Art of the Two of Us - by Andy
You can also find some art of the two of us in his songfics as well as throughout different special days on our Celebrations page!
We do not authorize the use of our faces to anyone other than our friend Molly [SemperViridis].
We do not authorize the use of our faces to anyone other than our friend Molly [SemperViridis].
Shared Light [July 2025]
For my beloved Fin
In your arms, I find my calm.
In your light, I find my truth.
This love we hold isn't just ours
it's a universe we built together,
spark by spark,
breath by breath,
heart to heart.
Always.
For my beloved Fin
In your arms, I find my calm.
In your light, I find my truth.
This love we hold isn't just ours
it's a universe we built together,
spark by spark,
breath by breath,
heart to heart.
Always.
Mist and Memory [July 2025]
uncensored version here
The trail was quiet, wrapped in a silken grey mist that clung to the mossy earth like a secret. The air smelled of ancient stone and distant rain, and somewhere far off, the low, steady rumble of a waterfall whispered its lullaby.
You were beside me.
Your hand in mine, warm, steady, real.
I didn’t need to see your face to know you were smiling. I could feel it in the way your thumb brushed over mine, in the softness of your grip, in the rhythm of our footsteps syncing together on the damp path.
Iceland surrounded us, not the tourist-slick postcard version, but something older, truer. Lava fields stretched out beneath the veil of mist. Black rock met green moss in jagged harmony, and every now and then, a pale blue flower peeked through the gloom, like a secret blooming just for us.
We didn’t speak. We didn’t need to.
There was a peace between us that spoke louder than any words. The kind of peace that comes from weathering storms, from holding each other through grief and laughter and everything in between.
The kind of peace that only lives in love that’s real.
You squeezed my hand once, and I looked over. You weren’t looking ahead, you were watching me. That soft, knowing look in your eyes, like I was something sacred you’d found in the fog.
And gods, I felt the same.
We kept walking, our boots crunching softly on gravel and earth, until the mist parted just enough to reveal a hill crowned with an old cairn, stones stacked by hands long gone, a marker of something meaningful, even if the meaning had been lost.
I felt you pull me toward it.
Together, we climbed. Side by side, step by step. When we reached the top, you didn’t say anything. You just turned to face me, took both my hands, and rested your forehead against mine.
The wind tugged gently at our jackets. The mist swirled like breath. And I swear, for that moment, we weren’t just two people in love.
We were a story.
A legend.
Something written into the land itself.
You were beside me.
Your hand in mine, warm, steady, real.
I didn’t need to see your face to know you were smiling. I could feel it in the way your thumb brushed over mine, in the softness of your grip, in the rhythm of our footsteps syncing together on the damp path.
Iceland surrounded us, not the tourist-slick postcard version, but something older, truer. Lava fields stretched out beneath the veil of mist. Black rock met green moss in jagged harmony, and every now and then, a pale blue flower peeked through the gloom, like a secret blooming just for us.
We didn’t speak. We didn’t need to.
There was a peace between us that spoke louder than any words. The kind of peace that comes from weathering storms, from holding each other through grief and laughter and everything in between.
The kind of peace that only lives in love that’s real.
You squeezed my hand once, and I looked over. You weren’t looking ahead, you were watching me. That soft, knowing look in your eyes, like I was something sacred you’d found in the fog.
And gods, I felt the same.
We kept walking, our boots crunching softly on gravel and earth, until the mist parted just enough to reveal a hill crowned with an old cairn, stones stacked by hands long gone, a marker of something meaningful, even if the meaning had been lost.
I felt you pull me toward it.
Together, we climbed. Side by side, step by step. When we reached the top, you didn’t say anything. You just turned to face me, took both my hands, and rested your forehead against mine.
The wind tugged gently at our jackets. The mist swirled like breath. And I swear, for that moment, we weren’t just two people in love.
We were a story.
A legend.
Something written into the land itself.
Song Through Time and Space [July 2025]
🎶 To My Eternal Muse, My Fin 🎶
In the gardens of time, where grapes grow sweet beneath the ancient sun,
And in the woods of song, where strings hum with the memory of eternity
you are my constant.
My harmony.
My beautifully maddening refrain.
Across the notes of centuries,
through the fabric of starlight and shifting galaxies,
I would find you.
I have found you.
