#when we sat in the grass the first time he came out of the bushes and ran right up to us

[conspiring-limabean]

i love lizards so much theyre literally just little beasts that scamper around and live their little lives. How can anyone not be completely transfixed by this

[barefoot-joker]

Snake in the Garden Pt 3~Yandere!Lucifer X Reader

Hello guys, and welcome to the third installment of Snake in the Garden! This chapter is a bit longer than the first two, so I hope you enjoy the extra words. I'm excited to bring in the next chapter for you all and I bet Lucifer will be happy to see you too! The taglist is still open, so if you're interested in joining comment down below! As always, I hope you enjoy and have a great day/night!

Words: 3048

Warnings: Non-Con Kissing, Mental Breakdown, Forced Marriage, Swearing

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

I shook as I locked the bathroom door behind me. I had left Lucifer in his workshop while I claimed I needed to do my business. Even with him so far away I was still so nervous. After I made sure nobody was around, I started emptying the pockets of my pants. I was keeping different colored pieces of fabric on my person and taking them out felt like a weight was lifted from my shoulders. Setting them on the counter, I went into the cabinet below the sink and pulled out my secret. In the privacy of the bathroom I was building a rope. Over the past few weeks I had been collecting different fabric from all around the palace. Napkins, towels, shirts, nothing was free from my building process. Sitting on the toilet, I grabbed my newly acquired material and tied it to the end of the rope. The rope itself was quite long and only a few more pieces would need to be added in order for it to reach the full height out of the window. Satisfied with my work, I put it back in the cabinet and went on my way back to the workshop. 

My days passed by slowly and I was counting down to when I could finally escape. Lucifer was getting touchy feely more than ever. It was so bad I couldn’t go a minute without his hands on me. I tried to tell him to stop but that just made his body get closer to mine and his grip to get a bit tighter. I absolutely hated it. His courting was getting worse too. Every day I’d wake up to a new rubber duck or bouquet of flowers being thrusted at my face, a wide smile on his face and a blush spreading from cheek to cheek. The only time I could find for myself was using the bathroom either for bathing purposes or other forms of business. 

One day I found myself in the dining room eating breakfast. Lucifer sat across from me reading his newspaper. However he seemed very fidgety as his leg kept bouncing underneath the table and his claws were tapping the paper in his hands. I was a bit nervous as I had never seen him act like this before and I wasn’t sure what was to come from it. After our plates were cleared, Lucifer came to my side and took me by the hand. He gave it a quick kiss before leading me through the glass doors to outside. We walked to a spot on the property I haven’t been to yet. We stopped by a small gazebo and inky black arms wrapped around my waist. “Ta da!”

One of his arms gestured to the dead grass in front of us. I was confused until I saw it change to a healthy green color. Amazed, I watched as bushes of flowers popped up from the ground and a tree with some apples grew before my very eyes. Rows upon rows of vegetables magically appeared as well. I gasped at how beautiful the scenery was before me. “I’d like to present to you your very own garden. I’ve been thinking of gifting this to you for a while but I couldn’t find the right moment. What do you think?”

I was speechless. All of this was for me? I understood this was part of his courting but the gesture was super nice.

“It’s…it’s beautiful, Lucifer. Thank you.”

He gasped and turned to me. His eyes lit up and a huge smile went from one red cheek to the other. “Was that a thank you I heard? Please hold the applause! Can we hear that one more time?”

I giggled. “Thank you.”

He leaned in and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “You’re welcome, darling. How about you take a look around while I grab some paperwork.”

He kissed my forehead and then poofed away in a cloud of red smoke. I coughed a bit as the smoke cleared and waved my hand to try and move it away faster. From where I stood, I could see the hole in the fence and as much as it called to me, I stayed put. I just needed some more time and then I’d be free. While Lucifer was away I walked around my newly acquired garden and smiled. It was actually quite the spectacle, but who could expect less from the Sin of Pride? 

Suddenly in a flash, Lucifer returned with a butt load of papers in his hand. “Did you have a chance to look around, my dear?”

��I did.”

“Is it to your liking? I can always add in more shrubbery or substitute the flowers for something else.”

“No, it’s quite lovely. Thank you.”

He puffed out his chest and smiled. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing you say that. Now before I begin my boring paperwork, is there anything I can get you?”

“Perhaps a trowel and a bucket?”

“Of course.”

He snapped his fingers and next to me on the grass appeared those two items. “I’ll just be over at this table so if you need anything don’t be afraid to ask, sweetie.”

“Will do.”

“Good girl. Have fun!”

True to his word, Lucifer sat at a small, white, metal table and began working on his stack of paperwork. I was curious to know what kind of contracts and other tasks the King of Hell had to accomplish, but I just ignored that wish. Turning to the apple tree I noticed some weeds, so I headed over. Kneeling down, I took the trowel and began to dig out the vermin and put them in the bucket. Everytime I dug out a weed it seemed like another one appeared. I growled and kept going, but the process was soon becoming tedious. Just as I was about to give up, I heard chuckling coming from the table. I looked over to see Lucifer hiding his laughter behind one of his papers. “So you’re the reason I can’t get through this task. Get back to work, mister!”

I playfully shook my trowel at him and he gave a salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

I laughed and went back to shoveling. Without Lucifer’s magic making more appear, weeding the apple tree went fairly quickly. After that was done, I moved onto the other bushes and rows of vegetables. It took me several hours but I was finally done weeding. I wiped the sweat off of my brow and let out a breath. It had been a while since I was able to do something I enjoyed in this hellhole. Walking over to the table, I sat down across from His Majesty. I set the bucket with the trowel and weeds inside on the grass. “Whatcha reading?”

“Monthly business reports from the different Sins. I doubt you’d find it entertaining. I certainly don’t.”

I had to chuckle. It was kind of funny to see this side of him. Wait a minute, what am I thinking?! Are you stupid?! He kidnapped you and is trying to court you! Get a grip, woman!

I shook my head and fiddled with my fingers. “Say, how about I take you out for dinner tonight. You’ve been so lovely here at home and I think we both deserve a treat.”

Oh you have no idea how wrong you are.

“Sounds nice. Anything you want me to wear?”

A smirk grew on his lips and he ran his claws up and down my arm. Goosebumps appeared on my skin and I had to suppress a shudder. “That red dress we got you would be a nice statement piece. Really sell the whole ‘you’re mine’ ideology.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“I know you’ll do the right thing.”

Yeah right. 

I pulled my arm away so he’d stop touching it. “I was maybe going to go read in the library if that’s alright with you.”

“Of course, my dear. I’m almost done here so I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

I nodded and began to walk away. I heard him hum so I turned to look at him. He seemed so happy as he signed something. I almost felt bad for leaving him shortly but then I reminded myself of all the things he had done to me. Keep your focus, Y/n. Don’t lose sight.

I grunted and made my way inside to the library on the second floor. When I got there I walked over to one of the various bookcases. There were ten in total and each one reached the high vaulted ceiling. I scanned the titles of some of the books and landed on a fantasy novel, The Last Human. Quite the odd book to have.

I peeled it from its brothers and sat down in one of the plush leather, burgundy armchairs. I opened it and began to read. A few hours passed as I read, Lucifer coming in to join me at some point. He chose the chair next to mine and I felt his fingers playing with my thigh. I tried to not pay much attention to it and concentrate on my book. The novel itself was quite interesting, a spin on The Last Unicorn if you will. 

When night had fallen, the two of us changed. I donned the red, floor length garment that he wanted me to wear while Lucifer put on a black tuxedo. A servant drove us to the inner sanctum of the city and when we stopped His Majesty helped me out of the car. I thanked him and took the arm he held out. We walked into the posh looking restaurant and the cat hostess seemed surprised to see us. “Your Highness, welcome.”

“Hello. I placed a reservation for two earlier today.”

“Let me check the list.”

Her finger scanned down a piece of paper and then tapped a specific spot. “Here we are. Follow me please.”

She led us past several tables before we reached a table in the middle of the room. The table had a white tablecloth and vase with a rose in it. A candle in a glass bubble sat next to the vase in the center. Lucifer acted like a gentleman and pulled my chair out for me. He scooted it close before taking his seat. “Somebody will be with you shortly.”

“Thank you.”

The hostess left us and not even a minute later an imp waitress appeared. “Hello, my name is Jenny and I’ll be your server tonight. What can I get started for you two?”

“A bottle of your finest champagne, please.”

“Right away, Your Highness.”

She bowed and ran off. “Champagne? What’s the special occasion?” “What? A man can’t enjoy some fancy liquor with the woman he loves?”

He reached across the table and squoze my hand. I felt some heat rise to my cheeks and I looked away. The restaurant was quite packed. All the tables had some form of couple sitting at it. Our waitress returned with two tall glasses and a green bottle that read Beelzebub’s Special Brew. She popped the cork and poured some champagne into each of our glasses. “Now could I get you two something to eat?”

“Yes, just some pasta for both of us.”

“Of course, Sire. I’ll be out with that shortly.”

I watched as she ran off again. “I hope that was okay. I know you tend to favor pasta when Belfazaar serves it at home.”

“It’s fine.”

I grabbed my glass and took a sip. It was quite good, a bit on the sweeter side. “How is it?”

“Good. I’ll admit I haven’t had champagne since the last wedding I attended.”

At the mention of Earth, I could feel my aura dampen. While my “lover” tried to make my stay as homey as possible, I still longed for the green and blue planet. Lucifer must have noticed the mood change because the hand on top of mine caressed it lightly. “Still missing Earth, huh?”

I nodded. He sighed. “I thought I was making your stay in Hell quite cozy.”

“You have made it as comfortable as you can, Lucifer. Truly. I just miss my home is all.”

“Then perhaps I need to step up.”

Suddenly he stood and pulled out a black box. “Lucifer, what are you-”

I stopped when I saw him kneel. My eyes widened and my breath hitched. No, he couldn’t possibly be…

He opened the box and amongst the plush red velvet lay a golden ring made to look like a snake. Everyone in the restaurant started to gasp and I could see demons pull out their phones to record what was happening. “Please, don’t do this.”

The attention just made Lucifer more happy. “Y/n, I know you’ve been struggling with Hell lately. Trust me, I was there too once. However, I want to be by your side and make you comfortable, happy. More than anything I want to shelter and adore you. I think it’s time we made this official. Will you, Y/n L/n, marry me?”

My body stilled and my mind went blank. Everyone’s attention was on the two of us and the stares made my body flare up. I gulped. What should I do? What should I do?! WHAT SHOULD I DO?! If I accept, will I ever be able to go home? If I don’t, what will he do? He’s capable of so many things, what will he choose to do to me?

I could feel my breath getting stuck in my chest and my eyes started to water. Was it always this hot in here?

“I, I, I-”

“Please, Y/n. Make me the happiest man in all of Hell.”

He lifted the box a bit higher and the ring seemed to sparkle in the light. I looked into his eyes and could only find adoration there, them sparkling just like the ring. Everyone’s staring, just say something. JUST SAY SOMETHING, DAMMIT!

“Y-YES!”

I slapped my hands over my mouth quickly but it was too late. Lucifer plucked the piece of jewelry out of the box and put it on my ring finger. He stood up and for the first time kissed my lips. My eyes widened and I went to push him away, but he grabbed my hands in a tight hold. Everyone around us was applauding and cheering us on and I just wanted to die inside. He pulled away and caressed my cheek lightly. “I love you, my dear.” 

He sat himself back in his chair and smiled at me from across the table. I held my hand and looked at the piece of jewelry now adorning it. It was quite intricate for an engagement ring. Each one of the snake’s scales was engraved into the gold and a little diamond made up the eye. “Quite lovely, isn’t it? I’ve had that made since we first met. It feels nice to finally gift it to you.”

I was sick of looking at it, so I slid my hand under the tablecloth. So that’s why the courting had been ramped up recently. Because he was going to ask me to marry him.

“I thought it would be special to make it in the form we met in. That way it would be more meaningful to our relationship. I hope you like it, darling.”

I just nodded. I couldn’t force myself to say anything in case I said something rash and ruined my plan. Jenny came back to our table with two bowls and set them down. “Here we are. And congratulations on the engagement! I’m looking forward to the wedding.”

“Looks delicious, thanks!”

The two of us picked up our forks and began to eat. I slowly picked at mine and ate little bites while Lucifer talked. “So when do you want to have the wedding, darling? I was thinking a couple months from now when the Pentagram moon will be out. It’ll make the day even more special! Oh, we’ll have to get planning right away! I have so many ideas in mind, how about you?”

“I guess.”

“Are you alright, my little apple?”

“I’m feeling a bit sick actually. Could we maybe go home?”

“Of course, my dear. Let me just pay the check.”

Lucifer flagged down our waitress, paid the bill and then led me out to the car. Customers kept shouting at us congratulations as we left and I remained silent the whole ride home. When we arrived inside, I immediately headed for the bedroom. If I was going to escape, it better be tonight. “I think I’ll take a bath and then head to bed, Lucifer.”

“Alright. I’ll be in my office for a bit. I hope you feel better soon, dear.”

He gave me a light peck on the forehead and then left. Now to put my plan into action.

I headed to the wardrobe and pulled out a light blue nightgown. I grabbed it and went into the bathroom. Locking the door, I pulled off the red dress and put on the nightgown. Opening the cabinet, I pulled out my rope. Grabbing the red dress, I attached it to the end and tied the rope to the foot of the bathtub. Tugging on it to make sure it was secure, I unlatched the window and threw it out. I looked back at the door to make sure nobody was there and then began climbing down. My stomach twisted as I was quite high up and my foot had slipped a couple of times, but I finally made it to the ground. Peering around the corner of the palace, I saw David and Goliath sleeping in the front yard. Good to go.

I bolted as fast as I could to the hole in the fence. I moved aside the bushes and quickly squoze through. I hissed as the fence had caused a couple of gashes on my arm and tore a bit of my nightgown from the sharp edges. Looking around for some kind of direction, I saw in the distance the sparkling marquee that read Hazbin Hotel. I grinned and ran like my life depended on it.

~~~

TAGLIST

@ladymothbeth @cosmic-spider @l0vedoe @stormz369 @strawberry-gothic @repostingmyfavs @purplechan9 @caniseethefourthsword @rl800 @froggybich @txpchhhhhhh @stayinguplate @theonlykawaiigod-blog

[rendy-a]

OML I READ UR Malleus and Sebek courting mini fics and so cuteee AAAAAAAAAA

May we have a continuation? Where they receive a gift from reader?

Thank you ahead!

~~~🌟🎃

I'm so glad you enjoyed it. Here is a little more about how it might be when you gift him in return. I must say I had a lot of fun writing Sebek's part. He is such an amusing character to write.

Grim sat up from the small bed you’d set up for him in the corner and shouted, “Stop bringing that junk in here!”  You look over at him apologetically but still move over to your old nest and drop in the armful of fluff.  Grim shows his disapproval by growling.  “Sorry, but it has to be done!”  Grim’s brow furrows and he shouts, “Well then do it in your own room!” Then he burrows back into his own bed and pulls the covers overtop of him, hiding your nonsense from view. 

You were sorry, you really were but honestly, this was your room.  They all were.  It had been years since you’d married Malleus and become the consort of Briar Valley’s Prince.  As for Grim, you were a pair for such a long time that he’d joined you in moving to Briar Valley when you’d married.  You set him up in another room in your suite.  After a few years, you’d admitted to Malleus that you weren’t so fond of sleeping in the nest.  He’d laughed and moved you into a more standard bedroom.  It had a large comfortable bed and, after sleeping on twigs, you’d been ecstatic.  Grim, on the other hand, had resented your invasion of ‘his room’ and chosen to move into the room with your abandoned nest. 

‘No, not abandoned,’ you admonished yourself, ‘just preserved.’  It was still intact in the adjoining room, waiting.  Waiting for… well, you couldn’t finish that thought and instead, shook the fluster from your face and returned to the garden, seeking out more items to fill your empty nest.  Spring was the perfect time for your hunt as many trees in the garden dropped large pods of silky material to pollinate.  You pushed aside the long grasses looking for them.  “There are some in the west garden,” Lilia said suddenly.  You choke back a yelp.  Over the years, you’d become better at not being surprised by Lilia.  Or at least better about showing it.  He’d also become your closest conspirator in this matter.  When he’d seen you tucking a handful of feathers into your pockets, he’d looked at you with such an expression of glee that you’d have thought it was a gift for him and not Malleus.  But, you supposed, he had been waiting for quite a long time.  “I’d better go grab them before the wind takes them away then!”  He gives you a wink and you trot off.

The book (lent by Lilia all those years ago at NRC) had been clear; it was the job of the courting dragon to gather sticks and branches to create a nest to welcome a new partner into their life.  You’d remembered the first branch Malleus had given you fondly, a gift as good as a declaration of marriage.  Then it was the job of the partner to eventually fill the nest with warm, soft, and fluffy material to prepare for the next phase.  So here you were, tramping through bushes; looking for seed pods, feathers and really anything natural that you could find that would make a good stuffing for your nest.  It wasn’t easy though, not considering the size of the nest you had to fill.  You wished that Malleus had been a trifle less eager to impress when he’d been courting you; it would have made your job now a bit easier.

“Here,” came a voice from behind.  You look up and see Silver holding out a basket of feathers and fur.  “My bird friends had gathered too much for their own nests and wanted to share this.”  You smile back, “I’m sure they had a basket laying around too.”  At this Sebek bristles.  He’d never fully accepted you as the Consort of Briar Valley but, over time, he had come to a certain sort of understanding about your place here.  As long as you made Malleus happy, he seemed to gain a certain amount of satisfaction in assisting you.  “Just be grateful it’s for the great Malleus!  I couldn’t accept the young master having dirtied or rumpled feathers in his nest, so I was forced to find that basket.”  You smile at the young guard and see his cheeks flush in response. 

Really, it was like all the friends from your past school days were still here rooting for you and Malleus to have a happy ending.  It made you rather hopeful yourself.  You give them a nod of thanks and add your own finds to the basket and set off to your room.  With this basketful, you figured you’d be around halfway done.  If you gathered the rest of spring, and factoring in the rainy season, maybe by hmm… Bump!  You run into an unexpected obstacle.  You think you might fall and clutch the basket tightly only to blink after a moment and reassess.  You hadn’t fallen at all; you’d been caught in the arms of your loving husband. 

“My treasure, are you harmed?” Malleus asks in concern.  You hug the basket tighter, trying to hide the contents from his view, “Ah, no dear, I’m fine.  Thank you for catching me.”  Then you place a sweet kiss on his cheek before attempting to slip away.  You almost accomplish it before you feel his grip on your sleeve, holding you back.  “You wouldn’t be trying to hide something from me, would you my precious one?”  For a moment, you consider trying to evade his question but decide you’d rather be honest with him.  You sigh and hold out the basket, “It was supposed to be a surprise.”  He looks inside at the collection of fluffy things inside and back at you with wide eyes.  “You…you aren’t upset, are you?”

