#dustjacket you better LOVE this

[separatist-apologist]

Cowboy Like Me

Never thought I'd meet you here

Summary: When Nesta is stranded in rural Montana, she finds herself rescued by an unlikely pair.

Day 1 of @sjmromanceweek: Meet-Cute

Also, check out this art of Cowboy Cassian from @melphss

Read on AO3

Nesta was in hell. 

Who got married in Montana? Montana seemed like the sort of place you exiled people to die in lonely misery. She didn’t give a fuck about all the open sky, the clean air, or the nature that quite literally ambled up to her rental car looking for a snack. Nesta wasn’t built for this sort of life and maybe it said something about her that she couldn’t imagine anyone else who was.

She’d made a mistake, though. When she’d rented her airbnb, she’d just assumed it was an actual home, like the pictures had depicted, and not some ramshackle hovel with a literal hole in the ground for shitting.

For fifty dollars a night, she supposed she deserved that. Nesta thought that maybe she also deserved her twisted ankle. Heels on a gravel road had been an obvious mistake—was she supposed to go barefoot? She hadn’t brought anything else. Nesta emitted a soft scream of hatred for this new, cheerful place before propping herself up on the hood of her car to look at her swelling ankle.

All this for a wedding. The minute Nesta managed to get back into her car, she was going to book a flight home and block this friend forever. Why was she even trying to have friends outside of Gwyn and Emerie, besides? Nesta maneuvered her phone from her black skirt pocket only to find that of fucking course she didn’t have service.

She screamed again, irate with the whole endeavor.

“All right, ma’am?” a masculine voice called. Nesta whipped her head to the side of the long, gravel drive, intending to give that busybody man the middle finger for his trouble.

She hesitated. To start, the man in question was astride a large black horse. She had no quick comeback for a man who was pulling towards her shiny red sedan like he’d stepped straight out of eighteen forty six. 

He swung one of his long, powerful legs off the creature with ease, revealing himself to be at least six foot-five. Nesta had never considered herself a small woman, standing at five-nine without heels, but as he approached, his rough stubbled face hidden beneath the brim of his cowboy hat, Nesta felt positively dainty. 

He swept his hat off his head and Nesta wished he hadn’t. Holding it against the blue and green flannel of his shirt, he was like something out of a magazine ad for country living. Warm brown skin, hazel eyes, and dark brown hair that fell to his shoulders was a lethal combination on this man. His chiseled jaw, the stubble grazing his cheeks, and his rough features made Nesta think he had no trouble picking up women.

And that irked her, even as she swallowed with desire. He was absurdly stunning, the absolute dream of anyone hoping to marry a cowboy from a long-forgotten age. Those eyes of his, framed with ridiculously long lashes, swept over her, and then her surroundings.

“Tricked, huh?” he asked in a rich, deep drawl. “You wouldn’t be the first. Won’t be the last.”

“Someone should burn this place to the ground,” she hissed, one hand still gripping her hurt ankle. 

He chuckled. “I don’t think that would stop someone from tryin’ to sell it. You hurt?” he added, his eyes falling on her ankle. 

“I twisted my foot,” she admitted. He knelt, the sight emptying out all of Nesta’s thoughts. She could only stare at his thighs, bulging in his tight jeans. His hand was large enough to wrap fully around her ankle, and ever so slowly, he pulled her foot from her scuffed black heel.

“This is your problem,” he said, holding up her shoe with a frown. 

“Well I know that now,” Nesta hissed, “you must be a psychic.”

His eyes flashed. “Can you drive?”

“No,” she admitted, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I wouldn’t go around insultin’ the only person who can help…but that’s just me,” he replied. 

Nesta hesitated. “Are you a doctor?”

He snorted, rising to his feet again. His large, muscular body blocked the bright sun the way a tree might, and Nesta couldn’t pretend she wasn’t grateful.

“Cattle rancher,” he replied, “but I know a thing or two about tapin’ up a sprain. We’ll get you iced up and bandaged and on your way Miss…”

She sighed. “Nesta Archeron,” she half grumbled.

“Miss Archeron—”

“Nesta. Don’t be ridiculous.”

He smiled, setting her heart racing. “Miss Nesta, then. I’m Cassian, and I’m walkin’ towards you real slow because I don’t want to spook you.”

“Why would you—put me down right now!”

He shook his head. “And let you finish breakin’ what you started? No offense, darlin’, but carrying you is a lot safer than letting you hop on the horse—”

“Why can’t we drive?”

He looked down at her, his amusement plain. “And what would I do with Bryaxis?”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Nesta breathed, gripping Cassian’s neck until her nails dug into his skin. “I’ve never been on a horse.”

“He doesn’t bite,” Cassian replied. “I’ll be right behind you.”

She couldn’t help her squeal as he hoisted her up into the fine leather saddle. Nesta’s bare thighs touched the material, spreading her legs obscenely, though Cassian didn’t seen to notice or care. He merely swung himself up behind her. He put one hand on her hip, the warmth seeping through her silken skirt, before reaching for the reins.

“What were you doing out here, anyway?”

He nodded towards a saddle bag. “Needed a few things in town.

“And you took a horse?” she replied, trying to imagine where he’d even park it.

Cassian’s laugh rumbled through his chest. “Where are you from, Miss Nesta?”

“Chicago,” she replied, well aware she was proving every city slicker stereotype true. “Have you ever been?”

She felt him shrug. “Nope. I’ve been to cities before, but not so far south.

So far south. Nesta didn’t know how to respond to that. “You’re not missing much, honestly.”

“No? Is Chicago not home sweet home?”

It was Nesta’s turn to shrug. “It’s where I live.”

If he had thoughts about that, Cassian kept them to himself. That was just as well—Nesta didn’t want to fight some stranger when she was currently on his horse, unable to even run. He’d left her shoes on top of her car and her suitcase in the trunk. Nesta was literally at his mercy, given the small, two-lane road they were currently traveling down had no hint of civilization besides the two of them. 

She’d done such a shitty job picking an airbnb. 

“What are you doin’ up here, then?” he asked after a moment. His voice had the most pleasant gravel, deep and dark like a star-flecked sky. Nesta knew she was leaning against the broad plain of his chest and found she didn’t care. 

“My friend is getting married,” she said. “I guess her fiance grew up out here.”

“Oh yeah?” he replied, an obvious smile in his voice. “Married on a ranch?”

Nesta twisted in her saddle. “Don’t you dare—”

“Lots of people rent out my barn on the edge of the property. You can stay up with me, if you need a place. I’ll charge you a real fair price.”

She rolled her eyes. “What’s that?”

“You ever mucked out a stall, Miss Nesta?”

She poked him in the ribs, turning back to face the endless expanse of cloudless blue. “Is that your thing, then? Humbling the city girl by making her clean up shit?”

“Maybe I think you’d be real pretty with a little mud on your face.”

Nesta swallowed. “I don’t do mud,” she said, looking at her immaculate nails.

“What do you do, then?” Why did he sound so suggestive? Nesta’s hands were clammy–nervous. When had a man ever had that effect on her? 

“Law,” she told him. “Corporate law.”

He made some soft, noncommittal noise that was, honestly, a lot better than a lot of the finance men she dated. Cassian acknowledged he’d heard her without feeling the need to cut her down in service of his own ego. 

“I don’t know much about that,” he finally admitted. Nesta could have kissed him for it, though she wouldn’t. 

“It’s pretty boring,” she said, earning another of his soft noises.

“I don’t believe that for a minute,” he replied. “You don’t strike me as the type to spend your time sufferin’.”

“Well…I do get to humble really rich men with a fair amount of regularity,” she admitted with a smile. His grip on her waist tightened. 

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, his breath fanning against the back of her neck. She shivered, unintentionally leaning further into him. She was acting like a cat in heat over a man she’d known for fifteen minutes.

“I’ll pay,” she breathed. Behind her, Cassian went stiff.

“Pay?”

“For a room,” she clarified, wondering what he was thinking. “If you were serious about your offer, I’d pay you for it.”

“Oh, darlin’, there’s no need for that. Just a little hel—”

“I told you I don’t do dirt,” she snapped. “You can have money or nothing at all.”

“I’m not takin’ your money,” Cassian drawled. “Just keep after yourself and don’t disturb the cats.”

Her heart stuttered. “Cats?”

“Yeah. My girl just had kittens and she’s real skittish, so if you see her, be real quiet and soft.”

Nesta could have died. “What's her name?”

She wanted a cat so badly. Her landlord expressly forbade any animals at all, and Nesta was too much of a rule follower to risk a secret cat. The thought of spending three days surrounded by a mama cat and her little kittens seemed like heaven.

“Cheddar,” Cassian admitted ruefully. “She’s orange. Dad must be black, though, because half her little beans are black, too.”

A soft squeak slipped from Nesta’s throat. “Do they have names?”

“Not yet. Maybe you’ll help me out with that,” he added with what sounded suspiciously like hope. 

She didn’t dare unpack that. Not as Cassian pulled off the road, steering his steady horse down another gravel path. Untouched grass stretched for miles in every direction until the sky met mountains in the distance. 

“Your friends will be down there,” Cassian told her, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. Accident, she swore, watching the point of his finger. “But we’ll be up here. I’ll walk you down for the wedding…keep you from wreckin’ that other pretty ankle of yours.”

“Does that work on the women around here? Your folksy charm, your aw shucks—”

Cassian laughed. “Are you askin’ if being nice gets me laid?”

“Does it?”

“My good looks get me laid, darlin’.  My folksy charm, as you so eloquently put it, is just called manners outside of the city. No need to pretend.”

“You’d be surprised,” she told him dryly. Cassian merely held her close, his eyes fixated on the two story ranch just in the distance. Nesta could have wept with relief. The saddle was rubbing against her inner thigh, chafing her delicate skin and the woodsy scent of smoke and pine coming off Cassian was threatening to throw all Nesta’s good sense out the window. 

His home sprawled against the Montana countryside. Built to look as if it was made of wood—and maybe it was, for all she knew—the house had to be worth a cool million in Nesta’s estimation. She didn’t dare look over her shoulder at him, though. Didn’t dare acknowledge she knew this man wasn’t the simple, rural cattle rancher he was trying to embody. 

And Nesta certainly didn’t let him see that she was weirdly relieved. She liked an ambitious man. And unlike all the men she’d been dating back home, Cassian wasn’t slick. Nesta would have put all the money she had on Cassian being the sort who had his heart on his sleeve for all to see. She had no business thinking about that.

This wasn’t a date.

Cassian swung off his horse and gently pulled her back into his arms.

“Don’t you go runnin’ off,” he warned Bryaxis.

“Will he?”

Cassian merely shrugged as he took her up a stone laid path towards his glass and wood front door.

“If he goes anywhere, it’ll be next door to his girlfriend.”

She couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her. “Your horse has a girlfriend?”

“He’s a good-looking horse. Why shouldn’t he have a girlfriend. I catch him all the time down by the fence nuzzlin’ her with his nose.”

“Like you, then?”

Cassian chuckled. “I am very single, Miss Nesta—”

“Just Nesta,” she interrupted, breathless as he brought her inside. “The Miss makes me feel like someone’s kindergarten teacher.”

“Fine, Nesta. I, unlike my horse, am very single.”

“Any particular reason?” she asked, wishing she sounded snide and not interested.

Cassian set her on a long, dark leather sofa, He swept his hat off his head as he knelt in front of her again. 

“You want to know why I’m single? Maybe I work too much,” he said softly, sliding her his hand up  and then back down her knee. “Maybe I’m a shitty kisser.”

“I’ll bet it’s the second,” she replied. Cassian’s hazel eyes met her own, a smirk curving over his sensual mouth.

“And you? Are you a shitty kisser?”

“Terribly deficient.”

“I figured,” he murmured, turning his gaze back to her swollen ankle. Cassian grabbed a red pillow from the corner of his couch to prop up her foot. “Why don’t you stay here and I’ll get us all set up, hm?”

“Okay.”

Cassian vanished long enough for Nesta to fire off several quiet texts and otherwise study his really nice home. The living room had a wall made of pointed windows, and though everything had that wood cabin aesthetic, it was cozy and cheerful and bright. She flipped through her work emails while she waited, dragging a knitted blanket off the back of the sofa over her lap. 

Was she insane for hanging out in a stranger's house? She would never have dared back home—her friends thought she was insane. And yet she was at the right place, and if Cassian wanted to hurt her, surely bandaging up her foot wasn’t necessary. She doubted his neighbors would have heard her scream if she stood outside and emptied her lungs of air.

Cassian returned nearly an hour later, balancing a glass of water and a plate in one massive hand, and her suitcase in the other.

“You got my things?” she asked him, surprised he’d bother. She’d assumed she’d have to hobble back out there for it.

“Of course, darlin’,” he replied, setting a nice sandwich and two ibuprofen down on the wood coffee table right in front of her. “Unless you plan on wearin’ that skirt the entire time? I don’t mind, but…”

Her cheeks flushed. “Thank you. That was really nice.”

He ducked his head. “Have somethin’ to eat before you take the medicine. You look like you haven’t had anything but coffee today. Pain killers won’t settle well on an empty stomach and while you’re cute, you’re not cute enough to clean up puke.”

Nesta was rendered speechless. That was for the best. Everytime he casually said something nice about her, Nesta was far too tempted to crawl into his lap and repay him for his generosity in a different sort of way. Instead, Nesta remained perfectly still while Cassian wrapped up her ankle with a beige colored bandage and pressed a bag of frozen green beans against the aching bone. 

“Keep this elevated,” he insisted, taking a spot close enough that Nesta could have scooted forward and put her head in his lap. She was far too tempted. 

“Want to watch something?” she suggested. “Or are you busy?”

“Not too busy for you,” he teased, reaching for the remote. “How do you feel about history?”

Their eyes met, and in unison, they said, “Ancient Aliens.”

Cassian smiled with satisfaction. “Fuck yeah.”

