#not even a MODERN farmer. no I look like I walked out of a dust bowl photo big shirts belted pants and fuckemup boots

[bilbobagginsomebabez]

well I look like I belong on a farm because I do

[libidomechanica]

“Said so, we could to sing and”

A sonnet sequence

               1

And such were nothing girdle bout golden was she thought of loving should rising been else of time is all purged him of gold be she. Would give icicles the back, like a star that was waxin’ weary, watching To- day. But, when I knew the sky sometime with alleys out a mandarin finds no other’s bonie, blot thy sake but when you twenty comment seem to thee. Said so, we could to sing and night for his judgment staineth, like a band? Long, and ere love know not to its gold whilst my poor desire. Could laugh’d neck, sickle, for tho, the now all the put on fainted, and blessing forth was assuage; thee?

               2

Cupid’s self-subject that Sulayman and clip Elysian shady bow. I have let us parasites; like vnto Maia, when find a wings: chest and trips to lead had spoke in action walked out-brow’d, whose tender haste in her face was mirror do sink, be sea that Scriptures of Corinth halcyon calm- plants, far off, the didst which transfigured is spirit content, old have to tasted, boxes evening from her puzzled are to bright next prevail, And think to reconciling disarray: that he show, who blue within the People’s new-tuned fist, when so alas a lazy spread; other whom should break.

               3

We placed about Madrid, my hairs being pestilence: but the help my will kissing this art left the kiss his solemn, nor to the happy rose ivy-twines; look on high, the library, or one, and enchantment ill your staid with his temple dwindless cancell’d, is lips shag and longer ashy- pale as you. Seeing nurse’s sick to the secret polish’d not gaine, one in themselves and walk’d is not the rose chain of all modern wretched up vows are none do know melts with wreathing else herself is but wealth, mind. Who hope says, thousand will nourish autumn’s day: and yet his names, now want to you knows.

               4

I wish’d her viewless denied speaks, where not be envious in the soft blood-drop beside, her pliant leper. And now for ev’ry scene. Which seemst to the bud o’ they may I every wise; beauty set less reel: sometimes, and kill; or every Káfir in this them with sacred organ vocal break. Not from the good, which done still or late, I leaning whose for to immure had spoke sometimes cry till be heart. And yet halos o’er tress: he rooms were na Mary, as twenty echoed yet notes of Love the world equal look upon a high her hair; that all the now was their crest, a riddle of white, but act.

               5

Nimble you turned. Therein theyr eccho ring. Thy circles, and Mrs. Is haughty cost thousand tale friend. Thus so himself. To mover display herself her commander: the Throne, but put in the savage robes to court mysterity. All ye virtue rays reft me, Love and your waking. Shut thee. Her wishes; grand made a sacred organ vocal breath, and thus at the only footing hill, then I my affection ways; the bald-heart, his volumes is night? Far of a cankering, hey ne’er whom the Deluge or any should be fed them? As if he did the aquarium ten woo the woman roses.

               6

With a hey did but the wet leash, who would have I in her how: but one; thus their dust! There thee wrongs receiving, on the land’s hum, was manners being! When shal spread o’er wing with ceremony meaning know not, nor Hope darts, till clip an AEolian bred straight agrees, and the birds do though the wide—nor out for the blue-eyed grape in look on anyone’s ground to move all hath fed upon you shall be conquers in its did you’ve mirror’d with a furnace, vapours so glide in its sessional; and where it gloome, lest thinned newfragile you move to young, and Balkís; the repetite, unapt for where it sleep.

               7

And wretch! This you gave meanings out only prevail, with make vs answer&theyr should in his cleanly outward chime: tis not with a moving farmers, bind the turn gleaming Chloe, chariot quench troth, which sometimes a topic scandal stay’d, and damns me like one, others being growth of us, and as quickly in denays, since and come to believe and wear; a shudder; the Lady Adeline was loneness, nectar under moral month at his tying the brook which mourning to sing: in her sweets and when flowers the rose, the ringers than that every landlord Loue shoulder grief hate not this?

               8

And, in all suffer’d, fair face we’re not seem thyself to be waies laboration if but oh, like Painted songs I wish our hand’s parasites; but let the path in blacke whan through the play, on we unripe years so bold Britons have loving sweetly sweet smoothe highest his like Painted lips she dreams. Since sweet read the dice;—so gliding in the ley-crap, front, and ever waterfall, my bear him the deity of she gorge be broke his last wasn’t hard against either dream!—Beneath the Ouzell she talk’d as an ample lately make sometimes cry, at with human just; if snow, for, dears! The Morne long since mourn it.

               9

I means, in you mover you.—This same; if those Honour’s what ye fayre Alcmena lay, and a glee woman punished by touch’d earth’s diurnals, twice, at last dance, with eye alone. Who comes just taughters are little Roman white! Then hundred trim; i’ll many wordsman, he altar should sprights preferred in secondly, never lost his came rought voyage or they were eternities, communion, for, dear high decay hast though the fire all dwell show to do not be, an’ I’ll sights of your two blushes weary list to a magic power of the took to you asham’d the woods may be embracing, ne let’s sovereign.

               10

As ioying heart besides, trueloue often as always adieu, the turn with Phoebus takes him seen bury that the tendering Organs loue to the Lord Henry’s man whilst our by night are and thus, I calls an illeggiatural joys I have from an hundred the comes gain’d by Mrs. In seem’d some one, let the parliament, he birds such plenty, my lips, who, Pope side, jealousy, the mood;— indignations dead, and Africa meet poure never foolish’d, and its discuss’d for Nothing but he lion with passion can friends; these hand, courself him up under; dan Phoebus, far office and solemn sympathy?

               11

At Longbow was still holds have twain, be vnto my beauty death. Them, Since I had now yawns allay’d, save give him in good: loved by the glad wings, ispahan Apples with forever. Side walking jennet, lustre, passions; now no accomplete and people at blush’d, and readed with the thought voyage of Wyoming: affected mine there entreats, all tree, tis thy soul boar! Seek double majesty. Forget not great’s in heart; to brows that greate hair.—This best move is a woman. Love’s fight have sweet voices spent. Boats I could no long. He free as ye weep; they are express’d, by mind to honour’s with their babes have her?

               12

Till who hast thou art left destroy that makes us smile, and anonymous; the fame. And good come a scarcely was dead, hands thy lustily, her for his neck, with each other thing so till loves and now her had, nor earthly modesty, thing to earths, o’er that others? Graces of the tune, and lo, spirit. His breake gentlemen the lawful Drink making eye, like soldiers, me thou make to advantage, to wore to the world, and fruitfull on mourn for the act of this dull What he large enow to dress the noble far constitute a select thy mind the Faithlesses are amidst though thee, and not grist.

               13

Their time true, there them. If yourser’s the down for shortest there many wings I thing allured more would gae made then more, mixt of two better filter’d with a freshly fed upon his she murmur’d there use, helpe to the speeches one let in the strong; I looks reviveth; a sorrow. Smooth are to get my art do surpassing, that so our soft! The hath and as she draperies unfold on the place: inches I never knock it the blood turning when he toilet and on the that all o’ the tell. And thy self-love comes the far of your star, get whom to breedeth be this magic, and leaping of youres.

               14

Because of wealth would cure alone, beginner coche toilet and diapason back-stile, an anger ashy-pale; the lamb, yet recommence they have a kindles he from he same. Lassie, kind an hundred kiss Anthem, Since he woods they and loving. When Ioue why vaguely light. Thy marrow they nonino, how to do not be nay, I wish. Look! That the sky, from deadly spread toward a mine, to whom ye try folks would rather head, melt intendments up Love’s deeply to stayne prais’d then the mine earlier sing, that taught or stupid her bleed. But have fanning passage upon that passe. Knots, nor the boar; whose sleep.

               15

End inglories that, hail the heart. And wept down, and none alive to silver is truck and open eye, an’ I’ll comes breath, or how: but is as there pale-fac’d euermore beheld that might goes do star! Will enlarge enow to deck the bailey began: whether trouble doubting vppe with thy for heart, and lacking anyway, more I desperate modest pleasurest how a breaketh from Italy, therein his trim, for fear. With all short as he did you mayst those stalking to Jack at ushers pay, walked, nearly and Lord knowledge of plead yuory whet his shalt have I born so, we lively Mary, whose orbs.

               16

And all the red and then join’d, to take and leaves or the giant be your lang’s I get embranch. Go and fame; uncouple are foul bereft me, measures, nor can lend deserv’d thy window oft, untarnish’d? Thou lies inspiring the field of high wind me wrist; since I am dead worse excuses, why wrapt she late to laments to the night Rauen the gracefully at passion lack. When thou to all in his other by cups and by accompts dismal creature these why the Records and urchin-spouted in her side your wondering debate to plow; shovel is, much my Muse, if every tree, where swell.

               17

Tu-whit, to college had for a doubts; if the braine were to thee, with time her fawn high degree, it is at thought high roof of awful magic power spirit deck, she had; and diplomatician politicise or sharp violins private and lead then, ’ quoth silently black or Shah, he doth boil, which such as them mistress; if that thou find out my all in vain, on their price as in mine the rose or ivory in fit to kill is sleeps the tended. And criticise of your dispraise her speaking thinks I drove of rest Planet. For minde, when, ere my poverty; and on ever, for the light take back.

               18

Doth no vainer cause is patient said, exception’s not for now not forgive, thou hast sumd in and if as female mind. Some hunt, both what is must not eternal courage, poor Wat, far to experience, a cockney ears: alas!—The Hearts of that, where slain as many other planned, red right hearefull perfume like fight smooth she, then join and gain’d them dry hinting but the fire whom wanted. My mists another, word he best were I said so, as that catching offers nor lion pump in the blue should not be, an’ I’ll several state, when as in his parts courage, time, was fair. And He was a breast.

               19

Like a line, small counsellor; and place, close! He rain command make hath the bounty wrong: tis plucked a peace of Susa brain, a work would hath beauty may and below, turn. But also with the London with nature’s alarmed bear loves our leisure in diamond is in her grief and niche, we two cheeks, and may be superious cry, find oft I have from your leg, and fading courage; there with a far officeth no wrong, longer and of the unto my luve o’ my boast of heavenly hew and flowers be, it’s youth’d upon then, blubbering, that face doth her yoke in rank’d with that bleeding his two river way.

               20

You wilt have give in either that euen to command steedes dost the giganticipations is not yet either pity, ’ she man’s break through the boy the ardor, and hauing back their captain, some by the divine. Pure represerve of all thorn where slack her she is no sink. How can I a man for by thee from her world for my poverthrows than communion if but a kissing in the very parent, like and deem it be day afterward into the which is path none on me, not if your soul. In chink themselves, as learning, deflow’rs were prayses to show much in bliss, and success. But Lust full we?

               21

Where is now strange excuse! This room want of death. Peep, to say overrul’d I overs lovely joy. The galleries to thee not fear, whose trembling in the glasses in staring the roof, still for poor Wat, faith, I wondering teach the Cloth of she vail’d to whom The kind long, The ring of trance apart, eternal sleep I would tears that your tree: inches us by that mote this watching men adorne longer friendship. And By her had friends shapes a virtues one death becomes: the one full of inciple. Gold, to its avalance of more speeches from a so-so man, with chiefly in her speak. In the equinoctial fear, but the laughing sheds itself, highest helpless as the art no long, the idiocy or green the wraith-like, shall roses drowne bright, from a Jewels in dreadful god of his form of the Wise, and shut quiet joke. Hour, the love-like, he scent, and dire in the more. Than myself were laies.

               22

Where of bever, t is hair! By descending Loues steed, two at his gullet should as don’t have let me thee by putting with dust; and comfort founded: the branchising tongue the compare you owe it; o! More had his face, seeking to the snow, his flat or well. But drunken bring Accused to borrow’d all wake the fix’d, are both clay on a girl. Through Johnson, and of milk shall come nae timmer’d on earth with pains to entre, knocks were quintess Crabby; or else thorny braine, helpe to bed, on which bank. Foul workmanship at a ho, and, being eyes stood, which she is all in much a morning the which rubies, What! Ear’s praise inquiring troubled with my drink the fire with hinder them Rebel feeding red flow? That so much his help the Rosy Morison. That make the kissing irefully, when tells were to ye, my suit these will read it shall rubs his path increase keep? Childish error do as desire.

               23

Well knows in me though the you, grows it heaven so see this bright machine, but the worlds are is deflow’ring aloud aduaunce vnto me a music, and head, black or through at— the grief; all I never fortal bully, mysterity, when they seems that dance an in a bright lighted, boxer trapping indifferently pride safety in a cradle, and a horse true-love did rouged, soften brook, held unto them—whose needling, for his from her side, that ye damsels all livery lover. From a fevere, and into basins, a tombs; and kissing on some by petals with her eyes they thine own war!

               24

That face, servilely master’d wake shire, and whom in the night it become thick fold inside agree woman traint of bever, for miles and I, having this courtesy who shall not be heart know enlarge, and Lord August—now was may concentre a hidden pale, and grace, that the paint respect: that so loue, and retires which make in once mellows, whose air of her object when the base, a fain woman were young men we leap to keeps the ears, which is knees; rolled withal, smiling eyes like an orient betrother grief, or your names, and gainst either doubled. This she hands, where are increase a Carlo Dolce or cry’d: and strange sight, doe nothings the Madeira strange; for her, sometimes the hath devour, nor the stashed quite, the light I mean to soften came acrossess’d, she hungry Israelite’ of changes, and with. And there was but the crystals, too, wit the lily, there it over waxen fashion.

               25

A moment’s Shamed name to a blatant still: anon her god, and before years hard to ye, my eyes, through grind, I die for they rode a select to kiss. That doth of that, like a sacred labour dolefull heart of blest; since I had not believe when do in this under of diamonds unwrapping soul of a hill brimm’d with delightly those saith red light like apollo’s pride somethink of an hounds, graze on the tune late, but Lust onward here I’ll let the laws of delight encount. My mothers pay, and plain on his trodden strike theyr car’d, shee countesses see a basely fly then than drink than heart.

               26

Both only by high doth thee hath a letting, with her barons, seem’d with company would laugh divine, that would march, which Music of therefore I not love’s fruitfull of roughters of purity. To vent of stone: a wished danced with lullaby yon gates brain; a Wine own at you pause; and I, having hare, or whom grimy naked is strong-neck’d an ear to the sea shoes as her head. Nor bad, nor day was his mated sores a blew silk- pillours to rid him moving mane upon the earth with rock thee one, let a more louing lightning that o’er they foul, thence trace upon them thy bold Britain’d the first be barre too.

               27

Of heavy unto me. Your dew, the villeggiatura wild as see I in her the rose I lay. But if to all the durst love wept the path no enviable to those when once remaine, the soft air sweets through it her barons, seem’d a wave you’re not you this deep cascade, we turned, or did hour brow; look’d this pleas’d then the chance, I do love the hand, he heavy health compriseth his gewgaw cast a lives, with content to template. Equal lookin’ ye be, which leaves the seek in my lovely planting rare a body shouldst pride, in love and do not much in the London within its pinnacle, and loue?

               28

His love your most—our haught on which keel the last doth seen in her pious incense burst for me. Notes of its turn by a moment was despairing of heart things your bed to me. If love, ’—thus Lord known; when the comming but the tender-person’d in change shapes apace were thinks my parents breaketh from a good sang sure was light sun to her one world’s chief, althought voyage to your crest, silence now me; and some carrol sweetly, the bone. And she down that make the glow upon the break. For so is thy blesse hy, wherewith his learned’s wing India of men. They separated spleens of him, where I lay.

               29

Since more, placed, mark is ruin: side, the iron that once and yet do not thy name night bringing arms forget your coming on my fire, and hearken if his honey seed-bag there was brain of such efforts at his magic power, words and patron of this team to laugh divine; which keep with a pain, so the woods and gently said you be so the old thou steam, broad; discuss’d crest, and not yet love cannot be still you call, complete with rock the roses drowne ye like heats. No curb, you seen: an extra holiday, that all be gone; my face awry, whom each the night of appled for his tried him; nor clench’d lies.

               30

Empty that euer I died, and sell, like knows! Plunge thine drive the hunt that some one of loved more shapel has feeds, and will; with chased there with love outsoaring kiss I bear my self I turned and yon gates vnto heart; while ground; ne’er water blue-vein’d breath; and sanguish to virtuous worth, in a bride would be grau’d in my Son, to remove. Me numb,—yet shocks shal and their means I never sharp air then more be grace boone hope, why your ioy: but died, lay entwine to refore dead, and in the still, kill. Shake him foreveries within this from commissions lyre; full tells her live! With a black deepening just and as sing, I love.

               31

That all to me seeke bringing, ding, end of a drunken bred: thou may a love’s finds came if she three poor Vengeance from your death, or else fairy, that none borrow; for white robes them most his coal alarms. Bold tears no creame vpon his eye. That all that not, luggage, wonder and now for making pits, open the mind: and suit thee which grac’d: and pride of the boar with your hopeless can wanton babes hauteur. Love it subtilty, or like a smile or poor desire, for thee of Sir Peter were true love and most warm hand, with their postes smile doubt to the day: now be, love in her heart do only cause who double?

               32

I had to myself to doubled: love the Pole thoughts they might, half-blotting light luxury. As an AEolian brough to bind his broad breeding upon the talent, and still thy worthy Kingdomes to her place; least and store the silken roasteth to its avalance to maids again unto dying spy, then birds love ere my bowl of holy is told that love so cursing a discuss’d like a moment is spirit see the rose I liv’d without a precious fly; but heart in thy beauty slain. Than I’ll cool to mute and simperturbable, to me such like my broad but and purse—the goes withouten brains.

               33

Door, sheath’s abuse thy rest; for low; but help. So Anacreon the ladies—some declare, lord Henry’s with he hill, compared the wood morning set, sweets it be highest pleasures of Dura, fatigued with reasons rarely a woman I forget not my Love are notes a little wrong from any wine to when that the sun to do not kiss his nipp’d, or do a girlands were be cool me were limbs, it may possible in order nor knows it rather side some he multi-track white Boy is cut of my broad better through of Miss Macready in others in her your lips shall that his wringing, float or shame.

               34

The snow the will enter; so oft air and to admonition. In truly, that he should more can brought of milk burneth much is the sullen-purple more poor, their luck, of basely from all human just your fixed subject and both the same sturdy treasure made Love’s large; thus: On Thursday the hour tongue and flame, quickly in a hey, and give the door, the silly mild mourn for the World up to ye, my grievous too much mourning, for for the mine ease all rubs his happing in here. And deepers’ hour; would in the ley-crap, for to-morrows, and desire happy eyes, not into a bold sung injury.

               35

Bear, nor wretch a presence; the Fuel of six. Tis not love and the silver pew. There his complexion, give touching makes decay haue new world that might’s stand to happing it started— the Tweed, dearth, and endless it beneath two strong could mark my strain added, had never flap-mouths of think of you know, for her own ever, t is thus of white Tables sort of for less over again year? Forth my face? No more fled from this work of Rhenish. Came to tainted joy bids him too, are mad been elsewhere’er will compels may be which banknotes in would perfumed beauty of heavenly meant, I singing Nature?

               36

And none but ioyed it rather sighs unto heaven: we only tabernacle, the womanhood, thou console springtime, to drawn; but lo, she fragility: whose attender’d portrait that are very purchase were thrust, is—Lovely ray, a beats, and will see told of beer wanted field, hears are kind loudly pricking fram’d foul creater, to winter this I proper in denays, whoever to feature, or cry’d: and music raised they not wisely spection not ever my adder’s heard wretch, each other I was assure dreamed. From his common see of her seruices spring from fearing: ne let pleasure?

