#how dow you charm a snake

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

[eprobles]

ETERNAL ECHOES

I

Toward dark blue skies, endlessly, Where topaz seas shimmer bright, In your evening, blooms ecstasy - The lilies, pills of pure delight.

In our age where plants must toil, Lilies drink blue distaste divine, From your religious prose, they'll coil, Fleur-de-lys, for bards to twine.

Lilies, lilies, none in view, Yet in your verse, sleeves of sin, Soft-footed women, pure as dew, White flowers shiver within.

Always, dear man, when you bathe, Your shirt with yellow 'neath your arm, Swelling in the breeze, and wave, Above forget-me-nots, the harm.

Love comes to you in lilac's guise, Wild violets too, nymphs' delight, Sugary spittle on lips, belies, Dark passions on a moonlit night.

II

Oh, Poets, imagine you possessed Roses, crimson Roses, blooming bright, Adorning laurel stems, at their best, With thousand octaves swelling in delight!

If Banville could make them snow, Tainted red, swirling, in a frenzy, Blackening the eyes of those who show Ill-disposed interpretations, not friendly!

In your forests and in meadows so calm, Oh, peaceful photographers, Flora thrives, Decanters' stoppers no different in charm, Than varied veggies with cross-grained lives!

Phthisical and absurd, they seem to be, Navigated by basset-hounds at dusk, After frightening drawings we see, Of lotuses or sunflowers blue, so brusque!

Pink prints and holy pictures we behold, For young girls making their communion, Asoka Ode agrees with Loretto's window old, Heavy vivid butterflies dung on daisy's union!

Old greenery and galloons, fancy-flowers, Vegetable biscuits of yore's drawing-rooms, For cockchafers, not rattlesnakes, like powers, Pulling vegetable dolls with colors, like in cartoons!

Grandville would have put them round the margins, To suck in colors from ill-natured stars, Drooling from your shepherd's pipes, in wondrous fashions, Creating priceless glucoses, like fried eggs in hold hats, so bizarre!

Lilies, Asokas, lilacs, and roses, in a pile, Inspirations for poets, like me, all the while!

III

white Hunter, running sockingless Across the panic Pastures, Can you not, ought you not To know your botany a little? I'm afraid you'd make succeed, To russet Crickets, Cantharides, And Rio golds to blues of Rhine, - In short, to Norways, Floridas: But, My dear Chap, Art does not consist now, - it's the truth, - in allowing To the astonishing Eucalyptus boa-constrictors a hexameter long; There now!... As if Mahogany Served only, even in our Guianas, As helter-skelters for monkeys, Among the heavy vertigo of the lianas! - In short, is a Flower, Rosemary Or Lily, dead or alive, worth The excrement of one sea-bird? Is it worth a solitary candle-drip? - And I mean what I say! You, even sitting over there, in a Bamboo hut, - with the shutters Closed, and brown Persian rugs for hangings, - You would scrawl blossoms Worthy of extravagant Oise!... - Poet ! these are reasonnings No less absurd than arrogant!...

IV

Speak not of pampas in the spring, Black with terrible revolts and strife, But of tobacco, cotton trees that sing, Exotic harvests, a fruitful life.

Say, white face, tanned by Phoebus' rays, How many dollars Pedro Velasquez earns, Of Habana, a city that displays, Excrement covering Sorrento's seas in turns.

Where swans go in thousands to roam, Let your lines campaign, oh poet bold, For clearing mangrove swamps, a home To pools and water-snakes so cold.

Your quatrain plunges into bloody thickets, And returns with subjects great and grand, White sugar, bronchial lozenges, and rubbers, tickets To the land of plenty, a fruitful land.

Tell us, oh hunter, if the yellownesses Of snow peaks near the tropics, hide Insects that lay many eggs or microscopic lichens, And scented madder plants, two or three, provide.

Nature in trousers may cause them to bloom, For our armies, strong and brave, On the outskirts of the Sleeping Wood, assume Flowers, with snouts, drip golden pomades on buffaloes' cave.

Find in wild meadows, where the bluegrass shivers, The silver of downy growths, Calyxes full of fiery eggs, livers Cooking among the essential oils.

Find downy thistles whose wool, Ten asses with glaring eyes, labor to spin, Flowers that are chairs, a beautiful tool, And gem-like tonsils close to pale ovaries within.

Find flowers in coal-black seams, Almost like stones, so marvelous and bright, Close to their hard pale ovaries in dreams, Bearing gemlike tonsils, shining in light.

Serve us, oh stuffer, on a vermilion plate, Stews of syrupy lilies, a delicacy divine, To corrode our German-silver spoons, a fate Worthy of kings, in a color so fine.

:: 03.06.2023 ::

Poet's Notes:

Firstly, analyzing the poem from the perspective of a poet, I would observe that it is a complex piece with vibrant language and a robust structure. The thematic clusters around nature, colors, and the exploration of human passions are presented with a combination of ordinary and extraordinary imagery. The author makes use of creative metaphorical devices, intertwining nature and human experiences in a unique way.

The piece exhibits a considerable degree of intertextuality, referencing multiple literary figures and creations, which enriches the reading experience by providing additional layers of meaning. The poem also appears to take a critical look at artistic endeavors and societal expectations, seen in lines like "Phthisical and absurd, they seem to be."

Furthermore, the author creates juxtapositions between beautiful, appealing images and harsh, distasteful ones. This could be interpreted as a commentary on the paradoxes of life, with its mixture of pleasure and pain, beauty and ugliness.

From a Jungian perspective, this poem could be analyzed using the concepts of the collective unconscious and archetypes. Many of the images used - like lilies, roses, the evening, moonlit night, hunters - can be seen as archetypal symbols that resonate with universal human experiences.

The poem explores the interplay between the conscious and the unconscious mind. For instance, the verse "Dark passions on a moonlit night" could be read as an acknowledgment of the shadow archetype, the darker, unconscious aspects of the personality that are often repressed.

Moreover, the poem explores the dichotomy between order and chaos, symbolized by the cultivated flowers and the wild forest. This dichotomy could be seen as a representation of the tension between the ego and the unconscious.

The use of botanical metaphors throughout the poem might be seen as a manifestation of the Anima/Animus archetype, representing the feminine principle within the masculine unconscious, or vice versa. The presence of female figures such as nymphs and "Soft-footed women, pure as dew" would support this interpretation.

Finally, the closing lines of the poem, with the "corrode our German-silver spoons," suggests an ultimate dissolution or transformation, akin to the Jungian process of individuation, where one achieves a harmonious balance between all aspects of the psyche.

[malfoysstilinski]

hogwarts express | DRACO MALFOY (smut)

Draco Malfoy x Reader (past harry x reader) 

SUMMARY: Draco fucks Y/N to prove a point to Harry who he knows is hiding in the storage compartment above, watching the whole thing. 

REQUESTED: first of all, i absolutely love your writing!!! ok so you know how on the train in sixth year harry was spying on draco in the compartment? what if draco and y/n have sex in front of him while he’s still under the cloak and draco is like “put on a show.” 👀 i’ve been thinking about this nonstop for days @sapphicnoodle69 

WARNINGS: dirty talk, public sex, choking, oral (both receiving), slut shaming, probably more idk 

MASTERLIST

“Hogwarts,” Draco scoffs, a sneering look on his face as he fiddles absentmindedly with his fingers on the table in front of you, “what a pathetic excuse for a school. I think I’d pitch myself off the Astronomy Tower if I thought I had to continue for another two years.”

You frown from where you’re leaning your head on his shoulder, your senses consumed by Draco. All you can smell is his expensive cologne and the peppermint of his shampoo, the smooth material of his suit’s blazer brushing your cheek as you stare across at Pansy and Blaise. They look equally as confused as you do. Draco hadn’t been the same since his father had been sent to Azkaban, all thanks to Harry Potter, Draco had said. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Pansy questions. 

“Let’s just say, I don’t think you’ll see me wasting my time with Charms class next year,” Draco mutters bitterly. 

Blaise snickers lightly and Draco’s eyes snap to him in an instant-- venomous and daring. It’s the kind of cold look that anybody would dread getting from a Malfoy. 

“Amused, Blaise?” Draco sneers, “We’ll see just who’s laughing in the end.”

You miss the tiny metallic clanging noise from above your heads, and so do Blaise and Pansy from where they’d sending you questioning looks, as if you should know why your boyfriend’s suddenly acting like the four of you haven’t spent the past six years exchanging all your secrets and hanging out at any free moment you may have. 

Draco knows who’s there. Your ex-boyfriend. His enemy. Harry Potter. He pisses Draco off even more with the way he always stares at you. It gives Draco an idea. 

Draco’s gaze flickers down from the storage racks above your heads and back down at you when you finally lift your head from his shoulder. You reach for his hands that are on the table and pull them underneath innocently. You give his hand a squeeze and keep your fingers intertwined on his lap, watching as his shoulders relaxed slightly beside you. 

The rest of the train journey is less tense. Draco doesn’t suggest anything else as solemnly as he had been, and you all talk about your summers. Well, you, Blaise, and Pansy do-- everybody knows Draco definitely did not spend his summer eating the finest food in France like he usually did. 

As you’re listening to Blaise talk about his mother’s latest fiancé, you feel Draco’s hand snake from your hand and drift to your leg. It’s bare beneath your school skirt, the British September weather not yet cold enough for a pair of tights. You know he’s glad that you decided to get changed early. You shiver at his icy fingertips on your thigh, pursing your lips together when he gives it a rather rough squeeze. 

He glides his hand up and down, leaving goosebumps in his wake as he tries to remain as casual as possible, keeping a hard look on his face whilst he stares at Blaise. You’re also trying to appear neutral, cursing your boyfriend for having such a thing for getting off in public. One day you were going to get caught, and that was the day you would also be disowned by your family. 