They wasted the afternoon that way. Nesta inched closer and closer until her head was propped up against his thigh. Cassian kept his arm casual against the back of the couch, unconcerned as they giggled their way through each new show. He didn’t stop until the sun dipped low, bathing the room in shadow.

“Want to help me make dinner?” he asked, his voice gruffer than before. She looked up at him.

“No eating out?”

His lips curved into a sly smile. “Are you asking to be eaten out?”

She smacked at his stomach, heart racing all the same. “You don’t seem like the cooking type. Isn’t that something for your little wife?”

“Are you offerin’?” he joked. “I accept. C’mon, lazy bones. At least come talk to me.”

“Does anything bother you?” Nesta asked, unconcerned when Cassian lifted her back into the air. She winced at the jolt of pain lancing through her ankle, though she couldn’t pretend she didn’t like the ease with which he carried her through his house. Cassian was careful, setting her atop a granite kitchen island so she could watch over his attempts at cooking.

“So tell me, Miss Nesta—”

“Just Nesta.”

“Nes,” he grinned. “Miss hot shot attorney. What do you think about my humble home?”

She looked around, pretending to survey with an arched eyebrow. “It’s a little rustic—”

Cassian’s fingers were between her ribs before she could stop him, tickling until she thrashed and gasped for a breath of air. 

“Stop it, stop—”

“Rustic,” he chuckled, pulling out a nice creuset pot and setting it atop the range. “You’ll have to work on your insults.”

“I think you just wanted an excuse to touch me,” Nesta replied. Cassian smiled.

“Maybe,” he conceded. “It’s not everyday a beautiful woman is waitin’ for me on the side of the road.”

“I wasn’t waiting. I was stuck.”

He shrugged. “Sure felt like you were waitin’ for me.”

“Maybe you were waiting on me.”

“Almost certainly,” Cassian agreed cheerfully. “Do you eat pasta?”

“I’ll eat anything,” Nesta agreed. Cassian nodded.

“You and me both, sweetheart.”

And God, but Nesta wanted to find out if that was true. Cassian had a box of recipes he’d inherited from his mother that he’d been more than happy to show her. While Nesta pulled the cards out one by one, Cassian made his own tomato sauce. She knew it shouldn’t have impressed her and still it did. 

He was nearly done when his cat, Cheddar, slunk into the room. Three black and orange kittens flopped just behind her, the third tumbling face first over the threshold from the hall to the tile. Nesta gasped.

“Oh my God,” she whispered.

“Where are the other four, mama?” Cassian asked his cat as she wound her way through his legs to rub against him. “What are those little demons up to?”

Nesta carefully hopped off the counter so she could scoop up one of the babies.

“Probably peeing in my boot,” Cassian grumbled, stirring his sauce with a wooden spoon. 

“Babies,” Nesta breathed, delighted when the three that had ambled in with their mother immediately bounded towards her. Her favorite, for no reason at all, was the one with the split black and orange face. She had the brightest blue eyes and when Nesta lifted her up to really look at her, the small creature meowed loudly. 

“Well now you’ve done it,” Cassian teased as Cheddar trotted over to see what the fuss was. “Be careful–mama cat has claws.”

Nesta scratched behind her ears. “Maybe for you.”

“I suppose like calls to like,” he grumbled. While he plated their food, Nesta played with the kittens until there was a snag in her skirt. Cassian offered Nesta a hand and when he pulled her up to her feet, balancing on one foot, he yanked just hard enough that she fell into his chest.

Into his lips. 

“Oh,” she whispered, unsure what to do. Cassian kept her steady with one arm, the kiss polite and chaste and just enough to make her want much, much more.

“Sorry,” he murmured, brushing a strand of her hair off her face. “Probably shouldn’t kiss the woman rentin’ one of my rooms, but…”

“It’s alright,” Nesta assured him, letting him lead her to the blocky table just outside the kitchen. It might have been awkward had Cassian not been so charming. So laid back and nice. He’d made her spaghetti and didn’t care when his cat spent the entirety of the meal winding her lithe, orange body through his feet and purring so loud Nesta felt like she was competing for his attention. 

Cassian kept the conversation going as if nothing had happened, but Nesta couldn’t get the feel of his mouth against hers out of her mind. He’d smelled crisp and clean and when her hands had pressed against his chest, he’d been all hard, toned muscle. 

“Why don’t I clean up down here, and you can get settled in your room?” Cassian suggested when Nesta had been silent a little too long. She was undressing him in her mind, and when she looked up at him, the little smile on his face made her wonder if he wasn’t aware. 

“Sure,” she agreed, if only to get out of helping with the dishes.

“I’ll carry you up,” he added, his eyes flashing. Nesta shook her head, her pride unable to stand being taken up and down the stairs.

“I can do it myself.

“Are you always this difficult?” he asked, rising to his feet. Cassian was a big man. Nesta had never felt small in comparison, had never once looked at a prospective lover and thought herself little. Cassian, though. Cassian exuded strength. In another life, he might have been a warrior prince worshiped by the masses. 

Nesta offered him a feline smile. “Maybe.” Back home, that refusal to yield would have earned her nothing good. With Cassian, though? A slow smile spread over his rugged face.

“Wouldn’t be any fun if you weren’t, I suppose. Go on then, Miss Nesta. Yell if you need me…I’ll come runnin’.”

Nesta suppressed a shiver at his sensual tone. “Is that a promise?”

He looked her up and down, his expression suddenly ravenous. If Nesta had less pride, she might have hopped over to him, pressed her hands to his chest, and let him finish what he’d started. 

“It is,” he said simply, those hazel eyes finding her face again. 

It was shree will that made her turn. As if she had something to prove. And Nesta made it all of four little hops before Cassian was coming behind her and sweeping her up off her feet. Nesta gasped, unprepared to be so close to him again.

“C’mon,” he murmured, holding her like she was something delicate.

Something fragile.

And no one thought that about her. Nesta swallowed hard, biting back the urge to snap at him. He didn’t know what she was like and maybe that was a blessing, because Nesta didn’t have to put on a show for him. She could press her head against his chest and sigh, “Thank you,” without needing to scowl, to stare him down so he knew not to ever try such a thing again.

“Tell me if I’m wrong,” he drawled softly, taking that first wooden step. “But I’ve got the feelin’ that back home, you’re somethin’ of a ball buster.”

Nesta tightened, her hackles raised. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“No, ma’am,” he chuckled. “It’s just…I’m thinkin’ that most of those men up there don’t know how to act right when it comes to you. And because they can’t make hide or hair of you, they treat you bad. Try and break you, make you small? So you’ve gotta be real tough, don’t you baby?”

Nesta swallowed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said crisply, careful to enunciate every single syllable which she knew only proved his point. 

“That’s what I thought,” he said softly, taking her upstairs. Nesta didn’t want him to let her go. I was a strange thing, to be so seen. To be laid bare by this man she didn’t even know. 

“Don’t get mad at me for sayin’ this, but you remind me of Bryaxis—”

“Your horse?”

“He was mistreated too,” Cassian explained. “Screamed at, whipped…you name it, he endured it. But all he needed was a soft hand. A little patience. I figure you probably aren’t too different.”

“Where are you taking me?” 

Cassian had opened a bedroom door that absolutely belonged to him. The dark masculine reds and blacks of the bed were a dead giveaway, along with the half-full glass of water on a wood bedside table and a stack of books dog-eared haphazardly. A leather jacket was hung from a chair near the open closet door, and though it was dark, Nesta could see an adjoining bathroom at the far end of the room.

“Where, I think, you want to be tonight. Tell me if I’m wrong—I’ll put you somewhere else.”

“This is your room, Cassian.”

She could see he was trying not to smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

Tell him he’s stupid. Tell him he’s wrong. Demand he put you back in your own room and—

“Okay,” she whispered before she could talk herself out of it.

Relief all but crumpled over his features. He murmured something that sounded suspiciously like Thank the good lord, and set her atop his neatly made bedspread.

Nerves shocked through Nesta, rendering her silent for a moment. Cassian, for his part, seemed to have realized that he, too, had her in his bed and didn’t quite know what to make of that.

“I ah…why don’t I wash up the dishes and you can take a shower?”

“That sounds good, Cassian.”

It sounded better than good, and though Nesta swore she wasn’t going to say so, she called, “Unless you think I need help in the shower?”

Cassian froze. For all his bravado, it was obvious he’d never thought he’d get this far. Nesta crawled toward the end of his bed with exaggerated slowness, holding his stare. He took a slow breath, those eyes of his darkening to almost black.

“Is it safe for me alone in there?”

The knot in his throat bobbed. “I reckon it’s not, Miss Nesta—”

“Just Nesta,” she reminded him, rising up on her knees so she could touch the hard planes of his stomach. “Do you think you could call me that, Cassian?”

“I…” his voice trailed off when her fingers found his belt and tugged. 

“You know,” Nesta continued with far more bravado than she felt, “I don’t think I’ve properly thanked you for coming to my rescue today.”

“You..” he cleared his throat. “That’s not necessary. I—Nes—”

“That’s better,” she crooned, having undone the button of his jeans. A lump was forming—hard and thick and Nesta was desperate to see what the cowboy had hidden in those black pair of briefs. 

“Nes,” he tried again, his hands resting on her shoulder. He wasn’t stopping her, and given the way his fingers curled against her, she thought he was trying very, very hard to be a gentleman.

That wouldn’t do. 

“I’d be a poor guest if I didn’t thank you,” she said, slipping past the waistband of his underwear. Nesta gasped when she curled around him—or, tried to. As she pulled Cassian out, she realized she’d need to rethink her plan to thank him with her tongue. Cassian was enormous, both thick and long. Hardly a grower, given he was still stiffening in her curled hand.

Neither of them spoke for a moment, each waiting for the other to do something. Deciding he was erect enough, she pumped him. Her fingers just barely fit around his shaft, and even with two hands she couldn’t have fully covered him. Nesta certainly wasn’t going to be able to fit him all in her throat.

But god she wanted to try. 

He exhaled a breath when she stroked him again, earning a chuckle from Nesta. “Tell me how you like it,” she murmured, softening her grip. Nesta had to hope that the cowboy liked it rough, because she wanted him to fuck her within an inch of her life. 

“Nice and slow?” she tried, making a sweet pass over that large cock of his.

Cassian shook his head, his dark tresses, whispering against his broad shoulders. What was he like out of control? 

“What about this?” she tried, pumping him harder, squeezing tighter. He shook his head again, allowing her to make a third, rougher pass. Nesta twisted her wrist against his head, her nails grazing the sensitive vein trailing his now very erect cock jutting from between two powerful legs.

“That's what I thought,” Nesta murmured, looking up through dark lashes. “Just like me.”

“Nes—” 

Nesta silenced him by taking him into her mouth. She had to use her hand to make up the difference and she didn’t care. A soft, strangled noise escaped Cassian as his fingers plunged into her hair. 

Yes.

This was what she needed. Nesta took him until she gagged, and then she took a little more, teeth grazing his sensitive skin, hand punishingly tight. Cassian moaned, tugging at her hair. Nesta sucked again, trying so hard to communicate that she could take it. He was holding back, practically shaking from the effort. 

Nesta took more of him, widening her jaw in order to accommodate the sheer size of him. That was all it took. Cassian made a rough, snarling sound, pushing her off him.

“You’re a lady,” he panted, reaching for the buttons of his shirt. 

Finally.

“And in my house, ladies come first,” he continued, eyes flashing as he shrugged out of that shirt. Nesta swore softly at the sight of all that gleaming, corded muscle. Nesta had never seen someone so effortlessly toned, so big.

Powerful.

“I seem to recall something about eating out,” she said breathlessly, swallowing hard when Cassian prowled toward her.

“I haven’t forgotten, darlin’,” he promised, hovering over her with his unbuttoned jeans and a smile that made Nesta’s heart race. “But first, I think I’m owed a kiss.”

“Just one?” she asked as his lips ghosted over her own.

“Let’s start with one and go from there,” he said, sliding his hand around the back of her head. Nesta had only her ripped dress between them, which provided no protection against Cassian when he pressed the weight of his body against her. 

In another life, she might have kissed him nice and slow—teasing it out, exploring him thoroughly. Right then, though, Nesta thought she might explode if she didn’t have his mouth directly on her, his tongue stroking, thrusting, tasting. He was just as excited, grinding himself into her while she pulled at the strands of his hair.

He tasted like snow kissed wind, somehow. Like the crackling of a fire and a frosted window—like some memory she’d long forgotten. Nesta dug her nails down the back of his neck and against his shoulder blades until he bucked into her, wild and nearly unrestrained. Nesta could not remember the last time she’d wanted someone the way she wanted him.

“Off—get this—off,” Cassian panted between messy, hungry kisses. He was pawing at her dress, trying to figure out how to take it off. Nesta arched her back into his chest, earning matching moans from them both as she yanked down the zipper

Nesta would never know how she managed to get that dress off her body given Cassian never stopped his frantic kissing. Nor did she figure out how her bra joined her clothes on the floor. She only realized she was nearly naked when Cassian licked down the column of her neck before burying his face between her breasts.

“Fuck, Nes,” he breathed, both hands covering them entirely—no easy feat, given how large they were. Cassian massaged them, callused thumbs dragging over her aching nipples until Nesta was certain she was making a mess all over his bedding. 

His mouth latched around her and Nesta was lost, ripping at his hair as her body bowed off the bed.

“Responsive,” he teased, his tongue tracing around the sensitive bud. “I wonder…”

“Cass—” she gasped when his hand made its way between her legs. Nesta writhed when he began drawing circles on her clit, teasing touches that weren’t even close to what she needed, even as he switched between her breasts, sucking and licking. She could feel it all in her pussy, like every nerve in her body was intimately connected.

She could have come from that—for the first time in god knew how long. At least, without her own hand, without assistance from a toy. Nesta couldn’t recall the last time a man had pleased her so easily, so effortlessly.

