#i am savoring part 41

[brogurt]

guys please tell me when malevolent will be updated. like what's the schedule, how long must i wait...

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Reader : Born In The Dawn Chapter 34

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Story Summary: Locked inside a dark room in a dungeon, kept alive only for your power, you believed you’d never see the daylight again. That is until the Weeping Monk finds his way down and steals you from your captors. It is the beginning of a journey that leads you through hardship and newfound hope, but nothing is assured in a world that is changing for the Fey. The magic that runs in your veins is drawing out the worst the world has to offer, does it include the man who pulled you from the dark?

Chapter Title: Si Vis Amari Ama

Notes: Definitely should have added scent-kink in the warnings I think. lol

Warnings: Grief. Violence. Torture. Sexual Assault. Rape Threat. Gore. Enemies To Lovers. Pining. Trauma. Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Gore?. Misogyny. PTSD. !!!!Spicy and smut!!!!! parts. Slight redemption arc.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn…

Word count of this fic: +220K

Chapter:  34/41

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He wanted to put himself above you, to have you on the fallen leaves beneath, a bed that nature had formed. The shyness in him prevented it, stopping him from giving in to what he so yearned for. But you had felt the intent and sank back against the tree, pulling him in.

There was a certain patience that had laced itself in the passion, a desire to savor the moment and the feeling it brought. This was something he was taught to forgo, every second now you feared he’d pull away. The hope that he wouldn’t was as fragile as a feather. Gods, to be at his mercy and be treated like a holy relic in his hands was intoxicating.

He tasted your lips and felt how your tongue sought his. For a moment, he just stopped, mouth hovering over yours. It was a carnal desire, to accept all you were willing to offer of yourself to him. His body trembled with lust, while his mind sowed doubt. His upbringing by the scriptures was causing conflict, intimacy was a sin. Was he even worthy of it? Or capable of it?

“Are you alright?” Your question ghosted over his lips.

The chance to ask him if he wanted to stop was taken from you, with confidence he connected to your lips again. He cared little about creasing your jacket when he opened it up further and moved it down your shoulders to take it off of you. A crease was a fair price for what he was giving, the jacket puddled at your rear between your back and the tree. With one hand he held you close, the other he used to support himself.

With the side of his thumb he could feel the curve of your breast as he held you. The longing to feel and to hold you was so strong that he moved his hand lower. It skimmed under your shirt, feeling the warm bare skin at the waist as much as the bodice would allow it.

“Lance-” The words faded when he put his attention to your neck next, the heat of his quick breaths were a constant flow.

“Shhh…” He hushed you. “I am alright.”

He was very well, to be exact.

“Are you?” He inquired as his mouth trailed a path along your neck.

You were playing with the locks at the back of his neck and hummed. His fingers moved over your abdomen, only held back by the bodice, they tickled your skin. A warmth spread inside, and to your pelvis. Not even a dark forest was able to temper the need for him. He seemed quite willing to touch you tonight, was there a possibility that he sought intimacy? There was only one way to find out, for he would not find it in him to state his desires out loud.

The ache between your legs grew, you retrieved his hand from under your shirt to gingerly put it on your thigh. When he did not stop kissing you, you guided his hand over your trousers and between your legs.

Only then did his lips part from yours, to look into your eyes and silently ask ‘why’.

“Please, touch me?” It felt almost like begging, maybe it was. “Only if you want to…”

There was not a part of him that would refuse after he saw that needful look aimed at him. If the feeling in you matched his own by any measure, he would not let it go unsated. There were ways, those described in books or spoken out loud by those who saw no issue in sharing such jarringly intimate details of their lives. A former monk, raised among others who were less devoted to the vow, perhaps their tales could be of use.

His nose touched yours, your lips reunited. It took a moment for him to build up the confidence to stroke your inner thigh, and when he approved of your response he took the initiative to cup you through the fabric.

Your softlonging gasptold all he needed to know. He listened to your reactions, learning how to provide your body with the pleasure it so desired.

Somegentle slow rubs of his palm against you warmed you up further. Your grateful lips caressed his own and encouraged him to continue. Your need for more friction won against the shyness, you moved your hips closer. In return, your eagerness made him bolder.

The pads of his fingers pressed against you now, the fabric of your trousers became an unwanted barrier against them. You took the initiative to start undoing the knot in the cords that kept your trousers secured.

When he reached down to help, you grew hot with need. The patience he had to undo the knot was impressive. One look was shared, your hand clasped around his and brought it back to where it had been, this time without the fabric forming a barrier.

He let you slide his hand into the trousers, appearing grateful for the clear guidance, his fingers resumed their frictious actions. This time it drew a strong response out, your body jolted, you bit back a moan.

You locked eyes with him, his pupils were dilated. His mouth crashed to yours with the hunger of a starved wolf. The pads of his fingers pressed into you more, your hips moved until you felt them where you needed them most.

Those silent directions proved a great help to him. Achingly slow, his long digits began to please you manually, quiet moans fell. The heat of his skin under your hands put fuel to the flame.

A slick wetness began to coat his fingers, and the scent of it reached his nostrils mere seconds later. He was never as grateful for his heightened sense until now, it blessed him. The tightening in his abdomen in response was strong and pleasant.

“Gods… gods…” The murmur left you.

The stars above you found their match when your eyes fell shut and a different sort were created by his touch.

He had you calling upon the gods themselves. Could there be greater praise to his ears?

“What are you praying for, hm?” His voice was like silk.

That smug twit was making you flustered while doing this to you.

You turned your head to the side, still biting back moans as much as possible. “You rotten-”

“Shhh…” His lips traced the spot right next to your earlobe, the pace of his fingers increased only a little.

A pressure build, your grip on him grew stronger.

Whimpers filled his ears, the only way to soothe them was to continue with what caused them.

The urge to plead with him was overwhelming, the unspoken pleas became desperate whimpers. He caressed your ears with words of affection, praise for your trust in him.

“My love.” His stubble moved against your cheek.

Your head lolled back against the tree, the growing pressure overwhelmed the senses. His mouth latched itself to your neck, slowly nipping at it.

“It… I…” It was hard to form a sentence when he was forcing moans out of your body.

“I have you.” He hushed.

You clung to his shoulder, restless by the impending sensation. There was no room for embarrassment anymore, all you wanted was for the pressure to release. A stroke of his fingers and touch of his thumb set it free.

Being quiet was no longer under your control as your body trembled with the shocks of pleasure, the forest heard your cries. The shocks went through you, he only stopped stimulating when you grabbed hold of his hand.

Your eyes were shut, the warm flush ran through your veins and heated your cheeks and chest. It was pure bliss, you barely felt him withdraw his hand.

When your eyes finally opened again, they fell down from the night sky to the one present in the Ash Man’s eyes.

At a loss for words, you touched his shoulder before cupping his cheek and tracing your thumb down over his ashen marking. He was letting you come down from the place the ecstasy had taken you and leaned his face into the touch. Your thumb trailed to his lips, feeling his quick breathing against it.

He was shaking, and trying not to show it…

You were well aware of what this must have caused for him, he had even tried to hide the state he was in now with his cloak. After a moment of deciding, and collecting your courage, you put your hands on his shoulders. The experience must have numbed some of his reflexes, because it was terribly simple to push him back against the oak and straddle his legs.

To see him aroused was a sight you wished to lock into your memories. After his generous act, you could offer him the same treatment.He would never dare to ask this for himself, either because of his upbringing or because the Church made him think that he did not deserve to feel that way. When he tried to sit upright, you playfully pushed him with his back against the oak again.

If he really wanted to, he could overpower you, instead he looked up at you with a dangerous but charming smirk, “What do you think you’re doing?”

You were pretty forward about your intentions. “Treating my lover to the same generosity he showed me.”

He blinked twice, at a loss for words but clearly very nervous. By kissing him and trailing a hand down his chest to his abdomen, you gave him all the clues he needed. It wasn’t until you lightly palmed him through his tightened trousers that he caught your wrist.

“You do not have to do this.” He sounded concerned, like he didn’t believe you would do this unless pressured into it.

Your eyes locked on his before you leaned in to softly kiss him again. “I want to, and if you allow it, I shall.”

As your lips caressed each other, you felt the hold on your wrist slowly loosen until it was free. You stopped only to look him in the eyes when you began to unto the knot of his trousers. A deep breath rose his chest, and for a second he did not know where to look.

You kept watch over his small expressions, reading them to try and tell what he was thinking.

He was aware that you were doing it, and then he nodded.

By moving very slow, you made sure not to cross a line he wasn’t ready to cross. One of your hands worked to achieve what he had done for you, the other caressed his face. You didn’t even look to allow him to retain some modesty, only slipped your hand into his trousers and carefully palmed him.

Of course there was a pinch of curiosity present in you, and when you lightly felt him it caused him to muffle a sound in his throat before it could escape. His eyes were shifting over your face, like he wished to read your thoughts on it, on him. The slight arch in your brow must have told him something. Feeling him was enough to get you nervous, if the time came…

You felt him more, tips of your fingers trying to get an idea of what he’d look like.

He knew you were doing it to learn, it was no secret to him that you were not experienced. But heaven, why did it arouse him so to see that concentrated frown and innocent look on your face? That eagerness to get to know a part of him he had never shared with another before.

“You’re so hard.” You spoke an inch away from his lips, surprised it could feel like this.

It caused the flush on his cheeks to intensify. His mouth opened to speak, words failed him again. Your thumb pulled his bottom lip down, your mouth closed around it. He was breathing so heavily you hoped he wouldn’t faint.

The heat of him warmed your hand as you started to stroke along it. A choked breath sounded from him, and then his hand was on your neck to keep you close.

Your lips proved your hunger for him. His neck, his ear, his jaw, nothing was left unattended to. A quiet groan stumbled out of him, you could hear he had tried to hold it back.

“Good Ash Man.” You uttered the sultry praise into his ear and heard his breathing change.

Oh?

His hands moved to your hips, his eyes were hazed by lust and what a glorious sight it was. He did so look at you with admiration, and if praise was what he liked, why deny him of it?

The whisper of your name fell off his lips like a prayer. You gingerly learned what sort of touch and action caused him pleasure, a flick of your thumb, a stroke of your fingers along the bottom of his shaft… And mostly, how willing you were to do this with him.

You wanted him to come home with you, fulfilled and spend. The desire to make him feel good both physically and mentally made you brave enough to whisper seductively into his ear.

“I should have asked you to take this off.” You gave his jerkin and shirt a little tug. “So I could feel you. You’re so beautiful to me, I-”

Your chin was caught by him and he stole the words from your mouth with his own, he was moaning into it, each stroke brought him closer to his nearing release.

He felt desired, wanted and safe. If he had any less self-control, he’d have you here in the middle of the forest. Especially with the scent of you that hanged in the air and drove his senses wild.

You kissed him back fiercely, increasing the pace and pressure of your hand.

He broke free from your lips, panting the warning. “I can’t hold back anymore.”

Your past with books had taught you what to expect. What if he spilled on his clothes and someone back at the castle saw? No, that would be trouble.

You stopped briefly and re-positioned yourself so that your shirt hanged over his length, groin touching his as you straddled him completely.

He snaked his hand under your shirt to feel your abdomen right away, causing a shiver.

You aimed him at your abdomen, and saw the realization set into his eyes “Not on your clothes. They’ll see.”

He looked conflicted.

“On me. Please?” Sweetly you asked it of him upon seeing the uncertainty.

His other hand landed on your thigh, close to your rear where it tentatively kneaded the soft flesh. A curse tumbled out of him when you began stroking him again.

The pressure in his groin was quick to build. He became restless under you, his body tensed and jolted as his release took over.

The loud moan he let out made you want to clench your legs together from the feeling it caused into your core again. You felt him spill against your skin and slowly stroked until it stopped and he put his hand on yours to signal for it.

He was sunken back against the tree, eyes shut as he tried to regain control of his breathing. You sat in his lap, unsure of what to do next.

As if he sensed it, he took hold of your arms and brought you to his chest. When he recovered a bit, he moved you by the hips to take place beside him, then tucked himself away into his trousers again.

You leaned with your shoulder against the tree until he pulled you closer and made you sit against his side. Only then, with his fingers scratching softly at your scalp, did he look at peace.

Some minutes of blissful silence passed, where you listened to how his breathing slowly returned to normal. Then he reached down between you, lifting your shirt up a little with his finger. The result of his release stuck to your abdomen, you tried to touch it but he caught your hand.

Curiously you looked at him. “I’m not repulsed by your seed, Lancelot.”

After sharing a look, he let go off your hand and watched you touch it with the tip of your index finger.

“What do I do with it…” A silly chuckle fell from you. “I have no handkerchief on me.”

To see you respond so innocent to this, just like him, warmed his heart.

He sat upright, gears in his head turning to find a solution and then he saw you put the finger to your lips. You hummed pensively at the taste and noticed how he was looking at you.

He caught your hand slowly, voice soft, “Don’t…”

That made you halt, “Why not?”

He struggled to explain why. What exactly were you doing wrong? Had he not secretly wanted to taste your wetness for himself too?

“It’s not proper.” He lacked faith in his own answer.

“Says who?” You gently pried, guessing the answer that would come.

The Church, the scriptures…

All he wanted to free himself off.

“Forgive me.” He shook his head and sighed. “I should not be thinking of the scriptures anymore.”

You wished to understand, “Is this considered wrong? For me to taste you?”

“Improper, I believe.” He replied in earnest. “But, I will not let it ruin or spoil what we have. Forgive me, I did not mean to cause you any shame.”

You saw the pink hue creeping over his nose. “I won’t let the Church tell me what I should be ashamed about.”

And neither should he.

A shy smile curved his lips, his timidity lessened the more he thought of how boldly you had tasted his release.

“I disagree with the scriptures.” His brow arched slightly, gaze dropping to your mouth, “I would taste you too.”

Your eyes widened at what it implied, “Pardon?”

With a coy smirk, he leaned in to kiss you. You slithered out of his arms with burning cheeks. He chuckled at your response and your clear flustered state.

You stood there, arms crossed and waiting for him to get to his feet as well. “We should be heading home.”

Reluctantly, he stood up from the ground. “Let us clean you before we return.”

“How?” You didn’t want to jump in the river at this time of day.

He walked towards Goliath and retrieved his water flask and some cloth that was still in the saddlebag from your journey north. He wettened the rag, lifted your shirt and touched it to your skin. There was no haste in him whatsoever, and you tried not to grin at how slow he was working to clean it up. When he was halfway done, he brushed his lips to your temple.

“Thank you.” He thought of how to say it, “For what you did. I expected nothing in return.”

You caressed his arm. “I know you didn’t, I wanted to. And thank you, for your efforts for my pleasure too. It was the first time I’ve felt that way.

He stilled suddenly, “You’ve never come undone before?”

Timidly you shook your head, “You have?”

It took him a second to nod. “When I was younger. I went to cleanse myself with the scourge the next morning.”

“With someone’s aid?” You quietly asked.

He shook his head, blushing fierce.

Oh… he had handled it himself.

He was pensive for a moment as he finished cleaning you and even tied the knot in the cords of your trousers again. The rag was simply discarded on the ground, and he took hold of your chin, steering your head so he could kiss your cheek. His lips brushed over it, they lingered as he cupped your face in his hands.

Your heart ran off on itself when he withdrew only to do so again. That innocent kiss did not seem so innocent anymore. You leaned back to look at him. “We need to return home.”

“We will.” He grinned.

You pried one hand away, and swatted the other playfully. “Now.”

By the twinkle in his eyes, swatting him away did not repel him, quite the opposite. It was the first time you caught yourself looking around for curious eyes, there was a chance someone had witnessed this amorous encounter.

He noticed it and put your mind to rest. “I do not believe anyone saw us.”

“I hope so.” You muttered shyly and went to your horse.

Lancelot fidgeted with Goliath’s reins, lost in thought for a moment, until you mounted Aella after putting your creased jacket back on. He mounted as well, believing you capable of darting off alone.

When you were in the saddle again, and looked at him, it was obvious that your bodies had yet to settle down. It was like both of you were waiting for a witty comment on it from the other, only to burst into a quiet fit of laughter at the foolishness of the situation.

“Come.” He returned to the river to follow it’s path. “Before they believe I do not intend to return you.”

You rode beside him, teasing, “Isn’t that what you want?”

“I would not abandon the boy either.” He admitted, although the idea to steal you away was a selfish but tempting one.

It was admirable how loyal he was to those he cared about. “How honorable.” You took note of how he wasn’t looking at you for directions back to the fort. “Starting to learn your way around these lands I see.”

“By following my heart.” He grinned.

Alright, sometimes he had a silver tongue. You rolled your eyes a little, pretending that your heart had not made a small leap in your chest at that. “I must have done well to receive such flattery.”

He was quiet for a moment, pensive even, then he corrected, “You always deserve it.”

That made you look, he looked back at you with a genuine expression, like he wanted you to know it without a doubt.

It was quite sweet. “Thank you…”

After having your personal affairs being shared before, you held a fear it could happen again, “Could you not tell others of what we did?”

He was looking ahead, and you saw the frown on his forehead before he turned to look at you.

You felt bad for asking. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

He held up a hand a little, and spoke when you fell silent, “What happened between us, remains between us.”

A sigh of relief came out, you reassured him, “I trust you.”

Lancelot rode closer. “As I you.”

After riding for a while, the barn came into sight again. Candlelight came from within the house adjacent to it.

“How do you see our future?” You asked.

“Combined.” He cleverly said.

You put more thought into it. “Sometimes I still think of living somewhere else, I love my family, and my home, but I miss the freedom of the forest.”

“That is the Fey in us.” He stated. “We can always return to the woods, but I must say that I do enjoy the warm shelter a fort has to offer.”

He had a point. Living in the forest was freeing, but it wasn’t so pleasant in the rain or winter, one would often romanticize memories.

You recalled one of the first days after you had left home, weeks before the Brothers had imprisoned you. “I don’t really miss it when the snot dripping from my nose in the cold would freeze to it.”

He shouldn’t have been so surprised in your openness to speak of it.“We are able to balance a life in the woods with one in the fort.”

You nodded, it was a benefit to have a place to rest to get your energy back after healing. “I still want to help my people. But I won’t use my powers again to bring people back from the dead, even the Hidden themselves helped me with reluctance. I do not believe such magic comes without a cost, I am no use to the people if I die of exhaustion.”

“I was the exception to the Hidden.” He thought about it.

You hummed in agreement, the old gods would not have just let a rare Fey like him go. “Believe me when I say that I am beyond grateful that they gave me the strength.”

An idea had been forming in his head, seeing you nearly collapse after healing had made him start to think of a way to lessen the chance of it happening again.

“I might have a suggestion that may aid you in helping the Fey, if you are interested?” He told.

You sure were. “I’m interested.”

He sounded like he was still trying to fit the details of the idea together. “When you heal others, you always wish to bring them back to health completely. It is a noble effort, but it drains you too much. What if there was a way to lessen the burden? Let us, for example, say that there was a place where we can combine the gift of the Dawn Folk with those of other healers.”

“A big infirmary?” You tried to make sense of it.

He was glad you understood what he wished to suggest. “Much bigger. More people can be helped, and it will put less weight on your family. A balance between healing with herbs and magic.”

That actually sounded like a clever idea. Things could be more organized, with volunteers and healers there to support your family’s sacrifices. A touch of magic, and a taste of white willow bark to carry the ill to health further.

You envisioned the idea. “There’s an old chapel in the village.”

It pleased him to see that you weren’t against the plan, “All you need is to unite the healers and those who wish to help. I will help you.”

“Sometimes you’ve got some really good ideas, Ash Man.” You cheekily said.

“Sometimes?” He narrowed his eyes, detecting the teasing tone.

You lifted your gaze up to the night sky, refusing to take it back.

By passing the barn, it was only a matter of time before you’d be home again. And by the time you rode into the village, there was an odd silence beginning to hang between you. As if the air between you was able to tell others what had occurred…

The closer you got to home, the more skittish Lancelot seemed to become. Did he fear facing your parents after this? It was quite an amusing thought.

“They won’t know.” You whispered in his direction as you rode up the hill.

It was groundless to think otherwise. Still he felt a bit uncomfortable to return to the home of your parents, and pretend nothing had happened, after making their daughter moan in the forest. Anyone would feel a nervous sweat build.

He tilted his head a little, not moving his eyes away from the path in front of him. Oh gods… he really struggled with the thought.

You gave a comforting smile. “Be calm. Think of something else. All is well.”

“I am trying.” He really was.

You could only hope that he was not so obvious by the time you reached the top of the hill.

In the stables, he took Goliath’s saddle off for the night. Then did the same with Aella’s after he handed you the clothes you had purchased at the market. He was trying to buy himself some time before you would return to the fort again. You were looking sympathetically at the nervous Ash Man and bit your lip.

