#there’s also a part in broken horses where the strings are just so satisfying to me

[bookwormonastring]

autistic brain has decided the flavour of the month is ulysses dies at dawn i can only go so many hours without listening to a song from it💀 specifically ties that bind at the moment but a few different ones have had their moments over the past week or so

[blueeyesspitfire]

Another One

Someone asked when (and maybe, subconsciously, why) I decided to add another dog (Atlas!) to the team. While it might not seem like it, especially not to the average pet-owner, I have always been extremely strategic when increasing my numbers. I always tell non-mushers: comparatively, I actually have a very small team! It has also taken me more than ten years to get to ten dogs, so I consider my expansion pretty slow.

To answer the question, I started thinking back to how I got started in this sport (and hobby... and lifestyle). I had always wanted a Siberian Husky, but as a 20-year-old college student living in an apartment with a tiny, unfenced yard, no rescue would let me adopt one. My then-boyfriend (hi Rob) and I ended up adopting Dexter from a foster family that could tell we were more prepared than your average idiot kids. At this point, I was aware of mushing, but it was not part of my plan. I just wanted a dog that could accompany me on hikes and other outdoor adventures.

A few years later, and after volunteering for both a husky rescue and a wolf/wolfdog rescue, I finally had the credentials for husky ownership. I still had a hard time finding the right dog through adoption organizations, so I ended up looking into reputable breeders. One of them invited me to the Pine Barrens to attend a training meetup and "see the dogs in action". I was intrigued; this was New Jersey, where our winters weren’t known for their snow. It was also autumn, so there definitely wasn't snow on the ground. This is where it all began.

I met folks with only a few dogs and some with over a dozen. They used bikes, scooters, and non-motorized carts that looked like a mix between a shopping cart and a horse chariot. I started biking with Dexter and I was even able to hook him up with some borrowed dogs to see what true dog propulsion felt like. I was hooked before I even had my husky.

Denali was my first true sled dog and she paved the way for us. I started biking with her and Dexter, but I knew I wanted to get a third to pull a cart and, eventually, a sled. I adopted Knox six months after Denali came home. I remember everyone being shocked at this point. Three dogs? Wild.

For a time, the trio met my needs. I started a new job that required me to go into NYC a few times a week. I hung out with friends a lot. I traveled often. We mushed, too, but it wasn't all encompassing. Then Dexter started slowing down a bit. After all, he wasn't really built to keep up with two athletic young huskies. I started thinking about an eventual replacement for him. Denali's littermate, Mia, was due to have a litter, and I was quick to jump on the opportunity. Willow joined us in 2015, and shortly thereafter, I made my first "mistake".

When Willow was old enough to join the team, I kept Dexter on the line, since we were doing short and relatively easy runs that he could still handle. I was surprised to see him get a sort of second wind once he had a consistent running partner. In fact, the entire team seemed to do better in pairs. Eventually I had the girls leading with the boys in wheel, and Dex lasted through the whole season. And I realized, shit, I want to run a team of four.

Dexter's second wind was short lived, which I expected, and it wasn't long before I started thinking about another dog to take his place (for real this time). So a year after Willow, I added Blitz to the team. Ok, good, great, I should have been satisfied at this point, right? I wanted a team of four and I had it. Except there was a thought creeping in the back of my mind, almost since the beginning of this whole crazy journey. A friend had told me that you probably want at least six dogs to carry a passenger. I also really liked the idea of having leaders, team dogs, and wheel dogs. So I got to work.

I secured a fully remote job and found myself easing into a life more centered around mushing. Hubble joined the pack in 2017, a year after Blitz, and right before I moved to California. I thought, hell, let's make five work and see what comes next.

In 2018 I moved back to the Northeast, and finally had the space and setup to complete the six pack. Laika joined us in early 2019 and the following season was my first time competing in 6-dog classes. So now, certainly, I should be all set—right? Except...

Except it had taken me so long to build my six dog team that my oldest, Denali and Knox, were starting to show their age. Knox, a rescue with less than ideal structure, was having trouble keeping up with the younger dogs. Denali could still hold her own, but she seemed to be getting bored with the repetitive training we do at home. If I wanted to keep this whole thing going, I knew I had to start thinking about filling their places on the line.

So, later on in 2019, I found Sagan and Hopper to join the pack. I wanted to "try out" some Alaskan Huskies (mixed breeds specifically bred for mushing, not to adhere to a specific standard) and their lines synced up nicely with my existing dogs. Hopper is even half related to my existing crew, so I knew he’d fit well.

If you're keeping count, this brought me to nine dogs: one fully retired, two semi-retired, and six active team members. At this point in the journey, I'd been saying that my limit was ten. Mainly, I'm constrained by vehicle space: the dog van fits eight crates, two of which are big enough to be doubled up in. The dog truck has eight boxes with two dogs fitting in the cab. So, ten is possible, but was it really necessary?

When the pandemic first hit, and I knew I wouldn't be traveling for awhile, the thought of raising a pup crossed my mind. Then came the chaos of the Denali/Willow fights and my broken thumb, which quickly squashed the idea of adding more dogs to the mix. I didn't think about it again until the fall, when some exciting litters were planned, and my favorite breeder mentioned plans of moving to Alaska. I was training for my first mid-distance race with the 6-dog team. I knew I had room for one more, but I wasn't sure I had the justification for it.

Then Blitz had a seizure. This rocked me to my core and I'm still dealing with the shockwaves of PTSD it caused. Blitz has since been 100% fine and we've figured out a schedule that ensures his blood sugar levels stay in a safe range. All the races we were aiming for ended up canceled due to Covid, but I'm not sure we would've been ready to run them given how slow we got back on track with training.

Most "real" mushers have a larger pool of dogs than those they run in races. Many train an A team and a B team, or run larger strings than necessary for the class they intend to compete in. Then, when race day comes, they select the dogs who are running their best. If a dog gets a sore paw, or is more sensitive to warm temperatures, or refuses to eat, or just generally isn't enthusiastic, they can get "benched" without impacting the team's race. It felt like a gamble to train all season for some big (to me) races, only to have the possibility of being at a disadvantage (with a 5-dog team, if one dog couldn't run—most 6-dog classes allow as few as five) or not able to compete at all (if two couldn't run).

A seventh, active team member adds a bit of buffer, so I can more confidently chase after my goals. And yes, I also made the same mistake of running the semi-retirees with their yearling replacements. An 8-dog team is awesome to behold, but I didn't let myself get too comfortable with it. That's not to say things won't change as my goals and situation changes. If you couldn't tell, that's been the theme of this whole wild ride.

To conclude, I guess I should more specifically answer "why Atlas?", since he's the pup I chose. Atlas comes from some of my very favorite lines. Knowing that his breeder, Jaye, will be leaving the area to compete in Iditarod 2022 (go Jaye!!), I figured this might be my last opportunity for a pup from Sibersong. And of course, I’m still grounded from travel for several more months, making now an ideal time for puppy raising.

So, there you have it. A very long-winded explanation that nobody really asked for, but I hope it gives you some insight behind the decisions I've made.

[theangriestpea]

Crowned : five

Summary: Two blonde princesses, two dark-haired princes, and one plotting marquess. Lily is in love with a secret admirer. Shanna doesn’t want to ascend to the throne. Jughead wants to spend the day writing poetry. Sweet Pea would rather be out on his horse. And Reggie just wants to be king. <ao3> <masterlist>

Pairing: Sweet Pea x OC, Jughead Jones x OC

Word Count: 4.6k+

Warnings: None really, mild drinking I suppose. 

A/N: Welcome to the grande finale! Part six will be an epilogue! Thank you to everyone who read and enjoyed this series! There is also a scene that was omitted from this part that will be made into a one-shot later. Enjoy! Graphics on this chapter at by @princesweetpea​!

Part Five: Wedding Bells

Two fair haired princesses sat in silence at the table drinking a special blend of mint and ginger tea. They had both had unsettled stomachs for a few weeks now, and it was only getting worse. Everyone around them had chalked it up to nerves before their big day. In truth, that was part of it but not the reason why they had been so ill. 

“We have to tell them.” Lily said after a sip of tea. She held the teacup gently in her hands. The fragile porcelain was shaking slightly in her grip. “It’s the right thing to do.” 

Shanna was quiet for the longest time, and Lily wondered if she even heard her. They sat in a stuffy silence for another ten minutes before she finally spoke. “You’re right. They deserve to know.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Did the tea help you at all?” 

Lily shrugged, “a little. I feel slightly less like puking and more like laying catatonic on my bed until it all goes away.” 

“We’ve got a long time before that happens.” Shanna said with an unladylike groan. “Well, I know where Sweet Pea is. Always in his fucking war room. Any idea where Jughead is?” 

She bit her lip as she thought, “I’m not sure. Probably with daddy. It will look weird if I go get him. He will get suspicious…” 

“Divide and conquer then?” Shanna asked, “I’ll get my fiance, you get yours?” 

Lily nodded reluctantly. “Meet back here in ten minutes?” 

“Deal.” 

Roughly ten minutes later, the two princes had joined their future wives with a curious look in their eyes. They had noticed their strange behavior lately but they assumed it was just stress. 

The girls stared at one another, unsure if they should proceed. “Well?” Sweet Pea asked, annoyed that he had been interrupted. “I was in the middle of something important.” Shanna snorted back in response, knowing it couldn’t have been all that important since he was willing to come their little rendezvous. 

“On the count of three?” Lily asked her sister who simply nodded in response. She took a deep breath and counted slowly. 

Once of three they said in almost perfect unison, “I’m pregnant.” Before looking down at the ground, ashamed of their confession. It had been so  stupid  , so  reckless  of them to let this happen. Their wedding was in one week. Maybe, just maybe, they could get away with this without anyone finding out. After all, they were only about four or five weeks along.

The princes stared at them, Sweet Pea baffled with how this could have happened while Jughead had a broad smile slowly spread over his features. “This is great!” He exclaimed happily, clapping his hands together for emphasis. 

The other three royals stared at him with wide eyes and mouths agape. Great? How in the hell was this great? “Do tell me, brother,” Sweet Pea drawled with a grave tone, “how exactly is this  great ? We have to raise each other’s kids!” He threw his arms up in exasperation before pacing vigorously. 

Lav frowned, shuffling her feet and shifting her weight uncomfortably. She had known he’d be upset but she still wasn’t prepared for it. “You have to get rid of it.” He quickly added, looking directly at his lover with piercing brown eyes. They only softened when he saw the tears spill from her eyelids and down her cheeks. 

“Is that what you want?” She asked in a voice that shook like a leaf in a tornado. Pain made it crack with hurt. “You want me to just kill it and pretend none of this ever happened?” 

“You cannot be queen and give birth to my child!” He said, voice raised due to the intense anxiety he was feeling. “What about that don’t you understand?” 

Her eyes set ablaze as she stormed up to him and slapped him hard across the face, leaving the faint red impression of a hand print. “I understand that you’re a heartless, prick. Thank the heavens I’m not marrying  you  instead!” 

This time his eyes portrayed his own pain at her words. Something he normally steeled himself to. For a brief moment they both felt guilt. However, their anger made it quickly wash away. “No one will ever love you.” He bit back, spitting out the same phrase he told her after their first race. “Not my brother, not me, not your bastard child, no one.” 

Lily was about to jump on him herself, but Shanna stopped her. She swallowed the sob that threatened to erupt from her as she stared at him with narrow eyes, tears still streaming down her flushed cheeks. Before anything else could be said, the dark prince stormed from the room, the door slamming shut in his wake. 

Jughead was in a state of shock at how cruel his brother had just been to his fiance. To the woman he had consensually impregnated with his own seed. As soon as the door slammed closed, the older girl broke down. Before she could fall to her knees, both him and Lily caught her in their arms. They looked at one another with sorrowful eyes, knowing this was a pain they could not mend. 

“Don’t listen to that asshole.” Lily said, running her hands through her sister’s golden hair. “I love you. Our babies will love you. And I’m sure Jug-” 

“I’ll love you.” Jughead said with a soft smile, “maybe not in the way that I’m supposed to, but I will still care for you always.” The words stung Lily but not as much as she thought they would. This was their cold reality. There was no going back. 

Once he was back in his precious war room, Sweet Pea broke down himself. He remained silent as hot tears flooded his eyes and he went down to his knees in front of his war table. Everything was so messed up. Him marrying Lily. Shanna carrying his child. And worst of all the immense guilt he felt from the horrible things he had said to her out of anger. His father had tried time and time again to teach him control, but it always failed him in the end. This was just too much, he couldn’t bear it. 

And worst of all he knew that she’d hate him now and would possibly never let him see the baby she refused to get rid of. A prince or princess that will forever be their dirty little secret. A boy or girl that will one day ascend the throne even though they will have no Jones blood in them. But if anyone knew the truth, the alliance could break. Shatter their peaceful lives into tiny unmendable fragments. War would rage with the kingdom of Greendale. Their happiness was a lost cause. 

But still, he had broken his own heart with the way he had acted and unfortunately, this time, he had no idea on how he’d make it better. His own bride to be was likely to loathe him as well. Essentially he had just made his home life hell for who knows how long. Their joint weddings would be next week, not even a full seven days away. They’d honeymoon and I suppose consummate but it was far more possible that the only way he would get laid from now on would be through the string of mistresses he had planned to keep. Because ultimately no one would feel like Shanna did when she was in his arms or how comforting her presence was while they were in bed together. No, he’d probably just sleep alone. 

And that night, he was alone in his room. His eyes rimmed red and inflamed from the many tears he had shed. He stared up at the blank white ceiling, wondering how things were ever going to be okay again. No one had spoken to him, no one had bothered him for the rest of the day. Even so, he got no more work done. He was far too upset to concentrate. 

Instead he had found a bottle of top shelf whiskey in the kitchen and had taken it to his bedroom to nurse solemnly. It was half gone, his mind fuzzy and somehow horny for the one he had cast away. Perfect, he needed her and he had made it so she’d never satisfy him again. Why did he always screw things up? 

There was a banging on his door and he slurred a sloppy  come in . The door opened and his brother stood, looking tired and angry and determined. Shit. Sweet Pea knew that face well. That was the face Jughead made when he was on a mission to fix something that is broken. That something was no doubt the current state of his relationship with the woman that would bare his child. 

“Are you drunk?” He asked, staring at the dark prince that appeared to be extremely disheveled. Sweet Pea hiccuped a confirmation, having no need to use actual words to affirm the state in was currently in. 

Jughead wanted to punch him. Sweet Pea had a habit of drinking copious amounts when he was upset. It was a terrible coping mechanism that he and their father shared even though they weren’t blood relatives. 

He moved closer to the bed as Sweet Pea sat up. He grabbed the bottle from his nightstand and took another chug. Jughead snatched it from him before he could finish. “Is this about what you said to Shanna earlier?” 

Sweet Pea would rather fuck a cactus then talk about this with the crown prince. He thought it was glaringly obvious as to why he was drinking. Today had been a pretty shitty day. He found out he was going to be a dad and then ruined his relationship with the child’s mother. It was beyond terrible. 

“I didn’t mean it…” He mumbled, mostly to himself. He didn’t mean it, but that didn’t stop him from saying it. The moment replayed in his head like a broken record set to haunt him for the rest of his life. There was no way he could make this up to her. 

Jughead let out an aggravated sigh. “I don’t understand why you blew up like that. It’s not that bad. Actually, I think it’s pretty great. I love kids.” 

Sweet Pea rolled his eyes, “You want to raise someone else’s kid?” He spat back at him, “you won’t even see yours most of the time.” 