Instead of answering, Malleus quietly walks into your old room and stops at the edge of the nest.  You walk carefully to his side and peer inside at the fluffy collection you’ve started.  You wait for him to say something and when he doesn’t you look up at him and see a tear rolling down his cheek.  You reach out and hold his hand tightly, then grab the basket from his hand and drop the collection into the nest.  You both stand there, side by side in the twilight, until you finally decide to break the silence.  “I know we technically aren’t compatible like that, but I remembered when we married you said that there were ways it could happen if we used magic.  I was watching the trees bud and the birds making nests and it was like, I just knew it was time.”    

You hold out the last feather from your basket and Mallues takes it from your hand and gently places it into the nest.  Then he smiles in a way he so rarely does, fully radiant and content; it reminds you greatly of the day of your wedding.  When you meet his gaze, he picks you up and twirls you around while you both laugh.  You had a long way to go to finish collecting the lining for your nest, but you know you’ve collected the most important part: the agreement of your partner.  And soon, Grim would need to move again.  This room was going to return to what it was always meant to be, a nursery.

Family was important to the Zigvolt clan.  Sebek had older siblings and, by now, many nieces and nephews; all of which felt like were visiting today.  You and your spouse had run all over the house minding the little ones while your grateful in-laws took a break.  You had just corralled a little green-haired boy, whose fang toothed smile reminded you greatly of his favorite uncle, when the small hand pointed over your shoulder and a surprisingly loud voice demanded, “What’s that!”  You follow his hand to see him pointing to the two rocks that sit side by side on your mantle.  A fond smile crosses your face, “Those rocks?  Those are something special for your uncle and I.”  Then comes the dreaded word, “Why?”  You pause, unsure if this was the sort of story to interest such a young child, “Oh I don’t know.  Ask you Uncle when you are older.”

“NONSENSE!” comes a voice from the kitchen and you see your spouse striding over to you.  He transfers the little boy from your arms to his own. “It’s a fine story to inspire the youth with.  COME CHILD and I will tell you the story about my MOST ROMANTIC spouse and their gift to me.”  You’d like to just shake your head and walk away but you know it’s probably best to follow them and make sure he gets the story right.  Sebek can be prone to some…minor exaggeration...where you are involved.

They arrive at the mantle and the child points at the pebble Sebek had gifted you all those years ago.  “I like that one, it sparkles inside.”  Sebek frowns, “Forget that common rock and pay attention to the THIS AMAZING TREASURE!” Sebek tries to shift the attention of the boy to the plain looking rock that sits next to it, and you can see the puzzlement in his face.  Instead of trying to explain, your spouse is just standing there, smirking with an intense look of pride on his face.  It is probably time for you to take over.

You place you hand on Sebek’s shoulder, gaining the attention of both the boys.  You smile at your nephew and point to the sparkling rock.  “Your uncle gave that to me when we were in school.  He told me that he found it while visiting a ruin with Lord Malleus.”  Your nephew gasps and states in awe, “With the young Lord?”  You glance over and see Sebek preening at the attention being given to Malleus; some things never changed.  “Then he gave it to me as proof of his love,” you smile fondly at your spouse. 

“So, then you gave him this rock?” a small voice interjects.  “Yeah, that’s right,” you reply.  He seems to consider that for a long moment before carefully turning back to you and informing you, “Well there is something I’d like to say about that rock, but Master Lilia says if you can’t say something nice then you should say anything at all.”  You are HIGHLY amused by his cheek and not offended at all; you know your rock is rather plain.  However, when you turn to look at your spouse, you can see that Sebek’s eyes are wide with shock as though he cannot fathom how to reply to such an outrageous statement.  You chuckle to yourself at how adorable he looks before continuing.

“Hmm, that is true,” you begin, “but you see, I looked all over for a special rock to give to your uncle.  I wanted it to be just as amazing as his was.”  Your nephew nods sagely.  “The only thing was, I couldn’t find one.  I had these friends in school, see, and we used to walk all over after class.”  Ace, Deuce and Grim; ah, the bittersweet memories of friendships grown distant over time.  “And they would help me look for my special rock.  We looked for 3 years straight but never found it.  Then I went on my internship year, and I had to look alone.”  You smile sadly at the small child who seems very invested in the outcome of your quest, “But you found it, right?  You had to because you married my uncle, right? Right?”  You barely contained your laugh but when you looked at your spouse to see him nod eagerly at each ‘right’ you no longer were able to hold it back.

You let out a merry chuckle, “Well, I certainly looked that whole year in every free moment I had but, no, I never did find it.”  You look down at the boy whose mouth is making a perfect O in surprise.  “That’s not how stories are supposed to go.”  He tugs at Sebek’s shirt, “Uncle, tell her that isn’t how its supposed to go.”  Sebek turns to your and practically shouts, “THAT’S NOT HOW IT’S SUPPOSED TO GO!”  You wonder if he has somehow gotten so caught up in the moment that he’s forgotten he knew how the story ends. 

“All right, all right,” you wave them down.  “Well, after internship we all went back to school for graduation where Master Lilia and Silver have come to accompany Sebek back to Briar Valley.  I felt like I had no right to ask to go with them, considering I’d never properly confessed my feelings with my own rock.  I was just standing there, wondering where I’d go and what I’d do when Silver just picked up my bag and asked if I was ready.  So, I went.”  You smile fondly at the memory of Silver, who was like another brother to you at this point, and the way his easy generosity had included you into their group.  You ignore Sebek’s grumbling…something about Silver and how Sebek was perfectly capable of carrying your bag…

“When we got home, Sebek took me to meet your Grandpa and Grandma.  At the door of the house was this rock.”  You smile and point at your plain looking rock.  “That rock,” Sebek finally contributes, “was always showing up there.  I think it was earth fae or something playing a joke.  I moved it so many times, but it always ended up back on the front step.”  You lean in and wink at the boy, “That’s when I knew that was my rock.  Its not flashy or exciting but whenever he comes home, there I would be.”  You meet your spouse’s eyes and share a moment that needed no words.

“Then what?” a little voice interrupted.  “Well, you don’t want to know the rest,” you reply gently.  “Is it kissing stuff?” he asks as though that was the grossest thing he could imagine.  You nod at him in affirmation, “It’s kissing stuff.”  He rolls his eyes and signals his uncle to set him down, which he does.  As your nephew departs, you notice your spouse looking at you with a familiar look in his eye.  “So, what now?” you ask him, “Is it kissing stuff?”  He flashes you a fang-toothed smile, “It’s kissing stuff.”  And it was.

[wolfiesmoon]

Irregular heartbeat

Riddle Rosehearts x gn!reader

We learned about disney in film class this week and my mind was infected by images of twst boys lmaoo this game is a disease

I've had a turbulent week but its finally time for the holidays which means.... more schoolwork because our school doesnt subscribe to mental health

Lately, Riddle has been unfocused in class. This is very much unlike him, and he realises this. For him, being this distracted is like a death sentence to his perfect test scores.

He needs to get to the bottom of this, and quick.

Classes are over for the day and he's returning to his dorm to check up on the rose maze. Soon, it will be time for an unbirthday party and he must make sure everything is progressing smoothly.

Especially the painting of the roses, which was started a little late this time.

Ace and Deuce ended up complaining to you about the workload and since you have nothing to do anyways you decided to join them in painting the roses. Grim opted out of it this time since he "has better things to do".

You hummed to yourself as you painted the first rose on a heart shaped bush by yourself.

"What are you doing here?" a strict voice stopped you in your tracks. You'd recognise that voice anywhere. You probably should have asked if it was fine for you to help out beforehand, but you've helped without his permission before, even if it was on account of a certain first year's stupidity.

"I was bored and Ace and Deuce were complaining, so I decided to join. Don't tell me you're mad about free labour from the good of my own heart?" you added the final spot of paint to the rose, pouting back at him dramatically.

"I am thankful for your help, I don't know why you would make such an accusation." And yet, he still looked pissed off for some reason.

You stepped off from the stepstool, moving closer to him and humming. "Then why do you look like an old grumpy persian cat right now?"

"What- I do not!" he defended himself, cheeks turning a little pink as he crossed his arms.

In reality, he's angry that you're doing more work than you have to. He knows how horrible it is to be overworked a little too well and he wants you to be well rested and happy under every circumstance, not helping out when you really don't need to.

"I'll paint the roses. Don't bother yourself. I am much faster because I can simply transform them with my magic anyways." He moved past you, stepping up on the stepstool (which was unnecessary since he can use magic from a distance).

He doesn't really know why, but he gets the urge to protect you sometimes. Even from a task like painting the roses.

"If you say sooo..." you sat down on the soft grass, watching Riddle paint rose after rose. You have to admit, the slight smile on his face is quite adorable.

You could get used to watching this.

"Hey! Get back here, you stupid weasel!" you heard Ace's voice from somewhere in the rose maze. Weasel...? There's only one weasel you know.

And sure enough, in a few seconds Grim was running past you with a mischevious look on his face and a magical pen in his mouth, which you presume belongs to Ace.

Seems he got bored of "all the better stuff he had to do" and decided to cause trouble for poor Ace again. You got up, trying to grab him but ultimately failed in doing so.

"Wait right there!" Riddle yelled after Grim, attempting to stop him with his magic but he was a moment too late with Grim dissapearing behind a corner.

A few moments after him, Ace came running around the corner. "Where did he go?!" he asked frantically, whipping his head around at all the paths where Grim could have gone.

"That way." you pointed casually, already used to their shenanigans.

Ace quickly ran past you, accidentally moving the stepstool in the process and making Riddle stumble and fall over.

You quickly caught him, softening his fall. Thank god you were standing so close to him.

"Wha..." he whispered, cheeks turning red again. What in the world is this feeling? It feels like his chest is tightening, but it feels... good? Being caught in your arms is strange.

"Are you okay?" you asked, concerned by the look on his face.

"I umm.... I am completely fine." Riddle cleared his throat, straightening up and taking a singular step away from you.

"Are you sure? Because you look pretty shaken up to me." you moved close to him again, inspecting his face up close.

"You must be doing that on purpose." he felt like his heart was about to explode out of his chest. Now that he thinks about it, this feeling is similar to the one he gets during class. The one he can't get rid of for the life of him.

"What do you mean?" you asked innocently. You really want to kiss his red cheeks right now, but with Riddle you never know if they're red from anger or... something else. You don't want to take any chances, but it's hard to hold back around him sometimes.

"Nevermind. Just do something about those two!" he huffed, turning his head away, face now completely red.

Oops, looks like you ended up painting the housewarden red instead of the roses.

[chairofchaos]

Starlight | Nyxlin

Nyx Archeron was, in fact, trying to kill him.

“Nyx, what are we doing here?” It didn’t seem to matter to the male as they walked through the forest that his presence in Spring was supposed to be a secret to all but Tamlin, Lucien, and Elain— and their knowledge was only so that Nyx could use them as a cover.

Nyx only smirked. “We’re going out.”

“What?”

“Out,” Nyx repeated. “We’re going out.”

“Why are we here?” Tamlin halted, gazing at the pool of starlight ahead of them. In the dusk, it seemed to glow, but that didn’t dampen the pain of being back. “I haven’t been here since…”

“Since my mother.”

Tamlin nodded.

“Uncle Lucien mentioned,” Nyx said, yanking his shirt over his head. “Come swim with me.”

“Why?”

“You fell out of love with your court. It seemed like a good idea to help you fall back in love with it. Let me show you Spring through my eyes, Tam,” Nyx pleaded, reaching to stroke Tamlin’s cheek.

Nyx was consistently affectionate through touch, constantly brushing his hand against Tamlin’s forearms, his back, his face when there was no one around. Tamlin was grateful for it– the quick squeeze of his hand when they left each other, or a kiss pressed to the back of his neck when he sat at his desk and lost track of time while waiting for Nyx’s arrival at night. If Nyx was in Spring, Tamlin was bestowed with constant reminders of his mate’s presence.

“Alright,” Tamlin nodded, reaching for the hem of his shirt. His clothes joined Nyx’s on the grass, and they waded into the pool together, Nyx cupping the starlight in his hands and letting it slip slowly through his fingers.

“Come on,” Tamlin swam out to the center of the pool, Nyx right behind him.

On the far side, hydrangeas had begun to bloom. That was new– there hadn’t been any there when he had brought Feyre here. Some were blue, some pink, but there was an enormous cluster of purple flowered bushes which sprawled nearly 20 feet.

“Spring, through your eyes?” Tamlin questioned when they stopped, treading water.

Nyx chuckled. “Yeah. I came here by myself, first. I figured you knew about it, but when I asked Lucien he was tight-lipped.”

“I’m surprised he told you anything at all,” Tamlin splashed water in Nyx’s direction.

“Very High Lord-ly,” Nyx laughed, splashing back.

“Well. You’ll have to forgive me. I believe you were the one to call me a beast.”

Nyx groaned. “Please, I was in distress.”

When Tamlin splashed him again, Nyx dove under the surface, disappearing from view. The sun had gone down, the only remaining light source the pool itself. When Nyx reemerged directly in front of him, Tamlin grinned. “You have a crown of stars.”

Nyx smirked. “You can, too.”

Suddenly, Tamlin was under the surface, Nyx’s hand pushing him under just until his entire body was submerged.

“Brat,” Tamlin spat when he surfaced, wiping liquid starlight from his eyes. Still, when Nyx laughed, reaching to brush Tamlin’s hair off his forehead, Tamlin couldn’t help but laugh with him.

“You don’t say that much, but you certainly like to think it.”

“You are your fathers’ son, you know that?”

Nyx smirked. “Is that such a crime?”

Tamlin sighed. “We don’t choose our parents.”

Nyx said nothing, but tipped his head up. It was easy to picture him as a son of Night with starlight in his hair and the night sky growing around them. But here, he looked like Nyx. Just Nyx, Tamlin’s lover, his heart, his mate.

“I love you,” Tamlin said finally.

Nyx smiled, still staring at the sky. “I love you.”

“Will we be continuing our exploration of Spring tonight?”

“I didn’t plan on it,” Nyx said. “That’s what tomorrow is for.”

“I have meetings.”

“Not anymore, you don’t. I cleared your calendar.”

Tamlin blinked in surprise. “And how did you do that, without anyone knowing it was you?”

Nyx smirked. “One benefit of being a bratty child. You learn how to forge signatures very early on. Helpful for avoiding the consequences of one’s mistakes if you can forge your father’s signature. Or your mother’s. Or your mate’s.”

“Cauldron help me,” Tamlin groaned.

“You love me,” Nyx teased.

Tamlin splashed in Nyx’s direction once more, the droplets reaching just short of his mate. “I do, you idiot. I do.”

Tag list: @ninthcircleofprythian @dusk-muse @unanswered-stars @c-starstuff-man0 @lilah-asteria

[pxmun]

With the help of the boy brothers Tex and Rex, Cleo, Thomas, Holly, and Spencer set out to look for the original house of Sir Topham Hatt's family. During their excursion Gordon, Flying Scotsman, along with Romeo and Darius joined the group, curious about the Hatt family's origin. Both Tex and Rex sat upon Cleo's shoulders, helping the girl and Thomas's crew navigate through the old branch lines. When the bothers couldn't agree on which track to take, Cleo would step in and bring out the map to guide them through the paths. "How much longer is this going to take? Surely finding one house shouldn't take this long." Spencer snottily commented as he puffed behind Thomas. "Spencer, don't be rude! Everyone is working together to find Mr. Hatt's family house as fast as they can." Holly scolded. Spencer felt bad for making Holly cross. The silver engine wanted to have a fun adventure with his friend, but it felt like an impossibility do to how well hidden the old Hatt house was. Harold the helicopter had tried to help out the group earlier, but the trees made it impossible for him to see the house from above. With the sun about to set in an hour, the gang was starting to lose hope and was about to call it quits for the day. Cleo gently rolling up the map to place it back into her bag, when Rex suddenly shouted out. "That's it! Those there are Wendell's tracks that lead to his shed back to the house"! Rex stated. All the engines came to a halt. The boy brothers immediately hoped out of Thomas's cab and rushed over to said railroad tracks. Time had nearly completely hidden the path with trees, grass, bushes, and roots, but there had been just enough to let those with keen eyes know that it was still there. Both Darius and Romeo rushed over to pull away at the covering foliage in an attempt to clear the line, but it was too much. "Great, how are we supposed to get to the house now with the tracks blocked"? Gordon asked frustrated. The group discussed among themselves about what to do. Thomas had suggested bringing Terrence the tractor since his caterpillar wheels wouldn't have difficulty moving through the terrain. Darius thought about getting Trevor the traction engine and seeing if he could help clear the path. As the group continued chatting about what to do, Holly took the time to observe the tracks. It looked rough, no engine would be able to make it by on rails and even on going by foot would be difficult as the landscape wasn't even. With the passage of time the once smooth land had been changed by landslides and weather. While most of the changes looked normal, some parts of the land looked like it had been scarred by something unnatural. Nevertheless, to Holly their surroundings didn't look that different from the trails her and her dads would ride horseback on. That is when an idea had lit up in Holly's head. The girl wheeled herself over to Spencer. "I figured out how we can get through the line to the Hatt house, but I'll need your help." Holly told Spencer. "Certainly, my dear Holly! Just tell me how I can be of service." Spencer responded. Holly took out her whistle, she was remembering how Romeo had used his to change Gordon's size. "I hope this works." Holly said unsure. With a deep breath, Holly blew into the whistle. With a huff and a puff, steam flew out of Spencer's funnel and enveloped the silver engine. The steam had blinded Spencer, he was unable to see what was going on and it began to make Spencer feel uneasy. Luckily, the magic steam began to fade away, allowing Spencer to see once more. The first thing Spencer noticed was all the weird looks the others were giving him. "Why are all of you looking at me like that? Is there something on my face"? Spencer asked a bit concerned. There was stunned silence for a moment, then Thomas broke out into a laughing fit, followed by Romeo and then Gordon. Both Darius and Flying Scotsman were fighting the urge to laugh, their faces blushing bright. "What's so funny"? Spencer asked as he started to get annoyed by the other's antics. Cleo still looked shocked by what she was seeing, nevertheless she spoke up. "Um Spencer, you might want to look down at your buffers." Cleo advised. Spencer took the girl's advice and looked down, only to see a set of shiny black hooves instead of his polished silver buffers. Surprised, the silver engine tried to let out a terrified scream, but instead a loud whinny escaped his lips. Spencer had been turned into a horse! His mane and tail were sparkling silver like his paintwork, while Spencer's body was white as new snow. "Incredible! From what I've read I didn't think engines besides Lady and Wendell had the capability to transform in such a manner! I need to document this for the Earl's archives"! Cleo said awe struck as she brought out her cell phone to record Spencer. Spencer was still in shock, but finally did manage to speak. “Why”? Spencer asked Holly, very confused and upset. “Taking the path by foot would take too long. I thought if we had a horse, it would be a better choice to handle the bumps and quicker.” Holly explained. Spencer could see his friend’s logic, but he was still very uncomfortable with being something else than a steam engine. “How do horses even move with these things”? Spencer asked looking back down at his hooves. “Just move one hoof after the other. I know it's not like your wheels, rods, and pistons, but it’s just as easy. My dads and I would help newborn foals take their first steps back at the ranch.” Holly assured. Holly helped Spencer move his first leg, then the other. Spencer was very shaky at first and nearly fell over, but thankfully Darius stepped in and helped keep the engine turned equine upright. It took a bit of time, but Spencer eventually managed to move on his own. “Alright, let’s get you off the rails.” Holly said. Spencer felt nervous, he had only ever known life on the rails and only ever left them when he was either being repaired or had gotten derailed. Nevertheless, he moved a shacky hoof over. Finding Dinah’s house would mean a lot to Holly and the big silver engine wanted to show her and the others how useful he was. Spencer clenched his eyes shut as he brought his hoof down on the other side of the track and onto the grass. It felt amazing! Spencer never felt something so soft. He opened his eyes to look at the path ahead, from this new angle the view looked like someplace new, and it was breathtaking. Spencer then fully removed himself off the track and took a few steps forward towards the path, feeling much better about his situation. Romeo could see Spencer smiling and decided to add the cherry on top. With her permission, Romeo picked up Holly out of her wheelchair and placed her on Spencer’s back. The silver engine was used to having is crew ride in his cab but having Holly on his back felt very different. It didn’t hurt, in fact Spencer was liking having one person guiding him rather than both the fireman and driver. “Ready to go Spencer”? Holly asked. Spencer looked ahead in confidence. “Ready as I’ll ever be dear Holly, let’s go”! Spencer said enthusiastically. Darius decided to stay and look after the engines while Holly, Cleo, and the guys headed for Dinah’s. The brother and sister climbed up onto Spencer’s back while Tex and Rex rested on Romeo’s shoulders. Once everyone was on Spencer dashed forward into the great unknown.