He eventually noticed it, and voiced a little of the fear that haunted him. “If they know what I did with their daughter…”

Lancelot put the saddle down next to Goliath’s, brushing a hand over his chin.

You tsk-ed him. “They won’t. And if they do find out, I’ll let them know that it was their daughter who initiated it.”

He looked at you with his mouth agape, a scoff mixed with a chuckle. “You would not…”

Your brow arched in defense. “Oh, I would.”

He strolled over to you, slightly sighing while caressing your cheek with the back of his hand. “I could have denied you.”

You shook your head slowly. “Stop trying to put guilt on yourself. I believe neither of us can keep denying ourselves of what we feel.”

There was a shallow nod from him, his eyes searched yours before he leaned in to steal a chaste kiss. A loud bang on the stable door prevented that from happening.

You scattered away from each other and saw Ser Florent stand a little further away.

“Welcome back.” The knight had a curious look on his face, “Mirena is still awake, she wishes to speak to you, Lancelot.”

Lancelot acknowledged the request and, after he retrieved the package for Mirena from the saddlebag, he walked over to the knight. You followed them out the stables.

Ser Florent took a step aside to let him walk out, and asked you, “Is all well?”

Had he seen?…

“All is well.” You reassured the worried knight.

The green eyes of the knight left you and looked at Lancelot for a beat. There was a growing suspicion in the knight. “Very well. Follow me, if you please.”

Lancelot was clever enough not to look back at you now, he sensed that the knight was holding his tongue.

As you walked to the gate, you saw Matthew and Emmeline sitting where you had sat with Lancelot at the night of the feast. Matthew noticed you and you gave a discreet nod in his direction, he did the same before putting his attention on the woman again.

“I hope that does not end in tears. ” Ser Florent commented under his breath at seeing Matthew and Emmeline together.

Oofff…

It seemed that Matthew was not so popular for his conquests.

You didn’t say a word all the way to the door of the entrance hall, where the knight held the door open for you. Even with your backed turned to them, you could tell that the knight was speaking to Lancelot with his eyes. The whole atmosphere was shifting between them.

Mirena stood up from the bench in the entrance hall and approached you, she embraced you warmly. “Welcome back, Little Moon.”

You returned the sentiment. “Good evening, mother.”

She let go off you, and beckoned for the Ash Man, who from old habit gave a respectful inclination of the head.

“Is that for me?” Mirena gestured to the linen wrapped package.

The eyes of the knight, boring into his back, were distracting him.

“It is.” Lancelot handed the package to her.

“How was your journey?” She asked.

Some color drained from his face. “All went well.”

Your parents wouldn’t notice a thing, but if he kept casting his gaze to the ground like this in front of her, it would be obvious there was something he was trying to hide.

She looked at you curiously, sensing there was something being hidden.

You were thinking quickly. “He caught the eye of a vendor. A kind elderly woman.”

“Ah.” Mirena chuckled. “With eyes like those, it is no wonder.”

The Ash Man dropped his eyes to the floor and didn’t lift them off of it anymore after the compliment. She was doing it on purpose, there was something quite endearing to Lancelot’s response to flattery. He was not used to it, and she was not the sort to be afraid to flatter someone. Compared to Helio, she was far more open on such matters. Poor Squirrel still often walked around with a red face after she’d compliment him and his achievements.

Mirena returned the package to Lancelot’s hands, who looked at her questioningly. “It is for you. For helping us, for helping my daughter. For blessing our family with young Percival. See it as a token of our gratitude.”

He looked at her, stunned by the gesture. Even Ser Florent was surprised by it. You were more than a little curious as to what was inside.

“Go on then, open it.” The knight encouraged a hesitant Lancelot.

He opened the package so slow and careful, like he feared something would jump out to bite him. Mirena shot you and him a compassionate look.

“Not used to receiving gifts, I take it?” She asked him.

He shook his head, confirming it. If the knight hadn’t been there to see it, you would have went to stand closer to Lancelot.

He removed the last layer of linen from the mysterious gift and the shining metal came to sight. A pair of engraved vambraces were in his hands now as Mirena took over the linen cloth. The leather was perfectly cut and sewn, as were the metal plates to fit it.

Ser Florent came closer to look. “Beautiful craftsmanship.”

Lancelot was near speechless, his fingers traced the intricate pattern engraved on them. “Thank you…” He said quietly.

Mirena was glad to see that he liked them. “You are very welcome. These will offer you some protection.”

Lancelot looked at her, silenced by her kindness and acceptance towards him. After a moment of thought, he knelt to the floor, and tilted his head down to show her the respect he felt for her.

She was as surprised as you and Ser Florent were. “Rise, Lancelot.” Her hand came to his arm when he did, “You have earned a place here. Now I shall go and rest, I suggest you do the same. It is late.”

Mirena looked at you and the knight as well, making it clear that it was meant for all present. Both Lancelot and the knight gave a nod, and she began to walk to her chambers. You went after her to thank her again for what she had given to Lancelot, leaving him and the knight alone in the entrance hall.

He had not wanted to interact with Ser Florent, sensing that the knight suspected something was afoot. To avoid a confrontation, he wished to leave the hall. The knight’s arm shot out and blocked him from doing so. He took a step back, watching the knight like a hawk.

“I need to speak to you.” Ser Florent was firm.

Did he even need to ask?

He hoped his face gave nothing away, ”About?”

Ser Florent kept it civil, “I believe you are not aware that Helio gave the knights an order the day you were allowed to stay here?”

Lancelot looked at him expectantly.

The knight hoped to prevent troubles from arising.

“Our Knight Commander loves his family, he will not react well if there are reasons to believe you would be…” The knight paused to choose his words carefully, “…Pursuing his daughter.”

The knights were ordered to keep an eye out in case things between you and him grew beyond the bounds of friendship?

He tried to lie, although he felt guilty over it, “I am not pursuing her.”

Ser Florent quirked a brow. “Then I must be imagining things. Or perhaps she has a lover Helio is not aware off. Who knows? But that is not my concern. It only concerns us if it is you, I’m afraid. It’s not personal.”

It didn’t sound like the knight believed he was ‘imagining’ things, it sounded like a friendly warning.

“I understand.” Lancelot said short.

Ser Florent looked around himself and stepped closer, his voice hushed, “Is it really worth dying for? Because Helio will lose his mind when he realizes that you are trying to seduce his daughter. You cannot just use her as a means to experience what life is like outside of abstinence!”

The accusation set off the temper the Ash Man had learned to control. He had grabbed the knight by the collar with his free hand and slammed him against the wall.

He was seething at the implication that he was only interested in you to fulfill himself carnally.

Ser Florent wasn’t impressed or surprised by the ill-response his words had caused.

“I knew it.” The knight was clever to lure a response out that betrayed the Ash Man’s feelings for you.

Realization set inside of him, this had been a test he had failed.

Ser Florent pried the Ash Man’s hand from his collar and freed himself, pushing him back a little. “Consider yourself very fortunate that I do not find it my duty to control what a woman can or cannot do. Helio will not hear it from me.”

Lancelot did not know how to respond to the knight choosing to remain silent about this.

Anything he said could incriminate himself further.

The knight gestured to the vambraces in his hand, “May the gods have mercy on your heart, Ash Man. You will need it.”

It was all Ser Florent said to him before walking away.

Lancelot looked down to the vambraces, feeling the pattern on the metal again.

He did not need the mercy of the gods on his heart, only yours.

Taglist:

@ourlazydetectivekitten​​ @the-great-adventures-of-me​ @linkpk88​​  @fxrchxldws​​  @elenaoftheturks​​ @slytherlight​​ @beananacake​​    @crystallizedtime​​  @moonlightaura03​​  @angrygardendeer​​  @have-aheart​​   @5am-cigarette​​ @arcanenature​​  @thewinterskywalker​​ @notyourwildestdream​​ @coloursforyourportrait​​ @koressecretidentity​​ @nike90​​ @n1ghtlux​​ @rachlovesactors​​ @luckyzipperscissorsbat​​ @morena-doing-stuff​​  @the-fangirl-diaries​​ @gipsydanger17​​ @heavenly1927​​  @phantasmalbeiing  @labyrinthonmymind  @asarcastic-thiamstan​​  @rainyv-skies @kissingandromeda @stclairesplace @​​katjusja @isla-bell-blog @beebeerockknot @sahvlren

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist of this story.

[staygoldwriting]

(I totally forgot to do this before the New Year!!! How I wish I could start CB again 😪)

I posted 441 times in 2022

That's 441 more posts than 2021!

171 posts created (39%)

270 posts reblogged (61%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@toomanybandstocare

@galaxy-siren

@mad-elia

@beep-beep-sherlock

@babyghouly

I tagged 175 of my posts in 2022

#staygoldwriting - 113 posts

#eddie munson fluff - 75 posts

#eddie munson - 67 posts

#eddie munson imagine - 64 posts

#eddie munson x reader - 63 posts

#stranger things - 51 posts

#eddiemunson - 46 posts

#stranger things eddie - 45 posts

#eddie munson x female reader - 44 posts

#steve harrington fluff - 34 posts

Longest Tag: 41 characters

#we would listen to it together in the car

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

First Love, Part II

Summary: Y/N is a senior prep, Nancy Wheeler’s best friend, and quite possibly Eddie’s first love ❤️

Read Part I here!

Word count: 756

Warnings: Fluff upon fluff, Dustin continuing to be the best wingman 

A/N: This is part 2 of First Love! I hope you all enjoy it 🤗 

“That’s how the game is played, my friends!” Eddie yelled as the party reached their victory. As they all laughed, high-fived, and rejoiced, Eddie savored the moment along with them, then caught a glimpse of his watch.

“Hey!” he called above them. “It’s almost ten, scram before your parents hate me more!”

After everyone helped pack up, they left to the parking lot. Mike scanned the lot for Nancy’s car, but couldn’t see it anywhere. He began gathering courage to ask Eddie for a ride when you popped out of the car, waving wildly. 

“Hey! Mike! I’m filling in!” you yelled, and he and the other boys ran to you.

“Where’s Nancy?” Mike asked as he gave you a quick hug.

“Johnathan surprised her, so I volunteered to get you guys so they could spend some time together,” you explained, then hugged the rest of the boys.

“Hey, what’s are you?” Eddie said, shyly approaching you. “Wait, no, hey, what’s up, how are you? Gosh, Munson,” he scolded himself.

“Hi, Eddie,” you said warmly. “Johnathan’s visiting, so I’m picking up the boys for Nancy. I promise you I’m not stalking you or anything,” you blushed. Eddie smiled back at you, blushing too. 

“No worries. It, uh, it was a good campaign,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “Lots of… battles and stuff. And the cookies! The cookies were delicious,” he grinned. “You’re really sweet, I mean the cookies were sweet, but you’re sweet too, um.”

“You’re sweet too, Eddie,” you said touching his arm. He jumped a bit.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, drawing your arm away. 

“No, no, it’s fine, I just… nevermind. Thanks, for calling me sweet.”

“Of course, and I’m glad you liked the cookies,” you replied kindly. “Did you have a favorite?”

“Well, I loved the lemon ones, but Wheeler did hog them after all,” Eddie shrugged, smiling crookedly. “I only had one.”

“Oh, well next time I bake some, I’ll bring you some just for you,” you proposed.

“Thanks,” Eddie said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Or maybe you can teach me how to make them.” He looked down, not meeting your eyes.

“You wanna come over tomorrow?”

“Wait, what?”

“I have time tomorrow if you wanna come over,” you smiled. “Only if you want to.”

“I-ha-I would love to,” Eddie blushed, now meeting your eyes. 

“Does 2:30 work?”

“Definitely,” Eddie laughed in disbelief. “I can’t wait.”

“Me either,” you blushed. “Well, I guess I’ll seeya later, Eddie. Can I give you a hug?”

“Fire away,” Eddie chuckled, opening his arms. 

See the full post

731 notes - Posted August 4, 2022

#4

Cousin Buckley: Part 3

Summary: You’re Robin’s cousin, and you’ve stolen the hearts of Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson 🖤💜

Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: none, just fluff!

Word count: 1201

A/N: I am having so much fun writing these, you guys! Thank you so much for all of the love, support, comments, reblogs, notes, follows, everything! It means so much, and I can’t wait to continue on with this series 🤗 I’m currently navigating the taglist, so I apologize for any problems!

“Welcome to Family Video!”

Robin opened the doors dramatically as you three stepped in. The previous workers wordlessly exited, thankful their shifts were over. 

“Don’t get your hopes up, Buckley,” said one worker, a tall thin boy with a zombie-like look, “we had like, two customers all day.”

“I know, Martin, I know,” she said energetically. “But I always make it work, don’t I?”

“You do,” Martin replied flatly. “That’s why I never do my shifts with you. I need to spend my misery in peace.”

“Alright, Martin, that’s enough for today,” Steve smiled, ushering him out then turning to you. “Want a tour?”

You nodded excitedly as he placed his arm gently around your shoulder.

“So, we’ve got the main desk here, as you can see,” he gestured with his other arm. “To the left are kids movies, romances, comedies, then adventure and fantasy stuff. To the right is the more intense stuff, like horror and thrillers and big action movies, like the Terminator.” 

“Smart divisions,” you said. “Was that your idea?”

“He wishes,” Robin snorted from the counter, then looked at Steve, panicking a bit. “He did organize the snacks though!” She quickly pointed at the display of snacks below the counter and you smiled. 

“You guys need Nerds,” you remarked. 

“I’ll make a note of it,” Steve smiled. “Okay, I’ll leave you to browse. Robin and I thought it would be fun to have a movie marathon night, so you’ve got your pick! Choose like three or four, but my only request is that one of them is Real Genius. I’ve been wanting to watch it for a while, but I haven’t had the time.”

“Same here!” you replied, smiling brightly. “I’ll grab that one for sure, and I also want to look for The Last Starfighter. I hear it’s really good.”

“Grab Sixteen Candles! Or Nightmare on Elm Street!” Robin called out.

“That’s quite the range,” you chuckled. “I’ll grab both.”

“Everything except Elm Street should be to your left,” Steve said. “Call out if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay, thanks Steve,” you smiled. 

He moved his arm away and jumped over the counter, joining Robin. As you started your browsing, you looked back at the counter to see Steve glancing up at you. As you caught his eye, he blushed, looking down and smiling widely. Robin smirked a bit, then shook her head. 

After looking around for a while, you found all of the movies and brought them up to the counter. Martin was right; not many people had stopped in to pick up a video, but you guessed it made sense for a Tuesday afternoon. 

“Okay, I found everything we need for tonight,” you told Steve, handing him the movies. “How much is it?”

“Oh, you’re not paying,” Steve said with a chuckle.

“I have to, I’m a customer!” you gasped, then leaned closer, making Steve lean too. “I can’t steal.”

“I know,” Steve mimicked your tone. “What I mean is that I will rent them.”

“Oh,” you said. “Are you sure?” you looked at him hesitantly.

See the full post

852 notes - Posted July 20, 2022

#3

Eddie is the type of boyfriend to stutter and freeze when you so much as hold his hand. Poor boy is touched starved and just loves being near you. He can’t think straight when you’re around.

If you surprise him with a flower that you picked on the way to meet him “just because it reminded me of you” his face warms with a light blush. He presses every flower you give him in a lil songbook he has dedicated to you.

It is time for soft, first relationship Eddie 😌

🌹Now a series!! Part II is here🌹

Is this... my call to action??? To write the fluffiest thing I've ever done so far (maybe except for Bunny Garden)??? 😍

✨First Love✨

(in which y/n is a senior prep and best friends with Nancy, and Eddie is head-over-heels in love with her) 785 words

“Hey, Eddie, hi everyone!” you said cheerily as you approached the Hellfire table at lunch. 

Eddie looked up from his lunch to see you standing in front of him, a wide, sincere smile on your face. He blushed as you two met eyes, and as he went to smile, a little bit of chocolate milk came out of his mouth, causing him to hide his face in embarrassment. 

“Hey, Y/N, what’s up?” Mike asked, trying to draw attention away from a flustered Eddie.

“Well, I was up late baking cookies last night, and I called Nancy, and she said you all have a club meeting tonight? Hellfire, right?” you asked, pointing at their shirts.

“Yeah, why? You wanna join?” Gareth asked, snickering. Eddie, now recovered, kicked him in the leg.

“Well,” you said, looking from Gareth to Eddie, “I thought maybe you’d like some cookies for your meeting tonight,” you held out a tupperware. “I made some chocolate chip, some oatmeal cookies, and some lemon ones. If you’d like, I’d be really happy to share them with your club. And Mike can bring the tupperware home, I’m sleeping over with Nancy tomorrow anyway,” you smiled, bouncing on your heels. 

“Um, sure, yeah, thank you, Y/N,” Eddie said, holding a shaky hand out to receive the cookies. His hand brushed yours slightly, making his blush return. 

“I like your rings,” you said sweetly.

“Oh, um, thanks.” Eddie was completely red at this point. 

“Well, have fun, and let me know what everyone thinks of the cookies! Mike, don’t hog all the lemon ones! Oh, and good luck with ‘The Cult of Vecna’,” you said in a scary voice. 

Eddie’s heart soared when he heard you talk about Hellfire, as if Nancy Wheeler’s best friend would ever be interested in something like that. He knew you were always nice, but he convinced himself that you were just cordial for the sake of Mike. He secretly dreamt that he was the reason you were so nice, that maybe you wanted to be friends… or even more. 

“Ha, nice memory, Y/N!” Dustin cheered, snapping Eddie out of his trance.

“You can come by if you want,” Eddie said quickly, then instantly regretted it. He felt his ears get hot and his hands start to shake again, this time along with his breath. You looked at him with wide eyes.

“Are you serious?”

“I-I mean, you could, but I know you probably have better things to do--”

“No, I don’t!” you exclaimed. “I just didn’t think I could go to Hellfire! Isn’t it exclusive? I wouldn’t want to intrude or anything like that, D&D seems so special and precious to you guys, and I wouldn’t want to ruin that, and gosh, now I’m rambling, but yes, I would love to stop by if you all would be willing to have me.”

“Eddie might, but I’m not,” Jeff spat. “It is exclusive. A prep like you can’t just waltz in and--”

“Hey, come on, she’s cool!” Mike argued. 

“Yeah, and besides, you’re not the leader, Eddie is! He invited her so she can come,” Lucas added.

“It’s okay, I don’t want to cause any trouble,” you said sadly. “I’ll just ask you guys how it went on Monday. Thank you for the invitation though, Eddie.” 

As you left to turn around, Eddie glared at Jeff angrily. He was still blushing intensely, but it could easily be disguised as fury. You looked back, wringing your hands, then went to your table to grab something. As you walked back to the boys, the same look of shock reappeared on their faces. You stood there, shuffling your feet as you let out a breathy giggle.

“I don’t know if I can wait until Monday,” you chuckled, then nervously held out a piece of paper. “This is my number, Eddie. Maybe you can call me after and tell me the details?”

Eddie’s mouth hung open as he stared at you in disbelief. Frozen, Eddie tried to speak, but nothing worked. Dustin sighed loudly, took your number, then placed it in Eddie’s hand. As Eddie closed it, a goofy smile broke across his face. You blushed and smiled brightly as you saw his happy face.

See the full post

1,765 notes - Posted August 1, 2022

#2

Cousin Buckley: Part 2

Summary: You’re Robin’s cousin, and you’ve stolen the hearts of Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson <3

In case you missed it: Part 1!

Warnings: none, just fluff :)

Word count: 1059

A/N: THANK YOU!!! I’m SO happy you guys enjoyed part 1! You make my heart so happy :’) <3 Here is part 2--please enjoy and send it some love, and if you want to join the taglist, please don’t hesitate to ask! 

“I can’t believe you finally have your license, Rob.”

“Oh, I don’t,” she frowned at you. “I’ve got a permit though! And this is also Steve’s car,” she continued, looking down at the BMW.

“So, I guess you should be up front then, huh Harrington?” Eddie smiled. “You know, to guide Robin--”

“Oh, she’ll be fine with Y/N in front--”

“Make sure she doesn’t wreck your baby?”

“It would actually be helpful, Steve,” Robin said, half-serious and half playing around for the fun of it. “I haven’t driven without you yet.”

Steve’s jaw tensed up. You saw him glance over at you, and you gave him a weak smile, which he returned with a sigh.

“Fine.”

Eddie opened the car door for you as you scooted in behind Robin’s seat. As Robin muttered to herself about mirror positions and if it was 10-and-2 or 11-and-3, Eddie asked you some small questions about your flight. Steve got in and looked back at you, giving you a more confident smile, but was then jolted by Robin peeling out of the parking lot.

“Robin!” he yelled, seizing the handle above the window.

“Sorry, sorry!” she apologized, “that was an accident.”

“It was sort of a rush,” Eddie shrugged, making you giggle. Steve looked back at him incredulously, smoothing his hair.