He shrugged, “I’d rather you be a father to them than a stranger.” He answered honestly. “We both need heirs anyway. This just speeds things up.” 

Pea stared at him in an attempt to see if he was being serious or not. Did he really not see how dangerous this was? “And what if someone does a DNA test on the child? What then?” 

“I’ll be king. It won’t matter because what I say will be absolute.” Jughead replied sharply with an air of authority. “We only have to keep this a secret for six more days. Then, it won’t matter. The deal will be sealed. No harm can come to our kingdoms. So if you ever want to see your kid in the future, I suggest you go to Shanna and apologize for what you said to her.” 

“She’s not going to forgive me.” Sweet Pea said miserably. “She probably won’t even answer the door.” 

“Go try!” Jughead said, his frustration showing more and more. “Because she’s having your child whether you want her to or not! You could at least be a halfway decent person for once in  your life and mend things with her before our weddings.” 

His brother’s words hurt. They struck him deep in the chest. Maybe Jughead was right, maybe he wasn’t a decent person. Always sleeping around. Breaking hearts. Getting into fights….the bad in him seemed to outweigh the good and he suddenly wondered what she saw in him at all. 

“Fine.” Sweet Pea said in a defeated tone. He managed to stand up and wobble towards Jughead who stepped out of his way. “But if she hits me again, I’m blaming you.” 

Jughead rolled his eyes, “you deserve anything she throws at you. Now go.” He shooed his brother out and watched him stumble down the hallway towards his fiance’s room. 

Once there, he leaned against the door with all his weight, breathing heavily in an attempt to control his nerves. Doing this while intoxicated was much harder than he had thought. He offhandedly thought about going back to his bed and crying himself to sleep. That would be easier than this. 

The door suddenly opened and he toppled forward, landing face first onto the carpet. He heard a shuffle of feet and an annoyed huff. “Did you shower in whiskey or something?” Shanna asked, the smell making her want to throw up for the fifth time that day. She was exhausted from the amount of emotion she had felt that day. Too tired to put up a fight as to why Sweet Pea was drunk outside her door. 

He mumbled something into the thick carpet that she couldn’t comprehend. “I can’t hear you when your mouth is full of shag.” She said, the bitterness in her tone made him flinch. 

Sweet Pea turned his head to the side and took a deep breath, “I came to apologize…” 

Shanna resisted the urge to kick him angrily in the side. “Please, just leave.” She said in a soft, defeated voice. “I don’t want to talk to you while you’re drunk.” 

He sat up, albeit with a bit of difficulty. “Shanna, listen, I didn’t mean what I said...I was just upset, I don’t want you to get rid of the baby…” 

She huffed angrily at him, “You’re so full of shit, Sweet Pea. You’re only here because Jughead ordered you too. I’m not an idiot. Just, go sleep it off or whatever. I don’t want to see you after what you said to me. Not meaning it does not make it okay. I’m not some verbal punching bag for you to take your anger out any time you get upset.” 

He looked down at the floor and against his will, more salty tears filled his eyes. She hadn’t seen how awful he looked when she opened the door. She could barely see it now. Snot flooded his nose, causing him to sniffle to keep it from dripping out. The sound made her freeze in her tracks. 

“Are you crying…?” She asked, her voice even quieter than before, almost as if she didn’t believe it. 

Sweet Pea looked up at her once more, fresh streaks of wetness down his face. “I’m sorry...I’m so sorry, I always fuck everything up. I’m not really a Jones, you know? I’m not royal. It’s not right for the queen to have a baby that’s not royalty. I’m just an abandoned mutt and you deserve better than what I could ever give you.” 

Shanna got down on her knees in front of him, reaching out with both hands to cradle her face. “I don’t care about your lineage. I never have. That doesn’t matter to me. Royalty or not. I don’t understand why you think so low of me. How did I possibly make you believe that I wouldn’t want you just because you’re not King Jones’ biological son? You are his son, Sweet Pea. Blood doesn’t always matter.” 

She wiped his tears away with her thumbs, her heart heavy from his words. “I love you.” She said for the first time out loud. While Lily and Jughead had no issue saying the three words until their lips turned blue, Shanna and Sweet Pea had not dared to utter them. “I love you and I will always love you. Even if you don’t love me back.” 

His heart twisted in its cage. “That’s not...that’s not true.” He said, meaning her last statement. “I do…” He hesitated, the words feeling so foreign in his mind. As if thinking it and saying it would cause the world to crash down around him. “I love you too.” He finally said in a low voice. He silently hoped she didn’t hear him. 

The princess leaned in and gently kissed him on the lips. It was tender and chaste, and after a second she pulled away. “Come in and close the door before someone sees you. And please, take a shower before you make me throw up.” She laughed lightly as she stood up. She outstretched her hand and he grabbed it, needing all the help he could get to stand. “Maybe it’ll sober you up a little.” 

“Oh, ha ha.” Sweet Pea said flatly before making his way into her bathroom. “Join me?” 

Shanna smiled and nodded, following up behind him and walking inside. 

  |\/\/|

 Six days past and the big day had come. The first item on the itinerary was the wedding of Shanna and Forsythe. It would take place promptly at 10 am, following a brief intermission there will be the wedding of Lilian and Nathaniel. Then the reception would follow. It was going to be a very long day. 

Prince Forsythe was at the altar in his traditional military uniform. He looked striking, as did Sweet Pea who was wearing a similar outfit next to him. The only difference was he had several more medals pinned to his breast. Adorned on both of their heads were crowns, although Jughead’s was much more elaborate compared to Sweet Pea’s modest one. 

One side was filled with the Northside Kingdom’s royal court and what little bit of royal family there was still left. The other housed the Southside Kingdom’s court and family. King and Queen Jones as well as Princess Jellybean. Even the royal hound lovingly named Hotdog was there sitting patiently. 

On the third row of the Northiside side, the Mantles sat waiting in quiet. Reggie had his evidence stockpiled against the princesses. He planned on using them to his full advantage. The pictures, the physical evidence he had gathered, it was all for this. All to usurp the Jones family. Hopefully the King would listen to him, although the duke had assured him that King Owens would have no choice but to concede. 

The music began and the wedding party slowly walked down the decorated aisle. There was but one bridesmaid and groomsman. The siblings of the bride and groom. They walked down the aisle together, Lily forcing a smile while Sweet Pea had a blank if not annoyed expression on his face.

The guests rose as the music changed to the traditional wedding march. The King appeared at the end, his eldest daughter on his arm as they walked slowly down the aisle. Small gasps at how beautiful the princess looked sounded, happy tears were already starting to be shed. 

Sweet Pea could not look away from him. His gut twisted painfully at the thought of the only woman he had ever actually loved marrying his brother. His eyes darted to her still flat stomach before going back up to her face. This wasn’t right but there was nothing he could do about it. His son or daughter would be in Jughead’s care. This seemed like a fresh kind of hell for him. Life had never been terribly easy but now it seemed a million times harder. 

Reggie’s hands twitched nervously as he fumbled with the plastic wand in his pocket. It was almost time. Almost… He did not notice Jughead’s gaze landing on him. 

The prince held his hand out for his future queen as the royal priest spoke, “who gives this woman away today on the day of her wedding?” 

“I do.” The King said with a kind smile, his eyes twinkling. Shanna gently grabbed Jughead’s hand and stepped forward to take her place at his side in front of the altar, facing him. 

The priest looked across the crowd. “Should anyone here present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.” He stated for tradition sake. Obviously no one in their right mind would object. 

All four royal teens tensed at the old line. Lily and Sweet Pea’s eyes were on the marquess as Jughead and Shanna remained staring at one another in an attempt to pretend to be having a good time. Everyone was on edge. 

And then, as if on cue, Marquess Mantle stood. “I do, father.” He stated in a booming,  arrogant voice. “I have evidence of infidelity. Trickery. And something even more sinister that has happened under the noses of the royal court.” 

King Owen’s head shot around to stare at Reggie, his eyes aflame with rage at the interruption. Certainly nothing he had was true. Certainly this was all a trick to stop the wedding. “Marquess.” He said in an authoritative tone, “show me this evidence or you were be excused from this court...permanently.” 

“Your highness, some of it may be unsuitable for the eyes of the public. There are young children here.” He added calmly. “However, I will show it to you in private if you do not take my word.” He looked to the bride and drank in the horrified expression on her face. “King Owens. Are you aware of what your daughters have been doing on the days leading up to this ceremony?” 

“They’ve been busy planning.” The King said distrustfully. “And spending time with their fiances.” 

“That is only half true.” Reggie corrected. “They have been planning, yes. However They have not been spending quality time with their betrothed. Rather, Princess Shanna has been making a bed with Prince Sweet Pea while Princess Lily was having her own affair with Prince Forsythe.” 

Shanna thought she was going to faint. Sensing this, Jughead kept a firm grip on her in case she did lose consciousness. Lily’s knees were wobbling so hard that she was visibly shaking. No. No, no, no, this was all wrong!

“And your proof?” The King asked, his face red with fury. There was no way this was true. This was impossible. A fabrication to smear the names of his daughters. 

“I have video and photographic evidence.” Reggie replied, his tone cool and smooth. He took out two objects from his pocket and showed them to the king. “As well as these. Taken from the princesses’ personal bathrooms.” In his hand were two positive pregnancy tests. 

“Not only are the princesses not virgins but they are pregnant with the other prince’s child. I’m sure a simple medical exam will find this to be true. A DNA test will confirm it once the children are born.” Reggie said, a satisfied smile on his face at his success. 

The king’s murderous gaze turned to his two girls, “Tell me. Tell me this is all some cruel joke being played on your old man.” He said, his voice rising, “tell me you did not break your vow to me!” 

Before he could continue, King Forsythe Jones the Second stood. “King Owens.” He said, an amused look on his face for what his sons had gotten themselves into. “If I may propose a solution to this predicament?” 

The Northside King looked as though he did not want to negotiate any longer. His daughters had betrayed him in the worst way possible. Their kingdom was depending on them and they just threw it all away. He wanted to scream until his lungs gave out, but he held his composure. He took a breath to try and still his raging heart. “What do you have in mind?” He asked finally. 

“Since both my sons are of royal blood, and likewise both of your daughters are of royal blood, then what does it matter who marries who? I only ask that my son is king of our united kingdoms.” FP was smiling warmly at his sons and their fiancees. “I am not so set in my ways that I can’t compromise, are you?” 

King Owens sent a heated look to his daughters, mainly Lavender who was boldly looking back at him. “Daddy, I never wanted to be queen. Please, let Lily take the throne. She will be a brilliant queen. I will stay on the Southside with Prince Nathaniel to help him with the rural provinces. This is what we both want. Will the kingdom not be happier with two rulers who truly love one another?” 

Her gaze turned to Reggie. “The Marquess would have me marry him, daddy, but the truth is. He is the one that took my virginity on my eighteenth birthday to try and steal the crown from you. The only one here deserving of punishment is him. Sneaking into our bathrooms, spying on us, all of this is unacceptable for someone of the royal court.”

Reggie opened his mouth, about to protest when she held her hand up to silence him. In that moment she looked more like a queen than she had in her entire life. “But, do not blame him, daddy. It was his father that put him up to all of this. His father that has thirsted for power although he is already corrupt with greed. If anyone should be harmed on the day of your daughters’ weddings then it should be the Duke.” 

Duke Mantle shot up from his seat, “your highness, this is absolutely ridiculous slander against-” 

King Jones started to laugh at once and all in attendance stared at him. “What’s wrong, Marty? Are you that eaten up about your bastard son being a prince? Does him potentially becoming king instead of your royal heir that you will do anything to dethrone him? You are such a vile, sad man and I agree with my future daughter-in-law. If anyone here is guilty of wrongdoing, then it is you. King Owens, for his heinous actions against both of our courts, I suggest you strip Duke Mantle of all of his titles and honors. Do with his claimed heir as you will.” 

King Owens, flabbergasted with the turn of events stared in shock at King Jones. Was he truly okay with all of this? Was the decision truly his? Shanna’s words rang in his ears painfully. “It is settled.” He said finally, looking back at the bride and groom. “Lillian, you will marry Prince Forsythe who will ascend the throne after me. Shanna, despite your show today of how great of a leader you could be, I will allow you to step down and marry Prince Nathaniel. If this is what the both of you truly want, then so be it.” 

His dark and stormy eyes met that of the Duke who had suddenly gone pale. “As for you, I hereby renounce your title as Duke of the Northside. Reginald, you may take your father’s title if you wish but he is to be banished from the kingdom. I will not allow his scheming to continue on my soil.” 

Reggie sat down slowly, in utter shock at the King’s decree. He would be duke? Then his father...He’d finally be rid of his father? A grin broke onto his face. “Thank you, your highness for your mercy.” 

King Owens nodded curtly. “Shanna, switch places with Lily. Let the wedding commence.” 

Happy tears were streaming down Lily’s face. Her waterproof makeup set in place as she joined Jughead at the altar. Without any more objections the two were wed. And then, in place of an entire second wedding, Shanna and Sweet Pea were wed on the spot next after switching places. 

No one in the kingdom had seen the dark prince smile as he had that day. It was the dawn of a new era and their happiness would reign.

Tag List: @the-gargoyle-queen​, @wayward-river​, @redhairdontcare732​, @southside-vixen​, @iamaunicorn4704​, @jezzabelleserpent​

[shadowsof-thenight]

Where our story begins - Chapter one

Story summary: This is an victorian era AU Home is where our story begins, but how does one know where home is? 


Julia has a good life. A calm life. She really doesn’t have much to complain about. That is, until a handsome stranger steps into their home in the country and all that calmness seems to disappear instantly. Who is this man that seems to terrorise everyone with his haugthy ways?


Ship: Bucky Barnes X OC-Julia

Warnings: For this chapter only some slight angst. 

Words: 2879

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A/N: So I changed a bit more today than I intended, so forgive me for any typo’s or mistakes and feel free to inform me of any. |

This story has been going through my head for a long time, though it never did quite fit. As soon as I imagined it with Bucky all the puzzle pieces fell into place. I really hope you like it as much as I enjoy writing it!

It is derived of one of my entries for Fictober. However that was pretty rushed and some elements simply didn’t fit. So feel free to read that entry but please don’t assume it’ll give you the same information as this chapter will do. Especially since I removed any allusion to the supernatural, that will not be a part of this story.

Feedback is greatly appreciated! And if you want to get tagged, let me know. Edit 12th of April 2020: This chapter has now been beta’ed by @gnomewithalaptop​. She has gone over all four chapters and I will be replacing them over the coming days. No major changes have been made, merely spelling and grammar.

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Masterlist                                              Story Masterlist

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Chapter one

Rolling her shoulders, Julia tried to ease the tension in her body as she sat down in front of the large mirror that sat atop her mahogany dressing table. She really didn’t have much reason to be nervous, so why was she? Certainly this was not the first time a nobleman had joined her small family at the dinner table. It probably wouldn’t be the last either.

