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tightjeansjavi · 9 months ago

Text

My Joel,

A/N: I have not written a fic with this many words in a HOT minute, and boy does it feel good! What a cathartic experience this has been for me after writing Joel’s letters. I did not expect so many of you to want Joel and his dearest to have an alternative ending, but here we are 🤭 writing this has been a real treat, and I hope I have done their backstory and alternative ending justice! Buckle up, because you’re in for a wild ride! Thank you to @beardedjoel for letting me spam you with all the updates and screaming along with me 🥹 thank you to @strang3lov3 for betaing and creating these STUNNING divider mood boards for each section of the fic 💘

~word count: 14.4k~

Summary: the story of two forbidden lovers finding each other once more.

Pairing | forbidden lover!joel x f!reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, smut, infertility, canon typical violence, mutual pining, child abuse, mentions of S/A accusations (not by Joel) misogyny (not by Joel) homophobia/homophobic slurs (not by Joel) mutual pining, hopeless romantics, forbidden love, societal status, somewhat historically accurate language, arranged marriage (not to Joel), language, mentions of alcohol and tobacco products, virginity/virginity loss, happy ending/alternative ending, no age gap, reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni!

My Dearest,

June 1st, 1844

“This evening you are to meet the banker's son, daughter.” Your mother’s sickly sweet voice floated through your room, where you sat along the cushioned bench beneath the long window, your palm resting along your chin as you gazed out towards the gardens, the grass an unnatural shade of green compared to the common folk and farmers that would only dream of stepping foot on your family's estate. Your wealth was directly a result of your fathers parents, and their long lineage of thoroughbred horses. Your own mare was a descendant of the original three stallions imported into England in the late 1600’s.

But you were more focused on the man leading your mare, and her two stallions flocking at her hindquarters from the pasture: your Joel.

Joel Miller was a mere stable hand who was entrusted by your father himself to care for your family's prized horses. But to you? Joel was much more than just a stable hand. In fact, you begged your father one summer to increase Joel’s pay when he proved to be knowledgeable with the horses and their needs. Your father agreed, but refused to dote Joel with a new title. He was penniless compared to you, but you saw his heart before you saw his status in society. And he? He loved you from the moment you first met.

Spring, 1839

“Sir, sir!” A young Joel, 13 years of age burst into your fathers parlor, his hand-me-down clothes were soaked to the bone as the storm raged on outside the estate walls. “Dahlia’s womb has breached! Her foal is on the way!” He exclaimed with excitement.

Outside of your families prized stallions, the mares were just as valuable, bearing the next line of champions, no doubt. Dahlia belonged to your mother, and this was her third foal. Your mother couldn’t stand the presence of Joel in her home, dripping all over the floor, creating a puddle of water along the artisan rug beneath his muddy boots.

“Boy!” She snapped, setting her book down along her skirts where she was sitting near the fireplace, with perfect posture. Her eyes held a cold, unnerving stare. “You are in no state to be in my home looking like—” her pointed comment was cut off by the double doors leading to the parlor bursting open, to reveal your excited, and visibly out of breath face.

“Dahlia’s foal is on the way?!”

It was past your bedtime, but down the hall you heard the news of Dahlia, and couldn’t contain yourself. You were still in your nightgown, your hair in braids with bows tied into the ends. Joel felt a flush immediately rise to his damp cheeks at the sight of you. You were as pretty as a flower, the same age as him, and he wondered why this was the first time he’s seen you, till he remembered that most girls your age spent their days indoors preparing for marriage to a suitable husband of their fathers choosing, and inevitably bearing children down the line.

Just as quickly as his gaze fell upon you, he looked away, clearing his throat to hide the redness rising in his cheeks.

“Daughter!” Your mother scolded you when you rushed into the room and didn’t curtsy upon your arrival. She had yet to notice the bows in your hair when you quickly curtsied, fingers delicately grasping the hem of your nightgown as you bent down at the waist, one foot in front of the other just as it was ingrained into your brain for years. “Apologies, mother.” You softly squeaked out in embarrassment.

She shook her head, a displeasured look fell upon her hardened features. She rose from the couch, silk shawl clenched in her fist as she crossed the room and draped the garment across your shoulders. “Cover up your modesty.” She snapped unkindly. “Men should never see a lady in her night garments.”

I am not a lady, mother. I am a child! Is what you wanted to say, but instead you weakly nodded, muttering another apology under your breath. That’s when your mother took notice of your braids and the bows tied at the ends of them, a sign of innocent youth when you were to become a woman. She scoffed, nose upturning at the sight of them. Her cruel hand rose and fell, landing harshly against your soft cheek.

Joel visibly flinched from the sound, feeling his blood begin to boil under his soaked clothing. You had done nothing wrong! And who in their right mind slaps their own child!

Your skin stung, tears welling and nearly breaching down your cheeks when she yanked the bows from your braids and mockingly held them in front of your face. “These are for little girls. You are to become a woman, or have you forgotten?”

Your lower lip wobbled, and your knees trembled. Your eyes frantically searched the room, landing upon your father who paid no mind to your distress. He was too busy puffing away on his cigar, and even if he didn’t agree with his wife’s treatment upon you, he didn’t dare speak up about it.

“Joel, be a good lad and fetch my daughters coat. I will not be treading out in a storm such as that one, but someone from our family should be present for the birth of Dahlias foal.” He gruffed out. “Let us hope for a strong colt. There are too many fillies prancing around here.”

“Sir—” Joel started, but was cut off.

“Fetch her coat, and do not make me ask you a third time, boy.” He sternly reiterated.

“Yes, sir. Right away!” He nodded, quickly turning on his heel and exited the parlor, his eyes met your teary-eyed one briefly before he disappeared behind the open doors.

“Our daughter has no business going out in this storm, husband! Especially not with the likes of that—boy.” She seethed, stepping back from your trembling frame and walked in the direction of the fire, the now crumpled bows in her fist. She wasted no time to throw them directly into flames, watching as they were burnt up into ash immediately.

“Relax, wife.” Your father sighed, tapping out the ash from his cigar into the crystal ashtray along the table, “she is in good hands with Joel, I trust him.”

“Excuse me, miss?” a timid, youth filled voice appeared behind your shoulder, hand outstretched with your coat grasped between his fingers.

You sniffled, turning to face him and quickly wiped at your brewing tears with the back of your hand. “Thank you, Joel.” You whispered, fingers brushing his gently as you removed your coat from his grasp.

He nearly shied from your touch, a series of tingles and sparks shooting up his spine when he felt your soft touch for the first time. You reacted all the same; shocked gazes meeting before he was stepping to the side for you to pass by him first, a gentleman in nature despite coming from nothing. He cleared his throat, offering you his elbow to brace against the pounding rain and blustering winds. “I’ve got you, miss.” He whispered as your palm gently rested along the crook of his elbow.

Despite your mother’s incessant protests, Joel Miller guided you outside, acting as a physical shield as you endured the storm together. Once inside the safety of the barn, Joel parted from your side, grabbing a nearby stool for you to sit upon before entering Dahlia’s stall. You watched in pure curiosity and amazement as Joel spoke softly to the mare while her head rested in his lap. Beast trusted man; man trusted beast.

When Dahlia’s foal was born, she was not blessed with a strong colt like your father hoped for, but instead a filly. She was smaller than Dahlia’s other foals, and coal black unlike her mother’s dazzling, dappled silver coat. Joel helped the young filly stand on her long, spindly legs so that she could nurse. He was incredibly gentle, letting the filly lean her weight into him. Although Joel knew he was not allowed to name the horses, he started to call the filly ‘Little Shadow’ and only left the stall when he was certain she could stand on her own.

That’s when he remembered he wasn’t alone, and that you were still sitting upon the stool, hands clasped in your lap.

“Wanna meet her?” He suddenly asked, wiping his hands down on a nearby towel.

“Oh…” you trailed off, “I’m unsure if—”

“Nonsense.” He shook his head, a small, boy-like grin tugging on his lips. “M’sure your father would want you to have the full experience, would he not?”

“Yes, I suppose he would.” You agreed and graciously took his hand when he offered it. “He will be displeased to hear that Dahlia did not bear a strong colt.”

“I never understood that.” He mused, helping you down from the stool and gently released your hand. “A healthy foal, no matter the sex, is better than an unhealthy one, is it not?”

“Yes, this is true.” You nervously toyed with a loose thread on your coat, avoiding making eye contact with him. “She is…small though, is she not?”

He took no offense to your lack of direct eye contact. He felt undeserving to be in your presence, let alone hold your gaze? “Forgive me if this comes across negatively, miss. But must you always speak so…proper?”

You turned your nose up at his question, dropping the loose thread from your fingertips, “I am to be a lady, Joel. This is how ladies talk.”

He snorted under his breath, shaking his head and shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “I suppose you are right. And to answer your question, she may be smaller than the rest of Dahlia’s offspring, but her legs are long, and strong.” He commented thoughtfully as he walked over to the nursing foal. “She will be a winner one day, no doubt.”

“Do you wish to name her, Joel?” You asked softly, standing alongside him with your hand outstretched to gently pet the fillies jet black neck.

“Oh, miss—I could never. I was only calling her Little Shadow because well, she is like a Little Shadow.”

“I don’t think father would approve of Little Shadow…but I think Shadow is a fine name for her, sir.”

“Miss, I am not a sir.” He sighed, reaching behind him to rub the back of his neck. “I’m just a stable hand. I do not possess any titles, and I never will. I agree, Shadow is a fine name for her.”

“Joel, I have heard that you are more than just a stable hand, but I address every man as sir. It’s how I have been taught.”

He looked over at you, eyes scanning the side of your face, the same side where your cheek had been struck by your mothers cruel hand. “That it be true, I am not a man, miss. I am just a boy.”

Silence fell between the two of you while you continued to gently stroke Shadow’s neck. You could feel Joel’s gaze landing on your cheek, but you chose to ignore it despite the heat that was slowly beginning to rise to your cheeks.

“Miss…?” He sounded unsure of himself, nervous, apprehensive of the words he was about to speak next,

“Yes, Joel?”

“Forgive me, I should not be uttering these words to a lady like yourself, but the bows in your hair…I thought they were quite—pretty.” He whispered the last bit, expecting you to scold him, to scream, and surely send him to the gallows for even thinking of you in that inappropriate manner, but instead, you smiled softly.

“Thank you, Joel. Mother…doesn’t approve of them. Says they are for little girls, and not for a lady to be. But they are just ribbons, are they not? I like how they look, and I wish she did too.” You sighed, eyes casting downwards.

He was more bold this time around as the images of your mothers hand making contact with your soft cheek flashes in his mind, “she should have never laid a hand upon you like that, miss. You did nothing wrong! Forgive me—I have forgotten my place.” He dropped his chin between his shoulders in shame.

You wept then, fat tears rolling down your cheeks at the phantom sting of your mothers palm. You slowly sank down into the straw bed, head in your hands. You looked so small, frail, weak, and Joel never wanted you to feel this way again.

At first he didn’t know how to react to your distress, but soon he found himself sinking down to his knees in front of you, his hands trembling as he reached out to grasp your covered shoulders, “my dearest, do not weep, please. Your mother has never learned kindness in her life, but you? You—” he struggled to find his words, his empathetic nature coming out in full swing.

You slowly tilted your chin upwards to meet his gaze, glassy eyes boring into his. You both took a sharp inhale of breath, time seemed to cease completely. The storm outside raged on, the wind whipped and howled outside the heavy barn doors when Joel Miller’s calloused palms gently cradled your face, thumbs brushing away your glistening tears.

1842

Spring turned to summer, summer to fall, and fall to winter. Your Joel transformed into a man before your very eyes. In your youth he showed you how to run, to make mud pies, to swim in the river, despite your mothers disapproval. Your father showed an inkling of care to allow your years before marriage to be spent with Joel by your side.

On the approach of your sixteenth birthday, Joel Miller no longer looked like a boy in your eyes. He was a man, and for the first time in your life, you felt that forbidden part between your thighs come alive at the sight of him. He had grown taller, his arms filling in, paired with strong thighs. The muscles in his back and shoulders were defined with laborious hours of work. His chiseled jaw was speckled with facial hair, paired with unruly curls that you wished you could feel their softness between your fingers. You found yourself transfixed by his lips and often imagined how they would feel pressed to yours in a heated embrace. The only thing about your Joel that didn’t change with age was his eyes; the deepest pools of brown that always appeared lighter when he was graced with your presence.

Your father treated him like a son, inviting him out on the weekends to go fox hunting with your brothers. The prospect of attending college was even on the horizon for him, and Joel could taste his new life brewing on his tongue. His feelings grew for you over the years, feeling his heart flutter and clench whenever you would look his way. Even in your modest attire, he envisioned your womanly figure beneath your layers of tooled skirts. Every night before he laid his body to sleep, he would imagine your lips pressing to his own until the thought of it had begun to drive him mad.

So upon your sixteenth birthday, he approached your father in his office with only one thought on his mind; asking for your fathers permission, and blessing to court, and eventually marry you.

“Come in.” Your father’s voice rasped behind the closed door.

Joel took a deep breath, rubbing his sweaty palms along the front of his trousers, bringing one hand up to smooth down his untamed curls. His calloused palm grasped the brass handle and slowly pushed it open.

Your father was seated behind his desk, cigar smoke wafting through the air in a swirling pattern from where it rested between his lips. He looked at Joel expectantly, arms crossed behind his head in a lax position. “Joel, my boy. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Joel stepped inside the room, closing the door behind him softly. He momentarily glanced out a large window overlooking the gardens where in just a few hours, your party would be in full swing. “Good afternoon, sir.” He nodded curtly, “beautiful day we’re having, yes? The weather will be exceptional for your daughter's birthday this evening.”

My Dearest.

“Yes, indeed. The weather has been lovely.” Your father mused. “If you’re asking if you can attend tonight’s festivities, you already know my answer, Joel. The lady of the house wouldn’t stand for it.” He waved his hand in a dismissive manner.

“Yes, of course, sir. I won’t be on the grounds this evening. A few friends have invited me to the tavern for drinks. I won’t be out late, I swear it.”

“I see.” Your father nodded, “a handsome young man such as yourself oughta get out there more.” He agreed, “So, what are you here for then?”

Shit.

“Sir, I have—known your daughter for many years now, as you are aware. I am also aware that she has many suitors lined up to offer her hand in marriage, but sir, if I was given your blessing, and permission, I would—”

“Joel.” Your father’s tone cut through the younger man like a sharpened blade. “My daughter has already been promised to another. Do not take me for a fool, boy. I have seen the way your gaze lingers on her longer than what would even be described as appropriate. I see the way she looks at you, Joel. I have bit my tongue on this matter because I happen to like you, son. What I can offer you is another lady, at your choosing. You can live a happy, comfortable life and hold a title that you would never otherwise possess. My suggestion is that you accept my generous offer, and throw away your fantasy of ever marrying my daughter.”

Joel swallowed his disappointment down with a heavy gulp. He was naive to believe that he could ever be granted with your fathers blessing. How foolish of him to believe that a man such as himself, would ever end up with the likes of you. It was a fantasy, an unattainable dream that he was better off extinguishing now instead of dwelling on what could never be. He nodded slowly, trying to ignore the way his heart submerged to the very pits of his stomach. “I understand, sir.” He finally spoke.

“Good lad. I knew you were a smart one from the start. Now, this stays between you and I, alright?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Good. You didn’t hear this from me, but the lady of the house plans to retire early this evening. If you see the opportunity to whisk my daughter away for one evening, take it. If it sours, do not even think about taking me down with you. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

“Sir?” Joel sounded confused, his eyes going wide momentarily, “I’m confused—”

“Treat my daughter to a night that she will never forget, so that in her later years, when she is in misery after bearing her husband's children, and finds herself in a loveless marriage, she will have her memories of you to look back on. Do not, and I mean by any means, get caught and throw your life away so foolishly.”

“I—I understand, sir.” He stuttered out, his heart lurching in his chest at the prospect of one evening with you in his embrace. “Thank you, sir. Thank you.” He gushed earnestly.

“Leave now, Joel. Do not speak of this to anyone.”

“I won’t, sir. I promise.”

All evening you danced merrily and socialized with the upper socialites of Texas with a fake smile plastered on your pretty painted lips. You searched high and low for your Joel all evening. Your gaze lingered, heart skipping a beat anytime a man that resembled him would stride past, only to be met with bitter disappointment when they would turn their cheek towards you and the resemblance would dissipate like the bubbles in your champagne flute. Your mother had retired for the evening, and your father was in his parlor with his colleagues, smoking, drinking, and playing hands of poker.

And then you felt a presence brush past your bare shoulder, the skirts of your dress ruffling in the warm summer breeze. A shred of parchment was placed into your palm discreetly as you watched the inconspicuous figure disappear in the direction of the nearby stables. Once you were certain no one was paying any attention to you, you unfolded parchment, your heart surging at the familiar penmanship.

My Dearest,

Happy sixteenth birthday. Meet me at the stables in exactly one hour.

Your Joel

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the butterflies erupted and fluttered wildly in your stomach, Your Joel. You brought the parchment to your lips, kissing his words, your lashes fluttering shut.

As the minutes ticked by, your excitement heightened, and when it was ten minutes to the hour, you snuck off to the stables with a visible pep in your step. The barn door was left ajar upon your entering, and when you turned the corner, you found your Joel inside of Shadow’s stall, bows and flowers were braided delicately throughout her luscious mane and tail. When he sensed your presence, he turned around, the biggest grin plastered on his face, dimples peeking through, one stray curl falling across his forehead that was begging to be brushed away by your soft fingertips.

“Joel.” You breathed out, smile mimicking his own.

“My Dearest.” His heart surged in his chest, and then you were launching yourself into his arms unexpectedly. He caught you, of course, hugging you tightly to his broad frame. “No one saw you, right?”

“No.” You shook your head, wrapping your arms around his neck while his hands fell to your waist. “Shadow looks beautiful! What’s the occasion?”

He chuckled warmly, tilting his forehead to rest upon yours with a sigh of relief, “she doesn’t look nearly as beautiful as you, darlin.’ And why for your birthday, of course!”

His warm, timbre laugh sent your stomach somersaulting, and your mind feeling dizzy. “An evening ride through the countryside, is that my present from you?” You teased him lightly, threading your fingers through the back of his hair.

“No, no, my sweet. It’s actually…a surprise. Are you up for it? Oh! You’ll be needing these, however.” He reluctantly departed from your embrace, stepping off to the side to lift a rucksack from the ground. “I believe they’re your size.”

You raised a curious brow as he handed the rucksack off to you. “You mean, I get an excuse to wear something outside of my fine dresses?” You gasped softly.

“Mhm.” He nodded, smile playing on his lips at your pure excitement over something so small. “I’ll uh—give you some privacy to change.” He cleared his throat, eyes dancing in the direction opposite of you as he turned on his heel so his back would be facing you.

Secretly, you wanted him to see you undress from your obnoxious layers and reveal your untouched skin to his admiring gaze. The times that you would swim in the river together were different. You were both still children, and your womanly curves hadn’t made their appearance just yet.

