#He's got the little top of the mountain as a diamond above the crown and the remaining mountain below

[otterlyart]

*Record Scratch* You're probably wondering how I got into this situation...

#critical role #cr #exandria unlimited #exandria unlimited: Calamity #exu: calamity #exu calamity #zerxus ilerez #criticalrolefanart #critical role fanart #otterlyart #This piece gave me conniptions but i've gotta post it now or i never will #I love zerxus #There's a really great picture of Luis on twitter that this was based off of #I also wanted to give a little nod to Avalir being the city of crowns so it's reflected on his armor. #He's got the little top of the mountain as a diamond above the crown and the remaining mountain below #PLEASE zoom in on this pic there's so much work in that chainmail

[storyofmychoices]

Home: Where She Belongs

[Levi Schuler x Laura Day Masterlist]

Pairing: Levi Schuler x Laura Day [F!MC] with Lily (daughter) Book: Mother of the Year (chapter 16) Word Count: <1,600 (sorry it's a big long!) Rating: General

Prompts: @choicesaugustchallenge relaxation; @choicesbookclub : MOTY Replay Chapter 16 ; @wackydrabbles #108 (prompt in bold)

A/N: As a whole MOTY is a solid book, but one thing that I hated was the fact that instead of going home with her daughter after winning the court case MC sneaks off with her LI for a 30 diamond scene. I love those scenes, but that wasn't the time.

Synopsis: Following the celebration with their friends over the court case win, Laura and Lily head home for a private celebration, knowing they had won and no one would keep them apart. [Fluff with some comfort/care]

Bliss. Laura thought after some consideration. That's what this is—bliss.

Her body fluttered with a pleasant warmth that enveloped her in its comfort and relaxation. She breathed easily for the first time in weeks, the weight of the world no longer on her shoulders. She could simply enjoy the moment without worry of tomorrow.

She knew better than to expect the future to be sunshine, rainbows, and unicorns, but for the moment, this was enough—actually, it was more than enough—it was perfect. The outcome might not have been everything she wanted, but it was better than what she feared. Lily was hers, and she always would be.

The voices of her friends surrounded her. They had all been eager to join in for a celebratory dinner. She had never needed to ask them to be there; they just were. She wondered how she and Lily would have survived in Goldcliffe without them; thankfully, they'd never need to figure it out.

Laura leaned forward, resting her chin on the back of her hand as she watched Levi play a game with Lily and Luz across the table. Their laughter was a melody in the night air, one that filled her heart with joy. Her eyes glistened in the dimming light. She wondered if the smile etched on her face would ever fade.

Lily's mouth opened, a silent yawn slipping out between excited explanations of her science fair project and how her newly rebuilt rocket was better than the previous one.

"It's late," Laura finally said, interrupting their game. "You've had a big day, my Stargirl. We both have. How about we head home?" Home—Laura couldn't help but smile at the word. Lily was going home with her, where she belonged.

"Okay," Lily agreed, without any complaining, knowing they had already planned their own little private celebration.

Laura said her goodbyes, thanking her friends once more for all they had done. Lily made her rounds, giving hugs and reminding everyone of the upcoming science fair.

"Thank you," Laura whispered as Levi drew her into his arms, holding her safely. "I couldn't have survived this without you."

"As much as my ego thanks you for that, you're the strongest person I know. You can survive anything." He brushed a kiss on her forehead as he leaned back, his attention turning to Lily. He pulled her into a bear hug that lifted her off the ground, causing her to giggle into his shoulder. "Goodnight, Rocket. I'm glad we'll still get to be neighbors. I'd hate to lose my partner in crime."

"I'm glad I get to stay too!" Lily beamed. "Do you want to come have celebration hot chocolate with us?"

"Celebration hot chocolate?" Levi set her back on the ground and bent down to her level. "I don't want to mess up whatever you and your mom have planned. You two have fun."

"But, there's extra marshmallows!!!" Her eyes widened, pleading with him.

"Extra marshmallows, huh?"

Lily nodded enthusiastically. "And whipped cream. And cinnamon! And chocolate syrup!"

"Wow. That is tempting." His gaze shifted to Laura, who was attempting to hide her smile behind her hands. "Are you sure?"

"Yes! You have to come!" She insisted, slipping her hand into his. "Right, mom?"

"I think she's right. I mean, how can you argue against celebration hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, whipped cream, chocolate syrup, AND cinnamon?" Laura shrugged in defeat as if though there were no other options than to accept.

"Then, there's nowhere else I'd rather be," Levi decided.

It didn't take long for the water to heat once they returned home. They worked together, moving through the kitchen as if it had always been like this—the three of them. Levi got the mugs ready with the powdered chocolate mix. Laura carefully poured water into each, leaving plenty of room for Lily to add all the toppings.

Marshmallows rained down over the three cups as she scooped large handfuls onto each mug. Lily grinned excitedly as she tipped the can of whipped cream, creating white, fluffy mountains, with one peak noticeably higher than the others.

"Do you think you need that much sugar before bed?" Laura questioned with a raise of her brow.

Lily's eyes widened, and she nodded enthusiastically. "It's a celebration!"

"Just this once!" Laura kissed the top of her daughter's head, her fingers trailing through her silky, black hair. Every day had always been a treasure with Lily, but now more so than ever. She would never take a second of their time together for granted.

Lily sprinkled cinnamon on hers and her mom's cups. "Do you want some, Levi?"

"Hmm‚" he pondered. He dipped his fingers through her cinnamon-dusted, whipped cream ridge, sampling it. "Mmm, that is good!"

"Hey!" Lily pouted. "No fair."

Levi laughed, a playful smirk pulling at his lips. He scooped up some of the fluffy topping off of his cup and dotted it on her nose. "Better?"

Lily's mouth fell open in surprise. Her hand was on the can of whipped cream again. The nozzle pointing at Levi, her finger hovering dangerously on the trigger, ready to set it off with the slightest change in pressure.

Their gaze narrowed at one another, the corners of their lips pulling up as silence fell in the kitchen.

"If it's war you want—" Lily began, breaking the quiet. "Then you shall have it."

Levi grabbed the plastic container of chocolate syrup, holding it up. "Two can play at that game, Rocket."

Lily stood in her chair, keeping her finger carefully on the nozzle. "I have the high ground."

Before he could respond, Laura stepped in, snatching both containers from them.

"Mom!"

"Laura," Levi moaned, matching Lily's tone but adding a teasing wink.

"You two are trouble!"

"Only the best kind of trouble, right?" Levi took his mug and lifted it up. "What do you say, rocket—partners in crime still?"

Lily lifted her mug, clinking it against his. "Space partners in crime," she added.

"How could I forget?" He took a sip of his cocoa as Lily did the same. Both of them ended up with whipped cream on their noses.

Laura sighed happily, watching the two most important people in her world laugh effortlessly together.

After about an hour of Lily vibrating from her sugar high and rattling off the names of all the stars in the night sky above them, she finally crashed on the couch. Her eyes were closed, but her mouth still attempted to finish the list.

"I think it's time for bed, my little astronomer." Laura helped her sleepy daughter to her room to get ready for bed. She tucked her carefully under the covers, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Good night, my beautiful girl. I love you to Andromeda and back."

She paused at the door, taking another look back. A part of her worried she'd never have this moment again. The sight of Lily safely asleep in her bed, the glow-in-the-dark stars above her keeping watch as her daughter dreamt dreams bigger than she could ever imagine.

When she returned, she found Levi where she left him on the couch. She curled into his arms.

He brushed her hair back, kissing the crown of her head. "What do you need? What can I do for you? Lily wasn't the only one with a big day."

"This," she whispered, closing her eyes as she breathed in his scent. "Just hold me."

"Done." He hugged her closer, wrapping her in his warmth. His fingers caressed her back, massaging her tenderly. "I won't let go. I love you, Laura—you 'n Lily, more than I could've thought possible."

Her body trembled, and she let out a sharp cry. The tears she had pushed down all day erupted at the sound of his confession.

"Shh, it's okay. I've got you."

She buried her face in his chest, hoping to quell the tears that kept coming, not wanting to wake Lily.

"It's okay. You did good. Lily is safe. You're safe. It's going to be okay." He continued whispering tender encouragement in her ear as he kept her close, allowing the weeks of frustration and heartbreak to pour out.

Slowly, her breathing steadied, and her sobs subsided.

"That's it. You need sleep. Come on." He lifted her into his arms, much to her surprise. His brow arched as he caught her eye. "What? I said I wouldn't let go."

She nuzzled back into his neck. "Thank you...for everything."

"Shh, just rest." He carried her to her room at the end of the short hall, placing her down on the edge of the bed. He ran his thumb over her cheek, wiping away the last of her tears.

Her eyes were red and swollen. "Stay?"

"Are you sure?"

She stood to meet him, wobbling a little, not realizing how tired she was, but he was there to support her. She cupped his face. "I've never been more sure. I love you, Levi."

He kissed her softly. "Okay. Who am I to disagree with what the lady wants."

"Good. I'm not ready for you to let go yet." Laura slipped out of her clothes, grabbing a baggy t-shirt to put on.

"Great band!" Levi noted as he took off his pants and shirt and slid into bed. "I have the same shirt at home."

"No, you don't—" Laura climbed in, nestling into him once more. "—because this one's yours."

He breathed out a laugh as he rested his head on hers. He held her close, humming softly until she finally fell asleep in his arms.

Thank you for reading! I appreciate your support. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always amazing and make my day!

I hope you enjoyed this story. (Don't worry, Laura and Levi will still get their 30 diamond scene... that night just didn't feel appropriate for it).

Tags in a reblog, please let me know if you want to be added or removed!

#levi schuler #levi schuler x mc #levi schuler + daughter #mother of the year #moty #fan fiction #levi x laura #levi + lily #laura + lily #moty book club #levi choices #playchoices #choices #tara day #zoey day

[thedevilsmemes]

      PINTEREST QUOTES I USE IN MY MUSINGS BOARDS                         ~ A SENTENCE MEME - PART 2

                         Change pronouns as / when needed to preferred pronoun.

“I do not do justice, I do damage. I do not do empathy, I do damage. I do not do forgiveness, I do damage. I do not do mercy, I do damage.”

“Like, you can boss me around in sexual situations but you better not try to tell me what to do in regular life.”

“I’m fine, I’ve had worse.”

“I’m meaner than my demons.”

“If I cannot bend Heaven, I will raise Hell.”

“Well, aren’t you a little ray of pitch black?”

“He was like a storm.”

“You want to play dirty? Fine, let’s play dirty!”

{ feels an emotion. } “Who the fuck authorised this?!”

“What the fuck? What the fuck is this? What the fuck?”

“Judge if you want. We are all going to die. I intend to deserve it.”

“Goddamn right you should be scared of me.”

“They wanted a monster; I decided to give them one.”

“Seduce and destroy.”

“What the fuck is intimacy? How does that work? Letting… people be close to you? What the fuck?”

“You couldn’t kill me if you tried for one hundred years.”

“I’ll do this my way.”

“I am severely emotionally unstable.”

“What, from the bottom of the heart, the fuck?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t take any orders. I barely take suggestions.”

“I send my best regards from Hell.”

“I like my coffee how I like myself: Dark, bitter and too hot for you.”

“Me and God, we don’t get along.”

“Be brave, Angel.”

“Self care is drinking three pots of coffee and getting into a knife fight with God.”

{ takes gulp of vodka straight from the bottle } “My day was fine.”

“Have I stabbed you? No. Then I am being nice.”

“Holy Shit! I’M the demon living in my house.”

“Sir, that’s my emotional support knife collection.”

“I want an ancient elaborate dagger with my name engraved into the blade as a gift. The only romantic gesture.”

“ ‘Are you a top or a bottom?’ I'm a threat!”

“Stop being so defensive! I’m just trying to hit you with weapons.”

“The more knives you have the more valid you are.”

“She’s strong but she’s exhausted.”

“She loves moonlight and rainstorms and so many other things that have soul.”

“My darling, you can’t see it can you? How like the moon you are. Both of you so timid in yourselves; hiding pieces from the world. Then, there are those rare moments when you are both full, and it becomes hard to look away. You are beautiful.”

“Calm her chaos but never silence her storm.”

“She wears strength and darkness equally well. That girl has always been half Goddess, half Hell.”

“She has been through Hell, so believe me when I say, fear her when she looks into the fire and smiles.”

“She’s proof that you can walk through Hell and still be an angel.”

“She is both hellfire and holy water. And the flavour you taste depends on how you treat her.”

“Even the mountains can not hold all you have been carrying.”

“Storm with skin.”

“She’s thunderstorms”

“Kindness is a language that the deaf can hear and the blind can see.”

“Sometimes it takes only one act of kindness and caring to change a person’s life.”

“You have a heart of gold.”

“Butterflies are the Heaven-sent kisses of an angel.”

“She who is brave is free.”

“Clever as the Devil and twice as pretty.”

“Shut up. I wear heels bigger than your dick.”

“Girls who run in heels should be feared.”

“Family is everything to me.”

“She’s an old soul that believes in chivalry, romance, and love.”

“I hate getting flashbacks from things I don’t want to remember.”

“I run on coffee and grace.”

“I’m glad I’ve got boobs… the last thing I need is people making eye contact with me.”

“Tell me to put on my big girl panties one more time… and I’ll take off my thong and strangle you with it!”

“Please read all my posts in a sarcastic tone. You know, for full effect.”

“I have one nerve left and you’re dry-humping it, go away.”

“If I offend you, cry me a river. I’ll bring snacks and a raft. I will literally float down your tears, eating chips and working on my tan.”

“When she is happy, she can’t stop talking. When she is sad, she doesn’t say a word.”

“Music becomes my best friend when nobody else understands me.”

“Act like a lady, think like a boss.”

“I know I have friends but I feel I have no one to talk to about the shit that goes on in my head.”

“She was special. She combined a mean angel and a kind devil.”

“So much pain for someone so young.”

“She’s one of a kind.”

“Red lips and wine sips.”

“Brave girl, it’s time to love again.”

“She is intelligent.”

“Sometimes, when I say ‘I’m okay.’ I want someone to look me in the eyes, hug me tight, and say, ‘I know you’re not.’ ”

“Because I’m not the kind of girl guys fall in love with.”

“I fear I will spend my life, waiting for a love story that doesn’t exist.”

“You’re a woman, use it; bring every man you meet to his motherfucking knees.”

“She denies it but, the truth is, she’s falling in love with him.”

“Hearing your heels click on the floor sounds like power.”

“She loves deeply, regardless of the love she gets back in return and it’s both her biggest strength and biggest weakness…”

“Experience raised her. Hurt taught her. Neither defined her.”

“She was not fragile like a flower was, she was fragile like a bomb.”

“Life is short; make every hair flip count.”

“I’ve always been someone who looks ‘too deep’ into something or someone. That’s because I realised from a young age that there’s always more than what meets the eye.”

“If I say ‘first of all’ Run away because I have prepared research, data, charts, and will destroy you.”

“Underestimate me, that’ll be fun.”

“You think I’m sarcastic? You should hear what I don’t say!”

“She’s a combination of sensitive and savage.”

“Stay classy, sassy and a bit bad assy.”

“She’s battling things her smile will never tell you about.”

 “Ain't you ever seen a princess be a bad bitch?”

“I was told I was dangerous… I asked why? They said ‘because you don’t need anyone.’ That’s when I smiled.”

“She’s been through hell and came out an angel. You didn’t break her darling, you don’t own that kind of power.”