She smiled a little when she noticed that her unruly curls had broken out of the stern up-do that they had been forced into early this morning. It came as no surprise; she had been running all over their property today, rushing and helping wherever she could to get as many chores done before their guest would arrive in the evening.Who this guest was or what he’d be like, she didn’t know. She wasn’t even sure if it was a man, though it most likely was. For one, the guest travelled alone and women rarely did that. Not to mention that she had been expected to attend several dinners with possible suitors for the past three months, even since her last birthday. Her parents had clearly decided that it was time she married, even if they had not said a word to support her theories. She wondered idly what this man would look like as she tried to think what she could do with her hair in the little time she had. Where would he be from and what would he be like? She just hoped he was nice. That was currently her only requirement. It would make for a more enjoyable dinner. As for a suitor, she didn’t have high hopes. None of the previous options had been particularly alluring.Julia pulled at the loose strands of hair and considered doing a quick fix rather than a complete do-over. It seemed like an impossible task, and she called for her maid. Together they might just be able to make it work. Having made that decision, she began pulling at all the pins and ribbons that were holding her coiffure together. Once her long tresses fell freely down her back, she heard the door behind her open and close. She smiled brightly at the young woman that walked up behind her, and the gesture was readily returned.As Mary ran her fingers through Julia’s hair, Julia wished that she could just leave it be. No ribbons, no pins, just nothing. Not only would the lack of an updo save her quite a bit of time, the loose curls created much less strain on her head. And the feeling of her hair flowing behind her as she rode her horse was pretty wonderful too. When she was younger, she had even wondered if cutting her hair would be helpful in minimising the strain it caused on her scalp, though her mother had quickly put a stopper in those thoughts. Apparently a lady would never cut her hair, and so Julia had accepted the accompanying headaches.Mary took a brush and gently pulled at the tangled mess that somehow seemed to appear in her hair in the blink of an eye. Knowing how little time remained to them, Julia grabbed for the brush and roughly pulled at her hair, tugging at her scalp harshly. There was no time for gentleness.Soon there would be a knock on the front door and their visitor would announce himself.Julia had never met him, but her parents had, and they had informed her of his punctuality. If he valued this, it would be bad manners to arrive late. Her parents had not told her anything about him, though her father had appeared slightly nervous of the prospect of his visit. Her father never got nervous and it had intrigued her. It also made her slightly apprehensive, as she did not know what her father’s reaction meant. Still as the only daughter to her parents, she knew they only wanted the best for her.Julia’s family came from a long line of nobles, and women had very little rights in these circles. She knew her parents wanted to make sure that she would be taken care of. That her dowry would not fall into the wrong hands. They would prefer it if it would remain in her possession always, and it took some searching for a man to agree to that.When all the snarls had effectively been untangled, Mary made quick work of Julia’s hair, and the women gossiped happily of what would await the younger of the two tonight. Mary was a hopeless romantic, with an optimism that often rivalled that of a child. It was endearing. The woman was by no means naive—she just had a steadfast belief that things always worked themselves out in the end. Julia often found herself leaning on those beliefs, using them to get her through trying times. Meanwhile Mary would often consider Julia’s more careful thoughts, before making any decisions.With her hair done—pulled into another, though much less stern up-do, Julia pinched her cheeks to give them some colour. When she was satisfied that her complexion resembled that of a healthy young woman, she stood and walked towards the bed. There, Mary was already waiting to help her into the dress that had been laid out on the sheets. Mary had loosened the strings on the corset as wide as they would go and carefully placed it around Julia’s waist. Mary tugged at the lacing, making sure it was tight so the dress would fit neatly.Julia stared at the dress that she was about to wear and smiled. It was beautiful and brand new. Her mother had ordered it quite recently, citing an important upcoming event and Julia had assumed a ball. Perhaps she had hoped for a ball, since those were few and far between since they had moved back to their dwelling in the countryside. During her time at court there had been so many, and she rather missed the excitement. It was not until this morning that her mother had informed her that the dress should be worn tonight at dinner, for their expected guest. Julia had done her very best to bite down the bitter sting of disappointment.Julia had always been close to her mother, Lady Josephine Fitzgerald of Hertfordshire, and though there was little they did not share, she knew better than to voice her opinion about tonight. Her mother would not tolerate it, for she would think it was spoiled behaviour. She wasn’t entirely wrong of course; Julia knew she had gotten her hopes up far too high. She did wonder though, why her mother had not informed her of this important guest prior to today. If she had known, there would have been more planning this week and much less rushing today.She dared not ask, and Josephine would never show anyone if there had been a lack of information on her end. She was raised at court and knew just what was expected of a woman of her stature. Showing a lack of preparation and subsequently airing her husband's inability to keep her informed was not an option. With one last tug, her corset was properly tightened, and Mary quickly grabbed hold of the dress and held it open as wide as possible so Julia could step into it carefully. It was simply a work of art, and Julia was almost anxious to wear it. The deep blue material went well with her light skin tone, the colourful flower design livening it up. It had short, puffed-up sleeves that were adorned with a few layers of white lace that covered most of her upper arm. A small strip of that same lace covered the wide boat neckline of the dress, alluding to a slightly risqué bosom, which finished the image.For her comfort the dressmaker had decided on many layers in the skirt of the dress, creating the fashionably wide skirt without the need for hoops. While the fabric made the dress significantly warmer, it was far easier to move around in than it would’ve been with hoops. And with the recent heat, there wouldn’t be too many fireplaces roaring.Mary quickly moved to close the lace of the bodice and when the dress was firmly in place, Julia twirled through the room. She smiled as the skirt swirled around her and she felt absolutely beautiful. Mary clapped happily, praising Julia’s appearance. With a bright smile she thanked her for the help. She took one more glance at her reflection in the floor length mirror that stood by her bed. The colours of the dress were bold, far bolder than she was used to, but the cut was conservative and almost gentle in the way that it accentuated her figure.Just then thunder struck again, resounding loudly right outside the window. Lightning followed closely and Mary began to wring her hands nervously. She never did like weather such as this and she looked out the window with wide eyes. Julia placed a comforting hand on her arm and squeezed gently. Mary tried to put on a brave face, though she failed miserably, before excusing herself from the room. Julia knew just where she would go—to the kitchen where her mother, Maudlin, would be working. Maudlin always managed to sooth her fears quickly.Julia moved closer to the window and saw that the storm was now in full swing, wind whipping through the trees and causing the warmth of the day to rapidly leave the house.A loud rattling sound drew her eyes away from the windswept trees and towards the nearby road, where she could see a black coach racing by. Due to the rain it was impossible to make out a crest on the door of the chaise, if there even was one. Julia wondered if this was the carriage of her guest; it certainly didn’t look like one from any family in the area.It was in that moment when she thought of their visitor, that the carriage slowed down considerably and turned onto the small lane that led to her house. Suddenly Julia remembered her mother's sense of urgency and punctuality, and she became very self-aware. Quickly looking over her dress, she assured herself that there were no imperfections to be found, before she took a deep steadying breath and moved towards the door. It was time to make her way downstairs.Thunder struck once more as she placed her hand on the doorknob, and she lingered a moment longer, wondering if that was as ominous a sign as it felt. Finally she straightened herself up and twisted the knob, opening the door. she stepped through it and out onto the landing.The thick Bordeaux carpet hid the sound of her steps as she hurried along the hallway towards the grand staircase that was situated in the middle of this second story landing. If she moved quick she’d be down before their guest would have time to announce himself. She really didn't want to disappoint her mother.Julia was ready to speed down the stairs when she glanced down and straight into the piercing blue eyes of a handsome stranger. He had been mid-turn after handing his top-hat and coat to their butler, Jones. She halted her movements and chose to descend the stairs in a more graceful manner than she had originally intended. Rushing wasn’t ladylike, her mother had often told her, and her education had informed her of the importance of a good first impression. So, she moved down the steps in slow, calm strides, urging herself to appear as serene as her movements were. It wasn’t easy, with the stranger at the bottom of the staircase making her both curious and nervous with his intense gaze.His azure blue eyes appeared cold as they lingered over her form, and she quickly averted her eyes, uncomfortable with the way they seemed to search for even the slightest flaw. It didn’t help that his lips were pulled down in a deep frown, moving into a sly smirk as she got closer.Julia took a moment to take in his appearance. If he was staring, so could she, right? His long hair was neatly tied back at the nape of his neck, and with the light of the nearby lantern, it appeared to be chestnut coloured. He had a short straight nose and a strong, clean-shaven jaw. The man stood tall, his broad shoulders straining the sutures of his suit and his head held high as only a highborn lord would. The black suit he wore seemed expensive, specifically tailored for him, and he had a crisp white shirt underneath. The sleeves of the shirt were embellished with lace that waved out over his hands and drew her attention to his long elegant fingers. Fingers that were currently tapping against his leg in an impatient manner, while he watched her come down.Julia had half a mind to run back upstairs, unable to shake the uncomfortable feeling he gave her. She’d been stared at before, leered at even, but not like this. She had also kept people waiting in the past. Punctuality was something she had only recently managed to implement into her routine, though she obviously still failed at times.Finally she brushed it off, attributing it to the unease of the storm raging outside and her lack of knowledge about the man before her.When she was only a few small steps removed from the man, she noticed a small dimple on his chin and was struck by a memory of an old proverb that her grandmother had often spoken off: a dimple in the chin, the devil within.She nearly laughed at the absurdity of her own thoughts and only barely managed to keep it in, causing her cheeks to heat up and she wished she could wave some cool air on her face. Instead she tried to ignore the spreading warmth, hoping he would see it as a simple blush, and took the last few steps off the stairs. Finally she landed at the bottom, right in front of him.He offered something that he must have taken for a smile, and though she saw it as more of a grimace with his lips pulled into a thin line, she returned the gesture and plastered a bright smile on her face. His long nimble fingers took her hand in his, and he placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles. Her mother quickly stepped forward, brightly smiling as she introduced the man as Lord James Buchanan Barnes.“My lord.” Julia spoke softly as she curtsied, her hand still firmly in his grasp and fighting the urge to pull it back while he haughtily stared down at her. He wasn’t that much taller than her, though he managed to make every centimetre feel like ten. A chill went through her body as she met that stare. He really did make her incredibly nervous.

[wilddriud]

The things we sacrifice

((Warning: Graphic violence, gore ))

There had been a string of violence as of late against the Kaldorei. Getting rather annoyed with hearing and seeing it through her vines, Tasca needed to step in, felt the need to see what she could do about addressing this violence. This seemed to be a growing pattern, particularly with humans. A group would be without and the humans would cast them out, aid in small ways, or start insinuating that these beings are a problem and begin to retaliate against them. They had done this with the Orcs, the Undead, the Sin'dorei, the worgan, the people of Westfall.   A chuckle from her throat came as she thought upon how they had even done so to their own kind. Right now, however, it was to the people she was portraying herself as. A sigh as she waited her mind drifting on. Of course, knowing very well others have done hate unto others thus why there is Horde and Alliance, she can't say they have all been kind unto each other. The Kaldorei themselves have faults and have had issues with others. This was just...more apparent. Plus kicking a horse when it's down is just uncalled for. Besides, these were Kul Tirans, if they wanted to be part of the Alliance they need to learn their place. That being as a people that work with others and this island seemed to be the worse of the lot. For now, something was to be done. Following through the net work of roots and greenery on the island it'd take her a couple days or so to track down a small group. Her timing seemed to have been blessed as she learned this group was going to hold a rally. With the pull over Bel'sharia she had, Tasca sent the Ilidari off to crash the party so to speak. Telling her to do as she wished so long as the leader was brought to herself. Knowing full well the Ilidari would likely be lenient, giving only a couple broken bones here and there, cuts and mostly bruises she knew she'd have to step up the game. Tasca would also know that Bel'sharia was almost as good as a rogue when it came to infiltration, covering her scent and using various tools, such as the tear gas Tasca provided to cover the womans trail more so. The moon hung in over head, its light bright in the clear sky. A soft touch of starlight stretched out over the world on a blanket of darkness. It would do. Tasca's only thought lingering on the hope that Elune, nor her beloved Ysera, was to see what was to come. Save to perhaps to forgive her of the crime she would commit. Bel'sharia had done her work well, as expected of the demon huntress. Her tracking and sight were most helpful at such times. Holding things over the others head made things easier. This night she was not in her usual state, dressed for such a special occasion, her gown was a deep forest green. A high collar came in to her neck to hide the scales she couldnt hide as she was still weak. Antler like horns branching out from her forehead arching up and around seeming to create a crown. The sleeves long enough to cover half of her hands. The long, wide skirt covering her tail. Deep emerald eyes watching on as one of the men she was targeting was dragged down along the grassland. Bel'sharia had done a good job beating the human to near death. Racist carved onto his forehead. His body managed and beaten. Blood seeming to cover him well as it faded on and matched the arrange of bruising upon his form. This wouldn't be enough however. She had been slighted. What she guarded and protected had been insulted enough and had gone through enough without having one more insect bite into it's crumbling life. Her head turned upwards towards the sky, looking to the moon for a single moment before her ears flicked as the illidari spoke, "Brought the leader, I think the others know better now." She seemed smug over her work, which granted was earned. However the druidess wasn’t satisfied. "Release him and step away." Tascas tone was sharp and hot. Not something the illidari would ignore and so she stepped away, leaving the man on the spot. "Pl-please. No more. We-we wont do it again." Of course the man would sputter such, begging for any mercy. Tasca would take a step forward. "Did my friend scare you? Illidari are quite mean and scary aren’t they?" She would give him a soft smile, "but you know druids aren’t like that, right?" The man would look back, almost seeming confused before trying for a smile. "Uh right...yes..i-i see that now. Your people are good." He'd give a nervous laugh. "You have me mistaken. But that is fine. Your thoughts aren’t going to matter anymore. Your breath wont matter. Your life doesn’t matter. You...are just food for my babies now." As she spoke, vines and roots of the various plant life would begin to sprout and worm their way through the soil towards the man. Wrapping in around his body, pulling him in down to the dirt as sharp points would pierce his flesh. Threading under his skin as thistle needles dragged along flesh and scraping into muscle fiber. Twisting in through his being, shredding through flesh, muscle, and bone. Slowly seeming to rip small pieces of his being away into the soils below. Blood seeping out, overflowing as the dirt seemed to grow drunk off the amount, spilling it over grass and stone. The males screams were cut short as one vine shoved in through his mouth, digging on down through his throat, his intestines, down and down until finally it reached an exit point. Tears ran down his cheeks, body jerking, twitching and the pain burned heavily through his being. Finally, it would come to an end for him. A single vine would curl through his form, reaching around his heart. Wrapping in around and around as it would begin to squeeze. Pressing in harder and harder, till finally...POP! What remained of his body would go limp and soon the grass around him would be seen eating at his flesh, muscle and bone as the earth would reclaim him to be nothing more than a stain of blood. Bel'sharia had turned her back, even to her sigh such a thing was too much for her to endure as she gagged. The scent forcing her to cover her mouth as the air reeked of fecal matter, blood and the rot of death. "You could have just told him to fuck off. That...that was..." she couldn't even think of the words. "Cat got your tongue, dog? People like him don’t deserve the air trees create. They deserve nothing more then to be the fertilizer for them. If I had my way, that whole lot would be dead like this but I trust you did enough to remind them elves don’t take things lightly." She didn't have an answer. What could she possibly say to a woman who had just done....this. "I'm going home...to cleanse myself of...of this."  The illidari would leave and Tasca would remain under the pale moonlight.

The smell of hot burning sand would soon fill the air as her sister would begin to appear out of a portal.

"You say i don't do enough and when i do something you come knocking on my door to complain, what do you want now, Nor?" Tasca would call to her in a dry tone, not turning to face her sibling behind her.

