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Twenty One: community.livejournal.com/wikkidist_beansidhe_wenches

Do You Believe In ~*MAGICK?*~

Sunlit morn and frolicking fen, one and all! Fairybutter here! I'm sorry this flitty lil' fae's been off line for sooooooo long, but it took the phone company mundanes THREE HOURS to hook up my DSL. Miss me??? I have so MUCH to tell you!


The move went off without a hitch, thanks to my luck spell and wishing stars. Thyne Faire House RayvynFyre has finally found a perch, unfurling its gossamer wings to soar into lot 15 of the Western Dampshallow Trailer Community. We went with a pre-owned model, so the rent should be more reasonable. With enough corners trimmed, I won't have to cut my glitter budget at all! Time to celebrate? I THINK SO! So I had Floyd stop the U-Haul on the way over and bought some crystals. And some candles. And a few rune stones. So DECADENT! I'm such a spoil'ed lil' princess, but my spiritual well-being always comes first. Spencer's Gifts, what would my soul do without you? Merrie faerie kisses and swishes!


But ah, let us bespeak of my noblest Floyd! As always, my valiant champion accompanies me. He is feeling much better these days, And hasn't dreamed of prison in weeks. Our merrie feastdaye afternoon at IHOP following his dew-kiss'ed dawn break release was the most magykkal of my life! My Lorena Mckennitt CDs have done him a world of good, and I still sigh over the sticky, bescented letters he sent me from Folsom. Beansidhe King bless the Incarcerated Hearts singles-seeking-singles party line! Prince Floyd's arrest record may have him driving a 2003 Impala through a Krispy Kreme shop window, but he has much more surely driven his snorting white charger into this fair princess' fluttering, faerie heart! His flowing, nut-brown tresses! The bottomless, azure-blue pools of his proud, princely gaze! His strong, capable, increasingly insistent hands! The Dairy Queen is sure to offer him a princely sum for his vassalage, don't you think? Keep those dainty faeries fingerlets crossed, my kin!

(But in case not, let it be known I have updated my wish lists.)

And while we speak of it, Mine own employment doth weigh heavily on me, mineself. But worry not, friends and courtiers, for I have a FANTASTIC announcement to make!


I am ever-y so please'ed to let one and all know... I have been giving serious consideration to thinking about about perhaps finding an opera to star in!!! I was BORN to play the winsomely young ingenue, and I have been accepted to numerous rating communities that echo the sentiment! I would start small, of course. Les Miserables, or La Boheme. Then, when the resume looks good, an audition at Disney World! What do you think: Belle, Ariel, or Aurora? Be brutal!

I would say everything is going beautifully, if not for the soul-rending tragedy of yester-the-morn. I hope each and every one of you be-has a handkerchief to bite, for I fear this will break more than one young heart.


We had not settled into our castle for even a day when we were assaulted! Strangers! Strangers not just from Dampshallow, no, but from all abouts the neighborhood! I knew not one of them, caught not a single name, but I assure, you, friends, the least-wenchly women I doth ever laid an eye on!

I have never gotten on with most of mine fairer gender. I blame this on feminism. Few women dare to express their true femininity, anymore. I understand that fear, As a princess MUST understand her subjects, but I urge one and all to REJECT IT! Classical feminine beauty is nothing one must be ashame'ed of! I, for one, wear my elf ears and faerie wings with pride. Kathyryn of Arragone would be proud.

But back to the situation at hand.


As most of you know, I dedicate at least an hour every even-of-the-morn to the authorship of my novel, "Queen of the Fae." I was on an especially difficult chapter that day, the one dedicated to describing how the maerrily the moonbeams of the moor reflected off the beautiful queen's aviator glasses, when I hear the first presumptuous knock on the door. As is my custom, I sent my princely Floyd to shoo away the distraction.


I do not know what he told them. I only know that it DID NOT WORK. I very nearly lost my royal composure when they stayed there on the lawn, not one, not twice, but THRICE minutes, and therein VENTURED INTO MY HOME. I locked the bedroom door.

