“Watch out, Seth! She’s got a mouth on her.”
Kieran stiffens, but Marie doesn’t seem to notice. Neither does anyone else, for that matter. Kieran’s still handing out coffees, and he can feel the appropriate time frame for him to correct Marie rapidly closing, but he can’t bring himself to say anything. For all that he has such a mouth on him, his throat closes up.
“He’s,” Seth says, loudly. “Him.”
Kieran doesn’t look around, but he hears Marie’s startled acknowledgement.
“Oh, excuse me, Kieran. Just a slip of the tongue.”
“It’s fine,” Kieran mumbles. His expectations were never exactly high.
“Marie, I expect you—and everyone—to make more of an effort in the future,” Seth says curtly. “None of our employees should have to wear a label to remind the rest of us what to call them, but Kieran has been, so the least we can do is get it right.”

I’m less scared of the Fae than of what I’ve seen in my church. They might look monstrous, but every evil I know wear a human skin.

I’d followed the shore to the tiny islet just off the coast from the old lighthouse that the humans still kept up and running. I knew that the stereotype was that moths were drawn to bright lights, pulled in like minions under a thrall, but it just wasn’t true; if it was, you’d see mothmen fluttering all over every city with any sort of nightlife. I liked a nice, big, bright light—but I could control myself, thank you very much.

When I think of Nathan, I think of warmth. Of reds, and oranges. But most of all, I think of yellow. That just seems like such a Nathan-y color. Happiness, joy, his optimism, that smile.

Mariam and I have had long conversations about being religious and nonbinary. For Mariam though, their hijab represents comfort, security, a connection to their faith. They could spend hours talking about how it made them feel. In fact, they made a whole series on their channel last year, what being Shia Muslim and being nonbinary meant to them.

That was one of the things I realized early. If you’re queer, your life has the potential to become one long coming-out moment. If I ever want to be called the right pronouns, I’ll have to correct people and put myself out there first and who knows what could happen.

“I like your ass.”
“Thanks, baby. It likes you too.”
He snickered and rested his head on my hip.

“Thing is, I don’t understand why we have to glorify raising children. I love my sister beyond words, and we will always be close, but she was by no means easy to take care of. Are children supposed to be? I don’t believe so. What I believe parenthood consists of—at least when the children are young—are sleepless nights, stained clothes, chaos, and occasional headaches. And this doesn’t mean it’s not worth it—the opposite. We love our kids to the point where it’s worth all those sleepless nights and all the anxiety.”
I smiled.
“A toddler smiling and sitting pretty in the cart at the grocery store isn’t proof of good parenting,” Peyton went on. “Same with all the blogs and social media accounts where we get bombarded with pictures of perfection.” Christ. Had he read my mind? “It’s wonderful that we get those memories too, but it’s become a contest to show who’s happiest. Who’s succeeding the most. Meanwhile, the tough moments are hidden away and suppressed. We don’t talk about it, because we’re afraid of being judged.”

“Yes, I want more than you can give me right now. Yes, it kills me that it isn’t my ring you’re wearing as I make love to you in our bed. But there isn’t anything I can’t love you through, Jasper.”

When we were boys, we’d link our pinkies under the dinner table. I’d had to learn how to eat left-handed. When we were near it had been impossible not to touch, not to hold, not to love.

If still wanting him knowing the pain loving this version of him might bring me made me an unapologetic sadist, then so be it. I’d do bad things with a clear head to have him. And then I’d do them all over again if it meant I got to have him in the next life, too.

But unlike Jasper, the truth didn’t make me want to run from him. I’d made it to the other side of denial. I’d made it to acceptance. Seeing Jasper this conflicted, this unhappy, felt tragic, and I was at a loss for how to help him. It made me dislike Daniel even more, which made me want Jasper even more because someone needed to save him. I wanted that someone to be me.

“Uncle Osric…” Gareth sighed. “We knew Da was dying—we’d known that, oh, for years, we’d known he was sick…I’m not even sure Dan wanted to be king. I mean, he did, of course he did, he wanted to help people, he knew he’d be asked to take it up, we both knew. But I think he’d’ve really been happy learning to ice cakes and make goat’s milk cream puffs all his days. And Uncle Osric was so angry about it…we’d never known how much he resented it, not being next in line. We didn’t know he wanted it so very badly. The way he’d tell jokes with us at supper, or make Da laugh through the pain, or comfort our mother when she wept…I remember he taught me how to whistle. When we were all younger.”
“People,” Lorre said, “can be more than one thing. All at once. That doesn’t mean they’re not who they were, when they meant something to you. It’s all still true.”