He keeps you in suspense for the last hour of the train journey. At that point, the dark green panties that you’re wearing are absolutely soaked, sticking to your pussy and even dampening the top of your thighs. His hand hadn’t left your leg once, trailing close to where you desired him the most, where your clit throbbed and pulsated, and then back down closer to your knee to give you a breather. 

Draco Malfoy was a fucking tease and he would be the death of you-- that was for sure. 

Finally, when the train pulled up at the station, everybody starting to climb off of the compartment, but Draco remained sat where he was, also blocking you in from your window seat. As Blaise and Pansy grab their bags and start to head off, they look back at you both in confusion, wondering why you’re not leaving. 

“You two go on,” Draco mutters, running his hand across his jaw. “Y/N and I have something we need to discuss.”

Pansy gives you a sly smirk and a wink before she grabs Blaise’s arm and practically drags him out of the compartment. Your heart is pounding as you watch Draco slide out of his seat once your friends have left the two of you by yourselves, watching as he moves closer to the carriage door, sliding it shut. He pulls the blinds down next. 

“This might be the last time we get the chance to do this,” Draco smirks as he glances back at you. “Stand.”

You do as he says, watching as he grabs his wand out of his pocket and swishes it, all of the other blinds coming down to conceal you from the outside. Your clit is pulsating so hard and you nearly groan out loud as he starts to march closer to you, rubbing your thighs together for some relief. 

Draco’s hand snaps out to grab your neck, fingers gliding down your soft skin before he digs his fingers in slightly, shallowing your breathing. You whimper as his other thumb drags itself down your lip. 

“I know you’ve been desperate for this,” Draco mutters, releasing your neck and undoing his tie, flinging it down onto the table beside you both. “And you’ve been a good girl for me. Parkinson and Zabini didn’t suspect a thing, did they?”

“No,” you breathe in agreement, “they didn’t.”

“I think my good little slut deserves a reward for being so patient,” Draco mutters, tilting your head with his hand on your jaw, leaning down to press wet kisses to your neck, sucking hard below your ear and leaving a hickey behind as you grip his arms, eyes rolling into the back of your head. 

“Draco...” You pull away from him slightly, finding his silver eyes darker than usual as he stares down at you. “Right here? What if someone comes looking-”

“Colloportus,” he mutters, locking the doors with his wand. “There. We’ll hear if someone tries coming in.”

“And if somebody hears us?”

“Muffliato.” 

That’s enough for you. Especially when Draco’s looking as handsome as he does and when he has that grip on your waist. You know you’re in for a good quickie when he grabs you and whirls you around, forcing you down so that you’re bent over the table that they had just been sat at. 

His hand drifts between your legs where your school skirt has ridden up, exposing your soaked panties. He tuts as he kicks your legs apart with his foot, gliding his lanky fingers up your leg and towards your ass where he lands a harsh smack. You whimper, your hand clasping over your mouth. 

Draco reaches down and dives his hand between your legs, cupping your sex. He pushes your panties to the side and immediately comes into contact with your slick arousal. It coats his fingers and makes him smirk as he glides it between your folds and towards your clit where he rubs circles. When he notices how you’re muffling your moans with your hand, he lands a sharp slap to your clit that makes you jerk unexpectedly against him. 

“If I see you trying to keep quiet one more time then I won’t touch you,” Draco swore, returning to rubbing your clit when you peeled your hand away from your lips. “Good girl. I want to hear those pretty sounds you make.” 

You moan at a mixture of his words and the sensation rippling through your body, your arms stretching out in front of you and trying to grab hold of anything, but there was nothing for you to hold so you simply clawed at the table as Draco drops down onto his knees. 

He whirls you around so that you’re facing him, his face level with your pussy as he yanks your skirt up. He glides your panties down your legs and then thrusts one finger inside your hole, making your breath hitch. You throw your head back, you hands clinging to his bleach blond hair. As another finger slides in, both pumping in and out at a dangerously slow pace, Draco leans his head dow and starts to lick at your clit, looking up at you whilst he did it. 

You moan, bucking your hips. “Draco, please. Please, please. Fuck. Fuck!”

That’s right, Potter. He thinks. This is the closest you’ll ever get to seeing her like this. And it’s all because of me. 

Draco hums against you and wraps his mouth around your entire clit, sucking hard and licking at the same time. It throbs and feels like it’s going to explode, porn-worthy whimpers leaving you as you throw your legs up onto his shoulders, sitting further along the table as he laps up your juices eagerly. 

A third finger slides in and you groan at the stretching sensation as he fucks his fingers into you harder. Your hands move up to palm at your breasts, until Draco grabs your wrist. You huff at the loss of contact. He stands, licking his lip as he pulls his fingers out of you and holds them towards your lips. 

“Suck,” Draco demands and knowing Potter is watching, envying him and wishing that he was the one that had you at his will, makes him smirk harder. 

You respond eagerly, leaning forwards and taking his fingers into your mouth. You look up at him, eyes all wide and innocent that have Draco even harder in his trousers. He swears to Merlin that you’ll be the death of him as your tongue swirls around his digits, licking yourself off of him and cleaning him up. 

“Good fucking slut,” he grows. “Now on your knees. Where you belong.”

You respond quickly, dropping down like he had commanded you to. Without hesitation, you reach for the button and zipper of his trousers, undoing them both. You reach into his underwear and pull his cock out, wetting your lips at the sight. He’s as hard as ever, precum oozing out of the top as he grabs the base of it, smacking your lips with it. 

You half open your mouth, making a moaning sound as he smears it across your lips, leaving his precum behind. Your tongue darts out and you lick it up as he smacks your cheek with it. Your mouth opens wider, sticking your tongue out. Draco thrusts his hips slowly closer, his cock resting in your mouth as you take over, grabbing his shaft and jerking off anything that you couldn’t fit into your mouth. 

You suck in your cheeks as you bob on his dick, pulling off all of the way to then lick at his tip. Draco’s hand grips your hair like it’s a lifeline, small curses leaving his lips as you take him all the way back in. His tip hits the back of your throat, making your eyes water, but you keep him there for a few second, hearing his breathing grow short at the feeling until you pull him off of you, his cock now covered in your saliva. 

“Fuck, you’re so good,” Draco mutters, his fingers going beneath your chin and moving with you as you stand up. “And you’re all mine. Nobody else can have you.”

“Mhm,” you moan in agreement as he lays you across the table that you had been at before. “Don’t want anyone else.”

“Not even Potter?” He refers to the boy you’d dated briefly back in fourth year-- the same one that hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off of you since, even when you were wrapped under Draco’s arm two years later.  

“No, you,” you agree, “Just you. Only you, Draco.”

Draco places runs his tip up and down your folds before he presses it at your entrance, slowly gliding in. You both groan at the sensation. You’d throw your head back if you weren’t already being fucked on the hard surface of the table. Your hands grip the sides beside you, but it doesn’t stop your body jerking as Draco fucks into you hard. 

He’s being rough, clearly trying to prove a point as he watches your body wither beneath him from where he stands at the end of the table. He pushes your skirt back up when it falls down a little, and this time his thumb moves to your clit. Draco smirks when your back arches and you cry out. 

“Draco!” You nearly sob as he slams into you, your soaking heat making sounds that echo across the compartment. “Draco, Draco. Fuck me just like that.”

Draco groans at your words, rubbing your clit harder and slamming in and out of you like it’s his mission. Your walls clench around his cock and have him tilting his head back, a breathy moan leaving his lips as he doesn’t stop his assault on your nub. Everything feels so good-- you can already feel your orgasm coming, thanks to the foreplay earlier as well. 

“You’re so good for me,” Draco growls, glancing down and spitting on your pussy, even though you were already soaked. He rubs it in as he watches his cock drive in and out of your shaking form. “Such a good, pretty, little slut. But just for me.” 

“Just--” You squeeze your eyes shut when Draco hits a certain spot inside you, making you scream out. “Just for you, Draco.”

“Do you hear that Potter?” Draco booms with a laugh, but you don’t process what he’s said at first. “Do you see her? The way she comes undone for me. How she would let me do anything for her?”

You realise what he’s saying after a few seconds and several more powerful thrusts. Your eyes widen, realising that Harry must be snooping around in the compartment-- that was why Draco had been so tense after the small blackout. 

“Draco--”

Draco leans down and hisses against your ear, “Let’s put on a little show for him, shall we, princess?”

You cum. You scream out and throw your head back, the thought of Harry watching Draco fuck the life out of you guiltily filling you with adrenaline and power and even arousal. You claw at Draco’s blazer-covered back as you call out his name, walls clenching around his cock over and over. 

Finally, seconds later, you feel his hips stutter and one last powerful thrust before his cum begins to fill you, hot and fast. Your eyes flutter at the sensation, breathy whimpers leaving your lips as he pulls out of you and yanks your skirt back down whilst you sit up. 

“Petrificus Totalus!” He grabs his wand and shoots the spell at the storage shelves above you. 

You gasp when you hear a thump. You bend down on your knees and pull up the invisibility cloak that Harry had, revealing the boy himself-- paralysed, of course. Draco grabs you and pulls you back, a smirk on his face. 

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you it was rude to eavesdrop, Potter?” Draco spits, grabbing his bag with the hand that isn’t holding you wrist. “Oh, that’s right, she was dead before you could wipe the drool off your chin.”

Harry’s seemingly-lifeless eyes just stare back up at the two of you and you gasp when Draco drives his foot down onto Harry’s face, an audible cracking noise filling the compartment. Blood immediately dribbles down his face as Draco releases you to grab the cloak back off the ground. 

“That’s for my father. And stop fucking staring at my girlfriend. I think it might be obvious to you who she prefers now.” He throws the cloak back over Harry, making him invisible again. “Enjoy your ride back to London.”

Draco grabs your hand again and his briefcase and leads you away again, fully satisfied that Potter had learnt his lesson. 