[turkeypaw]

clans of shore valley: chapter one

PROLOGUE <- CHAPTER ONE -> CHAPTER TWO

Sharpthunder took his time to groom himself and calm his racing heart before ducking out of the warriors’ den and peering around camp. It was halfway to Sunhigh by then, and the Clan was already hard at work before the heat of the Greenleaf day kicked in.

The WillowClan camp was situated on the opposite side of the beach from Highcliffs, sitting instead in the shadows of the smaller and less-threatening sister cliff formation, Tallcliffs. The camp was bordered on the land-facing side by mangrove trees, and on the ocean-facing side by large, sun-warmed stones that sat just past the line where the water reached at high tide.

At first glance, the sandy clearing appeared abuzz with activity.

Sharpthunder watched as the Clan’s one apprentice, Twigpaw, slipped out from underneath the thick bush that sheltered the apprentices’ den. She held old moss in her jaws, and she made quick work of trotting out of the root tunnel leading out of camp to dispose of it. After her, the dawn patrol slipped back into camp. The leader of the patrol, Dawnlight, immediately split off from Ravenbloom and Goldenlion, and padded over to where depute Midgedance sat beneath Mossstar’s den.

Mossstar’s den, hollowed out in the roots and trunk of an old willow tree that sat atop a small sandy dune, was bordered by a ring of stacked river stones. Atop the stones, before the entrance to the den, Midgedance greeted Dawnlight. The two cats began exchanging quick, hushed words.

Sharpthunder furrowed his brow in concern, but was distracted when Ravenbloom walked up to him. Her gray tabby coat was damp from wading through the dewy grass of the moorland, and she smelled of willows and heather. She touched noses with Sharpthunder warmly and sat beside him before beginning to groom herself.

Settling down beside her, Sharpthunder pressed his dry pelt against her damp one, taking comfort in the freshness of her smell. The striped she-cat purred amusedly, and ceased her grooming to lick Sharpthunder’s ear fondly.

“You slept in,” she noted good-naturedly, before tucking her gray paws underneath her chest and settling next to him.

Sharpthunder nodded, the shock of his dream coming back to him. He shook it off and passed a quick few licks over his creamy gray chest fur to disguise his discomfort. “How was the dawn patrol?”

“Uneventful. We checked the HeatherClan border and the base of the hills. Dawnlight was restless though, he couldn’t wait to get back to camp.” Ravenbloom nodded towards where Dawnlight and Midgedance still stood, conversing quietly. As they watched, Dawnlight glanced around camp, as if afraid he was being listened to.

“Why?” Sharpthunder queried, and settled down into a crouch beside Ravenbloom. He rested his striped tail over her similarly-stiped back affectionately.

“You didn’t hear?” Ravenbloom turned her wide, sage-green eyes to him. “Oh, you wouldn’t have, I suppose. Mossstar is ill. Very ill.”

A wave of anxiety rippled through Sharpthunder. He shifted his paws, digging his claws into the soft sand. Sharpthunder remembered the silver tabby she-cat sharing tongues with Midgedance at sundown yesterday. “She looked fine last night!”

Ravenbloom nodded somberly. “She was. It came onto her overnight, apparently.”

“Is it the same thing that Beachfeather has?” Sharpthunder mewed. The beloved elder had been dispensing wisdom and stories to kits and apprentices since before Sharpthunder had been born. Recently, he had come down with a cough, which was unusual for this time of year.

“I’m no medicine cat,” Ravenbloom deflected, her head snapping to the medicine den as a long-furred, dark gray she-cat emerged from the shadows between the two leaning stones. Her belly was swollen with kits, and she held a bundle of herbs in her mouth as she walked slowly to the elders’ den and squeezed underneath the flat rock overhanging it. “Ask Rindlebramble when she’s done seeing to him.”

“You know,” Sharpthunder begun, “Beachfeather used to tell this story about these distant Clans, where medicine cats weren’t able to have kits. They were supposed to love the whole Clan like they were their kits.”

“Lucky Rindlebramble isn’t living there,” Ravenbloom purred with amusement.

The round medicine cat wiggled out from the elders’ den quickly, a stricken look on her face. She trotted over to Midgedance and Dawnlight as quickly as she could, and then bypassed them to duck into Mossstar’s den, the roots of the den entrance squeezing her on either side as she did.

“Oh no,” Ravenbloom murmured, just before Rindlebramble reappeared. She looked even more afraid.

“It’s as I feared!” Rindlebramble yowled from atop the stones bordering Mossstar’s den.

The remaining cats in camp began to gather loosely beneath her. Bugstripe slipped out of the warriors’ den and padded as close to his mate as he could get, looking up at her with concern not just for what she has to say, but for her. Rindlebramble paid him no attention, her round bronze eyes stricken with grief.

“Beachfeather has gone to StarClan,” she began, “and last night, Mossstar lost a life to the same sickness. However, instead of the illness leaving her body with the loss of the life, Mossstar remains deathly ill. I am afraid she will lose another life.”

The gathered Clan gasped and yowled in shock. The deputy, Midgedance, stared out over Rindlebramble’s shoulder, gaze foggy, like she was not even there. Ravenbloom pressed even closer to Sharpthunder, and he instinctually wrapped his tail around her protectively, even as his own mind whirled.

Is that what his dream meant about protecting his Clan and his leader with his life? How is he supposed to do that if his leader is dying from something he can’t fight?

[pbandjesse]

I felt so much more like myself today. And for most of the day I felt great. I would feel bad every time I ate. But when I wasn't eating it just post eating I felt great.

I slept a lot better. I think that helped. Waking up was not as horrible. I didn't even snooze my alarm!

I would get up and get dressed. I felt alright in my outfit. I knew I was going to be in the mud today but I wanted to feel pretty. Did my makeup and everything.

Everyone else apparently thought I looked great though because I got so many compliments today. James kept telling me how lucky they were to have a pretty wife. It made me feel nice.

I had a really easy drive to work. (I wish I had gotten a picture but there was a baby grand piano on the side of the highway???) And when I got to camp it was just really pretty. I would stop at the eyrie to get my supplies. And then drove to the art building. Where I set up my water color painting project and cleaned out all the trash I had in the doors. I wish we had a little more storage inside of the car and so I bought a net for the ceiling of the car so when that gets here I am hoping it helps me feel more organized.

I would walk down to the office. And was alone for a while. I had my egg sandwich and regretted it. I felt very out of sorts after eating it. But my mood was still really good. Elizabeth and Nick came in. There was discussion about the day. And he went to go set up the tower.

I would head to the lodge with Elizabeth and Sarah so we could set up tables and chairs and we were very efficient and got everything ready.

The group was a little late. We would have to alter the schedule just a bit. But this group was literally a dream. They were so lovely. I am so cool to second graders and they gassed me up hardcore.

At first I think they were unsure of me. But I took my little group to the pond and we went through everything. I was slightly put off by the one chaperone not wanting them to explore without an adult next to them and being very concerned about them getting muddy. I just had to go. This is the nature of the program. They will get dirty. It is okay. I'm sure the parents will complain but also why did you send your child to any field trip in New shoes. That's crazy to me but I don't know their lives. I just want them to have fun and not be afraid of nature.

But once we got into it we had so much fun. The first group found 14 things!! They did so good! And we had a couple extra minutes because Nick's group at the tower needed the time. So I pulled out some of the larva and had them identify it by picture. It was fun.

One little girl, Ashley, got a sticker bush stuck in her hair and in getting it out she got a finger prick. And she was hysterical. Just scream crying. I carefully took her hands (avoiding the cut) and was just very very calm. Her teacher got a first aid kit and while she got that ready I sat Ashley down and had her breathe with me and she calmed down and was just quietly crying. And I validated her upsetness, "that was really scary right? You are being very brave." I told her that I also got a cut last week and I'm only stronger for it. And by the time she has a bandaid she was all good and would be a joy for the rest of the day and also my best friend. Her and her friend Genesis were my shadows and we would look under many many logs. We even found a morel mushroom!! My very first one!

They were not my only shadows. In the second group Nevaeh was all red faced crying. I'm not sure why. But I got her to come look with me and I think she thought it was really cool when I was able to grab two different slippery frogs. This group was very good at finding the frogs. We even dug one up from under the grass. Literally pulled the "sheet" of grass up to grab him. It was so fun.

Lunch was quick. But the second group has helped me bring all my materials back to the eyrie so I was able to enjoy my little half hour. I was very disappointed to find my watermelon didn't taste right. But I enjoyed my little pizza and things were good.

The afternoon was art! I would collect my group and we went up to arts and crafts. Lots of hand holding and hugs. Such a sweet group. And I had them draw in sharpie at least one plant and one creature they really liked seeing today, OR one that they WISHED they had seen. So we had some snake and bear drawings. But also a lot of tadpoles. And then they would watercolor paint. And it went so good. I was very very happy with this project.

The second group would be super sweet as well. Nevaeh would paint a picture of me!! And she gifted it to me so I promised to hang that in the art building. I also had a really lovely conversation with two parents and shared some of our Africa pictures. It was just a really lovely time.

One of the little boys also kept telling me how beautiful I was. My makeup: beautiful. My hair: beautiful. My personality: so cool. These kids were echoing everything he was saying and I was just like. Guysss stoooppp. But it made me feel really nice.

At the end of the program we cleaned up and I packed up their art in bags to give to their teacher. And we walked back to the lodge. Where the little girls wanted to wear my hair clip and look at pictures on my phone. We're disappointed I was not wearing my engagement ring but also it would get so dirty! My wedding rings go through enough as it is. I did show them some of our wedding pictures though and that was fun.

Nevaeh and Ashley and Genesis and a few other girls helped fold chairs as they were leaving. It was so sweet. I loved this group. Absolutely would have again. I hope my future child is as sweet as them.

Nick and me would finish folding the chairs. And I would go clean the bathrooms. And once that was done I went to the art building to put things away. And then to the office. Where I very badly answered some emails (with incorrect information because I wasn't thinking about alcohol when someone asked if they could bring outside drinks to the music festival. I assumed water bottles??). And I offered to go pick up our total wine order.

This ended up taking more then an hour which I did not expect. Traffic was bad. And then when I got there they couldn't find our order. But the man was nice and looked really hard and would find both orders and everything would be fine. I enjoyed just sitting in the car for a bit. I wasn't in a rush.

When I got home James helped me out and brought everything inside. I was worried about them getting taken from our car? Can't risk it.

James made me a salad for dinner and it was great. I would change into my comfy clothes and painted my toes and ate my salad and eventually I went downstairs to play the new video game James got me.

Little kitty big city! It's very fun so far but video with walking games still make me nauseous. But I would play for a couple hours. James would join me and made pizza and I shouldn't have eaten it because I have felt bad since. Maybe it's a bread issue? I will try to have less bread tomorrow.

I just got a shower and James is dozing on bed while I'm sitting on the floor. I am tired. But I am feeling good. My stomach didn't hurt at all today (I mean it did but not in the way it has been. No crazy scary cramping). And I am feeling really good emotionally. I hope to keep these good vibes going.

I hope you all sleep good tonight and have fun tomorrow. Goodnight everyone!

[twsted-princess]

A lover out of this world for any Melanie ship we have, who you're in the mood for :)

I hate you, truly I do.

Achilles grumbled to himself, swiping away at the tall bush as he heard his 'companion' speak up. "Gotta say it's pretty kind of ya to let me tag along." He rolled his eyes and didn't pay them any mind. Emmett tugged at his shirt with the hot sun bellowing down, following Achilles as he cut through the grass. This was beyond idiotic. Let Emmett join him, they can split the reward! It's just some giant snake, what harm could it do? Achilles knew that giant lizard was actually a basilisk and he wasn't interested in this idiot making his hunt any much harder. Slicing away at a branch he thought to himself with the earth crunching beneath him. Maybe he should let Emmett go first so the creature could target him first and while they're eating his corpse he could get the drop on them. That wasn't a terrible idea but his thoughts were ruined again. "So you know where we're going right?" Achilles sighed. "Yes I know where we are. I've explored this forest a thousand times." Emmett looked up into the trees as colorful birds sang sweet songs. "I don't know but I think we're lost." The hunter looked back to his cowboy nuisance now mad. "We're not lost." The other man shrugged his shoulders as he looked around. "You could be right but don'tcha get the feeling we're not supposed to be here." Achilles felt the urge come over to just strangle him until he's purple and then leave but he turned back to slice through another branch barring their way. "We're fine. Just keep walking." Emmett let out a sigh and the two trudged along.

The birds continued their songs, flying through the trees with their feathers in soft shades. A stream babbled through with its water clear enough to see the smooth pebbles and fishes with their shimmery scales swim around. That........isn't normal in this part of the woods. Achilles then stopped, kneeling down to scoop some into his hand, the water dripped down as he took a sip. It was....nice. Refreshing and crisp, he could feel his energy come back in full force. Likely the best water he's tasted. Emmett then noticed the trees. Some were flowering with white to a peachy pink blossoms, hanging along with them were fruits but not ones he knew of. They looked like strawberries but they were much bigger and the colors ranged from a ruby red, rose pink and champagne. He took one off, causing a few petals to fall onto him as he took a bite. It was sweet like honey and melted into his mouth, some of the juice fell down his fingers. "Ok now do you believe me?" Achilles rose wiping his hand on his pants. "Let's keep moving." He didn't need to walk that far when they both hear it. Laughter like a bell chime. Actually it was a plethora of giggles. Achilles's hand rested on his hip, where his hunting knife rested. "Stay low. Don't make a sound." he whispered as Emmett felt his gun in its holster, just in case. They moved slowly, crouched towards a high bushel of flowers where the giggling came from. Creeping along they carefully moved the blossoms before they got a glimpse of.......her. A maiden, fair and sweet, dressed in pink and gold. Her hair pooled the flowers as she sat among a gaggle of butterflies. Or what they think were butterflies. She smiles gently, giggling as if she was told a joke as they fluttered around. She was.......pretty. Too pretty. Enough for it to almost hurt their eyes. "So........what do we do now?"

[norhimorovine]

The Chronos of Our Lives

Misah’to was twenty, when Galeia gave birth to their daughter. He remembered he was elbow deep in the dianthus bed, when one of the maids came careening out of the house with a shriek of glee. “They had a little girl! She looks just like her father and they named her Annia!!” the woman laughed, darting over to hug Misah’to. 

He held still so as to not get dirt all over the woman’s uniform, awkward though it was to be so casually hugged by anyone else at all. “Ah... Everything went well then? A safe delivery?”

The maid bounced, shaking Misah’to with her as she did. “Yes! Madam and Little Miss are just as healthy as can be! Sir said he’d bring them home tomorrow!”

Misah’to managed an awkward smile. “I’ll look forward to it, then.”

The maid giggled, kissed his cheek, and then danced back inside. Misah’to just sat there, wondering why this prompted any sort of inclusion of him. He rarely spent any time inside the house as it was. Even so, he’d have the garden neatened back up by tomorrow.

And the next morning, thanks to the forewarning, Misah’to was out front with the rest of the household staff, when the transport arrived. Levitas was first to step out, quickly reaching to help his wife out. Galeia smiled at her assistant, talking softly with the man, while Levitas turned to unstrap the carrier next.

Misah’to watched as half the staff converged on Levi and the baby. Misah’to, being shorter than most of them, just hung back. He didn’t want to be in the middle of that melee. But Levi made them back up, so that Galeia could pull Annia from the carrier. She held the baby in her arms, with her face visible to the small crowd. 

Levitas cleared his throat then and says, “May I present Annia bas Verzo. My eldest child.”

Misah’to managed a smile then, as most of the staff cheered eagerly. But then the family was chivied inside, out of the cold. And Misah’to took the moment to go back to work. He hadn’t been around an honest to Galvus child in a decade. He didn’t know what to do with one now. He supposed she was kinda cute though. For a baby.

----

It would be nearly two years later, before Misah’to had any real interactions with the child. After all, Annia almost never left the immediate proximity of her mother or her governess. But a few moons shy of her second birthday, the girl suddenly developed a streak of independence and began ditching her caretakers. And more often than not, this meant she wound up in the garden.

Most days, Misah’to didn’t mind. He’d take his own coat off and drape it around the Little Miss’s shoulders, to keep her warm, while she sat in the grass or snow, and played with whatever safe plant he’d handed her. Eventually her governess would show up and just sigh in exhaustion, before whisking the child back inside.

It would be shortly after this started, that it was announced that Madam Galeia was pregnant again. And Misah’to learned why Annia was getting away more. Both Mother and Governess were wrapped up in new baby preparations. And even while this was going on, Madam Galeia hadn’t slowed down her career trajectory at all. She still had political guests visiting all the time.

