#not to brag but I do cars passages every day & it has been coming so naturally to me probably bc I grew up reading

[stuckinapril]

an english masters might be a good break from all the science and math you’ll be doing to prepare for the mcat! not that there’s such thing as too much science but it’s good to have a balance so your skills in writing and lit analysis don’t get rusty.

anon I was thinking the same thing!! I’ve read for pleasure my whole life, but life gets busy & it might be a good idea to rly involve myself in literature w a masters just to keep my life analysis skills sharp. these days whenever I read recreationally I literally tell myself it’ll help me on the cars section of the mcat 💀💀 that says everything about where my headspace is at I fear

#and it WILL #not to brag but I do cars passages every day & it has been coming so naturally to me probably bc I grew up reading #I don’t think my lit skills will dry up either way bc I’ve always been pretty good at English #so if I do pursue global affairs I won’t feel tooooo bad about choosing it over English lit I don’t think #but it’s a good option to have in my back pocket just in case #it’s also literally just such a fun prospect. something to think ab for sure #ask

[nikethestatue]

La Dolce Vita

Summary: Elain Archeron and Azriel - in love, in lust, in Italy

Modern AU *slight TOG crossover. If you read my stuff, you know it’s LONG

Warnings: bad language and THIS IS NSFW (not kidding, this is a story, not just sex, but there is a LOT of explicit material here. You can still read the story, but if you are sensitive or underage, skip the naughty bits)

Comments are always appreciated/wanted/needed. Anon or not, just do it! Obviously, reblogs are appreciated. 

Part I (Flowers)

 La Vie En Rose

De l'homme auquel j'appartiens (Of the man to whom I belong)  Quand il me prend dans ses bras Il me parle l'a tout bas (He speaks to me softly) Je vois la vie en rose (And I see life in pink) Il me dit des mots d'amour (He speaks words of love to me) Des mots de tous les jours (They are every day words) Et ça m' fait quelque chose (And they do something to me) Il est entré dans mon coeur (He has entered into my heart) Une part de bonheur (A bit of happiness) Dont je connais la cause (That I know the cause of) C'est lui pour moi (It's only him for me) Moi pour lui dans la vie (And me for him, for life)

Now

Riding in a Ferrari, being enveloped in its supple, buttery leather, gulping in the cypress and cedar-scented air of Tuscany was everything that Elain Archeron had ever wanted. She never knew that this is what she wanted, because riding in very fast, very expensive, sleek Italian cars wasn’t on her ‘fantasy radar’, but now that she was in one, she suddenly came to the realization that this was perhaps one of the best experiences of her life.

The whole thing, so far, has been the best experience of her life.

Well…maybe not the best-best.

Her happiness was deeply intertwined with and caused by the man in the driver seat of the said Ferrari—Azriel. Azriel Archeron, as he loved calling himself. Even if this wasn’t his last name, he preferred using it over his family name, for a variety of personal reasons. There was nothing better, more sublime, more beautiful and more loving than Azriel. The perfect male specimen, if she could say so herself. No one would argue with her assessment either.

Elain

 They were introduced by her sister’s then-boyfriend Cass, who was giving her a lift one afternoon, and then suggested that they stop by Azriel’s car atelier, because he needed to pick something up.

Elain’s heard of the mysterious Azriel from her sisters, both of whom had claimed that he was the most handsome man that either one of them had ever seen. Elain chuckled at the exuberant praise, doubting its truthfulness. There was no such thing as the ‘most handsome’ man. Beauty was in the eyes of the beholder.

She wasn’t sure what a car atelier was, and when Cassian pulled up to a modern-looking building, she said that she’d stay in the car and wait.

“Come on, petal, don’t be shy,” Cassian urged her, holding the car door open for her in a way that indicated that she’d have to get out and follow him.

They entered the foyer, a vast space with racing stripes painted on the polished cement floor, and a sea of model cars dropping from the ceiling. Behind a wall of glass, Elain spied a row of gorgeous cars, none of which were familiar to her. Some unique European models, fit for James Bond’s consumption. There were also neat antique cars, probably from the 50s. She immediately had visions of Grace Kelly and Cary Grant riding in one of these along the Riviera coast.

“What’s this place?” she inquired, looking around at the mid-century modern building that resembled a spaceship.

“This is Az’s baby,” Cass explained vaguely. “Conceived, conceptualized, restored, outfitted—all by the brilliant mind of one Azriel Bagarat.”

“Are you bragging?”

A deep, sensual voice, that could only be called ‘midnight’ sounded behind them, and Cassian’s handsome, tanned face broke in a mischievous smile. “Only about you, brother!”

When Elain turned around, her breath was knocked out from her lungs.

She didn’t know that it was possible, to be actually stunned by someone’s beauty, but there she stood, gaping, feeling the world slow and move in a different manner for a few moments.

Standing at a towering 6”4 or so, the man was at least as tall as Cassian, and Cassian was the tallest man Elain’d ever met. She was just as muscular, but not as bulky. Clad in all black, from expensive, well-tailored Diesel jeans, to a soft t-shirt that stretched over his sharply cut torso, emphasizing the thick muscles of his arms and shoulders, and the narrow waist, true to her sisters’ word, this Azriel was simply exquisite.

Cassian draped his heavy arm around her shoulders and nudged her forward, just a bit, and said,

“Petal, say hello! This is my brother, Azriel. Az, this is my soon-to-be-sister-in-law, the one and only Elain Archeron.”

At the words ‘sister-in-law’ Elain whipped her head to Cassian, who grinned maniacally at her, nodding and answering her silent question.

“When? What are you talking about?” she exclaimed, Azriel momentarily forgotten. “What do you mean? You’ve only been seeing each other for like three months?!?”

“Baby girl, I don’t need three years to decide…Nes is Nes and she is the one for me.”

He shrugged with his usual ease, acting like they were discussing the weather or a good burger that he just ate.

“If Nes hears even a whiff of this, I will know it’s you, petal, and well, I am not sure what I will do,” he decided upon reflection, but then pleaded, “please, don’t tell her. This one,” he nodded towards Azriel, who was standing still, green eyes peeled to Elain, “I can trust. He hardly ever talks,”

“That’s because you talk for all of us,” noted Azriel with a smirk.

Elain chuckled, and turned back to face him.

He extended his hand to her, with an odd, tentative movement, and when she looked down, she saw old, mottled scars that covered his palm and part of his wrist and forearm. A vintage Patek Phillipe on his wrist.

“Beautiful,” she murmured, and he gave her a surprised look, unsure of what she was referring to.

“It’s always a pleasure to meet another Archeron sister,” he said with a soft smile, which made Elain lose her ability to speak for a good few moments, because she was finally able to take in that face that defied description. The sharp cheekbones and the mesmerizing amber and emerald eyes, almond-shaped and slanted hinted at a varied heritage, and unfairly, the man also possessed a perfect nose, and a full, sensuous mouth. He was the very definition of tall, dark, and handsome, with skin of burnished bronze, which was so in contrast to his bright eyes and raven-black hair, cut in a fashionable undercut. The physique, as she already noted, quickly skimming over the body, matched the face.

“Yes, me too,” she said stupidly.

Graceful, like a courtier, he offered her his arm and said,

“Would you like me to show you around?”

She didn’t want to be impolite, though she suddenly felt sweaty and nervous, and completely out of her league. But she threaded her hand through his arm and lightly squeezed the firm, alarmingly thick bicep.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

She wasn’t sure what she was thinking him for, so she added, “yes, I’d love to see it.”

“Why haven’t we met?” he inquired, those green eyes watching her with such intensity that she felt almost undressed, bared under the gaze. It wasn’t unpleasant, because it wasn’t lascivious, and he didn’t strike her as someone who’d be disrespectful to women.

“I’ve been busy for the past half a year,” she explained.

“Doing what?”

They walked down the wide passage, past all the cars, which Azriel pointed out with a wave of his scarred hand, and dropped names like Pagani, BMW I8, Bugatti Divo, Bugatti Centodieci, Lamborghini Veneto, Koenigsegg CCXR Trevita and so forth. Elain might not have known a ton about cars, but she was not so unaware not to know that a Bugatti and a Lambo were expensive cars.

Cassian fell behind, gawking at the display.

“I was opening my own business,” Elain said, her head thrown back, looking at an entire toy racetrack mounted to the ceiling, with cars zooming by, and somehow, not falling on patrons’ heads.

“What sort of business?”

“Flowers,” she said absently, once they reached another space—a two story-restaurant, bar, and a patio outside as well.

“Flowers?”

“Oh, a flower shop,” she explained at last. Then muttered, awed, “this is really incredible!”

“A car enthusiast?” he smirked.

She didn’t know how it happened, but somehow, her hand migrated from the crook of his arm to his hand, and now, they walked along the walls lined with Ferrari posters, memorabilia and expensive everything. Walking and holding hands.