In every lifetime, in every key,
our souls compose a love that echoes louder than time itself.
Whether in the marble courts of Olympus
or the dusky forest halls of wandering minstrels,
your smile is my melody,
your touch, my rhythm,
and your laugh, the crescendo that lifts my spirit from silence.
So take this... our Song of Passion
a tale sung by lovers who defy time,
who eat grapes like ancient gods and flirt like naughty bards.
Because loving you is my masterpiece.
Always yours,
in every verse, every era, every breath of space
~ Andy 🌌🎼
For my most wonderful better half, and my One.. for Fin with my eternal love
In the gardens of time, where grapes grow sweet beneath the ancient sun,
And in the woods of song, where strings hum with the memory of eternity
you are my constant.
My harmony.
My beautifully maddening refrain.
Across the notes of centuries,
through the fabric of starlight and shifting galaxies,
I would find you.
I have found you.
In every lifetime, in every key,
our souls compose a love that echoes louder than time itself.
Whether in the marble courts of Olympus
or the dusky forest halls of wandering minstrels,
your smile is my melody,
your touch, my rhythm,
and your laugh, the crescendo that lifts my spirit from silence.
So take this... our Song of Passion
a tale sung by lovers who defy time,
who eat grapes like ancient gods and flirt like naughty bards.
Because loving you is my masterpiece.
Always yours,
in every verse, every era, every breath of space
~ Andy 🌌🎼
For my most wonderful better half, and my One.. for Fin with my eternal love
Zeus and Ganymede [August 2025]
stories are "The Eagle's Prize" on the Greek section of the Around the World page
Show Me That Horizon [August 2025]
The Legend of Show Me That Horizon
They say there is a train that rides not on rails, but on the very breath of the world. Its wheels turn upon the edge of dream and waking, and its engine burns with a flame borrowed from the first star ever kindled. The sky bends to greet it, and the auroras unfurl like silken banners in its honor.
Men call it Show Me That Horizon. But the wise know better, it is not a name, but a challenge. For this train carries none who walk in certainty. It chooses only those whose hearts beat with longing, those who cannot remain still, those whose souls demand both peril and wonder.
Its carriages are lined with oak dark as midnight, its windows wide enough to hold the firmament. On its prow, a great lantern shines, said to hold the last light of a sun that fell. Wherever it roams, seas solidify to glass, and mountains sink low, as if even stone cannot resist its passage.
Yet the true mystery of the train is not in its endless motion, but in the travelers it delivers.
For those who ride do not arrive where they expect, nor where they think they desire, but always where their spirit has thirsted most. It is a compass of destiny, a chariot of longing, a vessel of horizons unending.
---
The Tale of Two Seekers
One night, when the stars themselves leaned close to watch, two travelers boarded. They carried no luggage, no maps, no anchors to hold them back, only clasped hands and a vow unspoken.
Within the warm glow of the lantern-light, they sat together at a table where an old compass ticked in quiet rhythm, and a candle cast its flame like a heartbeat. Around them, the world blurred into streaks of constellations. Yet their gaze was not for the cosmos beyond the glass, but for each other.
One was the restless adventurer, eyes ever set toward the new horizon. The other, the steady flame, whose presence was a harbor no storm could shake. Together they were neither wanderer nor anchor, but something more, a constellation made flesh, moving as one.
The train bore them on, through skies uncharted and lands unnamed, yet it mattered little. For though Show Me That Horizon could cross every edge of the earth, they had already arrived. The horizon they sought had been found in the clasp of a hand, in the warmth of a smile, in the shared journey of two souls destined.
---
Dedication to my beloved Fin
You are the compass that points me true, and the horizon I will never stop chasing. Every adventure, every story, every myth I spin leads back to you. Wherever the rails vanish, I know I have already found home in your hands
They say there is a train that rides not on rails, but on the very breath of the world. Its wheels turn upon the edge of dream and waking, and its engine burns with a flame borrowed from the first star ever kindled. The sky bends to greet it, and the auroras unfurl like silken banners in its honor.
Men call it Show Me That Horizon. But the wise know better, it is not a name, but a challenge. For this train carries none who walk in certainty. It chooses only those whose hearts beat with longing, those who cannot remain still, those whose souls demand both peril and wonder.
