#onward!!

[milk-free-life]

MY SON BARLEY 😍😍😍💙💙💙💜💜💜

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

all right, Doctor Zhivago, bring it on. many moons later, let's do this!!

[wirecage]

@halfofxerxes

It was a hard feeling to describe.

Like....

Like he should be sweating with nerves! His body in a bunch, breath held tight in the back of the throat which somehow constricted to hold it in place. While he couldn’t breath in the conventional way, he did manage to mimic the act with sounds. As though he had to continue the performance lest someone truly begin to believe he was a piece of the furniture rather than a living entity. He wrung his gloved hands together, shifting from one foot to the other.

Clang clang clang.

It was impossible to ignore the shuffle of his armor, an almost disturbingly annoying din of noise many may not acknowledge at all. But if one were trying to focus on something else, that jangling noise would surely disturb!

Those haunting, disembodied eyes of his slid to his father, and beheld the sight of him for a long, lingering moment. Too long to be considered a chance glance. The way he focused solely on that solitary figure made it impossible for him to backtrack if caught, quibbling that he had only been looking at something over his shoulder! Or perhaps in the distance! No, there was too much of a hold for him to ever claim as much.

The subject of his fascination was clear.

He swallowed.

Or he should have swallowed then. The precursor to gathering his nerves to make his presence known.

Er, not that his presence couldn’t be known. His presence was always known. His presence was impossible NOT to know.

He cleared his throat. A rumbling noise conjured from somewhere. There was no need to do it. It was a lame way to gather attention to himself. To direct it to where he wanted it to be.

But did he want it?

Not.... not really.

But he felt he had to. Because he...

.... because what he did had been shameful.

“I’m sorry.” The words were too lame to repeat. They were empty, though he meant it with all his heart. Or all of what he could give of his heart. “I’m sorry I left. I’m sorry I just up and left without a word.” ...... it seemed an outrageous twist of fate that he should be the one spouting off those words. It didn’t really matter the controversy or what was truly right and wrong in the moment. Alphonse felt like he should say the words.

So he said them. It was as simple as that.

[the-greatprince-blog]

The Fall Of The Great Prince || Princes

@bbambi-deerest

The Great Prince darted through the wood, his hooves barely touching the ground at all. Behind him, smoke poured into the air, like a beacon. Around him, the voices of the forest poured through him-- from the root to the rabbit to the robin in the air. They shouted at him: Run, Prince, run!

So he ran. His magic reached out in all directions. He felt it in the branches and leaves. This forest, his home, it reared up behind him like a shield. Ahead, the trees bent and a tunnel rose. He thought of his favourite clearing, far from here, where once he had been a child, chasing dragonflies. Where once he’d laid out and looked at the stars. Where once, Ella had kissed him and reminded him that spring always came.

The hunters shouted behind him.

He’d make it. He leapt into the tunnel and it began to close behind him. Run, Prince, run! Run!

He caught a glimpse of the glen right before the arrow pierced him and he toppled into the rioting earth.  

-

Silence.

Burning.

Cold.

The Prince opened his eyes, shivering naked in his humanskin. It felt like a cage, tight, too small, full of pain. His blurry vision couldn’t focus. He blinked. There were eyes in front of him, round and yellow, the eyes of his friend.

Friend Owl hooted and pressed his beak against the Prince’s cheek. He hooted several more times, clicking his tongue in a nonsensical pattern of noise that reminded Prince of a hunter cocking his gun back.

The Prince closed his eyes again. “Bambi,” he uttered. His tongue was lead in his mouth. “Ella. Bambi…”

Click click click. The Prince didn’t understand. “Get…” His voice was swallowed by the silence.

-

Friend Owl took to the sky, leaving the Prince with a collection of animal fairies and an arrow sticking out of his back, dangerously close to the notches of his spine. It was the fairies that helped translate the few fevered words the Prince had uttered, though it would not have mattered if they hadn’t. Because Friend Owl had served several Princes. And when one fell…

When one fell, he was the one who told the other. Every time.

He flew as fast as he could, squawking at the birds he met in flight to spread the word, to find the Young Prince! wherever he might be. It was early afternoon, and his quest soon took him to the brick building called School. By the time he soared down toward the building, he was not the only one. The squirrels had descended upon the building, scampering around the gutters and hopping from sill to sill, trying to find the room. The mice poured into the oldest nooks and crannies of the building. The birds roosted in the trees and on the roof top.

“Where is the Young Prince?!” hooted the Owl as he skidded onto the concrete path outside the doors. Several mice fed out of the drains and squeaked directions to him. Down the second hallway, to the left, count one, two, three, four rooms…

“Then what are we waiting for! Get me someone with suitable paws!” squawked Friend Owl.

A raccoon fell out of a trash can that very moment and hustled toward the door. “You got it boss,” chattered Friend Raccoon. It lunged up and grabbed onto the handle with its paws and the door swung open.

Friend Owl flapped into the air and soared into the building, leading the trail of mice, squirrels and rabbits in his stead. They ignored the shouts of the humans. Friend Owl hooted through the halls: “Young Prince! Young Prince! It’s an emergency--”

They arrived at the classroom, the Young Prince’s porcupine hair glimpsed through the rectangular window. Friend Owl screeched as loudly as he could and attacked the door with his talons, scratching wildly at the door. “Young Prince, hurry, you must come! Your father is in trouble!”

Friend Raccoon leapt onto this door handle too, and the band of animals flooded in, Friend Owl landing in a clumsy storm of feathers right on top of Bambi’s desk.

[ahopefulbitch]

my days have been consumed with nursing school and work that usually my weekends need to be saved for ‘me time’. I have had an unusually busy weekend but I feel refreshed & recharged after spending time with people that make me feel alive and loved.

I am carving out time for myself today.

I hope to read, organize my closet, write, meditate, finish up laundry, and go to my parents’ house for dinner.

I feel really Tired but in a good way, like everything i’m doing is really clear & I have a good idea of what I want to do with my life and how I can live in a capitalist society while still standing firmly by my values. I have navigated my life thus far in a way I can actually stop now and be proud of...