#BLH
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I want to put a disclaimer here; I am VERY MUCH AWARE that this isn't how mental health works in real life, and I in NO way mean to diminish the impact of IRL mental health struggles. I know there's no "Oh, wow, my mental inhibitions are suddenly not a factor" like in this case. It's purely a fictional scenario and how I've chosen to tell this particular story.
Anyway...
It is done.
Massive shout-out to @phlurrii, who was a HUGE help in putting his new look together! Many, many thanks to you, Phlurrs!! <3
Also, @puzzled-zebra and @aurasoulhikari, I was going to scrap that "it's been killing me" bit, but decided to reinsert it after your comments here. XD
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Furrystockypaws Autumn Spice
🐱 British Longhair
📸 Beautifully British
🎨 Chocolate Tortoiseshell Harlequin
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they're BABIES 🥺❤️
meet them on instagram: moonandpudding
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#babies#kittens#kitty cat#kitties#kitty#my cat#cute cats#black cats#voids#bsh#blh#sisters#ladies#siblings#two mimir
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Available BLH NY ( BY) Boy 5 Months Old Carrier Chocolate Lilac and Point . Mom. BLH AY 11 33 Purerace Angel Dad. BLH BY 11 Anton Von Brilotos . #cat #cats #chat #katze #britishlonghair #ny11 #by11 #blh #british (Spain) https://www.instagram.com/p/CltJiFhKaao/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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#happybirthday 🎂 und alles Liebe 😻 zum 3. #geburtstag Ihr kleinen Mäuse. Ein Glück könnt Ihr diesen auch zusammen bei uns daheim verbringen… das hätte ich vor wenigen Tagen nicht mehr geglaubt 🥲 #endegutallesgut Zur Feier des Tages gab‘s für Euch selbstgemachten #katzenkuchen mit Thunfisch… Zumindest bei Teddy kam es auch gut an 😋 #yammi P.S.: Für Charly gab‘s natürlich auch einen 😉 #pawdy #pawdytime 🐾 . . . #geschwisterliebe #unzertrennlich #teddy #queenie #bkh #blh #cats #catsofinstagram #katzen #cats_of_instagram #catsagram #lebenmitkatzen #katzenleben #katzenliebe #happycat #meow #britishshorthair #britishlonghair #catmom #catmomlife #catdaddy #timetocelebrate 😺 🎉 (hier: Gievenbeck) https://www.instagram.com/p/CghtzgSsXRW/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
#happybirthday#geburtstag#endegutallesgut#katzenkuchen#yammi#pawdy#pawdytime#geschwisterliebe#unzertrennlich#teddy#queenie#bkh#blh#cats#catsofinstagram#katzen#cats_of_instagram#catsagram#lebenmitkatzen#katzenleben#katzenliebe#happycat#meow#britishshorthair#britishlonghair#catmom#catmomlife#catdaddy#timetocelebrate
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🧿F0R y🌎u!✈️ C. gradient cattery Britishlonghair Female N(y?) 24 Golden point, chocolate carrier. Possible cinnamon carrier. Parents: 💙Frodo (britishlonghair ny 21 33) Chocolate point carrier 💜Flora (britishlonghair b) Cinnamon carrier #britishlonghairofinstagram #britishloghairkitten #britishlonghair #britishlonghaircat #goldenpoint #blackbri #blackbritishlonghair #ny25 #ny24 #blh #n25 #n24 #britishlonghairkitten #cinnamoncats #cinnamongolden #cinnamoncat #losangelescats (New York, New York) https://www.instagram.com/p/CdfrSMjqrJC/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
#britishlonghairofinstagram#britishloghairkitten#britishlonghair#britishlonghaircat#goldenpoint#blackbri#blackbritishlonghair#ny25#ny24#blh#n25#n24#britishlonghairkitten#cinnamoncats#cinnamongolden#cinnamoncat#losangelescats
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I get to see Marshall and Luxxall today 🥰
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Yaaaaaay, no death warning this time! :D
It is very long, however, so to the Read More abyss it goes!
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This part has some of my favorite expression works I've done thus far.
Just....
My boy's so happy...
It felt good to draw him so happy...
I just.... Have a lot of feelings about this part.
I love my goobers. <3
Shamelessly glossing over Randy's hospitalization for a few reasons, and also traced that hospital bed. Don't need Randy's getting better to ruin me. XD
#Linden Roots#art#comic#babbies#mite#BLH#By Lavender's Hand#<3#Edit: There are typos but I don't feel like fixing them right now. XD#Full
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🐱 British Longhair
📸 Koshchina
🎨 Fawn
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Story: The Boy in the Castle
I've decided to serialize it over a series of 9 posts. Do you like spies? Pathetic wet cat male protagonists? Original fairy tales? Christian allegories? Yes, everybody these days is doing them I know. My very best attempt at evoking the 18th century? (I try.) This story has not yet appeared in print, but it will (now that I am my own publisher) at some point in the future, but likely as part of an anthology... for now... it is my gift to you.