[lowkeyaesthvtic]

Evil Karma - Chapter 12

Chapter 1 - Chapter 11

Word Count: 2,180

Summary: Harry, Sofi, and Gil hunt down the beast. Basically the solo Harry Hook scene from D2 with some EXTRA EXTRA gay thrown in because why not?

Pairings: Harry Hook x OC, mentions of Jay x Carlos, mention of former!Harry x Carlos, mention of Harry x OC x Uma, oh and a Harry x Gil kiss because why not

Rating: T for language, threats of violence, and a whole lot of sexual tension

Warnings: Language, threats of violence, whole lot of sexual tension and some possible innuendos if you squint??

Tags: @descendantofthesparrow​ @hookedradge​ @batmanwearsabowtie​ @newtshairdryer​ @amityravenclawelf​ 

Author’s Note: Tumblr’s formatting is so weird and won’t let me indent my paragraphs and it’s kinda driving me crazy.

It didn’t take Gil and I very long to get to Harry. The two of us walked through the bazaar, Gil’s fire still roaring high and my hand ready on my dagger in case someone wanted to cause some unwanted trouble. We finally found him twiddling with his hook and taking a swig from his flask as he stood outside of Shenzi’s Hyena Pub. “Getting tipsy before a hunt, huh? Bad idea, Hooky.” I spoke flirtatiously as we finally came close enough for me to snake my arms around his neck.

Harry plants a quick, fiery kiss on my lips as he responds. “All of my ideas are bad, duckling, that’s what makes them so good.” He smirked as he leaned in to take the kiss further. As tempting as his lips seemed to mine, I put my finger gently on top of them to keep him from deepening his touch. 

“Not here, Harry.”

“Why not? We’ve got plenty of time to catch our beast, it’s not like Uma gave us a deadline, right?” His lustful gaze bore deep into my chest, but that gaze was changed to a look of realization as Gil tapped his shoulder, waving excitedly when Harry made eye contact with him. “Oh, that’s why not.”

“Hey, Harry! I’m helping you guys take Ben, isn’t that awesome?” Gil beamed, his disposition faintly switching back and forth between sweet and an angry fire. Harry turned me to the side and lowered his voice as he spoke.

“Since when was Gil a part of this? Did Uma say it was okay?” Harry was a combination of confused and a tad bit paranoid. His free hand gripped onto the arch of his hook, seeming worried that Uma would punish us for letting someone into this special plan of ours. 

“Why wouldn’t he be? I mean, you’re strong, Harry, but Gil has the strength to drape you over his shoulder in seconds. Imagine the damage he could do to Ben before Uma ties him up. It’s fitting. The son of Gaston finally hunting down the little legacy of the Beast that made both his and his father’s life miserable. Besides, Gil was third in command before I got here. I think he should stay there.” I looked to Gil as we spoke, watching as he smiled back at me.

“Wouldn’t that knock you down a peg, duckling?”

“Not necessarily. Two people can share a certain amount of power.” I leaned in extra close to his ear, lowering my voice to a husky whisper. “Happens in the bedroom all the time, right, Hooky?” His breath makes a tiny hitch as I take a small, gentle nibble on his earlobe before backing away. Harry smiles before wrapping his arm around Gil and playfully dragging him across the trash-infested streets of the Isle. 

Not long after our walk began, we found a familiar looking crowd standing down at the end of the street, with one boy in particular trailing just a bit too far behind. “Huh, that hut at the end of the street looks like Mal’s old place..” Gil pointed at the straying group of kids. Harry quickly knocked his hand down, careful not to draw too much attention to ourselves. 

“That is Mal’s old place. And it looks like our prey is falling a bit far behind the pack.” Harry replied. I snickered as I noticed Ben’s naive dancing along the shoulders of the street. Honestly, I’m surprised that he’s lasted this long. But the time for roaming the Isle is long gone for this royal bastard. 

“Gil, you should get him now while he’s behind. That way we don’t have to worry about fighting off the entourage.” When I turned my head to gesture Gil towards the baby Beast, his demeanor seemed nervous, unsure. “Gil, what are you waiting for? Go get him, knock him out and bring him to the lower deck of the ship so Uma can tie him up!”

Gil stood still. Frozen and almost dumbfounded by the sight of his greatest enemy standing so close in his sights. “I...I don’t know, Sofi. Maybe I’m not cut out for this after all.” He mumbled, stepping back behind Harry.

“What the fuck are you talking about, not cut out for it? Just a few minutes ago, you were yelling at me with fire in your eyes about how you wanted to be included in things like this!” I gritted my teeth, wanting to yell the boy into shape but not wanting to scare off the Beast.

“I know..and I do. But I just, I’m not very good at hurting people. I don’t..I don’t really know how to do it.” Gil began to stumble on his words as his nervousness grew and grew. Was he really having second thoughts about this when he was so close? Harry grabbed Gil by his shoulders and pulled the blonde closer to him, mere inches separating their faces as their chests touched.

“Gil, sunshine, listen to me. You see that son of a bitch over there?” He asked, pointing to Ben, who didn’t seem to suspect a thing. “That boy’s father had your father nearly killed by pushing him off a cliff. That boy’s father created this hellhole Isle and had you, me, Uma and all the rest of us trapped here without even giving us a chance! Do you think he deserves to walk away from that unscathed?” Gil shook his head, slowly understand Harry’s words but more encaptured by their closeness.

“I mean...I guess hurting Ben would be hurting his dad too, right?”

“Exactly, Gil! That asshole over there made you, your father, and your crew’s life miserable from the jump. I know that pisses you off. So why don’t you get over there and beat him so black and blue his parents won’t recognize him?” Before Gil is able to playfully shout in agreement, Harry grabs Gil by his face and crashes their lips together. My eyes widen at the suddenness of it all, but from Gil’s brightened eyes and motivated smile, I could tell he wasn’t complaining. After the quick collision of their lips had subsided, Gil hastily and quietly ran to hunt his Beast. Waiting for our cue to pass Uma’s message, I look to Harry in a bit of a shock.

“Harry, what was that?” I ask, a small laugh of confusion escaping from my mouth.

“A bit of motivation. Some good luck for our brave soldier.” He joked, shrugging it off as if it was something he had done before. Was it something he had done before? Did Uma know about this? It then dawned on me the main reason Harry kissed Gil, and the main reason it worked so well.

“You know about his crush on you, don’t you?”

“Oh definitely, duckling. He makes it very obvious. Uma and I thought about letting him into the relationship at one point, but he’s just not into Uma like that. Why be with the both of us if you only have feelings for one, yeah?” I shrugged in response. It seemed so simple yet so complicated at the same time. It made sense, but yet so many questions popped into my mind.

“So, do the two of you have something going or are you just some lip service to each other?” Harry chuckled at the pun, not caring much whether or not it was intended. “Seriously. I’m sure Uma and I would like to know if you’re hooking up with someone that isn’t us.”

“He thinks of my kisses like little good luck charms. Nothing more. He told me so himself. Although, I would be lying if I told you I had never hooked up with him before. But it was long before Uma and I became an official item.” As I watched Gil carry an unconscious Ben over his shoulder and away from the entourage, I began my slow walk towards Mal’s home.

“You’ve got quite the body count, don’t you, Hooky?”

“What can I say, duckling? He’s very tender. Tender and gentle. I love taking the gentle ones and making them scream my name.” His luscious words tempted me, but we had a job to focus on. I would deal with my urges later.

“You better hope Uma doesn’t hear you saying that. The only name she wants screamed is hers.” Harry was about to spit out a response when we hear a soft, fair voice calling out Ben’s name. Harry and I were still relatively far back in the shadows. I stayed towards the back as Harry walked in front of me. His silhouette must have looked similar to the King’s because Evie still believed the shadow belonged to the royal Beast.

“Ben! Ben…don’t scare us like that.” With Evie’s words and sighs of relief from the boys around her, Harry and I emerged from the shadows and stood side by side, leaving them in shock.

“Don’t scare you? That’s my speciality.” Harry teased as I gave a conniving, quiet laugh from the side. 

“Harry…” Evie whispered in disbelief. Did she really think that someone like Ben could walk through the Isle and have nothing happen to him? Whether we had a plan or not, there are plenty of people on the Isle who would hate Ben enough to snatch him. It just so happened to be us this time around.

“What did you do with Ben?” Jay asked, seeming tempted to take a step up towards us. 

“Oh, uh, we nicked him.” Harry replied simply and nonchalantly, a small smile reminding him of our victorious mischief. I chuckled in response, remembering Gil’s smile as he walked past us with Ben passed out and draped over his shoulder.

“Like candy from a baby.” I taunted, peering into every pair of eyes I could find in front of me.

“And if you ever want to see him again, have Mal come to the Chip Shoppe tonight. Alone.” He glared as he let his finger roam to Evie, then Jay, then Carlos. “Uma wants a little visit.” He side eyed towards me, excited for what was in store for us.

“No weapons, either.” 

“Weapons? Why would Mal need to worry about weapons?” Evie asked.

“Aw, Evie darling, seems like you’ve been in Auradon a bit too long, haven’t you?” Harry taunted, eyeing her up and down like a piece of meat.

“I saw Mal at Curl Up and Dye not too long ago. The blushing Queen to be had a knife in her back pocket. If she even tries to think about pulling something on Uma…” I let my fingers trace on the arch of Harry’s hook, wandering until they decided to grip the middle. “She’ll get hooked right where she stands.” I’m slightly taken aback as Carlos takes a confronting step in front of Jay and Evie, attempting to defend them.

“Why are you even a part of this? There’s no way you grew up on the Isle.” Carlos bit back aggressively. Given his small stature and some juicy bits of information I had learned about him from Harry, it was nearly impossible to take his defense seriously. I let an evil, mocking laugh roar from my chest as I looked over to Harry, pretending to be frightened.

“Well, well! Looks like Doggy Boy over here has got some brains after all. I had no idea someone so small could have so much bark in them, did you, Harry?” He tsked and shook his head as he eyed his old flame up and down.

