#the second one is eastern white pine

[aisling-saoirse]

Large Conifers in Bear Meadows, PA - April 7th 2024

[bookishfeylin]

do you think rhysand is a brown man? i feel like sjm did such a terrible job of trying to make him into a representation that it's better off if he's white. his culture is constantly represented as savages and barbarians and misogynistic and he's pining over a white woman while looking down over his own people 🗿

So big disclaimer here that I'm Black, not brown, and that I might get things wrong! If I'm corrected by a brown person in the comments or reblogs please defer to them, and I may edit this as necessary. That being said...

it's really a "damned if you do, damned if you don't" situation. If Rhysand is NOT a brown man, and is, in fact, white (as some stans happily draw him) then his whole court REEKS of cultural appropriation. We got henna tattoos, stolen from middle eastern/south asian/north African/east african culture:

And we got bedlah aka the middle eastern belly dancer's outfit, complete with "harem pants" (probably the outfit that inspired Princess Jasmine's clothing in Aladdin):

But Mrs. Maas clearly wants us to view him as a person of color, at least in later books (and by extension, Illyrians as POC), and he, Cassian, Azriel, and the other Illyrians are described as having brown skin. So if Rhysand IS a brown man, then that's... almost worse. First is the fact that Sarah J Maas couldn't actually decide what specific culture the Illyrians were based off of, because the middle east is not a monolith! South Asia is not a monolith! I've seen some guesses that Rhysand and Co are Persian, others speculating he's Indian... and there's a BIG difference between those two cultures. You can't claim to provide representation if no one even knows what specific culture/ethnicity is being represented.

And second is the fact that Sarah J Maas really decided it would be a good idea to make her most prominent group of POC in this story a WILDLY sexist culture that mutilate their own women and are looked down on by the 'civilized' (read: mostly white) High Fae for being violent warriors. She really said that she was going to have a culture (Illyria) entirely of POC and make them sexist, violent, and cruel, and have them be called brutes and animalistic by white people. In what UNIVERSE is that ok? In what UNIVERSE is that good representation???

And thirdly is, as you said and as I mentioned in this post, the batboys are men of color who find their own women "plain" and pedestalize white women (Feyre, Nesta, and Elain) as the beauty standard. As I brought out in that post, the idea that white and lighter skinned women are better, prettier, and more valuable than darker skinned women of color is a real world issue with dangerous consequences, and it's disgusting that in a book series Sarah J Maas has declared is "feminist," she decided to promote the idea that white women are better than the rest of us. Hell- how many women of color are in ACOTAR? And how many of them are allowed to have a male love interest? Are allowed to be seen as beautiful, desirable, and worthy of protection and romance?

In conclusion: it's racist either way. I, for one, only view book one as canon due to this series becoming nothing but a pile of retcons and nonsensical worldbuilding afterwards, so I do view Rhysand as white in that book, especially with his "moon white" skin. But in the series as a whole? I think Sarah wants us to view the bat boys as men of color, due to the aforementioned cultural details and her giving them brown skin, but she handles it horribly all around. So for the intents and purposes of your question: from ACOMAF and beyond, Rhysand is a brown man. Illyrians are people of color. And it's one of the most racist portrayals of people of color that I've seen in a hot minute. Sexist, animalistic brutes are not representation, and brown people deserve better.

[magnetothemagnificent]

Proud to announce that I spotted 60.5 species of birds in my week trip to Florida (copied-and-pasted from my Big Year google doc, so the FA stands for Florida):

Marsh wren FA

Limpkin FA

Great white heron FA

Cattle egret FA

Anhinga FA

Snowy egret FA

Great blue heron FA

Black-crowned night heron FA *was on a boardwalk trail and saw a bunch of people crouching down and looking at something and I thought they saw another gator (on this trip we saw 32 gators in total) but it was something better! A bird! And then I saw another one the next day hiding under brush.

Wood stork FA

Common moorhen FA

Blue-gray gnatcatcher FA

Turkey vulture FA *was looking for wild turkeys and unfortunately didn't see any this trip but one of these guys was stalking on the side of the rode and for a second we got exciting thinking it was an actual turkey.

Black vulture FA

Yellow-rumped warbler FA

Tufted titmouse FA *my grandma's favourite bird

Little blue heron FA

White ibis FA *we were ambushed by them because people at the park would feed them so they expected us to feed them but we wouldn't so they just surrounded us and we thought they would attack us but they didn't.

Cooper's hawk FA

Cardinal FA

Green heron FA *my grandpa was walking a little ahead of me and whispered for me to come and there was this gorgeous green fishing. Moved so slowly and gently that he didn't make a sound, it was incredible.

Carolina warbler FA

Pine warbler FA

Sandhill crane FA

Carolina chickadee FA

Bluejay FA

Osprey FA

Chimney swift FA

Red-tailed hawk FA *saw this lovely lady perched on a fence as we drove out of my grandparents' neighbourhood

Prairie warbler FA

American kestrel FA

Glossy ibis FA

Pied-billed grebe FA

Double-crested cormorant FA

Grey kingbird FA

Brown pelican FA *we weren't anywhere near the ocean but a storm was likely brewing and huge flocks of brown pelicans and white pelicans flew inland

Fish crow FA

Royal tern FA

Bald eagle FA

Painted bunting FA *didn't think I'd see one this trip because the nature garden we went to last year that had a lot of birds, including the painted bunting we saw last year, had too many people this time around so there weren't many birds. But then I saw a painted bunting at a different trail and literally forgot to be quiet and freaked out.

American white pelican FA

Common grackle FA

Boat-tailed grackle FA *did you know that these grackles make a clicking sound when they see humans or predators that sounds like a turkey gobble sound? I didn't until these guys wouldn't stop yelling at my while I was just trying to rest my legs on a bench.

American purple gallinule FA *gorgeous birds. gorgeous.

American coot FA

Brown-headed cowbird FA

Tricolored heron FA

Mallard FA

Black-bellied whistling duck FA

Eastern kingbird FA

Yellow-billed cuckoo FA

Muscovy duck FA

American bittern FA *my grandma and I saw this one and at first thought it was a green heron but then realized it wasn't haha.

Ring-billed gull FA

Feral American Pekin FA

Mallard-Pekin hybrid FA *spent so much time trying to identify these weird ducks until I went on my laptop later that evening and read up way too much on duck genetics and realized that they were hybrids. They were probably second-generation hybrids from my brief scan of pedigree charts of ducks, meaning their grandparents were a mallard and a pekin, but their parents were a hybrid and a pekin.

Eastern bluebird FA

Yellow-bellied sapsucker FA *went to a park my grandparents recommended and there weren't really any new birds there and my legs hurt from walking but then I heard this guy tapping around in a tree and there he was. Still wouldn't recommend this park.

Red-winged blackbird FA *was complaining to my grandpa that I hadn't seen any red-winged blackbirds yet and my trip was almost over when a bunch of these guys literally flew down in front of us.

White-eyed vireo FA

Mottled duck FA

Broad-winged hawk FA *saw this guy as my plane was literally taxiing out of the runway to go home. I was looking out my window cause I was nervous and there he was! Just perched on a sign!

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

To hell with the New York Times's top 25 commercial/luxurious travel experiences. You can have your own. Here's some of mine, and reflecting on them makes me feel quite replete and not in need of any gourmet well-beaten trails. I hope you have yours.

--travel the pilgrimage trail of St. Jacques de Compostelle from Paris to the Spanish border as a teenage art historian, with the great Mme Francoise Weinman interpreting, 1978. 

 --bathe in a bathtub on a hillside on Western Shoshone land above matriarchs and federal challengers Mary and Carry Dann's ranch in eastern Nevada while listening to Lucinda Williams for the first time (music courtesy of Lauri Di, who then gave me the homemade cassette), 1991. 

--raft trip on assignment for Sierra Magazine, 1995, in a roadless wilderness the size of Portugal in NE British Columbia, where the whole community of wildlife was living its many lives largely undisturbed.

--Dance all night in the streets of Paris, Fete de la Musique, circa 1998, be serenaded by Timothy O'Toole's brother with Marianne Faithful's "Ballad of Lucy Jordan" in parting. (Research for Wanderlust was the official reason to be there.)

--Seattle Nov. 30-Dec. 1, when the protest in the streets galvanized the poor countries to resist the World Trade Organization's bullying on behalf of the rich corporations and countries and the fate of the world took a left turn. "When hope and history rhyme." Thank you David Solnit, who had a lot to do with it. 

--Hike with Lucy Lippard to the remote valley whose entrance is framed by two great natural stone slabs on each of which a life-sized cornstalk petroglyph appears; take Barry Lopez to see the life-size bear petroglyph nearby and the giant zig-zag snake petroglyphs, get drenched in a monsoon rain together, New Mexico circa 1999-2001 or so

--Multiple times participating in the Good Friday pilgrimage to Chimayo, NM, circa 1998-2010, witnessing the landscape, the devotion and dedication, the generosity, and the low-rider Cadillac of the stations of the cross. 

--find the exact places Eadweard Muybridge, Carleton Watkins, Ansel Adams, and Edward Weston stood to make their iconic pictures of Yosemite with Mark Klett and Byron Wolfe (in what became our book Yosemite in Time), and camp out in the supremely serene jeffrey pine forest south of Mono Lake while working on the project, 2001-4

--repeat visits to New Orleans to first understand the terrible things of Hurricane Katrina and then fall in love with the wonderful culture and dance in various second lines, etc., 2006 onward....

--Zapatista Women's Encuentro, late Dec.-January 1, Chiapas, Mexico, with Marina Sitrin and Sam Sitrin

--Iceland, summer of 2008 (partly melancholy, but studded with epiphanies): "I traveled a little, and on the south coast of Iceland had one magnificent midsummer day that began with a long walk on a path edged with tiny flowers past the largest glacier in Europe, went on to a bay in which the glacier was calving icebergs that were vivid blue in a blue inlet of the sea, and then traversed a long strand of wet sand that reflected the white clouds and blue sky so that heaven and earth were indistinguishable, and the clouds overhead seemed to be almost close enough to touch and those near the horizon seemed to be very near infinity. It was as close to a vision of paradise as I’ve been granted with my eyes open. After that I saw another bay full of hundreds of swans and a steep valley through which dozens of thin waterfalls trickled and poured from the heights. That day ended at a robin’s nest Klara showed me in the low willows in the quiet light at midnight, five small mottled eggs like turquoise stones." 

--first visit to David Rumsey's map collection, San Francisco, with David's visionary insight into cartography....-

-two weeks aboard a Swedish vessel circumambulating Svalbard in the high Arctic, 2011

--Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, raft trip, summer solstice, 2014 (also working as a journalist), but also thank you Michael Brune and Dan Ritzman https://www.theguardian.com/.../alaska-wildlife-sanctuary...

--Mt Burdell in green winter splendor, over so many years...

--wake up at Standing Rock to see thousand of joyful people celebrating their determination and solidarity on the great green prairie, 2016 (I went there to report for the Guardian, all too briefly)

--Traveling with Dolpo Tulku rimpoche through Dolpo, the Tibetan plateau/Buddhist land in which he is the spiritual leader, fall 2017, with Roshi Joan Halifax and various others, and doing another version of that route in 2015 that repeats Peter Matthiesson's in The Snow Leopard, including being welcomed into Shey Gompo, and seeing people engaged in daily life on almost medieval terms: plowing with yaks, threshing and reaping and winnowing by hand, traveling on foot or by beast, weaving on wooden looms, tending livestock, crossing high passes up to 17,600' high, spending a month on foot (and occasionally horse)....

--the enchanting walk from the Baldock train station to the cottage Orwell lived in 1936-1940s, through wheat fields full of flints formed undersea and rural rights of way, crossing the ancient Icknield Way (returning to where I first met those roses he planted, if they're his, on Nov. 2, 2017), 2019, walking it again this summer with Rob Macfarlane, 2022

--So many mornings of glorious light at Ocean Beach, because like all of you I also live in the destination.

--camping with my great-nieces who make everything new and exciting again. p.s. Just a reminder: I have had adventures, but my everyday life is staying home quietly turning words around and trying to make meaning with them.

[Rebecca Solnit ]

[dansnaturepictures]

28/10/2022-Part 2 of 2: Lakeside evening walk and bits at home 

Following on from my previous post, with the clocks going back at the weekend tonight was the last of my Friday evening Lakeside walks in addition to a lunch time one this year this evening as my early finish at work that facilitates it will be close to darkness and then at and after it falls for a bit as the weeks go on. The walk was a perfect ending to another fantastic year of these. At lunch time whilst working from home I usually ensure I get at least half an hour of fresh air they often become 45 minutes or more of my lunch hour. Due to other things the Friday evening walks this year have mostly all been within half an hour and it amazes me just how much I can see across the year in that time. From blossom on one of my early editions of these walks this year to mushrooms and autumn leaves on tonight’s, from inspiring and year defining butterfly sightings of my first Large Skipper of 2022 and Purple Hairstreak, to cracking summer views of a Coot and hot summer days allowing for memorable photos; these walks this year have been amazing for me and I shall miss them. 