He silently listened to your fine skirts fall to the dusty barn floor and he was half tempted to peek, but remained respectful as you undressed. Once you gave him the okay, he slowly turned around to face you once more. Gone were your frilly heavy skirts that dragged along the floor with each step that you took. Your skirt was still long, but not as weighted and while the bodice was still fairly constricting, the sleeves were dainty and hung off the side of your shoulders like silk drapery. Your mother would certainly have a fit if she saw you dressed so un-modestly.

“So…” You trailed off, “how do I look?” You twirled on your heel, your smile never faltering.

He unashamedly looked you up and down, twice, before one strong arm looped around your waist and pulled you flush against his chest, caging you against him.

“Pardon my French, mademoiselle, but you look fuckin’ stunning.”

You giggled, hands resting against his chest to brace yourself against him. It was the sweetest sound that had ever graced his ears; your laugh.

“Thank you, sir. Mother would scold me if she saw me dressed like this!” You giggled again when his nose came to nuzzle against your cheek, bristles in his beard gently scraping against your skin, “she would, my dearest. But don’t worry about any of that, okay? Tonight you will have the time of your life with me, and your mother will have no say in it.” He assured you.

—

You rode into town on horseback, Shadow moving swiftly with Joel steering her with the reins and you behind him with your arms wrapped around him, pressing yourself as close to his back as possible. You had never been to a tavern before, but tonight would certainly be a night of firsts.

Your first sips of Ale were with Joel by your side, his shoulder brushing yours as he leaned over, warm breath fanning your face as he asked you what you thought about the taste.

Truthfully? Ale was not your first drink of choice, but you had an understanding for the appeal of it. Joel agreed, and whispered in your ear that he thought it tasted like shit. His tone and crude remark sent you giggling in tandem.

Now, whiskey on the other hand? You enjoyed the smoky flavor that lingered on your tongue and the way it instantly sent a warm fire simmering in your belly, and heat to flood your cheeks. You danced, laughed, drank and you even played a hand of poker! No one in the tavern knew of your status, your wealth. Everyone in the rowdy establishment was just there living, and you silently wished for your life to always be this freeing.

When the tavern closed for the night, you and Joel strolled down the street, hand in hand. The late evening air held that familiar summer sweetness, crickets chirping, fireflies dancing around your heads. Another pair of lovers strolled in front of you and Joel, seemingly unable to keep their hands off of one another as they neared the town inn. Would that be you and your Joel?

His palm felt clammy in your palm, but his face gave no distinction that he was absolutely freaking the fuck out inside at the prospect of finally getting the privilege to press his lips to yours.

“Shadow is staying at the inn’s barn for the evening, my dearest. It’s far too late for either of us to return back to the estate…” he trailed off, eyes casting in your direction to await your response.

“Joel…” you sighed, loosening your grip around his hand, nearly dropping it entirely. “We—we have to go back. Father, mother—”

“My dearest, your mother has retired early for the evening, and your father is probably too deep in a hand of poker to even notice your absence.” He spoke softly, slowly bringing your entwined fingers up to his face, illuminated in a soft, warm glow from the flickering street lights lining the walkway. He brushed his lips against the outside of your hand, eyes locking onto yours, “I understand if you don’t desire me the way I desire you, my dearest. And if that is the case, we can leave immediately—”

“I—I desire you plenty, my Joel. All evening at the party, I kept seeing the resemblance of your beautiful face in every male passerby, but none of them were you. I’m just—I’m so afraid, Joel. My heart—it feels so deeply for you, but it’s forbidden. You and I both know the bitter truth of what we can never be.”

“My dearest, tonight we need not be afraid, okay? It is your birthday, your special day, and there is nowhere else in this world that I would rather be, than here with you. I ask you for nothing, only to trust me. Trust your Joel.”

You could feel yourself caving into his words, your body drawn to be closer to him as if by some invisible force pulling you into his chest. “I trust you always, my Joel.”

He nodded, pressing another sweet kiss to the outside of your hand. You moved in sync, his strong, broad body caging you against the brick wall of the inn, his hands, calloused and warm, holding your face between them as if you were fine delicate china. His forehead came to rest upon yours, warm breath fanning your face, “can I kiss you, my dearest?”

“Please, my Joel.” You breathed out, fingers gently resting along the nape of his neck. “You—you will be my first.” You whispered.

“And you will be mine, my dearest.” He rasped, thumbs gently stroking your cheekbones, feeling his heartbeat faster, and faster, when his lips finally brushed upon your own, both of your inexperience showing, but nature took over when your lips finally met, pressing against one another. Your breath hitched in your throat, fingers tightening around his soft curls, pulling him in closer. You wanted to crawl inside his skin, make a home inside of his heart and never leave.

“I—have never felt a sweetness upon my lips till I have kissed you, my dearest.” He murmured sweetly against your locked lips, taking the leap of what felt right when your lips parted like the narrow sea for him to slowly lick into your mouth so your tongues could meet, and dance.

An unexpected moan slipped past your lips when he licked into your mouth, a sound only for his ears, sending blood flowing southwards beneath his trousers and directly to his groin. He parted from the kiss momentarily, a string of translucent saliva hung between your swollen lips. He dived back in seconds later, but this time you felt his lips upon your neck, sucking, kissing, licking at your throat and all the way back up to your lips.

“I scraped up enough money to afford us a night at the inn, my dearest.” He let out a soft grunt when your nails lightly scratched his scalp, and your fingers tugged on the root of his curls, “do you wish to—”

“Yes, my Joel.” You didn’t even wait for him to finish his question, you already knew your answer was going to be yes.

He chuckled at your eagerness, letting his hands drop from your face and rest along your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, “lay beside me tonight, my love?”

“Yes, my Joel. I wish for that.”

He smiled into the kiss, the butterflies in his own stomach were no longer fluttering wildly, his nerves were gone because never in his life had he been more sure about his feelings till now. It was a moment of calm that both you and he felt in one another’s embrace. “Then let it be known that tonight, beneath the stars, I will make love to you, my dearest.” The words he spoke fell like a sweet oath upon your lips.

You kissed him once more, before your lips parted, but only for a little while. He took your hand in his, fingers entwined and led you to the entrance of the inn. The room was paid for, and the excitement was beginning to tingle once more as he unlocked the door to the room you would share. A single bed to accommodate you both.

And when he laid you down, fitting in the space between your thighs, kissing every inch of your untouched skin, drawing sounds from your throat that you had never felt, nor heard before. Calloused palms moved with languid ease, undressing you with methodical care. You did the same to him, marveling at the flex of his muscles beneath your touch. He was so gentle, so patient as you parted for him like a blooming flower. He kissed you there, too. Dark head of curls moving between your thighs, strong fingers spreading you open where his tongue quickly found the little bud that had your whole body quivering, and your back bowing, arching from the mattress.

He kissed, licked, worshiped, suckled on your womanhood, the taste of you was something so foreign, yet familiar, and his cock grew heavy between his thighs, hips rutting into the mattress for any form of relief.

Your speech was slurred, broken, fragmented moans dangling from your lips, and you were only able to say one word; his name.

Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel.

And when the coil in deep within your tummy was pulled tight, and a burning warmth that could only be described as the feeling of heaven on earth, traveled from the tips of your toes and up your spine, you convulsed around his tongue, eyes rolling back into your skull, muscles spasming, your cunt pulsing, leaking along the sheets. He lapped up every sweet drop of your release, swallowing it down as if he was quenched with thirst. His eyes opened, dark pools of brown staring intensely into yours, grinning like a devil. His chin and beard glistening in your sweet nectar, illuminated by the pale moonlight casting in through the thin, billowing curtains.

He kissed up your body, finding your lips and molding his tongue around yours so you could taste yourself, too. He whispered sweet nothings between kisses when the heavy weight of his cock slowly began to press into you. Tears sprung from the sudden sharp pain caused by the stretch of him easing inside of you. He kissed away your tears, shushing you softly and promising you that it would feel good so soon, my dearest.

Your nails left crescents in his back, thighs wrapping around his waist when he was fully sheathed inside of your pulsing, hugging warmth. It was the tightest vice he ever did feel, and he never wanted to part from you.

“I’ve got you, my dearest.” He whispered upon your lips, drawing his hips back slowly, oh so slowly, before guiding them forward. The coarse dark hair on his pubic bone brushed against your own with each gentle thrust he gave you. A rhythm set in with his movements, your body naturally began to mold to his as you became one. Sweat soaked skin, tangled moans and limbs, wet kisses and words of love shared between what little space was left between you.

And when he spilled his seed deep within your womb, and he moaned your name, proclaiming his love and devotion for you with his face buried against your neck. You refused to part from one another, even as his cock softened inside of you, and your cunt no longer fluttered. You pressed your lips to his scruffy cheek, tangled your fingers through his now sweat soaked curls that were matted to his forehead and back of his neck. You held him, and he held you as the sun slowly began to rise, and the birds chirped cheerfully just outside the window.

“I don’t want to go home, my Joel. I want to stay here, with you…forever.” You whispered softly through the early morning air.

He shifted deep within you, lifting his chin and turned his cheek to the side, brushing his lips sweetly against your soft cheek. His eyes were sleepy, a dopey, boyish grin graced his features, lips curved in a perfect pout, swollen with your kisses, “I need not yet to part from you, my love. But I must return you home before your father and mother awake.”

You sighed softly, dropping your fingers from their grip on his hair to then drag across his jaw, nuzzling your nose against his and pressed a kiss to his lips, “our home, my Joel.” You gently reminded him.

He kissed you back, lashes fluttering shut to savor the moment before opening again so he could once again gaze upon your face and paint a picture in his memory to hold onto forever, “our home, my dearest.”

Reality began to rear its ugly head into both of your minds and he reluctantly parted from your kiss, drawing his hips back slowly to release his cock from your warmth. “We must return home, my dearest.” He sat back on his haunches, his softened cock wet, sticky with a mix of your combined releases and a thin layer of blood.

You slowly sat up, taking the coarse sheet with you as you gazed upon his groin for the first time. Even soft now, your sex induced eyes widened at the girth of him.

He, however, was more focused on the stain of blood on his skin, and swiped his thumb across it before his gaze landed on you, “have you…bled before, my sweet?”

You nodded, “yes, my Joel. I bleed the same time every month since my thirteenth birthday. Mother told me that it means I am ready to bear children, and I have become a woman. She told me that I would bleed again when my husband makes love to me for the first time.”

His chin falls between his shoulders, feeling them sink from the realization that he would never be your husband, and you would never be his wife. “Does it hurt…to bleed? Did I hurt you, my love?”

You shook your head, letting the sheets drop from your chest as you reached out to comfort him. “No, my love. It can be uncomfortable, but you did not hurt me. A dull sting is all I felt, nothing more. You took care of me.”

He reached for your hand, squeezing it gently as you emerged from under the covers, “my dearest, what is to happen if…you end up bearing my children? We are both so young, I wish not to steal what remains of your youth. You deserve so much more than only what is expected of you, my lady.”

You found yourself straddling his hips with your thighs on either side of him, caging his body around yours while his arms wrapped around your waist, using his core strength to stay upright as your hands came to rest upon his face, “if I bear your children, then we could marry, Joel. We could—be together!” You spoke excitedly.

“My dearest, I—have nothing to offer you. I am penniless…we are not of the same status, and your mother and father would never allow it.” His thumbs gently stroked the dimples in your back at the bottom of your spine.

“I will speak with my father! He will understand, he must! No man will ever wish to marry me if I am bearing another’s child! Father—he’ll have to agree!”

“My dearest, what if my seed doesn’t take to your womb the first time? What if we are unable—”

You cut him off with a swift kiss to his lips, pulling him in close with your hand resting along the nape of his neck, “then we keep trying till my womb is swelling with life.”

He kissed you deeply, feeling his cock begin to stir to life between your tightly pressed bodies. He nodded, a silent agreement as he dropped one hand from where it rested against your spine and dragged it between you so that he could grasp the base of his cock and slowly press himself inside of you once more.

By the time you and Joel arrived back at the estate, the sun was already beginning to rise high above the sky. The stables were empty upon your arrival as Joel helped you dismount from Shadow. He urged you to change back into your attire that you wore to the party so that your mother, nor father would raise their suspicions. You parted ways with a kiss, a longing behind his lips as he watched you leave his embrace and walk back into the life you had always known.

At the breakfast table your mother was quick to question why you were not present in your chambers at sunrise, but you already had a rehearsed script planned in your mind. Without missing a beat, you told the story of how you had a few too many flutes of champagne, and fell asleep in the gardens.

Your mother, of course, scolded you, but your father? He had a hidden, knowing smile playing beneath his mustache.

You and Joel were extremely cautious and strategic when it came to planning your rendezvous. They happened frequently, under the cover of night when everyone was sleeping. Sometimes in the stables, sometimes in the gardens, and you even returned to the inn a few times in secret. He could not get enough of you, your kisses, or your touch. The feeling was mutual, and you both knew that the deep, profound feelings you were both experiencing was not infatuation or lust, no, you and Joel Miller were madly, deeply, tragically in love with one another.

Even in the daytime he would seek your presence, asking your father if he could accompany you on a ride through the countryside as your guide, and protector. You had picnics by the river where he would lay his head upon your skirts, eyes closed blissfully as he listened to you read love stories from Shakespeare till he would drift off, soft snores escaping his lips, your voice lulling him to a sweet slumber. Your horses would graze side by side, his stallion, your mare. Their tails swishing to fight off the pesky flies.

Upon the approach of your eighteenth birthday, you wept in Joel’s arms, for no matter how many times he spilled his seed inside of you, your womb did not swell with life; his child. You feared that his love for you would sour and rot when you broke the mournful news to him beneath comfort of the shimmering moon, and twinkling stars.

“My dearest, why do you weep? Who, or what has caused my sweet love to shed her tears?” He sank to his knees with you crumbling in his arms. His heart felt like it was being shredded to fragmented pieces when your sobs echoed off the nearby hedges in the garden where your embrace was hidden.

“My Joel!” You cried, clawing at his arms with fat, heavy tears streaming down your cheeks, “I—I’m so sorry. I have let you down, my love.”

“My dearest, how have you let me down? Tell me what is wrong! What has happened?” He spoke urgently, tone hushed.

“My womb does not swell with life, Joel! We have tried, and tried! No matter how many times, it has been fruitless! I bear you no sons, no daughters—” you wailed mournfully.

“My sweet, are you certain of this? Oh, my girl…” he felt his own tears begin to prick his eyes as he began to gently rock you in his arms. “Do you weep in sadness, or in fear? I do not care that you cannot bear me any children, my dearest. My love for you will never sour.”

“Do not lie to me, lover!” You were on the edge of snapping through your tears, “when my sole purpose in this life is to marry and bear children to my husband! There must be something wrong with me, Joel! How can you say you love me when I cannot be the woman I am expected to be! I never can fucking—”

You surprised yourself and him by your sudden crude language, but then again, spending as much time as you did with Joel, his verbiage began to rub off on you, and yours onto him.

“Then don’t be the woman you are expected to be, my love! There is nothing wrong with you. Nothing, do you hear me? I love you as you are! You are my lady, for fucks sakes! You can be whoever you want to be with me! Do you wish to be a poet? Be one! Do you wish to be a scholar? A singer? Do you wish to live a normal life where your choices are not already chosen for you?!” His voice cracked, coming out as a hoarse rasp deep from within his chest.

You fought the urge to scoff and chide him for being so naive. “My life will never be normal! Don’t you understand?! All I know is what has been chosen for me! It doesn’t matter what I want, Joel! I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth! My studies, my thoughts, opinions, have all been predisposed! Even the fucking food I consume, and the clothing on my back has been chosen for me!”

“Of course I understand! All I have ever done is understand that you and I were never cut from the same cloth! And yet, I love you all the same because what else is a man to do? My sweet, we are weeks away from your eighteenth birthday! We can run away together and carve out the life of our choosing! Fuck your parents, fuck the society we live in! Do you want to marry a man you don’t love and live in misery?! Or do you want the chance to live! To wake up at your choosing, to wear what you desire, to love freely with no prejudice? To never again live under your parents control? Don’t you want to…love me?” He was exasperated, chest heaving, nostrils flaring from the pure passion oozing from his words.

You fell silent, your lower lip wobbling, eyes glassy with tears as you looked into his eyes, taking in the redness in his cheeks, the puffing of his chest—the love pooling in his dark irises, “of course I want to love you, my Joel. I—I’m afraid! Can’t you see that? I’m expected to marry and bear my husband's children and now I cannot! If we run away together, I’ll never be able to return home! What if our love isn’t destined to make it! What if we fail—”

“Of course I can see you’re afraid, my girl. I see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice! You are safe here, with me. With your Joel! I would never, ever, ever let anything happen to you. We may not live a life of riches, but we would live a life rich in love! I—I can get a job! I will work until my bones break if it means that I get to be with you. I’ll work the railways, the mines! Any job that I can take, I will, and I’ll do it all for you.”

You kissed him then, tasting the salt from your own tears and his upon your locked lips. “We’ll move west! As far west as we can! We’ll see the ocean for the first time, plot out our land and live out our days together!” You murmured against his lips.

“California.” He promised you, kissing you deeply as his hands came to cradle your face, “a sheep ranch with Shadow and Sunfyre.”

“Why sheep, lover?” You asked softly between desperation filled kisses,

“They’re quiet, do as they're told.” He teased, chuckling when you gently swatted at his chest for making such a comment.

“Ha, ha, very funny.” You giggled, which soon turned into a moan when his fingers slipped down to your waist and hastily began to unlace your bodice, while your hand drifted downwards to undo the string on his trousers. Neither of you knew that one of your own ladies, the same lady that had been promised to Joel by your father, caught the two of you in the gardens while she was out for a midnight stroll. Her presence was undetected as you sank down around Joel’s cock beneath your skirts, moaning his name unashamedly as your entwined bodies moved in sync.

June 1st, 1844

“Yes, mother.” You responded in a practiced, complacent sweetness to appease her.

“He will make a fine husband to you, one day.” She added, her perfectly dainty fingers came to rest upon your shoulder, squeezing it with anything but a comforting touch. She didn’t notice the way your gaze lingered on your secret lover, nor did she sense your longing.

“Yes, he will, mother. I look forward to making his acquaintance.”

“Good. You have grown into being a fine young woman, daughter. Your father and I are so very proud of you.”

If only they knew that you were not the perfect, proper lady than they believed you to be, and that your heart belonged to another man.

Your Joel had requested a private audience with your father leading up to the festivities surrounding your monumental birthday. And so after bringing the horses in from the pasture, he made his way to your fathers office, closing the door quietly behind him when he was given permission to enter.

“Sir, I have wonderful news to bestow upon you, Shadow is expectin’. She was showin’ early signs a few weeks back, but it is official.”

“Wonderful news indeed, Joel. And who is the lucky stud?” Your father asked, despite already knowing the answer.

“Sunfyre, sir.”

“Ahh. What a combination. A filly, as black as the night, and a colt, as golden as the sun. I wonder what their offspring will look like.” He mused.