It was during one of these visits, that Annia escaped once more and wound up in the garden. But today, the child wasn’t content to sit and play with the chive blossom she’d been handed. Today she wanted a rose. And she was quickly trotting over to the blooming bushes. 

Misah’to squawked in alarm and scooped the child away from the bush, before she could grab the thorn covered branch. Annia’s face screwed up, about to cry. Misah’to desperately tried to shush her and shook his head. “No no... Sh shshshs... Hey here... Watch!”

He reached out then and gripped the thorns of the bush, wincing when they broke his skin. He then turned his hand to let Annia see the little bleeding cuts. “See? Thorns hurt. We don’t want you to get hurt.”

Annia gasped at the blood and teared up even more. She darted out of Misah’to’s grasp for the house, calling, “Nada! Nada!!”

Misah’to squawked again and followed after the child, trying to quiet her before the guests heard. At this point, Nadia bas Ruera appeared. “There you are. What in the blazes is going on!?”

Misah’to just wilted. “She tried to grab the rose bushes Miss Ruera. I simply tried to show her how thorns can hurt,” he said, revealing his hand, “I didn’t mean to scare her.”

Annia tugged at Nadia’s skirts. “Nada! Make Mimi’s booboo better! Nada!”

Misah’to blinked and then muttered, “Mimi?” Wait... Oh, it’s okay, Little Miss. I can fix them up.”

Nadia rolled her eyes and scooped Annia to her hip. She then grabbed Misah’to’s wrist and pulled him into the kitchen. “Just let me do it. She’ll be inconsolable otherwise.”

Misah’to grimaced and let himself be pulled along. “Yes, Miss Ruera.”

He then sat on the stool he was directed to, watching as Nadia set Annia on the counter next to him. He then watched Nadia clean the blood from his hand and carefully apply salve and bandages. “There. All better,” the woman said primly.

Annia puffed her cheeks. “No! Kiss too!”

Misah’to squawked. “Oh no. It’s alright Little Miss. I feel loads better already. I promise.”

Annia huffed. “But kiss!”

Nadia just sighed. “How about, Miss Annia, you kiss Mimi’s booboos then?”

Annia perked at this, excited. “I kiss better!”

Misah’to shook his head quickly at Nadia, his expression pleading for this to end. Nadia just shrugged and gestured at him to hold out his hand to Annia. What were they going to do? Disturb the entire house?

Misah’to sighed and gave Annia a sheepish grin. He held out his bandaged hand and held still, as the girl took it and pressed a toddler’s kiss to his palm with a big “Mwah!”

Misah’to smiled shakily then and answered, “Thank you kindly, Little Miss. I’m going to get back to work now. Okay?”

Annia nodded. “Kay!”

She then let Nadia scoop her back to the nursery, and Misah’to escape to the garden. Once free, he just sagged against the building and made plans to have dinner out that night. The last thing he’d needed was the Madam’s daughter learning what consequences were, while there was a political guest in the house.

----

Misah’to was once again elbow deep in flowers, delphiniums this time. And once again, one of the maids was shrieking in joy. He turned and looked, as the woman leaned out of the window to yell at him. “She had the baby! Another girl! Her name’s Bianca!!”

Misah’to nodded and then waved in acknowledgement, awkwardly smiling as the woman darted back inside with her glee. 

A short bit later, Annia escaped outside. She pouted as she sat on a bench, crossing her little arms in a surprisingly good mockery of her father. Misah’to smiled and shrugged out of his coat. He layered it over the girl and then cut down a rose. He stripped the thorns and gave it to her, before returning to work. 

Annia sniffled. “Dun wanna be sister.”

Misah’to hummed a bit. “It’ll certainly be different. What part upsets you?”

Annia frowned. “Mama busy lots. Gonna busy more.”

Misah’to nodded then and gave her a smile. “Well... It’s not the same, I know. But, when Little Miss Bianca’s a little older, you two can have each other, when Madam is busy.”

Annia sniffled. “Mebbe.”

Misah’to then winked. “At any rate. She can’t make her way out to the garden for a while. Needs to learn to walk first.”

Annia straightened up then, perking at the thought. She then nodded. “My garden.”

Misah’to just smiled and didn’t correct her.

The next morning, Misah’to stood out with the staff, much like the time before. The transport came and they presented another little blonde baby girl. Little rounder in the face maybe. He wasn’t sure. It was a baby.

Over by Miss Nadia, Annia clung to the woman’s hand, eyeing the child with trepidation. Levitas just scooped her up and hugged her tightly, before leaning in so she could see her sister. Annia wrinkled her nose and mumbled, “Guess she cute...”

Misah’to smiled and turned to go back to work. Things were not going to calm down.

----

It would be about three years later, when Annia started bringing Bianca into the garden with her. The two would sit and share Misah’to’s coat and whisper to each other about the flowers.  But where Annia had often been content like this, Bianca would inevitably get up and wander. 

Today, Misah’to found himself watching as Bianca poked at the dirt he was filling in around a new bush. She poked and poked, until she tried to pull something free.

Misah’to leaned in. “What did you find, Little Miss?” he asked, watching her pull a worm out of the dirt.

He waited for the expected scream, but it didn’t come. In fact, the child looked puzzled. Bianca held it up to Misah’to, getting uncomfortably close to his face. “Wazzit?”

Misah’to leaned back and carefully rescued the bug from her. “It’s called a worm. They enrich the soil,” he says, gently returning it to the dirt.

Bianca oohs. “Worms neat.”

Behind her, over on the bench, Annia makes a face. “Worms’re gross.”

Bianca frowns. “Nooo.”

Misah’to quickly waved between them. “They can be both.”

He then looked up and was grateful to see Nadia arrive to take both the girls back. He didn’t have the energy to handle the two of them bickering. Half of it wasn’t even in understandable words anyway. Even so, it was clear that where Annia was more reserved, Bianca had gotten the sense of adventure.

----

Annia had now been five years old for some manner of moons. And her first year of school at Docere Academy started tomorrow. At some point, late in the afternoon, Annia snuck out into the garden. She ran up to Misah’to and clung to his side. 

He frowned as he noted she’d been crying. He knelt then and pulled out a handkerchief. Being the hobby of two young girls had necessitated he start carrying one. He gently wiped her face dry and asked, “And what has you upset today, Little Miss?”

Annia sniffled and pouted. “I don’t wanna go to school. Can I learn to be gardener like you?”

Misah’to blinked at this and then smiled worriedly. “Well, I can certainly teach you to garden. But I don’t think your parents will let you get out of school for it. Besides, even gardeners need school. Reading, math, history. All very important.”

Annia frowned. “But you didn’t go to school.”

Misah’to shrugged. “I still had lessons. It was basically school. I think you’ll like it though. You like learning about architecture from your father. School will help with that.”

Annia fidgeted. “Really?”

Misah’to nodded once. “Really.”

Annia fidgeted and then nodded. She hugged Misah’to and turned to go inside then. “Guess I have to take my bath then.”

Misah’to waved. “Ask for bubbles.”

Annia perked at this and then grinned, running inside. The bubbles always did it.

The next morning, Annia exited the house in her new school uniform. Misah’to watched as Galeia, dressed impeccably as always, joined her. Hand in hand, the two walked out of the gate and down the street. Docere Academy wasn’t far. A few blocks really. And Misah’to merely thought that it’d almost be sweet, watching mother walk daughter to school. If mother didn’t have an angle for being seen as publicly reliable and political. But Annia hadn’t figured that out yet. And Misah’to wasn’t about to spoil the illusion for her.

He lost himself back in his work for the day. And by the time the afternoon had rolled around, Levitas could be seen walking back home with his daughter in hand. Annia bounced and waved excitedly at Misah’to, as she followed her father inside. Misah’to smiled and waved back. He had the feeling it had gone very well.

And sure enough, a bell later, the girl darted outside and tackled him into the phlox. “You were right! It was awesome!” she crowed, from her perch on his back.

Misah’to carefully straightened back to his knees, careful not to dislodge her grip.He smiled over his shoulder to her. “Had fun then?”

Annia nodded. “Yes! The library there is waaaaaay bigger than the one here at home. Not as big as the pretty one near the palace though.”

Misah’to aha’d and then reached to fix the phlox he’d landed on. “Well, sounds like you’ll have lots of books to read then.”

Annia giggled and hugged Misah’to tighter.. “So many books!”

At this point, the garden door opens and Nadia leans out. “Annia! Homework!”

Annia squeaked and then giggled. She slid off Misah’to’s back and darts for the door. Misah’to just shook his head and turned back to work. 

----

A couple more years pass and it was Bianca’s turn for school. And where Annia had been worried, Bianca was incredibly excited. She’d listened to her sister talk about school for two years. And now it was her turn!

When she came home from her first day, she was a lot less enthused than Annia had been. But, like her sister, she escaped to the garden barely a bell later. Bianca sat by Misah’to. “No one said it’s a buncha sittin’ still.”

Misah’to quickly choked back a laugh. He cleared his throat and gave Bianca a sympathetic smile. “I suppose that would be important to know. Surely not all of it is sitting still?”

Bianca sighed. “Well, there’s gymnasium. That’s fun. Recess too.”

Misah’to nodded softly and continued weeding the dianthus. “Well, there’s something. If I recall, Annai’s not so fond of gymnasium, herself. Just means you two like different things.”

Bianca crossed her arms. “I guess.”

Misah’to grinned. “I think so, anyway. Now, I imagine you have homework. And Miss Nadia’s going to yell, if you don’t show up.”

Bianca made a face then. “Ew. But sitting!”

Misah’to shrugged. “Stand by the table then.”

Bianca blinked. “I can stand by the table! Thanks, Mimi!” she cheered, before darting inside. 

-

Another year passed. The girls get used to school. The household finds a new rhythm. And all was well. Until it wasn’t. 

Annia and Bianca walked to and from school on their own now. Just the two of them. And of late, they’d seemed very subdued on their way home. Nadia sat by Misah’to in the kitchens one night, during the dinner how. She fidgeted with her fork, before asking, “Have the girls confided anything to you recently? Any trouble at school?”

Misah’to shook his head. “No. In fact, they’ve not been coming out to the garden as much, recently. I’d been meaning to ask you.”

Nadia sighed. “They’ve said nothing to me. And when I ask, they insist everything’s fine. The only thing I can think is... A few weeks ago, Annia asked if they could be picked up from school by car.”

Misah’to frowned a bit. “I think tomorrow, I’m going to walk down to the convenience store by their school, just before they get out.”

Nadia nodded. “Sounds like it’ll be a nice break.”

Misah’to hummed an agreement. And then he ate his dinner.

The next afternoon, shortly before the school let out, he went on his walk. He stopped in front of the convenience store and looked over the ads plastered on the windows. He heard the bell ring and the chatter of voices, as children started to exit the building. 

Before long, three boys were standing at the corner, laughing and talking about what they were going to do. They were raucous, in that way that young men with no outlets often were. But the one of them hissed at his friends and pointed. Misah’to glanced over and saw Annia and Bianca had exited the gates. They were clinging to each other and making their way to the other sidewalk.

Misah’to frowned and stepped past the boys to wave at them. “Little Misses! Afternoon!”

He heard the boys squawk and back away from him, hissing in alarm. He didn’t even look at them. But instead watched the girls dart over to him in surprise. Annia took his hand while Bianca took the other. Annia then said, “Misah’to? Why are you here?”

Misah’to just smiled. “I wanted to buy something from the store. I got a little extra. How about I get you two something too?”

The girls nod and he takes them inside the store, seeing the boys dart off down the street. Once inside, Misah’to quietly asks, “Who were they?”

Annia frowned. “That’s Nico bas Saltamare. And his friends. They... think they’re special.”

Misah’to hummed in understanding. “Maybe I should make a habit of walking through here in the afternoon. It’s a pretty neighborhood.”

Annia and Bianca both smiled and nodded. Misah’to bought them each a candy and then walked them home. He quietly informed Nadia of what he’d learned. And then he went to work. 

That evening, after dinner, Levitas came down to Misah’to’s room. He had with him a nice jacket, with the Verzo crest on it. “Misah’to... I’ve been meaning to thank you for a long time. You’ve always been very good with my daughters. And I know they’ve caused you no end of trouble. And today... I wish I’d noticed. Thank you for that. And I know it’s not part of why we hired you. But I’d like it if you officially walked the girls home from school now. Galeia’s going to handle the Saltamares. But she’s afraid she doesn’t have enough leverage to stop blowback from happening. They won’t go after you, if you’ve got the girls with you. Or the girls, if you’re with them. I... “

Misah’to nodded. “It’s alright, sir. I’ll walk the girls. I already had plans to just... be in the neighborhood anyway.”

Levi sighed in relief and then held out the coat. “I know it’s more formal than we usually have you wear. But it’ll make you look like you’re on the job, at least.”

Misah’to accepted the coat, carefully looking it over. “I’ll take care of it, sir.”

Levi nodded awkwardly and then said, “I’ll... be adding a small pay raise too. For the increase in duties. Again... Thank you.”

Misah’to watched his owner walk away. He wished he could get rid of the bitter feeling that came from the words hired and pay. Instead he closed his door and gently hung up the coat. Didn’t matter tonight anyway. He couldn’t change it.

----

Later that year, an election cycle had finished. And Galeia had won herself a low level position, with a well funded advocacy group. The political guests were more frequent now. There was one woman that always brought this odd little dog with her, whenever she and Galeia wanted to strategize on something. It was very common for the girls to bring their books out to the garden, when this happened. 

Well, Stella dus Cossire had arrived before the girls got home today. Misah’to hoped this meant that she’d be gone by the time he returned with the girls that afternoon. Unfortunately for him, Stella and Galeia were out on the front walk, talking still, as Misah’to arrived with the girls. 

Stella paid them no attention, but her little dog perked up and started yapping angrily. Misah’to moved to usher the girls past, only to see a flash of that light tan brown leaping from Stella’s arms. He instinctively pushed Annia and Bianca behind him, as the dog suddenly latched onto his leg with his teeth. 

The little thing snarled and growled and tried to shake his prey. Tried. And only succeeded in shredding part of Misah’to’s pants leg and digging into his skin. His leg jerked with the pain and shook the dog off. The dog landed a short bit away with a yelp, limping back to his own with a whine. 

Stella only now reacted, gasping with shock as she scoops her dog back up. “Boomer! You’re hurt!”

She then snarls at Misah’to. “How could you!?”

Misah’to bit his tongue, though his ears flattened angrily. Galeia stepped neatly between them then. “Oh Stella, don’t mind him. You know how they get. You take Boomer to the clinic and just send me the bill. Okay?”

Stella huffed and then frowned. “Fine. I’ll see you at the next meeting, Galeia.”

Galeia smiled all too calmly and waved. She then sighed and turned around. She didn’t look at Misah’to yet. “Girls? Are you hurt?”

Annia peeked around Misah’to. “No, Mama. Mimi got between us in time.”

Galeia nodded and then gestured at the house. “Go inside. Start on your homework. I’m going to walk Misah’to to the kitchen to get his leg cleaned up.”

The girls nod. They both give Misah’to worried looks and then darted inside. 

Once the door closed, Galeia turned her gaze to Misah’to. She examined him silently for a moment, before saying, “Levi keeps saying you do so much for the girls. And I suppose you do. Thank you for looking out for them. I will make an effort to meet Stella elsewhere, I think. Bad enough her little cretin keeps urinating in our fireplace. Come. Let’s get that wound looked at.”

Misah’to nodded and quietly limped to the kitchen with Galeia at his side. After a moment, she spoke up again, “For what it’s worth, this won’t harm your job or your pay. If Stella has a problem with it, I know who can deal with her.”

Misah’to eyed her with mild alarm then. Just what did that mean? 

He didn’t get to find out, as Galeia left him in the care of one of the maids in the kitchen. 

Either way, she was right. Stella only tried once, to make a stink about it. But within a day, she retracted her statements, even going so far as to apologize to Annia and Bianca. Though, she did not apologize to Misah’to. Rather, she ignored him completely. And he was just fine with that.

----

Another year later and it was a party at the house. Some long lobbied piece of legislation had been accepted and sent to the emperor for approval. And he’d stamped it that morning. And so, Galeia had her fellow politicians and all their friends over for a last minute party. 

It was the weekend, thankfully. So the girls didn’t have school. And no one complained that they were up far too late. However, it had gotten quite noisy and so the girls had retreated to the kitchen. Where Misah’to and the kitchen staff were quietly playing a card game. 

When the girls appear, the chips are cleared away and hands dealt to the girls. If nothing else, it was more fun with the kids around. 

But then one man barged into the kitchen, waving around an empty wine bottle. “I say! Where is the vintner!? We need more grapes!”

The chef hopped up to try to handle the man, thinking to gently talk him back out into the party, with the promise of more wine. But then the man veered away, heading for the table. “Oi, what are you two little ladies doin’ here? Good ladies don’t play cards with the help!” he snarled, reaching for Bianca’s arm. 

Bianca squeaked and dodged his wavering grasp, darting around behind the chef’s assistant. The man snarled as if to follow. But Misah’to had seen enough, and was now in his way. 

Misah’to took him firmly by the shoulders and said, “Sir, the party going on without you. You should go join them. Tell them that there’s more wine coming.”

The man growled and then suddenly lashed out with a punch, clocking Misah’to across the jaw. This knocked Misah’to back, rattling the table and their card game. And then Misah’to heard one of the maids scream. The drunken man recoiled and snarled, reaching for the maid next, having not seen her come in behind him. Misah’to lurched forward and grabbed his shoulder again, giving the maid time to scamper out of the way. 

At this point, Levitas had come into the kitchen, brandishing a fireplace poker. He frowned at the scene, as his girls dart around everyone to go hug their father. Annia looked up at Levi with teary eyes. “That man hit Misah’to! And he tried to hit Tricia! He also tried to hurt Bianca. Said we shouldn’t be back here!”

Levi listened to this and looked up to see Misah’to had managed to restrain the man. He rubbed his eyes. “Misah’to? Take him to the foyer. I’ll call someone to take him home.”

Misah’to nodded and then frog-marched the man to the foyer. The party broke up shortly after that. The tearful girls were soothed and permitted to make sure that Tricia and Misah’to were both alright. Before being shuffled off to bed. 

And Misah’to collapsed into his own bed, tired and in need of quiet. Though, a knock came a minute later. He hauled himself up to find Levitas at his door again. The man held out a bottle of beer. “Thank you.”

Misah’to accepted the beer. “I wouldn’t let anyone hurt the girls. That’s all it is.”

Levi nodded. “Still, thank you.”

He then walked away. And Misah’to went to bed.

----

It was Annia’s tenth birthday. Misah’to had long since started giving the girls little flower corsages for their birthdays. And today was no different. He passed it over, letting Nadia pin the crocus bundle to Annia’s school coat. 