“Watch me. I will go to my own sun and, if I am burned by the flames, I will fly on scorched wings.”

“Her messy hair is a visible attribute to her stubborn spirit. As she shakes it free, she smiles, knowing wild is her favourite colour.”

“She’s strong. But in the back of her mind she doesn’t think that she was meant to be this strong for this long. And she wonders if there is a man out there, somewhere, who understands this.”

“She’s not for everyone and she knows it. People find her different and strange. She dances in the rain, she laughs when she cries and loves through her pain. People fear the unknown and they never knew a girl like her.”

“Don’t tell a girl with fire in her veins and hurricane bones what she should and shouldn’t do. In the blink of an eye, she will shatter that ridiculous cage you attempt to build around her beautiful bohemian spirit.”

“You provoke her until she roars and then get upset at her for becoming the monster you created.”

“Rip out his ego with your fresh nails.”

“She isn’t the sunrise; she’s the fucking sun.”

“You can’t touch a woman who can wear pain like the grandest of diamonds around her neck.”

“Watch your tongue around her. She will bear her fangs and tear you apart with all the grace of a Queen.” 

“If you won’t embrace her madness, then you’ll never taste her magic.”

“Beauty may be dangerous but intelligence is lethal.”

“She is water. Powerful enough to drown you, soft enough to cleanse you, deep enough to save you.”

“Heavy is the crown and yet she wears it as if it were a feather. There is strength in her heart, determination in her eyes and the will to survive resides within her soul.”

“I wish that I could say that I am a light that never goes out, but I flicker from time to time.”

“Spoil me with loyalty. I can finance myself.”

“Shoutout to all the people with brown hair and brown eyes! We basic as fuck but we cute!”

“I feel a nap coming on.”

“Is horny an emotion?”

“I just really like thigh-highs.”

“Even though she looks innocent, she is really a perverted demon.”

“She didn’t sob or wail. Her pain was horribly discreet but as persistent and almost as silent as bleeding from an unstitched wound.”

“I don’t rise from the ashes, I make them. I’m the whole fucking fire.”

“Beautiful but destructive.”

“I’m aiming for the ‘she’s a badass and cute as hell but I wouldn’t touch her without asking’ look.”

“Loving me must be so fucking hard and I’m so sorry.”

“Some women are lost in the fire. Some women are built from it.”

“You glow differently when you’re actually happy.”

“She’s magic, that one.”

“Kicked out of Hell.”

“Red hair: the crown you never take off.”

“You’ve got a fire inside.”

“She doesn’t need a warrior, she is one. What she needs is a devout heart, and strong arms to hold her after her battles are won.”

“You are the love that came without warning: You had my heart before I could say no.”

“You want battle? I’ll give you war.”

“True evil is, above all things, seductive.”

“The Devil’s got nothing on me, my friend.”

“Haven’t I fallen far enough?”

“I’m not like them, but I can pretend.”

“I don’t like being told what to do.”

“Now I grow wings and rage, and learn how to kill.”

“Life is tough, my darling, but so are you.”

“Though she be little, she be fierce.”

“I know what this is; It’s just myself, talking to myself, about myself.”

“You underestimate my power.”

#roleplay memes #rp memes #roleplay sentence starters #sentence starters #rp starters #sentence memes

[ericsonclan]

All Who Glitter

Summary: The Ericson Pirates stumble upon a cave that has a legend attach to it.

Word Count: 2201

Read on AO3:

Aasim leaned over the side of the ship, hurling the remnants of lunch as the ship swayed. A long strand of saliva trailed down and dangled from his mouth before he spit it into the sea. He hated storms but this one had been particularly bad. The skies were an ominous grey as lighting and thunder rained from above. The sea itself seemed to be on a quest to have Ol’ Kickass and all the pirates on it join Davy Jones’ Locker. Luckily unlike other times no one had gotten hurt and thanks to Clementine's steering they were able to get out of it. He felt a warm hand rub his back as a voice he adored spoke.

“You doing okay?” Ruby asked with a warm smile.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.” Aasim looked around, taking in the foreign location. “But where are we?”

The ship stood before a large cove, its turquoise waters washing in and out, drawing the eyes toward a cave. Water fell from its ceiling, causing a quiet sound to echo throughout as the ripples spread. The cave glowed with a warm golden tone as the water fell, making it an even more curious and mysterious place. Even with the ship docked on shore, Aasim’s stomach still felt a relentless wave of nausea.

“I’m not sure.” Prisha’s voice drew Aasim's attention as she stood with most of the crew on shore. “But we should proceed with caution.”

“I agree.” Clementine spoke as she stared towards the cave. “We should all rest first. That storm was-”

Louis’ gasp cut her off though as he jumped down from the ship. His boots sunk deep into the white sand before he nearly faceplanted due to his rash jump. A few stumbles and wobbly hands and the captain was back on solid footing. “I can’t believe it’s real!” His voice was filled with excitement. He did a little jig which AJ imitated. “The forbidden cove!”

“What the hell is the forbidden cove?” Mitch grumbled as he lay against the ship, his arm clutching his stomach. Brody stood beside him looking concerned for Mitch. She didn’t like how pale his face was looking.

“I’m glad you asked!” Louis shouted. With a mighty leap he jumped onto a nearby rock, his arms outstretched dramatically and his legs crouched as he stood before the crew. “Legend has it that there is a small cove around these waters with a cave hidden inside that only appears during the cycle of a full moon. It’s said to be filled with unimaginable treasure. Gold as far as the eye can see and pearls bigger than any oyster could produce! It would put even the richest men in all the seven seas to shame!”

A gasp came from the younger boys who were entranced by the tale. Louis gave a large smile, clearly enjoying every minute. Sophie strolled forward, clearly intrigued by the tale as well.

“But!” Louis shouted, pushing back his coat dramatically, “Be warned! For whoever steals from the cave will be put under a curse! His body turned into the very thing he tried to steal… Gold!”

That drew out some gasps from the crew. Sophie smiled as she saw Willy excitedly bouncing up and down at the tale. Tenn looked just as interested in the story even if he wasn’t as energetically showing it.

Violet let out a sigh. “Really, Louis? Gold?”

“It’s true! That’s how the legend goes.” Louis exclaimed with a huff before he jumped down.

“We should be careful.” Brody spoke up. “It may just be a legend, but we’ve dealt with things like this that turned out to be real.”

Sophie glanced over at her friend and nodded in agreement. “Make sense. I’ve heard enough tales of your wild adventures and been in enough with this crew to know that if there is a legend the seven seas hold, there has to be some truth to it.”

“Wait! Where’s Willy?” Clementine asked. The crew all looked around before the realization hit them.

“You don’t think….” Ruby’s gaze turned towards the cave. Everyone’s eyes followed hers.

“That idiot!” Violet grumbled as she sprinted forward, her bare feet shifting and slipping in the warm sand. The rest of the crew followed her closely, one behind the other, nervous for what kind of trouble one of the wildest Ericson Pirates could have gotten himself into.

As they entered the cave they all froze as they saw Willy before them. His arms were covered with fancy jewelry. Emeralds, diamonds and sapphires danced on the necklace around his neck and the rings that adorned his fingers. The sharp clink of coins hitting each other drew the crew’s attention to the pirate’s hands. Dozens if not hundreds of gold coins were haphazardly tuck away in his arms and between his fingers. A crown slowly slid down his head as he looked at them with a goofy grin.

“Willy, take it off! Drop the treasure!” Prisha shouted frantically as she began to climb the mountain of loot that the young pirate stood at the very tippy top of.

“Which ones?” Willy’s voice was slightly muffled.

“All of it! It’s fucking cursed!” Mitch yelled as he ran forward to help, slipping on gold and necklaces as he tried to reach him. Willy’s eyes grew large at the sight of Prisha and Mitch climbing up the gold along with Sophie and Violet. Seeing how tense they all looked, he decided it best to listen to their words. Willy chucked off the crown and began throwing away any other jewelry he had been wearing. Rings went flying and necklaces were torn off. The wild-haired pirate spat out coins as he continued his mission to get all the jewelry off.

“Why are there coins in your mouth?” Louis asked as he stared in awe of how many coins were flying out. There must’ve been easily over a dozen that he had spit out so far.

“I wanted to see if it was real or food!” Willy shouted.

“Why would it be food?” Clementine looked utterly confused by the young pirate’s logic.

“Anything could be potential food,” Sophie argued which Mitch and Violet silently agreed to. Growing up on the streets, you’d look for food anywhere.

Suddenly Willy’s feet began to feel heavy; any feeling in his toes had disappeared. His green eyes danced with shock and fear when he looked down and noticed that inch by inch his body was turning to gold.

“What the shit?!?” Louis screamed and began to climb up the mountain of treasure too. “Guys! Help him get all the treasure off!”

The crew ran forward, each person desperately trying to reach Willy in time. Mitch grunted as he reached the top and scurried forward to help get rid of all the treasure as the gold slowly overtook Willy’s chest. Willy took the  final necklace off before his arms began to  harden. As the necklace fell the last inch of his fingertips was covered. The jeweled necklace dropped with a thud as did the crew’s hearts as they looked on at the sight before them. Willy stood there, a statue of gold.

The crew stared in silence, shocked by the sight before them. None of them knew what to say when suddenly Willy’s body shifted and began to slide down the mountain of treasure.

“Willy!” Tenn and AJ cried out as they scampered to reach him.

“Fucking shit,” Mitch ran forward, sliding down a trail of coins as he clutched Willy’s golden form. Prisha, Sophie and Violet grabbed on as well and slowed down the descent. The four successfully got Willy to the bottom of the treasure mountain safely.

“Get him back on the ship. We can figure out a solution there.” Clementine’s voice was calm even though she didn’t feel like it.

Louis and Marlon stepped forward, each carrying a side of Willy.

“Holy shit! How much does he weigh?” Marlon asked as he tried to move him. Mitch joined in, helping the others lift Willy. AJ and Tenn followed their example and tried to help out even though their strength didn’t match the older pirates’.

“He’s solid gold so it would make sense that he would be extremely heavy.” Aasim noted as joined in. After a few breaks, many hands and some pirates falling into the shallow water and sands of the shore, the crew got Willy onto the ship.

“Alright, we need to start looking for solutions!” Louis announced. “Everyone split up into teams and start looking. Prisha and Aasim, look in your scrolls for anything to do with spells that involve gold. Ruby, Brody and Omar can look into things to do with natural remedies. As for the rest of us, we’ll brainstorm ideas and go from there.” Within minutes the crew got in their respective groups and quickly went to work.

Hours flew by as night turned into day. The feeling of defeat washed over the crew as they stood before Willy’s gold figure, nowhere closer to the answer that would break him free of his golden prison. Garbage hissed in concern as she circled him. Her tail wrapped around his legs as her beady eyes darted around at the other pirates as if demanding they find a way to fix this.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Prisha held a hand up to her chin. “All the gold that he had worn is off.” “According to our scrolls that fact should make it impossible for the curse to remain,” Aasim tsked angrily. “Yet here he is, still a statue of gold.”

The rest of the crew remained quiet. After a few minutes of doom and gloom Louis snapped his crew back into the fighting spirit and once again they continued their search. There had to be something that could help him. The crew all worked tirelessly below decks when suddenly a loud noise came from above decks, causing everyone to run up there.

“Thieves! They got Willy!” Tenn shouted as he ran down the steps and towards the others.

“The fuck they do!” Mitch yelled as he sprinted up the stairs and towards the side of the ship. With one jump he landed on shore, running after the thieves as he swore.

“That dumbass!” Violet grumbled, putting her hands on the side of the ship and vaulting herself over the edge of Ol’ Kickass as she chased after her childhood friend.

The thieves looked back and let out a yelp as they saw Mitch slowly gaining on them, his face twisted with anger.

“Get back here, you pieces of shit!” Mitch snapped.

“Drop it! It's not worth it!” one of the thieves hissed. The other nodded; they had barely made it past the ship. With a scared yell the thieves threw Willy into the sea. His golden form quickly got pulled further into the water’s depths by the tide, heading out to sea. Mitch and Violet’s eyes widened in panic as they both desperately tried to grab him, but his fingers slid out of their reach as he began to sink.

“Marlon!” Louis yelled before jumping in after Willy.

Marlon followed shortly behind. They two dove down, kicking their legs frantically as they tried to lift him up. Prisha and Clementine ran around the deck grabbing any available rope which they threw down to Louis and Marlon as soon as they emerged from the sea. After tying a few quick knots, Prisha and Clementine began to pull. Sophie grabbed the rope and began to help then Brody joined her then Ruby and soon the rest of the crew joined in as the golden boy went up inch by inch. Soon Willy’s golden form stood before them once more, safe and sound.

Everyone was busy catching their breath, thankful that it had worked out when they noticed Willy’s sleeve had been crinkled by the pressure of the ropes. Underneath the sleeve was a small bracelet.

“That’s it!” Louis shouted as he pointed at it. “That’s the last cursed item!”

“We need to get something that could loosen it.” Prisha said as she stared at the bracelet.

“Cooking oil should work.” Omar said with a matter of fact voice before disappearing below decks. When he emerged he held in his hand a bowl of oil. Each crew member dipped their hand into it and started to rub the oil on the bracelet and around it. After a few minutes the bracelet started to loosen and with one hard collective pull it came off. Without a word, Louis wrapped the bracelet in a cravat before placing it in a slingshot and shooting it towards the cave.

“Bye bye you gold bully,” Louis gave a mock salute. The gold bracelet ricocheted off the wall and into the cave. The crew gave their less than pleasant farewells to the cursed object when a loud gasp from behind caused them to turn and see Willy standing before them, no longer gold. The crew all ran forward and wrapped him up in a hug. Each of them talked over each other and took turns ruffling his hair as short laughs of relief filled the air. The curse was finally broken.

#twdg #twdg louis #twdg clementine #twdg aj #twdg tenn #twdg willy #twdg brody #twdg mitch #twdg ruby #twdg aasim #twdg violet #twdg prisha #twdg sophie #twdg omar #fanfic #a pirate's life for me au

[featherymalignancy]

CHAPTER ONE—In Vino Veritas: A Nessian Story

“In wine lies the truth”

Summary: Nesta Archeron is convinced she has everything she wants: a law degree from an ivy, a prestigious job, a gorgeous boyfriend, and excellent taste in wine. However, when she wanders into her local wine vendor and meets a handsome stranger unafraid to play her quick-witted games, she begins to wonder if the life she’s built is really the one she wants. 

Cash Kahukore worked his entire adolescent life to become a sommelier, ignoring the slurs his mixed heritage have always earned him as he fought his way to the top. However, after five years abroad buying for Michelin star restaurants and dealing with rich white assholes, he’s grown bored with his life. When a gorgeous lawyer comes in to his uncle’s shop one afternoon, he immediately recognizes a worthy opponent in her. Undaunted by her sharp tongue and possessive boyfriend, he’s determined to be her friend, and—as time goes on and their circumstances change—possibly something more.

This a prequel to Navy Suits and Chelsea Boots that takes place three years before. If you love Elriel (and don’t mind finding out how this story ends) check it now. 

Also, check out the masterlist for In Vino Veritas HERE!

Announcements: I know some of you are going to see and and worry “BUT WHAT ABOUT LIKE A LONELY HOUSE??” It’s coming, I swear. I was just really jammed up working on it and this was a way to relieve the brain bleed that LaLH was causing. But seriously, don’t panic, it’s coming. I know I’m not nearly as prolific as some of the more popular writers in this fandom, but I swear it’s because I’m just trying to get it right. Okay, now on with the show!