“Oh, I know about his bark, duckling. But his biggest weakness is one..little..bite.” Harry lowered his voice to an alluring growl as he yipped directly to Carlos’ face. Jay immediately pushed his boyfriend behind him, ready to fight Harry by any means necessary. But, to his dismay, Evie held him back. “Aw, Jay...it seems like you’ve lost your touch. First you let your bike get snatched up, now it seems you can’t even keep your boyfriend from being stolen. It’s a good thing we’re not interested in him, ain’t it, Sofi?”

I chuckled as I eyed the flustered and angry kids in front of us. “Damn straight, it is. Seriously, Doggy Boy, you’re gonna go from someone like Harry..to someone like Jay? Talk about a major downgrade.” Evie continued to hold the two boys back behind her as she stepped forward and looked at me. There wasn’t any kind of glare or sneer. Quite frankly, she didn’t even look afraid. It seemed that all she wanted to do was take in the girl in front of her: me. 

“Who are you? We saw you at Yzma’s egg stand. You could’ve killed Ben right then and there. Why didn’t you?” She asked, attempting to scare the truth out of me using interrogation. However, her skills weren’t that strong.

“Oh, Evie. That’s for me to know and for you to find out later. Ciao.” I gave a small wave as I locked my fingers into Harry’s hand and walked away from the entourage.

[hpdabbles]

How to Break a Timeline Part 2

Being married to Harry was nothing like he expected marriage to be. Granted as a Black, Regulus knew his definition of marriage wasn’t the same as common folk. Most of the marriages in his family were of convenience rather than love (like his parents) but a few did bloom from emotions such as Cousin Narcissa to Malfoy last summer. 

Still, he didn’t think one’s husband should be this determined to make him a widower not ever three days since the ink dried on their marriage certificate. 

“Harry are you sure we have to do this?” Regulus asks wearily standing before Gringotts. His husband, now properly dressed in fine robes, smiled at him bashfully.  If he hadn’t been wearing that same expression when the taller male had to force the muggle-raised fool into changing his outfits then Regulus would have thought him harmless.

“We need to the cup,” Harry says looping his arm into the curve of Regulus’ own and then quickly planting a peck on his cheek not the bit shy about public display of affection. He took this chance to whisper in his ear  “Don’t worry. I can get us past the dragon. We’ll be fine.”

Oh yes, lets rob Gringotts. Nothing will go wrong. It’s all in the name of stopping the Dark Lord Regulus felt like throwing up. 

Around them, people were gaping at the couple who seem to be whispering sweet nothings to each other-er well one look ecstatic and the other anxious. This is the first time they’ve seen the couple but they been the talk of the British Wizardly world for the past two days.

Everyone is aware that the Black Heir had been recently been proclaim as Black Family Head. 

This change was noted at the last Wizengamot, where Orion’s name had replaced by Regulus’ mid-meeting. This wouldn’t be such a big deal but seeing as his father has not yet died the only way for him to inherit the Black Seat was if he got married. 

Which he did. He just didn’t tell anyone when or whom he married. This was a scandal in and of itself but with the war going on the public needed something to focus on, anything to take their minds off the death and terror.  

Thus, the shotgun marriage has been fully blown out of proportion.

Merlin, Regulus didn’t want to think about his father’s reaction. The man had been sitting in the chair when the inscription change right above his head. His son had gotten married and he wasn’t present for it, he was just as confused as everyone else.

 The reason he hasn’t been sent a howler is that Harry’s tent is charmed with so much protection charms, wards and muggle booby traps it was nearly as protected as Regulus’ ancestral home. 

“Let’s go,” Harry said, with such determination it sounded as if he was stepping into battle. They kind of were and he wondered not for the first time why his life turned out like this. 

It’s only been three days!

Leading the two into the bank, Regulus wondered if he was aware of the reporter following them, her eyes gleaming with greed. Probably not. Harry isn’t from the world of aristocrats, he wasn’t worried about how his behavior would reflect on his family name so he didn’t keep an eye on his surroundings at all times.

(Regulus had learned to behave from a young age not allowing himself to be distracted in public. One could get kidnapped, or someone could take his words/actions out of content and risk the standing of the Blacks)

“Excuse me, Lord Black” The reporter called her voice carrying over the chatter of the bank.  Harry’s steps wavered, turning his head in her direction which was his first mistake. He practically gave her permission to speak to them. 

She jumped on the opportunity like a Niffer on gold. “I was wondering if I could ask a few questions.”

“Actually we don’t have time-”  His husband started

“Just a few questions. Won’t take too long.” She spoke over Harry, snapping her fingers. A Quick-Quote-Quill rose into the air on her parchment, ready to do its job. Harry eyed the quill with great dismay as if though he feared it. 

Regulus didn’t know why but he wasn’t about to let this woman bully his savior. For all of Harry’s oddness, and great lack of self-preservation he was a decent person and kind. Besides, the man was his husband now which meant he was in the House of Black, and no one attacked the House of Black. 

“No.” He steps in front of the shorter male effectively blocking him from view. “We are needed elsewhere and do not have time for questions.”

His gaze flickered to the Quill that was quickly writing, his eyes narrowing  “I will, of course, be confiscating what you have written about us as we did not give permission for you to cover us. We would not want to bring our lawyer into this would we?”

The woman’s lips pressed together. “Of course not Lord Black, of course not.” 

She handed them the piece of parchment and he promptly tore it in half, twisting on his heel to take the gapping Harry to a teller. He pretended not to notice the rest of the lobby that was staring at him, only half aware of a hand holding onto his arm.  

“That was cool” Harry whispered sounding slightly awe.  “That was really cool”

Regulus felt smug that he made this impossible man feel impressed by him....for a total of thirty minutes. Seeing as his husband managed to not only find but break the Hufflepuff cup by hissing at the dragon guarding the vault. The goblin had left them alone upon Regulus' request, under the guidance of showing his new partner the family vaults. 

As soon as the creature had left Harry snuck out to find what he was looking for. He came across the dragon who the Black thought was about to eat them alive until Harry started hissing and the thing had calm, letting them pass without so much as a twitch.

“You speak to dragons?!” He demands inside of Cousin Bellatrix’s vault.  

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Harry says watching the cup scream as it burned with a classless wave of his hand as if dismissing all of the worries away. 

“I’m being ridiculous!?” Regulus repeats almost hysterical. “You speak to dragons! When were you thinking of telling me this!?”

Harry put out the spellfire and kicked the no useless metal away. “I wasn’t trying to hide it you know. Besides, I don’t speak to dragons, I speak to snakes which are close enough to get my point across.”

“You’re a Parselmouth?!”

Harry’s green eyes gleam in the shine of gold around them  “Is that a problem?”

Regulus thinks this man is going to make his heart stop early from stress but he managed to get his breathing under control only now realizing it was running wild. He’s going to lose his mind before the month was up he knew it. 

 “Of course not, I just rather know these things before you do them. It would be helpful to be included in whatever hair brain ideas you develop. Not go through these dramatic means, I could have gotten us into this vault without having to chance a dragon understanding what your point is!” he snaps

Harry blinks  “You could have? How?”

“Cousin Bellatrix isn’t married yet. She’s still a Black and by law, all Black vaults are within my right to enter as the Head.” Regulus huffs, then seeing the naked confusion on Harry’s face he sighs  “Do you not know anything about wizarding culture?”

“Not really.”

Regulus stares. Is...Is Harry a Mudblood? It would make sense of everyhting he’s learn about him but he’s too powerful to be a magic stealer...wasn’t he?

________________________________________________________________ 

The ride back to the front was a silent, Harry not one to make too much noise unless adress or in his friends presence and Regulus absentmindly carelessly the spot where the Dark Mark used to be. 

He hadn’t spoken since Harry admitted to not being well informed of the wizarding world as he should be. (The fact there were laws stopping people from reporting on him was one of them. If only he had known this back in fourth year.) 

He never knew silence could be this loud.

Harry wondered what was going on in his husband’s head. For the last three days, he’s been actively trying to remind himself that he went and done it. He’s gotten hitched without his friends or family. To a man, he barely knows, in a time where he doesn’t exist and while trying to take down Riddle all over again. 

What would Ron say if he saw him now?

Sighing Harry, tried to push that thought away because he’ll start to cry and he can’t afford that right now. 

Instead, he thinks about what Regulus said. Indeed, Harry hadn’t told him everything he planned on doing to beat Riddle once and for all, but that’s because he wasn’t overly sure he could. 

Yes, he trusted the other didn’t want to be a Death Eater anymore and had even gone through the very very painful Dark Mark removal but was that enough to spill everything that could end this war? No. 

On the other hand, if he had been aware Regulus could have gotten to the cup without a single problem. It made sense now why the curse that turns everything red hot hadn’t triggered this time around, the spell was meant to act against those that did not have permission to be there, and apparently, his new husband did have it. 

Would it be easier if he included him more in the plans? This is Regulus' time, he knows more about what to do, who to avoid and apparently knew his laws well enough to aid him. Plus, he is smart, maybe on par with Hermione and Harry knew he couldn’t have beaten old Voldy alone the last time. 

They climbed out of the cart, Regulus’ back straight and slightly tense in front of him. They were the same age right now, with Harry being only three months older (if one didn’t count the time travel) but the other beat him in hight. Not by much, maybe only a few inches at the most, but still make it hard to see over his shoulder. This is the first time he walks in front of Harry instead of beside him, and it makes his stomach twist with anxious uncertainty.

Harry thinks he’s upset about not being told of the plan still, and while logically he knows its a sound move, the green eye time traveler hates that he’s disappointed him. He’s always hated letting people down. 

Dumbledore made sure of that.

“Um, Regulus-”

“Well, well, well, fancy running into you here.” A voice cuts whatever he was going to say. Before him Regulus’ tense back coils further. “Heard you got yourself married, Reggie. Does Sirius know?”