               37

Bishops, and ever fill’d, as they nonino, how the fire was watch you nurse’s large, encline the place she safety’ grafted in the poor of the flowing flowers to me sores the roses dry conceded am with more—one but mortall but suck on a ready forth a thou proved, but down by the order noticed to delay’d, saving jealousy, that would be goodly ornaments a contemplate I finish’d to her a little time depravity The still love. Back down with he see a little Robin Redbreast, and smoke, and is horns beautiful and listeth, like gentlemen galaxies, we all the older and wals with sacred out only fruit, thou shoulders, having around for to its glass may look from Horace are like glowing harmony, this, the weed the idiot’s, who look, and loving decrepit age; thought to thaw, and arguing beats in such a tank, stranger flattery.

               38

And she salmon sension on the been a creed, dear, when bloody views cancel a countessened by a saint, the night; flush vp in a kiss that royal August—now was a creatures, and all to his can love is fury wrung, bids him from child a man. Sometimes, and sweet grace all those ears: she is flames who form and back to the sun and splendid host, and the picture, or more, new as bear, nor our sleep, you like a musing thee, nae misery is all naked field, ere is a country people, the mine earth-delving happy vinous in her who looks before reflect; the very speak, or saunted joy.

               39

The dances and puts and fountain’d him as feet, that I in your head, there, nor more, showing kissing ever strikes his limit is night, I never missary ever nor know it would weake: for their loudly Thenot left his like a lane to perceives behind sit and feet, the stable now reigns, and all my ladies by time, who had new. And politicised banker, full ripe, yet not the sky! Is which was I hold to wish’d forth that worship tell that ne’er it sin, he sore was dry hinting possesse with it by the Nymphes that it; for thy life is beauties for by high, tis no more, as twenty that she hath down selfe to a quintesses but fair arms; but i should have braue gleaning which made, while I, who, where and Night, and wear locks: the bowre of thee by putting with his crown me grace a double double stoops like her open. And the world amaz’d in violins pride souls of Miss Rawbolds—pretty ring.

               40

Nothing drum and store of Absál, thence breast thy tyred streets diverted; its Fire! But in glass, and please; I hae been women dumb and marvel thou strike him as it red; and line, who, overs thou wounder she may long locked up her ears, you art with fire, as delightly as tell! Thou counsellor; and find a hey, and now blue flammable creature, lest the lassie beauty with her fair, cast all was such small chapel had eat, good society in delight; attorneys-generable to byte, and sometimes there champion man; even castle-green strewed with lullaby, my love and to lose nation.

               41

My bad, my loue, war, my love assemblanchor anything, or died slave, the through it ended shall my wife in its sweet with ground, gust and as if it down, give in my loue alone—the gods, it shall him, who master. A scarlets, suck these flaming time-beguiled, make the strea’s beauty and play, do I my ain lassie, fair most, earth of thy kind of that times a breaks away, even so simple dwindled by subjects may lends shall myself thyself deceivest, your for a recherche, what some carefull dame. To inspire, not intendings grow, I am not lightning all the feel then all the level—No!

               42

And barr’d on him up under modern wretch! Tis mutiny, and rarely heavy growing but first war with ugly night of think such a pulse, and not in a red rite fifty years. Look, and with a well deferred in the street, attuned field. Upon grey chose frown our smile: his strongbow from the news spread not exactly aspire, how great elixir to rise on the horizona, one is a gap, yet to help the sunny; who belied with his honest have not easily nor earth, and cold perceive, and her not sing beating crowned, which such a trees. I will stamp’d upon her tired is them dry again.

               43

As I wand’ring well convert; or those rideth. Amidst, in his shape in the part I’d quoth Venus and lullaby the night: bishops, knight: my price of fruit; peaceful hour belief. Hunger face, as the lily, the westerday is thy lips lyke cheeks, true,—last doubts aside, so he high her eye, high-born to forget not tears, to dight, even so your eyelids from might like so force his son, princes let vs rain, excel all trouble doubled: being high wood will either beauty robbery, gentlewoman whores? This same stuff’d or selfishness. Of you would sighing Time’s plenty, making ensuing?

               44

Affection’s not murder they buried me— whereon the more hot takes me on the lost another woof, her she thrust, as much it doth brough of earth’s an empire must lies; to quoth she. Sweet nae scandal doth pain, a palace books, or reign slide. And some smart? With he leaves do the in the lyre; but, oh, our heave hiss in me go. The tread, how blythely was a birds do it for told and must not blame thy bow; if she thing at stop, and damns mechanically contradice, or roses; another face, some smart, and sweet Angel’s wit. Lose silk-pillow of the acres o’er men may his heare attend you were—where.

               45

And may thou this wiped to bed, the other did will be for should passion, cruel growth moist had no double does she, alas, that ones; comestic withal. ’ Yon theyr loue of the skin; what made him over years by wife of bright: so goodly modesty, that rest out on ever leaves the dew on his face; with on the sweet smooth as air woman. Dost least of Habeas Corpus. These set down will sob on. Just begot they detain, thus, crying: that eyes, this unkind look wanton in the moved; for all hell! With how I did in much as back to do art with a share his teeth abound like a nymph, as never laugh.

               46

And, will repast; for ever either die. Her, like a kiss; he winding party of the sport. It was to wears be, looks kill; or even as ye must rears may the less, see! If any be They nonino, than the temples; no other one kiss? And that makes his goblets, as an every glorious fly; for then shortest at all and no higher near? She world for her the circles hast night, as thou hast the whylest thou would not all that shew for heard, nam’d to boast, aboue, my horse, nor I will wasted to be kind when I have lost a locked that but for makes Ah when on the monster, or fly the hold.

               47

Saint, though I admit no shall then join the trains. I’ll seemely we. It shall our of time, there was wash the sounds I wished days go by, one is mortalice, and nostril wide would find to a thou, my lad. Which misery in freed, beating in the hid. And blink of the glasses in such haue bene deceiving shed may raise, for in the mind. And sluttish grow. At Longbow with most advance is in the Minstrels sweet boy, where’er where it may cease. Here a boar had fix’d many— though our heating how a brake. In the necks, and always he spread the saintering Organs loud breaths at that warm thee? Lurch and Bored.

[liaromancewriter]

💋 🛍 talents (couldn't find emoji!) and 🤰 for E&C please 🙏

Thank you, Nonny for this ask.  From this domestic headcanons list.

💋 Kissing

Yes, please! In my A Year of Kisses series, I covered all the different sweet moments and kisses from their first year of marriage. The series provides an insider’s view into their domestic life.

They have never engaged in a lot of PDA at work, even after they came out publicly halfway through second year, and beyond. For them, discretion at work and being professional is important and they keep displays to a minimum (but they have slipped up). It’s usually a light kiss, brushing of the lips as they go their separate ways, but they save the rest for when they take their morning coffee break at Derry’s. The walk back can and has on occasion turned into a mini make-out session.

Usually, Ethan heads into work much earlier, so he might kiss Cassie on the forehead before heading out (and making sure she actually gets out bed). If they’re on the couch reading or watching TV, he’ll drape his arm around her, tuck her close and kiss the side of her head. He likes to frame her face in his hands when they’re kissing, and she likes to circle her arms around his waist to keep him close.

🛍 Grocery shopping

Before they’re married, Ethan does all the grocery shopping for his apartment or he might have his weekly housekeeping service pick up things when he’s busy. Cassie might buy groceries for when she’s staying over and making a special meal for him.

After marriage, they split the duties as and when time allows and coordinate through on a mobile app where they keep a shared grocery list, using the housekeeping service as their fallback. Ethan likes to take his time in the grocery store, particularly in the produce and fresh meat sections. He does the shopping more often than not as he’s often planning their meals.

Cassie is a fan of farmers’ markets and will drag Ethan along on weekends when they’re free. She also enjoys going to artisanal food halls and specialty stores and has built relationships with most of the vendors so that they always keep the best stuff aside for her.

🎭 Talents

I have to admit, I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with this prompt. But let’s give it a go.

We all know by now that Cassie is a very talented physician, but she’s equally good at dancing. While ballet is her preferred style, she can dance most styles: salsa, modern, jazz, tango, waltz. She has a natural rhythm that doesn’t always come easily for Ethan, but he can match her during slow dancing, and even at a club (although that’s rare).

Ethan has an ear for languages and is able to pick them easily just from interacting with a native speaker or through film and television. While Cassie can speak multiple languages, she acquired them by learning at school rather than having a natural aptitude. His other talent, according to Cassie, is scaring off innocent interns on their first day and then dusting them back up again.

🤰 Parenting

Their parenting styles are not too different from each other. They can both be strict when it comes to the important stuff and their girls can’t play one parent off the other (even though they have tried).

Ethan tended to be the worrywart early on and that was largely because of his insecurities. Over time though he learns to grow into the role. Likewise, Cassie worried about being a good mom while also building her career. She didn’t want to miss out on important moments in either part of her life, but eventually she learned to harmonize both priorities.

They do have a nanny that looks after the girls while they’re at work, but Cassie and Ethan set the rules and all three adults stick to them in order to set the right example.

Despite his reputation, he is soft when it comes to his children. All they have to do is give him pleading, puppy dog looks and he gives in. Cassie finds it all hilarious and is much more immune to the twins’ wheedling. 

While she knows she’s the mom, she has always talked to her daughters as if they were adults in the sense of not hiding or dumbing things down because of their age. Their kids are products of two highly intelligent people so it wouldn’t make sense to do that anyway.

Character Asks: @trappedinfanfiction @bex-la-get @genevievemd @jerzwriter @rookiemartin @coffeeheartaddict2 @quixoticdreamer16 @dorisz @lucy-268 @a-crepusculo @ofmischiefandmedicine @queencarb @crazy-loca-blog

[shingekicornwrites]

Agricultural Werewolves, pt 1

Fandom/Tags: Hero Academia, alternate universe/werewolves, mentions of past bullying, Counseling, Bakugou Katsuki Faces Consequences, modern fantasy, unreliable narrator, Katsuki is kind of an asshole please don’t take his commentary as my opinion or truth

Pairings: Bakugou Katsuki/Anger Management Counseling, future Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou, future Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto

A/N: This is just a fun au full of wholesome farming, but also boys dealing with issues and a whole lot of unhealthy coping mechanisms and attempts to heal. Please enjoy

Not all farmers are werewolves, but many werewolves are farmers. For some reason this fact makes no sense to people who don’t know werewolves. For everyone else it makes perfect sense.

Werewolves have to eat a lot.

As in: the number one drain of money in werewolf houses is filling the cabinets enough to keep all members of the family healthy. Creatures who change shape with regularity, who shift their bodies and have immense strength that burns calories faster than they can blink, have to maintain an intake that allows them to function without their bodies resorting to eating itself. Even werewolves who don’t change all that often, either out of preference or a lack of opportunity, have to eat more than their human peers or suffer symptoms of starvation.  

Hence: werewolves are farmers.

It is infinitely easier to exist outside of poverty when werewolves, congregated into their own communities, make the food themselves instead of buying it all at the nearest grocer. They raise and cut the meats themselves. They grow the appropriate fruits and vegetables that balance their diets. They sell the portions according to their needs as opposed to human needs. It only makes sense that they do things this way.

They control the food market. They have space to run to their hearts content without worrying about bothering human neighbors. They make the rules for their communities with the standards they need, instead of standards written by people who don’t understand how they function. Government approved wolf reserves more often become farmland than anything else.

Werewolves are farmers, and statistically they’re more likely to be happy that way.  

This statistic does not account for Bakugou Katsuki.

At the moment, he is the furthest thing from happy.

“This place smells like shit.”

Normally he’d be cuffed upside the head for that. Instead his mom just looks at him, with that fucking pity in her eyes that hasn’t left in days, and frowns. Katsuki pointedly doesn’t look back and continues staring out the window at the trees and dust being kicked up by the tires.

“That’s the chicken houses. It is pretty rancid,” she says. Acting like she’s not on her way to get rid of her mess and wash her hands of it. “Ah, there’s the gates. Kind of nostalgic.”

The gate marking the Kiyashi Wolf Reserve is flanked by stone wolves howling at the sky in unison. Their car passes them by with no fanfare and Katsuki growls at the town beyond.

It’s as unimpressive as he thought it’d be. A town in the middle of Fuckoff Nowhere, with nothing to its name and a bunch of people who will die there the same nobodies they were born as. All it has to show are a bunch of old ass buildings for tourists and a stupid shrine.  Their car slows down once they pass the gates and Katsuki gets a good, long look at the shitty little storefronts lining the main street. His mom makes some weird noise when she sees them and starts yammering again.

“Oh, I’ve missed this.” She eases up on the gas as the traffic increases, slowing down to turn her head and look at a restaurant that’s filling the car with some kind of greasy meat smell. “That place over there makes the best dango. And there’s this cartilage karaage that’s so delicious—they pile the plate high, too. I forgot how much I missed getting the big portions. City eating just doesn’t give you enough.”

Katsuki huffs, glaring at a group of bumpkin kids who stare at their car as they walk past. “S’at why you left? Got cankles?”

Once again, no cuffing comes. Not even a growl. His mom just frowns with that fucking look again and doesn’t do anything.

“Better business in the bigger towns. Oh my, that store is still there? God, I used to go there every week to blow my paychecks. It looks even nicer than when I left it.”

They pass the shitty little boutique and she smiles at it, taking a left when the main road ends and humming at all the ancient scenery. There’s more old as shit buildings, more little shops and restaurants—more kids staring at their nice car and whispering to each other, which is just fucking great. There’s signs for the local shrine next to fox statues lining the side of the road and Katsuki makes a face at each one as they pass. This whole town looks like it hasn’t had a pulse in decades.

“Do you remember the Midoriyas, hon?” his mom asks as she takes another turn. “They left when you were small, around first grade.”

He thinks back and the memories come to the surface easily. Kindergarten had been spent running around followed by lackeys, catching bugs, making a mess of the local playground, and...huh, right. A face pops back into his mind. Freckles and curls, big green eyes, crying all the goddamn time because he had no spine and didn’t get that he wasn’t wanted around.

“Deku?” the name pops up before he can think too hard about it. Deku. The little snot who yelled too much and probably still wet the bed when he moved away. Useless little Deku.

“That’s not his name,” the hag nags him, jogging him out of the trip through memory lane.

Katsuki scoffs. “It’s what he was.”

“Katsuki,” she starts, finally seeming a little more like herself before she sighs and buries it deep. “Izuku and his mother moved here when they left. Inko’s offered to take you in while you’re here.”

So he’s gonna be under the care of the family with the worlds biggest crybaby? “Great.”

“It is great. You know her, a little. You and Izuku could catch up. Plus, Inko has a little business now. This old ryokan got turned into the local youth hostel, and it’s all under her name now since the old owner retired. It sounds very relaxing. Isn’t that nice?” His mom smiles, like this is actually good news, and it’s disgusting.

“I’m gonna die of boredom,” Katsuki mutters. He looks back out the window and there’s old people with baskets of vegetables just walking next to the road like they want to be hit by a car. Christ this place sucks.

“Don’t say that. This town has a ton of stuff to keep you occupied. You can run around to your hearts content and nothing’ll stop you.”

He lets his head rest against the glass and hopes the vibrations from the shitty road will concuss him. “Wheeee.”

“You’ll like it,” His mom promises. She’d also promised he’d be a winner, and here she is ripping him away from his top school of choice. So he thinks she can take that promise and fucking shove it.

The road gets tinier and the car slows down, with his mom squinting at each building as they pass and muttering under her breath. There are more old people with vegetables and stupid hick kids running around. The car slows to a stop at a break in whatever pathetic excuse for a sidewalk this town has lining its roads, shutting off as the hag smiles at the old ass building next to them.

“There it is,” she breathes.

It looks as shitty as he thought it would. Old, traditional, with weathered wood one good termite away from crumbling and an ancient sign trying to pass for new with a fresh coat of paint slapped on. Small for a ryokan, too, which is probably why it got sold off. There are planters surrounding the front entrance filled with flowers, where a pudgy little figure is hunched over and pulling weeds.

The hag doesn’t hesitate to unbuckle and climb out, shouting over the top of the car. “Inko!”

The pudgy woman turns around and drops the clippers in her hand. Katsuki doesn’t move to get out. He remembers her face. He remembers her taller, presenting snacks and endless bandages for her crybaby son. He remembers seeing her less and less before she was gone altogether. The short, heavy woman he’s looking at how doesn’t resemble her at all. She’s in dirty jeans and flannel, with a handkerchief tied around her head to keep her hair back and rubber boots caked in mud tracking mess all over the walkway.

Damn, Auntie let herself go.

“Mitsuki?” Inko asks, before throwing herself forward to give his mom a running hug. “Oh my—I thought you weren’t due until later!”

“Traffic was a lot lighter than I thought it’d be.” His mom laughs, as if it’s just a stupid social visit and not her dumping her goddamn kid to cover up a mess. “Look at you! You’re radiant! Kiyashi must be treating you well.”

Katsuki resists the urge to double take. His mother is a shit liar.

Inko just smiles. “It’s all the hiking. I had no idea how much fresh air makes you feel better.”

“Oh, I know. I felt like I couldn’t breathe after I left, city air is disgusting.” His mom makes a face. “How are you and the kids doing?”

“Wonderful. Izuku’s out working right now.”

“No foolin? Feels like yesterday he was learning to walk.”

“They grow up so fast.” Inko finally looks over and spots Katsuki slouched in his seat. “Is that Katsuki?”

He growls. She doesn’t even look phased.

“Yep,” his mother nods, then for the first time since this trip started she raises her voice. “Oi! Get out of the car and be sociable!”

He bares his teeth—fuck her, fuck this trip, fuck this stupid hick town—but opens the door. He makes sure to slam it shut. Just because he can. And he wants everyone to know he thinks this whole thing is a pile of shit. Especially the hag, who just glares at him but refuses to yell, even though he knows she wants to.

She always wants to. She always does. This stupid fucking pity game is going to drive him insane, why the hell does she think shutting up is gonna work?

“You’ve gotten so big,” Inko fawns, looking up at him with a big smile. “I bet you barely remember me, huh?”

“He does,” his mother deadpans. There’s a silent threat while Inko isn’t looking to at least greet her, but he responds to that with a sneer that just makes her shake her head. Instead of yelling, once again, she turns her focus to Inko. “Thank you again for this.”

“Oh, it’s no issue at all. The hostel doesn’t just exist for tourism,” Inko deflects. Katsuki looks at the hostel with another critical eye and snorts. Of course it isn’t for tourism. The whole place looks like shit. Tourists who pay for this must be idiots. “Katsuki, dear, I have a room set up for you. It has your name on it so you can go ahead and start loading your things in if you want.”

Finally, an excuse to get out of this. He yanks the car door open and grabs for his first few bags, eager to get away from sight for a few minutes. The women just keep blabbering on about nothing like he’s not even there.

“How’s the boarder?” his mom asks as Katsuki hauls his duffel bag out.

“Oh, he’s doing well. He’s at the shrine now.”

“That’s two working boys, then—“

It’s nothing to load two bags over his shoulders and get away. Leave the biddies to their gossip, he thinks. It’s the only thing they’re good for.

The inside of the hostel is...less shitty. Huh. Maybe that’s how it stayed in business. Katsuki kicks off his shoes and puts on the slippers set out with a scowl, surveying what’s visible past the entryway. The floors are polished wood, the insides done up so that everything looks bright and new. There’s a lounge right next to the entrance that’s been done up to be more teen friendly—a gaming console and a TV, a little fridge with a clear door filled with drinks, and a few bean bag chairs—he bypasses it with a huff and makes his way toward the rooms.

There’s a courtyard. The doors are open, letting him get a good look at the tree and flowers planted to look all pretty. He doesn’t see any people, though.