Joel swallowed the lump growing in his throat, his palms growing clammier by the second. He took a deep breath to calm his budding nerves, “Sir, I need to disclose something to you, but before I do, I just wanted to say that I have appreciated being able to confide in you in some capacity. I am grateful that you have taken me under your wing and offered me the chance at having a better life, but your daughter—”

“Joel.” He warned, leaning forward in his chair with his hands clasped together. “Be extremely careful with your choice in words for whatever it is you are about to tell me. Perhaps I need to remind you where your place is? Maybe I should have been wary of confiding in you, boy.”

“Sir, please. You must hear this! If you care about your daughter's happiness, and her well being, you will listen to what I have to say. I swear that our conversations have remained confidential! I have spoken about them to no one, I swear it!”

Your father let out a deep sigh, bringing his hands to his face where he pressed the pads of his fingers into the deep set wrinkles in his forehead. “Go on then.”

“Your daughter—she is unable to bear children. She is afraid of what is to become of her if she cannot bear children for her future husband, sir. And I fear for her as well! Sir, men are unkind, and she is sweet. She is sweet and kind and deserving—”

Your fathers heart slowly began to sink, his composure crumbled because of his darling little girl, who would certainly face a life of hardship and misery if you could not bear children and enact your duties as a perfect wife for your husband. He didn’t agree with it, but that was how society worked. Men ruled the house, and the women cared for their husbands and children. “How do you know of this, Joel?” Your fathers tone wavered, his eyes casting in Joel’s direction and he saw a younger version of himself in your forbidden lover.

“Sir, you know the answer to your own question.” Joel nearly whispered, avoiding direct eye contact and let his gaze fall to a portrait behind your fathers desk, two young men with their arms around one another’s shoulders.

“You love her, don’t you?” His question hung heavy in the air.

Joel froze like a deer that was inevitably caught by hunters in the meadow. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t think as he listened to the sound of blood rushing in his ears and his pulse pounding, “with all of my heart, sir.”

Your father slowly nodded his head in understanding as he let out a sigh, “then you must know that you have to swallow down your feelings for my daughter for her benefit and your own. You are playing a dangerous game, Joel. One that could very well cost you your life.”

“I don’t fucking care. I have never loved another being outside of your daughter. Our love may be frowned upon and forbidden, but it is real. I have felt for her since I was just a mere boy, when the storm was raging outside and she accompanied me to see the birth of Dahlia’s foal. My love for her will never sour, it will never over ripen and rot like the low hanging fruit upon the trees. I have nothing to offer her but my heart, and that holds a weight more valuable than gold or silver.”

Your father smiled, one that did not reach his eyes as he slowly stood from his chair behind his desk and walked in front of it. “You remind me so much of my younger self, Joel. Willing to do anything for the person you love. Despite all the odds being stacked against you.”

Joel took a hesitant step back, the heel of his boot nearly catching along the rug, “do not patronize me, sir. I love your daughter, and nothing will stop me from loving her. Even after death, my love for her will remain.”

“Of course nothing will stop you, Joel. For what else is a man to do when he is in love?” He smiled sadly, a look of longing hidden behind his eyes. Joel knew the look all too well.

“I don’t—I don’t understand.”

“I’m going to tell you something that you have to swear you will never utter to anyone. It is a secret that you must take to your grave, Joel. You cannot even tell my daughter. Are we clear?”

“I swear I will not tell a single soul, sir. Not even your daughter will know.”

“Good, I trust you. You have a good heart, Joel.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Your father reached for his box of cigars, silently offering one to Joel who politely declined. It had been many, many, years since your father spoke about his past, and while he lit the end of the cigar, those memories began to surface. “I meant what I said when I told you that you remind me of my younger self.”

Joel nodded in understanding.

“When I was your age, the world was at my fingertips, Joel. It was my oyster, and I could have any lady of my choosing, but I had to marry. That was my parents one rule upon me was that I had to marry.”

“You could have any lady of your choosing, but it wasn’t a lady that held your affections, was it, sir?”

“No. It was not a lady that held my affections.”

“The man…in the portrait behind your desk, was he your…?”

“Yes, Joel. The man in the portrait was my lover. The butler's son nonetheless. I of course tried to appease my parents and court the finest lady in town, but my heart longed for my lover. We were going to run away together, Joel. It was all planned out, and I was ready to throw away my old life for him. It was, and still is taboo and forbidden to lay with the same sex. We were careful, until I came to him with the grave news that I would have to marry, and that we could no longer be together. He was angry, I was angry, we got reckless, and one night we were caught.”

“By…the lady of the house? Your now wife?”

He nodded, leaning back against the front of his desk, “yes, she was the one who caught us in the act, in my chambers. She screamed so loud, as if she was witnessing a murder! I begged her to keep her voice down but she wouldn’t listen. She was disgusted with me, and proclaimed that I would rot in eternal hell for the sins I committed.”

“What happened…to your lover, sir?”

“My own father nearly beat my lover to death in front of me. I was forced to watch the life drain from his eyes. I begged and begged for him to stop, to let him live! Maybe he would have, if it wasn’t for the lady of the house to spread a rumor that the butler's son came onto me against my will. My father didn’t want to believe that his son was a fairy, and so my lover was sentenced to hang. I visited him for the very last time when he was shackled, malnourished, and begging for death to take him. I stayed with him all night, praying that the sun would never rise. The following morning I was forced to watch him hang. Every single spectator in the crowd, except for me, cheered for the death of another fairy!” He used the back of his hand to swiftly wipe at his eyes when his tears began to well and roll down his cheeks.

“He was buried in an unmarked grave and I went through with marrying the lady of the house. I wasn’t given another choice, and on the night of our wedding, she whispered to me that she knew the truth, and that she wouldn’t hesitate to blackmail me for it.”

“I’m so sorry, sir. Your lover—you, I’m so sorry. I do not understand why people are so cruel and hateful. Love is love, is it not?”

“Please do not sympathize with me, Joel. I do not seek your sympathy. I am telling you this because if you do not swallow your feelings for my daughter, you will surely face the same fate that my lover did! Don’t you understand? She has been promised to another. She meets with the banker's son tonight and in time, they will be married. It is her duty and expectation. And you will have the choice to marry the lady I have chosen for you. Your love for my daughter will fade, and you will be grateful that it did.”

“How dare you! How dare you stand there—you coward! You could have been with your lover now if you had run away together! You had the opportunity, and didn’t seize it?! Don’t stand there and claim that my love for your daughter will fade, when yours for your dead lover has not! You stand there, weeping for him! Your life could have been different—”

Crack

Your fathers cruel fist made direct contact with Joel’s beautiful nose, the force of impact sending him stumbling backwards, clutching his face in despair as blood trickled and dripped between the grooves of his fingers, staining the golden threaded hearthrug in splotches of crimson.

“Get the fuck out of my office. It is clear that you have forgotten your place, boy. You will never marry the likes of my daughter.”

Joel retreated through the office doors with what remained of his dignity. He confided in your father purely out of trust, and he thought it was a mutual feeling. For the rest of the afternoon, leading into the evening, you did not see your Joel.

The banker’s son was polite, well-mannered, but goodness—was he a bore. You had no interest in hearing him drone on about the stock market in New York City. He didn’t bother to ask you about you, or your interests as they were already predisposed by your mother.

Fucking cunt.

He strolled with you in the gardens with your hand lightly grasping onto his elbow. Your eyes wandered off, in search for that familiar stature, and head of distinguishable dark curls as you passed by the stables, but your Joel was nowhere to be found. Your heart sank and you asked the banker’s son, Timothy, if he would mind giving you a moment of privacy in the garden's gazebo. He obliged, but not before he could press an affectionate kiss to the outside of your hand. The bristles in his perfectly groomed mustache tickled your skin before he reluctantly pulled away.

You let out a sigh of relief, your posture returning to a relaxed state as you watched him walk back towards the festivities inside. When you were certain that he was not lingering, you began to nervously pace the short distance inside of the gazebo, muttering about how Joel would never just leave you like this, would he?

Where the fuck was he?

Then you heard it, the groaning of the tired wood beneath his boots, and that warm, deep rasp in his voice. “My dearest.” He croaked, and you immediately knew something was wrong, something had happened. His voice sounded far more nasally, and when you turned around to face him, that’s when you noticed the dry, crusted blood beneath his fractured nose, the rusted blood stains in his white shirt. You ran to him, delicately cradling his beautiful face in your palms.

“My Joel!” You cried, “what has happened? Who has done this to you! Your nose—your beautiful nose!”

“Hush, my darling. It’s—just a fracture, lover. It will heal.” He lowered his tone to a whisper, his hands slowly coming to rest around your waist. “It does not matter who did this to me, my dearest.”

“How can you say such a thing? Joel, please, my love, who did this to you?” You softly begged, thumbs gently stroking the scruff speckled on his strong jaw.

“Your father.” He murmured, bitterness laced in his words.

“What?” You murmured in disbelief, dropping your hands from his face, refusing to believe it. “Why would he do such a thing to you! Joel, please, please tell me what happened!”

“My love, please promise you will not hate me for what I am about to utter. Swear to me that you won’t.” He pleaded, tightening his grip around your waist in fear that you would slip between his fingers like grains of sand.

“I swear it.”

“He knows about us, my dearest. He knows that I love you, and you love me. He knows that you cannot bear children because I am the one who confided in him this afternoon. I did it in hopes that he would understand, and stop the banker's son from courting you tonight. I—I thought maybe we wouldn’t have to run away, and we would be accepted as lovers!”

“Oh Joel, they will never accept us! You stupid, stupid, beautiful little fool.” You sniffled sadly, feeling your tears oncoming. “You are too good for this world and everyone in it! Your heart is made of pure gold, and I love you for it, but now you have put yourself in grave danger! That was so fucking stupid of you to do, lover.”

“My sweet, I may be a fool, but what else is a man to do when he is in love? Your father knows, yes, but now we must seize our opportunity to leave, tonight! The party is in full swing, is it not? No one will notice your absence, my dearest. If we don’t leave tonight, I fear we will never have another chance at eternal happiness.”

You swallow down your tears, melting into his embrace and his words. “The banker’s son waits for me inside, it will be suspicious if I do not return to him within the hour…” you trailed off.

“Are you having your doubts, my love?”

“No, no! Of course not. I am in fear that we will be caught if we aren’t careful, my Joel. I will return to him and you will go to my chambers. Lock the doors and do not open them for anyone. Take the back entrance, through the kitchens! No one will see you, I swear it.” You reached for his hands on your waist, interlocking your fingers through his.

“And you? I cannot fathom thinking of the banker’s son touching—”

“My Joel, please do not allow your thoughts to sour. I am expected to dance with him and when the timing is right, I will come find you. I promise.”

He nodded, bringing your clasped hands up to his face so he could kiss your knuckles, wincing from the dull ache in his nose.

“Together?” He murmured, eyes locking onto yours.

“Always.”

You parted ways after he kissed you, promising you that all this pain would be worth it in the end, and of course, you believed him, for what else is a girl to do when she is in love?

You returned to Timothy’s side, assuring him that you just needed to be alone with your thoughts. He was an understanding man, and you could understand why your father assumed that he would be a perfect match for you, but no one would ever be your Joel. And while you danced, and made small talk with him and his friends, Joel was making his way through the kitchens, ducking into one of the main hallways, muscle memory guiding him the way to your chambers, but unbeknownst to him, he was being followed.

It was a quarter to midnight and your lover could hear the party growing rowdier by the minute even behind your locked doors. He grew weary, doubts settling into his mind that perhaps you had forgotten him. Perhaps you were having a good time with the fucking bankers son. His spirits lifted when he heard the sound of a key being inserted in the lock. He sprung up from the edge of your perfectly made up bed, heart racing in his chest when the doors opened.

His face fell, blood running ice cold when the person revealed behind the door was not you, but the lady who was promised to him by your father. He took a step back, palms growing clammy.

“How did I know that you would be lingering in her chambers, Joel?” She closed the doors behind her and locked them for good measure. “What would her father say if he knew you were in here…hmm?”

“You fucking followed me here, didn’t you, Lady Florence?” He seethed, feeling like an animal trapped in the corner with nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

“Because you were promised to me, or have you forgotten?” She cocked a brow in his direction, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I never approached you. Never even attempted to court you. Just because her father promised me to you, doesn’t fucking mean shit until actions are taken after words.” He snapped.

“I suppose, but then again, you’re in a not so favorable position, Joel. Trespassing after hours, and in his daughter's chambers nonetheless? I’m almost certain you would hang for such a crime.” She mused, stepping closer to where he had tucked himself nearly into a corner closest to the window. “Perhaps he would love to hear how I caught you and his daughter fucking in the gardens a few weeks back. How truly reckless of you both.” She tsked.

He scoffed at her attempt at blackmailing him in such a petty way. “Your threats are made in vain. Her father already knows about my love for his daughter. He’s well aware, and you look fucking desperate and pathetic at your attempt to blackmail me.”

“Blackmail you? Joel, you have me all wrong!” She laughed, “I don’t have the heart to blackmail you!”

“Then what the fuck do you call what you just attempted to do, hmm? Don’t take me for a fool! You are nothing but a jealous little—”

“Joel? It’s me, my love. I don’t have my key…someone must have nicked it!” You whispered through the outside of the closed door, looking around the vacant hallway anxiously. “Are you in there?”

He strode past Florence, shoulder checking her on his way to the door and quickly unlocked it, ushering you inside before closing and locking it again.

Your eyes landed on his face, and then trailed over his shoulder to Florence, one of your ladies, who you had believed up until this point was loyal, and not a conniving little—

“Lady Florence? What are you doing in my chambers? What is going on?!”

Joel reached for bare forearm with a gentle grip to pull you back. “My dearest, it isn’t what you think! Lady Florence is the one who nicked your key and followed me to your chambers! She cornered me, threatened me with blackmail, and claimed that she caught you and I in the gardens weeks ago!”

“Is this true?” You felt saddened, betrayed, and disappointed. “Flo, how could you do such a thing to me? I thought we were friends!”

“My lady—he lies! I never would steal from you, he is the one to corner me! He sought me out, forcing me into your chambers—” she lied between her teeth, digging herself in a graver hole than she was planning.

“LIAR!” you yelled, ripping your arm from Joel’s grasp, “he would never lay a hand on a lady, nor pressure her! You speak only of lies Florence!”

“Lover! We do not have the time for this! We have to go, we have to go now!” Joel urged you from behind, reaching for your arm again. “She isn’t worth it! Please, we must—”

And then you heard your fathers voice booming down the hall. Your biggest fear was coming true, and now there was nowhere for you or Joel to hide when the doors bursted open, the locking mechanism snapping in half from the force of your father.

“What is the meaning of this?!” He demanded.

Lady Florence, being the snake in the grass that she was, immediately flocked to your fathers side. “Sir! You arrived just in time!” She said exasperatedly, “Your daughter was in her chambers freshening up and I went to go check on her, being the good friend that I am, when I heard her dreadful scream! I came upon the heinous crime of the filthy stable hand taking your daughter against her will!” She wept her crocodile tears. “He threatened to—”

Your father wasn’t buying it for he knew that Florence was a terrible liar, and a rotten friend. “Lady Florence, this does not concern you. Return to the party immediately, and speak this to no one.”

“But sir—”

“GET OUT!” He yelled, pointing an accusatory finger at her. She narrowed her eyes at both you and Joel before slinking out of the room, closing the doors behind her.

You immediately stepped in front of Joel, silently vowing to protect him no matter what would happen, you would not allow your father to harm another hair upon your lover's head.

“Daddy, please, I love him! Please, let us be! I know it goes against what is expected of me, but Joel is a good man! He has only ever been good to me, father!”

“Your mother will never allow it, daughter. All Joel has done is tempted you and filled your head with fantasies! You have been promised to the banker's son and that is final! You think of me to be cruel, but I am only doing what is best for you!”

“I do not care what you think is best for me, father! I do not want to marry the banker's son! I wish to be happy with my one love, and I do not care if that means that you and mother will exile me! I do not care that it means I will no longer live a life of riches! I am rich in love and happiness with him by my side!”

Your father ignored your pleas, even when you clung to his arm and dug your heels in the ground to stop him from advancing towards Joel. “Please, father! Please! I am begging you to leave him be!” You cried, and your words were caught in your throat when the backside of your fathers ring clad hand made swift contact with your cheek, sending you tumbling to the floor in shock. All Joel could see was red behind his eyes when your fathers hand made contact with your cheek. He sprung into action, but your father, despite his age, was quick, ready for Joel’s attack.

“YOU DARE FUCKIN’ LAY A HAND ON HER?!” Your lover yelled with a rage you had never heard leave his lips, “I’LL FUCKIN’ KILL YOU IF YOU LAY A HAND UPON HER AGAIN!”

Your father used Joel’s rage to his advantage, letting the younger man assume he had control of the situation when he was shoved against your tall, wooden chifferobe.

“STOP IT! PLEASE!” You cried, “BOTH OF YOU, PLEASE STOP!”

In your moment of distress, Joel was distracted for a millisecond too long when your fathers fist connected with Joel’s jaw, sending him stumbling back. He landed another hit, and then another, weakening Joel enough that he crumbled to his knees, bringing his arms over his head to block out the fists raining down upon him.

Your father was relentless, grabbing your lover by the back of his neck, yanking it upwards so he was forced to look up at the older man from his knees. He bent down to his level, getting close to his ear and whispered only for him to hear “I warned you this would end badly if you weren’t careful, boy.”

Joel spit a mixture of congealed blood and saliva directly onto his face, spattering it in speckles of crimson. “Fuck you, you coward.” He hissed between gritted teeth.

Your fathers fist trembled, his hand surely was broken, but all he could think about was how he was forced to watch his own lover be beaten in the same fashion, and now he was on the delivering end of it. “Get out.” He seethed. “Leave the property before lady Florence runs her large mouth to the lady of the house and spreads a false rumor about you and my daughter. Leave before I change my mind, Joel.”

Defeat; complete and utter defeat is all Joel Miller felt in his bones when your father released him with a rough shove to the ground. He struggled to sit up, coughing up more blood, and when you attempted to crawl to his side, your father grasped your elbow and yanked you to the door.

your fading screams of his name echoed down the hall as your father dragged you further and further away.

Bruised, beaten, and feeling hopeless, Joel Miller forced himself to his feet and obeyed your fathers word to leave while he still had the chance. He felt like a coward now, but what else could he do? If he stayed, surely he would face the gallows for a crime that he didn’t commit. Lady Florence had infact gone to run her big mouth to the lady of the house, claiming that Joel Miller raped you in your bed chambers. It was of course a fabricated lie, and only lady Florence, Joel, your father, and you knew the truth.

June 4th, 1844

My Dearest,

I am deeply remorseful for the events that transcribed three days ago. I know I have put you in an undesirable situation now with your father’s wishes for your arranged marriage to the rich banker's son. Forgive me, for I don’t care to remember his name. My dearest, do not put the blame upon yourself. If we had known that there were prying, hateful eyes watching us, I would have waited for you in the stables and not inside your chambers. Jealousy drives even the sanest of people to do the unforgivable. The deep wounds your father has inflicted upon me will heal, but my heart? Oh, how it aches for you, my dearest. If I were not a coward, I would turn back and face the gallows just to see your face one last time, for what else is a man to do when he is in love? I’m heading west, like we planned in the gardens, in hopes that you will follow me and go against your father’s wishes. Please write to me soon, tell me that you are safe, and grace me with your sweet words.

