#Lid Green Valley Plots

[orionrealtor]

LID Green Valley Plots Sohna

Lion Infra Developers New Launch Green Valley DDJAY Plots in Sector 35 Sohna Gurgaon. Call 8970427042, LID Greens Valley offers Plot Sizes 145 - 169 Sq.yrds. LID Green Valley Plots come under the Deen Dayal Jan Awas Yojna Plotted (DDJAY) Scheme.

#LID Green Valley Plots #LID Plots Sohna

[larisarealtech97]

LID Green Valley DDJAY Plots Sector 35 Sohna

LID Green Valley Plots

LID Green Valley Plots in Sector 35, Sohna, presents a promising venture in the realm of real estate. Nestled in the vibrant locale of Sohna, known for its scenic beauty and strategic location, this project offers a unique opportunity for individuals seeking to invest in land or build their dream home.

With a focus on providing a serene living experience amidst nature's bounty, LID Green Valley Plots aims to cater to the modern homeowner's aspirations.

The project boasts expansive plots designed to accommodate diverse architectural preferences and lifestyle needs. Whether you envision a sprawling villa or a cozy retreat, these plots offer the canvas for your imagination to unfold.

One of the key highlights of this development is its strategic location in Sector 35, Sohna. Sohna, a rapidly evolving suburb of Gurugram, is renowned for its tranquil surroundings and robust infrastructure. Residents can relish the perfect blend of urban convenience and natural tranquility, with seamless connectivity to key destinations like Gurugram and Delhi.

Moreover, LID Plots Sohna prioritizes sustainability and eco-friendliness, incorporating green spaces and amenities that promote a healthy and balanced lifestyle. Residents can immerse themselves in lush landscapes, rejuvenate in recreational facilities, and foster a sense of community in this thoughtfully planned enclave.

Beyond the confines of the project, Sohna offers a plethora of amenities and attractions to enhance the quality of life. From educational institutions and healthcare facilities to retail hubs and entertainment options, everything you need is within easy reach.

In essence, LID Green Valley Sector 35 Sohna, presents a compelling proposition for discerning investors and homebuyers alike. With its prime location, spacious plots, and commitment to sustainability, it embodies the promise of a harmonious and fulfilling lifestyle amidst nature's embrace.

#Lid Green Valley #Lid Green Valley Plots #lid Green Valley Sector 35 #Lid Green Valley Sohna #lid plots sohna

[ll-underestimated-ll]

At 3:45 (and thumbnail) : The first church of the city is on the left, the orange stone buildings on the right are from the 1890s are were doctors houses. 4:14 : Pan to right shows Skytower - construction completed in 1997 and since then central landmark to the city. 7:36 Passes the ‘Rationalist House’ built 1912 as a doctors residence and taken over by the rationalist society. 7:52 There is a glimpse monument in the green space that’s occasionally tampered with for fair reason. 9:13 Another historic set of doctors houses. 11:25 Pass the Metropolis Mueseum building built in the 1930s. It was a church/Sunday school till 2003. 11:38 Reach the corner of Symonds Street Cemetery. Originally the Outer Limits to Auckland city during it’s earliest years. No new family plots were sold after 1886. It’s fallen into ill repair in modern times and is drops off into the valley with walking trails going down to the remains of the river. When the motorway went in during the 1960s over 4000 bodies were relocated into a mass grave close to the main road. Some of the graves when exhumed supposedly had scratch marks on the inside of the lids. 12:50 Newly refurbished 1910s toilets which were a BIG deal when built cos it was the only place a lady could go piss while out and about.  13:15 Grafton Bridge (left - towards hospital), K-road (right)

#misc #// it's time for mun to dump auckland information at you all #// note - all falls within the sorta 'university district' of the CBD and is super dead cos filmed between semesters #// not to mention the weather and illness

[hslotharrie]

Valentine’s day (eve)

summary: domestic pre valentine’s day life with harry.

word count: 1.8k

warnings: none! harry being cute. not much plot. not proof read? when do i ever proof read?

inspired by this ask

When you wake, the sun is shooting it's rays through the gaps in the blinds over your bedroom windows, illuminating the space in hazy golden streaks. Your legs are tangled, but warm, in blankets that are only half on top of the bed thanks to yours' and Harry's admittedly wild sleeping habits.

As your eyes adjust and you reach out to stretch, you notice harry isn't in his place beside you. You frown, wishing he would relax on his days off, but he's always been such a morning person.

You could never.

Valentine's day is tomorrow, and your cheeks heat up with excitement for the gifts you'd got him. You stretch an arm to your night stand, slipping your hand inside the first drawer and reaching for the little black box containing two gucci rings.

The sound of Harry's feet climbing the stairs makes you quickly close the box and slide it to the back of the drawer, though you can't wipe the excited smile off of your face before he's nudging the door open. Two steamy mugs of coffee occupy his hands as he slowly waddles into the room. When he looks up, your smile brings a smile of his own.

"What's got m'girl so happy this early?" he quizzes, setting the mug lightly onto your table and bending  to press a kiss to your forehead.

"Just you," you cover.

"S'it because I brought coffee? Or do y'love me?" Harry jokes, stepping across the room to peer out the windows through the sun's fiery rays.

"Of course the coffee helps" you purr. He fakes offence.

You watch him squint out the window, studying the streets and taking in the warm sunlight. He's wearing a baggy-ish pair of tie dye sweatpants and a loose black t-shirt that hangs just close enough that you can see the curve of his lower back. Distinctly Harry.

You get lost in the sight of him. The messy morning curls in his hair, the way the light from the window contoured each little curve and bend of his body, the pretty green in his eyes that the sun only magnified. You miss seeing him like this when he's away. Home Harry is the best Harry; all yours.

His phone dings and he announces 'its Mitch!', opening his phone and turning it in your direction for you to see a selfie of him and Sarah with a thumbs up. Little does Harry know, you'd told them about the rings and the selfie was really secret code for 'he's going to love them!'.

If he only knew.

You smile wide, placing your coffee on the night stand and holding two thumbs up when harry returns the selfie, holding back a mischievous giggle. Harry sends it, then neglects his phone and returns his attention to you. He lays (not so gracefully) on the bed, resting the back of his head on your blanket-covered lap. Looking up at you, he adores your own features the same way you were eyeing his earlier.

You bring your fingers to trace along his face, scratching lightly at the stubble on his chin, soothing up along his cheekbones and running them along his eyebrows. His eyelids flutter closed and you can't help but to brush your thumbs gently along his eyelashes. Harry has a soft, blissful smile on his lips.

You both love days like these, it's almost a treat when you can both just relax alone together. Harry’s guilt does come through though, his busy schedule often keeping him from you, but you assure him you knew what you signed up for and that you love him always, no matter where he is.

"So, 'was thinking," he begins, "I couldn't get a reservation at that fancy place y'like for tomorrow,"

"oh, Harry, that's alright-"

"So, I got one for tonight. Wanna do valentine's day early?" he questions, opening an eye to peek at you. A grin begins to grow on his lips. You bend to press a kiss to them.

...

It's almost 6pm now, your reservations are for 7 and you're adding finishing touches to your makeup while Harry brushes his teeth in the sink beside you. You're wearing a pair of high rise straight leg pants with an open red floral top tucked in. It exposes your chest even well below the valley of your breasts in a long makeshift V-neck and you can feel Harry's gaze all over you.

He spits and rinses his toothbrush, stepping behind you in the mirror and wrapping his hands around your middle. He rests his chin on your shoulder, smiling big to put his shiny teeth on display. You smile back at him while you untwist the cap to a lip stain.

He teases his thumb along your exposed skin, eyes shifting down in the mirror to watch his thumb disappear inside of your shirt. You don't give him a reaction though, save for goosebumps, and bend forward to apply the red colour onto your lips; teasing him in return.

He catches on to this, quick, and lets out a low laugh before kissing your shoulder and pulling away.

"M'gonna go start the car so it's warm," he says softly, leaning on the door frame. He winks, then disappearing into the house.

Ah, domestic life.

When you're finished your lips, you zip into the bedroom and quickly place the box of rings into your matching white bag. Then, grabbing a pair of boot-heels and snugging them on your feet. You feel butterflies with the rings in your bag, they could be so easily discovered but you know they won't be.

You return downstairs where Harry, of course, is waiting for you. He's got a coat on and holds another over his arm for you. He places it over your shoulders and mumbles a quick 'it's cold out,' before opening the door and ushering you outside.

The drive is long and quick at the same time. His hand rests on your knee when it's not occupied by the shifting lever, and your eyes train along the side of the road as he drives. You both hum to whatever the local radio is playing, his thumb tapping against the steering wheel. It's busy, the roads are full and the sidewalks are crowded.

He parks close to the entrance of the restaurant, shrugging it of as 'the closest available spot' but really he just doesn't want you to get cold.

He checks both of you in, taking your hand as the waitress leads you both to a booth in a quiet part of the restaurant. You sit down together, ordering immediately because you've been going here together for so long. You joke about the waitress eyeing him up and, in turn, he defends that no! she was all over you!

It's well into your meal before Harry slides a little flat red box in your direction, pretending it's no big deal to him. You stop mid-chew, eyes connecting with his and you try (fail) to hide a smile. You reach into your own bag, pulling out the little black box and sliding it towards him before going back to eating your food in the most nonchalant way you can manage.

"Hey now! Open mine first, s'only fair." he says, looking at you with a humoured smirk.

You decide to tease more, taking your time finishing your mouthful and dabbing at your lips with a napkin. Harry leans back in his chair, giving you an amused 'really? we're doing this?' look while you slowly reach for the box.

Suddenly, his hand snaps to take the little box of rings, and you squeal, quickly taking the red box and holding it in your hands. He leans ahead in adoring anticipation and watches as you as you open the flat, cartier, box to reveal a delicate chain with a flower in the middle.

"Oh, Harry, it's beautiful." you gasp, looking at him almost in disbelief 

"S'pink gold, with an orchid and a pretty little diamond- baby," he pauses, seeing the tears gathering in your waterline as you closely inspected the little piece. You hadn't meant to cry, it caught both of you off guard.

"s'alright, here-" chuckling, he rises from his seat to slide into the booth next to you. He rubs your back and lightly presses kisses to the side of your forehead. Soon you both start to giggle, leaning into each other to feel as close as you could in the public area.

"Harry, god, you really didn't have to... it's perfect," you sniffle. You turn your head and pull him into a quick soft kiss, feeling his smile against yours. His hand rises to cup the side of your face, thumb running along your cheekbone and his fingers curling around just under your ear.

"Now, let's wipe those tears away, yeah? Can't be havin' people think I'm makin' my girl cry."

"But you did," you snort

"I didn't know you were gonna' react that way!" he defends "y'scared me!"

You both laugh, leaning on each other and temporarily forgetting about the world around you. He presses a kiss to your head, hungry for even the sweetest of touches. Harry has always been like this; needy for touch... your touch, in any way.

He brings you out of your gaze, reaching for the little black box you had previously slid towards his empty chair. Inspecting it, he turns the box on it's side to read the 'Gucci' print. You catch the sides of his lips curl up.

He opens the lid, slowly and gently, then moving the velvet packaging to see what the little black box contains. Your eyes are trained on his face, watching his bottled up excitement seep through his cool impassivity.  Though, when he catches glimpse of the rings, an eager laugh and then a shocked gasp rumbles through him.

He meets your eyes, almost in disbelief. A wide smile on his face and his jaw open. You giggle at him, watching him immediately look back to the box and delicately pull the first H ring out.

"Oh baby," he grins, slipping it onto his right ring finger.

"Thought you would like them." you reply in murmur, leaning against him again and watching as he takes the smaller ring, S, and slides it perfectly onto his pinky finger.

"Love them, baby, so much," he takes a moment to flex his hand and admire the two silver rings from afar. "Y'know what, though?"

You hum, pulling back from his side to see a tender, adoring face tearing back at you. He leans in to kiss you, taking his time and getting his point across. His hand newly clad with silver rings rises to your cheek to hold you in place; the metal cold compared to the heat of his hand and your face. He pulls away only slightly, eyes still focused on your lips.

" I,"

he presses another peck to your lips

"-should be buyin' you the pretty rings, darlin'."

#smut for part 2 🤩 #sorry this is bad #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff

[arowrimo]

AroWriMo 2020 Writing

Here’s a masterpost of the 36 works from Aromantic Writing Month 2020 (under the cut)

Do share, like, and comment on the works you enjoy!

Poetry:

Screams by @exhausted-queer

Prompt: Self-love Language: English Words: 464 CWs: self harm, depression, death, grief, abuse, sex, sexual abuse

Let Me Be by Anon (via ask)

Theme: Loveless Prompt: Acceptance Language: English Words: 86 CWs: Ableism, Aphobia

Ballrooms and Waves by @aro-ace-and-hungry

Theme: Loveless Language: English Words: 655 CWs: Romance mention, Anxiety 

Loveless by @soph00bear

Theme: Loveless Language: English Words: 207 CWs: Aphobia mention, Arophobia mention

Am I A Monster? by @wish-ful-thinking513

Theme: Loveless Language: English Words: 157 CWs: Arophobia, Blood, Aphobia, Gore

Short stories:

Loveless by @kitkatt0430 Ao3 link

Original fiction Prompt: Acceptance Language: English Words: 753 CWs: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Unhappy relationship, Gaslighting,  Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Amatanormativity Summary:

She’s never been in love.  It’s an odd realization to have as she’s packing her things and he’s given up on asking her to stay. Now he just obstructs her on occasion, arguing that things which are hers are really his.

Some things are worth the effort to fight for. Others are not.

He is not.

Two by @junietuesday Ao3 link

Original fiction Theme: Subverting romantic tropes Prompt: Community, Acceptance Language: English Words: 953 CWs: Sex References (character is aroallo), Homophobia, Brief Mentions of Racism + Ableism, Internalized Amatonormativity Summary:

The girl is a loner.

Of her own will and desire, of course. Not because she’s a little too open about her opinions (particularly about romance), and a little too closed-off when they ask her why she has them. Not because she’s terrified what her fellow ninth graders will do to her when they realize she has no soulmark. Not because she figures that she might as well just push them away first, before they can push her.

To Unmask A Witch by @agnezztealeaf

Original fiction Language: English Prompt: Friendship Genre: Fantasy Words: 4457 CW: Discussions around amatonormativity and heteronormativity, references to blood and violence

Summary:

It wasn’t that the cottage at the outskirts of the village was actually run-down or dilapidated, but if you squinted and looked at it through your eyelashes in dim light, you could imagine that it could be. It wasn’t that it was a ruckle, it was that the children thought it should be one.

You see, if a witch lived in a cottage, then that cottage should be falling apart, its windows murky with mould, the roof broken and roof shingles scattered on the garden path and in the flowerbeds, and the garden a mess of weeds and rotting greens. It felt insulting, the children thought, that an otherwise perfectly scary and threatening witch should live in such a charming and well-kept little house. So, when they hid in the forest near the cottage, staking it out, or walked past it on their way to a friend’s house, they squinted and imagined what should have been there, instead of what really was.

Annie of Anglesey by @writelikeanaro

Original fiction Language: English Theme: Subverting romantic tropes Prompt: Self-love Genre: Historical fiction/folk tale Words: 4,676 CWs: Past marriage, Unwanted romantic interest, Public proposal, Grief

Summary:

Annie is living quite happily alone in the mountains, when the king comes to her for aid in a competition. Hoping to get something for herself out of the situation, she agrees to help him.

Seed of A Memory by @skylights422

Original fiction Language: English Theme: Subverting Romantic Tropes, Fantasy Prompt: Friendship Genre: Fantasy, Drama Words: 1907 CWs: Brief mentions of racism and arophobia

Summary:

Fiera Casales takes a stroll with her pretend boyfriend and ponders the importance of things like love and memory. 

Should Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot by @wellintentionedbibliophile

Original fiction Language: English Theme: Subverting Romantic Tropes Prompt: Friendship Genre: Fiction Words: 1088 CWs: Breakup, End of the World, Neopronouns

We’re not quite a gang (more like a strange family) by @amanita-cynth Ao3 link

Original fiction Language: English Category: Short Stories Prompt: Friends and Pride Genre: Superheroes/Slice of Life Words: 5232 CWs: Background romantic relationship mentioned, discussion of aphobia and amatonormativity, bomb mention

Summary:

Some scars aren’t physical and can be all the worse for it. But maybe a woman brimming with her own hard-won self confidence and the new friends they pick up afterwards can help Allen overcome the hurtful words from his past. After all, if a dozen new friends think you’re great and a literal god chose you as a Champion it shouldn’t be so hard, right?

“Oh.” He blinked. “People usually say it’s weird that I don’t want people- women- flirting with me.”

“Boundaries are boundaries.” She waved a hand dismissively. From the depths of her hood, her eyes gleamed with light from a passing car and briefly lit up more details; the casual ease of her expression, her slightly lidded eyes, the soft curves of her warm, brown face. Shame it didn’t do much for him beyond the realisation that she really was that nonchalant about it, and also quite beautiful.

And A Monster Steals Your Children by @arosnowflake

Original fiction Language: English Prompt: none/belonging (loosely) Genre: Fantasy Words: 2170 CWs: heavy ableism (including internalized ableism), off-screen child murder, ableist language, mild amatonormativity.

Summary:

It is said that, in a tower rising above the valley, a monster lives, and that it steals children’s souls. Netel, one of those stolen children, goes to kill it.

Untitled by @wish-ful-thinking513

Original fiction Language: English Genre: Sci-fi Words: 951 CWs: Needles, injections

Summary:

This is a short story based on a prompt from @lgbtqwritingprompts. I don’t usually write sci-fi, so this was a fun change… I feel like it was obvious that science isn’t really my thing though. I tried to keep stuff vague (ie: are clones human??? The more I thought about it, the less sure I was)… well,  I tried my best!

November: The Hell Week to End All Hell Weeks by @eadrey-the-iptscray Ao3 link

Fandom: Pacific Rim (2013) Language: English Theme: Subverting romantic tropes Prompt: Community and acceptance Genre: Slice of life Words: 2,776 CWs: Bigotry mentions, light marital romance

Summary:

The Shatterdome baristas meet the regulars. Teasing, pranks, and awkward small talk ensue.

Traditional by @amanita-cynth Ao3 link

Fandom: Leverage Language: English Theme: Subverting romantic tropes Prompt: Acceptance Genre: Character study Words: 1393 CWs: References to sex (aro character is aroallo), romantic relationship in the background and referred to, marriage mentioned

Summary:

Eliot doesn’t so much fall in love as come to the realisation that he’s going to die for them.

Or: How Eliot learns some new things about himself and Parker and Hardison learn just how to stay with him.

February - Leap Year Sucks by @eadrey-the-iptscray Ao3 link

Fandom: Pacific Rim (2013) Language: English Theme: Subverting romantic tropes Prompt: Family and self-love Genre: Slice of life Words: 2,866 CWs: Lingering grief over a parent’s death, light marital romance

Summary:

The Shatterdome baristas and regulars slog through a soggy February with all kinds of struggles. At least they've got each other to commiserate with.

Skywalker by @kitkatt0430 Ao3 link

Fandom: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy Language: English Prompt: Family Words: 2,964 CWs: Major character death, indentured servitude/slavery

Summary:

Rey’s family was never coming back for her.  In learning to accept this and move on, Rey builds herself a whole new family, one choice at a time.

A Place to Start by @kitkatt0430​ Ao3 link

Fandom: Supergirl (TV 2015) Relationships: Kara Danvers/James “Jimmy” Olsen Language: English Prompt: Acceptance Words: 2,993 CWs: Break up

Summary:

“I’m doing that thing again,” Kara told the duck. It ignored her for the corn. “Always happens. I was trying so hard not to do it this time, but there it goes. Happening all over again.”

(In which Kara doesn’t need Alex to tell her that dating James is making her miserable.  But she does wish someone would tell her why every time she starts dating someone, her romantic feelings fizzle out shortly afterwards.)

The Only Trope for Me is You by @tommytonebender​ Ao3 Link

Fandom: The Venture Bros Relationships: Billy Quizboy/Pete White Language: English Theme: Subverting romantic tropes Genre: Supernatural, character study Words: 4,338 CWs: Discussions of amatonormativity, non-explicit sexual humor, most references are there to make fun of fanfic tropes, language, brief heavy themes.

Summary:

Supernatural forces ensnare our heroes, forcing them to… have a grown-up conversation? [A fake episode B-Plot]

April - Confessions and Epiphanies by @eadrey-the-iptscray Ao3 link

Fandom: Pacific Rim (2013) Language: English Theme: Subverting romantic tropes Prompt: Friendship and pride Genre: Slice of life Words: 2,261 CWs: Martial affection and love confessions

Summary:

Finally, communication!

Miss You by Dain Ao3 link

Fandom: Star Wars Original Trilogy Language: English Prompt: Friendship Words: 484

Summary:

Luke huffed. “Maybe I don’t want to leave.”

“You do,” Biggs said. “You know it’s worth it. You’ll do fine.”

Baby I’m Not Made of Stone, It Hurts  by @emjenwrites​ Ao3 link

Fandom: Peaky Blinders BBC Language: English Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Character Study Words: 22.6K (only the first 1.7K on tumblr, follow the links to AO3 for the rest) CWs: romance (character is demiromantic), implied/referenced sexual content, implied/referenced pedophilia (basically the same level of implication as canon), implied/referenced suicide, one instance of antiziganism, internalized arophobia (so much internalized arophobia), arophobia, self-hatred, canon-typical language, child abuse, parentification, codependency, prostitution, kidnapping, emetophobia, PTSD, traumatic brain injuries, headaches and migraines

Summary:

Things with the Russians and Section D had started bad and ended worse, and that was before Polly, Arthur, John, and Michael went and got fucking arrested. Or Tommy Shelby grapples with loneliness, guilt, health issues, and romantic orientation in the aftermath of s3.

Unease by Dain Ao3 link

Fandom: Star Wars Original Trilogy Language: English Words: 1,227 CWs: One-sided attraction, Unwanted romantic interest

Summary: Beritt was new, and not in Luke’s squadron, but you got to know people. There’d been barely anything to do for the last week but mingle.

Which would have been enjoyable, if not for the fact that Beritt was…interested in Luke.

July - Come Back Home, And Soon by @eadrey-the-iptscray Ao3 link

Fandom: Pacific Rim (2013) Language: English Theme: Subverting romantic tropes Prompt: Belonging and comfort Genre: Slice of life Words: 1,271 CWs: None

Summary:

Summer break means quiet days at The Shatterdome and the same old conversations with family.

The Only Demons Here are Mine by @amanita-cynth Ao3 link

Fandom: One Piece Language: English Prompt: Belonging and Comfort Genre: Character/Relationship Study Word count: 3048 Content warnings: Mental health issues including dissociation and suicidal thoughts and ideation. Medical/bodily things discussed. Spoilers for Law’s backstory and violence therein.

Summary:

But he’d said it, hadn’t he, at Dressrosa? That if it all went wrong Law wanted to die by his side. Naturally, it had been 80% about Doflamingo, but there had been a part of him screaming: he’s here and in danger because of you, because he does the right thing just because he can, because he is selfish and insanely determined about those he calls friends and you knew that and still let him get close, because he looked at you and called you a good man and the least you can do for someone like that is die alongside them.

Or: dealing with a pirate war and a sudden lack of life goals is bad enough without trying to figure out confusing new feelings.

Chapter 2 of The Coffee Shop AU by @theinvisiblegurlz

Fandom: Assassin’s Creed Movie Language: English Theme: Subverting romantic tropes Genre: Coffee shop AU CWs: Amatonormativity mention Summary:

A non-romantic coffee shop AU.