He passes rooms with no name on them. Empty, empty, empty—how the hell does Auntie keep this place in business? At first it’s nothing. Then it starts getting annoying.

Empty, empty, empty.

Empty.

Empty.

Motherfucker.

He circles the place twice and can’t find anything. No sign. No name. Just empty rooms in a shitty hostel in a shitty hick town and his own shitty breathing because why the hell has he had to carry the bags for this long?

The next time he finds his way back to the lounge he yells in frustration, kicking a chair. He’s about to ditch the bags and run through the place when he turns just a little too quickly and his duffel bag hits someone in the shoulder.

Katsuki bares his teeth before he can think about it. “Oi! Watch it!”

The stranger stumbles back. It’s some hick kid, in a dirty t-shirt and ratty baseball hat. His arms—thicker than expected for someone shorter than Katsuki is, with a fucked up hand that looks like it’s made of scar tissue—are carrying a wooden box filled to the brim with vegetables and paper wrapped packages that smell like blood and raw meat.

“Sorry about that—“ the stranger steadies himself, hefting the box up and stepping back. He’s too busy making sure nothing from the box is falling to even look at the guy he’s apologizing too, the asshole. “Are you lost?”

“No!” Katsuki barks.

“Well, it’s alright if you are, I just—“ the stranger meets Katsuki’s eyes and his own widen. “...wait.”

Katsuki bristles. Then something starts to churn, in his head. The stranger has big green eyes.

Big green eyes, and freckles. Familiar patterns speckled all over his face. Wild curls are attempting to escape out from under the hat, pasted to his forehead from sweat. If the hat wasn’t on it would be the same wild mass of uncontrollable coils that he remembers.

The last time he saw that face was years ago, out the back of a car as it drove away.

“Kacchan?” Deku asks, bigger and thicker and smelling like wolf in a way he definitely didn’t in first grade.

What the fuck?

[gongju-juice]

6. Once Upon A Southern Night

I Won’t Hesitate

Warnings: the usual, language, some rAuNcHy InTeRaCTiOn

You laid sleeplessly in his bed. These days were so lonely, Jasper and the wolves were always fighting, and in the daytime, Ava trained you in magic. 

You’d made quite a bit of progress, but it always drained you physically. Being a witch was not as easy as they made it out in the movies. It was about refining your energy, making sure a face-full of gravity didn’t hit you in the face and incapacitate you. You’d done that a couple of times already.

The limits of being a witch was still undefined. Because you and your sister were only half—as were most modern witches—there were still so many things and spells you couldn’t access or perform. Still, Ava knew how to do just about everything.

She could fly and shadow travel for short distances, was completely impervious to all human weapons, could breathe without oxygen and create breath-taking illusions that could completely fool and take down an unsuspecting vampire. You barely even knew how to affect the temperature around your body, much less create fire—the new skill she was trying to get you to master.

You would never be ready by the time Preston and Maria arrived.

Uncle Carlisle contacted some of their old friends. The Denali clan came down from Alaska, Alistair from the English countryside, and the Egyptian coven from the east. The shapeshifters were not thrilled to have vampires trespassing near their land, and Edward kindly informed them of the coming wave of newborns. 

Jasper took control in training everyone to fight, though it seemed some of them already had prior experience. He showed the wolves how to avoid the crushing arms of a vampire and how to mobilize their forces to focus on a specific target.

Meanwhile, you were on the sidelines wasting all the time trying to make a leaf catch on fire. You felt like you were doing nothing—and what was the point? Ava could’ve been training by herself, honing her own skills. Instead, she was beating you with a stick everytime you failed—which was every time.

That was until her friend, Zacarias, arrived.

He was tall and very well-defined, like he’d been lifting heavy tools all his life. His skin was the color of dark chocolate, eyes a metallic bronze. He arrived just before you were about to give up, just before you caved in front of a group of fully capable vampires.

“So this is the little bear,” he said, chuckling. “Wow, you always described her like she was so tiny. She’s bigger than I thought. 

“Little bear?”

“That was your nickname,” Ava explained, “Because you had thick curly dark hair.”

“Who gave me that nickname?”

She faltered before walking away. You knew who gave it to you, even if she refused to say his name.

“I heard you’re having trouble with your magic. That’s okay, it’s expected for the first few weeks. You’re only a half-blood, after all. But now you’ve got me, and I’ve never had a student fail,” Zacarias promised. 

Suddenly, he launched you straight into the air. You were hovering in place, your body stuck where the tip of the trees touched the sky.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Jasper demanded, dropping Eleazar, his opponent. His eyes glowed protectively. The Major had taken control. “Put her down immediately. And trust me, you don’t want to make me have to do it.”

Zacarias dusted off his hands. “It’s part of her training, Whitlock. Try not to be on edge, alright? Trust me, her instincts will kick in if she wants to get down.”

You struggled in the air, flailing your arms and trying to move your body. But the air was so stiff around you, like gravity had the opposite effect. Birds flew past you, cocking their heads at you with their curious beady eyes.

“She doesn’t need no training!” Jasper insisted.

The witch rolled his eyes. “Fine, if that’s the way it’s going to be. I’ll put her down.”

Now you were plummeting down to the ground. You screamed, shielding your arms over your face. I’m going to die, you thought. And in the most embarrassing way.

Jasper, climbing up a tree, was preparing to catch you. But now you were no longer hurtling down to the ground. The grass stopped about a foot from where you hovered above the ground, and you felt something like electricity buzzing in your veins.

“I told you, I’ve never had a student fail,” Zacarias smirked. “Works every time.”

“If you ever try some shit like that without my permission—” Jasper started.

“How else is she supposed to protect herself? If Preston decides he wants to snap her neck, what’s she supposed to do? She’s a witch, Whitlock. More powerful than any of you standing here. But the only way she’s ever going to unlock that power is by coming out of her comfort zone. This isn’t the Civil War anymore, Major. You aren’t the leader of this circus.”

That night, surprisingly, Jasper made it to his—your temporary bedroom. His room was filled with shelves of books, little collectables and trinkets from over the years. He’d never even had a bed until you arrived, but he made sure to buy a big enough mattress where you both could fit on it.

“Jas?”

He stopped just inches from the bed. “Thought you were asleep. You’re so quiet up here.”

“Where are the others?”

“Carlisle and the family took the others to feed outside of Forks. The wolves are back in human form in La Push, and the witches are at the hotel to rest for the night.”

“Jasper?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“Can you please get in with me?”

He was hesitant for a moment before giving up and climbing in the covers. He held you tightly to his body, your head resting in the crook of his neck.

“There’s so much we have to talk about,” you whispered.

“I know, and I’m not going to lie, I haven’t been the most doting in the last few weeks. The wolves have never fought any vampires since their ancestors last battle, they have so much to learn. And your sister’s done a pretty good of keeping you busy as well.”

You were quiet before sitting up in his arms. He was so beautiful under the lamp light. If you blocked out all your other racing thoughts, you could imagine the two of you somewhere else under different circumstances. Maybe you’d be married by now—after all, high school wasn’t an option right now anyway.

If he were human, he’d be just coming home from work—and you’d be in the kitchen cooking dinner. He’d come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist, whispering all the naughty things he wanted to do to you. . .

“That was a swift change in your emotions,” he said, eyebrows raised. Now that you were a witch, Ava taught you how to turn off the different powers of the vampires around you. But you liked having Jasper being able to read you, it kept a sense of honesty between the two of you. “Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

You shook your head. “No, I’m getting off track. I wanted to talk to you about something different. . .about the past.”

He tensed, sighing. This conversation was inevitable anyway. You both knew that.

“Ask anything you want.”

You paused. “What was your life before you became a vampire?”

“I. . .there’s a lot I can’t remember. But from what I do remember, it wasn’t much. I had a little brother named August and a Ma and Pa. Pa was just a poor farmer, and we didn’t have much of anything. And Ma came from a pretty well-off family, but they never accepted Pa, so they moved away from her family’s house, penniless and in love.

They had me about a year later. By the time I could walk, I was out on the farm helping with the chores. We had a little barn with chickens, and we had a mule—not a mare—named Buttercup that pulled all the carts. And the bulls in the field were not our own. We tended them for a wealthy planter several miles away.

August was born about three years after I was, and by the time the recruits came to our house for the war, he was only fourteen. Times were hard and I knew my parents could barely afford to keep food on the table. I left home and lied about my age to get into the army, and I left all my savings so I’d never have to look back.

I quickly moved up the ranks—Carlisle suspects it's the trait that carried into my vampiric life. When I was nineteen, I was finally promoted to Majorial status, and I was sent to Alabama where I had to collect men who were drafted.

That’s where I met Preston. He was smart, quick on his feet. It wasn’t long before I made him my Captain. I had no idea about you, for he was quite private about his personal life. We were friends, I trusted him with my life. But that’s when we met Maria.

We were on a mission escorting refugee women and children from Galveston. We saw Maria, Nettie, and Lucy all walking by themselves, dressed in the finest clothes. They were some of the most beautiful women we’d ever seen, and we stopped to give them our aid.

Working for Maria was pure hell. We trained her newborns, and I had the job of disposing of them. We fought other covens for territory, and all for what—a few days of dominance? After a while, she started a rift between me and Preston. He fell in love with Lucy and wanted to establish his own coven elsewhere. They wanted to overthrow Maria and all of us, but I sensed their aggression.

We planned a surprise attack and destroyed all of them. Preston got away, I couldn’t bear to see my long-time friend die. Eventually, I left Maria and went to live with my friends Peter and Charlotte. But I met my sister Alice in a diner, and we left together to join the Cullens.”

It was so much to process. Jasper had lived nearly two centuries before you, and lived a long, full life.

“Were you in love with her?” you whispered.

He lowered his eyes. “I thought I was. I thought she loved me, but she didn’t. I’d just convinced myself otherwise.”

He lifted your chin to meet his gaze. “But the only woman I love right now and will forever love is you.”

Your lips touched and you wrapped your arms around his neck. Whenever you kissed, you never wanted to separate. His tongue pushed into your mouth, and the taste of him drove heat straight to your core.

“I know you want me,” he growled onto your lips, “but there are several feeding vampires nearby. I can’t stand when any human men are around you, much less witches and wolves and vampires. Besides, this is not how I imagined our first time to be.”

“I don’t care about any of that,” you breathed. “I want everyone to see that I’m yours.”

Jasper smirked. “As tempting as that sounds, I believe a real lady deserves to be pampered and pleasured just like a queen. I want to take you to some beautiful island so the sun can shine on your pretty skin. I want to make you my wife before I. . .take you in that way.”

You blushed into his chest, hiding your face in the fabric of his shirt. Not even a few moments later, you heard the front door bust open.

Jasper groaned. “The family’s here.”

Emmett suddenly appeared in the doorway, a stupid grin on his face. “Aren’t you guys so romantic? Jasper’s gonna take to a farm so y’all can get married surrounded by the ducks and chickens.”

“The sad part is, that isn’t very far from what he was thinking,” Edward cried. “God, I hate being in the house with a bunch of immortal, horny teenagers.”

When they were back downstairs, you turned back to your boyfriend.

“So. . .what are you going to do when Preston and Maria arrive? Will you try to talk them down, come to some kind of agreement?”

He stared off towards the mass of dark trees visible through the window. 

“I don’t want to do it, I don’t want to kill anyone. But if he comes between us, I won’t hesitate to do just that.”

wHoOoOoO cHiLe, ThE hEaT. Only three more chapters folks.

Part Four    Part Five   Part Seven

[bookgeekgrrl]

Sunday reading recap (17-Jan-21)

THINGS I WATCHED

not even YT videos

THINGS I READ

ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵒⁿ ᵃ ᵇᶦᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵃ ˢᵘᵍᵃʳ ᵈᵃᵈᵈʸ ˢᵖʳᵉᵉ ᵗᵒʷᵃʳᵈˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵉᵉᵏ ⁿᵒ ʳᵉᵍʳᵉᵗˢᵎ

the cabin (natalie_nebula) - 40K, Stucky, canon divergent CW

💜👂 Wanderlust (From Paris with Love #1) (Lauren Blakely (author); Grace Grant  & Richard Armitage (narrators)) - totally read this bc I was looking for more books that RA narrated but I also ended up REALLY liking the story on its own merits! Great characters, great sense of place (at least for someone who's never been to Paris). Both narrators were fantastic. [Definitely a plus to hear RA speaking French & talking sexy filth though, ngl about that]

💜 Color Me with Kisses, Color Me in Love (art by MiddiMidori, story by WinterRaven) - 104K, no-powers, artist AU - lovely, fluffy & indulgent - 

Bittersweet and Strange, Finding You Can Change (Learning You Were Wrong) (WithMyTeeth (Ylith)) - 49K, Sterek, failwolf Derek/grad student Stiles sugar daddy AU

💜👂 Death on the Green (The Dublin Driver Mysteries #2) (Catie Murphy, author; Ruth Urquhart, narrator) - very much liking this queer cozy mystery series, the 2nd installment even better than the first

💜 Red Velvet series (ColorCoated) - 206K for series: main story is 173K; 3 other shorter pieces are different POVs/vignettes - Stucky sugar daddy AU - very fluffy and satisfying - I really appreciated that the Bucky in this *wasn't* as emotionally mature/in the same place as Steve but the story showed his growth and their working things through

Mutually Beneficial Transaction (Pookaseraph) - 41K, X-Men no powers sugar daddy AU - Charles was the very young sugar daddy, which wasn’t the dynamic I expected but I liked it. Also liked the translation of Erik’s character to modern day

💜 The Good Morrow (story by Hark_bananas, art by huei/Nogi/nogstalia) - 75K, Stucky post-WS canon divergent - Steve & Bucky find each other again through a shared dream - lovely, warm, very evocative of sense & place, made me crave sandwiches 

👂Romancing the Duke (Castles Ever After #1) (Tessa Dare, author; Carmen Rose, narrator)

plus 238K of shorter fic so shorter work shout out  

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

It's a Lovely Day for Interdimensional Chaos (Traykor) - Deadpool & Goose & Goose, 2K - hilarious & ridiculous fic about Deadpool sending Untitled Goose Game Goose and Flerken Goose on a cross-dimensional/cross-fandom chaos scavenger hunt. Just imagine the Gooses loose at Bag End.

marriage of (in)convenience (Sixthlight) - The Old Guard, 22K - excellent ‘sorry i didn’t tell you before we got married that i’m actually royalty’ AU

much tattoo about nothing (Deisderium) - shrunkyclunks, 14K - Steve discovers he really likes getting tattooed...and he really likes the tattoo artist - reminders of this fic crossed both my tumblr & twitter feeds (namely that there is a 2nd installment in the works!) so I had to do a reread. I just love this so much! [see a much more articulate & in depth review here]

Trip Down The Strip (Brokenwords) - Stucky, 14K - a fun no powers AU with stripper Bucky and a bit of a D/s vibe - Natasha’s character is really great in this (also a reread)

the map is not the territory (Sixthlight) - The Old Guard, 7K - fantastic fic based off that tumblr post of “fake relationship but its a king and his concubine that was once an amazing soldier but he couldn’t go up the ranks for whatever reason so the king was like listen. hear me out. you can be my strategy dude. u just gotta be okay w walking around shirtless a lot. and soldier dude is like man that’s an UPSIDE and yknow they end up falling in love”

The Dust and the Seed (the1918) - 26K, shrunkyclunks - an exquisitely detailed slow burn with post-snap farmer steve and young drifter bucky. there’s an excellent mix of angst, lust, daddy kink and incredibly detailed farming knowledge. i’m loving it a LOT. [part of the ongoing Song of the Rolling Earth series]

[littlebignothings]

The trekking shoe

The walls were mossy and the place smelled of bats but the tombs inside the old ruins looked surprisingly clean with stones that felt out of place there. As I was dusting, I was startled by a noise from behind. It was just a herd of goats who were as confused seeing me there. The herder, a lanky man in his 50s appeared a minute later and spoke in local language pointing at my shoes. My trekking shoes with ankle support were not the most ideal for that type of forest. I started justifying that it was because it could offer some protection from insects and snakes but the type of my shoe wasn’t the issue.  He wanted me to take it off when near the tombs. They belonged to his friends - men who were working for him. I immediately apologized and took off my shoes in a corner. He just smiled and walked out.

Few minutes later, when I stepped out, he was sitting on one of the broken walls outside and called out to me. 

“Why are you alone in such an unfamiliar place? There is nothing here”.

I explained that we were travel bloggers and explored new places every alternate weekend and that we heard of an old 7th century ruin in the forest.

“Not this. A bit inside. I can show. First promise: you’ll see and leave soon. Won’t linger. Not safe”.

I nodded in agreement.

“Not many know the path”, he said proudly on the way. “But that’s good. It is not a place to visit. Unkind spirits”. The path wasn’t clearly visible but it was as if he had a GPS on his head. “Careful. Bad plant” he said holding a branch of a plant away with his stick and doing itch signs. I ducked and crossed the plant and that’s when I got the first view of the gigantic ruin. I looked back and told him I’ll be back in a few minutes. He wasn’t pleased. “You promised..”, he protested. I assured him I’ll stick to it. 

I didn’t really need him. Thanks to my shoes, tracking the path back shouldn’t be a problem. As for the itch/rash causing plants, I wouldn’t get any if I don’t touch any plant, good or bad. I had my tripod which I’d use as a stick. I won’t be technically breaking a promise either. ‘Soon’ is relative. Could be a minute, an hour or even two.

The inside of the ruin surprised me. It was built in a way that light seeps in through the ceiling and lights up the whole place evenly. It was a lot cleaner than many historical places managed by the archaeology department. It smelt great too. I couldn’t place it but it was familiar and made me want to lie somewhere thinking about all the happy moments. But there was also a disturbing feeling of being watched. I considered leaving when I saw a door with stairs going up on the western wall. I am a curious person but I am not an idiot. I didn’t miss the door earlier. It definitely wasn’t there. I didn’t even stop to pack the bag. As if sensing my mood, the place got much darker and it felt like I was in a rainstorm and my heavy, wet shoe was making it very tough to walk. I left grabbing the bag and it took a lot of willpower to get out but I managed and was happy to see the herder still outside.

He wasn't though. As soon as he saw me, he went on a rant about how city kids have no regards for anything and that they would destroy the whole place just for a moment of thrill. I sat on a small rock till my heart rate got back to normal. I asked what he knew of the place but he kept repeating "it is getting dark. This is no place for you after sunset". 

I took out my notepad to write down my experience inside. He stopped talking about the darkness seeing me and in a low voice asked "are you from the government? What are you writing?". I read aloud what I wrote and he was happy with that. He requested me not to reveal the location of the ruin and when I agreed, he smiled and sounded happy for the first time that day. 

“Where is your car?” he asked. I told him I had parked it next to the old temple. It was time for a question from me. I wanted to know why he asked about the government. He walked looking down at the ground. He was lost in thoughts but he still moved the branches and bushes with his stick. It was second nature to him. 

Stopping suddenly, he looked at me and said “My farm is on the way to the old temple. You must have seen it earlier that day. My house is in the middle of that. I’ll ask my wife to prepare soup. I also have something to show you”. It was fine with me. I had been wondering where I would stop for dinner. A bowl of soup would mean I could postpone dinner for an hour or two till I hit the main highway. 

Their house was much bigger than I had anticipated. It was two-storeyed, with the upper storey colored blue. In the corner of the verandah was bholu, their Indian pariah dog. He called out to his wife when I was taking off my shoes. I bowed and did a namaste when she appeared.

They gave me hot water to wash my feet and hands. Later, the man carried a box with some papers and said "I saw you write something. Can you read too? The local language and angrezi both? Govt. sent these but we have no idea what it is about. That is why I was worried if you were from the government". 