“I wouldn’t call myself one,” she admitted, “but I find cars aesthetically pleasing…Never got to ride in anything fancier than a Mercedes or a Lexus,”

“Well, we should remedy that at once!” he decided easily and then said, “pick you up on Friday at seven?”

That sobered her up a bit and she turned to face him. They stopped at the long, chrome-lined bar, and he said, “An espresso?”

“Um,”

But before she could respond, he was behind the counter, playing with a very fancy coffee machine that required a PhD to operate with all the levers and hooks and buttons, and in a few minutes, he poured her a tiny cup of coffee, thick with natural foam, and heady with its enticing scent.

He chugged his own in one go and she followed him, gulping her espresso in two sips. It was better than anything she’d ever drunk in her life.

“Like a date?” she finally asked, truly confused by the offer.

“Would you like it to be a date?” he leaned on the bar, biceps flexing, his arms covered in tattoo sleeves that reached all the way to his fingers. They were quite beautiful, the tattoos, the placement and the design, and Elain recognized the style, since Cassian and Rhysand wore the same kinds of tattoos, if not so extensive.

“Did you draw these?” she asked bluntly, touching her finger to a thick snaking black line, which was shaded with cobalt.

He looked down, at her hand and his arm and nodded, following her finger with his eyes.

“I did. For the three of us. When we made Navy Seals,”

“You are a Seal, too?” she exclaimed.

He smiled and nodded, “Well, we all grew up in foster care—not all, Cass and I,”

“I heard,”

“Until Rhys’s parents adopted us. But we weren’t the…best of boys,” he chortled, “so to get our heads straight, we were sent to the Navy after school. We figured we’d only stay a bit, but we stayed for a while.”

“So, you are retired?”

“We are vets,”

“How old are you?” she blurted. Then blushed and said, “I am sorry. I am usually not so impolite,”

He laughed, “I figured. But that’s alright. I’ll tell you on Friday, though. If you don’t mind?”

“I mean, I don’t mind,” she murmured, her eyes dropping to her espresso cup, “but,”

“How about this—I take you on a drive in one of these fancy cars—and then you can brag to everyone that you’d driven in a,”

He paused and rubbed his chin,

“Any preference?”

“For what?”

“What car you’d like to go in?”

“I don’t know,”

“Throw something at me,” he urged, eyes glinting with feral delight.

Elain, blush deepening, finally said, “Do you have a Ferrari? I’ve always wanted to drive in a Ferrari.”

“Ahhh, a Ferrarista at heart!” he nodded with approval, folding his arms on his chest, “stick with the classic and the best. And yes, gorgeous, I do have a Ferrari or two.”

Gorgeous.

Azriel

The girl who’d arrived with Cassian, was not Nesta, but there was something vaguely familiar about her. The girl who’d arrived with Cassian was the most gorgeous creature that Azriel had ever seen. Gorgeous and completely unaware.

Women like her, if they were smart and cunning and ambitious, used their beauty for all things good and terrible. But this exquisite creature that Cassian was so blatantly hugging and teasing wasn’t one of those women. Azriel was all too familiar with the types—the maneaters, who hounded him like sharks. He was wealthy, and good-looking, and a decent person, if not exactly a saint. He hobnobbed with celebrities who came to order his cars, which he designed and outfitted based on their specifications and desires.

He was finnicky when it came to taste though. No matter how much rappers asked him to clad their Maybach in gold or some vapid Gucci print, no matter how many heiresses pouted and asked for a bubblegum or Barbie-pink Ferraris, he did not betray the essence and soul of the vehicle. Modify, define, sharpen, stylize—he did it all with precision and skill which was unparalleled. But Azriel Bagarat was known for rejecting even the juiciest of offers, if the request did not coincide with his aesthetic or the history of the car.

He was at his shop—that’s what he called it, though atelier sounded infinitely better and more expensive—that afternoon, knowing that Cassian was going to drop by and select a car for his grandiose proposal to Nesta. There was some concern that Cassian would not fit his 6”5 form into an Aston Martin or a Bentley, so they needed to make sure that the car was appropriate for the occasion and the occupant. Cass insisted on a British vehicle, feeling that Nesta would like something classic and timeless. So be it.

What Azriel did not expect to see that Tuesday afternoon was a girl--because he hesitated to call her a ‘woman’, since she looked so lovely and perfect and innocent--who took his breath away.

His breath had been taken away only once before, by Rhys’s cousin, who strolled like a ray of sunshine into their broken lives.

However, Morrigan chose Cassian. And then Cassian promptly impregnated her, causing a great discontent and strife between everyone. Morrigan, or rather Morgana d’Adda, though she anglicized her name, even if Morrigan d’Adda sounded funny, was just about disavowed by her family for tumbling, and being so stupid and blind as to get knocked up by a hulking nobody mulatto, as her father Keir called Cassian. Rather, sneered, at Cassian.

Even if Azriel didn’t impregnate anybody, he somehow got looped into the family bullshit and once he and Cassian turned 18, they were both shipped off to the navy. To the dismay of the entire Darling clan, Rhys followed them, tossing away his guaranteed admittance to Brown. An Ivy League school for rich stupid heirs. Only Rhys wasn’t stupid. Neither was Cassian a hulking nobody mulatto. And Azriel wasn’t just the ‘fucking weird kid, who might be a serial killer’. They served and they passed the insane Navy Seal training, and they proved themselves.

Nowadays, Cassian now ran security for the Darling conglomerate, while Rhys took over the reins when his father was killed in a car accident. Azriel found his own path, though the association with the Darling name certainly helped his exposure and in building relationships and meeting all the right people. And meeting all the women. The three brothers had gone through their share of wild times, but in the past 3 years, things began to calm down for them.

It began with Rhys meeting Feyre Archeron at an art gallery, where she was exhibiting some of her pieces. Azriel had tugged along with Rhys to see the exhibit, because Rhys was looking for some art for his new office, and he trusted Azriel’s taste and knowledge, and wanted a second pair of eyes.

Rhys followed Feyre like a dog throughout the evening—Azriel was there to witness the pathetic display—and then they ended up at a bar, doing shots and feeding Feyre virgin Cosmos, since she wasn’t even 21 yet. They went to some dance club, Azriel playing the third-wheel and ‘chaperone’, though by the end of the night, Rhys and Feyre disappeared together and weren’t heard from for the next three days.

… “What if he killed her?” proposed Cassian for 100th time, pacing back and forth, running his fingers through his long black hair. “Or what if she killed him?”

“I thought that I was the serial killer among the three of us,” drawled Azriel, sprawled on a sofa, watching a game. He wasn’t as concerned, having seen Rhys dripping with intense lust at the sight of the brown-haired teen. It was unusual, since at that time Rhys was almost 25, and Feyre only 19, and the three of them typically tried to avoid teenagers like the plague. But Rhysand Darling seemed genuinely enthralled.

“No, you are the guy with the sex dungeon,” corrected Cassian.

Azriel rolled his eyes, “serial killer with a sex dungeon, huh? Sounds like an interesting story. Alas, much as I’d like to, I don’t have a sex dungeon.”

“Aren’t you building one? In that new garage of yours?” Cassian shrugged.

“Only cars. No sex toys,” sighed Azriel, looking like that might have been an omission on his part.

“Gents, I think I am in love!” the door burst open and a wild-eyed Rhys appeared, his normally pristine hair in disarray, his cheeks flushed, wearing only a white t-shirt and jeans.

“Where the fuck were you for three days?” growled Cassian, showing considerable relief at the sight of his brother.

“Falling in love,” crooned Rhys, falling into a chair, a stupid, dazed look on his face.

“You look like Audrey Hepburn in ‘Sabrina’,” noted Azriel.

“I feel like Audrey Hepburn!” exclaimed Rhys. “She is perfect. Feyre is perfect.”

What the fuck? Mouthed Cassian in confusion.

“Feyre Darling,” whispered Rhys with delight, eyes closed, tasting the sound of the name on his tongue. “Feyre Archeron Darling. Or Feyre Darling Archeron?”

“You alright there, buddy?” Cassian frowned. “A little early to be talking last names?”

“She’ll be my wife,” announced Rhysand with his usually unwavering confidence.

And that was that.

Now, the ‘society wedding of the year’ was coming up in three months. Rhysand Darling and Feyre Archeron, the toast of the town, the power couple, the young and beautiful billionaires.

 Now, Azriel stood in front of the most stunning female he’d ever seen and for once, he felt like Rhys. His brain turned into a soupy mess, and he found himself tongue-tied and concentrating was suddenly difficult. He wanted to be a gracious host and a confident, formidable man, who had a reputation to uphold—though he wasn’t sure if Elain was aware of his reputation—but inside, he was a mess. All his insecurities, doubts and self-hate rose to the surface at once, and he hesitated to extend his hand in greeting to her. His mangled, horrible, revolting hand, which was sullied beyond its extensive scars. A hand that killed, and touched way too women, some of whom he probably shouldn’t have been touching at all.