To Our Future by Dain Ao3 link

Fandom: Star Wars Original Trilogy Language: English Word count: 999 Content warnings: Grief, Anxiety

Summary:

Luke couldn’t keep the smile off his face.It was such a simple expression; the flexing of a few muscles, and not nearly enough to give full voice to his soaring, unrestrained joy, the lightness and fullness of spirit that made him ache until he thought he might burst with the strength of it.

Microfiction:

Rain by @wellintentionedbibliophile​

Original fiction Language: English Genre: Science fiction Word count: 319 CWs: none

Novel:

The Crystal Heart  by @twilight-lukos

Language: English Theme: Fantasy Genre: Speculative Fiction / Fantasy

Excerpt 1


Word Count: 931 CWs: Feeling pressure to choose a romantic partner

Summary:

Prince Haraq visits Princess Chareith, who has a reputation for being difficult to suitors. The two bond over a legend Chareith loves about the lost Crystal Island. Haraq expresses interest in her opinions but shows no romantic interest.

Excerpt 2

Words: 695 CWs: none

Summary:

After Chareith expresses her frustrations, Haraq suggest the two sneak out for a day and do some exploring. Chareith agrees, thinking to find some interesting relics in the nearby desert and marsh, maybe in relation the legend of the Crystal Island.

Excerpt 3

Words: 587 CWs: feelings of forced romantic normalcy or amatonormativity

Summary:

While on a secret outing, Chareith is abducted by a sorcerer and taken to an isolated tower with a mysterious history. The sorcerer tells Chareith that she has magical potential. Finding this to be true, she wonders what this means for her now.

Excerpt 4

Words: 846 CWs: none


Summary:

While on a secret outing, Chareith is abducted by an invisible, flying creature. Haraq sets out to find her. The stone fragment he and Chareith found has led him into a strange place, bordered by mist. A/N: this occurs before Excerpt #3; I wasn't going to post this but I've had it all nicely prepped to go since early February and I did want to share it, even if it's vaguer about the aromantic angle in-story

Non-fiction:

Aromantic Writing Month! by @anonymousaroace​

Language: English Theme: Acceptance Words: 487

Kricket’s First Zine by @autcore​ Direct link

Language: English

Summary:

Super short aro perzine about questioning and being lonely whilst aro

Game:

To Be Aspected (WIP) by @anonymaceally​ Latest update itch.io game link

Ally submission Language: English Theme: Fantasy Prompt: Mythos, fables Genre: Friend sim/Fantasy CWs: Some unwanted flirting. Discussions about gender and sexual identity. Adult language and situations like taxes. Content might be unfinished.

Summary:

The reader walks into a tavern owned by a squad of Aces called “Queen Anne’s Ace” . The reader stays for a week and enjoys has interesting conversations with the patrons there.

#aro #arospec #aromantic #writing #writeblr #AroWriMo 2020 #Masterpost #if anything's missing #or anyone wants info adding/updating #just let me know

[pacifistofpatience]

Ut, Uf, and Ht Sans who wake up one day to notice that their SO has painted flowers that remind them of their skelebae all over said skelebae's skull

Undertale (Iris- your friendship means so much tome/  Lily of the Valley- you’ve made mylife complete/ rose leaf- you may hope/ Blue violet- ill always be there)

Sans

A giggle roused Sans fromhis nap.

He knew that laugh well. Itwas one he had grown to love over the time he had spent with you, but also meant someone was plotting another prank on him. Duringone of his (many) sacred naps as well! To think- his own datemate- getting himwhen he was most vulnerable!

Sans bit back a grin. Stars,he taught you well!

But now it was time forpayback.

(Which, surely would notbe hard, you were always an easy target.)

Something soft touched hisforehead. Using the moment, he opened his eyes. His one eye light flashing abright blue as he used the smallest bit of magic to jostle the bed.

“boo!”

“Ah–!!”

The object that had beenon his forehead slid down his face and to his chin, along with it came thisoddly wet feeling he didn’t care enough to consider. You yanked your hand away,looking at the skeleton below with a frown.

“—You Bitch!!”

Sans chuckled.

“Oh my god seriously!” yousaid, jumping away form him in order to pull up what looked like a hand mirror.

You shoved it in his face,huffing in anger, “I was going to surprise you!”

Sans head lulled to the side,finally taking in his reflection. For a moment all he did was stare at the array of colors on his skull, as if trying to piece together a particular hard puzzle. But then his eye lights widened and he really saw what you had done. 

Flowers dotted everywhereon his face with no rhyme or reason to where they went. Little bell-shaped onesfacing every way, with a string of them right under his left socket. On top of hisright socket stood a brilliant blue flower- one that’s insides changed into yellowsand then faded to white as they reached the center. It was followed by a burstof smaller blue flowers that looked like an attempt at some sort of idea, but eventuallyjust devolved into placing them anywhere you wanted them to be.

(Oh– Did you really? Had you really?

Gosh, what was he going to do with you.)

And, in the center, down theridge of his nasal cavity and going past his ever present grin, was a long streakof purple.

(Never mind…)

“It was going good untilyou ruined it…” You said, without a hint of actual malice behind your voice.

Sans shrugged. He leanedback, “whelp, guess that means were gonna have to start from the beginning then.doesn’t it?” He closed his sockets, and you noted with a small grimace that thecolors on his lids were nothing but smudges.

But with a guy like him,you were sure you had plenty of time to fix it up.

“Guess we take it from the top.” You said.

You grabbed your brushagain and placed it right above his grin. For a moment you swirled it around, bidingyour time as Sans began to slowly drift back to sleep.

Just as he seemed to relax, you shoved the brush up his nose.

“hrrrrrnnnnkkk—!!!“

Underfell (red poppies- remembrance of war/ Azalea –take care of yourself for me/ Holly- domestic love)

Red

Sans had woken up alone.

It didn’t bother him asmuch as it used to, because he wasn’t in the Underground any more. He didn’t haveto worry about waking up without you there and thinking the worst had happened whilehe was asleep. Not anymore. Now all he had to do was take a deep breath in, rememberwhere he was, and just know everything was better.

You were here, with him,the clatter of pots and pans and the wafting smell of pancakes from somewherein the house told him as much.

Sans stretched, his bones rattlingas he slowly got up from his mess of a bed and started towards your sharedbathroom. A long time ago he would have laid in there for a few more hours,wasting the day away until his brother finally dragged him out and forced himinto his Sentry station, but now… now he had something else to wake up for.

(And it’s not that hisbrother wasn’t one of them, its just that there was always so much more thatweighed down on him before the barrier broke. He never got the chance to even thinkabout something so… domestic like this, let alone hope for it. But now he washere, now far off fables of a home and someone he could love was right there.Right within in his reach.)

Sans stumbled his way tothe bathroom. He stood in front of the mirror, looking briefly at his brightlycolored skull. He looked down, turned on the faucet, put toothpaste on hishands, paused, looked back up.

“huh…?”

At first all he saw wasthe vibrant colors adorning the top of his skull. Cute little flowers of differentshades of red all clustering together with little balls of other red, berrylike dots. Green spiked leaves twisting with stems wove themselves together. Onthe top left of his skull, the flowers became even more clustered, merging intoone large, stunning pink flower that took up  the entire top half of his face.  He followed the flowers, seeing how theywrapped around his skull.

A crown?

“Oh…”

Sans turned around to seeyou standing in the door frame, two plates filled to the brim with pancakes anda glass of milk for the both of you.

You huffed, “I was hoping you’dstay asleep for a little longer…I wanted to see your reaction.”

“babe?” he said, “did—did youdo this?”

Once again, he turned backto the mirror. His fingers trailed along the pink flower committing it tomemory (And leaving a very sticky, oddly minty trail of something his sleep addled brain couldn’t quiet remember in its wake) . Occasionally his eyes would dart to your reflection, but he seemed farto entranced in his new decoration to really say anything.

“Well… I mean, they didn’tjust pop-ie up in the middle of the night, did they? I think that’d be awholly different kind of thing then say, me painting them on your skull…um… i.. zay… don’t have a pun for the last flowers…”

Sans chuckled. And, Oh,Of course that was it, “eye-zay-lee-a they look absolutely beautiful, doll.”

You lifted the tray alittle higher, hoping to hide your blushing face behind it.

“I—um— thank y—I got us breakfasttoo… you know? For bed.”

Stars, you really were perfect.

Horrotale  

Jupiter (Dogwood  - durability, constancy and undiminished love,sometimes forgetfulness/  Daisy- loyallove/ Narcissus- stay as sweet as you are/ Rose – unwavering love)

“havin’ fun there,starshine?”

You jumped, nearly sendingthe paintbrush right into his now opened socket as you yanked your hand back.

“Sans!”

“sorry sorry…” he said, closinghis socket, “…didn’t mean to scare ya… keep going… i promise i won’t be toomuch of a pain-t… maybe i can can-vas you i never even woke up…”

You smiled, “No, it’s fine.I just… wanted to surprise you…”

Sans snored, loudly and obviouslyfake. It pulled a giggle from you which, in turn, caused a grin to pull at hismouth. He tried to hide it, still intent on keeping up the whole ‘sleeping’charade.

It didn’t work.

“Alright, stay still.”

“still as the dead…”

You placed the brush backon his skull, and with a feather light touch to begin to work on your creation.

A moment passed between thetwo of you. Sans snorted.

“Sans!”

“… sorry… it tickles…”

Figuring this was a battlelost, you placed the brush down along with the palette of paints, “iI’s Ok. Iwas done anyway. Just wanted to see what I could fix before you woke up.”

Sans opened his socketsonce again, taking in the art supplies that surrounded you two. As you werecleaning it up he asked, “…if it ain’t too much trouble… I would love to seewhat was so a-muse-ing to paint on my skull.”

With a smile you presentedthe mirror you had placed off to the side for him. His sockets went wide whenhe saw the array of color, little white flowers dotted the outside of his skull,interchanging between daisies and something that he didn’t quiet remember thename of. They swirled around slowly forming into ones with a yellow middle thatdid one last loop around his working socket. There, the unmistakable paintingof a vibrant red rose bloomed.

Biting back the excited smile you had you waited…

…Only to feel your heartdrop as Sans began to tear up.

“Oh no I’m so sorry i—”

Arms wrapped around you.He pulled you against his chest and nuzzled into the top of your head with his verywet, very paint covered face.

“Sans!!

“hnnnnnn… starshine!!” Hewailed, “i—i loube yuh su-suoooooo much!”

#Eye-zay-lee-a = azalea = was supposed to be like “I say (lea)” but it’s a heck of a stretch so #yeah #Undertale #Underfell #Horrortale #Sans #UF!Sans #HT!Sans #I had this in my computer for a while #and kept touching it up #but honestly at this point if i dont post it ill never finish it #so here it is! #This one was! #A lot of fun! #I think i liked doing Reds the most #Honestly Sans was a little rushed #because i didnt know what to do for him #and like I just really liked the ending bit #Agh this isnt as good as i want it to be but like i cant get any better then this and it botehrs me so much!! #Anonymous #Yes red putting toothpaste on his hands was delbrite #hes bad with mornings

[imaginepirates]

The Estuary

The Governor

           James awoke face up in the swirling pools of water. He spread his fingers out, splaying them across the water. He watched light dance under each knuckle, his memories playing out under each finger. He made no effort to rise from the water, content to float until his fingers pruned and the weight of his clothes dragged him under. 

           He closed his eyes. The estuary was a calm place. It was silent save for the rippling and gurgling of the water. Pine trees stretched out in all directions. He was in a valley of sorts, between two gently sloping hills covered in woods. It was a deep green carpet of sharply scented fingers, roots reaching down and connecting like a nervous system. They swayed in a soft breeze. Sometimes, fog obscured the tops of the mountains rising above them. When James looked up, staring from his spot floating in the river, he could see the occasional bird. 

           He got up, tilting his body so he was no longer on his back. Now, he was swimming in his memories, distorting them with each movement. They hadn't changed from when he left. His recent experiences were fake, unreal. He obscured his face with a hand, making the picture in the water ripple as he dragged his fingers through it. 

           Sometimes, he thought it was odd that he shared the wood with other creatures. He'd noticed fish, and birds, and squirrels, and the occasional deer. He wondered if they were all dead too. 

           The air was crisp against his wet body. He never got cold, not really. He never got a true sense of anything. It was all muted. Even sound wasn't as clear as he remembered it. Even touch. Even emotion. 

           Melancholy was the only feeling. There were the others, too; sadness, pain, loss, happiness, anger. But trying to focus on them was like trying to wring out a wet rag; no matter how hard you tried, the cloth would remain damp. 

           He had to try again. When was anything worthwhile easy? From a different point, this time. When was anything easy worthwhile? Water dripped from his shirt and hair. The droplets disturbed the river, little rings forming around each interruption of the gently rippling surface. 

           When I dry, will I remember how to feel anymore? Or will it all be a haze?