Nortanus was a taller kaldorei, a little too tall for females. Her body was thin, almost wiry. Her features slightly sharp and pointed. The very image of a librarian. A small pair of monocles rested on her nose, a slim silver chain hanging down on side before going up over her shoulder and around her neck in a loose necklace, adding to the other larger chained necklace she wore with a Magus symbol. Her robes were of silk, the finest clothing one could buy would be the first off the shelf every time for this woman. Four rings showing her schools of magic have mastered, many more rings of various schools would be at home, choosing four different rings at random each day. Her shoulder length purple hair was pulled back into a small bun, seeming to copy a style by the Pandarian people today.

"You act too much like one of them and strain yourself for them. You don't pace yourself." Nortaunus would say in a rather friendly soft voice as she approached, reaching to take the elder siblings hand to push back the sleeve to reveal the green scales, before Tasca would pull her hand away and shake her arm down so the fabric fell over once more.

"Ysera did it, why can't i?

That seemed to gain a chuckle from the Bronze, "Oh please. Don't pretend you do things to follow in her footstep, we both know out of the three of us you are the most foul minded. You'll come up with any excuse to have people forgive you for the things you pull."

Tasca shook her head, "I still think it's annoying how you think you know me, how you think you can read me like one of your books and understand me so well. You don't. And i'll say that for the rest of my life."

The younger of the two would shake her head and sigh, before pulling out a vial and pass it over. "Here, this will help you recover faster. I'm...just tired of seeing you either be a drunk on the side of the road or being the one who almost kills herself while saving a couple other people, not to mention how much to stretch yourself to watch over the areas you are in. How much of the plant life here hasn't been used or blessed by you?"

Tasca accepts the vial and drinks its contents without question, "Mm...i'd still say about thirty percent, maybe even forty. It's hard to tell with some of the reaches between the islands, plus...the forest of Drusvar is still...sick, it's hard tapping into there properly. I keep having to reclaim pieces of it."

"That's too much and no where near where you need to watch. Honestly." A sigh came from Nortanus, her hands folding in before her lap as she stood. "Thank you for having those commissions done by Liza, i think she really needed something different to tackle. I don't know how to help her. I feel like...maybe i'm getting through to her and then...we take three steps back. The kids are doing well though, Elruna is keeping them busy, she loves kids so it works out well."

"I think she'll break through." A chuckle came from Tasca before she went on, "I think it's funny. You'll bend over backwards for the people that have proven to be worth your time and i...just make people feel like they owe me their lives to win their adoration."

"Now whose being the cynical one?" Nortanus would say almost amused before placing a hand to her siblings shoulder and giving it a firm squeeze. "You are loved Tasca, and if you open up to people they'll get to know you for who you are."

Tasca wouldn't reply, silent would pass over them and soon the younger of the pair would make her leave, stepping through another portal to return to her garrison. The green dragon would look up to the sky once more before making her leave back to the brothel.

[yourmajes-ty-moving]

davids fam after being put through google translate

Wendy Stein heard the phone on the other side of the door. She knew that she was going to work, but it was not fun; Moreover, it looked like a very intense conversation

"Look," said Stain. - I can do this to my brother! It will be allowed, is not it? He was there. "OK, I see what I'm doing."

Wendy took steps to open the door and soon came back to work. The room came out with a long face and not more. Vandy does not say anything

Finally Vendee can not stand - Wall, what do you say?

The window has been linked to the window. "Sharman's son and daughter are found dead. Beoren and Mabel are relatives, but they can not live there.

Wenini opened her mouth and tried to understand what she had heard. What will help?

Then he thought a little.

"In the room," he said quietly, "call me." Wendy tried not to travel by phone, the man replied, eight years older than Vandy,

"Who is this?" Ask your voice.

"Hey, this is Wendy."

Vandy heard his mind. Have you decided to help the camp? We can help you as a consultant!

- What? Wendy added the idea. In fact, it is not. I need help.

"What?" The man asked

"This is a small story," Wendy asked for a moment. "And there can be a lot, but did you know how you said you want to go? David, we can help you

For example, to say that the outcome of Nervos

But this is not at the same time interesting, his relationships with his own house, because he is Neil Marcus Tullius, a 13-year-old doctor, Doctor comments for a better world, and although it was another five years. Carl's Uncle, it's a good thing, that's a wonderful thing, a horse, his values and a mabel that he gets out of the vehicle, trying to understand what happened.

Dupas looks at the animal. Knocked on the door where the rest of the life of the campaign. And sister, and that those who meet him for the rest of his life in the care of you. He has a deep atmosphere

It is strange that he and the Mabel immediately alerted him to opening the door and waiting for the wart on the day. And it seems that the man has a green top and jeans and T-shirt. They are distressed and worried

"Hello!" He says. "Come on me, I'm waiting for you!"

And when he came to the person's small house, two Doppia made Maybel, and his bridge speaks his mouth.

The girl said to her mother: "My name is David." "I'm happy to visit you here."

Look at each other and look at Mabel and the eyes and follow David's drinking, lying down, Abel.

During the flight he sees something dope, green and yellow couple her husband "David?"

David: "Well, Cicero?"

About 1 year ago was created

"Well, why is it right?"

"The company what is it?"

The Crash is that it looks a certain person

"Here, it's a good game!" David said, "It's been long!"

"Really?" Asked. "What is that?"

"It's for you with stock!" David explained: "I have simply said to splurge last year, and if I am less like you Doppia Mabal and I have the lives of camps, they take them and camps, why do you have memories? lo, and when my friends, and now, see, so many children do as "

And on that path the human remains in the attempt, to do with laughter, to laugh at the laughter of a habit, to decide Fallopia and to stay one: to stay alive, and to begin it is not satisfied.

SCOOP is a funny funny cat a cat. Estimated the first old.

"Star" Mabel rose. Sitting on the other hand, as the bell is too low, Mabel Leo. "Is not that something that is always a cause?"

Gold Temple. Mabel are sure this is a good time to do it? So, it's early. '

'I am,' says that Mabel something that looks like the final horn. "He returned to his home in the evening."

A player has been selected head and the bottom. "When you hear it?" If you do not, so that it would not be? '

"Now you get a new chance long as you know how to spend."

Mabel, higher, and the crime was committed, and the Easter season a month by courses of the forces, that were with David, and when he was in his journey is always the first record of the matter in the Wall Greater. That is not possible, David until the end of the day.

"I think that it is enough that mistake," said Dipper. But he left his bed, and he stood there. "But I can not give what you have done? "

"PFF, do not be stupid, 'and Mabel, because he thinks he does all the guitar, and he knew what he was doing." Since its place. "

Head big head. "What are we waiting for?"

"He took it from there," Cable works. "It's also it's easy to just go missing." Five kids do not like me? '

Mabel has acted against the Lynx to hide their shoulders. "Mabel" Even if he is not there? "

Mabel looks at the bags. "M."

Big Dipper and Mabel welds to stay in the room. "Oh, my mom, Mabel, he thinks that the only effect it had enacted the law literature!" And been broken in pieces: for he knows that it is more that we are not one-dimensional small part of the reason for setting aside all! "Do you want to?" "Do not be angry! ' Mabel and do not need to come back! '

He was at the grave of Mabel, the brother of the same thing. "It really goes Amina? Go."

In the council of the people, understand the collection for the first item, so that it is a this for a short time, were banished from every extremity of the domestic. Which are covered by the rule into the space of the kitchen on the right hand does not stop at the many pictures. Cicero, also in the camp of the hastily occupied a plain of the singers was really consulted. In the first picture of the child was a little hill, and immediately called the old boy out with him. Big Dipper is another kid in the picture. Do servants judges, and they wanted to fly very wise lacked of David's wife learned from the last two terms. The Ducks are said to Gwen in his name. Only a few years in a labor camp, there is no surprise if he can not yet citizens. If we open the bidding.

Mobile phone call the Big Dipper fears. And a desk, and go from there. "Hello?"

"Hello, Little else asked mortal anxiety. The Big Dipper in the name name is not true, but the first thing out of tolerance." I'm the oak tree, even if the shots catch a few pieces Mabel, that's fine, "temple Panik .

"Early the next morning, David!" SPACE accept it on behalf of David's motives. "I forgot what?"

"Sciisti?" David asked. "You can not change me? '

"Uh," said Dipper fast ", it's my sixth sin!"

"Well, I tell you, she had a sixth." That reminds me of my Camper summer, Chucky-name '

"You need to have milk which DIIPPER parties are busy. That part of the right wing.

"Oh, you want me to cry? "

"Oh, it, work for us? '

"What?", I think you need to mirror the night of the night. '

"But we can not make soup! I could make a movie and eat a meal - it's not Sunday!"

Do not listen to David NEAP actions. "Oh, I'm fine," I have a few glaciers. " This is the first home to tens of minutes. '

The Dipper and Mabel runs, as always in the heart. "Mabel haste! '

"Uh, the Big Dipper," said Mabel in fear: "We have trouble."

Mabel worked broken wire. And it will be worse than anything possible.

Mabel, what are you doing?

At present Mabel said. It is a faith, neither shall the trees. "I do not know, I'm not alone, and do not have much, because you are right and because they do not know what to do?" Mabel shows the title of the guitar and the noise.

Press and writes. Then a sister. Who will decide which highlights?

Senator PBELL CIRCUIT

Subscribe to each other and watch right. And have been staring at it.

When I heard two things knocking on the door, I finished it. This kind of thought is like a thorn in lightning. After that, he heard David's voice "Big Dipper! Is Mable a door?"

Guitar, keep breathing and Mabel Leo. He stood up and walked to the door and David became more laughter than before.

"Guess, kids? I have ice cream! Who is ready to watch a movie?"

The Polaris just stared at him. He didn't know what he was talking about. David obviously felt that something was wrong.

"Oh, what have you done for a long time? Do you know what is really bad?"

Mable walked into the room and pulled the guitar into David's face. He is thinking about this and knowing what is going on.

"David," said Mabel, snoring. "I may have accidentally ruined the guitar."

David went to observe the silence. For Pegasus, it seems that everyone is standing there for three hours, or even a few days. In short, there are some people who like books with Mabel: he starts to cry.

"David, I am sorry! This is my fault. He walked into the room because they wanted to use it to play the guitar, because I love you to listen to it? I didn't deliberately break it, I swear! I am just if you want to Try, if you are not so stupid now, stupid people don't have to use the brakes and continue to use it? I am sorry, I know I will not blame the Big Dipper! Breaking on you!"

David was silent for a while. Then, quietly whisper, "Children, help bring things."

This silence is delayed. Never started your life according to your own way. Nothing can fear or warn Weirdmaggedon is not satisfied with David and silence. In silence, more often, I feel that I have committed Bootes. From the inside, it will not be the face of David's soul.

Then, when everything came from their territory, he looked at me, David and the children, in my eyes, then said, "Well, if you can't be better than starting and repairing. Who wants to help?"

He slept in the silence of the twins. BEAM blinks. "Wait, you are angry with us!"

"Oh, how can you do this? Of course, the wires make me feel sad, but sometimes it's hard to fix it. I will never give birth to your two. Now, overcome it."

This is a family of two, wake up in the morning, wake up, laugh. The ice cream area is owned by himself. Mabel has a guitar string on his bed and then goes to Mabel's hand to help the guitar.

"As David said, 'Let both of you use a song I wrote to help me. Because this is a camp and a camp in Cicero. Do you thank the two for their help?"

Mable and the Big Dipper looked at each other and filled their mouth with cream. Praise, "Yes. Of course. Never!"

Today we look at the Big Dipper windows was a little bit worried. Mabel has been no check local high school today, it may be one of the best schools. The Big Dipper expected to be better, try to stay calm, but they do nothing to help him focus. Mabel on his left hand and put on a sweater, and a calendar of farmers to listen to the tape and David sat in the front seat while driving. I hear the Big Dipper is very useful for the nerves.

"How can you believe that David is said to be the usual excited." We can finally visit the highest mountains Gust today? Now, in the shadows of the best ways to remember. It is very difficult to enter the game, but I am with you both very confident after this day that we will be able to get some food? "David stands. When a car is parked.

The Big Dipper all very much. They are not to play the great man, and, in the block of small things for the house of his. "David," he said. "Here we're doing '

"Oh, I did tell you," David said. "We are faced with a young girl was asked. Her parents do not have the time. I went out a few!"

windows knocked rehearsing like armed. Means to the people is thrilled with dark skin black girl and the boy with curly hair and showed the door opened. He was apologetic smile. "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm a little late."

"Oh, that convenient!" David said. "We are innocent. I, for my children, David and the Big Dipper Mabel. I say hello?"

Mable sent huge waves but a few warm-up Pegasus laughter. The girl smiled. And they are surprised that the Big Dipper connived industry decades. Mabel, nor David. Just him.

"Stacy, I said quietly. He closed the door in the shotgun.

The game is a bit rough visit David and Stacey immediately Mabel and tried to speak. We are able to consider its best attempt to ask the question, "Do you like to camp." "Did you pigs", "What is your favorite flower"

Finally, the family went to high school. It was a large parking lot in front of large buildings and the afternoon of that day is still half full. And when David had the whole car.

"Okay, kids, you remember what you said?" When he reached the front court for. "Keep the best, that a smile and a kind of" three months. "How and where to go. I talk to some of them, and three of the same."

He put. The boys when they look at each other. "We are going to the Big Dipper ,?" Mebour asked.

For the Big Dipper paper from his pocket. He wrote all the information you need in a day. "Our own အရိပ်ကလေး called 618. weekend ..." Big Dipper, narrow eyes. "Ryan grass."

"So you can not find room 618," Mabel said. "I was on the seventh floor bet! Let it be to find where the elevator!"

Before they can not escape Mabel sweater pulled out of the Big Dipper. "Stay at the seventh floor, Mabel. I have two."

"In fact," Stacy said quietly. "There are three".

The Big Dipper to her and she did not know what he said. "I'm sorry?"

"There are three repeated," Stacy was a bit loud. "Page 618 for third place."

"Well you know what? "Mebour asked." In the future the reader? "

"This is my sister." Stacy looked up and said to the feet of it. 'That will graduate into place, you know. "

The Big Dipper shoulder everywhere. "Cool. Let's go to the next named. We do not want to be late. '

As it passed in the classroom, five minutes after Bruno was found. He has brown hair and a small child with tennis shoes in a popular band and baggy jeans, t-shirts. I should not say how they want. And those twins are not shown, but it seems that you do not recognize Stacey.

After the first class does the learning battle seem like "leave"? "Stacey Gardner!"

The Stacye and the browser have heard and reshuffle. And the knowledge that their children.

"Hello, the Nightingale," said Stacey. "Yes, that's me."

"Brilliant", soothe Nightingale. "Who is that friend?"

"The Big Dipper and the Mabel."

"Your parents, your sister, I was employed"

"Ma, how ever."

"Well, I hope it's good." It was always a wonderful student., That is the best, I had come to live with the standards that have expected.

"We don't want to lose Ryan replaces them," he said. And there were a few questions.

"What is?" Mabel. "You can him?" Who is the winter

"Here I did, I did a great deal," said Stacey. I was faster off for the Big Dipper's fortune.

"You know everything, but it's what you think?" BEAM looking. Offulsit Stacey as Augebild.

"The Monster!" A worrar. "It's amazing!" Traum does not function. Every single research in college. Parents always have something that can not come from them to get me. "The Big Dipper can see the trees quickly in its eyes.

Rotate the Big Dipper Mabel. To search for "Brian", he said, said the school plan. "Catch you".

"Ma-"

"Give it!"

She nipples into Mabel, the whole human being. We know Swiss, trees, big dipper and I have returned to Stacey.

"Stacey is good", dipper says. He looked up and looked out, trying to understand what. They cannot, however, derive from it as much as one word is the same. "Stay kind of things. I'm not about what you feel like your parents, but I'm sure they're doing it."