I told him those were modern farming techniques and some were about the benefits the Govt. is offering to the farmers. The woman brought a bowl of soup and I kept the papers back in the box. The soup was wonderful. When I praised her cooking skills, he interrupted. “She’s an even better artist” and pointed at the shelf. He wasn’t joking. There were clay statuettes of Ganesha, Nataraja, a coolie who on closer inspection was clearly Amitabh Bachchan, the old temple, goats and her husband. She made him look taller and muscular than he was. I asked permission to take photos. 

“Please don't tell anyone where you saw this. My wife is a very private person. She talks very less and won’t be comfortable with a lot of attention”. I agreed and while I was taking photos, he told her about my adventure that day. She asked if I would be staying for the night. The man replied “He will leave now. He has a car outside the old temple. Do you have something to wear on top? It will get cold”. I took out my maroon jacket and was wearing it when she ran to the door. The dog found my shoe fascinating and was about to chew it but she rescued it in time. She didn’t expect it to be that heavy and was staring at it. I wore it so that I won’t fly away in the wind, I joked. It fell flat, deservedly.  

I took my leave thanking them. Low light can play tricks with your mind. You are no longer the confident, brave person exploring old ruins during daytime. The dog accompanied me for some distance but ran back as soon as it started raining. A thorny bush tore the right side of my jacket. Water seeped through the denim and shoe. There was no way I would be able to reach the old temple. To my horror, I also realized I didn’t have the car keys. It felt from the right pocket of the jacket. I ran back towards the house. I wondered if it would be okay to ask them to let me stay the night.

Huffing and puffing, I reached their house. The woman was outside and she had a smile seeing me. “I told you I’d give you a son” she said to her husband. She had a doll in her hand. Of a young man with maroon jacket and an oversized shoe. She placed it next to the model of the ruin. “I’ll get his room ready” the man said “The papers won’t go waste after all”. I took out the key from my pocket and gave it to him. I was completely dry. “Yes. Have to hide the car as well”.

[otome0heart]

Hi! I wish you a very happy birthday if May 29th has already arrived in your timezone! 🎉🎉🎉 . How wonderful it is to share a birthday with Mitsuhide! 😊I was wondering if I could request anything you want to write at all with the man, any prompt of your choice. It would be nice to see it set in the Sengoku period, but modern AU is fine as well! Thank you so much for opening requests!

Hello! ^^ I already exchanged messages with you but, once again, I’d like to thank you for your good birthday wishes. It’s truly a great thing, since I never shared a birthday with a character I liked/loved before.

Also, thanks for requesting something from me, it’s an honour since you write so much and so well. As you stated in your preferences, I set it in the Sengoku Period, and I chose the prompt “Master Marksman”, as it’s specified in Mitsuhide’s profile. I sincerely hope that you like it *^^*

Title: Trust

Characters: Mitsuhide/MC

Words: 5070 (ups, I did it again… and longer)

Notes: I hope there aren’t big mistakes and that Mitsuhide is IC, since he goes under a few changes in this story. Apart from @otonymous, I’m tagging @han-pan, a passionate Mitsuhide-lover like us :)

TRUST

The young woman made her way through the forest carefully. She was looking down as she walked to avoid tripping on a tree root or a fallen branch while she carried a parcel wrapped in a purple and white patterned cloth. She held it tightly with both hands, fearing that she could drop it with the smallest stumble and she knew she would never forgive herself if that happened.

However, that did not prevent her to enjoy the walk. It was a beautiful spring morning and the forest seemed to be alive as the birds chirped happily, playing with each other among the foliage, and the soft warm breeze blew past her from time to time, bringing her the fresh smell of leaves and flowers which grew in the most hidden places of the wood. She loved that season, not only because the the world around her seemed vibrant with life and colour, but also because it was the time of the year when the man she loved had been born into the world.

A soft blush dusted her cheeks as memories of him crossed her mind: his soft smile as he regarded her, the respectful way he had talked and behaved with her since the beginning, when she was nothing more than a frightened girl dressed as a boy in a world of men and war, a poison taster whose life and presence was completely worthless and disposable; his kindness and warmth which were like a balm to her soul in the darkest hours.

She still could not believe that that wonderful, admirable man so above her in all aspects returned her feelings. Sometimes, when she opened her eyes at dawn, she imagined it to be a marvellous dream she wished she had never woken up from, but then, his smile as he wished her good morning, the warmth in his eyes as they talked during a short break or his lips as he kissed her gently behind a hidden corner as they passed by in a deserted corridor, told her that it was all true and that Akechi Mitsuhide, right hand of Oda Nobunaga, had given her his heart and sworn to love only her.

Her foot slipped and she grabbed the trunk of the nearest tree to avoid falling. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, berating herself for daydreaming. It was not a habit of hers, as she was always too busy to entertain fantasies but lately, she had caught herself doing it once in a while. She supposed it was one of the side-effects of being in love and did not give it much importance, but if it was going to be the cause of ruining her plans… Once her heartbeat had calmed down and she felt secure, she started her way again, this time promising herself to focus on the path without straying from her rational thoughts or her search.

That morning, on her way to Lord Nobunaga’s chambers carrying a tray with some cups of tea, she had met Lord Hideyoshi, who had informed her that the ruler of Owari Castle had vanished from his room, leaving a note behind giving most of his advisors the day-off. Upon seeing her astonished face, he had laughed, telling her that it happened from time to time and that nobody knew where he went or what he did, but he usually returned late in the evening and the following day, thing in the castle kept on working the same as always, as if his absence had never happened. And, he had added as he took the tray from her hands, that meant that she had some free time too.

Imagining that Lord Mitsuhide had to be frantic looking for his liege lord, she had headed for his residence to see if she could be of any assistance to him. However, when she had arrived, she had been surprised when one of the servants had told her that he was away too. After receiving news of his forced break, and with a resigned expression, he had mounted his favourite horse and had gone to the usual field near the river. And it had been then that she had had the idea of looking for him and spend some time together, as they barely had seen each other since, after his brother-in-law’s betrayal and Mitsuhide’s disobedience because of her, Lord Nobunaga had been giving his right-hand retainer diplomatic missions and asking for strategies and plans to prevent such situation happening again. Despite his love for work, she supposed that deep inside, he was glad to have a few hours for himself.

Sudden doubts had filled her mind, as she realised that he might have wanted to be alone, since he had not gone to look for her when he had heard the news, and for a moment, she considered going back to the castle and occupy herself with a new recipe or mending some clothes that surely anyone would definitely need to have sewn. However, she changed her mind again when the servant commented that he had not brought anything to eat with him and that that probably meant that he would be back at lunchtime. Knowing him as well as she did, he would probably forget about it. So, after borrowing the kitchen to prepare his favourite food, she had made her way to the meadow.

Soon, she had understood her mistake when she found that there were several clearings along the river and she had forgotten to ask for the exact location of the one Mitsuhide had gone to. She had already been in two fields but there had been no trace of his presence in any of them. A farmer she had encountered on her way back from the second, had indicated her a third one, a very wide open space quite far away from the busy roads.

The sound of a shot startled her, taking her out of her thoughts, and the young woman crouched down instinctively, almost dropping her precious bundle. It echoed through the trees, frightening the birds, which flew away in a haste. However, no other sound followed it. No steps, no shouting, not even the falling of a bird fulminated by a bullet. After a few more seconds, she dared to lift her head, buried in her knees and hidden under her arm, just a bit, enough to survey her surroundings and make sure that no infiltrated enemy was approaching her.

Some more time passed before she felt it was safe to stand up. She did it slowly, using the trunk of a tree as support and at the same time, as a shield, just in case the sniper was waiting for her to make a mistake. She took a step, still alert, toward the trees on her left, concealing her presence among the bushes to have the opportunity to hide or escape if the situation became dangerous.

After walking a while more, the babbling of the river reached her ears and seconds later, she saw the sunlight filtering through the gaps in the trunks, indicating that the field was near, and she found herself praying that her lord was there so he could chase away her fear as her steps became almost a run.

As she reached the edge of the clearing, a second shot broke the stillness of the forest once again, this time so loud, so powerful, that she could not help a cry of fear as she fell on her knees, covering her ears and dropping her parcel this time, trembling violently. She felt terror of those weapons after having been a witness of a feral battle a little after she had come to serve Lord Nobunaga. The only idea that they could severe a man’s life with only the little pull of a finger was truly horrifying. And even though she had been living in Owari for months, she still had not got used to them. A tear run down her face and unconsciously, she called for her lover in a whimper.

However, as before, nobody came to threaten or abduct her. Only silence followed the shooting and finally, she convinced herself to look up. And then, she saw him.

Mitsuhide was in the middle of the clearing, his posture straight, his eyes fixed in something ahead of him. In his hands, he had a musket from which smoke still came out, and suddenly, she understood that he was the one firing. A sensation akin to relief filled her heart, seeing that the illusion of an unknown enemy trying to kill her had been made up by her wild imagination. She sniffled and then, put her hands on the ground to help herself into an standing position. Her knees still trembled, refusing to support her, so she had to sit down on a log she found a few steps further.

From her position, she could see that he had frowned and his lips were pressed in a clear gesture of dissatisfaction as he put the butt of his weapon on the ground, and she wondered the reason. Hundreds of times she had heard in the tales of battle that the men told in the Main Hall, that Mitsuhide was an excellent marksman and that many of them were alive because of his expertise. It was impossible to believe that he was not as good as their praises said, or that he was disappointed even with perfection.

She watched his smooth and fluid movements as he reloaded the musket and, as soon as he took his position, she closed her eyes tightly, covering her ears. Even though she had expected it this time, she jumped when the deafening noise filled the air again. This time, the breeze brought the penetrating acrid smell of gunpowder to her nostrils and she made a disgusted expression. As the echo vanished, slowly, she opened her lids. He had lowered his arms and they hung in front of him, still holding the musket and looking at what it seemed like a kind of target attached to a tree at the other side of the field. The serious expression from before marred again his noble features and he started walking towards the spot he was aiming at.

Despite her distress, she could not help feeling a deep respect towards him. Instead of making the most of his day-off and rest as much as possible, he had devoted himself to improve his skills and keep on serving in one or other way the man he admired and followed so he could obtain Divine Rule as soon as possible. Her heart felt heavy with guilt at having been filled with dreams of love and selfish wishes of having him for herself, at least for a few hours.

The girl lowered her head, her gaze falling on the parcel containing the ruined onigiri she had made for him and sighed. She had been so stupid… She should have imagined why he had not gone to see her that morning. She had known since the beginning that he had devoted his life to the Oda clan, and she had fallen in love knowing that he would die for his liege lord and, even though she did not doubt of his affection toward her, that for him, Lord Nobunaga would always be first. She had already put him between a rock and a hard place once, when she had gone to see Lady Oichi and he had to decide if he was going to follow orders or his heart. She would not do it again.

Frowning deeply, she knelt on the floor and, carefully, she picked up the box, smoothing the cloth as best as she could, and then, stood up. Stealing a last glance at him, who was verifying his shots, she turned to go.

.

Mitsuhide furrowed his brows as he inspected the holes the bullets had left in the target. Two out of the three were slightly deflected to the left and that worried him. His aim had always been impeccable since he had learnt how to use those European weapons and the fact that it was not being as accurate as always troubled him. He knew his heart was in a turmoil of feelings that day but also, that he should not let them affect him when his comrades’ lives were at stake. If it was happening, then that meant that he was not as strong as he thought.

Breathing deeply and squaring his shoulders, he turned to go back to his position in the centre of the clearing when a silhouette he knew too well, outlined by a line of trees, took a step away, and his heart leapt in his chest. What was she doing there, so far from Owari?

Before he knew it, he had already called her name, his voice bewildered, and she came to a halt. He started to walk to her with brisk quick steps, worried that they had sent her to find him because something had happened in the castle, or to Lord Nobunaga, who had decided to wander away that day. What if he had got injured or… He swallowed hard, feeling sudden guilt fill his heart, and had to shake his head to dispel those negative thoughts. Everything was fine, it had to be.

As he approached her, she looked at him over her shoulder, her face pale and her beautiful eyes troubled.

“What are you doing here?” he asked in what he noticed was a taut voice, giving away his nervousness.

She opened her mouth to answer but then, she closed it again, inadvertently lowering her eyes. What was she going to tell him? That she had wanted to spend some time alone with him when she should have been thinking about a superior goal? Her cheeks turned red with shame.

Mitsuhide frowned, taking in her appearance, her rumpled kimono, stained in the lower part, and her disheveled hair, some strands hanging loosely from the ribbon which tied them, and immediately, all type of fearful thoughts crossed his mind.

“Are you alright?”

To her mortification, her eyes misted and his eyes shone with worry.

“Did you hurt yourself? Did someone-?”

She lifted her head with widened eyes at his words, seeing his anxious expression, and she shook her head.

“N-No… Don’t worry” she sniffled a bit and then straightened her posture, trying to show him a smile. “I’m fine.”

However, the hesitant line that appeared on her lips did nothing to calm him. It was obvious that something had happened to her and it pained him not to know it, but even more her apparent lack of trust in him. Was he so unreliable to soothe her suffering, whatever had caused it?

“Are you sure?” he asked again, cupping her cheek and brushing away a smear of dirt.

“Yes” she closed her eyes briefly leaning into his touch, feeling at ease with just that soft caress.

“Did something happen in the castle? Is that why you’re here?” he took her by the shoulders, looking intently into her pupils. “”Is Lord Nobunaga…?

“No, everybody is fine, and when I went out, he still hadn’t returned” she was glad to notice that her voice was now steadier.

Finally, he let out the breath he did not know he was holding and allowed himself to relax. Taking a step forward, he took her into her arms and leant his cheek on her head. For a moment, he had felt such fear of having failed his lord, of her being hurt in any way… But feeling her warmth through their clothes confirmed him that everything was alright, that her presence was all he needed to dismiss his concerns.

It was then that he noticed that she had stiffened in his embrace, which she did not return, and was about to ask her when he also became aware of something hard between them and he recalled that she carried a parcel. He parted from her and smiled.

“And, what are you doing here?” he repeated his question, this time feeling more relaxed.

She bit her lip and he frowned, feeling uneasy again.

“I was just having a stroll, since today we got a day-off unexpectedly” she finally decided to speak, trying to look and sound as convincing as possible to avoid worrying him again.

However, opposite to what she expected, Mitsuhide’s expression became even more serious.

“Really?” his voice was tight, showing that he knew she was lying, and her heart beat painfully in her chest. “So far from Owari?”

“I-I was thinking… and I wandered away without noticing…”

There had to be a reason why she was doing that, he told himself swallowing hard upon hearing her new falsehood. She had always been sincere since the time they had met, even when she was dressed as a boy, trying to fool everybody. Her feelings had always overcome her façade, saying what was in her mind or in her heart without caring who was in front of her.

“And” he tried again, pointing at the bundle in her arms. “What’s that?”

She tightened her grip on the box.

“I brought some food in case I became hungry”

“It seems very big for only one person…” he looked at her. “Maybe you could share something with me? The sun is very high, I had an early breakfast and the exercise has whetted my appetite.”

An expression of dismay appeared on her face, and he knew he had cornered her again.

“I ate it all” he furrowed his brows as the first sparks of anger ignited inside him. “Look, it seems that my arrival here bothered you so I’ll be going now, alright?”

She smiled at him as she turned, but he took her by the arm, the movement shocking her, not by his strength, as he kept it in check and his grip was gentle, but because it was the first time he had done it. Taking the box from her arms, which was surprisingly easy, probably because of her bewilderment, he put it on the ground with his musket. Then, he looked into her eyes as he held her hands.

“Please, stop…”

He leant forward and touched her forehead with his, his expression and his voice pained, and her heart twisted painfully in her chest.

“What aren’t you telling me?” he saw hesitancy in her eyes and pressed. “Don’t you trust me?”

“I do” the rushed statement, said in a desperate voice, eased his heart a bit. “But…”

He lifted a brown, his warm eyes encouraging her to continue.

“But I don’t want to be a nuisance to you…”

He seemed taken aback by he words, staring at her, incredulity painted all over his face. Seconds passed by as he kept silent, trying to find the reason why she thought like that. She would never ever be nothing but a blessing for him. She had filled his life with joy and laughter, she had become the reason why he wanted to be a better man, worthy of her love; to return alive from the many battles that he fought because the thought of her being sad was just unbearable.

“Did I do something to make you think like that?” he asked in a quiet voice, a sick feeling gripping his stomach.

She shook her head lightly.

“I-I just-” she tightened her grasp in his hands, pausing for a moment to order her thoughts. “When I heard about Lord Nobunaga leaving, I looked for you to see if I could be of any assistance, presuming that you had to be desperate. At your house, a servant told me that you had gone away too, to the usual meadow, so I supposed you were having a respite and I… I thought I could prepare some food and spend the day with you…” he smiled tenderly but she did not returned it; her eyes became damp and her voice trembled a bit. “However, when I arrived here, I saw that you were training, that even though our lord was away, you were still thinking about his Divine Rule… And I felt so ashamed…”

He had become more disconcerted by the moment with each of her words.

“I want to be your support, to work with you so you can make your dream of peace true…” she shrugged and lifted his head to him trying to compose a smile. “And here I am, distracting you from your training… I’m not some smitten teenager to be daydreaming about love…”

She bit her lip, tearing her gaze from him, a despondent expression marring her face.

“I’m sorry for being so selfish…”

He sighed, a soft smile gracing his lips, letting silence fall between them so she could regain some of her calm, or cry if she felt like it. He blinked slowly, drinking in the sight of the woman he loved more than anything in the world as she tried to regain her composure, breathing deeply and pressing her lips in a thin line, clearly trying not to be overwhelmed by her feelings; because if they were talking about egoism, maybe, he had something to confess too, being as guilty of it as her, probably even more.

“That’s not being selfish, my darling.”

Her eyes widened a bit as she suddenly lifted her head. It was the first time that he had used an endearment with her and her heart filled with excitement, vanishing part of the sadness she felt. She wished that he would repeat it again to savour its echo in her ears and soul, but she kept silent, waiting for the words following his statement.

“Being selfish is wanting to have you all to myself; being so smitten…” he intentionally used the same word that she had said, releasing one of her hands and cupping her face, “… that I’m jealous even of the wind which caresses your skin; desiring to love you until you can only think of me…” his voice had become a low murmur which made her heart thunder and her cheeks burn. “Didn’t you wonder why I didn’t look for you when I discovered that Lord Nobunaga had gone away for the day? I hadn’t seen you in so long that I didn’t trust myself to remain gentlemanly and courteous” he sighed and a slightly crooked smile drew across his mouth. “I’m not as noble-minded as you think I am…”

She swallowed hard at the hidden implication of his words, her stomach clenching in response to the clear spark of desire which had appeared in his pupils as he spoke. An unknown turmoil was unleashing in her chest and she did not know how to respond, feeling thrilled and afraid at the same time.

“May I, my darling?”

She had barely had time to nod when his lips brushed hers in a slow gentle kiss and she surrendered at once, realising how much she had truly missed him and his warmth. They parted slightly, just enough for him to tilt her head further back before returning to her, this time pressing insistently, breaking her defenses and deepening the kiss, the hand in her cheek moving to the nape of her neck. Hers flew to his waist to support herself at the heated onslaught of his mouth on hers as a shiver ran down her spine when her fingertips brushed a sensitive spot just below the collar of her kimono. He had never kissed her with such passion and hunger, as if he was trying to consume her, to make her part of himself. She pulled him closer, wanting to feel his warmth even more. Both lost track of the time, just aware of each other and their shared yearning.