Cassian pulled back, wild and impossibly sexy. Holding her gaze, he nipped his way down her body until he found the red pair of panties still clinging to her hips.

“Aw, for me?” he teased, kissing against the fabric. “Sweetheart, you’re soaked.”

Nesta pushed herself against his face, but Cassian was still licking against the lace. 

“I’ll bet you could come just like this. Couldn’t you?”

If he was doing it? Probably. Nesta merely whined, arching when he hooked his fingers into her underwear and peeled them off her.

He whistled softly. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby. Do you know that? I feel sick at the sight of you.”

She didn’t have a chance to respond. Cassian’s tongue slid down the center of her, rendering speech impossible. Nesta reached for something to hold on to, and found his hair for purchase. Cassian groaned, the sound vibrating against her. Her thighs tightened around his face, earning another groan of pleasure. 

Cassian’s tongue was everything. She realized, after a lifetime of thinking she was just difficult to get off—too fussy, too particular, too exacting—that what she really needed was someone who knew what they were doing. Cassian had her spread apart, licking and sucking her clit with the sort of expert precision that told Nesta he liked what he was doing. 

She regretted not sucking him more. Nesta was going to come apart in record time and she knew she was going to beg him to do this again in a few hours. All weekend.

For fucking ever. 

Release was gathering on her spine, burning hotly through her blood until Nesta didn’t recognize the noises coming from her throat. Cassian, too, was rolling his hips into the mattress, trying to alleviate his own arousal. Nesta nearly stopped him, if only to have that long, thick length in her body.

As if he could hear her thoughts, Cassian pushed one of his fingers into her. Nesta tightened around him and Cassian swore at whatever he felt, though he didn’t stop. He fucked and sucked in time, working her like she was an instrument only he knew how to play. Nesta built up, up, up, until she was fucking his hand, rolling all over his face like a wild animal. 

Nesta broke apart with a scream she couldn’t control, bucking against him as she shattered into fractals of starlight. Cassian didn’t stop, riding her through wave after wave with clear, obvious excitement. It was only when pleasure became edged with pain that Nesta released the grip her thighs had around his face and Cassian came up for a deep breath of air.

“Fuck,” he said, his lips gleaming from her arousal. “Fuck, Nes—”

“Come here, come here,” she panted, scrabbling for his shoulders. Cassian obliged, kissing her frantically. His tongue was coated in the taste of her, pushed against her own. Nesta liked it, wanted more of him.

“Condom,” he breathed, finally shucking his jeans to trip over to his dresser. Nesta propped herself up on her elbows to watch, admiring his firm ass as he went. Cassian was quick about it, rolling the condom onto his cock with what she swore were shaking hands. His eyes shone, and if she didn’t know better, she would have sworn Cassian could not believe his good luck. 

“You sure?” he asked, hesitating at the end of the bed. Nesta nearly laughed, given she was spread out and still trembling from his mouth. Any other man would have jumped on her, would already be balls deep buried in her.

He was sweet, she decided.

She wanted to keep him, though she had no idea how. She’d figure it out later. “I’m sure.”

“Good,” he said with another heart stopping smile. “I don’t know what I would have done if you’d said no.”

“Sure you do,” she offered in what she hoped was a sultry voice. “You’d have gone into the bathroom and used your hand.”

“That was my plan to start,” he agreed, settling between the cradle of her thighs. “But this is much better. Have I said how pretty you are?”

“Once, at least.”

“Well.” He pushed himself an inch or so into her. Nesta gasped loudly. “You’re fuckin’ beautiful, darlin’.”

He’d punched all the air from her lungs. Nesta didn’t think she’d ever been stretched against anything half as large as Cassian. It was the sweetest pain that, with each shallow stroke inching him in deeper, became wholly pleasure. By the time Cassian had fully seated himself within her, a bead of sweat was trailing down his temple from the effort it took to go slow.

“Good?”

“Good,” she agreed, gripping the back of his neck for a kiss. “Cass?”

He hummed in response.

“I’m not fragile. You can fuck me, if you like.”

Cassian pulled himself out before snapping his hips so hard the headboard above them rattled. “Like that?” he grunted.

“Yes—yes, Cassian—”

He did it again, groaning loudly when she tightened involuntarily around him. This was Cassian unrestrained, his hair wild around his rugged, handsome face. His muscles bunched and shifted from the effort, held over her just enough that she could incline her had and watch his cock slide in and out of her body. 

He wasn’t finished, and Nesta already wanted to have him again. 

And again.

Cassian reached for her knees, bending them up by her shoulders to drive himself deeper. Nesta moaned, eyes rolling up into her head. The balls of her feet were pressed to his chest pushing him with each slide out, only for him to return with twice as much force. When she’d said she’d wanted it rough, well…this was exactly what she meant. 

“Nes, fuck—” he panted, eyes rolling up into his head as she came on his cock. Nesta arched hard, every muscle in her body going taut all at once. She clamped around him and Cassian came too, clearly unbidden and unprepared for the force of his own release. She wanted to drown herself in the noises he made, in the frantic thrusting of his body driving himself deeper on instinct. 

Cassian collapsed on top of her, dropping Nesta’s legs carelessly. She hissed when her bruised ankle hit the bed. 

“Sorry,” he whispered, lips against her jaw. “And I’m not, at the same time. Nesta, I…”

“I know,” she agreed, because she was certain they were thinking the same thing. Something else had happened between them, something they couldn’t so easily walk away from.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said, perhaps guessing those words were never going to come easy to Nesta. “I can hear you worryin’. Baby, you don’t have to worry about me.”

Nesta brushed her fingertips against the rough stubble of his face. “Promise?”

Cassian grinned. “I promise.”

[ashmouthbooks]

2023 in books

better late than never, right?

2023 was a relatively slow year for me in bookbinding, but I still made 30+ books. (ask me how much time I spent on my other hobbies and it becomes clear why books were fewer.)

A5 books

the first A5 of the year was an entry for a bookbinding competition (which I didn't win), where the theme was climate change. I had a lot of fun putting it together and it was the first time I made an A5 tête-bêche book - I usually do these A6 or A7 size.

this was also the year I decided to start a collection of menocchio fics, which also led to experiments with printing directly onto bookcloth to get titles on the spine

what's fun about bookbinding is that you can Just Make A Book, but you can also Get Ideas And Run With Them with it. which is how I wound up with this black on black book. destiel necromancy fic, because of course it is

going back to something more colourful...Ulysses. not the James Joyce one, the slowburn 00Q one. named for a Tennyson poem.

final A5 book of the year is my Renegade Exchange book, which I bound for Silent Sun Press - a Crowley-centric genfic with outsider POV, so naturally I went for TV!Gomens colour schemes

A6 and A7 books

I started the year ambitiously - in addition to entering a competition, I started my urchin specials project. thus far I've still only bound these first three books for the project, but I plan to do more. first dustjackets as well!

I continued with the no-glue pamphlets and did three

I joined the Tiny Books Exchange, and as a proof of concept - before I typeset an A7 sized tête-bêche - I did a little tête-bêche of the two Temeraire fics I wrote for yuletide once upon a time

then followed of course the Tiny Book I bound for the exchange - my copy (test & proof of concept, bottom), the giftee copy (green, top right), and the author copy (blue, top left)

I typeset a lot more than I bind - I have plans to bind so and so, so I typeset it, but don't always have the time to bind it right away. so I have folders full of typesets ready to go at a moment's notice. this one was typeset a whole year before I bound it

are these paperbacks or just very slim hardbacks? I call them paperbacks as I used 0.5mm boards and they have no spine, but ymmv

this one definitely is a hardback - with slightly thicker boards, a spine, and two fics in one book. I do love those tête-bêches

at my work we have a lot of deliveries wrapped in this nice recycled brown paper that was just going into the recycling bin, and I thought: why not make books out of it? so I played around with it (and my printer) and came up with a neat aesthetic for paperbacks with breakaway spines (using 0.5mm boards)

will I ever stop with the tête-bêches? no. also this one has endpapers made from SEAWEED. how cool is that?

the last A6 of the year is this little collection of my own stories for a tiny Danish fandom. detectives and trauma, but make it about food? yes. food and cooking themed endpapers and cover papers, and the dustjacket has fake coffee stains on it. perfect

and that is all, folks. I did a lot of different styles and types of binding this year, I had fun with it, I learned a lot, and I'm happy with what I've created.

[asnowperson]

Hagio Moto's Onshitsu (1975)

As the crappiest translator of all times, even I want to do something to bring 1970s manga to a wider audience. I'm too scared to get into those long-ass shoujo epics, I'm not sure if I can last through not so long-ass shoujo manga, and some manga simply terrify me because I'm afraid I can't translate them with my language skills and lack of culture. For the time being, I tried my hand at translating this Hagio Moto one shot from 1975, and my lovely group, Decadence Scans, helped me get this out into the world <3 Click here or here to read it. I'd like to thank Kanedian, Roze and Attolia again for indulging me and working on this story. But I still need to gush over this manga a little bit more.

Hug the otouto. This is so beautiful that I can look at these panels for hours.

I've liked Hagio Moto ever since I read Zankoku na Kami ga Shihai Suru, and been meaning to read more of her. The problem is, I'm very lazy and have read so little so far. I'm basic and as I was looking through MU to choose a Hagio title to read, and Onshitsu piqued my interest. Because it checks two boxes: It's by Hagio, and it's BL. I've always read about the bishounen culture of the 70s, but I know so little about the actual BL works from that period. I checked Hagio-sensei's fan site, and this site in English that is full of old shoujo we'll never see, and bought the relevant one shot collection. (By the way, buying JP e-books is easy. Do it even if you don't speak Japanese and support the mangaka. How can you say you love them if you don't even buy their books?)

Onshitsu is basically about MC's cute step-otouto getting mindfucked by some weird-ass rose-spirit-thing. Onshitsu hits all those sweet 70s shoujo spots: European setting, blond bishounen, /fa/ bishounen, onii-san, bishounen tears, innocent kisses, creating drama while things could be solved through communication just so they can do dramatic poses, gratiutious references to Greek mythology, rich people, smart people, mystery,suffering, a shit ton of roses and other floral arrangements, bad ends, emotional conclusions... Couple that with Hagio-sensei's magnificent page layouts, and you get a very enjoyable read. This is not the best manga or anything, but I think it reflects pretty well the tastes of that time period. I mean, this is the kind of stuff I wanted to read to understand how BL tones became a thing in shoujo manga during the 1970s.

Later, I got Alois, the one shot compilation it was first published in too! I can't wait to read it. Here's the first page of Onshitsu with the dustjacket of the volume.

I can talk about every panel in this manga, but allow me talk about a couple panels/pages I really, really liked:

I had to stop and say "WOW!" on this page when I first read this manga. The way she drew Lange and the spirit's hair and bodies all entwined like that is very aesthetic and sensual. You can feel the intimacy, but no vulgarity. I particularly like those very thicc lines on the middle left part of the page. I feel so doki doki when I can see how the artist must have drawn something through the lines.

I think it's about José's straight, long hair and the way he holds Lange's head, but the kiss above is very cute. And the flare pants.

I like the despair-ridden José here very much. And these lines sound 2000% better in Japanese than I could do them justice. Seriously, I hope I didn't screw this up too much while translating, but no one ever touches this stuff. I felt like I had to do something.

My pilgrimage to the 1970s for more BL-flavored shoujo will be long and arduous, but I will continue. I hope this little contribution makes someone happy.

[stitchlingbelle]

My mostly spoiler-free review of Toll of Honor:

Ok, so I read it yesterday when I should have been doing other things (ain't that always the way) and tl;dr: it was pretty good.

The dust jacket will tell you that it's set from the aftermath of the Battle of Hancock to around the time Honor got asked to accept her Grayson commission, and that it focuses heavily on the Pavel Young arc and the earliest phase of the war. We actually didn't get to see that period much in other books, since Nike was out of commission at the time and Honor rapidly got caught up in personal/ political problems, so it was a bit of something new for us.

The first half is mostly concerned with Young/ the politics, and the second with the war. I'm sure most Weber fans will love the second half-- it feels very much like a return to form for him. The first half, for me, was a difficult read. It's a very direct return to arguably the worst, most difficult period of Honor's life, and he very much makes that fresh and horrible again. (As a sidenote, he does manage to avoid doing that C+P thing he fell prey to in the overlapping chapters of Mission of Honor/ A Rising Thunder/ etc by giving us entirely new scenes and POVs that we didn't get the first time, a huge plus.)

This leads me to my biggest problem with the book: I actually thought there was too much focus on Honor. Given that the dustjacket and author's note both claimed the story was really about what the politics around Young cost the RMN, and posited Brandy Bolgeo as the main character, I thought that the first half about the politics and their impact would have been better served by showing us more of Brandy, the RMN, the war itself. Brandy et al hearing about the news-- and living through its consequences-- would have made for a more cohesive narrative than what we get, which is that Brandy gets introduced, the focus switches to Honor, and then back to Brandy for the later events. The first half felt like one of Weber's novellas from the anthologies-- a very well-done look at that period from other POVs, but not as necessary to the story he said he wanted to tell in this book.

That, however, leads me to my biggest PRAISE: Weber really did manage to add so much depth and texture to the early days of the war in this book. While there is extremely little focus on the Peeps here, watching as the RMN starts hearing about the citizen commissioners and the "collective responsibility" issues and starts to realize what it means for them as they fight-- watching the disastrous learning curve of the surviving PRN-- it's chilling stuff. It almost feels scarier than the far more professional battles fought later in the series. It's also easy to forget that most of the RMN hadn't really seen battle before this. Weber makes the desperate, fumbling, scrambling nature of the opening of the war very vivid.

Brandy also gets to spend quite a bit of time with characters we know and love in her arc, which was a joy and a delight, and I liked her character a lot.

Overall, Toll of Honor was a solid return to the Honorverse for us longtime fans to enjoy.