Stacey and calm.

"I am with you in this kind of matter, because it is difficult to find, you want to make an offer on that new one." "Make your way from them." He has no sister.

Stacey laughed. But it is not from the time when he is sure that the Big Dipper. It can be really different. Then, Stacey, an update on the head, face, sadly lies. And once sniffed.

"I can be sad that I am overwhelmed."

"It's good."

Thecece church is to serve, then at one time the waves of the big dipper, and toss it into her with her arm. And it was not careful to go fast.

"Thank you for that," she said. The Hack, and went back and regularly. Find it better. "To our run.

Monique laughed at Pol, who was surprised. He has the face of things more than that. He likes.

"David's mother, all the kids are in the car:" What is this? "

"He's great!" Mabel said. "I don't have car parts that I want to pay with. But forced to start trying to be the person we are "working hard but worth it! '

"Uh! David and his little change "What are you Stacey? Do I love you? "

"I think it's good," he said. It really exists. There is nothing left to thank Stacey for God, withdrawing from her house by the calf The bar closes the door of the ladle house. The contract never saw him face.

"Oh, my taste!" He said. "Make sure you have a Stakey?"

Big Dipper wasn't so obsessed with it because he didn't answer me "Big Dipper! Dippin Secret! Pegasus came to Big Dipper"

"This is our answer," David Calm said. "I mean it's fast, worth it, right?"

"To talk about their wedding day?"

"Oh, come to blur, call him," David said. "No time."

And of course sharp

"Ok, go home," David said. "Almost to the gravity of the philosophy that it does not lead us to go and see what will happen to you. First of all, to our cabin Mystery Mabel. You'll be able to rest with your friends."

"Whooo," Mabel encouraged. "It's time for a new romantic"

"Big Dipper, Mabel and send all the vessels, and go camping and led all! '

The teapot nodded, not looking for a record. "Okay."

"Now, one week, my mentor, Gwen, come here and you and I will go to Caesar removed. The two will be here this summer. I think it's a thought. Well buy the phone and call you and Mabel around 2:30 on the phone every day. In late summer, we will go home "

"I can not wait!" Mabel shouted. "We have had this year SOS! I heard they had a son named Charlie melody. Sometimes Pacific took care of him with money. Images that are sent to me, and now it is cute!"

1 can guess, "he said Dipper", but I think that the summer is getting better and back Michael Ford. "I saw the Big Dipper from the record. Excitusque cheerful." Ford has promised to show me how to make a teleporter "

And David perceived that the fact that the essence of the thing. Fierce courage killed all of his children.

"Hey, David!" Mabel shouted. "I almost forgot! I do Tinder for you!"

David looked up: "What is this?"

"It's a soccer app? Are you meet new people and talk to them! I know you meet new people who have said to anyone you. I will still images and a story!"

David, as I began to cry. "Oh star! Thank you very much"

David secret hut and pulled in three of them. I prepared a sleeping bag and Mabel had her karaoke treatment.

"There will be a lot of fun! But the best part is that you will see along the water again!"

David decades. Mabel told him about her old pig. No doubt, David, if you were not able to keep the pig is eating in the house of the, and Mabel were on the first to exceed himself.

"I gave him Pacifica. He liked it and brought it into the night! I love it again! "

"Now, Mabel," David warns. "Do not be polite to friends along the ba"

Before, when David ran Mabel is at the door of the hut secret. "Hey!" He warned the lungs. "Pacifica, I know there are the best along with it!"

Then he ran down to open the door of his aforesaid house, once Mabel 's great. Mabel and the aside all other matters on his neck.

"Rolled along, I miss you, big boy," said, near tears. "Given the incomplete and I hope Paz, take care of my children."

"Well, I think that" when the voice to protect the door. Pacific made with Kandy and Granada. "You know that it is difficult to buy food for my parents? 1 might have to find something from the sneak"

"Hello Mabel" audible voice Granada girl does David shocking. "We are all waiting for you now going to sleep in the attic"

"Mabel well," said Kandy, a meteor embracing a girl in a shirt. "To miss so much!"

"Oh, I miss him, too!" Mabel said. "To ready!"

The group holding the girl, Mabel, while the speech "Sleepover! Sleepover"

Her daughters also that Sarah laughed to David; and I should like to be good friends. Bootes and looked, and, whom while nibbling the pen. "Well, Little Dipper," said David successfully. "Did we go inside and say hello to everyone I meet can not wait to see everyone should have a chance, as Cicero in the first advisor to camp!"

BEAM followed by David. Soper spoke to the melody. Mabel is about melody holding the baby. David and walk around and say hello.

"Hey, duck!" Soper said. "It's great to you, O Big Dipper, as Charlie Hi!"

Big Dipper looked at the boy who squeaked and smiled happily. The Big Dipper could not help but smile. I heard a small 'awwww' David's shores.

"And now three months old?

"The Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahah born while holding Charlie's face." Was the most active age. Do not sleep. '

"Oh, that looks like a group of happiness" David said. "I have the two of you!"

Music chuckle: "Thank you."

Vapor dipper "We're sorry, Soper, Michael and Ford come here?"

Soper, shaking his head. "Sorry, I do not come in time. But it is clear that Michael will be fought. We'll soon come! '

He looked at David, the Big Dipper, who do not speak. But the boy's feet nodded. David harmed. Obviously, with its two great uncle is very important to him.

"Thank you for allowing the two to stay here in the summer." David said in the interview that the Big Dipper, lighter, trying to feel better. "I want to make it. But I am afraid, lest perhaps there be not enough space in the camp. But the next year, can do both at the same time, they came in the first place, and it shall be the Counselor of the"

Dafydd, in the sight he saw, saw a large dip of the room without saying anything. Sylvia and David decided that this was the best at once. But he will talk to Melody Soper

In the meantime, go to Big Dipper's door when it is closed and hit.

"Hello?" Voice of the Big Bear composition.

"Marc Bore Da"

He broke the door and caught Marcus in the eye of Big Dipper.

"Well, he can not take me in."

"What?"

"Come!"

Marcus joined the bathroom door to see the Big Dipper in ordinary jeans and flannel. When the pine tree was still wearing his hat and the cloth was finding stains from many places, Marcus walked around his shoes and walked into the bathroom with a small room.

"Marcus, what are you doing here?" BEAM asked. "Of course, you do not use the bathroom."

"Anyway, it's gone?"

"who?"

"David and catch?"

The Big Dipper from the head of the head was even more confusing and the sound came out of Wendy and emphasized, "No, we camped behind us and I want to share here."

"cach."

"What is Marcus?"

Marcus stops walking somewhere else "David! If you go outside, he will drop a bomb. I ask questions about the camp because she needs to change it! Marcus Dipper won the prize on her shoulder and heard." Can I do it yet? Does it close? This is the only thing for me! "

Marcus is sitting in the corner of her room. It can be cut with the flowers heard by Big Dipper

"I do not know how you can pick up the pole," said Ashton. "And the way they are still not all have to work to change the camp speak"

For the government of the big dipper did not say anything. Both sat quietly before Big Dipper heard: "Big Dipper"

But Marcus apologizes for the shoes "Me - I'll meet you later." Wendy "

Big Dipper from the fluid and running away David for decades "Ready to camp?"

A boy is in the hands of David because he knows he is wrong But they can not show what is not professional. He went out and returned to the car. David sits next to a foothold, behind Big Dipper. He started writing in the newspaper immediately.

David felt the burden of the evil chest. He tried to chat "Happy to be back with anything"

"Bottom" is called the Big Dipper from a distance. The boys say something else. David is trying again

"Your uncle is about to arrive a few days," said David. "Is that fun?

I saw a big dipper looking at David in the mirror. There were many seconds of silence and the slopes slow down. "Infa, I think it will be like that."

Silence When David tried to interview more "Is there anything to wait?"

At this time, a great dipper did not answer him. He looked at David at that time and started writing in his notes slowly.

David was awful. What happened? What do they do wrong? Not only does Boötes worry about him And something is in mind with David, and it's talking about a campsite that will be one of the best

"Well, Big Dipper," David said, getting out of the car, "almost! This is a car that can take us away, so you'll get all the stuff out of your body and" for the Website. bring! When we put him If we walk "

The brown eyes of the shoes seemed to be a great cold, as if they were thinking. It seems to him, seeing it, has a small smile when he sees great things with small.

"Bac Dau, what's wrong?" David asked.

"What?" Leo noticed his eye page. Then he looked, his own comments in his arms. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure this can't be if-"

"No," bounced. He calmed down. "Do it. Yes, David, I'm fine."

But David and chose not to believe in Big Dipper for a moment. The way to supply the trunk of the trunk will be open and a place for both.

If he asked David, she was fair here. He himself is not a small town town, about the gravity he loves her. However, as well as being submitted.

When there was another tent, and put everything at once, a walk through the forest, he took Big Dipper Dafydd Gibbon.

"Now, David says: decide what is best to say," if you mostly go on the roads, especially if you're just walking. But because we know what to do: I think it will be fine. "

BEAM raised his head. "Or it could be a real danger."

"I think we are fine."

"Have you ever walked here, do you know you will become?" Leo seems a little worried; his eyes.

This is David's head. "Well, I haven't come into this animal meat yet,"

"I have to be on the roads," Dipper said. I feel a bit bad for. It seems not Boöte, is it not enough to have a safe position to keep it?

"Very well," David said, not knowing how to respond. "Okay. Probably to go on the roads."

What is the most glorious march by road is. It would be beautiful trees, and with a little fear and I didn't feel the heat was hurt. Thanks to the left. Why do you want to go to the ways of Pegasus.

"We are close to the waterfall," David admitted. He mentioned their skin. "Look! You can see it from here, isn't it beautiful?"

"Below" is called Bac Dau. "That's a nice search."

"You know, going from the power of walking in my memories while camping. She calls me a great friend, Jasper."

"Really?" North Dau said. "What happened?"

"We went to the island to get the branch. When he came back, he fell to a cliff, and that helped him get out. 'Nearly crying. The best day of my life."

"Wow. Come -" Big Dipper prepared. "Did he survive?"

David stopped. Other memories lead to its head. But they were more aggressive, said, trembling, remembering that Jasper had been seen again. I have to cry, really, not that he abstains. It does not go before the North Pole. Not now.

"Yes," David said finally. "He made."

He didn't say anything, because that was the rest of the walk.

The harp and the fire fell. The lion, the decision of Firearm, when he thought to walk the dogs. The surging again after he wrote in the magazine. David decades. It is very easy to understand that a child will be proud very proud.

David was indeed brilliant.

"Big Dipper, writing: What did you do?"

Balance eyes sooner. "I'm really tough?"

"What do you write?"

"The math:" Big Dipper this subject. "Nothing really. Just last summer in the case of those who are for something. But what's just stories. Not too much." Big Dipper is locked, and stood in a magazine. "It's not going to be too late. I went to sleep. Good night. "

"Good night boot" David said. "I have a dream."

But when he left, David was shocked. It is no surprise that the Big Dipper and so close to me today. There is a solecism? What did he do?

The guitar looks down to. After he said no. "What do I do wrong? '

The fire crackled Further, there is no silence. David thinks there is a problem more and more. Mabel, who was a bad man is one thing, the Balance is not obvious. So he returned for the bad?

The guitar without thinking about our own shores. I hope you make the best choice.

David sneaked into the shop to remain silent. Sylvia you sleep in the magazine from its side. Channels to be caught and returned, and went out. He was sitting near the center opened fire. He read his mind in mind, that all of them have to be present as himself in charge.

dear F

This was due in a week. And he was not with David in a few months now, I would wish that there was a short cut. And if I do not know, Bill.

Yesterday saw the other, where the law. Duke is the leader of the organization that may harm my father. And Hurt and David Mabel and many others. I know that this is true, but at times he does not, Remember poverty in the time, which set me. When fear most in life. Consider, in so far as they are to speak to the fact that it's rare they are, and if I ever, Carl Mabel, and do not be from the second. I know that the bill is gone. It is not hit at the end of the summer. Nor did it deter protein.

If David The disadvantage is the reason why tract fall, maybe you do not believe me. We might choose to be quiet and out of dreams.

And I say, maybe one day. But once they do.

Then.

David words. It was tumultuous, and the most pain. Who is Bill? The fraud? The Big Dipper, which shall not inherit? David Ure, fireplace crack crabs and answers them. But not such a bad experience.

David looks back from the magazine. I read more, but comes from him, so that he can not come. The Big Dipper is. The Big Dipper breaks faith. To this extent, all of David, please.

He closed the book on the right trains. The boy was carried out on sleep. David Le airline now start with a little smile to her face. But since he has a lot of dreams.

Fire ordnance.

[lostedges]

Mary, and the old house.

I’ve started making drawings of Mary. I’ve spoken already on this thread about how lockdown and the restriction of physical movement has turned my attention inwards. It’s a time of collective grief, for all that has been missed, and a time of longing. As sometimes happens, the feeling of longing for one thing has reminded me of other losses. I’ve bought a big canvas. I feel that I might be on the right track, because I don’t know how to proceed. I want to paint Mary, life sized and seated. To create a presence out of her absence. It feels like a conjuring out of love and grief.

She died in 1994. It was October. I was in Bath in student halls in my first year of Art college. I’d just been shelved by a girl I had fallen for. The sun had gone down quickly.  Suddenly my Mam, Paul and Nigel were there, out of place and at the wrong time. Like a photo spliced badly into another. The incongruity of the familiar that a death brings. They’d come to bring me home. I stayed and went home later in the week on the train. I still don’t know why, but suspect it was a way of postponing and denying the split between past and present. It feels indecent to me now, after they drove two hours to be kind and gentle, but can’t be changed. I’ve always been blunt and socially insensitive but moreso and oblivious of it when young.  I barely remember the funeral. There were so many at that time; years of loss and ruin, and they have blurred and joined beyond separation. Her death hurt me. I tried to ignore the affects for years. At this time I feel her absence. I miss my family who died.

As I approach the store of memory it resists me with its size of feeling. Start small. Both of my parents worked. Every day after school, I would go to her house. Houses.

The old house. Strange house. Interface with another time, where it had gathered like dust in corners of unused rooms. A big family who had mostly moved out, leaving traces in lonely rooms. The front room, which had once been the shop – Oak shop, the family business. Big window. I’d lived there for a short time as a child when my parents first moved from Cardiff to Ystrad Mynach, presumably in late 1974, or early 1975. I have an early memory, perhaps the earliest, of waking to light shining through blankets, different blankets, different patterns of light. One with wide dashes of red on a dark grey background, like the interior spaces of the death star in star wars. The front room was also Nigel’s room for a while. As a child I enjoyed going there – he had comics, a guitar, a stereo, house plants, my eyes wide. In that room, at a small table, my grandfather taught me to play chess.

Upstairs there was a room filled with books in random stacks. Like a mini Gormenghast within another. Start of an early relationship with books and with illustrations. Milligans’ ark, some thelwell cartoons, maybe st.trinians and Searle. Another that I can’t place. A broken record player.

Adrian’s room, quiet, private. A typewriter for a poet. An excellent illustrator who never made it to art school. Gardener and habitual walker. A man I loved, who taught me to clown with children.

My mam’s room, quiet, restrained and humble as you might expect if you knew her.

The bathroom with a big bath with big swollen brass taps, and a light switch on a long string that I would play with, swinging it around enjoying the lazy protracted pendulum movement through space, with a click of connection at the end of the arc, and satisfying return to my hand.