Your devoted Joel

Unspecified date.

My Joel,

I write this to you in secret. My words are only for your eyes, and when you receive my letter, tell no one, my lover. Father is angry, so very angry, and mother only speaks of hate towards you. She is determined to make me press charges against you to hang for a crime you did not commit! Father won’t stand for it and instead we have abandoned the estate, left all of our belongings including our dear horses! They will not tell me where we are going, but I miss you terribly, my Joel. My brothers have been free to marry by their choosing, but I? I cannot. It’s rather cruel, isn’t it? To be given one life and since birth, since I first opened my eyes and gazed upon the new world, my choice has been stolen from my grasp. Oh, my Joel, you speak in sorrows, but the fault lands upon my shoulders. I’m so sorry, lover. I should have been more careful and discreet with our planned rendezvous. I deeply loathe Lady Florence for spying upon us! You are right of her jealousy, and now she claims to be remorseful! Oh, I feel your lips now. Your kiss, your touch upon my skin. My love for you has not weakened, I promise. Hold my words close to your heart, my Joel. I fear I will not be able to write to you again, but I will try, for you. My Joel, you are in my thoughts, always.

You have my heart,

Your Dearest.

January 1848, one hour after dusk

The decision to leave Texas and travel to New York to stop yours and the banker’s son’s wedding could quite possibly be the last thing that Joel Miller would ever do. But how could he sleep at night knowing that you were out there, somewhere in the city, thousands of miles away. You had not written to him in so long, but that didn’t deter him from following his heart back to you. He couldn’t fathom life without you in it any longer, and what else is a man to do when he is in love?

That’s how he found himself in the familiar stables, the horses peeking their heads out from their stalls and nickering softly to him in greeting. He kept the single letter you wrote to him safely tucked away in the pocket of his coat, rucksack thrown over his shoulder with what little belongings he possessed. After a new family moved into your home he was given a higher title, a warm bed to sleep in, and he could have married his new boss's daughter and lived a comfortable, happy life, but he declined, for she would never be you, his dearest. Despite turning down every single one of her affections, she still lingered, hoping that one day she would be good enough for his affections and heart.

He was frantically tacking up Sunfyre, cinching up the girth when the barn doors creeped open and Phoebe, his boss’s daughter appeared.

“Joel?” She whispered through the cool evening air, lantern in hand to peer into the low-lit stalls, “what…are you doing?”

He let out a sigh, dropping his hand from the girth and turned around to face her, “lady Phoebe, it’s late. You shouldn’t be out after hours.”

“Neither should you.” She chastised. “Where are you going at this hour, Joel?”

“My lady, that is none of your business. Please, return home. Forget that you ever saw me.”

“You’re going after her, aren’t you? Joel, it’s been years, and she has only written back to you once! It’s in all the papers that she is marrying the banker's son. You could be happy here, with me.” She whispered the last bit, feeling her heart ache for a man who would never feel the same for her.

“Lady Phoebe, “You are a dear friend to me, but I cannot love you, for my heart belongs to another.”

“But I can love you, Joel. I’m right here! She is thousands of miles away and—”

“She is my love, my one true love, and I’ll be damned if I don’t follow my heart. Your heart sings for me, but it’s not my tune to hear. You will belong to another, I promise.” He moved from Sunfyre’s side, grasping Phoebe's hands gently in his calloused palms, “you have to let me, and what could never be between us go.”

May 6th, 1848

My Joel, if you’re out there…please, please come find me, lover.

Your Joel wasn’t even sure how the fuck he was supposed to find you in a city as large as New York City. All he knew is that today you were expected to marry the banker’s son, and he would be damned if he didn’t stop this wedding from happening. He asked nearly every passbery in the street if they knew where the biggest wedding of the month would be taking place. It took less time than expected to find his answer, and once he did, he rented the finest suit that he could afford, tucked the ring box safely in his suit pocket, and rode to the chapel.

The wedding bells were already beginning to sweetly chime, and he felt his blood run cold at the sound. Was he too late? He would never forgive himself if he was.

“If anyone here, in this room objects to the unifying marriage between this man and woman, speak now or forever hold your peace.” The officiant spoke at the head of the altar, just as the doors leading into the chapel burst open.

“I OBJECT!” Joel’s familiar voice boomed up the aisle. Hushed murmurs, and surprised gasps echoed throughout the chapel when your eyes landed upon your Joel. All time ceased as you dropped Timothy’s hands, racing down the aisle, the train of your perfectly fitted wedding dress dragged behind you.

Tears flooded your eyes as you threw yourself into your lover's embrace, clinging to him in disbelief with your hands cradling his face. “MY JOEL, YOU CAME FOR ME!”

“Of course I did, my dearest. For what else is a man to do when he is in love?” He murmured, unable to truly process all the feelings he was experiencing at once. But what did it truly matter? The time apart was years, but it was all worth it leading up to this moment.

Your father was already making his way down the aisle, followed by your mother and Timothy when Joel grasped your hand tightly in his and whisked you down the aisle towards the exit. He wasn’t going to let them take you away from him again, not this time.

His grip on your hand did not loosen at the harsh sound of your fathers voice, and even when you were running down the chapel steps in unison, he did not let go until you and him were safely tucked behind a wall of a building, out of sight from the wedding party.

He kept you safely caged against the wall, a burst of memories from the night of firsts that you shared together all those years ago. “My dearest,” he breathed, “I thought I was too late! I thought the wedding already happened and you—”

“My Joel, I—I never thought I would see you again! I only ever received your single letter and I thought that you had moved on, that you had forgotten about me!”

“What?” He shook his head, brows furrowed as he grabbed your hands and brought them to his lips, kissing every inch of your skin there. “My Dearest, I wrote to you many, many times! Did you receive all of my letters? I thought the same! I thought you forgot about your Joel.” He admitted quietly.

“Fuck! I bet it was mother, or father! I bet they were keeping your letters from me, lover! Maybe they thought that if I believed you had forgotten me, I would be more inclined to marry the banker’s son!”

“I would believe that to be true, my sweet. But none of that matters, okay? I’m here now. Your Joel is here, and I will never leave your side again.”

“I-I can’t believe you’re here! Oh, my Joel, I’m so sorry—for everything! I have not stopped thinking about you all these years, I swear it. My heart only has ever belonged to you. I wear his ring, but it means nothing to me!”

“Shh, my love. I know, I know. My heart has only ever belonged to you, my dearest. Only to you. Fuck his ring. I will remove it from your finger so you never have to gaze upon it again.” He rasped, gently grabbing your left hand, scoffing at the enormous rock on your ring finger. “And I will replace it with my own.”

“Please, my Joel.”

He slipped the banker’s son’s ring off of your finger, tucking it into his pocket before he pulled out his own ring box, revealing a smaller, dainter ring beneath the velvet cover.

“It’s not much, and I’m sorry that I couldn’t grace your finger with the largest diamond the world has ever seen, but—I love you, dearest. I came all this way because I couldn’t possibly fathom the thought of losing you to another. I have never loved another soul as I do you, and while I don’t have riches to offer you, shiny carriages, silver platters, I have my heart and I know that it’s worth something to you, darlin.’”

He slipped his ring onto your finger, where it always belonged, and then you finally kissed him, your lips meeting in gentle brush before he surged forward, kissing you with everything that he had to offer. He believed that he was hallucinating, that he was back in Texas, longing for you in his empty bed. But you were here, you were real beneath his fingertips as he licked sweetly into your mouth, hands splayed around your waist, holding you close.

“It’s perfect, my Joel.” You murmured against his lips.

“Only because the lady that wears it is the most beautiful in the entire world. Sunfyre is waiting for us down the street. We can go as far east, west, wherever your heart desires. I will love you eternally, and no one will ever keep us apart, my dearest. I swear it.”

“Let’s go home, my Joel. To Texas. Take me home.”

And so he did, for what else is a man to do when he is in love?

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talonabraxas · 4 months ago

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Mount Shasta

There’s a well-known legend that says that somewhere deep beneath Northern California’s 14,179-foot-tall Mount Shasta is a complex of tunnels and a hidden city called Telos, the ancient “City of Light” for the Lemurians. They were the residents of the mythical lost continent of Lemuria, which met its demise under the waves of the Pacific (or the Indian Ocean, depending on who you ask) thousands of years ago. Lemurians believed to have survived the catastrophe are said to have settled in Telos, and over the years their offspring have been sporadically reported wandering around the area: seven-feet-tall, with long flowy hair, often clad in sandals and white robes.

Lemurians aren’t the only unusual figures said to inhabit this stand-alone stratovolcano, easily seen from Interstate 5, about 60 miles south of the Oregon border. Mount Shasta is believed to be a home base for the Lizard People, too, reptilian humanoids that also reside underground. The mountain is a hotbed of UFO sightings, one of the most recent of which occurred in February 2020. (It was a saucer-shaped lenticular cloud.) In fact, the mountain is associated with so many otherworldly, paranormal, and mythical beings—in addition to long-established Native American traditions—that it’s almost like a who’s who of metaphysics. It has attracted a legion of followers over the years, including “Poet of the Sierras” Joaquin Miller and naturalist John Muir, as well as fringe religious organizations such as the Ascended Masters, who believe that they’re enlightened beings existing in higher dimensions. What is it about this mountain in particular that inspires so much belief?

“There’s a lot about Mount Shasta, and volcanoes in general, that are difficult to explain,” says Andrew Calvert, scientist-in-charge at the California Volcano Observatory, “and when you’re having difficulty explaining something, you try and understand it.” Calvert has studied Shasta’s eruptive history since 2001. “It’s such a complicated and rich history,” he says, “and Shasta itself is also very visually powerful. These qualities build on each other to make it a profound place for a lot of people—geologists, spirituality seekers … even San Francisco tech folks, and hunters and gatherers from 10,000 years ago. It’s one that can have a really strong effect on your psyche.”

Mount Shasta is one of the most prominent of all the Cascade volcanoes, an arc that runs from southwestern British Columbia to Northern California, and includes Washington’s Mount Rainier and Oregon’s Mount Hood, among others. “It’s so steep and so tall that it even creates its own weather,” says Calvert. This includes the spaceship-looking lenticular clouds that tend to form around the mountain, created, he says, “by a humid air mass that hits the volcano, and then has to go up a little bit to cool off.” But they only contribute to Shasta’s supernatural allure, along with its ice-clad peak, steaming fumaroles, and shape-shifting surface that’s being constantly broken down and rebuilt by ice, water, wind, and debris. The mountain also sits about 15 miles or so west of the standard arc line of the other Cascade volcanoes—a move that took place about 700,000 years ago. “We don’t really have a good explanation for why it moved out there,” Calvert says, a statement that seems to make Mount Shasta’s mysteries appear more otherworldly by the minute.

The Mount Shasta spiritual legacy goes far deeper than contemporary myths and sightings. For Native Americans in particular, the mountain is a sacred place, straddling the territories of the Shasta, Wintu, Achumawi, Atsugewi, and Modoc tribes, which can date their lineages back to a time when eruptions actually took place there. (Its last eruption, says Calvert, was a little over 3,000 years ago.)

There’s Something About Mount Shasta

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vxsellie · 3 months ago

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⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ WILD WEST !

— this is just to give u a visual for the world building in ‘tangled bones’. all of the pictures are from pinterest & every town / city / and house depicted is made up, & not at all historically accurate!!!

this will be added to the start & end of each chapter so it's easily accessible. i just wanted to make the little world in my head more tangible for myself while also making my story more digestible for you! if you have any questions or would like certain areas / places added that are mentioned, just ask & i'll be more than happy to indulge you

<< back to masterlist !

UPTOWN

significance. where the strauss family resides

residents. this little town is home to those wealthy enough to sustain living here. rich farmers, business owners, mining rig owner, etc find themselves in uptown due to it being closer to wealthy customers and the railway station that journeys in & out of the town.

desc. uptown is located in the very center of the west, the heart of trade and commerce to all of those involved. thin patches of grass grow here, but it struggles to thrive. brick streets are lined with homes and businesses, the construction maintained and kept nice when compared to any of the neighboring towns. uptown is so large with such a lively population that many consider it a city, seeing as it's on the brink of being deemed one.

STRAUSS RESIDENCE

significance. where our main character, charlotte strauss, grew up ; the house she ran away from.

residents. homes the esteemed strauss family which consists of three members, mother father and daughter. francis strauss, the man of the house, upkeeps the land and provides income to sustain living here. bonnie strauss, francis's third wife, raises her only child within the walls of the home whilst also cooking & cleaning for her little family. charlotte strauss, the only heir to the strauss lineage, was born and raised within this house, birthed in the very bathtub upstairs. this home is all she's known for her entire life. no wonder she had to get out.

desc. the exterior of the strauss residence is depicted in the last image of the 'uptown' section. the home is built of pale blue wood and large white columns, vines and dust tracing the corners of the building. the interior is decorated small and homey, white walls and mahogany flooring and hanging chandeliers.

GOLDENEDGE

significance. where both ellie and joel currently live.

residents. very few people live in goldenedge, the land do vast and far apart that it doesn't exactly have an exact population number. mostly farmers inhabit this land, using its size for crops

desc. deep orange desert sand coats the land, dirt roads and cattle the only sign of life. houses are hundreds of acres apart, neighbors never seeing one another unless meeting is priorly planned. cows and sheep are free to roam the land, so desolate that there's nobody around enough to complain. farmers love this land, fields and hay bales dotting the horizon.

ELLIE'S HOUSE

significance. where the love interest, ellie williams, currently resides.

residents. ellie lives alone in her tiny house, happy in her own company as long as she has the consolation of knowing that nobody will come knocking on her door asking for sugar. she's considered adopting a cat or dog, but sees no point in it due to her rarely being home & always elsewhere ⎯ whether that be out bounty hunting or out drinking with her boss, joel miller.

desc. located in goldenedge ; her house built literally in the middle of nowhere. joel is her closest neighbor and he's about fifteen miles away. ellie prefers it this way, though. the house is white, the paint beginning to chip on the outside. she has a small wrap-around porch where she sits and drinks with joel, overlooking her horse stables and swishing grass. her kitchen has a tiny circular table, only needing two seats ⎯ one in case of joel randomly visiting her (which he does quite frequently). it's decorated lazily, tools and random pictures nailed into the wall haphazardly and without much thought. somehow, though, over the years it's turned into an actually well-decorated space. it's messy at times, but it's cozy and lived in. it's home.

RUBY RIDGE

significance. where most fugitives (including charlotte) are found by bounty hunters.

residents. home to those too poor to afford living in uptown, but wealthy enough to not end up in deadwood. people who live here mostly consist of drunken old men here to gamble and drink, or outlaws running from ellie & joel while trying to sell illegal products to the drunken men. brothels and bootlegging shacks thrive here.

desc. the streets are made of dirt, the buildings on either side made of rotting wood and cheep nails that fall apart weekly. most buildings here struggle to survive the tiniest gust of wind. but, frankly, this is ellie's favorite place in the world. everyone here is so social. kids can be seen running up and down the streets, women luring men into the brothels, men drunk and spending all their money. the atmosphere is so personable despite its slight uneasiness. nobody in ruby ridge has good intentions, but that's what makes the town so lovable.

DEADWOOD

significance. where ellie grew up. until she was fifteen.

residents. people who live in deadwood have a very short life expectancy, to put it bluntly. the townspeople are rude and irritable, but they have good reason ⎯ they're in the act of starving to death. kids here have to steal in order for their families to have enough food to make it through winter. parents pray and hope they don't have kids for fear of needing to provide for another human under their roof.

desc. the slums of the west. buildings are made of stone, jagged and uneven. the streets are nonexistent as nobody here has enough money to afford any form of transportation, even a horse. beggars line the town, ribs poking through their skin as they cough and hack from an incurable illness.

THICKET FOREST

significance. you'll see

residents. seeing as naught but nature exists out here, it's rare to see anybody in thicket forest. sometimes, travelers or traders can be seen on horseback but they rarely stay long, knowing that being out here for too long leads only to death. tons of wildlife is here though!

desc. outside of all the towns and away from civilization, a forest is located in the center of the desert. the trees are lush and green, watering holes thriving in their beauty. but the trip here is two days each way, meaning most sane people would be wise enough to avoid ending up out in thicket forest. after leaving town ⎯ any town ⎯ you're engulfed by desert and sand and cacti. but after a seven hour trip into the distance, shrubs and bushes begin to dot the land, soon fading into trees and a thick foliage. but by then, you're likely too late unless you turn back as soon as you enter the forest. lots and lots of sustenance is required in order to survive a trip to thicket and back. best of luck to anyone who strays out here.

#vxsellie !#ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie willams x reader #ellie williams #the last of us #joel miller #the wild west #cowboy au #cowgirl!ellie williams #wild west au #cowgirls are so hot #sorry #virtual map??#idk what its called #worldbuilding #series #masterlist

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wordsmithic · 1 year ago

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I had it up to here. This is a review of the Iliad (!) and this person (White Anglophone, their country, US, controls Greece to a large degree) says Madeline Miller's work is better than a national epic??

And they evaluate - nay, reduce - the content of an epic my people have been making and preserving for centuries as "competition among men, petty gods, and long list of male family trees with some poetic snippets."

Excuse us stupid Greeks for respecting and recording family lines and tracing our lineage from the gods since time immemorial, I guess. Why don't you piss on our cultural figures and gods while you're at it, too? (Oh, wait, you did)

And you didn't even read the poetry of the original, which is honestly stunning at its phrasing, so, your loss. I guess your mind (and edition you read?) only caught "some" poetic snippets.

Typical behaviour of many Madeline Miller fans, unfortunately.

Honestly, honey, avoid the Odyssey and any other cultural epic. They don't deserve your eyes looking at their pages made by generations of my ancestors. And get outta here with your "I hate the all-male stuff" attitude. You have no idea of the huge contribution of our women of all ages to our literature and folklore.

I get if reading Epics isn't for you and if you don't enjoy them. But don't make it a problem of the Epics and people's cultural heritage. Placing "hot boy romance" and "(western) female rage" WASP feminism fantasies over ancient Epics is totally a you problem.

I feel like I'm going hard on that person but no, actually. They disrespected part of the Greek culture sooo much that I don't care, especially knowing more and more people are gonna have this attitude in the future. While shouting "I'm against colonialism and imperialism!" at that. (σε πιστεύουμε γλυκιά μου μη χτυπιέσαι)

But worry not! For the low price of $19.99 you too can have the colonialist attitude of a 19th century dandy!

#retellings #the iliad #greek mythology #hellas #history #greece #Achilles #epics #Greek Epics

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katerinaaqu · 2 months ago

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I have been looking at your page for over na hour now and I love it. Thank you for so much for sharing these with us. I saw your posts about EPIC and while I like epic very much I also understand where you are coming from with your criticisms and I agree with them, they just don't diminish my enjoyment.