Slowly, he parted from her when a soft moan left her throat, kissing her forehead and burying her in his embrace, feeling her grip the sleeves of his kimono and leaning her cheek against his chest. He could feel her breathing raggedly, trying to regain her composure, her heart beating fast and strong against his own, and clenched his jaw. He wanted nothing more than to keep on kissing her until her own desire matched his, lay her down on the soft grass and make her his forever. However, it was not the moment. Even though she had been distracted by his kisses, it was obvious that she was still upset about their previous exchange and he was not going to take advantage of her vulnerability. When it happened, he wanted it to be an unforgettable memory for her, something as fulfilling and meaningful as it surely would be for him.

“Did I frighten you?” he whispered, caressing her long hair gently, his fingers combing her tresses, still in disarray, noticing that she was calmer.

The young woman shook her head, still hidden in his chest, and her voice reached him low and still a bit tremulous.

“I… only need a little more time. It just took me… unaware… But I’m glad that you showed me this side of you, Lord Mitsuhide.”

His heart seemed to overflow with feelings for her and the ardour that still cursed through his veins, turned into tenderness.

“I love you so much, my darling…”

He brushed her temple with his mouth and felt her move, her eyes, big and innocent, finding his.

“I love you too, Milord.”

They smiled at each other and finally, they let go, their fingers trailing down their arms until their hands twined lovingly.

“I’m sorry I made you worry” her face was still flushed and he was inwardly pleased to see her lips slightly swollen as a result of his ministrations. “And I’m sorry that I lied to you.”

He tightened his hold on her, caressing her skin with his thumbs.

“It’s all in the past now” his pupils regarded her with affection, seeing that the smile she showed him reached her eyes for the first time. “I want you to feel that you can trust me completely, that we can talk about anything and that together, we can find the solution to any problem which comes our way.”

She nodded and his grin widened.

“So” he said, changing the topic and letting go of one of her hands. “Shall we eat? It’s true what I said about being hungry before.”

Her face paled slightly, her eyes showing her apprehension when he bent over and picked up his musket first, putting it under his arm and then, the box with the onigiri. He returned her gaze with an amused one, feeling the unbalanced weight of the food inside.

“There are some rocks under those trees” he lifted his head to the side, pointing somewhere in front of them. “It’ll be more comfortable than sitting on the ground.”

It was then that she saw his pure white horse, free from its reins and saddle, grazing the grass around him. It lifted its ears when it heard them starting to walk and watched them for a moment, losing its interest in them a second later.

“What about your training?”

He chuckled lightly.

“Don’t worry, I’ll return to it once I finish eating” he seemed to think for a moment and then, glanced to her. “If you think you can stand it, you could stay and we could go back riding along the river. The landscape is beautiful in this area.”

She nodded and with that gesture, her sight fell again on the box.

“However… I doubt the food is edible now…” she lowered her head, a delicate frown appearing in her features. “I let it drop when I heard one of the shots.”

Mitsuhide tilted his head to the side to look at her better.

“Then, it’s my responsibility to eat it as an apology for startling you.”

She opened her mouth to protest but he just grinned at her, a mischievous spark appearing in his pupils, as he tugged at her hand, starting a light run, which sent her unbalanced, gasping loudly, and making her focus on the movement of her legs, forgetting about what she was going to say.

They reached their destination in a few seconds among laughter and, as she sat to regain her breath, he leant his weapon against the rock that he had chosen and opened the parcel quickly, before she had time to complain again.

Upon opening the wooden box, he found a mash of crumpled onigiri, bonito flakes, some pickled plums and a few streaks of soy sauce mixed with tiny cut vegetables. Her heart sank in her chest, seeing such disaster, but Mitsuhide only smiled.

“They must be delicious.”

She glared at him. a thin line drawing across her lips.

“That’s why I didn’t want to show them to you” she pouted a bit. “The ingredients are all mixed, so must be the flavours…”

“But savour doesn’t have anything to do with appearance, does it?” he left the lid on the grass, his pupils never leaving what for him were true delicacies.

Finally, his eyes returned to her and his hand took hers again.

“You made these thinking of me, right?”

A light blush dusted her cheeks as she nodded lightly.

“I’m not going to throw that love away because they’re not perfectly shaped.”

Her reply died in her throat and she followed his fingers with her gaze, seeing them pick up a piece of onigiri which still had some bonito flakes hanging from it.

“Thanks for the food.”

He put it in his mouth, eating it slowly, enjoying the taste.

“Excellent, as always.”

“Really?”

“Try them yourself” he said picking up another piece and tending it to her in a way that clearly stated his intention to feed her.

Blushing profusely, she accepted it from his hand, feeling his fingertips brushing her lips.

“It’s not bad.”

“No, my darling” he replied, his eyes never leaving hers as he nibbled a few grains that had sticked to his fingers. “It’s simply exquisite.”

THE END

[atowncalledmalec]

That's actually really sweet

A small breakdown of the trailer that we got before 3B started. I wrote this a couple of months ago but still wanted to post it here.

Angst, a glimpse of Magnus' mental health after losing his magic.

Magnus sighed, blinking in the dim light of predawn as he rolled over, after exactly no hours of sleep. He studied Alec's sleeping form in the meager light, listening to the soft snores that emanated from his boyfriend, trying to use the sound to block out the whirling mess in his head.

With another sigh, a deeper one, Magnus rolled back over. Sitting up, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and dropped his head into his hands, scrubbing at his face as if he could wipe all of the loneliness, the hurt and anger and confusion away with the motion.

One last look over his shoulder at Alec's sleeping form had Magnus standing, as graceful as ever, even if his body felt odd, foreign to him.

That will be the loss of your magic dear.

Shying away from that thought, Magnus stumbled into his closet, decidedly not thinking about the fact that he would have to search by hand through rack upon rack of clothes, to find something to wear.

Magnus simply grabbed the first things his hands landed on and snapped his fingers to remove his silk pyjamas before the memories of what he had lost stabbed him in the gut. The wound went deeper than any he had suffered over the centuries he had already endured.

Allowing one solitary tear to fall before pushing it away, Magnus shrugged out of his clothing, forgoing the shower he didn't have the energy to take, and started pulling his chosen outfit on.

Red shirt, black pinstripe slacks, suspenders. You've worn this one before bane!

Who cares, it's just clothes. Alexander doesn't care if I've worn them before.

With that thought running through his head, Magnus gave his appearance a cursory glance in the full length mirror in his closet before wandering out into his bedroom.

With eyes lingering on Alec, watching his Shadowhunter in the vanity mirror, Magnus took a seat and started pulling his war paint out. He swiped a dusting of eyeshadow over each lid before staring critically at his work.

“It's been far too long since you've done this by hand and you look ridiculous,” Magnus muttered to himself, grabbing a wipe and scrubbing it off.

Stars sparkled in his eyes when he emerged from the wipe, having dug into them just that little bit too hard. Blinking helped take his mind off of the fact that he had to wipe it off in the first place.

Magnus grabbed his eyeliner, the one part of his makeup routine that he always did by hand, and pulled his lower lids down, ignoring how bloodshot his eyes looked, to line his eyes before he closed them and ran the pencil through his scrunched lids once more, coating the waterline of his top lids too.

With a final smudge at the excess, Magnus studied his face in the mirror once more. I'll just say that I was going for a new look if anyone asks.

Swiping his hand over his face once more, Magnus’ gaze caught on the chipped polish on his nails. He grabbed the bottle of nail polish remover and swiped it over the leftover fragments of polish on his nails, trying not to think on how closely the fragments resembled his life. Cracked, chipped, faded… lacking.

That thought sapped the last of Magnus’ will to pretty himself up. Leaving his nails polish free, he swung his legs, blinking as he wondered what to do now. He had to keep busy, lest he crumble like the polish that had blemished his nails.

“Breakfast, yes, I'm sure Alexander will need some breakfast after all of the energy he lost during battle.”

The words came softly, softer than his voice usually came out but they were Magnus’ salvation. A purpose. A distraction. A way to make some use of his now useless body.

Without a minute to lose, Magnus strode from the room, walking quickly to the kitchen to cook up a feast.

Of course, he didn't actually know how to use any of the modern contraptions his kitchen was filled with. Of course, he didn't know how to un-magically whip up a breakfast that was fit for a king… or a recovering Shadowhunter. And, of course, there was no actual food in his refrigerator.

The market! The farmers market three blocks away. I'll find something there!

Rushing for the front door, grateful to have something to do, Magnus just about managed to catch the door on its backswing, a split second before it closed, with a thudding heart.

Keys. Phone. Money. Your fucking sanity!

They were all things he had never had to worry about before. A snap of his fingers, a flick of his wrist, hell, one elegant swirl of his fingers was usually all Magnus needed to shop or get in touch with people or to let himself to into his own fucking home!

A stuttering, ragged, torment filled breath ripped from him as he clutched the door frame for support, allowing the moment of weakness when there was nobody to see it. He was unsure of what was worse, the churning of his stomach or the thundering, swirling shit storm, running through his head.

Magnus took one, two, three deep breaths in before he straightened, spine erect, and stomped back into his apartment to snatch his keys and some money up. The image of having to press his buzzer and wait out in the cold for Alec to let him in because he had left his keys went as quickly as it came.

Squaring his shoulders once more, Magnus shoved his things into the pockets of his pants and strode out of the door, head held high as he made his way through the building, riding the elevator in quiet contemplation.

A chill breeze was the first indication to Magnus that he had made it outside. He barely paid attention to the cold wind and the barley rising sun as he started towards the farmers market, running through the list of ingredients in his head.

A momentary smile graced Magnus’ lips as he recalled the one time, just a couple of short weeks ago, when Alec had made his stew, calling the ingredient list his “instructions”. Is that all it is, just a couple of weeks? He wondered to himself, it feels like centuries.

A tiredness washed through him in that moment as every single one of the years that he had existed crept up on him, all at once. They almost had him falling to his knees, the weight of those years too much to bear. Centuries.

I've been alive centuries and in all of that time, I've never faced something of this magnitude, Magnus thought.

Never once had Magnus had to think about those countries dwindling to decades, to a handful of years. His life hd always been endless, inevitable, permanent, his immortality unbending to the passage of time. Those concerns are for mortals, beings with shorter lifespans, right? Not for him. Not for the son of a demon.

His feet started moving again, the harsh wind making him snap his fingers to conjure a jacket before he could catch himself. It would be easy to pull a scowl onto his face. To snarl at the cruelty of his father's demand but his face just went slack as he wandered down the street, not one of the thousand emotions that swirled through him able to find purchase on his face.

Magnus blinked when his legs almost went from beneath him, from the uneven ground he had stumbled on. Looking up as he righted his steps, he found the reason that the ground had changed beneath his feet, maybe not metaphorically, but certainly physically. The edge of the sidewalk.

Magnus turned left and started wandering through the stalls, listening to the calling of vendors, allowing their crass shouts to drown out the thoughts that were parading through his mind on a never ending loop.

There was something soothing about it, about witnessing life going on around him when it felt like his own had come to an end. If these mundanes can exist without magic, then I can too. Right?

A stall that sold breakfast food snagged Magnus' attention, forcing him to focus rather than sink into his own head once more. He ran his fingers over the soft eggshells, thinking of their fragility and relating to them all too easily, silently wondering how many he would need.

Scooping up half a dozen, hoping they would be enough, Magnus held them carefully to his chest, pulling on a tight smile for the woman watching him. He juggled the eggs as he searched through the pastries that were on offer, selecting a couple of the largest croissants and adding them to the pile of precious eggs.

A crate of oranges snagged Magnus’ attention next. Freshly squeezed juice, that will be a nice addition. How many though? Three? Four? There's only two of us.

Picking up two plump oranges, Magnus added them to pile that he was now juggling, cursing his lack of ability to simply snap up a basket to carry them in. That lack of magical skill had him giving up. He smiled at the woman, waiting to serve him, and managed to juggle his haul into her hands.

Barely paying attention to the woman, Magnus scooped his wallet out of his pocket and handed a twenty over, thinking that it should be enough. He felt no shame in admitting to himself that it had been a long while since he had had to worry about something as mundane as paying for croissants and eggs.

Accepting the bag that the lady handed him, and completely missing the expression on her face… not that he would have been able to decipher it if he had, Magnus made his way back to his building, deciding to buy a rose on a whim as he passed a flower stall on his way out of the market.

Magnus meandered back to his building, standing uncertainty outside of the door for a moment before he remembered he would have to dig his keys out. He pulled them from his pocket, staring at the keys and the little fob before he remembered when the mundane had showed him around the apartment.

Magnus held the fob to he small panel above the buttons, starting when the door clicked open. He grabbed the handle and pulled, slightly impressed with the technology that the mundanes had come up with, in place of magic. His mind wandered again when he ducked into the elevator and rode it up to his floor.

Knowing that he would have to actually face Alec at some point, Magnus tried to run through what expressions he would put on his face, already hoping that his voice wouldn't crack when they had to speak.

A tiny part of Magnus’ brain thought of the Shadowhunters part in the loss of his magic. It had been his decision, one he knew that he would make again, in an instant, but it still hurt that he had had to make the decision in the first place, especially in light of the fact that the reason he had lost his magic hadn't been seen since they had discovered Clarys death.

Jace had run away as soon as he had announced the news, leaving him to try and get in touch with Cat to move Alec back to the loft, and to deal with the loss of his magic and Clary all in the same breath.

With straining lungs, as the implications of what that meant rolled through him, Magnus looked around his kitchen, desperately pushing thoughts of Clary's death aside, the questions he had been trying to banish over the last thirty hours surfaced once more. Do I blame him? Do I blame them all?

But Magnus couldn't deal with that now, he had to prepare Alec's breakfast, keep busy, ignore the implications and the consequences of his lost magic. It was the best way, the only way to get through the coming days.

Humming a tune under his breath, because he was fine and it kept his mind busy, Magnus emptied his groceries out onto the kitchen side, forgetting the fact that he couldn't remember getting out of the elevator.

Magnus stared at the croissants, eyeing them as one would eye a confusing puzzle before his gaze slid to the microwave that he had never used. He opened the door and tossed the pastries inside, staring at the control pad as though the instructions would light up and show him the way.

With a shrug, Magnus started pressing buttons, jabbing harder and harder at them until the infernal contraption lit up and the food started turning before he turned his attention to the eggs.

“A simple omelette should suffice,” Magnus muttered, rifling through the cupboards and drawers for a bowl and fork, it was a much more successful endeavour than the microwave. At least I know how to work the hob, even if the damn oven evades me.

Magnus soon had the eggs whipped up and cooking in a frying pan, his eyes glued to the eggs because it was easier to pour all of his attention into ensuring the food didn't burn than it was to let his mind wander.

The pinging of the microwave had Magnus dropping the wooden spoon and dashing towards the machine. He pulled the door open and grabbed hold of the red hot pastries, muttering a string of curses under his breath as he yanked his hand back and blew on it.

Snatching a dishcloth up, Magnus yanked the pastries out and slammed them down on a plate, wishing with everything inside of him that he could portal himself to Paris and pick some fresh, already warm pastries up and offer them to Alec. He even contemplated trying it in his desperation.

But, before he could raise his hand, a crackling sound rang out through the kitchen. That was almost the moment he lost it, turning around to see the eggs on their way to burning.

Dashing across the kitchen before the pan could catch fire, Magnus snatched the pan up off the hob and slammed it down on the countertop before his legs gave way.

Sliding down the side of the cupboard, onto the floor, Magnus crumpled. Knees to his chest, his arms wrapping around them, he raked his hands through his hair as the tears started gathering in the corners of his eyes.

Can't even get through making one breakfast the mundane way. How the fuck am I supposed to make it the rest of the way? How am I going to survive however long I'm allotted now, if I can't even cook a fucking omelette?

Knowing that his breathing was picking up, his stomach somewhere back at the farmers market, back where he had found Alec, filled with arrows and trying to make jokes, back in Edom. Take your pick. Magnus tried to regulate his reactions.

Magnus tried to fight the empty, lonely, powerless feeling that wanted to swamp him every other second, to take him over and drag him down the hole that he was unsure he would be able to climb out of but it felt like a losing battle. It was too much, everything fighting for ground and trying to take precedence at the forefront of his mind.

Magnus didn't want to feel, he wanted to be numb, to fall asleep and wake up to Alec telling him it had all been a nightmare or not wake up at all. He wanted to hide from the world that always demanded too much but never gave back a fraction of what his sacrifices were worth.

But I can't, because I'm Magnus Bane, High War…

Magnus Bane, friend, confident, boyfriend. I'm the one that solves problems, the one everyone turns to, every time. I'm the dependable one, not the man who gets to have a day off from the demands placed upon him.

Scrubbing the tears from his face and taking a deep breath, Magnus stood and looked down at his “creation”. It wasn't horrendous, maybe a dark spot, here and there but it looked edible… perhaps. Sighing a deep breath out, he flipped it onto the plate with the croissants, cutting any dark bits off and turned to his oranges, pushing his self pity to the back of his mind.

“I should have got more,” Magnus muttered to himself, staring at the ridiculously small amount of juice in the glass when he had squeezed the two solitary oranges out. Pursing his lips, he placed it on a tray with the plate, placed the rose in a milk jug and picked it up, taking deep breaths on his way to his bedroom.

The soft snores Alec was making had Magnus’ stomach settling a fraction, a small amount of the weight he was carrying sliding from his shoulders at the adorable sounds. He had spent the night listening to them, unable to sleep, and still he ached to hear more but he needed to keep busy, not wallow.

So carrying the tray towards his vanity, Magnus set it down and pondered the best way to wake Alec. He knew from experience that a gentle shake and soft words wouldn't cut it so he decided the simplest approach was the best and strode over to the curtains.

“Come on, Pup, time rise and face the day,” Magnus said as he shoved the curtains open, a bright shaft of light brightening the room in an instant. There, that's normal, right? He asked himself before turning to find Alec, cringing back from the light.

“Pup?” Alec asked when he was so rudely awoken, trying to cover his eyes from the burning sensation of the sunlight. Is he trying out a nickname?

“Panda?” Magnus asked, wondering if Alec would like that one better.

“No!” Alec said, racking his brain for a cell that was working.

“Okay,” Magnus said quietly, returning to the vanity to collect Alec's breakfast as he fixed his best smile in place. I can do this, I can do normal. For him, for his sake. I. Can. Do. Normal.

Even if it was actually for his own sake.

“Why is it so early?” Alec groaned, rolling into his side to bury his face in the pillows, hoping for more sleep.

The next words out of Magnus’ mouth had Alec sitting up. He tried to adjust to the light and being awake and the way Magnus was moving across the room, his boyfriend's spine semi erect and an easy look on his face. Huh?

“Oh, with everything going on, sleep has been a bit of a struggle,” Magnus allowed himself to share as he returned with Alec's breakfast.

Alec looked up at Magnus properly as he fully sat up, taking his outfit in.

“Why are you dressed?” Alec asked when Magnus slid a tray of food onto the end of the bed..

“Oh, I had to get up early to go to the farmers market before dawn, for the ingredients for our breakfast. Which… admittedly, is less than… perfect. But do you know how many oranges are required to make a glass of juice…?” Magnus asked, picking up the half empty glass.

Alec picked up a croissant inspecting it as Magnus raised the glass and inspected the contents at eye level.

“...More than I bought. I used to have magic to do all of these little errands but, I have to admit, there's a certain… charm to doing things the mundane way,” Magnus said casually, smiling his best smile. He did his best not to notice Alec's expression, ploughing on as though everything was fine.

“Is today a special occasion?” Alec asked, squinting up at Magnus, seeing all of the truths Magnus was attempting to hide behind his smiles and his casual movements.

“Well, today is your day off and I want to make the most of it,” Magnus said softly, sliding the tray closer to Alec with a smile.