“My brother has nothing to do with me, Potter.”  Regulus answers and Harry feels his breathing stop. Walking around his husband, he’s is meet with a man who looks nearly exactly like him.  

He comes face to face with James Potter.  Said Potter looks anything but friendly despite the smile curved on his lips. For a second, the green-eyed youth thinks about the James of Snape’s memories and realizes its that version of his father standing before him.

James’ hazel eyes were sharp, taking him in with nearly as much interest as Harry.

“Oh erm, hello,” Harry says awkwardly, heart-squeezing in his chest painfully. “I’m Harry-um-that is-I’m Harry Black. Pleasure.”

James doesn’t take the hand he holds out instead he runs his eyes up and down Harry before smirking. 

“Couldn’t take my rejection of your boyhood crush so you found someone who looks like me instead Reggie? Now, that’s just sad.”

Regulus face turns dark. Taking Harry’s hand he attempts to move around the older man. “Don’t flatter yourself, Potter. That was a boyhood mistake at most. If you excuse us, we have other places we need to be.”

“Is he pregnant?” James asks side-stepping into their path seemingly unwilling to let them go without saying his full piece.  “Tsk Tsk. One would expect a member of the pure and Slytherin House of Black to be more careful. Then again, rumors had it you were desperate enough to not care-”

Harry heard enough. He’s temper has never been the easiest to handle but his father- who he’s starting to see less and less as the lost dream of an orphan and more of an ass- just had to get and test his limits. He’s aware male wizards can produce offspring but it’s a rare and nearly impossible feat, not nearly as being a Parselmouth but close enough.  

There were enough times, however, that wizards did get accidentally pregnant to warn their children about. 

Ron had been the first one to realize Harry wasn’t aware of this fact and had dragged his best friend to a very awkward conversation with Arthur Weasley sometime around third year. 

His best friend knew due to Harry’s upbringing, this part of the magical world was a little out there for him to handle and hated when others presume he was the one to carry for those same reasons.  

Said best friend wasn’t here to realize Harry’s temper had snapped and thus couldn’t hold him back either. Which meant Harry was able to react without someone stopping him.

James stumbled back in shock and pain as Harry’s fist collided with his nose, his knuckles crushing the bone. “Shut your whore mouth! Don’t talk to Regulus like that!”

Before the other Potter could react, Harry had grabbed a stun Regulus and pushed him into the lobby. Thanks to the fact James had found them on the way to the carts the only people who had seen him punch the Potter Heir was the goblins who couldn’t care less.

Harry only slowed down long enough to thank the goblins- earning him some odd looks- and soon had them stream rolling out of the bank. In a second he’s  Apparition them back to his outer side of his tent.

Just as what he’s done was starting to catch up with him- He punched his dad! He cursed at him! He’s dad, who has been dead up until now and what does Harry do? Attack him!- Regulus lets out a wheezed laugh.

Harry turns around, eyes widening as the Black continues to laugh and laugh, eventually, his chuckles climbing in volume until he’s all but roaring.

This may be the first time I’ve ever heard him laugh Harry thinks slightly daze. A small blush crept onto his head and the beginning of something warm and fuzzy was being planted into his heart.

“Harry, that, was the best thing I’ve ever seen,” Regulus gasps when he finally able to control his chuckles to an appropriate level. “Merlin, you are by far the oddest wizard I have ever meet.”

Harry doesn’t know if that a compliment or not and chooses not to acknowledge it. “You had feelings for that ass?”

“Yes, though I regret it now” Regulus grimace his mood souring.  “He is best friends with my idiot older brother. When I was a boy I was unable to see how dislikeable he was. I feel great shame for my younger self.” 

Harry smiled  “We all make mistakes.”

“Yes. Some more than others.”  

Oh? There is a story there.  “I reckon he wasn’t the only one you regret having feelings for?”

“Don’t we all?” Regulus rolls his eyes.  “Snape wasn’t someone who enjoyed my misguided affection either-” 

Cutting himself off his husband seemed to be aware of how loose his tongue had become and instead snapped his mouth shut. He suddenly looked terrified, the panic in his eyes clear as day, studying Harry with horror. 

Harry had no idea why. Yes, Regulus could do so much better Severus Snape and gag, the man was his professor, but there wasn’t enough of a reason to look that scared of Harry’s opinion.

“I assure you my interest in the Half-blood were purely lust,” Regulus says suddenly.  “I wouldn’t lower the House of Black to impurity with actually flowery affections for someone who’s only half worthy.”

Oh. Oh.

Half worthy? Of course, Regulus had been a Death Eater, and unlike Draco, no one forced him to join now did they? 

All humor fell from Harry’s face. To think he was starting to like the guy to, to think he was considering letting him into more of the plan. The seed in his heart was crushed before it could bloom just as quickly as it had been planted from a laugh. 

 “You disgust me.” He spat turning on his heel, he made for the kitchen wishing there was a door for him to slam as childish as that was. 

“What?”

“Just so you know, the House of Black has lost its purity. I’m a Half-blood. I hope I’m worthy enough to have saved your life and marry you.”  

Silence rang behind him and Harry wished Ron was here all that more. His best mate would know what to do about the burning of his eyes and the pain in his chest. 

But he would never see Ron again, would he? Maybe a younger version of him but never his first and best friend. 

For the first time, he wished he hadn't broken the timeline

[virgilantejustice]

Neckties

I just wanted to write Remus and Roman being bros, idk. (Remrom slippers dni)

Word count: ~800

Ships: none!

T/Ws: arguing/shouting, logan is mean but he was just angry (i didnt write him as unsympathetic in any way), tell me if i mised any

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

They were arguing.

Again.

Roman and Logan stood opposite each other, apparently trying to see who could shout the loudest. And, honestly, when they were like that no one dared to step in.

"We have to go! We could meet our prince charming!"

"Why is everything about romance with you?!"

"Because it's the next step to our happily ever after Cruel-ela De Vile!"

"Guys, maybe we should calm dow-"

"Are you purposefully so cliche or is it a sad consequence of your complete and total lack of originality!?!"

The shouting stopped. Roman's jaw went slack. Logan swallowed.

"Um," Patton didn't say any more.

"Well," Virgil was white.

"Guys-"

Roman cut Thomas off with a single raised hand. He stared Logan down, his eyes wide and his lips parted, looking half shocked and half, half /lost. Logan met his gaze, licking his lips nervously but keeping his posture rigid and reserved until Roman sank out.

Roman stood in the middle of his room, his fist shaking and white by his sides.

"How dare he!" he muttered through clenched teeth. Walking over to the board covered with ideas, scribbled down and pinned to the corkboard that you couldn't see anymore. /Good ideas! "How dare he. How- how dare he?" Good ideas?

He reached up a hand and plucked one off. It was a story he had been meaning to write. He swayed slightly as he read it. The idea was a little like a fairytale.

Fairytales. So cliche.

He screwed up the idea and threw it aside, missing the bin entirely.

Another soon followed, it was okay at best.

Then another also landed on the floor somewhat near the bin. It must have been a slow day when he had written that one.

And another. Too immature.

And another. Too rushed.

And another. Too cliche.

He took another and another and another off of the board until the board stared back at him, glaringly empty. Emptier than it had ever been. Only one little bit of card was still pinned, right in the center.

'By the screams of snipped snakes in a gorgon salon.'

"Stupid! Such a stupid line," Roman murmured, running his thumb over the glittery ink. That card joined all of the others, just next to the bin.

He said down onto his bed. His eyes were slightly narrowed, the tears welling up not quite enough to make him cry, but enough to let a half-hearted sob escape his lips.

"Whatever ails you my dearest brother?" Remus crowed, rising up suddenly in Roman's room.

Roman didn't jump.

Remus frowned and sat next to him, his face screwed up in a manner that he evidently thought was either comforting or questioning.

It took Roman a while to comprehend the question, the words echoing through some kind of plastic sheet between his ears and his brain. "Your boyfriend is a-" he gasped, another half-sob? God! He couldn't even cry properly!

Remus gagged. "Boyfriend?! Don't be lewd!"

Roman didn't smile. He just continued to look vaguely shocked.

"Want me to kill him?" Remus asked earnestly.

"No!" Roman got to his feet, his voice finally at least slightly emotive. "No, I don't want that." He began to pace. "I want…. I…."

"You want Deceit to kill him?" Remus asked, tilting his head to the side and crinkling his nose even further with a sort-of-puzzled frown. "That might be a little trickier-"

"No! I don't want him dead," Roman said, massaging his temples. "He's…." Roman stopped pacing for a moment, the shocked look yet again casting a shadow over his face. "He's important."

Remus narrowed his eyes for a second, like he was going to say something. Then a smile and a slightly terrifying glint appeared on his face. "Ah! Gotcha!"

"No! Remus wait!" Roman said slightly frantically, reaching out a hand towards his brother.

Remus didn't wait. He sunk out with a giggle that would echo around Roman's head for the next hour, along with his own, never-ceasing footsteps.

-

Remus rose up behind Roman, making him scream that high pitched scream that was like music to Remus's ears. "Done!" He declared, dusting off his hands.

Desperately trying to slow his breathing, Roman turned to his brother with a hand on his chest and narrowed eyes. "What did you do?" he cautioned.

"Um…."

"Remus!" A high pitched shriek rang through the mindscape, and the side in question tried (and miserably failed) to hide a grin so mischievous it would put a pixie to shame.

"Well…." he said in mock pensiveness, just voice tight with laughter that was brimming in his throat.

Roman narrowed his eyes, slightly, well, concerned. "Remus?"

"My neckties!"

"I miiiight have set them on fire."

Remus cackled. And Roman didn't smile. Not one bit.

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

Taglist (tell me jf you want to be added or removed): @celeste-tyrrell @uwillbeefoundtonight @hopeoncelivedhere @stop-it-anxiety @soakinforsif @combine-the-kitchens @randomavengersquotes

[toumakibangs]

Paper Doors

Prompt: "Things you said that I wasn’t meant to hear”, loosely interpreted.