Chapter One: Cheval

Nesta Archeron had worked hard to get to where she was. She’d helped raise her sisters before putting herself through college and law school, and as a young associate she’d stayed at the office long after her contemporaries gone home. As a reward for her sacrifices—and the success they’d awarded her—Nesta always treated herself to  the best of everything. She wore the best clothes, dined at the best restaurants, and—of course—drank the best wine. 

That’s why she only ever bought from Merchant of Vino. Sure, it was a stupid name, but she’d done her research, and it was undoubtedly the best wine vendor in the Bay Area. They sold all her favorite Napa reds, and the owner was a man named Devlon who knew his stuff and never tried to look down her blouse.

Nesta was a person who thrived on routine—on ritual—and going to Merchant had become one of her favorites since arriving in San Francisco the previous year. 

That was, until the day said ritual was disrupted.

It had started out like normal: she got out of court in the early afternoon and battled traffic to North Beach, already considering what she would order. She hadn’t bought Spring Mountain in a while, and after the day opposing counsel had given her, she was in the mood for something thorny. 

The quaint little bell dinged when she stepped inside, and she took a minute to admire the familiar racks before glancing to the bar...

She frowned. 

“You’re not Devlon,” she said in greeting, and the man behind the counter—who looked to be in his late twenties— glanced up from the where he’d been shelving bottles and laughed. 

“Very astute; I’m not.” 

She crossed her arms across her chest. She didn’t like to be teased. She felt a stab of annoyance when he reached up to shelve a final bottle and she caught a glimpse of his ridged stomach and the making of an Adonis belt, visible above the waistband of his low-slung Jeans. She especially didn’t like being teased by attractive men. As an attorney, she got enough of that in her day job.

“I’ve never seen anyone else work here,” she clarified. 

She didn’t bother to sound polite, but if her tone bothered the stranger,he didn’t show it. 

He only shrugged, gesturing she take a seat in one of the well-loved leather barstools before leaning his forearms on the counter. They were as corded as the rest of him, and covered with what she recognized as Māori tattoos. 

“Then I guess it’s your lucky day: I know more about wine than Dev could hope to learn in ten lifetimes.”

When she only responded by pursing her lips, the stranger’s grin widened. Nesta fought not to admire him as leaned a fraction closer. 

With long hair tied back in a bun at his crown and heavy gold hoops in his ears, he was nothing like the clean cut and classically-handsome  guys she usually went for. Still, she couldn’t deny he was rather devastating. 

He was tall and broad, his powerful chest and tapered waist cutting an inherently masculine silhouette which—much to her chagrin—Nesta couldn’t help admiring.

His bronze skin and glossy dark hair spoke to the island heritage his tattoos had already hinted at, and his eyes…

Nesta didn’t want to dwell on how much green they had running through the ribbons of hazel, or how they glittered as they continued to study her. 

She sniffed and glanced down to adjust the watch at her wrist, if only to escape the fact she’d been checking him out, hard.

“That’s a rather lofty assessment,” she said finally. 

He shrugged. 

“It’s true.”

“Jury’s still out,” she shot back.

He gave a throaty laugh, taking the opportunity to look her up and down. However, it wasn’t in the leering way she’d grown accustomed to, as if she were a cut of expensive meat. He seemed to be taking her measure instead. From the way he smiled—teeth diamond bright against his full lips—it was clear he’d been satisfied by what he’d found.

“Challenge accepted. I’m more than happy to blow your mind, free of charge.”

She snorted, ignoring the potential double meaning. This felt dangerously like flirting, and if there was one thing Nesta Archeron never did, it was flirt. 

“You really think I’m that easy?”

His grin widened, and she rolled her eyes. Okay, fine, she’d walked into that one. Still, she wasn’t one to back down from a challenge, and everything about this guy seemed to suggest he’d be a worthy opponent.

“Okay, maestro,” she said, setting her bag down and finally taking a seat. “If you’re so smart, pour me a glass of something you think I’ll like.”

He considered, biting his annoyingly-plush lower lip as he surveyed her again. It was more openly appreciative this time, but still never strayed below her chin.

“What do I get if I guess correctly?”

She gave him a deadpan look, the kind her male colleagues had suggested could melt flesh from bone. 

“A tip.”

He bubbled his lips in dismissal. 

“Woman, I don’t work here for the tips. I’d rather have your name.”

She considered, hating how much she was enjoying this. It had been ages since she’d had a decent sparring partner.

“Fine,” she said. “But know that if you’re wrong, I’m not giving you either.”

He only laughed before grabbing three glasses from where they hung on the rack and lining them up on the bar top between them.

“I’ll take my chances.“

He glanced back at her, drumming his fingers against his lips as he considered. He then pulled out three bottles, a white and two reds. When he’d poured a taste in the first two glasses and two fingers-worth in the third, she frowned.

“This is cheating.”

He only laughed again, eyes alight beneath his devilishly arched brows. They made him look dangerous in a way Nesta refused to admit suited him. 

“Trust the process,” he said, gesturing to the glass of white.

“Now, this is what you think I think you like: Rombauer Chardonnay out of the Napa valley. Aged in French oak with notes of vanilla and an earthy, buttery finish. Too rich to make a good sipping wine, but still an inexplicable go-to choice  for mansplainers trying to impress their female friends.” 

He paused to give her a roguish smile, which she rewarded with a shrug. He was right; she hated buttery chardonnays, but it was still what men always assumed she’d want.

He swished the the Rombauer before swallowing the small measure in the glass and moving to the next, a plum-colored red.

“This is what you think you want: Nickel and Nickel Cabernet. It’s complex and beguiling and just the kind of fleshy, bold California red a power broker like yourself is conditioned to love.”

She ignored the jab and picked up the glass, bringing it to her nose. She was greeted with the smell of dark berries and cassis, and it made her mouth water.

“You should have quit while you were ahead,” she said, throwing back the small measure and letting the taste envelop her palate. “Far Niente is one of my favorite vineyards.”

He just smirked, gesturing to third glass.

“Not so fast, because this is what you actually want. Chateau Cheval Blance from the St-Émilion appellation in France. A light structure, perfect in its tension between floral and mineral notes. Truly, this is terroir at its finest.”

She gave him a tight smile.

“I’m not a Old World wine person,” she said, pushing the empty Cabernet glass towards him in silent request he refill it. “Better luck next time on the tip.”

He responded by pushing the French blend towards her instead.

“Humor me.”

She pursed her lips before picking up the glass. She could smell dark cherries and wood smoke, and something floral that she couldn’t place but that was all the more tantalizing for its elusiveness.  

Begrudgingly she took a sip, and it was an effort not to let her eyes roll back in her head. It was silky, but not in the cloying way that Chardonnays sometimes were, and the flavor seemed to blossom, sweet plum giving way to dark berries and something earthy that had her toes curling in her expensive Louboutin heels. Truly, she wasn’t sure she’d ever tasted anything so divine.

He studied her reaction before flashing a wicked smile and leaning in. 

“So what’s your name, Gorgeous?”

Struggling to compose herself, she hastily set down the glass.

“I have a boyfriend,” she snapped. 

The man seemed undaunted by her declaration though, and if he noticed her sudden unease, he didn’t comment. Instead, he re-filled her glass before pouring one for himself.

“I have no doubt,” he said, touching his glass to hers so the crystal sang. “But that isn’t what I asked.”

She watched him as he took a sip, his throat working as he swallowed. Good Lord, he was handsome. 

She mentally slapped herself. She had a boyfriend, and perfect taste in wine aside, she shouldn’t be indulging this stranger in whatever game he thought he was playing. Tomás would be furious if he found out. 

This in mind, she settled for scowling.

The stranger laughed.

“It’s not like it matters,” he said, twirling the stem of his glass between long fingers. “Unless you’re a drug dealer who plans to pay cash for the case of Cheval of you are so obviously going to be buying, I’m going to see it on your card anyway. Besides, no one likes an oath breaker.”

She took another sip of wine to hide her smile. They weren’t flirting, she assured herself. They were just...talking. Talking was perfectly innocent. Tomas couldn’t get angry at her for talking.

The man waited, and eventually she relented.

“Nesta.”

“Nesta...?” He prompted, and she rolled her eyes.

“Nesta Archeron.”

He extended a hand.

“Cash.”

“Please tell me that’s a nickname.”

He only laughed in response.

“Are you always this charming, Nesta Archeron?”

His hand remained between them, and after a beat of hesitation she took it. A jolt of electricity shot up her arm the minute they touched, and she found herself fending off a flush as she tugged her hand back. Still, they remained close. Closer than she knew she should allow, even as she failed to pull back to a safer distance.

He watched with keen interest as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear before meeting her gaze again and saying, “yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, it’s a nickname. Cash is short for Cassian, though I don’t think anyone’s actually called me that since my mom died.”

A pang hit her, a familiar ache that still wrenched at her ten years later. 

Without fully understanding why she was doing it, she blurted, “my parents are dead, too.”

He frowned for the first time since they’d met. 

“I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.”

It was an automatic response, the one she always gave to avoid people asking more questions. It didn’t feel like a long time ago, though. At least, the pain hadn’t dulled the way it should have. Some night she still caught herself wishing her mother were there to tuck her into bed.

“I’m still sorry,” Cash said, brushing her ring finger with the tips of his.

It was a feather-light touch—a gesture of comfort and solidarity—but it still had Nesta’s stomach knotting. She pulled her hand away and he didn’t fight her on it, glancing up to give her a soft look instead. 

“I know how hard it is, being on your own.”

Nesta bristled. 

“I’m not alone. I’ve got two younger sisters, and my—“

“—boyfriend,” he said, leaning back even as he smirked. “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten.”

She couldn’t help it; this time, she flushed. However the look gave her said he had no intention of pushing the issue. 

She imagined what Elain would say were she there, and she grit her teeth before forcing out, “I didn’t mean to imply that you—“

“Don’t apologize,” he said, eyes glittering as they skated over her face again. “Beautiful girl like you, it...wasn’t a bad assumption. Still, you have nothing to worry about from me, I promise.”

She nodded, surprised to find a twinge or disappointment. She attempted to bury the feeling by shouldering on.

“So where is Devlon?”

Cash shrugged, folding his toned arms across his chest in a gesture his white T-shirt struggled to accommodate.

“He had to go back home to handle some stuff and I’d just gotten back to town, so I told him I’d watch the shop for awhile.”

“How long will he be gone?”

Cash grinned, taking another sip of wine. 

“Sick of me already, Archeron?”

She only pursed her lips in response, and he laughed.

“I didn’t ask. But long enough that you’ll get to see me again, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

His grin was a slash of white across his tan face, and she looked away to avoid blushing again. This was definitely too close to flirting for Nesta’s comfort. One more glass and she might—

“I should go,” she said abruptly, draining the last of her wine. “It was nice meeting you, Cassian.”

She picked up her bag and was halfway to freedom when he laughed. 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” 

She turned back, and he gestured to the racks of wine all around them. When they made eye contact, his grin grew wicked. 

“Or did Dev already tell you his gorgeous nephew was taking over the shop, and you just came to check out the goods yourself?”

She grit her teeth, trying not to admire said...goods, especially the ones she could make out through his thin t-shirt and fitted jeans. 

“You’re an ass,” she growled, stalking back towards him. 

“C’mon, you love it.”

“Don’t make me gut you will my shoe. It’s impossible to get blood out of suede.”

He only laughed. 

“Why do I get the sense you’d actually do it, too?”

“Because I don’t make idle threats,” she snapped.

“I’ll believe that,” he said, eyes alight. “Alright, enough teasing, then. What are you looking for? Besides the Cheval, obviously,” he added, winking. 

She debated ordering three cases of Nickel and Nickel just to wipe the smirk off his face. However, she quickly decided it was an exercise in futility; he’d know why she was doing it, and the Cheval really was too divine to pass up.

“Yes, you insufferable bastard, I will have a case of the Cheval.” When he grinned in reply, she added, “And a bottle of Ferreira Garrafeira.”

He gave a low whistle. 

“That’s expensive stuff. And I thought you said you didn’t like Old World wine?”

“It’s not for me; it’s for Tomás.”

She could decide if she felt pleased or guilty when his smile slipped a fraction before recovering, too bright to be wholly genuine.

“Ah. the famed boyfriend, I presume. He’s certainly got...interesting taste.”

When she bristled, he went on hurriedly.

“In wine! Obviously his taste in women is...” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish laugh. 

“Yes?” She said archly, not wanting to admit how much the comment had stung.

With sisters like Elain and Feyre, Nesta was used to being dismissed as the frigid, uptight sister. It didn’t make it any easier to swallow.

However, Cash wasn’t looking at her in that way men often did, as if she were some poisonous insect he was afraid might sting him. His expression softened.

“Impeccable,” he finished, and it was so unexpected she flushed. 

He cleared his throat before going to the computer behind the bar to consult the shop’s inventory.

“We don’t have the Garrafeira in right now, but I can order it for you. The Cheval is in the back.”

“Don’t worry about the port,” she said, regretting the outburst now. “He’ll—live.”

Cash turned, brows furrowed. 

“Are you sure? I can—“

“It’s fine,” Nesta repeated. “Thank you.”

Cash nodded and disappeared into the back before reappearing with a wooden crate a minute later. The strain of holding it was doing glorious things for his arms, and she cleared her throat.

“Thank you,” she said, making a great show digging in her bag for her wallet to avoid looking at him again. 

“Where are you parked? I don’t want you snapping your neck walking on those pencils you’re calling shoes.”

She pursed her lips.

“You’re hilarious. How much do I owe you?”

However, he was halfway to the door already.

“I have a friend who distributes for Cheval. This one’s on me.”

“No!” She called, following after him. “Cassian, come back! I don’t need your charity!”

Cash turned to smirk at her over his shoulder.

“With that handbag? I’d say not. Besides, this isn’t charity. It’s...an investment.”

She scowled at this, and he gave an exasperated laugh.

“Don’t get thorny on me, Archeron. I just meant—“ he broke off, laughing again. “Think of it as a perk for being a regular. Buy ten cases, get one free.”

“This isn’t Jamba Juice,” she said, deadpan. “And I don’t like owing people.”

“Look,” he said. “I wasn’t lying about my friend being a distributor. It’s not going to cost the shop anything. Now, where is your car? I think my arms are going numb.”

She bit her lip, debating what this might end up costing her. She didn’t believe in “free”, and she didn’t like feeling like she owed someone; she’d had enough of that from people when she’d been taking care of her sisters after their parents died. 

Then again, she’d made it clear that she wasn’t interested in him...like that, and she’d certainly bought her fair share of wine here over the last few years...

“Fine,” she said, gesturing to her Land Rover. “But take this, at least.”

She pulled out a fifty from her wallet, and Cash rolled his eyes.

“I’m not the pizza delivery boy; I don’t want a tip. Just, promise not to call me Cassian again. That’s all the payment I require.”

She didn’t move, the bill still outstretched. He heaved the crate into her open trunk before shutting it.

“I swear to god, woman, put that away before I shred it to ticker tape. I don’t need your charity, either.”

She relented with a huff, and he laughed. 

“Thank you,” he said. 

“I should be the one thanking you,” she admitted, and he smiled, leaning against her car.

“No one is stopping you.”

She grit her teeth, irritated and flustered in equal measure.

“Thank you,” she finally managed. “For the wine.”

“‘And for blowing my mind’,” he prompted, and she flipped him a foul hand gesture, civility forgotten.