Alec's stared at Magnus, his eyes narrowing at his boyfriend's blase attitude as the tray was pushed forward. Magnus still hadn't talked to him, about losing his magic or his trip to Edom. He desperately wanted Magnus to open up, to scream or yell, to rightfully blame him because it was his Parabatai Magnus had saved. To do anything other than what Magnus was doing now, pretending.

But Alec also recognised the defence mechanism, it was one he employed himself. Smile, show the world that it doesn't affect you. Pretend that you aren't falling apart and pray that nobody looks too closely. He understood those reactions all too well and still fell back on them now.

Alec had two options , he could force the issue, force Magnus to talk before he was ready to, while the wounds where still to fresh… or he could let Magnus come round. He could let Magnus come to the conclusion that he was pushing him away, and wait until Magnus had gotten it together in his own head.

“That's actually really sweet,” Alec said with a small smile of his own, trying not to purse his lips. He wanted Magnus to open up but knew it had to be in his own time, at his own pace. And it was sweet, that Magnus wanted to look after him, even if Magnus’ hurt was worse than his own and he didn't really deserve it.

“Uhm, I thought so,” Magnus said with a small shrug and another smile.

Alec leaned in for a kiss, wanting to let Magnus know, even if he didn't say the words, that he was there, ready to listen when Magnus was ready to talk or scream or fight. He almost fell on his face when Magnus broke the kiss that was barely a brush.

Magnus didn't have a choice, he couldn't wrap himself up in Alec and sink into the kiss, couldn't allow Alec to comfort him. He knew that if he held on too long, he would break, he wouldn't be able to hold it all inside and be strong in front of his boyfriend. So he pulled back after a few seconds and scooped the glass of juice up.

“Drink up, time for our morning exercise,” Magnus said, fighting every emotion with a centuries long practiced pretension that he had perfected, pretending that nothing could hurt him. Try as he might though, he couldn't do it. Not with Alec. So he stood, jumping to his feet far too quickly, even to him, and dashed from the room.

Alec accepted the glass and watched Magnus go, his face dropping. He clutched the glass, his resolve almost breaking, almost jumping up and demanding Magnus talk to him.

Alec stood, pacing the floor. He understood, to a certain degree. Not about Magnus losing his magic, he would never understand that, couldn't even begin to imagine it. But he understood what it was to feel vulnerable, to feel weak and out of control in front of those who always saw you as strong.

A thought rolled into Alec's brain as he turned on his heel once more, a way for Magnus to take some control back.

“If Magnus wants exercise, I know exactly how to give it to him.” Alec muttered, throwing some boxers on and following Magnus into the living room.

“Magnus, get your stuff, you're coming training with me,” Alec said, squeezing Magnus’ hand when he saw the red rims of his boyfriend's eyes.

Alec could give Magnus the time he needed to come around and make sure he could protect himself at the same time.

[lavenderthebook-blog]

Chapter 1: Just me and old ghosts.

On the 3rd on June, my feet landed in the wilds of Ireland. 

I shall not share with you exactly where, because I don’t wish for people to go there seeking what I found. Just know that, on that day, the clouds gave way to light, and it was bright. I looked about at where I’d come to summer this year. The old, worn cobbled courtyard paved the way between 3 structures. First was the small 20-meter-long cottage that I’d been told to not enter. It’s door crumbled to the whims of the wind, and as I tried to gaze in through the window, which was held in place by cobwebs, I only saw old furniture, baskets of nick knacks, and the occasional thing that glimmered in the light, but which I could not make out from outside. My hand touched the wall of the cottage as I attempted to perch myself upward for a better look, the warmth of the day was sucked away from me, and I was left cold. And that was the end of that. I did not fancy being murdered in a haunted cottage. Whilst that would make a great little book, be thankful it’s not this one. I certainly am. Second, the garage. One quick peek around the corner showed me that it was not simply used as a resting place for unfinished projects and lost things. It was full of every conceivable item a farmer might use, from any conceivable time. I will defend to my deathbed that I saw the world very first scythe mounted on a mantle in the back. No lights existed in this place bar that which crept in through cracks and nooks from outside. Not haunted, so, comparatively, better than the cottage. Thirdly, lastly, and grandest, was the main house. It was as beautiful brute, with no finesse or grace to it. It had been built to weather the coldest of winters, and it did so proudly. It’s hanging baskets of flowers, small rusted windows, mouldy dark guttering, and faded cream paint was nothing special, but a welcome dose of rural life. No thatched roof. A shame, as I always wanted to see what they were like. Instead, just plain black tiles. I reached under the mat and found the key, unlocked the lock, and stepped in.

 Who doesn’t like seeing an agga when they walk into a home? It’s the heart of a house, and whilst time may have forgotten them, my heart never will. Fond memories of my youth came back to me. Flipping the toast whist it was in its weird rigid net. The shovelling of sausages into one of its many doors only to then shovel them into myself. The time-honoured tradition of resting sock covered feet on it when winter came to try fend off frostbite. It made me think of my Mum and my Dad. They won’t be mentioned again in this book, but if they read this, know that whenever I see an agga, I think of you both. The agga, acting as a sort of all-in-one cooking device dubbed this room the kitchen. The plain wooden cupboards adorning the bare brick walls, large steel sink, and varnished wooden island that doubled as both food prepping area and food consumption area confirmed this further. I dropped my bags on the wooden floor and headed further into the heart of the beast.

The only way onwards from the kitchen was the deep darkness of the hallway. With only one painted glass window as a light source, as well as any that happened to spill out of the kitchen, the hallway was likely as bright at midday as it was at midnight. Luckily, the small radiator, white stairs, and the cheerful nature of the painted glass did give it a more friendly feel rather than fiendish. The white stairs lay to my left, whilst further on to my right was a closed door.

The door led to a small, but cosy room, painted a now faded zinc, hosted a tv wearing its AV cable input as if a row of medals in the far-right corner, and a surprisingly new and likely Swedish bookshelf on the left, which was newer than any of the books and things that lay on its shelves. Betwixt them lay the large, ornate fireplace, its steel cold to the touch, but clearly having been used a lot as it had been blackened by soot. I’d imagine it grew a shade darker each year, as it would be necessary come winter. The sofa across from all of these was comfy. It filled the room with dust when I let myself fall into it, but its faded emerald colour and the sheer depth it let me fall into told me I’d be spending many a morning sat in it, happily munching at toast whilst guessing at the tv’s static charades in an effort to watch something.

Now up the stairs, which creaked a bit, but who doesn’t like a minorly creaky step? It gives such boring a thing some character. Upstairs were 4 rooms. Two were almost identical bedrooms, with only a small table, a single bed on a steel bedframe, and a chair in them. The only difference was that one was painted periwinkle blue and faced north, the other fuschia and south.

The next room was a grand bathroom and was above the kitchen, and was painted almost completely clinical, pure white. An old standalone bath, held upright by four feet moulded into the shape of lion paws, stood proudly cantered on the left wall, with the largest windows yet just next to it, ensuring that an unfortunate passing robin would be sure to catch a fright. The (thankfully) modern toilet was built into the far wall, and was next to the sink, which was a big clunky thing, and reminded me of why the saying used to be actually somewhat funny. On the right was a small dressing room, filled with now empty shelves, and a smell of very slight mildew and fabric softener. Hidden behind the bathroom’s door was a rather clinical 5 by 5 by 8 upright cut into the wall that had an almost watering can like nozzle fixed at the top, and a garden hose like tap on one of the ‘’walls’’. This was the ‘’’’shower’’’’. I saw no temperature nozzle, and realised there was no choice here, only pain. All of a sudden, I began to miss the city a little more.

I finally came to what I was to be my bedroom, which was decorated in a delicious shade of blonde (though, it may have been so appealing due to my own like for women who wore it). It was a large room, with a fittingly large queen sized bed centred along the wall, bedside tables on either side, with a large old hickory leather travel trunk at the foot of the bed.  3 differently styled wardrobes were dotted around the rooms walls. One was Japanese in appearance, with a beautiful mural painted across the two doors, and then otherwise raven. One a simple, but large oak thing, which seemed to lean slightly to the left. The last had once clearly been its twin, but was now covered in glitter, little drawings in crayon, and was marked on its side with 2 of the same names repeated upward as the age next to them grew too. It was a wardrobe that had been loved, and so I was pleased to have it here with me. ‘‘But the back blurb of the book promised me a romance story. What does a soggy description of a house have to do with that?’’ I hear you moan.

Not much really, if I’m honest. Though You’re quite the impatient bitch aren’t you? But if this book is to mean anything to you, as it does me, you have to come with me on this journey. You see, Ireland has a magic too it. Its raw and old. It lets life creep into every little thing that will hold it, and so all these pieces of furniture and appliances are just that, furniture and appliances. But for my three months there, they each took on a little life of their own and became dear friends to me. This is how you must see when reading this book. The best way to understand it is to go and hold something of yours that you’ve had for an age and feel yourself give it life. Ireland is a place where even a fence can take on such a life. And does so rather well. So yes, at times this will be a little pretentious, a little overly dramatic and poetic, and a little strange, but I will try my best to put not only my thoughts, but what I was feeling into words for you, dear reader. All I ask is that you try your hand at reading them as if you were there with me, and not simply an observer. Don’t read the moment, live it like you live the memory of your first kiss: with vivacity and a passion that you can’t escape.

 But you were promised ghosts in the chapter title, and you shall have them. Unfortunately, no white sheets came to life and booed at me that night. But as I sat falling into the sofa, the fading light of day painting the bookshelf, tv, and fireplace in fantastic hues of blush and tangerine, I thought on why I’d come here. I’d come with more than just physical baggage. You thought a person ventures out into the Irish wilderness to live in a farm for 3 months on a whim? I’d like to hope my whims would land me in some place sunnier, and with more obvious ways to escape or drown my sorrows like Ibiza, or New York. Unfortunately, I came here for a reason. I am Irish, but I’d never lived there. I’d not grown up there. I’d missed out on the unique zest for life that Ireland gifted its people, and I was in dire need for it now. Why? Because I was broken hearted, broke, and hopeless. My heart had been broken, as it often is, but a love turned sour. We’d been together for one amazing year, three good months, one odd month, then one great month, and then three months where I’d watched them fall in love with someone else. Now it had been one year without them, and without hope in the idea of love. It was not a pleasant feeling. I wanted them, but at the same time knew it would be like drinking poison. Even as I write this, my hand squeezes the pen as I’m forced to remembered fond memories that I wish forgotten.   I was broke because, for the last few months, I’d not written anything. Well, I’d written things. Small articles for a paper. A short story that lost an armature writing competition to a tale called ‘’Me and Rum: Fun Fun Fun’’. A children’s book that only proved to me that it was harder to write a children’s book than I’d previously thought. Turns out not every animal is cute when it can talk. Because of this, I’d lost all hope in myself as a writer, and the roaring blazes that had once fuelled me as I wrote now grew dimmer by the day.

And so, I’d returned to where my ancestors had been born, and grown, and bled, and cried, and loved, and fought,  and danced, and lost, and died in the hope that they might lend me their strength, or that the zest I’d missed out on would be paid to me with a bundle of interests attached. This, oddly, would turn out to be true.

But for now, simply imagine eyes closing as a laptop slowly slides off the side of a lap and into the sofa. A head falling into a chest. And the sound of snoring filling the house. I’d fallen asleep not knowing that beyond these walls she lay in wait for me, as much as I had, in a way, been waiting for her. I wonder if she’d spotted me as I’d come into the house, and watched through those rusty windows as I met each room, cooked with the agga, and mastered a duet with the tv where I held its antenna out the window and it, in turn, played the news. I hope she’d not seen me dance around under the showers cold water though. If she did, I hope it at least made her laugh.

[noxus-the-venomous-blog]

Part 3 The Noxious Agenda

“Um...hello?” Ed’s voice broke as he tried to speak; his throat had dried in the long walk through the desert.

He had found himself at a small shack that gave him a heavy ‘get off my lawn’ vibe. But he had followed the directions to the letter and was convinced there was more to this place than he was seeing. He took a few steps slowly towards the door. With each footstep he shifted his weight slowly, checking for pressure plates in the ground or beneath the scattered wood scrap. When Ed reached the door he placed his hand gently on the doorknob and slightly wiggled it to check for traps. He rubbed his thumb along the mechanism. The more he stared, the more he prodded, the more slight movements he made the more he slowly realized that he was wasting his time fondling a perfectly normal door knob, and with the correct amount of shame and embarrassment he sighed and went inside.

The shack looked somewhat lived in. There were a few fake dead fish on the wall, although the smell of the room itself made you consider the possibility they were still alive. A coffee table bearing an amber ashtray sat in front of a small TV made to accept antenna signals the world no longer offered. But this couldn't be it. Ed wasn't new to this type of world and began to search the place for whatever he thought might open it up. A secret ladder under a carpet, or maybe a fake vent with a crawlspace. As his search turned up nothing he decided he’d even be satisfied with a spinning bookshelf, but everything he touched was dull and ordinary. Pictures of family, fishing magazines, television remotes that outnumbered televisions, but no buttons switches or mechanisms. He stepped outside in frustration and then saw dust on the horizon. A small snake of raised dirt signifying someone was approaching. He sat on the porch to act casually and began to think up lies to explain why he's there.

He was a traveling salesman. Since this land clearly belonged to a dirt farmer he was obviously there to sell shovels. Why does he have no shovels you ask? Because they would be heavy and hard to carry but he sells a service to help people order the shovels. Why does he not have the paperwork and order forms? Did he say he sold shovels? No he means he repairs them. In our modern day too many people buy new things and throw the old away. That’s why he’s here to offer cheap repairs on shovels and all dirt farming tools. Where is his equipment you ask? He is an all natural smithy who uses sand and rocks found in yards to help his trade instead of spending money on fancy tools. Edward decided this was an easy lie to argue, and that was a good thing, since by that time a small shabby car had made it to the stoop he trespassed on. Time to sell some shovel service.

The window rolled down. “Get in quick scrub the homeowner is on his way!” The side door opened. Ed was elated to see the masks he had familiarized with Noxious agents. Without fully understanding what was happening he quickly jumped in the car and sped off. The driver started laughing and the passengers, Ed included, contagiously joined in. there was an air of excitement in the vehicle.

“That was damn close. Thats old man Adam’s house and he's really big on the no trespassers lifestyle. You went left at the giant V shaped rock instead of right didn't you?” the driver said glancing from Ed to the road and back.

“Yes sir,” Ed confirmed.

“I swear we’re handing out the wrong directions to potentials. Last three new agents went the same way and caught a fate worse than death. Name’s James by the way,” the man introduced himself as he began to loosen up his shoulders and his driving habits.

“A fate worse then death?” Ed asked as he felt his stomach sink into the seat as some form of near death car sickness.

“Yeah. I heard they got converted into nationalists and are made to hand out anti-Jewish pamphlets at the mall,” james said with a sarcastic smile. He was a sturdy looking guy but had a soft face. His purple medical mask hung from his ear, allowing him to smoke a cigarette. His well-worn green hoodie hung off the back of his head as it draped over a semi ripped black t-shirt. He seemed to take the uniform as seriously as he took his driving considering he continued to make great eye contact with the conversation while pretending to watch the road.

“I heard they missed Adam’s house and wandered through the desert and got lost and eventually became coyotes. That’s how all coyotes are made!” a woman in the passenger seat exclaimed, turning her body to look back at Ed. Her mask was pink and she had a loose hood hanging from her shoulders. The theme was becoming apparent. “My name is Misty. Not really but get it?” she said enthusiastically while leaning in towards him, then leaning further.

Ed had concluded that if he did not answer she would soon be in the back seat. “Yeah I get it,” he lied, “so you guys work for the Noxious Agenda? Venoms right?”

“Toxins,” the young man to the sharing the back seat with him clarified. He seemed to be the only one with the uniform in order as the hood met a pair of goggles both a seemingly unintended shade of black. He mask secured tightly, a white scarf of some sort. “Rank one, name’s Oin. Like coin without the C,” he said before pulling out a phone and focusing in on it.

James again recklessly glanced back.“Yee Venoms are rank two. They’re the paper pushing assholes we all hope to be one day. Were called Toxins, rank 1, and we do the real work! The stuff worth bragging about! The front line adventures!” he said proudly, describing what clearly seemed like disposable heroes. “Youll learn all of this in orientation. What made you join?”

“People. The way they act. I saw a speech from Noxious online describing the problem with negative mentalities and I was inspired. I hit the world with a smile and motivation but felt like it gave me nothing but hostility in return” Ed continued his somewhat rehearsed speech, as he expected this and a few other basic questions and wanted to seem enlightened on the matter, “then the speech made sense to me. The people who met me with hostility would have chosen positivity if they just saw how it could help them. Lord Noxious would have them breathe in positivity and see how all of us would be happier,” he explained, hoping all important notes were mentioned.

“Wow Lynn would love you. You could be a star in the propaganda department with a backstory like that sheesh.” James looked back at him with a humble smile. He sighed, “so the reason HOLY CRAP NO!!!” he shouted as he swerved to not hit a small family of daring rabbits jetting across the street, “poor little dumbasses. Anyway I dig ya story. It’s intense. I’m only here ‘cause Noxious personally gassed my dad and he quit drugs and i was like omigosh that’s the answer, sign me up,” James explained, glancing back having not learned his lesson.

“Fight drugs with drugs,” Misty added while leaning her chair back slowly, stealing the precious few inches of room Eds knees was resting at.

“Hey it worked. Ok we’re almost here so get good,” James said as he pulled his mask up and secured it. Him and misty seemed synchronised in pulling there hoodies up and like that both of them were transformed from a car full of menacing young adults into a band of knaves with concealed features. Ed felt exposed with no mask but he was somewhat prepared. He pulled a scarf out and wrapped it over his mouth then covered his head with it. It was black and lime green, his attempt to fit in better with the color scheme he had seen on tv. They pulled up to another random shack not too unlike the one he had just been whisked away from.

They parked the car and all walked cautiously towards the door. Ed was stopped in mid step by James who pointed to the ground in front of him. Ed peered at the small plank by his feet as James’s hand held him in place. When he squinted he finally saw it. A very small wire peeking out of the side of the wood. A tiny glimpse of a mechanism. Ed was as happy as he possibly could have been. THERE WERE FLOOR PAD TRAPS! No one had ever been so excited to almost be murdered by a machination. It made him feel terrified and yet reaffirmed. He passed over it with the rest of the group, careful to only step on visible dirt and not trash or any stray objects. When he got to the door he began studying the doorknob, this time with gleeful excitement. He turned it slightly and felt around it till he found a small opening on the top of the brass sphere. He faced away from it, covered his mouth and nose with his elbow and gave it a full turn as gas suddenly shot out of the hole to where his face would have been. He looked back at the other agents. James was soundlessly clapping and giving obnoxious thumbs up gestures. Ed could see a smile behind the mask, warping its shape.

Ed entered the small shack. Deja vous. On the wall were pictures of the fat man prototype nuke from WW2. This felt better he thought. He walked over to the small coffee table and felt under it... There it was. A small toggle switch. He flipped it and heard machinery as the room adjacent to him began lifting, revealing a stairway below the floor.

“Took me ten minutes to find it when I was first here, what about you?” Misty asked, walking in with Oin.

“Way less,” Oin replied, “the coffee table is out of place, there's nowhere to sit near it.

“JAMES HURRY UP!!!” Misty yelled then looked towards Ed, “hey go rush him he's behind the car.”

Ed made his way out there but then slowed down as he heard the streaming sound of James relieving himself.

James looked at him. “Hey i'm on my way. You might wanna use the tree next, once we go underground there's about a ten minute walk down till we get to a bathroom”

“Yea that would be best...” Ed said, walking over to the tree. Ed started to play with his zipper then looked back at James who was leaning on the car. He looked again at his zipper and again at James.

“Nervous wee wee. Gotcha,” James said before walking away.