           It is better, I think, to take the plunge than to find out. 

~~~~~

           Ah, the blue and yellow coat again. At least now, as he focused on his feelings of disgust, he could feel them acutely. He hadn't known, at the time, but he should have. Why was it that whenever he tried, things went wrong? It hadn't always been that way. 

           I know now. Now, I can fix my past mistakes. 

           Things seemed more obvious now that he knew them. He should have seen them coming. 

           The paint color inside the Endeavour was annoying. It reminded James of just how wealthy Beckett was; he could make a ship both an object of war and a luxury item. The interior of the ship, at least around Beckett's quarters, was a work of beauty. It was much nicer than anything else the navy had to offer. 

           He pushed open the double doors to Beckett's office. He stood at attention, though not so sharply as he should have. Mercer was there, plotting with Beckett, who was slumped in a chair much too big for his child-like body. 

           "You summoned me?" 

           "Ah, yes. A new position needs an old friend." He motioned toward a box sitting on James' left. 

           James wasn't surprised this time, of course. Still, he opened the lid with care, removing his old blade. The last time I saw you, you were stuck in Jones' chest. Too bad I didn't have a better grip. 

           He left. The Governor had been in a chair on the other side of the room. James wondered if the man had any idea of what Beckett had in store for him, or if he was blissfully unaware. James needed to make sure that the man lived. 'It is too late to earn my forgiveness.' The ability to travel back in time, as it were, changed that statement dramatically. 

           He had to save the Governor. He had to. He knew, this time, and had no excuse act otherwise. Surely there was a way. 

           The poor man had been killed after James was sent to the Dutchman, he was sure of that. 

           James had been given a room. It was well-furnished, and the bed was surprisingly comfortable. He ran his hands over the furniture; likely, he wouldn't be seeing it again. He lie abed as long as he dared, cherishing the feeling of being alive. 

           Who knew it would be like this? I can feel, here. I want to stay here. Please, let me continue on. Have I not done my part?

           He hadn't, and he knew it. His part was to rescue the Governor from Beckett. He couldn't do so quietly, though. There was no way to sneak the man onboard the Dutchman. 

           James stepped out of his room and placed down the hallway. What he was going to say, he didn't exactly know, but he knew it needed to be said. 

           He knocked on the door to Beckett's office. A muffled voice bis him enter. 

           "Ah, Admiral. What can I do for you?"

           James took a deep breath. One of his hands shook; it never used to do that before. He'd never had nervous ticks. "I'm to be moved to the Dutchman soon, if I'm correct?"

           "Yes, actually. What about it?"

           Beckett was not a man who liked his time wasted, and James could see his annoyance. "What about the Governor, sir? The Dutchman is more likely to discover Elizabeth. Would you not have him on the ship that finds his daughter?" James knew he was pushing his limits. 

           "He will be told when the girl is found. We will transport her safely into his care."

           "I'm not sure he'll consent to that, sir."

           "He doesn't have to," said Beckett irritably. "Your allegiance to the Governor is appreciated, Admiral, but wholly unnecessary. He will be treated with every consideration here, and when there is word of his daughter, he will be the first to know."

           "Liar," James hissed. "You plan to kill him." He let the sentence sink into the air. "Why not me? I know just as much as he does."

           "I'm impressed. I think that's the most I've ever heard you say at once." Beckett ignored James' pointed glare, rising from his seat. "I can order your silence, Admiral. The Governor will be harder to control."

           "I am not a dog."

           The sentence hung in the air. If he tried, James could almost hear the echo. Neither man moved a muscle. 

           "What I shame. I thought I could trust you, Admiral. Would you give away information against my orders?"

           "If it meant keeping you from getting what you want, yes." There was a certain dryness to James' throat. He was finally speaking his mind. It was going to get him killed. Again. 

           "Well, we can't have that, can we?" Beckett stood, pouring himself a glass of brandy. He poured another, as well, offering it to James. "You might as well. Likely, it's the last drink you'll ever have."

           I doubt it. James downed his glass in a single gulp. 

           Beckett walked over to Mercer, whispering something into the man's ear. He left, and three guards entered the room behind him.

           "If you would be so kind," Beckett began, "please put the Admiral in chains. I'm afraid he's been found to be treasonous."

           James glared, a full storm behind his look. 

           "Manacle him to the wall, if you must. Just keep him under control." The look of disgust on Beckett's face was practiced, but still looked almost sincere. 

           The Governor was dragged into the room, shackles clasped around his hands and feet. James tensed. He looked bewildered, and more than a little outraged. 

           "Governor. So good of you to join us."

           "Beckett." The man's title had been intentionally left out. "I have done nothing wrong."

           "Oh, that doesn't particularly matter." A tight smile graced Beckett's lips. 

           "You bloody bastard!" James lashed out, fully intending on fighting his guards. He got about two feet before being hit in the stomach with the butt of a rifle and wrestled to the ground. For good measure, someone hit him in the face, leaving blood dripping from his nose. 

           "Governor, do you know why you're here?"

           "To be killed, most likely." James noticed his voice was shaky. Poor man. Dying isn't so bad, really. 

           "An astute observation. Today," Beckett gestured towards James, "you will have an audience. But don't worry, he'll be next."

           "Admiral Norrington? Why would you…" the man shuddered, and his expression was one of horror. "Certainly not."

           "Weatherby," James croaked. "I'm sorry, truly." And I am. Because I'm just now remembering. Without me, Elizabeth will die. Or she'll be married off to Beckett, and right now, I don't know which of those two options is worse. "I should have been more careful. For you, for Elizabeth." Like I was the first time, dammit. 

           "A heartfelt confession. Unfortunately, we must continue. Mercer?" Beckett gave his assistant a pointed look. 

           "Please, don't do this." James couldn't believe the words had actually left his bloodied mouth. 

           "Reduced to begging now, are we?" There was a gleam of victory in Beckett's eye.

           I'm as surprised as you are, thought James. 

           "Well, I'm sorry to disappoint."

           The squelching sound that accompanied the knife being slipped through the Governor's throat made James vomit. He didn't dare look up, but he could already feel the tears dripping from his lashes. 

           You were like a father to me. I'm so, so sorry. Choose a happier path than mine.

           "And now, it is your turn."

           Beckett's boots appeared under James' face. When James looked up, he looked past the face above him, instead focusing on the back wall. 

           "Any last words?"

           He let the face come into focus. He thought about how much he hated it. He might have lurched up to hit the man if he wasn't being held down. It made him smirk, just for a moment, because being held down meant that Beckett feared him, and that was power enough. 

           "Tell Elizabeth, when you find her, that I'm sorry for not choosing the proper side."

           Mercer produced a knife, brandishing it in an almost bored fashion. No doubt he'd used it many, many times. 

           Please, no, he thought. Not again. He was so tired. At least let me have something different this time. 

           The blade felt almost at home in his stomach.

           Dying. It got so much easier once you'd done it. That was the third time that week. Perhaps it was the third time that day. But it was much less frightening, now. It just made him sad. 

           They did say that the third time was the charm. 

•

@bonjour-frens @tesserphantom @ilikebritsandbands

#pirates of the caribbean #potc #james norrington #commodore norrington #norrington #drabble #writing #fanfic #mini series #miniseries #the estuary

[gumnut-logic]

Bo

This is a repost, a fic of mine you might have seen before, but I think it bears revisiting as I am rather fond of it. A friend of mine has thrown a prompt in and chosen Bo as the character to write about. So I think this is a good a time as any to share this again.

I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

-o-o-o-

Title: Bo

A TAG Secret Santa fic

Author: Gumnut

15 – 18 Dec 2018

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: Virgil meets a new friend, and, damnit, Scott was going to kill him.

Word count: 6184

Spoilers & warnings: Possible bushfire/wildfire triggers in the first part. For the rest none, except for vague nudity and fluff. Christmas fic. Gen.

Timeline: Origin story

Author’s note: Okay, so this is the first time I’ve ever participated in one of these so I’m new to this.

My prompts were

1.         Virgil covered in tinsel

2.         Tracy family Christmas

3.         Christmas Rescue Miracle (with Virg please)

The first one prompted all sorts of images not suitable for a PG audience. Hubby also suggested I blow up a tinsel factory. Overall, I did attempt to include all three prompts in the one fic. I hope I have succeeded in providing some enjoyment at least.

This does not belong to either Sotto Voce or Warm Rain and is pretty canon compliant. It is currently standalone. Consider it a possible origin story, there may be more, if I can think up some new plot lines. If you have any ideas, please let me know.

Many thanks to @tagsecretsanta for all her wonderful work putting the gift exchange together, and thanks to @photowizard17 for the inspiring prompts, @i-am-chidorixblossom for cheering me on when I couldn’t post daily and obsessively like I usually do, and to @the-lady-razorsharp for giving it an American beta so I don’t trip over being Australian (though the summer Christmas certainly helped :D).

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

“It’s the last house at the end of the street, Virgil.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Five.” It was said without the usual spark. The grey of the destroyed landscape sucked everything from everything. A pall of smoke and haze, black remnants of lives, homes and the tragedy of the night before.

International Rescue had been called to a massive bushfire in the Yarra Ranges in Victoria, Australia. The CFA had had it under control the previous day, John keeping an eye on it anyway, but an unexpected change in wind direction in the evening had it jumping firebreaks and tearing through an unprotected valley and directly through a township.

With the vast tall forests of mountain ash, eucalypts full of volatile oil just waiting to burst into flame, combined with the hot and blustery northerly, not even IR could stop the firestorm from taking lives and property.

Thunderbird Two had her fire suppression equipment, but the massive plane was a speck against the wall of flame.

There were forces of nature that just couldn’t be stopped.

The Tracys dodged and nabbed trapped people. Thunderbird Two deployed a huge water cannon, sourcing water from the local reservoir, as the CFA water bombed around them, desperate to protect what lives they could. But nothing was stopping the fire.

It tore through the town leaving agony in its wake.

Dawn was grey and dismal, but it brought rain. The sky rumbled, threatening to spark more fires in the ranges, but the deluge came and dampened the remaining flame enough to once again get the front under control.

But it was too late for the town.

It was gone.

Virgil walked the length of the street, his exo-suit rubbing on aching shoulders. Burnt out cars and collapsed homes lined the road from one end to the other. The skeletons of black trees marched off into the distance behind it all.

Haze hovered above ash-clogged puddles in the pavement.

It wasn’t what Christmas morning was supposed to be.

The last house at the end of the street had fully collapsed in on itself. A burnt-out car sat in the driveway, its trunk lid and one of its doors open.

Virgil closed his eyes for a moment, knowing what that likely meant.

He steeled himself and walked past the remains he knew he was going to find in the car.

Nothing could be done.

Nothing.

He focussed on the whine of his suit as his boots stepped in wet ash and strode across the front yard to the remains of the house. He had to clear his throat to speak to John. “Tell me where, Thunderbird Five.”

“Possibly in the basement? The lifesign is below ground level.”

The house had been old, the wooden floorboards disintegrating in the heat. Virgil leapt through the remains of a wall, landing on rubble in what had likely been a wine cellar. The heat had been so intense, that glass bottles had become slag.

Glass crunched under his boots. “Right or left?”

“Eastern side, southern corner.”

There was a mass of rubble collapsed against the only standing wall of the building.

“This is International Rescue. Can anyone hear me?”

He turned up the pickups on his exterior mikes.

Nothing. It was probably a blip. How the hell could anything survive this holocaust?

His shoulders dropped.

But then...something? A whimper?

Maybe?

Virgil began digging.

It took him a good fifteen minutes of solid work to move enough burnt masonry to reach a hole in the wall at the very base of the structure. And in what appeared to be the bottom of a dumb waiter he found the lifesign.

The little puppy whimpered at him, trembling with fear.

Aw, hell.

“John, lifesign is a dog.”

“One moment, Thunderbird Two.” The puppy stared, the green, yellow and blue of Virgil’s suit reflected in its brown eyes. “There is no dog registered at that address. Deliver to the local authorities. You are needed to airlift some survivors to Melbourne. Report to Scott on the other side of town.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Five.”

Virgil slid his arms out from the suit and bent aching knees. “Hey, little one, do you want to come with me?”

The puppy shivered and looked him up and down, hesitating.

“I’m with International Rescue, we’re here to help.” He took a step closer. “It’s okay, I promise.”

Maybe it was something in his voice, his stance, or simply because the puppy had no choice, but as Virgil reached into the box it was sitting in, the puppy made no protest as he picked it up.

A quick examination for injury revealed her to be a girl. She shuddered up against Virgil’s chest. “Don’t worry, it’s all over, you’re safe.”

Sliding one arm back into his suit, he started making his way out of the ruined building, turning his back on the tiny hole that had somehow saved the little dog’s life.

-o-o-o-

Perhaps it was because she sat so quietly with him. Perhaps because it was Christmas Day. Most likely it was because Virgil had reached his limit of pain.

When he found the RSPCA tent, specially set up for lost pets, he gently handed over the little puppy. She let out a whimper and began crying.

No barking, just this godawful crying that tore at his heart.

“You will be fine here, little one.” The attendant was one of those kindly older ladies and she hugged the gangly bundle of fluff to her chest as Virgil turned to leave, Scott in his ear.

But the puppy let out such a scream of anguish, Virgil turned around without thinking. She was struggling in the volunteer’s arms and before either of them could react, she managed to wriggle free and dash over to him, her little body trembling on his left boot.

He reached down and gathered her into his arms. “You can’t come with me. I can’t-“ But she was rubbing her head up under his chin, little sounds in her throat.

And he couldn’t.

Just couldn’t.

His eyes met the eyes of the lady volunteer and she smiled. “We will keep her details if you would like to take her with you. If anyone contacts us, we can let you know.” And the volunteer was just as hopeful as the puppy in his arms. After all, there was no life at the RSPCA unless a home was found.

He looked down at her little brown eyes again.

No, he couldn’t.

Damnit, Scott was going to kill him.

Maybe for just a few days?

The excuse provided a simple solution, so he took it.

Without a word, he handed his IR contact details to the volunteer, and, puppy in hand, turned his back to the tent and strode towards the big green hulk parked in the distant haze.

“Well, little one, you have definitely made an interesting choice. Let me introduce you to my big green partner.”

-o-o-o-

It was well past Christmas lunch, or rather the lack of it, before IR was given the all clear to return to base. During the entire time, the little puppy sat beside Virgil’s pilot chair, apparently unfazed by the deep bass rumble of Thunderbird Two.

When he picked up both Gordon and Alan the dynamic changed just a little.

Gordon dragged himself onto the flight deck first, a groan in every step. “Christmas just gets more exciting every year.” It was true. Nine out of ten Christmas Days were side-swiped by a disaster, to the point that the Tracy Christmas tradition was a modular and movable celebration nowadays. No guarantees and no defined day. It happened around December twenty-fifth, there about, when they could, between call outs.

Suddenly the little puppy was in his lap.

“What is that?”

Virgil looked up. His brother was covered in soot and looked as tired as Virgil felt. “This is Bo.” And he had no idea where the name came from, it just seemed right and the moment clicked.

“Bo?”

“Yeah.” Newly christened Bo peered up at Gordon around Virgil’s arm. “She survived the fire.” A swallow. “Her family didn’t.”

“Oh.”

Alan, as always, had more energy than any of them, and showed it as he waltzed into the cabin. “So why aren’t we moving?”

Bo let off a sharp bark.

Everyone jumped.

“What the hell, Virgil?”

Bo was literally glaring at Alan.

“Hey, Bo, calm down, that’s just Alan. He’s annoying, but tolerable.” The little puppy looked up at him, her gorgeous brown eyes just melting him inside. He was so gone.

“Hey!” That from Alan.

“Scott’s going to kill you.” That from Gordon, who was approaching slowly.

“Yeah, I know.” It was a sigh.

Gordon crouched down beside Virgil’s chair. “Hey, little one, what gave you the idea to attach yourself to this big oaf?” Pulling off one of his gloves, the aquanaut reached out and offered the puppy his hand. She eyed him warily before tentatively sniffing at his fingers.

She sneezed.

Alan snorted.

Bo blinked and stared at Gordon for a moment. The aquanaut kept still and eventually she sniffed at him again, before nuzzling at his hand. He blatantly took that as permission and gently rubbed behind her ear. “You are a cute little thing, aren’t you.”

She licked his wrist.

“Oh, I can see why our heavy lifter fell for you. You’ve got it all in those brown eyes of yours, haven’t you.” Gordon shrugged. “Though I will admit they are the best colour for manipulation.”

“And he speaks from experience.” To Virgil’s surprise, Gordon actually jumped. “Did you forget I was here? Not absorbed by those brown eyes are we?” He couldn’t help but smile at his brother. At least one was as besotted as he had to admit he was.

Yes, Scott was definitely going to kill him.

“Shut up, Virgil.”

Bo backed off, once again hiding behind Virgil’s baldric.

“Hey, Gordon, watch the tone.”

“Sorry, Bo.”

“Are we actually going home at some point? I have a date with my bed.”

Gordon stood up, pulling out the co-pilot’s seat. “No rush, Allie, she’ll wait for you.”

“Augh.”

“Sit down, Alan, I’m just finishing pre-flight.” Tired and cranky could easily become nasty if not attended to.

Bo curled up, nestled against his harness, as Alan grumpily pulled out his seat.

“Virgil, where the hell are you?”

Speaking of tired and cranky... “Launching now, Thunderbird One.” As if prompted, he received clearance from Australian Air Control.

TB2 rumbled beneath as he activated VTOL, ash and dust swirling up around them. As soon as he had enough height, he engaged her rear thrusters and tore off over the Alps, across the coast and out into the Tasman.

“ETA fifteen minutes.” At least they weren’t too far from home.

Bo fell asleep in his lap.

-o-o-o-

Virgil was on the verge of joining Bo in slumber as Thunderbird Two spun slowly in her hanger, eventually coming to a final stop.

So tired.

Beside him, Alan poked Gordon awake. “Ugh, what? Oh.” You could almost hear his brain booting.

Virgil worked around Bo as he did his post-flight checks, his brothers, well, mostly Gordon, groaning as they got to their feet and waddled towards the hatch. “C’mon, Virg, Alan’s pining for his bed.”

“You two go ahead. I just need to finish post-flight.” He didn’t turn around, but he could feel Gordon’s eyes on him.

“Sure, whatever.” And he heard the hatch lower to the hangar floor.

His brothers gone, Virgil let himself relax back against his chair, his shoulders sagging. He let out a long breath. “So, Bo, how are we going to do this?”

The puppy woke as if on command and turned to stare up at him. Gently her tail began to wag.

Virgil let a tired smile cross his face.

Encouraged, Bo jumped up and put her two front paws on his chest, reaching up, trying to lick his face despite not quite being tall enough.

The smile became a grin.

“Okay, okay.” He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up as he pushed his seat backwards and stood. Immediately he was bathed in puppy drool. He couldn’t help but laugh. He surfaced above her licking and cradled her in his arms. “We need to get you some food.” His stomach rumbled ominously. “We need to get me some food.”

And a shower. A shower definitely wouldn’t hurt.

If he could hold off the sleep.

If he didn’t call it a stagger, it wasn’t a stagger, but he had obviously been sitting in his seat for far too long ferrying all those survivors to Melbourne on repeated trips. It was his turn to groan as both his back and legs complained loudly at the sudden demands for movement.

Bo started chewing on his glove.

Somehow he made it back to his rooms without encountering anyone. Shutting the door, he let Bo loose on the floor and began stripping off his uniform, hitting the buttons on his preprogrammed shower cubicle. Moments later he walked under the spray and let it wash the day from his skin.

God, that felt good.

As his muscles relaxed under the heat, sleep became more and more attractive, and by the time he stumbled out of the water, all thoughts of food had vanished.

He took the three steps across his room from the ensuite and threw himself facedown on the bed, still partly wet, still naked.

He was asleep within moments.

-o-o-o-

He was being kissed.

Her lips were warm, her tongue wet, her whiskers soft against his stubble...

Uh?

She licked his eye.

Wha-?

Virgil, always slow to respond upon waking, opened said eye only to get an eyeful of slobber. A soft paw thwapped him on the cheek. Huh? he blinked attempting to clear his eyesight, a hand coming up to defend himself.

Fortunately, his brain came online and memory kicked in. “B-Bo?”

A tongue wrapped around his nose and left it wet.

Ugh.

He wiped his face with his hand, stretching backwards on his pillow, desperate to get out of reach.

The puppy landed on his chest, her paws kneading his chest hair, her little claws completing his wake-up process rather abruptly.

Oh god.

“Bo, down, honey, down.”

He was completely ignored.

Sitting up, he attempted to grab her in his arms, but missed. The little puppy landed on things that puppies had no right to land on. Or stomp on for that matter.

He winced.

“Ooh, okay, come here.” He lifted her off his lap, holding her close, her tail pummelling his belly. “I’m awake, okay.” Again he found himself pinned by her brown eyes. “Aww, c’mon with the cute, Bo, you’re going to melt my brain.”

“Assuming you have a brain to melt.” And Scott was standing in his doorway.

Virgil glared up at him. “Don’t you knock?”

“I did. Grandma sent me to tell you that Christmas dinner is ready.”

Virgil frowned at his brother over the top of Bo’s ears, ignoring the glare the blue eyes were directing at the puppy in his arms. “I thought we’d do Christmas tomorrow.”

“We don’t know what is going to happen tomorrow. Grandma thought it would be best to sneak it in tonight, since it is Christmas Day, after all.” Scott’s lips thinned. “Where did you get that from?”

“She’s a rescue.”

“Usually we leave our rescues on the continent we find them.”

“She had no one.”

“Unfortunately, that is nothing new.” And one of his hands had moved to his hip.

Virgil sighed. “Scott, it’s fine, it’s only for a few days.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

Virgil held back his retort. He knew to pick his fights and now was not the time. “Her name is Bo.”

Scott looked at him and then at Bo. “Hurry up, your dinner is getting cold.” The ghost of a smirk. “And don’t forget to wear clothes.”

“Funny, funny, ha, ha.” But his brother had left.

Virgil let his shoulders drop. “Sorry, Bo, I think you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

Bo just licked him some more.

It wasn’t until he went looking for his boots that he discovered the wonderful deposits Bo had left for him on the floor.

Ugh.

And apparently one of his favourite boots had served as a meal also.

He closed his eyes and sighed again.

Half dressed, he cleaned up the mess, and five minutes later he waltzed downstairs, Bo in his arms and barefoot. Time to face the inevitable music.

-o-o-o-

A Tracy Christmas used to be snow, roast turkey, stockings by the fire, the occasional Christmas carol and family.

Since starting International Rescue it had changed.

Firstly, they were in the tropics. The only fires available in those temperatures were ones that required firefighting equipment. Having grown up with snow, it was still extremely weird. But it had its advantages. For one you could go outside in the minimum of clothing, something Gordon took advantage of every day of the year. There were no snowball fights, but these were fast replaced with water fights. There was no ice skating, but there was water skiing if anyone could get up the energy to get the boat out. And surfing, let’s not forget Scott’s attempts at that. Virgil would admit that he didn’t mind a little surfboard action himself. He wouldn’t say he was very good at it, but at least Gordon had never had to save him like he had Scott.

There were still Christmas trees and tinsel and stockings that no-one ever considered wearing hung from the nearest mantelpiece-looking piece of furniture.

There was still turkey and roast potatoes and all the yummy food crucial for a good Christmas meal, but it was often cooked outside in barbecue ovens and seafood and cold food had been added to the menu. In fact, the traditional dinner had become more of a banquet by the pool.

As Virgil walked out onto the patio, he couldn’t help but smile at the Christmas tree that had obviously been hurriedly moved out here from the comms room. It sat a little lopsided and the star on top was having a few issues with gravity. That was new, as was the liberal tinsel and Christmas lights strung from palm tree to palm tree, across the pool and back several times.

“Fifty bucks says Gordon tries to water volleyball the tinsel at least once.”

Virgil smirked as he stepped up beside his next youngest brother. “Not touching that one. I value my money.”

John was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt and had a beer in his hand. Bo was immediately interested in this new person. She strained towards John, her nose literally twitching towards the hand holding the beer.

His brother must have caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and instinctively took a step away.

“Oh, sorry, John, this is Bo.” Bo was climbing over his arm, desperate to get closer to the astronaut. Virgil held her tight, worried she would fall.

“Uh, hello.” John turned towards them, frowning. “Since when do you own a dog?”

“Since this morning.”

“Does Scott know?” They both instinctively looked over at their eldest brother who was hovering over one of the barbecues energetically discussing something with Grandma - probably how not to burn the food.

“He does.”

“And you still have it?”

“Her.”

“Her.”

“Yes.”

“Good luck with that one.” John drank his beer.

“She had no one else.”

John arched an eyebrow at him and then frowned. “Oh, Virgil.” His shoulders slumped.

“I am an adult now, John. It won’t be like last time.”

“God, I hope not.”

Virgil stared at his brother, only to see the genuine concern in his green eyes. A sigh. “It won’t happen again.”

John reached out and gently touched his shoulder. “No, it won’t, because you will remember that you have four brothers who are all here for you, won’t you.” God, that green gaze was penetrating.

“It will be fine.”

Bo yipped at John, her tail beating Virgil’s chest.

The astronaut smiled and offered the little dog his hand. She sniffed and licked him almost immediately.

“I think you have been approved.”

John smiled and Virgil couldn’t help but do the same.

“Virgil!” And Grandma was arrowing in on his position.

“Incoming.” John was smirking.

“Hey, Grandma.”

But his grandmother only had eyes for Bo. “Who is this?”

Virgil smiled again. “This is Bo. Bo, this is Grandma.”

