#abzjharding

Happy birthday, Abz! ( @abz-j-harding​ )

So, I really have to get real--and kinda mushy--but meeting and befriending you has been one of the best things to ever have happened to me. It’s really, really rare to meet people who get you on such a deep level, but you do just that. We’ve known each for, what--three odd years now? Maybe a little more, give or take? You never cease to inspire me with your fantastic art and crazy awesome ideas. Thanks to you, I don’t think I’ve ever felt as encouraged or inspired before. I love the endless conversations we have, and I adore how our ideas mesh so well. You really are my muse, and someone I’m so, so grateful to call one of my closest friends.

She waits for him at the water's edge, waves lapping at her ankles. She, like the tide ebbed and flowed, showing up like clockwork as the moon began to climb into the inky murk that was the sky. Waits, she waits and every night she would call for her love.

Some think she's a ghost, pale as moonlight, something ethereal about her.

There was something magical about the evening, the beach like a ghost town, heart hammering so loudly against the curve of her ribcage that she knew he could sense it—sense her.

And then he would come, slithering and crawling, beaching himself against the sand, writhing mass of tentacles and pulling himself up by his arms.

“ C̲̫̞ l̛̻̗̭̘̟͕ ę̼ a̬̘͈̳̫ ” He would rasp, voice hoarse from disuse.

“Stephen.” She would greet, before leaning down to kiss her love.

And they would spend the night there upon that beach, curled into each other until the moon began to descend once more and he too, like the tide would return to the sea.