“Yeah, sure, cuz it’s not your car!” he gasped. “How would you feel if Robin played your guitar with sandpaper?”

“It was not that bad!” Robin argued, cheeks reddening. You patted her shoulder consolingly. 

“It wasn’t, and like you said, it was an accident, I’m sorry for freaking,” Steve said, collecting his calm. 

“Thanks Steve, but I’m still sorry. For the record, Eddie, this is exactly why I’ve never touched your guitar.”

“I appreciate that,” Eddie smiled.

“That’s cool that you play guitar,” you said, turning to him.

“Oh, thanks! I’m actually in a band, Corroded Coffin.”

“No way! Metal?”

“You know it,” he smirked. “We’re playing this weekend, wanna come?”

“Absolutely!” You smiled brightly. “Steve, do you wanna come too?”

Eddie’s face went pale as Steve turned around, beaming.

“I would love to, Y/N! Thank you so much for inviting me. What night are you playing, Eddie?”

See the full post

2,048 notes - Posted July 18, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Cousin Buckley

Summary: You’re Robin’s cousin, and two very eager boys join her at the airport to pick you up.

Warnings: none, just fluff :)

Word count: 837

Part 2!

“For the record, I think you two being here is super weird.”

Upon hearing that Robin had a beautiful cousin--you--Steve and Eddie decided to accompany her to the airport to pick you up. She was standing at the baggage claim, Steve on her right and Eddie on her left, both fidgeting excitedly.

“You’re not gonna think it’s weird when she falls in love with me,” Steve argued. 

“Or me,” Eddie added. “You can’t win every battle, Harrington. That movie star smile’s got to be a dud on some women. I just hope one of them is Y/N.” He said your name dreamily.

“You guys don’t even know anything about her,” Robin snorted, crossing her arms.

“That’s what the ride back to Hawkins is for,” Eddie said. “We get in the car, we offer to let her choose the music--”

“We let her choose who to sit by in the car--” Steve continued.

“She’s sitting in the front with me. You losers are in the back.”

“Aw, come on--”

“Robin!”

You were waving wildly to your cousin as she spied you and ran to you, hugging you tightly. You laughed a bit as you swayed back and forth. Robin was always your favorite cousin; she was the only one remotely near your age. You decided to visit her at the start of your summer break, then you’d get home… eventually.

“Gosh, it’s so great to see you, Rob!” you exclaimed, breaking the hug. “You look amazing, I love what you’ve done with your hair!”

“She likes hair, you hear that, Munson?” Steve whispered, nudging Eddie’s side.

“You really think your hair is better than mine?” Eddie whispered back.

“It’s great to see you too!” Robin replied, speaking loudly to mask her friends’ banter. “How was your flight?”

“It was okay, a little cramped, so I’m glad to be off it! How long is the car ride home?”

“Less than an hour, but it’s going to feel longer,” Robin groaned. “You can thank the two weirdos behind me for that.”

You peered behind Robin to see the two boys suddenly stop fidgeting and smile goofily at you.

“Steve Harrington,” he extended his hand. “It’s Y/N, right?”

“Yep,” you said, shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you Steve, I’ve heard lots about you from Robin.”

“So you have,” Steve smirked, looking back at Eddie, who scoffed. “I’m hoping it’s all been good.”

“Oh sure, but you’re much better-looking in person.”

Steve blushed madly, laughing a bit.

“Robin told me you’re a fan of flattery,” you smiled, making Steve a little nervous. “Don’t worry, I meant what I said! And I also want to say thanks for taking care of my little Rob. She needs it!”

“Anytime.” Steve met your eyes and smiled, making you blush a bit. 

See the full post

2,879 notes - Posted July 17, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[mortellanarts]

Eu postei 62 vezes em 2022

Foram 27 posts a mais do que em 2021!

41 posts criados (66%)

21 posts reblogados (34%)

Blogs que você mais reblogou:

@mortellanarts

@gaulemtypefemale-dm-l-016

@wherestarsarestillasleep

@dreamdripdistance

@hamsphrey

Eu marquei 62 posts meus em 2022

#my art - 33 posts

#zero escape - 25 posts

#999 spoilers - 12 posts

#kingdom hearts - 11 posts

#9 hours 9 persons 9 doors - 10 posts

#akane kurashiki - 10 posts

#aoi kurashiki - 8 posts

#not art - 8 posts

#999 week - 7 posts

#zero escape spoilers - 7 posts

Maior tag: 137 caracteres

#but i shouldn't just keep reiterating the same thing and hearing how much it still resonates with people despite the flaws is honestly 😭

Meus principais posts em 2022:

#5

Ver o post inteiro

271 notas - publicadas em 12 de junho de 2022

#4

So..... Those Strelitzia and Naminé parallels, huh?

Who did we last see Streli with again?

297 notas - publicadas em 10 de abril de 2022

#3

Oh boi I sure am glad the new Nirvana AI trailer confirmed without a shadow of a doubt that everyone is still alive and well

449 notas - publicadas em 4 de fevereiro de 2022

#2

Just take me as I am

A memory so vivid

Then savor all the parts you can 'cause

No one mourns the W I C K E D

456 notas - publicadas em 18 de fevereiro de 2022

Meu post nº 1 de 2022

Flooded by memories; not even yours

(Made for the KH 20th Anniversary zine on Twitter!!)

872 notas - publicadas em 28 de março de 2022

Veja a sua Retrospectiva 2022 →

[ao3feed-obikin]

And lo I am with you always even unto the end of the age.

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/44861521 by Aariel It’d taken Luke many years before he could admit that he’d wanted it, wanted that special bond they shared with one another, Obi-Wan and his Anakin, Anakin and his Obi-Wan. Oh, he didn’t want to be one of them, for that would require replacing one of the two, and both were infinitely, equally beloved. Besides, he would never wish to subtract either of these wondrous beings from the tapestry of the Force. But yes. Yes, he could admit it now: He wanted that kind of love, wanted to savor it, to wallow in it, to be enfolded within it…and most of all, he wanted it with them. OR: Sad hermit Luke is ravished by two Force ghosts. Words: 2700, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 41 of Star Wars Rare Pairs Collection (NC-17 standalones) Fandoms: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars Original Trilogy Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Luke Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker/Luke Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker/Luke Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Luke Skywalker Additional Tags: Threesome - M/M/M, Missing Scene, Movie: Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Planet Ahch-To (Star Wars), Hermit Luke Skywalker, Force Ghost Anakin Skywalker, Force Ghost Obi-Wan Kenobi, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Force Ghost Sex (Star Wars), Double Penetration, kind of?, Father/Son Incest, Wacky Force Wizardry Alert, Surreal, Bittersweet, Explicit Sexual Content read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/44861521

[casual-video-transcripts]

"letting love find its way to you" by Malivanh Nguyen

Original hard-sub captions are by Malivanh Nguyen

Edited Video transcription by @ casual-video-transcripts is under the cut

[0:00] Romance,

[0:01] love

[0:03] they say love is the essence of life,

[0:05] and I can't argue with that.

[0:07] Yet, in our modern era,

[0:09] finding love seems like navigating a maze filled with new rules and games.

[0:14] The 3 months rule, playing hard to get, and navigating talking stages

[0:20] it's enough to make anyone question if genuine love still exists.

[0:25] But what about those of us who crave authentic, [and] unfiltered connections?

[0:30] How do we navigate this complex landscape?

[0:34] How do we stop constantly looking for it?

[0:36] How do we find real love?

[0:40] Well, the answer to me is to become it.

[0:45] Now what the hell am I talking about becoming love?

[0:48] What does that even mean?

[0:51] What I'm saying is be the love you wish to see.

[0:55] In a world where many play it cool with their feelings

[0:59] dare to be a hopeless romantic.

[1:02] Love should be felt deeply, without the fear of getting rejected.

[1:05] Because love that is hidden is [a] such a waste

[1:08] Now,

[1:09] what does becoming love entail?

[1:12] Well, embodying love is about expressing appreciation openly and I'm not just referring to people

[1:19] it's about loving everything that brings you joy.

[1:22] Dive headfirst into your passion[s].

[1:24] savor the moments that make you smile,

[1:27] and share that love openly.

[1:29] Loving all of the things that make you, you

[1:32] Because, you see, by doing so, you're not just attracting similar people

[1:37] you're creating a magnetic force that draws

[1:41] in those who resonate with your authenticity.

[1:43] So, dance by your favorite music,

[1:46] compliment a stranger,

[1:49] marvel at a beautiful flower

[1:51] it's about embracing the small joys.

[1:54] and embracing who you are down to your core.

[1:57] Love is found in the details, the tiny gestures that make life a little richer.

[2:03] It's about being vulnerable, open, and unapologetically embracing yourself and life with love.

[2:12] So love fully without reservation

[2:15] don't be afraid to show it.

[2:18] remember to love those around you and not just romantically

[2:21] but love your family and your life

[2:27] actively as well.

[2:30] Whether that's crying with them,

[2:32] laughing at the stupidest jokes

[2:34] or celebrating wins together.

[2:37] Just make sure that the people around you,

[2:40] know that they are loved.

[2:43] People often feel lonely nowadays,

[2:46] but showing gratitude for the little things and expressing love through small acts can change everything.

[2:53] Love is also about making mistakes,

[2:56] learning from them,

[2:58] and understanding that each misstep

[3:01] Love life brings you one step closer to finding the truest, most authentic love.

[3:07] Love life and let love become a part of your everyday existence.

[3:11] Love the changing seasons,

[3:13] cherish your friends,

[3:15] appreciate your family,

[3:17] and embrace the beauty of growing old.

[3:20] Becoming grateful of your surroundings will not only make you a happier person

[3:24] but it will also make you fall in love with life.

[3:27] After becoming love,

[3:29] you won't need to search for it

[3:30] because you'll realize that love is actually everywhere.

[3:34] It's about being open and vulnerable, sharing your feelings without fear.

[3:39] Confess your love to your crush

[3:41] yes, it might seem like a lot, but why hold back?

[3:44] Now,

[3:45] let me share a hard truth with you

[3:47] Because life behind rose colored glasses has its complexities

[3:52] In embracing love, you may encounter pain.

[3:55] Some people won't be able to handle your heart,

[3:58] and that's okay.

[4:00] It's a journey with highs and lows.

[4:03] Don't let one or many heartbreaks define you.

[4:07] If you have a crush, tell them.

[4:10] If they don't like you back, remember, it simply means they weren't meant to be yours.

[4:16] You can never say the wrong thing to the right person.

[4:20] Those who mind don't matter,

[4:22] and those who matter don't mind.

[4:25] So, be open about your love for people and the world,

[4:29] and watch as the love you seek finds its way to you.

[4:33] In the most unexpected places

[4:36] and through the most unexpected people.

[4:38] Because we all deserve a good love.

[4:42] In essence,

[4:43] To be in love is to love everything around you first

[4:47] yourself,

[4:49] your family,

[4:51] your passions,

[4:52] nature

[4:53] and life itself.

[4:55] Once you start becoming love

[4:58] you'll forget you were ever searching

[5:00] for the one in the first place

[5:02] and that's precisely when

[5:05] you'll find the person you were looking for waiting for you just around the corner.

[5:11] Remember that the love we seek will find its way to us

[5:16] because we ourselves are already full of it.

[5:20] So love passionately,

[5:23] love fearlessly,

[5:24] love love.

[5:29] [Voiceover ends. The text reads "directed and written by sarah"]

End of transcript

YouTube Channel: Malivanh Nguyen

Video Description:

Being single in a world full of romance is hard but here is how to actually find real love.

CVT Disclaimer: None of the videos I transcribe belong to me. They belong to the content creators and the crew behind the videos. Please keep in mind that my transcripts may not be 100% as I am not a professional. I'm just someone who wants to provide video transcripts for people to understand and enjoy these videos. For this video, I focused on the speaker and the captions embedded in the video.

If there are any corrections you would like me to make, let me know in the comment section of the post.

If you like this video or any other videos from Malivanh Nguyen (Sarah), please support her by watching her videos on her YouTube channel and/or through other means by her.

Casual Video Transcripts' Personal Notes: Hi everyone, apologies for not posting anything in a long time. This was in my recommendations and honestly I kinda needed this at the moment. The mera video transcript will happen eventually... I've been focusing my energy and time on other projects. It's been nice. I want to take my time and not rush it. In the meantime, I hope you all are okay with this other posts.

[beautifulterriblequeen]

For the kisses prompt: 7 or 41

…to shut them up.

Oh man, this one is cute!

He was doing that hand thing again, Ethari noted with soft amusement, clasping his forearms behind his back. That, and the word salad, tossing bits of sentences willy-nilly like bright sprays of splashed water, sparkling but brief in their glory, falling back into shadowed silence that spawned them.

Tell me, Runaan, Ethari thought yearningly. You can find the end of one of those sentences, I know you can! Yet he did his best to keep his own expression politely smooth, as if Runaan weren’t stumbling his way through the most awkward love confession in the history of the Moonshadow elves.

“...And, and... I find your... your... h-hands very, ah...” Runaan’s gaze zipped past Ethari’s and found his shoulder, tracing his lithe, muscled arm down to his gently clasped fingers. A blush formed on his cheeks, deepening the soft lilac of his skin to a heated rose.

Ethari just barely managed to keep a smirk off his face as he flexed his hands slowly. Runaan’s tongue stuttered to a halt as if he’d suddenly choked on it.

“Skilled,” Runaan squeaked.

Moon and shadow, he’s adorable! Ethari bit the inside of his lip to keep from grinning and embarrassing the poor elf. “You honor me with your regard, Runaan,” he replied with a deferential dip of his horns. “A craftsman always appreciates the notice of one whose expertise in his field is undeniable.”

Those were the words that slipped easily off Ethari’s tongue. But inside his head, and ringing in his heart, his thoughts were nearly frantic with excitement. Is he telling me, is this real? Is this it?

It seemed so. Runaan heard Ethari’s deflection of his praise and took a half-step forward as if to redirect it again. Toward Ethari’s lips, if Runaan’s locked-on-target gaze was any indication. “You always seem to know how I want it-- ah, um, how I like to--I, I...”

Ethari’s dark brows rose softly as Runaan stumbled from one unintentional innuendo to the next. Oh dear, he’s never done this before in his life, has he?

Runaan seemed to take Ethari’s raised eyebrows as some kind of judgement. His hands finally released each other behind his back and reached toward Ethari as if they could catch this toppling conversation and right it upon some imaginary pedestal where he had placed it. “I, I’m not saying this right at all,” he muttered through his teeth.

No, don’t stop now. This is the cutest thing I’ve ever heard. Ethari reached for Runaan’s wrists and encircled them gently, ready to let go in a moment’s notice if the assassin found his touch unhelpful. “Tell me plainly then, Runaan. I promise, I’ll hear you out.” He brushed a gentle thumb caress across the tops of Runaan’s forearms.

The poor assassin seemed to short-circuit, and his turquoise eyes widened so far that Ethari knew he could just tumble into them and not come up for hours. Or maybe ever.

“Tell me,” Ethari repeated. “Just me. Our secret.”

Runaan physically leaned in, the longing in him was so strong. But he caught himself and clung to Ethari’s wrists for stability. “Our secret...” he breathed.

Ethari leaned in, too, until their noses were nearly touching. Runaan’s trembling was more obvious, this close. “I’ll never tell a soul, unless you say so.”

“I...” Runaan gulped and licked his lips. He met Ethari’s eyes for a few heaving breaths, not realizing how hard he was squeezing the craftsman’s wrists. Then he lifted his chin and closed his eyes, taking a slow breath that seemed to soothe away much of his panic. When he opened them again, they clung to Ethari’s for an endlessly still moment.

“I love you,” Runaan whispered. “I love you, Ethari.”

Ethari couldn’t help the happy gasp that overtook him. He’d waited so long to hear those words from Runaan, never sure they’d ever be spoken aloud. And now, here they were. He squeezed Runaan’s wrists tightly. I am so proud of you! You did it! I really need to thank Lain later.

But Runaan’s floodgates had opened, encouraged by Ethari’s soft excitement. “I love your work, of course I do. It’s magnificent. Everything you create is magic. No, of course, sometimes you enchant it with actual magic, I know that, but there’s that metaphorical magic in it too, because you work with such love for your creations, and it fills my heart with joy to see you truly love what you do, because... because that’s good and right, and... you deserve to love your work, and I want you to be happy, Ethari, your smile is a blessing that lights my world every time I see it, and I would do very nearly anything to see you smile again--save of course for taking someone, that’s not how that works--but just about anything else, I would do anything else for you, because you are the light in my sky, and I think of you when I perhaps shouldn’t, but I can’t help it, you are all the things I crave, Ethari, light and life and warmth and softness, and I know I’m not worthy of your regard, I know what I am, and what I’ve done, and I don’t ask for anything in return, but if you could see your way clear to letting me bask in the glow of your presence, to savor the radiance of your heart, I would be forever in your--mmmff!”

Ethari’s sudden kiss silenced Runaan’s heartfelt rambling, and the workshop filled with a different kind of warmth. The air softened, brightened, as if radiating its own protective light. The sort of light you can only feel with your eyes closed and your arms around a blushing assassin, gently pinning his arms behind his back and listening to the soft, startled noises he makes.

Ethari restrained himself to just the one kiss so he didn’t overwhelm Runaan’s already emotional state. He reluctantly let Runaan’s lips part from his own, feeling the assassin tremble and shiver in his arms, holding him softly and supportively. Resting their foreheads together, Ethari murmured, “I love you, too, Runaan.”

“You- You do?” Runaan blurted.

Ethari chuckled. “I really do.” And he kissed him again to prove it.

Runaan wound his arms around Ethari’s neck and leaned in eagerly. When they came up for air, he clung to Ethari and murmured into his scarf, “So... what now? I confess, I didn’t, um, didn’t know how to plan for this next bit, if you, ah, felt the same way, so I’ve uh, I haven’t any...” The blushing assassin cleared his throat and chuckled at his obvious flailing. He glanced up at Ethari from beneath lowered lashes. “I’m at your mercy, I’m afraid.”

Ethari threw back his head and laughed as he clasped Runaan tightly and spun him around a few times before setting him back down. He took the masterpiece that was Runaan’s face in his strong, skilled craftsman’s hands and studied every inch of its familiar beauty. “Don’t worry, Runaan,” he murmured. “I have all the mercy in the world.”

[let-the-dream-begin]

A Place to Belong Chapter 41: The Birds and the Bees

Chapter 40

Read on AO3

Claire spent far too long holding onto Jamie and Fergus for dear life, but it seemed to her they were equally as reluctant to let each other go. So they swayed together, saying nothing, just breathing each other in. At some point, they pulled away, though they all still touched somehow; Jamie and Claire’s hands laced together, Fergus’s hands on Jamie and Claire’s shoulders, Jamie caressing his son’s cheek.

His son.

Christ...his heart felt fit to burst.

“Yer mam tells me ye’re a fine brother,” Jamie said hoarsely. “Ye take good care of our wee lass.”

“Aye, I do,” Fergus said, nodding. “I have always loved her. I can’t remember what it was like to not have her.”

“Oh, and she’s always loved you,” Claire said, caressing his other cheek. “She looks at you like you’ve hung the stars.”

“Knowing you, ye’ve told her ye have,” Jamie teased, and Fergus broke into a teary grin.

“There is...so much to tell you…” Fergus shook his head. “So much I have said to your grave, in my head, in my prayers...but you have not really heard any of it.”

“I’m here now, laddie. There’ll be many years to come fer ye to tell me all of it.” Jamie caressed the boy’s face with both hands, and Claire took the cue to step away for a moment.

“Such a handsome lad ye’ve become.” Jamie’s voice was rough with emotion. He tilted Fergus’s head so that he could press a kiss to his forehead, giving him every ounce of fatherly affection he had held back for eight years.

It’ll never be enough, Jamie thought miserably.

“To bed wi’ ye now, son. I’ve a few things to discuss wi’ yer mother.”

“Aye. Catching up to do.” Fergus elbowed him playfully, and Jamie snorted.

“Fergus!” Claire exclaimed, aghast. She really didn’t know what she expected; she should have known the little imp would make some lewd comment as such. She gave a light tug on one of Fergus’s curls. “Really!”

“Sorry, Maman,” he said, but he winked at Jamie.

“Incorrigible.” Claire gave Fergus a shove. “Both of you.”

“Bonne nuit, Maman.” Fergus bent down to plant an exaggeratedly sloppy kiss on Claire’s cheek, and she rolled her eyes through it all, giving his head a shove as he started strolling away.

“Goodnight, Papa,” Fergus called over his shoulder, then disappeared out of the dining room.

Claire crossed her arms, leaning into her hip, only to be surrounded by Jamie from behind.

“Papa, is it?”