Bo whacked him with her tail and literally leapt from his arms into his grandmother’s.

“Woah.” Suddenly with arms full of wriggling puppy enthusiastically licking her face, his grandmother was laughing. “Oh dear, you are a cutie. Let me have a look at you.” And she held Bo out at arms length, her eyes critical. “A little hard to tell at her age, but my bet says she’s of boxer stock, around three months old. Such a beautiful brindle and that face.” Virgil couldn’t help but agree. Bo looked like she had dipped her face in a pot of ink, her brown eyes surrounded by gorgeous black coat that quickly bled to brindle down her back with a spot of white on her front. “Where did you find her?”

Virgil looked at his feet, remembered why they were bare, and looked back up at his grandmother. “This morning’s rescue. She lost everything.”

Grandma turned her attention back to Bo. “Oh, honey. You survived the fire?” Bo licked her nose. “Well, you are safe here.” Grandma curled her arms around the puppy and scratched her ears. “Has Virgil fed you anything yet?” She glanced at him and he shrugged. He got frowned at for his trouble. Grandma turned away, walking towards the barbecues with Bo in her arms. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Well, that didn’t take long, did it?” John was still smirking at him.

A series of barks and a yelp from Grandma, and suddenly Bo was dashing amongst legs in his direction. “Woah.” He crouched down and caught her as she leapt for him. She wriggled and licked, her little body trembling under his hands. “Hey, hey, honey, it’s okay, you’re safe.” She snuggled up under his chin. He couldn’t help but return the hug.

Grandma approached, worry on her face. “I’m sorry, Virgil, I didn’t realise.”

“It’s okay.” He reached an arm around his grandmother, bringing her into the hug. “She’s just had a scary day.” He pulled both of them close.

Scott was glaring at him from a distance.

John smiled at them and drank his beer.

Bo started chewing on his collar.

-o-o-o-

As the evening progressed, Bo slowly let herself part from Virgil as each of the members of his family, bar Alan and Scott, came to say hello or fed her from the table. There was one interesting moment when the little puppy encountered Sherbert for the first time.

Bo yipped.

Sherbert yapped.

And as the entire party fell silent, the two dogs stared each other down.

Virgil was poised for a rescue and Penelope was not far behind him, but a moment later Bo licked Sherbert across the nose, Sherbert gently butted the little puppy with his head, and from that point onwards they were best of friends, Sherbert quite proudly showing his new friend around.

But never out of sight of Virgil.

Bo and Parker had a staring moment not long after, but Sherbert barrelled on in and head butted the driver, snapping him out of it. It wasn’t long before the little puppy had him rubbing her ears as well.

Kayo stood her distance, assessing Bo as much as the puppy was assessing her. A calm arched eyebrow slowly rose as Bo tilted her head up at the security specialist. She pressed her lips together and faced Virgil. “There will be training.”

Virgil blinked and his sister turned and stalked off. Bo eyed her the entire time, only finally distracted by a yelp from Alan as Gordon threw him in the pool.

The engineer was left wondering if he should be worried or not.

The meal was delicious, of course. Scott had managed to keep Grandma away from the barbecues and MAX had been on task for a good part of the day. There was the mandatory turkey, and this year a couple of large snapper had been baked to perfection, along with some crayfish, oysters, salads and roast vegetables. This was followed by pie, oh, so much pie, Christmas cookies, and Christmas pudding with custard and the option of ice cream.

Virgil, as usual, made sure he took advantage of all the options. Consequently, post-banquet found him sprawled on a pool lounger staring up at the stars amongst the tinsel overhead. Bo, who had also eaten probably more than she should have, was curled up between his feet.

The soft sounds of quiet carols and muted conversation wafting across the water lulled him gently to sleep.

-o-o-o-

Scott felt like Scrooge. He was tired, worried and even a little angry. He was not enjoying himself, no matter how hard he tried. Grandma had cornered him at least twice, her hand on his shoulder trying to soothe his ire.

The annoying thing was that he wasn’t even sure what he was angry about. The rescue hadn’t been the best, but they had done what they could and some lives had been saved that otherwise wouldn’t have. The team had performed well, no one had been injured, they were all back home safe and sound.

And there was food, family and Christmas. There wasn’t really much more he could ask for.

His eyes settled on Virgil, asleep on one of the loungers, oblivious to the tinsel being draped across his hair by Gordon behind him.

Scott sighed.

But then a little head bobbed up between his brother’s bare feet and Bo barked at Gordon quite firmly.

Virgil was obviously far too out of it to wake, but Gordon looked appropriately abashed at the challenge.

Scott found himself smiling.

Realised he was smiling, dumped the smile and frowned.

Gordon scampered off leaving a sleeping Virgil in a crown of silver tinsel.

The little dog leapt off the lounger and chased after the aquanaut.

Okay, he had to admit the dog was adorable. He could see what had captured his brother’s eye, and Scott certainly had no objection to adding to their family.

But Virgil...when Virgil loved, he loved with his whole heart, and last time he had lost a pet, it had been bad, so bad.

They had lost so much in their lives already, why volunteer to lose more?

He sighed. It was stupid to think that way, but part of him could remember that devastated teenager, the depression and the mess that followed. Virgil had been as broken as the rest of them when their mother died, but when his dog died two years later, his reaction had been so self-destructive he had needed counselling and a therapist. Scott didn’t know if the two incidents were related or if it was how his brother connected to pets, or whatever. He only knew he never wanted to see his brother go through that again.

Their father was missing, and here was Virgil with a pet once again.

Sure, he was an adult now, and had tackled so much loss since, but...

Another sigh.

A yip and he looked down to see said dog staring up at him with a mouth full of tinsel, tail wagging.

“Gordon!”

“Yesssss, masster?” His brother sidled up with a bow.

Scott rolled his eyes. “Did you want to face your brother having to tell him that his new puppy died choking on tinsel?”

“Oh, shit.”

“Exactly.”

The aquanaut scooped up the little dog and with gentle words extricated the tinsel from her mouth.

A moment later Gordon held her up to his cheek and Scott had the experience of two sets of brown eyes staring at him adoration.

“Oh, for the love of-“

“A puppy?” Gordon grinned at him. “She is a rather cute, isn’t she?”

“Leave it, Gordon.”

His brother frowned. “What’s chewing on your underwear?”

“Gordon-“

“Hey, it was a legit question, bro. You’re a grumpy ass on Christmas Day. Where’s the merry? We have food and there will be presents. And there is a puppy. You couldn’t ask for more cuteness.” Gordon held up Bo who attempted to lick Scott’s nose.

“Gordon-‘

“Nope, so not going down with you, bro. We’ve earned some happy. We’re all here, in one piece, it’s lovely weather. Cheer up, for goodness sake.” Despite himself, Gordon frowned. “Here have some puppy love.” And suddenly Scott found himself with his arms full of wriggling Bo. Gordon turned and walked off, eventually calling out to Alan, no doubt looking for mischief.

Bo tilted her head to one side and stared up at him.

Aw, hell, weaponised cuteness.

She jumped up and licked his nose.

Scott sighed.

Voice low. “You know, you better look after my brother. He’s a good man and he does a lot of good things.” A swallow. “He’s a little prone to heroics. Perhaps we can team up in that department and help keep his butt alive.”

Her tongue lolled out one side of her mouth and she grinned.

“Maybe try that on the Hood and solve all our problems.”

He gave in and drew her close to his chest, rubbing under her chin.

“I really hope we don’t regret this.”

-o-o-o-

“PRESENTS!”

Alan’s voice cut through his slumber and shook him awake. Wha-?

“Time to wake up, sleepy head.” Scott’s voice.

A sharp little bark.

Bo.

He flung his eyes open, and immediately squinted at the fairy lights floating in the light breeze far above. A blink and to his left a shadow formed into his eldest brother. His blue eyes were smiling as he sat on the next lounge over, holding Bo, scratching her gently. She was obviously enjoying it.

Virgil frowned. “I thought you were pissed at me.”

“I was.” His brother shrugged. “I got over it.” Bo was licking Scott’s fingers.

Wow, the ability to tame the savage big brother. The little girl must be heaven-sent.

There was a whir of wheels and MAX tore out onto the patio decked out in tinsel and lugging brightly coloured presents. MiniMAX darted in behind him carrying a smaller present which was deposited carefully on the table before he disappeared inside only to return with another.

“You okay?”

“Huh?” Virgil peered up at his brother before stretching the length of the lounger. Several joints cracked and the ache across his shoulders from the morning vaguely made its presence known. A yawn. “I’m fine. Just tired. This morning sucked.”

Tinsel slid down his face. He sighed and threw it off. Gordon was getting repetitive.

Scott dipped his head, attempting to hide a smile, and looked down at Bo. “True.” He scratched her under her chin one more time before offering her to him. “Here.”

Bo didn’t bother to wait for him to sit up, she bounded out of Scott’s arms and onto Virgil’s belly. “Oof.” She then danced up and down on it.

Scott grinned at him. “She’s not going to be little when she grows up.”

“Augh, she’s not little now.” He managed to capture her enough so he could sit up, but she struggled free excitedly and dashed from his arms, jumping on the lounger, just as MiniMAX buzzed over with a small present.

Bo barked at him and MiniMAX dodged to deposit the present in Virgil’s lap. He caught it, but with his hands now occupied, he wasn’t fast enough to grab Bo before she let off another bark, jumped excitedly and latched her teeth onto the little robot.

The result was immediate.

MiniMAX shrieked, several of his legs caught in the puppy’s mouth, and with a whir of rotor blades, took off madly across the patio.

With Bo hanging on.

“Bo!” Virgil dropped the present and made a grab for the pair, but missed.

Every eye turned to see what the commotion was about. Virgil stumbled over the lounger and kicked it out of the way. He was vaguely aware of Scott doing something similar. “Brains!”

MiniMAX was obviously panicking. The little robot darted about trying to shake off his assailant. Bo was whining in her throat.

Virgil dashed after them.

Despite the puppy’s weight, MiniMAX still managed a great deal of height, Brains’ ‘build ‘em tough’ policy obviously carrying through to his robots. Despite having the strength to carry the puppy, the off-balance mass hampered MiniMAX’s navigation and they were wobbling all over the place.

All Virgil could see was a tragedy in the making. The pool, the concrete, anything horribly solid. He ran beneath them, desperately attempting to reach the now whining puppy. Family members and furniture were dodged and shoved out of the way as he clambered after them.

A chair ended up in the pool. Gordon squawked and almost joined it. Virgil leapt off an empty lounge, made a grab for them, missed and ended up in the Christmas tree.

Fake pine needles jabbed him in the face as he went down in a pile of tinsel and Christmas baubles. He swore, his clothing caught, his hair caught, and his everything tangled in tinsel, but he made it to his feet just in time to see Bo let go.

“No!”

Oblivious to everything other than the puppy falling, Virgil finally got traction under his bare feet, took a running leap and grabbed Bo from the air. He instinctively wrapped himself around her, rolling in midair, tinsel and baubles flung in all directions.

As he plummeted into the pool.

The splash took his senses, muffling exclamations, and repeated shouts of his name. There was dark blue, and wet, and, for a moment, blessed silence.

Then logic reasserted itself and he kicked for the surface.

Sound, light and cool air on his skin. He blinked water out of his eyes as he lifted Bo up so she could breathe, his legs kicking to keep them afloat.

She whined at him as if to tell him off, sneezed, and began enthusiastically licking the saltwater off his face.

He couldn’t help but grin, and he knew he wasn’t the only one as laughter drifted across the water.

“You trashed the tree, Virg.”

“I don’t think he cares, Gordon.” He looked up to see Grandma smiling at him.

And no, he didn’t. As Scott poked him with a pole to help drag him to the edge and Bo decided his ear might do for her next meal, he suddenly felt joy. It could simply have been relief, but he was going to tack it up as Christmas joy and enjoy it while he could.

-o-o-o-

“Only you, Virgil.”

“It wasn’t intentional.”

“I have no doubt of that, it never is.”

“Aw, c’mon, Scott.”

“If it was intentional then I would have to accuse you of doing it deliberately just to get out of helping with the Christmas dishes.”

“We have a dishwasher.” Bo let off a bark as MiniMAX flew past dragging a bag full of recyclable cups, plates and cutlery, giving Virgil and his dog an extremely wide berth. “And there are hardly any dishes.”

“You are still getting out of clean up.”

“C’mon, Scott, you know me better than that. Ow!”

“Sit still. I’ve almost got all of it.”

Virgil leant back against the lounge, Bo curled up in his lap. “I’m not particularly happy about this either you know.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“I know that, Ow!”

“Well, if you would watch where you were going, you wouldn’t have collided with the Christmas tree. And what’s with the bare feet anyway?”

“Bo ate one of my boots.”

Scott snorted and pulled out yet another tiny piece of glass Christmas bauble from the bottom of Virgil’s left foot. “She hasn’t been here twenty-four hours yet and she has already caused havoc.”

“She’s a puppy.”

“I noticed.” Scott sighed, peering through his magnifying visor at his brother’s foot. “I think that’s all of it. Please don’t do that again. You’ll be limping for a week.”

“I’m not planning on it.”

As Scott wrapped his foot in gauze, he eyed the puppy on Virgil’s lap. “And you, young lady, I thought we had a deal.”

To Virgil’s surprise, Bo’s head bobbed up and she looked distinctly guilty.

Scott arched an eyebrow. “Hmm, don’t let it happen again.”

Bo yapped at him.

Virgil stared at both of them. “What?”

“None of your business, you just lay back and look after yourself.” And Scott was smirking.

Ooookaay.

He relaxed back against the lounge and stared up at the fairy lights above.

Bo stomped up the length of him and licked his eyeball.

He coughed up a laugh and grabbed an armful of wriggly puppy.

“I think that was a Merry Christmas, Virg.” Scott held his injured foot and grinned. “Merry Christmas.”

-o-o-o-

FIN.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #alan tracy #John Tracy

[royalcordelia]

If the Sea Should Part (5/5 + Epilogue)

Summary: Anne finds herself caught up in whirl of romance and adventure after rescuing Dr. Gilbert Blythe from the sea during a storm. She should let him go, but when she finds out Billy Andrews is plotting to take Gilbert’s life and estate, she realizes there’s nothing that can keep her from protecting him.

A/N: I want to thank you guys all the love you guys gave this story. I’m steadily becoming a person who finishes multichap fics (36k total, can you believe??) and it’s because you all are so kind and supportive. Special thanks to the ever lovely @hecksinki​ who basically sacrificed her first born for this fic and to @remylebub​ who left me the best motivating comments and understood the writing struggle.

• Rated G+  • 12k words •  Read on ao3 • Read on ff.net •

“I don’t know, Anne, I think you should have let him buy you the dress,” Diana said with a quirk in her eyebrow. Her pretty, round eyes were focused on the auburn gold strands of Anne’s hair as she stuck pins in strategic locations. “Let the man who loves you spoil you a little!”

“He does spoil me,” Anne argued, watching Diana work in the vanity mirror. “Almost too much. He pays me a teaching salary that is more than what any schoolmarm on the Island earns, I’m sure. He doesn’t ask me to pay for my board, meals, other necessary expenses. I couldn’t ask him to buy me a gown for this ball when I have a more than sufficient amount saved away. And that’s after I sent some home Marilla and Mrs. Lynde.”

“The eleven-year-old Anne I knew would be kicking you in the foot right now. You’ve become very practical.”

Anne laughed. It felt so good to have Diana here with her, finally together in the home that she loved, at the charity ball she’d helped organize. The distance between them had felt great over the past months, and letters fell dreadfully short to the real thing.

“I have become practical haven’t I? I hardly recognize myself sometimes, but then I take the boys out to learn about the weather or go walking with Gil through the woods and I’m Anne the Dreamer all over again. Perhaps that is what it is to grow up?”

“I’m glad you’ve found someone who lets you be yourself,” Diana replied, pulling back and examining her work for small mistakes. “I can’t wait to meet him. Is he really as handsome as they say?”

Anne blushed, tucking her shy smile into her hands and looking away.

“Tease all you want, Diana, but when you meet your Prince Charming tonight, you can expect to be paid back sevenfold.”

With a dramatic sigh, Diana crossed Anne’s warm seaside room to where her bag was positioned on the window seat.

“I’d endure a lifetime of your teasing if it meant I could find a man like yours, Anne. Tell me, is kissing a man as terribly breathtaking as the storybooks said?”

“Yes,” Anne said quietly. “But the ones that make you weak are the ones when you’re completely alone.”

“Anne Shirley! You mean to tell me you’ve been kissing Dr. Blythe alone to the point  of weakened knees!?” Diana spun around, her bag’s search quickly forgotten.

“He’s often busy!” Anne quickly defended. “So when we see each other, he’ll pull me into some quiet corner that shields us.” Seeing that this explanation did not aid her case, she quickly began to pack away her hair supplies. Diana merely rose her brow at Anne and continued looking through her traveling bag.

When she turned around, she held a long narrow box in her palm. “I know you didn’t ask for me to bring this, but I thought I might just in case.”

“What is it, dearest?” Anne said, rising to meet her.

“Uh uh uh, Anne-girl, stay put. It’s princess treatment tonight.”

With a humble smile, the redheaded royal turned to face the front, examining the reflection as if it were a long lost friend, so long lost that she almost seemed like a stranger. Who was that beautiful, dignified woman that stared back at her with mystified eyes. Who was she, with the sunset spun curls pinned atop her head and the face of ivory?

When Diana fell in place behind her, she realized the contents of the box.

“The pearls Matthew gave me,” she whispered reverently. “How did you know they would match the dress?”

Diana brought the string of rare jewels over Anne’s neck, clasping it in the back and letting them fall gently across the expanse of Anne’s throat.

“Pearls partner well with anything, dearest. There’s one more thing.” Anne peered over her shoulder at her friend, but Diana only shrugged and pulled out another box, this one the size of a matchbox. “I was told to give you this. It’s from Doctor Blythe.”  

Anne hesitated to open it, wondering if maybe having a wealthy man wasn’t as satisfying as she had dreamed it would be. After all, he’d gone to all this trouble for her? And what did she have to give to him? She forced herself to take a deep breath, exhaling so hard that the curls on the side of her face flew up. Love wasn’t about things . Anne knew that, and Gilbert did too. The tiny box with its darling mysteries wasn’t a present for the sake of gift-giving, and that’s why Anne finally lifted the lid.

It was an oval cameo brooch of a gentle pastel pink. In the middle, carved out bright ivory shell was a bouquet of lilies-of-the-valley. Anne brought the beloved treasure up closer to her face as she found more and more details - each little protruding petal, each wilting leaf.

“It’s beautiful, Anne. Would you like to wear it?” Diana prodded gently, knowing that Anne might need some guidance out of the dreamland of her mind. Anne blinked and smiled.

“I do believe I will wear it,” she said.

“I was wondering why he hadn’t sent you flowers,” Diana mused. “I suppose in his own way, he has.”

Anne felt the evidence of her own lovesickness show on her face, not caring in the slightest if Diana saw just how taken she was. With an almost shameful amount of pride and satisfaction, she pinned the brooch to the front of her mint green gown. It matched perfectly the applique flowers of the same blushy, white tones and for a moment Anne was unsure if she was looking at herself or if some fairy like queen had replaced her. Her brooch was prominent in its regality above her left breast. Let the world see that the kind hearted, beloved doctor was hers! She’d sing it to anyone who asked, a joyous song of how good it felt to love, and to be loved in return.

*#*#*

It was Anne’s idea that the schoolboys help decorate the estate in preparation for its company. When they’d gone into the fields earlier in the day to pluck flowers, she’d been the recipient of about half a dozen Do we have to? s and Picking flowers is for ninnies! However, dutiful, soft hearted Paul Irving led by example, impressing teacher with his enchanting arrangement. Soon, all the boys were begrudgingly - yet secretly somewhat enjoying - combing through the tall grass for hidden gems that would make teacher smile. Now the house was lined with them, a sight to behold for even extravagant company.  

Guests were already beginning to pour in from the long driveway, a dozen carriages a minute carrying Eastern Canada’s most prestigious elite. At the top of the stairwell, Anne watched the women’s skirts swirl across the floor like wispy cirrus clouds, suddenly overcome with the fragrance of expensive perfume.

Dr. Gilbert Blythe stood in his wide entryway, welcoming guests personally as they entered. He’d told Anne he’d be wearing his best suit, making it hard for her to picture if his other suits, with their starched perfection, weren’t his best. Sure enough, every stitch of Gilbert’s attire was finely sewn, fitted to each line and contour of him. He’d slicked back his rebellious brown curls so that they matched the rest of his refined appearance.

“Is that him?” Diana asked beside her in an amazed murmur. Gilbert chose that moment to catch sight of the women there at the top of the stairs, and the pretense of hospitality left his face. In that moment, Anne felt the Selene to Gilbert’s Endymion - the picture of glowing illuminance gazed upon in surrendering devotion.

“Yes,” Anne said with a joyous smile as they began to descend. “Come Diana, there is someone I’d like you to meet.”

He met them there with a courteous bow, though his eyes never left the redheaded dryad dressed in green.

“You’re breathtaking, Anne,” he murmured with a honeyed voice. Anne could feel the gravitation between them, magnetic and strong, allowing Gilbert to take her lightly into his arms and press a kiss to her cheek. He lingered there, long enough that Anne could get a trace of his spicy, earthy scent. He leaned back, holding Anne’s pale in his own. “You must be Miss Barry! It’s an honor to meet the object of Anne’s high esteem.”

“Dr. Blythe, I had intended to say the same to you. Thank you for inviting me tonight. It’s been some time since I’ve been somewhere quite so beautiful.”

Before the good doctor could say his charming reply, Mr. Laurents came up and whispered something in his ear. Gilbert’s grip tightened on Anne’s hand as he looked up at the butler with furrowed brows.

“And Bash has already spoken with them?” he asked.

“Twice, and Mrs. LaCroix did too,” Laurents answered.

Sensing her eyes on the back of his neck, Gilbert turned to Anne.

“The boys have decided they don’t want to come out and face the guests tonight,” he explained. Understanding ran through Anne, and for a few seconds she was back at the orphan asylum with pitying families staring down at her as if she were an injured dog up for adoption. “I just hoped they’d come out so that the guests would see them as boys and not the moral less rabble they are thought to be.”

“Would you like me to go speak with them? I might be able to change their minds.”

“No, I’d like to speak to them. Men to men. Besides, I’m an orphan too, you know. You and Diana enjoy the party. I hear the food is delicious, Mary has been planning the menu for days.”

“I want to help, Gil. How about I stay and welcome the guests?”

The doctor let out a relieved sigh, a weight lifting off of his shoulders.

“Darling, you are astounding.” He paused, his fingers rubbing against the palms of his own hands as an odd expression crossed over him. “I’ve something to tell you. May I steal you away for just a moment before we get swept up in ball pleasantries and dances?”

“Of course,” Anne said, a hand reaching up to cup his cheek. “Are you alright?”

Without response, he gave a nod to Diana, took Anne’s hand, and led her down one of the quiet hallways. Only a few of the wall lamps were lit, reminding Anne of all the moments they’d spent in the dusk together. Before Anne could question just what the meaning of their sudden escape was, she was being swept behind a marble pillar and held in the warmth of his hands. A gasp escaped her as his dark eyes ran up at down the sides of her waist. His eyes searched hers, a silent question of May I?

Anne’s response was her hands falling gently behind his neck, her fingers tugging the ends of his curls in the way that made him keen. She pushed herself up onto her toes, but Gilbert met her halfway, capturing her lips in a kiss that rivaled all the came before it. The soft lines of her were pressed against his firm chest, a feeling of being enraptured that swept Anne off her feet and made her lean into him even more.

“Why the sudden ardour, doctor?” she asked the second he freed her lips to taste the skin behind her neck, chest heaving against his. His answer came in between kisses, a finger trailing up her spine. Sparks erupted with this touch, and Anne could only succumb to the pleasure of it.

“Because, my love, you are the most beautiful creature I’ve seen. Because you’re easily one of the most intelligent, brave, strong people I know. Because this marvelous, important night we have planned was your idea, and it’s going to be a thrilling success. I’m...happy and proud beyond words.” He ran the back of his fingers down the sides of her torso, grazing the swell of her breast and settling on her waist. “But most of all, I pulled you away because I’ve been too busy today to show you how much I love you.”

“I surely haven’t forgotten,” Anne retorted, half-heartedly.

“Surely not, but only because of my steady reminders. Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” she beamed. “It gives me a chance to give some reminders of my own.”

Gilbert’s eyes darkened, but before he could lose himself in another passionate moment, he pulled himself back and offered his hand to her.

“I hear there are some boys that need some inspiration. You and I have important posts to return to.”

Ignoring the flush on her skin under each freckle that Gilbert had kissed, Anne straightened her back to refine herself, and let him pull her back away into the boisterous hall.

*#*#*

Anne met more people greeting them as they flooded into the estate than she suspected lived in Avonlea. As she shook what felt like the hundreth hand to walk in that minute, she remembered that Gilbert had mentioned that he knew each one of the guests. Most of them I know personally, he had said. You wouldn’t believe the amount of people I know, it’s exhausting. Anne suddenly understood, and she’d only been welcoming for twenty minutes. The rush of people seemed to be arriving, a tide of extravagance, wide skirts, and jewels.

Before she could be swept away into the sea of wealth, Anne’s eyes fell on a resplendent woman stepping into the hall as if she’d been here a thousand times before. She had kind eyes of moonshine blue and dark black hair that rivaled even Diana’s. She was the Cordelia of Anne’s childhood imaginations, radiant in beauty and poise.  

Anne was just about offer her warmest, if not utterly star struck, welcome, when the women rushed up to her.

“Good evening, miss. I was wondering if you might know where Doctor Blythe is. I simply must speak with him,” she said in a saccharine voice that suited only those of the utmost loveliness.

“I’m afraid he’s disposed at the moment. Are you ill, dear?” Anne replied. The woman was quick to shake her head, but frowned as she struggled to find the right words. A memory flashed in Anne’s mind of a similar situation that brought her here, though she hadn’t looked nearly as enchanting in such a state. She reached for the woman’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“I’ll go find him for you. Whom may I ask is calling?”

The woman took a comforted breath, a thankful smile on her face.

“My name is Christine Stuart. I’m the doctor’s fiance.”

Anne’s heart turned to stone, the rest of her body following as she froze where she stood. Slowly, she dropped Christine’s hand and took a small step back.

