The Proposal Ride of Destiny

No one expected a goblin to fall in love with a gnome.
Least of all the goblin himself.

But fall he did, face-first into a flowerbed Zef had planted, followed by years of chaotic, giggle-filled adventures and occasional mild explosions. And now, as the sun dipped low and the fireflies spelled out hearts in the sky, Snorb sat behind his beloved atop a glowing teal stag… clutching a ring box so tightly it squeaked.

Zef, unaware of the plan, was rambling about daisies, destiny, and dinner plans involving roasted mushrooms. Snorb just stared, wide-eyed and gobsmacked, like he still couldn’t believe someone as warm and weird and wonderful as Zef could ever love someone like him.

The stag, being an ancient magical beast, slowed its pace gently.

The fireflies rose higher.

And Snorb cleared his throat.

Zef turned, eyes bright, beard full of wildflower pollen, and smiled.

Snorb tried to speak.

He croaked.

Then squeaked.

Then, finally, with a breath stolen straight from the sunset and courage born of goblin gumption and gnome giggles, he held out the box.

And Zef?

He didn’t even look at the ring.

He just said, “Took you long enough, Snorbles,” and kissed him right off the stag..