One of the best things about these walks for me are the peaceful entry into the weekend to have some calm after finishing work to ease into the weekend. And tonight had that so well, perfect in the enjoyable walk in the lowering sun evening walks I just love taking being out in these conditions seeing that sweet and precious light that is extremely beautiful. Seeing the pine trees lit nicely in the lowering sun was a sight this day had last year too which I really enjoyed tonight. This could become a scene I associate with this moment in a year. I took the second, fifth, sixth, seventh and tenth pictures in this photoset of views tonight there were nice frizzy cloud scenes too which I enjoyed at home before as well. I did enjoy seeing some lovely little mushrooms in the eastern meadows where I had this walk which the eighth and ninth pictures in this photoset shows. A lovely moment with a Robin and another butterfly after lunch time’s Small White were great sightings on the walk I saw the butterfly quickly in the well vegetated eastern meadows I couldn’t quite tell which it was either Peacock or Red Admiral. The thistle in the third picture in this photoset another straggling flower seen today on the green outside Lakeside and many glorious coloured red rose hips in the sunlight including the ones in the fourth picture in this photoset were great plant sightings tonight with the reeds in the eastern meadows seen well too. I liked seeing Jackdaws flying over and calling from home as we headed towards evening.

It was something of a lull in autumn leaf photos today with a lot of them blown off but I enjoyed some at Lakeside tonight especially still, and I loved seeing the tree visible from my room that goes nice and yellow in the autumn in the first picture in this photoset looking stunning in the delicious afternoon sun today it’s interesting it has a few red leaves at the top this year too. I hope you all have a nice weekend. 

Full Wildlife Sightings Summary for today: Two of my favourite birds the Jay and Great Crested Grebe, Mallard, Coot, Moorhen, Greylag Geese, Black-headed Gull, Magpie seen well, Jackdaw, Woodpigeon, Feral Pigeon, Starling hearing them well out the back today too, Goldfinch looking great in trees out the front tonight, Robin, Dunnock, Wren, possibly a Grey Wagtail at the brook, Small White, the other butterfly, Grey Squirrel, some nice little spiders in the area by Monks Brook and carpet beetle, spider, moths and grey silverfish at home. Solely heard today: Green Woodpecker and a tit species I believe.

[rjalker]

[ID: Nine photographs. The first shows a dark paved walking path covered in the orange remains of pinecones that have been dropped down onto it, with the seed-covering plates scattered everywhere, and a few of the long centers lying nearby. The second shows the branches of a pine tree with the light from the setting sun washing the branches in orange, with an eastern grey squirrel perched on one branch, its fur shining orange from the light, crouched over a pinecone with its tail hanging down the side of the branch. The next four show a large, bush-like plant. The camera first zooms in on a small cluster of startlingly red leaves, standing out sharply against the rest, which are a healthy green. The camera then focuses on a visible stem of the plant, which is a warm brown color, almost orange. Next the camera zooms out a little to show more of the plant, with the original red leaves visible, and the base of the stem shown. Many of the leaves have small black specks on them. Finally the camera shows the tip of one of the stems, with a white hand holding onto a leaf at the end to pull the stem closer to the camera, showing pointed, cone-shaped buds at the base of each leaf, and that each leaf's stem is reddish in color. The last three pictures show a wild potato vine, a type of morning glory. The first is zoomed out, showing both the light green, elongated, heart-shaped leaves, as well as the folded up, closed, large white flowers. The next two pictures zoom in on first the shut flowers, showing that the large petals are closed in a softly-pointed spiral shape, then the leaves, which have slightly purple-colored veins, and red or pink central veins. End ID.]

more pictures taken with a camera that insists its battery is dying two seconds after insisting that the battery is fully charged and it's totally fine to take pictures. There was another squirrel somewhere higher above than that one, but I couldn' tsee it. We knew it was there because it dropped an already chewed up pinecone and almost hit that one, lol.

[creature-beast]

Working on the Mando clans for Diskin

We have the Farrens

• live in the southern regional mountains

• big sillies

• but also the most unsettling (They like to stare and smile at people from a distance kinda deal, this is intentional)

• most known mandalorians from Diskin, they make the most noise and leave the planet the most so more people know about them

• known for being the fiercest fighters on the planet, except to off worlders

• also known for being the best dancers for some reason

• the largest clan, they also allow other mandalorian (and even none Mando) families to take refuge within their stronghold

• After order 66 happens, the Farrens opened their home to runaway clones, and other clans did as well. The Farrens just happened to be the first place they usually go

The Glasset clan

• second most known

• Live on a cliff face over the northern sea, the cliff is part of the north plateau as well

• they make a lot of porcelain art, beads works, and are generally kind of fancier for a mandalorian clan

• most of their armor is lighter colors to blend in with their environment (Diskin's follow some of the same Mando colors but care more about personal preferences and rely on symbols/sigils)

• aren't as friendly as the Farrens but are still pretty chill

• their or'shorna are mostly white! Which is rare but it's just because of the area they live that they even have them

The Drakkish clan

• nomadic

• tend to roam around the northern and Eastern areas (totally not to avoid the loud ass farrens nooo)

• don't actually mind the farrens, often do trade and sports with them when they cross paths

• the smallest clan of the four

• make the best spicy curry and pride themselves on their recipes

• will usually spend the harshest part winter with one of the other clans

• wicked good at get'shuk (kind of like mandalorian rugby)

• have the largest or'shorna but the lowest amount of them

The Bauthrek clan

• live in the eastern giant pine forest

• the most secretive, no one really knows how big the clan actually is

• they have a giant pine tree cluster that grew together forming a giant collective tree base, acts as the main home for much of the clan

• the Or'shorna they use are notably smaller than others, but they have the highest number of them

• if you ask an off worlder if they've heard of them, Mando or not, they won't know wtf you're talking about

• leave spooky sculptures around the woods to scare travelers, they just think it's funny

• make a mean meat stew

• they like to tell people that their eldest elder is over 400 years old, she's only 78

[biglisbonnews]

The Last Days of the Bahama Nuthatch For close to two months, the Bahama nuthatch (Sitta insularis) had evaded Matthew Gardner and David Pereira. They were deep in the pine forests of Grand Bahama Island now, deeper than any previous study of the bird had gone, and still nothing. If the tiny white-and-brown nuthatch was there, it didn’t want to be found. The habitat that sheltered the nuthatch and a second species, the Bahama warbler (Setophaga flavescens), was no longer as lush and wooded in 2018 as it once had been. For years the birds had survived human encroachment, forest fires, and invasive species, but they had not thrived. When Hurricane Matthew hit Grand Bahama—the only place the nuthatch has ever been found—in 2016, the blow was devastating. The researchers, master’s students in applied ecology and conservation at East Anglia University in Norwich, England, knew that numbers for both birds were way down but not how low they’d gone. The pair covered hundreds of miles on foot, keeping their eyes and ears peeled and playing recordings of the nuthatch and warbler’s territorial calls to draw the birds out of the spindly pines. The warbler, a striking yellow insectivore with a long beak and a black head and wings, played along. Gardner and Pereira saw or heard the species 327 times over their three months of research. But, while they felt certain the nuthatch must be there, week after week the bird eluded them. Until one day, it didn’t. “The moment we played that [nuthatch call recording], we instantly heard a response call,” remembers Gardner. “Then to see the bird physically coming toward you! You go, ‘that’s it! That’s the nuthatch!” The pair would encounter the little, wind-up toy-like bird five more times before the end of their survey. Gardner believes they were “very probably” the last people on Earth to see it alive. Back in 2018, although the nuthatch population was small, it would not have been impossible to save them from disappearing completely, says Gardner. But Hurricane Dorian had other plans. The Category 5 storm pummeled the Bahamas archipelago in September 2019. The nuthatch hasn’t been found since. “I just can’t put it into words,” says Gardner. “It’s a sobering thing. You’re surrounded by doom and gloom stories about species declining but you don’t think you’d be witness to it.” The warbler also suffered in the chaos of Dorian, where 24 hours of sustained 183 mile-per-hour winds resulted in the worst natural disaster in Bahamas’ recorded history. “Photos showed the extent of island devastation,” explains Diana Bell, the professor of biological sciences at East Anglia University who supervised Gardner and Pereira’s research. “Dorian plus the accompanying spill from a large oil storage tanker left minimal cover that would have protected them.” Most of the warblers Gardner and Pereira saw or heard in the central and eastern pineyards of Grand Bahama were found in areas that had experienced wildfire events but where tall thatch palms still stood and insects hid in the peeling, burnt bark. Dorian wiped them out, and, so too, the warblers. Neighboring Abaco Island, where portions of the pine forests remain intact, is believed to harbor the only survivors of the storm’s wrath. As a result, the species has been classified as endangered. There’s still hope for the warbler, explains Gardner. “Although at the moment it looks like it's been lost from Grand Bahama, you’ve got to hope that the more you look, you’ll find it in the more isolated corners. Now is the time to go in, find out where they are, protect the habitat, and control the invasive species.” The Bahama warbler wouldn’t be the first endangered bird to be brought back from the brink. Both the black robin endemic to New Zealand’s Chatham Islands and the pink pigeon endemic to Mauritius have been saved through the careful dedication of conservation biologists, environmental managers, and volunteers. Gardner does not hold the same hope for the nuthatch. While it’s possible that a small number of individuals do remain, they’re not likely to help the species’ future prospects. The Bahama nuthatch is a cooperative breeder that relies on a family group to raise its young. If there are no family groups left, hatchlings won’t stand a chance. Even if there were enough birds left to raise offspring, the colony would likely be plagued by genetic disorder and vulnerability to disease due to inbreeding. “It’s been years and we have not heard of any sightings,” says Gardner. “It’s hard facing the brutal reality. As much as it pains me to say it, the Bahama nuthatch is functionally extinct.” https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/bahama-nuthatch-extinction

[thisisthehardestthing]

тоска, 18+ Tanaka x Reader, 2.2

Written for The Smut Pile Server Collab: Mafia AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

тоска tus-ka: Russian, noun It is a dull ache of the soul, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning. In particular cases, it may be the desire for somebody or something specific, nostalgia, lovesickness.

Russian Mafia AU: Tanaka Ryu x A Reader OC Rating: E for explicit Warnings: Violence, Blood, Death, Masturbation, Oral sex, Public Sex, Grinding, Cheating, Denied Orgasm, Manipulation, YEARNING Word count: 9,328 Part 1 | Part 2

GLOSSARY

Enjoy the final part of this two part hell.

Special thanks to: @joyousandverywarlike for being my ride-or-die,  @pleasantanathema , @present-mel and @linestrider for hosting this collab, and everyone in the server for being amazing friends. I would not have been able to write this without any of you, and I truly mean that. @the-smut-pile​

2.2

6. Tanaka

Daichi, Sergei, Ryunoslav and Yuuri sit in the wooden banya, white towels wrapped around their waists as they sweat and speak about the Georgian trip. It smells of cedar, rich and woody, and sweat. Like men.

“Boss Vashadze is unwell,” Daichi muses, knees spread wide as he relaxes against the hot walls, facing the glass door. “It won’t be long until he retires.”

Tanaka sits perpendicular to him, on a lower step with one foot perched up and his leg bent. Yuuri is opposite Tanaka, and Sergei stands, lightly smacking his back with a Venik, the scent of eucalyptus and birch dispersing through the air with each tap against his skin.

“That is good for you, bad for connections,” Sergei says, “how is business there?”

He always talked numbers first, pleasure second. Yuuri laughs, reaching for the besom of herbs from Sergei’s hold to lash his legs.

“Fine. I am gaining more of a footing around the ministers... However it will still take some time before they trust me. There are rumors of a new political party rising. We have to keep an eye open for unrest in Eastern Europe.”

“Ukraine?” Sergei asks, rubbing some of the leaves that stuck to his arms into his skin.

Daichi nods, then his eyes slide sideways to peer at Tanaka. His shaved hair has grown out slightly, which will be trimmed tonight, and he picks at his toenail of the foot bent beneath him.

“We can discuss strategy after we eat. How was your weekend, Ryunoslav?” The Bulldog asks, eyebrows raised.

Tanaka lifts his head casually with a simple smile.

“Just what I needed, spasiba Boss.”

Daichi’s laugh booms in the sauna, and Yuuri joins in, slapping the wood next to his thigh.