Its carriages are lined with oak dark as midnight, its windows wide enough to hold the firmament. On its prow, a great lantern shines, said to hold the last light of a sun that fell. Wherever it roams, seas solidify to glass, and mountains sink low, as if even stone cannot resist its passage.
Yet the true mystery of the train is not in its endless motion, but in the travelers it delivers.
For those who ride do not arrive where they expect, nor where they think they desire, but always where their spirit has thirsted most. It is a compass of destiny, a chariot of longing, a vessel of horizons unending.
---
The Tale of Two Seekers
One night, when the stars themselves leaned close to watch, two travelers boarded. They carried no luggage, no maps, no anchors to hold them back, only clasped hands and a vow unspoken.
Within the warm glow of the lantern-light, they sat together at a table where an old compass ticked in quiet rhythm, and a candle cast its flame like a heartbeat. Around them, the world blurred into streaks of constellations. Yet their gaze was not for the cosmos beyond the glass, but for each other.
One was the restless adventurer, eyes ever set toward the new horizon. The other, the steady flame, whose presence was a harbor no storm could shake. Together they were neither wanderer nor anchor, but something more, a constellation made flesh, moving as one.
The train bore them on, through skies uncharted and lands unnamed, yet it mattered little. For though Show Me That Horizon could cross every edge of the earth, they had already arrived. The horizon they sought had been found in the clasp of a hand, in the warmth of a smile, in the shared journey of two souls destined.
---
Dedication to my beloved Fin
You are the compass that points me true, and the horizon I will never stop chasing. Every adventure, every story, every myth I spin leads back to you. Wherever the rails vanish, I know I have already found home in your hands
Family Portrait [September 2025]
Resting Sonne [November 2025]
To my amazing Fin
You are the one whose soul runs beside mine, even in dreams.
Where the world grows quiet and the stars forget their names,
we find each other, over and over again.
You are the warmth in the winter wind, the calm in the storm,
and the reason every moonrise feels like home, and I love you eternally.
So accept these gifts with all my love
Your rugged and manly Kiwi
Andy
You are the one whose soul runs beside mine, even in dreams.
Where the world grows quiet and the stars forget their names,
we find each other, over and over again.
You are the warmth in the winter wind, the calm in the storm,
and the reason every moonrise feels like home, and I love you eternally.
So accept these gifts with all my love
Your rugged and manly Kiwi
Andy
Moment By the Fire [November 2025]
For my smouldering Fire Mage
It’s honestly unfair how you sit there glowing like you personally taught the flames how to behave.
I swear the campfire crackles louder just to get your attention
and yes, I’m absolutely competing with it.
But here’s the thing:
for all your heat and spark and mage-level intensity,
you’re also the warmest place I’ve ever found to rest.
And if loving you means occasionally getting singed
by that ridiculous smile and the way you look at me
like I’m the only mortal worth casting a spell on…
well, then hand me the fireproof gloves,
because I’m not going anywhere.
You’re my blaze, my comfort,
and the only person who can outshine actual flames
without even trying.
I love you so very much, and this is for you.
It’s honestly unfair how you sit there glowing like you personally taught the flames how to behave.
I swear the campfire crackles louder just to get your attention
and yes, I’m absolutely competing with it.
But here’s the thing:
for all your heat and spark and mage-level intensity,
you’re also the warmest place I’ve ever found to rest.
And if loving you means occasionally getting singed
by that ridiculous smile and the way you look at me
like I’m the only mortal worth casting a spell on…
well, then hand me the fireproof gloves,
because I’m not going anywhere.
You’re my blaze, my comfort,
and the only person who can outshine actual flames
without even trying.
I love you so very much, and this is for you.
Moment Under Starlight [November 2025]
Fin, my sweet yummy Fin
There’s something ridiculous and wonderful about standing under a sky full of galaxies…
and still thinking, “Yeah, that one right there is my favourite star.”
The universe is out here flexing with nebulae and cosmic fireworks,
and meanwhile you’re leaning into me like the night was made for this moment
and honestly? I think it was.
There’s a softness in the way you breathe against me,
a quiet sort of gravity I keep orbiting like it’s the easiest choice I ever made.
And maybe it’s silly, maybe it’s sentimental,
but when your forehead rests against mine,
the whole sky just… steps politely out of the way.
Even the constellations know they’re being outshone.