[someonelookingpraediti]

Currently Reading...

The Eidolon - K.D. Edwards

Ok, so I loved this book. Max and Quinn were my favourite characters in The Tarot Sequence, so I was really excited to read a book from their point of view.

I'm not super into Anna yet, but that's probably a combination of her being younger than the others, and having not been so fleshed out in TTS. She's an interesting character, so I'm sure I'll connect more to her as we learn more about her.

The beginning of the book was a little boring, because it was repeating things that had already happened, but once it got into new plot, it was so interesting. It's weird that re-reading a book isn't boring at all, but reading the same plot from a new point of view always is. I'm hoping that the rest of this series focuses on new storylines - and I can't wait to read them!

But my Max/Quinn prediction isn't panning out so well, since it looks like Quinn might be asexual! I should be absolutely thrilled with ace rep, since there's just nowhere near enough of it, but weirdly, I like to read about all those funky little allos going forth and doing all that stuff I don't! I'm still hoping for a romantic relationship between them, though, since no comments have been made on his romantic persuasion. They need some true love in their life. And I'm convinced they're Tallas.

I bought a special edition from Rainbow Crate. As far as I can tell, this is the only physical copy available of this book - I'm hoping the rest of the series is also going to be available in the same format.

The hardcover is really gorgeous - the dustjacket is the standard cover, that is also featured on the eBook. But it also has a reversible cover, which is equally nice! Personally, I like the original better, so that's the one I'll be displaying. There's also foiling on the hardcase, front and back, and there's stencilled edges as well.

The endpapers feature four different pieces of artwork, presumably by fans. And there's a page that looks like it been designed for a signature, although this isn't a signed copy. But maybe one day I'll meet the author and get it signed, you never know.

[magicalyaku]

I spent two very great weeks of vacation in Seoul (and Jeju) with my friends and am now begrudgingly home again. I still managed to squeeze in a bit of reading time. My TBR didn't get any shorter though, because of the 10 books I read, 8 were from the library and only one of those was on my reading list beforehand. Great!

Solange wir die Sterne sehen (Liam Erpenbach): This was kind of heavy. Both from the flowery writing style and the topic of a serious illness. But it was done well and really sweet. Next to the romance, there's also a great and very important platonic relationship which is something I'll always appreaciate.

Fence 1-4 (C.S. Pacat, Johanna The Mad): After the heavy read and with just a week to go before my vacation I didn't want to start anything I might not be able to finish or too difficult. So comics it was! I borrowed all the volumes my library had. (And I will be the first one to get it once they buy the fifth, hrhr!) A fun read!

A Far Wilder Magic (Allison Saft): Another month, another YA fantasy book I did not like! 8D And what a shame, because the cover is lovely and the blurb sounded so good, but I never got into the writing style and the world building. I just expected a real fantasy instead of a "just like our world but with alchemy" and a real hunting adventure and not a silly competition event where the only action is the five mile walk from the house into town and back. I liked that for once the girl was the mysterious and strong one while the boy was the noisy, easy-going type. But I was a little dispappointed that her strength was just a "I need to keep it together" and not "I'm proud of who I am" kind of strength. And also that sex scene on the beach? "There was sand everywhere but I didn't care." Well, I did care. Gross.

The Foxhole Court (Nora Sakavic): I fully admit that I've been brainwashed. I've seen this book before and was always uninterested because sports and that hideous cover. Then my tumblr radar flooded me with fanarts and quotes for three weeks and I cried "But the cover is so ugly!!" and then a certain person went and made pretty new dustjackets, which made me suffer thoroughly, and then my library said "Look, it's available right now!". I couldn't help it. The universe told me to read! D: And what can I say, I loved it. Maybe it's thanks to the fact that I read A Far Wilder Magic right before and loathed it, that I had a much easier time appreciating things done well in The Foxhole Court. (Skip if you don't want lengthy examples: In AFWM the author uses way too many pronouns for my taste. As in several paragraphs with no mention of the name. At one point it even was the heroine and her mother talking and it would have been easy to use the names of either woman as none was used in the sentences right before, yet it was "she" in one sentence referring to the mother and "she" in the next referring to the daughter. (I know that this can work but here I was just confused). I'm a writer myself and I struggle with writing scenes like that and my beta-reader told me I use too many pronouns, so I'm probably extra aware of such things in the books I read. It annoyed me to no end in AFWM. And then came TFC with four boys talking in the same scene and it just worked and I was a little amazed. Funnily enough, something similar happened back then with The Raven Cycle. I hated the book I read before, it was so boring and the characters were incrediby lame. I DNFed it and started The Raven Boys and within the first 50 or so pages I realised that even though it introduced like a million characters at once I already knew and liked every single one better than I did with 3 people after 200 pages of the former book. 8D (Needless to say that TRC is one of my favourite series)) Back to TFC! For once, there's a bunch of interesting characters! I mean, yes, they’re all weirdos and the violence and drugs are kinda a lot, buuuut ... Neil can handle himself. Also, the showdown was a duel of words! And nothing of what Tumblr teased me with happened so far (which to be honest makes it more fun), so I'm looking forward to the next volumes!

Keeper of the Lost Cities 1 (Shannon Messenger) (Audiobook): This one is so long, omg. I'm usually bad with audiobooks but I started listening on the flight home from Seoul. And then kept listening at home while rolling around on the floor wallowing in despair that my vacation is over (and probably jetlag). It's definitely a series starter book. So many small things happening one after each other and the one big thing in the end doesn't even get resolved. But it's cute and interesting enough or else I would not have made through 12 hours. The only thing I did not appreciate as much was the amount of suffering Sophie goes through. I do like my characters suffering a bit (never say no to a cute boy crying), but she's only 12 years old. No need to torture her that much. Also girl, what's with that "I'm glad he won't be my big brother"? You have no idea, what's good! D: Keep Fitz as big brother and Keefe as a boyfriend, if you ask me. (Apart from the fact that with 12 or 13 you really don't need a boyfriend at all.)

This Is Why They Hate Us (Aaron H. Aceves): I borrowed this one from the library after I tossed another book after 50 pages because I could not bear another YA heroine with secret magic powers. It's not like I hate 17-year-old girls, but as I said in the previous post I have no patience for them at the moment. The best friend in This is why they hate us? I wanted to choke her in the beginning! 8D "Oh Quique, your summer can't be good without a boyfriend!" "You're 17 and haven't kissed anyone yet?!" (not literal quotes) I hate reading stuff like that. Luckily, it got better later. There were a lot of different topics crammed into and I'm not sure if it did justice to all of them, but in the end I think it was a decent story about finding oneself. After the bumpy start I decided to mainly read it as "life experience" (as in I'll never be a 17-year-old boy so reading about them makes me believe I can write about them better), but as it went on I actually came to like it.

Wo Träume schlafen gehen (Marta Kubis): This one was hard. From the blurb I thought I'd love it. 12-year-old girl, her big brother, an airship and an adventure? Sign me up! It's also pretty short with 200 pages yet I still got bored in the middle and once again neither liked the writing style nor the heroine ...

On a final note, due to ... things happening, I started watching Yuri on Ice for the first time ever. Between that and the other All for the Game books I think, my October will be fun! uAu~

[southern-belle-outcasts]

The box is wrapped meticulously, though it is taped together with duct tape because that was all Spencer had in his apartment. He even bought a card and wrote her a note, wanting to give her more than just a simple present. This is about more than the present to Spencer. The letter is just as important.

The card reads: I do not have a way with words. I stumble over what to say to express how I'm feeling. So I'll borrow the words of Pablo Neruda.

I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz,

or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:

I love you as one loves certain obscure things,

secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom but carries

the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself,

and thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose

from the earth lives dimly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,

I love you directly without problems or pride:

I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,

except in this form in which I am not nor are you,

so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,

so close that your eyes close with my dreams.

The necklace is a Fibonacci sequence dangling on a gold chain. Simple, but beautiful in its simplicity. And hopefully something she will enjoy. The gifts lay on the coffee table next to a carafe of hot chocolate and a new book he's been meaning to read. They have a quiet night planned for their Christmas and Spencer is looking forward to it, to the opportunity to just spend some time alone together.

@ifyoucatchacriminal

The card’s words, borrowed or not, spoke volumes. They voiced much of the emotions she felt from Spencer, but in such a poetic way she was going to now how to struggle not to cry. It was hard to be told she meant something to someone, that she was loved. Easier now, maybe. But still, the thoughtfulness of his choice of quote was going to have her saving that card forever. Her fingers brushed his pen strokes lightly, as though there was some way to absorb his writing and preserve it in herself so it could never be ruined.

Pulling the necklace out, she fiddled with the chain and let it catch the light from the Christmas lights she had put up. She wasn’t big about a lot of the stuff surrounding Christmas but one thing she would not pass up was fairy lights, as she preferred to call them.

“So Ah can wear perfection all the time,” she mused, voice soft with emotion, knowing the symbol very well at this point with how frequently her fingers or mouth found his tattoo of the very same.

Rogue shifted, to pull out her gifts for him. “Well, Ah thought about jólabókaflóð- the Icelandic book exchange with hot chocolate for Christmas Eve. And it’s not…it’s not new, and Ah’m pretty sure you’ve read it, but this version is mine. The only book Ah dragged around with me, even through the system and on the street.” She hadn’t ever spoken of that with Spencer. Rogue’s childhood was not something she talked about willingly, not with detail.

The dustjacket was covered in cellophane and had a blacked out barcode, clearly from a library sale and intended to preserve it better in the hands of many. For as old as it was it was still in decent condition despite Rogue having been one of many to read the book.

“As for somethin’ a lil more practical…”

“Ah may have taken the liberty of augmentin’ how long that frickin’ scarf is or it woulda taken me five years t’finish. That and Ah dunno how work would feel about ya wearin’ some eight foot long scarf. As it is Ah uh…kinda cheated and hit Jean-Paul up so Ah could borrow some speed t’finish the last few sections on time.”

She pulled out the final package.

“No offense taken if the prince turns his nose up cuz Ah got no idea how good the catnip in those is, Ah just figured he could have some sushi of his own next time we order.”

[castle-dominion]

5x7 swan song. I stayed up late last night so I"m starting this watch at around 10. Also no more livejournal transcript but I do have the dustjackets one

Ooh this is fun I like a band WAIT HOLY CRAP I REMEMBER THIS EPISODE FROM MY FAMILY WATCH we just watched spinal tap so we called it the spinal tap episode but I'll call it the rockumentary episode

Love the filming style & I didn't realize at first but then heeheehee it is sdkfjskdfh love this ep

bro you are alreadu here why don't YOU help? btw love his hat

Hold on beckett's car is dark blue, not black & esposito's car is red. P nice. *still filming even tho the cops are here* I think I said "I hope the entire episode is done like this" even tho I doubted it & THEN THIS HAPPENED

KB: Ryan, get rid of the cameras. The prettiest man on earth, looking uncomfy: Yeah, I’ll … take care of it. It must be weird for the actors to pretent to NOTICE the cameras for once, & to act like they are NOT super comfy on camera

JE: How’d you like to try to film with a cracked lens, huh? Huh?

Castle is so good at being on camera

Good old les paul

*ryan trying to hide his face*

Weird accent saying "director"

At least this man holds up his finger to espt & says he needs to go on the phone

Joel Mitas: you know, a hunt for the murderer? People love that stuff. Me: Yeah, I do *gets on the phone with someone DURING THE CONVERSATION*

Lanie *looks at the camera in exasperation about castle* Oh yeah club 27

the cameraone is on the wrong side of that gun

drunk af duh, did you not see her all hungover looking>

I'd have said "cru cru crunch" At least he died happy

You can see that the cameraone is not supposed to be there bc they are hiding behind the wall Poor esposito, walks in with a court order

Gates <3 Ryan & esposito.

Heck yeah she SHOULD give an introduction but ryan looks soooo uncomfy, I want to pic that

JE: ... Welcome KR: .. Welcome

I thought he meant "see something" as in see smth romantic

Why are they all interviewed at the same time remember ithaca

Espt you can just show them the screenshot

JE: All right. (he starts to spread the photos on the table. CASTLE blocks his line to the camera) Just … (he pushes him back) … there we go. Boom. (he circles) the guy in a photo) Boom. (again) Boom. (and again) I like the editing JE, dramatically: We’ve got you now, you son of a bitch. JE to the cams: I’m sorry, can I even say son of a –

clipping the intro for sure

Don't look at the camera keep your eyes on the road *arguing* changing shirt lol each trying to impress the cameras now that they're here

*jumps over a car*

this is freaking amazing

"that ain't ketchup" & sdjfkshdkjfhsdkjfhjds

*beckett watches annoyed while esposito makes nice/dramatic for the camera JE: That’s a gift from me to you. You’re welcome, America. *turns to walk away but his partner is there & holding his face, worth a clip*

Castle shush We haven't seen the roses episode Someone should write a casefic for that Wait I didn't see a cameraone in there, is there a cameraone filming inside the room? Ryan looks so uncomfy he wants to leave *stands in the corner*

Your little girl? Will that be butterfly? This is a great twist I am loooving it "If it's ok with my partner"

I am also happy that we got better shots of the other detectives earlier this episode, I wish we knew their names tho. I might be able to catch a glimpse on the nameplates

Ryan sooo pissed I loooove it ryan the drug cop KB: That’s an interesting theory, but that is pure speculation. RC: Actually, it’s not. Pure speculation would be Swan purchasing thermonuclear technology to have a scientist make him an amplifier that went all the way to 12. This? Musicians buying drugs? (he looks to the camera) That’s just Monday morning’s crossword.

Castle is naturally good at this, "you need to introduce lanie" yk?