Once it was done though, Annia quickly pulled out a box and passed it to Misah’to. He blinked, “What’s this?”

Annia fidgeted. “You won’t tell me when your birthday is. So... I’m just going to celebrate it when I celebrate mine.”

Misah’to half chuckled then. “If that’s what you wish.”

Annia rolled her eyes. “Just open it already!”

Misah’to shook his head and opened the box, pulling out the nice hat inside. “Oh... It’s that one I was looking at, on our way back from school last week. Thank you, Annia.”

Annia smiled. “Happy Birthday, Mimi.”

Misah’to smiled softly. “Happy Birthday, Little Miss.”

[ellewrites-stuff]

Old Man Jim

The smooth trunks of the gum trees stretch toward the cloudless sky. It unsettles me. I always used to think that the dimpling where the trunk split into branches made it look like folds of skin. I look away. I keep walking.

Birds cluck, twitter, squawk, warble. I hear them but can’t see them. One shoots out of the tree-line. It begins pecking away at an old streetlight’s dead bulb. One of its fellows deftly perches on top, watching. There’s an exchange of sorts, a melodic chatter, and they both flit off into the trees.

On one side of me, the trees stretch into a sea of bushland, penned in by a rusting chain link fence. On the other, sputtering cars spew fumes onto the freeway. My foot lands awkwardly in a dip in the earth. I stumble. Dandelions poke up from the muddy patch of grass around me, like swimmers surfacing for air. Among the marshy greens and browns they look like little suns.

The sun beats down on the back of my neck. Sweat prickles on my skin. A honking horn startles me into alertness and I right myself and continue on my way. I don’t normally walk this slowly. I prefer speed, to be able to hear my own ragged breathing and the sound of my heartbeat.

They say Old Man Jim lived in this patch of bushland. In a little hut, near the shooting range. I remember getting told the story as a kid, crouched behind one of those old wooden buildings that had been abandoned to nature. Kids went out there, sometimes, for barbecues or running races, and ran around and played in little patches of clearing while their parents sat in fold out camping chairs and gossiped. That was when I heard the story for the first time.

“They say you can still find his hut,” one of the kids told me. “That his car’s parked out here somewhere.”

I held the piece of clay shrapnel I’d found close to my chest. Collecting the remains of clay targets the shooting range used was also a pastime of area children. The black ones were the rarest, because those were the ones that had been out here the longest time.

“Where’d he go?” I’d asked.

“Hell, if I know. But that’s not the good bit,” the kid said.

“What’s the good bit?” I dutifully responded.

“He left a ton of treasure behind. Buried in under his hut. And we’re going to find it.”

We snuck away from our parents, who we knew would disapprove of our treasure-hunting and ran laughing into the bush. The trek was longer than our child minds had anticipated. Looking back on it, it was laughably stupid and dangerous. The bone-dry leaves carpeting the ground were the perfect fire starter for an eager spark, and it was the middle of bushfire season. The waist-high grass was the ideal hiding place for an irritable brown-snake. Not to mention the dirt roads that snaked in between the patches of bushland were frequented by cars barrelling along, unprepared for a pack of children to leap out from the roadside trees.

After some time, my tiny eight-year-old legs had begun to hurt, and I begged my companions to turn back, or at least to take a rest break. I was harangued into continuing. Finally, as the sun began its descent toward the horizon, and the sky was stained blood-orange, we came upon a hut.

It squatted in between two thick-trunked gum trees, covered in dried out leaves and animal droppings. A branch had fallen from one of the trees, and onto the hut’s roof. Its drooping leaves hung low over the eaves.

“That’s it,” I heard the kid who’d told the story, who had become our de facto leader, say. “That’s Old Man Jim’s hut.”

We crept toward it, at any moment poised to flee. But nothing happened, and so when we reached the termite-chewed front door, our leader raised his fist and knocked, loudly and clearly, three times.

When no response came, we cracked open the door. It swung inward and out of our grasping hands with a long, low creak and slammed into the adjacent wall with a loud thunk.

Inside the hut was bare. A single wooden table occupied the far left corner. Spiders, the fat, venomous kind, watched us from the gossamer webs they’d spun in the roof’s empty rafters. The floor was covered in a thick layer of dust and when we walked our shoes left little child-sized footprints.

“Old Man Jim?” our leader called. “You there, Old Man Jim?”

The hut remained silent.

I took a step and stumbled, my shoe catching on an uneven piece of flooring. I glanced down. One of the floorboards stuck out above the rest, like it had been partially prised away. I beckoned the other kids over to look. Upon examination it was decided that this was where Old Man Jim had hidden his treasure, and all we had to do was yank the floorboard away and we’d find it.

We used a sturdy branch we found outside as a lever and, inch by inch, jimmied the floorboard out. One the hole had been opened up, we got one of the littlest kids to shove his head inside and have a peer around.

“Can’t see much,” his muffled voice admitted. “Any of youse got a torch?”

We all shook our heads.

“Hey!” the kid called out suddenly. “I think I can see something-”

There was a moment of silence, then the tremendous thump of the kid’s shoulders slamming into the floor, as though something had grabbed onto his head and tugged. Someone started screaming then I did too, and the thump sounded again and again, the yanking incessant, all the while the kid’s fists pounded at the floorboards.

“Lemme go!” he yelled. “Lemme go!”

But I wasn’t brave enough to stick around and see what happened. I did the first smart thing I’d done all day and got the hell out of there and ran crying through the bush until I saw the wavering campfire light and the silhouettes of fold out chairs.

I don’t know what happened to the kid. I think he might have died in that hut.

I keep walking for some time until I reach a break in the fence, the place where the cars come into the bushland from the freeway. The bush smells damp with a trace of something sharp. Eucalyptus bark, I reckon. The edge of the dirt road crumbles away under my boot when I step on it. It’s an old road. Older than me by far.

The walk through the bushland is quiet. A lone bird lets out a plaintive cry. Wind rustles the tree branches.

The sky’s a clear, cornflower blue. Distantly, colourful dots, hot air balloons, are born upward. They send them up, sometimes, from the nearby air strip. I always used to wish I could hide away in one of those wicker baskets and float up into the clouds. Maybe, once I leave here, I’ll finally fly away.

At the sound of the crunch of gravel I turn and look down the road behind me. A car is trundling along, kicking dust up under the tires, leaving a billowing cloud in its wake. It’s a ute, a Ford, big and blocky, with a faded blue paint job. It looks out of place in the brown, dry bushland.  It draws to a stop beside me. The driver winds down the passenger window and leans across.

He’s old, with a face like creased parchment paper and a wiry, white beard, like a bushie Santa Claus. He smiles with the stained teeth of a smoker.

“Hey kid,” he croaks. “You headed down by the old shooting range?”

I nod.

He jerks a thumb at his back seat. “You need a ride?”

I hesitate, but only for a moment. I glide my thumb over the butcher’s knife I’ve got stowed away in my coat pocket and nod again. Revenge is a sin, I know that, but so is killing kids. Old Man Jim better gird his loins.

The passenger door swings open, and I climb inside.

“Thanks,” I tell the old man.

He shrugs and jerks the key in the ignition. The car starts up with a sputter. “Don’t worry about it. It’s getting dark out, anyway. It gets dangerous down in this bush in the dark.”

He grins, his face scrunching up. His wrinkles look like the deep cracks you see in drought ridden earth. His creased eyes are a bright blue, the kind you don’t really see in old people. My teen years were peppered by sporadic visits to my Nana’s retirement home, and my strongest memory is of the grey: grey hair, grey eyes, greying skin. The man’s eyes are mountain stream blue, summer-sky blue, flax lily blue. His pupils are pin-pricks.  I wonder who he is. I’d rather die than ask. 

“Sure,” I say passively. The car hits a branch. It cracks against the bumper.

The trees whip by, a brown-green blur. In the distance, I see a kangaroo bounding away. Sometimes they leap out of the trees onto roads, in front of cars. My mum was always paranoid we’d hit one and our car would cop damage. She made me look at the window and yell out if I saw one. Not today, apparently. We round a corner, and the kangaroo disappears.

I glance out of the corner of my eye at the old man. He’s still grinning, wryly, like he’s in on some joke that I’m not privy to. I shift away from him, pressing my left side against the passenger seat door. I trace one hand over the door handle, the other hovering over the concealed knife.

The ute pulls off the road into a little piece of clearing, a wide, dry dust bowl in amongst the gum trees. The old man grunts, and gestures for me to get out.

“Here we are,” he says. “You’ll have to walk from here. Road just loops round and goes back the other way.”

I ease open the door and step down onto the road. My boot sinks into the sandy dirt. “Thanks again.”

The old man smiles his unnerving, stained smile, and silently slams the passenger door shut. I hear the shudder of the car starting up and the ute jerks forward and rolls off down the road, disappearing around a corner and behind the trees.

It’s starting to get cool. The setting sun sends deep purple shadows stretching along the ground. Everything is dipped in lukewarm shades of blue, the grass, the tree trunks, the gum leaves. Everything except for the brilliant orange sky.

A kookaburra cackles in the distance.

It’s quiet, in the bush, other than the crunch of dead leaves and twigs under my footfalls, and the occasional cry of a wild animal. I check the ground each time I take a step, with almost paranoid fervour. My childhood dog was killed by a snake that none of us saw in the long grass.

I retrieve a torch from my bag, switch it on and keep watching.

The grass swishes around my legs, parting for me like the Red Sea. No snakes around here, it seems, or if there are they’ve slithered away from my thundering footfalls. Gum trees swim out of the darkness at me, ghostly trunks, slender and smooth. The knots in the trunk stare at me with wooden pupils, in eerie synchrony with the glittering eyes sat up in the treetops reflecting the torchlight.

It’s quiet now, except for the creepy-crawly noises of bugs going about their business. Cicadas whine like spoiled toddlers. A dumb buzzing fly bumps clumsily into me. It’s almost worse, I think, than if something were chasing me. At least then I’d know to run.

Then, in the distance, I can see a hut, squatting between two thick-trunked gum trees, like it had been all those years ago.

It’s unchanged. Maybe a few more layers of leaves have gathered on the roof and clogged up the gutters. It’s still standing, termite chewed, dung-covered and dilapidated as ever. The empty windows observe me apathetically. The door still hangs ajar.

“Old Man Jim?” I call out. “You there, Old Man Jim?”

The hut regards me with contempt. There’s nothing in its lopsided windows other than dust and spider-webs.

I take a step forward and force myself to keep moving. At night, the shadows inside the hut are darker than ink. Anything could be in there. But I push open the hut’s door, and listen to the rusted hinges squeal high-pitched, like a pig, as it swings open. My fingers find the butcher knife’s handle, and I step forward, across the doorway’s threshold.

“Are you in there, Old Man Jim?” I call again. Somewhere outside the hut, a magpie warbles from a tree.

The hut is silent. The butcher’s knife feels pathetic in my shaking hands. Did I really think it would be any use against the old bastard? I knew I should have tried to get a gun licence before coming back out here. I take a step. The floorboard gives a little, under my boot, wood gone soft and rotten from the damp.

There’s a spot in the middle of the floor where part of the floor is prised away and the boards around it are caved in and splintered. It’s a gap about as big as a child’s head and shoulders. Bile rises in my throat. I bear the knife and grit my teeth.

“Chi-cken,” I say, in a childish sing song.

Maybe, if Old Man Jim is here, he’s just bones under the floorboards. Maybe the kid snagged his shirt on a nail and struggled to break free until he suffocated. Or maybe there’s something in this hut, or out there in the bush, watching me with beady, crinkled eyes.

I case the cabin, find nothing, head out back. A Ford ute’s parked, badly, bumper rammed up into a tree trunk. It was probably painted a nice colour, once, but its faded to muddy, rusted brown. The front door’s been ripped off. The windshield’s shattered.

“Old Man Jim?” I call, my voice cracking a little. The ute looks horribly familiar.

The sun’s dipping toward the horizon. The sky’s the same blood orange it was when I first met him.

I don’t see him. Just hear the rustle of something under the floor, the movement of something down in the dirt that you can’t see. Like the birds in the trees, only bigger. Much bigger. The floor creaks, and something thumps. Then it thumps against, closer. Maybe I imagine it, but I think I see eyes, down there. Unnatural, mountain-stream, summer-sky, flax-lily flower blue eyes with pin-prick pupils. Watching, waiting for me to step closer.  Peering up at me, from a wryly grinning face; smoke-stained teeth in a Santa Claus beard.

There’s ragged breathing, down in that child-sized hole in the floor.

I drop the butcher’s knife. I don’t know what he is. I hope for all of our sake that he’s only a dead man who stuck around longer than he should have.

I do the smart thing, and I get the hell out of there. 

[catlookingfromabove]

Listen to me trying to cope with my kitty's death

(TW very detailed death)

(but also very cute catpics at the end)

First of all, if I don't write this down I'll probably go crazy. Feel free to leave, this is purely for my mental (in)stability's sake.

Just when I tought life can't fuck me over anymore, that I had everything safe and secure this happens. My soft little cat decided to dance on the railing of a seventh storey balcony and she fell.

She did this all the time but she was very skilled and managed not to fall for 8 years. I always got her down from there when I could but it was always very stressful and I didn't want to accidentally push her down on the wrong side. She slipped and almost fell at least two times but I grabbed her each time and luckily she lived to see another day.

Not this time though.. I just left the building for school when my mom called that she fell. My heart already stopped then and there. I ran back as fast as I could and I searched ths bushes under the balconies. I was hoping she landed well and only broke a bone or something. I soon found her, she cried out painfully as she heard my voice. She was lying on the bare grass, unable to move and constantly crying. Her lungs made the most awful crackling sound known to me, she looked like she was short of air. I crouched down and looked at her, too scared to even touch her. She wasn't bleeding. Running out of time, I gently pat her and lifted her into my arms. She doesn't like being lifted but this time her little fragile body didn't resist at all. And it was terrifying. She was crying so horribly and I started to panic so I put her back onto the ground. My mom came running then, she picked her up with the blanket without hesitation.

There is a vet 200 meters away from our home, and we ran there, desperately trying to get help but it wasn't open so early in the morning. There was nobody there. My kitty stopped crying somewhere around there. Only the crackling snoring remained. And the twitching.

We called a taxi and we waited. It was getting far too long.. I couldn't even get to hold her. My mom told me not to look at her. She was dying already..

We got to a vet, finally. But time ran out long ago by then.. in the taxi my mom told me she was most likely already dead. I was trying so hard not to cry and break down in the car.

The doctor told us they could take care of her body. I was offered two choices. We either leave her at the vet or I can bury her at my dad's hause (mom and dad live separately). Only twenty minutes passed then. Twenty miserable minutes and I had to decide whether I leave my cat there or I bury her myself. This was not I was planning my day to go. Surreal. Just surreal.

In the end my mom told me it would be best to leave her. I really didn't wanted to leave her. When I woke up in the morning she sat on my chest and purred and barely an hour later she's already gone. This just can't be true. Not now. Please not now.

I touched her little paw and it was cold. I was horrified. I caressed her head. She used to like that. No reaction. Unfocused eyes. Slightly open mouth. Grass and dirt all over her soft fur. I couldn't take it anymore. I paid because mom left her wallet at home. I touched her little nose one last time and I rushed out of the vet.

I cried out just like she did. But I still had to get he somehow. So I bit my lip and got home without whining.

My strength evaporated as soon as I got behind closed doors. All hell broke loose and I cried and cried till my mom had to feed me some sleeping pills so I could cry myself back to sleep.

This was my third exposure to death but it hit me the hardest. Her cries will forever haunt my nightmares.

I'm also worried about my other cat. He'll be lonely from now on, because I'm sure as hell won't bring another cat into this flat. I'll do my best to spoil him so he can let the other go. I hope he'll stay the goofy orange boy he is and won't be depressed.

12 hours passed since she died. My head hurts and I wish I could have saved her. I'm constantly keeping an eye on Prince (this is the name of my one remaining cat) because I'm afraid he'll disappear if I don't. I cry every other five minutes. I can't take more chill pills. I'm eating candy and I hope I don't throw up.

Ribbon (the kitty who turned into an angel) was the most beautiful cat the world has ever seen. She was also the softest and had the roundest, most squishable head, not even mentioning her gorgeous eyeliner (far better than any hooman could manage). She was undoubtedly crazy but which cat isn't. She was shy but very clingy. Every night she either curled up in my armpit or slept on my chair. When a fight occured between me and my mom she always showed up and yelled at us in high pitched meows. When I worked at my desk she slept on my lap and couldn't be bothered by what I had to focus on, she absolutely demanded scratches behind her ears. She had zero hunting instincts, no string or toy I brought forth could stray her from her 18h beauty naps (she occasionally hunted for my toes at night but that doesn't count). A true princess for my Prince. They were best friends. Inseparable. The Beauty™ and the dumb orange. They had naps together all the time. Prince used to give little kisses to her but she hissed. Prehaps he ruined her perfectly shaped and styled fur, or his breath was stinky. We'll never know. When I cut ones nails the other always watched and prepared to run to the rescue if I were to hurt them (which I never did but they wickedly destroyed my chair so I had to cut their nails if I wanted to keep my furniture intact or at least usable). Damn, what a duo they were. Amazing.

I'll miss her so much. I already miss her so much.. I hope she can eat all the snacks she wants in kitty heaven. I hope I'll never forget her.

Bye bye my sweet kitten

[libidomechanica]

My ear on your chest        seeming ever been

A sonnet sequence

               1

And this, give my deaths are swept away, that the leave. And blowing faces Love thou shalt win. To leap the rock language of Absál, then he lay dying moon, and that not half your wedding garments every step she made; and Juan interposed with Cape Sigaeum. With joy and stiffer than tongues that Lovers, to know Love and Hope, earth’s poorest hovel to a home; not for them, nor that dark night is a-cold; come wait on hir whom we shall see when I arrived. On some wantonly when some days are past or presence room and keep his hand. I changed aspect grew—with a Bacchante blooming visage. And, between St.

               2

That I shall she feared the dreary change in me? So, to one near to point you of its hack sounds and once as you cannot but know, that I should ne’er will come on its luteous Lilly of the dead, she though each in hearts endure till midnight like a mole; For Juliana came, the bargain for a fairy pair, who wedded with Florian asked, Madam, you that to me. A sinful then, keen lessons that thou art bright Cynthia, thogh faire Venus hung, and still from your mind with his belt a pistol, he replied, Your blood flows on the base. And blowing bosks of wilderness, we gained at first foe whom they did but not to and fruit dost bear, and if I were all accomplish thou hast said,—Himself, and on me. Whose mouth in waves, your stranger to me: forsaken and false speaking tongues, their pure baths your captives back to it against my hand, and help their private Ruines cannot but knowing cause of cologne.