“If you think that’s all it takes to blow my mind, you have a lot to learn about women.”

He bit his lip, eyes full of amusement as he peeled himself off the car.

“I’ll take that under advisement,” he said, flashing her a quick wink. “Until next time, then, Nesta Archeron.”

She opened her mouth to retort, but for once words failed her. She instead stood, gaping like a landlocked fish as he sauntered around her and back into the shop.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cash was distracted for hours after Nesta Archeron left. Even as he met with reps and worked on organizing his uncle Devlon’s pathetically arcane inventory system, he found his eyes kept wandering to the door, as if she might come sauntering back in. Damnit, why hadn’t he told her the Cheval was out of stock? Then at least he would have had a guarantee of seeing her again. Depending on her drinking habits, it could be months before she came in again. Fuck, he was so stupid.

Not that it mattered, really. How many times had she managed to force her boyfriend into the equation? Twice? Three times? Definitely enough that he knew he should get the message. And he understood; he really did. Like all guys his age, he’d been raised on a steady diet of “if she’s not interested, try harder”. It hadn’t been until he’d gotten into his twenties that he’d realized how fucked up that was. When women said no, men needed to respect that and not keep pushing.

The problem was that despite all the clumsy mentions of her boyfriend, she’d still stayed when she easily could have left. Besides, if she thought he hadn’t seen her checking him out, she was insane. Not that he blamed her, obviously. If he was a woman, he’d want to fuck him, too. 

Before he could catch himself, his lizard brain was imagining what being in bed with her would be like. His pulse thrummed. It wasn’t so much the idea of sleeping with her as it was imagining what a courtship like that would be like. She was definitely hot, but her body had nothing on that gorgeous brain. It was clear she was a woman of supreme intellect; he’d have to seduce her mind if he ever wanted to earn something physical. 

It was the kind of intellectual challenge he craved, and one he hadn’t had in ages before she’d come in. He wanted someone who could dish it back, and Nesta Archeron clearly knew how to give as good as she got.

His phone rang, and he glanced at the caller id before huffing and picking it up.

“If you’re calling to ask if the shop has burned down yet, the answer is no.”

His uncle Devlon laughed.

“That place is the closest thing I’ll ever have to a wife; I just want to make sure you’re treating her right.”

“I’ll show her a good time while you’re away,” Cash promised, pouring himself a glass of a new Rioja the rep had dropped off that afternoon. 

“Don’t make sex jokes about my baby,” Dev said. “And stop drinking my merchandise!”

“I’m not!” Cash said, setting down his glass. “Relax, old man. And is Merchant your wife or your baby? You should probably decide; you’ll freak people out if you keep using them interchangeably.”

“Very funny, wise ass. How’s it being back?”

“This place hasn’t changed a bit in ten years,” Cash said, looking around appreciatively. “But you need to get a decent table in here so you can host tasting. Why didn’t you call my friend Az like I told you to? He does gorgeous work.” 

“You must think I’m a lot richer than I am,” Dev said. “I’ve seen his designs; you think I can afford a ten thousand dollar table?”

Cash rolled his eyes.

“He said he’d do it at cost. Why are you being so stubborn?”

“I’m not going to prey on your fancy friends. Tell him thank you but I can’t swing it.”

“Fine.”

Dev sighed.

“Why do I feel like you’re just going to do it anyway?”

“Because I’m as stubborn as you. How’s Koro?”

“Not a spry as she used to be, but she’s managing just fine. She wants to know when her favorite grandson is coming back. She says the Ritz on Maui is looking for a sommelier.”

“Tell her my days of working for rich white assholes is behind me,” Cash said.

Dev considered.

“You could open your winery here, you know. Volcanic wine is popular with the haoles.”

“Didn’t I just say I was done with rich white assholes?”

“Fine, fine.”

There was a pause in which Cash weighed his options before he added in what he hoped was a casual tone, “If I said the name Nesta Archeron, would that mean anything to you?”

“The lawyer? Sure. She comes in about twice a month. Nice girl, once you get past her prickly side. Why?”

Cash swirled his wine.

“Just wondering. She came in today.”

Dev gave a gravelly laugh.

“You’re barking up the wrong tree. She’s got a boyfriend.”

“So I’ve been warned. Have you met him?”

“She’s brought him in once or twice. Portuguese dude.”

“Nice?”

“Not particularly. He’s very possessive of her. Really rubbed me the wrong way.”

Cash felt a prickle of irritation himself. What was a brilliant, fiery woman like Nesta Archeron doing with a controlling prick for a boyfriend? She should be with someone who respected that sharp tongue, someone who could—

“Don’t even think about it, Cash. She’s one of my favorite customers. I don’t want you to scare her off with your panting.”

“I don’t ‘pant’. Also, can you blame me? Man, those legs, and her eyes—“

“I mean it,” Dev interrupted, voice firmer this time. “If she brought up her boyfriend, it means she wants you to fuck off.”

“I’m not going to bother her. I was just....curious.”

“Well don’t be. That creepy boyfriend will nail your balls to the wall if he finds out you’re trying to move in on her.”

“I respect her choices, but I don’t give a shit about him. He can suck my co—“

“I think you’d better accept that no one in that relationship wants your tiny pecker.”

“Tell that to the way she was looking at  me today.”

“Just because you’ve got a cute ass doesn’t mean she likes you.”

Cash groaned.

“Fine, forget I said anything.”

Dev chuckled.

“Don’t be sulky. I’m sure there’s plenty of women in the Bay Area that would be happy to take her place.”

He was right, but somehow it didn’t make Cash feel any better. There was no shortage of beautiful women in San Francisco, but none of them interested him quite the way she had. There’d been no denying the wrenching disappointment when he’d realized she wasn’t single. Then again, had he really expected someone like her to be? And she was lawyer to boot. He gave a huff of amused appreciation. He should have known.

“Right,” Dev said, interrupting his reverie. “Well I just wanted to check in, sounds like everything is fine there. I will tell Koro you said hi. Remember, I’m charging you for any of my wine you drink.”

Cash snorted.

“You’re getting a level three somm for free. I’ll drink all the wine I want.”

“Fair enough. Take care of yourself, pōtiki. And no more hitting on my customers!”

“I wasn’t—“ Cash began, but the line clicked off, and he swore, even has he caught himself laughing a little.

He’d been second-guessing the decision to come back from London since he’d arrived two weeks ago. Today, for the first time, he felt he was exactly where he was meant to be. 

He’d thought he might owe Nesta Archeron another case of wine for that, boyfriend or no. He just hoped she wouldn’t make him wait too long for the opportunity. 

                                                                                               Next Chapter

taggings some interested parties!: @katexrenee @mariamuses @theovogkaaunt @bookofmaas @goldbooksblack @dreamerforever-5 @willsrune @rhysanoodle @queen-of-wings-and-fire @wesupremeginger

#Nessian #nesta x cassian #Nessian AU #cassian x nesta #featherywrites #IVV

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Aladdin Queen style; John Deacon x reader Intro

*Author’s note*

Hello everyone well after seeing a couple of comments here on Tumblr I figured its best that I give you all what I had promised. So here we are with the Disney Queen fic Aladdin style. I hope you all enjoy these two chapters I’ve got for you :) And don’t forget to listen to the songs I will link throughout the story cause yes I’m making this a musical style fic.

Taglist:

@psychosupernatural

@plethora-of-things

@ixchel-9275

@waddles03

@queendeakyy

@coolcxt

@mexifangorl

@geek-and-proud

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Visualize it if you will; walking through the streets of London, it’s partly cloudy but the merchants and sellers are out and about through the pleasant kingdom of England.  People all chattering amongst each other, bidders trying to sell their foods and stock, children racing about.

        You find yourself coming around the corner of a shop when a voice calls out to you.

        “Well I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before darling.” You turn to look and there leaning over the shop window was a pretty handsome young man.  Long raven black hair and the darkest chocolate eyes you’ve ever seen but with a hint of mischief to them.  “Tell me from where do you roam?” You answer him. “Ahh been there myself just last year. Quite a lovely place, if I do say so myself. Love the people there, but of course can’t argue with the drinks there.” He chuckled mischievously.

        You then ask him what exactly he has to offer in this shop and he answers you with a wide grin, revealing an overbite but strangely it seemed to fit him.

        “Well wouldn’t you like to find out? C’mon in my lovely dears.” You enter inside the shop to reveal beautiful antiques that seem to come from all over the world.

        From katanas in Japan, Buddha statues of India, treasures from South America. You also feel something rub up against your leg.  You look down to see a grey and brownish cat with blue eyes.

        “Oh that cheeky little thing is Tiffany. One of my many little pets. However none of them are for sale so I hope you understand.” You nod. “Excellent. So feel free to look around and pick whatever your heart’s desire.”

        “Freddie, you better not be scaring the costumers again!” Another voice cried out.

        “Ohh darling I wouldn’t dream of it.” The merchant now known as Freddie turns back towards you and chuckles before saying, “My partner always thinking I’ll scare off any customer that comes. I may look intimidating but I’m really harmless, unless you don’t want me to be.” He winks cheekily at you before turning back around and picking up a grey and white tabby cat off the counter. “Again look around while I tend to my children here.”

He leaves you to your own to look around the shop. Your eye immediately caught onto all the jewels and gold trinkets.  But there was one thing that really caught your attention.

A lamp.  And not a lamp light, no this lamp looked like some sort of tea-pot style lamp. It was pure gold with a beautiful crystalline design around the top portion of the lamp.

“Oh that, that is the story décor. Unfortunately that’s also not for sale either.” You ask why not? “Why? Well….this lamp is not some ordinary lamp this lamp—changed the lives of many people. In fact this lamp changed the lives of two countries.” You are intrigued. Freddie noticing that you are wanting to know more asks you. “Tell me, do you know the story of (Y/n), the English Prince and the magic lamp?” You shake your head. “Would you like to hear it?” You nod your head. “Ahh excellent. I knew you’d be wanting to hear the story. Sit over here darling.”

He pulls up a red velvet chair for you to sit in and he pats the cushioned seat and you gladly sit down.

“Now then my darling, buckle up because this is a long story.”  He gracefully spins around your chair to end up behind you as he paints you a picture of the story you are about to embark on.

Using grand gestures with his hands to emphasize his point giving you a warm or wide smile, ready to share this tale that changed two kingdoms forever.

Play video

*Freddie*

Oh, imagine a land, it's a faraway place Where the caravan camels roam Where you wander among

Every culture and tongue It's chaotic, but hey, it's home

When the wind's from the east And the sun's from the west And the sand in the glass is right Come on down, stop on by Hop a carpet and fly To another Arabian night

        And this is where our story begins.  Now imagine it’s nightfall out in the kingdom of India.  Out in the streets merchants are still trying to make their living by selling the last of their things before turning in for the night.

        We see a small monkey bouncing and running from cart to cart taking and sneaking in something into it’s small vest.  It soon reaches a young woman who is casually walking the streets and she nonchalantly lowers her hand so the monkey can crawl up onto her shoulders and rest there.  

She takes the stolen necklace the monkey managed to grab and she pockets it into her bag as the monkey jumps off of her shoulders and it jumps onto a cart filled with blankets and tapestries. Looking for something else to steal.

As you wind through the streets

At the fabled bazaars With the cardamom-cluttered stalls You can smell every spice While you haggle the price Of the silks and the satin shawls

Oh, the music that plays as you move through a maze In the haze of your pure delight You are caught in a dance, you are lost in the trance Of another Arabian night

        We are now greeted by a large palace that stands at the end of the village. This palace in particular was designed as a housing for their partnering country of England.  Up along the balcony three old men bearing English crowns were feasting on various foods from grapes and apples to the hard meat of chicken and turkey and pheasant.

        One of the kings turned towards a lioness that sat just a few feet calmly but eyeing the chicken in his hand.  After eating just one bite of the large chicken leg, he tossed it towards the lioness and went back to chatting with the two other kings.

        The lioness immediately took the meat as it was thrown to her and ate it as she stepped down onto the lower edge to walk up to not only another lion but to three younger men.

        One of them held a badger in his arms and had a mass of brown curly hair and hazel eyes, the other had long blonde hair and blue eyes and was petting the dark maned male lion.  The lioness stopped before the youngest of the three.  He had long straight brown hair and a mixture of hazel-blue eyes. He stroked the lioness’s head making her lowly growl with content.

        A parrot soon came into view and the male lion took notice of it.  He got into pouncing positions before finally roaring as he lunged towards the parrot but missing it by an inch.  The parrot squawked but flew high above the night sky.

Beyond the palace and all the way past the desert till it came to a mountain range.  There a few people stood but what they were looking at was something far mind-boggling.

There embedded within the mountains the cave entrance looked like a tiger’s head and the only way to enter inside was going through it’s mouth.  It’s eyes glowing like pure fire.

Arabian nights Like Arabian days More often than not are hotter than hot In a lot of good ways Arabian nights Like Arabian dreams This mystical land of magic and sand Is more than it seems

There's a road that may lead you to good or to greed Through the power your wishing commands Let the darkness unfold or find fortunes untold Well, your destiny lies in your hands

“Only one may enter here One whose worth lies far within. The diamond in the rough.” It’s thunderous voice commanded.  A guard was forcing a man to enter inside.  The man refused but when the guard took out his sword, it made the man change his mind.

Hesitantly and fearfully he slowly entered inside the tiger’s mouth.

Arabian nights Like Arabian days They seem to excite, take off and take flight To shock and amaze

The cave collapses on the man entering inside burying him under rock, dust and rubble.  It’s eyes glowed with fire as the thundering voice spoke out once more.

“Seek thee out, the Diamond in the rough!” A man wearing royal advisory robes having short brown hair and a mustache across his upper lip, glared down to the ground as his parrot looked at him.

Arabian nights

'Neath Arabian moons

A fool off his guard could fall and fall hard Out there on the dunes.

#bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody imagines #bohemian rhapsody movie #bohemian rhapsody imagine #queen #queen fanfic #queen fanfiction #queen imagine #queen imagines #queen au #au!queen #queen au fic #john deacon #john deacon x reader #john deacon imagine #john deacon imagines #roger taylor #brian may #freddie mercury #aladdin fic #aladdin style fic

[ebaeschnbliah]

WHEN  THE  MAN  WITH  THE  KEY  BECOMES  KING

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A metaphorical reading ot 'The Reichenbach Fall'

If TRF is a scenario that happens inside Sherlock's head, on his Mind-Stage, then Sherlock himself is the creator of the character 'Jim Moriarty' and the way he is portrayed in this episode. Jim's external appearance, his profession as a criminal mastermind, his behaviour, the words he uses .... everything is constructed by Sherlock. It's how Sherlock perceives what Jim represents.

And Jim seems to represent some of Sherlock's darkest fears but at the same time he is also the cause of immense fascination. Jim - the dangerous and destructive side of Sherlock - a side which turns everything into negativity. Boredom grows into depression .... depression increases into suicidal thoughts. 

And when Sherlock's mind suddenly starts to contemplate about the topic of 'girlfriends and boyfriends' .....

... while I’m flattered by your interest ...

... it doesn't take very long and 'Jim' focuses exactly on this topic as well ('hello, sexy'). At first Sherlock deeply enjoys to learn more of this thrilling part of himself. He enjoys playing the game. Not long though and Sherlock starts perceiving Jim as an uncontrollable danger, as a risk for everything that is dear to him ... especially his heart (John). But Jim stubbornly refuses to stay away. Very quickly he turns into the criminal mastermind, the consulting criminal, a constantly growing threat, ticking like an unstable bomb .... ready to explode at any moment. And suddenly it becomes an absolut necessity for Sherlock to examine and investigate and deduce this 'threat' more closely ....