However I saw you comparing EPIC to PJO and I got curious about your thoughts on the changes PJO and the expanded books did to Greek Mythology. I am talking about stuff like Calypso being impresoned on Ogygia as punishment, Zöe Nightshade and her connection to Heracles and the like. Things that change the context of old myths and stories.

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!! Thank you so much for the question. I need to clarify though that I am not THAT familiar with PJO but I know the basics of it and watched the film that was released back in the day but I haven't read the books (our of Riordan's books I have only read the first two books of Cane Chronicles so I am a bit familiar with his style of writing among others but yeah).

I usually compare PJO to Epic because as I mentioned before Epic treats mythology at this point as just some form of entertainment even if that is on expence of the source material and the culture behind it. I have heard that before by many people that it "doesn't diminish their enjoyment" and I am gonna say for one more time that this is great but is not the case with me and I just believe I do not have some moral obligation to like them both. Some ideas stick with me and some do not. Epic just doesn't and the fact that it takes over every Epic Cycle discussion is even more increasing my aversion for the changes the same much as the constant talk on Miller's books on expense on actual analysis on the Iliad did back in the day. Again that is just how I see it. I am not saying I am expecting everyone to think the same, of course

As you imagined from my talk I am not a fan. For starters once more the gods being used to express some purely modern set of values on expence of the story; how the gods are being once more ridiculed or altered for the sakes of this teenage novel. I also see that many aspects of their lives are ignored for example again as many people know how gods are "terrible parents" while literally in many myths we do follow the idea that a hero blessed with god lineage has been advised or helped by the god-parent. What is more we have the prompt that a demi-god has powers that belong to the parent which was not the case. Arguably most demigods didn't have distinct powers except from exceptional talents with certain exceptions of course. Like I said I am not familiar with all the contents of the books but yes I remember how they treated Calypso and honestly that doesn't make any sense. Arguably Calypso didn't need any more stuff in attempt to make her "sympathetic" in that aspect. She was already a lonely deity. To add more tear-jerking stories and such to explain mythology shows only the modern way of thinking to me; that people need something extra to understand the myths but this sometimes has an impact to the story. For instance the whole thing on the implications on "child support" by the gods and all... Arguably gods in greek mythology knew what they were doing. Like I mention to another analysis; Zeus wasn't just screwing around and kids just pop up. He deliberately sleeps with NOBLE women to leave behind noble heirs that are heroes of humanity etc.

I think modern fiction like that is often OVERLY simplifying the ancient myths treating them like some other fictional book that doesn't matter what you do to it and while it can be entertaining or even fun in the end of the day it is not that; it is a part of a living culture and history that still goes on. And the fact that the stories are so overly simplified and altered or twisted gave the false impression to many generations. Honestly I have heard more comments about "Zeus not keeping it in his pants" than the actual meaning and symolism behind the myth and then of course the talk swifts to stuff like sexism and such and while the talk is still valid it misses important points of myths

Also I dislike the double-standards of this that greek myth is free game to do whatever but oftentimes other myths do not have the same treatment because public considers it "disrespectful" or that it "spreads the false idea" or "propaganda" on these cultures. I would say I get more annoyed by the way that general public acts than the story itself sometimes.

I hope that helps somehow

#katerinaaqu answers #greek mythology

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dumbbitchenergy17 · 2 years ago

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MASTERLIST

hello there! before diving in here are some things to know:

request are currently closed

i will write anything EXCEPT smut

you can join my taglist here

most works have content warnings but if 18+ dni

now what you've been waiting for:

MY HERO ACADEMIA

katsuki bakugo x reader

series:

extra (discontinued)- u.a. a school for students to learn how to become the best pro-hero. When young y/n midoriya returns from her traveling to be accepted through recommendation. what awaits her when she meets the explosive blonde katsuki bakugo?

one-shots:

cell block tango - when your all-girls dance studio comes together with an all-boys dance studio that your boyfriend just happens to go to. tension rises when a new performance creates problems between you, your dance partner, and your boyfriend. (dancer!au)

my dream - love wasn't part of the agenda, win the sports festival, intern with the top heroes, then graduate and become number one. though those dreams don't always stay the same. (request)

izuku midoriya x reader

series:

mimic - being quirkless was something y/n lived with, the outcast, the freak. all because she wasn’t like 80 percent of the population. with dreams of becoming a hero she encounters, new friends, the return of her past, and an awakening in her.

fallen angel - y/n "halo" l/n, the protege of number two hero hawks. hero-in-training under the hero commission. mission complete training to become a hero while maintaining the hero society image.

infinite chances (coming soon)- multiple stories all lived by the same person and what connects them is the nine users of an extraordinary power.

shoto todoroki x reader

one-shots:

she loves me - a simple patrol, a routine that endeavor’s work-study students took.

keigo takami x reader

series:

the hellish todoroki family (coming soon)- dysfunctional: deviating from the norms of social behavior in a way regarded as bad. that’s the word that would describe her entire childhood and family.

mha x reader

one-shots:

bringer of chaos - with the reveal of you as the ua traitor, 1-a and the pro heroes now have to face the war coming to them. by the bringer of chaos.

STAR WARS

din djarin x reader

series:

clan of three (completed) - a mandalorian, an infant with a history of the jedi, and a teenager with similar powers with an undiscovered lineage. an unlikely group to travel the galaxy together.

crossing a line (a clan of three one-shot) - high stakes can be the reason the innocence begins to crack.

poe dameron x reader

series:

lost in time (coming soon)- frozen since the clone wars, a jedi general searches for her purpose in the battle that has not ceased.

THE LAST OF US

joel miller x reader

series:

where the wild things are - wild men or monstrous infected creatures, the world is wild and ravaged by cordecyps but some are raised in it and flourish becoming a wild thing.

CELEBRITIES

paul mescal x reader

one-shot:

reunion interview (a clan of three actors!au) - a reunion of our two favorite actors following their crazy lives after the ending of the fan-favorite show: The Mandalorian

timeline of rumors (smau) - a little timeline leading to the reveal of your relationship with paul mescal.

awards night - a very important night for yourself and your close friends on who will be taking home an Emmy and changes in your life.

MARVEL

peter parker x reader

series:

new life (discontinued)- you lived a normal life get up, go to school, head back home, and repeat. it was until your school had an interesting meeting with the one and only tony stark. will meeting him be the best moment of your life or the worst.

one-shot:

you're everything to me - hi! i absolutely love your writing omg!! i was wondering if you could do a 1 and 13 with peter parker and stark!reader, please? thanks 💜 (request)

the revengers - your dad goes out with the other avengers not knowing your band is performing there.

imagines:

imagine staying up all night studying for a big exam but your boyfriend peter wants you to sleep

steve rogers x reader

series:

sign of the beast (discontinued)- you wanted it to stop, you thought it was just a bad dream your brain created to mess with you. but how wrong you were, with this disease in you, can you get this beast out of you or let this darkness take over. (marvel x spn crossover)

avengers x reader

one-shots:

i am iron man - a final stand that would determine the fate of the universe

imagines:

imagine finding out your dad is tony stark when you fix his equation during a speech

SUPERNATURAL

dean winchester x reader

series:

sweetheart (discontinued)- going through her first year of college she meets her new history teacher, mr. winchester. the moment he locked eyes with her he was hooked. she was going to be his, no matter what consequences came with it.

one-shots:

heavy - when a hunt goes wrong will the reader be able to face her fear or end at the fail with a bad consequence.

sixteen going on seventeen - dean is way too overbearing with the reader. that causes things to be let out. (high school au)

am i interrupting? - you walk in on sam and eileen having some fun.

sam winchester x reader

one-shots:

hunter to queen - receiving a letter saying that changes her entire future. is she ready to leave her life as a hunter?

imagines:

imagine playing with sam’s hair

imagine finding out you’re the heir to the throne

castiel x reader

one-shots:

no grace is going to cure this -when castiel finds out that the reader has depression he tries using his grace to heal her but realizes he can’t.

misc. x reader

series:

i'm sorry (discontinued)- y/n winchester. the daughter of dean winchester always had trouble following her. when in the apocalypse world you meet the archangel michael that strikes a deal for this new vessel in front of him.

one-shots:

tell me i'm adored - when lucifer is able to take over hell after being out of the cage he takes the reader from her brothers and takes a possessive attraction for them.

best day ever - thinking it’s a normal day in school to have your world turn upside down.

imagines:

imagine finding out you're michael’s vessel

imagine being the one to shoot god and are now having visions

imagine being chuck’s firstborn and him not having the strength to kill you so he makes you human

#navigation #my masterlist #dumbbitchenergy #series #one shot #imagine #mcu #marvel #spn #supernatural #mha #my hero academia #star wars #tlou #the last of us

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ihavedonenothingright · 6 months ago

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Working on a side-by-side comparison of The Song of Achilles (Madeline Miller) and The Persian Boy (Mary Renault) because I hold that a large volume of the issues in TSOA's characterization of Patroclus come directly from Miller's attempts to make him a similar viewpoint character to Bagoas, and therefore, cast Achilles in a similar light to Renault's Alexander. I will note that Miller has not yet (to my knowledge) named The Alexander Trilogy specifically as an inspiration for The Song of Achilles, but she has named Renault as an inspiration, as well as a few other books of hers, so I think the likelihood is high she was referencing it. It's fairly obvious to me that the first line of The Song of Achilles is in the same vein as the first line of The Persian Boy, and I suspect that is intentional; both as a form of homage to the structure of epic poetry, and as a means of emphasizing the importance familial ties will play in the text.

"My father was a king and the son of kings" vs. "Lest anyone should suppose I am a son of nobody..."

Miller's Patroclus is not beat-for-beat Renault's Bagoas, but I do believe he's inspired by and designed to almost contrast with him. Bagoas identifies deeply with his lineage and his father, who were taken from him early, while Patroclus does not identify with his lineage and was rejected by his father. Bagoas wants to be a man by the terms of his society, but is prevented from doing so, while Patroclus rejects most of his culture's aspects of manhood, and the one time he meets them he is killed. It's important, however, that both of them are noncombatants (by choice or no) because it positions them away from the acts of killing, rape, and destruction their Special Blond Guys are doing, thereby making the blondies more likable. But while Bagoas's position as a noncombatant is rooted in history, Patroclus's is a notable departure from his position in The Iliad.

I'll go more in depth on all of this once I have the time, but if you haven't read any of Renault's works, I highly recommend them. Prepare yourself for a... flawed portrayal of Persia though.

#my favorite petty renault complaint is that she has bagoas respond to darius becoming king with “i met a guy called darius. is that him?”#when darius is the name he took UPON BECOMING KING #because persian kings took new names when they took the throne #a practice that is actually pretty easy to learn about #it's a small complaint in the grand scheme of things but i think it's illustrative of her general lack of care #which is a real shame because almost THE ENTIRE BOOK is set in persia like ma'am!#and you really feel it in the first 100 pages #classics #the song of achilles #the persian boy #madeline miller #mary renault #dex rants

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oeldeservesthenorris · 2 years ago

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Canucks: Quinn Hughes looking, talking, playing like true captain material

'For me, there are the assists, but he’s a terrific leader. He has been one of our best when it comes to being vocal. I haven’t really seen a bad game out of him. He’s very consistent.' — Rick Tocchet on Quinn Hughes.

Don’t let that boyish look fool you.

Aside from the obvious with multi-talented defenceman Quinn Hughes — sublime edge work to spin away from frustrated forecheckers, laser-like passes to trigger the transition and orchestrating the power play like a conductor — there’s also a growing and noticeable maturity.

It speaks of captain material.

Hughes is the product of a rich family sporting lineage and his respect, dedication and professionalism are building blocks in what is already a remarkable record-setting career with the Vancouver Canucks.

When Hughes, 23, and Elias Pettersson, 24, were promoted to the leadership group following the All-Star Game and donned an ‘A’ as alternate captains, along with J.T. Miller, 30, it was a sign of changing times.

Captain Bo Horvat had been traded and the consensus was to allow Hughes and Pettersson to methodically grow into their new roles and see who might eventually blossom to wear the ‘C’ next season.

That process has been sped up.

Hughes was always an engaging interview with frankness and vast knowledge of the game. It was more evident when he became an alternate and taking his energy and enthusiasm to another level hasn’t gone unnoticed — especially by the coach.

“For me, there are the assists and what he has been doing, but he’s a terrific leader,” Rick Tocchet said following a two-helper effort by Hughes on Sunday that elevated the blueliner to the 60-assist level for the second-consecutive season.

“I’ve been here seven weeks and he has been one of our best when it comes to being vocal. I haven’t really seen a bad game out of him. He’s very consistent. Obviously, the assists are great and his breakouts are incredible.

“That’s why (Paul) Coffey, (Scott) Niedermayer and (Ray) Bourque are great breakout guys and he (Hughes) is climbing that ladder.”

Bourque had a remarkable run between 1986-87 and 1993-94 where he put up 65, 73, 60, 63 and 71 assists. Coffey went even higher into the assist stratosphere between 1981-82 and 1985-86 with 60, 67, 86, 84 and 90 helpers.

Bourque served as captain of the Boston Bruins for 15 seasons and it’s not unusual to see a defender get that honour. This season, Jared Spurgeon, 33, serves in that capacity with the Minnesota Wild, while Roman Josi, 32, is captain of the Nashville Predators and Jacob Trouba, 29, wears the ‘C’ for the New York Rangers.

It’s customary to award your best player the captaincy, but it’s not always the best fit.

arkus Naslund was a reluctant captain because he preferred to let his game do the talking as an elite left winger. He would address the media — and often on a daily basis — but there was never a complete comfort factor because you have to be wired a certain way to answer repetitive and taxing queries.

The same could apply for Pettersson.

His play speaks volumes and the glare of the media spotlight isn’t the favourite part of his profession. It’s not a knock. Like many, he’s more comfortable in a one-on-one interview or small scrum.

So, what does this all mean?

Your captain has to be prolific because walking the walk is always going to beat talking the talk. He has to excel on the ice, play hurt, support the bench and be a voice of reason in the room.

Hughes logs a ridiculous amount of ice time with an average of 25:23 minutes that ranks sixth among all defencemen — and he has surpassed the 30-minute mark on four occasions, logging more than 28 minutes in 11 games.

“I want to play as much as I can,” he stressed. “I feel really good. Of course, some minutes are too much, but if I’m playing well — not lazy defensively and pushing offensively — I know I can play them.”

That’s leadership.

If that isn’t enough, there was one brief but testy shoving match between Hughes and Dakota Joshua that ended a long and draining practice last month on a fitting note.

Hughes got his back up during a two-versus-two scrimmage with the nets in close proximity at the defensive zone. It ramped up the testosterone and Conor Garland stepped in as referee. All in all, it served a purpose.

“For me, I’m trying to be a leader now and I want everyone to get better,” reasoned Hughes. “I need him to be the best he can be. And I need to continue to push myself to get better and push other guys.

“Petey and Millsy need to do that because, right now, we’re not getting enough from everyone and that’s why we’re not in the playoff spot. Everyone is a little edgier now with the way the season has gone.”

Joshua applauded the Hughes moxie because the fight in the mighty mite forced the big winger to ramp up his game in the mini scrimmage.

“That’s what it’s going to take to make this team better,” said Joshua. “Make sure everybody is pulling on the rope and I loved that and seeing him (Hughes) get fired up like that. We could use more of that every day around here.“

Hughes also got a hockey degree in human behaviour by playing with and soaking up the Luke Schenn tutelage. He became and better person and player from that union.

Captain material.

Source: https://www.princegeorgepost.com/sports/hockey/nhl/vancouver-canucks/canucks-quinn-hughes-looking-talking-playing-like-true-captain-material/wcm/9b3c9f08-7442-4c1c-9c1e-7352dc85f9b8

#quinn hughes #short king #nhl #nhl hockey #nhl players #nhl2022-2023 #vancouver canucks #boyishlook #i am screaming #i love him

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free-for-all-fics · 1 year ago

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Charlie Hunnam Character Prompts! This list includes: Alan McMichael, King Arthur, Raymond Smith, and Will “Ironhead” Miller. Pls tag me if you’re inspired by any of the ideas presented here. I’d love to read it! 💜

1. After the events of Crimson Peak, Edith and Alan eventually marry. Edith gives birth to a daughter (whether the baby is Alan’s, or Thomas’ from his and Edith’s night in the depot is up to you.) Their daughter inherits the ability to see ghosts just like her mother and grandmother before her.

2. You’re Thomas and Lucille’s daughter but you don’t know. You’ve been raised to believe you’re their sister. Due to the nature of your birth and years spent growing up in the darkness of Allerdale Hall, your eyes have a strong sensitivity to light. You’re in your 20s when Thomas takes you to an optician in New York while he’s courting Edith. Maybe an American doctor will have something to help you that the English doctors back home don’t. You meet Alan, who gives you an eye exam. He helps you when your eyes are giving you trouble by prescribing you a special type of eyeglasses and sunglasses so you can go outside for longer periods of time. He also prescribes you eyedrops/medications and recommends using a parasol for shade while you’re out on walks. Over time, his prescription notes become love notes.

3. You’re the youngest Sharpe and are much more petite than the average woman, standing only at about 4’9. Thomas assures you it’s not your fault, it’s just how you were born. You also attribute your small stature to the lack of necessary sunshine and fresh air from your years growing up confined to the shadows of Allerdale Hall. Your brother rarely let you leave the grounds while you were a child, afraid you’d get sick and your immune system would be too weak to fight off any infection. You’d never gone past the front yard before. Now an adult, you fall in love with Alan McMichael while Thomas is courting Edith. He dances with you at balls, sends you secret love letters, etc. When Thomas discovers these letters, he takes them and locks you in your bedroom. Your attempts to stop him or slow him down do nothing to deter him. Despite your protests and pleas to be let out and for him to give Alan’s letters back, he instead hides them where Lucille wouldn’t find them. You don’t realize he’s locked you in to protect you from her. When Alan comes to Allerdale Hall to rescue Edith, he wants to take you away too and demands to know where you are. During the confrontation, you escape. It’s because of Alan that you discover your true lineage: Your siblings are actually your parents and you’re the product of incest. You’re helpless and horrified when Lucille stabs Alan. You try to run to him, but she holds you back while Thomas stabs him too.

You believe him to be dead until Lucille takes Edith away to sign the papers and Thomas urges you to help him get Alan downstairs, quickly. He’s still alive and your tears of mourning turn into tears of relief. There’s no time for explanations, but Thomas begs your forgiveness and tells you he loves you. While he’s not proud of the act he and Lucille did, he wants you to know you were never a mistake. He gives you a goodbye kiss on the forehead before he rushes to help Edith. While you keep him stable, Alan reveals that, before he was stabbed, Thomas gave him his blessing to marry you. He whispered it so low so Lucille wouldn’t hear. After leaving Crimson Peak, you later wed. Neither of you care about Mrs. McMichael’s snide remarks or disapproval of you. But when you come to be with child, you’re afraid for their health. You worry that your body is too small to safely carry to term, or that your lineage means any children you have are at risk for birth defects. Alan soothes your fears and assures you that you’re strong and capable. No matter what, he will love his child. If they are born anything but healthy, you and he will find a way to still give them the best life possible. You’ll devote your lives to their happiness.