“Hm.” Claire smiled warmly, leaning into him gratefully. “He called you that sometimes, especially when he was little. I told him to call me Maman straight away, and I suppose he...he thought when you came back, you’d be Papa.”

Her voice trailed off until it was a breathy whisper.

“I don’t think he realized at first. That you...wouldn’t. Come back.”

Jamie pressed a reverent kiss to her temple, inhaling the scent of her greedily.

“I think perhaps it hurt him too badly to call you that after a while.” Claire’s throat tightened painfully. “I think it was...easier to reconcile losing his Milord than it would be to lose a father.”

Jamie hummed thoughtfully, sadly.

“But no matter what he called you, you’ve always been his father, Jamie. Just like he said.”

“Aye.” He tightened his grip on her. “I ken.”

They swayed in silence for a while, savoring the warmth of each other’s living bodies, the rise and fall of each other’s chests.

“This Governor…” Claire said after a while. “The man who...got you your freedom.”

“What about him?”

“He really did so out of...complete selflessness? He expected nothing in return?”

“Aye,” Jamie confirmed. “He’s a good man, Sassenach. As I’ve said.”

Claire shifted in his arms so she turned around to face him. “Tell me the truth, Jamie.” She looked him in the eye. “You didn’t...offer. Did you…? Like...before?”

His grip on her shoulders tightened, and her breath hitched in her throat. Perhaps he’d been sparing her before during dinner, not wanting to upset her in front of the entire family.

“Jamie.” Her voice was firm, yet it wavered.

“I did, Claire.”

She felt like she’d been punched in the throat, kicked in the stomach. Jamie had to tighten his grip again to keep her from slipping to the floor, her having gone weak in the knees.

“How could you...how could you do that…? How could you put yourself through that again…?”

“He didna accept, Sassenach.”

“After all that we -- ” She refocused her bleary vision on his face, and she saw the truth in his blue depths. “What?”

“I offered my body to him, and he didna accept.”

A few silent tears dripped down Claire’s face as she gawked at him, waiting for an explanation.

“I knew that he was partial to men by the way he spoke of a friend of his that he’d lost at Culloden. This friend always made his way into conversation when I spoke of you. Didna take much thought to put it together.” Jamie’s tone was attempting to be impartial and indifferent, but Claire could see the struggle on his face.

“I...I feared him, ye ken,” Jamie said, averting his eyes shamefully. “Knowing what I know of him now, I’m ashamed to admit it. But I feared what he was. After the things that bastard put me through.”

Claire ran her hands up the length of Jamie’s arms so that she could rub his shoulders soothingly.

“He kent who I was from the beginning, ye see. His brother told him of the lie he’d told about Red Jamie, and he knew I was no Alexander Malcolm,” Jamie went on. “He managed to have private audience wi’ me to tell me as such. Somehow the game of chess came up in conversation. And before I knew it, I was playing chess wi’ the man who held me prisoner.

“There were...rumors. Lord Grey’s predilections were no secret. I beat a fellow prisoner so senseless I almost killed him when he so much as implied that the Governor was...rogering me behind closed doors.”

Another tear slipped over Claire’s nose, and she wrapped her arms around his middle, kissing his sternum, as if to give his heart the strength to go on.

“He could have, Claire. He could have had his way wi’ me. He could so easily have been another Randall. He had every means necessary to get away wi’ it.”

“But he didn’t.”

“No. Never so much as asked. I could feel the way he looked at me...like I always felt the way you looked at me. So I knew that he...wanted me. But he never had me. I thought maybe he was afraid of the shame his fellow officers could have brought upon him.

“But then...the prison was being closed, all the prisoners sold as indentured servants to the colonies. I...I nearly went mad, Claire. The thought of being so far away from ye, veritably sold into slavery, no means of ever getting back to ye...I was desperate. So our last meeting...I offered.”

“Jamie…”

“I begged him to have his way wi’ me to buy my freedom. Those other men...they’d lost everything in the rising. They were dead men walking. But I...I had something to hold onto fer eight years...and I was about to lose it. I’d rather have suffered any indignity than face the thought of being parted from ye forever. So I told him. I told him I was at his mercy.”

“You damned fool!” Claire whispered miserably into his sark. “How could you offer such a thing…?”

Jamie actually chuckled. “John may as well have said the same thing. He seemed more than offended that I thought he’d even consider. He laughed, even. ‘That I should live to hear such an offer,’ he said.

“Then, Claire...I swear I thought I’d died and gone to Heaven. He told me he’d already pulled the strings to grant me my freedom.” Claire pulled away to look up at him, having heard his voice become hoarse with emotion. “I was prepared to whore myself out and he...he’d already given me the greatest gift wi’out expecting anything in return.”

“Oh, love…” Claire caressed his face. “As much as I want to bloody throttle you for even putting yourself in that position...I am relieved that this man wanted nothing to do with it.”

“It’s what I’ve been trying to tell ye, Sassenach. He’s a good, honorable man. He did all he did fer me out of...friendship.”

Claire was so overcome with relief that she kissed him soundly, and he eagerly responded.

“I wish I could thank him,” Claire said softly. “For...for all of it.”

“Ye can,” Jamie said. “Part of the agreement of my release was that he makes regular visits to the estate to ensure I remain a loyal subject to the Crown.” Jamie rolled his eyes. “The story he gave was that I was a puir cotter forced into fighting upon threat of harm to my wife, that I couldna fully be blamed fer my actions. As Mister Malcolm, of course.”

“Bloody hell,” Claire exchanged. “He completely bent over backwards to set you free, Jamie.”

“Apparently that family takes a debt of honor quite seriously.” He tenderly kissed her forehead. “So now, Lord John Grey, former Governor of Ardsmuir Prison, is to check in once a quarter wi’ the derelict Alexander Malcolm wherever he has decided to find work. Which just so happens to be as a farmhand at Lallybroch estate.”

Claire shook her head in disbelief. “And nobody finds it suspicious that the redheaded Mister Malcolm has decided to settle down on Red Jamie’s family land?”

“If they did, John would have a thing or two to say about it,” Jamie assured. “He’s got his superiors fully convinced that I’m exactly who I say I am. Red Jamie has been dead fer eight years in the eyes of the Crown.”

“It’s unbelievable...what about all the Redcoat Captains that have been harassing us for years? They’re convinced I’m the traitorous English wife, that Brianna is your demon offspring…”

“Those officers willna be around much longer if John has anything to say about it.”

She shook her head again. “It’s like he’s waved a magic wand and made all of our troubles disappear.”

“I dinna ken about magic wands, Sassenach,” Jamie clasped his hands on the small of her back, pulling her closer. “But it certainly feels as if all is right in the world again.”

Claire kissed him gratefully, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

“Once a quarter, hm?” she said between kisses. “You’d better tell Jenny that.”

Jamie grunted in annoyance in the back of his throat. “Dinna speak of my sister while I’m kissing ye like this, Sassenach.”

Claire laughed a bubbly laugh that melted into a delicious moan, and Jamie swallowed it as his tongue probed the inside of her mouth. The kiss deepened, and Claire began feeling dizzy, every inch of her coming to life in a blazing fire.

“Mummy?”

They pulled away from each other like they’d just been burned, and Claire choked on a startled gasp.

“Hello, darling,” she stammered, her voice thin and high pitched. She could feel the heat of Jamie’s blush radiating off his body. “Is everything alright?”

“Fergus already gave me my kiss,” Brianna said. She was standing in the doorway in her nightgown and bare feet, holding Jehu in both arms. “I waited for you to come in, but you didn’t. So I came to find you.”

Claire forced a light chuckle, leaving Jamie’s side to kneel in front of her. “I’m sorry, lovie. Your Da and I were talking about something important.”

“Talking?” Brianna challenged, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

“Yes, well…” She threw a glance back to Jamie, who looked like he was trying not to burst with laughter. “We were talking. We got a little...off topic.”

Brianna blinked mutely at her, and Jehu licked his own nose and gave a little snuffle.

“You know that...married people kiss, don’t you, Brianna?” Claire said.

“Aye,” Brianna said, almost sounding offended that anyone would ask such a thing. “Auntie Jenny and Uncle Ian kiss at midnight on Hogmanay. But they dinna look like that.”

Jamie did make a noise, then, a veritable snort, and Claire shot him a dangerous look.

“Right, well…” Claire made a mental note to tease Jenny about the absurdity of her niece only witnessing affection between her aunt and uncle one time out of the year. “At Hogmanay, there’s a whole room full of people. Kisses in private are just a little bit different.”

“You weren’t kissing in private, Mummy. I was right here.”

Jamie laughed out loud.

“For Christ’s sake, Jamie!” Claire snapped over her shoulder, but as she turned back to Brianna, her facade melted away, and she started laughing as well.

“What’s funny?” Brianna demanded.

“I’m sorry, darling,” Claire said. “We’re not laughing at you, I promise. Your father is a ridiculous human being.”

Brianna looked back and forth between both of her parents as if trying to decipher what the joke was, but came up short.

“I promise we’ll be more careful about being private next time. Alright?”

“Alright,” Brianna agreed, but her brow was still furrowed skeptically.

“Let’s get you to bed now.” Claire stood. “Would it be alright if...if Da joined us to say goodnight?”

Brianna looked around Claire at Jamie, then back up at Claire, and she nodded.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

Claire turned Brianna around by the shoulders and began gently pushing her along. Jamie was upon them almost immediately, no longer laughing at all.

He was joining his wife to put their daughter to bed.

It was beyond anything he’d ever dreamed he’d have.

He followed behind Claire, who trailed behind Brianna as she bounced up two flights of stairs, muttering in nonsense-Gaelic to Jehu, who panted with contentment in her arms. They reached her bedroom, and Kitty sat straight up in bed when they arrived.

“Sorry, Kitty,” Claire said. “We’ll be out in a bit. Go back to sleep.” Claire crossed the room to kiss her forehead and gently push her back into her pillows. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“G’night, Auntie.” Kitty pulled her blanket up to her chin, and then looked around Claire. “G’night, Uncle Jamie!”

She was attempting a whisper, but addressing her long-lost uncle that had come to be somewhat mythical in her young mind was far too exciting, so it came out hoarse and just a bit too loud.

“Aye,” Jamie said awkwardly, waving at her. “G’night, lass.”

She giggled a bit, pulling the blanket up higher, under her eyes. Brianna put Jehu down and he settled in at the corner of her pillow as he always did. Brianna climbed in after him, and Claire sat on the edge of the bed. She looked up at Jamie and took his hand, and he slowly crouched down beside the bed so that he was level with Claire.

“It’s been...quite an exciting day, hasn’t it?” Claire said, and Brianna nodded. “I know it’s…a lot to process, your father being here. Are you doing alright?”

Brianna nodded again. “I’m fine, Mummy.”

“Alright. If you ever have any questions, or you’re feeling uneasy, you can talk to me. You know that, don’t you?”

“Aye.”

“Good. Good girl.” Claire cupped her cheek. 

“I’m, uh...I’m here fer ye to talk to as well, lass. If ye like,” Jamie said hesitantly. “Ye dinna have to, of course. Only if ye’re comfortable.”

“Alright,” Brianna said warmly. “I like talking to you, Da.”

Jamie laughed softly, feeling warmth spread from head to toe. He squeezed Claire’s hand tighter, and she reciprocated. “I like talking to you too, m'annsachd.”

“Good.” Brianna nodded curtly, and both of her parents chuckled.

“Alright. Kisses,” Claire said, leaning in with puckered lips. Jamie’s heart felt fit to burst watching them peck each other lovingly on the lips. “Goodnight, baby. I love you.”

“Love you.”

Jamie thought Brianna might just nestle into her pillow, but she turned to look at him expectantly. He chuckled again, feeling tears burning behind his eyes. He cupped the back of Brianna’s head and pressed his lips reverently to her forehead, breathing her in, cherishing her.

“Goodnight, Brianna.”

“G’night, Da.” She pecked him on the cheek, and Jamie squeezed Claire’s hand so hard he thought it might fall off. Claire kissed his cheek as well, cupping the other one lovingly. The three of them sat there for a moment, just taking each other in, just being. Jamie watched as Claire tenderly brought Brianna’s blanket up higher and brushed her hair back.

“We’ll see you in the morning.”

Brianna smiled sleepily, and Jehu nuzzled into the crook of her neck. Claire stood up and began walking out of the room with Jamie’s hand in hers, but was met with resistance. She turned back around, her heart breaking at what she saw.

Jamie could not take his eyes off of Brianna, whose eyes were now closed. His hand was hovering over her hand, trembling like a leaf. It came down to rest on her curly head, and he exhaled with a heavy shudder, closing his eyes. Claire crouched down beside him, and then she paused, hearing him whisper in Gaelic. He was praying over her.

Claire rested her cheek on his shoulder and listened to the soothing tones of his prayer, wrapping her arms around his bicep and stroking him soothingly. His prayer ceased, and Claire looked up at him.

“She’ll still be there tomorrow, love,” she whispered.

Jamie nodded tearfully, swallowing so that Claire could see his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Look,” Claire whispered, cocking her head toward Brianna.

“She smiles in her sleep,” she said. “Just like you.”

Jamie let his fingertips trail down her face, his touch light as a feather, and his pointer finger brushed over the corner of her upturned lips. Her lip twitched at the contact, the smile widening, her head unconsciously turning toward his touch.

“I could watch her sleep fer hours…” Jamie whispered hoarsely.

“I know. I always felt that way when she was a baby. I still do sometimes.”

Claire gave him a moment in silence, waiting until he was ready. He cleared his throat after a moment, and then crossed himself. Claire gave his hand a squeeze, grounding him, giving him the strength to get up and leave his daughter’s side.

“She’ll still be there tomorrow,” Jamie said, confirming it.

“She will.”

With a curt nod and a visual sweep of the room (as if double checking for danger as an ingrained behavior) Jamie made for the door, gently pulling Claire behind him. Claire shut the door as quietly as humanly possible, and when she turned around, she was immediately and abruptly met with Jamie’s hands on her face and his lips on hers. She whimpered in shock, but then melted into him, threading her arms around his neck. He probed her lips with his tongue and she greedily accepted, whimpering again, this time for a much different reason.

Jamie pulled away far too quickly, and Claire was breathless.

“What was that for…?”

“Fer creating that beautiful child.”

Overcome, Claire kissed him again. “You created her too, Jamie.”

“Oh, aye, I’m well aware.”

He swallowed her again, and Claire felt that unmistakable hardness against her hip. Something ignited within her, something left dormant for far too long. She lapped at the inside of his mouth, becoming desperate. She pulled herself ever closer to him, and she had to physically restrain herself from gyrating her hips to relieve the pressure building between her legs.

Jamie abruptly pulled away again, his lips -- swollen and pink from Claire’s assault -- quirked into a smug grin.

“Not here, mo nighean donn.”

He took her hand, kissing it chivalrously, as if he hadn’t just had his tongue down her throat, and then he pulled her behind him toward the stairs.

Every step on the staircase had Claire’s heart hammering faster and louder. Every step was a step closer to her bedroom, a place where she was absolutely certain of what was to come. By the time they reached the bottom, she could hardly feel her legs, and the floor felt like it was tipping beneath her. Her mouth was dry, swallowing was painful.

Jamie paused at the door, turning back to grin at her before opening it and pulling her in after him. Claire was trembling from head to toe, most of all her hands, and she attempted to steady them on the door. She deliberately took longer than she should have to close the door, terrified to turn around and find what awaited her.

She knew he’d be looking at her with fire in his eyes, and she knew she’d be powerless to resist him if she didn’t slow down. Her heartbeat was pulsing in her temples, and she was warm. Everywhere. She took a deep, stuttering as she pushed the door shut, steeling herself for the conversation that they needed to have before anything continued.

Christ, she was terrified.

[thecrenellations]

Return of the Thief Notes, Part One: The Book of Pheris, Volume I

Notes from my first read, October 2020. (Part Two | Part Three | TaT)

Contents:  "So, so, so” watch, Costis watch, swearing, trashing the king’s attendants, being objectively wrong, boundless enthusiasm and love 

I promise I’ve had more developed thoughts since these often incoherent ones, but I’ve enjoyed having these notes to refer to - for sentimental reasons and for  entertainment, so here they are, for others who enjoy liveblogs and/or being whisked back in time to their first read of this wonderful book.

Format: Page number. My thoughts (Context?)

Dedication, Table of Contents, Exordium:

There it is – to Sounis

Exordium – vocab #1

Interregnum?!? Alyta?

Pheris!!!

Yeah I love him from the first page

MOIRA

MOCKING COMMENTS HELP! Gen lives!

A new level of unreliable narrator

Moira, messages of Gods, Pheris, messages of __

Wtf is going on in this study? A zoo?

high king vs great king vs annux?

okie dokie dude

Chapter 1

1. Susa – Costis

2. Infirmity – who gets to be hero/tell story (I started reading right after the book launch, in which mwt spent some time talking about her writing influences and decisions connect to this question - Pheris isn’t her first disabled protagonist and storyteller, of course, but it was lovely to meet him properly directly after hearing her talk about it. Book launch foreshadowing part 1...)

Melisande?

Is this why he wasn’t taught to read?

3. Always the summer

Bees!

4. Hunting cat… hm…

Ok … shrine … 😬

5. Once again we start with a disaster or having to flee

Which Eugenides precipitated

Bite!

Little monster :(

6. Falling…

:(

7. :( :( :(

His purpose? D:

8. YIKES

Chapter 2

9. Hello there! (Gen!)

Massive chair?

10. CRACKED WATER JUG (amphora motif???)

11. Triangle from seal!

Gen that’s rude to Pheris :( (“He will fit in very well with my attendants”)

Wait. This must have happened before ACoK! (nope)

12. :(

Xikander … never made an impression before

How old is Pheris? (lol)

13. Philologos come thru!

Royal closet reappears!

14. Hello weird secondhand scene!

He is Eugenides

Marina…

15. Petrus? GALEN? OH SHIT! 

Is this why Galen was called? (nope)

16. Hell yea Petrus

Miras’ golden balls oh no

All these previously unnamed sucky attendants!

17. Ula – goddess of hearth and healing

Ok … Galen … or a god? Eugenides????? (why did these options occur to me before Mr. Shows Up At Your Bedside At Night himself)

18. Finally the attendant floor plans I crave + hunting scenes!

19. EXCUSE ME he slept through Sounis + Eddis wedding!!!

Again – high king!

20. So Ion is beautiful … hmm.

Yeah … Sejanus has facets. I like it.

21. Clearly no one would know what king would do … lol

Don’t mind me just sorting the attendants on a spectrum of awfulness!!!

22. SO SO SO – ION!!!!!

How many fucking attendants are there and how many are on my hit list!

Is “the necessaries” bathrooms or like … him stealing? (just the bathrooms ... the Gen-Pheris parallels were really getting to me at this point)

:(

23. OH MY GOD THE UNIFIED CREST

Also … frogs. Frogs.

24. Big day for Gen huh

Definitely an aura of Something as he writes about Gen

25. HELLO EVERYONE

26. Sorry Kamet, Pheris does the physical descriptions better. They’re beautiful

I’m blacking out at Eddis and Sounis

27. Jesus Christ. The bear.

Cousin time!

Under the table is the new up on the roof!

Uh… twin imagery ….

Gen’s feet!

Jesus. The matching

28. Cleon … wtf? A cousin?

A trial for Sophos?

Show! Us! Sophos’s! Shoes!

29. If u throw things out the air shaft you might hit the king

Was it a chicken?

Lol nvm the guy at night is Gen. That is … very sweet

- Showing up at night

- Accent

- Complaining about Petrus

- Swearing

- One hand

I am judging Costis and Sophos for not describing the paneling in Gen’s room!

Chapter 3

30. Was it a chicken?

An earring huh, good hand huh

31. Literally screaming “NO!” at Gen. Don’t joke about dying! I am killed by Gen on annux day. This is. My boy. Yes he is perfect. Yes he will refuse to get up. I love him. I died on page 31

Philologos is still the best of them

32. Dancing bear indeed

Always the powdered gold

Ruby!!!!! <3

Aww a smile!!! <3

Pheris he likes you!

33. They both love invisibility and lost it … I cry

Erupt like the sacred mountain excuse me!

OR WORSE return to bed! Lol

34. He’s Eugenides when he’s talking to Attolia

Ouch hero talk

! from Irene!

My queen!

Hey Phresine!

They way we do <3 he’s hating it but he’s so comfortable with her

Sister and bro mention! C’mon!

I love them

EYEBROW

35. Honestly that’s a yes (“I have no idea what you mean, my queen”)

It’s so cute they hang out in the morning … like how long was it even since they’ve seen each other lol

:( tough walk for Pheris

Is it prophecy time?

Lol how long does this construction take?!

Also … she’s pregnant, huh? but no one knows (nope)

Is befriending someone weaponized as a prank count for Gen’s enemies to friends list?

Also SHOW ME the magus. I know he’s here!