“Tell us more, Ryu! When I saw the first prostitute leave after thirty minutes, I thought it was over. But then, when I saw a second one arrive at midnight, I thought you must’ve not enjoyed the first.”

Tanaka frowns, looking at Yuuri in confusion before realising who he meant. He had seen Valentina arrive late at night, although he didn’t recognise her, or so he hopes.

“She was banging on the door very loudly, woke me up. Tell me, was it the same one from before wanting a second round?”

With a glance to Daichi, who is scanning his every expression,Tanaka shrugs.

“It was the same whore. I must be very good in bed.”

All the men burst out in laughter, but Tanaka laughs the loudest in compensation. Daichi closes his eyes as he tilts his head back.

“Well, she stayed for a long time. I only saw her leave past five am.”

“Yuuri, are you stalking Ryunoslav?” Sergei questions, using the water the Venik was soaking in to rinse off his body, the liquid sizzling as it hits the warm floor by his feet.

“No, I just found it interesting that Ryunoslav will fuck someone twice in a single night when there’s only been one woman he’s ever wan-”

“Yuuri.” Tanaka growls, cutting off his closest friend who has had too much vodka before entering the sauna. The heat and alcohol is loosening his tongue too quickly. Daichi sits up at this news, leaning forward so that muscle bulge and inflate.

“Oh? Is this true? Who is this woman?”

Tanaka waves his hand dismissively as he glares at Yuuri, “I met her years ago, when I first started working for you, Boss. No one of importance now.”

“Surely she still means something if you don’t want Yuuri to talk about her.” Sergei chimes in, climbing past their heads to sit on the top bench next to Daichi. Tanaka avoids his gaze, but can feel the Bulldog sniffing at the faint nerves that climb up Tanaka’s spine, his ears blushing red from the heat. He feels closed in, backed into a corner.

“It is an unrequited love, so please, I would prefer not to speak about it anymore.”

The men all murmur in understanding, except for Yuuri, who says, “I will just have to get you drunk to tell us about her then.”

7 - Valentina

Daichi sits across from you in the chartered jet, the beige leather seats muted even further with the deep rumble of the engine and the third glass of champagne in your veins. He’s reading a newspaper, you’re staring out at the cotton-peach clouds as they pass by. To your left, Sergei Sugawarov scribbles in books filled with numbers, the taptaptap of the calculator permeating the heavy air.

“Refill, Mrs. Sawamurova?” the air hostess asks, her smile wide as she holds the Moët & Chandon bottle in her manicured hands. She’s trembling slightly, and you smile reassuringly.

“Leave the bottle, thank you,” your heavy Russian accent drips from your tongue as you answer in English, and the bottle is placed in a silver ice bucket on the birchwood table between you and Daichi.

Two hours have passed during the five hour flight from Ufa Airport to Côte d'Azur Airport, and you pour another glass for yourself as you watch Daichi turn a page. He glances up at you with a small smile, but his eyes are hard. Something happened while he was in Georgia with your father. With a small smile of your own, you turn your gaze back to the window, leaving red lipstick on the rim of the glass.

A phone rings, and you hear Tanaka’s gruff voice answer the call, the memory of last week shooting painfully through your core.

“Oi?”

Some silence, before the Khazak turns in his seat behind Daichi and whispers through the space between the leather and the wall of the jet. You can’t help the way you look at him, stormy grey eyes peering out at you as he whispers into the ear of your husband. Your brow furrows when Daichi jerks his head in a slight nod, tense.

Tanaka retreats back around and you’re left staring at the empty spot, snapping your eyes to the calculating gaze of The Bulldog.

“Is everything alright, my love?” you ask, deciding to stand from your seat and sit on his arm rest.

Daichi folds the newspaper away, one arm wrapping around your waist while the other takes a sip of the champagne straight from the bottle.

“It seems this trip will not only be pleasure,” he muses, eyes closing as he swallows. However, when they open, his face melts into the calm reassurance you’ve always known when he smiles up at you and places a kiss to the cream wool crepe of your blouse. “I have something to take care of, but it will only be a moment. Nothing to worry about.”

You nod, delicate hands stroking at Daichi’s hair, but Tanaka’s cologne wafts up, invading your nose.

“I understand.”

***

The drive to the private Villa La Vigie winds between grey and green rock mountains to your left with glimpses of the dazzling azure ocean of where the French Riviera gets its name to your right. You’re invited to stay in the home of your fathers dear friend, Monsieur Lagerfeld, situated on a private hill just outside Monaco. He will not be there, March being the month he spends in his apartment in Paris, so you and Daichi and the many bodyguards take residence for the week.

You’ve visited this house a number of times in your youth, in your adulthood, and yet it steals the air from your lungs each time you return. It’s one o’clock in the afternoon when you pull up the driveway. In front of you, the two story villa looms in it’s beautiful white-painted glory, the sun a beacon shining upon it. Light brick extends below to where there is a wine cellar, garage and access to the private beach club below.

The car parks, and Daichi kisses your cheek in the backseat before he exits the vehicle and strides up the steps and through the large glass double doors, answering his phone while bodyguards open the way for him. You see Tanaka grip the steering wheel, the leather of his gloves stretch and squeak. It is the first time you are alone with him since that night a week ago, and the heater in the car feels sweltering against your skin.

“Thank you for the drive, Ryunoslav,” you mumble, shifting to the edge of the seat to leave out of the side Daichi had.

“Val,” he starts, then his mouth shuts and his eyes catch yours in the reflection of the rearview mirror, “of course.”

The terracotta tiles of the terrace reflect a salmon pink up the walls of the villa, and you smile at the men as you pass by and find the master bedroom on the first floor. You can already hear Daichi negotiating in the connected office, and you decide to bathe. As the water runs in the porcelain tub, the water mists with the scent of lavende de provence, and you open the windows looking out over the meditterean ocean. The salt and trees wash over you as the sound of the ocean crashing against rocks floats up, and for an instance, you imagine jumping out the window and into that endless blue. The winter air trickles into the warm bathroom.

Notes of a waltz dance in from the direction of the office and you see Daichi’s shadow move around in the bedroom as he unbuttons his cufflinks and loosens his navy blue tie. He walks into the bathroom where you’ve already slipped on the linen bathrobe, your blouse and jeans folded neatly onto the clothes ladder leaning against the wall.

“Care to join?” you ask, clipping your hair up. Daichi peels his shirt off and drops it near your own in a crumpled pile, his thick muscles rippling with each movement as he undresses.

“Prosti, Gadyuka. I have to get to the board meeting before the gala tonight,” he apologises, turning on the glass door shower as he gets into it on the opposite side to the bath. You watch as the water in the faucet of the bath sputters, and your heart imitates.

“Ah yes, I forgot. What-”

“The car arrives at seven, Khazak will escort you.”

Your head whips around to stare at Daichi as he massages white suds over his body, large palms running over his chest where the Sawamurov crest is tattooed in a large circle. He raises his eyebrows. You clear your throat, standing to drop the gown and dip a toe into the water.

“Not you?”

“Unfortunately no, but I will be there waiting for you. I know the dress you are wearing and can’t have any man trying to steal you for himself.”

Daichi’s honeyed words wash over you as you submerge into the water, turning off the faucet and staring out to the sea, a stark sapphire against the lily-white of the bathroom walls and window pane. In the mirror above the sink, you can see The Bulldog get out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his defined waist while he shakes the water from his hair.

You laugh as you turn to observe him while he pats on the cologne displayed on the sink, before brushing his teeth.

“I doubt anyone will try to steal me away.”

He looks at you in the reflection, a curious expression in his eyes, before he spits and rinses.

“Yes, well, you never know. You might run off with a French vineyard heir by the end of the night.”

“Never, Daichi. No one can be my Bulldog but you.”

He snorts, turning to watch as you lather yourself in Chanel shower gel, the scent mixing with the lavender already clinging to the air.

“Da, no one is like me.”

He leans down to place a chaste kiss on your lips before he exits the bathroom and changes into a clean outfit waiting for him in the Master bedroom. The made-to-measure Chanel suit hangs in a black garment bag that he carries out with him as he leaves to join the council meeting of the European Casino Association before the Annual Art Auction tonight.

The interaction runs through your mind as you mull over the look in his eyes, the way he tensed before he kissed you goodbye, the faintest flicker of jealousy in his eyes that flared when he joked about you leaving him. Suddenly, you remember Ryunoslav’s lips against your neck and you squeeze your eyes shut.  With a deep inhale, you sink deep under the water to feel it tickle your nostrils and earlobes, before submerging your head.

Your fingers find the curves of your thighs, dragging up slowly to feel how the water moves around your hands and displaces against your skin. You lift your face slightly, until the edge of the water tickles your skin and you inhale, swirling the skin of your clit. In your mind, Ryunoslav’s kisses fall hot and wet against your body, skin red and heated in the bathtub while you press hard circles against sensitive nerves. You’re not trying to take it slow, coaxing the first wave of clenches quickly as you imagine a thick cock sliding over and over inside you.

Ryunoslav morphs into Daichi, and you sit up with a gasp, fingers not slowing, your hand gripping the handle of the tub tightly as your abdomen contracts. Uncontrollably, Ryu and Daichi alternate, their bodies shifting fluidly until a faceless man fucks into you.

You orgasm on the verge of tears, confused and aching. The styling team will arrive in an hour.

You stand, feeling the cold winter air touch your heated skin. Wrapped again in the robe, you close the window and bind your hair in a towel.

A Russian Waltz still plays on the radio inside the ensuite office, and you look around to filter the channel to a French songstress crooning over the small speakers. Next to the stereo, is Daichi’s small black book, open to his to-do list, and your eyes scan over it before you can stop yourself, reading the neatly scribbled words.

14 March 2006, 1:00 am, La Serpent Fleur

That was the name of the Superyacht you and Daichi are to go on after the gala for the afterparty to the auction. You frown, thinking of the myriad of reasons what he might do there, who he’ll meet with other than the ECA board today. It must be to do with what happened in Georgia and was whispered to him during the flight.

You turn, leaving the book just as you found it and unpack the suitcase that was brought to the bedroom in preparation for tonight.

8. Tanaka

Ryunoslav waits at the front door, facing the short five-stair foyer that branches into the stairwell leading to the first floor. The golden light of the sunset filters in gentle waves through the chiffon curtains of the entry hall.

The first thing he sees of Valentina is in the reflection of the large silver mirror facing the stairwell on the landing. A single leg slinking out from a thigh-high slit, while a heart shaped pump in patent black is clasped around her ankle. The metal YSL heel clinks with each step. Next is the black, silk crepe de chine perfectly draping to the floor–not clinging to anything but the curve of her hips–and the bodice tailored to her waist in a tight structure that pendulums side-to-side.

However, what steals the very air from his lungs, stops his heart, is the bustier covering her breasts. The dress is strapless, the neckline two rounded cups that trace down the sides of her cleavage and towards her ribs before turning and meeting in a gentle hill at the end of her sternum. The dress is Yves Saint Laurent. Ryunoslav watches as Valentina rounds the stairwell and stands at the top of the foyer, opera length gloves running up her arms and with one hand on her hip while the other clasps a small black Bulgari clutch. Around her neck is a pendant necklace, emeralds glittering amongst diamonds and silver, set in the shape of a viper head. Matching emerald drop earrings hang from her lobes, reflecting the golden sun and glittering green against her neck. Valentina’s hair is pinned up, and that tattoo that curls from her left shoulder down her arm disappears beneath the gloves, reminding him that beauty is a secret poison. He swallows, blinks, then climbs up the steps to hand her the white fur coat he was holding.

“Vot eto da… You look beautiful, Mrs. Sawamurova.” Tanaka whispers, mindful of the bodyguards and staff littering the villa.

“Spasiba, Khazak,” she smiles, slipping her arms into the silk lining and fixing the collar. “Is the car ready?”

“Da.”

“Good, let’s go.”

The exchange between them feels mechanical, and Tanaka rushes ahead to open the car door, waiting until she is comfortable before shutting it and sliding into the driver’s seat. It is nowhere near the low temperatures of Russia in March, however he can’t stop the shivers that travel up his spine, and the ugly twist of jealousy that stabs at his heart.

The Casino de Monte Carlo, where the gala is being held, is a mere five minute drive from the villa, yet the silence is heavy, weighted, and slows down time.

“I missed you last week,” Valentina whispers, looking out the window at the midnight blue sky. A traffic light changes from red to green.

“Me too.”

The conversation ends when Ryunoslav pulls the Aston Martin around the fountain, waiting behind a elder couple stepping out of their black limo. The statues on either side of the Casino name look down at him as he parks and climbs out, a porter beating him to her door.