 At the heart of the house was the middle room. Big room. Two doors, one to the kitchen, the other to the hall. Dark room. Window and door to the kitchen, the only light. Inside, was TV, smoke and shadows. My grandfather, rolling cigarettes on a tray or smoking them. Around the room, objects he’d gathered overseas in the merchant Navy. Stories of the zombies and tidal waves he’d seen around the pacific. Wooden fishermen and elephants I’d polish with red stained hands. Pictures made with the blue wings of butterflies, glinting in the dark. He summoned a spirit in the room, he told me, its hooves stamping on the wooden beam between room and kitchen. From the darkness I could watch Mary in the kitchen. I remember bacon fried in lard, potato scallops, brown chips. My grandfather would eat a plate of burnt onions and melted cheese, stretching strings from plate to fork and whisps clinging to lips and moustache. He was an expert shot with a used tissue from chair to coal fire, and I would watch him snore with baited breath as he paused for the longest seconds between breath in and breath out.

The corridor outside the middle room ran from the front door to the back room. The floor would clatter as I walked on it, alongside an intake of anxious breath if I ever ran out there. I later found out that there had been a huge subsidence under that part of the house from mineworks underneath, a drop to death into the cold and the dark. At the end of the corridor was a hallstand, which had an abandoned, forgotten quality. I would look in the draw and there was one glove. It was brown leather with a fur lining. A shiny pearlescent red button which mesmerised me. I assume it was my grandma’s, from her younger days when she was the smartest lady in town. For me an early hint at fascination with colour and light. There I learnt the quietness of staircases as I sat and waited for Mam to come home from work, the light filtered through net curtains and the bubbled glass of the front door.

The back room. Chairs by the fireplace rarely used. Although my grandfather would visit to listen to the radio, which had a sweet wrapper stuck in the dial. The pantry, a small cupboard at the back of the room, full of odds and ends, a box of snooker and billiard balls that I would get down to play with. Big fungus, some sort of rot. Dennis Wheatley books, strange exotic titles, my grandfather’s interest in the strange. The piano, which we played out of tune as children. Grampy could play Jazz and boogie woogie, but I never heard him play a note. There was a sideboard, with two black plastic money boxes in. Black horses heads from Lloyds which reminded me of my grandfathers chess pieces, containing shoe money which Adrian had put aside for us. In another draw were cut up strips of cardboard cornflake boxes which my Grandmother had prepared for shopping lists. I would use them to write up rugby teams – fifteen at the top, down to 9, then rising again from one to eight, the format of backs and forwards which the world adopted following the success of Cardiff, the team I followed with Nigel.

The house has since been converted into flats. Maybe three separate residences. I can’t imagine what it’s like inside. For me it a sealed container, into which I can peer, and remember some of those early layers of experience. I must have been around ten, maybe eleven when they moved next door to us, to the new house.

[hencethebravery]

The CS Writer’s Hub has spoken. Killian Jones vs. the very surprising text message. If I say anything else it’ll give away the surprise. I don’t wanna give away the surprise. Also, I've had a really fucked up couple weeks and these ladies kind of saved my butt so, thx for being nice to me even tho I am kind of an asshole. xo @mahstatins @winterbythesea @seastarved @dassala @katie-dub @the-reason-to-sail-home @killiancygnus @justanotherwannabeclassic @sambethe

+ The problem with not planning things from the get-go is that inevitably, everything following that initial act of ill-advised spontaneity will also go horribly wrong.

“Not off to a great start, seems like.”

“Yeah, no, not really, Lily. Thanks for the help.”

Rekindling her friendship with Lily had not been an easy thing, and she’d been dissuaded from trying to do so by nearly every person in her life. Her parents were a bit biased by way of their own guilt, so she didn’t really pay attention to them or their concerns on the matter. And even Regina, who should by all accounts be the Queen of Second Chances, couldn’t seem to resist making snide little comments about “that girl’s attitude.”

“Seems to me as if she’s lived a harsh life,” Killian had observed when she’d asked for his opinion. “I’m not one to judge, aye?”

He had this way of doling out advice or perspective as if he wasn’t really allowed to have either because he’d done so many fucking things wrong in his life. It was both sad and charming all at once—all that wealth of experience gained by living longer than most of them, only he can’t seem to stop punishing himself long enough to appreciate it.

“I think that too,” she answered, smiling and planting a gentle kiss against his cheek. “Thanks.”

“Not sure what I did, love.”

“Yeah,” rushing to grab her jacket off the back of the couch, one foot already out the door. “That’s the point. Be back later—love you!”

Anyway, she’s kind of regretting the whole “friendship” thing at the moment, and she could smack Killian silly for giving her such terrible advice.

“Listen, what’s done is done. I don’t know what I could say to make you feel even the slightest bit better about this.”

“I am such an idiot.”

“Yeah,” Lily said stiffly, a long string of noodles hanging rather indelicately out of her mouth, “understatement.”

“The smell in here is making me nauseous.”

Which she’d definitely have to get used to. With Henry, most smells had made her nauseous. Granted, she’d been in prison at the time and it didn’t really smell great most of the time, but still. Seemed to be two-for-two currently. Maybe she’s just one of those people—everything makes her want to vomit. Lucky her.

The point is, if she hadn’t rekindled her friendship with Lily, she wouldn’t have added her number to her phone and Lily’s name wouldn’t have shown up right under Killian’s name in her Contacts. It’s a rookie fucking mistake, and her younger self would have been disappointed in her carelessness.

“Maybe—” Emma starts, licking her lips, trying to avoid breathing through her nose, “maybe he won’t even know what it means.”

“You’re the one who goes on and on and on about how quick the guy is.”

“Yeah, well. First time for everything.”

As it happens, Emma Swan’s luck is actually as bad as she thinks it is, because he just happens to be spending the day with her father when it happens. Idiot.

“Dave?” Killian asks, pausing in his slow, careful brushes alongside the horse’s flank.

“Yeah?”

“Emma’s sent me a message, and I’m not quite sure what it’s supposed to mean.”

David chuckles to himself and grins. It’s always a bit satisfying when he has to explain something to his son-in-law. His son-in-law who is a ridiculous number of years older; who is inexplicably adored by his son, and his daughter, and sometimes even his wife, and at least he can take pleasure in explaining texting lingo that most twelve year olds understand.

“Let’s see it,” he says playfully, taking full advantage of Killian’s bruised ego as he drops it into his hand. He looks down, expecting to see an “istg,” or a “lmfao,” or an Emoji or whatever else Emma’s sent, only it’s a picture and it seems to have been sent by accident and—

“Oh.”

“‘Oh?’ ‘Oh,’ what, mate?”

“Uh, I think,” he pauses and grunts, quickly shoving the phone back into Killian’s waiting hand. “I think you should talk to Emma.”

“Dave, do I need to be worried?”

“No, no,” David says quickly, laughing uncomfortably.  “Just... go home, okay? Talk to your wife.”

Emma’s been staring at her cold, congealing bowl of noodles for about 25 minutes when Lily’s had enough, tapping her chopsticks along the rim of Emma’s dish.

“Hey there. Swan. You with me?”

How could she fumble such an unbelievably important moment? Nothing in either of their lives has ever been simple and easy. She had hoped that if or when this were to ever happen, it would’ve at least happened in a somewhat normal way. Could have broken it to the guy gently, with candles and flowers and maybe they both would’ve had a good cry afterwards.

Emma groans and drops her head to the table, caring not a wit that some of her hair’s fallen into her cold soup.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

“Do you?” she asks, her voice muffled thanks to the proximity of the table to her face. “How could you possibly know what I’m thinking right now?”

Lily sighs. “You’re thinking about how you’ve never had a chance to do anything the ‘right way,’” her voice droning on as if she’s said all this before, “how you’ve finally made it to the perfect life and even now, you’ve fucked it up.”

Emma sniffles and lifts her head, tries to ignore the pressure behind her eyes.

“Your life’s never gonna be perfect, Em.”

“I know that.”

“And don’t tell him I said this, but I think you’ve got a really good guy. And he’s not gonna care how he knows, only that he does.”

They sit quietly for a few moments; Emma vaguely hears Lily ask for the check while she tries to keep herself from weeping in public where any nosy Storybrooke resident can see and then run off and tell her mom. Her phone buzzes and it’s David, a very brief, “Hook’s on his way home.”

“I need to go,” she says, standing. “Thanks... for lunch. And everything.”

“Calm down, don’t get hysterical,” Lily says with a smirk on her face, her own eyes suspiciously shiny. “And congratulations.”

He’s wearing a hole in the floor when she gets home, his face adorably scrunched up as he stares down at his phone. She hadn’t responded to the question mark, feels a bit bad for making him wait longer than he had to.

“Hey,” she says on a sigh and a smile, her stomach settling with the comfort of being home. It’s quiet this weekend, especially with Henry at Regina’s (thank goodness for small miracles). There’s a large grandfather clock ticking down the hall, and the floors creak under both of their feet. She’s never been so grateful to be able to come home.

He sounds relieved when he breathes out a, “Swan,” rushing to her side and looking her up and down as if expecting to see a gaping wound somewhere.

“Are you alright, love? Seems you’ve inherited your father’s infuriating vagueness.”

“Everything’s fine,” she grabs his hook and pulls him towards the couch, “come sit.”

She’d thought about it on the way over, how she might go about explaining that their small family is about to get a little bit bigger. About how they’ll both have to confront their various childhood traumas if they don’t want to fuck up their kid. How they’ll finally have to paint that room upstairs. How she can’t split a bottle of rum with him for a few months. He’s not gonna like that. There’s so much she could say, but now, in the moment, all she really wants is for him to be in the know with her.

“The text was a pregnancy test.”

“I’m sorry?”

“The picture I sent you? It was a picture of a positive pregnancy test.”

For a moment the sound of the grandfather clock ticking at the back of the house sounds unbelievably loud. Her fingers tighten around the metal of his hook, as if there’s still a part of her worried about having to keep him there. With her.

“I sent it to Lily by mistake,” she explains, starting to ramble. “Her freaking name is right beneath yours and I got... nervous, I guess? And I needed to talk to somebody and I sent it to you by accident.”

“Emma—“

“I never wanted you to find out like that,” continuing as if he hadn’t spoken, “I’m so sorry, Killian. I love you so much, I’m just... scared, and I didn’t mean—“

“Emma,” he says again, interrupting with a hand against her cheek. “I don’t bloody care about that.” His eyes start to shine and crinkle with the shape and warmth of his grin, “You’re...” he nods towards her flat middle, a hint of hysteria in his voice.

“Yes,” she nods, relieved at the sigh of his smile. “Yeah, some poor, unfortunate baby is gonna have to deal with the both of us.”

He lets out a loud, booming note of laughter, as if all the tension he’d been carrying since she walked in had been released into the air. “I love you,” he whispers, resting his forehead against her own, both their cheeks wet with tears, “so very much.”

“Yeah,” she answers with a soft giggle, “me too.”

[myvoicenottheoneyougiveme]

1 of 3 Sept 4

[not talking about the person I work with and see every day, just FYI, though this last round of rage is certainly disconcerting... no it’s the pull me aside and tell me everything you believe I want to hear on top of some things yesterday that have been lobbed my way which I didn’t put much thought to at the time. And in that tell me what I might want to hear, true or not, it was the added bit to the overall theme since the other day, putting a gun to someone’s head. An “or else”. It was out of character, and even if I don’t like the guy (and he’s given me plenty of reason) who would be displaced, going that extra distance for effect as a play like the timing of some of these "encouragements”, it’s like what are you trying to say right now? On the whole over a long period of time a pattern seems to have emerged, and this breach has tipped me to wonder about a lot else. This was all set against the backdrop of my sentiment concerning what’s happening to me. Here, let’s be super encouraging and simultaneously “incept” a reason for you to not set your sights on wanting to sign on here in this line of work. Whatever the case, cause there’s always some angle, always some game being played (just a few other dots since them came in to actually reframe that exchange) the following stream of consciousness has got nothing to do with choice of job or career or what might be miserable or not about this or that. The problem I have, has got nothing to do with any of it or with anyone in particular but rather the person creating “this” “storm” in the first place in the blank spaces between people directly out of sight. It’s the “game” I have a problem with. It’s how not what. It’s the antithesis of communication. I’d refer back to that video about toxic relationships where coercive/manipulative ways of interacting create confusion. Actually post 3 of 3 incoming.]

From the edge of consciousness something has clicked and I am now awake 2-3 hours earlier than normal without actual incident or old attempt to simply deprive of sleep for god knows why...

And where I was at a moment “encouraged”, I now read the situation decidedly differently.

It’s low. It’s all of it so very very low. But still I know better than to blame any one person. ...You scream “to arms” or “crisis” or simply allow a thing to run its own course and maintain that you’re only here to “help things go right” while pretending to be very hands off.

Where do the lies end and the truth begins? And even with any actual standing with any one person or group of persons being in such a state of decay, it’s still far better than every new stranger you read into “this”. You still pretended to give a damn about the truth or finding the truth when I first came to this state. Every new person or group of persons or... you know it wasn’t the absolute destruction to isolate and control or to have me for yourself or whatever the hell you want to call “this”.

I’m getting closer to the point here and how you’ve adeptly completely sidestepped the issue to make it about something else and get the whole world to follow suit to further and deepen the schisms and create further dependence on you to “intervene” for the lot of us.

“Spit it out”, I, me, or anyone would say to me at this moment, but I’m completely taken back by this. But now I can reframe the instance in light of many other weird coincidences involving this person, and not know what’s bullshit and what’s not. ...I just, I’m at a loss for words. Am I someone you have to tell grandiose lies to? For what reason? “For what reason” might suggest an answer to what’s just happened. It’s the string from which I’ve reverse engineered the entire thing now, even going back months.

...Speechless, and not knowing what goes out the window with it. Do I even bother addressing what you’ve just managed to do here in the null spaces between everyone?

It’s no matter of pride or ego (as the story probably reads) as much as false hope or anywhere near as much ...believing that despite everything and all this time ...it’s got nothing to do with a job or careers or ...anything. Just a rapport, a relationship of sorts, what might have been “friend”, feels to me like something built of rotten wood that isn’t anything I once believed it to be.

And I suppose, I still suppose ...though quite faintly, whatever rotten state of decay anything is anymore, it’s nothing compared to every new person indoctrinated without my own person as a frame of original reference. And you sit there “ready to take me back”, after the world has been mean to me just like you planned it. [insert image]

After you’ve done your absolute best to destroy and burn down and leave ruin, you stand there around the corner or over top of me with a satisfied smile on your face, the kind of glee of someone in absolute control over a life and who is salivating at finally getting everything exactly the way she wants it. And he’ll crawl back to you, and you’ll live happily ever after. After you’ve broken him, his soul, his spirit, like an animal to be tamed, to be owned, you will finally have the horse you always wanted for your fairy tale ending.

...I don’t even know where to begin because it’s so large and spans so much time now. I’ve been touching the edges of it, but this deflection, this latest suggestion, it’s an adept sidestep, an evasion of responsibility, and a pinning on me as the one with a problem and how unfairly --how wrong I am to hold anyone responsible for the part played in what’s happening.

We’ve been round this block before. If the message was “if you don’t like it here, you can always go somewhere else” I didn’t think much of it because we’ve already been round this block before.

Truth is, I’ve never demanded or expected anything from anyone except the simplest of common decency. The actual problem however obscured now has been sidestepped and we’ve made this all about something completely different. Oh, how you’ve managed my life for me. Gonna tell me what I want. ...getting off track here. ...Off track, too many threads over too long a time involving too many instances and people.