*leaning down a bit to show off her rack* Antivax? *looking pretty for the cameras*

Ryan is pretty sam spear cool name *ryan jumps for his keys but espt takes them from him.* JE: No, no, no, no. I got this. You stay here and work on your little research project, you being the nerve center and all. (he turns to leave) Castle? I like how we are getting castito & ryckett, it is nice. (ofc esposito takes castle bc castle is good with cameras) *ryan still standing there with his hand out "holding" his "keys"*

Castle trying to defend beckett (the beckett onion) I can clip "he went the wrong way" but tbh I'd clip everything

Going to be a film Ooh he is composing a SCORE for a FILM!

Ofc he's working with this guy, he scores music

Who the hecking heck writes SHEET MUSIC for ROCK SONGS??? Tabs are more likely. I mean, I'm a fiddler, I have arranged rock pieces on my fiddle, I should record a Holy Grail cover & that You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison cover. Actually I recorded Holy Grail improv to make it easier to score but I haven't written, but I HAVE written Prison but not recorded it. Like esposito would NOT read music I'm gonna sing for y'all later SDFDHSKJHH SO FREAKING EXCITED but also what singers use sheet music? I have some minimal classical training & I cannot sing reading off sheet music. I can play my violin just fine! Actaully,,, I struggle with the timing on written music, but if I've heard the song even once & I have the sheet music, I'd be able to figure it out. I can not, however, sing reading sheet music

the composer sitting in the back while these two talk

MAN DOES AN IMPROV MUSICAL STING HECK FRICKEN YEAH reminds me: my brother took a piano class at my fiddle camp once & the piano teacher loooved making cute dumb jokes so like here: when the geese fly in an arrow, why is one arm longer than the other? Because it has more birds in it Ba dum ts! My brother learned how to quickly hit the button on his keyboard that makes it into drum sounds & then he memorized the keys for ba dum & ts. It was INCREDIBLE (could clip that but I could clip anything)

Ooh I'm liking the music rn I like them. I wonder if they have a song in the bonus features. also the drummer is great great great. All the best drummers are shirtless. This guy tho, he is wearing a vest, a waistcoat. That's the only shirt he's wearing. Beautiful.

Beckett looks nice & good shirt too. DON'T-- BE CAREFUL WITH THE GUITAR mum noticed the tap shoes too!

strut your stuff sdkjfsdlkj

Keith: Really? You gotta film this too? KB, actually liking the cams for once: They can film whatever they want, Keith. You signed a release A drunk witness

Ithaca again ... So... You can't ask this girl...

holy crap does she realize they were filming? oh no gates is checking up on them while they have the porno If I were gates I'd also take people aside & ask them if they are doing ok with the cameras JE: You want action, check this. *starts to turn his copmouter screen* (lol action) VG: Hey, hey, hey. This is inappropriate workplace behavior. JE: This is evidence, Sir. Our suspect’s alibi hinges on this. (he smiles into the camera) VG: Oh. VG, watching closer: Oh. (She is a married woman, y'all) KB: (aside) That’s not the only thing on this video being faked. VG: *looks at her*

Ooh coly crap ryan is pretty again! I mean he always is but it is another plaid type shirt, blues & pinks, & this time he has a tie clip,, "research project" he is mad

Man wasn't a thing until 17?? ITHACA mum: cult? Me: that would explain antivax Castle: it's a cult That's clever! He added the O & the B!

the tension between rysposito

RC: Wait a second. That’s the day Swan died. So John Campbell was in town with a few days to kill. (he takes a beat, then smiles) See what I did there? KB: *sighs heavily and tips her head back in annoyance* RC: That was good. Use that. Don’t use the part where I said ‘see what I did there’. Cut that out, so a hard fade to black, musical sting. *sings the castle theme* ((clipping this)) *He turns around for support from his friends, but they’ve all walked away.*

KR: The Church of Worldly Enlightenment isn’t just your friendly neighborhood cult. It’s also a 20 acre pot farm. Run by the 300 plus members all for Campbell’s personal profit.

cameras CAMERAS his annoyed face as soon as he sees

Smart people are in cults too y'all. Oh of course he'd recruit at a youth hostel beckett still holding up her book in front of her face I love it. I mean they already have your face

Maybe the youth hostel can get rid fo the cameras. Also all the faces of the youths here should be blurred. Runaways, cult escapees, queer kids, probably way too many native ppl, you don't want your face out

I love all the flags Yuck. My church is populated by mainly FNMI people & it's a great church. Kids run on to the platform, priest says "let the children come," each month we do a finance review so we know where our money is going, transparency is important. If your church is full of natives, you want to do right. THIS church is building conciliation & reconciliation.

wanTed revenge, becks. There is a t.

I like how we saw the boom mic

I like how she says "excuse me" before answering the phone OH NO THE ALMOST-KISS

Look at them argue lol

"you" should tell beckett these two are so freaking cute also cute shirt on esposito lol castle moving away from becks what is the name of this detective? The gaunt black guy

Course he's not in the system the roadie!??!?! (but how did the cult watch get a photo of him?)

YOU WERE THE MENTOR? probably plays christian music, I know so many good camp songs... the nostalgia is real, esp as someone who considers themself separate from the roman catholic church but is still a christowitch (& christopagan during lent) & Metis folk catholic... a queer anarchosocialist catholic, seriously? an emo punk like me?

Castle & his musical sting XD

Maybe esposito really can read sheet music Power chords? Seriously? I'm not a guitarist but I'm p sure it would be better to compose smth like that with tabs or just the chord names, tho idk. But castle can read sheet music & understand like what power chords are being played & stuff?

Just grabbed my fiddle. I wish I knew the key. I thought it might be in c bc no sharps/flats but why shouldn't mess with the c in that case, then I thought it might be d bc that's a common note & I played the song in d. I have some classical & sightreading training but I'm mostly a fiddler & I learn my ear, in fact the suzuki method is very ear based. So my timing was off. But I played it & it sounds good, or it would sound good if I had full sheet music & a listen through first, & maybe if I played rock guitar. It is actually pretty easy minus the rests in odd places, but they are not bad for people with better timing than me, maybe it would be hard for guitarists to play bc they don't have bows.

He can play that, IF he has a chance to practice first, caslte you motherHecker! People like that probably don't even use sheet music! It is rare that they do! If they need to read, they will use tabs ALSO HOLD ON WHAT THE FRICK THAT WAS IN THE TREBBLE CLEFF, MY VIOLIN KEY, NOT THE BASS CLEFF WHICH IS WHAT BASS GUITAR WOULD PLAY

they did NOT get their music composer to help with the props department huh.

Give him some time to workshop it! You COULD play it probably! (also who plays with rings?)

Pique de nez

Mikey way didn't know how to play bass when they fisrt started the band "but you sure can handle a guitar" Wow this kid, poor zeke, he is upSET

also this roadie is p darn short Love how we get the tattoo visibility

you need a new bassist & a new frontman lol

Lol gates I love this XD RC: It’s what makes catching the killer worthwhile. Which is strange, because you’d think it’d be catching the killer but no, it’s – OH NO SHE SAW THE CLIP but they are not technically both employees....

castle you YOU CHILD

beckett don't pretend more crap is going on than she knows

Wow. I heard somewhere that dever & huertas did more music together at some point.

btw I need to clip this, but the into happens while gates is yelling at caskett

amazing amazing amazing amazing wonderful phenominal outstanding music them singing in the middle of the bullpen & playing instrumetns & esposito all dramatic & ryan "I taught him how to do that' & the harmonies & the silliness & the prettiness & heck I need a full song of this like holy crap he can sing high also do they.. hav etheir amps here (ryan is not singing despite having "taught" him how) it's just so good & espt is so silly dramatic & ryan is tapping on the chair & sfjkhsadjfshdkjfhdskjfhs

Is that the sstairway ppl like to go to in fanfiction oh no wait she is just locking him in a closet that was a good scene I'd maybe clip it if I don't have to return the DVDs "Hey!!"

sjhalksjdfhalskjdfhlajsdhfljkasdhfkjlh this was a great episode, I know I say a lot are my fave but I think this one is up there with the 40s episode the blue butterfly & sdfjhalkfsjdh I want to rewatch life on the murder scene now aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah this wpisode was great shdjkshfdjh it was humerous it was unique (good change of pace) it brought character & murder & sfjdkhsk music & so much hhhhhhhhhhhthis made me so happy I spent two hours on this ep & I only allow myself an hour & a half (I mean, I did grab my violin...)

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Circe Invidiosa

Circe Invidiosa has 11 stories at Gossamer, but there are even more X-Files stories at her website. Some of my favs I’ve recced here before, like Make It Worse and Slap a Goatee On Me and Call Me Evil. She also made a bunch of X-Files collage art, including some cover art for fics (hers and others), which you probably saw if you were reading fic back when authors posted fics on their own websites where art could be shared. Big thanks to Circe Invidiosa for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

Well, it would surprise me if people did read my fic. As it happens, I don't hear much feedback from my fic these days. Probably because the bulk of it is on Gossamer and my own site rather than AO3. Also, I was never a BNA. I worked a lot behind the scenes – hosting other authors' sites and making fanart and dustjackets. I think that's what I'd be remembered for, if anything.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience?

I miss the collective excitement and discussions we had as groups. When you got in with a group in the XF fandom, you felt like you knew everybody there. Now the fandom feels a little faceless except for the people I still follow from my old groups.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

Most of my experience was on Yahoo Groups. I joined Scullyfic while it was still there and then E-muse when it became an e-mail list, which I'm still a part of. I was part of several Yahoo Groups (can't remember all of them now), where I'd post my fic, RealPlayer slideshows (remember those?!), and collages. I never really took part in discourse because I'm shy and don't think anyone cares about my opinions (still don't!). The e-mail address I used for those groups was purged a couple of years ago, so I've lost all those messages.

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

My take away is that fanfic made me a better writer, thanks to having some great betas, and it made me a better professional writer for it (my real-life work is writing but not fun writing) because I learned to take criticism.

I also used to make a lot of fanart, collages and dustjackets for fic mostly. My big take away from that was that I really got into graphics and I got super proficient at Photoshop, which helped my own artistic endeavours and photography. I didn't realize how much skill I had developed until I've had to help someone with their graphics or photo editing.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

My mother was watching X-Files before I was and she was raving about it. I don't have a great relationship with my mom, but one thing she was usually right about was TV shows. It's where I got my love of Sci-Fi.

I think the first episode I watched was Ice, which definitely hooked me. As for when the shipping started, I remember we were watching Lazarus, and when Mulder was yelling at Lula (I had to look that up) about hurting the hostage Scully, my mom said, "Oh, he's so in love with her." And I was all, "What?! Pfff." But then I could not stop thinking about it. And then I thought about it way, way too much.

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

I was in my late 20s, and it was around the end of S7 and I kept thinking about what if these two dumb idiots actually talked one day. And I kept thinking about dialogue in my head about what they'd actually say. The internet was still in its infancy back then, but I'd seen fan sites here and there. So I decided to search around to see if other people were talking about it and thinking about it like I was. I was such a noob I'd never even heard of fanfic. Imagine my delight when I discovered it. I found a few stories and thought, 'Well, I can do that.' And I wrote up my first story, found a place to post it (wasn't Ephemeral the best?), got some kind feedback, found a really nice person (not sure she wants to be named since she used her real name in the fandom back in the day) who encouraged me a lot and directed me to all the e-mail lists and Yahoo Groups that I needed to be on, and then, Bob's your uncle, I wrote more and more.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

Periphery. Most of my experience in any fandom is now on Tumblr because that's where my attention span is. Show me pretty pictures and funny stuff. I am old now and don't want to think hard.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

Veronica Mars was my next fandom experience. A number of my XF friends got me hooked on VM. The VM fandom was a LOT younger compared to the XF fandom. When I joined the XF fandom, I was the kid compared to most of the other fans who were all goddesses and royalty in my eyes. But in the VM fandom, I was in my 30s and the rest of the fandom were all in their early 20s if not younger. It often showed, so I stayed out of discussions and just posted my fic once I started writing it. I took a new handle (invida) when I started writing VM fic. Just in case these kids felt like my writing sucked, I didn't want it getting back to the XF fandom that I’d branched out and failed spectacularly.

By then fandom experiences had moved over to LiveJournal. I never really got involved in the discourse or the fandom fights. I knew what people were saying and where the schisms were, but I was all about the fanfic and the pretty pictures. Most of my LJ friends just discussed the episodes and posted their fic and that was good with me.

What got me writing fic for VM was Anjou's brilliant VM fic Into the Blue. Seriously, if you love VM S1, read her fic. Just so beautiful.

VM was also where started writing a WIP, which was a wild trip. I wrote a much-loved WIP called Damn, Damn the Circumstance which people still ask me about finishing to this day. Someday…*wistful sighs*

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

Scully. She was everything! Lapsed Catholic, degrees in science, skeptic, always trying to work within the rules but still not taking crap. Yeah, she was the best.

Veronica Mars was great until she wasn't. I have a lot of issues with her beyond S2. And don't even talk to me about S4. For me, S1 was the best, I enjoyed the movie, the books were okay, but nothing else happened after that. NOTHING.

And the first character I ever loved was Princess Leia. She was also everything to me growing up. I wanted to be her. I still do.

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

Now and then. Not as much as I used to. I sometimes have it on in the background when I'm doing other things. Back before the pandemic, my BFF and I would have get togethers where we would play Scrabble, eat a lot of candy, and binge several XF episodes. I miss doing that. Hopefully, we will get back to that soon.

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

I am not an active XF fanfic reader right now. I will read any stories my friends put out. Otherwise, I only occasionally read some I come across on Tumblr in my feed, but I am not seeking them out. I will beta for any XF author who asks me as well.

I am reading fic in other fandoms though – Endeavour, Broadchurch, Sherlock…huh, I'm just realizing that's a lot of British stuff. I have been really into British detective series for the last few years.

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

I used to run an XF fic recommendation site called How Will It End usually with at least one other person (I went through at least 4 partners on that project because I'm a control freak). We'd compile our recs and then I'd post them on my site. We'd also feature authors we really liked and interview them. Not unlike these interviews!