The Boy in the Castle
Part 1.
It was a perfectly ordinary day for Ilya Severin.
His attacker, a bulky brute with tattoos and tanned skin, brandished half of a broken beer bottle threateningly. Ilya picked up a chair and held it in front of himself, legs out, for defense.
“Watch who you mess with next time, bilge scum!” the man bellowed, before grabbing the legs of the chair and using it to swing him bodily into the wall.
Ilya crumpled to the floor, clutching his stomach. He didn’t bother to get up, but waited for the man to leave.
After the pub had settled down, Dimitri came over and found him. The younger man crouched down. “What happened this time?” he asked in a low voice, looking over his shoulder to make sure everybody was back to minding their own business.
“He called me a coward and a weakling.”
“So you decided to prove him wrong, did you?”
“Gave him a good sock in the jaw.” Ilya accepted Dimitri’s offer of a white napkin, and wiped the blood dribbling from his nose.
“I can’t leave you alone for half a day, can I? You’re already drunk.”
“I come here to find work,” said Ilya.
“You’re not even sober.”
“So what?” Ilya coughed, and pulled himself into a sitting position.
“You’re supposed to be the best smuggler in Rostek.”
“I am the best smuggler in Rostek.” He gave a crooked grin.
“Oh? How will I present you to your client in a state like this?”
Ilya rubbed his nose gingerly. “My client?”
“Yes, your client. I decide to pay back that favor and get you a job, and this is what you give me to work with? Come on, let’s get you back to the inn.”
Ilya splashed his face with water and then rinsed out his greasy, shoulder-length hair in a wooden bucket. Finally he dried off his face with a towel, and with it came the last traces of the blood and grime.
“I need a drink…”
“No,” said Dimitri, standing behind him.
“Of water. Relax.”
“Behind you.” Dimitri pointed to a copper cup on the vanity.
He turned around in the inn’s washroom, found the cup, and sipped it slowly. Then he sat on a wooden stool and started to comb through his hair. “So, you say that you no longer owe me a favor. What have you come up with?”
“Last night a noblewoman, one of those landed gentry it would seem, sent her servant to the pub. He said his mistress would hire only the best smuggler in Rostek. It had a well-paying sound to it, so I mentioned your name.”
“I see. Well then, fine. Count it even. When is my appointment?”
“Half past eleven tomorrow. She’ll meet you at Saint Beska’s Abbey.”
“Did she happen to give a name?”
“No.” Dimitri shook his head.
***
The next morning, Ilya dressed in his best waist-coat and tie. He had brushed his hair and washed it with nothing more classy than a bar of soap. He had bathed well enough to hopefully not stink, although it was hard to fully get rid of the smell of alcohol.
Dimitri met him downstairs in the front of the inn, and wrinkled his nose. “Try some mint.”
“No time.” He waved off the young man, who had been hanging around him like some kind of gnat since they ran the last commission together. (He hated to admit it, but Dimitri’s imagined debt to him was probably actually just pity for his sorry state.) “I’m running late.” It was an hour’s ride to the abbey. For the good smuggler, nothing was more important than punctuality.
“Good morrow, then.” Dimitri gave a wave and retreated to the upstairs rooms.
Ilya went out back to the stable, saddled up, and started off to the Abbey.
Saint Beska’s was outside the city of Rostek proper, to the north, but still within the bounds of the principality of Rostek, which was a small kingdom of the East.
The Abbey sat on a rolling green. There were hedgerows for two miles, finally giving way to trimmed topiary and then the walls of the spreading complex. This was a place for nuns; men did not usually come here, and he wondered if this woman, whoever she was (not a nun, certainly?) was planning to admit him.
When he rode up to the iron-studded gates, he dismounted and approached, wondering if a knock on such a large door would even be noticed.
But as it turned out, no knock was necessary, for there was a shout from above and the gates began to open. He stood back.
The woman came out alone. He understood as soon as he saw her why she had not come to the pub in person. She was in her fifties, and had on a black half-mourning dress, with a purple train. He could not see any jewelry, but mourning clothes could be deceptively simple, and the silk of her dress seemed to exude hidden wealth. She was not wearing a veil.
So then, a dowager whose husband was recently deceased. But not too recently—within the past year or so.
“Madame,” he said, and politely made a small bow.
“Sir.” She did not smile. Nor did she seem terribly impressed. “I sent for a smuggler.”
“Now ma’am,” he said carefully, “All my trade business is of course perfectly lawful.” These naive nobles lacked any sense of the rules of the game. He wasn’t of a mind to incriminate himself before establishing a rapport.
“Then I have no use for you.” She turned around and started to walk back toward the doors.
Ah – he was losing her. “Now, hang on just a moment.”
The woman stopped walking.
“I am… very good at what I do.”
“I sent for the best smuggler in Rostek,” she said, looking back at him. “Are you he?”
“I stay humble.” He scratched at his collar.