“Beautiful,” she murmured softly, that gorgeous blush spreading over her rose-petal cheeks.

He was so taken aback by the comment, he was nearly flabbergasted when she didn’t pull away, didn’t frown or grimace in disgust, didn’t display any of the usual signs of revulsion that most women did when they saw his hands. Perhaps it was the Patek Phillipe, he tried to convince himself, but deep down he knew—she called his scars ‘beautiful’.

And then she took his arm, her hand strong, surprisingly calloused, if light, and small.

And from that moment on, Azriel became obsessed with that touch.

His body heated and as he led her to the bar, and showed her around his pride and joy, watching for the subtle reactions, for the gleam of wonder and appreciation in her eyes, he couldn’t release…wouldn’t release her hand from his. She asked questions, took in all the memorabilia and gawked at the cars, and then the guest area, and finally, when he sat her down at the bar and made her a coffee, he stepped closer. Trying not to scare her, or seem obnoxious, he couldn’t help invading her personal space, and stood next to her, pretending to take interest in his drink, while hoping that her arm would brush against his own. Skin to skin.

She didn’t pull away. Didn’t shy away.

He didn’t expect himself to ask her on what amounted to a date, because he wasn’t even sure how dates worked. His usual ammo consisted of a brief introduction, an even quicker seduction and then a hook up. That’s how he liked it. He preferred no-strings-attached approach to his involvement with women, and it’s been working rather well for him. He never had to sleep with anyone in the same bed, he never had to make anyone breakfast, there was no room for idle chitchat, and usually no second or third dates. It was so easy.

This fucking girl, with her caramel-brown eyes, her golden-amber curls, her soft lips and that damn blush on her cheeks—she was driving him veritably insane with her unique mix of immaculate beauty and a friendly, almost naïve, strangely innocent disposition. And he wanted to go on a date with her. Without an ulterior motive, because at it stood right now, he didn’t care to even get her in bed. That would come later. He was absolutely determined to have this happen later. But…later.

Cassian

“Alrighty, I think I am going with the Bentley,” Cassian sidled to the bar, and interrupted.

If Azriel was annoyed, he didn’t show it.

Cassian spied them at last, making his way through the cavernous entrails of the garage, with all its gleaming cars, the beautiful patrons who were discussing options with no-less beautiful sales people,  and even on-premises tattoo shop, which specialized in Azriel’s sketches and catered to those who didn’t have money to actually outfit their Bugatti to their heart’s desire, but could at least claim that they got a Bagarat tattoo inked on their skin.

Elain and Azriel were standing side by side, somehow melding together nicely, her pretty dress and high-heeled sandals and piles of loose hair in drastic contrast with Azriel’s all-black ensemble, his massive height and the span of his shoulders. But she did not balk from him. Cassian also noticed that she didn’t react to the scars, which Azriel was very self-conscious about, and seemed genuinely interested in the garage.

It was inevitable that the two would eventually meet, especially with the wedding coming up and all the wedding related brouhaha. However, Cassian wanted to have the dibs on gloating down the line, and reminding the two of them, forever, about how it was he who introduced them. Yes, Azriel fucked a lot of models and rich girls, for whom he, strangely, was a riff on a ‘bit of rough’, while being hardly ‘rough’ at all. Azriel was elegant and possessed excellent taste in everything, and he probably had the best manners out of the lot of them. But the tattoos, the cars, the aura of brooding mystery about him, and his generally quiet ways were like honey to the throngs of women who lusted after him.  

About Azriel, Cassian had no doubts.

Cassian knew Azriel probably better than anyone alive, and even that wasn’t saying much, but he was very aware of Azriel’s ‘secret type’ of woman. Basically, it was Elain. Everything about Elain Azriel would like—of that Cassian was certain. Elain was the elusive ‘ideal woman’ of whom Azriel dreamt, but never actually pursued. Slightly unconventional, soft, kind, generous—lovely, would be a good word—Elain was everything that Azriel never had with any other women.

Cassian could already see the hunger and flicker of completely besotted adoration in Azriel’s normally cold eyes.

He was less certain about Elain, having never seen her with a boyfriend. When he had asked Nesta about Elain’s situation, Nesta shrugged and said that Elain was beautiful, but naïve, dreamy and rarely dated.

“A Bentley it is then,” Azriel turned around, though his elbow still touched Elain’s arm. “You’ll fit, big boy?”

Elain giggled.

“I am not Rowan,” Cassian muttered. “I am human sized.”

“Only just.”

“You are the same height,” Cassian reminded him coolly.

“I am a little more human-shaped too.”

Cassian rolled his eyes and said, “Come on, petal. While I love to stand here and listen to his insults, we gotta go.”

Elain’s face dropped into a sad frown only for a second, but she recovered immediately. Cassian noticed it, nevertheless. His petal of a girl didn’t want to leave his brother’s side.

“Bye Azriel,” she said, taking his hand in hers again, of her own volition, and squeezing it lightly. “It was very nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” he said. His fingers wrapped over her palm, and he said, “I’ll walk you two out.”

So, his brooding brother didn’t want to release the newfound petal of a girl.

How interesting.

Once they were in Cassian’s Jeep, Elain looked out the window, a dreamy look on her face.

“Oh-oh,” Cassian chuckled, as he navigated the narrow NYC streets.

“What?”

“I know that look,” he winked.

“What look?” she frowned.

“The ‘oh gods, Azriel is so handsome!’ look. Oh, he is so gorgeous look. Oh, he is so sexy look.”

“He is handsome,” she agreed blandly, knowing that arguing would be silly.

“I hope that you gave him your number,” he said. “Because if you didn’t, I will.”

“It’s none of your business,” she crossed her arms on her chest, and Cass howled loudly.

“You are welcome, by the way,”

“You are ridiculous,” she muttered. “I don’t know how Nesta tolerates you!”

“Oh, Nes tolerates me and then some,” and winked again.

Now

“My love, slow down a bit,” Elain requested, as the road zigzagged among rows of cypresses.

“I thought that you wanted to make it to Florence before traffic hit?” Azriel squeezed her fingers and brought her hand to his lips.

“Seeing that we are already running late, we might as well enjoy the drive,” she shrugged.

A honey-coloured strand of her hair fell out from under the gauzy wrap that she wore around her head a-la Grace Kelley.

“Good.”

“Good what?” she turned her face to him and knocked him out all over again. By the Mother she was superb in every way, and she was his. He couldn’t believe his absurd luck. Things like these didn’t happen to him. Elain was not meant to be his. Yet, here she was, his lovely gentle girl, who loved him with incomprehensible passion and devotion. His.

The hefty, borderline outlandish ring on her finger was proof of that.

He’d worked hard on that ring, designing it himself, wanting to incorporate everything that he loved about her and about the two of them into the design. The result was this stunner that glittered madly in the Italian sun, sitting on her manicured finger, the skin of her arm kissed by a golden tan.

His beautiful girl loved flowers, and she loved him, so her ring, in its platinum setting was a remarkable rose, reflecting Elain’s green thumb and life’s work. He selected the diamond himself, and the amethysts that comprised the petals, even the tiny onyx inserts, to signify him and the black ink of his tattoos. The ring was both extravagant—especially in carats—but intimate as well, a flower that spoke of his eternal love for this woman.

“I am going to take you somewhere, which I think you’d like,” he teased.

“Where?”

“How does lots of flowers sound?”

She smiled. 

Azriel

For gods’ sake, he was nervous. Azriel was not prone to nervousness or panic or discomfort, but this date, or whatever it was, filled him with dread.

He shouldn’t have asked her.

He was stupid and blinded by her beauty, by her deliciously voluptuous body, by the long, slender legs, by her shy, sweet smile. Those blushes. For the love of everything, those fine, adorable, sexy blushes.

She was part of the family network—both of his brothers were now in love with her sisters. It was cliché and unrealistic and unbelievable that she and he would end up in the same boat. Besides, he wasn’t so lucky as to have someone like her accept him. So, he was making a huge fucking mistake. If this was all going to go sour—which inevitably it would, of that he had no doubt—he’d mess up the delicate balance that existed between the Darling, Bagarat and Cavalhe brothers and the Archeron sisters. She’d reject him and then it would be awkward. Awkward for the upcoming wedding, in which he and Elain were supposed to couple up and be together in the wedding party. Rhys said, ‘fuck it’ and asked both him and Cassian to be best men, while Feyre had both of her sisters as maids-on-honour. There was no escaping it. Therefore, it would be awkward for the wedding, and then for Christmas and all the summer BBQs and pool parties and…well, he might just have to find excuses to never attend anything, ever.

But here he was, standing in front of an old-fashioned, cute corner storefront in the Village. Flower displays spilled on the sidewalk, and the windows, along with the marble edifice reminded him of Paris. This was exactly how he’d picture Elain’ store—slightly whimsical, elegant, classic, but modern. Au Nom de la Rose – The Name of the Rose—perfectly appropriate for Elain’s store name.