I’ve never demanded or expected anything except common decency. Let’s just leave telling me what I want or what I can have or should have in life and a career and whatever else aside, ...that may sound misleading, but fact is there are multiple layers to this from many different directions. I made a resolved decision, for myself, cause I’m a big boy now, you came back with “why are you gonna do that if you don’t really want it?” I responded with “because it’s my best option, and seeing also how you’ve barred every other path forward or every other space I’ve ever tried to exist in, my own skin and own personal space for fuck’s sake, I don’t have time for aspirations. This is about survival”. I went on to say, “and what’s more... you know I’d do just about anything if it freed me from your grip.”  The unanimous callback was in essence, “if you’re so miserable here and feel so trapped, why pin all of your hopes on a make or break of any kind here at this institution?” adeptly sidestepping the actual issue at large, as though there were absolutely nothing wrong with what’s been done to me in my life for 11 years.

Too many layers and angles, I should just state where I stand and not try to address any of the implications and seeming attempts to make the real problem about anything other than what it’s about.

My life, is not my own. It’s hers. I have been enveloped. My lived experience of it, it’s an iron maiden. It’s a person shaped chamber with inward facing spikes or knives or protrusions. I can’t put it any simpler than that. ...And if I may zero in on it, your queen, our queen has made it abundantly clear to me ad nausuem that it doesn’t matter where I go, she will get there before I do.

What is my aspiration in life? What drives every decision I make? Taking back the life stolen from me in every way shape or form by whatever shred or scrap of it that I can.

You can’t just make this about me like what’s happening to me isn’t actually happening to me, while shoving off and evading any responsibility in the outcomes I’m ever reaching for to that end, that aspiration.

It doesn’t matter if it’s here, another school, another job, another state, another videogame, another show, another computer, another house, another room, something without networking capability, life out in the middle of nowhere where at least I know it’s physically impossible to follow stalk me digitally... It doesn’t matter where, it doesn’t matter who, “THIS“ will remain the same. What’s being done to me will remain the same.

I already moved across the country for a lot of good reasons but a plus being leaving all of “this” behind. “This” bled out like ink, like a stain, like blood on paper, corrupting and contaminating slowly but surely as you played more of a saint to work your way in initially. A helper, healer, whatever the hell, your aggression has always been proportional to the amount of power you feel you have. Always. When you feel like you’ve got the knife in, you can never help showing the glee with which you would twist it despite what you need to maintain in the mirror before your audience. Your civility and goodwill goes about as far as you feel you have to. Tentative, you have to make sure not to let it show through at least initially. Secured, the act gives out for what you’re actually here to do... aggrandize yourself at my expense and to exert power over me.

It doesn’t matter where I go. This is the literal translation. I mean let’s just refer to that one content creator who went out of his way to say it. Oh, man, these Skoolies these bus conversions are so cool. And as I really started to sink my teeth into the possibility of freedom from my present living situation, the message next was in essence, “this isn’t going to solve your problems.” “You can’t get away from your problems.” “You won’t solve anything with this lifestyle.” The lifestyle in question here was what most do with a “home” of this variety and that’s travel while working from “home”. Telling me what I’m actually trying to do or trying to tell me what I want, and then coming back with what was in word and has been 100% in action over the course of “this” the message to me...

it doesn’t matter where I go.

Every action ever taken is to send the message to me, that you’re in control, and it doesn’t matter where I go. It doesn’t matter what I do. Give up

Every action, every orchestration. Surrender. Surrender to you.

I already moved across the country and found “this” waiting for me, already here, but not initially. It happened in the blank spaces and slowly over time. You like a worm, eroding--consuming--weaving yourself into the ether.

You can’t now say there are lots of other places and opportunities and paths in life.

Places and opportunities are one thing, that’s the external--the world. Paths in life is internal, between self and state of being. Not only are you out there salivating, ready to wrap yourself around whatever you can like a great snake, but you’re in here, in my personal space ready to punish and exert control over my very being.

Everything you’ve ever done, everything, everything, everything, everything... has been to this end. This person or that person or you oh, Queen, you don’t get to come back now and shove it off onto me like I’m being unreasonable to hang all my hopes like “this” were a final stand. ...Because it is.

It doesn’t matter where I go. If it’s here or it’s there or somewhere else. “This” will remain the same. And if I ever thought “this” was bad with anyone that had an initial chance to see some shred of me apart from the person you paint of me, every new person, every new relationship, every new friendship, the verdict has already been cast. You’ve accelerated. You have accelerated the ways and the means and the number of strangers to whom I am nothing but what you say I am. Every new semester and class of peers has illustrated this absolutely. Where at one time you feigned “science” and people were given the chance to come to their own conclusions, those interactions went too well for me and you didn’t get the result you wanted. Some even completely rejected the shit you were trying to sell because they could see for themselves that you were full of it. You don’t allow that possibility anymore. They come armed for bear shooting from the hip from the first second as you probably say something along the lines of what a devious and crafty and manipulative person I am. It’s right back to master manipulator secret agent spy that can pull the wool over anyone’s eyes as you totally project that onto me despite that being everything you ever do here.  You don’t allow the possibility anymore, for me to ever seem or appear to be anything but what you want me to be. There is a narrative and it’s indoctrinated and drilled into a person before ever even meeting me now. And you’ve done everything you can since to corrupt and destroy whatever other connections I had made here with any of the tentative others who were read in while you were still feigning objectivity and even handedness in your “investigation”.

It doesn’t matter where I go. It doesn’t matter if it’s here, or somewhere else, another job, another career, a different place, different people, different personal space, different computer, air-gapped computer, ...you can’t now say as some kind of evasion of responsibility that there are lots of other places and opportunities and paths in life and that if I don’t like this or that or what you’re doing to me that I can just go somewhere else.

No. I can’t. I can’t go anywhere.

And I can’t aspire. I’m not even allowed the personal space to exist, much less feel anything anymore that isn’t absolutely shutting down in the face of a never-ending assault from every direction at the same time as though the purpose were to ensure destruction, much less allow the room to breathe even in the slightest.

How much more so the gauntlet with every new “jury” (as you all are to her in effect) than in a place where there still exists (at least I believed and am believing it less all the time) a measure of good will and (at least in terms of employability) where I’ve made a good impression or earned a reputation that becomes me in a particular line of work.

This is my final stand because “this” situation, the one where I am enveloped and owned by the god-queen, remains the same regardless of location, regardless of my own presence in my own shoes and in my own skin, and regardless of relationship (friendship, work, life, romantic, or generally).

How many times should I just start over? How much of my life do I have to surrender? How much has to be destroyed before I’m shown abundantly that it doesn’t matter what I do or where I go or who I meet, that “this”--she--is already there waiting for me more aggressive and more destructive all the time?

This fight, this stand, is every stand. And it’s the last. I hold no expectations about possible advancements or whatever ruses are on the menu today. I’m simply going to make decisions for myself to better myself and to put myself on firmer or more solid ground financially so as to secure greater independence at least in one small but large aspect of my life. If that’s remaining at my current station or finding a new door open up over here or over there, understand that every decision I’ve made has had one motivating factor, and it’s been to the securing or reestablishing of the simplest of basic human needs...

...the peace and safety of a home, in whatever form that may take. A place where when I shut the door for the night, a psycho stalker has not already invited themselves in. If I can’t have the simplest of basic human rights in this regard, to not be abused in this way in at least one small shred or space in my life... absolutely nothing else matters. Absolutely nothing else matters. The homeostatic border between me and my attacker is punctured and rended and I don’t even have room enough to breathe much less thrive and lead a life.

What’s being done to me is cruel, and it’s criminal, and I will not spare you that reflection in the mirror I am holding up--the reality of my lived experience that I will not surrender ever again. 

This fight is the same fight as every fight in every place. My last stand is here. There are no more lines in the sand for me to surrender. To abandon one hostile environment for an even more hostile one in another place with people you’ve indoctrinated like you’ve never indoctrinated before... This is the cliff, this precipice, you will own me oh, Queen, have me for yourself, how you want me, the way you want me, having your way with me and everyone around me as you stir up and create drama about and around us, or I can just take a long walk off that short cliff. If I don’t like it there’s the door.

...duly noted

[my-dear-hammy]

Basking in Candlelight-Jamilton-Part 23-4

Master Post

Music

AN

Fun fact about me: My school building is modeled after Monticello.

So, umm, some of you may hate me or love me for this chapter, but yeah. I did some extra research on top of what I already know, and the views I portray in this chapter on the topic of slavery are true. If you would like more info, shoot me a message or something.

Also...

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Okay, that is all.

----

Warnings post below

----

Monticello.

Hamilton had no words. His jaw dropped. The beautiful architecture, the build, the way it was situated at the top of a hill so you could see forever.

Jefferson smiled at Hamilton's reaction. "I designed it myself. Tore it down and rebuilt it several times."

"It's magnificent," Hamilton breathed.

Jefferson walked Hamilton inside, "Do you remember several years ago when you walked into my library?" he asked as he swung a set of doors open. Hamilton dropped like a stone. "Shit."

Hamilton woke in a broom closet. "You fucking asshole!" he screamed, bursting out.

"Oh, look who finally came out of the closet," Jefferson smirked. Hamilton reached for the first thing he could find, which happened to be a potted plant, and chucked it at Jefferson's head. He dodged easily, the pot broke against the wall and dirt showered everywhere, getting in Jefferson's hair. "Hey now, no reason to throw things. I promised you I would."

"You're an asshole."

"You're going to need to come up with more names to call me."

A dark skinned woman came down the hall and started cleaning up the broken pot. "Slaves?" Hamilton asked.

"You didn't know?"

"No, I knew, it just slipped my mind."

"I detest everything about it,"Jefferson sighed, "but I can not think of a way to solve it. Over half the states rely on it and almost the entirety of the nation's commerce. I fear it may lead us to a civil war. But I can think of no way to solve it without causing more harm than good. What are your thoughts?"

Hamilton shrugged, "I don't like it, but I don't go nearly as far out of the way as you do to do anything about it. Do so is an inconvenience of the work I'm already doing."

"An inconvenience? They're people, Alexander. They deserve freedom."

"Says the one who actually owns them."

Jefferson hung his head, "I will think of a way to abolish it someday," Jefferson stated, "Even if it means letting it die out slowly, as long as it gets done. Slavery is a horrid thing."

"At least you fight against it, that's more than most people do."

"It's not enough."

Hamilton chuckled, "Angelica used to say something to me and I think it's appropriate here," Hamilton laid a hand on Jefferson's shoulder, "You will never be satisfied."

***

Jefferson finally got Hamilton to try his Macaroni and cheese. He was delighted.

Hamilton spat it out and swore for five minutes straight about how disgusting it was.

Jefferson was less delighted.

At one point, Jefferson retired to his office to take care of some business he needed to see to since he'd been gone from Monticello for so long and it had begun to fall into disrepair. Upon his reemergence, he had to hunt done Hamilton.

Hamilton was found curled up in a corner of the library with countless stacks of books around him. Jefferson smiled, grabbed one as well, and curled up next to Hamilton by the fire as they both read late into the night.

They fell asleep like that, in a nest made of knowledge and paper.

When they woke, they both were sore from the odd position they fell asleep in. Jefferson groaned on the floor as Hamilton stood and stretched. Jefferson complained the entire time as he finally rose. After breakfast, Jefferson led Hamilton to the stables, where he had two horses saddled.

"Where are we going?" Hamilton asked.

"A morning ride."

"Anywhere in particular?"

"No. I do this every morning. Usually alone, but I want you to come today."

Jefferson quickly regrets his decision to include Hamilton on his daily morning ride. Hamilton just did. not. shut. up.

"-and if you were to take the money from the bank and transfer it to the-"

"For God's sake, Hamilton, shut your mouth for one fucking second and take in the scenery for a change. Listen to the birds. Look for deer. I don't care, just stop talking."

Silence fell between the two.

For about five seconds, then Hamilton started up again Jefferson groaned.

***

They spent the entire day leisurely. At one point, Hamilton started to fidget, so Jefferson turned him loose in his office where Hamilton started outlining plans and discussing current events. Eventually, Jefferson dragged him down to dinner.

Afterward, they returned to the library, where Hamilton settled back into his nest of books, expecting for Jefferson to join him, but he didn't. Hamilton watched as Jefferson disappeared into the racks of books and reemerged with a long black case. He gingerly opened it and pulled out his violin, rosined up his bow, and facing the fire, he started to play. Hamilton set the book down on his chest, closed his eyes, and listened to the beautiful melody that filled the room.

Jefferson's entire body moved with the music, giving it life and feeling, without ever moving from his spot in front of the fire. The room was lit up with just the right amounts of candles whose light mixed with the firelight to make an ethereal image. It was one Hamilton would never forget.

They stayed like that for a long time, Jefferson pouring his soul into his music, Hamilton listening like it would be the last thing he ever heard.

After Jefferson finished the last note, Hamilton wrapped his arms around him from behind, "That was beautiful."

"Music is the passion of my soul," Jefferson hummed. (Actual quote)

"I never learned," Hamilton mused, "I always had my nose in a book."

"Allow me to show you." Jefferson handed Hamilton his violin and positioned himself behind him. Hamilton felt his cheeks grow red, go thing Jefferson couldn't see. Jefferson guided Hamilton's arms into the correct position, showing him how to hold his bow, and placed his fingers over Hamilton's. He guided Hamilton as he moved the bow across the strings, managing a clear note to ring out. Hamilton was very pleased with himself.

Jefferson stepped away, signaling Hamilton to try it on his own.

Hamilton tentatively lifted the bow and slid it across the strings. The result was a horrific screech, Hamilton practically threw the instrument at Jefferson, who was laughing uncontrollably. Jefferson caught it out of the air, placed it up to his chin and played off several notes before handing it back to Hamilton.

"Show off," Hamilton mumbled, placing the violin back up and trying again. This time the note was clear and loud.

"Good!" Jefferson beamed, "Now try the first finger placement," he instructed, manipulating Hamilton's fingers until they were placed properly. Hamilton managed a couple more notes before he placed the violin in its case.

Jefferson pulled him back as soon as Hamilton's fingers left the polished wood. "Is violin the only thing you play?" he asked, turning to face him.

"I can play cello too," Jefferson replied, his eyes darkening.

"What can you not do?"

"Resist you," Jefferson answered, pulling Hamilton against him and kissing him tenderly. Hamilton's arms snaked around Jefferson pulling him tighter against him. Jefferson deepened the kiss, Hamilton could feel heat pool within him, his hands traveled up Jefferson's back and into his hair, softly tugging. Jefferson moaned and bit Hamilton's lip. He smiled and tugged on Jefferson's hair again, Hamilton could feel Jefferson's chest rumble, "Don't do that," he said hoarsely.

"Why?" Hamilton asked teasing, tugging again. Jefferson growled as he pushed Hamilton back onto the couch and laid on top of him. Hamilton laughed and shoved him off the couch and onto the floor. Jefferson landed him a heavy thud as Hamilton cackled from the couch.

"That was rude," Jefferson said, not moving from where he landed. Hamilton propped himself up on an elbow to look down at Jefferson who was staring at the ceiling.

"Aww, and I was hoping you landed on your face."

"I will throw you back in the closet."

"Only if you can catch me!" Hamilton bolted, running out of the room before Jefferson was even able to pick himself off the floor.

"Unfair!" He called out after him.