Camera’s flash, the music of a quartet floats out from the massive wooden doors up the entryway, and Ryunoslav remains closely behind Valentina’s right arm as he escorts her inside, pulling the ticket for both of them from his inner coat pocket and handing it to the doorman.

The grand foyer of the Casino is massive, ceilings high with a stained-glass skylight and the floor a white tile with black triangles in a circular pattern. Posed around the room, mostly in the center of the circles, are the artworks up for auction: a variety of paintings, sculptures, artifacts and some vintage designer jewellery. The golden chandeliers light the air with a sepia filter that softens the chatter and noise within. On the first floor bannister across the long hall, is a banner exclaiming, ‘2006 Annual ECA Art Auction’. Couples mingle, champagne is sipped and the Hors d’oeuvres are ignored in favour of the alcohol.

“I will check our coats,” Tanaka murmurs low in Russian, watching as Val slides the white fur down her arms to hand it to him with a polite smile, the kind he’s seen her wear in the public eye alongside Daichi for many years now.

“I’ll wait here, then we go find Daichi.”

His heart thumps painfully, the curve of her shoulders delicate as they flex in passing the heavy coat, but he nods and heads to the coat check just off the side. In passing, he spots Daichi at the top of the red-carpeted staircase, head bowed to speak secretly with someone Ryunoslav can not see, but knows. Daichi’s eyes find the growing storm in Tanaka’s with a smile, and he straightens to bid the woman a goodbye and descends the stairs.

“Sir,” Tanaka nods, pocketing the number for the coats.

“Ryunoslav,” Daichi returns the greeting, casually clapping the man on his shoulder. “Enjoy the evening, I will see you at the yacht later, yes?”

“She could’ve seen you, sir.” Tanaka whispers, carefully keeping eye contact with his Boss. Daichi smirks cooly, glancing back up the stairs and at a retreating woman’s back wearing a deep green dress.

“She did not see me. Thank you, again, for keeping this secret. Now, go, enjoy the party. Hell, if you see something you like, bid on it. I will pay.”

With that, Daichi walks past his Head of Security, chest puffing up as he walks towards his wife. Ryunoslav watches as she gives Daichi a gentle kiss on the cheek before wrapping a gloved hand around his bicep and following him into the crowd.

9. Valentina

The evening passes by in a blur.

The dinner and speeches take up half the evening before the auction begins, and the gala attendees disperse throughout the Casino, while you and Daichi walk to the gardens. Heaters are spaced periodically, warmth sinking below while gentle lights litter the walkways and grass. The stone steps leading there are cool, and you see your breath misting with each exhale before you’re back under the warmth.

The area of the auction outside has statues, planted with lighting that bring the romantic and violent figures to life.

“This one would look beautiful in our gardens in summer,” you muse, studying a small mermaid brushing her hair, tail flicked up and shells covering her breast.

“Anything for you,” Daichi replies, writing down a number with his auction code and placing it in the poll box besides the statue.

You just laugh politely, aware of Daichi’s two bodyguards following the both of you.

“Let’s go back inside. I want to see how our bid on the Kandinsky is doing.” Daichi offers, but you shake your head.

“I’ll walk around here for a bit longer. It’s such a beautiful night and the noise inside was giving me a headache.”

“As you wish.”

You spend a few minutes admiring the remaining statues, finding a waiter that hands you a glass of champagne. With small sips, you hug an arm around your waist, looking over the stone wall at the beautiful, glittering scenery of Monte-Carlo below. You find yourself tucked away in a dark corner of the ledge, where the lights of the gala are few, the tree branches of the gardens overhang, and the city has come to life beneath you. You can hear jazz music from a bar down the road, and you wish you were sitting on a terrace with a glass of wine instead.

“C’est magnifique, non?” A heavy french accent sinks into you, and you glance at the man that leans with his back to the view, a deep purple suit contrasting against his tanned skin and sharp cheekbones. He smokes a hand-rolled cigarette. You look back out at the city.

“Oui, trop beau,” you reply softly, taking another sip, shifting onto the foot farthest from the stranger. He turns and offers you one of the smokes, tucking it away in his jacket breast pocket with a smile and a tap when you decline. His eyes travel down your breasts, before glancing back up to your arching brows and unamused eyes.

“Je ne parle pas de la vue,” I do not mean the view, “Emmanuelle Beauchant,” he offers an outstretched palm.

“Valentina,” he lifts your gloved hand to his lips, but hovers just above contact when you continue, “Sawamurova.”

“Desolee, I did not realise you were not French, or married,” Emmanuelle apologises in English.

You smile politely, lifting the glass to your mouth to down the last of the fizzing alcohol.

“An honest mistake.”

“Your husband’s Casinos are some of my favourites. Please, accept my apologies. Let me get you a new glass.” He waves down a waiter, plucking the empty flute from your fingers and replacing it before you can reject. “I am the coordinator of this petite soiree. Enjoy your evening, Mrs. Sawamurova.” With that, he leaves in a hurry, scampering off into the light much like he had appeared, leaving you alone again. Almost.

You feel the warmth of another body to your right, and you almost sigh from exhaustion when Ryunoslav’s gruff voice washes over you in comforting Russian. It breaks like the wave against the shore.

“I thought I would have to scare him away.”

Tanaka’s serious eyes beneath the shadow of a deep brow pulls the first real chuckle of the evening from your chest, and you see his shoulders somewhat relax as he leans with a hip on the stone.

“It was innocent, Ryu.”

“He wanted to fuck you.”

“He’s French,” you counter, placing the champagne glass down, sliding it away from your body and towards the party. “And everyone wants to fuck me.”

You spin, losing your balance as Tanaka pulls your hand towards him and twists you so that your back presses against the cool stone in a darkened alcove. His forehead is on yours, eyes shut, and breath fanning over your lips. Your own chest heaves with the sudden rush. His hands dig into your hips, yours into his shoulders. Your bag drops to the floor.

“You have no idea,” each word is punctuated by palms shimmying up the side of your waist, thumbs digging into the fabric, “how badly I want to fuck you too.”

He wraps his thick forearms behind your back hugging you tight and into himself as he folds over you and brings his lips to touch yours. It’s deep, and although passion usually pours from his kiss, this one is born out of jealousy, desperation, and desire.

Compliments drip like honey from Ryunoslav’s mouth as he mumbles them into your skin, words melting so that they become part of you.

“Ryu, Ryu, stop, we can’t. It’s so open.”

He shushes you, a palm snaking under the boning of the open neckline to cup the breast, nipplie erect from the night chill. “No one saw me come here.”

“But the people. They know who I am, mmpf.” A pinch to your nipple has you moaning under your breath, head tilting back against the stone, cold against heated flesh.

“They are all too busy with their own conquests, showing up one another.”

“You light a fire in my heart,” his onslaught of compliments don’t cease, and you realise that tonight is the tipping point. The intensity of his words drag you beneath his waters, much like the way his fingers find the high slit of your dress and sink into your folds. Your knee falls open to let him pull you deeper.

“Underwear?”

“Not with this dress.”

“Whore.” Teeth nip at your neck.

“Yours.”

An animalistic groan rumbles through your veins from his mouth, and you clutch at the lapel of his jacket as his fingers thrust shallow, over and over again. You want him–need him– inside you, and the thought of public sex no longer scares you. In this moment, only Ryunoslav exists, the smell of lilies and the fresh ocean fill you, devouring you with a hint of something darker that you recognise as human.

Sin. And something else.

A zipper comes down, his cock unfolds and stretches you out.

“I love you.”

The words tumble from your lips before you can stop them, and even then, you don’t keep them in as you whisper, him thrustsing into your aching core. You vaguely hear him mumbling it back to you. His voice low and sincere, forehead against yours, lips against yours. Your bodies become one.

“Blyat, where can I?” desperation fills his voice, and you barely utter the words before he spills inside you, keeping you warm and plugged up, panting against his face, chin tucked down.

A hand rifles through his pants pocket, and he pulls out his regular small handkerchief, stained, but comforting. You take it from him, careful to keep your face hidden as he pulls out and you wipe yourself under your skirt.

“Ryunoslav.” His name feels like lava, molten on your tongue as it rolls down your body and ignites a fire over your skin, burning you. “We have to stop seeing each other.”

He tenses against you, arms shielding you from the world so only the two of you exist.

“Why?”

“We’ve changed. We’re not just having fun anymore, Ryu-”

“What do you mean we’ve changed?”

“Us. This.” You curse, gesturing vaguely to him and yourself, feeling the fire spread to your ears and your heart.

“Nothing has changed. I have always loved you.”

Your heart drops into your stomach, turning over and over as you digest it, painfully aware of how much truth rings in his words, and how you’re sure you’ve always loved him back.

“We have to stop. Or we have to tell Daichi.”

His lips connect with your forehead. You hear him swallow.

“Tonight then. Together.”

“Together.”

Ryunoslav stays close to you as he picks up the bag from the floor, handing you the mirror inside to fix your lipstick, your hair, before you dust the stone from your back and ass.

“You look beautiful,” he whispers to you a final time, stepping to the side so you emerge from the shadow, pick up your forgotten champagne glass and head back into where art dances together and people mingle.

10. Tanaka

Tanaka watches as Valentina saunters away, past the bodies to rejoin the party. With a heavy sigh, he leans against the stone, cooling his forehead and calming his thumping heart. His feet bump against something and with one eye, he squints at the ground and spots glittering emeralds in the dark. Her necklace.

Quickly, he picks it up, carefully placing it in his suit jacket pocket, and curses when he sees the time on his watch. He has to find Daichi and head to the yacht to do the final security checks before he arrives. Vines wrap themselves around his intestines, anxiety leaking into each step, the emerald necklace a dead weight in his jacket.

He finds the Boss surrounded by influential board members, holding a glass of vodka casually as they all laugh at his jokes. The Chanel suit drapes down his broad back perfectly, clean cut and sharp, the single seam a crisp line.

“Sorry for interrupt,” Tanaka apologies, English tangling on his tongue. He continues in a low Russian to Daichi, sweat beading on the back of his neck, palms clammy and therefore kept in his pants pocket. It’s better that way, his tattoos are less appreciated around the higher class of society.

Daichi nods, a loose smile along with his loosened tie. He hands Tanaka a paper that shows he won the bid on the Kandinsky painting. “Arrange this on the way out. Leave Valentina’s coat with mine.”

“Ya ponimayu.”

Tanaka turns to leave, but Daichi calls out one more time.

“Ryunoslav?”

“Da?”

“You have lipstick on your collar.”

Tanaka feels nausea bubbling up his gut, not from the proximity of your scent to The Bulldog’s nose, but from the thought of later tonight. He forces a cocky smirk and shrug, turning on his heel to head to the back office to finalise the paperwork for the painting and add the delivery address, before shrugging his thick coat on and stepping outside by the valet. The air has cooled considerably from the heat of the balcony and between your thighs. Once safely in the car, he rubs the stain furiously in the reflection of the rearview mirror, making it set even further into the white fabric. It blends into the threads like spilt blood. With a grumble, he drives to the harbor.

La Serpent Fleur is a sleek superyacht with three decks above water and one below, housing jet ski’s, a speedboat, storage and crew quarters. The middle and lower decks have outdoor and indoor seating, with main bedrooms for up to 15 couples to sleep in. The flooring and interior is light teakwood, rich brown accents amongst cream and white leather and fabric. It’s unmissable in the late night, lit up in silvery white, the name illuminated against a navy blue sky and pitch black water. It reflects stars in the meditterean sea.

Tanaka greets all staff, deploying his bratva across the yacht to inspect all rooms and inform the captain of the upcoming helicopter landing at 1:00 am. It’s not often that Mafia business mixes with Business business, but as money is always intertwined, this time, it is unavoidable. The pool on the top deck shimmers aquamarine, and Tanaka inspects that the bar is fully stocked for the upcoming meeting. Vodka and Campari. This floor is only for Daichi and a select few.

“It’s like I’m a fucking assistant,” he grumbles under his breath, withdrawing a small hand-gun strapped to his calf and securing it in the hidden shelf under the bar top. You never know, he smiles, tapping the holster against his back for comfort.

All checks are done by the time the first of the guests arrive, high-stakes rollers for the gambling about to happen. Tanaka keeps to the shadows, lighting a cigarette as he surveys the walkway leading up to the yacht, and it’s guests. They are all smiling, huddling together in their pair against the cool ocean breeze. He takes a look at the pack that was confiscated from Ukai with distaste, flicking the cigarette into the ocean water.

Daichi and Valentina are the last to arrive, and although he’s smiling, she is not, lipstick slightly faded and a smudge of mascara under her eyes. Tanaka watches as she disappears as soon as she set foot on the yacht, hurrying off to inside the cabin before anyone can stop her. Tanaka’s eyes follow her retreating figure, the white of her coat bristling, before he steps up to greet Daichi.