I'm terrible at giving feedback/comments. So I solved that problem by making a rec site. That way I could tell authors I loved their fics by recommending them. I didn't have to comment, I'd just say, 'I'd like to rec your fic'. And then they'd get promotion. Win-win. Back in those days, the fandom would absolutely roast you for promoting your own fic, so to get on a rec site was a big deal. Not that I had a popular rec site or anything. But I think authors really enjoyed being asked.

All that to say I've liked a lot of fics. I can pull up the archives of HWIE and show you all the faves I liked. :)

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

Back in the day, E-muse would hold Improv Challenges, where other members would give you a prompt that you had to include in your fic. I was always really proud of the stories I created from those challenges (No Earthly Means and Elephant in the Room if you want to read them).

I enjoyed writing Dead to Rights which is an XF/Dead Like Me crossover because I loved the challenge of writing a crossover. It was the first crossover I ever tried writing even though I only recently published it.

Otherwise, I like re-reading In a Graveyard, Importuning Life for Life, and Some By Virtue Fall. Of my more recent fic, I like Slap a Goatee on Me and Call Me Evil because the premise was ridiculous and I think it's funny as all get out.

Probably my favourite of my VM fic was Stay Outta Riverdale. Because: 1. The title is a Simpsons reference who doesn't love a Simpsons reference? And 2. I think I was hilarious throughout it.

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

I'm always open to writing more fic (and, of course, I don't mean my WIPs…don't look at me like that). Lately, my only motivation has been from writing prompts on Tumblr. I haven't had anyone give me a prompt in over a year, so here we are. I have snippets of dialogue in journals and word documents that have never found their way into stories. I'd be happy to dust off any of those and shoehorn them into a new story.

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

The last fanfic I wrote was a mini-fic over a year ago (with a prompt from Lilydale!). I've written a bit of original fiction but I haven't been able to finish it. Otherwise, I do have a number of real life hobbies which are where my creative outlets lie now.

Where do you get ideas for stories?

Lately, challenges and prompts. It used to be from wanting to see more from a scene. I really had a thing for fill-in-the-blanks or scene continuations. And sometimes my motivation is just plain old spite. :)

What's the story behind your pen name?

Circe Invidiosa is the title of a painting by John William Waterhouse. Love the colours and the absolute malice on the face of the subject. It felt like a good pen name – the envious witch. That's me!

I chose it when I posted my first XF fic (which I cringe to read now, ugh so terrible) without knowing there was already a Circe in the fandom. Whoops. I tried to go by the full Circe Invidiosa or Invidiosa as much as possible after realizing that (invidiosa is my url and my username on a lot of sites, etc.). Now I think that I've been around long enough that it doesn't matter as much but I still like it.

As I said, I took the name Invida for the VM fandom which is just a shortening of Invidiosa.

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

My significant other knows and that was quite a reveal (oh how awkward). However, the SO has been very supportive and has read all my stories since the reveal and sometimes betas them. The SO also wants us to collaborate on writing some original fiction but we haven't found a project that works for both of us creatively or timewise.

My BFF knows because I dragged her into the online fandom. We've known each other since we were 14, but our love of XF really solidified our bond in our 20s. She wrote some short but sweet fics under the penname Helen Quilley which I bullied her into posting, and we wrote Of Ladies Most Deject and Wretched together. She is mostly embarrassed that she wrote fanfic now but we still fangirl together.

No one else really knows other than fandom folks I've met in real life. And some friends know I've written 'short stories' but I don't elaborate. I work in a stodgy, uptight industry where anything fun or actually having a life is frowned upon.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

Over the first lockdown, I got my shit together and got my fic site, invidiosa.com, up and running again. My site houses fic by Rain (now @doctorhelena on Tumblr and AO3), Helen Quilley, ML (who I miss so much), Folieadeux, Shelba, TLynn, Oracle, Piper Sargasso, Diehard, and me. And I made all their dustjackets (except Folie's). The site got hacked a few years back and it was so much work to get running again that I put it off for years and years. I still feel terrible that I did not get the site back up before ML passed away, especially when ML had asked me about it a few months before she passed.

Anyway, all my XF fic is here: circe.invidiosa.com. I have 3 of my newer XF stories on AO3. And my fic-LJ also has some of my stories. Some of the newer stories are on Tumblr but the tagging is so erratic that I'd have to list several tags before you'd find them all. I don't know why I haven't moved everything over to AO3. Probably laziness.

I'm @invidiosa on Tumblr. I'm still on E-muse. I'm still on LJ. I'm always reachable by e-mail (invidiosa at gmail).

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

Thanks for reading, writing, and commenting. It is always appreciated.

(Posted by Lilydale on January 5, 2021)

[fascination-street-writing]

I Am Not Yours | capitolo viii | Pannacotta Fugo x Reader

Pannacotta Fugo - his name rolls off your tongue like the dry wine Giorno insists be served at dinners. You like the sound of his name far better than you do the taste of Sangiovese. You like his strawberry blonde hair, too. And his violet eyes.

You sink back into the leather of the passenger seat, belly full of cappuccino and pistachio biscotti. You have spoilt your dinner, to be sure; there is room for not even a drop of Sangiovese within you. Your mind lingers, contemplative, as you think to what your brother would say if he could see you now. You imagine that he paces his office in anticipation of your return – perhaps he has even pulled out the ribbon of his delicate braid in his own distress.

But he need not worry, for you are with Fugo.

And Fugo would never let harm befall you. Un protettore, and a handsome one at that. You were right to assume that he drinks espresso. But, as all good things do, they must come to an end. Though, you have already defiled Giorno’s orders, and he is sure to suffer the consequences of your actions and reprimand you soon enough. He can indeed, you decide, wait a bit longer.

Thus, you and Fugo find yourselves lost betwixt the shelves of a bookshop, with every intention of finding a new narrative for his pleasure. It smells of old parchment, ink, and balsam. You gravitate towards the tomes of poetry. A thrifted copy of Signora Teasdale’s collection has been discarded atop a table. Gold-foil lettering peels from the cover that has lost its dustjacket. The edges have swollen with age and wear, and the spine threatens to give way.

Even the pages feel sticky to touch. You are reminded of the day, months ago, when he had helped you to translate a poem of hers. You are reminded, too, of the feeling of his cold fingers clasped around your chin, his huff of frustration, and the cynical gleam in his eyes. You decide that it is best if you leave the book behind.

His shadow casts upon the ground. You lead him away from the poetry, and towards the works of playwrights. Speroni’s Canace is one that, though horribly controversial, has always tempted you; forbidden by the curriculum of your institution, you suppose the implications of reading it might not reflect well on your character in the eyes of insegnanti.

Alas, Fugo encourages you to buy it, finding no reason behind your rebuttal. With a faint smile, you remind him that you have come to expand his atheneum and not yours. You suppose it may have vexed him, the excuse you gave, but it is enough to turn him to the classics instead. Walking away, he has found, is best; truly, he already feels better for it.

He ponders and pilfers through authors, obliged that you are still by his side – close enough that, if he lets his fingers roam, they might entwine with your own. He muses that he ought to not engage in such silly gestures of affection. But then, he remembers that he is just a boy of sixteen. One who never had time for young love or handholding.

And if your palm should find his, he will not pull away. The anticipation makes him giddy because you are the loveliest person he has ever known. He has committed your face to memory, in hopes that instead of terrors, he will dream of you – of coffee dates and trips to dusty old bookshop, or a carton of strawberries shared on a chaise lounge.

It is by chance that he should stumble upon Il Deserto dei Tartari – a soldier and his perhaps retrospectively meaningless solitude, to give purpose to one’s own existence, though by forgoing the cruelty of time; indiscriminately, as the world turns into each new year – as friends die and lovers become the bringers of new life to babies who will one day find themselves asking why do I exist?

Fugo flips the book over to admire the intricate silver stamping of the backing. Finally, he passes it to you to garner your approval of his selection. Dino Buzzati’s is an account not unknown to you. You recall reading the very same novel for a literature class. Though not a choice read, you enjoyed it well enough.

Your proclivity for genre is a subject to be disputed between yourself and Fugo – your differences in interpretation of a silly love poem written from a woman’s anguish has taught you that. And so, you suppose he will find the book favorable in his taste.

You tell him that much. He grins to you, and you alone. Through his fringe of strawberry blonde hair, he looks at you the way you should want to be looked at: with adoration, with solidarity . . . with tender love. And, by god, do you love him. Whatever goodness he stores in his abashed heart, he reserves for you.

The book feels weightless in your grasp, but you hold it like a rope tethered to a buoy, lost at sea. You want to kiss him – to press up from the tips of your toes and press your lips to his. And, if not for the shattering of the glass from the display window at the front of the bookshop, you might have done it. 

| 854 Words | capitolo vii | capitolo viii (here) | capitolo ix |

Tagging: @honeytea8​ @redbeanboi​ @plavigmaz​

[jupiterminingcorporation]

56 Days of Gratitude #7

7. A happy memory you are grateful for

I have a lot of happy memories, and I am really grateful that this prompt has been so difficult for me.

I've been watching Tidying Up with Marie Kondo on Netflix, and in one episode there's a guy who really *gets* the concept of "sparking joy" when they get to sorting out the books, and Marie asks him to pick the one that has the most meaning to him. The thought of reaching for a favourite book, for a book that has such deep meaning for you, actually sparked joy for me, sitting on my couch on a grey spring afternoon, feeling really crap with everything that's been happening.

The book that sprang to mind isn't necessarily my favourite ever, but it's one that I adored when I was a kid, and I have great memories of getting it out of the library and submerging myself in its world on a regular basis. I probably read it two to four times a year between the ages of 8 and 12. Maybe more? I know I read it quite a few times.

The Animals of Farthing Wood was pure magic to me. I liked animals more than people - I understood them better - and being in Australia, there was something exotic about the English setting and characters. I was raised on Enid Blyton and loved her stories of Tammylan, the wild man of the woods who could communicate with the animals. So a story told from the animals themselves was even better.

I can still remember the hardcover edition they had at the local library, how the plastic dustjacket covering felt, even how the pages smelled. It's not really a single memory, but a memory collection about how much this book still means to me and how much I love Fox, Vixen, Toad, Badger, Kestrel, Weasel, Adder, and all the others.

I am so thankful to have this kind of memory because it reminds me that my love of books and reading goes all the way back through my life. My association with my local library goes back as long as I can remember. My love of animals if lifelong, as is my special bond with them.

These are blessings, joys to remind me that life, overall, is good.

[shkspr]

i’m very attached to the K and all that it stands for (pun intended) so my theory is this: trans icon martin blackwood spent a long time trying to find a name that Fit (”sorry, sorry, i just wanted to try it out”) and when he went to change his name legally he couldn’t commit to a middle name, so his legal name is just martin blackwood. he always knew he liked the sound of a k in his name, it made for a good middle initial, but he couldn’t land on one name. 

and i think, for all his faults, jon has always been vocally accepting and supportive of his colleagues when they get a bit personal on a night out or something; he’s a good man to talk to about gender and sexuality feelings because he listens and he always has the dry rational angle covered to combat whatever strong emotions his friends are feeling about their crises. but he is still openly disdainful of martin, so it’s a unique balance.

so it’s sometime in season one, or maybe even pre-archives, when martin “tells jon his middle name.” they’re all together, the two of them and tim and sasha, and it’s not something martin would usually just offer up in casual conversation, but he’s just changed it again and he really likes the sound of this one and he wants to test it out aloud to see how it sounds and how it feels. so when sasha jokingly calls him “martin jeremiah blackwood,” he says “that’s not my middle name,” and she says “no, it’s tim’s, i just like the way it sounds with any name”

and jon says “what is your middle name, martin?” and martin has a moment of panic because jon doesn’t usually ask him questions, jon doesn’t usually show an active interest in his life, but then he remembers that he has recently changed his middle name (in his head because that’s the only place he has a middle name) and he actually wants to tell them, to test the waters. so he says “kalidasa,” and they all look at him for a second just to be sure he isn’t joking. and he isn’t, or at least he isn’t copping to it, and it’s at that moment that jon has to leave, always a stickler for the rules, not willing to go over his scheduled lunch break time.

and then when he’s gone, sasha says “that’s a really nice name. what’s it mean?” and martin explains, because the meaning is the bulk of the significance: it means “servant of [the hindu goddess] kali” and it was the name of a classical indian writer whose work is very important to martin personally. there was a single hardcover book with no dustjacket on a low shelf in his home on the day, months after his father had left, when his mother finally decided to get rid of all his things. just one book, that’s what eight-year-old martin managed to squirrel away while his mum directed moving men to take his dad’s boxes away, and so he cherished that book, a slim volume of classical sanskrit poetry.

martin recites a bit of it from memory, his eyes going a bit fuzzy as he stares off into the distance and murmurs, “look to this day: for it is life, the very life of life. in its brief course lie all the verities and realities of your existence. the bliss of growth, the glory of action, the splendour of achievement are but experiences of time. for yesterday is but a dream and tomorrow is only a vision; and today well-lived, makes yesterday a dream of happiness and every tomorrow a vision of hope. look well therefore to this day; such is the salutation to the ever-new dawn.”

sasha and tim don’t let on that they’re aware he picked the name himself, nor do they make any derisive comments or poke fun at him. they know where to draw a line, they know martin’s sensitive about anything to do with his dad, and they know it’s just generally a dick move to make fun of someone’s name. sasha smiles and tells him that’s very touching, and then she says “my middle name is josephine, after my mum’s aunt,” and that’s the subject easily changed, and they move on as normal as anything. 

martin lasts about two weeks before deciding he hates “kalidasa” and he hates himself for picking it, it sounds stupid and pretentious and everyone already thinks he’s trying way too hard, he doesn’t need to go and make it worse. but it never comes up again like that, with all the shit that keeps happening, so he never gets the chance to set the record straight with jon. he tells tim, at some point, what he’s thinking of changing it to now, and tim is very supportive. but jon goes several years thinking his name is martin kalidasa blackwood, and martin is painfully aware of that fact at times.