As you all well know, my sleeping chambers are my sanctuary, my refuge, my holiest chapel to mine spirit. And as such, they are richly adorn'ed, pastel pink and embrimming with purest fae magicks.


This does not leave much in the way of furnishment for the rest of the trailer.

My Floyd does no suffer for this, as a prince is only as happy as his princess. Unfortunately, I have found those without magic in their hearts to be harshly judgmental. But I have resolve'ed to turn all the frowns about and betwixt me to fairy dust, and a true lady honors her promises! Besides, I was feeling deliciously ELVEN that day, and was simply wasting away for want of a good glamourbomb! I blame my spirit guides!

I emerge'd from my chambers in a cloud of tulle and powderpuff pink, and I assure you dearest dears, how I made the scene! I quite simply LIVE for that moment of astonished envy, the seconds of admiring silence that immediately proceed my entrance! I must say, it lifted my low spirits and gave this princess the carriage that suited her. But I regret to say that it all hardly lasted.


The first woman, a shrewish harridan in pigtails, flat-out rejected my offer of an embrace, viciously spitting "No, thank you." as she did so. REJECTING THE EMBRACE OF A PRINCESS. CAN YOU EVEN IMAGINE. Furthermore, she had the most ghastly, unladylike answer when I attempted to engender conversation in my usual fashion by asking whom she felt I resembled more closely, a dazzling Botticelli cherub or a smoldering Pre-Raphaelite siren. I shall not even repeat it.


The second beastly slattern did not even have the good form to FEIGN a polite interest in my past lives. I assure you, the medieval ones, though long winded, are vital back story, for they set the stage for my existence in the Renaissance, and cannot go untold! How else would one explain my fantastic, color-shifting eyes? Patience, I remind you all, is one of the most feminine of graces! It was at that point I began to suspect the motivation behind this visit was less than pure. As you all know, I have my enemies.


And it may not simply be me, I fear, caught in the machinations of some secret and scurrilous plot! Even the gentle Floyd could do nothing for these women, despite his effervescent charm and princely humor. He had once caused this maiden heart to race with his tales of adventure and derring-do; our "guests" did no more than smile tightly and inquire after how one such as him would procure a quarter-million in bail money. Such rudeness.


I will admit, dear friends, the subtleties of such confrontations perplex me. To be fair, many social norms have the same effect, for one must recall that my soul is quite old, quite learned, and quite stuck in its princessly ways. It is the duty of my court to ensure no conversation takes an unattractive turn, not mine. And it is the duty of my handmaidens to ensure my comfort at all my socials. I had briefly considered allowing these guests of ours the honor of that title, but I fear they might be gravely unfit for the position.


The merciful Faerie King finally smile'ed upon House RayvynFyre not long afterwards, driving the invaders from our lands when my prince forget himself for a moment and relieved hiis lordly bowel'eds on the kitchen tiles, as is his custom when we two are together in a shared solitude. I find such habits wonderfully earthy and natural, despite his having learned them as way to avoid being romantically violated in the prison showers. He is my nervous, un-neutered pup, my excitable little Cavalier King Charles Spaniel! And naturally, being of such a shy and peaceable nature, asked our guests to remove themselves the only way he knew how. I'm so proud.


The invaders have not returned, thank the spirits of the fairy circles. I haven't the first idea where they might be, nor do I care a fig. The life of a princess is one of constant, dynamic change, and has no room in it for feverishly envious naysayers. My every minute is filled to the brim with fantastic drama, and I pity those not up to the task of withstanding the churning, maddened breakwaters of my existence!

Following: My Quizilla results for which My Little Pony I would marry, which luscious French dessert should be my last meal, and a Paypal donation button. HELP ME AND FLOYD SPEND THIS SUMMER IN PARIS!!! $825.00 from each of my Livejournal friends would just about make it happen! Your princess thanks you in advance!

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(Hey, guys! If you like this ridiculous travesty, make sure to check out my actual comic, Templar, Arizona!)

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