“Everything is ready for Kuroo Testuro to arrive, Boss,” he reports, murmuring low.

“Perfect, evening has turned into disaster. Make sure no one will disturb us except for emergency. It will not take long. What is his eta?” Daichi never lowers the corners of his mouth, but those brown eyes are hard mahogany. Tanaka checks his watch, the light above reflecting in the glass, shining in the storm in his eyes.

“Forty-five minutes. We have to set sail now, all guests have arrived and the poker tables inside have been set up.”

“I will wait upstairs.”

“Yes, Boss.”

Tanaka sighs, running a hand over his shorn hair, a shiver rippling down his spine. He hears his name, and he turns to face one of his brothers, following after to inspect a stairwell.

It does not take long for the party to fall into full swing. Continuing with free-flowing champagne is the key to keeping rich socialites and underground dealers happy and oblivious. Daichi stands near the railing, ice cubes in his glass clinking while he surveys the decks below and waits. Tanaka stands to attention off the side, the cool winter air breezing through his suit jacket, the veins on his knuckles and forearms almost frozen; he stuffs them into his pockets. The cool silver of Valentina’s necklace shocks him and he remembers he has to sneak it back to her. He peers over the edge, spotting her in the distance, smiling once more, makeup fixed and socialising.

His heart thumps, emeralds and diamonds cutting a hole in his jacket pocket, beating faster until it syncs up with the incoming helicopter blades. They whir around in a steady beat that consumes the noise below and thrums through his bones. Then, the wind hits him. Air cold as ice as the machine descends, the collar of his jacket whipping up and folding into itself. Kuroo Testuro has arrived.

The blades come to a halt and Tanaka steps forward, two men overtaking him to climb up the stairs of the helicopter pad landing and open the door. Long legs dressed in a black pin-stripe suit step out, a lopsided cocky smirk plastered on the Italian boss’s face.

“Ciao Daichi, it’s been a while!” Kuroo calls over the wind, arms stretching out while he’s patted down. “Khazak, you’re looking sour.”

Tanaka scowls, not entirely sure what The Panther of the Testuro family said to him. Daichi turns to face the man completely, walking until he stands next to Tanaka, waiting for the man to descend the white metal stairs to the upper deck. The Boss’s exchange a stiff handshake, their eyes piercing as one fights for dominance over the other. Daichi wins, his hand slapping against Kuroo’s back in a hearty greeting.

“Let’s get to business, something to drink?” The Bulldog offers, but Kuroo is laughing, already walking to the leather sofas around the pool, flopping down onto it with one leg crossed over the other. He waves to one of his bodyguards, pointing at the bar.

“Always so formal Daichi, tell me, how is Valentina? Still married to you?” Kuroo’s words tumble out quickly, Italian accent thick enough that Tanaka can only pick up on a few words. He registers your name, and the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention, ready to attack at Daichi’s order. The Boss takes a deep breath, his teeth gritting.

“She is fine. Enjoying party below.”

“Pity, I think she’d be happier up here with us. Won’t you call her?”

“Careful, Kuroo.”  Daichi warns, but the Panther just smiles his wicked Cheshire grin in return.

“Ah, I’m joking. I will just keep the fantasy of her lips around my–”

A hand darts out over Kuroo’s shoulder, interrupting any further explanation of imagination. Tanaka grabs Daichi’s arm, one that had tensed with it’s fist closed around a concealed gun in a holster on his back.

“Campari, sir?”

“Ah! Grazie!” He takes a sip, setting it down on the glass table beside him. “Now, we can talk business.”

Tanaka listens to the low conversation between the two bosses, the discussion of the new trade route of cocaine between Italy and Russia. It takes some time to adjust to the accent, but then he’s following along, standing with his hands in his pockets, a thumb gliding over the necklace. There had been an interruption along the coasts between Lecce and Albania, several different Sicillian Mafia’s holding up some of Daichi’s shipments due to unpaid ‘reparations’, a farce to ignite a turf war between the Families in Italy and their Russian connections.

“You must call off your friends in Italy. We keep up our end of bargain. I will not be so understanding in future.”

“Ah, but you see, they are greedy and believe you are not paying properly for the passage.”

“I assure you, I am.”

Tanaka stiffens, seeing how Daichi begins to inflate, irritation lacing his voice. Kuroo chuckles, taking a slow sip with raised eyebrows.

“Oh, I believe you. I can convince them but I’ll need some extra incentive from your end.”

Tanaka speaks up, eyes narrowing as he sniffs out Kuroo’s angle. “We can not give you that.”

“You are one of the largest groups in the world, surely you have some men for me?”

“No.”

Tanaka’s blood begins to boil, nails biting into the skin of his palms enough to draw blood. The gun strapped on his back heavy as it calls to be unholstered. His men are not dispensable. Kuroo sighs, then his eyes glance to the left where the noise of the party floats in the night air, and he smiles.

“Then maybe you have a woman.”

Tanaka turns to follow his gaze, and climbing up the stairs slowly is Valentina, a hand on the metal rail, the white fur coat hanging down her back as it drapes from her elbows, lipstick blood red. She’s drunk, giggling to herself but stops when a vor blocks the final step onto the deck. Then, she sobers, straightening instantly with narrowed eyes.

“Asahi,” she says, voice sharp but breathless.

“The Boss is in a meeting.”

Her makeup had been fixed, the tips of her nose and ears pink from the chill, her hair no longer pinned up but wild down her back from the wind. Tanaka glances at Daichi, his eyes muddy and lips tightly pursed.

“Oh, let her join, huh?” Kuroo grins, setting his glass down and leaning forward to interlock his fingers and rest his elbows on his knees. “Surely, you trust her enough.”

“Of course.”

Daichi and his guest battle in their stares, but ultimately the Panther wins. With a sigh, Daichi calls out to Alexei, “let her through.”

Valentina strides over to the men, coat dragging on the floor behind her. Surprising everyone, she stops in front of the cocky bastard, who stands to greet her, and their cheeks brush twice, left then right.

“Kuroo, how lovely to see you again. I hope my husband is kind.”

Tanaka holds back a wince, the feeling of her warm breath against his neck still teasing him in his memories. He has to admire her acting, even inebriated, she commands attention. Their eyes follow when she walks to the head of the table and flops down onto the chair, slit falling open with crossed legs.

“He’ll be kinder now that you are here.”

Valentina laughs, “yes, but I might not be.”

“Enough.” Daichi cuts through the jovial small talk, fists clenching and resting on his knees, his back straight. “I am tired of games.”

Tanaka thinks he catches a double meaning, heart racing as he readies himself for anything.

“You own Casinos,” Kuroo drawls, but he’s no longer smiling, still standing. Daichi gets to his feet, shorter than his counterpart, but thicker.

“We are getting nowhere. I will not be included in your battle for control, and if my next shipment continues to be held, God is not the only one that can turn water into wine. Capisci?”

Their stares are intense, and seconds tick by in eternity, before Kuroo nods with a sigh, a hand tucking into his pants pocket while the other extrends. They shake, curt and stiff, and Tanaka rolls his shoulders, loosening the knots in his upper back, eyeing Valentina curiously. She has her eyes focused on Daichi, pupils narrow and mouth pressed into a thin line; the same look she had when she boarded the yacht. She snaps out of it, lips curling up as she stands.

“It was a pleasure, although short,” Kuroo tells her, and they exchange polite kisses. Tanaka hears the rumble in Daichi’s chest, and he briefly wonders if she’s purposefully trying to anger the Bulldog. She’s always been unafraid of his bark, a viper teasing with her fangs.

They wait until Kuroo climbs back in the helicopter, until the blades whir to life with that beating drum that pumps adrenaline through his body and until it is quiet once more, the waves sloshing far below against the yacht. The air is crisp, and the silence heavy. Valentina turns to face Daichi, neck tense, mouth open but Daichi cuts her off.

“Don’t embarrass me like that again.”

Tanaka bristles, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He controls the need to step in front of Val, to shield her from his Boss. The weight of her necklace in his pocket keeps him anchored. His heart pounds in his ears, Daichi glances at him briefly before keeping an unwavering eye on Valentina’s fierce gaze. It’s odd. Tanaka always has a plan, knows what will happen next, and yet, he is at a loss. Unsteady on his feet as the boat rocks. He’s unsure of what she will do, how she will tell her possessive husband–

“I’m seeing someone.”

11. Valentina

Lightning flashes in the distance when the words leave your lips, the thunder rumbling in the silence that follows. You watch Daichi carefully, standing your ground even though parts of you scream to take a few steps back. You resist the temptation to glance at Ryunoslav. During your musings, you decided not to say who it was right away. Daichi glances down at your bare neck, the necklace he’d given you missing, lost somewhere at the gala when you finally lost yourself in emotion. You remember the fight with him when leaving the venue.

You expected Daichi to burst in anger, explode outwards and destroy everything with his fury. Yet he remains silent, eyes mattifying as he draws inward, no longer oiled mahogany but rather sanded wood. When he speaks, it’s so low you almost miss it, but it penetrates you with the next flash of lightning.

“Leave.”

White, hot anger burns through you at his command, your hands raising as though to grab his lapel. Quickly, you reroute to pulling your fur coat back onto your shoulders.

“You don’t want to know who?”

“You don’t want to know what I am thinking right now, Gadyuka.”

You open your mouth to respond, but Ryunoslav cuts you off, “take the boat, please.”

You stare incredulously at him, but he is already speaking in a low voice onto a handheld receiver, then back at Daichi, who’s body slowly begins to vibrate. However, Daichi is no longer looking at you. Instead, his eyes have shifted to Ryu, brows furrowed. Thunder claps. You feel the first spray of rain misting onto your eyelashes.

“Fine, we will talk more at breakfast.”

You turn on your heel, the sound grating against the wooden deck, and someone from the Brigade accompanies you down the stairs, walking just slightly ahead of you, silently asking you to follow.

You descend slowly, crossing the second deck with a practised smile, apologising to anyone that approaches you with an easy lie. Most of the crewmen begin to pack up and rearrange the party to continue on indoors. You enter the large cabin, and walk down another flight of stairs, to the first deck and then lower still. Here, the walls change from luxurious wooden, glass and metal to open beams, and white gritty flooring. It’s slightly wet, from the rain that batters against the open exit and the ocean water shimmering inside.

A small speedboat waits for you, not fully submerged, and a captain, yet his face is wary.

“Mrs. Sawamurova,” he holds his hat in his hands, a navy raincoat wrapped around his uniform, “wouldn’t you rather wait for the storm to pass? Please, enjoy the evening and when the water is still, I can take you to shore in an instant.”

“My husband wants me gone.”

“But not dead.”

You laugh, bitterly, feeling your intestines swirl, unsettled by those words. He’s brave.

“How long do you think it will take?”

“A few minutes, maximum. It is the winter rain, harsh but quick.”

“I will wait here.”

12. Tanaka

When the top of Valentina’s head disappears down the stairs, Daichi speaks, not looking at Tanaka. The first of fat raindrops begin to fall onto their shoulders.

“I will have to talk to her father, after I kill her.”

Tanaka’s tongue is heavy in his mouth, every bump dry and scratching against his throat. He can’t be serious. Slowly, Daichi turns to face him, eyes raking over his closest subordinate’s features, down his throat, and settles on the crisp white collar peeking out from his suit jacket, stained the same colour as Valentina’s lipstick.

“Khazak, who is it?”

“Boss–” but he doesn’t know what to say. The memories of the prison hospital bed, bare with just a sheet, an unsterilised IV drip stuck into his arm flashes in front of his mind. Daichi’s calm face that visited him before he woke up somewhere else.

“Tell me right now, or does your loyalty mean nothing?”

Tanaka winces, “nyet, Boss, you know I am loyal to you.”

He takes a deep breath, then reaches inside, fingers looping around diamonds to pull out the necklace, the viper head swaying back and forth. His heart claps with the thunder, the clouds breaking into a heavy downpour. Chill sets in instantly, his bones freezing beneath his suit.

“Supply snakes with a meal, and you will have them all by the fangs,” Daichi whispers under his breath, barely audible above the pattering of the drops against the floor, but Tanaka’s sensitive ears pick it up. “She played me for a fool.” Daichi’s wide-set eyes lift from the necklace to Tanaka’s.

“Mne ochyn zhal,” Tanaka begins to apologise profusely, but the hardened look shuts him up.

“I was wrong, Khazak,” Daichi interrupts, his hands moving to his pockets, Tanaka dropping his arm to his side. He starts to walk towards the sheltered area of the deck, withdrawing a pack of cigarettes. “You are the one that is going to have to kill her.”