Her eyes sharpened. “We may have business, then.”
He nodded. Now they were on. “What do you need?”
He could hazard a guess. He had a burgeoning suspicion about who she was. A noble, yes, but not a noble of Rostek – she was from the kingdom of Belova, toward the south, just like he was. An ongoing civil war there had dethroned the King, and as revolutionaries, called the Vroek Coalition, hunted down and killed the Belovan nobles, they had fled to surrounding countries. This woman had doubtless fled recently, and most likely had left behind some valuable or sentimental personal property that she wished for him to retrieve.
He smiled confidently.
“I wish you to escort me and my son into Belova,” she said.
Ilya took half a step back, stunned. It took him a moment to reply. “To a country fraught with war?”
She raised an eyebrow. “To the capital. Stosla.”
“Surely you must have gone to great pains to escape from there,” he ventured.
She looked at him drily, and he thought her eye twinkled a bit, but he couldn’t be sure. She wasn’t going to say anything.
“You would be heading into great danger.”
“I am aware of the risks.”
“What are you going to do when you get there?”
“I have made arrangements.”
Ilya thought about this. Perhaps she had a cover – and a safe house. She was a spy, perhaps. A spy for the royalist side of the conflict. If she knew what she was doing, this could work. But—
“How old is your son?” he asked.
“He is nine years old.”
“Nine?!” Ilya stepped back, setting his teeth into a grimace. He folded his arms, looking at the ground, and kicked a pebble. “What shall I call you, madame?”
“You may call me… Madame Olga,” she said, as if deciding on the name.
“All right, listen, Madame Olga. I’ll take you anywhere you wish to go, but this isn’t any kind of journey for a child.”
“He must come.”
“With all due respect, Madame, it’s madness to bring a child on a trip like this.” His deferential mask was slipping, and he tried to put it back on, but it was a bit of a lost cause. “Children are… unpredictable. He will be a liability. Such a journey calls for… discretion… and… fortitude. You should leave him here, where he’s safe.” A child of only nine years would certainly get them all killed.
Olga’s lips tightened, but she remained unmoved. “He is non-negotiable.”
He sighed, trying to imagine the journey and the accommodations. Ilya wiped a hand across his face. “Is he quiet?”
“My son is very well-mannered. Will you do it or not?”
“I’d like half up-front.”
She smiled for the first time. “Done. It shall be paid on our next meeting. Come again this time tomorrow.”
Ilya shook her hand, feeling sweaty.
He started turning around back to his horse, then paused. “Expenses also upfront.”
“Expenses?”
“I’ll need coin to rent a stagecoach.”
She reached into her purse. Ah, finally.
Next Part
#read the tags for mild spoilers#writing#my writing#fairy tale#kind of#original fairy tale#uhhhhh#historical fiction#salt and light#blahblahblah#plaaaaaaceeeholderrr#more just to put this under the cut#one more#etc blah blh blah#blahblah#captivity whump
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just one more!!
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1 pertua utk laki-laki yg mati pucuk. Yg dh puas berubat mana2 dan xsembuh jgk. (Last ikhtiar).
- yg mana ada mak lg,minta mak korg yg urutkan. Pastikan mak korg sendiri ye. Bkn mak org lain lak. Mak kandung korg. Yg mahram dgn korg. Yg xbatal wuduk klu sentuh pun.
- bincang elok2 dgn mak korg. Sbb ini utk perubatan korg. Jgn paksa mak korg pulak. Pastikan mak korg nk bantu korg.
- urut mcm biasa je. Pakai minyak yg serap kulit korg. Cara urut blh Google or YouTube.
- insyaallah cnfirm korg akan baik.byk feedback semua dh ok skrg.
- Psl ape, tu x pasti lah. Mgkin tu power kt mak kita kot. Tgn mak ni bila pgg je btg kita ni,auto akan terangsang.akn naik. Blm lg urut
- last part. Peringatan pd korg nnti. Korg kne tahan sehabis baik. Jgn korg xtahan,korg ajak mak korg main pulak ye. Sebolehnya tahan Smpai btl2 sembuh.
- tp klu mak korg ok.sggup bg kt ko atau mmg mak ko nk sgt btg ank dia berendam dlm dia punya tu. Kira Rezeki melimpah korg lah... Cnfirm ko dgn mak ko dh rse sekali,melekat trus lah..huhu
Selamat mencuba... Apa2 pun beri layanan yg baik utk mak ye. jgn berkasar jgn memaksa. Jgn sekali meninggikan suara. Syurga korg tu.
Korg klu nk rase syurga,kne tggu mak korg buka pintu syurga tu utk korg lah..
korg tggl masuk,then korg akan dpt rasa nikmat syurga tu sama2 dgn mak korg nnti... Nikmat tu mak ko dgn ko je yg phm.. ssh nk bg org lain fhm.
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Fingering jokes … cat on the kitchen counter … in love with Victoria in a power suit … Brooke Lynn I see you 👀
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