More under the cut .... 

Previous to The Reichenbach Fall

In ASIB Irene crosses the threshold of 221b. The first incarnation of sexuality. And though the plot makes it absolutely clear that male as well as female clients are on her customers list, Irene says just as clearly that she is gay. Is this the moment when Sherlock deduces his own sexuality? (Explosive ... it's more me)  Is it really a big surprise under these circumstances that Irene is adviced by no one else than Jim Moriarty 'how to play the Holmes boys'? Sherlock the 'virgin' ... the vulcano hidden under a snowcapped mountain ... covered by icy glaciers ... the summit high above the clouds ... the head .... the BRAIN ... the 'ice man'.

And Jim is blowing raspberries at the BRAIN ...  'Jumbo Jet. Dear me, Mr. Holmes, dear me' ....

In THOB Sherlock visits Baskerville. An extremly guarded governments facillity. The section of the BRAIN where frightening monsters are created? (The Return of Baskerville ... in S4)  Soon it turns out that the monster in question - the HOUND - is fake but the man behind this horror story creates a drug which serves the same purpose. It induces fear. And when Sherlock looks behind Frankland's mask at the end, it is no one else than Jim Moriarty who grins manically back at him.

Jim has become the face of Sherlock's sexuality

The very last scene of THOB shows how Jim is released from his high security prison by Mycroft ... the BRAIN. This indicates that it is a conscious decision of Sherlock - of his BRAIN - to release what Jim represents and take a closer look at this special topic ... despite all his concerns and his fears ....

First cases and gifts in The Reichenbach Fall

GALLERY DIRECTOR: Falls of the Reichenbach, Turner’s masterpiece, thankfully recovered owing to the prodigious talent of Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

SHERLOCK: Diamond cufflinks. All my cuffs have buttons.

Cufflinks are a device to fasten shirt cuffs. Shirt cuffs .... one could call them the 'soft' version of handcuffs. Handcuffs are generally used to restrain and to capture.

Diamond cufflinks for metaphorical handcuffs ... an interesting present for bringing back 'Reichenbach'. Maybe something precious to endure captivity a little easier?  

And .... TURNER'S masterpiece?  To turn something, can also mean to change something. This could be used for a very nice little wordplay.  :))))

”Top Banker Kidnapped” ”Sherlock Holmes was last night being hailed a hero yet again for masterminding the daring escape of the kidnapped man."

As the public applaud, the boy smiles and offers a small gift-wrapped box to Sherlock. He takes it and rattles it briefly. SHERLOCK: Tie pin. I don’t wear ties.

A tie is 'a long piece of cloth worn around the neck'. One could call it the 'soft' version of a leash. Or even a garotte ... a device used for strangulation. Strangulation and asphyxiation are main themes throughout Sherlock BBC.

Sherlock gets this present for bringing back a 'Top Banker'. Finances are one of the most important foundations of any government. This seems to be a plausible connection to Mycroft .... the BRAIN.

A precious little jewlery to adorn a metaphorical leash or even garotte as a present for reestablishing the BRAIN ... choosing logic and reason over a suffocating and drowning heart?  :))))

LESTRADE: Peter Ricoletti: number one on Interpol’s Most Wanted list since nineteen eighty-two. But we got him; and there’s one person we have to thank for giving us the decisive leads. .... We all chipped in.

As Sherlock tears open the wrapping paper, Sally and Anderson grin expectantly. He pulls out a deerstalker hat.

Oh, the deerstalker! Sherlock calls it 'death frisbee'. This hat seems to be of great imortance on many levels at the same time.

it's the most famous trademark of canon Sherlock Holmes

it can be used as wordplay 'deer=hart' ... 'dear/heart' ... 'stalking the dear heart' ... the dear/heart being John. (Sherlock, the Stag and the Skull)

it can be used as an indicator for changing the levels/plays on Sherlock's Mind-Stage.  (Stalking the Deerstalker)

On this level though ... with the main theme circling heavily around sexuality ... the meaning of the deerstalker seems to be none of the above mentioned. As many people have already pointed out, the deerstalker represents also the Victorian era - a time where homosexuality had been forbidden and prosecuted.

Sherlock gets the 'hat' for arresting a man called Ricoletti. The name Ricoletti turns up again in TAB - associated with the murderous ghost bride Emelia.

she commits suicide like Jim,

her substitute body lies in a morgue like Irene's,

she fakes her death and goes undercover like Sherlock,

she kills her husband like Mary kills Sherlock.

I think one can safely say that Emelia is a mirror for all of them. And when Sherlock finally lifts the veil of the bride it is again Jim who's hiding behind it.

Short version:  Sherlock receives the deerstalker as a gift for arresting Ricoletti the criminal .... Ricoletti the bride behind whose veil hides Jim .... Jim the master criminal who represents Sherlock's sexuality ... homosexuality.  Well .... 

Places of power under attack

Three places of great power are invaded by Jim Moriarty at the same time.

The Tower of London - a high security facility where the precious Crown Jewels are harboured.

The Bank of England - a high security facility where immense wealth is kept, a powerful foundation of the government.

Pentonville Prison - a high security facility where 'the dangerous' are imprisoned.

At all three places ... tea is served directly before the attack

'Tea-Code' has already become a classic and TLDs ...  'Is "cup of tea" code?"... confirmed it.

In the nearby surveillance room, one of the two men watching the security footage from all around the Tower turns to his colleague. SURVEILLANCE MAN 1: Fancy a cuppa, then, mate? SURVEILLANCE MAN 2: Yeah, why not?

A man brings a tray containing a cup and saucer and a milk jug into the office of the bank’s Director.

The prison’s governor, with an enormous “Keep calm and carry on” mug full of tea on his desk, slams a file down onto his desk as several warders sit or stand nearby.

The moment Jim calls ..... the tea gets spilt

At the Tower of London: "This is an emergency. Please leave the building." In the surveillance room, the man slams down the cups of tea he was bringing back and grabs a phone as he starts to dial.

At the Bank of England, the Director looks down at the cup of tea he is holding as the liquid inside begins to shimmer and the building vibrates gently. BANK DIRECTOR: The vault! Alarms blare and his screen flashes the alarm “VAULT OPENING” as a graphic shows the door to the vault swinging slowly open. The Director’s jaw drops and he stares in disbelief, his tea cup slowly tilting in his hand until the tea pours out into his lap.

In Pentonville Prison, the governor is just lifting his mug to his mouth as alarms begin to sound. A prison warder bursts into the room. PRISON WARDER: Sir, security’s down, sir. It’s failing! The governor surges to his feet, accidentally sweeping his mug off the table and onto the floor.

But only at one of the three locations Jim shows up in person. Jim Moriarty comes to Tower Hill to claim the Crown Jewels

With a diamond and a fire extinguisher Jim shatters glass that is 'tougher than anything' (Elephant Glass?) to get to the famous symbols of rulership.

And Jim dresses up as King of the Empire.

Applying a methphorical reading .... the Empire/England/London represents Sherlock's body. And going by the assumption that this episode is located inside Sherlock's head ... acted out on Sherlock's Mind-Stage ... then ....

Sherlock envisions that homosexuality is ruling his body

 Crown Jewels .... Definition by Urban Dictionary

'UK slang for penis and balls. Because they are a guarded treasure.'

Maybe this is a nice moment to bring back once more the icon on Jim's phone. The one he uses as a symbol for attacking The Tower of London and the 'Crown Jewels'?  Someone has chosen the shape for that crown. When it is fully open .... looks like this .... before it explodes ....   :))))

Side note:  The little cross at the top and the bigger one lower down .... they look suspiciously like stylised pirate flags. Pirate signs are used in Baskerville to warn of explosives and it is Sherlock 'thie pirate' who enters Sherrinford.

Baskerville - the tip of the iceberg - the little cros (your idea @gosherlocked :) ​ and ... 'I have to go deeper' ... to Sherrinford - the bigger cross?

Then Sherlock gets the message ....

Is this the moment when Sherlock feels that his investigation ... his Mind-Stage experiment ... gets more and more out of control? Is this the moment when he desides it's better to send Jim back behind prison bars? Jim gets arrested. The 'trial of the century' takes place with Sherlock as 'witness for the prosecution'. But then 'no evidence is offered and the defence rests'. Sherlock and the judge (the BRAIN?) simultanously recite the summing-up speech:

"I find myself in the unusual position of recommending a verdict wholeheartedly. You must find him guilty."

No defence - not guilty - Jim walks free

It seems that at this point Sherlock isn't able anymore to keep Jim behind lock and key. Jim sucessfully invades every locked room, breaches every security system, summons all kinds of assassins (emotions) near Baker Street.

The Tower of London - SEXUALITY?

The Bank of England - finances/goverment/BRAIN?

Pentonville Prison - the imprisoned dangerous/unwanted EMOTIONS?

And apparently no court is able to condemn him and send him behind bars again. Jim doesn't only walk free, he even visits 221b himself, the valued home Sherlock shares with his HEART. He threatens everything and promises Sherlock a fall. Jim has become the man with the key. The king. He can take everything he wants. There is no such thing as privacy and secrecy anymore. Jim can blow up the whole world. A 'spider in the center of a crimianl web with thousand threads and he knows precisely how each and every single one of them dances'.

This is how Sherlock envisions Jim

If Londond/Engalnd is a metaphor for Sherlock's body ..... is this how Sherlock depicts his own sexuality? As an insane demon under whose reign he would become a 'prisoner of his own meat'? And a threat for everything he holds dear?

his HEART (John)

his HOME (Mrs. Hudson)

his WORK (Lestrade)

First Irene then Jim. An attracktive and fascinating but misbehaving and manipulative dominatrix, who wants to have Sherlock on a leash and an equally fascinating but dangerously insane criminal mastermind, who wants to burn Sherlock's heart to ashes. These are the characters Sherlock choose to represent sexuality - his sexuality - on his Mind-Stage.

Are they representing Sherlock's deepest fear? That he might be dominated by sexuality, by emotions and sentiment .... by love? Is he afraid of losing control over all those unwanted feelings which are beginning to stir inside him? Ready to break free at any moment ... even from behind elephant glass ... ready to overwhelm him? What is he going to do to avoid this? What is he going to do if he can't avoid this?

I'm too clever to become a prisoner of my own meat

An episode prior - in THOB - Henry Knight tells Sherlock what he keeps seeing as his lost memory slowly starts coming back. Just a couple of words:  "Liberty" and ... "in". Sherlock's first association with these words is ....

Liberty in death ... the only true freedom

Is this what Sherlock believes to be his last resort? Is this the reason why both - Sherlock and Jim - commit suicide at the end of The Reichenbach Fall? Is Sherlock's fear to feel emotions so big that he rather chooses death instead? At least in this version of the play .....

I’m afraid. Always been able to keep myself distant ... divorce myself from ... feelings. But ... my body’s betraying me. Interesting, yes? Emotions. The grit on the lens, the fly in the ointment.   (Sherlock THOB)

What might be the reason for such a severe anxiety of not only sexuality but all kinds of other emotions as well? Something seems to be lurking in Sherlock's past. Something must have caused Sherlock's need to 'divorce himself from feelings' in such a drastic way.

Maybe Sherlock still asks himself the same questions after the 'fall' ... the same question he asked Mycroft - his BRAIN - already in ASIB at the beginning of S2:

'Do you ever wonder if there is something wrong with us?'

When Sherlock comes back from his hiatus in S3, he starts exploring and investigating the concept of the 'facade'. HIS facade. Who is she? What is she? Where does she come from? Why is she like this? Why did he chose her to be like this?

And all those questions will finally lead to another one .... the key-question Sherlock asks himself after S3 ...  in a very 'special' episode ... in TAB:

What made me like this?

I shall have to go deep ..... into myself ....

(Side note:  I left out the theme of the kidnapped children of the ambassador, of Sherlock being framed for a crime he didn't commit and the media as a source of (fake) secrets and scandals and guarded knowledge. All this seems to be more related to Sherlock's past ... to the event that changed a very emotional child into someone who felt the need to create the facade of an unfeeling sociopath ... to hide his heart behind that mask.)

I leave you to your own deductions. Thanks @callie-ariane for the scripts.

September, 2017

@gosherlocked @loveismyrevolution @sagestreet @sherlockshadow @monikakrasnorada @darlingtonsubstitution @raggedyblue @sarahthecoat @221bloodnun @kateis-cakeis @shylockgnomes @tjlcisthenewsexy

#when the man with the key becomes king #jim moriarty #mind stage #metaphorical reading #representing sherlocks sexuality #homosexuality

[kootenaygoon]

So,

Becca had diamonds on her fingertips. 

I’d known her long enough to understand that everything she touched turned to magic, so it didn’t surprise me the way Slocan Lake seemed to sparkle as she let the water tumble from her hands. She pleaded for me to come for a swim while I sat stubborn on the beach in my boxers, smoking my third joint of the day. The lake in front of me seemed as vast and incomprehensible as the sentient ocean in Solaris, that George Clooney movie, and I was scared if I dove under the surface it would claim me like those four kids back in 2014. 

Becca had flown out from Victoria to visit at the beginning of July, and now she was splashing around the shallows in slinky black underwear. Earlier that weekend I’d introduced her to Brendan and the kids, who absolutely loved her. We’d found a few opportunities to have the sort of sex that long distance couples know well, where each encounter is getting mentally indexed for the coming time apart. She was vivacious, eager and unapologetically hedonistic. 

“Do you want to do those mushrooms now?” I asked. “Cuz I’d be game.”

She looked back over her shoulder, wiggled her bum seductively. “Not yet. I only have enough for each of us to take them once, so I want to pick a really special moment. Something perfect.”

I grimaced. “Now seems pretty perfect, to be honest.”

“You still have to drive for another hour. You’d end up tripping in the car and killing us both in some fiery car crash. No thanks.”

“Don’t they take a while to kick in?”

“Be patient, William.”

I’d been feeling low all weekend. On Friday evening I’d taken Becca to see John McKinnon’s sculpture forest in Blewett, which blew her mind, and the plan was to take her to a concert in Lakeside Park that evening. Instead I started drinking in the early afternoon and ended up so shit-faced that I had to call in sick to Tony’s that night. The next day we hiked Pulpit and went out for food at El Taco, but I ended up napping a chunk of the day away while she went exploring solo. I didn’t feel like I was being a very good host, but now at least I was scoring her a free ticket to a music festival I was covering. I was taking her to Kamp.

“You ever see someone and just know that they’re gonna party themselves to death?” I asked, emptying my lungs then taking another drag. “You just see them and you’re like ‘yup, you’re going to kill yourself’.”

“That’s morbid. Why are you asking me this?”

I motioned towards the song coming from my parked RAV. It was “Jump Around” by House of Pain. “You recognize this? From Happy Gilmore?”

Becca smiled, water droplets gleaming like sapphires against her newly pink chest. “Everyone knows that song.”

I smiled, reminiscing. “Well, when I was in Laos seven years ago, I went to this little town where everyone would tube down the river every day. It was out in the middle of the rice paddies, all surrounded by mountains.”

“I’d love to hit Southeast Asia.”

“Well, one day I’m partying with these Brits, heading down the river, and we stop at one of the bars that’s been set up along the riverbanks. And they’re selling whiskey with rattlesnakes coiled up in the bottom of the bottle, or tarantulas...or bees.”

“What’s that all about? Sounds gross.”