Tanaka’s heart drops to his stomach, falling straight into the floor and sinking to the bottom of the unruly ocean. The Boss does not joke around, but he wishes for it to be one.

“I can not, Boss,” his head shakes, body vibrates. This is the first time he has ever refused an order from Daichi. The Bulldog watches with raised eyebrows, the question evident on his face.

“I am in love with her.”

The bark that erupts from Daichi’s throat echoes above the rain, above the thunder, and shatters inside Tanaka’s heart. He holds the cigarette to his lips, and Tanaka feels the rain drip down the rivulets of his shaved hair and under the collar of his suit and shirt. There’s a flicker of orange as the Marlboro tip glows.

“And you think she loves you back? Valentina is a snake, a woman. They know only two things: how to lie and how to fuck. You have fucked her, da? It’s magnificent. Was she the second whore of that weekend? Or was she first as well? How long have you been fucking my wife, Ryunoslav?”

Tanaka wants to answer, but it catches in his throat. His tongue refuses to mould the shapes, his lungs refuse to exhale the sound. Daichi sighs.

“It does not matter. Only one thing matters. Come.”

Tanaka walks towards Daichi, each step kicking water down his shoes, his socks wet. He’s never felt more like the ocean than now, swallowed by the rain, drowning. He stops when he stands under the partition, Daichi’s large hands cupping themselves under Tanaka’s chin to lift his head slightly, wiping the rain from his skin, the gold rings cold against his jaw. There may have been tears but Tanaka can’t tell, numb and expectant of Daichi’s next words,

“Tell me, do you love her more than me?”

Cigarette smoke tickles Tanaka’s nose, and he holds his breath. Without him, Tanaka would be dead. Daichi knows this, Tanaka knows this.

“I owe you my life, Pakhan.”

“Now, you owe me a life. I am not without mercy. You have been the closest brother to me. You have tasted the sweet fruit of sin, I can not blame you. You know I have done it too. But I am expected to sleep with someone else. She has embarrassed me. I can not have that. A Boss that can not keep his woman in line? No one will respect me, her own father will not respect me.”

Tanaka remembers the conversation in the banya, the plans to take over completely, the poor health Valentina’s old man is in.

“Are you loyal, or are you just another predatel, scum like the men you erase from existence?”

The storm in Tanaka’s eyes swirl around, clashing against the hard forest floor of Daichi’s. He is loyal. Strangely, in this moment, he remembers the lilies of his home, and their sweet, comforting fragrance, his mother making dinner, and his sister who ran with him to their new life before separating. The pain of losing her no longer stabs at him, maybe this pain someday will not either.

13. Valentina

The room is white and grey, the smell of oil and rubber and metal and salt clinging to the air, to your skin. All the alcohol consumed over the evening seeps from your pores, creating a pounding in your head. You begin to wonder if it was ever a good idea to tell Daichi. You wonder what happened when you left, and you wonder where your necklace is. Your fingers brush over your sternum, feeling the ghost of the viper head and of Tanaka’s mouth.

You taptaptap your toes against the floor, the rain echoing in time, the water drawing in and out rhythmically as you wait for the storm to pass. Only a few minutes, you were told.

“Few minutes, my ass.”

The walkie-talkie connected to the captain’s hip shocks to life, and broken Russian floats up, but you can’t make out the words. He answers, smiles at you, “please, wait here. I will be back soon.”

Then, he leaves, and you’re left alone with the brat that accompanied you. He sighs heavily, as though the inconvenience to him is all your doing, and you glare.

“Is there a problem, soldier?” you ask, standing straight, arms crossed in front of your chest. They seem to forget, Daichi married into your family, not the other way around.

“Nyet, Gadyuka, prosti,” he apologises quickly.

Silence settles over the hull again, claustrophobia leaching into your veins. If you look out at the open hatch, you can see inky blackness, and far in the distance, the faint yellow lights of Monte Carlo. You are about to ask for some water when footsteps echo against the metal walls, a familiar gait.

“Leave us, pazolvste.”

Ryunoslav says to his subordinate, who swiftly salutes him and walks up the stairs. The door at the top clicks shut. You’re speechless, and he is sopping wet.

“Ryu,” you whisper, walking towards him and draping your arms around his shoulders, uncaring at the feeling of water pressing into the fabric of your dress, dripping between the open gap of your breasts. He’s stiff when you touch him, but soon melts, nose nuzzling into your neck and breathing deeply. He still smells like crisp apple and fresh seawater.

“Why are you here?”

“Daichi knows.”

You’ve never felt colder, warmer, like a fever and frostbite all at once. You feel him rustle against your bodies, and you let go to watch him pull the Bulgari necklace out, lifting your hand to place it in your palm. Your fingers close around the jewels automatically.

“I told him I love you.”

There are no words that come to your mind in that instant. Emotions, many. Relief, nausea, stillness and rage, love for the man in front of you. You ache to feel his warm, corded muscles against your skin. He looks pained, eyes tormented as he looks into your soul.

“How did he react?”

“Not well.”

“And?”

He gives no space for continuation, pulling you tightly against his body, arms snaking around your waist as his lips fall against your mouth. His skin is cool, wet, pressing to your heated cheeks, but his mouth is inviting. There is passion unlike what you’ve experienced before. It tastes like freedom, like a new day and endless night. It’s the smoke on the fire, and the salt of the sea. He’s crying, you realise, and you open your mouth to lick up a tear on the corner of his mouth.

The necklace slips from your fingers when you grab him, pushing the jacket of his suit from his shoulders to drop to the already wet floor. There’s a faint crunch, but neither one of you pull away to look at the crushed jewel beneath your heel. It’s just so right to kiss him. In this moment, the world falls away and it’s just the two of you. His taste fills you with a feeling that rivals being whole, satiated. Something hard pokes against your hip, and you smile into the kiss, lips moving to his jaw to suck on an earlobe.

But you freeze. Daichi is at the top of the stairs.

“I’m sorry,” Ryunoslav whispers.

You frown, his words not registering and when you pull back to ask what is happening, he ensnares another kiss from you, tears flowing freely, something hard, cold, now presses against your temple and–

.

.

.

End.

-----

Thank you for reading, truly. This fic honestly has so much of my heart and soul in it. I had so much fun writing it. I hope you’re not too mad about the ending lmao.

@dee-madwriter , @pleasantanathema​​​ , @lookslikeleese​​​ , @linestrider​​​ , @hisoknen​​​ , @mindninjax​​​ , @whats-her-quirk​​​ , @messwriting​

[elminx]

2021 has an incredibly intense year in so many ways (I'm sure many of you can relate). I still remember the before-me and I'm getting acquainted with who this after-me is going to be but living in the constant liminality of this moment has been an on-going challenge. I've been counting my days by moon cycles because time hasn't mattered otherwise in a very long time.

Except now somebody decided that tomorrow is different. That day - in the middle of this fog - that day is the right day to start anew.

I don't do resolutions but I'm fond of goals. I set myself a lofty three: to walk to the cemetery every single day with my camera, to read 28 books, and to write a post a week on my blog. I accomplished the third, missed the second by almost ten, and walked to the cemetery many days of the year but certainly not all, and surprisingly few times with my camera.

My other big goal of the year was to pick one plant to focus on every month whether for eating, growing, or other forms of magic. In the Winter months when plant life is scarce around here, the pickings where easy. I worked with citrus quite a bit but focused much of my time and attention of the beautiful towering evergreens which dominate the winter landscape here in Southern New England.

I fell instantly in love with using Eastern White Pine as a road opener and used a combination of different evergreens together to create powerful protection and healing products. I still haven't posted publicly about the protection candles that I made out of evergreen oil in the early springtime.

Then, all it once spring kicked in and I found myself having to choose between working with dandelion or working with violet (both of whom decided to bloom in Dora's garden at the exact same time). It was obvious that one botanical a month wasn't going to cut it. I made it work though. As I count out my botanical allies of the year, the total is more than twelve. I just had to let what wanted to come to me, come to me. My partner needed an anti-itch salve more than anything this Summer and an overabundance of jewelweed pretty much fell into my hands.

My recollections of the year go much like that. We realized we needed something, and found a way to make it work. I've been trying hard to localize my craft and have found chicory growling in the ditches and mugwort in the fallow fields. I stumbled upon bags of $3 fresh peaches at the local flower stand and my friends handed us bags of their yard pears.

I found that I had to seek out a lot less than was expected. That I could trust in what nature provided. My bestie had too many nasturtium and my neighbor down the street was weeding out her deadnettle. I did travel to the beaches of Cape Cod for some rose hips but otherwise, the earth, right where I was living, provided. In more abundance than I found that I had time for on some days.

I promised myself that 2021 would be a year of learning and it certainly was. But I didn't do so with my nose in a book nearly as much as I imagined - instead I walked a frozen lake in the dead of Winter to discover Bearberry deep in the woods. And I returned to watch the frog's eggs grow in the vernal pool for four weeks running while I visited my friends baby goats.

I spent my time chasing bees and butterflies and making friends with my neighborhood trees. I visited the ocean three times and lost myself in the wildness as often as I possibly could.

I find myself wondering where the time gone but then I see snippets of my many adventures in photographs and my journals. I fiddled endlessly with kitchen projects: eastern white pine vodka, a failed winter gin, another failed violet liqueur, but a win on dandelion jelly, and beautiful evergreen candles. Plus, my evergreen salve! We ate the evergreens, and lamb's quarters, and nasturtium with glee. My peony jam didn't set but the strawberry and rosehips were a complete success. I brandied pears and made everything imaginable out of apples and cranberries.

It doesn't feel like enough but I think that is what makes me a bit of a scientist as well as a witch. There is always another herb to try, something that if I only had time to experiment with it, I might make such beautiful and ephemeral magic.

I confess, I do not understand how we are here again already. It seems like only yesterday that it was the new years last and I was wandering around hoping to find spruce for my kitchen projects.

And so, I make my goals again. To go outside with my camera every single day (and walk to the cemetery when I can), to live in the moment and in touch with what the universe is giving me, to read two books a month, and to continue to share it all with you.

[dansnaturepictures]

11/10/2022-Lakeside and home 

Photos I took in this set today are of; a lovely moon to see this morning, a nice scene of a mostly green tree with a bit of yellow, one with a lot of yellow autumnal colour and another with red autumn leaves visible from home from a nice angle getting all of them in it I get this angle when crossing the road and didn’t quite feel the shot when I first noticed it at the end of my lunch time walk yesterday and rather wondered what it might have been like if I had so luckily the conditions were pretty much identical in the bright sunlight with vast blue sky to take it, bee on dandelion, crimson flax, view at Lakeside, a carrot seed head which caught my eye last week at Lakeside, green leaves against the blue sky at Lakeside, broad-leaved clover at Lakeside, bright red rose hips against the bright blue sky at Lakeside with nice green leaves too and a nice sky tonight. Today was another fantastic festival of colour in fine and splendid weather for photos. I am finding it interesting to notice the angles of sunlight lately and the rich light you do get in autumn and seeing the landscape in shadows, a sign of the time of year. I enjoyed the berries a lot again today.

Key species encountered today: 

Agrimony and carrot-Great flowers to see at Lakeside standing out in the now mowed grass of the eastern meadows. 

A few its fair to say not highly esteemed by many flowers seen which are gems that come to prominence more as the flower year quietens down at this time of year and there is a sense that they are dependable-Daisy, dandelion, some fresh red deadnettle one I do really like and broad-leaved clover. 

Large White butterfly-It would be a shame if I didn’t see a butterfly as I did with dragonflies yesterday on these bright sunny days at a time of year where your next could be your last of the year a delightful Large White flitted by for me at Lakeside. 

Avian pine delight-Immersed into this small but precious habitat, the pines at the south east of Lakeside by the road entrance a dominant part of the landscape around here especially as the other trees’ leaves desert them which I had rarely explored like I did on my lunch time walk today smelling and feeling it, looking underneath at the pine cones on it and generally taking it in, I saw some great birds. Yet more noisy Long-tailed Tits I’ve seen so many here this year, a Blue Tit in there too and Robin I saw Blue Tit well elsewhere at Lakeside today too and for only the second time at Lakeside for me after once last spring an exuberant Nuthatch which it was great to see on a branch and it was chased off by a Long-tailed Tit I believe too.

Kestrel seen at the start of the walk by the far eastern entrance by the allotments and one of my favourite birds the Green Woodpecker heard in trees right beside me-Two key species today.

Today I also saw; Starling and Goldfinch well at home, Feral Pigeon, I seem to recall Magpie, crane fly, jumping spider at home, crimson flax, orange poppy and cornflower with yarrow adorning the flower bed on the way to Lakeside, ragwort, possible Russian vine or Japanese knotweed, teasel seed heads seen well again, possible lambs quarters an interesting plant across the road from home looking nice in the sun and a smashing set of bright yellow evening primroses on the way to Lakeside near to a unique tree I like seeing where I had a great moment with an evening primrose over the summer I have had a good year for seeing them.