36. Pheris excuse me, why not recreate this!

Lol cast off language of history indeed

Feel the thrum of the goddess!

EXCUSE ME… a minor goddess? Mystery goddess? Or Philia?

Oh Gen

37. Well, Gen, someone is having a worse day than you.

Damn, how far we come.

Aww Sounis, babe, I love you and so does Gen

[drawing of the four of them sitting in a row]

38. Artadorus???? Pomegranate?

39. HEIRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A friend! Also lol. Two smiles, for Pheris and Heiro..

40. Yesss Melheret joke in action.

Costis has left tho right?

Jesus, Melheret

SHE GAVE HIM A HORSE (I COULD NOT DEAL with this entire conversation, but then again I could not deal with this whole book.)

41. I love them all so much

“on that horse, you will look like a king” I can’t with her sense of humor

He sure did say that

I feel like I’m missing something with the fight on foot thing … remembering battles?

Helen called him Gen!

Sophos stop talking about yourself and bringing apricots into everything lol

Lol these bystanders don’t know how lucky they are. Nor does Pheris, yet

42. She’s protecting him

Also … Gen … you didn’t want to be a soldier.

43. Guards have capes

2 startled men … hm …

Oh Gen. The fucking brutal echoes…

44. :( :( :(

Gen tell your wife you’re sick!

The attendants are so dumb

45. So, so, so :(

Tell who? Petrus?

Wink!

Yes?

46. Bleeding! Salt! Lemon! Heck no! What is he, a piece of meat?

Oranges?

47. “savoring each bite as if it were my last” ... Same … but with this book

Hmm… Alyta! Goddess of the gentle rain! (despite this “hmm,” I did not put the pieces together)

48. Oh no Teleus! And someone?

Aw he realized <3 lemon water

49. Gen eat your broth lol

50. I love them.

Ion’s really trying to make up for what he did that one time

51. Without the approval of the great goddess HAHAHA

I love them. Cousin time! Growl?

Idk whether or not to be reassured, Gen.

Wow Cleon I do not like that. Also didn’t he die? (...)

Comma (“I am not, Eddis”)

Go smack him!

52. Gen I love you.

Helen I love you.

He’s so bad at self care but I love him

Chapter 4

55. love that our narrator just disappears and reappears

56. Attolia’s brother’s bedroom? Yikes. Ominous. A detail in a story we’ve already gotten, different every time <3

57. fucking attendants. 3 good ones. Medander you were beneath Costis’s notice before but I hate you. Costis didn’t have time for you or Xikos or Xikander and nor do I

58. interesting pawn talk!!!

59. <3 Pheris :(

The Gen comparisons though

:( :( :( :(

60. flamboyance <3

Cemphora bush

Bees

61. I love him

62. I love them

Also lol “Your majesty?”

63. Name … hm … (“I have deliberately omitted [my tutor’s] name here”)

64. more twin imagery I swear

WAIT … it was his birthday! Not just Annux day?!! Gen was born in late summer???

Attendant list thank you

65. laying it all out there, huh … (that one Gen quote)

Lol they’re the same but Pheris likes horses

66. Insellia! Hello nice to meet you

67. Gen that’s mean. (“He is hardly even half of one.”)

68. Coleus leves???

“I am Eugenides.” <3

Gen why

69. Gold cups???? Hmmmmm. Also lioness. Def invoking Costis. (they’re probably not the cups, but STILL)

Earth….

70. Moira! Hi!!! Rainbow shawl!

Like a rabbit!

Pester!

I’m … very sad he uses his Attolian accent with Helen

71. Aaah so good

Mortals

Moira knows another messenger?

Does he think he can’t die in battle?

72. hmm are they WRANGLING?! (Galen and Petrus and my Fire and Hemlock word association)

Kill that pastry Irene I love you

morning training with his … guard? (Is that the whole guard or a guard? Costis senses tingling once again.)

73. Oh gen.

Ouch! (“to send people to their deaths and not risk my own is contemptible”)

Is she implying he’s paying Therespides?

74. Interesting Cleon plan. So many doubles

OUCH. (“Only if he comes back from the dead.” I assumed Lader had died in the war; it’s a different ouch now. I love that they both accidentally say things to each other that poke old wounds, and it’s not a big deal but it’s also not dismissed! Their relationship has come so far, and I love them so much.)

75. Verimius – Lavia – Celia??? Somebody is queer in there!

A GUARD

This scene confuses me. Xortix? Layteres? Aris! but dice thing is less political … so maybe? (just wait....)

76. So many reasons to hate Medander

Hey Costis! You exist! KoA happened!

Gen is just … still so uncomfortable and miserable. He chose, he has people, but still.

RIP Clopius also WHAT

77. Lol Hilarion’s grand statements

78. Yorn Fordad Hello!

Luxurious mustache

The mighty Pents?

Besin Quedue – she’s coming 4 you watch out

79. RIP Baron Hippias

Chapter 5

80. Spring! Plays! Cenna!

81. Oh dear

Oh dear

At least they said he was pretty

83. ?!? :( wine

Uh oh. Stockpiling

85. What even.

AAAAAAAAAH COSTIS

86. Omg Irene. Hissing. I love her.

Also … Gen’s the viper

Also this scene was written by Pheris.

Damn.

87. oh no.

What better man

She fucking quoted Howl. I love them.

Also, bees (this scene killed me)

90. Falling?

Oh shit

Also … Juridius and Pheris, Susa and Costis (comparing demands for information)

93. oh my god (IT’S THE WINDOW SCENE)

Oh my god

Uh

94. She! Called! Him! Gen!

I love this and it scares me

Lol Chloe

Irene you learned from her though

95. D:

96. :(

97. water stuff

98. what the heck

OH NO (Quedue scene)

Hm

100. yikes

Omg

Wow.

102. yikes yikes YIKES

103. a blade has protruded from his chest (tbt to The Thief)

jesus

106. shit

Did Gen hit him?

108. lol Phresine

109. lol

I want genuinely every character’s reaction to this shit

Chapter 6

111. what the heck Gen.

112. like a god [crown doodle]

114. Perma?

116. Gen. Gen. Gen. Do not.

117. AAAA (god intervention)

122. Juridius to Dite

124. bye Iolanthe and Ileia! Tell us about Caeta and Silla.

125. did not expect so much Ion

Chapter 7

127. Fryst god of winter

She laughed!

They’re so married

128. OH SHIT (Costis ship is sighted and I remember what’s about to happen next)

Interesting timing

He rode the horse home?

131. Beauty and good, beauty and kind

134. The gods’ goodwill

Keep them safe <3

135. Is that his MOM?!! Wtf (it was!)

Pheris steal those earrings!!!

RING! SMASH BOX!

137. AMPHORA EARRINGS (and flowers)

138. I love Phresine

139. Why do I feel like all the game birds are pigeons

140. meanwhile Gen’s been hanging out with Kamet. Shit. I cannot.

WELCOME HOME BOYS!

HELL YEAH KAMET ATTEND THOSE MEETINGS!

RELIUS COME THRU

141. lethium soup! The reversal

Safe for you

142. of course he knew <3

143. Kamet time! I love him. We get to see Kamet!!!

Also … echo of Gen’s notes on Mede

145. very handsome. … gaycostis vindication (referring to @costis’s url at the time and this post. Little did I know what else was to come in the next chapter and then a few months later with the adaptation news...)

Do you know who I am?

Chapter 8

147. Of course he’s a cartographer

A favorite huh

148. of course she didn’t tell us his age!

149. the angsty window staring I crave

Music!

151. adventure, huh

I do have a soft spot for Melheret

152. concerned about amphora gift

153. Glad they can be well and united in spite!! (Gen and Melheret)

154. Pheris loves math and I love him

155. Hello Teleus. Hello olives

Lol Relius is not into math

156. pigeons. Inkpot!

157. yeah honestly. He tortures people. He was NOT tortured by the king

159. lol (“I have noted the elective nature of certain behaviors” ... I love Relius and Pheris.)

160. The Invitation! I <3 it

161. EXCUSE ME WHO

Legarus!

FOLKS HERE WE ARE (I cannot overstate how wonderful it was to read this page. I did not know who the poem was from, and “Someone loves me very much, even with all my faults” is even sweeter to reread, but it’s just ... his confidence is so different from the tentative consideration of a new philosophy of trust and love we see in KoA. And there is subtextual queerness in the books before this one, some more apparent and some more subtle (and what is obvious to one reader may be subtle or invisible to another, in these books especially), and there is the attendant love triangle a few chapters back, but HERE - here, Pheris acknowledges the real feeling and love in Legarus’s disastrous relationship and tells us directly that his lover was a man, here he seamlessly makes it clear how bi and poly Relius is, and he quietly ties these relationships and realities to his growing understanding of the world. It’s not subtext. And there’s a lot more to come, but this page really hit me, and sort of promised the “more to come” while assuring me that what had come before, more subtly, was there. I used to have heteronormative readings of both these books and myself, and when Thick as Thieves brought them crashing back into my heart after years away, I knew better about myself, and I saw that - or the possibility of that reading -  reflected in the new book, and it was such a good surprise. It meant a lot, and this page meant a lot, and that is why I’m writing a small essay to accompany this note.) 

Lol wow

162. Where are you traveling, man (this question remains)

163. Fuck you, Orutus

164. Stole an inkpot!

165. the map!!! (Kamet’s)

166. I love them!

167. The Math Master hmm

Am I an oracle (Nope! :) )

[iatheia]

EDA reviews Part 5 - books 38-46

Previous part 1, 2, 3 & 4

38) Casualties of War - a lovely story. In form and in function it is pretty much identical to the previous story, and even reveals pretty much the same info verbatim. The plot is similarly nothing outstanding, from ~5 minutes in you can tell pretty much exactly how it is going to turn out. That said, it has a much better atmosphere than the Burning, and Doctor’s characterization is also much stronger. Nice and relaxing, if a bit gory at times, and veering off towards supernatural by the end. 8/10

39) The Turing Test - Wow, these stories keep getting better and better! It is overwhelming and exuberant. Only a handful of books have even attempted to get anywhere near close into the Doctor’s psyche as this one has. Moreover, it has multiple narrators, and all three have a very different relationship with the Doctor, you get into the different facets of his persona, multiplicity of his character. You have a dashing and breathless romantic whose mere presence sweeps you off your feet, a reckless hero, an enigma, at the same time, there is a rather selfish and cruel streak as well. He is a manipulator, someone who knows more than he should and willing to use this knowledge to achieve his aims, willing to play people against each other and show a side of himself that they would be most accepting to see. It is never to the degree of Seven, this behavior is all Eight through and through, the core of his characters never sways, it’s just viewed through a different lens. The previous novels have established these facets, but more on accident, due to lack of consistency between different writers, picking one and going with it. But this is the first one I feel they were actually explored in full, though, certainly, there will be other stories to tackle this in the future as well (Caerdroia in particular comes to mind). An outstanding story through and through. 10/10

40) Endgame - Hot off the heels of the previous one, another fun story - or, at the very least, something that would have been a gem if it had managed to sustain the energy it had at the beginning. Doctor’s claustrophobia and depression were very poignant, and, as much as I loved Stranded already, it does make me look at that story in a new light with a newer appreciation. And, on top of that - this book is funny, the Doctor evading spy agents with ease is the comedy of errors. That said, in the second half there is too much runamock it’s a bit repetitive, not very well organized, they needlessly cross the ocean so many times, the situation at a given location is resolved the second the Doctor shows up on a scene, and it all ends in deus ex machina. The authors note says that the original draft was submitted unfinished, and boy does it show. Still, I had fun with it. 8/10

41) Father Time - It is hard not to notice though that some of the novels come in pairs (or trios). The Burning and the Casualties of War had a lot of overlap. Turning Test and Endgame were both based on political intrigue. And now, Endgame and Father Time, both feature some mysterious entity that know the Doctor from before, with him not knowing who they are. They are even called similarly, “The Players” and “The Hunters”. When these overlaps are so close to one another, it does rather stick out. This ark is not the first time this happened, obviously, there have been a number of stories before that makes you pause and go “wait, you’ve just done this in the previous book, too”. It’s probably more to do with how quickly the books are released one after another, so as the writers discuss some ideas, they end up being in several places....

That said, the first third of the book had me singing its praises. After going through the five stages of grief, and battling against the depression of the previous novel, the Doctor is finally reaching acceptance of his situation, and possibly nurturing hope for the future. It’s exactly the type of a fluffy story I have a weakness for. But then... you have a time skip, which gets all the pacing torn into shreds. Not only the conclusion of the first part is too abrupt, everything falling into pieces as if by accident, but also, none of the things that happened in the first part (or most of the characters that were introduced) matter for part two. It turns into a chess match play by numbers, moving characters across the board almost without any transition in service of “plot”, without much of consideration for their head space, keeping everyone rather ooc. The change in visuals is very abrupt - it’s hard to accept the Doctor as a millionaire business consultant living in a grand mansion, new family situation or not. It’s not just at odds with his bohemian persona, it also begs a question, if he is so famous, what do the UNIT and Torchwood are doing about it? And also, *sigh*. You have a sixteen year old girl, who, in the previous chapter, just been ten. And you decide to spend the next two chapters on little else than musing how “she hasn’t been interested in sex, even though she is SO HOT”, only to decide that she is interested now, actually. It comes across more than a little fetishistic, and the story continues to follow her around with the male gaze. I’m not here to follow sexual exploits of minors - not in a Doctor Who novel. It is utterly unnecessary, doesn’t add anything of value to the plot, not character driven, and made me lose pretty much all of the good will I had from the first part of the story (and I had a lot of it, because the start of it was basically perfect). In the third part, it just turns into a discount Taken story, somehow managing to lose any cohesiveness and suspension of disbelief, and fizzles out in the end. 4/10

Amnesia watch: #7. It’s a bait and switch - the Doctor was just pretending, but I’m counting it anyway.

42) Escape Velocity - I wonder, how much sponsorship did various fast food places paid for this novel.... 

And we are back with Fitz. I didn’t really say it before, but it was really rather a dick move leaving the Doctor all alone for over a century. I mean, it worked, narratively speaking (more on that later), but, still, in an option between traveling through space & time BUT leaving them alone for that long, without any idea who they are, without any network of support, letting them slowly go mad, only being there for the fun bits, versus staying with them to help them through it all, you are kind of a bad friend. Sure, Compassion was in the driver’s seat, but Fitz didn’t exactly protest all that much, did he? And why 20th century earth? If the conditions for Doctor’s maroonment was that he had to stay somewhere for over 100 years while the TARDIS repaired itself, then any other technologically advanced era that didn’t have two world wars would have sufficed? And, psst, Doctor, your adopted kid has a space armada. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind giving you one ship that would allow you at least space travel, you didn’t have to spend last 11 years on Earth - you could have went traveling, TARIS in tow on that ship, and only checked in at the deadline.

Also, I get it, memory loss is a traumatic experience, and the Doctor isn’t human, and there is a sense of wrongness. But, he has lived on Earth for over 100 years. In that time he had more memories and experiences than any human alive. After a while, this entire thing of “I don’t know who I am” should start wearing a bit thin, don’t you think?

This rant aside, the book is a bit play by numbers. A lot of unnecessary runaround, traveling from London to Brussels and back several times for no particular reason. A rather boring “aliens invading earth” plot that left me checked out for a vast majority of it. Nothing bad about it, but nothing stands out about the plot either. But, it did have several heartfelt emotional scenes - the long awaited reunion, seeing TARDIS interior again, the finale. They were fairly brief, and it’s a bit of a pity they weren’t savored for a bit longer, instead letting the plot get in the way, but the little that was there was nice. 7/10

43) EarthWorld - I was hoping to enjoy this book a bit more than I ended up, I usually am quite fond of Rayner’s works, but I guess it is one of her first books. It’s a bit monotone, landing on the side of quirky, whether it was suited for a scene or not. Also dwelling on the past quite a bit, invoking the imagery of Unearthly Child, War Games, Greatest Show in the Galaxy in a rapid succession, for no specific reason, and then dwelling for quite a long time on several previous novels in a not entirely organic way. Instead of using this as an opportunity so start afresh now that we’re finally back in the TARDIS, it feels like it is focused more than ever on recapping how they got here, especially as the previous novel offered a way out by letting Fitz forget most of the previous “ark”. There were a lot of lovely character moments - but some of it did feel overly gratuitous. Still, it’s a decent book, even if it doesn’t quite reach full marks 8/10.

44) Vanishing Point - Easily the best Steve Cole novel of the ones I’ve ever read and/or listened to. This is the fresh start to the team adventures that I was hoping for. The alien world is interesting, with great worldbuilding (which is actually kind of rare in the novels). A lot of exciting imagery. The characters are a joy to behold. Not just the trio, but the secondary characters too. The first half of the book is basically perfect. It... kind of fizzles out in the second half, never really delivering on its set up in an entirely satisfying way.

A big part of the difficulty of suspending disbelief, though, was Fitz’s leg. I twisted my ankle once. I could barely walk for several days afterwards (so it having happen at a beginning of a trip was Awful), it took months for it to fully heal, and even now it feels more wobbly than the other one. And a colleague of mine ended up getting a special boot, because she keeps twisting her ankle (always the same one). Fitz had twisted his ankle, and then he was shot in the leg. And he is running about mountains and waterfalls almost immediately. 8/10

45) Eater of Wasps - You have to give it to Baxendale, he has a very particular style. Everything described so masterfully you couldn’t help but imagining every single detail, like painting a picture before you. Even though a significant portion of it is body horror that is described exactly as lovingly as the British countryside. Never before has the title been this appropriate. Very careful in setting up the conflict and tension between the protagonists. 10/10

46) The Year of Intelligent Tigers - This story is just nice. Another one with incredible visuals and incredible feelings behind it, exuberant and overwhelming, like a hurricane. The ending is particularly strong. This is peak Eight - a force of nature, alien and unknowable, and yet, you can’t help but being swept off your feet. Stories like this one is exactly why he is the platonic ideal of who the Doctor should be.

Overall impressions so far: This was like a breath of fresh air. The “stuck on Earth all on his own” ark was not only beautifully executed, but it was also badly needed. The last time I was complaining that few novels actually did anything with Eight - he would react to the plot, but never really be affected by anything. And at the heart of it was the issue that the writers, through trial and error, did come to a consensus about who he should be, but rarely took time to actually get into his head - they started out somewhat flat-footedly, and then got swept up in other things. Here, though, they were forced to slow down and focus his undivided attention just on him, what makes him tick if you break him down to the barest essentials - so even after reuniting with the TARDIS and the companions, his portrayal is all the stronger as a result. Rather than merely reacting to the world at large, he is now an active participant.

The companions are great. There is nothing particularly special being given to Fitz to chew upon, but his presence is always welcome, especially with him being as mellow as he has been back in Autumn Mist. What is it about the Doctor that attracts so many companions with an acute case of praise kink, I wonder? Anji is also interesting, and I love seeing what’s being done with her. She slots in perfectly, delivering so sorely missed snark Compassion had in her pre-Shadow of Avalon outings, all the while having a rather unique relationship with the Doctor - acknowledging his eldritch horror moments, being one of the few who does stand up to him. Especially after the last couple of books, I’m curious to see where this goes and how it continues to build.

The books themselves are a significant step up to what was there before, which got pretty joyless for a short while, alternating between mediocre to awful. In this batch, tough? Sure, there are some weaker offerings, but even there there is at least one stand-out scene that makes the book. Even if the plot isn’t exactly the most revolutionary thing in the world, it is being made up with solid character work. Honestly, for any new readers I would recommend just starting with #37 Burning and going from there - at least so far.

[jungle321jungle]

Blood Letters

Writing letters which are not meant to be sent can be therapeutic, at least that is what people claim. Logan thinks it is to an extent, but he finds the subject matter of the letters to be of far more consequence.

Or, Logan dreams about murder.