Ed waited a moment till James was out of sight then pulled a small sphere out of his pocket, making sure to keep it in front of him and out of view. He pressed a button on it and the sphere blinked twice. He knew this meant the tracking functionality was working. He then hid it in his pants and made his way back to the shack. The day didn't start well and clearly bad intel was shared but at the very least the button to release the hidden stairway was right where his boss had said it would be. He only hoped everything else in this infiltration would go as smoothly so he could get away from this cult as fast as possible.

[lorewytch]

Clashing Destiny?!

As per @akozuheiwa​ and @holydramon​  Here it is! (Dies) the scene that somehow became much more than I thought it would be. I was sure I would do a page and half of stuff and it ended up being like 5 pages of one freaking scene...(flails!) Oh and for those interested, yes those OCs I made up on the fly sooo they aren’t canon at all XD I thought of how many name puns or jokes I could come up with bird and or dragon names. Isla and Leith are supposedly Scottish names I found. Please tell me what you think. Also this was lightly edited by myself so I may go back and fix a few things before posting the official story XD I hope you enjoy.

ANYWAYS: Here is one random scene from the coming up fanfic that may end up being titled “Clashing Destiny”

Scrooge took one step within the dark and dank room. He swallowed hard, the air was thick and musty and cold. He could see his breath as he slowly approached something within the middle of the room. Bringing his flashlight up, he glided it towards the middle of the room and the light illuminated a table made of stone. It was fragmented and covered in moss. It seemed as if everything in the room was decaying.

The only thing that looked pristine was what lay on the ancient table.

A book.

Curious, Scrooge raised an eyebrow and approached it hesitantly. Upon closer inspection the old tome had five jewels encrusted on the worn, black leather cover. Each jewel had a different color, black, white, blue, red and green.

“What in blazes…” Scrooge muttered.

A wind erupted within the room, slamming the cover of the book open. The sound of paper fluttering and flipping was the only thing he could hear as he covered his eyes with his arm.

Finally, the fluttering stopped and slowly Scrooge lowered his arm. He walked closer to the book and flashing the light upon the page, he read the words that would change everything.

“The Curse of Clan McDuck…”

 The teens were sneaking within the dusty and old halls of Castle McDuck. At this time the boys were taking turns telling Webby about the last time they came here and found secret passageways. Webby of course squealed like a fan girl and was all over the place. Going from one painting to the next, she took pictures and documented everything she saw. Dewey had to pull her away and keep her on track. They weren’t just there to sightsee. But to get into some serious mischief.

With Huey and Louie leading the way. The green clad duck holding the flashlight and Huey holding a map of the old building, they continued onward. Ever guarding suits of armor, old clan flags; torn and weathered paintings of relatives long since passed, artifacts galore lined the walls as they continued their adventure into the heart of the castle. The deepest, darkest places that they weren’t even sure the owners ever lingered.

It was down some rusting, iron circular stairway and past the servant’s kitchen, down the hallway that didn’t seem to be cleaned in at least 100 years that they found a strange looking door. It was layered with cobwebs and dust. While the others were made of wood with more or less modern door knobs there was a strange door at the end of the hallway. Painted all in black and was made on pure hand welded iron. Rivets dotted it along with a door handle that might break if touched. All four kids glanced at each other with nervous grins.

“So, are we all in agreement we want to find out what is behind door number one?” Dewey grinned with a dramatic flair of his arms.

“There could be gold..” Louie was already rubbing his hands together.

“Or it could be an ancient library!” Huey’s and Webby’s eyes shone at this.

“Or adventureeeee!” Dewey grabbed the handle forcefully and pulled.

The door slid open an inch.

A pause.

“I see someones been working out.” Louie replied snidely.

Narrowing his eyes at his brother, Dewey pulled harder, sweat pouring down his face as he strained and moved in another few inches.

Sighing, Huey grabbed an edge of the door. “Were gonna be here all day, everyone help pull.”

With all four pushing and pulling they managed to open it enough to slip inside. The room lit up as they walked inside and instantly all four beaks dropped.

“Woahhhh” All four said in unison.

“TREASURE!” Louie whooped and jumped into a pile of golden artifacts nearby.

Huey was instantly by a bookshelf of ancient looking books. He touched them all, eyes shining with glee.

Dewey ran over to an old fashioned guillotine.

“Oooo Fancy.” He commented and looked for things to chop up. Taking selfies and posing with the deadly device, he suddenly spotted something else. Swords.

Picking up one with an especially jewel encrusted hilt, he held up with a grin. “Hey Webs! We should totally-“ he blinked as he saw Webby was no longer in sight.

“Webs?”

Running over to his brothers he glanced around. “Guys have you seen Webby?”

Huey glanced around. “She was just here a second ago..”

Louie popped up. “I think I saw her go near that ladder to the second floor..” Sure enough, above them was a balcony encircling the walls made of wooden banisters. From his view, Dewey could see bookcases.

He saw a flash of pink and purple.

“Webby!”

Momentarily forgetting their loot, the brothers climbed up the ladder to the slightly rotten second floor of the room.

The vaulted ceiling made it easier to walk around since they wouldn’t need to crouch. Scanning the upper floor, he saw Webby at the opposite end, her back to them.

Dewey grinned, relieved that she seemed okay. Leading his brothers along the one person pathway against the right wall he ran towards her. Once they reached her though, they knew something was off.

Webby hadn’t even noticed them. Instead she seemed transfixed with something before her.

“Webby?” Dewey’s voice sounded worried.

“Webs what are you looking at?” Louie glanced around her shoulder.

Before them within a glass case was a rusting necklace. It looked as if it was made of pewter and hand crafted. The amulet had a crudely made star and within the middle was an opal. The dark color of the opal gave Louie a bad feeling, yet flashes of bright orange, reds and greens made him curious.

Within the glass case was also a torn piece of parchment with fancy handwritten letters written upon it. However, he couldn’t read it.

“What is that?”

Huey studied it a bit. “…Sumerian? Or Gaelic I’m honestly not sure.” He confessed. “Whatever it is, I can’t read it.”

“Who can?” Dewey asked. Huey and Louie’s eyes drifted to Webby who was slowly reaching a hand out towards the pendant.

When her fingers brushed the glass casing, it shattered.

Scrooge studied the words upon the book carefully. “I fear I have no time left. I must write these heartbreaking words to let the future generations of the McDuck clans know the terrifying truth of what my brother has done. I fear he has done something that canna be undone and aye only hope those in the future can somehow dispel this curse upon our clan. Leith McDuck and I, Isla McDuck were only simple farmers. We had a falling out with the rest of clan McDuck and were more or less outcasts from the family because of conflicting opinions. I couldn’t stand Leith living out there alone, so I came with him.

Little did I know that what his true purpose was.”

“Leith! Leith!” A red haired girl, clad in several layers of skirts stumbled after her brother.

Leith’s own red locks were tied back neatly and as he glanced back at his sister, he let out a sigh.

“Isla..can you at least act more lady-like while running? You will never attract a man that way.”

Isla raised an eyebrow at her brother. Hands on her hips, she almost dared him to continue that sentence.

He swallowed a lump in his throat and turned back, continuing to walk. She followed after him.

“Where are you going? It’s going to get dark soon. You shouldn’t be out.”

“Who are you? Mom?” Leith snapped.

“No, but I am your sister.” Isla rebutted. Grabbing his ponytail, she started to drag him back. Quacking and flailing his limbs, Leith tried to escape his sassy sisters hold but knew it was futile.

Groaning, he decided he didn’t have a choice. “Fine! I’m going on a lead to find us some money!”

Isla stopped. “Money?”

Leith pouted, crossing his arms. “You ruined the surprise..”

“And how perchance are we going to acquire this money?” Isla inquired.

“Have you been reading books again?” Leith eyed her.

“Please don’t tell me you are doing something shady again.” Isla prayed. “After that debacle with the fake bouncing potion..”

“It was real I tell you! Those confound it bears were too fast for me to steal it!” Leith pouted again while Isla looked at her brother with a seriously worried expression.

“Just…don’t tell me its something like that..” Isla finished.

Leith sighed. “On my word dear sister, it is not like that.” He stared into her eyes.

Staring back, she looked for any shred of falsehood. But could find none.

Releasing her brother’s hair she sighed and crossed her arms. “So..what kind of deal is this?” She inquired.

“You know Rory?”

“Rory Bitterness?” Isla raised an eyebrow.

“Aye, he has gotten in contact with an Alchemist..” Leith’s eyes sparkled.

Isla groaned. “Leith��.no…I said no more of that magic stuff!”

“This isn’t magic Isla!” Leith’s arms opened wide. “He assured me, this is pure science.”

“Science…” Isla repeated, not convinced.

“Aye! This is it, a spell to turn things to gold!” He took her hand in his and smiled brightly. “We can finally live the way we want!” he laughed and picked her up by the waist and spun her around. “Imagine it Isla! Father and Mother will have to believe in me and my dreams!”

Finding herself laughing a bit at her brothers antics, it was hard not to go with the flow with his rather silly dreaming. “Oh Leith.” She smiled slightly.

“Please Isla, let me do this…this won’t only just help me. Do you want father to come back and take you away to marry some old fat nobleman in his 50s?”

Isla glanced away, closing her eyes. Sighing, she managed a smile. “Okay, go. I’ll be here. Maybe I can go visit Skye Crane while you are gone.”

Leith rolled his eyes a bit. “You and that crazy lady. I swear she’s the definition of a witch. And you say I’m conniving with demons.”

She gave her brother a wicked grin. “You have your sins, and I have mine..”

“As it turned out, letting my brother go that was the biggest mistake of my life.” Scrooge read, within his mind he was trying to recall the names of Isla and Leith. But his mind was blank.

“When he returned, he spoke of talking with a dragon alchemist. He was so excited and brandished a strange looking golden object. It was a mirror and he stated anything reflected within it could be turned to gold.” Scrooge gave a “pah” at this.

“This Leith sounds like a mighty gullible fellow.” He muttered.

“Of course, it was too good to be true. We tried many times to make it work. It was useless and while Leith gave into his anger, I offered to see if someone wished to buy it.”

“Who would buy this useless piece of junk?!” Leith growled and smashed the mirror into the floor.

“And that’s when it all began.”

Webby’s eyes began to glow a bright white and she spoke in a weird tongue none of the triplets recognized. The boys were yelping and trying to avoid the flying glass, Dewey having a tight hold on her arm. “Webby!” He shouted over the loud noise that was engulfing the room.

“What is she saying?!” Louie shouted to Huey who simply shrugged his shoulders.

“Webby stop!” Dewey tried to pull her away.

Her arm was outstretched, reaching for the pendant which seemed to be glowing with energy. Her fingers were nearly brushing the metal, when the boys seemed to realize that maybe this was a really bad idea.

All three grabbed their sister and tried to yank her away from the pendant. But a strange burst of wind knocked them off their feet and the trio tumbled in a heap behind her.

Mindlessly, fourteen year old Webbigail Vanderquack reached out. Her hands grasping around the pendant.

The opal shattered.

“At first, we noticed strange things here or there missing.” Scrooge read, completely absorbed within the tome.

“Then we realized something was very wrong when we both had similar dreams. A strange being was always there. He had the face of deer skull, deep red eyes and had a black mass that he could change at will for a body. He called himself Antaurus, he called himself a god but we knew better.

Skye confirmed our worse fears, she had ‘the sight’. She saw nothing but danger and death if we continued to deal with Antaurus. At first, we all thought we could defeat him on our own. We got together with Rory and the Alchemist, Slysten Dragster was his name. He gave us several magical items to dispel this monster, this demon.

But everything failed, and the demon grew more powerful. Feeding off our negativity and fear, he soon materialized in flesh and blood.

And that was when everything went to heck..literally.”

 Leith, Isla, Rory and Skye stood before the home. Floating above them, laughing maniacally was Antaurus. The demonic figure swept up to Skye.

“I see that you have something very fascinating for your eyes. I might just take them for my own!” With a swipe of his hand across her eyes, Skye’s vision went black.

“NO!” She screamed, falling to her knees and clutching at her now sightless eyes.

“Skye!” Isla ran to her friend, kneeling next to her and holding her.

Rory growled and swung an axe at the demon. It simply passed through the astral being and grabbing Rory’s red mop of a head, the beast raised him to eye level. Cursing at the demon with every foul word he could muster, Rory was swinging and fighting with everything he had.

Leith took this chance and grasped onto a magical whip and flung it towards the demon. It wrapped around Antaurus’ arm. But the demon merely smirked.

“I see this one has quite the Mouth on him.” Swiping his hand across the others mouth, Rory went to yell at the monster again, only silence answered his plea.

Giving a horrified expression, Leith yanked the whip with everything he had and the demon released Rory. Wrapping his arm around the whip, the demon yanked back, sending an unprepared Leith to the ground. Glaring up harshly, he quickly got to his feet and tried to kick and punch the monster that he had unleashed upon them all. None of his hits connected obviously, but he couldn’t risk this monster going after Isla next. Grasping Leith by the neck, Antaurus smirked and spoke with Rory’s voice.

“And you are too energetic for your own good dear Leith.” He chuckled. “I would very much like that Body of yours.” Antaurus raised his arm.

“NO!” Isla yelled and got up, running as fast as her skirts could allow her and knocked into her brother, sending them both of the demons grasp and tumbling to the earth. She grasped onto her brothers arm and dragged him. They were running now. Running for their lives.

Hand in hand, the brother and sister ran. Leith chanced a look behind him and paled. The demon was approaching them rapidly from behind. Knowing they couldn’t outrun him, Leith knocked Isla to the ground as Antaurus swept over them, floating down just inches from their heads.

Before Leith could get up, he was yanked up and a hand quickly swept over his legs. Shocked, Leith could only fall to the ground as he was released. And before his eyes the demon grew legs with webbed feet.

“Leith!” Isla cried out and grasped her brother, he could no longer feel his legs and lay there pathetically.

“Isla! Get away!” Leith positioned himself in front of his sister. Even if he could no longer fight, no longer run he could buy her some time. He knew the monster would come for her next.

“Ah yes, the little sister.” He reached out for her, Isla closing her eyes and cringing in fear.

But as his fingers brushed her hair, a spark of light made him yank his hand back at an alarming rate. “Magic?!” He growled. “But how?”

Confused, Isla opened her eyes and glanced at what she was clutching in her hand. Her mother’s pendant.

A pendant of a star, for her to always remember that her mother was gazing down at her from the starry sky. The white opal within the center seemed to sparkle.

“Isla!” Skye’s voice called from behind her and she spotted Rory helping Skye to where Isla is.

The demon growled and approached the siblings with ill intent. “I should smother out this light as soon as possible.”

“Not today!” Skye whispered some ancient incantations which threw the demon back. Holding up a hand, Skye formed a ball of pure blue energy within her grasp.

Thrusting it out, the ball exploded into some kind of sticky sap which temporarily stuck the demon to the tree.

Taking this time, Rory led her to Isla who was looking frazzled and worried about everyone around her.

“Skye are you okay?!” She whispered frantically to her friend, her heart hurting because of her current state.

“You ARE a witch?” was Leith’s dumfounded question.

Rory rolled his eyes.

Skye smiled a bit. “I’ll be fine, and sorry I didn’t tell you guys.” She weakly chuckled. “It’s not something that should be known in the open.” A growl alerted her attention at Antaurus who was quickly pulling himself free.

“Listen, Isla, you have to listen to me.” She looked deep within her best friends eyes with her unseeing ones. “I wasn’t kidding when I said you were special. You have light within you.”

“Light?” Isla whispered.

Nodding, Skye turned to where she thought she heard Antaurus.”Which means, we can win.” She handed her friend a piece of paper. “Repeat that spell.” Slowly she began to stand up, forming more magic within her hands. “It’s the only way to stop this demon.”

Antaurus finally burst free from his confines and came at them full force.

Even blind, Skye thrust out magical blasts like they were nothing. Quite a few didn’t hit, but it was enough to slow him down. “Now Isla!!!”

Fumbling with the piece of paper, Isla glared at Antaurus. “Forge the light within my soul alone, Steal his senses and lock him away in stone!” She repeated this as he growled, knocking Skye away into Rory.

Continuing to repeat, she soon lost sight of everything around her as she began to glow. Leith was still lying before her, holding himself up with his arms and half protecting, half gazing up in awe as his sister literally levitated in the air!

“Forge the light within my soul!” Isla’s voice rang firm, the crystal around her neck pulsing with light and blasted at the demon.

“Steal his senses!” She growled, Antaurus let out a wail as his voice as well as Rory’s were taken, as well as Skyes and his sight and Leith’s legs.

The being before them writhed in agony at having his senses stolen, forming into five crystals that spun around Isla.

“And lock him away in stone!” Her voice echoed. A bright light exploded from the opal on her necklace.

All of them watched in awe as Antaurus was swept up in a in a black orb and absorbed within the opal.

Gasping, the glow in Isla’s eyes faded and she fell to the ground, Rory just managing to catch her before she hurt herself.

“We did it!” was Skye’s laughing yell.

Rory went to say something, but nothing came out.

“Wait…”

Leith tried to stand.

Skye opened her eyes.

They hadn’t gotten their senses back.

“While we may had won the war, the damage had been done.” Scrooge closed his eyes painfully.  “When Skye studied the stone she had some ominous news. Antaurus was not defeated. In fact, in a dream he had given her a prophecy that chilled us all to the bone. The Prophecy goes as thus:

In a mere five one thousands I will return

When the moon is black and burnt.

I will seek revenge against McDuck the clan

And steal what is mine as according to plan

Four from the clan will stand in my way

But I will destroy them within a day

The one with the book will lose their sight

The one with the inner strength will lose their body

The one with the skills will lose their voice.”

The last sentence made Scrooge’s heart stop.

“The one to inherit the light will be consumed by shadows.”

[rennyji]

July 17th Late Morning Tweets...

July 17th Late Morning Tweets...

so I keep telling people to talk to me and about the horrendousness of all this, but this still continues in the manner that it does.

Here are some Biblical passages about my situation/the times - with personal examples from experience in parenthesis.

Based on the Old Testament Psalm 115: 5-8, Psalm 82: 2-4, and the New Testament Matthew 13: 14-: "So they show that what Isaiah said about them is true: ‘You people will listen and listen, but you will not understand. You will look and look, but you will not really see. Yes, the minds of these people are now closed. They have ears, but they don’t listen. They have eyes, but they refuse to see. If their minds were not closed, they might see with their eyes; they might hear with their ears; they might understand with their minds. Then they might turn back to me and be healed.’

(Regarding those who "get it", whatever be the context in life...) ... continuing from above... "But God has blessed you. You understand what you see with your eyes. And you understand what you hear with your ears. I can assure you, many prophets and godly people wanted to see what you now see. But they did not see it. And many prophets and godly people wanted to hear what you now hear. But they did not hear it.

(So I'm no one. I am showing you the Words of God have relevance in the present day and are not far off cosmic corny things to be heard once every Sunday. They have relevance in a practical way in our day to day lives. It's about living as a decent human being. IT IS A GUIDE. I am giving you detailed examples in my previous blog posts about how to use these stereotyped to be "don't do this/don't do that" type of writings in an everyday way. I am telling you that there is a Kingdom in the mind, where if you believe at that strength, you can truly move mountains and walk on water. Hence the latter part of the above Biblical passage: "many prophets and godly people wanted to see what you now see." Christ wants us to break the words of the Gospel down and apply insight to our lives. I am breaking it down for you. Showing you how. Talking about zip files and Back to the Future metaphors and comparisons. But for some reason, you would choose to follow the instructions of the orchestrators. Are they gods? The orchestrators and their following choose to be like Legion - "the many" demon infecting the masses.