She wasn’t waiting for him outside, and he circled the block three times before, by some miracle, finding a parking space and leaving the silver Ferrari, and then made his way back to the store, arriving 4 minutes late, which was completely unacceptable. The store was technically closed at this hour, but he knocked and heard Elain’s voice telling him to come in. Some internal pressure inside of him released at the sound of her voice.

He entered and whistled,

“That’s a lot of flowers!”

Yep, definitely a glamourized 50’s Paris vibe.

“Azriel, I am so sorry, I am not ready,” Elain came from behind the counter, looking a bit frazzled.

“It’s alright I will wait,” he assured her, but she shook her head and said,

“No…I just received a huge order. An emergency order for an anniversary party. Azriel, it’s my biggest order ever!”

“That’s excellent!” he found himself feeling genuinely happy for her, if not for her concerned expression. “What’s up?”

“I…I,” she stumbled. “Feyre or Nesta would usually come and help out if I need them, but Feyre is in LA, and Nesta…” she swallowed, “Nesta is indisposed.”

Nes is on her period and is feeling like crap, read Cassian’s text from earlier today. I am going fishing. Care to join? Or are you busy romancing a certain Archeron sister?

Nesta was indisposed indeed, though Azriel didn’t feel like he needed to know the details.

“It’s a 25th Anniversary, and I have to make 25 bouquets and 15 centerpieces. The couple’s original florist fell through and they contacted me, in a panic, and I agreed,” she babbled, tugging on her long braid nervously. “And it’s for tomorrow,”

“Alright then,” he shrugged, “what’s the problem then? I am here.”

She looked up at him, her gaze both hopeful and confused.

“You? What are you going to do? I am sorry, Azriel, I am so sorry, we’d have to postpone,”

“We’d have to postpone our drive, but I am here. Use me.”

“Use you?”

“Use my body,” he chuckled, and she giggled an amused laugh.

“I appreciate the offer,” and when he thought that she’d continue rejecting his offer of help, she did the right thing and was a smart girl, nodding at last, and said, “will you truly help?”

“I am not a flower expert,”

“I wouldn’t have guessed,” she grinned.

He removed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and said, “Teach me, Archeron. I am an apt pupil.”

He was. Elain showed him model bouquets and thankfully, he wasn’t dumb or clumsy enough to screw them up, once he began copying the originals.

Night fell, and they ordered pizza and he went to get a bottle of wine from the store across the street.

Sitting on the floor of the store, surrounded by piles of flowers, vases, ribbons and twine, they ate pizza, laughing throughout the evening. She stretched her long, bare legs in front of her, crossing them at the ankles, and he couldn’t get enough—the pretty toes, the pale golden skin and the sexy pink nail polish. He didn’t want to seem like a creep, but he snuck more than a few glances at her feet when she wasn’t looking.

It was well past midnight when they were finally done.

He stretched on the floor and tucked his arm behind his head.

She kneeled above him, at his side, and said, “Azriel, thank you. I can’t, honestly, thank you enough. You saved me. Maybe my business too!”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he retorted gently, “but this was fun…and educational.”

“How can I repay you?” she asked.

“Well, well,” he drummed his fingers on the floor, pretending to think. “So many possibilities,”

At that, she flushed, and he licked his lips, loving the sight of that pink on her cheeks.

“Let’s make a bargain,” he proposed at last.

“A bargain?” her brow furrowed.

He nodded.

“For my exceptional assistance during your time of trouble and despair, you will agree to an outing with me, of my choosing. To do whatever I want.”

Elain stared at him, biting her plump lower lip.

“Are we going to do something bad?” she finally asked uncertainly.

He grinned and without thinking, cupped her cheek.

She didn’t recoil.

He drew his thumb over her soft skin and she leaned into his palm just a little bit. Gods it felt good. So good. So good to have her so near, so receptive, so unafraid. But he dropped his hand.

“You think I will take you to knock off a couple of 7-11s?”

“Well, if I am entering this death bargain with you, then who the hell knows?” she shrugged.

He laughed, “Death bargain? A little dramatic, are we?”

She was still sitting there, biting her lip, and all he wanted to do was drag his tongue over it. Kiss her large, brown eyes. Fist his hand around the thick mass of her hair, tilt her head and kiss her until she was breathless.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He never acted like this!

He never thought like this.

He was a rational, controlled, some said, cold man.

Not to say that he wasn’t able to find a woman immediately attractive, or want to fuck her, but this was different. This was unknown.

“Fine,” she shrugged.

“Fine?” he repeated, smiling.

“Don’t make me do anything bad,” she warned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” he promised. “I wouldn’t lead you astray. But,” he sat up, draping his forearms over his knees, “where do you live? Let me take you home,”

“I can take an Uber,”

He gave her an incredulous look and she nodded without further arguments.

“Where do you live?” he asked, once they were outside, somehow internally thrilled that perhaps, she’d invite him inside. He wouldn’t expect anything, obviously, but it would be nice see where she lived, what her private space looked like. So far, he couldn’t pinpoint her style with any accuracy, an interesting mixture of vintage and modern, of flowers and thorns.

“Just two blocks down,” she said, as she locked up the shop.

He gave her his arm, and it seemed like she almost expected it, because she immediately thrust her hand into the loop and he smiled softly.

The little white shorts and the flowery top did things to him, and he was glad to walk side by side, so to prevent himself from staring at her long legs and her neat, lush ass. He was already a mess over her legs, over her bending and squatting in front of him for the past four-five hours.

It was dark and quiet on the street, and they walked in a comfortable silence, each thinking of something of their own.

And then,

Elain sprawled face down on the pavement.

She cried out, landing on her knees on the asphalt, just barely having the time to brace herself on her hand, and ripping the skin of her palm.

Azriel was instantly on his knees in front of her.

Tears glistened in her eyes. Possibly from pain, because as she flipped on her butt, they saw that her knees were torn and bleeding, as was her palm, or maybe from shock, as well as embarrassment.

“Shhh,” he cooed gently to her, “are you okay?”

She shook her head. A lonely tear spilled from her eyes.

“Tissues?” he asked quickly, surveying the damage. Bruises were already blossoming on her scuffed kneecaps, all around the wounds.

She wordlessly handed him her bag, allowing him to rummage through it and he found a packet of old tissues, which he gingerly pressed to her bleeding knees.

“My ankle hurts,” she muttered, reaching down to inspect it.

“Let me,” he took her legs and looked over her ankle. She glared questioningly at him, still in some sort of stupor, not understanding what had occurred, and why she was now sitting on the ground, bleeding.

“You broke your heel,” he nodded to her foot and she glanced down, finally realizing that her heel caught in a crack in the pavement. The impact was so strong, it actually fully detached from the sole of the shoe.

“I am sorry,” she mumbled.

“You should be,” he chuckled, “you gave me quite a scare. I thought you were shot; you went down so quickly!”

She pushed at his arm, half laughing, and have crying.

“Stop making me laugh!” she ordered, sniffling and giggling. “Auuu, it hurts...”

He was lightly pressing on her ankle, and then said, “it’s just twisted. You’ll need ice, but it should be okay…”

“Ok, Doctor Azriel,” she even rolled her eyes slightly and he laughed, flicking her nose.

“I am trained on how to treat combat wounds and catastrophic field injuries, I’ll have you know,” he said and then gave her his hand. “On your feet, soldier! Let me see if you can stand.”

Moaning and groaning, she managed to stand up, but putting any weight on her foot caused a yelp to escape her lips.

“Alright, come on now,” he stepped and opened his arms, “jump in.”

“Jump in where?”

“Jump into my arms, of course.”

“What are you planning to do? Swing me around?”

“I could swing you around, but I was planning on carrying you home, and then making you an ice pack and disinfecting all your cuts.”

Without waiting for her to decide, he scooped her off the ground and she gasped, and he wasn’t sure what the little huff meant.

“But it’s like two blocks!” she protested feebly, and unconvincingly, “I am heavy.”

“Ooohhh,” he groaned dramatically, hefting her to his chest, as they started off. “Sooo, so heavy!”

“I am the fattest of my sisters,” she argued, and even in the darkness he saw that she was blushing realizing how silly her comment was.

“Well, considering that Nesta is like 90 lbs. and Feyre 110 lbs., that’s not saying much,” he assured her.

She was soft and warm in his arms, and when, without prompting, she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him, he felt utterly at peace. Because the pieces of them fit. She fit him.

Blood still dripping, and her arms thrown over his neck, Azriel walked steadily, cradling her to his chest, until they finally reached a pre-War building, and she said, “There is no elevator.”

“Don’t tell me you are on the 6th floor!” he laughed, looking up.

“The third.”

“Guess I will have to haul the fattest of the Archeron sisters to the 3rd floor!” he sighed, and she smacked his arm, protesting,

“You can’t say that!”

He was laughing and she began to laugh as well.

“You said it first,” he reminded her.