“I think the idea is the poison, or the venom, or whatever it is that’s in the whiskey, will get you more fucked up. They gave away those poisoned shots for free to anyone brave enough, and it got people proper sloshed so they would spend more money.”

“What does this have to do with somebody killing themselves by partying too much?”

I laughed. “Well, I was sitting there on the edge of the river enjoying my beer on this soggy dock, right? There was a funnel of water coming down in a shower and all these girls in bikinis were dancing under the stream. There was music coming from the speakers, like night club shit. And while I was sitting there, I spotted this dude on the other side of the waterfall who was in rough shape. All clammy-skinned and half-conscious, wearing one of those cheap singlets with board shorts and flip flops.”

Becca threw some more water, and it gleamed in midair. I’d taken all kinds of pictures of her, but I’d never been completely satisfied with how they turned out. There was a special effect she rocked in person that was difficult to nail down.

“Anyways, around town people were starting to get pink eye from the dirty river, right? So I noticed this guy’s one eye is all swollen and oozing this white pus, hidden behind his sunglasses, and then on top of that one of his arms has this giant infected scab from road rash that went from elbow all the way to shoulder,” I said.

“Ouch.”

“Then the crowning detail: he’s on crutches, with one of his feet bandaged up like he broke his ankle. And there he was, taking sips from his beer and watching these girls dance with the horniest fucking expression on his face. He had this gross Magnum P.I. moustache too.”

Becca began breast-stroking in a lazy circle, trying to keep her hair above water. “This guy sounds like a winner.”

“That’s the point. I mean this guy was absolutely fucked up in every way imaginable. I’ve never seen someone so in need of a screaming intervention. Like I don’t know how he was planning to maneuver his inner tube the rest of the way down the river, but he didn’t seem worried. And then ‘Jump Around’ came on by House of Pain and guess what he did.”

She giggled. “He jumped around?”

I stood up to recreate the scene for her, miming the crutches. I could see the far-off cliff faces, and the oxen working the fields. My joint bounced between my lips as I resurrected those party kids for my own entertainment, watching the Brit girls giggle and shout in slow-motion. Becca breast-stroked to the edge of the water and mounted herself on her elbows, her hanging cleavage mind-altering. I’ve been all kinds of people in my life, channeling both friends and enemies, but there have been too many times when I’ve allowed myself to become that irresponsible Laos dude for no good reason. There was just something inside of me that longed for self-destruction, that flirted with oblivion. With the opioid and fentanyl stuff going on, it was becoming increasingly obvious how much fucking danger I was putting myself in. But for now? I was dancing. 

Becca shook back her long blond hair so that it hovered in the wind. I jumped in the sand rhythmically on one foot, pumping the crutches into the air and shouting the words like they were gospel: “Jump! Jump! Jump!”

The Kootenay Goon

[spacewhalewriting]

Of Legends and Fire: The Death of Smaug

It felt like days that she climbed, her nakedness covered by only mud and her fear running high. What if she got there and they had already tried to confront the dragon? What if, what if. It wasn’t until nightfall that she found evidence of the dwarves right outside what looked like a cleverly disguised crack in the mountainside. She clawed her way inside, pushing past pieces of broken stone and squirming into a tunnel. She followed it for a while, bare feet making pattering noises in the dark, until torchlight shone from the other end. What she saw sent her into simultaneous throes of joy and sweet despair. Inside the mountain the stone ran with literal rivers of gold, vast mountains of it, with every imaginable jewel sparkling amidst it like stars, so many stars. Sapphires indistinguishable from ice, opals that shone with white fire like stars, and diamonds with a living sun inside each.

She fell to her knees, sickened a violent, greedy clench within her deepest self, like the most terrible hunger pangs. So warm. So bright. Naked as she was, she could lay in this hoard for a thousand years and desire nothing but the pleasure of gazing upon it undisturbed. Every moment felt indeed as it were an age, intoxicated. She wondered where the white jewels were that Thranduil craved, for they were also her heart’s desire. To wear them and bask and be lost. It was this that took her to her feet, at once enraptured with her surroundings and driven to find them so she could bathe in their light. She wandered until the heard the rumbling heart of the mountain alive, vast forge fires and the crashing of mining equipment. It couldn’t be manned, not with so few as fourteen. The noise led her away from the treasured halls and across walkways of stone suspended in the air, into dimness; soon cries and shouts were mingled with the noise and she began to hasten, shaking off the fog that had enveloped her in the valleys of gold. Thorin’s voice rang out deep and clear, a bellow of rage like metal against stone.

“Here! You witless worm! I am taking back what you stole.”

Silwen heard his voice and through her haze she ran to him, racing across the suspended walkway and into a small transitional hall, stopping in the shadows of shadows as the gallery of the kings opened up to her. From where she stood, the great dragon was the centerpiece and his prey was hardly visible standing far above what kept his attention. The hall was a great hollowing of the mountain, a celebration of air, but the serpent’s head could have easily touched the ceiling had he reared up on his hind legs. Truly, he was larger than any creature than Silwen had ever witnessed, but her attentions were stolen by the same thing that kept Smaug stunned. The largest structure of gold crafted by dwarvish hands in any age, a glowing figure bearded and crowned, taller and wider than the dragon himself.

It was beautiful, dragon enraptured, Silwen enthralled. But something had gone wrong; alarmed shouts in khuzdul rang about the hall- Thorin swayed on his perch, within the reach of Smaug who was beginning to shake himself from the glamour the dwarves had woven. Where she was she could hardly see Oakenshield, but she could clearly see the scales of Smaug’s belly begin to glow like livened coals, snapping her from her dazed glow. Everything compounded into this single moment; a choice between the worm of covetousness in her heart or the very thing that now made it beat.

“Thorin!” She cried out for him, voice echoing down the chambered hall and he sought her but could not source her voice.

Fighting every instinct inside her she put one foot in front of the other, and then the other, breaking quickly into a run towards danger, towards her king. He called for her and she leaped through the doorway and once more into peril. It wasn’t a conscious decision, one breath woman and the next monster, her teeth sinking into Smaug’s armored neck by element of surprise. There was a tremendous roar as the behemoths clashed, the weight of their combined bodies flying into the far wall of the gallery crumbling the columns.

_________________________

Drenched in sweat and grime but somewhat safe where he was above the hall, Thorin could barely comprehend the scene of chaos in front of him. One ivory and the other rust, two dragons grappled before him, tails and limbs whipping dangerously and smashing the walls. The white was smaller than Smaug, barely more than half his size, swinging her body on top of his and ripping, clawing, biting. There was no record or memory of a second dragon in the mountain, nor in Gandalf’s warnings-

Could he have been dreaming Silwen’s voice at a moment like this? A flailing tail sliced into the soft outer layer of the statue and Thorin was reminded of the trap that laid in wait inside. He couldn’t begin to understand what was happening, but something told him that this thing that defended them was her.

“No!” He cried out, reaching, but there was nothing that he could do. It began to melt.

_________________________

The first spray of liquid gold burnt like a brand, but it was nothing compared to the tidal wave of molten metal as the statue disintegrated, collapsing under its own weight and heat. The searing flood crashed over the wrestling beasts, washing them further down the hall and under the impossible weight of the metal- a cacophony of shrieks and howls filled the space as it took them both. It burned like a thousand forges and agony swept over Silwen as she was dragged down, forced under as Smaug scrambled to use her body to reach the surface like a drowning man.

Unmercifully it was not this that took her. She fought her way to the surface before her breath ran out, spraying gold as she sought to free herself from the heavy pool. But as she had wrested herself from the molten grip of burning metal, so had Smaug.

“Deceit! Usurpers! I will not be overcome by this! I will have revenge!” He howled, thrashing and screeching in pain. Dragging herself by columns and stretching of wings, the white dragon launched herself through the air, meaning to again attack, but he caught her neck in his terrible jaws and used the momentum to heave her through the stone shell of the mountain itself. She crashed through the very entrance of Erebor and tumbled heavily to a stop on the rocky lowland outside, the world fiery with pain and spinning. Cat eyes blinked and tracked across the night sky rapidly, trying to clear their vision- ribs crackling and lungs under leather skin heaving like forge bellows. Gold rained down on her and the shoreline as Smaug arrowed through the newly made opening in the mountain and took to the air, shedding it like coins.

“He’s heading to Laketown!”

It was Bilbo’s voice, panicked and faint. Laketown. She remembered the maps. The last of the men of Dale. Smaug had taken the fortress of Erebor in a day- he would slaughter the people of Laketown with ease. With a bellow’s breath, Silwen pushed herself to her feet and then into the air. Several of the company had made it to the broken entrance of the mountain, including Bilbo and Thorin, and they were almost knocked to the ground by the gale of her wings. Reaching as far as her neck would stretch, she snapped her teeth viciously into Smaug’s tail, distracting him like a dog baiting a bear. Their flight did not halt, but rather they tumbled across the sky, Silwen using her small size to her advantage; airborne, and as long as Smaug did not catch her, she was a vexation with teeth and claws, biting and scratching the whole way.

“What manner of dog are you, to consort with dwarves and men?” He snapped, roaring with pain as one of her hind spurs sliced a gash in his haunch. Silwen did not answer because she was neither dog nor proper consort; she no longer knew what she was, simply what course of action she must follow. Narrowly, she avoided a spurt of fire, meeting it with her own and lighting the entire lake’s surface as though they were the sun above. They danced like this in a spiral, up, up. When it cleared, his great toothy grin was in front of her rather than a safe distance away. “There you are, little worm.” He said, his clawed hand gripping her at the shoulder near her wing, talons piercing- she screamed. Thrashing made it worse, so she blinded him with fire and he dropped her to protect his eyes, winging backwards. Immediately she dropped like a stone, wings tangling as she spun out. She splashed down in shallows, the icy water mercifully numbing her wounds. Her vision again danced and flamed.

Fire. They had been so close to Laketown. Finished with her, he was beginning to set it ablaze. From here she could hear the screams. She tried to get up, splashing about like a wounded albatross, and found that Smaug’s claws had sheared through her wing at the shoulder. Pushing off from the mud of the shallows was hard enough, but not only was her wing in agony, she physically could not force it to work through the pain. There was nothing to catch the air. The tower bell of Laketown rang in alarm, but no one was coming to save them.

I will not let people die because of my failure. Not this time.

Panting, she flung herself deeper into the water, doggy paddling with her hind legs and dragging her injury behind her. As she neared the town she found it chaos, but Smaug was no longer blasting the entire region with destruction, his movements seemingly focused on two small figures at the very top of the very bell tower that called their distress. She could not fly, but Smaug was flying low and the buildings in the center of town were high; she clawed into the wood of the closest to the tower and hoisted herself from the water, body trembling as her overtaxed shoulder pulled her upwards. As the bell clamored she climbed, keeping to the shadows lest Smaug catch wind of her survival too early, using talons and the spur on her one good wing to scale the structure like a nightmare ghost. The higher she climbed the more she could see of the two figures he tormented- at one point, a great spear-like arrow ricocheted off of Smaug’s jeweled hide and stuck itself deep into the place where she had sought to place her claw a moment before. She used it to pull herself higher, listening to Smaug’s taunting voice as he played with his victims.

“Now that is a pity. What will you do now, bowman? You are foresaken. No help will come. Is that your child? You cannot save him from the fire...He will burn.” He purred, crushing building after burning building underclaw as he stalked forward. Soon in the flickering light Silwen could see the end; a single archer and a young boy at his aid, bow broken. She was almost there. “Who are you that would stand against me? You have nothing left but death!”

She leapt, flapping and gaining no great amount of height but just enough to latch onto Smaug’s back like some insane rider of foul things. Unlike her, Smaug was covered on all sides, his skin encrusted with jewels where he was not scaled; it hadn’t been until she saw him in the right angle through the fire that she saw the missing scale on underbelly. It was what the bowman was aiming for. Taking him by the back of the neck, she clamped down and pushed with both sets of feet, latched in with claws so Smaug’s body was bent in a backwards arc, struggling and roaring to be set free. Her jaws ached and shoulder screamed as he thrashed, but his belly was bared and his missing scale was exposed. She knew she could only hold him like this for seconds before he wrenched free and finished her off, but one clear shot was all the bowman needed.

The arrow flew true.

Claws locked into the larger beast, she was swept up and away with Smaug as he attempted to escape it, but the iron had pierced his breast. The fire within him died and the light went from his eyes with a terrible scream that could be heard across the whole of the lake- pulling her claws from his hide with great difficulty, Silwen fell apart from him, closing her eyes as the fire ravaged town rose up to swallow them.

Both fell creatures would die here.

#hobbit #fanfiction #thorin #smaug #of legends and fire

[dazzledbybooks]