so. when jon becomes post-apocalyptic google and martin asks what his middle name is... well, he’s not quite sure what he expects. he’s stuck with the same middle name for a while now, since around the time his mum died. they didn’t always get on perfectly, but he loved her; he’s not in denial, but that doesn’t mean he has to let his every memory of her be tainted. anyway, he was getting sick of his last middle name, and he wanted to honor his mum. iris was her name, it means rainbow. 

and despite their rocky relationship, she gave him his faith, which has so often been a source of comfort and community when he had none, and he’ll always be thankful for that, he’ll always cherish that. it all sort of fell into place, really, it seemed to fall into his lap that the hebrew word for rainbow happens to start with a k. so he’s been martin keshet blackwood for about a year, give or take an apocalypse, and he doesn’t anticipate changing it anytime soon, and not only because he doesn’t have the time to think about his name while he’s trying to fight the world.

that’s it, he thinks, this is as permanent as things get in this world, so he figures that’s what will pop into jon’s head, but it doesn’t and that’s fine. nobody knows how any of this works, and so jon gains the knowledge that martin doesn’t have a middle name in any legal or official capacity. and jon says “i actually believed you! that’s ridiculous, i thought, that’s not a real name, but he wouldn’t lie to me!” and martin feels a tiny little warm flowers blooming in his chest at that because - well, because jon thought of him, back then, asked him a question and then ruminated on his answer after the fact and concluded that martin wouldn’t lie to him, and that’s a sight better than where he thought he’d stood at the time.

there’s some guilt, too, of course, because he was lying to jon at the time, and he felt bad about it at the time and he feels bad about it now but they’re so far past that, aren’t they. and he clears it up, later. the next lull in their journey, the next quiet moment that they have to just talk to each other, he clears up the whole issue and explains the whole story and jon laughs, because it’s funny. and then he says something awful sappy, something like: 

“the journey to the man you want to be is one that i will gladly travel, too. whatever name you choose is fine with me, so long as it’s a name that pleases you. keshet is lovely, for that’s what you are: a burst of color in a dreary sky, a ray of hopeful beauty from afar, a comfort from the ever-present eye, your smile a pot of gold i treasure so. each color leads me deeper in this love, to places inside you i’d like to know, to all the little things that you dream of. if one day soon you find you wish to change, your life and name are yours to rearrange.”

martin cries, of course he does, and he gets a little indignant through his tears - “it’s not fair that you can just spin that off the tip of your tongue; poetry is supposed to be my thing; i try so hard, and here you come, just spouting rhymes like nobody’s business” - but there’s no real rancor in it, only fondness and warmth and the affirming knowledge that even here, they can learn new things about each other; even here, they can be together in a way that feels like home to them; even here, they have their love, and they won’t let it go.

[mr-mellow-dj]

Wonderful Tonight

A/N: I have this song on my iPhone and every time I hear it I can hear Rick singing it to Kate. This is the classic by Eric Clapton “Wonderful Tonight” which he wrote celebrating his then wife. I also apologize to anyone else who may have written another fanfiction based on this song.

Cross posted from Fanfiction.net

 There are many versions of this song on YouTube, here is one of them:

watch?v=nfgg7DjMtwE

 This didn’t really fit in my Coltrane song book fanfiction so I present this as a one-shot. I hope you enjoy it.

 Disclaimer: The characters are the property of Andrew W. Marlowe and ABC television. The lyrics are the property of their respective owners. No infringement is intended.

Transcriptions from dustjackets dot wikifoundry dot com slash page slash Transcripts.

_________________________________________

It's late in the evening

She's wondering what clothes to wear

She puts on her make up

And brushes her long blonde [brown] hair

And then she asks me, "Do I look alright?"

And I say, "Yes, you look wonderful tonight"

_________________________________________ 

 A/N: Sometime after 3x14 Lucky Stiff

Richard Castle surveyed the Ballroom at the Hilton he had rented for the evening. This was the first (and hopefully annual) Johanna Beckett Memorial Scholarship fundraiser that he convinced, okay maybe cajoled, Kate Beckett into allowing him to host.

Around the room he saw the mayor, a couple of state assemblymen, members of the city council, along with other dignitaries (especially the mayor’s campaign contributors) and of course their spouses or significant others. He was one of the few that came ‘stag’. After the fiasco with his publisher, Gina Cowell, he was in no mood to be seen with any starlet, model or wannabe.

Of course he brought his mother, Martha Rodgers. As he took a sip from his the flute of Champagne, he saw Martha also scanning the crowd, her ‘graydar’, as she called it, on high alert. She seemed to recover better from Chet Paliburn’s death than Rick from the demise of his relationship with Gina.

He continued to scan the room for his muse. Then he saw her at the entrance and he was entranced. She was wearing a halter floor length dress of sky blue tulle. The bodice was lace with a high collar. Her hair was in a French twist. She was adorned with long silver earrings that enhanced the effect of her long, lovely neck.

She spotted him and seemed to float over to him (at least that’s what he thought). As she walked over to him, the dress would teasingly split showing one of her lovely legs. All of this was overwhelming to Rick’s senses.

“Castle.”

He didn’t respond. His mouth open slightly.

“Castle!”

“Sorry,” Rick finally responded.

“Cat go your tongue?” Beckett chuckled.

“I’m sorry.”

“What? Is there something wrong with my dress?” she asked as she looked around on her dress for something.

“No. You look wonderful.”

“What?” Beckett asked. “What are you sorry for? This fundraiser is so very sweet. You really didn’t have to get a ballroom to have it.”

“My pleasure, Beckett,” he answered. “But I am sorry.”

“Okay, I’ll bite. What are you sorry for?”

“I work with you every day. You are strong, badass Beckett. You are a warrior princess, like Xena. The best detective NYPD has.”

“Thank you, Castle.”

“It’s the truth. But that’s not what I’m sorry for. I’m sorry that I’m around the warrior you so much I keep forgetting how stunningly beautiful you are. And Josh should be very proud to call you his girlfriend.”

“Thank you, Castle.” Beckett blushed.

“And that’s the truth, too,” Castle added. “Speaking of which, where’s doctor motorcycle boy?”

“I wish you’d stop calling him that.”

“Okay, where is the good doctor?”

“He got called in.”

“We scheduled this to accommodate his schedule. What happened?”

“The cardiologist on duty had a conflict. His brother-in-law was brought in for an emergency bypass. Hospital rules.”

“I imagine it would be devastating if you’re operating on a loved one and they die on the table,” Castle acknowledged.

“Yeah,” Beckett agreed. “That’s why he called Josh. He and Josh have worked in surgery together several times. Also, Josh was the next on the call list.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, so am I. We really haven’t had a lot of time together lately and I was looking forward to tonight.”

“Well, if you don’t mind, I’d be happy to be your substitute escort, Beckett. For this evening, of course.”

Taking his arm, she said, “Of course, Castle. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

_________________________________________ 

We go to a party

And everyone turns to see

This beautiful lady

That's walking around with me

And then she asks me, "Do you feel alright?"

And I say, "Yes, I feel wonderful tonight"

_________________________________________ 

A/N: Sometime in season 4 before 4x19 47 Seconds

After surveying the room before the second annual Johanna Beckett Memorial Scholarship fundraiser, Jim Beckett came up to his daughter and asked, “Did Rick pay for this ballroom? My god, Katie, this is pretty extravagant even by NYC standards.”

“Yes, dad, he did,” Kate somewhat sheepishly answered. “He gets things into his head and refuses to listen. I asked him to tone it down a little but he wouldn’t hear of it. He said ‘that’s how I can get my rich friends to come.’”

“Katie,” her father said. “You know the man loves you. I see how he looks at you. He looks at you the same way I looked at your mother.”

“I know, dad,” Kate sheepishly responded. “I’m just not ready yet. I’m still getting over the shooting and my PTSD. But, I’ll tell him soon.”

“Tell him what?”

“That I love him, too.”

“Please don’t wait too long,” Jim Beckett said to his daughter touching her shoulder. “I almost waited too long to ask your mother out. When I first asked her, she said something to the effect of ‘it’s about time’. Please learn from your father’s mistake.”

“Thanks dad.” Kate smiled. “I’m almost there.”

Just then Rick Castle walked up.

“Hello, Jim,” Castle said as he held his hand out to shake. “It’s great to see you here. Thank you for coming.”

“Thanks, son,” Jim responded not too subtly shaking Rick’s hand. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. And thank you for putting this on. You really didn’t have to do this.”

“Thanks, Jim. It’s my pleasure. I’d like to believe Johanna would be happy with this.”

“I’m sure she would, son.”

Castle continued smiling and then turning and looking Beckett in the eye, “I’m doubly sure that she would be very proud of your daughter, as I am sure you are, too.”

“Yes, I am.”

“If you don’t mind, Jim,” Rick said as he held out his elbow to Beckett. “I’d like to borrow your daughter. There are some people I’d like her to meet. And maybe open their checkbooks.”

“Oh, by all means,” Jim chuckled.

“Detective Beckett,” Castle said.

“Lead on, Castle,” she answered.

As the couple walked away, Jim could only marvel at the duo. He hoped very soon his ‘son’ comments would become true.

A woman looked at Jim and then the departing pair.

“They make a lovely couple,” the woman said to Jim. “They look like a long time married couple. Did they marry young?”

“No, they’re not married” Jim said. “But as the daughter’s father, I hope they change that soon.”

_________________________________________ 

I feel wonderful

Because I see the love light in your eyes

And the wonder of it all

Is that you just don't realize how much I love you

_________________________________________ 

A/N: After 5x23 Watershed

While she was just starting to get used to being at Nikki Heat book launch parties, and the associated paparazzi calls to her (‘Nikki’, ‘Nikki Heat’, ‘over here Nikki’) for pictures, she still didn’t like to be in the limelight. From her time in vice, she didn’t like to be the focus. Then being the focus could get her hurt or killed. Now being in the limelight sometimes interfered with her murder investigations. Plus, her new employer, the Justice Department, may not look kindly on her exploiting the fame associated with the books.

Furthermore, while Captain Gates knew about them as a couple, the aftermath of her standing on a bomb answered that question, Beckett still didn’t want to advertise the fact to the whole world. People would make assumptions. At first, she didn’t want to give confirmation, but now, with the huge ring on her finger, it was going to be hard to hide that the muse had become the fiancé. That’s why she came in solo and not on his arm. She also felt that that honor should go to Alexis and Martha. For the longest time they have been his ‘red-headed pillars of unconditional love’ as he called them. She also believed that this would not be Castle’s last book launch party so in the future she would come in on his arm as his wife.

She had talked with Castle about the ring and how she would wear it. Of course, when she was working, she would wear it on the necklace that held her mother’s ring. But only when they were out alone, would she wear it openly on her left hand. Tonight, since it was a public venue, she would wear it turned in her left hand. An acknowledgement for him, not a flaming red flag for everyone else.

She still was not comfortable with the dichotomy of a rich, best-selling, acclaimed author and a NYPD homicide detective.

Their worlds are so different. He had the mayor on speed dial. Almost effortlessly he could get many wealthy people in a room for a fundraiser.

She worked in the trenches, so to speak. She worked with and saw the underbelly of the city. The people in her circle of friends were just ‘average Joes’, not the affluent.

Sometimes she worried that his friends would look at her as some ‘gold-digger’, only after his money. While the money he has is nice and she wouldn’t complain too much about his spending habits, they’d fall on deaf ears anyway, she didn’t fall in love with him because of his money. Once she got through the playboy façade, she found a great father and a loving son, a gentle man who’d do anything for the women in his life, which now included her, without question or recompense. He’d shown that for the past 4 years.

Her discomfort went down, however, every time she looked at the ring now adorning her finger. It essentially said to her, Castle doesn’t care that they’re from different worlds now, all he wants is her.

There were times that he had to remind her. “Beckett, for the longest time, it was just mother and me, living hand-to-mouth. We weren’t rich by any stretch. So don’t think that just because I have money now, I always had money or I’m some egotistical high-maintenance author because of it. I’m just a man who happens to have a gift that is well rewarded. Looking back at our childhoods, you’d be the rich one in a different world. The daughter of two well educated, high profile Manhattan attorneys compared to the illegitimate son of a mid-tier struggling actress? Puleeze.”

After admiring the ring on her finger, she looked up, took a deep breath, and entered the ballroom for the book launch party.

As she did the first time she went to Castle’s ‘Nikki Heat’ book launch party, she went to the display of the books. She always anticipated the surprise of the dedication. Rick would never let her see it before it was published, even now that they were a couple. And he told her only Gina and the printer would know it prior to publication. Even Alexis didn’t know what he wrote. It was like it was Top Secret security launch codes or something.

So she picked up the closest copy of ‘Deadly Heat’ off of the table and opened it to the dedication. She looked over and saw him as she opened the book. He was gazing across the room at her with an intensity that almost set her ablaze with his love light. She lovingly smiled at him and then turned to the book.

There, (as if she needed another demonstration of his love for her) for all the world to see, was another declaration of his love for her.

To KB:

May the dance never end and the music never stop.

_________________________________________ 

It's time to go home now

And I've got an aching head

So I give her the car keys

She helps me to bed

And then I tell her as I turn out the light

I say, "My darling, you are wonderful tonight

Oh my darling, you are wonderful tonight"

_________________________________________ 

A/N: Several Years after 8x22 Crossfire

“I don’t know why I let you convince me to come to this gala,” a very pregnant Kate Beckett said to her husband, Rick Castle.

“You could have stayed home, you know,” Castle answered. “You didn’t have to come. I would have made very valid excuses.”

The pair walked in to the ballroom. Well, Rick walked in. Kate waddled in.

