnishings, birdbaths, lighting, and so on. These construction and accessory items may help express individual tastes and preferences. Planning a good looking landscape could be a daunting task. There are numerous options in choosing a design and supplies. Have enjoyable with the hours of thoughtful planning and a joyful setting is sure to come up.

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It's also possible to ask your customers’ permission, perhaps even by providing a low cost, to put a sign of their yard. A passerby probably won’t name you after they see the signal, however over time, as they see multiple signs in that neighborhood, they might start to recall your company as the one that companies that neighborhood. In different words, it’s not about attempting to go out and discover new shoppers. It’s about recognizing your greatest followers (or creating extra of them) and investing in your relationship with them to drive referrals.

Keep cats out of the yard

Encompass susceptible trees with shredded leaves

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Choose plants that flower or fruit through the spring or fall migration and attract insects

I am sure you're aware of the large amount of data and guides out there on the web pertaining to natural gardening for rookies. But, there's excellent news! You see, what I am about to share is without a shred of doubt, the best method of organic gardening for rookies. Belief me, when it come to making an organic vegetable garden, I can say that I have been there, accomplished that! External note: For visual individuals, overview of this system is introduced by way of video format. It may be seen by simply clicking on this link. You just name it okay…Things like cycling crops - a technique which many dedicated gardeners make use of to avoid the diminution of sure minerals within the soil. Resting the garden beds and planting inexperienced manure crop for the purpose of adding nitrogen and so forth. read what he said So there you go. Vegetables, herbs and flowers will be grown organically indoors by using pots, hanging baskets and quite a few different garden clearance (click here to investigate) containers. Just be sure to match the vegetable or another plant you wish to grow with the proper sized container. Publisher: Rob Ethrington Beginning an organic vegetable backyard is remarkably simple if you employ nature oriented gardening principles. What is nature oriented gardening ideas? Simply put, nature based gardening methods lets you harvest more food with considerably less effort than typical gardening methods. The vast variety of edible plants planted compactly will assist increase nitrogen amount, thus eliminates the necessity for planting inexperienced manure crop. This additionally acts as a natural type of pests' management. Compost is generously applied on bare areas to fortify soil structure and also for topping up nitrogen. Some plants are permitted to go to seed to additional forestall weeds from growing. When a niche house seems as a result of harvesting or consumption, one other edible plant will take up the area. The finest technique of natural gardening for inexperienced persons has gotten easier to setup thanks to a set of simple to observe video tutorials. Be sure you watch the downloadable movies on methods to set it up properly and also print out the detailed step-by-step guide.

Discover this methodology in 10 seconds from now.

Running one is bloody onerous work! Nonetheless, last year, I discovered a extremely efficacious gardening method that requires extremely limited quantity of maintenance work. This is the easiest and most convenient means of operating organic vegetable plots. Uncover this method in 10 seconds from now. Natural Vegetable Gardening in the Southwest - Sure You may! Publisher: Laura Rairigh I've lived within the Phoenix area for a while now and the thought of getting a vegetable backyard by no means entered my thoughts, by no means researched it either, simply thought it wasn't attainable. We All the time had a garden in the east so why not here. Upon some internet analysis and information from a buddy I found out we actually have the best weather for one. Publisher: Paul Vincent As people these days are becoming extra environmentally concerned, you could have requested yourself what else do you have to do to contribute? Being environmentally conscious does not end at simply using things that aren't harmful to the setting. The thought of greenhouse organic gardening can be useful to the surroundings.

Why Select Natural Vegetable Gardening?

Sure now you can grow a backyard organically although it could also be hard to believe. Writer: Francis King If you wish to go natural, it is very important plan the design of your organic vegetable garden for optimum yield. An natural vegetable backyard would utilize only natural substances to grow the vegetables. Publisher: paul empey Additionally, develop backyard garden organically grown veggies taste much better since it is not tainted with anti-biotics. Give it some thought like powdered juice versus the kind that is naturally squeezed. Log in or Create Account to put up a remark. Why Choose Organic Vegetable Gardening? Writer: Julie R. Holland Why is organic vegetable gardening better for you and your loved ones? Learn how natural gardening can benefit your garden too. Writer: Paul Vincent Contrary to what most individuals assume natural indoor gardening is very a lot attainable even when they are living in a metropolis condominium. So so long as you might have several windows, you may grow virtually all vegetables in containers.

[nofomoartworld]

Hyperallergic: Joshua Marsh’s Inimitable Drawings

Joshua Marsh, “Self Study” (2017), graphite on paper, 5.5 x 7 inches (all images courtesy Jeff Bailey Gallery)

HUDSON, New York — I have been doing my best to follow Joshua Marsh’s work ever since I wrote about his first solo show, Ten Things, at Jeff Bailey Gallery (September 7 – October 10, 2010) when it was still located in New York City.

I wrote about his second New York solo, As If (2013), also at Jeff Bailey, and included his work in a group show, Painting is Not Doomed to Repeat Itself (September 24 – October 31, 2015) at Hollis Taggart Gallery. Marsh belongs to a small group of artists that I try to track because I believe there is something special and particular about their work. This has nothing to do with success, styles, trends, or the marketplace — all of which are false barometers. If you are a poet and think about these measures you are doomed.