Taglist: @hells-missing-a-goat @angels-and-dreams @ollyollyoxinfree @gattonero17 @chumo-cookie @dreaming-always @anxiety-ismy-name @mrbubbajones @janustheliar @hogwarts-my-love

Ao3 - Masterlist

Note: Lots of blood and death mention things of all sorts

~~~~

Blood Letters

Dear Janus,

I am writing this letter which is addressed to you in order to sort out my own thoughts. Patton recommended this method to me in order to “get out my feelings in a positive way”. He claims that writing a letter addressed to myself or no one at all with all my thoughts is nearly on par with saying them aloud. Roman agreed and then recommended burning the letters upon completion to get rid of any trace of my problems. However, Patton suggests I keep them. I am still not sure which I will do (I had also asked Remus who only suggested I set myself ablaze), so I will decide upon finishing. Oh, and before I go further, I do apologize for how disjointed this letter will be. I am told that the less structured and closer to a stream of consciousness I am, the better. This has yet to be proven. 

Now, I have chosen to address this letter to your Janus rather than myself, given part of my issues seem to stem from you. I assure you, that I am not blaming you in any regard. I am entirely to blame for my own compulsions, and I accept that. But I hope that by addressing the concerns between us that lie solely in my mind I can expel them entirely. Quite frankly I do not expect much from this, intrusive thoughts are not such a simple concept after all- but I have not told my friends the ongoings of my mind. I do not wish to concern them, nor do I wish to seek professional help for multiple reasons. For one I do not have the time nor money, I spend much of time working to pay for my grandmother’s nursing home bills, also I-

It occurs to me that I have been prattling on about my reasons for writing the letter as opposed to writing how I feel about you, so I shall commence doing so. 

Given this letter is not intended to be read I have no need to sugar coat my words. 

I am in love with you Janus, and more than that- I want to see you die. 

I am not partial to the method of your death. I have had dreams where you suffocate, drown, bleed out, and more- all of which were as spectacular as the last. In the first dream you and I had been walking down the street with our friends. The group hadn’t been talking about anything of true value to my knowledge, but I do recall the way it ended. You and I had fallen to the back of the group, walking in silence. And I did not see why it was that you lingered when we crossed the street- but I did turn to see you take flight once the car struck you. For a moment I was filled with nothing but fear. My heart was racing, and despite being a dream I was struggling to breathe. Upon waking I assumed my reaction was because I saw someone die. But after the second dream where I watched you bleed out and suffocate after your throat was slit, I understood that my heart racing wasn’t due to fear, it was something closer to intrigue. And from there my feelings have only grown more intense. 

Whenever I see you Janus- or dream of you- I fall for you even more. 

I am not sure what else I can say in this letter, so I suppose I shall end it here. I am still unsure what I will do with this short letter, but I suppose it is not that important. 

Yours,

Logan

~~~~

#2

Dear Janus, 

I hadn’t intended to write you a letter again. 

After I wrote (and kept) the first, I found the dreams and urges decreased greatly. And I was happy to feel a “normal” love for you, but now weeks later I found they have returned in full force and I am not entirely sure why they have. Perhaps it was on account of me spending more time with you. I greatly enjoyed our trip to the mall. I am not one to believe in fate, but I think it is a wonderful coincidence that we both happened to run into each other. And I think it speaks yards that you suggested we shop together. As we did, I found myself staring at your face so often when you weren’t looking. I think I stared so much that if I held any artistic talent I think I could sketch every ridge of your face and its scars with accuracy, and still not hold a candle to your general beauty. 

I wish I had artistic talent, if I did I’d render the versions of you I see only in my mind. 

Your eyes wide and terrified. Maybe with burst blood vessels. I can’t help but wonder what you’d look like with your scars open. So many times I have wanted to ask you how you got them- I want you to explain to me every detail. Well enough that I can picture it myself and savor every moment. But I know if I ask I would push you away. And that’s the one thing I can’t do. I won’t jeopardize my chance at seeing you. Because at this point I’m not sure how well I’ll fair without you. 

Yours, 

Logan 

~~~~

#3

Dear Janus,

The dreams are back. 

This time you fell from a building. Your limbs bent at strange angles with a vacant yet shocked looked in your eyes. It was beautiful Janus. More so than your face alive. 

I can’t explain the beauty I see that no one else ever can. But I wish I could. 

Yours,

Logan. 

~~~~

#4

Janus,

It’s the middle of the night. 3:41 am according to the clock on my nightstand. 

You were dead again. That’s nothing new. What was new however, is that this time I was the one who killed you. 

I’m not even sure how- or why. 

I’m still tired yet running on adrenaline, I can’t make sense of my own thoughts. All I know is that I saw you lying in a pool of your own blood, and I was holding the knife. 

I need to get some air. 

Logan

~~~~

#5

Janus,

It’s only been a week. And I killed you again. 

I used a baseball bat. I watched your body lurch with each strike. 

I continued even after I knew you were dead, because each time I hit you it seemed the blood sprayed about you like a frame of red. With your beauty pictured in its center. 

I wonder what it will be next time. 

Logan

~~~~

#6

Janus,

I’ve never told you that I’ve been to prison, have I? 

It was years ago, not long after I came out, my father had kicked me out and my grandmother took me in. She had been waiting for me outside of my job, and when I exited the building I saw two men look at me before they ran off. They stole her purse. She was injured and she told me not to go after them, so I didn’t at the time. But I tracked them down. I only did eighteen months for two counts of  assault. I probably would have done more had I not caught them they were attacking some other old woman. It was only eighteen months, plus time in jail awaiting sentencing, but it’s not something I wish to repeat. I don't want to lose my freedom.

Just as I don’t want to lose you. 

So why do I dream of your death- of your murder? 

Why is it that killing you is both what I want and what I fear most? 

Logan 

~~~~

#7

Janus,

You gave me a hug today when the group all said goodbye. 

And when walking back to my car, Virgil teased me for liking you. I wasn’t aware that anyone knew that I cared for you. He told me to ask you out, but I’m not sure I deserve that much. But when I told him so he didn’t understand. I made no effort to explain because I can’t expect him to. 

I can’t expect anyone to understand the fact that when you hugged me, I had to ensure my hands went around your torso and not your neck. 

Logan

~~~~

#8

Janus,

In my dreams your blood has texture. 

It is thicker than water, but I can’t quite identify what it’s viscosity reminds me of. But there are also small bits to it. Bits is the wrong phrasing. I am not sure what the proper word is, perhaps chunks? No that seems wrong as well. Whatever the word, I believe it is a result of your tissue mixing with the blood. This is only conjecture though, the dreams never last long enough for me to figure it out. 

One thing I do I know however, is how white your bones look in contrast with the blood. They appear like porcelain- no like beautiful white pearls. They’re luxurious, and priceless. 

Logan

~~~~

#9

Janus,

I should leave. 

I should go elsewhere. Somewhere far away where you are not within my reach. 

But I shouldn’t leave my grandmother. I go visit her every other week. She looks forward to those visits.

Do I have to pick between the two I love?

How does a person do that? No. That’s not the right question. The right question is why am I leaning towards you?

Logan

~~~~

#10

Janus,

I don’t know how far I should go. Where is far enough that I don’t see you when I close my eyes? Because no matter what you’d always be a distance away. And if I travel somewhere there is always the risk that I will take the journey back here. 

Where is far enough? 

Right now I can only think of one place where I cannot hurt you, but while I know I could take your life, I am too much of a coward to take my own. 

Logan

~~~~

#11

Janus,

You seemed annoyed when I cancelled our plans leaving you to see the movie with Remus alone. But I don’t know if I could sit for two hours beside you, without wanting the light in your eyes to dim. I couldn’t go. Not when I’ve already found a new job and a new place to stay. 

I’m going to leave for your safety. So I can’t jeopardize it now. 

I hope you enjoyed the film. 

Logan. 

~~~~

#12

Janus,

I leave today. I have not told anyone where I am going. And I’m sure my sudden disappearance will come as a shock to our friends, but that is the least of all evils. 

It took months, and it took me till today- the day I am leaving- but I have finally decided what to do with all these letters. I can only hope it is the right choice. 

I am sorry Janus. 

I am sure those are words you do not wish to hear- or read. But they are true. I am sorry, who I am and whom I’ve become. And at this point it might sound strange, but even so I wish you happiness and life. I wish you life. 

Perhaps more than I wish for you death. 