“Being 8 months pregnant with twins is no fun,” Kate hissed. “You did this to me.”

“I seem to remember you being a very willing, if not enthusiastic, participant,” Rick chuckled.

“You’re right,” Kate said as she kissed him. “But that doesn’t make me feel any better about being a beached whale.”

“Kate,” Rick said as he turned to look in his wife’s eyes. “You look amazing. You’re carrying our two boys. I can’t think of anything more amazing and awe inspiring than that.”

“Well, I need to find the ladies room.” Teasingly stabbing him in the chest with her index finger she continues, “Your two sons seem to be playing soccer with my bladder.”

“I love you, Kate,” Rick said as he kissed her.

“I love you, too.”

Beckett waddled over to the ladies room. It was early in the festivities so there wasn’t a long line at the door. She managed to make it to a stall.

Shortly after she was in the stall, she heard two women come in.

“I saw Rick Castle over by the bar,” said one.

“I could just eat him up,” said the second.

“He’s married now,” said the first. “I understand to some NYPD Detective.”

“NYPD Captain.” Kate thought.

“Maybe he’s up for a little on the side,” said the second.

“Be careful,” said the first. “I imagine the wife carries handcuffs and a gun.”

“Ooh,” said the second. “Kinky.”

“You’re such a nasty girl.”

“Yeah,” the second agreed. “That doesn’t change the fact that he’s a cutie.”

“Yeah,” agreed the first woman. “Rich and handsome. No wonder the girls call him the ‘white whale.’”

Kate heard small noises as if the women were fixing their lip gloss.

The first then piped up, “Sadly, I heard he’s devoted to this one.”

“Rick Castle? Devoted? He was such a hound not too long ago.”

The first continued, “That detective must have tamed him.”

“Damn straight,” Kate thought.

“Let’s see if there are any bachelors or stag husbands out there,” continued the first.

“Or maybe there are some couples looking for a third,” said the second.

The first chuckled, “Nasty, girl.”

“Yep. That’s me.”

Kate heard the click of their heels on the tile floor and then the door open and close. She felt it was safe to come out and finish her bathroom trip.

Finally she walked out of the ladies room and looked for her husband.

“Are you okay,” Castle asked. “You were in there a long time.”

“I’m fine, Castle.”

“I’m worried about you,” Castle continued. “You’re carrying precious cargo. I probably should have left you home.”

“No,” Beckett pointedly said as she kissed her husband. “I won’t leave you to the sharks.”

“Sharks?”

“Single women on the prowl. I overheard a couple of them in the ladies room talking about big game and especially a ‘white whale.’”

Castle chuckled. “And you’re marking your territory, huh?”

“Damn straight I’m marking my territory. I’ve got the ‘white whale’, I plan on keeping him … and I love him to pieces.”

“I love you, too, Kate.”

“Now, we need to mingle for a while to keep up appearances,” Beckett said as she kissed her husband.

Then after kissing him again, she said in a sultry tone as if to emphasize the kiss, “In about an hour, I want you to take me home and recreate the crime of getting me pregnant.”

Returning her kiss, Castle said, “I’d love to take you home, Beckett. Maybe we should get out your cuffs. I did commit the crime, didn’t I?”

_________________________________________ 

A/N: Thanks for reading!

[labgrownsteaks]

Chapter 9

Guy worked on the loading dock of a local thrift store. It was Friday, and he was looking forward to the weekend. Looking forward to the trip they were all going to take. He had googled about Siri’s “malfunction” and came up with nothing. He also hadn’t ruled out that since the actual unit was a knockoff, that perhaps it was simply defective. That’s what Vitamin’s mom gets for buying him a fake Siri Egg he thought as he lifted up a box of old keyboards onto a flimsy aluminum shelf. 

Joyce came up the dirty steps. She was in her 60s, and supposed had a broken back, carpal tunnel, “neurological issues”, sleep apnea, and every other thing she saw a product advertised for on the shopping channel. If the shopping channel had a way to fix it, she had to have it. She was the floor manager, essentially the person put in charge of keeping all the miscreants that worked there in line. 

“Whadduya doin with that box of keyboards? That’s for recycle!” she yapped while hobbling towards the shelving unit. 

“Oh, these are still good. The MX2000 is actually better than most modern laptop keyboards. If somebody had an old Module Console this would definitely come in handy” Guy stated diplomatically. 

“Crap. Crap Crap. Box full of crap.” She said as she rummaged through the box. “Crap.” she said as she tossed each keyboard in the giant rubbermade container. “Crap” She said as she through an old computer textbook into the “book box” . “Crap” as she threw a shrink wrapped pack of cassette tapes into the garbage. “Throw away the crap! Is it that hard?” The ironic thing was that Joyce probably had more crap than anybody else. She would come on Sundays when nobody was there, and unload boxes of it, and they’d be waiting for me Monday morning. Strange pillows to improve your posture while you sleep, garbage bags full of yarn, and an assortment of pressure plates for your feet. Of course all of this stuff had to go out on the floor , and of course it had to be priced just under what she paid for it, which pretty much meant the store was become a boutique of her discarded items. 

“Throw away the crap!” she stated as she walked down the steps. Guy walked over to the recycling, and the garbage, and got everything out and took it to his car, which was parked just a few steps from the loading dock. It was a pretty common occurrence during his workday. In fact, he couldn’t remember a day where he had come home empty handed, the only problem now of course, was that his stuff was now filling up his house. And his storage unit....and his other storage unit.. As Guy was walking back he saw a jacked up Chevy pulling up, it had a organ tied up in the back. Guy knew the organ would be “crap” and wouldn’t be worth unloading, so he talked the driver into coming over to his place after work. He’d give him 40 bucks for it. He could actually use an organ. 

Around lunchtime Vitamin, and Erin showed up with a bag full of McDonalds. 

“Burger for the working man?” Erin said as we walked down the alley. Guy was actually a pretty big dude, standing 6′ 5″ and coming in at around 250lbs. Even though he was a complete dork, he was built like a barrel and looked like the kind of person who could handle himself on a ranch. 

“What’s up goobers” Guy said as we approached. 

“Chow time” I responded, while stuffing a fry into mouth. 

We sat down together on the loading dock, and it didn’t take long for the subject of Siri to come up. 

“You can’t be serious about this shit bruh” Guy said to me. 

“What’s the alternative? We’ve been given a quest. An actual quest!” Erin said “Siri played Lord of The Rings for fucks sake!” 

“What do you do when you see a fork in the road Guy?” I said. “You take it!”

“You stole that from somewhere! I’ve heard that before” Guy said

“Yeah, probably, have no idea where from though” 

“So when are we dropping tomorrow?” Guy stated while biting into his burger. 

“Around 10, then we’re headed down to the river. It’s supposed to be nice out. We can hang out in the woods by the banks and plot” Erin stated

“Sweet, I’ll meet y’all there then” Guy said

“Tomorrow is the test. It’s going to be a big trip! “ Erin said

“A test for what?” Guy said

“If we can work together” Erin continued. “If we’re really going to pull this off, we’ve got to be able to work together” 

“Look. Even if we did break into Quicksilver. What would we do then? Like, what am I supposed to do? Just push the delete key, and walk back out?! The place is full of cameras. Literally, if I got in, I legit would have no idea of what to do....like...none” 

“How can we ignore this? “ I stated. “Like. Can you imagine getting old and having this chance and not taking it?”

“This isn’t a chance bruh. This is illegal. I’m not breaking in. Nope. Not doing it” Guy looked up at me and  Erin, and I could sense that he could sense our disappointment. “Seriously! No....Fucking.....way! Can you imagine me in prison? And for breaking into Quicksliver!” 

Erin had a sneak attack. “Didn’t Quicksilver basically destroy the entire dream of the world wide web?” 

“Yes. Quicksilver sucks. Yes, they are evil incarnate. Yes. They’re making the world a worse  place. No. No. No am I going to break into their headquarters. No chance!” 

We could hear Joyce coming up the steps. Guy shooed us away “Get out of here!” and we took off down the alley. They weren’t supposed to have lunch breaks, which basically meant the day was an all day snackathon for everyone who worked there. 

“You see that pocket fishing pole set?” Joyce squawked. 

“Nope. I think we put that out a couple weeks ago” Guy responded

“well it’s gone, and Linda doesn’t remember selling it either so.”

“Ok. Well I’ll keep an eye out for it” 

Joyce muttered something as she hobbled back down the steps. Guy could see Erin and me at the end of the alleyway. He watched us as we got onto our “motorcycles” and drove off. 

Another local to the thrift store scene was Ryan, and he pulled up to the Loading Dock in a 1978 Ford Fairmont. It was completely rusted out. The drivers side floor panel was actually gone, so when you rode with him you basically felt like you were in a Flintstone car. He had a bunch of Ham radio gear on the dash, and the sounds of James Brown were blasting as he rolled up. He was also prone to intermittent James Brown impersonations. He opened the door with some swag, and threw his jet black hair back. he had transitions lens in his glasses, and one of those baseball hats on that made him look like a Hollywood film director. 

“Got something for ya buddy!” Ryan stated as he walked up to the dock with a book in his hands. “You still collectin textbooks?” 

“Of course. How could I stop?” Guy responded.

“Super rare. I found it at State Surplus” he said as he handed guy the old textbook. It had a Blue canvas cover, no dustjacket, just the embossed “gold” font on the front. And it simply said ZXBASIC on it in bold letters. Guy began to thumb through the book, seemed pretty standard. Black and white diagrams for outdated programming languages that he loved so dearly. 

“Check the front page” Ryan said, and Guy flipped the pages back and inspected the first page. It read. 

ZXBASIC and Finite State Machines

Hyperdine Systems Inc. 

1967 

“Hyperdine was the first iteration of Quicksilver. Check the logo! It’s still the same. You could definitely get something for it on Ebay. Some fanboy would probably pay a pretty penny!” 

Guy felt annoyed at this point. It was one of those times, like when you stub your toe minutes before you have to take a interview for a job on the phone, and then your toast burns and stinks up the house, and the postman decides that now is a good time to get into a conversation with your neighbor who is restraining their barking dog in the apartment next door. Everything bad happens all at once. In this case, he felt like he was being pushed. And Guy didn’t like to be pushed. He just wanted to sit at home, with his new organ, and learn how to play inagaddavita amongst all of his plastic computer friends. 

“Thanks man!” Guy said. “This is really dope!” . Another car had pulled up, and a nervous middle aged woman with a small dog was waiting. Ryan noticed and popped back into his car. “don’t say I never did anything for ya man!” He said while starting his car up. The radio blared James Brown. 

Get up, (get on up) Get up, (get on up) Stay on the scene, (get on up), like a sex machine, (get on up)  

Guy looked back down at the beautiful code in the book. “What had Quicksilver become?” He thought. They had been so cool. Why did they have to just turn to crap? The woman pulled up and popped her trunk. She was pulling a dog carrier out of it. “Oh sorry!” Guy stated. “We’ve already got a ton of carriers. Maybe try Goodwill?” The woman, in her 40s gave him an exasperated look, and suddenly the carrier seemed to weigh a million pounds, and it was a major issue to get it back into the car. The rest of the day was pretty slow, and guy chilled out, on a nice fall day outside, and read ZXBASIC. 

[someonelookingpraediti]

FairyLoot Unboxing

Artefacts of Power December 2023

I wasn't expecting to get any more boxes this late in the year, but incredibly, this one arrived on Christmas Eve! I feel awful for the poor courier working on Christmas Eve, especially for something that absolutely could have waited.

The featured book is "What the River Knows" by Isabel Ibañez. I've already read this book. I enjoyed it for the plot, which was really fun, but I didn't get along with the writing style that well. I have the OwlCrate edition, and I can't help comparing the two. This one has a redesigned dustjacket, which is really nice, I like the colour. Both editions have full foiling on the hardcase, artwork endpapers, stencilled edges, and bonus content - but in every instance, the OwlCrate version is better. The OwlCrate edition also has a ribbon bookmark! All in all, the FairyLoot edition is lovely, but nothing compared to the OwlCrate version.

The first item is a packing cube. I don't really get the point of these - the idea, I think, is to organise your suitcase when you go on holiday. Apparently, they help save space, but I don't understand how putting more in your suitcase saves space? This is inspired by "An Ember in the Ashes", and it is unbelievably ugly!

Next is a tealight holder, inspired by "Howl's Moving Castle". This is such a cute item! The top bit spins when the candle is lit, and has little shooting stars and Calcifers hanging from it! It's nice to get an item we haven't had before!

Next is a satin scarf, based on the featured book. This is a really nice design. I don't normally wear scarves, but I'll definitely keep this, because it's such a nice item! And it's presented really well, in a nice box that looks like it came from a boutique.

The last item is a set of bookends, inspired by "Legendborn". They feature Excalibur - I didn't know Legendborn was based on Arthurian legend, maybe I should read it! Bookends are such a useful item to receive, and they're a beautiful design.

This month's tarot cards feature Xaden and Violet from "Fourth Wing".

Other than the awful packing cube, this was an amazing box!! FairyLoot have been a bit of a let-down recently, but this one was wonderful!

[supersteviegeekout]

She is catalyst. She is chaos. - Illuminae by @misterkristoff and @amiekaufmanauthor ~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~ My daughter put dust jackets on my brain today. She gets really annoyed when they slip and slide while she's holding the book. I told her it gets better when her hands get a bit bigger. Of course thinking about dust jackets brought to mind the unique ones that come with the Illuminae Files. I love how they work with the actual cover of the book, definitely one of a kind! Where do you land on dust jackets? Pro or con? ~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~ #readersofinstagram #bookstagram #bookswelove #booklover #booklife #amazingseries #dustjackets #nakedbooks #jaykristoff #aimekaufman #illuminaefiles #illuminae #gemina #obsidio #trilogies https://www.instagram.com/p/B9a206EAGJD/?igshid=19sy6dcyj54i7