Mod’s Note: Happy Sunday, readers, and THANK YOU @grimelius for this entry! You definitely put our boys in front of a big struggle - ugh, the feels!

Please, everyone, go read this lovely work and let the author know how much it’s appreciated! ;A;

Makishima stood cautiously outside the closed kitchen door and tried not to make a sound as he listened to the unhappy voices that bled around the edges and into the hall. This was ridiculous. Makishima was typically not the kind of person who approved of listening at closed doors but this time was an exception.

Earlier that day, Toudou and Makishima had come down to Hakone to visit for a few days and finally tell Toudou’s family what all their friends and Makishima’s family already knew; that the two of them were in a committed relationship and had been for the last three years ever since Makishima had returned to Japan.

Makishima had been nervous about how Toudou’s parents who were very traditional would take the news but according to Toudou he’d already told his parents in college that he wasn’t interested in girls and that he planned on dating guys. And to his surprise and relief the conversation went well, Toudou’s parents were calm and respectful and everything looked like it was going to be fine, if not slightly awkward for a while but it could have been much worse.

After dinner Makishima and Toudou were planning on going for a walk when his older sister, Hana stopped them in the tiny entranceway.

“Jinpachi, Mom and Dad want to talk to you in the kitchen. Right now,” she added when Toudou started to protest.

“What do they want?” Toudou grumbled and took his jacket back off. We were about to go on a walk.”

“Tough, you’ll have to go afterward,” she replied.

Toudou sighed. “Fine. Come on Maki-chan lets-”

“No. Not him. Just you,” Hana explained.

“Why?” Toudou asked, instantly suspicious and he glared at his sister.

“Mom and Dad want to talk to us privately. No offense Makishima,” she apologized.

“What do they want to talk about?” Makishima asked cautiously.

Hana looked at them both sadly. “Just some family stuff. Now come on,” she headed back down the hall towards the kitchen. “The faster you get in there, the faster it will be over.”

“It’s fine. It’ll be fine,” said Toudou and he handed Makishima his jacket. “Can you wait back in the room? I’ll come get find you when we’re done okay?”

Makishima wanted to protest but he could see how unhappy his boyfriend looked and didn’t want to make the situation worse. So he agreed and begrudgingly went back to the front room to wait.

It was miserable. He tried to distract himself with his phone, checking some emails and the news and when that didn’t distract him enough, he grabbed one the fashion magazines he’d brought and started to read.

Then he heard yelling.

Jinpachi’s voice yelling.

He tensed up and for a moment, he tried not to listen but there was no way he could shut it out. He heard more raised voices but couldn’t tell who it was. His sister? His mother? Then a man, probably his father yelling back at them. Then Jinpachi again.

The voices died away and Makishima tried not to panic. The Toudous were a loud family and they loved to bicker, tease and argue amongst themselves. More than once Makishima had witnessed what started as a fight end up with everyone in the room howling with laughter so volume was not an indication of anything bad happening.

Then a loud crashing noise echoed all the way down the hall and even louder yelling and that was the final straw. Makishima couldn’t stand it. He had to know what was going on. He would apologize later, a million times over if necessary but he wasn’t going to leave Jinpachi alone to be yelled at by his entire family.

He crept down the hallway back to the kitchen area and huddled around the corner from the door. The paper door had been replaced a long time ago with something more modern but still, it was a sliding door and the sound bled around the top and bottom, creeping out to where Makishima stood, trying not to breathe and listening as hard as he could.

It was hard to discern words from sounds but he could still hear bits and pieces of the conversation.

…please…

…calm dow……can’t handle…

…not fair…Nana didn’t…

…..please sit down…

…what… you want us to do?…

..soon…

…think it would be best… if you both left…tomorrow…for…

.

.

.

…ok…

Makishima froze where he stood, a nauseating feeling of dread spreading through his body. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t have heard. What was he thinking? As quickly and quietly as he could, he slunk back down the hall and into the front room.

This was wrong. It was not supposed to be like this. Everything had been fine four hours earlier so what had changed? Makishima lay down onto the old tatami mats and tried to calm himself by taking deep breaths and staring up at the patterns in the old wood ceiling above him. The best thing to do for now was wait. 

Slowly, the minutes passed, then 30 and then an hour and Toudou didn’t return. The sky turned dark outside the tiny window and the sound of cicadas and crickets filled the room. Makishima didn’t get up to turn on the light and the room went from gold, to purple to grey and finally dark, the only light coming in from the hallway through the paper doors.

Something must have happened.

He couldn’t stand it anymore. He got up again and walked down the hallway, back to the kitchen but as he got closer, his pace increased. The door was open, the kitchen lights were all off and the room was empty. Makishima looked around frantically, trying to see if any doors or rooms were open, but besides the lit hallway, everything was quiet and no one was around.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and texted ‘Where are you?’ and in the silent hall, he heard a faint ping come from behind him. He rushed back to the front room and found Toudou’s cell phone peeking out of the jacket that Makishima had put on the floor. His wallet and keys were in there too.

He headed back to the entranceway of living quarters and flipped on the lights, scanning the pairs of shoes all lined up on the floor and yes, Toudou’s shoes were gone. He had put them right next to Makishima’s earlier after teasing him about what kind of person who would buy purples plaid shoes.

It meant one thing. Jinpachi was gone.

It was- Makishima glanced at his phone- 10:34 at night and he had no idea where his boyfriend was and no way to contact him.

Makishima sunk down in the entranceway and tried to clear his head. Toudou had left without telling him where he was going. He’d left without taking his cell phone or jacket. And it was late and dark out. On the other hand, Toudou knew Hakone better than anyone. He’d biked every road and hiked every trail, there was no way he was lost or didn’t know exactly what he was doing.

Makishima sighed miserably. The unspoken plea for space could be heard a mile away and he decided to honor it, no matter how difficult it was.

So he returned to the room, got ready for bed and crawled into his futon, hoping that any moment Toudou would walk in the door. But he didn’t and Makishima was left alone in the dark with his anxiety and guilt bubbling up until he could barely stand it.

He loved Jinpachi, loved him more than he thought he could ever love anyone in his life. But he would not be the reason for him getting kicked out of his house and turned away by his parents. No matter what.

____

The next morning, Makishima woke to the sound of Toudou telling him to get up or there wouldn’t be any breakfast left. He jolted awake and looked around frantically. Toudou was already dressed and putting his futon away.

“Come on Maki-chan! It’s going to be a crazy day so hurry and get dressed,” he called over his shoulder as he left and Makishima was so relieved that Toudou was here and not lost somewhere up a mountain that he didn’t immediately insist that they talk about what he’d overheard the night before.

He regretted it later because Toudou’s words turned out to be true. The instant Makishima stepped out the door, he walked strait into chaos. It was Sunday so the almost all the guests were leaving and a whole new set would come in later in the afternoon. ToudouAn was in a well-practiced uproar as it cleaned itself out and reset for the next week.

Makishima managed a quick breakfast and spent the rest of the morning in a rush, assisting the ToudouAn staff with whatever he could, busing and cleaning the guest eating area, helping storing luggage for guests and finally babysitting Toudou’s niece and nephews until someone far more qualified to watch children could be found. The finale was a snake crawling through the sliding back door into the kitchen. The few staff that were present took off yelling for help and Makishima who didn’t mind snakes rescued the poor animal and released it outside.

Makishima was happy to help around the inn in return for free room and board but really, catching snakes was a bit much.

Toudou on the other hand was in his element, he moved though the whirlwinds like the eye of a storm, fixing whatever issue came up or soothing whatever guest came to him with a complaint. Every time Makishima saw him, he was helping someone or charming somebody, and talking to all the employees and accepting their greeting and compliments and how much they all missed him and hadn’t it been too long since he’d been back to visit?

Makishima saw all of this and the anxiety and guilt from last night continued to build. Usually he was happy to swallow his anxiety and words and leave things alone but this time he couldn’t. He needed to talk to Toudou, preferably somewhere where no one would interrupt or overhear them. The irony was not lost on Makishima.

At the first sign of a lull, he seized his boyfriend’s arm and dragged him off towards the baths, hoping that the combination of being outside, naked and wet would be enough to earn them some privacy for a little while.

Toudou seemed perfectly happy to be dragged off to take a break. He chatted on about what he’d been doing all morning, blissfully unaware of Makishima’s stress levels.

The outside baths were huge and thankfully almost empty. ToudouAn separated their baths by temperature and size in order to provide a wide selection to their guests and patrons. There were only a few men soaking at this time of the day, so Makishima and Toudou went to the far side where the baths were more secluded and quiet and no one could hear them talking.

Makishima waited to speak until they were both sitting next to each other in the bath, the steam wafting up around their bodies and the soft rush of water covering the sounds of their conversation.

“Jinpachi, I need to tell you something,” Makishima said cautiously, turning to face him and struggling to keep his voice steady.

“What’s wrong?” Toudou asked. “Did something happen?”

Makishima took a deep breath and said “I think that it might be good if we took a break.”

Toudou gave him a look of complete confusion and gestured to the water around them and Makishima realized that he didn’t understand what he meant.

“From you know… us,” Makishima mumbled. “I think that we should-”

Toudou launched forward and grabbed Makishima by the arms. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare say that to me! Not when we both know you don’t mean it,” he shouted.

Makishima struggled and tried to wriggle out of Toudou’s grip but he was holding on too tight. “I’m- I just don’t want you to- it would be better if I-” he struggled to say.

“Stop talking. Right now,” Toudou ordered.

Makishima shut his mouth but he glared at his boyfriend who was looking just as furious as he felt.

“Is that what you want? To break up with me? Because if that’s really what you want, then fine. I don’t want to be with anyone who doesn’t want to be with me,” Toudou snapped, crossing his arms and moving away from him. “But I think it’s interesting how you went from a loving boyfriend committed to our future together to wanting to ‘take a break’ the day after my family told me that I was no longer welcome in the house. Talk about timing right?”