“I’m sorry...I must have misunderstood,” Anne said in a voice that was not her own. Christine gave a kind smile.

“Not many people know, it’s been quite some time since it began. Who might you be, dear?”

Anne opened her mouth but no sound came out. She felt her cheeks lit up in flames, her throat closing out any sound. Christine’s smile began to falter, when a voice broke in.

“Anne?”

Both women turned to see Dr. Gilbert Blythe approaching with a triumphant spring in his step, but when he realized just what he was looking at, he halted.

“Gilbert, dear, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you!” Christine cried out, placing her hand on his arm. “You’re just the man I was looking for. I’ve just met the charming Anne.”

“I...I wasn’t expecting you, Christine,” he sputtered.

“Oh I know, but I thought you might be able to make some accommodations if I stay a few days. You don’t mind terribly much if I impose, do you?”

Gilbert looked at Anne, whose face had hardened into solid ice. He tried to send her silent messages of Please allow me to explain and I’m so sorry, but she refused to look him in the eye.

“There’s no where in the house for you and all the hotels are full. I don’t have anywhere for you,” he began to explain, but was cut off when Anne finally spoke.

“There is somewhere,” she said flatly. “She can stay in my room. I’m leaving.”

Anne felt like taking one of the glasses of wine passing by on a tray and dumping it all over his pristine, expensive suit. She felt like slapping him across his face, tearing off her brooch and stomping it to dust under her feet. She wanted to stand in the middle of the ballroom and shout to the world that Gilbert Blythe was the worst, most untrustworthy, horrible, cold-hearted men she’d ever met - ever . She wanted to pull him into one of their dark alcoves, get breaths away from his face, and whisper to him that she should have let him drown that day.

But most of all, she wanted to return to that sweet moment less than an hour ago, when she was pressed tight up against his chest. He’d whisper of his love over and over and over and over until the party was over and all traces of Christine Stuart were gone. But there was no taking it all back now, no magic that could erase the agony that throbbed through her like an acidic poison.

So instead of doing all the things she wanted to, she decided to do the thing she wanted to least. She turned on her heels and left them standing there in her dust, cursing the moment she ever laid eyes on the sailor who called her siren.

He might’ve been calling after her as she set out in search for Diana - or maybe she just imagined it - but refused to stop. She wouldn’t let him explain. She refused to even let him think about justifying why he-

There was Diana, she thought with relief, sitting on a bench against the wall. Her longest, most wonderful, faithful friend looked up to see Anne’s pale trembling form before her.

“Anne?” Diana asked nervously, leaving behind her bench crossing over to her. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“Diana,” Anne murmured, feeling the rock in her throat opening enough to let some words out. “Can we go home?”

“Home? To Avonlea ? Anne what-“

Anne reached out and grabbed Diana’s hand, pulling her through the crowd of partygoers toward the side staircase. They managed to nearly get the entire way when a voice broke through the noise.

“Anne! Anne !”

She sent Diana an agonized expression, then darted up the stairs. Before she could follow, she was faced with a frantic, equally pained Gilbert.

“Diana, please , I have to talk to her. It isn’t what she thinks!”

As Diana hurried to collect her thoughts, Gilbert attempted to break past her up the stairs. Diana was faster though, sticking her arm up and fixing Gilbert with a glare of blades and fire.

“I don’t know what you’ve done, but stay away from her. You’ve clearly done enough.” She tore away after Anne before he could say any more.

When she entered Anne’s seaside room, she found her friend standing in the window with her arms crossed over herself, trembling at her own reflection. She was a silhouette of the person she was just hours ago, soft edges that seemed to be dissipating away. Something was ending, but only Anne knew what it was.

“Anne? Honey?”

Then, Anne lowered her head, let out a devastated moan, and began to weep. Every choked sob echoed across the room as she covered her face, blocking her own reflection in the window. How could she look at herself - the woman who was played the fool, the woman who’d allowed herself to be a rich man’s plaything? She was ashamed. Marilla had been right.

Diana held her as she cried, cradling Anne’s head in her bosom until the broken woman had released enough of her anguish to form a single sentence.

“Take me home.”

Diana still didn’t know much about what had transpired with Gilbert, but she’d not seen Anne this heartbroken since Matthew’s unexpected death. All she knew was that Anne’s pain was hers, and to deny Anne this would be like running her through. Pressing a kiss to Anne’s bowed head, Diana nodded.

“Alright, kindred spirit. I’ll pack your things for you, and then we’ll go home.”

Gilbert was waiting from them at the bottom of the staircase when they finally came down. Diana, her bags in one hand and Anne’s in another, pushed past the doctor when he surged forward. She was nearly out of the threshold of the house when she turned and found Anne had frozen the second she looked at Gilbert.

Anne wished that time would stop and take Gilbert with it so that she might sneak past him and pretend she’d never come in the first place. It was hard enough to wade through the haze her heartbreak had drawn up around her, but to face him was too much.

“Anne, please my love, let me tell you the truth,” he pleaded, taking a step toward her when he saw that she had locked her words tightly inside of her. But Anne had heard more than she wanted to. She heard enough to unlock her aptitud for words just long enough to leave him with one parting gift.

“The truth?” she sneered. “ The truth, Dr. Blythe, is that you’ve been lying to me since the day we met. You lied about who you were, about what you were! It’s been up to me to find out for myself, and here’s what I think! I think you’re just like every other rich man, using things easily obtained for entertainment and discarding them when you grow bored. What’s more, I’m willing to bet you lied about ever loving me, and for that….” her voice trailed off. She couldn’t say anything that came to her mind to follow. “For that, I will be the one to pay the price. I will be the one to bear the pain.”

She yanked the brooch off of her dress and shove it into his hand, barely noticing the way the green fabric had torn and the sharp pin of the brooch scratched across his hand.

Then, she grabbed Diana’s hand, and left all the things she loved glistening under bright electric lights of the Blythe Estate behind her.

*#*#*

They didn’t make it far. Shivering in the evening breeze, Anne brought her arms back up around herself and blinked back the next onrush of tears. As they walked down toward the road, a group of gentleman sauntered up toward the house. In the dark, it was hard to make out of the details of their attire, and to an unfocused eye, it appeared as though the they truly were party guests late to the festivities.

But then Anne recognized the way they walked  - the way of an islander, the way of someone born and reared in Avonlea.

“That can’t be Diana Barry and the Cuthbert’s orphan,” a familiar voice called out. The blood in Anne’s veins turned to ice, and for just a moment, she forgot all about her heartache.

“Billy Andrews wearing a suit? I do say wonders never cease,” Diana mused, not stopping as Billy’s group halted in the driveway. “Good evening, gentlemen, we’ll be on our way.”

“Can we carry your bags for you ladies? They look heavy.”

“ No,” Anne forced out, unable to mask the terror to Diana.

“We’re quite capable,” Diana amended, picking up the pace to match Anne’s quickening one.

“Suit yourself. Bumpkins like Anne don’t belong at events like these anyway. Bet they turned you away at the door.”

Anne clenched her fists, but refused to turn around or answer.

“Keep walking, Diana,” she murmured in a voice so quiet it was nearly carried away on a breeze. When the babbling of Avonlea boys had disappeared into nothingness behind them, Anne reached out to grab Diana’s wrist.

“We have to go back,” she rushed out.

“What? I thought something happened with-”

“Something did happen,” Anne bit out, tears welling up in her eyes faster than she could blink them back or brush them aside. “But this is more important. You have to trust me. We need to go back!”

She spun on her heels to head back up the hill, but Diana grabbed her wrist before she could make it very far.

“Look, Anne, I’m with you anywhere, through anything. But you need to tell me what’s going on.”

Anne felt a gust of wind sweep through her skirts, loose strands of hair ticking the skin at the back of her neck. The whole world seemed to be vibrating around her, like a ticking bomb counting down second by second until the inevitable destruction.

“Billy Andrews wants to kill Gilbert. I heard him say so in Avonlea.”

“ What? Anne, that’s ridiculous.” Diana’s jaw had dropped.

“I heard the words leave his mouth as clearly as I can hear you now! Look Di, it’s complicated-”

“Then explain it!”

So Anne explained the whole story quickly, and Diana listened as closely as she could shivering in the mid autumn cold. Anne confessed knowing about Billy’s plans since before she came to the Glen, about telling Gilbert, about staying even after she told Gilbert because - as much as she wanted to work and teach - part of her would always ache to make sure he was okay.

“And what happened tonight?”

Anne let a single tear escape her eyes as she swallowed.

“Gilbert is already engaged. He has been. I met her tonight.”

Diana stumbled back as she comprehended Anne’s words. If she could feel the hammer in her own ribs pounding a crack into her heart, she could only imagine how Anne felt.

“That’s...Wow. And you want to protect him even though he broke your heart?”

Anne nodded, a resolute determination falling over her, like a mythical heroine of old. Even with auburn brows furrowed together in heartache and her figure trembling in the chill, she was steadfast and solid in her resolve.

“I ache so terribly, worse than I ever knew I could, but I don’t want him hurt. I know it’s why Billy is here tonight, I just do, Di.”

Diana’s eyes drifted the expanse of dark forests beside them, their wide expanse of unknown territory under the thick concealing blanket of orange leaves. Her mind was reeling, and she spent a moment trying to collect each one of her chaotic thoughts.

“Alright,” she said finally. “What do you plan to do?”

Anne’s green eyes flashed in the dark.

“Whatever it takes to stop him.”

*#*#*

As Anne crept into the ballroom, she couldn’t help but spare a thought to how lovely the evening had turned out. It was everything her imagination had conjured and more, with its brilliantly lit chandeliers, waves of music echoing off of the high walls, and laughter rising above every sound as dancers waltzed and whirled around like spinning tops.

“Do you see him anywhere?” Diana asked, just behind her.

Anne almost answered that no, she didn’t see Gilbert anywhere. He wasn’t dancing with any of the guests, nor was he with Bash in the corner - where had he gone? But then she remembered they had come back in for a different man, and began to scan the crowd for Billy Andrews. It would’ve been easy to spot him if he were here, since he could hardly hope to blend in with the sophisticated crowd. His hair would be too messy, his gait too unrestricted, his dancing too unrefined.

A sick feeling settled over Anne. If both Gilbert and Billy Andrews were nowhere to be seen, did they mean they had already found each other? Gilbert surely had no defense against Billy if he made good on his promise to bring a rifle.

“I don’t see him,” Anne nearly whimpered. She scanned the crowd one last time, then let her eyes linger to the second floor of the ballroom. It was accessible through the grand stairwell in the front of the room, and led up to balcony type passageways running along the sides of the walls and overlooking the main floor. A handful of party goers could go up and watch down over dancing couples if they needed a minutes rest. Maybe Billy had…

There he was! Anne thought with a start. He was up on the balcony, whispering something - instructions? - to one of them men he had come in with. From so far away, it was hopeless to try to make out what they were saying, but Anne was able to see Billy nod toward the thick rope that ran all the way up the wall to the chandelier and then hand his friend a knife.

“He’s going to cut the line to the chandelier!” Anne murmured to Diana in a rush. Diana’s gaze followed Anne’s and she let out a gasp.

“Is he crazy?” Diana cried out. “We should find someone to stop him! Isn’t that Gilbert’s brother up against the wall?”

“No, there isn’t enough time!”

Before Diana could stop her, Anne took off into the crowd, eyes locked to the boys up on the balcony. Somewhere between her struggle to navigate the masses, she misses Billy Andrews depart. Then, she caught a flash of his blonde hair descending the stairwell slowly and thoughtfully. She was quick to counter out of sight, waiting until he was out of sight to hurry up the stairs. The man had already begun sawing at the lines, and Anne could see the chandelier shaking as if there was a small earthquake in the room. If she confronted him from the front, sure enough he would turn the blade on her. Maybe she could sneak around behind him, and stop him from behind.

Anne crept along the edge of the balcony, taking the long way to the other side and turning herself into an unnoticeable sight in order to blend in with the shadows. As she neared closer and closer to the man cutting the line, she focused on steadying her breathing and quieting her steps. Just before she reached him, she grabbed a heavy floral vase from a nearby pedestal, clutching it so hard in her hands that her knuckles turned a terrified white. She was so close to him then that she could smell the beer coming from his pores.

Then, with shaking hands, Anne lifted the vase and brought it down upon his head as hard as she could manage. The man let out a grunt, collapsing to the ground in a heap of drunken unconsciousness. Frantic eyes turned to the chandelier line, which had been nearly sawed all the way through, but if let untouched, might be able to withstand the damage. Grabbing the short knife from the man and hiding it in one of her boots.

She rushed to the edge of the balcony, scanning the crowd for Billy Andrews. He was up against the wall, staring curiously at the chandelier, wondering why it hadn’t descended upon the guests yet. He shifted as if he was seconds away from coming up to investigate himself, when suddenly the music stopped and a voice rose above the crowd, partnered by a tap of a glass.

“Good evening everyone!” Gilbert said with delight that Anne sensed was forced. Billy stopped in his tracks, knowing that if he tried to sneak up the balcony stairs, he’d certainly be seen by everyone gazing upon their host. But this had been Anne’s home for nearly six months now. She knew of the small little passageway that led back down into the foyer, making it possible to reenter the crowd from behind. With everyone’s attention pulled away to Gilbert, she hurried down the line of the balcony, through the foyer, and back into the crowds amassing to hear Gilbert give his speech.

“I am delighted to see so many of my cherished friends here tonight! I am doubly delighted that the evening has already been filled with such pleasant revelry. I would like to interrupt, if I may, for a short time to tell you all the purpose of this event tonight.”

Through the aching pounding in Anne’s heart, she glanced over at Billy, who had begun a nonchalant saunter to the center of the crowd, directly in line of Gilbert.

“Someone very important to me recently advised me to let go of the hurt of the past in favor of enjoying the blessings of the present. I’d like to share with you some of that joy, if I may. Come on then, lads.” At his cue, forty-three boys filtered in behind Gilbert, wide, fearful eyes staring out at the audience who knew not yet to love them. Anne felt her chest swell with a strong pride - how brave these boys were, how brave and kind and true they all had grown to be. “These are the wonderful young men that I adopted from the St. Anthony’s Orphan Asylum. They are my greatest pride, strong in their goodness and courage. When my father passed away, I wondered how my life would have been different if  I had grown up an orphan, so I sought to see myself.”

He wrapped an arm around the two boys closest to him, smiling warmly when Paul Irving hid his face into Gilbert’s coat.

“I came home with forty-three of the finest young gentleman I’ve ever met. My brother thought I was insane.” Chuckles bubbled around the room. “But it was one of my biggest delights to give these boys a family, to provide for them the same thing we all have now. A comfortable home, food on the table, an education, and most important, someone to love them. That is why I invited you here tonight. I’m standing before you now, humbly asking you to share the blessings of your present with the boys of Saint Anthony’s, so that they might be the blessings of their future.”

The crowd was acutely aware of the boys staring back at them with their guarded faces and wide, hopeful eyes. Anne herself, felt the shared kindred connection with every child in the room who’d ever lost their parents.

“Tonight isn’t just a call for donations, though any small amount helps. I hoped that tonight, I could encourage all my wonderful friends to find some way to share the love in their lives. Write letters to the boys, make visits, send them sweeties on holidays, and certainly take one home if you feel compelled to open your home like I did mine.”

Gilbert’s eyes scanned the crowd as he tried to meet as many people as he could in the eye. When his gaze fell on Anne, he faltered, the brave smile on his face nearly disappearing altogether. Anne knew him enough to see the sudden torment that raged in him, suddenly frozen to the ground herself. But then she jerked her head to where Billy Andrews was standing, sending the strongest warning she could muster out of her entire being. Gilbert glanced over, startled, but missed the warning’s message.

The pause seemed to be the perfect opportunity for Billy. Anne watched in horror as Billy reached a hand slowly into a hidden pocket in his jacket and retrieved a small revolver. Where had he gotten one of those ? Anne’s mind grasped around desperately for something to do, something to stop him, but came up empty handed.

“There has been some question as to whether or not I intend to keep my estate,” Gilbert continued carefully, venturing onto a path with his speech that he had not rehearsed with Anne. Adrenaline began to course through her, as if lightning had been flashed and now all that was left was to wait for the impending thunder. Gilbert tightened his grasp on the boys, squaring his shoulders to face a force he knew not. “These rumors and hopes have been ill founded. I intend to keep my estate well into the future, for the sake of my patients, for the sake of this community and its harbor, and for the sake of these boys, for whom I vowed to provide for. Of that, you may be sure.”

A growl sounded from the middle of the crowd. Anne’s head whirled around to see Billy Andrews taking a few steps forward. He rose his arm, revealing the gun with its target set directly on Gilbert, half-dimmed metal reflecting the brilliant yellow light like a warning. There was no way to reach Billy in time, Anne lamented, feeling her senses roar to life, instinct taking over her limbs. She’d failed this time, she’d been too late.

Fate was prepared to prove to her otherwise.

Just as Billy emitted a roar of fury, Anne surged forward with all the strength and speed she could muster. She cried out a heart wrenching “No!” as she collided with Billy, pushing his arms so that the barrel of the gun was aimed at the ceiling the second he pulled the trigger.  

A thunderous BANG echoed across the hall, sending all the party guests to their knees, covering their heads with their hands. The resonance of the shot echoing into eternity around them was the only sound as every heart waited with baited breath for what might happen next.

Gilbert stood before them, the only one standing, shielding the boys with the wingspan of his arms and a stunned expression on his face when he looked upon Anne. The collision with Anne had knocked Billy off of his feet enough to send him tumbling to the ground, sending the revolver across the floor into Bash’s waiting hands. Yanking the weapon from the ground, Bash rushed forward, ready to collect Billy for imprisonment himself, but a sound creaked over them, like a rocking ship of aged wood.

The chandelier - Anne remembered with a jolt. Sure enough, Billy’s shot had cracked a section of the high ceiling where the chandelier was hung. With the rope that held the fixture already strained with too much tension, the shot had been all that was needed to snap the rope.

Gilbert yelled, “ Move! ” the second Anne herself had cried, “ Get out of the way! ”

The crowd hurried back, but they were never in danger of the crash. Only Gilbert and the boys, who’d all seemed to get out of the way just in the nick of time.

All except Paul Irving.

Anne’s heart leaped into her chest at the sight of her favorite pupil staring up at the falling chandelier, petrified with terror. Now alight with determination, she raced forward and shielded Paul’s small body with her own. Gilbert was there too, his arms around both of them, pushing them to the side, just out of the way.

The chandelier hit the ground with the crash of a thousand tiny glass crystals shattering against the hard floor. Anne felt just as many tiny cuts line her arms as the shards flew around them, but it wasn’t until she lifted her head that she saw Gilbert had shoved them just out of line of the chandelier.

Everyone was afraid to breathe, afraid that something else might jump out of the woodwork to harm them. Gilbert was the first to raise himself, with shaking hands, he carefully helped Paul stand, giving him a quick glance for cuts and broken bones. He peered around the room at every pair of wide eyes that stared back at him in stunned amazement. No one had been hurt. They’d all gotten back far enough in time.

Then, he spun around to Anne, who’d a line of blood trickling from her forehead and cheek. The lines of his lashes turned moist as he shook his head in awe.

“You came back,” he murmured. “You saved me again. ”

“And you saved me ,” she replied just as quietly.

The crowd around them had blurred into nothingness - there was only light, the hazel of his eyes, and that same magnetic pull between them that had been there from the first day of the storm. As reality befell upon her - Billy Andrews had failed, everything was alright, Gilbert was alright - he swept her into his arms and pressed his face into the crook of her neck. She felt his lips pressing kisses to the side of her head and heard whispers of, “My love, oh my love.”

She’d almost forgotten about Christine - almost allowed herself to believe that the whole day had been just a horrible nightmare. Reality broke in before she could drift away too far.

“I’ll get you Blythe, if it’s the last goddamn thing I ever do!” Billy shouted. Anne’s head spun to look, heart clenching with fear for a recurrence of what had just transpired, but she was relieved to find the man being yanked away by Glen police officers. “You’ll rot in hell! Your orphan bastard trash will rot! Your whore will rot! Your colored-” The officer had heard enough, giving the man a strong hit over the head and promptly knocking him out so he could be dragged out to the carriage by his elbows. Diana was close behind them, racing through the stunned crowd into Anne’s arms.

“Anne, you do beat all! You’re alright, aren’t you?” she wept, squeezing her bosom friend with all the weak strength she could muster. “I went to find help the second you took off up those stairs! What happened here?”

Anne’s eyes fell on the ground where the last remnants of the chandelier laid askewed on the tile. Each step would result in a crack, and Anne was sure there were shards in her hair and skirts. She wondered just what had happened. She turned her attention to the crowd, who was still too entranced by the chaos that had finally begun to settle.

“I don’t think we can begin to apologize for the strain you all have been through tonight. But that...” she pointed a finger at the door where Billy Andrews had been pulled away. “That is what happens when you let avarice strip you of your humanity. That is the fate of so many who are never given the chance to be good.”

Gilbert came up behind Anne, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I’ll see anyone who has sustained physical injuries in my office. We understand if you’d like to get home to your beds and decompress after the tumult of the day. You are likely just as shocked as we are at tonight’s events, but I am deeply sorry just the same. Please have safe, comfortable travels home.”

The crowds began to filter out through the doors, many of them with odd expressions on their faces that Anne could not decipher. She expected they’d be appalled after the display shown tonight, expected to hear murmurs of “country ruffians,” but instead, every single departing guest was lost in thought. Anne herself felt as though she was glued to the floor, like moving would force her to return to the reality that she was leaving. After all, with Billy likely locked up for good, Gilbert’s life was no longer in any danger, so there was no reason to stay.

“Miss Shirley!” a chorus of voices called, breaking her from her thoughts. Anne’s head snapped up to see all forty-three wonderful boys barrelling toward her. They each grabbed her where they could, some holding tight to her waist and her arms, others clutching at the pretty fabrics of her skirts.

“Are you boys alright?” she asked, checking them over each one by one. When she found Paul Irving, who had his teary cheeks buried in her side, she caressed the side of his head. “Dear, are you alright? We had quite the fall, didn’t we?”

Paul’s sweet face looked back at her, little streaks of moisture trailing down the corners of his nose. “My wrist hurts,” he moaned quietly. Anne nodded understandably, holding up said wrist to see if it sustained any major injuries.

“I’ll take you to Dr. Blythe and he’ll take a look at it. How does that sound?” Paul nodded, anxious to be in the comfort of Gilbert’s company again. The doctor himself had snuck away as soon as he could, ready in his office to see to anyone needing treatment. “Are any more of you hurt?” Anne was met by forty-two shaking heads.

“Come on, Queen Anne,” Bash said, appearing from the side. “I was told to bring you up to see the doctor, something about a gash across your forehead.”

Anne reached a finger up to the area in question, and sure enough, they came back down with a hot smear of blood. She looked down at the expectant faces of the boys, and Paul Irving, and of Sebastian LaCroix, whose eyes told her that he understood her hesitation.

“Alright, let’s go see the doctor.”

*#*#*

“Well, this certainly has been an eventful evening,” Sebastian said, filling the silence of their short walk up to Gilbert’s office. He peered down at the Anne, whose eyes had fallen sad again, but she put on a brave face for the young boy clutching her hand.

“I’m only sorry that it turned out as poorly as it did,” she murmured.

“I can’t speak for everything that has happened tonight, but you’ll be pleased to hear that we exceeded our anticipated amount of donations. Most of them came after...well, after. ”

Anne’s stunned face turned up to him.

“What- How?” she stammered. “I thought for sure Billy ruined all chances of us reaching the goal.”

“I did too, but I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. St. Anthony’s will be well taken care of for the next few years.” Bash slowed to a stop as they neared Gilbert’s door. “I haven’t told the doctor yet. Could you?”

A sick, nervous feeling settled in her stomach, but Anne nodded. Sebastian gave one last parting smile, with its own traces of sadness, then turned on his heel to leave. Before he walked two steps, he paused.

“Anne,” he said kindly. “Let him explain. It isn’t all you think.”

Throat closed in, Anne looked down at the ground. She wasn’t sure if she was strong enough to let Gilbert explain. Could see endure sitting beside him while he told that she was only a passing infatuation, that his enduring love was for Christine Stuart? Oh, she wished there was another doctor in the Glen, she lamented. She had to brave this one last storm and seal the ending of everything her and Gilbert had been. As she had told him once, it was just another thing she’d have to mourn.

Knocking on the door, Anne took a deep breath and waited for it to open before her.

Her eyes were glued to the ground when it finally did swing open, and when she chanced a glance up at him, she fought the urge to let out of shuddering sob. How was it that after everything, she still loved him so? Her heart craved him as if he were water, or air, or peaceful summer days. How could she ever learn to break herself of him?

His amazement at seeing her did not go unnoticed, either, with his wide atlantic blue eyes and parted lips.

“ Anne , you ca-” He glanced down at the young boy peeking out from behind her skirts. “Paul! Come in.”