 Her apartment was small, but she’d arranged the furniture in such a way that everything seemed more spacious, and orderly, without unnecessary frills. Mostly grays, turquoise, cobalt and creamy-white. For some reason, he thought that there would be much more pink and general fluff. This though, this he liked.

He sat her down on the sofa and went to the bathroom to find bandages and plasters and other items. She called out from her spot, telling him where to find things and he finally emerged and began working on all her wounds.

“Haven’t lost a soldier yet,” he told her with a chuckle. He kneeled in front of her, and his touch was firm, but surprisingly gentle, as he thoroughly washed every scuff and tear, and then disinfected and decided what needed bandages and what didn’t.

Elain remained mostly silent throughout the procedure, watching him from under her lashes.

“You are nice,” she said suddenly.

He looked at her and smirked.

“Not with anyone.”

“Everyone just says how handsome you are,” she lay her head on the back cushion, watching him. He gave her a painkiller, and it was making her drowsy. It was also late. She rarely stayed up this late. “But you are also very nice,” she added.

Elain

She woke up that morning, and was struck by the unfamiliar environment. And pain.

Her knees ached and screamed and hurt, as did her palm.

Light poured through the windows; the curtains still open.

She found herself on her sofa, haphazardly covered by a throw, and with her legs resting on Azriel’s lap.

Fuck.

Fuck.

He was here. With her.

He never left after last night’s debacle.

She was a clumsy cow, as always, but the incident was unusually embarrassing, even for her. She always spilled or dropped stuff on herself, tripped, stumbled, and fell on her ass at inopportune times, but last night…By the Mother!

The man was gosh darn saint. Not only did she screw up their evening plans, made him work and make bouquets with her, which, probably wasn’t the most exciting thing for him to spend the evening on, but she also almost ate the pavement, and then he carried her for half a mile! And cared for her when they came here. And spent, what must have been a horribly uncomfortable night in a half-seated position, with her, no doubt, pushing at him with her feet.

Yep, she was never going to see him again.

Good going, Elain. Fine job you did of this ‘relationship’. Now, for the rest of her life, she’d be forced to see him at family gatherings, probably with some stunning model of a wife, and he’d always remember her as the girl who tore her heel on the pavement.

She wanted to cry.

Not that she ever, even for a second, believed that this would go anywhere. Her and Azriel. That wasn’t possible. Things like these didn’t happen to her. She was strange and solitary and even if others claimed that she was pretty, going so far as to call her ‘beautiful’, she never felt like that. When Nesta got mad at her, she’d call her a ‘petty idiot’ and Elain felt like that more frequently than she cared to admit. And Azriel…he was cut from a different cloth. He was…

She looked at his face, still perfect, but ever so slightly relaxed and softened in sleep, his eyelids heavy and enviably long, thick lashes fanned over his golden-brown cheeks. He was funny, with a quick, dry sense of humour, intelligent and interesting, and when they talked last night, she couldn’t get enough! He told her fascinating stories from his time in the Navy, about his dream, which resulted in the creation of his beloved garage. It took him three years to open the place—conceptualize what he wanted, how to deliver it, the items to showcase. The result was not just the ‘garage’, but also the popular bar, and recently, a restaurant as well.

Scarred fingers touched her hand and he opened his eyes.

“Good morning,” he whispered, squinting at her. “How are you? How’s the pain?”

“Azriel,” she murmured, not even knowing how to thank him, but she attempted, “I want to,”

“Pancakes?” he asked eagerly.

She glanced at him with incomprehension.

“May I make you, or us, pancakes?” he proposed. “I’ve been sort of thinking about this all night. How I’d like to make you pancakes,”

“I want to thank,”

He lifted his finger and shook his head,

“No, no. My Italian mother would tell you that you should never thank anyone for providing medical help,”

“Why?”

“According to my psychotically superstitious Italian side of the family, the remedy or healing won’t take, if you offer thanks. Imagine, I was forbidden from ever saying ‘thank you’ to a doctor,”

She chuckled.

“So, you are Italian?”

“Mom’s side is half Neapolitan and half from Lazio—near Rome.”

He sat up and rolled his neck.

“Can I at least say that I am sorry that you had to be so uncomfortable and sleep on the couch?” she asked.

“It’s alright. Not the best night I’ve ever had, but not the worst one either. The company was nice too,” and he patted her legs.

A tiny flare of hope lit in her belly.

But she didn’t allow herself to have it take root.

Maybe not until he gathered her legs together on his lap and drew his fingers up and down her calf.

“But really, how is the pain?” he asked at last, watching her with his intense, warm eyes. The eyes didn’t warm frequently, it seemed, but when they looked at her—

He was different somehow.

Kind. Approachable.

“It’s fine,” she waved her hand, not wanting to burden him any longer with her dumb injuries.

Those long, scarred fingers glided over her skin, and a small smirk touched his lips, “May I kiss it better?”

She blinked at him.

“I hear that I am very good at making pain go away,” he added proudly, and then, his lips descended on her scuffed and bruised knees. She kissed each one, tenderly, and then took her hand and brought it to his lips, and pressed his mouth to the inside of her palm. Her breath hitched and she stared at him, wide-eyed, as he watched her, unblinking, gaging every minute reaction. He kissed her hand, inside and then out, and then kissed the other, even though it wasn’t injured, and then returned to her knees and kissed them again.

At last, “Better?” he asked.

She only mooed incoherently.

…Azriel, by the stove, flipping pancakes was the sexiest thing Elain had ever seen in her life.

Clad in dark slacks, in his white shirt from last night, with sleeves rolled up and the tattoo sleeves on full display, he stood in her kitchen, barefoot and flipped pancakes like a pro.

“You cook too?” she asked incredulously.

He laughed.

“Too? In addition to what?”

“I don’t know,” she was still perched on the sofa, like an invalid, but after she washed her face and brushed her hair, he ordered her to sit and not make unnecessary moves. “Everything?”

“My repertoire is limited, when it comes to the kitchen, but what I know how to make, I make well. Cassian is a better cook.”

“Cass?” she smiled.

“Nesta is lucky to have him,” Azriel added, somewhat wistfully.

Elain looked at him and nodded. “I think so too.”

“He is a good man. Maybe the best man I’ve ever known. Where my own family failed, he stepped in, though he is a year younger than me. But he taught me…how to be. Accepted me. Unconditionally. Taught me how to swim, how to ride a bike, how to fight.”

“And you?”

“I? I helped him with his reading,” Azriel rubbed his chin, his stance a little tense.

She didn’t say anything, waiting to see if he felt like sharing more.

“It was neglected,” he said at last. “His reading and writing. So, we sat together, late at night, at our foster parents’ house and read.”

He then asked, “coffee?”

The moment of reminiscing was over, and Elain did not press.

She nodded to one of the cupboards and he pulled out a tub of coffee and grimaced.

“This is what you drink?”

“Hey, it’s good coffee! I buy it at Trader Joe’s!” she laughed defensively.

“Baby, we are drinking Italian coffee in this house,” he decided, and there was no arguing with that logic.

 That’s how Elain became Azriel’s ‘baby’.

In their house, they always drank Italian coffee.

 Twenty minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

“Thanks Nu,” Azriel greeted a lanky, very thin, very tall girl, who handed him two packages and then winked at him and disappeared wordlessly.

“My assistant, Nuala,” he explained, showing Elain two packages of Lavazza coffee. “This will do for now.”

Elain hobbled to the small butcher block island that she’d restored from a console that she found at a flea market. “You text someone and they just appear?”

He grinned and shrugged innocently.

“I know a guy.”

“Of course you do. Are you in the mafia?”

“First of all, rude,” he placed a plate of chocolate chip pancakes in front of her and then poured her coffee, “second of all, I just know a guy.”

“Who knows where to buy Lavazza on a Saturday morning?” she wondered, tucking into the pancakes.

“I have a network of spies,” he winked at her.

She sipped on the coffee, perhaps not as good a cup as he’d made her at his garage, but glorious nevertheless. “Are you in the CIA?”

“Not in the mafia or the CIA. Just a lowly car guy.”

“Uh-uh.”

They toasted with their coffee cups and Azriel said, “not bad for a first date. Blood and flowers. Very romantic.”

It was that morning, that sunny Saturday morning, over a plate of pancakes and some Italian coffee that Elain Archeron fell in love.

She fell in love completely.

Utterly.

Irreversibly.

And forever.

Now

Azriel turned off to some side road and how he knew where to go, Elain had no idea, but she just enjoyed the scents and warmth of the day.

“You know,” she laughed. “We are literally under the Tuscan sun right now!”

“All your dreams are coming true,” he ran a loving hand over her bare arm and she tore her gaze from the scenery around her.

“My dreams came true when I met you,” she confessed. “That was the day.”

“So easily impressed!” he teased, but she saw that her words touched something in him. His face softened with happiness.

“Az, slow down,” she whispered, an almost painful pull to kiss him spreading over her. “I want to kiss you.”