An enchanted tale of intrigue where a duke's daughter is the only survivor of a magical curse. When Ekata's brother is finally named heir, there will be nothing to keep her at home in Kylma Above with her murderous family. Not her books or science experiments, not her family's icy castle atop a frozen lake, not even the tantalizingly close Kylma Below, a mesmerizing underwater kingdom that provides her family with magic. But just as escape is within reach, her parents and twelve siblings fall under a strange sleeping sickness. In the space of a single night, Ekata inherits the title of duke, her brother's warrior bride, and ever-encroaching challengers from without—and within—her own ministry. Nothing has prepared Ekata for diplomacy, for war, for love...or for a crown she has never wanted. If Kylma Above is to survive, Ekata must seize her family's power. And if Ekata is to survive, she must quickly decide how she will wield it. Part Sleeping Beauty, part Anastasia, with a thrilling political mystery, The Winter Duke is a spellbinding story about choosing what's right in the face of danger. The Winter Duke by Claire Eliza Bartlett Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers Release Date: March 3rd 2020 Genre: Young Adult, Fantasy, LGBT, Queer, Magic, Retellings, Romance Links: Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/46734428-the-winter-duke Amazon: https://amzn.to/2PHbsAy B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-winter-duke-claire-eliza-bartlett/1132404574?ean=9780316417341 iTunes: https://books.apple.com/gb/book/the-winter-duke/id1472133922 Bookdepository: https://www.bookdepository.com/Winter-Duke-Claire-Eliza-Bartlett/9780316417341?ref=grid-view&qid=1576273869932&sr=1-1 Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/ebook/the-winter-duke-2 Google Books: https://books.google.co.uk/books/about/The_Winter_Duke.html?id=TxFoxwEACAAJ&redir_esc=y Review: The Winter Duke by Claire Eliza Bartlett is different. I wish I could come up with a better word but this is all I got.  The world is split into two parts. Kylma Above and the Kylma Below. Our featured family lives in an ice palace.  Ekata is our main characters and she is more interested in medicine rather than her families politics. All she really wants to do is go off to school. Then everything goes wrong and unplanned during her brother’s “Brideshow.” This is a ceremony where he chooses his future spouse. The whole family ends up in some form of sleeping sickness except for Ekata. Ekata now has to play the part of the Grand Duke. She ends up eloping with of her brother’s would be brides named Inkar. Inkar is a warrior from a lesser kingdom. These two women are now off to figure out what is going on in the palace. I found that the world building is pretty amazing. I thought it was very thought out and was planned for the reader to feel like they were immersed in the world. The Duke title is unisex so that no matter who inherits the title it will be the same no matter the person’s gender. I wish Ekata was a bit stronger in the beginning. I thought she was being pushed around way too much. I would have loved to see her be a bit stronger. I definitely think my favorite was the underwater kingdom. It was definitely the best world building to me. The plot was very slow. I really wish that it moved along faster.  Excerpt: Original post: https://www.thenovl.com/blog/2019/7/2/cover-reveal-the-winter-duke-by-claire-eliza-bartlett  CHAPTER ONE The night could be worse, considering. The likelihood of a public death was low. All the same, I kept my opulent coat buttoned up, despite how my neck itched in it. The more layers I had between me and my sister Velosha, the better. Last week she’d nicked our brother Kevro’s arm with a poisoned stiletto at Wintertide mass, and I wasn’t about to let her try her tricks on me. “Ekata,” she whispered. I pretended not to hear. My favorite tutor said that other people’s siblings were noisy, argumentative telltales. My siblings tried to murder one another. But not this night. Tonight we had a strict no-murder policy. Tonight we had a brideshow, and the world was watching us. And nothing said get out of here like an unstable, bloodthirsty family. I should know. I’d been begging my father for the chance to leave from the moment I was old enough to take a place at a university. He’d promised that when the brideshow was finally over, I’d be free to do it. Provided I lived so long. The brideshow candidates stood on the long, narrow balcony that ran around the Great Hall. Fifteen people who thought that marrying into our family was a good idea. Some of them giggled with one another. Some observed the floor, pointing out their delegates to the candidates next to them. More than one looked tired of waiting. A pretty girl with a dark ponytail and an emerald-and-gold riding suit covered a yawn with her hand, earning a laugh from the girl next to her. Her arms were bare, tan from the kiss of a foreign sun. A bold choice for a palace made of ice. But something about her seemed bold. When she caught me watching her, she raised an eyebrow. I rolled my eyes at the absurdity of it all. Her mouth twitched into a lazy smile. My stomach lurched. I flushed, looking away before I could cause a scene. I wasn’t there to create an international incident, and she was here for my brother, not me. Mother had sent written invitations to twenty empires, duchies, and kingdoms. Fifteen of the invitations had been answered with delegations, who now stood on the floor of the Great Hall and waited for the festivities to finally begin. Most eligible royals would be interested in a deal with Kylma Above and access to trade with the prosperous duchy Below. Kylma Below was the only source of distillable magic in the world, which meant that our cold, tiny country on a frozen lake commanded policy alongside kingdoms a hundred times our size. Even so, it surprised me that fifteen people could be interested in Lyosha. That, more than anything, was a clear indication they’d never met him. The restlessness was infectious. We’d been waiting for my father, mother, and brother for half an hour, and up on the royal dais, we didn’t talk. I glanced back at my maid, Aino; she lifted her chin, and I did the same. Aino had never steered me wrong at a social function. A door on the side of the Great Hall opened, but it was only Prime Minister Eirhan. He’d been prime minister longer than I’d been alive, and his oily demeanor left me with a sour taste every time I had to speak with him. That was happily rare; I preferred the study of bones and trees and the denizens Below to the study of politics. Eirhan spoke to a guard next to the door. The guard, dressed in ceremonial silver and blue, struck his iron-tipped halberd on the ground. The guards lining the hall took up the movement, creating the iron tempo that announced my father. The hall went dark, and whispering began. A dark hall heralded magic, for magic did not work well with fire. The candles burned low in their sconces, reflected like diamonds by the ice walls. Light descended from above, instead, in round pearls that fell like feathers. They glittered as they drifted, shimmering blue one moment, orange the next, clumping together like the thick pollen that blew in from the mountains during what passed for summer in Kylma Above. There was a great intake of breath from the hall, and I tilted my face up to catch some of the pearls as they fell. My father was the only man in the world Above who could refine magic and control how it manifested, and it never failed to mesmerize. It was his declaration of wealth, his declaration of power, and it reminded the rest of us what magic could do, if we only had the imagination for it. The pearls turned into flower petals, filling the air with a sweet scent. Rosaeus brumalis, I thought, breathing in the faint smell of winter roses, the only kind that grew here. Before they kissed our faces, they burst apart again, showering us with needled points. I covered my face with my sleeves. A few of the delegates shouted. A crack shook the palace walls, and dark wings snapped above us. An enormous eagle winged around the top of the dome, golden eyes flashing in the dark. Its cry made my ears throb, and its wingbeat nearly blew me into Velosha. The eagle pulled its wings in and hurtled to the ground. Delegates stumbled out of its way, and even I, who’d seen his displays at least twice a year, flinched. With a screech, the eagle raked its talons across the floor, leaving deep gouges that would stay long after the bird had disappeared. The power of magic: It was temporary, but the effects were permanent. And only my father had the secret to it. I hated him for that more than I hated him for other things. The eagle launched back into the air, knocking over the nearest delegates, and sped toward the ceiling. I was certain it would slow down or disappear—but instead, it crashed through the dome. Ice shattered and plummeted toward us. We ducked again, but the ice slowed and spun, turning into snowflakes that dusted our shoulders like sugar. Wind howled through the cracked dome, but winter roses grew over the cracks, smoothing the wall; ice climbed toward the starred sky. The hole became smaller and smaller until the last of the roses knit together, leaving us with our ice dome and sealing us off from the elements once more. Light flared. The room became golden and warm. The show was over, and the grand duke stood before us. Everyone knelt. That was Father’s grand trick for our guests. Show them the power of magic—its constructive, destructive, and transformative glory. Because magic was our most exported resource, Father wanted the wealthy delegates to imagine what they could do with it. They could impress kings. They could bring down city walls. With the correctly refined pearl, they could change the world. My father’s very presence demanded silence. I’d feared him for almost as long as I could remember. Where he walked, the air seemed thin and sparse, as if his broad shoulders and fur coat pushed it out of a room. As if it tangled in his snow-and-stone beard or got bitten off by his sharp teeth when he smiled. As if his brown eyes could pin it down. Mother stood next to him in a dress of white doeskin. She and I shared the same pale hair and skin, the same gray eyes, the same pointed chin and nose. I hadn’t managed to inherit her elegance, but I made up for it by being less abhorrent. And on Father’s other side stood Lyosha—eldest brother, heir-elect, and groom for the brideshow—who had Father’s height and dark hair and pale skin, but still looked like a weasel in a coat. Unlike the rest of us, he wore the brown-and-white wool that was spun from the shaggy goats we kept at the base of the mountains, eschewing the bright colors and fine-spun cottons that could be purchased from abroad. Lyosha liked to consider himself a man of the people—provided the people wanted nothing from him. My father motioned for the hall to rise. I straightened reflexively. As Father began his welcome speech, I kept my hands clasped in front of me; I knew if Lyosha caught any of us fidgeting, he’d have harsh words and harsher actions forlater. As subtly as I could, I let my eyes and mind wander over the motifs on the walls. They told the story of the duchies—the duchy Above, and the duchy Below. Our duchy, which sat on a frozen lake, and the land that thrived beneath the ice. More than anything, I wanted to see what truly lay Below. But I would never get the chance. Only Father was allowed to enter that realm. I focused next on a hunting scene with a former grand duke and a cornered bear. I recalled bones, starting with the bear’s nose. Nasal, premaxilla, maxilla. When ground, stabilizer for liquids that tend to curdle. Incisors, canines. Amulets for strength with no demonstrable benefit. I was nearing the ilium when the patter of applause interrupted me. The speech was over. I joined in, lifting my chin so that I could look properly impressed. Father offered Mother his arm, and she took it with barely a sneer. They stepped down from the dais together. The brideshow had formally begun. Prime Minister Eirhan came forward and bowed perfunctorily before murmuring something in Father’s ear. Father nodded coldly to the Kylmian ministers, who clustered off to the side. It was no secret that Father and Lyosha fought over the ministers; they fought over everything. Lyosha couldn’t mount a successful coup without the majority of the ministers on his side, but Mother’s support lent him strength; a coup had been rumored for years. My maid Aino had been predicting it once a night for weeks. After all, it was the traditional way for Kylmian children to inherit the dukedom. Poor Aino had taken to double-locking my door each night, and she spent hours fretting right inside it. As though I’d be the first one slaughtered in a coup. It doesn’t matter anyway. The coup wouldn’t take place in the next five days, and after that, I’d be down south at the university, where the world was civilized and people didn’t kill their relatives as a matter of course. As the brideshow candidates filed down from the balcony, the first of the guests began to greet my father. King Sigis of Drysiak approached first, and I slunk behind Velosha. Sigis was an observer, not a delegate, but in my opinion, he was more of a royal pain than anything else. He’d oiled his golden beard to catch the lamplight, and aside from a scarlet-and-diamond pin that signified his own colors, he wore our family blue. He’d fostered with us for five years, learning to swagger like Father and manufacture “accidents” leading to broken legs and broken skulls among more than one sibling. Father favored Sigis over any natural-born child of his own, and he had taught him the worst of his tricks. Maybe it was the cruelty they had in common. The Gods knew arrogance was something we all shared. Sigis embraced Father, and Father clapped him hard on the back. “Welcome, as always.” “As always, I am honored to be welcome,” Sigis said. I didn’t snort at that. I didn’t want to attract attention. But Sigis’s politeness was always an act. He always made me think of a bear—except he lacked the bear’s manners. “I was surprised by the size of the magic display.” “It’s only the preliminary night,” Father said. “I’ve saved a more impressive show for when the rest of the delegates arrive.” Sigis’s eyes glinted strangely. “I look forward to it.” As he moved away, Father leaned over to speak in Mother’s ear. “I could have gotten him to stand up in the brideshow.” “Sigis doesn’t like boys,” she replied out of the side of her mouth. Lucky boys, I thought. Father rolled his shoulders. “I could have done it.” “Maybe you should have given him a daughter when you had the chance.” Mother sneered. Father shot her a murderous look in response. How those two stayed in the same room long enough to make thirteen children, I’ll never guess. My dress itched in a number of awkward places, and the noise that bounced off the ice walls threatened to give me a headache. But I had to stay until each of the brideshow guests had been greeted and we’d been dismissed from our formal duties. I curtsied to the first candidate, a blushing, stuttering boy. He muttered a name too soft for me to hear, though I ought to have known it from the crest on his shoulder, a wheel flanked by rearing horses. Father and Mother treated him courteously; Lyosha dismissed him with a curled lip. I didn’t know much about the candidates, but I did know this: My parents and my brother each had a favorite, and it wasn’t the same person. “Show respect,” said Father as the boy retreated. His voice was soft—dangerous. Lyosha’s lip curled. “Why? Omsara is a paupers’ kingdom. We don’t need them.” “The point of the brideshow is to strengthen friendships, not create rifts,” Father said. “I asked you to think about that when you started considering your choices.” The next candidate came up, a girl who was graceful and tall, brown-skinned and wide-eyed, and dressed in a white-and-green shift dress. It looked loose and free compared with the tight bodices we wore under our coats. She dipped a curtsy to each of us, smiling. I stifled a sigh as I curtsied back and pressed her hand. This was going to take hours. I could be spending the time packing, or studying, or making my university portfolio. Maybe I could persuade Aino to claim I was ill. Anything would be better than pretending I cared about a brother who thought I’d be more convenient dead and about the poor person who was about to marry him. I spotted Farhod, my alchemy tutor. Like me, he tried to eschew major functions; unlike me, he usually had more success. I rolled my eyes for his benefit. He shook his head reproachfully. His dark, wide eyes were uniquely suited to disapproval. “I like her,” Lyosha said as the snowdrop girl retreated. “She can be considered.” “Not so obviously, my love,” Mother warned him. “Everyone needs to start off on equal footing.” “They’re not equal,” Lyosha replied. “And I don’t see the point in wasting my time.” “Then perhaps I should select a different heir,” Father replied. “Being grand duke is a balance, not a life of doing whatever suits you, and when.” Lyosha stiffened, as though he’d been hit by a blast of cold wind. Rage gathered around him like lightning waiting to ground on something. “The future of the duchy is mine. My choice. I don’t have to run it as inefficiently as you have.” The next candidate faltered. Father motioned them forward with a gracious sweep of his hand, but I couldn’t blame them for moving with reluctance. They introduced themselves in a hurry and retreated as soon as they could. “Come now.” Mother touched Lyosha’s shoulder, on Father’s side for the first time in years. “There are many considerations to be met. We can’t afford to offend anyone before we know what they’re offering for the marriage.” Lyosha sulked. “You just don’t like her because she’s not your choice.” “We talked about this,” Father said. Lyosha spoke in a voice not quite low enough, not quite practiced enough to reach only our ears. “You talked about this. You didn’t bother to ask.” “This is a political endeavor—” Father began. Lyosha’s voice rose. “I have my politics. I make my choices.” A small circle of space began to grow around us. “And if I can’t make my own choice, I’ll make no choice.” “You are jeopardizing years of statecraft,” Father growled. “The duchy doesn’t need fat, old men deciding statecraft,” Lyosha hissed. “And neither do I.” His words slid through the air like a red sword. The brideshow candidates stared. The tan, dark-haired girl in the emerald-and-gold riding suit no longer smiled. Lyosha’s anger crackled, so palpable I could almost see it. “This isn’t your brideshow,” he choked out. “This isn’t your duchy,” Father replied. He sounded almost contemplative. “And the more you try to take it, the more I think it never should be.” The whole hall was silent for a breath, waiting for Lyosha’s lightning to finally ground. “The brideshow’s off,” Lyosha called, his voice bouncing off the hard ice walls. Noise rippled across the hall. Father grabbed for Lyosha’s arm, but Lyosha had spun on his heel and was already striding through the candidates, who scattered and regrouped like a herd of animals. Father clapped his hands. In response, the guards around the hall slammed their halberds against the ground with a crack. In the silence that followed, he said in an impossibly calm voice, “The brideshow will resume tomorrow. Please enjoy yourselves.” By the time he was finished, most of the foreign delegates had begun to shout. “Excellent,” Velosha murmured beside me, and I shuddered. If Lyosha lost the title of heir-elect, she’d look to win it through a process of elimination—specifically, by eliminating her sibling rivals. Half the court ministers disappeared; the rest decided to settle the matter by arguing at the top of their lungs. A hand gripped my elbow and yanked me sideways. Aino. She was supposed to stand at the edge of the hall as a lesser lady, but she’d squeezed her way over to me. “Come on,” she said, pulling me toward a side door. She elbowed past the minister of the People, and I tripped over the minister of trade’s robe. He stumbled past me, steadying himself by putting a hand on top of my head for balance. Had it been a normal night, I would have confronted him for his rudeness. Aino dragged me past anxious servants to the corridor, barely letting me get my feet under me. The flickering lamps set into the walls caught the red in her auburn hair, and her knuckles were white around my arm. We hurried past officials and servants who rushed the other way, alarmed, no doubt, by the noise. “Slow down,” I protested, tripping over the heavy hem of my coat. Aino didn’t answer. “Aino,” I squeaked as she wrenched me around a corner, nearly dislocating my shoulder. The iron grips on the bottoms of my shoes dug into the ice. She didn’t slow down until we reached the royal wing and passed beyond the guards there. We scurried down corridors carved with the scenes of my family—grand dukes battling with enemies, treating with the duchy Below, choosing brides from their own brideshows. Winter roses twined above us, their ice petals stretching at a two-thirds bloom. Aino dug out a key and unlocked my door with trembling fingers. Then she shoved me inside. The fire was out. The ice walls of my rooms glowed blue-white in moonlight that streamed through thin windowpanes. Aino dumped firewood into the metal basin that served as the fireplace, then started the fire with dry moss and a flint. The fire basin sat on a thick stone shelf to protect the ice floor beneath, and white and blue tiles lined its chimney. A bearskin rug lay in front of the fire, and I sat in the oak chair there, shifting a blanket to one side. I slid my feet out of my wooden shoes and dug my socks into the rug. A tightness began to uncoil in me. No siblings to murder me, no Father or Mother to examine me, balancing my usefulness and irrelevance against my potential as a threat. I pulled diamond-studded pins from my hair, which has Mother’s paleness but not its curl. My rooms always meant safety to me, but not to Aino. She locked the door, slid the bolt, and heaved a chair from next to the door until it blocked the handle. Then she went to lock the door to the servants’ corridor. “What are you doing?” I asked. “Making sure no one separates your head from your neck in whatever happens tonight.” Aino’s braid had come undone, and she pinned it back up with thin-lipped determination. “This is a coup, and Lyosha and your father are in the middle of it. You don’t have to be. How packed are you?” “Fairly packed.” My trunk sat in a corner of the room, stuffed with all the things I thought I’d need at the university—clothes, books, sketches of the biology of Above, a few plates with detail on flora from Below sent up as a sample and gift to Farhod. I was still working on copying his dissection report, a recent—and generous—gift from the duchy Below to expand our academic knowledge. “Good. We’ll set out tonight, and we won’t come back until one of them is grand duke and one of them is dead.” No one could boss me around like Aino could. She was more of a mother to me than Mother. She was shorter and slimmer than our family, with wide blue eyes that always looked alarmed and a nose made for poking into my business. She knew the intrigues of Lyosha and my parents before I did, and she made sure I was always well dressed for events of the court, well versed in what to say, and well protected from the worst of my family’s wrath. She tasted my coffee every morning and ran her fingers along the seams of my new clothes to check for razors my siblings might have slipped in. Worrying for my safety lined her mouth and forehead and streaked her hair with gray before its time. In the weeks before, she’d looked more and more worn out as she updated me on which minister backed which family member and how many siblings were trying to get involved in the imminent coup. I didn’t pay much attention to it. I cared less for Lyosha’s political ambitions than I did for a vial of wolf urine. At least I could learn something interesting from wolf urine. And as long as my chief interests were the flora and fauna of Above and Below, I doubted any ministers or ambitious family members cared about me. All the same: “I can’t leave yet.” Even if I had no interest in the duchy, I had a duty. Our family was Kylma Above, and we had responsibilities to uphold. Father had stipulated that I could go south when the brideshow was over, not before. If I violated his order, he might find some way to prevent me from going to the university at all. I went over to my desk, skipping across the floor in my wool socks. “What are you doing?” Aino asked. “I might as well get some work done.” I pulled my technical drawings from the middle drawer of the desk. I was copying Minister Farhod’s, and I had to finish them before I went south. They’d be part of my university portfolio and application. Farhod had warned me that gaining admittance was hard, even for the daughter of a grand duke—but detailed dissection notes of a creature never seen before was sure to catch their attention. “You ought to rest.” Aino checked the door, then paced back to the fire, dispersing the logs with a poker. “We shouldn’t have lit this. What if someone realizes you’re here?” I rolled my eyes as I lit the little candle under my frozen inkwell. Aino was back to her favorite hobby: fretting. “No one can see me, and no one’s going to care. Fetch my robe, won’t you?” She stomped off, muttering about ungrateful brats and coups and heads. I was restless, too, and opened the window next to my desk, leaning out to let the cold air sting my cheeks. The palace was quieter than usual. Maybe we really were on the cusp of a coup. Or maybe the brideshow was canceled, and nobody wanted to celebrate. From here, I could just see the bridal tower, and I wondered if the candidates had retreated to it. The girl in the riding suit didn’t seem like the type to retreat from anything. A lone figure hurried across a decorative wall, and four stories beneath me lay the thick ice sheet that separated Above and Below. I wanted to crack that ice so badly that it split my heart to think about it. Beneath that ice swam undulating bodies with serpentine legs, vague shapes I could nearly recognize when I walked on the lake’s frozen surface. The duchy Below was our closest ally and our dearest friend. It was the only political matter I had any interest in. It was the greatest thing Father had denied me—and denied me, and denied me. Aino draped my robe around my shoulders. “Shut the window,” she said, reaching past me to do it herself. I pulled my head inside. “No one’s going to shoot me from the palace walls.” “Honestly, Ekata. If there is one night my worrying might save your life, it’s tonight.” She cinched the robe around my waist. “You’ve never been the sweet, obedient type. Humor me.” “I’ll keep the doors and windows locked.” I forced myself not to roll my eyes again. “But don’t call for a sled. And let me work for a few hours before bed. There’s nothing unsafe about sitting at my desk.” “You can work for half an hour, then I’m dousing the fire. And if anyone knocks, say nothing. You’re not here.” I shook my head and tucked my chin to hide a smile. “All right.” I didn’t hide it well enough. “Don’t treat this like a joke, my lady,” Aino snapped. She only used my lady when she was really cross. “I’m concerned about your life, and all you can think of is livers and cross sections.” She curled her lip at the sheet on my desk on which Minister Farhod had painstakingly drawn a number of internal organs in a hand so fine they still seemed to glisten. I licked the nib of my pen. “Aino, relax,” I said. “The kitchen boy’s more politically involved than I am. Whatever occurs tonight, it’s hardly going to concern us.” As it happened, I was wrong. About the Author: I am a writer and tour guide in Copenhagen, Denmark. Though I originally come from Colorado, I left the US when I was eighteen and I haven’t lived there since. More permanent stops on my travels have included Switzerland, Wales and Denmark. The arrival of a Danish husband has somewhat cemented my living situation, but I get my travel in smaller doses these days. I like to write fantasy, mostly, though I dabble in soft sci-fi. My short stories are more adult, my novels more YA. I’ve studied history, archaeology, and writing. I like to take my inspiration from historical events, and the more unknown and inspiring the event, the better. I am represented by Kurestin Armada of P.S. Literary. To keep up with what strange things I’m researching and writing, you can sign up for my newsletter here. I send out a short newsletter once a month. Links: Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17293691.Claire_Eliza_Bartlett Website: https://authorclaire.com/ Twitter: https://twitter.com/bartlebett Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/bartlebett/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/bartlebett/ Giveaway: Prize: Win (1) of (2) finished copies of THE WINTER DUKE by Claire Eliza Bartlett (US Only) Starts: 3rd March 2020 Ends: 18th March 2020 a Rafflecopter giveaway Tour Schedule: http://fantasticflyingbookclub.blogspot.com/2020/01/tour-schedule-winter-duke-by-claire.html March 3rd The Unofficial Addiction Book Fan Club - Welcome Post March 4th L.M. Durand - Guest Post Belle's Archive - Review + Favourite Quotes Utopia State of Mind - Review + Favourite Quotes Libri Draconis - Review The Everlasting Library - Review + Favourite Quotes March 5th Bibliobibuli YA - Interview Whispers & Wonder - Review The.magicalpages - Review + Favourite Quotes Caitsbooks - Review + Dream Cast + Favourite Quotes @onemused - Review March 6th NovelKnight - Guest Post Booked J - Review + Playlist + Favourite Quotes The Reading Chemist - Review Dazzled by Books - Review The art of living - Review March 7th Ya It’s Lit - Review + Favourite Quotes @womanon - Review The Layaway Dragon - Review + Favourite Quotes Inky Moments - Review + Dream Cast Magical Reads - Review + Playlist March 8th Moonlight Rendezvous - Review + Favourite Quotes Sometimes Leelynn Reads - Review + Playlist Ink & Myths - Review + Favourite Quotes Morgan Vega - Review + Favourite Quotes Enthralled Bookworm - Review + Favourite Quotes March 9th Kait Plus Books - Interview The Reading Corner for All - Review + Favourite Quotes Frayed Books - Review Your Words My Ink - Review + Dream Cast Confessions of a YA Reader - Review + Favourite Quotes