Hamilton cackled as he continued to run. But with Jefferson's unnaturally long legs and Hamilton's short ones, it wouldn't take long for Jefferson to catch up, so Hamilton took a sharp turn, ran out the front doors, jumped on a horse bareback, and took off.

He returned later to find Jefferson patiently reading a book in bed. "Have a nice ride?"

"Indeed," Hamilton replied, crawling under the covers with him, "I even brought you back something."

"Oh? And what's that?"

"Cold feet!" Hamilton placed his ice cube feet on Jefferson's warm skin.

"Jesus-fucking-christ, Alexander!" Jefferson swore, falling out of the bed, taking all the blankets with him.

Hamilton's last thought before he fell asleep was that we was going to master the cello secretly so he could play with Jefferson.

----

AN

I lied, that's not all. Fun Fact, just because I'm extremely happy right now: Cello and violin are my favorite instruments and I'm trying to learn to play.

----

Warnings: Slavery, JAMILTON STUFFS

[untilthestarsburnoutrp]

memoirs.

The outback had always been Ziggy’s home, having been born and raised on a cattle farm, three hours by horseback, from the nearest town. He was all to familiar with finding various snakes and spiders in his clothes, the oven like heat, and the sting of that red dust in his eyes when the wind kicked it up. Despite the isolation, he was all too content, having found solace spending the evenings with his younger brother, watching the sun set in the late hours in the evening.

He and his brother – Alexander Lauren Hamilton, did almost everything together, hell – Ziggy practically raised him. His parents taught him how to ride on horseback at five, how to run the cattle farm at ten, bought him a cattle dog, gave him directions to school, and the rest was up to the boy. He taught himself how to cook, how to read, how to live and raise Alex. 

Ziggy’s amusement came primarily from spending hours out in the paddocks with his brother, boots shoved in the stirrups, as he herded the hundreds of cattle into their various homes, whether it be the shelters, or cattle grid. He had a fairly similar routine as he grew older, on week days, he’d be up at five, ready by five thirty, open the various cattle gates - school bag on back - before he’d start the long ride towards school.

To him, it was perfect, he started to pursue music, having purchased his first guitar at thirteen, spending every moment of his spare time composing, a cigarette gracing his lips. With the lack of parental guidance, Ziggy had a lot of freedom growing up, he had hectares upon hectares to roam, a horse to get where he wanted, and a weekly allowance. However, to earn such an allowance, Ziggy often worked extra jobs around the farm, one of which being on regular patrol around the smaller paddock with the sheep – which were often the target of thieves or teenagers from neighbouring estates. 

Armed with a rifle, Ziggy spent many a night out in the dark, but as luck would have it, someone jumped the fence, causing the sheep to panic. Firing a few warning shots, he thought nothing of it, yet he didn’t notice the sounds of sirens screaming, as the man was airlifted to the nearest hospital. 

He died hours later

Law enforcement came the next morning, dragging a struggling Ziggy out of his home, not after he had gotten a few good hits in, however. Ziggy had thanked that Alex hadn’t been home that day, but through the somewhat tedious business of trials and the supreme court, he was faced with a three-and-a-half-year sentence, with a minimum of two years served before he could apply for parole.

Everything he had build over the years came crashing down, he was jailed in the local juvenile detention centre, with seven other inmates. Despite Ziggy’s short, yet well built form, he was younger, and smaller than the other residents, who were bordering on turning seventeen, tall and built just as solidly has he was. He shared a room with three others, who had their way night, after night, after night. 

Yelling and begging didn’t help, not when the metallic taste of blood touched his lips, the darkening bruises flourishing over his hips and thighs, not when pleading with the guards only ended in more suffering on his part. Uniform or not, soon he was unable to tell who was friend or foe, and after just over a year, he was all but used to their habits. Ziggy began to disassociate, unable to tell what was real and what wasn't.

Every minute of spare time was used to get stronger, whether he was pushing himself off the floor repeatedly, or doing chin ups from the bars above. Yet it was never enough to beat them. His eyes would always dart around, body constantly tense, on alert, he’d learn to defend himself to the best of his abilities, despite the worsening bruises and fractured ribs he gained.

It was the defiance that kept him going, and just over a year, someone new was thrown in his cell, after one of the previous inmates was released. He was smaller, blond, and was was the closest thing Ziggy had to a friend in the last twelve months. He – the youth being called Matthew – was the solace he had sought. They would talk, and despite the abuse Ziggy copped, he did his best to keep Matthew from the treatment. To his surprise, they left him alone, perhaps because they were satisfied with just one, but for once, Ziggy began to smile again.

He still never lost those jittery nerves, and there was that cautious feeling in his gut. He hadn’t been careful enough, he had let the others see his happiness, his joy. They came and ripped it from him, forcing Ziggy to the ground as they beat the life from Matthew, the echoes of his screams and the crunching of bones sounding for the longest hour of Ziggy’s life. He had screamed, begged, yelled and thrashed, anything to get them to stop, he would’ve done anything.

Yet nothing he said or did amounted to anything, he watched as the bloodied form was taken from the cell. Ziggy got the news mere days later, that his friend hadn’t made it due to his injuries. He fell back into the state of numbness, refusing to acknowledge the hurt that clawed at his heart. As the days grew into months, his day of release finally loomed.

He returned home, three years older, taller, stronger, and all the more a broken teen. His violent tendencies caused a disruption in his household, the smallest things could set him off, resulting in him throwing punches, the panic in his eyes evident. He was constantly tense, refusing to sleep before any of his family members. Over the six months he spent at home, the tension began to rise, until The pair of brothers were sitting on the couch, Alexander had accidentally brushed his hand against Ziggy’s thigh, causing the teen to grasp Alex’s wrist with such force that he snapped the the bone.

He was taken overseas by foreign relatives, who then, after a few weeks pushed him into the foster system, once his citizenship had been finalised. The heavily tattooed youth then ended up in a Christian home, with a new brother, new parents, and a new school. He was jumpy, even with the allowance of him being able to keep his cattle dog – Bucky. He took weeks to settle in remotely, turning up at three am after spending his evenings with alcohol and tobacco. However, he started to see the slightest resemblance between his new bother Joel, and Alex, and little by little, he began to trust him. His habits got slightly better, with his smoking habit being kept away from his parents, as he spent hours upon the balcony with his guitar once again.

Whilst struggling with city life, Ziggy tries desperately to hide what he perceives as weakness, through his aggressive behaviour, repressing memories, to his closed off and on-guard demeanour.

He lost his care for himself, and for those around him, moving from day to day with little to no care in the world.

psyche

Ziggy is incredibly aggressive, guarded and untrusting.

Whether its his almost constant passive glare, to the way he holds his back up straight, head up and muscles taught, ready to leap right into action. He is a solitary creature, who much prefers to listed to those around him than to participate in conversations, especially with his thick Australian drawl.

He refuses invitations, ignores those who he perceives as unimportant. He refuses to acknowledge most, often replying with a puff of smoke rather than words. He’d much rather spend his time singing alone, that deep, raw voice wrapping their selves around words in such a way that it brought tears to the eyes of those who had listened. He’d much rather strum lazily at the strings, working through chords with a quiet hum. 

He’d let his dark sandy blonde waves fall upon his face as he played, tapping his feet ever so slightly, the smaller hint of a smile upon his lips. He adored music, it was something that he loved to waste away his time with. It was the beginning of his life at Dunshire, the catalyst for a new beginning.

Ziggy - while emotionally stunted – is incredibly resilient, there isn’t much that will faze him. He faces problems head strong, his physical strength and intelligence regarding his ability to fight giving him a sense of confidence around others. However, his icy personality prevented him from asking for help, he didn’t want to rely on others, and after two years of questionable education, his grades were horrid.

His middle school education at best, but his love for the arts - specifically music, was something he cared more for, as he struggles to sit and and focus for over twenty minutes. Despite his musical genius, his attention span is incredibly short, partly due to his jittery nerves. Ziggy’s short attention span is also paired with a dislike for small spaces, he feels cramped within the school grounds, within the city. Understanding the technology around him is incredibly difficult for the youth as well, with most of the city being this new, foreign, strange and dangerous place for the country kid.

Ziggy however, is proudly Australian, he holds his outback heritage close, if his thick accent wasn’t enough evidence that he was from regional Queensland, and as with most outback kids, he can hold his own easily in a fight, if his challenging nature wasn’t already enough. He isn’t one to shy away from a physical argument, and will throw the fist punch if need me, following a “talk shit, get hit.” Kind of attitude.

He’s a boy whose heart can’t handle the care people want to give, after being thrust into a new environment, Ziggy struggles to adapt properly, still stuck with habits for reasons he can’t quite remember.  

[dailyofficereadings]

Daily Office Readings January 01, 2020 at 11:00PM

Psalm 34

Psalm 34

Praise for Deliverance from Trouble

Of David, when he feigned madness before Abimelech, so that he drove him out, and he went away.

1 I will bless the Lord at all times; his praise shall continually be in my mouth. 2 My soul makes its boast in the Lord; let the humble hear and be glad. 3 O magnify the Lord with me, and let us exalt his name together.

4 I sought the Lord, and he answered me, and delivered me from all my fears. 5 Look to him, and be radiant; so your[a] faces shall never be ashamed. 6 This poor soul cried, and was heard by the Lord, and was saved from every trouble. 7 The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear him, and delivers them. 8 O taste and see that the Lord is good; happy are those who take refuge in him. 9 O fear the Lord, you his holy ones, for those who fear him have no want. 10 The young lions suffer want and hunger, but those who seek the Lord lack no good thing.

11 Come, O children, listen to me; I will teach you the fear of the Lord. 12 Which of you desires life, and covets many days to enjoy good? 13 Keep your tongue from evil, and your lips from speaking deceit. 14 Depart from evil, and do good; seek peace, and pursue it.

15 The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous, and his ears are open to their cry. 16 The face of the Lord is against evildoers, to cut off the remembrance of them from the earth. 17 When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears, and rescues them from all their troubles. 18 The Lord is near to the brokenhearted, and saves the crushed in spirit.

19 Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord rescues them from them all. 20 He keeps all their bones; not one of them will be broken. 21 Evil brings death to the wicked, and those who hate the righteous will be condemned. 22 The Lord redeems the life of his servants; none of those who take refuge in him will be condemned.

Footnotes:

Psalm 34:5 Gk Syr Jerome: Heb their

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Psalm 33

Psalm 33

The Greatness and Goodness of God

1 Rejoice in the Lord, O you righteous. Praise befits the upright. 2 Praise the Lord with the lyre; make melody to him with the harp of ten strings. 3 Sing to him a new song; play skillfully on the strings, with loud shouts.

4 For the word of the Lord is upright, and all his work is done in faithfulness. 5 He loves righteousness and justice; the earth is full of the steadfast love of the Lord.

6 By the word of the Lord the heavens were made, and all their host by the breath of his mouth. 7 He gathered the waters of the sea as in a bottle; he put the deeps in storehouses.

8 Let all the earth fear the Lord; let all the inhabitants of the world stand in awe of him. 9 For he spoke, and it came to be; he commanded, and it stood firm.

10 The Lord brings the counsel of the nations to nothing; he frustrates the plans of the peoples. 11 The counsel of the Lord stands forever, the thoughts of his heart to all generations. 12 Happy is the nation whose God is the Lord, the people whom he has chosen as his heritage.

13 The Lord looks down from heaven; he sees all humankind. 14 From where he sits enthroned he watches all the inhabitants of the earth— 15 he who fashions the hearts of them all, and observes all their deeds. 16 A king is not saved by his great army; a warrior is not delivered by his great strength. 17 The war horse is a vain hope for victory, and by its great might it cannot save.

18 Truly the eye of the Lord is on those who fear him, on those who hope in his steadfast love, 19 to deliver their soul from death, and to keep them alive in famine.

20 Our soul waits for the Lord; he is our help and shield. 21 Our heart is glad in him, because we trust in his holy name. 22 Let your steadfast love, O Lord, be upon us, even as we hope in you.

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

1 Kings 19:1-8

Elijah Flees from Jezebel

19 Ahab told Jezebel all that Elijah had done, and how he had killed all the prophets with the sword. 2 Then Jezebel sent a messenger to Elijah, saying, “So may the gods do to me, and more also, if I do not make your life like the life of one of them by this time tomorrow.” 3 Then he was afraid; he got up and fled for his life, and came to Beer-sheba, which belongs to Judah; he left his servant there.

4 But he himself went a day’s journey into the wilderness, and came and sat down under a solitary broom tree. He asked that he might die: “It is enough; now, O Lord, take away my life, for I am no better than my ancestors.” 5 Then he lay down under the broom tree and fell asleep. Suddenly an angel touched him and said to him, “Get up and eat.” 6 He looked, and there at his head was a cake baked on hot stones, and a jar of water. He ate and drank, and lay down again. 7 The angel of the Lord came a second time, touched him, and said, “Get up and eat, otherwise the journey will be too much for you.” 8 He got up, and ate and drank; then he went in the strength of that food forty days and forty nights to Horeb the mount of God.

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Ephesians 4:1-16

Unity in the Body of Christ

4 I therefore, the prisoner in the Lord, beg you to lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called, 2 with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, 3 making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. 4 There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to the one hope of your calling, 5 one Lord, one faith, one baptism, 6 one God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all.

7 But each of us was given grace according to the measure of Christ’s gift. 8 Therefore it is said,

“When he ascended on high he made captivity itself a captive; he gave gifts to his people.”

9 (When it says, “He ascended,” what does it mean but that he had also descended[a] into the lower parts of the earth? 10 He who descended is the same one who ascended far above all the heavens, so that he might fill all things.) 11 The gifts he gave were that some would be apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, some pastors and teachers, 12 to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ, 13 until all of us come to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to maturity, to the measure of the full stature of Christ. 14 We must no longer be children, tossed to and fro and blown about by every wind of doctrine, by people’s trickery, by their craftiness in deceitful scheming. 15 But speaking the truth in love, we must grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, 16 from whom the whole body, joined and knit together by every ligament with which it is equipped, as each part is working properly, promotes the body’s growth in building itself up in love.

Footnotes:

Ephesians 4:9 Other ancient authorities add first

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

John 6:1-14

Feeding the Five Thousand

6 After this Jesus went to the other side of the Sea of Galilee, also called the Sea of Tiberias.[a] 2 A large crowd kept following him, because they saw the signs that he was doing for the sick. 3 Jesus went up the mountain and sat down there with his disciples. 4 Now the Passover, the festival of the Jews, was near. 5 When he looked up and saw a large crowd coming toward him, Jesus said to Philip, “Where are we to buy bread for these people to eat?” 6 He said this to test him, for he himself knew what he was going to do. 7 Philip answered him, “Six months’ wages[b] would not buy enough bread for each of them to get a little.” 8 One of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, said to him, 9 “There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish. But what are they among so many people?” 10 Jesus said, “Make the people sit down.” Now there was a great deal of grass in the place; so they[c] sat down, about five thousand in all. 11 Then Jesus took the loaves, and when he had given thanks, he distributed them to those who were seated; so also the fish, as much as they wanted. 12 When they were satisfied, he told his disciples, “Gather up the fragments left over, so that nothing may be lost.” 13 So they gathered them up, and from the fragments of the five barley loaves, left by those who had eaten, they filled twelve baskets. 14 When the people saw the sign that he had done, they began to say, “This is indeed the prophet who is to come into the world.”

Footnotes:

John 6:1 Gk of Galilee of Tiberias

John 6:7 Gk Two hundred denarii; the denarius was the usual day’s wage for a laborer

John 6:10 Gk the men

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.