He looked at her, eyes hidden behind his Aviator shades, but slowed down and she leaned towards him and planted her mouth on his cheek.

“Lips,” she murmured with audible desperation.

“Baby, I don’t want to bust up this nice Ferrari,” he laughed. “And you, who is riding in it.”

Pouting, she ordered, “Then pull over so I can kiss you!”

He laughed louder, throwing his head back, his gorgeous tanned neck annoyingly desirable.

She wanted to bite his vein, lick the salty skin of his neck, and then sink her teeth into his shoulder. Elain was a biter. And a scratcher. Good thing that Azriel was a benevolent lover, who didn’t care if she left his body marked with her love, and didn’t mind the pain. In fact, he encouraged it.

His heavy brown hand lay on her knee, under the hem of her summer dress and he said,

“Why don’t I do something nice for you… then you can kiss me…”

“But I want to kiss you now,” she frowned playfully.

His hand slid a little higher, up her bare thigh, and he pressed his scarred palm into her thin, tender skin, rubbing slowly, indulgently. This was just as much for her as it was for him.

She threw her head into the back of the seat, eyes closed.

Until she yelped softly, when his wicked hand slipped higher and higher, pushing her dress up as well.

“Azriel Bagarat,” she murmured, “what am I going to do with you? And your love for public nudity and lovemaking…”

He shrugged oh so innocently and said, “firstly, it’s Archeron to you, and,”

“Not just yet,” she wiggled her ring-clad hand in front of him, “not until we got the paper and all, to make us official,”

They rolled their eyes at the same time and then laughed.

“And secondly, who can blame me?” he leaned and kissed her shoulder. “You are very hot. And I sort of want to fuck you all the time.”

His long, very experienced fingers made their way even higher, until he drew them along the cotton of her underwear, lightly pressing into the cleft, teasing ever so lightly. She shifted against the fingertips, her thighs falling apart in silent encouragement.

Elain was a giving and a receptive lover, innately knowing what he wanted and accommodating both of their needs thoughtfully, and easily.

“What do you want, baby?” he murmured.

“To kiss you,” she insisted stubbornly.

He huffed his amusement, and then pushed his finger deeper, firmer against the cotton, whispering,

“How about this?”

“This is nice, I suppose,”

“Only nice?” he withdrew his finger in warning and she grabbed his wrist, and thrust it back in place.

“Maybe a little better than ‘nice’, huh?” he teased.

“A little,” she agreed, gasping when he cupped her fully, swiping his heel of his palm against the length of her folds, feeling the dampness against his skin. Bold, as he always was, he moved the strip of cotton to the side, and hiked up her dress ever higher, exposing her to his exploration.

He snuck a glance at her perfectly peachy, pink pussy, bare and succulent, like a ripe fruit dripping with its sweet juices.

He groaned and then hissed, “I am stopping, right now. I want you coming on my tongue in the next four minutes,”

“So confident, ombre?”

She took to calling him ombre or ‘shadow’, when, early in their relationship, he kept materializing in front of her out of nowhere, stepping out of the shadows. He laughed, but didn’t mind the endearment. What’s more, it became a private thing between the two of them—he’d call her ‘rose’ and she’d call him ‘ombre’. It wasn’t nauseatingly sugary sweet and could be used in public without making people gag. Unlike, for example, the Darlings, who, for whatever reason called each other ‘my darkness’. Or Cassian, who sometimes went with ‘schmoopie’, braving Nesta’s wrath.

Azriel laughed, while incessantly dragging his finger back and forth over the wet slit, without doing much else, and making her gasp and squirm.

“That I can make you come on my tongue in 4 minutes? Fuck yeah! Want me to prove it?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” she shook her head, “you don’t get to just do whatever the hell you want, when you want it. If I don’t get my kiss, you don’t get to,”

“What? Lick your pussy? I feel like the punishment is unreasonable,” he protested.

She gave him a sultry look, a look that only he was privy to, and then murmured, spreading her legs a little wider for him,

“Maybe I want to lick something of yours?” she proposed, her voice husky, pouring like honey over his ear.

“I wouldn’t be opposed,” he choked out, finally parting the soft cushions of her folds and dragging his knuckles over the wet spread of her. The intoxicating scent of her arousal, mixed with the Italian sunshine and the smell of grass, flowers and cypresses was so heady, he almost swerved, stopping only quick enough to grip the steering wheel tightly in his left hand.

Gods, if he was going to make it to their next destination, he would be impressed with himself. But it was close.

Azriel

Elain loved getting fingered. That was the first thing he learned about her sexually—kissing and fingering.

In the privacy of their world, he fingered her constantly.

It was almost an obligation on his part by now, to have her wake up, tucked into his side, while gently, but thoroughly pumping her soft, indescribably tight center. No matter how many times he’d been inside of her, she remained tight, as tight as the first time. That was a blessing, but a curse as well, for all he could typically think about throughout the day, was sinking into that glorious tightness.

When she was finally semi-awake, she rolled on her back and spread her legs in front of him, so he could finger her in earnest. Two fingers first, nice and deep inside of her, as he knelt in front of her and watched her come undone before him. And then, there was always a moment when her eyes flew open, and her back arched, and he slipped the third one in. The plush, warm walls of her sex stretched and pulled to accommodate him, but he went slow and deep, only grazing the sensitive spot in her, making her moan low and begging, the pressure of his hand steady and firm.

She cried and cried into the pillow, head thrown back in utter extasy, her hair a tangled halo about her. She wasn’t permitted to move her hips, his only order in that early-morning game of theirs, therefore she was wholly dependent on him for her pleasure. If she ever did begin a sensual undulation of her hips around his hand, he’d allow her to continue for a few moments, aware that she was lost in her own pleasure, before cruelly yanking his hand out of her.

“Was my girl allowed to do that?” he’d ask simply, and amidst her disappointed panting, her pleading for more, her sweet, innocent “sorry. I am sorry,” she’d beg him to fill her again.

Then she’d lay still, eyes wide and pleading, her little opening vibrating at the loss, before he placed her feet on his shoulders and thrust in her anew. This time, his scarred, rough, brown, inked fingers disappeared in her completely. She buckled and let out a wild moan that reverberated from the very depth of her, because all four fingers were inside, and his thumb finally, finally began a gorgeously slow torment around her clit. She just lay there, tense and unmoving, watching him, the slurping, obscene sounds of his hand inside of her filling the sleepy morning air around them.

Elain came quietly. She moaned and twisted and gasped as he rubbed her clit, but when the waves finally descended upon her, when he felt the tight, silky flesh grip and pump all four of his fingers, which were now pressing up into her perfect spot, the exhale was soft and intimate. Only for him.

Now

“Don’t wreck the car,” Elain muttered, eyes barely open.

“Will this be the second one?” Azriel asked, while Elain wrapped her hand around his wrist and forcefully jammed his hand inside of her.

Four.

Four orgasms daily. That was his promise.

He’d provide her with at least four daily orgasms. So far, he typically exceeded expectations. It wasn’t particularly difficult, because he often played with her at odd times—when they were watching TV, he’d slip a finger onto her clitty and rub her slowly and leisurely, until she melted from the stimulation. She enjoyed it when he bent her over counters or sinks, and sunk his fingers deep and hard into her perpetually ready hole.

Elain, to his complete delight and fascination, was always just a bit aroused. Always, always just a bit wet, just a little damp for him. He’d make an unscheduled stop at her shop and if it was empty, he’d step behind the counter with her, and soon, she’d be splayed over the counter, his hand between her legs. Yes, they’ve been almost caught plenty of times, but Azriel had the ability to disappear into shadows as soon as he sensed someone coming. Sometimes, when someone would walk in the store, Azriel even pretended that he was a customer, buying flowers, watching her patiently, while she got his bouquet ready for him. Never mind that his hand might have been soaked with her slick, or that he smirked, watching her press her thighs together, while she wrapped the flowers, as she avoided eye contact with him, and handed him the bouquet which he’d inevitably bring home for her.

When he was around her, she jokingly complained that she was of constant need for him, and it was his very enviable and pleasant task to soothe the ache inside of her.

 Azriel

Their friends, family, found their relationship perplexing. But Elain kept her sisters firmly at an arm’s length when it came to the discussion of their sex life. No matter how they tried to pry, she gently, but firmly rebuffed them. Nesta complained and said that they were too obsessed with each other. That Elain was too in love and that Azriel was too dependent on Elain’s love for this to be normal. Elain only shrugged and didn’t argue.

 “It’s not normal!” seethed Nesta, watching Elain and Azriel wrapped around each other on the dance floor, Elain’s body shimmying and swaying around her, arms raised in the air, her hips swooshing to the beat, bumping into his pelvis.

“You think they are gonna do it right on the dancefloor?” Cassian contemplated quietly, not sure if this was outside the realm of possibilities.

“He would!” she spat and gulped down her Aperol spritz aggressively. “I am surprised he is not bending her over…more surprised she isn’t agreeing!”