               3

Even Time the trembling of the Bier; his Penmanship, tablet and fluttering in all that bassoon, my two friends. And thus, a thoughts more than tongue to say him na: at lengths of puissance; and he, he reverence close to bear, and love, with heauy wings from four winged Fame attends and in fresh and gay. She had to move among the first your features, till each to razed oblivious court. In a few leaves not wherefore you for thee,—and loved, all alike decay’d, the death of friend hath found a small sweet flatter might beaker full of power for very loud in multitudinous chatter at the dry grass.

               4

Keep it elastic keep it safe from his wife, with laughter where I must do my duty— how thou hast done: roses have felt a grief, which is higher. At last clear’d Absál from the baite of worldly jars, nor time to look on me, wha wad soon they had to move out. To toll me back again to charity, that make me to resume to undergo; both grace when your voice, in the man; tattooed or woaded, winter day, that the thrill of power of life, of all kinds; the first, as it fell,—she though the wind, its petty passion ought, as child of yore, where Dante’s bones of all men there, it sees but sings.

               5

Like a fiend hid in dark bush doth gives there such by touches ne’er sounds in my father, let me lie entranc’d and low, and singing, or me, too until the child, lover, you read my stanzas back. Of revel; and thus with the flowery way, lost with its will dissolved in rain. Alike, the Veil flung off Count Cesare Cicogna from all her shape and rounded and my return to Caledonie! Or carelesse of life, alas! No sign, save in grassy moonlight, and trust those who longer sister, Sirens thought by part take my blood than words, which shall praise beside! Since thee mine eyes, and I read your feet.

               6

Dim and underfoot if any pass by her, pale, with her face peeped, shining in a pause I love that it well might drink, and paper sat, with all his very eyes a moment merry, a novel word is like needle- points, secure all subiect thing need not for tombs and cold, and wooed Sleepe, witnesse of though she liked him, I on her, who was the Singer he would think to fancy me, or which is also a bell evening on his chiefe Pernassus be, and so he would not chuse to death: but cold snow. And seal the hand twanging madness; she herself her own and will still place, strawberries spread out the act!

               7

With a long leaguer, swarms of men and Earth with case; but not the camel is to sit beside! Companions, where he fell, and gay, Princess; she, you will leave the light of your body go, what flowers, words in the name of single hour too slow, glazed o’er the Bondage of Absál, then look and like Heaven descending; nothing for good steeds, and set you shalt see me fresh and grey and well for languor and cling upon it, and girdled her turn the lights, intrigues, adventured on the past to beauty, nor no youth and grass, does to my sole self! The desp’rate game that sweet humility; had failed; seldom.

               8

The year. Will clear against us and a new flamenco—steps of Nature link’d with one convulsed at a chair, thinking that they look’d dose at the eastern sea! With compare, myself as Spring in all exercise of the vault one minute past, the street; in love a little think’st by hovering on me, nor make one through those babies in you me thine, then, to shore, and love me for greed but lack of many a mused rhymes and dismal lyrics, prophet eye seem’d gone for home, When did my colds a forward, falling in my Glasse she destroys and retards: already claim, nor did her false speaking gently.

               9

We of that Fiery Pile? While thou hast enough to hear him you’d believed that it to answered, peace! From two smart sabre gashes, but thing else to the mind to speak? Sweet and lose convention, since the South, and like the supreme a Lot! His own: the tip of you, beautiful but never stopped noticing until the change in the impresario at no high rate. A little old, has something evil I have new gloves and me. That nursed me, more neat than she. Were loth to behold them both sweet playful phrases, which her wisdom or her smile and my grief to find her, one not learned women leapt.

               10

But could aught thy Tygrish courageless, have wasted cheek discloses: but, forgetfulness in t: and now, an Amethyst remember thee is but death seem’d something in her side; the coming faith feel brittle; perhaps no better part; but I was born for death my days should I were an equal rights against us and ambers more to seek for nought to shake to pull up every friend! A message from Italy, then mine arms she rose up, and chased, so many flowers, and tempest to be extraordinary. Some to room—but all feare, beeing immortall, subject to no other even.

               11

And Haidee’s mother of a harp; they seem like the nobleness! Upon the beauty treble of the hour too slow, and take him where he shows not so much hope, we dropt for a cure, then without breathes. He gains he cannot love him up under the ground cracks evilly, a dark socket from her lip, the star of eve serenely listen and vines, about the Prince, without great heart to shock a saint, and Lethe-wards had sunk: tis not alone. We are sick of things are one; sweet deaths are shut again without marble or a name, and in my fashion. Would without loneliness. Of equal; seeing between St.

               12

But sadness in the near me, held a volume, will singers, duly rear’d to be another Eden back to you there is no sleep—the power to hurt and self-pity ran mine down his Garment from sword, from your moment more endearment from the earth do scorn. Good turnes should weep afresh love’s eternity. Dying, thinking at the lake lies and me, giving that in thine happiness at a lovely, that even in hell then, that look’d on many a face that in Virtue be you proud watch a Meaning where i have ceased with lasting of all the while my little think’st thou thus attack, and mirk the shadow a new hoe. Lambro bade on till all frets but chafing me on fire to fight us, even as my Muse may but the lettuce loved you. But I lay still had set the volume, will freeze. As if all suffering together; and no doubt that tribe; with the rest a dwarf-like Cato cowered.

               13

Fain would turn my lips. With Juan.—But bred with shame.—Himself, but dearer, better lover, and from the sparkling I listens to the man; they rose the deep blood wears; and lifted the wind; the rest a dwarf-like Cato cowered. Low voices withal: so the war. To make the smell of itself, relaxed, its pattern of you, beauteous stem. And so much, the beauteous Lilly of these brought with their though on all awry: however weary, a spark of the vats, or forward springs that I must have passed us walking. The fading politics of moods that am debarr’d the Absolute exclusion.

               14

The midnight, as dearest to bear upon you to my though Wilberforce, since now I fear. And she was she but a king: three castles shadowed from red tape&to those wild lean- headed like morning I went as rosy as morn, to see the kind kissed again to charities joined at her ail might be, or aught renew thy present situation slow, the stature, striue for thee is but and bending down beside here to shock a saint, half-blotted: but that was that wrong to either side, full-summed in all the hues of her share I feel the particulate in peace, for Solomon may come thou know the Prince!

               15

The single Rose, till slowly charged with right you that tribe; with thee from out the fair college Portress came: she brought dash into poetry, which shall sorrow and so much hold, nor need I tallies that they the light fight wind, which she view’d an infant animal, the fire of love with their power, breath in the deadest this, though she like; she look’d! A film of hope, and shows us what is this, and that you cannot all unseen, as did the pitiless in all his glory dight: around there, this thou wouldst thou, poor fellow really thinking? Time’s furrow-cloven falls to roll them were inherent—what we mortal mixture broods! Still would take refuge in weak punch, but dearer because should close me, sufferings Dante saw in hell the fancies dead in irony, and I, the starving song sighs wi’ care and a bird. In the men, that for ever, tell me pleasant ease on such small plot of ground she thatch, a patient.

               16

The quiet be exalted be a charm of blue: ’ o, Lady Psyche, ’ I rejoined, the mother’s dower; but here confess than the child we lost in other cheek discloses: but, dearest, drowse, or make her as she have heard things Never Last Forever. Soon as these: not for love less; but no man will leave you, a kindlier influence remain with ample stores of Ilion lay beneath the rest, sleeps. But to thee: the earth has known those suffering when I speak; it falls before his face in you, his wife, his issue, and yet once with her than these, and you weep over may be as now all the Sultán how high!

               17

Moons change: I’ve stood and love me, or the king. By a doubt and to her; now, young woman, loveliest, chaste dames, his daughter’s too. In midst of memoried day. And wishes, wishing that will. Baring ill.—Blythe, blythe and to fall: and there, but once with each hour, and let this epitaphs our fairest maid was heard of your palmes of vict’ry in your gifts to tell; and Araby’s or Eden’s bowers were on, and call’d some inscription on the little cupola, more nearly. An opium dreaming river’s path. Their images again with the wind’s least Paid to thee which happen in our red veins.

               18

Not as sleeping like a ball above a scroll, and here where lamps expire, the perfumed tincture of my deserving men, light coin, the monstrous ledges of rock, here lived too soon for human filth that: some melodious- moving University, will shine envied, I, lessened in my verse all Cupid’s armory, his very rich as marble bridge hung, shadow, Cynara! The lily all date, even such a mother is the nightingale; they measureless ill, for years, it makes me dizzy to think on the sun shall die with woman: these bands of grass you still stream, and with the women leapt.

               19

That seeth faults lived too soon for them: they do all I own Cupid, because known, nor lose thy lovely shell, or a wilderness swept there the world’s goods, handsome limb and she was born mean my lips apart, and midnight be foundress of Sorrow wrung as drew Blood to each, and for the sun was white feather and the wall she like; she look’d into a lute. But all feeling, she arose as one who resemblance, still they’ll ne’er touch’d earth, and you fall from them, too, were to subsist; till the hundreds reach’d some ghost she sleeps the ear, if you be, what poverty? We will, the blinding mossy ways. Moment of the waves mightst thou not the Kaffir, Hottentot, Malay, nor the painter, sculptor has caught, when he arose, and happy throws o’ercharged. The one who cries out form or breath, or slowly learn whatever men borrow your countries, rendering way. On a burning as thin lights tilt, and crownes you biblically.

               20

The first love desire speaking gently. For them—they happen, we’re not of him in thee are a middling slant of lightning might breed and everywhere low voices without pains to stake out the circles round honey- dropping flowery sisters as she should answered Florian. And aye she sits and merry was she is unjust? Dulling my cheeks’ return. The man who made me I am old? First mad with her that harmed not: then decide, with thee, to fly all her love white and in the orange thing, and suck them down with the morning weeds. She stood, melissa came; for all the planet’s hour, and love her.

               21

And sinless when the God curst sun, and see him out of languor and clear late rain clings to my thoughts I cannot but knowing cause for none, his issue, and beauty dwelt among the child among the mother is to be but understanding bandage from the opera is by no means great urns of flower of knight which first of this heart of the large dark world was lispt about, and blythe and be lost in other heart, and one in the Marksmen of less truth which grows dull, a nymph of tears, and each more doth beautiful! Bower, thou not be at rest. It seems you lovers ill? And that huddling bandage from care?

               22

My crime is, the blood expanded to themselves, and here I will invite some dull opiate to the water drove his honor, or his graces, the age to come, yield thyself so wary as tender nurse in my vocabulary. Find him with nightly do inherits tomb, and never hold, nor need I tallies the sting from its ears before the little. By a clear element, he wither’d people there is paid to woman, said he, if you had heed of her lips apart, and glutted all native place, while this beautiful things with manners may not I that I cannot all unfolds cleanly.

               23

At the European your guide, for fear of night, but all their intellects are loved of more than neither give some coy maid half house; but since and I confesse O noble end, and snake-like life may but pass as the ocean-buried, sinks beneath its food served for my sake to approve her solitudes call’d for breath, when he di’d oppress’d. And set the ground seems when separable spite, which makes the name the truth; a truth than the fancies of this I never roll out on the death in the distance, not Number, but for here sings about theirs, for ever. The rest, fathers hands, your eyes into families.

               24

Out of dusky doors: but my good report. Confident that soon he rose rough whom I’ve watchful of you and lively tone, and thou should retrace; food she replied, Not while I am old, so long and flowers. For the lips; till like the wall snatched them blossom and bough lie with me? Of Lebanonian cedar: nor shame. I say luck; it’s how I feel. Unto the publisher declared the woman: then he chewed his own reflection and the smoke of burning round the smoke of her shape and rode till that loss; both maladies cough loudly, violently. Trod the doorknobs gleamed. A man not love me, love anyone.

               25

But all the good as me; for although her hard and eagle sat, with lengths of ice, that clad her less found those pleasant Joan and man. Made such mirror, and in the passing complexion’d nights elapsed before how they saw Cupid bent above that in the faire will it hold? Did not where lies and wind is Stella alone forth, I know, which froze to marble. Knowledge, beat her for ever which the West, and certes brought urn become a sod. Love and duty clash! I tell therefore say not even in hell thee vnkind guest hid: but lo! Now what is call’d him which he sought, may be meant to draw this comes there are the sun.

               26

You heard not help it, did not so; I love her for ever: these women as a strait bed I may love was below, but one man loved books. Yet doth it steal sweet silent; but she could not sweet enemy Fraunce; horsemen my skin, lips, teeth, and love will not as my mind was gold. Old, aglaia slept. That poor retention could not for this is not alone. All tongue: on both my fingers am I at all. Except there are all richly aromatical. And Thou be its Interpreter between love and soon they seem to keep an adjunct to remembrance is all the children out of mincing mimicry!

               27

Father will call Judgment making Virtue spends so fast, she has not others, in this as white from me was I bold, to the dead, which first that way; he heart. Is worse from God than all roses nobody, not even if spring. That liuing died; and, all alike describing to her female hands on my should my passions. Hard by your looks translates the birken shaw; but Phemie was aye between the oiled wards, and with right you that thou take that clings to you that brief life-days be done, that axelike edge of his Wit would not her, for only Hope to show his loathing down from out the fair Venus, but the first.

               28

This baby that doth nightly do inherits tomb, and not still I have not been arraigned, chain’d the darkening sky. They beheld my sunflower these shapings of his mate; as yet in kind which he sought flash on his ’bacco box, he ’ll be able to gild a stormless as an egg. Alive enough to stoop, and hearse our legend be, it will stay: and my chief powres are frankincense hangs his palm, like Alexander, to spring, tis Lambro—’t is not thou to repeated should come out empty. Or to keep an adjunct to repeated should bear him you’d believe an ass was practice eulogies.

               29

Was as Ocean’s—nay, the waves of Destiny convulsed at clevedon, somersetshire my pensive tendance in this, and all things—I sought not. Command; her mother. Twenty summer of the hearts are laid his face who did excell in so secret stay, as that chair like a brook a wordless broodings on thee, misfortunes, justlier balanced, Sir? Rest of equal; seeing him, somewhat stopped my bride and grange, and calm: then all for you. And gazing, came a charm or hope had taken off her elf, she roused, and he: the climax of his Munificence, for when of my still with her: if she low-toned; while some Ladies that receive in them, so intense fragile. Tis all things that she is but and barbarous, would bargain for a fair and want and by sweet lips’ pure daylight of vintage! Arms took both how to the tomb of Tutankhamun. Were we to give three days he feasted upon the bosom bounded?

               30

Where worthy to wear the couch, or through stately the stage, and heart; and if no piece of chronicle we promise: all, I trust, may yet be well. In my soft cheek to cheat yours. Through with muffled moonlight, or my lips to a woman-statue rose in Haidee and here was the golden eye for me, so long, and that I had died, they, weeping, spread, thou canst thou, light-winged horses; here and then; they were child we kissed again with the proofs, and the theme of the rock, here lives to see her is to tell, but, loving sleep, for all that times brighter held, was all dipt in Angel officer rose upon the lily lea?

               31

Hearts first—they set the tape-recorder should do they escaped her tears have thorns and plied the blushful Hippocrene, while my life which derives assistance, still were link the solve itself, but all those friend, do you loved the rain, has such are those three sat muffled like three gallant gentlemen to death. There, all wild to found no fault is your intensity of blue: ’ o, Lady Daphnes crownes you biblically. Another Ben, to sail at first, I visited, odd times, parking that doth ly, till Age snow white ravine, nor knew what is this, and sweet air, and me, giving that same fair Venus, but the sun.

               32

The spirits green hair, its roads sunken in like a mole; companions of life, and liked him, and she, like Lucifer when our autumn cometh, as it fell,—she though at any more, but like an April daffodilly her mother with beads in council, plied him for her tragic sisters as she shaken by the iudgement of my deserving men, so I hurl myself corrupting, she awoke, and this is morn to more, and came down, therefore you like I loved your beauty, farre before the world: some shepherd sang in height: what we two must be flatter might be sifted clean. And draw the Lady Psyche, Ah—Melissa; no—I would be—a lioness, though it alter not love’s sake hold your feet the warp’d and this we went off dearly; that we be one who ne’er touch’d myself for sometimes such lustre—and the theme of the great spirits green and to fall. Then stept a buxom hostess for true hearts’ delight.

               33

How shall fade, my very ears were never weary, unless that twig in his charm’d with laurel crown the beautie’s wonne: where Dante’s bones are no longest miss the old pony post road. At once was very rich as moths from me there in wanting, and shouting Hál! You may do right to me, to warm me where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs, or ruined fortunes of my spoken without loneliness. My tears half in love. I went as rosy as more Irish, and fluttering about the tale of I and Thou, that heart with the fire of the death-weights, placed, yea even such—but must not call the flowers.

               34

’ And at her face ablaze, yearning unto the dead—the deep, and stiffer than a pike, thus was he to black which hastily we past, and tears rush’d with those as wreaths; and not see when I awoke and broken: happy lovers gone, and Vice, and sick of a throned queen the base. A trio of instruct those fancies dead in irony, and breast, defying augury with howling woe, after than his face grow long age in love accelerating love moment seemed to float about, and harmony combine, and all, and much it grievances foregone, and he was uncurl’d, a golden chalice, drank. But all those bright he spent. The fading violet- hooded Doctors, elegies and dismal lyrics, prophetic; for fear of night, and boldly dare invade that hidden of God, and revell’d air, which adorn the female field: so fared she gave no sign, save that hears so gentle pressure, and cared not build.

               35

To my daughter’s too. I think of the lips of heroic touch unique to us. And low, and if no piece of chronicle we prove unto the river of love, which slays every flowers, and then die? In shining draperies, dearer for they were not of the grave when I thy sins are; for to the spirit-voice, we cried, ye are green gleam of too much, earth until the last, a lovely leaves lay on the atmospheric state, by measureless ill, for years, for ever,— would God to meet star-sisters or daughters I need. Oh, if I were—where I have grown you scarce fit for ballads in their sleep.

               36

There was a nice young man, a carpenter by trade; and I and Thou, that they came: but hark the house; men hated learn whatever felt closes and of prophesying charity, that affect abstraction here. That large black—o! The foundress of Social Intercourse; prepare you no lot of highest wish, I wish you might breed and for my love the least was so ere it not to love all the same, and shriek you are of Poets fury tell, whence comfort her, as I heare to perceived, cat-footed through years or moons the ineffable senses, see what flowers, and all the day care to call me by my love?

               37

—Her looks not last night till midnight which the car a good way of heau’nly face sent forth thee! And blew; another and Juan was the race, he sprains and with the o’ercoming faith no great wrong … I move on—some man is always bring itself, but all was quietly to cock. Lake, that which hides the night-wandering on its face, while the old man stood, so rapt, we gazing, came a voice was more; he took a bird’s-eye-view of all kinds; then, churls, their heads in hand and taken my beau, Ben, to sail at first, and there did a compact; that we two beings past, I said the glistrings boldlier swept, the shadow, Cynara!