[rsenvs3000w22]

If you’re at all like me, you may have read the quote above and thought, huh? Honestly, at first, I was a bit stumped. I had to come back and read it over a few times before deciding what it meant to me. Like poetry and other art forms that we discussed in Unit 4, I think that this quote can be interpreted differently by everyone.

For me, it was the second half that really stood out. In my mind, this portion is a reminder for all areas of our lives that the past is a valuable place to start when looking at the present. What has occurred in the past cannot be discounted as it contributed to where we are today. Personally, I have always loved history for this reason as the events and choices of the past can be seen throughout aspects of our daily lives.

Rattlesnake Point lookout. Source: https://ontarioconservationareas.ca/

In the context of nature interpretation, the past is crucial for understanding the landscape in terms of both natural history and human history. The best way for me to describe this is through a story of looking out from rattlesnake point as my dad described how the Niagara Escarpment was formed. He told a story of a vast tropical sea 450 million years ago. Years later the sediments comprised of the sea life were compressed by rock. The same region as the climate changed was overlain by glaciers that as they melted and retreated carved away along with the elements leaving behind these cliffs. Interpretation helps us breathe life and meaning into past events and forms values to guide the present (Beck et al., 2019). His story did exactly that as I was astounded and in awe of the area which left me with a deeper connection. The cliffs were no longer only cliffs but a natural wonder that took millions of years to occur.

Eastern white pine plantation in Guelph. Source: https://www.vanwaffle.com/2013/02/02/grace-of-a-white-pine-monoculture/#sthash.2VpYBjZd.dpbs

Similarly, the human history of the landscape plays a role in interpretation. While it is important to remember the happy stories of the past it is equally important to recount the tragic ones (Beck et al., 2019). Interpreting history can help us better understand the impacts of certain actions and hopefully inspire individuals to be agents of change (Beck et al., 2019). For example, we can learn from past human impacts on the landscape. Considering this I am reminded of the tall Eastern white and red pine plantations across Southern Ontario. At the time they were planted it seemed like an efficient policy for future investment in logging and to re-establish the original ecosystem encountered by Europeans. The result was many sterile ecosystems. In a way, I think understanding the history behind these forests you’re bound to encounter serves as a reminder of nature’s complexity and the difficulty to recreate it after its destroyed.

Ontario old growth white pine forest. Source: http://www.ancientforest.org/the-past-isnt-what-it-used-to-be/

Is there a place you visit in which the natural, human, or personal history has given you a deeper connection or understanding?

References

Beck, L., Cable, T.T., & Knudson, D.M. (2018). Interpreting Cultural and Natural Heritage for a Better World (1st ed.). Sagamore Publishing.

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Big Decisions | The Mikaelson Boys

Hey my lovelies! I know, right, another story in the same week as my other one?? What has the universe come to! I had this idea the other night and I kind of just rolled with the punches. I'm not sure how good it will be, I haven't written in a while and I had an idea of where I wanted this to go and, as usual, it wrote itself and ended up somewhere else. I'm not sure how much I like it but regardless here it is. I tried to make it as fluffy as I could because that's what I need right now lol. Anyway's I hope you like it! Sorry in advance for how long it is!! All my love until next time <3

Description: Y/n is from an influential family like, but not as powerful, as the Mikaelson's and her father is running for the governor of Virginia. In order to increase voting in favour of her father both families decide to merge. In order to do so Y/n agrees to marry one of the Mikaelson boys. The only problem is that she loves all three of them and can't possibly choose between them.

Pairing: The Mikaelson Boys x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None, seriously, don't be afraid of having all three at once, that doesn't need a warning

Word count: 5032

Tags: Fluff (or at least attempted fluff)

(Pics aren't mine but the moodboard is :) )

Your footsteps echo softly down the hallway of the Mikaelson’s mansion. Your heels click the beat of a song you haven’t yet learned the words to into the hardwood. It’s a miracle you can even hear it over the rumble of the party below. A thousand voices reach your ears in a crescendo of “good evening” and “my don’t you look lovely” but it stands as little more than white noise in your mind. Your heartbeat rages with it all, mingling with the greetings of strangers and the song your feet are creating at the same time.

The only thing you can truly think about is last night in the garden. It had been Kol’s idea, actually, to have one last night together. It was a beautiful notion, too, if not one that left four souls aching as though they were only one soul being forced into four different fragmented pieces.

There you sat, four fragmented pieces of one soul, tangled so elegantly that anyone looking in would have to squint to see the separate beings. Your back moulded so perfectly into Elijah’s front that it was as if you were made to never be apart in the first place. Though Klaus’ head fit so perfectly in your lap that it would be madness to think anything but the same. However, both such things ignore the delicate trace of Kol’s lips against your neck and mouth and fingertips in such a way that the night sky hadn’t shone half as bright as the stars he left you seeing. How could you even begin to make a decision.

None of you feel quite right about the arrangement. Your families have been close for a few years now, you having met the Mikaelsons at a founders party in your first year of college. Both of your households are founding families with a lot of influence in many parts of the south-eastern United States. While the Mikaelson’s are renowned, your own family, the Lancaster’s, are less well known. With your father running for governor of Virginia it was decided, quite suddenly, that your two families are to combine in order to gain the needed momentum to win at the polls. You, the only daughter to Mary-Anne and Johnathan Lancaster, are to marry any Mikaelson son of your choosing.

To any other woman in Virginia that offer would be a dream come true. The Mikaelson’s are akin to royalty in the United States. However, every other woman in Virginia hasn’t spent the last two years completely consumed by all three brothers. There are only a handful of moments that you can recall that don’t include even one Mikaelson. Every night you fall asleep wrapped around one of your boys. Each of their scents are permanently ingrained in your memory. How can you choose when no matter who you pick the other two will still be there.

You pace back and forth at the top of the winding staircase, silently dreading the descent. You gather the pilling fabric of your gown into your hands and let the silk cool your fiery skin for a few moments longer. You try to hold on to a few pieces of comfort with it. The way Kol had smelled of honey this morning and the feel of Elijah’s arms around you and the little marks Klaus left that are still fading beneath your bodice. You breathe in each of them before you take the first step.

You don’t want to go down the stairs but the first step only brings you to the second that much faster. You take them one at a time, letting your feet even out before every push forward. At this moment you wish that the stairs would never end. You would rather wind for years as your dress turned to dust around you than face the unrelenting truth that waits at the bottom. You would rather turn to dust than choose.

You come too quickly to the bend in the stairs that will reveal you to the party. The murmurs that were previously dulled are now at their peak, crashing over you with a harsh fury of cheerful nothings. You wish you could immerse yourself in the chatter like any other party however tonight isn’t just another party. It’s the party and families from across the country have gathered in the halls below to hear you make your decision.

With a quick breath in, you bring yourself into the glittering light cast by the chandelier hanging above the sweeping foyer. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust from the dark hallway. When they focus once more the air is sucked from your lungs in a startled gasp that turns every eye in the vicinity towards you. As if a switch has been flicked, every sound in the room dies out until all that is left is the slightest tinkling of the glass above your head and muffled sounds of awe.

You will give them that, the dress Rebekah Mikaelson had picked out for you is stunning. A rose coloured, silk gown that would make any Victorian princess green with envy. It’s strapless in the sense that it has silk that hangs off your shoulders, leaving your skin exposed and dusted with gold. Your hair has been curled and pinned up, allowing for some tendrils to frame your face. Bekah dusted the same gold she used on your shoulders on your eyes, bringing a finishing touch to your look. She truly does work miracles.

Your hand stalls on the railing for a moment, your eyes searching the sea of faces below you. It’s surreal to have all the attention on you. You’re used to being around important people, you yourself are one to most people, but you’ve never felt like you fit in with them. You’re just an ordinary girl after all. An ordinary girl who just happens to have the hearts of three Mikaelson’s in her palm. Now, if you could only spot them amongst the crowd.

As if they can hear their names flowing through your mind, they appear at the base of the steps. You shouldn’t be surprised at how dashing they all look but you’re still left open-mouthed at the sight of them. They're each clad head to toe in all black, the perfect contrast to your dress. The dark to your light and vice versa. They never disappoint.

Your feet begin moving of their own accord to meet them at the bottom of the staircase, the clicking of your heels ricocheting like bullets through the still silent foyer. You can feel their stares like flames on every inch of your exposed skin. The crowd is holding their breath in anticipation of the interaction to come, waiting ready for the moment you make your decision. It feels positively medieval, as if as soon as you choose you will be forced to rip off your clothes and mate for the court to see and deem your bond official. It’s too bad if that’s what they're expecting. They would be in for quite a shock if they saw the distinct markings of not one but three Mikaelson’s already on your skin.

Three mouthwatering scents swirl around you, encouraging you to move faster. Before you clear the last fifteen or so steps, however, the unthinkable happens. You trip. Your heel catches the loose fabric of your dress and rips your feet out from under you, a riptide of events that should have been foreseen. Your eyes slam shut the minute you go into freefall, not wanting to see the mess your body will create when you hit the marble. The fall feels like hours rather than seconds, waiting for an impact that will shatter life as you know it but the end never comes.

“Baby,” it takes you a moment to register the arms around your waist and the pine tree scent enveloping you, “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

Another pair of hands grip on to your arm, sending waves of familiar warmth and nutmeg rushing through your chest, “my clumsy darling, what was our dear sister thinking when she put you in those heels.”

“She clearly wasn’t or else she would have remembered that she tripped three times just this morning,” you’re pulled easily into a new pair of strong arms, “isn’t that right, love?”

You can’t help but let the smile fall on your lips, your eyes tugging open to meet the ocean ones already looking at you, “you know me too well, Klaus.”

The smile is already on his lips, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “of course love, that’s my job.”

He leans down to place a quick kiss on your forehead before steadying you. You turn to face the remaining brothers, both of whom look ready to pull you once more into their arms. They’re circled around you, blocking the crowd from seeing you until they have had their moment with you. It warms your heart immensely. Up close they look even more ravishing. When you take your time inspecting them, though, you see the circles under their eyes.

Elijah’s are the most prominent, his skin tinged a plum colour that in no way mars the beauty of his face. If anything it adds an ethereal glow. He’s always been the one to worry the most. He is the oldest after all, most of the stress falls on his shoulders. His deliciously sculpted shoulders. It’s his job to hold his family together, tonight is no exception. You waste no time pulling him towards you and wrapping your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in his chocolate hair.

“You look like you need a nap, Eli,” you tug softly at the strands between your fingers, “it’ll all be okay.”

You can feel the deep breath he takes, as if the air is going into your lungs instead of his, “I know, baby.”

He squeezes his arms around you a little tighter than usual before releasing you. It takes Kol no time to scoop you into his arms, burying his face in your neck. You grip his back with shaking fingers, admiring the muscles through his jacket as a moment of peace before the storm to come. You don’t want to let him go. You don’t want to leave the little bubble the four of you have created.

“No matter what happens out there tonight, I'm yours darling. Until the sun doesn’t rise in the east, I’m yours,” he places a soft kiss to your throat and tears sting at your eyes but you refuse to let them fall.

He pulls back, a small smile on his lips. You look up to the other two one last time, feeling the crowd grow impatient at your hidden actions. You know that tonight isn't about you but you can’t help but let the seconds tick by freely. This could very well be the last moment the four of you share publicly.

Klaus nods his head carefully, squeezing one of his hands into a fist at his side, “until the sun doesn’t set in the west, I am yours, love.”

You pull your lip between your teeth to bite back the trembling, steeling yourself as you turn in finality to Elijah. His chocolate eyes are already on you. The determination in them lights something hot and not at all unfamiliar in the pit of your stomach. He takes another deep breath, your eyes drawn to the rise and fall of his chest.

“And every moment after I will be yours, baby, that is my promise.”

When the words leave his lips you revel in the fleeting moment of calm that rushes over you.

The strength in your voice startles you a little bit, “I am yours before, during, and after. That is my promise. Let’s do this.”

The boys stand taller when you say the words, completing a promise you made to each other over a year ago. They part, allowing you to walk into the crowd of statues. No one moves, every eye glued to you once more. You can’t help but feel small under their gaze but you don’t back down, choosing instead to smile and stare back.

“Sweetheart, there you are!”

And just like that all the activity in the room restarts, all the chatter and music and tinkling restored like a fire under the floor. Your mother, Mary-Anne, appears from the crowd in a stunning blue gown. It accentuates her delicate features. She was a southern belle in her youth and it still shows, especially in her accent. You could get lost in the honey that is your mother’s voice.