“They never argue,” Cassian nodded.

“They never—never—argue. It’s not normal!”

The way Cassian saw it, as long as the two were happy, he had no right to judge.

Nesta was a hot pepper. Feyre, an apple—solid, tasty, dependable. Elain—whipped cream—a delicious topping over anything, but especially Azriel.

 Nevertheless, the word got around.

One day, Azriel, Rowan and Cassian were sitting in Elain’s flower shop, toiling diligently over a huge order of flowers.

They wouldn’t admit it to anyone, not to each other, or their women, but they quite enjoyed hiding in that flower shop and arranging flowers. They claimed that they were doing it for Elain’s sake, to help her out, so she didn’t have to hire additional help just yet, but,

Well, they liked it.

At first, Elain wasn’t sure if Cassian was cut out for the task, because the very first try was a little rough.

“Cass, these are not your enemies that you are about to smite,” Elain instructed gently, prying his fingers from the stems of irises, which he was clutching like he was about to throw a lance.

“Pfff, you look like you are about to choke a chicken,” Nesta teased. And promptly realised her mistake, biting her lip.

Cassian cocked his brow and murmured seductively,

“What chicken am I choking, sweetheart? My own,”

“Oh no,” Elain stepped in between them, hands on her hips. “No. No. No. Absolutely not.”

“Lainey, don’t allow Cass to choke his chicken in front of us,” begged Azriel, working quickly and deftly, and soliciting an envious look from Cassian, whose flowers were in complete disarray, compared to Azriel’s neat piles and methodical assembly line.

“Yes, no one is choking chickens, penises or each other in here,” ordered Elain sternly, while Nesta and Azriel were laughing silently.

“Hehe,” smirked Cassian, “Elain said ‘penis’!”

“Take your dirty talk and deeds,”

Dirty deeds done dirt cheap, dirty deeds done dirt cheap

Cassian began rocking to his own singing, imitating the gravel of Brian Johnson’s voice rather successfully, headbanging over his babybreath, bluebells and irises.

Chicken choking forgotten for a moment.

 As Cassian fussed over a vase, working on each stem and arranging them just so, wearing a little white apron no less, he asked casually, “So, brother, four?”

Azriel was in his own headspace, and he didn’t even hear Cassian, as he was busy with his own flower arrangement.

There was, expectedly, a competition going on—who’d complete the most arrangements in an hour. Rowan, a veritable giant, and Cassian’s best friend, also wore an apron, but a long one, like a butcher, and was significantly ahead of the pack. That bothered Azriel more than he cared to admit. So, he was re-strategizing his strategy.

“Four what?” Rowan inquired, not taking his eyes off the flowers, working like a machine.

“Ask Az here,” Cassian suggested. He was catching up to Azriel with an alarming speed.

Azriel had never lost, so far. He wasn’t going to lose today.

“Stop speaking in riddles. What are you talking about?”

“Word on the street is that our Az here provides the flower girl with a minimum of four orgasms on the daily,”

Azriel started and finally tore his eyes from the flowers.

Both Rowan and Cassian were watching him, smirking.

“I guess it’s true then,”

“Fuck off.”

“If that’s true,” Rowan drawled, “good for you, man. Though you are putting us to shame with this ridiculous offer of yours. How do you keep up?”

“Easily,” Azriel shrugged. “But it’s freaking me out that you two are talking about my sex life so casually.”

“But fucking four? Daily?” repeated Cassian, shaking his head.

“Yeah, Elain, man,” Rowan rubbed the back of his head, mussing his silver hair, “who would’ve thought?”

Cassian nodded, “No offense, brother, but Elain doesn’t strike anyone as particularly adventurous in the bedroom,”

“And that’s where you’d be wrong,” Azriel said simply.

“Very beautiful,” offered Rowan pacifically, “but…you know…Kind of like Elide, I guess. You wouldn’t know it, looking at her,”

Cassian was nodding. “Yeah, she looks like she eats macaroons and reads Jane Austen,”

“Macarons,” said Azriel.

“What?”

“It’s macaron. Not macaroon.”

“What the hell is the difference?”

“One is a French biscuit, made with almond flour and filled with a creamy filling. The other, is a coconut concoction that one usually eats at Passover.”

Rowan was chuckling. Cassian was shaking his head, grunting, “you would know. So, does she? Eat maca--,”

“No, she doesn’t even like macarons. And she doesn’t read Jane Austen. She reads espionage novels. She likes Daniel Silva. Any more stupid questions?”

Elide. Of course. He should’ve guessed.

Elain and Elide met through Rowan and it was friendship at first sight.

Azriel couldn’t argue—the two women were similar in many ways. Both were on a quiet side, polite, well-mannered. Elain—a ray of sunshine, tall, slender and curvaceous, smiling and affable, with piles of golden-brown locks and warm brown eyes. Elide—the opposite—small, pale, with perfectly straight, silky black hair and dark, midnight eyes. Both—crafty in the ways of the world, charming, when needed, capable of getting into everyone’s good graces, and therefore, getting what they wanted.

“No, no more stupid questions,” said Cassian. “Just don’t know how you two grumps attracted such lively girls,”

“Lorcan and I aren’t ‘grumps’. We just talk when we need to and don’t have the need for instant gratification or to be the center of attention. Something I can’t say about you,”

“It’s not about me,” Cassian protested, but Azriel stopped him, by raising his finger,

 “Now, if you are not going to shut the fuck up about my woman and me, I will spread a rumour amongst your women, that it’s not four, but six. Daily. Let’s see how you measure up then.”

Silence fell.

Azriel won.

His 36th win.

 Now

 “Yes, the second,” Elain nodded with a satisfied smile.

 Azriel

 Naturally, today, he woke her up properly, as he always did.

They stayed in an adorable little villa, near Montepulciano. It was everything a Tuscan villa was supposed to be…

including the dust that settled in its 800-year-old walls. And Elain coughed and coughed and coughed, surprisingly not coughing up a lung.

“We can’t stay here,” Azriel said, frowning.

“Where are going to go? We are in the middle of Tuscany and it’s 10 pm,” she reminded him.

Ever resourceful, he dragged the mattress off the antique bed and plopped it down on the floor of their small balcony.

“We sleep here. Under the night Tuscan sky.”

It was a lovely, if chilly night, and Elain would’ve enjoyed it if she didn’t fall asleep almost immediately and slept through the night.

She was still asleep, when the birds began their morning song and Azriel positioned her on her hands and knees, and carefully removed her nightgown, baring her to the dry, cool morning air.

“Someone will see us,” she murmured sleepily.

She tucked her hands under her cheek, and followed the direction of Azriel’s hand on her hip, rising her butt high up, and arching her back for him.

Azriel loved having sex out in the open. Especially if she was completely naked. He wasn’t overt about it, but the thrill of being found out, the titillating desire to be watched was always present. She knew it. She indulged his fantasies.

“I don’t think anyone would mind watching you,” he whispered hotly in her ear and lightly bit the apple of her cheek. “But it’s also like 4:15 in the morning. So maybe they are still sleeping.”

He settled behind her and she felt his hands on her back, smoothing over the sharp cut of her tight waist and then the soft curve of her hips.

“Spread your legs for me, my love, I want to play with you a little bit,” he guided her, and she followed his direction, squatting inelegantly on her knees, thighs wide apart for him. He cupped her fully in his palm and then pinched her clit, hard, twisting it and rubbing it between his two fingers, until she bit her forearm, trying to stifle her cries of instant pleasure.  He pinched again, then again, rubbing tightly, while he bit her buttock playfully, but hard enough to leave a pink mark.

“Mmmm,” she groaned, when he nibbled on her flesh again, tugging on the swollen clit with relentless dedication. She managed to twist enough to kiss his knee and whispered, eyes still closed, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, my beautiful girl,” he leaned forward and kissed her wet, stretched opening, dragging his tongue around and around the rim, “and you are so nice and wet for me in the morning. My good girl, what do you want?”

“Only you,” she vowed. “Only you, my Az.”

“Let’s fill your pretty little hole then,” he licked on it again, and then slid one strong, long finger inside. As he began to pump her slowly, he proposed, “When I fill you with my cock later on,”

“Uh oh,” she moaned dreamily, smiling a loving smile, enjoying his finger to the fullest.

“I think I’d like to add a finger or two as well. What do you think?”

“I’d like that, I think,” she complied easily.

Elain was not a particularly imaginative lover, but Azriel was the opposite—he had too much imagination when it came to everything. Especially Elain, and what he liked to do with her sexually. What was absolutely fantastic, and he thanked all the gods for this phenomenon, was that Elain was willing to try anything. She was an absolutely willing and eager lover, who learned from him and learned of her body with readiness and joy. He dominated her completely, but that was the nature of their relationship, and they easily fell into their roles, from the very beginning. She was submissive, loved praise, and loved being guided and told what to do. More than anything else, she loved pleasing him. There was never any pull and push, no competition, no power struggles. Elain was made for him, created and carved from something that was innately his, whether it was his body or his mind, and they lived and loved harmoniously. He complimented her perfectly: her temperament, her needs, her wants. He treated her with admiration, gentleness, adoration and respect, and while his own expectations were high, she met them all with ease. She took control when she needed to. Received what she wanted from him, however she needed to. And he gave and gave.