So yes, call it sappy or dreamy, call it cosmic nonsense,
call it whatever you like
but every time we share a moment like this,
I swear the stars whisper,
“Alright, alright, he’s taken, we get it.”
And I just hold you a little closer,
because starlight is beautiful…
but you’re my favourite kind.
There’s something ridiculous and wonderful about standing under a sky full of galaxies…
and still thinking, “Yeah, that one right there is my favourite star.”
The universe is out here flexing with nebulae and cosmic fireworks,
and meanwhile you’re leaning into me like the night was made for this moment
and honestly? I think it was.
There’s a softness in the way you breathe against me,
a quiet sort of gravity I keep orbiting like it’s the easiest choice I ever made.
And maybe it’s silly, maybe it’s sentimental,
but when your forehead rests against mine,
the whole sky just… steps politely out of the way.
Even the constellations know they’re being outshone.
So yes, call it sappy or dreamy, call it cosmic nonsense,
call it whatever you like
but every time we share a moment like this,
I swear the stars whisper,
“Alright, alright, he’s taken, we get it.”
And I just hold you a little closer,
because starlight is beautiful…
but you’re my favourite kind.
Moment in Paradise [November 2025]
To my beloved Fin
There are moments the world feels loud, sharp at the edges, spinning far too quickly
and then there’s you.
You, with that quiet warmth in your smile.
You, with the kind of light that doesn’t blind, but softens everything it touches.
You, who I somehow get to walk beside in this life.
I call you my Sonne because that’s exactly what you are:
the warmth I lean into,
the glow that settles the noise,
the steady light I find myself turning toward without even thinking.
And when we’re standing like this, arms around each other, breath shared, hearts calm
I’m reminded that love doesn’t need fireworks to be extraordinary.
Sometimes it’s just the right person,
in the right moment,
making the whole world feel gentle again.
Moments like these are rare.
Precious.
The kind you hold with both hands.
And I’m grateful, truly,
that I get to find them with you.
There are moments the world feels loud, sharp at the edges, spinning far too quickly
and then there’s you.
You, with that quiet warmth in your smile.
You, with the kind of light that doesn’t blind, but softens everything it touches.
You, who I somehow get to walk beside in this life.
I call you my Sonne because that’s exactly what you are:
the warmth I lean into,
the glow that settles the noise,
the steady light I find myself turning toward without even thinking.
And when we’re standing like this, arms around each other, breath shared, hearts calm
I’m reminded that love doesn’t need fireworks to be extraordinary.
Sometimes it’s just the right person,
in the right moment,
making the whole world feel gentle again.
Moments like these are rare.
Precious.
The kind you hold with both hands.
And I’m grateful, truly,
that I get to find them with you.
Sons of the Oasis [December 2025]
Fin and I have had a long history with the sands of Egypt, through art and stories. But now for the first time I've done a portrait of us using our real faces, to transport ourselves there. This is my gift to him at the closing of the year.
Where sand learns mercy
and stone remembers water,
two figures stand
not as conquerors
but as chosen.
The oasis breathes around them.
Palm fronds hush.
The pool holds its mirror steady.
Even the glyphs pause in their glow
to listen.
Power marks the skin,
but it is love that steadies the hands.
Strength bends toward tenderness.
Fire learns patience.
They do not rush the moment.
They do not need to.
The desert knows
that what endures
is never hurried.
Eye to eye,
heartbeat to heartbeat,
they stand as proof
that devotion can be radiant
without being loud.
Not gods
Not kings
But something rarer
Beloved
Chosen
Home
__
For my sweet Fin
my calm in the heat,
my water in the endless sand.
You meet my strength without fear
and my fire without flinching.
In your gaze I find rest,
and in your presence I remember
who I am meant to be.
Wherever the world turns harsh,
I will stand with you.
Wherever the night grows long,
I will be your warmth.
Always
More Stories
- Mermandy and the Conch of Mild Inconvenience
- The Elf, the Rogue, and the Incredibly Convenient Throne
- The Ballad of Starlight and Sunrise
- The Last Stand of Leonidas
- The Bear Who Kept Secrets
- Taking You Home
- The Great Carriage Catastrophe
- The Carriage of Blossoms
- Rasputin and the Rhythm of Time
- Fort Blanket Snuggle