Logan. 

~~~~

“You have a package.”

“Who from?”

“I dunno.”

He gave a frown as he took the package. It was a small box, a bit smaller than a shoe box and in neat handwriting on top was his name and address but the name on the return address had been rendered unreadable. Maybe something had spilled and scratched it in transport. He stood from his seat, and moved to the kitchen setting the box on the table before retrieving a knife to open the box. When he had, he found envelopes inside- each one bearing his name and a number on the front. 

“Did someone send you a box of letters?”

“I’m as confused as you are, Virgil.” He dumped them out, his eyes scanning until he found the envelope marked number one. The letter inside thankfully didn’t seem long, but it held the same neat scrawl. “Dear Janus, I am writing this letter which is addressed to you in order to sort out my own thoughts...” he trailed off his eyes scanning the lines in confusion- before he froze. He read it once. Twice. Three times, before Virgil had snatched it from his hands. 

Janus could hear his heartbeat drumming in his ears, and he felt bile rise in his throat- but even so he reached for number two. 

“It’s sick,” Virgil said finally, throwing the last one down the table. 

Janus didn’t reply as he reached for the closest one- number seven- but Virgil put a hand on it stopping him.  

“Don't. Reading them once was bad enough.”

Janus moved his hand away as his eyes drifted to the ceiling above him- but on the whiteness of it he could only see the words he had read. He closed his eyes, squeezing them tight. But now he could almost hear Logan’s voice. 

“I used a baseball bat... Your blood has texture... A frame of red.”

“I know we joked that Logan left without a word because he got into trouble but...” Janus trailed off as he took a deep shuddering breath, and when he spoke again his voice was barely above a whisper. “He’s going to come back, isn’t he?”

Virgil didn’t reply, but Janus could hear as he moved about the room before he finally spoke. “...I’m calling the police.”

“And tell them what?” He demanded, looking back to Virgil. “Tell then that someone I thought was my friend actually dreams of killing me? To tell them that he’s now vanished into thin air? He could be anywhere Vee. Anywhere!”

Virgil didn’t reply but he turned so Janus couldn’t see his face. “I’m calling.” He didn’t bother to say anything more, he only took a step out of the room as he dialed, leaving Janus alone. 

Alone with the letters. 

Alone with his thoughts. 

Alone with his fears. 

And alone with the hope that Logan would never come back. 

[momaeder]

REVIEW

REVIEW

The day has come, I had gotten a reservation at the restaurant that is most mysterious to the world. It is for that mystery that we decided to make an exception in the michelin policy of reviewing the restaurant with two inspectors, as the cook Lenny Bellardo only allows one single diner per night to enter his premises We know virtually nothing about this place, a lot has been said, nothing has ever been confirmed. We base our assumptions on the Trucks with foreign license plates entering the site and the single blank faces of the guest being spilled out at the end of each dinner. What morbid curiosity! The whole world is dying of curiosity.And it is absolutely to be expected it’s normal, we all want to see that which is hidden we all want to stare the forbidden in the face. [1] I turn the corner of Kundmanngasse and it appears infront of me. A dark place, and the veil in front. [2] at the back of which a three dimensional space is projected onto a two dimensional screen. [5] As If the lights coming from the house wanted to reveal to the world its inner workings. I hear the murmur of honey bees, the varied songs of many birds; riotously [36] tremendous flurry calling of slaves and butlers, and pandemonium among the cooks. [34] shaping, all, on one great tune with bees, insects, flowers and trees. [36] A man of stained white clothes welcomes me at the gate ushering me in. I feel a jet of warm air cascading over myself. [10] the smells are simple : roasting beef, some wine, presumably some scent of baking bread [11] and above my head, the birds chattering and singing in the elm trees. [18] There are truffles, tubers, and sponges; minerals, gems, and fossil woods; flowers, animals, fruits, grasses, and vegetables of the Old World and New; an aviary, so to speak, of magnificently depicted birds.[13] Along the retaining wall, a ramp sinks down into the earth..The space widens and the concrete wall becomes an opening. [15] Above the entrance to the open hall I see an array  of slow turning axial flow fans [17] whispering the scents of the kitchen into the atmosphere of the garden The hall is large, cold, and all but empty. [19] The merchants dealing with cooks with imports and sales settled over here. [20] The ingredients are sorted into 150 specific coded categories. [23] The most bizarre thing I see? That would have to be a frozen lizard. [17] freezing in a closed container, with water clocks and with air withdrawn or evacuated from a container [26] As we walk through the large gate. I feel a special sense of power, of entitlement as I walked through this gate and into the intestines, the inner working of this building. As if I was some kind of mobster in the movies walking through the dark and twisted hallways of the establishment he owns. I can’t help but picture myself walking through the kitchen experiencing all the scents and maybe even hear an ortolan squeal as it is drowned in armagnac. Open the wall, open the hymen, open the veil: death. [9] cold. Silence. a Catalogue of 10, 000 stars. [29] White light is broken [through the ice] into the spectrum of the rainbow and absorbs it, just as the tail of the peacock folds back after it spreads.If you want to become everything, accept being nothing.Yes.The transparent void. [31] 

In this closed cell, this temporary sepulchre, the myths of resurrection arise easily enough. [15] Locked in frozen layers, a universe of ancient creatures awaits another chance at life. [16] as we move to the kitchen. I witness a transformation of substances and a dissolution of forms, a passage to the limit or flight from contours in favor of fluid forces, flows, air, light, and matter, such that a body or a word does not end at a precise point. [27] there is nothing but the immense noise of the ocean. Chaos, noise, disorder. The base of existence. [...] Behind power, behind the ultimate power, behind the universal appetite, in their vicinity, on their edge, noise spills out into space. [24] And through the blazing mist of the shining red atmosphere of noise I see him for the first time. Through the noise produced by excited molecules. [...] Lenny Bellardo the mixer of meanings or voices, the dissolution of signals in the fog of noise, is thus this very same excitation, or the one who gets it.[...] It is not uninteresting to have a single operator. he warms the room, gives a fever, increases agitation and thermal disorder. [22] his arms raised if he were making a sign to someone I could not see, or like the conductor of an orchestra [...] violent rhythms succeed a graceful andante. As we move from the kitchen to the dining room a curtain is opened for me to move into the vast white space that is behind it. Defined by purely white walls and covered by a glass roof whose grid seems to structure the nothingnness and define the place for the sole table standing in the middle of the room. As I move forth under the glass cupola , I understand that it is not the environment that is unknown but rathermy, my own body, that becomes the point of interest of the room: the cover of white rhomboidal glass on the outside, and of hundreds of polished and colored crystals on the inside, that tinges with dozens of colors and marks of light any object and person that is within its interior. [34] The white space itself is in turn circumscribed, redoubled by a veil or a net which is superimposed, and gives it a volume, or rather what one calls in oceanography a shallow depth. [35] I take a seat on the rudimentary, singular chair and wait. Reflecting on the turbulence of the frozen ingredients, the frozen histories dissolved and ready to be reassembled. I remain alone in anticipation. Ataraxy is the material background of being, the permanent murmur against which the flying words stand out, birth and death. [...] The eternal silence of these infinite spaces soothes me  The circle, beginning in the hollow of the swell and passing through two neighbouring crests, includes the same space as those which delimit the high and low waves. [35] Then a sound of the soft fabric being pulled apart. Out of the passage I had just walked through arise two waiters, carrying together on their shoulders one single Platter. I try not to turn my head as to reveal my juvenile excitemennt. I wait patiently as the plate is slowly lowered on the table and the abundance of food on it is revealed.

Arranged like a still life, I see the finest of all delicacies. The plate contains the many coloured multiplicities as its object. [...]  garnished with every type of vegetable and fruit, macedoine, jardiniere, pudding, stuffing  farce, pate, stew, pot pourri or hodgepodge, not forgetting the meats. [39] Carrying colours, gestures and scents, this route traverses the basement window of their eyes, the orifices of their sense of smell or of their heat sensitive organs, and passes through the light of these narrow skylights; a few calls, sounds, certain words also cross their hearing. [36] Our movements through time and space seem somehow trivial compared to a heap of boiled meat in broth, the smell of saffron, garlic, fishbones, and Pernod. [38] The abundance emodied. Each delicacy slightly altered from what I’ve known and would have expected, arranged in uncommon constellations. through the fusion or confusion of vicinities, erasing its swirls of colour while preserving its effectiveness. [40] And in the center of all: The holy grail. The ortolan. Appearing miniscule among all those indulgences but bearing in itself the absolution of pleasure. Its force so strong that everything else seems to be rotating just around this tiny songbird. But as it is custom the ortolan will remain on the plate until everything else is eaten, being the pinnacle of all culinary sensation. The waiters leave and I am left alone with the indulgences. I take in the first bite. liquids dissolve into fluids, or solids, as poorly cohesive as flesh, into thin or thick sauces, thereby obtaining subtle liaisons.Where does meat end and stew begin? Sometimes even our sense of taste cannot distinguish. Our body has difficulty knowing where one sense, place or part begins, and where another sense, a second place or nearby patch ends. [41] it is the whole of things, between their birth and their collapse [...] An irreversible, irrevocable time, pointing like the endless flow of atoms, flowing, rushing, crashing towards fall and death. Things are heavy: they sink down, seeking their peaceful rest. [42] I gorge through the delicacies which for what seems like an eternity. I am not sure if that is so because it is the best meal I have ever had or because of my longing for the precious ortolan. But then, the moment has come, as I take the last bite I hear the curtain being pulled open again. Out of the darkness arises the figure I had seen last through the hazy red noise of the kitchen. But now he appears crystal clear. without the word, he walks up to the table. In awe I bow my head and look down at the ortolan a tiny, roasted bird. head, beak, and feet still attached, guts intact inside its plump little belly. I lean forward as the host high pours from a bottle of Armagnac, dousing the bird then ignites it [43] Eager to indulge upon the bird I look around the table for the napkin that is traditionally used to cover the faces of and allows diners to savor the aromas and enjoy some privacy while devouring the bird or hide their indulgence from the eyes of God.  But it is missing, instead Lenny looks me straight in the eye affirmatively as to tell me to go ahead. 

Here I am in turn, the last, at the pinnacle of power, at the very instant of committing the sin. [44] An internal law rules up to a threshold, after which the law is changed. [...] The five senses stop at these thresholds which it is now a question of going beyond. the Gates of Hell or Paradise. The horror, rather, of those who detest experience, or the ecstasy of those who bathe in it. Let’s go beyond these childish [...] The mouths of bodies and things open. [45] I take the ortolan, I close my eyes, and open my mouth. I accept my dissolution in the burning plasma of matter. [46] First comes the skin and the fat. It’s hot. So hot that I’m drawing short, panicky, circular breaths in and out like a high-speed trumpet player, breathing around the ortolan, shifting it gingerly around my mouth with my tongue so I don’t burn myself. [...]  There’s a vestigial flavor of Armagnac, low-hanging fumes of airborne fat particles, an intoxicating, delicious miasma. Time goes by. Seconds? Moments? I don’t know. [...] I bring my molars slowly down and through the bird’s rib cage with a wet crunch and am rewarded with a scalding hot rush of burning fat and guts down my throat. Rarely have pain and delight combined so well. I’m giddily uncomfortable, breathing in short, controlled gasps as I continue, slowly ever so slowly to chew. With every bite, as the thin bones and layers of fat, meat, skin, and organs compact in on themselves, there are sublime dribbles of varied and wondrous ancient flavors: figs, Armagnac, dark flesh slightly infused with the salty taste of my own blood as my mouth is pricked by the sharp bones. As I swallow, I draw in the head and beak, which, until now, had been hanging from my lips, and blithely crush the skull. What is left is the fat. A coating of nearly imperceptible yet unforgettable-tasting abdominal fat. [43] I witness a transformation of substances and a dissolution of forms, a passage to the limit or flight from contours in favor of fluid forces, flows, air, light, and matter, such that a body or a word does not end at a precise point. [27] Language or sounds, breezes, scents, shadows and songs, shapes, ecstasy? [47] They touch on the obscure sources of human pain and desire and can thus unleash very powerful emotions. [48] Dreams and madness then reveal themselves to be made of the same substance. [49] I take a second to let the last aromas dissolve on my tongue As I open my eyes again, I am blinded by the light of the room and as my eyes slowly get used to the light again I see Lenny. Not looking at me anymore but at the window in the ceiling. Where just moments ago the cloth of the veil covered the glass, now stands tall and judgingly the reflection of the moon mirrored in the façade of the neighbouring building.  Bright, distorted and fragmented by the still lit windows. My face is frozen in terror. [55] All the force goes from the inside to the outside, from the black box to its lit up threshold, from the hidden to the publicly posted, from veil to unveiling, from the entangled to taking apart thread by thread.  [50] Madness surges upon me. The justice of this form of madness lies precisely in its capacity to unveil the truth.Its truthfulness lies in the fact that in the vain delirium of my hallucinations [...] Truthfulness also lies in the fact that the crime that was hidden from all becomes apparent in the night of this strange punishment. [51]

I have no option but to consider myself guilty. My torture had been my glory: my deliverance was my humiliation. [52] I sit here in disbelief as the two waiters who had brought the food, come to escort me out of the building. We leave the white room through a door, I had not noticed until now. We enter an elevator. as the elevator moves downward crushing silence reigns. The doors open and I am placed out in the city again. Lost. I stop frozen with ecstasy on the sidewalk. [53] how can the resurrection of the body occur when the dead body has disintegrated so far as to be nearly impossible to re assemble? [54] Gluttony, laziness, lust, and anger pass from the confessional to the laboratory, from spiritual and subjective intention to rational evidence and obligation, both final and causal. [65] But the madman unveiled the terminal truth of man : he showed how far he could be pushed by the passions, life in society and everything that distanced him from a primitive nature that knew no madness. [57 he has only found a new way of judging life, of universalizing the condemnation of life, by internalizing sin” [58] The bringer of sin and death necessarily also brought healing and life. [59] I see that it has not changed; and yet I see it differently. [60] Why write about an object that is disappearing, in a language that is dying? [...]The five senses, still on the verge of departure towards another adventure, a ghost of the real timidly described in a ghost of language. this is my verdict. [61]

[1] The Young Pope [2] Serres, Rome [5] Ockmann, Architecture Culture 1943 1968 [36] Serres, Hominescence [34] Seneca, Complete Works [10] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology [11] Bradley, Smell and the Ancient Senses [18] Hugo, Les Miserables [13] Braidotti Hlavajova, Posthuman Glossary [15] Leatherbarrow Eisenschmidt, Twentieth Century Architecture [17] Banham, The Architecture of the Well Tempered Enviroment [19] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology [20] Saunders, The Art and Architecture of London [23] Zimring, Encyclopedia of Consumption and Waste [17] Zimring, Encyclopedia of Consumption and Waste [26] Schmitt, The Cambridge History of Renaissance Philosophy [9] Serres, Rome [29] Serres, History of Scientific Thought [31] Serres, Troubadour of Knowledge [15] Foucault, Discipline and Punish [16] Braidotti Hlavajova, Posthuman Glossary [27] Deleuze Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus [24] Serres, The Parasite [22] Serres, The Parasite [34] Hays, Architecture Theory since 1968 [35] Serres, The Birth of Physics [36] Serres, Hominescence [38] Bourdain [39] Serres, Rome [40] Serres, The Five Senses [41] Serres, The Five Senses [42] Serres, The Birth of Physics [43] Bourdain, Medium Raw [44] Serres, Troubadour of Knowledge [45] Serres, Statues [46] Serres, The Birth of Physics [47] Serres, The Five Senses [48] Armstrong, Jerusalem One City Three Faiths [49] Foucault, History of Madness [50] Serres, Rome [51] Foucault, History of Madness [52] Foucault, History of Madness [53] Kerouac, On The Road [54] Powers, The Overstory [55] Negarestani Mackay, Collapse Volume VII [56] Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations [57] Foucault, History of Madness [58] Deleuze, Pure Immanence [59] Foucault, History of Madness [60] Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations [61] Buehlmann, Mathematics and Information in the Philosophy of Michel Serres [62] Saunders, The Art and Architecture of London [63] Marzano, The Roman Villa in the Mediterranean Basin [64] Burros, New York Times [65] Serres Latour, Conversations on Science Culture and Time

[the-writerly-night-owl]

Tis’ the Season to Have Babies

Desire and Decorum/Ernest Sinclaire x MC + an some minor various pairs. 

Summary: In which Clara learns that she’s expecting around the same time as everyone else in London it seems.

Author’s Note: Fun fact I had this story in mind since I saw the prompt list. No joke, I was like that’s going to be the baby story. If you scroll down my list you’ll see a bunch of names that’s how it’ll connect. For the 41 Days of Cheer and the prompt Expecting.

The whole family was invited to Viscountess Lavinia’s baby shower. And Clara Sinclaire wanted to make sure that everyone was prepared and ready to leave. The party was set to start at noon after all. Waddling her way up to her room she could hear Harry and Theresa getting prepared. Then Briar and Edmund as well. Edgewater was starting to get fuller and fuller as they had children themselves.

Ernest had finished straightening his cravat as she stepped into the room. Just a quick change and make sure her hair looked nice.

“I have the present,” he said gesturing to a wrapped gift on their bed. “Are you sure I must go?”

“If I have to go full with child, you have to as well,” she said. “It will quite entertaining I’d imagine.”

After all she was expecting her first child in a few weeks. Theresa in currently in her sixth month and her dress showing off her stomach. Briar had fortunately had her daughter back in February and bringing her three-month-old daughter Katharine.

Ernest stared intently at her as she felt a blush creep to her cheeks. Then stepped in front of her to run a hand down her stomach. He could feel the kick of their child while she just smiled already envisioning him holding their son late at night together. She was positive it was a boy, but Ernest had insisted that it might be a daughter.

“Alright, only because you’re insisting. She had a son, didn’t she?” asked Ernest breaking his gaze away from her to kiss her softly. “Can you imagine our child growing up with hers?”

“I’d imagine that it’d be fun,” she said raising an eyebrow. Her hand slipped into his as they savored the moment before having to leave.

With that they were off as it was starting to get hard to move around. Smiling she sat next to Theresa in the carriage as she had insisted on going together. Harry and Theresa talking about what they would name their baby if it was a boy.

“Are you sure that we can’t argue about the name Vincent?” asked Harry to her and Ernest. Her husband had shaken his head.

“If our baby is born first and it’s a boy, we will name him Vincent,” said Ernest. “But if we have a girl and you have a boy his name will be Vincent, that is the arrangement.”

“And we stand firm with that,” added Clara.

Theresa only shrugged happy with the decision. As much as she loved the earl, she had insisted on naming the boy Timothy after her father. Harry took his wife’s hand rubbing it softly not saying anything. They both wanted to honor their late father. If only Briar had a son, she would have beaten them both to the punch!

“Jane for a girl then,” said Harry as they pulled in front of the Viscount’s home.

In front of them Luke Harper and his wife Cordelia were carrying in their son. Well the nursemaid was while the young couple holding hands, leisurely heading inside. The former Donna Bowman also struggling to walk with her pregnant belly.

It appeared that the year of the lord 1818 were so many women expecting a child. First Briar and so forth until the end of the year.

“I’ve never seen so many women together that looked like this,” said Harry a bit surprised.

“Me either, it must be half of London,” said Ernest holding Clara’s hand as they exited the carriage.

Clara was just excited to be able to give advice she had been passed onto and hear more. Clutching her gift did they enter the parlor set up all nice and neat. Lavinia standing next to the cradle to show off her and Westonly’s son.

Walking up to them did she drop off the gift with the others and peered at him. Ernest being pulled along also looked down at the child. He was very handsome with much of Lavinia’s features. Although she was thinking of what her baby would be like.

“Thank you for coming,” said Lavinia hugging her as best as possible and then Ernest as well. “Please have a snack. You’re a good friend to me Clara and I insist you hold him.”

Not even getting a chance to thank her for inviting them, Lavinia had put the infant in her arms. Oh, now that was different. Aww but he was so adorable sitting here as she had burped making Clara smile.

“You look very natural holding a baby,” said Ernest from over her shoulder. “I can’t wait for ours.”

“Yes, you’re having a baby,” said Lavinia not really hearing him. “Congratulations. Now I simply must show off little Anthony to some others. I believe that this is my chance to rub it into Miss Holloway?”

Clara passed her the infant as she laughed a little. There were a few young women here that didn’t have a baby yet, Miss Holloway included. With that she kissed Ernest’s cheek to talk with some would be expecting fathers. Perhaps Mr. Chambers who had been invited as well. It appeared that their usual social group had been invited with or without children.

From her spot she watched as Briar attempted to get Katharine to be friends with the young Westonly child. She and Edmund never really leaving each other’s side staying close to the window.

Harry and Theresa smiling at each other and exchanging long glances before eventually leaving the party discreetly to the outside area.

Cordelia and Luke part of the attention while they just praised their son like a prodigy. How she wanted to try again for another.

Watching them Clara went to find her husband. Ernest had been caught in a conversation with Viscount Westonly talking about war techniques again. Grateful for the escape she had pulled him out of site from the others. Then somewhere far away from where she hoped Harry and Theresa would be.

“Thank you for getting me away…”

Before Ernest could finished his sentence did Clara press her lips against his, arms going around his neck pulling him as close as she could. Savoring the moment Ernest kissed her back not stopping until they had to breath. Taking the advantage of the moment he peppered her face with kisses, her forehead, cheeks, that spot that made her squirm against him at the base of her neck.

She had adjusted to sit on a chair in the dining room.

“Ernest,” she breathed pulling him close. “Is it bad that just being here, I wish our baby was born today?”

Ernest sucked in a breath shaking his head no. Of course not, if anything he wished that she would have had their child last week. He took a sharp intake of breath for starting to kiss her lips, there fingers interwoven together.

“Every time you are with Katharine or even holding Anthony, makes me think of the dozens of children I want to have with you.”

Clara brought a hand up and cradled his cheek.

“And a dozen babies we will have,” she said enjoying their quiet moment as the party continued around them.

Tag list: @hellooliviaolivia @noeschoices  @wildsayeed @princess-geek @perriewinklenerdie  @lilyofchoices @indescribablechoices @writerapprentice @jlpplays1 @mfackenthal @darley1101 @brightpinkpeppercorn @itsbrindleybinch @elainew13 @paisleylovergirl @symonde @fluffy-cat-whisper @adrianadmirer @am-i-invisible777 @flyawayboo

[kelyon]

Golden Cuffs 41: The Gifts

Cover art by @paradigmparadoxical​

Rumbelle Dark Castle BDSM AU

Read on AO3

Jefferson and Leona head home

When Belle woke up she was sticky, and delightfully sore. The night before she had been used more thoroughly and by more people than she’d ever had in her life. Even as she emerged from sleep, part of her was still exhausted from everything the four of them had done together. Another part of her was awake and alert, excited for what more might come.  

She kept her eyes closed for a moment, savoring all the different sensations her sleepy mind could discern. The cushions and pillows beneath her were soft--downy feathers and silky fabric. She was warm underneath a heavy blanket, snug and cozy between Jefferson and Leona. All three of them were still naked. Belle could touch the other two with both hands, brush her fingers against the smooth, soft skin of their arms and legs. Jefferson was sprawled out on his back, snoring. Leona had rolled over to her side, her breathing deep and even. Belle was tempted to snuggle up against Leona’s round back, to fit around her like a spoon in a drawer. But then she became aware of a noise. 

It was a whirring. Steady, but some distance away. It was a familiar sound, but she couldn’t place it at first. She listened for a while, but it didn’t go away. Belle knew she wouldn’t be able to rest until she determined the source of the sound, so she opened her eyes and looked around. 

Pale, gray light filled the room, coming down from the glass dome in the ceiling. They were in a tower, Belle remembered. Everything Rumple really cared about he seemed to do in towers. Belle rubbed her eyes. Was the weak light because it was so early, or were the clouds heavy with rain? Or was it still too early in the year for rain?  Would it snow? This winter had felt endless, surely it would be springtime soon.

Careful not to disturb her bedmates, Belle sat up and looked around. Immediately, she found the source of the whirring noise: Rumpelstiltskin sat on the padded bench that bordered the pleasure-nest. He was fully dressed, with straw in his hands, and a spindle wound with gold at his side.

Belle rested her arms on her knees and watched him. He always looked so intent when he spun, so serious. She knew he used the time to think. What was he thinking now? Was he reliving the night of pleasures he had orchestrated? Was he planning some other new adventure for them? He might not have been thinking of her all. He could be thinking about his magic, or his lost son, or the curse he had created to find the boy again.

She sighed and he must have heard her because he looked up from the spindle. His face was serious for a moment, but then he gave her a silent smile.

Belle reached her arms out to him and waved her hands, beckoning him to join them in their warmth and rest.

He shook his head with a rueful smile, as if to say, I would if I could, but I cannot.  

Well, why not? Belle flopped her arms down in exasperation. If he wasn’t going to come to her, she would have to go to him.

She looked down at the couple sleeping on either side of her and calculated how to extricate herself. Setting her hands firmly on the ground behind her, Belle crawled backwards up from the blankets, over the pillows, and out from in between Jefferson and Leona. 

Even in sleep, they reached out for each other. Once Belle was gone, both of them individually moved to close the gap made by her absence. Leona rolled over and wedged her head under Jefferson’s chin. One of Jefferson’s long arms rested in the ample curve of Leona’s waist. They sighed together, their breathing deep and even.

For once, the sight of those two loving each other didn’t hurt Belle. Looking at them still filled her heart--they were still so beautiful and their love seemed so precious and rare--but this time she felt no twinge of sorrow for herself. In that moment, she could admire them without envy. She could be happy for them, without feeling sad for herself. Perhaps it was because they had so freely shared their love with her. Or perhaps it was because she was finally able to go directly from their love to the man she loved.

Rumple was still spinning, though his eyes stayed steady on her. His hands moved of their own accord, his fingers mindlessly twisting the straw. He was wearing lighter colors today, what Belle thought of as his “at home clothes.” His waistcoat was cloth instead of leather, red brocade over a cream-colored shirt. His trousers and boots were both brown leather, worn into supple softness. He looked comfortable, at ease with himself and his own body.

Belle sat down at his feet and wrapped her arm around his leg. The whir of the spindle faltered for just a moment. 

“You didn’t need to do that,” he murmured, looking at his straw. “I’m sure you need your sleep.”     

“I was awake anyway,” she answered. She rested her head on his knee and let her fingers trace the outline of his calf.  “It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to sit with you like this.”

It used to be that she only ever saw him from on her knees. When they first started, he liked nothing more than for her to kiss his boots. She would sit at his feet and grovel before him, thank him for his minor mercies, show him her fealty. He used to use her back as a footstool while he read by the fire. He used to watch her eat her meals off the floor, and she would make a show for him. She would try to please him by degrading herself. It had been no small surprise to find that she had enjoyed those games as much as he had. 

Now that felt so long ago. He hadn’t allowed her to kiss his boots since the night of the party. The action was supposed to be their signal, the sign that Belle wanted everything to stop. But when Regina and Maleficent had said they would take her away, when she had begged him not to let them, when she had tried to kiss his boots to make herself his again, to feel safe again--he had ignored her pleas. He had neglected their agreement. When it had really mattered, all her trust in him had come to nothing.