4. Alan McMichael meets you, a woman who has Heterochromia. As an eye doctor, he wants to study this rare eye condition but over time, he gets to know you and falls in love with you. You help him with his studies on the subject and tell him about your life, from your genetic history all the way to the hardships you’ve faced for being different from everybody else. You tell him how you used to wear sunglasses all the time to hide your eyes out of shame. But you’re not ashamed anymore, and Alan further compliments them. The eyes are generally considered the most beautiful feature of the human body and your eyes are no exception. They’re unique, and that’s nothing to be ashamed of.

5. Haunting of Hill House crossover AU (the novel, not the show): You’re Hugh Crain’s youngest daughter and the only family member who survived the hauntings of Hill House. While you grew up on the grounds, no corner of your house was safe. Your mother was killed in the drive up before the house’s completion, leaving you and your older sisters to be raised by a governess. Every room had its haunts. Even the outside garden was haunted by ghosts having picnics. Your eldest sister, Sophia, was given a disturbing monograph on morality from your father, signed in his own blood. As you grew older, you started to feel uneasy around your overbearing father and grew concerned about his intentions with Sophia. Though he was physically absent and often away in Europe with his new wife, you still felt the weight of his presence everywhere within the walls, along with the ghosts. It frightened you. You left Hill House when you turned 18 and never came back, though you missed your sisters dearly and kept writing them letters. You settled in New York, where you met and later married Alan McMichael, a handsome eye doctor. When he shows you his interest in ghost sightings through photography, you’re worried for his safety, still traumatized from your past experiences. You have yet to tell him the full story about Hill House.

Your middle sister sometimes visited with her husband, and you were saddened at her and Sophia’s falling out over the inheritance of the house. No matter how much you urged your eldest sister to leave Hill House, you knew she’d never visit. Sophia later died alone and you were devastated at the news of her death. Alan did his best to console you at her funeral. Your mourning was exacerbated when your middle sister died while trying to move some furniture and dishes out of the house, mere months after Sophia’s funeral. The coroner said she slipped and fell down the stairs, but you knew better. When Alan’s friend, Edith, marries Thomas Sharpe and moves into Allerdale Hall, you come with to help her settle in. But you realize immediately that Allerdale Hall is haunted, in eerily similar ways to how Hill House is. She confides in you about her ability to see ghosts and you do what you can to protect her and keep her safe since you couldn’t do the same for your beloved sisters. But you can’t stay in the house forever, so you go to Alan for help. You finally sit him down and confide in him everything about your experiences at Hill House. You urge him that Edith is now in great danger and needs both his help and yours before it’s too late.

6. You’re Eunice’s best friend and fall in love with her brother, Alan, when he meets you while attending medical school. Neither of you make the connection right away. After all, there’s tons of women named Eunice and you and Alan hadn’t seen each other since you were children. Uh oh when he takes you to meet his family and you realize you’re in love with your best friend’s brother.

7. You’re a mermaid-like creature in Camelot but unlike the Syrens, your magic isn’t dark and you don’t serve Vortigern. You stayed in hiding during his tyrannical reign, since you’re similar to a Ceasg and knew he’d abuse your magic. After Vortigern’s death and the destruction of the tower, the Syrens ventured back out to the deeper waters of the vast sea. You’re captured by Arthur’s men, mistaken for a Syren after saving the new King’s life by kissing him and granting him the ability to breathe underwater for a time. His knights mistook your actions and thought you were trying to eat their friend. You’re kept in the King’s bedchamber, in a large glass container full of water that has enough room to swim around in, but acts as your cage. Arthur interrogates you, asking you all sorts of questions about yourself, where you come from, your connection to the Syrens that served his uncle, etc. But over time, his questions become softer and he talks to you with a spirit similar to that of a young boy who just discovered fairytales are real. He and you fall in love. You use your magic to grant Arthur’s wishes, even if he unknowingly makes them. It takes him a while to realize what’s happening and that his wishes coming true is your doing.

One night, the door above your tank is left unlocked after you’re fed. You pull yourself out and crawl towards Arthur while he sleeps in his bed of furs. You’re so curious about the anatomy of humans and always wanted to see one up close. As you crawl on top of him to touch his face and play with his golden hair, Arthur responds as if in a dream and leans up to kiss you. When he jolts awake and realizes what he’s doing, he lets you touch and admire him, but only for a short while before he carries you back to your tank. He doesn’t want you to dry out. But you keep a firm hold on his hand and encourage him to join you, telling him you want to explore his body further. He relents and you make love under the water. Someone later tries to kidnap you and steal you away for their own greed, and your tank shatters. You flail around like a fish out of water before your tail dries and turns to legs. After he rescues you, Arthur gives you back your freedom. But instead you choose to stay and serve him as your King. Unlike Syrens, You don’t demand blood or human sacrifices. You simply ask for Arthur’s heart, his love, and he gives it to you. He makes you his Queen, as unconventional as his choice in a bride may be. There’s no other he wants for his wife.

8. Pirates of the Caribbean-esque AU: You’re a mermaid/siren but you’re a good natured one that isn’t bloodthirsty or man-eating like your sisters. Arthur captures you and holds you prisoner after he thinks you tried to kill him. He keeps you in a large tank in his private bedchamber because he needs a mermaid’s/siren’s magic to help him in a quest for something. But then you and he start bonding and developing romantic feelings for each other, especially when he realizes you actually saved his life that day you met and weren’t trying to kill him at all. Despite being kept in a tank full of seawater, you become very sick because you’ve been away from the actual sea for too long. Your skin and tail become ashy, your hair loses its luster, the sparkle in your eyes dims. Arthur grows so worried and remorseful for his mistreatment of you that he sets you free, returning you to the ocean where you belong. You wave to him as you swim away and he waves back with stray tears in his eyes.

He doesn’t see you for so long that he thinks you’re gone forever. But then you show up again while he’s sailing out at sea, swimming along the side of his ship and you’re mistaken for a large fish. He’s surprised to see you when you climb over the side and hold yourself up on the railing. He’s left speechless when you reveal you’ve brought him the treasure he sought after in the first place. It wasn’t easy to find, that’s why you were gone so long. You never planned on abandoning him. You kiss him and tell him a secret: If a mortal wins the heart of a merfolk, that merfolk is granted the ability to walk on land when their tail is dry. And a mortal fortunate enough to receive the kiss of a merfolk is granted the ability to breathe underwater. You show Arthur he’s earned your love when your beautiful shimmering tail dries and becomes human legs. He quickly finds you some clothes and asks you to stay with him as his bride and be his Queen. You accept, but tell him you’ll have to return to the sea for short periods of time periodically to stay healthy. When the King and Queen are both missing from the palace, it’s safe to say they’re out swimming.

9. You’re Arthur’s Queen and are once again with child after many failed attempts. You’ve been able to get pregnant before, but the trouble has been keeping it. You’ve suffered many miscarriages so early on that sometimes you wouldn’t even bother telling your husband you were with child, too afraid you’d get his hopes up only to lose it. This put an emotional and mental toll on both you and Arthur. This is the farthest you’ve carried in any pregnancy, so Arthur is especially protective and doting, making sure you have the best of healers. Naturally, everyone in the kingdom hopes the firstborn will be a boy to carry his father’s legacy. Arthur assures you he just wants a healthy wife and child. The birth itself is difficult and you nearly die trying to bring your baby into the world. There’s so much blood. Arthur is terrified but refuses to leave your side. This is his castle, his wife, and his child. So he’s going to hold your hand and caress your hair through it all, even if it takes hours. He encourages you and tells you you’re the strongest woman he knows. When the babe is born, it’s a girl. You’re afraid you’ve disappointed the kingdom and your husband, but Arthur is overjoyed at the arrival of his little princess. She is his heir and he loves both her and you unconditionally. A huge celebration is in order. But first, you must rest and recover.

10. Ever after AU: Your stepmother works you like a servant for years following your father’s death, while plotting and scheming to get her own spoiled and selfish daughter on the throne. You pretend to be a courtier to save a man’s life, inadvertently catching the eye of King Arthur. He keeps pursuing you despite all your attempts to evade him, so you give him your deceased mother’s name when he pushes for yours. You didn’t think you’d see him again, but fate has you crossing paths and meeting in secret. A romance eventually blossoms. You show him you’re a country girl at heart with a strong spirit, not afraid to get dirty, climb trees, use a blade, etc. You want more than anything to tell Arthur the truth of who you are, but keep losing your courage at the last moment. He’s just so wonderful and you love him so much, you don’t want to hurt him with your deception. A masque ball is being held for the King to choose a bride so Camelot may finally have a Queen. Your stepmother lashes you for your insolence towards your stepsister after she tries to take your mother’s dress. She locks you in the cellar but you escape.

Your stepmother tries to sabotage you by assaulting you and exposing you as a fraud and devious little pretender in front of the entire royal court, but her scheme backfires terribly when Arthur reveals he doesn’t care about your status as a servant. He holds your hand as he tells your stepmother that she seems to have forgotten herself and must be unaware of his own background. He grew up in a brothel under the care of prostitutes. He loved those women like family and he rose up out of gutter in the village streets of Londinium through years of hard work and blood, sweat, and tears. He has your stepmother and terrible stepsister taken away to be dealt with later and announces you as his intended bride. That is, if you’ll have him. The decision is yours. Meanwhile, your other stepsister, who is much more gentle and kind hearted, has been in a blooming romance of her own: She’s falling in love with one of Arthur’s Knights of the Round Table. Upon your marriage and coronation, your stepsister is appointed your lady-in-waiting and becomes part of the royal court. On your wedding night, Arthur discovers the lashing marks on your back and is horrified. He’s so livid he would’ve sentenced your stepmother to death for daring to lay such a violent hand upon you, but you talk him down. He strips her of her title in front of the royal court and, at your behest, sentences her and your horrible stepsister to lifelong servitude. Neither you nor your other stepsister have spared a thought for your cruel stepmother or odious stepsister, too busy in your happy new lives.

11. You’re thrown overboard when the ship you’re traveling on gets stuck in a terrible and merciless thunderstorm. As you try to keep yourself above water, you hear voices shouting what you think is your name. Lightning cracks and starts a fire on the ship, but that’s all you remember as you hit your head and black out. You awaken on the shoreline, found by men who later reveal themselves as Knights of the Round Table. They take you to their King, Arthur. When you reveal you don’t remember anything but a shortened version of your name, Arthur takes it upon himself to look after you while you recover from your ordeal. At least until your memory returns or your family can be found. He has his knights work on locating your family while he shows you his castle, takes you on tours of Camelot, etc. Over time, your friendship turns into a romance. Little do either you or Arthur know, you’re actually a Viking Princess who was on voyage to Camelot to marry Arthur. The very same Viking Princess who is believed to be dead. Your arranged marriage was meant to strengthen an alliance between Norway and England in exchange for protection, resources, trade routes, weapons, etc. But your supposed death has created a new array of problems for Arthur as he’s tried to draft up a new agreement with your mourning mother and/or father, not realizing he has their amnesiac daughter right under his roof. What happens when the truth is revealed?

12. Arthur stumbles across a baby girl in a basket drifting in the water. This child was watched over and protected by the Lady of the Lake, who instructs Arthur to take you in and raise you as his daughter. He does so, and you grow up a Princess of Camelot. But as you grow, you show signs of possessing magic similar to that of mermaids, water nymphs, or fairies. You have unique abilities over controlling water and can even influence people when you sing. You may have the ability to breathe underwater or swim at incredible speeds. Your father still loves you and does what he can to help you control your powers, but he may need the help of the Mage to further teach you, since he’s just a human man who has no knowledge of your birth or who your natural parents were. The Lady of the Lake didn’t tell him much when she gave you to him.

13. You’re either Roz’s sister and Mickey’s sister-in-law, or you’re Mickey’s sister and Roz’s sister-in-law. The choice is up to you. Either way, you and Ray find yourselves in a high risk, high reward romance as you try to hide your affair from Roz and Mickey. Ray started off as your personal bodyguard and you’re worried they wouldn’t understand or would be against mixing love and business for whatever reason. You’d rather not see Ray get fired or killed, so you keep it secret. Ray also enjoys living too much to die just yet, thank you. But maybe Roz and Mickey wouldn’t be angry that you’ve kept secrets from them, just disappointed that you’d think so little of them. You’re Mickey and Roz’s sister (in-law) and they love you. Ray has been like family for years too, and there’s no better man for you than him. But maybe at the time you were just too scared and foolish to realize that they’d always have your back and support you no matter what.

14. You’re Ray’s wife. You used to be a journalist, but your articles caught the interest of an espionage agency. They gave you an interview under the guise of a publishing company and, during it, you noticed the organization's hidden cameras and microphones. You discovered the interview’s true purpose and passed the test. Your set of skills got you hired on the spot, and you built a career as one of the top spies in the organization. You’ve obtained valuable intel while infiltrating galas, fundraisers, house parties, board meetings, etc. But you promised Ray not to go on any more missions once you became pregnant. So you retire, or work from the safety of your own office at home instead of actively being out on the field. Despite both you and Ray laying low and taking as many precautions as possible to keep yourselves safe, somehow enemies of your agency or Mickey Pearson had discovered your location and/or connection to Ray. They sabotage your vehicle and set you up to get into a serious car accident in an attempt to eliminate you. They want to use your death to get to your husband and ultimately yours and/or his boss. Your body is gone from the crash scene, so you’re believed to be missing or dead.

What Ray doesn’t know until later is that Mickey pulled some strings to get you out of there and sent you to a high security hospital without the enemy agents knowing. You were swapped out with a body too damaged for recognition while the enemy agents were distracted by a diversion and they took it, believing it to be you. Ray is sent your coordinates from a burner phone and drives as fast as he can to get to you, scared half to death about you and your child. If either of you are hurt or dead, there will be hell to pay. There were rules to this game, one of the most important being to never go after wives or children. The people who targeted and attacked you will pay. Once Ray and Mickey are through with them, they’ll wish they had never been born. There are fates much worse than death, after all. But first, Ray needs to be the doting husband and take extra good care of you and his unborn child. You need him now more than ever.

15. Ocean’s 8/11/12-esque fic with Ray and you. The plot is up to you, just imagine an action packed heist with him.

16. Mr. and Mrs. Smith AU: You and your husband, Ray, had been attending marriage counseling since it was on the rocks for a while and divorce seemed imminent. You were working for rival agencies at the time and were each ordered to kill the other. But neither of you realized you were each other’s target because the names you’d been given on the slip of paper were aliases you and Ray used. You also wore masks or disguises to infiltrate places. Your rivalry had resulted in multiple massive shootouts or perfectly laid traps that you and Ray survived and got out of. One such shootout nearly destroyed your house and ended with you aiming at each other’s heads, but once the masks/disguises got knocked off and you each realized who you were trying to kill, you stopped and threw down your weapons. Ray told you he loved you and couldn’t kill you. You told him the same. You made love and reconciled, then teamed up instead. You became such a power couple that your employers sent other assassins after you both to finish the job. In present day, you and Ray hold hands and tell your marriage counselor that your careers are going great and your marriage is thriving.

17. You’re Ray’s neighbor and have no inkling about who he really is or what he does. He befriends you and invites you over to his house to cook dinner for you on occasion. You enjoy these cozy evenings where you help him in the kitchen, then relax on the couch and watch a movie by the fire. Or sometimes you just sit and talk, his arm laying over the back of the couch behind you. In the darkness of the room while the movie plays, you’ve shared fleeting kisses and Ray’s arm has moved to your shoulder so he can hold you close. Ray has never experienced this kind of romantic affection before since he’s been so focused on his work, but it feels nice with you. You’ve asked about his job, but he’s told you something mundane that’s just a cover. The less you know, the safer you’ll be. You don’t even know who Mickey Pearson is and Ray wants to keep it that way.

On one of these date nights, he finally takes you to bed. While you’re making love, you tell Ray you love him. In the wee hours of the morning, you crawl out from underneath him without waking him up and throw on one of his shirts. You climb down the stairs leading to the basement, either in search of a midnight snack or wanting to make breakfast since he made dinner the night before. You open the freezer, only to discover the body of Aslan. Ray is awoken by your screams and grabs his gun, afraid you’re hurt or there’s an intruder. You hear his footsteps rushing towards where you are as he calls your name. Oh god, what do you do? What happens now?

18. Something similar to that scene from The Godfather Part 2: You’re Ray’s wife (maybe you’re pregnant) and you’re in bed when you ask him to close the curtains. That’s when he notices the snipers and has you get down as gunfire destroys your bedroom. While you fall out of the bed with a cry, Ray crawls towards you and lays on top of you to shield you with his body. He asks if you’ve been hit, and you’re maybe hit in the shoulder or have a superficial graze. Either way, seeing your blood is enough to make Ray livid. He’s like Mickey in that he doesn’t give a damn about money but he is very emotional about how someone dared to target his home, his family! Attacked in his bedroom where his wife sleeps and where his children may play with their toys. The people who did this are not going unpunished, and Mickey would definitely help his friend and consigliere in getting retribution. Those people will wish they’d never been born once he and Mickey get to them. Death is too quick a mercy.

19. Threesome between Will, you and Catfish. That is all. That’s the prompt.

20. You’re Catfish’s sister who works as a makeup artist in Hollywood. Your brother got his pilot license suspended on a coke bust because he was covering for you. You were in deep shit and needed his help to get out, nearly in hysterics from all your panicking. He loves you so much he’d do anything to protect you. But you know how much Frankie loves to fly, so you feel immensely guilty for what happened. For both yours and your brother’s sake, you go into rehab. You’re finally ready to accept help for your drug addiction. In the past you fell in with Dieter Bravo, an Oscar-winning actor who you used to do makeup on for his movies. You’d talk for hours while he was in your chair, and eventually you started sleeping together and doing drugs with him. For a while it was just about sex and drugs, but then you fell in love with him and he with you. You saved Dieter from an OD and that was when he realized he loved you.

You had a lot of fun and good times with Dieter when you were fuck buddies and dating, but you also had a lot of bad times and rough patches. Eventually you and Dieter made the mutual decision to break things off amicably, but you’re still best friends to this day. You meet Will when he picks you up from rehab while your brother is busy with his new baby, and from there you become friends. The longer you stay clean, the more you and Will get to know each other and fall in love. Catfish and the guys are so proud of you, supportive in every step of your recovery. When you run into Dieter again, he’s excited to tell you about Anika and his own journey towards getting clean. You meet Anika and Dieter meets Will. You’re both so happy for each other and how your lives have turned around for the better.

#charlie hunnam character fanfiction #charlie hunnam characters #charlie hunnam #alan mcmichael x reader #will ironhead miller x reader #will miller x reader #raymond smith x reader #ray smith x reader #king arthur x reader #random fic ideas #fic ideas #random prompts #fic prompts #pls tag me if you write any of these #i’d love to read it

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alexeithegoat · 1 year ago

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14!!