“Hello, mama,” you fall into her embrace easily, breathing in her lilac lotion, “I’m sorry I took so long, Bekah wanted everything to be perfect.”

Your mother giggles, music to your aching soul, “except the shoes I see.”

You pull away with a blush, meeting her cheerful eyes with mild embarrassment, “oh my, you saw that?”

“Darling, all of Virginia saw it,” she takes your arm, leading you towards the ballroom where guests are steadily flowing to designated tables, “you gave those boys quite a startle. Your father too. He dropped his drink.”

She giggles again as she directs you to a table at the front of the room, elegantly decorated with an array of flowers and candles. There are enough seats to allow for both of your families and a few other important people to enjoy a nice meal. Your stomach tumbles in a way that makes you doubt the amount of food you will be enjoying tonight.

Your mother hands you a glass of champagne which you take gratefully, “will he be here soon?”

“I’m sure he will be,” she smiles gently at you, pushing a fallen curl behind your ear, “how are you feeling, darling? You look a little rattled.”

“It’s a lot to take in, mama. I’m alright,” you take a sip of your champagne to punctuate your words, letting the sweet bubbles cool your throat.

She places her hand on your own, pulling your attention back to her, “you’re allowed to not be. You’re doing a lot for this family, you know. Your father and I appreciate you very much. It can’t be easy.”

“The hard part isn’t getting married,” you meet her kind eyes and almost crumble, “It’s almost too easy to spend a lifetime with any one of them. They each mean the world to me. Mama, how am I supposed to choose?”

She shakes her head gently, her own curls bouncing lightly, “you just have to trust yourself, darling.”

The ballroom fills steadily, flowing conversation and music through the open space. You quickly spot the Mikaelson's, Bekah now in tow, as well as your father, who looks locked in a serious conversation with Elijah and Klaus. He’s nodding along to whatever they’re saying, clearly absorbing whatever notion they’re pushing. Kol, on the other hand however, remains silent, gazing around the space before locking eyes with you. Even from across the floor you can see his shoulders loosen slightly. Bekah tries to say something to him but he just brushes her off before moving towards you. You feel a touch guilty but you'll apologize later. Right now you need him.

You pass your glass back to your mother, accepting another knowing smile before all but running towards Kol. He clears the space quicker than you can, meeting you just in front of the table.

“You know, I don’t recall having told you how breathtaking you look yet this evening,” his words pour over you as he takes the final steps towards you, “and that should be a punishable crime. You look absolutely stunning, darling.”

He laces his arms once more around your waist, drawing you into his chest, “we’re all a little flustered tonight, I think I can pardon you just this once. Besides, I haven’t told you how marvellous you look yet either.”

You whisper the words into his chest, closing your eyes for a brief moment. His touch brings you some clarity. You wish you were curled up watching a movie instead of in a ball gown.

He pulls back slightly, lifting your chin to meet his warm eyes, “I meant what I said earlier, no matter who you choose I’m not going anywhere. None of us are.”

“I don’t think I can do it, Kol,” you look towards your father sitting next to your mother, both laughing with another couple, “I can’t hurt any of you.”

“Love,” you're pulled from Kol’s grasp and into a different but no less familiar hold, “we know this isn’t what you want. It’s not what any of us want. You need to trust us. Follow your instincts. Now come on, we’ll miss dinner.”

Klaus leads you to the table and a plate filled with what would normally be your favourite foods. Elijah is already waiting with your chair pulled out, sitting you between your mother and father.

He leans down before you can sit, his lips grazing your ear as he speaks, “just relax, baby. I love you.”

He presses a kiss to your ear before tucking you in and taking his own seat across from you. The ballroom soon fills with the sharp sounds of forks and knives scraping against porcelain and even more happy chatter than before. Your own table becomes a flurry of excited words and talk of the upcoming elections and wedding ideas. You’re bombed with many sneaky attempts to hear your decision early but you brush every one of them off, nervously taking bites of food every few minutes.

“So, honey,” your father turns to you with a grin, lowering his voice and drawing you into your own little bubble, “how’s my star doing?”

You focus on his nose, not wanting to meet his eyes quite yet, “I’m great, dad. This dinner is wonderful.”

He chuckles quietly and you can feel his gaze trying to pull your focus to him, “you would know, right, with all the food you've eaten?’

He isn’t wrong, you’ve barely cleared half your plate, “I’m not hungry is all.”

“You? Not hungry? Now I know something is really wrong here,” his hand grasps yours lightly, “look at me, what’s going on in that noggin of yours?”

You don’t mean to sigh but it happens anyway, “It’s just a lot to digest. It’s a really big decision.”

“You’re right it is, honey,” he squeezes your hand gently, “but I know you’ve got what it takes. You can’t disappoint me. Never have and you never will.” He looks in front of you, “besides, I think those boys know what they're doing. I trust them to help you figure this out.”

Like your mother, he always seems to know what to say. You have a strong family, one that holds each other up in the hardest of choices. You look across the table to meet the eyes of three men already looking at you. They each smile at you in their own way. Elijah’s is with his eyes, the rest of his face remaining stone. Klaus smirks at you, the blue of his eyes sparkling mischievously. Kol tilts his head to the side, a soft grin on his lips.

Soon the music becomes louder and guests start pouring onto the dance floor, swaying to an elegant piece made up of violins and flutes. Your own table clears with the rest, leaving the four of you alone. Elijah, as per usual, is the first one out of his seat.

“Would you do me the immense honour of sharing this dance?”

The formality in his words brings you a bubbling sense of warmth and you, of course, rise to meet his outstretched hand. He leads you to the middle of the floor, twirling you under another chandelier before pulling you tight against his chest. You’re once again wrapped in his forest scent and you lay your head against him, trusting him to keep you from falling. The music swirls around you, drowning out the noise of the others around you. They're no doubt speculating that you’ve made your decision but, in reality, this is just yours and Elijah’s thing: dancing.

He moves you beautifully across the floor, pulling you slightly to where it feels like you’re gliding on ice. The rest of the couples move back, allowing for the two of you to take as much space as you need. You feel like you dance for an eternity, giggling as he spins you endlessly across the polished wood floor. He eventually lifts you, turning you in what you assume is a final twirl, only to pass you into another pair of ocean breeze arms.

Klaus takes over effortlessly, falling into the same pattern that Elijah had created, “sorry to cut in, love, I couldn’t help myself.”

You move the hand that lays on his shoulder and wrap it around the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair and drawing as close to him as you can. He takes his time dancing with you the same as his brother had. By now all the other dancers have stopped and cleared completely off the floor. Each eye is trained on the pair of you like lasers to a target. You will yourself to remain completely focused on Klaus’ movements.

It takes both an eternity and mere seconds for you to land in Kol’s arms, who twirls you one last time, perfectly stopping with the music. When the last violin dies out, a clock chimes through the room. Your shoulders tense on their own, the rest of your body following suit. Ten O’clock. Choosing time.

“Good evening, everyone, and welcome,” your father’s voice pours through speakers placed around the hall but you can barely register the words being said, “I know many of you have travelled great lengths to be here today and for that our families are incredibly grateful. Tonight is a momentous occasion. It marks the engagement of my girl, Y/n, to one of these fine men.”

Your father motions across the room to where you stand, now with all three brothers stood in front of you, “each one of them have expressed their interest in my daughter and now, with all of you to witness such a grand step in her life, she will choose which of them she would like to marry.”

Whatever head that wasn't already turned now faces you, each holding their breath in anticipation. You aren't looking at them though. Instead, you’re facing the three men that you would do anything in the world for. You can almost see your aching heart already in your hands, ready to rip it into three even pieces and hand it to them with little bows.

You look at Klaus first. Your creative spirit who could fill an entire museum with paintings of your face alone. His hands twitch slightly at his sides and he closes them into fists when you notice. He offers you a small smile and you remember the other night when he fell asleep on your lap while watching a movie in the den. He hasn't been sleeping properly with all the arrangements for tonight being settled and you running your hands through his hair had been the final push he needed to collapse. You make sure he’s looking at your lips when you mouth I love you across the room.

You turn quickly to Elijah from there, locking eyes with him immediately. Your warrior who looks especially undone in comparison to his usual put together self. He looks like he has to stop himself from closing the distance between the two of you and that it’s taking most of his remaining energy to do so. That’s Eli for you though, he never can stay away from you for too long. When you mouth I love you to him he stands a little straighter.

You find Kol’s eyes easily from there. Your rebellious, hell-raiser with a glint in his face that you would be able to see from all the way across the room. His hand is in his hair, tugging the strands between his fingers in a way that only he could make look elegant. He’s got a look in his eyes that begs you to do something entirely untraditional. He mouths I love you before you can even open your mouth.

You stand there for an eternity, your feet stuck as though rooted through the floor. Every moment from the past two years rushes through your head. You aren't dying; this isn't a life flashing before your eyes type moment but it may as well be. These three have been your entire life since you were introduced. Not one of them alone could have brought you here. Every moment for two years has been leading to you standing here, with them, at this very second.

It hits you quite suddenly that if you were to remove two of them, the equation that makes up who you are wouldn't be correct anymore. You’ve been juggling with the idea that your soul is four parts rather than two for quite some time now. It wouldn't be right to give three parts to one person, not when each of them have taken the time to so delicately etch their names onto their own separate parts.

You can’t pick just one of them. You’ve known that from the beginning, you just didn’t know what you were going to do about it until now. Your hands tremble now that you know your decision, a chill running up your spine at the thought of sharing it with the crowd. It’s not exactly conventional what you’re about to say.

“I choose Klaus.”

The crowd releases the breath it had been holding for hours. Too bad they're going to be sucking it back in soon. Klaus’ eyes are wide, his mouth open as though he didn't expect to be your choice. Your heart breaks for him and you remind yourself to spend more time with him when this is all over. Your other two boys look devastated, the smiles on their lips looking more like pained grimaces. Your heart squeezes in your chest.

“And I choose Elijah.”

Just like that there is once again no air left in the room. You begin walking towards them, ignoring the buzz of whispers growing in the room. You peer over their shoulders at you parents who don’t look nearly as stunned as they should. In fact your mother is beaming at you. You can feel the pride radiating off her from thirty feet away. You can’t tell if your father mouths I told you so or if you imagine it.

The boys begin moving towards you as well, ready to cover you from the storm raging around you. You can tell there are a thousand things they want to say but you’re not done speaking yet.

You look to the last Mikaelson, willing a smile to take over the frown on his gorgeous face, “and, of course, I choose Kol.”

The crowd roars around you but you’re surrounded with a wall of Mikaelson, blocking you from the prying eyes. You look at each of them, trying to gauge their reactions. You know they said that they're yours but you never discussed marrying all of them. You don’t even know if you can do that. It’s now entirely overwhelming in a completely new way. All three of them stare at you with a mix of shock and awe. Like this is the first time they’re seeing you. You wring your hands together waiting for one of them to say something.

None of them do, though. Instead Elijah closes the space between your bodies and crashes his lips onto yours, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth and biting down hard. His hands grasp your waist with strong fingers, leveling you against his tall frame. It sends shocks through your entire system and you revel in the outright display he’s putting on. He’s the last one you would have expected to lose it in a crowd.

Kol is the next one to close in on you, wrapping his arms around you as well and gently kissing your shoulder. The fire Elijah started in your stomach only increases when Kol bites down. You gasp into Elijah’s mouth but it’s quickly swallowed by the man himself. Kol’s lips feel heavenly against your exposed skin.

Klaus finally steps towards you, tangling his arms in the mess of your bodies and completing your circle. His lips meet the side of your throat in a way only he can, biting down deliciously. When Elijah finally pulls away from you, the rest of them follow. You know your skin is most definitely bruised and your lips swollen. Your curls have most definitely fallen from their pins. You would be worried but each of them still hold you, caged around your body for no one but themselves to see.

The rush of the evening hits you all at once, a strong fatigue laying across your bones. You let your eyes close as you lean further into Elijah. Sensing the finality of your movements, he scoops you up, careful to keep your dress in it’s beautiful condition. He starts walking out of the room, ignoring the protests around him. On cue Kol and Klaus join him on either side.

“Eli, we can’t leave, they’re expecting us,” you can’t hide the yawn in your voice.

“We can, and we are leaving, baby,” he tightens his arms around you, “you need to sleep.”

You shake your head unconvincingly, “I’m fine, Eli.”

The other Mikaelson brothers just laugh.

The smile in Kol’s voice is audible, “yes you are, darling, but humor us won’t you?”

“They’ll be mad at me,” your voice trails off at the end, blackness creeping in around the edges of your mind despite your protests.

“You’ve done more than enough, love, we can take it from here.”

Klaus’ voice is the last you hear, not even making it back up the stairs before you drift out of consciousness.