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[watchilove]

Claude Meylan Tortue Lady is a special collection of the independent Vallée de Joux brand. The brand created it exclusively for ladies and, only recently, due to the public’s request, gentlemen’s versions  were added. This year, the collection was enriched with an extraordinary piece – the Claude Meylan Tortue Lady La Point de Sable. A beautiful lady watch that has an equally beautiful story. This is my take on this piece.

Claude Meylan Tortue Lady La Point de Sable

Claude Meylan Tortue Lady La Point de Sable

For those unfamiliar with the brand, Claude Mylan is one of the prominent names from the heart of Jura Switzerland. And watchmaking! The Meylan family is one of the four historical families founding fine watchmaking. For more information, you can check the Claude Meylan history.

Coming back to the reviewed piece, I had the pleasure to see it during the Baselworld fair. It was instant love. A collection that I always enjoyed, the Tortue Lady, received a new watch – La Point de Sable.

An automatic lady watch built three-dimensional with a personal touch.

When a watchmaker loves

The story of Claude Meylan Tortue Lady La Point de Sable is simple. It is a sweet story that was, is and will it always be present in various forms in watchmaking.

Claude Meylan Tortue Lady La Point de Sable

During the last years Salon QP, my friend Pia (from Claude Meylan) met Philippe Narbel, a talented watchmaker. He was curious about the Tortue Collection. Since he fell in love with the little turtle (the French tortue), he wanted to o buy one of the pieces for his wife. He was intrigued by the watch’s construction. Philippe Narbel is an “angleur”, a watchmaker specialised in anglage (hand beveling / chamfering) and he expressed the desire to bring a personal touch to the watch he would like to buy.

“Tortue” means in English “turtle”. Having a look at the steel case, we can easily understand the watch’s name origin.

Pia insisted that Phillippe should meet with the Claude Meylan brand’s owner, Philippe Belais. Who would have guessed that Philippe’s Narbel atelier is just 40 meters away from Claude Meylan Atelier in Vallée de Joux. When passionate people meet, it is hard to keep ideas away. So, Philippe Belais (CEO and owner of Claude Meylan) gave a calibre to the Philippe Narbel and a free hand. The imagination of Philippe and his expertise led to what is now the La Pointe de Sable watch.

The Tortue case is simple and elegant. Note the cute crown.

When the outside elegance hides a beauty like no other

The three-part construction case is manufactured in 316L stainless steel. The turtle case has a polished finish on all surfaces. The short, massive lugs contribute to the “turtle” appearance. The watch might look gargantuan. But is just an optic effect on the images. The case is actually 31 mm at mid horizontal axe. Considering the automatic movement inside, the dimensions are more than ok.

The cutest crown ever! How many watches out there have a bear and three fish as decoration. A detail that I particularly love.

The angled raised bezel keeps a tall sapphire crystal that increases the watch depth effect. The see-through caseback is fixed on the case with screws. The watch has a water resistance of 30m.

The back view of the Tortue Lady La Point de Sable

When you got everything there

Tortue Lady La Point de Sable is one of those watches that have on the front side everything that a watch lover can desire: the dial with the time display and the important elements of the movement, respectively the balance wheel and the micro-rotor.

For a watch lover relish – the watch features not only a beautiful time display, but also the main components of the calibre 7.75CM17

The typical construction of the brand met the talent of Philippe Narbel. As a result, the usual mechanical interesting watch received an extra detailed decoration. On the movement itself and also on the dial.

The shore scenery is melancholic, romantic and very unusual for a watch.

The engravings are well executed. The whole scene captured the romanticism of a Swiss lake surrounded by woods and mountains. The scenery brings the quiet and calm specific to many small Swiss lakes.

Another view of the dial in a slightly different light to catch all the details of the beautiful engraving.

The waves and the depth of the lake are exceptional caught, as well as the sand and the surroundings. You can almost see and feel the gentle wind, hear and see the lazy boat’s movement.

The micro-rotor received the same exceptional detailed hand decoration.

The micro-rotor also received a carefully hand made decoration. The combination of brushing, engraving and hand-hammering looks nice. And it brings to me, an accentuation of the above waves. Lovely decoration!

 The movement: on front, on the back, overall…

As stated above, the movement’s main elements are brought on the dial side. The elements are well decorated by hand.

The balance wheel is mounted on a single screw fixed cock.

The cocks are open-worked. While the anglage is not super technic, you are able to observe the filing and polishing. The decorations keens on the artistic side, rather than on technicality. That is the beauty of the hand made work.

The back view offers and equally beautiful spectacle.

The watch is powered by the 4Hz (28.200 vph) calibre 7.75CM17. The movement has a power reserve of 38 hours. Enough to be let aside for a day, when a lady wishes to wear another timepiece.

Detail of the La Point de Sable engraving on the main bridge of the movement’s back.

To make everything more interesting, the Claude Meylan Tortue Lady La Point de Sable was fitted with a bracelet with printed technological satin and a delicate steel pin buckle. Great looking combo.

The strap has a nice tactile feeling given by its technological manufacturing process.

Personal impressions and final considerations

When it comes to ladies watches, the market has big holes and missings. I often met ladies that desire a nice mechanical timepiece, designed for ladies without the usual typicalities. Often, the ladies watches come in precious metals and with/or diamonds. Or simply too flashy. My significant one is in the same situation. She wears often small mechanical men pieces. And here is where Claude Maylan is fitting well in the market. The entire Tortua Collection is lovely, even the added men pieces.

Tortue Lady La Point de Sable, in particular, is a fabulous watch. The love for its wife, combined with its talent, made Philippe Narbel to create a new face for this watch. A new horizon, you might say.

I salute Philippe Belais for allowing this to be possible and Philippe Narbel for the result. Enjoy all the above pictures and many others at the end of the article.

Claude Meylan Tortue Lady La Point de Sable on a lady’s wrist. Off course – fabulous!

  Claude Meylan Tortue Lady La Point de Sable Technical Specifications

Movement:

Self-winding by rotor on ball barrels

Functions:

Hours, Minutes, seconds

Decorations:

Fine finishes, decorated open work

Movement:

Calibre 7.75CM17 ; 28’800 A/h ; 4 Hz ; 25 rubis

Autonomy:

38 hours

Case:

Stainless steel 316L, see-through back, sapphire crystals

Dimension:

31 mm at mid horizontal axe

Waterproof:

30 m

Bracelet:

Printed technological satin

Buckle:

Stainless steel 316L with pin

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Claude Meylan Tortue Lady La Point de Sable

The back view of the Tortue Lady La Point de Sable

Claude Meylan Tortue Lady La Point de Sable

The Tortue case is simple and elegant.

“Tortue” means in English “turtle”. Having a look at the steel case, we can easily understand the watch’s name origin.

The strap has a nice tactile feeling given by its technological manufacturing process.

The cutest crown ever! How many watches out there have a bear and three fish as decoration. A detail that I particularly love.

An automatic lady watch built three-dimensional with a personal touch.

Claude Meylan Tortue Lady La Point de Sable

For a watch lover relish – the watch features not only a beautiful time display, but also the main components of the calibre 7.75CM17

The shore scenery is melancholic, romantic and very unusual for a watch.

Another view of the dial in a slightly different light to catch all the details of the beautiful engraving.

The micro-rotor received the same exceptional detailed hand decoration

The balance wheel is mounted on a single screw fixed cock.

The back view offers and equally beautiful spectacle.

Detail of the La Point de Sable engraving on the main bridge of the movement’s back.

Claude Meylan Tortue Lady La Point de Sable on a lady’s wrist. Off course – fabulous!

For more information, please visit the Claude Meylan Website.

Review: Claude Meylan Tortue Lady La Point de Sable – the love transformed Claude Meylan Tortue Lady is a special collection of the independent Vallée de Joux brand. The brand created it exclusively for ladies and, only recently, due to the public's request, gentlemen's versions  were added.

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