Paul reached for the doctor’s hand and followed him in like a duckling, leaving Anne to trail in at her own agonized pace. Being in the office was its own torment, the ghosts of their last real conversation in the nearby alcove lingering like smoke from a blown out candle. Anne could still feel his lips on her neck, his words in her ear.   

“Have a seat, lad,” she heard Gilbert say behind her. “Where does it ache?”

Anne intended to stand with her back to them, memorizing the titles on the spines of Gilbert’s books on the shelves, but  was interrupted by a small voice.

“Miss Shirley, could you sit with me?”

A pang of love hit her when she met his pleading eyes. The poor boy had just had enough excitement for an entire lifetime, of course he was scared. Kneeling down before him, Anne nodded.

“Yes, Mr. Irving. You’ve been very brave, of course I’ll sit with you.” Then she spared Gilbert a neutral look. “I believe he sprained his wrist in the fall.”

“I’m sorry son, that’s my fault for pushing you so hard. I’m awful glad I did, though.”

“Me too,” Paul murmured, hissing when Gilbert tugged a little at Paul’s fingers. According to his assessment, the bone seemed alright, but the muscle had been strained when Paul reached his hand out to catch his fall. The three sat in silence as Gilbert’s skilled hands bound the injury, only pausing every now and again to gauge Paul’s pain and to give Anne a loaded look.

“Go find Mrs. LaCroix and she’ll give you some ice to put on it. If it still hurts tonight, come wake me up and I’ll give you something for the pain. How does that sound?” Gilbert asked.

Paul’s tears had subsided, the binding helping ease the inflammation, and he nodded. Kicking himself out of the chair he gave both doctor and teacher a thankful hug, then scurried out of the room, leaving Anne and Gilbert waiting in the tense silence. Anne could not bring herself to look at him, worried if she did, she’d take back everything she said - and she meant it! Every word! Biting the inside of her cheek, she pushed back the part of her that ached for her to throw her arms around him and say Christine who?

“Will you let me clean and bandage your cuts?” he asked cautiously. Anne nodded her head, keeping her eyes locked on the sea outside the window. She could hear him rummaging through his doctor’s things again, pulling out the disinfectant and the gauze.

“And then will you let me explain myself?” he said. Anne opened her mouth to refuse him, but he rushed to capture the pause. “Please, just let me tell you the truth about Christine and then if you want to leave this place and forget you ever met me, I’ll understand. I won’t stop you, no matter how much it’ll kill me to see you go.”

“Isn’t this unprofessional, doctor?” she stated stiffly.

“Yes, very,” he agreed, pressing a cotton ball to her cut. Anne hissed, recoiling a little, but tightening her hands. “But it’s a special case. Will you hear me out?”

Anne should’ve wanted to say Absolutely not, you cretin, but really, she wanted answers. No amount of scorn or heartbreak was enough to mask her desire to know the truth.

“Alright,” Anne murmured. Gilbert, whose eyes had been fixed on bandaging her forehead, froze completely still. His breath shook as he took a deep inhale, and continued to work.

“There are some things I’m sure that you’ve noticed do not exactly add up about me. Why does my brother look completely different from me, when did I ever work as a teacher if I grew up in this house? They all have to do with Christine.”

Hearing her name made Anne’s throat close in, but if Gilbert noticed the tears filling her eyes, he said nothing. He simply allowed her to feel and listen as she might.

“When I was first approaching adulthood, my father had begun to take ill. It was the beginning of his very slow descent, but it also made him hyper aware of the responsibility that would befall me once he was gone. But to me, a very young man with dreams of his own, it just seemed like he was trying to control my life the same way he controlled the harbor’s finances. And because he was good with the harbor, I let him, thinking maybe he knew best, after all. I don’t think he meant to do it, but it was so much for him to take on.”

He gently took Anne’s arm, examining the small cuts for any tiny pieces of glass still remaining. His touch was gentle enough that Anne wondered if she could memorize how sweet it felt.

“I still believe that if we’d grown up in Avonlea like my mother wanted, we would’ve been happier,” he added with a taste of scorn. “While I was studying to go to medical school in the quiet corners of the house, my father was planning out every single detail of my future that would take place after he was gone.  One of those days, he pulled me into his office - this office - and told me each plan one by one. I was to take over the harbor as business executive, and I was marry the daughter of Joseph Stuart, creating an alliance between the Kingsport Harbor that would safeguard the PEI farms who sent out exports. Without maintaining that business relationship, the tariffs to Nova Scotia would certainly make it impossible for the PEI businesses to keep up financially.”

Anne remembered the days when she was first living at Green Gables, when Matthew had paced across the kitchen anxiously about the struggling Carmody port. If it had gone under like Matthew thought it would, where would that have left them?

“I refused.” Anne’s eyes shot up to his. “My father got to have his dreams - to fall in love and marry the woman he adored, to be a successful businessman to provide for his family, to have a son that would follow directly in his footsteps. But I had dreams of my own. I wanted to be a doctor, take care of the Glen and serve it faithfully. I wanted to find my own love, Anne, I wanted to find you . So I left home. I went to Queen’s Academy to get my teaching certificate, raised enough funds to go to college, and studied to be a doctor, just as I wanted.”

“Which school did you teach?” Anne asked quietly.

“A school in Bolingbroke, Nova Scotia - a rural town.”

A tear trickled down Anne’s cheek and she sniffled weakly.

“That’s where I was born,” she admitted. Gilbert smiled, wiping away the tear with a tender touch.

“I loved Bolingbroke, and I loved learning to be a doctor even more. I was able to win the Cooper Prize, with provided me the rest of the funds to make it through medical school. I knew that even if it disappointed my father, I had to follow my own ambitions. I told you that I graduated five years ago, and I did, but shortly after, my father’s illness took a turn for the worse and I had to adjust my plans.”

He took her hands and stared into her eyes straight on.

“My father wanted to know that I was going to be alright when he died, and when I looked at him on his deathbed, I knew that I couldn’t go against his wishes. He begged me to go through with the engagement with Christine, to run the harbor. So I agreed, and I’ve regretted it ever since, because I never wanted to be with Christine. I wanted to spend my life with someone who belonged in it. You, sweetheart, I only ever wanted you.”

Anne clutched Gilbert’s hands, the ice around her heart starting to melt, replaced with his adorative warmth.

“I spent a year on a steamer, getting to know the lives of the people who were using the harbor and how the tariffs worked on a personal and business level. That’s where I met Bash. I invited him to come back and be my business partner and to be my brother. He married Mary a few months later, and we’ve been living here as a family ever since. We’ve all only ever seen Christine a few times.”

“I suppose that leaves the story up to date,” Anne murmured. “I just wish you had told me all of that sooner, before I had to look her in the eyes and hear that she’s your betrothed.”

“There’s a little more,” he admitted, biting back a hopeful smile.

“I didn’t tell you because as soon as I knew you felt the same way about me, I begged Bash to find some loophole in the engagement, something that could keep the harbor safe - and thus the boys financially sound - but also let me finally propose to you the way it was intended. He couldn’t find anything-” Anne gave a barely audible whimper, lips tight together, “-but Christine did.” Anne blinked.

“What?”

“Sweetheart, Christine is pregnant. She’s in love herself, with a fellow name Andrew Dawson. I know the man, he works on one of the steamers that goes back and forth between the Glen and Kingsport. Her and I discussed it this evening during the party. Instead of her and I marrying now to cover up a potential defamation of her family’s name, I’m going to promote Andrew so that she might marry him. That is how her and I get to keep our right to love while protecting our family businesses. We ended the engagement a few hours ago.”

Anne’s mind was reeling. She clasped the arm of the chair to keep from toppling over, afraid that if she moved too quickly, everything from the last few minutes would vanish completely.

“And...you and I? What of us?” she asked in a strained voice.

“That’s your decision, Anne,” Gilbert assured gently. “But if you’ll let me, I will happily, eagerly, completely love you and make you my partner through life. You can write and teach if that’s what you want, and I’ll be a doctor, and we’ll have the boys, Bash and Mary, and only love and happiness to speak of. I’m tired of living on someone else’s agenda.”

Completely bandaged, Anne reached out, placed her hands on Gilbert’s shoulder’s, and leaned her head into his chest. His arms came up around her, tracing star constellations into her back as she tried straighten out her mind. Aquarius. Orion. Cassiopeia.

“I’m still furious that you lied to me,” she choked out, unable to swallow back any more tears.

“I know.” His own voice was just as choked. “I’m sorry Anne, you don’t know how much.”

She snuck her arms up, tugging him closer until she was completely wrapped up in his warmth, face tucked perfectly into the space of his neck. His apology had come from a genuine place inside of him, the place that she’d met the day she saved him and had fallen more and more in love with as each day passed. Here and now, with that piece of his soul breathing the same air as hers, she knew that this was good, this was what Fate had intended for them.

Suddenly, she remembered that day on the Avonlea cliffside, staring out at the sea. The ocean, the wind, the stars and clouds had all called out to her “He’s there!” over and over like a prayer whispered on the lips of a mother. Who was she, then, to let this man go? Who was she to go against the wishes of her own heart?

“I still can’t believe you charged into an armed man for me. You put your life in danger again for me. You  came back for me,” he whispered into her hair.

Anne pulled back, peered into his eyes, and answered him the only way she knew how.

“Yes, my love, I did it for you.”

Gilbert’s face crumpled then, the words affecting him the same way they affected her when he first spoke them. He released a sob on a laugh and nodded, because he knew what she was really saying - Yes, my love, I forgive you.

“Will you stay then, Anne? Will you stay with me?” He’d never been so hopeful, so tender.

“Is that a formal proposal, Dr. Blythe?” she asked weakly, running the back of her fingers over the soft skin of his cheeks. He smiled, taking her beloved fingers and turning them so he could press a kiss to her knuckles.

“It is if you’d like it to be.”

Anne launched herself into his arms, sprinkling kisses on his face and hair and neck like dew descending on a field. Laughter exploded out of him in breathless bursts as he desperately tried to reciprocate each loving kiss. Finally, he caught her face and lifted it up to his, kissing her with a matchless adoration.

“How about this, Gil,” Anne suggested, tearing away so that only their noses and foreheads touched. “Let me go home to Avonlea, to part with it the way I should have. And then, when you’re ready, propose to me there, under the lacy blossoms of the White Way of Delight. We’ll walk along our beach, remember the day that brought us together. And when we’ve had our fill of memories, we’ll come home, here, to the Glen.”

Bliss filled Gilbert, radiating off of him in waves, and he took her back into is arms, sneaking in one last murmur before capturing her lips once more.

“As you wish it, Queen Anne.”

This was how it was supposed to be, they both thought at the same time - lips curved into smiles as they kissed, fears of the past gone and resolved forever, and the future as bright and full as the moon that bathed them in with its radiance.

Anne spent a week in Avonlea, boxing up all her belongings and answering hundreds of questions about the night of the charity ball. She began to recount the story so many times that more and more callers came to hear the tale of Anne and the madman.

“Oh no,” she’d say with enduring patience, “It’s a story of a doctor, a madman, and forty-three loyal orphan boys.”

“And you,” Mrs. Hiram Sloane interjected. Anne had bit her cheek to keep from smiling too wide.

“Yes, and me.”

It was that encounter that led Anne to decline taking future callers, instead spending that time in front of her typewriter. She’d come down for an hour or two every time her fingers began to cramp, curling up next to an indignant Marilla on the sofa and saying things like, “I do love you so, Marilla. You’ve done this hopeless harem scarem some good.”  

And Marilla’s hard exterior would melt away just long enough to reply, “You’ve done even more good for this cranky old maid.”  

But on this night, Anne had a pressing worry on her mind.

“You’re not terribly upset that I’m leaving Green Gables to go live in the Glen?”

Marilla sighed, eyes falling on the old chair Matthew used to sit in when he was alive. Though he was never very good at expressing his feelings, when it came to Anne, he never hesitated. He would understand if he was here now.

“I always knew you’d have to leave sometime. After all, you’re a college graduate with your entire life ahead of you. At some point, we all must go out and seek our place in this world. Mine was with you, and now yours is in the Glen.”

Anne caressed Marilla’s thin knuckles with a gentle thumb.

“You’ll come and visit, won’t you? You’ll absolutely love the children and the house is beautiful! It’s got the sea on one side and the forest on the other. And Gil has been speaking with the staff about allowing me to redo the gardens myself for days when I need to be with myself and the island. There’s about a dozen guest rooms for your choosing and Mary plans the most extravagant meals. And-”

“Anne, of course I’ll come and visit,” Marilla interrupted, not wanting Anne to spoil all the splendor of the Glen. “Do you suppose you’ll marry the doctor here or at the estate?”

“We haven’t talked about it much since he hasn’t made his formal question yet, but he’s coming on the evening train.” Anne lounged back and turned her face to the setting set dripping in through the window. “If I had my way, we’d get married first here. Maybe out in the valley of Green Gables or in the Blythe Apple Orchard. We’ll have our closest family and friends, the spirit of the island, and the boys of course, and be married under the purple dawn. Then, we can go back to the Glen and have the big wedding his business circle will be expecting. I don’t suppose I’ll mind being a bride twice.”

Before Anne could drift too far away into nuptial daydreams, Marilla took a sip of her tea.

“I’m surprised he hasn’t arrived yet. Do you suppose the train was delayed?”

“I can’t imagine why, though with how old the train master is getting, I wouldn’t be surprised. Maybe I’ll take a walk into town and see if he’s gotten himself lost or wrapped up in some sort of medical emergency.” Anne tugged on her heavy sweater, the cream knit perfect for blocking out the autumn chill. “On days like these, I’m so glad we live in a world where there are Octobers.”

As Marilla watched her brave, beautiful young daughter cross the threshold of Green Gables, she could not help but feel as though a chapter was ending and soon the book would be closed. A calm breath filled her lungs as she smiled softly to herself. Perhaps the sequel would prove just as beloved.

The island was at peak beauty, with every tree at its most vibrant orange and the White Way of Delight at its bloomiest. Silky smooth petals rained down with each dust of wind, catching in Anne’s auburn hair like snowflakes. She was content to walk along this beloved road, remembering all the wonderful times she’d had here, and all of the ones yet to come. She was lost in thought, mind trailing alongside her in the shadows and trees, when a study gentleman appeared at the end of the Avenue.

The sight of Anne ambling happily along the road knocked the breath from him, making him pause to admire how lovely she was among all the warm colors of the autumn sunset. A stiff breeze carried her gaze to him, and the ethereal picture was broken, leaving Anne and only Anne.

The queen dryad herself seemed to be drinking in every sweet detail of him - how fit he looked in his suspenders, the soft curls of his hair that she positively adored, and the sunny grin on his face that rivaled any smile she’d ever witness. She squealed and ran forward toward him, easily swept up in his waiting arms. He lifted her, holding her up and above him so that he might admire her. It wasn’t much unlike they were the day she saved him and every day since.

“I’m so glad you made it!” she cried as he lowered her back onto the red roads.

“I wouldn’t miss such a wonderful day with you for the world. Not when I have such an important question to ask.”  

“And what might that be, doctor?” she said lowly.

The whole Island held its baited breath as the doctor knelt down upon his knee, offered his love a small box containing a band of pearls, and offered himself to her. The trees stopped swaying, the birds paused their song, the breeze stood still. Then, with tears that dripped down the sides of her face and into the soil, Anne accepted and the Island rejoiced. The doctor took his betrothed into his arms and pulled her close. His kisses tasted like tears and cinnamon, hers of the sun.

That night, celebration rang out all through Green Gables. In the morning, everything would tilt on a different axis and new paths would form in the earth, ready to be traversed. But for now, Anne, Gilbert, Marilla, and Rachel Lynde sat around the dining room table, exchanging stories of every kind until their stomachs and hearts were full.

“I must say Doctor,” began Rachel in her know-all tone. “I’m now willing to admit that perhaps Anne was right raising her voice to me the day you washed up on our shore.”

“He didn’t wash up, I jumped in after him!” Anne corrected teasingly.

“Credit where credit is due, ma’am,” Gilbert agreed with a loyal smile to Anne.

“Well, I still think it’s ridiculous the amount of talk going around the Ladies Aid about I wish it had been my daughter to jump in the storm to save Dr. Blythe,” Marilla cut in, wiping the table with a damp rag. “Asking if the doctor has any brothers, and if Anne intended to marry the man or not.”

Anne and Gilbert shared an amused smile.

“Alas, Gil’s brother is married and I intend to marry the good doctor as soon as humanly possible.”

“We could go get the preacher this evening,” Gilbert suggested when Rachel’s back was turned away, brushing his lips against her cheek.

“Or you could wait through a full engagement period as is good and proper!” Rachel shot, sensing the loosening of propriety behind her.

“Oh, do try not to get all twisted up Rachel, and give these two some solitude!” Marilla scolded from the doorway. She practically dragged the grumbling lady away by her ear, leaving Anne and Gilbert alone in the peace of the house. Within moments, they were side by side, hand in hand.

“I can’t wait to tell Diana,” Anne mused happily, pressing Gilbert’s calloused fingertips against her lips.

“She wasn’t very thrilled with me the last we saw each other,” he confessed.

“Diana only wants what’s best for me. Her and I talked and we’re both in agreement.”

“In my favor, I hope.”

“Of course,” Anne laughed. She leaned her head on his shoulder, glancing down at the beautiful band of pearls on her ring finger. For once, the exchange wasn’t single sided. “I actually have something for you, if you’d like it.”

Gilbert leaned to press a kiss to her cheek, smiling against all of her starry freckles.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she laughed. His content eyes followed her as she crossed the room to the wooden secretary against the wall, from which she pulled a stack of papers tied together with straw ribbon on each side. She took a nervous breath, then handed him the ream of parchment. Gilbert accepted it anxiously, pushing aside the ribbon so he could make out the typewritten words across the front.

“Is this…?” he asked in awe.

“Our story, yes,” Anne finished for him, anxious for is reaction. “I was tired of telling it over and over, and thought it might make an interesting subject for a book. I’ve had such a block of creative words this past year, but something about these last months has opened me right up. Of course, the manuscript is only half completed. I’ve only been home a week! But I wanted you to read it so that you knew what you meant to me. Maybe this could help those Saint Anthony boys too.”

Gilbert had no words. He merely grazed his fingertips over the pages and admired how lovely the authorial name “Anne Shirley” appeared across the white title page.

“I can’t wait to read it, sweetheart, thank you,” he said truly. A pleased smile lit Anne into pure light and she laughed.

“You can read it on the train ride home tomorrow while I sleep! I’ve been up these past nights writing like a woman starved!”

They sat that way for some time, allowing the minutes to tick by on the clock until the clear sky overhead shone a sea full of stars. Green Gables kept them warm on this last night in the beloved home. Tomorrow would bring its own new adventures, of which Anne knew not their names. But the evening was for her and Gilbert alone.

And so, until their candles had burned out, the two recounted all of their present blessings, looking forward to the ones that they could count come morning.

#anne of green gables #anne with an e #shirbert #shirbert ff #shirbert fic #anne and gilbert #tessa writes #AHHH IT'S DONE

[blooming-atlas]

Proposal

Characters/Pairing: Deputy/John Seed

Plot: In which Rook decides to follow Sharky and Adelaide's advice to fuck John Seed. What she didn't expect were the feelings that came with bedding the youngest Seed brother...and his proposal.

Rated: M for mature themes and John being John.

Warnings: None.

A/N: I just wanted to write what would happen if my Deputy decided to listen to her two buds and mess around with John. I’m also none too happy with this fic because I rushed through it...

—- “Deputy, will you marry me?”

Deputy Katherine Mills stared at John Seed. As marriage proposals went, that one was fairly insulting, so much so that for a long moment she couldn’t even react. 

Things in Falls End had been quiet ever since she started sleeping with him, but this was a bit much. So he thought she’d marry him to join his brother’s homicidal death cult? Was she such a desperate case that he thought she’d jump at the chance? Worse, was he right?

Trembling inside, she didn’t know if she’d have the strength to turn him down, even knowing that he’d asked her for the worst possible reason. To give herself time, she turned to get two coffee mugs down from his cabinet, keeping her back turned to him while she concentrated on regulating her breathing, carefully easing her senses back onto an even keel. 

Turning one smoothing ceramic mug in her fingers, Katherine finally managed one normal word. “Why?” She needed to hear it from him. John’s skin had an unhealthy pale hue, and she knew that it hadn’t been easy for him to ask her. How could it be, when they were constantly at each other’s throats AND fucking in the privacy of his ranch? Goddamn her for listening to Sharky and Adelaide...

Like any good lawyer, he began by making his case. “I think we could have a good marriage. We’re both determined people; we understand the power of Wrath, the price of sin. We both have plans for Hope County, and despite our many differences we both want something,” he said smoothly, watching her in an effort to guess her reaction to his proposal, but it was like searching for expressions on a brick wall. “We want what’s best for Hope County. I believe that together you and I can give the people what they want: Peace.”

The coffee was finished. Katherine dumped the grounds, then poured the steaming deliciously scented brew into the mugs. Handing one to him, she leaned against the counter and blew gently on the coffee to cool it. 

“If we’re both trying to kill each other, why bother getting married?” she finally asked. “Why not just keep on the way we’ve been? Fighting and fucking?” 

John’s handsome face softened as he looked at that bright tumble of blonde hair that curled around her shoulders. 

“Katherine, you and I both know our affair can’t last forever. It ends when you kill me...or I kill you.”

Shivering, Katherine reminded herself that John Seed was a damn good lawyer. He knew how to defend and attack, and how to slide under a weak argument. 

No, she wasn’t a woman to sleep around with the enemy, because John was a monster who liked hurting people, but ever since he approached her with an offer to spend the night in his bed she had accepted without hesitation, with the naive belief that a few nights in bed with him would lessen his death-like grip on Holland Valley. Soften just enough for her to strike the final blow and boot him out of his territory for good. 

‘Man, that John really does have a hard-on for you, so I'm thinking you two should just fuck and, er, get it over with.’

‘John wants you really bad. Have you considered he's maybe in some kind of love with you? Yeah, he killed you two or three times already, but he's playing cat and mouse. Just saying, next time you find yourself alone with him, maybe a good long something or other could save our necks.’

It had sounded so easy coming from Sharky and Adelaide...

“It was good last night,” he said softly, his silken words winding themselves around her heart like a vine, tugging her close to him, bending her to his will. 

“And the night before that...and the night before that… Didn’t you like it?” He slid off the chair, coming closer to her, his dark velvet voice seducing her all over again. Standing over her, he calmly drank his coffee, watching all the while over the rim of the mug.

Katherine sipped the coffee too, holding it on her tongue so she could mull over his proposition. She could feel the heat climbing in her face, and she cursed her pale complexion that made even the faintest of blushes instantly apparent. “Yes, I liked it,” she finally admitted grudgingly.

John smiled. “I’d be a good husband. Faithful, hardworking, loyal, devoted only to you and you alone.” She glanced up quickly and saw the sincerity sparkling in the depths of his sea blue eyes, shining brightly as his mood lightened. 

“I’ve never been married before,” he continued, his clipped accent slowly as he thought out his words. “But I think I would like being married to you. Drinking coffee with you on rainy mornings and cold winter nights. It’s raining now; isn’t this nice?” He cupped the ball of her shoulder in his palm, his tattooed fingers kneading the delicate joint, then he deliberately slid his hand inside the collar of her robe, his fingers gliding under the edge of the t-shirt she was wearing to fondle the warm swelling curves of her breasts. “I could make you so happy.” 

Katherine held herself perfectly still, her body quivering inside from the run of pleasure. This bastard wasn’t being fair; how could she think clearly when her body was begging him to tend to her needs? Stubbornness and pride were admirable, but John was fast teaching her how little those things mattered whenever her body reacted to his touch. 

John watched her closely, seeing the soft haze of passion and desire cloud the cool sheen of her green eyes. Her blonde lashes drifted down, her lids growing heavier, and her breath was coming faster between her softly parted lips. 

His own heartbeat was picking up speed as he felt her breasts growing warm beneath his touch, the soft smell of her rising to his nostrils and telling him, without him even thinking of it, that she was his for the taking, before it was too late, he drew his hand back, but the need to touch her drove him to reach for her again, clasping her slim waist and pulling her to him. 

Her coffee sloshed dangerously close to the rim, and he rescued both of them, setting his own mug down, then taking hers and placing it beside the other one.Then she was securely in his arms, her small body nestled against his, adjusting herself without thought to the hard contours of his lean, muscular frame, and that adjustment made them both relax into the embrace.

“You see?” he muttered softly, burying his face against the softness of her hair. “We’re meant to be together. Joined together as man and wife.” Katherine laced her arms around his back, feeling the dampness of his shirt where he’d gotten from out of the shower. The fresh smell of water and cologne, luring her in a false sense of security, and she rubbed her nose into the hollow of his shoulder. 

What kind of marriage would she have with him, happy or strained? Would she be content with what he could give he, of would she slowly die inside? I could make you so happy.

At that moment, standing there in the kitchen with their arms locked around each other, she felt that she could ask nothing more of fate, but when it was all said and done, what would happen to the Resistance? 

There were too many people counting on her and the very thought of betraying her friends broke through the soft spell John had cast. Earl Whitehorse, Sharky, Adelaide, Jerome, Mary May, Grace... Those people were her family. She couldn’t do this. Slowly his big hands moved up her back, finding and stroking each separated rib and vertebra. 