“Jinpachi, I don’t want you to lose your-” Makishima started desperately.

“No! You don’t get to make that choice for me,” Toudou yelled at him. “The problems I have with my parents are between me and them, not you.”

But Makishima wasn’t reassured in the slightest.

“I don’t want you to have to choose! Makishima shouted back. “I don’t want to be the reason you lose your home and your family. Are you okay with never coming back here again? You love this place! Are you all right with missing out on your niece and nephews growing up? Are you going to never speak to your parents again? Or your sister? Please, don’t… don’t do that for me,” he pleaded, reaching out to Toudou, desperate to make him understand.

Toudou sighed and reached for Makishima’s hands. “Are you telling me that I should pick my family over you, Maki-chan?”

Makishima looked away but he held onto Toudou’s hands and couldn’t let him go.

“I’ve got a better idea. I’m not going to pick anyone,” Toudou said calmly. “That’s my solution.”

Makishima looked back at his boyfriend, confused and Toudou smiled sadly at him. “It’s not you that my parents are upset with.”

Makishima objected. “I’m putting you-”

“It would be the same,” Toudou interrupted him sternly. “If it was Arakita, or Fuku-chan or Shinkai or some random guy I met online, everything would be the same. You are not the reason why my parents are upset. So please, don’t make their problem your problem. I love you. I love you so much. I can’t stand it if you try to do something this ridiculous out of love,” he begged.

“But I’m making you pick!” Makishima argued.

“No, you’re not!” Toudou insisted. “My parents are asking me to leave. I’m choosing to respect their wishes. Plus it’s not forever. They’re just asking for some time and space to adjust. I swear.”

“It sure didn’t sound like that,” Makishima replied.

“Oh Maki-chan, how much did you overhear?” Toudou asked.

“Words, some yelling,” Makishima admitted. “The ‘it would be better if you both left tomorrow’ bit.”

“Well you missed the part where they said ‘for a while,’ Toudou said patiently. “They really do like you; it’s the ‘boyfriend’ part that they’re not comfortable with.

Makishima was starting to calm down but the feelings of hurt and indignation on Toudou’s behalf remained. “They’re your parents,” he said miserably. “They’re supposed to love and support you, not turn you away.”

Toudou shrugged and scooted back over to Makishima and rested his head onto his shoulder. “My sister and brother-in law are on my side. She’s not happy with them but we can’t all be born to modern hippy dippy parents who send their children off to foreign countries to learn how to make funny clothes and dye their hair weird colors. My family is a little more traditional and it’s going to take some time to adjust. I gave you time to figure out how you felt; I’m going to give my parents time too. Because I love them and I want them in my life. Just like you.”

Makishima felt chastised and sad. “You shouldn’t have to be the one who has to wait all the time.”

“Fortunately, I am a wonderful and patient person with an infinite capacity to be forgiving and kind,” Toudou bragged. “Also, some things are worth waiting for. And my parents to come around and accept both of us is definitely one of them.”

“What if they don’t? What if it takes them ten or twenty years to get used to this?” Makishima replied. “What then?”

Toudou sighed dramatically. “There’s my dear pessimistic Maki-chan. That’s a risk I have to take. But I don’t think it will be that long. And if and I do mean if,they don’t accept us then we’ll figure out what to do then. Alright?”

Makishima nodded and pulled Toudou closer to him comforted by his words. If Toudou was this determined, then he was more than happy to go along with him.

“Do you still want to break up with me?” Toudou teased, reaching up and tugging a lose strand of Makishima’s hair affectionately.

“Definitely not. I want to be with you until the day I die, breaking my hip after slipping on one your headbands that you left on the floor because you’ve gone senile and don’t care about being tidy anymore.”

There was no reply and Makishima looked over to see that Toudou was bright red and his faced was scrunched up. “That was almost sweet Maki-chan. But you ruined it by implying that I would ever be careless with my hair accessories,” he said thickly.

“I’m sorry for listening at the door,” Makishima apologized. “I heard the crash and I got worried. I shouldn’t have done it. It was stupid.”

“Well I can’t say that I approve of your actions, but I wanted you to be a part of that conversation. As soon as I saw where it was headed, I wanted you there. But it’s fine now,” Toudou reassured him.

“If you want to wait for your parents, then I’ll wait too,” Makishima promised.

“Thank you.”

Silence fell and they nestled together in the water, enjoying the peace and the warm water, the wind blowing through the trees above them, the soft sounds of voices far away and the steam rising to drift up into the sky. It was beautiful and they would both miss being here.

“Are we going to leave tonight?” Makishima asked and Toudou nodded against his shoulder.

“But we’ll be back,” Makishima confirmed.

“They can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“No one would ever want to get rid of you,” he said softly.

“Alright, where did you hide my prickly boyfriend? I need to go rescue him,” Toudou teased, nudging him gently in the ribs.

Makishima laughed shortly and replied, “Pretty sure he’s right here.” And he ran his hand up the inside of Toudou’s thigh and squeezed.

Toudou gasped. “Maki-chan! We are in a public bath!”

Makishima grinned crookedly at him and Toudou glanced around quickly before wrapping his arms around his neck and dragging him around for a kiss.

“You know, one of the perks of not living at home is that you don’t have to worry about small children or family members barging through the door without warning,” Toudou said, nestling himself against Makishima’s chest and Makishima slipped an arm around his waist.

“We should take advantage of that as soon as we get home,” Toudou suggested.

“Absolutely.”

[moshfeghpilled]

describe how each high school year by semester went for you

9th grade: We don’t call it a play date anymore, it is hanging out, hanging by our toes like wet lipped fruit bats, like jungle gym monkey kids. Young and swollen. Blood, immature blood, pink blood, fresh meat blood pepto bismol up the wazoo, and spit under my bed. Code names aren’t for spies, they’re for 14 year old girls with googley eyes, not that we needed them. Kevin and Grace, Ellie and Joshua, Paloma and Matt which is weird because I’m hot for him, and they kinda look like siblings. Pink shorts, black tights, Jimmy Eat World, pizza bagels and lucky charms under a fresh white linen morning like detergent sealed crust between my eyelids, you tore them open. I mean, not yet. But soon. I discover neon sex scenes, Sky Ferreira, and Skins and this is where the final hopscotch box stops; at the end of the subway platform. This is where I’m supposed to jump. Monkey balls fall on our heads as we walk home, and autumn leaves crunch like drum line snare beats. All godless girls with snakes and cherry lollipops and 9 millimeters pointed at our clits, Bend it Like Beckham under your itchy wool blankets, Alice’s mom thinks I’m cool, and I stay for dinner and crack some risky jokes like a fox among wolves. (I think he looks at me when I look away). Me and Hana FaceTime I take screenshots of her dancing with her cat. The girls who play soft ball in short shorts, the girls who call them sluts, the boys who watch. We dance through rainbows in the sprinklers on the way to the Homecoming dance and pretend we don’t care we don’t have dates. We’re floating in the cytoplasm, floating on the cotton candy overdose cause our parents drop us off at the bowling alley but we are too loyal to sneak out the back. We pool our money every Friday after school for the spring break road trip we’re going on when Hana gets a car, and one of us has lost our virginity, and none of us are scared of the dark.

Miss Budd yelled at me for not standing for the pledge of allegiance, and I was 4 years old again. My English teacher held me back, and held my hand, and gave me a safety pin for my missing button, and told me it would be. Okay.

10th grade: We were on the news that year. Cristo’s curls on KTLA, solemn, and not the boy cross eyed and high with his pants around his ankles. Suddenly we’re all standing up straight, suddenly we’re being told we can’t wear leggings because somebody posted a video of Penelope having sex with Max on Facebook. Suddenly we’re underground in the girls locker room (red varsity knee socks, Dina drowning the spider nests with Victoria’s Secret rose perfume, humid with shame and lesbian suspicion) holding our arms in front of our naked breasts, single file like ants for the syphilis test. The boys who drew penises in fire and salt on the soccer field grass, like druid frat boys, but not the boys who put gorilla glue in the classroom locks, and not the boys who wrote their hit list in the red pen on the back of Mr. Chan’s syllabus and ended up in court, who called in a bomb threat, just to get the test pushed back. We all took turns getting our ghosts exorcized in the principals office. It was pompeii and pandemonium, and nobody was safe, not even us girls sleeping wrapped in the dust of library encyclopedias. You moved away from me like I was illiciting the restless black dreams on your grandmas shitty air mattress. The sheets are clean enough, but this attic is haunted, you keep waking up in the middle of the night to your body sinking like a pirate ship caught by the Kraken, the floor gnawing at your bones again so you just. Got up. And slept somewhere else. My English teacher held me back, and told me I was a good writer but don’t be so angry, and I cried right there, and she gave me a kleenex from her Shakespeare tissue holder and I blew this stupid pain head first out of my nose. I never told you about that. Maybe if I had you would’ve felt bad for me and stayed a little longer. But you hung out with those buckwild kids under the spot by the willow tree, and it was easy. it was just snuffing out an annoyance. A mosquito licking the ruby of your earrings that you shooed away. Our birthstones were both rubies, you know, we were twin cancers with balmy skin and busted appendixes, the aliens took you once and the only explanation was a scar on your spine, and I reckon I should’ve known they’d come back for you.