I feel this way about the work of Elliot Green, Tom Burckhardt, Angela Dufresne, Michele Segre, and Barbara Rossi, all of whom are older and have gained more attention than Marsh. As far as I am concerned, each of these artists is still flying under the radar and deserves much more consideration.  Despite their obvious differences, each of them channels a kind of coruscation, a flash of light, into their own distinct visual language.

Joshua Marsh, “Rain” (2017), graphite on paper, 7 x 5.5 inches

This is the tipping point that we have reached in art. Despite the many museums that cling to disproven narratives, art no longer adheres to institutionally approved styles or a supposedly shared history. It is instead about clearing a path that no one else might be on, without relying on an established precedent to support your decision, because in the end that is just being cowardly. This is why certain individuals were considered artist’s artists (Thomas Nozkowski, Catherine Murphy, Patty Chang, and Stanley Whitney) long before they gained any kind of institutional endorsement.

So now you have an inkling as to why I traveled two hours north to see Joshua Marsh: Paper Garden at Jeff Bailey Gallery (August 12 – September 17, 2017).  This is the second show devoted solely to Marsh’s drawings, and because I did not go to the earlier one at the same gallery, I was not going to miss this one. While Marsh works within what could be loosely called the territory of landscape and still-life, he still manages to do something that stretches our understanding of these conventions into new places.

Marsh might begin with close observation, but he ends up in a fever  dream — a garden of otherworldly delights. Marsh began the 15 drawings in the exhibition, none of which is larger than 11 by 13 inches, when he spent two months as an artist in residence in the Troedsson Villa in Japan, which is located on the grounds of a former temple in Nikko, a city north of Tokyo and a UNESCO World Heritage site.

According to the catalogue accompanying the exhibition, Marsh brought “two different weights of graphite pencils” and “paper scaled for easy transport.” He continued to work on the drawings after he returned to America once his residency was over.

Joshua Marsh, “Basket” (2017), graphite on paper, 5.5 x 7 inches

Marsh possesses one of the largest vocabularies of mark-making that I know of. He can move from subtle shading and tonal shifts to tiny squiggles and scribbles in the blink of an eye, from masterly draftsmanship to the cartoony. He evokes the surfaces and textures of stones, leaves, tree bark, moss, mist, and pools of water. He possesses the imaginative ability to infuse his stones with anthropomorphic qualities. His sensitivity to the tonal possibilities between pale gray  and gritty black enables him to convey indirect light and mist, the sense of being in an enclosed world. The concentration that is needed to make these drawings is incremental. There is no way that he could have conceived them in advance, as he brings together observation and fantasy, the seen and the imagined. Once you notice the skull lying on the ground on the right side of “Perimeter” (5 ½ by 7 inches, 2017), you begin to pour over the drawing with renewed scrutiny. Look at the stones stacked on the left side of the drawing. Are we looking at a wall or a totem made of stones? Marsh can change scale and perspective within a drawing and make everything feel necessary, as in a dream.

This means that you accept the fruit and fish in “Basket” (5 ½  by 7 inches, 2017) with the same equanimity as the gathering of abstract lines and hinted shapes in the upper right hand corner, into which Marsh deftly directs our attention by depicting a ribbon tied to the basket handle and partially fluttering over the abstract shapes.

Joshua Marsh, “Glimpse” (2017), graphite on paper, 10.5 x 8 inches

In “Glimpse” (10 ½  by 8 inches, 2017), which is the darkest and moodiest drawing of this extraordinary group, there is a tree trunk paralleling the drawing’s right border; Marsh pays notable attention to the bark of the trunk, which rises sturdily from near the bottom of the sheet until it is cropped at the drawing’s top.

On the left side, Marsh has stacked three linear, twisted saplings with trunks of varying widths. The skinny one at the top balances a rectangular stone on the crown of its bowed branches, like an acrobat trying to pass as a weightlifter. Between these two very different yet bonded ways of drawing, each of which activates the space around the form differently, Marsh depicts an ethereal, ghostly stream that enters the composition from the lower left edge, widening in girth as it moves partway up the paper before diminishing in size and moving toward the upper right edge, behind the tree trunk.

Marsh did not simply observe the ancient gardens, with their stones, moss, and trees, while he was in Troedsson Villa; he also absorbed the work of such artists as Hokusai and Yoshitoshi, the former for his landscapes and sensitivity to weather, and the latter because of his penchant for ghosts and demons.

Joshua Marsh, “Borrowed View” (2017), graphite on paper, 8.5 x 9.5 inches

We don’t like to talk about skill, perhaps because to do so summons associations with the kind that is mechanical and robotic, and easily mimicked. Marsh’s skill is of a different order, as it is a synthesis of intellect, passion, rigor, and visual acuity. This rare combination is what he shares with Georges Seurat, Edwin Dickinson, and Catherine Murphy. He is a modern master who draws by feeling his way across the paper without ever knowing what he might do next. His commitment to plain, inexpensive, widely available materials is ethical and aesthetic, and certainly not about promoting class difference or celebrating one’s entrepreneurial shrewdness. Most importantly, his sensitivity to pressure, texture, tonality, and line — to being open and alive in time — is always in service of the possible.

Joshua Marsh: Paper Garden continues at Jeff Bailey Gallery (127 Warren Street, Hudson, New York) through September 17.

The post Joshua Marsh’s Inimitable Drawings appeared first on Hyperallergic.

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