“Say yes, my dear,” he cajoled huskily, the first endearment he’d ever used with her, and she melted inside, her resolve weakening. “I want you; I’ve always wanted you, ever since Joseph tasked me with bringing you to Atonement. You refused to bend and even now you continue to deny the will of The Father...you deny me. But I think...I think we can make this work. I know we can make this work. Just say Yes and I’ll give you everything.”

Her face hidden in his shoulder, Katherine closed her green eyes in pain. When he spoke of Joseph, every word was a sword that cut into her heart. How could she ever be strong enough to live with the knowledge that she was considering accepting a marriage proposal from the enemy? How could she live knowing that if she said Yes she would be spitting in Whitehorse’s face? 

“I can’t.”

Abruptly his hands tightened on her, and she could feel him tensing against her body. “What did you say?” A harsh note, barely revealed, told her how much her refusal angered him. She quickly slipped out from his arms and shook her head, eyes glinting with tears as she tried to put some distance between them. 

“I’m saying no,” she said calmly. “I’m saying no to you because what you're proposing is a fantasy that will never happen.”

John swallowed hard. The line of his shoulders was rigid with anger. “Deputy, I never thought you’d do this,” he said, his voice harshly controlled. “I offer you an olive branch and you reject it like the Wrathful whore you are--” The sharp sound of her palm on his cheek echoed throughout the kitchen. John’s cheek stung and two stared each other, breathing hard as they struggled to control the rage that threatened to consume them both. 

"No."

“Get out,” John snarled. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

Katherine brushed past him and quietly left the kitchen. The front door slamming shut behind her.

I’m sorry.

#ch; deputy katherine #far cry 5 fanfiction #far cry deputy #far cry 5 rook #deputy x john seed #john seed x rook #i really need to redo this at some point because i rushed through it #but yeah #my deputy is stubborn

[orionrealtor]

Exploring the Charm of LID Green Valley 2 Plots in Sector 6, Sohna: A Paradise in Gurgaon's Lap

Discover the epitome of modern living with LID Green Valley 2 Plots nestled in the heart of Sector 6, Sohna, Gurgaon. Aspiring homeowners seeking a blend of luxury, tranquility, and connectivity find their haven in this meticulously planned residential enclave by Lion Infra Developer.

Spanning unit sizes ranging from 125 to 155 square yards, these DDJAY plots present an unparalleled opportunity to build your dream abode amidst nature's embrace. Imagine waking up to the melodious chirping of birds and the serene backdrop of lush greenery right outside your doorstep.

The allure of Lion Green Valley Plots lies not only in its scenic beauty but also in its strategic location. Sohna, known for its rapid urbanization and burgeoning infrastructure, offers a perfect blend of urban conveniences and natural splendor. Residents can relish the tranquility of suburban life while enjoying seamless connectivity to Gurgaon and other major hubs.

Whether you envision a cozy retreat for your family or a lavish villa adorned with modern amenities, these plots provide the canvas for your imagination to soar. With ample space to design your ideal home, you can personalize every aspect to reflect your lifestyle and preferences.

LID Green Valley 2 Plots in Sector 6, Sohna, stand as a testament to Lion Infra Developer's commitment to excellence in real estate. Meticulously planned layouts, landscaped gardens, and thoughtfully curated amenities ensure a life of utmost comfort and luxury for residents.

Investing in DDJAY Plots in Sohna, Gurgaon, not only promises a rewarding lifestyle but also serves as a prudent financial decision. The burgeoning demand for residential properties in this rapidly developing region ensures promising returns on investment, making it an attractive proposition for homebuyers and investors alike.

In conclusion, Lion Infra Developer's Green Valley 2 Plots offer a rare opportunity to own a slice of paradise in the bustling city of Gurgaon. With its idyllic setting, premium amenities, and excellent connectivity, these plots epitomize the perfect blend of luxury, comfort, and convenience. Don't miss your chance to be a part of this exclusive residential enclave and embark on a journey of luxury living in the lap of nature.

Visit: https://www.orionrealtors.com/lion-green-valley-2-in-sohna.html

#plots in sohna #Green valley 2 plots sohna #Lid Plots Sector 6 Sohna #DDJAy Plots in Sohna Gurgaon

[drewebowden66]

Outlandish Concrete Dream Homes In Outlandish Settings

These outlandish concrete dream homes are set in equally outlandish settings, completely secluded as though settled on some alien planet. Designed by Shanghai and Mumbai based architect and architectural photographer Amey Kandalgaonkar, these futuristic conceptual homes are the stuff of wild imagination. We kick off the creations with a Mars crater-like dwelling on planet Earth for tech mogul Elon Musk, before moving on to a U-shaped brutalist house, a twisted desert snake house, a Madain Saleh inspired home built into a colossal boulder, a narrow concrete container house, a riverside abode with miles of exterior walkways elevated through nature, and finally finish with an imposing jenga stack of volumes in a place of blissful zen.

First, our featured designer imagines a new house for business magnate Elon Musk. The design of this new house was sparked when Elon was on his house selling spree back in May.

The extraordinary home beds down inside a colossal crater in the desert, which if not for the sporadic greenery would pass for a plot on Mars. The roof of the home resembles a great concrete ‘lid’ slid to the side of the crater, or a spacecraft that has caused the crater upon impact of the red planet surface.

A round pool and circular conversation pit echoes the ‘hole’ in the rounded roof structure, where tall mature cactuses push through. A set of curved steps go down into the pool, looking like permanent ripples across the body of water.

The alien spacecraft-like structure appears to teeter on the raised crust of Earth, overhanging the rugged landscape.

Tesla’s bulletproof electric Cybertruck navigates the off-road terrain.

Our next outlandish dream home has a U-shaped brutalist house exterior that wraps around a cliff, before bedding into the lower rock formation.

Nature provides the playground for an extreme sport loving homeowner.

The precipice overlooks an outdoor swimming pool and sundeck, which are revealed through a cut out in the house’s sweeping roof.

The rockface plays an integral part in the home interior, pushing up past a wide concrete staircase. Sunlight leaks through the chinks.

This amazing concrete house twists like a writhing desert snake.

The flatter parts of the contorted structure are utilised for a pool deck, sundecks and outdoor living spaces, whilst slopes feature colossal cutaways that bring sunlight to connective staircases.

The sides of the concrete house opens up to the outdoors, building links with exterior entertaining areas and with the majestic landscape.

Inside of the home, we can see the same raw industrial styling as the home exterior, with minimalist decor. Clear frameless glass balustrades edge the outdoor lounge, bar and decks so as not to take away from the building’s smooth composition.

Cantilevered curves dramatically overhang the uneven rock.

Structural supports rise between the gaps.

This project was inspired by the Madain Saleh rock cut architecture in Saudi Arabia. “There is a huge amount of architectural heritage laid out for us by past builders” reflects Amey. “Considering the visual complexity of the rocks at Madain Saleh, it was imperative to use simple planes and cubes in order to achieve a visual balance.”

“I tried to keep its visual impact from eye level as minimum as possible and only when observed from a bird’s eye, the real extent of the intervention is revealed” explains the designer.

Lengthy volumes tunnel through the colossal boulder, redefining a natural phenomenon.

There are two swimming pools on the property, one of which juts out from the cliff face as a glass cuboid to suspend swimmers high above the ground.

The linear concrete elements slice uncompromisingly into the rippling rock.

Long and narrow, this concrete container house nestles into a rocky valley, heading out to sea.

The ends of the concrete containers open up to the shoreline, directed toward different viewing angles of the beach and ocean.

At ground level, a terrace is built around the topaz waters of a pool, which mirrors the wider blue tide.

Cutaways in the sides of the concrete cuboids connect interior rooms with outdoor living spaces.

Flat roofs afford terraces over every level of the house, where white modern outdoor chairs lightly furnish grey slabs.

A massive staircase descends through the rock base, trailing all the way to the water’s edge.

The clean lines of modern architecture and stacked natural rock challenge one another.

Cantilevered decks, exterior walkways, and gravity defying nature trails shape an astonishing sprawling property over a wild riverside.

Metal piers stretch for miles along a steep rocky riverbank, bending in harmony with nature’s own undulations.

An ancient forest grows a fairytale backdrop behind the contemporary construction.

The upper walkway forms a continuous nature trail through the top floor of the house, threading though the shade of interior spaces and looping out to touch the trees. Domestic trees grow from enclosed terraces around the multilevel composition.

A horseshoe shaped walkway to the front of the house takes the homeowner on a stroll right out over the water.

Our final modern concrete dream home hides away in a zen green clearing by a gently meandering river.

Linear blocks contrast with the softness of the natural environment.

Towering windows climb an aspirational double height master bedroom, and an equally impressive living room.

Each part of the build is directed to absorb a different aspect of the surrounding landscape.

The approach to the property enters deep into the heart of the house.

Recommended Reading:  50 Stunning Modern Home Exterior Designs That Have Awesome Facades

The post Outlandish Concrete Dream Homes In Outlandish Settings first appeared on Interior Design Ideas.

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[artist-x-j-roman-cain]

Joker’s Wild

My name is super-unknown so I will shoot for the dome Aim through the window pane; leave two frames blown I am not Strange. But I will not change tones Proclaim Roman Reigns in any home Entertain through tomes Enter veins then splinter brains Highest on this sinner plane Center plain or inner sane? No. A soul so cold not even So Co Could help warm; dealt thorns Some have sworn tales, yelling “He’s loco!” “Si y yo soy el lobo feroz” Ferocious flows; ojos rojo Toke and choke on top rank dodo Coca blows? Mi es cabron? Oh no! Blow Coca? Por dinero? Best go hoe! Yo soy Joe Schmoe? Asi-asi? Si puto derecho! Direct foes, “vete a la mierda, conos”! Artista X es el Rey de todos los Reyes Sooth-sayer and smooth player Granuja de platas de lengua Ladies spreading legs, begging me to say yes. Weigh less than many but don’t call me mini Not one to waste pennies Immobile blades, not choppin’ on 20’s Mobile stays paid; minutes got plenty No cash in the bank; gas tank close to empty Yet more retail sells in smells than Scentsy My girl is a fine dime that OG’s envy Eyes green, hairs red plus always wet and sticky Ever leaving; burning and hitting like a heathen But she keeps returning Even after pimping her out for earnings Yearning for touch; by lips or finger tips She’ll learn you quick; bi so no bias when she unzips She flips all day but still chills at night Herb Knight in hempen armor Helping get over bored again Charming prints, used to disarm alarms Prince Charmin to soft; armaments’ armed Minced off the first cut; rinsed off like shit stuck to shoes In truth, I like going overboard and harming Like Carmen, no one knows where to find me Moving timely; double check nobody’s behind me Grinding to shine even when it isn’t Vision remastered after seeing how biz went? To guzzle gents jizz for cents Rather stick a muzzle in my mouth Than ever be asked where my fizz went Dissident miscreant because of medicinal Treants Gorgon like stoning; after all spinach is full of nutrients Beautifully bent; fine line between genius and insanity Underhandedly taking the lead; never mistakenly Make me your nemesis; own worst enemy to y’all I am limitless Illogically break chronological fate with paradoxical Genisys Forget Quicksilver; Wells wished in inventing this Luxury Mercury? Have H.G. mad as a hatter for penning this In lieu of Carrol; songs full of apparel Only autos should be tuned Putting hair pulling bitches on alert Better be careful Have them pissing; scared to twist up fisticuffs Baring tools; afraid to get face to face But I’m very cool; only thing up my sleeve is an Ace Thumping with my trump; then use the same spade to bury fools Joker’s wild; and I’ve been told the same Smoker’s smile plus a laugh cold and insane Broken stiles; never hold a flame to gain change Opening Styles all about showing up the Game At the Helm with a death wish like I’m hunting a hearse DRAC is the realm’s realest; still instilling hurts Curt versus legends or virgins; using perverse verses to abuse With no aversion to cursing this rough draft also the final version Shaft tough? Yes, when driven by me Not black enough to say I’m the bad-dest “shut your mouth…”, you see Keep it juicy; not goosing Lucy Truthfully I’m a prick spelt with a capital D Biggest you’ll meet; and above average in meat No need for lies; I know I satisfy Don’t believe me honey then come and see Relieve your cunny, have you cum a sea Endless returns like it’s my company Charge your Chakra; currently cum for free Currency for free milk? Then you can go ahead and get stepping permanently Ash into your urn Every sentence further sentencing eternity Hurting disconcertingly Adverting attacks; not possible when concerning me Genuine article Smashing particles like the Hadron at CERN discerning Emcees Splitting atoms While batting back at’em; scat’em like a cat. Kill every vermin I see Shivering cowards While stylishly delivering streets sermons for fees River of power That is, a strong flow with undertow current; currently Amped up Have them clammed shut; in bomb shelters like the emergency Is national But it’s natural to run urgently when faced by the beast from the murky deep Heard of me? Or been hurt by me? Try me when unworthy and meet A brief defeat By these feet. So take a seat or be beat down vertically Post mortem surgery Quicker to dig six one by ones; bury you very dirtily Curtly asserting Your curtains but far from my encore that’s a certainty Unmercifully Murdering psyches with words alone. Spurring the weak To purr back meek Lying while trying this Lion; King of Zion. Tired of burping these Babies and toddlers Going crazy searching for grown talent; licking talons and fangs thirstily Unnerving these Kids; knowing their lids will get peeled. Villain killing purposely Have curs cursing me Speaking cursively, curbing cohorts. Quit if your nursing teats Hyperbole Not when measured in pen; sink non-thinkers with ink poisoning Vent venom vehemently; little girls and boys playing with alloys Should quit banging noise My thoughts and voice concise Eyes on the prize; ions spliced off and thrown at my enemy’s head Radically rendering your ending; lending the term walking dead Stocking meds by the O-z From North of the O.C. Only importing the best, from Valleys’ in Cali to Co-towns alley’s G-13 and Maui Wowie The Doctor’s in Get re-T.A.R.D.I.S.; needing starting? Got Diesel too if you need to rally Tally the score Weighed straight, bud and not shake with proper tear drops; plus, I don’t dilly dally True wild card; evolved in being involved in anything called sin My balls’ in court never Alcohol in blood no more; instead soar above but feet still on the floor Claws in the ground This is my town. Come down sounding hard and I will leave you scarred With the loss of your crown Scalpel scalping. And if the laws in the Mudd come around? Still won’t be found. Proper noun; capital Artist using absurdly sharp wit for getting capital Known for ripping sharks to bits Sparks will arc; marked by X then know next your neck Will be stretched regardless Of your guards. I'll march right through your gardens. Embrace mayday Because by melee I have been hardened Leave them marveling at my carvings which cause starving Hungry but not eating beef; these freaking vegans are retarded Believe it’s better to give than receive Seas get wetter from here; forever in gear Achieving whatever I can perceive Seize vets ahead of my years; too clever for peers Deceiving none, yet some sectors still don’t bet on me Sieges settled in letters; vendettas never feared Easing at leisure; proceeding on with no etcetera Seasons become bygone; seasoning legions of chickens so long live Cain, King of Weird Erecting a dynasty Weapon selection is free form daggers called forth from the Nether Injecting arsenic Martial arsenal; impartial to arson. Coolly pulling the lever Irreverent to me Intellectual elephant and elegantly eloquent. Resisting transistors Close circuit Verdict shows consequences for the inoffensive; tethered to weather through endeavors On attack like a shredder Chipper sure as this plot runs redder Splendor found in splinters Cheddar made grating big cheeses Donning black and green Stripping clubs; beating pussies together Surrendering before being engulfed in embers Hand over your tender or be berated by Poetry, mixed with soul of the street Wholly complete when competing against the elite Never miss a beat; a capella teller Fellas that think they can swell up; one hell of whale tail Shelling out pain on the jealous Overzealous never. Well prepared with an umbrella Real life, not a telenovela Jotting rotten embellishments; relishing propellers developing yellows Punks pissing themselves when warships need worshipping Blood, sweat and oil mix Until the ill contents become flammable And all the malcontents Bow out; knowing good and well I’ll damn a fool Or a damsel If you think you can lay hands on me; your delusions are fanciful Panty puller Revealing fraudulent broads; inflict wounds that will require some gauze from the gods At odds with society Believe working a desk is a probity And I’m a writer Some consider a prodigy My odyssey cementing my property Foundation laid in Don't play pretend; make fake men Or women Shed their linens. Hollering no apologies; now follow me Make a joke out of any lesser F-5 force like Lesnar. Why so serious? Uncrowned underground jester Bound to pound the pavement With your cranium; straining some with that statement One truth inevitable Julian sliced in way that was absolutely unforgettable Unintelligible Little bulls should quit being foolish before getting whipped cool and made edible Cannibal but not named Hannibal Mechanically distributing electrically compressed waves To enslave your ladies Into behaving like a cowgirl; riding this bull and craving these testicles Undressing tools Cunning tongue; expelling fantasies for sensational pull Lessons blessing illiterate fools Honeys’ dribbling from touch so much they create literal pools In Sin City I rule Will not pity the drooling class; passionately fashioning Jewels Fastening dull blades To this mental lathe to gain edge; allegedly dredging up the typical Satirical lyrics searing spirits Phantom fandoms abandoning idols idling when I crash tidally Spiritually binding Ritual sacrifice; decisively knifing as if practiced on the habitual Basis. Run races never. Pace to slow. Basics way below. Spacing pros with tasteful prose Also slaying joes Embracing complacency only stagnates; changing notes lead to growth Flaying bros even Must stay on toes or fade; daily dough made by not taking a doze I only dose With Mary. Quite contrary to hoes bickering about which nose I’ll be sniffed through Some into inducing rushes via sphincter Keep your stinker away Couldn’t be helped with a bleaching tincture Suffering puncturing For lunch bringing nothing but punch and knuckle sandwiches Damn bitches. My hands twitching, itching to do ditch digging for snitches with no steel brandished Have no advantages Loose leaf my canvases. Not afraid to get scandalous; know y’all cannot handle this Gargantuan tarantulas Manhandled like tea candles as I dismantle men easier than destroying a mandolin Banding in Only amplifies the likelihood of meeting a random end Ranting and rambling Gambling when I'm done that you won't be able to keep ambling Knock you out in your sandals when my spit hits like an Ambien Watch me trample them; sampled but never sampling Entranced with sin Dancing in and out after romance ends Lancing them then off to the stands again Slanted bantering Can offend but also bend inhibitions; renditions of wishful visions and being the one granting them Dammed if dim Stranded in damages; can't get cantering, this Cancer managing Standards that can spin Rabidly rapid; static shock and awe. Addict not dropping off. Elaborate pens Radically pin backstabbing bastards; infinitely outlasting Simultaneously lashing Latching on with a firm grasp. Grabbing and toe tagging then afterward bagging them Meet my jagged friend Egging on until calm is Gone with the Wind On to win That is, magic tactics Exacting backward grins as in upside-down frowns Should I explain that again Batting bad men with a racquet like it’s badminton The raconteur bracket designed for the rhymer in his prime; letterman jacket Personally fitted Custom colors; clique unaffiliated but true Paid dues for these suede shoes Ensue wrath, crossing paths with me. Be phased through. Displace you Vibrate at a rate that frequently frequencies disintegration Blazing you with phazers set to stun Yep son, better run because here I come to erase you Each and every angle will be tangled with Break both ankles Then add in the mad tendency to strangle Take your Angel and go Jangle out the last bit of blood. Lots of love for being painful. But just be thankful Only got your bank; sank like the Titanic. Hitting like an ice cold tank; you're a lukewarm row boat frozen exposing you're shameful Wordsmith, perfectly working an anvil Not a man to steal; but guarantee I can and will Drop your body in a landfill Stop talking, get to walking; gawking awkwardly At the oddity who stands steel Resolute in Will; if looks could kill Mine would; shooting villain’s long as I am still in Adrenaline pumping; dumping loads of shit. Here’s the damn deal Entrepreneur Grade A manure; never has there been a truer Entrees pure Bade losers farewell; after a push down the stairwell Never been surer Any assurances weren’t accounting for me and my allure Got your cure For being average; lock you in a fridge and drop you off a bridge. Got the top rung secure And I haven’t been on tour Demure nature? No. Bigger ego than Troy McClure Stopping simpletons, pop them like pimples Catching them in the temple; listen as the song of a fat minstrel ends Stenciling by pencil Lengthy dismissal brought about by drizzling In a million missiles These difficult insults leave individuals’ pissed; the gist is: their coined phrases aren’t worth a single nickel Series: X Sin-to-Mint Artist: Artist X (Justin Roman Cain)

#Justin Roman Cain #Cypher #Epic #Poetry #Street Poetry #Epic Poetry #Epic Cypher #Original Epic #Original Poetry #Original Cypher #X Sin-to-Mint #Wordsmith Alchemist #Neverending Cypher #Never Ending Cypher #Never-Ending Cypher #Pen Drop #Slayer of Gods #WAR Path #Strange Music #Writer seeking publish #writer for hire #Artist on Tumblr #Writer on Tumblr #Poet on Tumblr #WWE #the writing network #the writer speaks #the writing life #spilled ink #Artist X

[healthandfitnessrecipes-blog]

Here's How to Grow Horseradish

https://healthandfitnessrecipes.com/?p=9342

By Dr. Mercola

You can get a 6-ounce jar of extra hot, “feels like your hair is falling out” Atomic brand horseradish sauce on Amazon for $5.99. If you’re a horseradish lover, that might not be a problem, but can you imagine growing your own spicy horseradish roots to produce your own horseradish sauces, saving money and learning the tricks of this easy-to-propagate, fast-growing crop?

Horseradish tolerates nearly every climate, but generally requires full sun or part shade. Starting with “crowns” or roots acquired either by a generous gardening friend, the supermarket or nursery, these are best planted in the spring for harvesting in fall, winter and the following spring. For one household, three plants is usually all you need to rustle up some tantalizingly tasty heat for any number of dishes, or a simple spread for sandwiches.

Although it can be grown from seed, horseradish is usually propagated from a small root piece. With its botanical name Armoracia rusticana, horseradish roots may look a little like skinny parsnips or pale carrots with their tough, leathery skin. But one nick of your hoe on their brown skin reveals not just cream-colored flesh inside, but a nasal-burning sensation that tells you there’s something a little hotter going on.

Horseradish is usually made into a sauce that turns potatoes, sandwiches, eggs and roast beef — and that’s a very limited list — into a flavor sensation. Patricia Boudier, co-owner of Peaceful Valley Farm & Garden Supply, featured in the above video, explains her own experience with the spicy root:

“I grew up eating horseradish. We put it in our potatoes, we grated it on sandwiches and we made a cream sauce out of it. And if you like a wasabi rush, you need to grow some horseradish.”

The unique essence of horseradish is a pleasant addition to kimchi, fermented mustard, flavorful summer rolls, sushi, and bread-and-butter pickles. Wasabi, however, is the Japanese version of a tasty heat in a thick green paste that many people crave, but few people are aware that much of the “wasabi” sold in the U.S. is actually horseradish. Morning Chores explains:

“True wasabi — as in the stuff made from the Wasabia Japonica root — is incredibly hard to find outside of Japan. The plant is also super picky about growing conditions. In fact, to grow it in most areas, you'd need to create the perfect artificial conditions and intensively care for plants for two years before harvesting.”1

The Key to the Kick: Two Healing Plant Chemicals

Preparing horseradish for your table isn’t much more difficult than shopping for it at the store, bringing it home and twisting off the lid. After harvesting it, simply peel the rough skin and grate the root straight up into whatever dish needs an extra punch of flavor. The key to the kick, it turns out, comes from powerful plant chemicals known as isothiocyanates.

Derived from the hydrolysis of glucosinolates, the sulfur-containing compounds found in horseradish (including glucosinate enzymes that are 10 times more powerful than those in broccoli2), are especially effective in fighting lung and esophageal cancers.3 These gastrointestinal and respiratory tract cancers can be diminished by these phytochemicals, according to Physicians Committee for Responsible Medicine.4 As one study5 notes, isothiocyanates are effective against cancer in three different ways:

They prevent carcinogens from activating

They counteract the toxic effects of activated carcinogens

They fast-track their removal from your body

The Linus Pauling Institute asserts that cruciferous vegetables such as horseradish contain a variety of glucosinolates, each of which forms a different isothiocyanate when hydrolyzed. That hydrolysis is catalyzed by a class of enzymes known as myrosinase (or β-thioglucosidase) which forms several breakdown compounds, including indoles, thiocyanates and isothiocyanates.6

In addition, whether you eat them or are exposed to them in the environment, antioxidant sulforaphane increases enzymes in your liver that help destroy cancer-causing chemicals. It’s even been called one of the most powerful anticarcinogens found in food.7 Other areas the compounds in horseradish have been known to be effective against include skin blemishes, gallbladder problems, respiratory problems, headaches, asthma, sciatic nerve pain and more.

Horseradish to Eat for Fall and Winter Heat

Without adding a lot of adjectives, you could simply say growing horseradish is easy. The root is not only what you eat; it’s also what you plant, and they grow deep into the soil like a carrot. Here’s one tip that helps explain just how easy: If you don’t harvest the entire root, you’ll end up with another horseradish plant the following year, as it easily propagates on its own.

In fact, it’s so easy you may need to learn a few tricks to keep it from cropping up in flower beds next to it. Leaving a one-and-a-half-foot buffer zone between your horseradish and other plants may be wise; if the rhizomes start popping up in the buffer zone, dig them up and share them with heat-loving friends and neighbors, or start another plant bed.

While you can plant horseradish roots directly into the ground, to prevent the horseradish invasion and make harvesting easier as well, you can use large pots or half-size barrels that hold a minimum of 15 gallons.

Horseradish is very cold hardy; some sources says it grows best in gardening zones 4 through 7, which encompasses roughly the upper three-quarters of the U.S., but others maintain zones 3 and 9 work well, too. The good news is that if you’re looking for heat, horseradish thrives where hard freezes are common, as it forces the plants into dormancy. It also becomes more pungent where long, cool growing seasons are the norm, particularly in the fall. Mother Earth News offers a few more tips:

“Growing horseradish is easy in Zones 4 to 7, where established horseradish plants require little care… (It) grows best in moist, silty soils like those found in river bottomland, but enriched clay or sandy loam with a near neutral pH is acceptable. Situate horseradish roots diagonally in the soil, with the slanted end down and the flat end up.”8

That said, the above video features Boudier’s tips on growing horseradish in gardening Zone 8, which covers a wide horizontal band across the Southern U.S., generally from South Carolina through middle Texas to narrower bands upward to Washington state. This zone’s first frost date is December 1, the last frost date is April 1, and temperatures rarely dip below 15 degrees Fahrenheit.

Propagating Horseradish: Tips and Tricks

Because these roots have a tendency to dry out after being harvested, you may want to soak yours in water for a few hours before planting. Fill your pot (or garden plot) with a high-quality potting soil. Place a single root into one pot with the crown at the top (where the leaves will emerge) as horseradish becomes quite large. Cover the root with about 5 inches of soil, and while you don’t want them to get waterlogged, keep them watered well until the plants are about 1 foot high. Don’t worry; they grow incredibly fast.

Boudier also recommends adding a high phosphorus-low nitrogen fertilizer (too much nitrogen may produce more leaves than roots) or booster blend to your soil will help augment the root system, but your own compost tea is a recipe that’s inexpensive and simple to make. In fact, you can make a compost tea out of the horseradish itself. It’s useful as a preventive fungicide that you can spray on fruits and other plants to prevent or treat damaging and unsightly diseases. Off the Grid News reports:

“Horseradish is a potent substance, as anyone who has eaten it can tell you. That spicy flavor indicates a potent cleanser that is an excellent way to prevent fungal infections and particularly, brown rot in apple trees. Process 1 cup of horseradish roots in a blender or food processor and mix with 2 cups of water. Let it sit for 24 hours and strain out the roots. Dilute this liquid with 2 quarts of water.

It is best to use the spray in the early morning or in the evening. Do not spray when it is too hot, or it may burn your plant’s leaves. Before trying any spray, you would be wise to test it on one leaf first. Observe the leaf 24 hours later to see if there was an adverse reaction. Only spray the part of the plant that is diseased. Protect yourself while spraying. Some of the ingredients may be irritating to your eyes, nose, or skin.”9

When you look at different types of horseradish varieties, the first thing you’ll likely notice about the generally long, narrow leaves is that they can vary. Older strains can be as wide as 10 inches across, while “Bohemian” (smooth-leaf) varieties originating in Czechoslovakia, such as Maliner Kren (crinkly), are usually what’s used when the plant is grown commercially, and these leaves are narrower.

The Virginia Cooperative Extension10 explains that as horseradish plants grow to be 2 to 3 feet tall, they develop numerous leaves. Varieties can also be identified by the smoothness (i.e., the Big Top Western strain, created at the University of Illinois11), “frilliness,” or the crinkly texture (Common, Swiss and Sass varieties) of the leaves.

Similar to planting other herbs and vegetables, growing horseradish in the same place year after year can deplete the soil of beneficial organic matter and minerals. To remedy that, applying compost every fall is recommended. Beyond that, when you’re ready to harvest, be careful to remove all the roots when harvesting, snip off the green leaves, wash the soil off and place them in a baggie in your refrigerator’s crisper drawer.

Protecting Horseradish Naturally, and Why Growing Your Own Is Best

Like other plants, organically grown horseradish is not immune to disease and/or pests, but there are natural ways to both prevent most problems and solve them should they occur. Morning Chores12 and Off the Grid News13 tackle a few of the most common problems with growing crucifers, including horseradish, offering practical and natural ways to deal with each:

• Imported cabbage moth larva — Watch for small white moths with tiny black dots on their wings, as they lay eggs that become this leaf-destroying pest. The best way to deal with these caterpillars is to pick them off by hand or place them in a bowl of soapy water.

• Imported crucifer weevil — Metallic blue beetles with pointy faces produce larvae that bore into horseradish roots. You can use diatomaceous earth, which is a form of algae. It has sharp, microscopic edges that cut into insect bodies if ingested, destroying them from the inside out, but without being harmful to mammals.

• White rust — This looks like white pustules on the plant, mostly due to being waterlogged or planted too closely together. Bacterial leaf spot starts as dark green spots that eventually turn brown. Sprayed liberally with a homemade fungicide made from horseradish itself may be an effective natural, DIY remedy:

“Process one cup of horseradish roots in a blender or food processor and mix with two cups of water. Let it sit for 24 hours and strain out the roots. Dilute this liquid with 2 quarts of water.”14

The ease of growing horseradish makes it more fun than a chore, but there are other factors that may make the prospect even more attractive. At the grocery store or supermarket, if you take a look at the labels of several commercially produced horseradish preparations, you may notice more than the root and a little water; in fact, you might find surprising — not to mention unwanted — ingredients.

For instance, according to the manufacturers’ labels, Rothschild’s15 contains soybean oil and corn syrup. So does Woebers Sandwich Pal.16 Heinz Premium17 has soybean oil, sugar and high fructose corn syrup in it, as does Inglehoffer Cream Style Horseradish,18 which also adds the preservative sodium benzoate, which one study reported to be “clastogenic, mutagenic and cytotoxic to human lymphocytes” and “significantly increased DNA damage.”19

Morrison’s Hot Horseradish Sauce contains titanium dioxide for color, but one study shows it induces both DNA damage and genetic instability.20

So how easy is it to grow horseradish, someone may wonder? Boudier’s answer is succinct as well as encouraging: “Make sure it’s free of weeds, water it when it dries out, let it grow all summer and harvest it after the first frost.”

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[jakehglover]

Here's How to Grow Horseradish

By Dr. Mercola

You can get a 6-ounce jar of extra hot, “feels like your hair is falling out” Atomic brand horseradish sauce on Amazon for $5.99. If you’re a horseradish lover, that might not be a problem, but can you imagine growing your own spicy horseradish roots to produce your own horseradish sauces, saving money and learning the tricks of this easy-to-propagate, fast-growing crop?

Horseradish tolerates nearly every climate, but generally requires full sun or part shade. Starting with “crowns” or roots acquired either by a generous gardening friend, the supermarket or nursery, these are best planted in the spring for harvesting in fall, winter and the following spring. For one household, three plants is usually all you need to rustle up some tantalizingly tasty heat for any number of dishes, or a simple spread for sandwiches.

Although it can be grown from seed, horseradish is usually propagated from a small root piece. With its botanical name Armoracia rusticana, horseradish roots may look a little like skinny parsnips or pale carrots with their tough, leathery skin. But one nick of your hoe on their brown skin reveals not just cream-colored flesh inside, but a nasal-burning sensation that tells you there’s something a little hotter going on.

Horseradish is usually made into a sauce that turns potatoes, sandwiches, eggs and roast beef — and that’s a very limited list — into a flavor sensation. Patricia Boudier, co-owner of Peaceful Valley Farm & Garden Supply, featured in the above video, explains her own experience with the spicy root:

“I grew up eating horseradish. We put it in our potatoes, we grated it on sandwiches and we made a cream sauce out of it. And if you like a wasabi rush, you need to grow some horseradish.”

The unique essence of horseradish is a pleasant addition to kimchi, fermented mustard, flavorful summer rolls, sushi, and bread-and-butter pickles. Wasabi, however, is the Japanese version of a tasty heat in a thick green paste that many people crave, but few people are aware that much of the “wasabi” sold in the U.S. is actually horseradish. Morning Chores explains:

“True wasabi — as in the stuff made from the Wasabia Japonica root — is incredibly hard to find outside of Japan. The plant is also super picky about growing conditions. In fact, to grow it in most areas, you'd need to create the perfect artificial conditions and intensively care for plants for two years before harvesting.”1

The Key to the Kick: Two Healing Plant Chemicals

Preparing horseradish for your table isn’t much more difficult than shopping for it at the store, bringing it home and twisting off the lid. After harvesting it, simply peel the rough skin and grate the root straight up into whatever dish needs an extra punch of flavor. The key to the kick, it turns out, comes from powerful plant chemicals known as isothiocyanates.

Derived from the hydrolysis of glucosinolates, the sulfur-containing compounds found in horseradish (including glucosinate enzymes that are 10 times more powerful than those in broccoli2), are especially effective in fighting lung and esophageal cancers.3 These gastrointestinal and respiratory tract cancers can be diminished by these phytochemicals, according to Physicians Committee for Responsible Medicine.4 As one study5 notes, isothiocyanates are effective against cancer in three different ways:

They prevent carcinogens from activating

They counteract the toxic effects of activated carcinogens

They fast-track their removal from your body

The Linus Pauling Institute asserts that cruciferous vegetables such as horseradish contain a variety of glucosinolates, each of which forms a different isothiocyanate when hydrolyzed. That hydrolysis is catalyzed by a class of enzymes known as myrosinase (or β-thioglucosidase) which forms several breakdown compounds, including indoles, thiocyanates and isothiocyanates.6

In addition, whether you eat them or are exposed to them in the environment, antioxidant sulforaphane increases enzymes in your liver that help destroy cancer-causing chemicals. It’s even been called one of the most powerful anticarcinogens found in food.7 Other areas the compounds in horseradish have been known to be effective against include skin blemishes, gallbladder problems, respiratory problems, headaches, asthma, sciatic nerve pain and more.

Horseradish to Eat for Fall and Winter Heat

Without adding a lot of adjectives, you could simply say growing horseradish is easy. The root is not only what you eat; it’s also what you plant, and they grow deep into the soil like a carrot. Here’s one tip that helps explain just how easy: If you don’t harvest the entire root, you’ll end up with another horseradish plant the following year, as it easily propagates on its own.

In fact, it’s so easy you may need to learn a few tricks to keep it from cropping up in flower beds next to it. Leaving a one-and-a-half-foot buffer zone between your horseradish and other plants may be wise; if the rhizomes start popping up in the buffer zone, dig them up and share them with heat-loving friends and neighbors, or start another plant bed.

While you can plant horseradish roots directly into the ground, to prevent the horseradish invasion and make harvesting easier as well, you can use large pots or half-size barrels that hold a minimum of 15 gallons.

Horseradish is very cold hardy; some sources says it grows best in gardening zones 4 through 7, which encompasses roughly the upper three-quarters of the U.S., but others maintain zones 3 and 9 work well, too. The good news is that if you’re looking for heat, horseradish thrives where hard freezes are common, as it forces the plants into dormancy. It also becomes more pungent where long, cool growing seasons are the norm, particularly in the fall. Mother Earth News offers a few more tips:

“Growing horseradish is easy in Zones 4 to 7, where established horseradish plants require little care… (It) grows best in moist, silty soils like those found in river bottomland, but enriched clay or sandy loam with a near neutral pH is acceptable. Situate horseradish roots diagonally in the soil, with the slanted end down and the flat end up.”8

That said, the above video features Boudier’s tips on growing horseradish in gardening Zone 8, which covers a wide horizontal band across the Southern U.S., generally from South Carolina through middle Texas to narrower bands upward to Washington state. This zone’s first frost date is December 1, the last frost date is April 1, and temperatures rarely dip below 15 degrees Fahrenheit.

Propagating Horseradish: Tips and Tricks

Because these roots have a tendency to dry out after being harvested, you may want to soak yours in water for a few hours before planting. Fill your pot (or garden plot) with a high-quality potting soil. Place a single root into one pot with the crown at the top (where the leaves will emerge) as horseradish becomes quite large. Cover the root with about 5 inches of soil, and while you don’t want them to get waterlogged, keep them watered well until the plants are about 1 foot high. Don’t worry; they grow incredibly fast.

Boudier also recommends adding a high phosphorus-low nitrogen fertilizer (too much nitrogen may produce more leaves than roots) or booster blend to your soil will help augment the root system, but your own compost tea is a recipe that’s inexpensive and simple to make. In fact, you can make a compost tea out of the horseradish itself. It’s useful as a preventive fungicide that you can spray on fruits and other plants to prevent or treat damaging and unsightly diseases. Off the Grid News reports:

“Horseradish is a potent substance, as anyone who has eaten it can tell you. That spicy flavor indicates a potent cleanser that is an excellent way to prevent fungal infections and particularly, brown rot in apple trees. Process 1 cup of horseradish roots in a blender or food processor and mix with 2 cups of water. Let it sit for 24 hours and strain out the roots. Dilute this liquid with 2 quarts of water.

It is best to use the spray in the early morning or in the evening. Do not spray when it is too hot, or it may burn your plant’s leaves. Before trying any spray, you would be wise to test it on one leaf first. Observe the leaf 24 hours later to see if there was an adverse reaction. Only spray the part of the plant that is diseased. Protect yourself while spraying. Some of the ingredients may be irritating to your eyes, nose, or skin.”9

When you look at different types of horseradish varieties, the first thing you’ll likely notice about the generally long, narrow leaves is that they can vary. Older strains can be as wide as 10 inches across, while “Bohemian” (smooth-leaf) varieties originating in Czechoslovakia, such as Maliner Kren (crinkly), are usually what’s used when the plant is grown commercially, and these leaves are narrower.

The Virginia Cooperative Extension10 explains that as horseradish plants grow to be 2 to 3 feet tall, they develop numerous leaves. Varieties can also be identified by the smoothness (i.e., the Big Top Western strain, created at the University of Illinois11), “frilliness,” or the crinkly texture (Common, Swiss and Sass varieties) of the leaves.

Similar to planting other herbs and vegetables, growing horseradish in the same place year after year can deplete the soil of beneficial organic matter and minerals. To remedy that, applying compost every fall is recommended. Beyond that, when you’re ready to harvest, be careful to remove all the roots when harvesting, snip off the green leaves, wash the soil off and place them in a baggie in your refrigerator’s crisper drawer.

Protecting Horseradish Naturally, and Why Growing Your Own Is Best

Like other plants, organically grown horseradish is not immune to disease and/or pests, but there are natural ways to both prevent most problems and solve them should they occur. Morning Chores12 and Off the Grid News13 tackle a few of the most common problems with growing crucifers, including horseradish, offering practical and natural ways to deal with each:

• Imported cabbage moth larva — Watch for small white moths with tiny black dots on their wings, as they lay eggs that become this leaf-destroying pest. The best way to deal with these caterpillars is to pick them off by hand or place them in a bowl of soapy water.

• Imported crucifer weevil — Metallic blue beetles with pointy faces produce larvae that bore into horseradish roots. You can use diatomaceous earth, which is a form of algae. It has sharp, microscopic edges that cut into insect bodies if ingested, destroying them from the inside out, but without being harmful to mammals.

• White rust — This looks like white pustules on the plant, mostly due to being waterlogged or planted too closely together. Bacterial leaf spot starts as dark green spots that eventually turn brown. Sprayed liberally with a homemade fungicide made from horseradish itself may be an effective natural, DIY remedy:

“Process one cup of horseradish roots in a blender or food processor and mix with two cups of water. Let it sit for 24 hours and strain out the roots. Dilute this liquid with 2 quarts of water.”14

The ease of growing horseradish makes it more fun than a chore, but there are other factors that may make the prospect even more attractive. At the grocery store or supermarket, if you take a look at the labels of several commercially produced horseradish preparations, you may notice more than the root and a little water; in fact, you might find surprising — not to mention unwanted — ingredients.

For instance, according to the manufacturers’ labels, Rothschild’s15 contains soybean oil and corn syrup. So does Woebers Sandwich Pal.16 Heinz Premium17 has soybean oil, sugar and high fructose corn syrup in it, as does Inglehoffer Cream Style Horseradish,18 which also adds the preservative sodium benzoate, which one study reported to be “clastogenic, mutagenic and cytotoxic to human lymphocytes” and “significantly increased DNA damage.”19

Morrison’s Hot Horseradish Sauce contains titanium dioxide for color, but one study shows it induces both DNA damage and genetic instability.20

So how easy is it to grow horseradish, someone may wonder? Boudier’s answer is succinct as well as encouraging: “Make sure it’s free of weeds, water it when it dries out, let it grow all summer and harvest it after the first frost.”

from HealthyLife via Jake Glover on Inoreader http://articles.mercola.com/sites/articles/archive/2018/08/17/growing-horseradish.aspx

[of-mice-and-dungeons-blog]

The Master’s Vault

The first campaign in what I hope to be many was aptly named ‘The Master’s Vault’, in reference to the main goal of our quest. Our party consists of a brash and somewhat arrogant halfing monk named Scrum, a wood elf ranger named Dontos, who has made first contact with civilization in his 100 year life, and myself, Alvar, a reclusive human druid who removed himself from society to live in the woods.

The first thing to consider in any dungeons and dragons campaign is simply; where and why? Where have our characters met, and for what reason are they traveling together? If the all the players at the table wish to role play their character seriously, there needs to be a reasonable explanation for their gathering, lest arguments break out over who wishes to do what. All to often I have began campaigns in a generic tavern or inn, only to have a series of ideologically opposed traveling mercenaries at each others throats before the DM has even had an opportunity to introduce a plot. The Master’s Vault tackles this issue well by placing the group of strangers together at the manor house of Elaria, an elven survivalist and combat instructor. Though each character will have their own reasons for attending her academy, the players will be able to forgo the need to justify their mistrust, instead being told that they have spent the past six months together training as peers. Though this may not appeal too more veteran players who would prefer to develop organic relationships with their party, it helps to make the game accessible to newer players, or people who struggle to role play in general.

The first challenge thrown at us was a simple warm up exercise in the basement of Elaria’s mansion. Six, giant rats had made their home in the store room, and we were responsible for getting rid of them. Before we could reach the rats however, we were faced with a locked door. We battered through the door with assistance of the DM controlled Kholgrim (a generic dwarf fighter), not thinking to check for traps. Immediately, poor Scrum had his lungs filled with a noxious, poison gas, much to our amusement. This did not stop us from making short work of the rats, and we quickly returned to our tutor, who congratulated us on a job well done.

Now that our ‘tutorial’ fight was over, we were ready to go out into the world. We graduated from the school, and headed over into the centre of town in hopes we would find some quest or adventure, as we were still uncertain how the titular vault would factor into the story. We were told that after three days had passed, a sobbing gnome woman was approaching us, bearing unfortunate news. As it happened, our master Elaria had died, and named us her heirs. We proceeded to follow the gnome, curious to see what was in store for us. As it happened, Elaria’s will contained instructions on how to enter her treasure vault and claim our inheritance. This plot hook was enticing enough that the party all immediately agreed to search for the components necessary to open the vault, whilst open ended enough to create the feeling of freedom. That is to say, no one felt that the DM was forcing the story upon us. Though rather simplistic, it was well done and interesting enough for a first quest.

The vault door required a set of nine tiles to open, spread across the land in groups of three. Fortunately, none of the tiles were too far from each other, and the whole journey took us almost a week in game, and only three sessions ranging between 2-4 hours each.

The first stop on our journey was the grave of one of Elaria’s pupils, whose restless soul now guarded three of the tiles. Unfortunately, the handbook for this event specified a series of class based challenges to complete, that did not extend to the classes we were playing. I feel that the campaign would have benefited from more vague challenges that could be offered out to any class, though it was not difficult for the DM to simply improvise a task for us. That being said, we failed the task completely. In order to test our survival skills, the specter asked that our monk climb to the top of a tall tree in under a minute. Poor dice rolling instead led to Scrum struggling up the tree rather pathetically, drawing snide remarks from the spirit. Failing to do as we were asked, we tried diplomacy. The ghost was convinced by our fantastic role play (lucky rolls) and granted us the first three tiles. Oh, I forgot to mention, I was mauled into unconsciousness by a pack of wolves along the way. Typical.

Next, we traveled to a waterfall, which hid behind its rushing waters a medium sized cave. However, while attempting to climb into the cave, Kholgrim, the fearless dwarf, lost his footing and fell backwards onto the rocks, breaking his back. He fell into the river and was swept away, screaming for help. Though we tried to save him, the water was too strong and our dear friend was lost. Given the fact that he was never an actual player to begin with, the whole ordeal was rather amusing.

We were told the cave was home to a large spider, and soon discovered that a group of Kobolds made their home here too. After quickly dispatching the small lizardmen, we were confronted by the spider. Over 11ft in length, the spider filled a good portion of the cavern we were in. Having had our practice battles, we were now ready for a challenge. We threw our first series of attacks at the beast, all of us hitting our mark, something unprecedented in my experience playing D&D. The spider struck back, biting hard into Scrum, and dealing significant damage to him. One more round of well placed hits and the beast was dead. We retrieved the next three tiles and leveled up, which is always the most exciting part of the game.

Though over quickly and not all together challenging, the spider seemed like an appropriate first ‘boss’ for us to face, as it served as a good tool for our DM to measure our strength with.

The final stop on our journey lay on a plateau up the side of a small mountain. In order to reach the mountain however, we first had to navigate an enchanted valley, constantly muddling our minds and sense of direction. Within this magical mountain pass, we met a friendly wizard whose cart had broken down. After fixing his cart, we were rewarded with a small puzzle box with a large skull on the lid. Needless to say, after spending the better part of an hour cracking the code, we opened the box to discover evil living within. The lid flung open, and a great, green cloud flew out and killed the kindly wizard immediately. Oops. Once we had vanquished the evil spirit of disease, we claimed the magical ring from the box, buried the poor wizard and continued on our way. The canyon provided us with a solid hour of confusion before we were able to escape, and was a refreshing change of pace from combat.

Upon leaving the mysterious maze, we faced the most dangerous enemy yet; cliffs. Scrum and Dontos made their way to the top with ease, though I was not to be so lucky. Three times I lost my footing and slip, though on all occasions I was able to save myself from the full fall. Eventually we arrived at the top and claimed the next three pieces of the puzzle from the solitary dragonborn who lived there. He was a friendly chap, and he provided us with dinner and a place to sleep. The next morning, as we prepared to make our descent, Dontos explained to us that he believed he could survive the forty foot drop by executing a well timed combat role before he hit the ground. Despite telling him that he was a misguided ass, he leapt anyway. He did survive, though he snapped both of his legs. Our dragonborn host ran to his aid, but also fell down the cliff, breaking his back. Making our way down, Scrum and I were able to save both of them with a combination of medicine and magic.

With the nine tiles in hand, we returned to the manor house to claim our reward. Along the way we met an oafish bridge troll who demanded that we pay his toll. I felt the toll to be extortionate, and decided I would find another crossing. Before I could suggest this to the group, Scrum squared up to the troll, belted out some weak threats, before unleashing a torrent of fists against his portly body. In all honesty, the only thing that surprised me is that he landed three out of four hits. Dontos and I jumped to his aid, though over the course of the fight, Dontos landed only two blows, and I mysef landed none. In the end, it was basically a one on one between the biggest and smallest of men. For his arrogance, Scrum was brought to deaths door not once, but twice during the fight. The encounter challenged the party sufficiently, and had it not been for the healing of Dontos, we may have lost one of our own.

Finally we returned to Elaria’s manor and opened the vault, claiming our reward.

Overall Rating

New players 7/10.

Experienced players 5/10.

For a new player, it offers the chance to role play your character, and at least one challenging encounter. The story is simple and straight forward, and there is little room for intrigue, but that’s fine, as it can be quite daunting for someone without any experience in role playing games to be thrown into a complicated political mess or at the helm of an army. More veteran players may find the campaign a tad too simplistic, though inoffensive, as it does not challenge your ability to think laterally very much.

Spoilers beyond this point!

If you are a DM yourself, keep reading to see how the campaign ends, if you are a player and you feel like you might like to introduce this to a group of friends, stop here.

Upon opening the vault, a magical prerecorded message from Elaria explains that she was murdered by a cult of necromancers seeking the location of a dangerous artifact that she had hidden long ago. The vault contains a few magical items for the party, as well as the location of the artifact. She entrusts the party with this knowledge, and asks that you protect from the necromancers.

The campaign then ends with one final battle, as a necromancer follows you into the vault and summons four skeleton warriors to aid him. Though not a particularly difficult fight, it is a nice way to tie off the campaign.

Our DM decided to use the magical artifact as an overarching plot point for our characters. We shall continue to play through various campaigns, such as the the lost mines of Phandelver and the curse of Strahd, whilst we travel from land to land seeking the artifact described by Elaria. In this regard, the Master’s Vault serves as an excellent introductory campaign for newer players and more experienced players alike.

Thank you for reading my first post, the next campaign we play will be the Lost mines of Phandelvar, thought I shan’t have a review up any time soon.

#dungeons #and #dragons #dungeons and dragons #the master's vault