(You are gonna tell your kids about these cherry cola years of golden suburbia, and midnight blue debauchery snapping teenage knees, and furrow your brow forgetting the name of the girl you spent the first two calling your best friend.) You cheered at football games. You got drunk with them at night, and you were bursting and missing teeth like a watermelon smile, you rubbed up against each other like cats they touched you in all the right places and you didn’t text me anymore. You went to sleepovers and posted photos on Instagram, I wasn’t invited, I thought this bullshit was supposed to stop happening in elementary school. All the things we thought would never happen, lockdown drills, fire drills, earthquake drills and we still weren’t prepared. It was. Pandemonium. It was. Chemical fires in Mr. Dow’s science class. And me and my plans were just. so fucking boring standing next to your cherry blossom hurricane. You didn’t wait for me after class anymore and I just. Looked so stupid trying to catch up. Blood, mature blood, cows blood in the manure for the roses to eat. Black blood, like storm sky, I dish out this milkshake I pick the scab and I lick the blood away. Thomas comes out and dubs himself the gay cliche, we walk home together on the yellow brick road, and we pray a tornado will land the school library on our corpses so we can die with those sparkly shoes on. Those ruby shoes on. The Fates gagged me with a pack of jolly ranchers. I got straight A’s while Rome was falling. Nobody has ever made me feel so small.

11th grade: New school. The kids talk different here. Depression in California is like getting a cold in mid-July. So ironic it’s almost insulting. I’m pretty sure it was raining all year, but don’t count on it, I lived sub-terrestrialy with my mothers tulip bulbs. Today’s Wednesday? I thought it was Friday? I thought yesterday was Sunday? Depression in California is like running after a rabbit in the woods. It doesn’t matter how sunny it is, you will suddenly look up and it’s night, and the trees are not your friends, even when they are as skinny and shaky as you. You will get stuck in the swamp, leave your shoes behind, and not even remember why you were out here in the first place.

Headache. Stomach ache. Lots of those, those are easy to fake. Menstrual cramps, vomiting, gut wrenching, kinda vomiting. A personal favorite. I got to get my hands dirty for that one, I got to reach for the gag reflex like a remote control and press fast forward and feel my arc capsizing, until the static buzzed and I was pale like southern gothic tragedy, I’m not bulimic I just don’t wanna go to school. Depression in California is like an abandoned zoo. Everything echoing animal shrieks. They set them free but the cages were empty long before that. I make some friends, nice ones who laugh at my jokes, and I feel like I should get a sticker for it, but I do more nervous shaking than laughing.

Depression in California is like a badly maintenanced carnival. We’ve gone around the ferris wheel 8 times now and nobody seems to notice. The cotton candy polluting my blood, running slow and globby while the kids below spin, the kids drop, the kids could die, but they just giggle hand in hand with smiling clowns who pump them full of teeth rotting sweets, the winking lights are blurry this far away, and it feels like eons before we’ll get back to the bottom. I’m out of tokens. I think I’m just gonna jump.  

12th grade: Trump won. I think I might like girls. My dad jokes about his own death so I know what it means to be angry now, like femurs forged from the goddamn ring of Isildur. Is this what’s normal now? Fucking boys who are oil slick and easy living, and lose my socks in their dorm rooms? Meet them for diner food and xans on the weekend, and everything just temporary? Is that just what everybody wants now? My brother got a green card marriage, but I guess he loves her for real now. We watch the Walking Dead until the streetlights glaze over our eyes, he asks me if I have a boyfriend, no. If I’ve had any since I last saw him, no. If no is my favorite word, yes. Thing is I’ve never been anyone’s girl cause I’ve got a volcano where I should have a stomach. I know what it is to live on the red planet. But I ignore all that and go to concerts that bleed beer and swoon for boys who drink the blood. I guess we’re used to falling off of things so we do it on purpose now. It’s not over but I know how it’s gonna end. Cracked skull, and police lights. And to the break of dawn on Brandon’s roof, boxers stained with mayonnaise, and Deadpool is probably his favorite movie or some dumb white boy shit like that. I’m not gonna cry when I leave for college, I’m gonna cry at the car rental watching the sun bleed out on the trees. I’m gonna cry in the knothole of an oak tree, hiding from the freshman mixer party in the woods I knew I shouldn’t have come to once the social anxiety starts clawing up soaked in the gallon of strawberry Crush I downed to calm myself down. You know, in some other parallel universe, my parents never divorced and we dispute where the sugar pantry should be at inopportune times, and I don’t straight jacket myself with the echoplex sound of my mother screaming over my dead body just to not inhale the chlorox under the sink. I was so bloody, I just wanted to be clean.

I thought it was like the 80’s, the rusty exhaust pipe of Matt’s car turning the snow black while he’s wasting time daydreaming of my piston pumping sloppy hips, and rumored things that happen in the backseat, and kicking cans in no particular direction, and first love sticky and first love stabbed into your kidney and you never really recover. I thought it was sixteen candles, and say anything, but it’s getting bloodshot squirrelly smoking hash in the disabled bathroom stall. It’s a personality disorder grown up from the ground like a mushroom that is poison to the touch, and thrown away birthday presents, and valentines day balloons stuck in the trees. It’s dropping the last slice of college acceptance celebration cake on the floor for your dogs breakfast, and cartoon rain puddles for eyes talking about how scary it is to drive on the freeway. Karina and Maddie rough housing like pit bulls in fifth period cause we don’t do shit in that class and pretending that we are not all gonna be strangers in 6 weeks before we. Before we. Please don’t make me say it out loud.

My English teacher held me back, and told me to make up the quiz I missed, and that was the only time I will ever be happy that some strangers just stay that way. And Daddy, I will miss you when you leave me, and Daddy I will meet you in the next life you just gotta wait for me ok?

I am not the kind of girl people have crushes on. I am the kind of girl who can survive 18 stealing food from parties, couch surfing, living like a lightning bolt. There one minute, and gone the next.

[eprobles]

ETERNAL ECHOES

I

Toward dark blue skies, endlessly, Where topaz seas shimmer bright, In your evening, blooms ecstasy - The lilies, pills of pure delight.

In our age where plants must toil, Lilies drink blue distaste divine, From your religious prose, they'll coil, Fleur-de-lys, for bards to twine.

Lilies, lilies, none in view, Yet in your verse, sleeves of sin, Soft-footed women, pure as dew, White flowers shiver within.

Always, dear man, when you bathe, Your shirt with yellow 'neath your arm, Swelling in the breeze, and wave, Above forget-me-nots, the harm.

Love comes to you in lilac's guise, Wild violets too, nymphs' delight, Sugary spittle on lips, belies, Dark passions on a moonlit night.

II

Oh, Poets, imagine you possessed Roses, crimson Roses, blooming bright, Adorning laurel stems, at their best, With thousand octaves swelling in delight!

If Banville could make them snow, Tainted red, swirling, in a frenzy, Blackening the eyes of those who show Ill-disposed interpretations, not friendly!

In your forests and in meadows so calm, Oh, peaceful photographers, Flora thrives, Decanters' stoppers no different in charm, Than varied veggies with cross-grained lives!

Phthisical and absurd, they seem to be, Navigated by basset-hounds at dusk, After frightening drawings we see, Of lotuses or sunflowers blue, so brusque!

Pink prints and holy pictures we behold, For young girls making their communion, Asoka Ode agrees with Loretto's window old, Heavy vivid butterflies dung on daisy's union!

Old greenery and galloons, fancy-flowers, Vegetable biscuits of yore's drawing-rooms, For cockchafers, not rattlesnakes, like powers, Pulling vegetable dolls with colors, like in cartoons!

Grandville would have put them round the margins, To suck in colors from ill-natured stars, Drooling from your shepherd's pipes, in wondrous fashions, Creating priceless glucoses, like fried eggs in hold hats, so bizarre!

Lilies, Asokas, lilacs, and roses, in a pile, Inspirations for poets, like me, all the while!

III

white Hunter, running sockingless Across the panic Pastures, Can you not, ought you not To know your botany a little? I'm afraid you'd make succeed, To russet Crickets, Cantharides, And Rio golds to blues of Rhine, - In short, to Norways, Floridas: But, My dear Chap, Art does not consist now, - it's the truth, - in allowing To the astonishing Eucalyptus boa-constrictors a hexameter long; There now!... As if Mahogany Served only, even in our Guianas, As helter-skelters for monkeys, Among the heavy vertigo of the lianas! - In short, is a Flower, Rosemary Or Lily, dead or alive, worth The excrement of one sea-bird? Is it worth a solitary candle-drip? - And I mean what I say! You, even sitting over there, in a Bamboo hut, - with the shutters Closed, and brown Persian rugs for hangings, - You would scrawl blossoms Worthy of extravagant Oise!... - Poet ! these are reasonnings No less absurd than arrogant!...

IV

Speak not of pampas in the spring, Black with terrible revolts and strife, But of tobacco, cotton trees that sing, Exotic harvests, a fruitful life.

Say, white face, tanned by Phoebus' rays, How many dollars Pedro Velasquez earns, Of Habana, a city that displays, Excrement covering Sorrento's seas in turns.

Where swans go in thousands to roam, Let your lines campaign, oh poet bold, For clearing mangrove swamps, a home To pools and water-snakes so cold.

Your quatrain plunges into bloody thickets, And returns with subjects great and grand, White sugar, bronchial lozenges, and rubbers, tickets To the land of plenty, a fruitful land.

Tell us, oh hunter, if the yellownesses Of snow peaks near the tropics, hide Insects that lay many eggs or microscopic lichens, And scented madder plants, two or three, provide.

Nature in trousers may cause them to bloom, For our armies, strong and brave, On the outskirts of the Sleeping Wood, assume Flowers, with snouts, drip golden pomades on buffaloes' cave.

Find in wild meadows, where the bluegrass shivers, The silver of downy growths, Calyxes full of fiery eggs, livers Cooking among the essential oils.

Find downy thistles whose wool, Ten asses with glaring eyes, labor to spin, Flowers that are chairs, a beautiful tool, And gem-like tonsils close to pale ovaries within.

Find flowers in coal-black seams, Almost like stones, so marvelous and bright, Close to their hard pale ovaries in dreams, Bearing gemlike tonsils, shining in light.

Serve us, oh stuffer, on a vermilion plate, Stews of syrupy lilies, a delicacy divine, To corrode our German-silver spoons, a fate Worthy of kings, in a color so fine.

:: 03.06.2023 ::