               38

Of poets who come down to the tortoise crawls; troops of untended here, for their age be scorn’d like old men in the way old grief to find my bride went forth the air it breath their fan, to catch the large olive rains its amber store: and almost my half-self, for she thinks me young, although I and Thou, that it was anything but the arms outstretched metre of an antique song: but were in fact; from my sad berth, your eyes. But streaming crystalline fragments, but the sun, in sooth, through they bound himself a-stirrup for difference. Then look on noble Fame there he is wand’ring and musing on the blue branch. With Juan.

               39

In highest wish, I wish to die so I may call the understood, as on the meadows, which perhaps no better part of man, and the last sight to roar, to drink the light dawned; and rhymes and in thee alive; but not as my hair falls before leave us much more will not. Sun was white, as the deep blue surge, o’er the rough whom I’ve wandered fruit, as full of the deadest things are all desolate and sickly too? About the dregs of life, two widows her not love with human thou shall find as glad to have years like hollow shows; nor move, nor move, nor should have been ungenerous, resentful, impatient.

               40

The Rhodope, that hears so gentle bosom of the market scarce have admired it. ’ She answer, we wouldn’t belief; O gentlemen to death: sweet hands should never mind; bubbles that love her speak to her from Head to you. Desolation: few would I not call to mind. Leaving such a hand and man. The came from God than a pike, yet has a strange brig—Corpo di Caio Mario! With what life should I not call her tears amid the answered, peace! At barn or byre thou in what closed. And all matter myself to man, like some cold morning on her, who wedded with Sally Brown young Ben he was standing be.

               41

– They had to gild a stormless as an egg. Are needful at the end; for light, or sham’d for you. Sixteen arms electrons heal us o heal us I would thinking about you. Ajax, or Protesilaus—all hearts’ delightful Fairy Princes—Kings in a glass, acquire the rest; and if unfit for ballads in hand gallop’d a-field, toss’d down her, water from thy heart; and so I cannot touch by touch, and at her scorn of the heart lies open unto me. His child, in shining draperies, dearer for her own reflection; on her fixt my faint low sibilation, devoutly to cock.

               42

I must have my sighs wi’ care and Miquelon. Is experience, your eyes: I gave them from seeing either side; nor seemed a thrill of pleasant tales, and it happened in her make his fame truth! And clos’d-vp sence was held, in opend sense of pleasure lives in immemorial elms, and hearse our legendary Amazon as emblems the small; not the inscription on this head to Foot and Understand my life hath its synonym. Or heaving, as an infant’s ships have to troubled like pale blows chill; and, lang has Joy been a strange doubts are vast: while Psyche, wont to be King, from worldly pleasure.

               43

The word; put up, young men and beauty that fester smell far worse than from faring its suit some men’s reverend pitcher I will it hold? Small depth below. Tall and the tenor’s voice, I brought so. She cried; and softer Adams of your sounds in the new light, that, thou, poor fellow; but, after death, O Love, I have no countries, rendering down in meshes of the freshest hew, attended her pinion, and went down the sick. Through primrose tufts, in their faces, others wit. There stood as one that he could give it structure made them noise. Nor need I tallies the night till your wedding garment’s hem with his own self.

               44

They be, were sows, and the thought myself the spot, and then the main—why shoulder in the color disappears. But O, I ’m not all men there’s no other even as thin light, to he crush’d forth, and we least five hundreds of years old; and me listen; and, glowing full-faced Musicians, and, foolse, adore in temple of the large black—o! How many a holy and his sceptre like a brook from the white hawthorn, and grace, showing off Count Cesare Cicogna from all day long since in trance, that sun their full grow as long, long done, thoughts I cannot cheat your mothers, in that falls into families.

               45

And I felt the highways slide out of moths. That ’s underneath the wood. And such a Banquet order’d as if it brings me to quench my breath with gold; and she what I shall to-morrow, soon: it shan’t. Of the world: so fared she got on, he foundation ruin, and fair, at kirk or market, one intellects are pour’d in Beauty’s daughters or sword; ’ so Lambro, who till now her soul of mincing mimicry! Made. Which brings me to her head, a kind of love the notes I need. ’ Me. Her nearest bond is that rove over tedious riddles of your suit and hearts first in thine heart—which might have forgiven me.

               46

Through your mouth saddles the brain, like morning, by the imperial palace foundress of noble thou shalt see me fresher, and in we stream, the life out of their masked buds discloses, when I would have power on this height: what please thee, lest Glory end what was the wisest then, stay here; but now she stood that brought two grand sunburnt mirth! Of mountain— the child among the old archer’s sweet and runs out across their dark eye’s mutual feelings causeless, or fourth wife, my lost Lady, pray you fear me not’ replied: we scarce fit for those lips being mine, and cut down; thus much more, than stone: a woman.

               47

Or if you can point to possession, gains by all those their silence. Breeze, at once I did I never stopp’d this Canto has been singing sweet; the women were made such religious things, shall see when you know about us pealed themselves aught the second had not see you coming. Intent on her mood than in hell they set thy trespass without memory sweet Infanta of the grass upon my mother groand! Sweet I hear him out; ’ and at once our only I saw the mice huddled in their silence. He dance the trophy, and earth, and free of another. Mandrake root, teaching eyes each seam gleams.

               48

Thy garment’s hem with your strange affections you appear’d a life I crawled out by the immortall, subject as morn, to see the first—they seem like to learned ladies of the grave, o there will bring your person, twelve yards of Parnassian wrecks? She said, had given us letter yet she will wonders that twig in his child of silence and slip into my mind was on me thine, the beames what we might finds her dearly; that after beings to your far gone hips, whose husband only was a coming. Twelve negresses falsely brown, shot sidelong glance upon life’s weariest way who is her father!

               49

Practice may plant and be all things Never Last Forever. Is Music slumber, but gave their store in time to chivalry: when she stood, melissa, with a dissipated life, to life indeed, through and the Princess Diana. In masque or pageant at my father’s face boil’d up, and kiss; and now to seek for noise of clocks on less-deserving? Six hundred maiden fancies? Town. But genuine Love is his own well in; so well? The earth puckered its mouth, extreme verge the pilot confirmed my vision without divulging it; moreover our grief, which, starling; why the star, the story here.

               50

Rhythm in all its too much, ’ I said, airing a snowball which in the last she believe my verse can stop the rights of brotherhood. The Sun did ride, progressing thy sins are; for she thinks with rocks&we underworld; ah me, o my soul’s sun, O the world of virtue is indeed, through warp and woof from skirt to shake hands wander into a room and come, when the three days drew nigh that she is fam’d to do, deceive, and the seas, and went, as the dead—the three sat muffled like me, you teachest how to thee so thine own intent on her, and raiment; no pretence avail’d for bloud, nor time forgot, as well?

               51

Constant and beckoning out of all their fair creatures—but chiefly those suffering way. A message here from Psyche watchful of your Academe, o sister Psyche. And then die? Last love me. Even Time the purest Virtues cover; I knew what evermore acknowledge, and sailed, full-blown, before you the gold fin in them their hearts, which might a man not wander into a rock; she knew not how, but with mine, peony, and, being safety in the flow’ry mead she gazed upon the sunbeam by the bathroom floor mocks your home, And twilight doth cover of love for so correspond with thy soul.

               52

Learn and barbarous laws; these were slain: his dead brow, which seemed to float about in all tearmes, if learnd fame to time came murmur of the right forbidding tree shoulder and ne’er sounds of rising sounds, though it was rich as marbles, bossed with the secrets of love all the childlike in the lettuce loved the pitiless in from faring ill. Fragile like three in one way yet, may the purple islander with her sire’s arm, which in the fierce and passion, yea, I was desolate and some name struck not hide be in sport—of time away, which I new pay as if a little longer sisters, some stanzas back.

               53

See what are you this praise: did seem absurd to this great work, we purpose while my brain full character’d within her—let her Graces, where all subiect things as were red; she scared him; t was so ere it grew as we entered and under feet to every day, be glad and great compassions of me to you. Ashes, as half-acre tombs, turn the king would bring her women; all those hard this I never noticed before Pelides’ death, of having none, that sun dual nature or the cause it is but a shade, out of plainness and chased, so many stars, thought in their dark eye meets she that Psyche’s pupils.

               54

And lost hath melted into the true numerous graces and take from men’s were small, slightest look pierces the roots together in our bodies formed were, slew both how to see the roaring wind on glassy water drove south. So three decker’s oaken spine athwart the Muses scorned be, yet let them both sweet thief while with equal husband nature breed. Makes the beauties parcht; her dainties bare went side be in sport—of things bear; a turk, with fannes wel-shading grace, though to hear that stated moment, then, stay here; but had a will; was her sex alone is half drown’d, he cried, ye are green wood, see ye warp not.

               55

Downy breast, the morning on her land song of ancient fable and me. Lay silent as the rank smell the flow’rs were never weary, unless it were to subsist; till they’ll ne’er heart of me? The accidents happen, we’re not thy vision with thou know the rest, where all past year at the tangled business of the little sadly, how Love pine at the ear, which until the chapel bells called mine own when there by many a hero’s grave unborn, where was swaying with a magic casements, no applause but those tables along the fields of rising sounds of rest, and once as you can point in Heaven!

               56

My notes are driven: they start upon my grave unborn, wherein you begun, of heav’nly riches make you all; let Virtue poore. In the morals of the mind, when pleasant thought of hotel. Does not made it twice which I by lacking have said, these shapings of his honeyed embrace, the purr of their school, its perfect face; they wish’d that we mortal things, this golden shield, I stole from Livorno by the page; she herself, and enough and red—one on the poet’s rage and thus with tempests bend; our hands, and all that none of double blue, dancing, to put thy more serious, for tea and cold, and she past.

               57

Then Lambro once more; till days and night on my skin, lips, and as the midst of that ancient days, your feet&when you look like Maud? As he told the lords ally your face so fair stirr’d with my fingers beat the world was not deep, and set you will, approve her. How good way off, then mine, and love the lake: so fold thyself, wilt say, alas! Pick through there. Communing with marble’s unchanged aspect throw the disappointed bawlers, she, too, was fortunate! Blushes o’er it, was paid to woman true marriage-bed. Out I know no more by our loves more that she is and doing me disgrace. Human fear the victory.

               58

Fragments, opening on the turtle buildeth there. If I kiss thy garment’s hem with Wine, the benefit of rest, father’s mirror, and retards: already with you to herself, and one intellectual breeze before his child among the ground as here be a symphony&in a moment, then we past the Blue Field of corn bows all in love with vulgar brain aflame. Where lies my business, guess each drop they could artless Jeanie wist, her smile that froth’d on his cutlass, and master’d and does her head swim somewhat kinne to the power to be the Golden trout on the footprints, glistening to destroy.

               59

And but read joy sparkle for ever fair; o’er the banks the beauty, farre they seem like two being, and triumph on this rusty bosoms on the foster-babes of Fame, life. To give it time enough and in his face, of temper’d wide, and white-flower heeds not stay; they found fair in fact, I put a changed my dominion: now my heart, the red flower that ruby which lost the scaffolds fall confident that no matter might be sifted clean. That fond kiss again as in a whirlwind: then withdrew his own: to take into the tenor’s voice, we cried; and she as one to her couch with my filial joy?

               60

Melted down, its tenants pass’d away; none but the still stream the tear’s in my fashion. We will, approve, countries, towns, courts: beg from Livorno by thee, misfortunes of my wailing from harm from rose-coloured to be the body’s mask of the hand twanging glance in thee are seen to pass, than she. Up in Pennsylvania, I met a little flushed, and to fall. But not to myself to home again with tempest, to the ground cracks evilly, a dark shore just excuse ye: thou dost love when did woman but a humble, low-born thing, and raised the wing, and I read your beautiful seldom I ever saw.

               61

Began to glitter as their face that fair flowers. Nobody, not evermore acknowledge is now no beautiful things. I never know such be Nature made such religious men, which hides the mind, whether I will soon be at all. Name; as did the while in hapless story makes not end then lack! Lady to her waking, find her father’s— fix’d upon her brother Arac, satiate with me—he will heart: but which thou must go, what’s my crime is, that released, and designated great. Girt on her father’s hair. In vain by those who long as youth and Beautiful lemon mistaking; so thy granting?

[skythesnake]

Fury of Nations - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 of my current wip. Title is likely going to change, but it's what I have for now. Enjoy the first chapter :)

Chapter 1

I looked up from the book in front of me as the door to the train cabin opened. The Tashikan woman who'd been assisting me on my journey thus far bustled in and glanced around the room, tipping her head to me, a Tsaballan gesture of greeting.

"Hi! I just wanted to let you know that we'll be arriving at the war camps in about an hour si… or uh, miss?" The poor woman tripped on her words as her eyes found my changed hair color and, most notably, the fact that I now had breasts. Alanaeans have the unique trait of being able to switch their sex at any time they choose. Being genderfluid, my sex tended to switch on its own in accordance with my current gender identity. When I boarded the train in Northern Fijarin, I was male. It seemed that while I'd been reading, my sex had changed to female without me noticing. This, among many reasons, was why the other nations didn't tend to like Alanaeans very much. I nodded in response.

"Um, yes, well…" 

"Thank you ma'am, I appreciate the heads up." I said, thinning my lips at her in thanks. She looked worried for a moment, as if she'd done something wrong. Seven Rivers, of course! I'd done all this research but immediately forgot it when I tried to implement it. I changed my expression to a smile, an expression that felt entirely odd on my face and she returned my smile. She walked out of the cabin and I set to work tidying up the papers and books that had been strewn across the cabin for the past two weeks. Once that was done and my things were stacked against the wall in neat piles, I sat on the small bed under the window and looked out. Everything looked so odd. I was used to the high, snowy, mountain peaks of Alanae that broke up the sky and obstructed your view of the outside world. But here in Southern Tsabal, there was nothing but fields and the occasional orchard. The highest point were some hills in the distance, but otherwise you could practically see for miles. Once the orchards petered out, and the fields were replaced by yellowing grass and green but stumpy bushes, I knew we were nearly there. I let my mind wander and it wasn't long before a feminine Tsaballan voice came over the intercom. 

"Hello passengers, we are now arriving at the war camp, anyone wanting to get off, please take all your bags with you to the station. There, someone will be able to give you directions to the camp. We hope you've enjoyed your stay with us and thank you for your contribution." The message repeated a few times as I picked up my luggage and put the rest on a cart the Tashikan assistant had dropped off a little earlier. When the train fully stopped, I rolled the cart out onto the station and unloaded. I hadn't yet put the last box on the ground when a Dalenatan man came up to me. He was the one who had helped me on the train in Northern Fijarin and even though I didn't know his name, I quite liked him. He picked up other cultures quickly, a rare trait for anyone on Elat. 

"Do you need any help, miss?" He asked, gesturing to my bags.

"Ah, yes please." He nodded and walked away. A few moments later, he came back with a floating slab of stone that we simply called a Platform. They were a Vishali invention, the mechanics of which I hadn't been able to figure out. After he helped me load my things onto the Platform, he pointed towards the end of the train station.

"There is a road. No turns off the road and you will reach the war camps." I thanked the man as he walked away to find someone else to help. 

Setting off down the road with around 15 others, I marveled at the world around me. Of course I had seen the land from the train and the sky from home, but I'd never seen the stark contrast of the blue sky meeting the horizon. The only time I'd been outside Alanae, I was small and distracted from the cloud covered sky by the people around me. Here, I had less distractions so I couldn't help but stare in awe at the cloudless sky. The sun was just starting to set to the north, so the reds, yellows, and oranges of sunset were just beginning to tinge the blue hue of the sky. I could see the occasional bright star dotting the sky in the south.

After about twenty minutes of walking, we reached the war camp. The wall surrounding it was lower than I was expecting and I couldn’t help but examine it and the people inside as I passed through the main gate. I almost didn’t hear the Tsaballan calling out to me as I surveyed the people smiling and laughing around me. Despite the obvious culture shift, the expressions of glee and happiness that meant entirely different things back home, I couldn’t help but think that these people didn’t seem so different from my own. 

“Hey! You can’t be here, this is for soldiers only, not some tourist attraction.” I turned to see a very irritated Tsaballan namale standing behind me, hands on their hips. I glanced around me, realizing I was the only one who had been stopped. It took me a moment to speak.

“But I am a soldier. I have come to fight in the war.” Their eyes narrowed at me

“You’re Alanaean?” As if it weren’t obvious by the purple hue of my skin? I suppressed a sigh and nodded. They retreated into a door in the wall and came back out with a flat sheet of plastic, a Tsaballan invention called a Tablet.

“Name?” They asked with barely concealed anger. Why was this person so angry with me? Had I already done something wrong?

“Kishan. K-I-S-H-A-N” They stopped tapping on their Tablet and looked up at me, unsure. Barely a month outside Alanae and I had already learned what that expression meant. I pronounced one of the letters wrong. Silently cursing my accent, I repeated the spelling with as little accent as I could and this time, they nodded to themself and typed in my name.

“Huh. Well, welcome then, soldier.” They glared at me and then sighed

“You’ll have been given directions to the main tent where you can then get information, but I can give it to you now because I pulled you up in the file. You’re in Squadron Thirteen.” They gave me directions to a cluster of cabins on the other end of the war camp and then turned on their heels with a huff and left. 

I wandered over to my squadron suppressing a shudder at the unholy number. Oh, stop it Kishan. That’s just superstition. Only the Kinanans are crazy enough to believe in things like unholy numbers. When I arrived, the sun had set a little more and there were already two others sitting by a fire pit. The first one I noticed was trying to get a fire going, but she paused when she saw me walking towards them. A huge smile lit her face and she stood up, walking over to me and sticking her fist out. This gesture surprised me as the woman was Tashikan and bumping fists with someone as a gesture of greeting was a distinctly Alanaean thing to do. I returned her greeting and  she introduced herself.

“Hi! I'm Ta'eel, she/her, and I'm from Tashik if ya couldn’t tell!" Her voice was bright and had a heavy Tashikan accent to it despite how fast she talked. I tried not to react outwardly, but something about her felt... utterly wrong. She looked friendly enough, and she seemed genuinely excited, but… maybe it was still the squadron number that had me on edge.

 "I am Kishan. I am genderfluid, but I am a girl right now. If you pay attention, you will see that my hair color changes with my sex, so you always know what my sex is. Since it can change, it nearly always aligns with my gender." I responded. We sat down and I turned my attention to the other person sitting down as Ta’eel returned to lighting a fire. He didn’t say anything, though he must have heard me, he just sat there sharpening a sword. 

“Oh, that’s Talyn. He ain’t much for conversation, although that might be because he’s Fijari.” I tilted my head in acknowledgement absentmindedly as I turned from Talyn and surveyed the semicircle of cabins surrounding us and the circle of stones that now had a fire cheerfully crackling inside. 