HI CY !!! <3 Thanks for sending! 💜💜

14. Favorite book you read this year?

I am going to be completely honest with you, 2023 was not a year for books for me I am afraid. I reread A New Dawn by John Jackson Miller for the nth time however! And a little bit of the Ascendancy books by Timothy Zahn!

As for fanfics however, there are few that stick out to me that I will link now. Fair warning, all but the first one are Sonic (because that Star War divorce is in full swing baby):

Luminara and Barriss by JediMasterBailey

absolutely stunning writing and grasp of characters! I am always in love with Bailey's writing and she never ceases to immerse a reader in deep. This one is incredible and I always find myself going back to it when I need a little cheering up! If you love the wonderful Luminous Lineage, this one is for you! the worldbuilding is insanely good and so is the dialogue (internal and external). Highly recc! (centred on Luminara Unduli and Barriss Offee!!!)

What Was I Made For? by bitter_sweet_coffee

my most recent read and a wonderful one at that! they capture Wave and Espio down to a key and it's so heartfelt that you can really feel the love put into it! shorter than the last one but that doesn't take away from how much I love it. <3 (centred on Wave the Swallow and Espio the Chameleon!)

Learning & Teaching by SAJ_Man07

oh my GOD okay I am not normal about this at all. I did read it completely sleep deprived and emotional but I love this so much. the writing and characterisation is remarkable and they have a good love for the Babylon Rogues!!! This fic is constantly on my mind and I love it sm. I think it's one of those fics that change the way you think fundamentally. absolutely incredible would read again for the nth time <3 (centred on the babylon rogues ((namely storm and wave))

and lastly, Swept Away in Gentle Waters by melting_shards

this is so cute!!! I love it sm and I keep thinking back to it! The way they word and describe things is AAAGH and I am in love! It's expertly written and very light to read, would 100% recommend this! (centred on Kitsunami the Fennec and Miles 'Tails' Prower <3)

thank you sm for the ask and I hope you don't mind my slight derailment from the OG question! I wish I had more to say on that. Maybe 2024 will be my year for books, who knows 🤷‍♂️

end of year ask game!!!

#should i tag those i can find on tumblr??? i have no idea!#if you do see this and would like to be tagged i will do it 100%!!!#tysm for the ask i had a lot of fun ruminating on these wonderful fics 💜💜💜 only love for my fellow fanfic writers #i will tag these with the corresponding characters so it may pop up and someone can read these works #luminara unduli #barriss offee #babylon rogues #wave the swallow #storm the albatross #jet the hawk #espio the chameleon #miles tails prower #kitsunami the fennec #ask game #cyronite #ily thank you for sending this!!!

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hadit93 · 1 year ago

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I recently read on a reddit thread that doing banishing or invocation rituals daily are bad for your practice because they essentially banish every spirit around you, including the ones you are working with. Also, it makes the room you are doing it unbearable to everyone else and your life might become a desert.

Is this true?

I can't tell you what is true. It seems people have mixed feelings about this. I will give you my opinion. I imagine you are speaking about the Lesser Ritual of the Pentagram and Hexagram type rituals.

The people who believe 'banishing' banishes everything have usually learned this from a book such as "Modern Magick" by Donald Michael Kraig. Jason Miller has also echoed that banishing sets a wall up between the spirits and the sorcerer. He learned from Modern Magick also. It is one of the rare times I disagree with Jason Miller.

I learned from Modern Magick initially too, but since then I have learned from people involved with direct lineages to the original golden dawn (not simply the Regardie revival) as well as performed my own research and drawn my own conclusions.

The Lesser Rituals of the Pentagram and Hexagram do banish entities, however, it does not banish all entities. It doesn't create a sterile bubble, it creates a state of equilibrium and lvx within the body of light of a magician. It operates in assiah up to the beginning of yetzirah. This means it banishes the etheric and lower astral only. In my experience spirits that are actual, autonomous beings operate in higher yetzirah and are rooted in at least Briah. The ritual will not effect them, and this, in my opinion, includes demons.

However there are beings, husks. Empty vessels that are cast off from workings and from normal human interaction. They can be born out of intense emotion. They will feed off the energy of the magician and begin to take on form and autonomy. These are what the LBRP banishes.

The LBRP is like washing your hands, it is not like dipping them in bleach. It will clean an area, but will not banish all that is within it.

Then again, it is highly malleable to intent. And so I do believe the intent of the practitioner matters. A lot of people banish with th mindset of 'get rid of everything!' and I do not believe this is the right mindset. The mindset should be 'Balance' not 'banish'.

The banishing rituals should also not be the only form used. I believe the invoking ritual to be the most important. Obviously learn to banish first, but I perform more invocations than I do banishing. Some people like to invoke in the morning and banish at night, I am fine with that approach. In time you tend to know what you need- sometimes you need to banish, in particular if you require etheric cleansing and have had a bad day or been in a toxic environment. Before a tarot reading you would invoke if you feel calm already, or banish if you have traces from the previous reading still lingering.

I do think banishing three times a day every day would be extreme. Washing your hands too many times will destroy your natural skin barrier. But I do not believe a daily banishing will be detrimental unless it is all you do- do not let the LBRP and LBRH become the only things you practice, you will get nowhere.

It is about creating a space or circle that is strengthened and under the control of the magician and their guardians, in this case the Archangels. It is about banishing spirits that are not spirits or are detrimental to your own spiritual progress. The Archangels will not allow a harmful spirit to come through, however, they would have no issue with a being of light. The Lesser rituals are general banishing- they are not banishing all things, but the dross that other workings or emotions may have left behind with the agency of the archangels overseeing a balanced state.

In truth, as with much of the Golden Dawn rituals, what you are really influencing is your body of light. Your circle is your aura, and it is certainly true that you want a strong aura that is impregnable. You can still reach out and invite spirits in, they can still enter if it is for your benefit. But you don't want to be bothered by every spiritual energy around.

"It is usually sufficient to perform a general banishing, and to rely upon the aid of the guardians invoked. Let the banishing therefore be short, but in no wise slurred --- for it is useful as it tends to produce the proper attitude of mind for the invocations. "The Banishing Ritual of the Pentagram" (as now rewritten, Liber 333, Cap. XXV) is the best to use." - Alesiter Crowley.

Here you see the assertion is that the banishing rituals are brief, general, and rely on the guardians to be effective at warding the space. Therefore it isn't nuking an area, it is sweeping it and allowing beings of light to monitor what can enter and what cannot. You also see how banishing is useful as a preliminary only to get into the right mindset for invocation. Banishing in my opinion is more about balance within the Self than it is about clearing an area. You are establishing equilibrium within the aura.

My personal advice is 'Invoke often....banish when required'.

You do not need to banish at the beginning of EVERY magical act. You certainly can, if you are distracted I recommend it, but it is not necessary. Invoking would sometimes be more helpful and the invoking forms also invoke balance etc. Some people will use a statement of banishing 'Hekas, Hekas, este bebeloi' and ring a bell to clear a space then invoke. They then use the banishing at the end to return to material consciousness. This is how I usually work these days.

If you are seeking to explore an isolated force, feeling stressed or unbalanced, have excess energy from ritual- banishing is a good idea.

But if magicians who performed the pentagram ritual could not communicate with spirits there would be an issue. It is perhaps one of the main points of magick.

All my opinion of course. You just need to understand the point of these rituals, what they actually do. The majority of books are absolute rubbish and represent misunderstandings of the authors who have often not undergone proper magical training nor have decades of experience.

My experience and understanding of the LBRP and LBRH now is far different to what it was 15 years ago.

#banishing #spirits #LBRP #LBRH #Thelema #Golden Dawn #LBRP does not banish all spirits

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tightjeansjavi · 1 year ago

Text

From Eden | AU Pirate! Joel Miller x Mermaid f! Reader

A/N: at long last, we have arrived. This fic was totally self indulgent for me as mermaid lore and pirates has always been a huge interest for me ever since I was a child (I blame pirates of the Caribbean) this is my first time dipping my toe in fantasy writing, but I am so excited to share this with you all. 🏴‍☠️🖤

~word count: 6.6k~

Summary: a prince with a desire for a new life, endures on a journey he’ll never forget. A journey that ends with you by his side always.

Warnings: angst, swearing, implicit smut, ambiguous ending that leads the reader to decide what has become of Joel, mentions of drinking, mild violence, awful mothers/fathers, arranged marriages, pirate talk, death, grief, magic, fantasy, mermaid lore, old English (that may or may not be historically accurate) reader has no physical description, no use of y/n minors dni! (+18)

The sea calls to me, mother. It beckons me. The salty breeze whispers my name. Do not fret where I have ventured. Tis be only in vain. Mourn me not for my departure. I will not live a life I wish not to live. I desire adventure and friendship. I do not wish to be pacified by marriage, and the duties forthcoming with it. I disdain the thought of growing old and grayed without discovering what the world has to offer. I will bear you no grandchildren, and our lineage will wash away with the tide. Pity me not, for I pity you. Leave thou tears unshed, for I will not shed my own in the thought of you.

-J.M 1721

On the eve of Joel’s wedding, under the flickering soft glow of candlelight, the husband-to-be dipped his feather quill lightly into the ink reservoir. He pondered what words would flow onto the parchment resting below his palm. The seconds ticked by as he sealed his destiny in ebony ink. Annabeth would find better. Someone more suitable for her mundane needs. Joel would not be her husband, she would not become his wife.

“My lady, does your mind ever drift and dream of faraway adventure? Does your heart not shriek in the darkest of night for more than these measly castle walls have to offer?” He gingerly took her hand in his own, fighting the bile that rose in his throat as his eyes drifted down to the ring presently shimmering on her finger. The ringer he dutifully betrothed her with.

“My prince, my only wish is to be your dutiful wife and bless you with as many sons and daughters my body can carry. Tomorrow brings new beginnings. In the evening light we shall be married, and you will bed me as you please. Is this no longer what you desire? My prince, what has become of thee?” The backside of her dainty hand rested upon his forehead for she was afraid he had come down with a delirious fever.

“Annabeth, my flower, I wish to see the world. I wish to know what lies beyond the steady horizon. To taste the sea upon my lips, to clench the sand beneath my palms. You speak of me as your prince, but I wish to not be addressed as one. I do not wish to bed thee.”

“Thou speaks evil upon thy tongue. My prince, oh how you wound me so. I wish not to be in a loveless marriage with a man who yearns for the caress of the sea. Why must your heart and mind wander? Why must you disobey your mother’s wishes? Have I not devoted myself to thee?”

A heavy sigh through the evening breeze. Joel’s forehead came to rest upon her bosom as his lashes fluttered shut. “Dearest Annabeth, thou hast not lived in happiness. Thou has lived by her mothers law since thou was just a babe. How cruel that you are expected to marry not out of love, but for status. Dost thou truly want to live a life imprisoned by marriage?”

She wept silent tears for she did not want to be married to a man that did not love her. She did not want to bear his children. She had dreams of a life far richer. Far away from silver platters, incessant lectures, and garments far too tight to breathe in. Her chin fell to rest upon his head as salty tears rolled down her cheekbones.

“My prince, I have always dreamed of becoming a poet. Mother disapproves. She believes that women cannot be anything but wives and mothers. I do not wish to bear children. It is expected of me, but I loathe it.”

Joel chuckled, pressing a kiss to the soft skin between the valley of her breasts where a smooth silver pendant lay. “Thou mother is an impudent cunt.” She giggled softly at his quick tongue.

her fingers threaded themselves through his hair, twisting ringlets mindlessly. “Mother would have thy tongue for use of such foul language.”

He snorted. “Dost thou disagree? Annabeth, it is just you and I in the gardens this evening. No one shall reprimand thee for speaking the truth.”

“My mother is a foul, loathsome, impudent cunt.”

“Recite it again, my flower.”

“My mother is a cunt.”

“Encore” he hummed.

“My mother is a cunt. I detest this all-too tight dress, and I do not desire to marry thee.”

“Bien joué, ma fleur”

“My prince, I thought thou despised French studies?” She pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head.

“Oui, mon chéri.”

She sighed, soft and gentle as she laid back into the soft cooling grass, gazing up at the glittering sky above. Joel followed her body, resting the side of his head in the lap of her flowy fabric dress.

“My prince, where will thou venture?”

“Tortuga, my flower. There I will be a prince no more. My lineage will fall as my mother weeps, and I shall step into piracy, and sail the high seas just as I have always dreamed.”

“Thou wishes to become a pirate?” She queried.

“Indeed. Tis true, my flower.”

“Thou shall make a handsome pirate.” She softly giggled, gently stroking his soft curls that she would admittedly miss terribly when he would depart.

“Just as thou shall make a brilliant minded poet.” He assured her.

Dark maroon wax dripped languidly along the pale parchment. Joel sealed the letter with a practice hand. His heart raced within the depths of his ribcage as the realization set in that he would be a prince no more. No more pretentious royals, no more stingy small talk, no more ballroom dances, no more lectures.

Joel Miller was to be a free man for the first time in his 17 years of life. The dying candle along his desk was blown out as the smoke curled and lingered. Below his window and past the looming castle walls, Joel could hear the sea whisper his name. In a giddy haste he packed his necessities in a leather bag. He took one last gaze over his room before departing into the ominous night.

His midnight black steed was steady under the saddle as the moonlight guided their way to the port docks. They rode swiftly and silently through the cobblestone city streets. Moving through the shadows with a soft squeeze of his inside leg to spur Hendrix forward. Joel’s horse was one of his prized possessions. A jet black colt with a tiny star being his only white marking. He would be saddened to never see his hooved companion again.

He could taste the salty sea air along his taste buds as the crescendo of crashing waves neared. With a soft tug on the reins, Hendrix slowed to a steady walk along the dock. He was so close to freedom. It was there, in his grasp as he discarded the hood of his cloak around his shoulders. Joel had studied many books on ships and how to maneuver one. It was frowned upon by his mother, so for this reason he’d sneak out late at night and find himself enriched in the library on the east end of the castle. It was now or never for him to put his knowledge learned under a real test. So much for trial and error.

“My prince?” The old sailor hobbled from the shadows of the creaky dock. A lantern trembling in his weathered grip. A quizzical expression crossed his sagging features as he watched Joel dismount from his steed.

“Thou shalt not speak of what thy has seen. I offer my horse in trade for your ship. Hurry please, my fellow. Before they become aware of my untimely departure. I have gold to offer thee as well. My horse can carry you wherever thy desires to wander.” Joel uttered, urgency stricken in his tone.

“My prince..is thee not set to be married in the morn? What use do you have for my ship lad?”

“Good fellow, I simply wish to leave the life I once knew and explore the world and all she has to offer.” He pulled out a sack of gold coins from under his cloak. “All I ask of thee is to speak to no one. Take care of my horse. He’s a good steed, and I shall miss him dearly.”

“Aye, adventure calls thy name?” The sailor pocketed the gold and grasped the smooth leather reins in his palm. “Best be on your way then, laddie. Your steed will be in good hands.”

“Bless you, sir. I wish you good fortune in your days to come.” He gently patted Hendrix along his silky smooth neck. “I shall miss you, my dear friend.”

Just like that, Joel Miller was no longer a prince. His name held a title no more. The tide pulled him out further, and further as he let out a sound filled with glee. A ship of his own to sail the high seas, what a pirate's life f’me.

In the far off distance, Joel could faintly hear the panicked bells ring. The prince was found to be missing from his bed chambers. Where had he gone? No one except Annabeth and an old sailor knew the truth of the prince’s disappearance.

Being a pirate was not all it cracked out to be. Well, in the first few years of entering piracy. His hair had grown longer, longer than it had ever been. It was speckled with sea salt and curled at the nape of his neck. The curls were unruly both from the sea, and maidens that enjoyed tugging on the strands with slender fingers. His once clean shaven face had grown into a patchy beard. The whores he bed didn’t seem to mind how it would scratch the apex of their thighs as he went to town on their pulsing cunts. He felt far more like that of a man with his facial hair. Oh the horror his mother would feel if she were to know of how her once proper, budding son became a frequent customer at one of Tortuga’s many brothels.

He always paid in gold handsomely. It drew the eyes of company that he did not wish to partake in. He was strong, sure and able to fight without breaking a sweat but as soon as a pistol was pulled and he had yet to obtain one, he quickly realized he would not be coming out of this altercation unscathed. He did however get a few good punches in before ultimately handing over the gold coins he kept on his person.

He thought he had the opposing pirates out-fooled by keeping a stash of his gold back at the inn room he inhabited..until he returned later that evening to find his room ransacked and his gold stolen. So be it, he thought. At least they didn’t take the rum.

That’s how he presently found himself in a drunken stupor, wandering the streets, getting into more fights than he could count until a fellow pirate took pity upon him one early morning…

A swift kick to his gut from a heavy boot sent Joel coughing up the rum that was still sloshing in his stomach. He groaned, reaching for his pistol but it was knocked from his grasp and landed a few feet away.

“Get yer ass up laddie.” A gruff voice spoke above him.

“Who the fuck are you—”

Another swift kick had Joel scrambling to sit up as he finally grasped his pistol and cocked it at the intruder. “I suggest ye fuck off back to wherever ye came from.” He growled under his breath.

“Yer drunk, matey. Ain’t gonna get a clear shot even if ya tried.” The older pirate crouched down to his level with a low chortle.

“What’s it to ya?” Joel snarked back.

“Ye got a ship lad? A crew?”

“Aye. I have a ship..I do not possess a crew. Do ye not have a ship? What kind of pirate doesn’t have his own ship?”

“Lost ‘er at sea I’m afraid. Ye have a ship, but be needin’ a crew. I can provide the crew if ye provide the ship, savvy?”

Joel was weary of the older pirate’s offer. He had preferred to sail the seas alone but considering his current state..what more did he truly have to lose?

“Ye have a deal.” He nodded in agreement.

“Smart lad ye be.” He helped the younger pirate to his feet, clapping him on the back stiffly.

Joel had become a seasoned pirate in a short period of time under the guidance of the older pirate. When he passed of old age, Joel became the captain. His ship and crew echoed through the Mediterranean channel. He felt that he had become unstoppable. Driven with greed and the desire for more, he led his crew to their watery grave too soon.

“Captain! She’ll never fit through! You’re goin’ to kill us all!” His secondhand warned him as they steadfastly approached shipwreck cove.

“Aye, she’ll fit! Have I ever let thee down?” His grip along the helm was steady and true.

“No sir, thee have not!”

“Hold ‘er steady boys!” Joel’s confidence wavered when he faced the cold hard truth that his ship would not fit through the rocky channel. He turned the helm sharply to avoid a collision but he was too late, the bow struck true.

“Abandon ship! Abandon ship—” his men yelled in a panic.

a deafening boom

flames

blood curdling screams of his frightened men being dragged down to Davy Jones Locker.

blood oozed from a gash along Joel’s eyebrow as he struggled to pull himself up to his feet. His ears were ringing as he took in the sight before him. Everything in his sight was burning. The wood creaked and groaned as the growing flames licked at his skin. This was the first in many moons that Joel truly felt terrified. He dove into the depths below, using the strength he had left to swim to the nearest shore.