Belle closed her eyes against the memory. As terrible as her time with Regina and Maleficent had been, the fact that he had allowed it was worse. And since she had come back, the distance between herself and Rumple had only grown. They couldn’t be together the way they once were--and that was the cruelest heartbreak of all. Belle had never realized how much she needed closeness and understanding. She thrived on the intimacy Rumple was hesitant to offer even under the best of circumstances.

 Before they had become close--before Belle had started acting with love even when she couldn’t name it--the games of pain and degradation were the most intense connection they’d had. She understood why he didn’t want to play with such things anymore, but he wasn’t being loving either. If she couldn’t have his love, Belle was willing to accept his mastery. But he wasn’t offering her anything.

And he wouldn’t even let her tell him how much that hurt her. Again and again he had cut off conversations, walked away from her when she needed him most. Belle could believe that Rumple thought this was a way to protect her. He thought that he could only hurt her by his actions. Either he didn’t realize or didn’t care that he was hurting her just as much through his inactions. Doing nothing when she needed help was every bit as damaging as deliberately hurting her.

But no more, Belle resolved. Last night had given her a chance to reaffirm what she was worth. She deserved lovers who were attentive to her emotional needs as much as to her physical ones. Leona knew when to be gentle and when to push her, and when to listen for the things Belle couldn’t put into words. Jefferson introduced her to the concept of limits. Though Belle was willing to put her body through any trial, she now knew that she needed to be cared for afterward. Closeness and comfort were not mere desserts she could go without--they were essential needs. She wouldn’t let Rumple get away with not giving her the things that really mattered. Not anymore. 

“Rumple?” She set her hand on his thigh to get his attention. “How much longer will Jefferson and Leona stay with us?”

The spindle stilled as he looked at her. “Why do you ask?”

“I want to talk with you,” she answered. “But it should wait until it’s just us again.”

His hand reached down to pet her hair. “As you wish,” he murmured. “I don’t imagine they’ll tarry here for much longer. They’ll want to collect their daughter and go home.”

Home. It was lovely to think of Jefferson and Leona going home, of them having a household and a domestic life with their child. It appealed to Belle, the thought that people could live adventurously--do the sorts of things that they had done--and then go home and look to all the world like an ordinary couple. Perhaps that was why Jefferson and Leona wore their collars all the time, to show the world that they weren’t ordinary. Even when they weren’t acting on their desires, they always burned for each other. They always belonged to each other.

The spindle slowly filled up with gold. When there was no more room for thread, Rumpelstiltskin set the spindle aside and stood up. He offered his hand to Belle. 

“I think it’s time for breakfast, don’t you?”  

She took his hand and he helped her up. “I am a little hungry.”

He grinned. “Last night you worked up quite an appetite!” With a wave of his hand, he produced three bundles of neatly folded linen. One was dark red, the second was yellow, and the third was bleached white. “Make sure everyone is dressed and then I’ll feed you all.” 

Belle took the bundles and the cuffs pulled her over to Jefferson and Leona. She crouched on the blanket over them and shifted the clothes into the crook of her elbow. She used her other hand to shake them gently. 

“Wake up,” Belle whispered. “It’s morning.”

Leona opened her eyes first. As she saw Belle, a slow, sleepy smile broke like a sunrise over her face. “Hello, luv,” she yawned. “I almost thought I dreamed you.”

Belle shook her head. “Last night was a dream, but I’m pretty sure we’re all real.” She offered Leona the white bundle. “Rumple wants you to wear this.”

But when Leona unfolded the cloth, she discovered a shift that was clearly much too small. Frowning, she looked over to Rumpelstiltskin. He was standing outside the pit, by the little table with three chairs.

“If you want me to wear this, there’s going to be a fair bit of magic involved.”

Rumple turned away from the food he was creating. “That one is for Belle,” he said. “But the yellow should fit you comfortably.”

“Why didn’t he just say so?” Leona muttered as she and Belle traded bundles.

Belle clutched the white fabric to her bosom, but didn’t put it on yet. This was for her? Rumple wanted her to wear real clothes? Why? She shook her head, refusing to ponder the questions. It was too much for right now. She bent down and shook Jefferson again. 

He groaned and rubbed his eyes. “Why is it morning already?”

“Because the boss man says so.” Leona popped her head out from the yellow shift and pulled it down over her naked body. It fit her perfectly, with long sleeves and a hem that stopped just short of her feet. The cheery butter yellow was a perfect match for her hair. Leona took the red bundle from Belle and tossed it down to Jefferson. “Now get dressed.”

Still groggy, Jefferson unfolded the linen. Instead of a shift, he was given a long-sleeved shirt. Though the garment was long enough to cover his manhood, his legs were still bare as he finally stood up. 

“I smell breakfast!” he declared. 

From near the table, Rumpelstiltskin gave a showy bow. “Everything is in readiness, as soon as all of you are properly dressed.” He looked at Belle as he said that.

Belle still held the cloth over her breasts, a covering that was not nearly as effective as just wearing the shift. It was strange to think that Rumple wanted her in clothes. Not her robe, not a costume, but real clothes. Exactly the same as what he gave to Jefferson and Leona. 

It troubled her in a way she couldn’t quite name. As awkward as it might have been to be naked while the other two were dressed, it was a game she could have played, if Rumple had asked her to. When they were alone, he had often acted like she was less than a person, that was a typical game. She was his whore, his pet, his thing. But now he was asking her to be the same as regular people, people who didn’t belong to him.

But--Belle reminded herself--he wanted her to wear the shift. He wanted her to be the same as Jefferson and Leona. And she still wanted to give him what he wanted. So this was fine. They would talk about it later, once the others had gone. For now, Belle obeyed his unspoken order and pulled the white linen over her head. 

Her shift was shorter than Leona’s, ending in the middle of her calves. The sleeves were short as well, little caps that puffed out over her shoulders. The neckline was low, and the fabric was so white it made Belle’s pale skin look as rosy as Leona. She looked pretty. It was fine.

Trying not to let her troubled thoughts show, Belle walked up the steps out of the pleasure-nest and joined the others at the table. There were three places set, and Leona and Jefferson had already claimed their chairs. Rumple stood off to the side and gestured for her to take a seat.  

“Eat up, my dear.”

She looked at him. He wanted her to eat with them? To sit down with his guests and act like she was their equal? Only the evening before, he had taken the place as the third of the table, while she had served. What was happening now? What had changed so much in Rumpelstiltskin’s intentions for her?

Jefferson called over to her, his words muffled by the food in his mouth. “Come on! You gotta try this etouffee!”

Belle looked at Leona. “What did he say?”

“I have no idea,” she admitted. “But this stuff with the shrimp and rice is delicious, and there’s more beignets. Come join us!”

Why did it feel wrong to be normal? Why did sitting in a chair and eating with a fork in the company of friends now feel taboo? Did Belle honestly not want this? Did she think she didn’t deserve it? Would she feel differently if Rumple was sitting with them?

Her stomach grumbled as much with hunger as with worry. She needed to eat, and this was what Rumple wanted. With a last look at him, Belle pulled out the third chair and sat down for breakfast. 

The three of them ate their fill while Rumple stayed apart. He kept by them, answered their questions, accepted their compliments, but he never joined them. At no point was he ever a part of their company. He stood by like some kind of butler, as though he were the servant instead of Belle. The reversal unnerved her, but Belle didn’t want to mention it in front of their guests. So she bit her lip and said nothing.

After three helpings, Jefferson finally pushed his plate away and slapped his stomach in satisfaction. “That was an amazing meal,” he said to Rumple. “It’s hard to believe, but I think the food here is actually better than the sex.”

“Oh, bite your tongue!” Leona teased him. “The food is good, but the sex was much better.” She winked at Belle. “At least it was for me. Maybe you weren’t trying hard enough, boy-o.”

Jefferson just laughed. “I tried plenty hard! And I had a great time with the sex, don’t get me wrong. But this food, Leo! You can’t get this food outside of Maldonia, and Maldonia is not a hospitable place for people without magic.”

“Alright,” Leona shook her head, her eyes shining with laughter. “You say the food is better, I say the sex is. Belle, will you break the tie for us? What did you like better?”

“The sex,” Belle blurted without thinking. As soon as the words were past her lips, she covered her mouth with her hand and burst into giggles.

Leona sniggered and Jefferson burst into laughter. “I love a woman who knows her mind!”

“And that’s why you’re stuck with me forever!” Leona leaned out of her chair and grabbed her husband by the collar. She pulled him in for a long and thorough kiss.

Belle sobered, as she watched them kiss. The three of them were having a good time, but they would be leaving soon. Jefferson and Leona would go off together, back home. They would leave Belle alone with her questions and her worries. They would leave her with Rumple and all his mysteries and contradictions.

Looking around, Belle saw that Rumple had stepped away from the table area. He had gone back into the pleasure-pit, gathering up the belongings that had been scattered around the night before. After neatly folding Jefferson and Leona’s clothes, he packed them into Leona’s leather bag. Then, he conjured three more bundles of cloth--one black, one pink, and one blue. 

“What are you doing?” Belle asked. She stood up, and the motion was enough to pull Jefferson and Leona’s attentions away from each other. 

Rumple looked up at them, his smile polite, distant. “It would be rude to allow our guests to walk away empty-handed.”

Jefferson grimaced and climbed down into the nest to talk to Rumple. He put his hand on his shoulder, trying to face him man-to-man, while Rumple looked at him with amusement. 

“We talked about this when we first arrived: you don’t have to pay me and Leo for this sort of thing. I have a legitimate business now, and it’s going well. I don’t need a benefactor anymore.”

Rumple patted Jefferson on the back. “If you’re so successful, then your time is valuable. You shouldn’t undercharge for your services.” He gave Jefferson the black bundle, all but forcing it into his hands. “Take it, my boy. Times may not always be as good as they are now.”

Leona stood over the edge of the pit. “What is it?”

With a resigned sigh, Jefferson shook out the black fabric. “It’s a coat,” he called over to his wife. But the more he examined the garment, the more impressed he appeared. 

Belle watched Jefferson’s face as he touched the fabric. He examined the seams, the cut, the embellishments sewn into the sleeves and around the shoulders. When he put the coat on, he all but gasped at the fit. He looked at Rumple. “This is the finest piece of tailoring I’ve ever seen.”

Rumpelstiltskin gave a bow. “I’m glad you like it.” His eyes trailed over Jefferson’s still-bare legs. Was he admiring Jefferson’s body or his own handiwork? “There is more, if you’ll have it.”

Rolling his eyes, Jefferson held out his empty hand. With a wave, Rumple gave him the rest of the suit: A dark leather waistcoat and breeches, and a silk cravat the same dark red as his shirt.

“You know I want to hate this,” Jefferson said to Rumple once he was dressed. “But damn, you make me look good! And this is good for my work, too. Important people will be more likely to talk to me if I’m dressed to the nines.”

“See?” Rumple said. “I’m merely investing in your future.”

Slyly, Leona climbed down and joined the men. “I notice that there’s more than just my husband’s clothes there.”

“Right you are, Mrs. Ogg!” Rumple said brightly. He offered her the pink bundle.

Leona took the package as though it had always been hers and Rumple was merely carrying it for her. The fabric she shook out was a gown. Yards of shining satin, so light it seemed to float in the air, flowed down from her hands.

Her mouth fell open. “Oh,” she said simply.

“Leona Ogg at a loss for words,” Jefferson shook his head. “The Dark One really can do anything.” 

Leona waved him off, refusing to be distracted from the gown. “This is beautiful,” she whispered. She looked up from the dress to Rumple. “Thank you.”

Another bow, this one perhaps a bit more genuine in its humility. “Never let it be said that I take people’s talents for granted. And there is more to that as well.” He produced a corset, and stockings and petticoats--everything needed to complete the ensemble. 

With a wide grin, Leona waved Belle over to her. “Will you help me?”

Nodding, Belle descended to join the others. She laced Leona’s corset over the yellow shift, arranged the petticoats over her hips, and fastened the ties at the back of the gown. The bodice was decorated with white and pink pearls. Edges of the yellow linen peeked out through the satin, making the pink look even softer and warmer.

The dress fit Leona perfectly, enhancing her curves and smoothing them out at the same time. She stood up straight, her blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders. Leona always had a look of power about her, but in this dress she was something between stately and ethereal. The dress was still soft and feminine, but it also displayed strength, the leather and iron that were as much a part of Leona as the linen and satin.

“Oh Leo,” Belle whispered when it was all put together. “How lovely you are!”

Leona blushed as pink as her gown. Now she looked shy and girlish and beautiful. When she turned around and Jefferson saw her, he let out a whoop of delight.

“Hot damn!” he said. “I’m married to the goddess of spring!”

Leona snorted and blushed again. “I’m more like the goddess of things that get stuck in drawers.”

He wrapped his arm around her waist, dipping her down for a kiss. “You can get things stuck in my drawers any time.”

They kissed for some time. Belle watched the couple come together, break apart giggling, and then start kissing again. She stayed where she was on the sidelines, holding her arms over her chest.

They were such a handsome couple, especially when dressed in such finery. Belle could imagine them travelling different worlds together, dazzling everyone they met. They would make friends and make love and make memories, but always come back to each other. Belle’s heart beat with a dull pain. Once again, it hurt her to see her friends so happy, so in love.

Quietly, Rumple came up beside her. He handed her the blue bundle. “This is for you. I imagine it will be some time before we’ll have their attention again.”

Belle made herself smile at his quip and unfolded her bundle. It was a dress, as blue as the sky on a sunny day. Simpler than Leona’s, the dress didn’t require a corset. Brown laces hung from eyelets in the bodice, so Belle was able to fasten herself in without assistance. It fit over her white shift, the hem of the dress ending just below her undergarments. 

Once she had the dress on, she twirled the skirts, marvelling at the strange familiarity of doing something perfectly normal. She looked at Rumple, who was looking at her, expressionless.

“Why are you giving me clothes, Rumple? Is it just because of them?”

He looked away before he answered. “You’ve been in need of a proper wardrobe for some time. This was just an… opportune time to give it to you.”

“But why?” she repeated. “What changed? Did you just get tired of my robe?”

“We’ll talk later,” he said softly. “I think they’ve finally remembered we’re still in the room.”

Oh yes, they would talk later, Belle thought with a clenched jaw. Once the others were gone, she and Rumple would talk about everything that had been going on lately. 

“I have something for your daughter as well,” Rumple said loudly, just in case Jefferson and Leona started kissing again. “To repay her for this time separated from her parents.”

Leona scoffed. “She’s not missing us. There’s no place in any world she’d rather be than at her gran’s.”

“Then perhaps this is for you then.” Rumple conjured up a brass spyglass and held it out to the couple. 

Jefferson picked it up and extended it, but didn’t put it to his eye. He looked at Rumple. “I’d bet my house that this doesn’t just make things far away seem close.”

Rumple grinned. “When one of you looks through the lens, you will be able to see your daughter, wherever she is, on any world with magic. And if your girl uses it, she’ll be able to see you, no matter how far apart you are.”

Jefferson’s mouth opened. He looked down at the object in his hands. “Thank you,” he said quietly. He looked up and put on a smile. “This is quite a gift to give a little girl you’ve never met!”

Leona took the spyglass from Jefferson. “Let’s see if it works.” She looked through the glass and her face fell. “Oh gods, she’s chasing my mother’s cat.”

“The cat that fights bears?” Jefferson took the spyglass from his wife and looked for himself. His face matched Leona’s in dismay. “We should go.”

“She’ll be alright,” Leona assured the room in general. “Greebo knows better than to set his claws on one of the kiddies. But if she tries to cuddle him when he’s not in the mood for it, there will be tears.” She picked up her bag, checking the contents. “Where are our shoes?” 

“Over there,” Rumple pointed to the floor outside the nest. He watched calmly as they got ready to go. “If you’re going back to the Disk World, I have an errand for you to run.” He picked up the spindle he had been working on earlier and handed it to Jefferson. “See what happens to this, in that other world. Report back to me about it. You can keep it when you’re done.”

Jefferson sighed, and pulled up his boots before taking the spindle. He looked down at it, and then at Rumple. “You know this is more gold than the King of Lancre has in his entire treasury, don’t you?” 

Leona examined the spindle. “That’s more gold than they’ve got in the Royal Bank of Ankh-Morpork!”

“Unless it turns into straw,” Rumple said with his hands raised. “Or dust, or a pigeon. Magic doesn’t have the same rules in every world. That’s why I want to know what happens.”

Jefferson put the spindle in his pocket. His hands lingered on the fabric of his new coat. “Do you know what will happen to these clothes?” he asked. “There isn’t much that will shock my mother-in-law, but it might be rude to show up at her house naked--at least this early in the morning.”

Rumple shook his head. “Your gifts are not magical,” he answered. “Real cloth, real leather, real work and craftsmanship. I did it the hard way for you, my boy.”

Jefferson grinned. “You know that’s the way I like it.”

Without a word, Rumple reached up to pull Jefferson down to him. Jefferson bent easily, and the two men kissed. It was a simple kiss, soft and tender. Belle had never seen Rumple so gentle with someone besides her.

His eyes opened slowly. He stroked Jefferson’s cheek.  “It’s always so good to see you,” he murmured. 

Jefferson mirrored the action, so the two men held each other. “You don’t need to be such a stranger.”

“Especially if you’re always so generous.” Leona hoisted her bag over her shoulder. It was considerably heavier than it had been when they had arrived. 

Breaking his contact with Jefferson, Rumple stepped away from the couple. “Naturally!” he said brightly. “I can hardly expect anyone to tolerate my company without compensation.”

Jefferson opened his mouth to speak, but then seemed to think better of it. He just shook his head and went over to Belle. He opened his arms and she gladly stepped in for a hug.

“Take care of yourself,” he said into her hair. “Don’t let him be too much of a pain in the ass.”

She squeezed her arms around his neck. “I had a wonderful time with you, with both of you.”

“Oh let me in!” Leona reached her arms around both of them. She kissed Belle warmly on the cheek. “Mind how you go, luv. And know that we’re around if you ever need anything.” Her dark eyes poured into Belle, emphasizing how much she meant those words. 

Belle nodded. “Thank you, really. But I’ll be fine.” She lowered her voice. “I’m going to try to make some changes around here.”

“Get him to throw more parties,” Jefferson winked as he broke the huddle. “I would be happy to introduce you to a whole new set of friends.” 

Leona’s face lit up. “Oh! Like that potions bloke at the school!” She turned to Belle. “He’s very grumpy, but whip-smart, if you know what I mean. I’m sure you’d both like him, if you’re ever interested in sharing again.”

“Thank you,” Rumple said with a tone that signalled the end of the discussion. “I will keep such matters under advisement.”

With a wry grin, Leona looked Rumple up and down. “And maybe the next time we meet, you and I will become more intimately acquainted.” 

His look was placid, amused. “Anything is possible, Mrs. Ogg.”

Jefferson looked around. “Where’s my hat? I swear, I need to get a case for that thing.”

“I have it here, my boy.” With a quirk of his finger, Rumple called the hat from where it had been joyfully flung the night before. He held it in both hands and offered it to Jefferson.

Jefferson’s face looked strangely sad as he took in the sight. He put his hands on the brim to take it, and for a moment they lingered there. Fingers brushed against each other in a moment of heavy silence. 

“It’s been a long time,” Jefferson said, “since you first gave me this hat.”

“You’ve used it well,” Rumple answered. “I knew I could trust you with its powers. Now, safe travels to you both.”

With a tight nod, Jefferson straightened up and took the hat. He put it on his head just long enough to take Leona by the arm. The couple stood side-by-side in their new clothes. Then, Jefferson removed his hat and twirled it to the ground. Spinning magic erupted from the hat, creating a portal big enough for them to step into. With cheerful waves, they walked together into the magic and disappeared. 

For a moment, after they left, Belle and Rumple were silent. Both of them stood on opposite sides of the space where the portal had been. 

Then, Belle took a deep breath and gathered up all her resolve. She looked Rumpelstiltskin in the eye, and her voice did not quaver as she said, “We need to talk.”

It took another moment before Rumple looked up from where he had been staring at the ground. When he did look at her, his eyes were dull, but his face was determined. “Yes, I suppose we do. But not here.” He crossed the distance between them, offered her his arm. “Shall we converse in the dining room?”

Belle took his arm, so they were linked together. “Yes, I think that would be lovely.”  

[dear-my-future-love]

Dear my future love,

It’s currently 2020 and the world is a shit show. You know, I should be surprised but I’m not. Because of the current situation, I’ve been stuck in my house with nothing to do but think.

I was supposed to graduate this year. I mean, I guess I did, at 2:00 pm alone in my room, but it’s not really the same as what it would have actually been like. I was never one that was into school events, but it just sort of...hurts to leave it off like that. I didn’t even know my last day would be my last day. I didn’t get to savor any memories. One day, I was at school and the next I learned I was never going to go back to school ever again. High school was over just like that.

It’s just weird and to have my life suddenly change so fast, it’s hard. I’m sure you’re experiencing the same thing right now and I hope you’re safe. I hope you’re happy, even if times are tough right now.

I miss you. I miss you so goddamn much and I don’t even know you. Believe me, I feel absolutely crazy saying that. I’ve probably deluded myself into thinking there’s some perfect person out there that’s going to fit with me completely. God knows I’ve heard enough people say that love doesn’t really work like that. Maybe my standards are too high or maybe I’m incapable of true love. Either one is a distinct possibility.

I’m sorry that this is a very rambling letter with very little coherence. It’s 5:41 in the morning and I just feel very...empty. I haven’t felt that way in a long time, but now that I’ve been separated from my friends and other people for weeks, the feeling has come back full force. I tried to fill it by talking to another guy, someone who I knew wasn’t you, but I thought it could at least be fun, you know? I told him up front that it wouldn’t be serious, that I would be leaving soon. He didn’t get the message and now I don’t really know what to do about him. I have to cut him off, I know. Tell him that I don’t feel the same way, but somehow, this makes everything worse. I can’t like someone like he likes me. I feel broken because I feel nothing romantically towards him. Not really. All there is is a voice chanting in my head “not right, not right, not right”

Except the thing is, will I ever think anyone is right? Will I ever meet you? The person I’m pretty sure exists, but that I don’t know for sure does. I used to believe you were out there somewhere, but now I’m not so sure. Are soulmates even real? I guess, reasonably, one would conclude that they aren’t. I want to be reasonable, I swear I do, but I can’t be. I want to believe so fucking bad that it hurts. There’s a bone deep part of me that says you’re out there and that all I have to is find you. Then, everything will make sense. I really hope that’s true.

This is so clichè, but I want to watch the stars with you. I want to talk about everything and nothing. I want to hold you and laugh with you and cry with you and for you and be there for you. I don’t know if I believe in reincarnation, but sometimes I feel like my thoughts brush against a thousand lifetimes, ones that I know you were in.

I am scared by how much I love someone I don’t know.

I realize how insane that sounds, believe me, I do. Have I mentioned that I’m a Pisces sun with a Cancer moon? I don’t know how much faith I put in astrology either, but anyone who does believe in it will probably understand what drove me to write this letter. Pisces and Cancer are both sensitive signs, so it’s like getting hit with a double dose of sensativity and inherent ability to dream. I have an overactive imagination.

Anyway, I should be sleeping, but I felt the need to talk to you tonight. I think I feel better. I don’t really know. I hope you’re real and that we meet soon. God, I really hope that you’re somewhere in the world.

I will love you forever and always

L.

5/16/20

“In all the world, there is no heart for me like yours. In all the world, there is no love for you like mine” - Maya Angelou

[writeanapocalae]

Nano Last Updated 12/11/2012 Part 59

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30 | Part 31 | Part 32 | Part 33 | Part 34 | Part 35 | Part 36 | Part 37 | Part 38 | Part 39 | Part 40 | Part 41 | Part 42 | Part 43 | Part 44 | Part 45 | Part 46 | Part 47 | Part 48 | Part 49 | Part 50 | Part 51 | Part 52 | Part 53 | Part 54 | Part 55 | Part 56 | Part 57 | Part 58

The door opened again and another few people entered. Jace watched them enter, but Raz and Stoker only had eyes for each other. Looks like he’d already found a partner for the night.

Most of the newcomers were young looking in bright colors. They looked like the belonged in clubs and finally the bright neon lights had a purpose. They bounced off of bright clothing, fake jewelry, and glittery makeup. They ignored Petunia and didn’t get any drinks, just heading to the dance floors.

Following them quietly, his eyes on the ground, was a man that Jace had never expected to see in a vampire bar. He had long black hair and a thick mustache curling over his lips. His eyes were sad and a piercingly iceberg blue. The only thing that really made him stand out was a white collar surrounded by black.

Were vampires even allowed to be priests?

He smiled sadly as he saw the three at the bar, heading over and clasping Stoker on the back before sitting beside him. His security flexed their muscles as he touched their employer.

“Devin! You’re here!” Stoker smiled and hugged the priest, surprising the darker man. He was hesitant to return the embrace.

“Of course. I thought I would stop by for a drink on my way home. You put on a good show.” The priest’s voice was soft and warm but as sad as his eyes.

“This is Raz and his friend, uh…”

“Jace.” Jace offered.

“And this is Devin.” Stoker pointed out, “Well, Father Devin.”

“I didn’t know vampires could be priests.” Jace admitted.

Devin rolled his eyes, it was obviously a question he had heard many times before, “Your faith is not defined by what you are, but how you believe. I practice my faith and I am good at my work. I am very faithful and I have helped a lot of people. My being a vampire has nothing to do with how I do my work.”

Jace thought about that. He hadn’t heard of an all vampire church, so he must not have been turning the congregation. He still doubted that it should be allowed, vampires not having the best morals, killing people and drinking their blood, but if he was giving religion, he couldn’t be all bad. He had never heard of the guy so there hadn’t been any problems with him thus far.

Petunia gave him a drink, another tall red one with lemon, and he drank it slowly, savoring it as much as was possible. He didn’t seem to like the taste though.

Some song came on that Jace didn’t know. It was loud and the bass was high, the words something about fireworks. It was terrible. Unfortunately, Raz was bobbing his head to it. Stoker smiled as he saw that before standing up and walking over to him, tapping him on the shoulder.

“You want to go to the floor?” he asked.

Raz beamed and choked down the rest of his drink. He didn’t cough on it, used to scotch being plain and rose to his feet.

Jace grabbed his sleeve as he was about to walk off with the singer, “Hey, I thought you were sticking with me”

“I’ll be right over there.” Raz gestured, “If anything happens I’m sure I could hear you shouting.”

Jace glared at him. He did not want to be left there. But left there he was as Raz followed the slim rock star over to the dance floor, where there were already a few girls dancing in flashy clothes.

He had never been one for dancing but now he was itching for it, he had been too inactive for too long. He wanted to move. Raz was having fun and that was good, Jace just wished he could calm down and enjoy himself a bit better.

“What happened to your leg?” the priest asked, moving to the stool beside him.

“Work related injury. I’m guessing you don’t get many of those.” Jace didn’t want to let him know that he was NHPF. This wasn’t a safe place to be open about that. He didn’t want anyone to freak out over who he was. It would be more than negative attention; it could be quite dangerous for him and Raz.

“I can’t say we do.” Devin confirmed, “It used to be quite dangerous, but I no longer have to do all of the repairs. You can hire people for that these days.”

Jace chewed on his ice, finishing off his drink. “What are you drinking?”

“What do you think?”

“I don’t want to think about it.”

“Then you don’t want to know.”

“Petunia?” Jace called her over, “Can I have something a little bit nicer?”

She rolled her eyes again but poured him another glass of whiskey on the rocks. Her eyes must have been close to falling out of her head she rolled them so much. She punched the glass down and some of the liquid splashed onto his hand.

“Can you even drink alcohol?” Jace asked, absolutely curious.