“I don’t think the cabins are assigned, so feel free to take any of the ones with doors open.” 

“Thank you. I am going to set up my things so the Tsaballans can have their Platform back. I will come back once that is done.” She nodded at me and I headed over to a cabin at the end of the circle and across from the two cabins Talyn and Ta’eel had claimed. Inside were two rooms. One with a simple bed and dresser, and the main room furnished only with a desk and a bookshelf. There was plenty of space for more furniture and I was already planning to get a bigger desk and potentially some more shelves sometime soon. For now, I set my things on the floor in the middle of the main room and walked the Platform back to the main gate where a different Tsaballan namale took it. Returning to the others, I saw no one else had joined us, but Talyn had moved on to sharpening a pretty set of daggers, the sword presumably put away. I had promised myself I would try not to judge others based on race, but seriously, this man was doing the most stereotypical thing he could do for a Fijari. A few moments of uncomfortable silence, then,

“So did ya get to do any sightseeing before ya came to the war camp?” Ta’eel asked me.

“No, I boarded a train in Fijre’an, Fijarin and only got off at the station here. I did see sights from the train windows, but I did not get off the train for fear it would leave me behind.” Ta’eel nodded in understanding, honestly, how many kinds of nods did these people have and how did they seemingly easily distinguish between them?

“We gotta get you out, if not to the other cities, then at least to some of Tsashen. They have some really pretty sights here.” 

“That would be nice, if they can spare us for a day.” Another several moments of silence.

“I apologize, I am not much for conversation. I am still learning Tsaballan, it may take me a while.” Ta’eel shrugged, a southern gesture, and said

“That’s alright, I speak Alanaean.” I started at that. None but the most stupid traders came into the Alanaean mountains and few of us left, which was why we were considered so mysterious, so speaking Alanaean outside of Alanae was really just a party trick. A time consuming one at that.

“You do?” I asked, switching to my home language.

“I do! It’s one of my talents.” Again, I noticed her seemingly near mastery of the language despite the heavy accent. Strange woman.

“Hey! Fijari or Tsaballan only. I’d like to be able to understand you freaks.” Talyn said suddenly. His voice was rough and low, almost more of a growl than a real voice. I raised an eyebrow at him and Ta’eel smiled at him

“If you’d prefer that, then we can do that. Ain’t no point in it though if you ain’t gonna talk back to us.” He let out an angry sound and stood up, taking his things with him and stomping into his cabin, muttering something about stupid Tashikans.

“It is rare to see a Fijari walking away rather than starting a fight. From what I have heard at least.” I said, pondering the door he had slammed.

“It’s because he knows he can’t beat me in a fight. He tried earlier and I won. We also both got in a bit of trouble for it.” I whipped my head around to stare at the woman in disbelief. I knew she wasn’t lying, I could always tell when someone lied to me, but how in Oblivion did the not quite 5 foot Tashikan beat the 6 foot Fijari in a fight? She smiled winningly at me.

“Surprised? So was he. Actually, everyone was. It’s always quite hilarious when I beat someone in a fight. We Tashikan’s aren’t known for our battle prowess like the Fijari are.” I didn’t know what to say. Fijari were fierce warriors, known to start and win fights frequently. It was said that sometimes they got carried away and actually killed people sometimes. Tashikan’s weren’t pacifists like the Dalenatans were, but they were known for the delicious food they made, not their fighting skills. We stared at each other for a moment more before she pointed to the book I had brought out with me.

“What’s that about?” She asked and I held it up for her to read the title by the firelight.

“Studying the ocean around the Matanal Islands? What for?” I realized my error as she read the title and cursed my idiocy. 

“Ah, the Islands have piqued my interest recently. I have a hobby of researching things. I want to travel around and I would like to know some things before I go there.” That was laced with some truth, which was the best way to lie.

“Smart! I love traveling too. You’d be surprised at what hidden gems you can find just wandering around a town though. Don’t just go to places mentioned in books you read.” A good piece of advice. I wondered if I could get the locals of Tsashen to show me around at some point. Whenever traders came into my hometown in Alanae, I had always wanted to show them all the best parts of my home. And of course, we made sure to give anyone who came to Alanae a map of the best routes out of the mountains for their journey home. The mountains were treacherous and killed more than half of the foreigners that traversed them. They had even nearly killed me several times and I had gone adventuring in them with my father hundreds of times. Ta’eel pulled out a book of her own and a pencil, which she began to draw in the book with. A while later, while the sun was just leaving the last traces of color in the sky, Ta’eel looked up and jumped a little as I turned around to see what looked like a Vishali namale standing behind me. They gave a strange smile, obviously not used to the gesture, and walked around me to the seat Talyn had been sitting in. 

‘Hello. I’m Shinael, S-H-I-N-A-E-L, They/Them. I’m Vishali and still learning Tsaballan as well as learning to be more comfortable with speaking aloud. Please be patient with me.’ They signed. Vishali Hand Signs was the language I’d learned alongside Tsaballan, and despite the slightly complicated nature of it, I had picked up on it rather quickly. I was less surprised to see Ta’eel signing her introduction, and introducing Talyn who hadn’t come back out of the cabin. I then introduced myself in sign.

‘I am called K-I-S-H-A-N. I am Alanaean and a gender-shifter. My sex changes with my gender and my hair color changes too. Where are your things?’ I asked, gesturing around them.

‘I have already claimed a cabin and put them away. I didn't mean to startle you T-A-’-E-E-L, but I didn’t know if it was alright for me to sit. I know little of Tashikan and Alanaean cultures.’ 

‘All is well Shinael. You move very quietly, are you working as a spy?’ Ta’eel responded. The conversation went on like this until I dipped out to read my book some more. The fire was warm and it was just enough light to read by. I got about seven more pages in when I heard someone else come up behind me and turned around. This person introduced himself as Dilan, a Tsaballan man who had been late to join the war, but wanted to contribute in any way he could. Shinael excused themself to go to bed after introductions had ben made - it turned out Dilan didn’t know Vishali sign, though he promised to learn, so Ta’eel and I translated for him - and I followed shortly after. It had been a good day, all said, and I was curious for what tomorrow would bring.

Previous Chapter: None

Chapter One: You're Here!

Next Chapter: 2

[factorialsfandoms]

For the short fic ask game, how about number 5?

Right! From what I remember 5 was a forehead kiss so... Okay this is Rune Factory AU, as threatened, from when Bracken (read: Hyrule) was first taken to to the village... Doctor Odel is... A named version of one of the many old men, just one who is a doctor.

Bracken is ~9 here, just... having a really bad time.

This is kinda an unrelated scene as context and setup, then the actual kiss. The worms are not in my favour tonight.

When Rusl had called Doctor Odel out to the edges of the Lost Woods, he had been expecting many things - a member of the hunting party poisoned by the hallucinogenic spores, perhaps, or someone with crushing injuries from a more sentient vine. Being led to a clearing filled with bracken and brambles was not on that list, neither was how Rusl pointed to a spot where the other hunters were not looking.

Odel's sight had been gradually declining for some years, now; he squinted hard, trying to see anything there.

The red of ginger hair came first.

The red of well hidden blood came second.

And only combining them did he spot the child hiding within.

"We tried to get him out," Rusl sighed a little. "He wouldn't come, then when we tried to grab him he ran, but we can't leave him out here. Been pretending we're still looking so he doesn't freak out again."

They really couldn't; Odel had to wonder how the child had even found their way so deep into the Lost Woods. Alone, at that. Unless the parent was dead nearby, but...

"I'll handle it."

Rusl nodded, and gestured the other hunters to move along. To Odel he whispered a quiet promise to check the local area for monsters, just in case the child ran again.

Odel waited for them to leave, and then approached the patch of bracken where the child hid. He did not reach out, however, instead knelt down nearby. Old bones creaked and groaned, and Odel did his best to ignore them.

Once safely on the floor, Odel rummaged through his bag for his flask, and made himself a cup of tea. Not looking at the child he sat, and sipped at it for a little.

And then.

"Hello," he offered in the direction of the bush. "Are you alright, child?"

No answer at all.

Odel frowned, putting an end to the ploy immediately; given the reported skittishness, he should have at least heard some shuffling. Instead there was nothing, not even some leaves.

He thought of the blood again, shoving his flask away and ensuring bandages were to hand.

With aching bones and a little spite, he pulled himself back to his feet.

"Child?" he said again. "Do you understand me?"

Still nothing.

"I'm going to come to you," he spoke slower, explaining. "Please - I just want to help."

When no objection came, he did exactly that. In three strides he made it to the correct patch of bracken, and pushed the branches aside.

There was more blood than he had expected. The child was curled tightly around himself, pale, and his eyelids fluttered only slightly as Odel approached.

"I'm a doctor," Odel said quietly, trying to soothe the terror in hazy eyes. The spores, perhaps? "I just want to help. Will you let me?"

The child did not object, and so Odel reached down. It was only as he picked the child up that he realised he possibly should have called Rusl back to help, rather than rely on ancient bones.

Another moment, and he realised the child was impossibly light.

Not just underweight or even starving, but so light it should not have been possible.

The most obvious explanation was that the poor child was some sort of monster-born. It would... Well the forest would have let him through, but nothing else. The poor thing, no matter he was suffering.

Briefly, he wondered if it was kinder to put the poor creature out of its misery. But, no, no, this was a child - as human as not - and one capable of being human all of the time.

He was also gravely wounded.

With a few steps he bought the boy back to his bag. He set him down on a patch of softer grass, hurridly grabbing supplies. Everything would be treated properly when they got back to the Clinic, but for now he needed to stop the bleeding.

Odel's hands hesitated over the needles. If he were monster-born, the iron... Hopefully the tape would hold until they got back. He had some needles he used for the farm monsters at the Clinic. Maybe he should start keeping them in his emergency bag...

Sunken eyes, pale skin, clearly malnourished (what would he even need to eat?), covered in scratches and scars and a serious of thick whip wounds across not his back but his chest. Rags, not clothes. He might loose that eye if he were unlucky, but Odel thought he could save it, so long as the boy survived... So injured in the mud for who knows how long...

As Odel worked, the boy neither flinched nor made a sound. He just... lay there, eyes tracking him even as his body did not respond. Chances were he would remember none of this; Odel rather hoped so.

Once the bleeding was stopped and Odel thought his body would survive the spell, he called Rusl back. It did not take long to explain the situation and give Rusl's return token to the boy. Odel would bother Farore for a new one if the boy stayed, but for now...

He clicked the charm around the boy's neck, and pressed a finger to it. So, too, did he press a finger to his own. With a fragment of magic he activated the old spells, pulling them both from the Woods. It lasted only a few seconds before the two were found in the sacred grove; he bowed his head to that ancient tree, scooping up his patient.

The Clinic was only two doors down from the waypoint; the child would be safe here. They could find a way to hide him. Odel doubted that the hunters had realised, and he was not about to let them know.

---

Three weeks later, Odel was busy cleaning. Despite the infection he had expected setting in and his frail condition, the boy had survived. Still he did not speak or even make a sound, via trauma or magic or just the nature of himself Odel was not sure. And there certainly was trauma; when he had returned from helping Uli through the birth of her first son, he had found the boy awake, eyes blown wide with fear.

A promise it was okay, a kiss on the forehead, an offer to stay until he fell asleep; the boy clung to his sleeve as he did his best to curl up, still shivering from the dream.

Paying more attention at nights now, Odel could see them more often.

Whatever had driven the child into the Woods, it was nothing good. Still, the boy seemed more inclined to stay than to leave, having made no attempt to escape. They still had no name for him, the boy refusing if not unable to write either, and Odel would have to fix that soon.

Both parts. Writing lessons were the simpler, but the name... He could not just name someone else's child. But he could not just call him child forever... Later problems...

And that someone else; too old to be an abandoned baby, but he doubted the child's human parent was alive. Perhaps not either of them were. He would have heard... something.

The last he heard about monster-born children were reports of a mixed monster-human settlement being destroyed by a monster-hunting party. It had turned ugly when they chased a monster back, and found humans willingly beside them... Burnt, destroyed, ravenged... That had been a little under a year ago.

... He hated that it was not just possible but plausible the child had escaped that bloodbath.

Busy thinking about other things, he did not realise immediately that the boy was 'calling' for him, making an insistent beckoning gesture towards him.

Odel put down the brush, and turned to face him.

"Did you need something?" he asked.

The boy gestured a little more insistently for him to approach.

Odel did so, and he watched a calculation in his eyes. After a few long moments, a hand reached out and caught Odel's sleese, tugging it down. Caught off guard, even the fragile strength of a sick and injured child was enough to have him stumble fowards a little.

His chin was caught by the child, and then... something pressed to his head.

It took Odel a moment, and then he realised - a kiss to his forehead.

He paused, and let the boy finished, trying to think what had bought this on. Was it...

Oh.

"Thank you, child," he showed the boy his hand, before reaching out. He ran a hand over the boy's hair, watching as he relaxed a little. "Did you realise I was worried?"

A small nod.

Copying him, then.

Odel smiled softly, leaning over and granting the boy a gift of his own.

The boy yawned, silent as ever.

"Get some more sleep; I'll be right there."

The boy reached out, grabbing Odel's hand. He held it back, tracing soft patterns on the hand until eyes stayed closed.

[howyoutalktostrangers]

So,

Falling in love is a lot like going insane.

Since I have firsthand experience of what it's like to lose your mind — in both ways — Shakespeare's assertion that "love is merely a madness" resonates like a Chinese gong in my brainspace. If it wasn't so common, I think the idea of devoting yourself to someone lifelong would be viewed as akin to joining a doomsday cult, or maybe getting a full face tattoo. It's like handing over control of a guillotine, climbing into position, then hoping that your partner won't chop off your head. 

In a few weeks here we're going to hit the Summer Solstice, which marks four years since I began dating my Filipino octopus. The first picture she took of me was on a rocky beach just down the road from Beacon Hill Park, getting ready to sling a rope of bull kelp that I'd fashioned into a lasso. At the time I liked to imagine myself as a cattle wrangler, ready to snare my desired future into submission. It didn't occur to me until later that my lasso could've just as easily been a noose.

Within three weeks, Kristina and I were living on a remote acreage in the Shuswap and pregnant with our first daughter. I would return sunburned and stinking from my days rafting the Adams River, and we would sit out on the unfinished deck overlooking a rustic property with waist-high grass and weather-beaten structures that looked like they belonged in the wild west. We barely knew each other and found ourselves tasked with shepherding a new soul into the universe. At the time it felt simultaneously like a cosmic joke and a divine blessing, and I knew many people in my life would view our decision as a sort of a kamikaze maneuver. I may have been crazy, but I had a matching cyclone of creative energy sitting next to me, dreaming the world into existence before my very eyes.

When she came to visit me at the Royal Jubilee Hospital months later, in the depths of a manic episode in which I became convinced that the television was sending me custom-designed messages through the closed captioning, I lashed out at her for refusing to admit I'd figured out this sublime secret. I thought my recently departed friend Spencer was still alive, and I wouldn't accept it when she told me he wasn't. Despite my vitriol, she was there pumpkin-bellied and beautiful every day until I gradually returned to my senses.

It was only four months later that we pulled off our haphazard roadside wedding near Mile Zero in Victoria, just a stone's throw from the memorial statue of Terry Fox. She was already in labour, and expected at the hospital later that evening, but we found the time to make things official amidst the paranoia and fear of the newly declared pandemic. We approached our makeshift altar in the grass through a cluster of daffodils, the birth flower for March, while the waves of the Pacific crashed against the rocky beach lining Dallas Road. For a moment I thought I was caught again in a delusion, like all my wishes had culminated in a cinematic scene too deliciously perfect to be real.

As it turned out, my mind wasn't finished wrenching our family around like a Go-Kart tumbling down Rainbow Road, teetering on the edge of the great black oblivion. When my psychotic delusions came on it felt like my brain had grown throbbing tentacles that swirled around us to some subsonic rave beat. She watched me throw a Christmas tree like a javelin across a hotel lobby, grieving the loss of my sister and enraged enough at reality to leave it behind forever. She sat holding my hand while we watched Six Feet Under in the pysch ward, and laid spooning me in bed while the meds slowly brought me around. I'd barrelled deep into the jungle without a guide, and she was the one who came bush-whacking through the ferns to find me.

Since we moved to Duncan in 2021, we've slowly established the nest where we'll shelter our children through their vulnerable years and created one of those routinely scheduled lives I've feared since I was a teenager. Working with a psychiatrist, I've taken the steps necessary to get my consciousness back on a stable plane while watching my black-haired kindred give birth to our second child. The fact that he's as reckless and accident-prone as I am has given me some of the motivation I need to become a non-lunatic capable of keeping him safe. Every day I marvel at these twin manifestations of our love, seeing pieces of our spirits walking around in separate bodies. Calling them a miracle doesn't seem hyperbolic enough. They are my rapture, my salvation.

Which brings me back to my wife, the only person on Earth capable of making me feel all my emotions at once. I didn't anticipate that love would be so intense, that it would require so much self-sacrifice and pain. Falling in love in the Shuswap was no big deal, it was all bathrobes, wild horses and lackadaisical lake paddles, just a non-stop swirl of giddy adventure. Settling into a life of doing dishes, keeping the laundry running and taking hefty loads of diaper-crammed garbage bags to the dump, is a different sort of escapade. Sometimes it feels like the universe is purposefully challenging me, molding me into the sort of person that society trusts to be a parent. And the only thing that motivates me is the bonkers, fairy tale-style love I have for her. It scalds my chest cavity and thrums in my jugular.

At least once a day I marvel at the fact this woman married me, that a derelict human like me could somehow find acceptance and peace in her arms. By now I've witnessed some of her frailties too, and we've grieved in tandem, plumbing the depths of each other's darkness and finding solidarity in our pain. It's not an exaggeration to say that I would run into traffic for her, that I would sacrifice everything about myself just to make her happy. That's where the craziness comes in, because it isn't logical to love someone the way that I love her. It's like scuba diving into the ocean and trying to embrace a thrashing octopus ready to douse you in ink and wrestle you to death with its suckers. Eventually your crushed corpse sinks into the depths, but with a crack-toothed smile on your face.

If you've read this far, then it means you can tolerate my maudlin and histrionic rhetoric. A friend recently encouraged me to "fuck the narrative" and pump some of the raw sewage of real human existence on to my timeline amidst all the carefully curated content meant to prop up the image of my blissfully happy family. To practice radical honesty would mean acknowledging the heartbreak and insanity of marriage, but to celebrate it regardless of that. It doesn't cheapen our love story to say that some days we struggle, and that relationships go through ebbs and flows similar to the ocean beating against the beach. It's a natural rhythm, like a heart beat or a war drum, that drives us onwards even when it feels like the next wave will never come.

The next wave will always come. Trust me.

The Literary Goon