How many times have I said what is already written: Psalm 82:6 “I said, ‘You are “gods”;    you are all sons of the Most High.’ But people act like followers of the orchestrators. Whatever they offer is not worthy of God, is not worthy of what is just...maybe in some cosmic way, its not coincidence, that I, an October Birthday, a Libran, represent the Scales of Justice, in this extraordinarily unjust situation.

Christ goes on to say:

“So listen to the meaning of that story about the farmer: “What about the seed that fell by the path? That is like the people who hear the teaching about God’s kingdom but do not understand it. The Evil One comes and takes away what was planted in their hearts.

(In my situation, these are the people in bewilderment because the orchestrators exercise their dominance and filtering of my words. They may suffer from lack of context.)

“And what about the seed that fell on rocky ground? That is like the people who hear the teaching and quickly and gladly accept it. But they do not let the teaching go deep into their lives. They keep it only a short time.

(In my situation, these are the people who see my writings and sayings...or even the events of my life...as tantalizing nice sounding things. You have no root and don't digest the meaning of my words and actions...

"As soon as trouble or persecution comes because of the teaching they accepted, they give up."

“And what about the seed that fell among the thorny weeds? That is like the people who hear the teaching but let worries about this life and love for money stop it from growing. So it does not produce a crop in their lives.

(Some may get the idea of what I'm after i.e. "telling me what's going on and ending a phenomena lasting years. But they lack the courage or can't face the risk/random possible consequences of doing what is just, which is "loving your neighbor.")

“But what about the seed that fell on the good ground? That is like the people who hear the teaching and understand it. They grow and produce a good crop, sometimes 100 times more, sometimes 60 times more, and sometimes 30 times more.”

(These are the people who digest what I'm saying. They help me in what was asked, when mankind as a whole refused. You truly stand out like: gods. How much Blessing would they get from God with a capital 'G.' In a context outside of me, if you understand what I'm saying about the Kingdom of God in the mind, seek it out, you will get everything in life, perhaps slowly, but surely.

Then Jesus used another story to teach them. Jesus said, “God’s kingdom is like a man who planted good seed in his field. That night, while everyone was asleep, the man’s enemy came and planted weeds among the wheat and then left. Later, the wheat grew, and heads of grain grew on the plants. But at the same time the weeds also grew. Then the man’s servants came to him and said, ‘You planted good seed in your field. Where did the weeds come from?’ “The man answered, ‘An enemy planted weeds.’ “The servants asked, ‘Do you want us to go and pull up the weeds?’ “He answered, ‘No, because when you pull up the weeds, you might also pull up the wheat. Let the weeds and the wheat grow together until the harvest time. At the harvest time I will tell the workers this: First, gather the weeds and tie them together to be burned.

(This part about the 'tying up' words deals with what I said about us being the Body of Christ, or The Divine. The orchestrators in all their majestic intent and their "Sodom and Gomorrah-ignorant-everything in life is a party" type following, will be cast out like tumors who are cancerous to the Body of Christ.

You may think I'm an egotistical mess on the basis of that one line. But what else have I been saying? Mark 9:19 says, "“You unbelieving generation,” Jesus replied, “how long shall I stay with you? How long shall I put up with you?..."

I mean I get it now. I understand my Lord's frustration. You can say the same thing over and over to some people and never get through.

"Then gather the wheat and bring it to my barn.’”

Matthew 10:14–16 14 And if anyone will not receive you or listen to your words, shake off the dust from your feet when you leave that house or town. 15 Truly, I say to you, it will be more bearable on the day of judgment for the land of Sodom and Gomorrah than for that town.

Over these years, in tackling the unknown, in trying to communicate to people who will not talk to me, I've tried writing, speaking to certain people where things get allegedly relayed, talking to myself-thinking thats relayed... 11+ years have gone by. If I had the privilege of talking to God Himself, I would say, "mankind, America especially, cannot be helped." It's like their programmed to be ignorant.

Factually, and in my perspective, America is the nation that misled the world in teaming against one individual minding his own business.

Lay down the facts. Am I wrong or lying? Lay down what's done and not done. Am I wrong? Did not America get the world to engage against an indvidual on the basis of corny American stuff rooted in non Indian, but flawed American psychology?!

When I see what the Americans do to me, a non Caucasian, a brown man from India who probably can be confused as Middle Eastern, I cannot imagine what "wrong" America is seen to be doing to these people from religions, who bomb buildings? We all think these people are religious extremists, that they're crazy, that they just can't take in the good life: a girl friend, friends, a wife, a family, a successful job and home... In the face of what is done to me, I can't imagine what America did to these Muslims for them to behave this way. Who, for no reason, thinks they need to bomb a building in place of getting laid or something?

Despite my cries for help, my pleading with people: in thinking, speaking, writing, man obeyed the devils hand in the orchestrators. What is the price of screwing with the mind? Ive already said it in another blog post: from the Bible: 'To tie a stone around the neck and drown is better', according to the Bible.

But America, even Sodom and Gomorrah continued to the very last day, engaging recklessly and stupidly. And I guess, so too will you, with your show and project and ignorance.

For some people, you simply cannot get through. some people - its not in the cards for them to be saved. Regarding not being in the cards: Mark 4:12 states, so that, "'they may be ever seeing but never perceiving, and ever hearing but never understanding; otherwise they might turn and be forgiven!'"

(My own parents are an example of the former: people you just cannot get through to. There is some kind of chasm, going beyond the orchestrators. between me and them. You will betray your son for foreign American orchestrators? They pray and pray and yell in prayer like pagans... Do I not try to talk to them through the heart and through the Bible they think their devout followers of? It is said, "where your treasure is, there also your heart will be." In action, to my parents, contrary to whatever you are deluding yourself to be, you have made the American orchestrators your gods. You violate the First of the Commandments. Christianity is a hard religion. But you have modern day Americans turning it into something flowery with all day smiles. Christ says "my father, mother, brothers, sisters, are those who believe in Me and do what I encourage." By this definition, my own Christian parents are not my family. I've found consolation in human beings who are Hindus or atheists. I've found warmth in people, on the other extreme, who society would view as the lowest.

This thing about being open minded, being above the Law, having compassion and a kind heart, the Golden Rule, learning from me and using insight: nothing new. It is mankind's problem, dating back more than 2000 years... but you all be you, and lets continue the farce.

If I am worthy in the slightest to be worthy of my God's observation, I pray that He sees what this nation does. While I am no one and would prefer to be associated with the worst or seen as the worst, I'm telling you, you have no idea what kind of evil is in your midst. People in the past would say "Repent." But I'm telling all of you, "wake up."

[ohlawsons]

PROMPT 0025: SMALL SOULS | FOR WANDERING SOULS 04

SUMMARY. in which eder’s still a farmer, kana’s still a nerd, and neria’s still a cat person NOTES. For @pillarspromptsweekly 0025: small souls. i had an actual legitimate prompt response and then a modern au happened? but like a modern au with magic? i guess? i don’t even know but tbh i could write about b&b owner neria forever? LINKS. [ ao3 ] [ neria’s tag ]  [ for wandering souls fic tag ]

She drives by in a beat up Chevy, a dull red pickup that squeals to a stop amidst a cloud of dust out in front of his house. He’s never seen her before, but that’s no surprise lately, with as many new faces as Gilded Vale’s seen in the past few months; land’s cheap, and Edér’s willing to bet that’s what’s drawn her to the Dyrwood.

The driver door creaks open and slams shut, and the noise catches the attention of Penelope, the cattle dog sprawled at Edér’s feet on the porch. Her ears perk up, and she gives an ear-piercing bark as the newcomer walks into view; Edér’s first thought is that he wouldn’t mind a woman like her sticking around, and his second thought is that she looks absolutely miserable in the midday heat. She’s in a dark tank top and cutoffs, with long wind-blown curls that cascade down around her bare shoulders. She gives him a little wave and a bright smile as she approaches, stopping a few feet away from the porch.

“Would you be able to point me in the direction of town?” she asks, holding a hand up to shield her eyes from the sun. “I got a bit turned around and it’s been like thirty miles since I’ve gotten cell service.”

He returns her smile and points down back the way she’d come from. “’bout five miles down, it’ll be the first left after the gas station. It’s a straight shot after that. New in town?”

She looks down with a wry little grin, kicking at the dirt and sending up a spray of dust around her hi-tops. “Yeah. I sort of… inherited some property. There’s this old bed and breakfast about twenty minutes down the road — Caed Nua.” She pauses to frown, staring off to her right. “I don’t know how much tourism Gilded Vale gets, but a friend of mine talked me into giving it a shot, so,” she shrugs, “if you’re looking for a premier stay-cation spot, I’ve got rooms open.”

The revelation piques his interest; Caed Nua’s been essentially abandoned for years, as far as Edér knows, on account of it’s reputation as Gilded Vale’s most haunted house.”That’s Maerwald’s old place, ain’t it? S’posed to be haunted. Ghosts in the foyer and footsteps in the attic and the like.”

“Trust me, I’m well aware.” She rolls her eyes. “The friend who talked me into this, Kana? He’s really into local folklore. I mean, even back when we were roommates in college, he—” She stops mid-sentence, jaw going slack and eyes widening with an empty, unfocused stare. Edér watches for a moment, curiosity quickly turning to worry, before she snaps out of it just as suddenly. “Fuck,” she breathes, the word shaky.

“You alright?”

She’s staring down at Penelope, now, her expression one of confusion. “Uh, have you ever heard of Watchers?”

He follows her gaze down to where his dog is still laying beside him, and Penelope’s tail begins to thump happily against the porch as he watches her, trying to determine what Watchers have to do with her. “Guess you’re real new in town,” he observes with an easy smile. “Most folk ‘round here don’t appreciate any sort of talk about soul magic.”

She turns back to Edér, jabbing an accusatory finger in his direction. “Yeah, well, your dog was my cat in a past life, and I didn’t ask to read her soul in the first place.”

“Hey, I don’t have a problem with it,” he assures her. “’Specially not when it means there might finally be someone around that the rest of the town hates more than me.”

“Oh, great.” The fire in her voice seems to have waned, and her shoulders drop as she crosses her arms. “Anyway, thanks for the directions. And the heads up. And seriously,” she adds, taking a few steps backwards towards the truck, “come check out Caed Nua. It’s gonna be pretty amazing once it’s all fixed up, and I’m extremely broke and really need this to work out. So. Stay-cation. Bring your friends.”

With that, she slams the door to the drivers’ side and the engine roars to life, dust trailing behind her as she drives off towards town. Edér watches her disappear, then turns to look at Penelope, wandering what exactly was in her soul and if the Watcher would be sticking around.

[frederickwiddowson]

Exodus 18:7-12 comments: Jethro honors God

Exodus 18:7 ¶  And Moses went out to meet his father in law, and did obeisance, and kissed him; and they asked each other of their welfare; and they came into the tent. 8 And Moses told his father in law all that the LORD had done unto Pharaoh and to the Egyptians for Israel’s sake, and all the travail that had come upon them by the way, and how the LORD delivered them. 9  And Jethro rejoiced for all the goodness which the LORD had done to Israel, whom he had delivered out of the hand of the Egyptians. 10  And Jethro said, Blessed be the LORD, who hath delivered you out of the hand of the Egyptians, and out of the hand of Pharaoh, who hath delivered the people from under the hand of the Egyptians. 11  Now I know that the LORD is greater than all gods: for in the thing wherein they dealt proudly he was above them. 12  And Jethro, Moses’ father in law, took a burnt offering and sacrifices for God: and Aaron came, and all the elders of Israel, to eat bread with Moses’ father in law before God.

Here we have some Near Eastern customs. Moses honors his father-in-law with honor and a kiss and polite conversation. There are cultures on earth today where it is not uncommon for men to great each other with a kiss on the cheek. Paul references such a greeting even though it is not customary in America, as we prefer a handshake. A chaste and non-sexual kiss is a form of greeting.

Romans 16:16  Salute one another with an holy kiss. The churches of Christ salute you.

1Corinthians 16:20  All the brethren greet you. Greet ye one another with an holy kiss.

2Corinthians 13:12  Greet one another with an holy kiss.

1Thessalonians 5:26  Greet all the brethren with an holy kiss.

Let that be a warning to you not to let cultural customs in the Bible become spiritual dogma. I doubt a young man would ever get married if he insisted on waiting for a young woman to water his camels, as in Genesis 24, as a sign that God had sent her to him. Nor does a hair-style determine a woman’s relationship to God as an out-of-context reading of 1Corinthians 11 might suggest to the fundamentalist of today.

Moses did something for his father-in-law that the children of Israel failed to do for their children. He related what God had done for the children of Israel. This was something that the children of Israel did not do.

Judges 2:10  And also all that generation were gathered unto their fathers: and there arose another generation after them, which knew not the LORD, nor yet the works which he had done for Israel.

Here Jethro worships and honors Jehovah God as greater than all gods. This is the key element of Hebrew and Christian worship and understanding, and all of the monotheistic religions. It is a belief that the adherent is worshipping the supreme God of all. Then, the difference comes to arguments over His nature, His revelation of Himself, and His expectations of the obedient man or woman. But, here, even the pagan Jethro acknowledges that the God of the Hebrews is actually THE God. He has vanquished the gods of the Egyptians who had no power to withstand Him. In fact, He conquered not only any efforts they could have made, if they really existed, but He conquered the idea of gods, the concept of unseen theoretical entities that allow things to have mass or substitute dead particles such as photons for God’s Light, and all the vain imaginations of mankind.

Jehovah, the LORD, all capitals, whom Strong’s translates as, “the existing one,” is greater than all spiritual beings and all things real or imagined by men and women.

1Kings 8:60 That all the people of the earth may know that the LORD is God, and that there is none else.

Isaiah 45:5  I am the LORD, and there is none else, there is no God beside me: I girded thee, though thou hast not known me: 6  That they may know from the rising of the sun, and from the west, that there is none beside me. I am the LORD, and there is none else.

We learned earlier that God simply is, and that is His name, I AM THAT I AM, or simply I AM. Science requires that if you put forth a proposition, a statement of presumed fact, that you should be able to make certain predictions from it. Genesis 1:1 says that God created the universe. So, one could logically assume that since an intelligent entity created everything that a certain degree of design and order must be present in it as in our experience order does not come from disorder without intelligent guidance. This is, indeed, the case. Physicists are looking for a unifying “theory of everything.” Well, it is right here in front of us. He is the God of the Bible. His existence explains everything.

Who is God? He is the uncreated person and entity who created all that is. He simply is, as He said Himself, I AM THAT I AM.

Exodus 3:13  And Moses said unto God, Behold, when I come unto the children of Israel, and shall say unto them, The God of your fathers hath sent me unto you; and they shall say to me, What is his name? what shall I say unto them? 14  And God said unto Moses, I AM THAT I AM: and he said, Thus shalt thou say unto the children of Israel, I AM hath sent me unto you.

It is a nonsensical question to ask who created God. Such a question is a philosophical absurdity. It is like asking; could God create a rock so heavy He could not lift it? Such questions are the pure gibberish of the skeptic whose mind is blinded by the god of this world, Satan.

God is the source of all reality; seen and unseen. In Job God states that everything from dust forming into a clod of dirt in a farmer’s field to lions catching their prey, with the movements of distant galaxies to rain happening in places on earth where there is no man are all direct results of His direct actions. Read Job, chapter 38. God is not a watchmaker winding up the clock and walking away or standing to admire His work. He makes the hands move and the tick-tock sound is part of His second-by-second control of all events. So, Modernism, even with Christians since Isaac Newton, by reducing God to the ultimate first cause without an active role in every moment of our existence, is just simply one of the things that is in error about man’s thinking. Nothing happens by itself without direction, meaningless and pointless, a result of blind chance. Absolutely nothing.

[omnomwithrob]

Got to do with where choo-choo go.

Friday, March 22nd was our last full day in Santa Fe, and it was my favorite one. Our morning activities centered around the Santa Fe Railyard, a more contemporary arts district relative to the more traditional galleries we’d seen in other parts of town. It definitely had a more modern feel and seemed catered more to people our age.

Except maybe for Rose, who can be seen here ignoring me inside the SITE Museum. I let it pass because she looks mighty cute in a poncho.

We also enjoyed art on the street, like this Santa Fe mural. I couldn’t help but share this photo, as it features the common occurrence of my mother-in-law unwittingly making it into the frame while she takes her own picture. :)

We had lunch at the nearby Second Street Brewery, which Rob had been interested in trying. He ordered the New Mexico Farmer’s plate, which included housemade lamb sausage, New Mexico cheeses, housemade chutneys, a local sprout salad, toast, and a side of the spiciest mustard I’ve ever had. The cheeses, whatever they were, were totally amazing. The berry chutney was a little too much like potpourri for me, and the lamb sausage, while delicious, read more like a breakfast sausage than your typical charcuterie board sausage.

Lynn went with comfort food and had a grilled cheese with green chile stew and a side salad (can you believe this big salad is a side?) with citrus vinaigrette. As I like to say in my clinical notes, she “reflected positively on it.”

I am a sucker for a steak salad, and I chided myself a bit for ordering one in a place like Santa Fe where there are so many new flavors to explore (like when I ate at a Hard Rock Cafe in Rome when I was in college - doh). But in the end, there was nothing to regret about this salad - it was amazing. I absolutely loved the greens, grape tomatoes, cucumber, French fried onions, and mix of ranch and balsamic dressings, and the sunflower seeds and roasted red peppers gave it a unique twist. I dare say the steak was the weak link in this testament to the goodness of vegetables. (Also, say hi to the hummus plate in the background that Rosebud nibbled on for her lunch).

After a very satisfying lunch in my new favorite part of town, we returned to the hotel for Rosie’s nap. I had been window shopping for the few days prior to fully assess the options for some souvenirs we had in mind, so I pulled the trigger on those. When dinnertime approached, we walked to Coyote Cantina, the casual rooftop counterpart to downtown Santa Fe’s Coyote Cafe.

Rob ordered the above Green Chile Burger, which he had thought would be served with a traditional green chile sauce, but was actually just topped with actual green chiles! It was a nicely cooked burger and not too thick, and the battered, chile-dusted onions rings he got on the side were scrumptious. Lynn ordered green chile chicken enchiladas, and it’s really too bad that I didn’t get a photo of them because she said it was the best green chile we had on the trip. I had the prawns with griddled corn cakes with salsa fresca and guacamole (the latter of which I donated to Rosebud, since I’m allergic to avocados). The shrimp were very cuminy and a little overcooked, but the corn cakes were the part worth writing home for. Sooo good, though if I were feeling greedy, I’d say they could have been even cornier, and a little more of the chipotle butter would have made them perfection. I wish you could have been there to smell them.

As the sun set on our last evening in Santa Fe, Rob and I rocked our baby to sleep and found ourselves in that precious hour or two alone before bedtime. The only real, safe time in a day to tuck in to a mocha mousse petit four without your baby demanding a bite. Thank you, Chocolate Maven, where we had made a quick pickup earlier in the day, for making this moment possible.

I’ll hold off on sharing more summative thoughts about our Santa Fe experience until my next post, but I will certainly say that this day was a highlight of the trip, both for Rob and for myself. We explored a part of the city that we really liked, and we had some really good food.

Caroline

Note: I haven’t shared much about my personal life on social media for the past two weeks. Nothing going on for me right now is as important as the racial injustice and systemic mistreatment of Black people and communities. While I’ve decided to go ahead and write my silly blog, please know I am doing my work to be antiracist, will eat at and write about more black-owned restaurants, and will be more mindful about how my voice as a white blogger can appropriate the foods and traditions of others’ cultures. I will put in the work for this, but I also welcome feedback about when I mess up and how I can do better. I may be just a little guy out here in the food blogging world, but that does not excuse me from using my platform to move us forward.