“I don’t know what I expected. But I need your help. Please.” “I’m not considering it. What would you want me to do? If I did.” “Magic,” Gareth said. His expression was far too hopeful. “Yes, thank you, magicians do magic, and I can’t imagine you’re asking for my skill at embroidery. […]"

“Tan, I think we got them all.” “Are you absolutely sure?” Tan squinted at the rock suspiciously. Did it dare to hide enemies from him? There would be repercussions if it dared. It would henceforth be known as gravel.

“I really can’t disagree but if we’re asking the deep questions, who first looked at an onion and figured out the layers of it were actually meant to be eaten? With anything else you peel the outer layer and the edible part is inside, not even more layers to peel.” Tan blinked, struck by the thought. “You know, I never questioned that, but you’re absolutely right. Who did that? Some desperately hungry person?” “Or someone like you, who feels challenged to eat all the weird things in life.” “I would like to observe that eating random things so far has worked out quite well for me. I’ve only suffered food poisoning once.” “The once is usually enough to deter people.” “Bah, cowards. It’ll take more than once to scare me.”

“Good luck. Try not to make him mad. He can be very unpleasant.” Rudy remembered being dragged from this very bar by his ear. Samuel’s version of unpleasant was uncomfortably hot.

“I have never been too particularly fond of the human binary. It seems limiting to how I see myself and my role within this world. I appreciate the young humans that discuss on the green how they wish to, uh, ‘enact gender neutrality language as a normative and push against harmful constructs of patriarchy and white supremacy.’ I think that is what they said. […]"

“How long have you been watching me?” I settled in more, feeling my eyelids droop. “Not long enough, my Beloved.” They sighed. “Our time could be until every star withers to blackness in the sky and it would not be long enough.”

I did not understand what he was saying to me. He had made the strangest of noises; I initially had thought him injured. Except no, Beloved had thought I was a clawed cave animal, the ones with long tails and equally long spite. The humans call them cats. I am not a fucking cat. Those creatures are vile and taste like dried porcupines. The last time I came across one of them it had bitten me while I was trying to give it pets. My claws were retracted; I had had no intentions of using the beast as a meal. They are not edible looking. I did, however, eat that one.

“You don’t look like an office drone.” Not that this looked like your typical office drone’s office. Oh no. I wasn’t sure what this looked like. A dungeon maybe? A dungeon if it had banged a library, and this was its very dark, very gothic baby.
“I assure you, an office drone I am not.”

I thought about the grasshopper I buried, absently chewing on my lip as I wondered if he’d ever found his way up to grasshopper heaven. Did grasshoppers and squashes share a heaven? Fuck. Maybe grasshopper heaven was actually squash Hell? Forever cursed to be eaten by little grasshopper hands. I shuddered and shook the thought away because even I knew I was being an idiot.

To distract myself I watched as the moon climbed high in the sky, its pale silvery light creeping through the bare limbs of the bonelike trees that bracketed the gateway to Hell. Funny that people called it that, when I knew the truth. Hell was waking up every day knowing there was nothing you could do to end the nightmare. Hell was craving the love and attention of the people that would never stop hurting you. Life was Hell.

That’s an understatement, but isn’t a lot of what Maurice says and does kind of strange? Maybe Kenneth should be more surprised, but after getting to know him, he’s seen some, how to put it, interesting quirks of his. This blood thing is just one that adds to it, and even so, it’s not as weird as it seems. Two people giving each other something important and personal to them, to keep and cherish. It shows how through it all, Maurice just wants to be deeply connected to him. Such a warm sentiment gives Kenneth butterflies, as he lays back on his boyfriend’s shoulder.
“You are strange. That’s why I love you.”

I loved him—everything about him. He was my person. The one I was always meant to be with, even though we were from different worlds. Even though we’d been torn apart for so long. He’d waited for me.

Maurice listens to Kenneth’s words in awe. So this is how a normal person reacts when seeing someone die, huh? Even though he had no idea who this guy was, he’s—he seems so... distraught. Kenneth has a different perspective that’s incredibly interesting to hear, even if he himself wouldn’t feel the same in that situation. But seeing Kenneth in such a state makes him sympathetic, if only for the reason that he doesn’t want to see him so upset over this.