He swore through the murky waters that he caught sight of shimmery scales..a swishing fin. Or perhaps it was his deluded mind playing a trick on him. Mermaids were just old wives tales after all. Creatures of the depths that woo men to their watery graves with alluring songs and seductive beauty.

He struggled to breach the surface as exhaustion seeped into his veins. His lungs screamed for air as he fought against the strong current with everything he had left in him. Suddenly, everything went black.

As a young mermaid you were taught to fear men, whether their ships carried white sails, or black. All men were to be feared. Your father forbade you and your sisters from ever making yourselves known to the surface world. It was too risky especially with the uprising of pirates. Your sisters like to toy with lone sailors lost at sea. They used their beauty and their natural talents of song to lure their victims to the depths.

Their song was melodious, angelic, and addictive; it was almost as if the men were under a trance and unable to escape your sister's snares. It was all a game to your sister’s of course. When your father caught wind of what your sister’s were doing in the pitch black of the night, he encouraged it.

You had no interest in drowning men. You had no reason to cause harm to another being that had inflicted no harm to you. Why couldn’t men and mermaids live in peace?

You spotted the ship crash into the rocky channel from afar. You saw frightened men jump into the sea, thinking that they would survive to see another sunrise..till your sisters dragged them to where the sunlight never reaches. Ripping them limb from limb to become mere fish food.

You witnessed the last body to hit the water from the safety of a looming sponge coral. You watched his arms struggle to pull himself to the surface, desperately clawing for air. When he gave in to what he believed to be his fate, and his body began to sink like deadweight, you made the split second decision to save this man. You swam as fast as you could, gliding through the water as you wrapped your arms around his torso and swam towards the light.

He was heavier in the water, but you were strong willed, and determined to save his life. When you breached the surface the man in your steady grip made no signs of life as you swam to the shore and hauled his body along the wet sand. You discovered that he was quite handsome, with hair that fell in ringlets, and soft pillowy lips that paired with a strong aquiline nose.

This man, pirate or not, was stunning.

Your hand gently came to rest along his cheek, feeling the stubble along his patchy beard lightly prick your skin like a sea urchin. You checked his body for injuries in a haste. Your fingers gently pushed back his hair to find the gash along his forehead. It ran fairly deep into his brow line, while crimson blood continued to trickle down his face only to be washed away by the gentle waves along the shoreline. The sea had healing properties as you knew, and the many plants that dwell below the surface were rich in nutrients, and could heal even the deepest of wounds.

You worked quickly as your fear of the man waking up was becoming prevalent when you observed his dark lashes fluttering and his body twitch. You gathered up a bit of seaweed that was used to heal open lacerations on the skin's surface. You delicately lay a strand of seaweed across his dripping brow. The blood clotted as the miracle plant adhered to his broken skin like glue. Magic, or science? The world may never know.

Your eyes zoned in on the pooling of blood through the once white linen of his shirt. There was a stray fragment of splintered wood sticking out from his side. The intrusion went fairly deep and it would require a little more work.

“Oh, fiddlesticks. I’m deeply sorry, sir. If you can hear me, I’m afraid this is going to hurt a tad.”

Am I dreaming..or is that a maiden's voice?

I must be dead, for I have never heard a voice tis so soft and sweet sounding.

With a small huff you grasped the end of the jagged wood and gave it a firm yank.

Your jolly sailor bold let out a deep gravelly wheeze as his hand subconsciously went to clutch at his side. More seaweed was gently laid upon his open wound and when you were satisfied that beautiful man would not bleed out upon the sand, you turned your body to head back to the sea.

With a flip of your shimmery tail you disappeared under the waves surface, and back to the depths of your home. You didn’t wander far as your own curiosity got the best of you. You hoped that your jolly sailor bold would awake to see another day. Perhaps your sisters and father wouldn’t send a search party for you. Perhaps they would believe you to be crushed by the bow of the ship. For now, you waded in the coral reefs below the surface to patiently wait.

Joel awoke suddenly in a disarray to his surroundings. All he could remember was his prized ship crashing into the rocky channel, his men’s frightened screams, and then everything went to black. How did he end up on the shoreline? Did he swim?..The current was far too dangerous to tread. The waves would knock him down..did someone save him? Or, was it something?

He slowly rose to a sitting position as he tried to rack his brain for any missing important details. His head turned to the side as he glanced down at the apparent indentation along the wet sand. Someone was with him. An Angel? No, it could not be. Joel wasn’t a religious man by any means. Besides, why would an Angel help a pirate such as he?

“‘Must be dreamin’”, he concluded. “Or I’m really dead. Dead as a man can ever be. Forever lost at sea.” His fingers reached up to brush his hairline where he felt a dull pain. He expected to feel the coolness of blood on his skin instead he was met with a strange slimy, yet soft texture. His hand reached down to his side where the splintered wood had been wrenched from and he was met with the same feeling.

“Blimey. What Devil’s work be this?” He twisted his body to get a better look at the wound on his side. His eyes widened the slightest when he saw the seaweed adhered to his skin. Upon closer inspection, the plant was very much still alive, and he could see the tendrils weaving together slowly acting as a suture.

Confused, and ridden in exhaustion, his body flopped back down along the sand with a soft thump. He was unsure how many hours he had slept under the gentle sway of palm trees, and the steady sea kissing at his feet. When he awoke it was due to a voice he had heard. A whisper through the thick vegetation that lay a few yards behind him. It was the same soft voice from earlier. A woman’s voice; the most beautiful voice had ever touched his undeserving ears.

Struggling to his feet, he staggered towards the voice, and used the sturdy bases of the palm trees to balance him. His body was still fairly weak, but he’d be damned if he didn’t meet the maiden that possessed such a sweet sounding tune.

As he drew nearer, the voice became clearer and easily detectable. Oh, it was so beautiful. Chillingly beautiful. It would be fairly easy for a man to be driven into madness from hearing a song so saccharine.

My heart is pierced by Cupid

I disdain all glittering gold

There is nothing can console me

But my jolly sailor bold

His hair it hangs in ringlets, his eyes as black as coal

My happiness attend him wherever he may go

From Tower Hill to Blackwall, I'll wander, weep and moan

All for my jolly sailor, until he sails home

He followed your voice till he was greeted by the lagoon tucked away in the jungle. The water was crystal clear and below there were all kinds of coral and sea life thriving. What he was first to take notice of was the fair maiden that laid basking along a smooth damp rock. He could only see your upper torso that appeared to be covered by shimmering silk that wrapped around your breasts like drifting seaweed. His lips parted in surprise as he had never laid his eyes upon a maiden so stunning in his lifetime.

A twig snapped under the weight of his boot as he crept closer. You had not caught wind of your jolly sailor bold till your keen ears detected the sound of a twig snapping. It was enough to send your mind in a fury of panic as you dove below the surface. Your tail flapped as you slipped off the rock, it created a wild splash from the movement.

“Wait! I do not mean to frighten thee! Please, don’t go. Are you the maiden that saved me? I awoke on the sand..confused how I came to rest there. Please, need not to be afraid. I promise I will not harm thee.” He slowly approached the entryway to the lagoon, crouching down onto his knees.

You slowly peeked around the corner of the rock you had previously been sunbathing on. “I am the one to save you sir, but I am no maiden.”

“What are thee then? You appear to be a maiden, one that I now owe my very life to. I will forever be in your debt.”

“I am one with the sea..one of her many children that dwell in the depths below. You do not owe your life to me sir. I only wished to do a good deed.”

“One with..the sea? Is this a riddle? My head hurts far too much for any riddles, my dear. Do ye have a name?”

“Tis not a riddle, sir. For I am a mermaid. The sea is my home. I cannot utter my name to thee as it is forbidden.”

“A mermaid? Poppycock. Mermaids are just silly wives tales. I do not believe in such stories.” He swallowed a scoff that crawled up his throat.

Your tail suddenly swished above the surface as Joel clambered back, rubbing his eyes with his fists.

“By god, I must be dreamin!’ How can it be? Body of a woman, tail of a fish. Are the tales true?” He asked in disbelief.

“‘You are not dreaming, sir. I am as true as can be. Do I frighten thee?”

“No, no. I am simply just awestruck. A real life mermaid. I have never been confronted with such beauty to behold.”

You cautiously swam closer. You couldn’t help but to be drawn to the thrill of danger, even when every fiber in your scaled being was screaming at you to not draw nearer. Your arms slowly rose from the surface and came to rest along the rocky shore as you looked up at him through soft lashes. “And you, are you my jolly sailor bold?” You asked softly, tilting your chin to rest upon the top of your wrist.

Joel’s cheeks inflamed. Never had he felt so flustered by another being. His hand reached up and nervously scratched the back of his neck. “I’ve never been pressured with such forward questions. Are your kind allowed to dwell with pirates?”

“For a pirate such as thee, you are quite sweet, and charming. Are all pirates like you?”

“I’m afraid not, my jewel. Most of us are quite brutish in nature. I come from Royal blood, and no matter how many years I have been away from my old life, my manners always find a way to sneak through. My men—” he paused rather suddenly. “My crew..were they saved? Please, tell me that they’re alive and not forever lost at sea.”

“Your men..didn’t survive. I’m so sorry, sir. My sisters are not as kind as I. They dragged them to the depths..ripped them limb from limb. Father would have a heart attack if he saw me conversing with you.”

“Fuck.” He whispered as he fell back onto his haunches and buried his face in his hands. “It’s all my fault. I am the cause of their deaths. If only I had listened..if only my ego did not shroud my judgment, they would still be alive.”

Your hand gently came to rest upon his arm. It caused you great distress to see another being in pain. Physical, or the mental kind, you felt it through and through. “You cannot beat yourself up over what has already been done. Not when you are still breathing air into your lungs, and tasting the sea along thy tongue. Do not weep for the dead, sir. You will see them when the time comes.”

Joel flinched at the soft contact, as it had been many moons since he felt the touch of a woman on his skin. “Joel.” He whispered. “My name is Joel, and I wish for you to whisper it as softly as thou sings.”

“Joel..I like the way it falls from thy tongue. Where doth thou wander from?..how did thou turn to piracy?”

“I like the way it sounds rolling past thy lips. I ran away from home, many years ago. I traded my trusted steed for a sailors ship. I was set to be married and live a life that I did not wish to live. My wife to-be was the only person to understand me, and my dreams. For you see, the sea has always beckoned me, and I finally answered it.”

“You ran away? That sounds awfully exhilarating. I’ve always wanted to leave my father and home behind. I suppose in a way I have, now that I am here with you.”

“Oh, it was. I still remember the rush through my veins when the sea carried me far away. All my life I had been searching for a purpose, and once I finally had it in my grasp, I could not forfeit what I always dreamed of. My jewel, why did thee choose to save me?”

“Your actions are very admirable, Joel. I struggle deeply with allowing other beings to be in pain. It goes against my nature. That is why I have never partook in my sister’s ploys. I never desired to drag lonesome sailors to a watery grave. Your life is just as special as the next. I could not bear to see thee perish.”

Your words touched a place inside Joel that no woman had dared to try and reach. It wasn’t that he was closed off to affection, he just simply didn’t have the heart for it. He bed women for an evening and he’d return to the sea the following morning. It was like clockwork. He only had felt for Annabeth, and even then he felt that it was platonic over romantic. He loved her, but not in the way that made his heart race and his palms sweat.

“I appreciate thee for saving my life. I do not feel that I am deserving to live while my men have died in a brutal fashion, but perhaps I shall take thee as a blessing.”

“Joel, every living being is deserving of life. Your woes shall burden you no longer. Doth thou wish to be happy, and at peace?”

“I wish for that, yes. How do I live with the grief in my bones?”

“You learn to forgive, and forget. You see the world for its simple pleasures of beauty, and grace.”

“Such as thee?” He boldly asked.

“If you wish it.” Your palm gently rested upon his own as you coaxed his hand from his face. “I have never thought pirates to be so..handsome.”

He leaned into your gentle cradled touch along stubble covered cheek. “How do you find such beauty in danger? I’ve killed many men. I’ve played the fool, and the instigator. I’ve made honorable decisions, and piss-planned mistakes. I am that of a scoundrel.”

“No, my jolly sailor bold. If thee were to be that of a scoundrel, you would have brought harm upon me. You are gentle at the core.” Your hand slowly drifted down to his exposed chest, feeling his heart skip a beat under your palm.

“You speak of that as a poet. I’d fancy to hear more of your honeyed voice.”

“Only if thou tells me tales of being a pirate.”

“Deal, my jewel.”

For many suns and moons, you and your jolly sailboat were engrossed in one another’s stories. He’d steal glances at your lips every few sentences as your fingers were gently toying with his soft ringlets. He’d recite to you stories of his past life, and present. Stories of adventure and thrills above the surface.

He craned his head to catch a glimpse of your shimmering tail below the surface. He was fascinated, as much as he was enamored. “Do you ever wish that thou had legs?” He softly asked as you twirled a curl gently.

“Sometimes I do wish for it. The sea has so much life and color to offer..but the surface land does spark my curiosity from time to time. I’ve seen ladies in fancy dresses upon ships with white sails. They always look so beautiful.”

“My dear, those ladies may look beautiful in their garments, they however can hardly breathe in them. You would be miserable in that life. Unless you somehow found your way to freedom.”

“Oh, would I be expected to marry for status? Not for love? I had no inclination to believe that their garments were suffocating, how dreadful.”

“Yes, your parents would have picked out a husband for you, before you’d properly experienced a childhood. You’d be forced into incessant lectures, proper etiquette, training and how to be a functioning member in society. Did I fail to mention you’d be forced to attend fancy parties and engage in mindless small talk? Life above the surface as a royal was draining at best.”

“My father has already picked a husband out for me. He is a fine merman, he just..doesn’t make my heart sing. Oh, how I’d love to dance under the moonlight. To hear a live orchestra..or an opera singer..”

Joel turned his nose up when you stated that you already had a husband picked out by the hand of your father. “I see.. Well, you did run away, did you not? You no longer have to marry. Not when you’re here with me. If you wish so terribly to dance, then we shall. All you have to do is wish for it, my jewel.”

“Joel, how are we to dance when you have legs. and I possess fins..” your lips curved in a soft pout.

“My love, in the crystal water you dwell in of course. Do you trust me?” He slowly sat up to rest upon his strong elbow.

“Of course I trust you. You have given me no reason to not trust you. Do you wish to dance with me under the moonlight, my jolly sailor bold?”

“I do, my jewel.” His words whispered against your skin like a soft warm breeze.

Just like that, Joel had stripped himself of his belongings, his holster that held his pistol and sword were discarded to the side as he struggled to unlace his boots. He had the ghost of a boyish grin across the shadow of his jawline. He truly was that of beauty.

You slowly swam backwards, wading in the gentle water as he swung his legs over the ledge and slipped in. His body was fully healed by now and only a scar along his browline and side were visible.

“Promise not to laugh..I am not the strongest of swimmers.” He chuckled as he swam towards you.

Under the pale moonlight and stars above, you were captivated by his golden tanned skin that was now speckled with water droplets. The gold that hung around his neck shimmered like your scales and the rings that encased his fingers.

“I’d only ever laugh in good fun at thee.”

“I never knew a mermaid could hold such humor.” He winked coyly.

“I never knew a pirate could be so..cheeky.” Your arms slowly looped around his neck as his gentle hands rested upon your scaly waist.

You slowly began to move your bodies under the water, mimicking that of a man and woman dancing to the sweet sound of a violin. The water rippled as the crickets chirped along the shore.

Joel Miller had never been in love; he decided now that his heart belonged to you, a mermaid that he believed was brought to him by fate alone. How blessed he was to be given a second chance at a fruitful life. He didn’t need a ship, or a crew. All he needed was you.

“Joel..” you whispered through the calm evening air.

“Yes, my jewel?”

“Do you believe that it’s ever too soon to tell someone you love them?”

“No, my love. I do not believe that there is ever a time too soon, or too sudden to confess your love for someone.”

“Then if that is to be true, I love you.”

“I love you, my sea.” His forehead gently came to rest upon your own as his hands slowly and delicately slid up your body. He stroked your hair, your cheekbones as his thumb dragged across your lower lip. “I wish to kiss thee. Do you wish it?”

You leaned into his gentle touch as your fingers threaded through his sea-salt speckled curls. “I wish to feel thy lips upon my own.”

He turned his head to the side, nose gently brushing against your own as his lips met yours. His hands were now gently cradling your face with the utmost care as he kissed you like a lover does for the first time. Your lips moved in synchronized harmony, you and your jolly sailor bold.

Upon one summer's morning, when the sea was at her angriest and the wind howled a ghostly tune as the skies above darkened to pitch black, Joel had decided that a life above the surface was a life he no longer wanted to live. He wished to be with you, forever.

“My jewel!” He yelled for you as he raced for the lagoon that had become yours and his personal oasis.

You swam up from the surface of the lagoon, his voice was like that of a beacon. “My Joel, you shouldn’t be out here. You must find shelter. The storm is picking up and I am frightened that you will be caught up in her fury.” Your tone was urgent as he crouched along the edge of the lagoon.

“My Jewel, my light, please. Please listen to the words I speak. The storm does not frighten me. I have no desire to seek out shelter when I am safe here. I wish for you to take me to the depths. I wish for you to take me to your Eden. Please, my heart aches terribly that I can not be with you fully. The surface world has become my prison. I don’t wish to dwell in it any longer.”

Your face fell upon his confession. Tears blurred your vision as you shook your head vigorously, grasping his hands in your own. “No, my jolly sailor bold. Do not wish such a thing. You are not suited to dwell in the depths of the sea. I forbade it.”

“Please. Please, I am begging you. I have given thee my heart, my soul, take me all; for I am yours.”

“Joel..my heart breaks for thee. You will never return to land if you make this choice.” His hand gently cradled your cheek as he wiped away your tears.

“It is a choice I am willing to make. I wish to be with you for the rest of eternity. Till the sun rises in the west, and sets in the east. Till mountains crumble, and the sea dries, and the earth cracks and shatters to dust. I wish to be with you, always.” He murmured softly.

“Take my hand, and never let go.”

“Never, my jewel. I will never let go.” He promised to you.

He grasped your hand bravely in his own. He kissed you swiftly, holding your face as close to his as possible. He could taste the salt dripping from your tears mixing in with his own. He took his final lungful of air, before you dragged him below the surface.

Joel Miller, once a prince turned a pirate; Was never seen by the surface world again. Some say he was driven mad by the loneliness, and grief that he took his own life and drowned in the sea's treacherous depths. Others say the sea always called his name, beckoned him to return home, and so he did. The sea claimed him, and he her, just as it had been written.

Tagging people I think will enjoy: @dinsdjrn @cavillscurls @sinsofsummers @thetriumphantpanda @cupofjoel @morning-star-joy @darkroastjoel @tessa-quayle @saradika @chaotic-mystery @kirsteng42 @korynnekorynne @amanitacowboy @last-girl @lovers-liability @pedrostories

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