Some, or many, called them soulmates.

Perhaps that’s what they were. Or maybe, they were even more than that.

Azriel stretched his legs on either side of her curved body and then added another finger inside of her sopping, slippery opening, reaching deep into her and pumping her firmly.

“Auuuu, babe, it’s good…” she squealed, “it’s so good.”

Unable to wait any longer, he pulled her buttocks apart with his available hand and swept his tongue over the tiny opening, causing her to seize with surprise and pleasure. Instinctively, she moved her hips against his tongue, pushing her backside into his lips. He licked the little hole in earnest, dragging his tongue back and forth between both of her openings, making her tremble and shudder every time his tongue reached one or the other.

As he sat to the task of licking and sucking her tight hole, he thrust a third finger into her dripping passage, feeling her shift against his face to accommodate the stretch. It was a lot, and she whimpered and moaned from the pressure, but he knew that she could take four, though he wasn’t in a hurry, and worked her diligently and steadily, his tongue laving the other hole just as eagerly.

She was shaking between his legs, her toes curling beneath her, rapid pants escaping into the morning mists, her hair draping the tiled floor in front of her, even spilling through the balcony rails.

Somewhere they heard sheep bleating and Elain laughed softly, before arching her back even further, not caring how splayed she looked. There wasn’t a part of her that he hasn’t seen, hasn’t touched or licked or kissed, not an inch of her that wasn’t caressed by his rough hands, not an orifice that he hasn’t penetrated with his magnificent cock. He’d burrowed inside of her so deeply, so wholly, he possessed all of her and she knew what it’s like to truly be part of another person, to be loved with egregious passion.

He fed another finger inside of her and she cried out, trembling and grunting, as she grabbed and squeezed his foot with mighty strength.

He tore his lips away from her bottom and grinned,

“Love, when you are in labour with our baby, I am fully prepared for the fact that you will break my fingers, maybe even my hand.”

“I am sorry,” she laughed, and kissed his foot, dragging her tongue over his toes.

There wasn’t a part of him that she did not love, did not worship with everything she had. No part of his body remained un-kissed, un-touched, un-caressed. A lazy Sunday, especially if the weather was crap and they had no plans to go out, was her favourite time—she could spend the day loving her Azriel. On those days, she pleasured him. And if she spent hours with his cock buried in her throat, or his balls between her lips, or her tongue in his ass, she was only too happy.

The tips of his fingers crawled into that hidden spot inside of her, curling just so, so he could massage and rub her into a frenzy. He stilled for a moment, to allow her to adjust to the fullness and the stretch, as she bit his foot, trying to stifle her screams. She leaked slowly over his hand, as most of it was situated in her clutching, hungry tightness.

“Very good, my baby,” he praised, kissing her buttocks and then giving her anus a few approving licks, “taking all four inside of you,”

“Oh my god, oh,” she groaned, “it’s so tight…Az, my love, I am so full,”

“I know, love,” he coaxed evenly, his hand beginning a steady, firm barrage of deep, pounding thrusts, “but it’s nice, isn’t it?”

“Yeess,” she only managed, voice thin, pleading. She could barely hold herself up, so he wrapped his arm around her hips, keeping her ass up. She grabbed the balcony wrought-iron spindles, squeezing them tightly, forehead pressed into the mattress, as he pumped her harshly, keeping her on the verge of constant climax, but pulling back just so, for her to moan and beg him in a never ending litany.

“Baby, you want to come?” he teased, still busy with her butthole, which softened under his furious sucking and if they had more time and privacy, Elain would be ready to take him anally soon enough.

“Yes,” she grunted, “yes,”

“Ask nicely, and maybe,”

“Ugh, you are such a horrible tease,” she complained, biting his foot in spite, and he laughed, before slapping her firm, soft buttock.

“Biting a person who is making you come so nicely?” he slapped her again, and she yelped with pleasure, wiggling her ass, silently asking for more.

The walls of her passage clenched desperately over his fingers, and she made a choking, frantic sound in her chest, now beyond pleading or even moaning. He sucked, and slapped, and bit, and thrust, pumping her open, the sounds of the wet and the skin inside of her completely obscene, and music to both of their ears.

Azriel noticed a man, either a delivery guy or a grounds keeper, watching them wide eyed and shocked from a distance. Probably not something he expected to see at 4:40 in the morning. Not that he made a move to leave.

Azriel opted not to alarm Elain, who was coming violently on his hand, her body trembling and jerking, her beautiful, quiet orgasm sweeping everything in its path. His girl deserved a proper wake up, deserved and needed her climaxes, and deserved to be watched, because she was so beautiful. Her teeth and tongue clamped tightly on his foot, his toes, as she bit and licked, completely undone, turned inside out by his expert hand.

He still worked her hand in her, his thrusts shallow and not as strong, when she collapsed on the mattress at last, eyes closed, panting.

He smiled and finally slipped on the mattress alongside her, though he kept a finger between her folds, rubbing soothingly. She’d bite his head off if he removed his hand from her this quickly.

“Good morning my love,” he whispered at last, kissing her cheek.

“Mmmm, good morning,” she sighed with satiated pleasure.

“Some guy caught an eyeful,” he whispered, but she only snuggled to his chest.

“I don’t care…As long as you were watching me, that’s all that matters.”

“I wouldn’t mind sliding into your little bum right now,” he confessed, stroking her hip and her curvy backside.

“Do you want to take me?” she offered sweetly, eyes fluttering open.

He kissed her head and smiled, “So tempting, but not here and not now. Let’s jump in the shower and then be on our way. We’ve got a decent amount of driving to do today.”

She nodded.

“Did I tell you that I love you?” she stroked his cheek, the sharp, angular cut of it, the dark bronze skin.

“You did, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”

“I love you, Azriel.”

“I love you, Elain.”

 Elain

Their day was long.

They had their cappuccino and cornetti at some café on the road.

Their trip had a purpose—they were actually driving to Maranello, to the Ferrari headquarters where Azriel had 3 days of business meetings.

When Az told her that he was thinking of going to Italy, it was no brainer to say ‘yes’.

It was the first time she was going to leave her business, her shop, for an extended period of time, but Feyre promised to oversee the operations, while Cerridwen, whom Elain recently hired as a full-time employee and who was Nuala’s sister, was going to be responsible for the day-to-day.

The last time Elain’s been to Italy was when she was barely 10 years old. A few years before everything’s went to shit. Back then, her father completed a very lucrative business deal and there was a lot of disposable cash, so the family decided to take a grand trip to Italy.

Little Feyre who was only seven screeched and begged to go to Disneyland, while Nesta and their mother voted for Italy. No one asked Elain, assuming that she’d go wherever she was told.

The trip was extensive, almost four weeks, and they hit all the glamorous Southern parts—the Amalfi coast, with their headquarters in a rented villa near Positano. Then they went to Portofino, and their father rented a yacht for a few days, the trip culminating in Capri. It was a whirlwind on sun and the sea, of lemons, eating grilled squid, at which Feyre stared in horror, though she liked the taste, amazing fruit, endless pastries and gelato. Even their mother yanking a few pastries away from Elain, hissing that she ‘grow fat and not find a husband’ didn’t mar the experience. Elain, always the plumper of the sisters, was used to the warning by then.

 This time around, Elain could eat as much pastry as she wanted.

They landed in Rome, spent four days there, since she insisted on going to the Vatican Museum twice, hear Mass at St. Peter’s, and she didn’t know if she annoyed Azriel with her endless excitement and tales of art, artists, and biblical stories, but she couldn’t help herself.

She was an Art History major in NYU, receiving a full scholarship to attend. She loved it. Didn’t like college all that much as a whole, but loves studying. When everyone was partying, drinking, fucking and skipping classes, she went to the Met and to MOMA and learned and enjoyed herself. She loved history of religion, of other cultures and though not at all religious herself, none of them were, her knowledge on the subject was thorough.

Azriel, it seemed, liked her passion, her excitement, and listened attentively when she went on long explanation of what this or that Saint did and what grizzly death they’d suffered. And what was the significance of the painting or sculpture of the said Saint. Obviously, he was very artistically inclined as well, though his preference lay in design and industrial art, but he enjoyed listening and discussing. They spent hours and hours meandering the halls of the museum, and of the cathedral, and both spent a good half an hour in front of the Pieta, staring in silence and quiet contemplation at the sculpture, holding hands.

It was when they were sitting at a café, sipping some bitter Campari cocktails and watched the sprawling vistas of Rome that Azriel confided to her. Told her of his childhood. She knew some of the details, but he never talked about his childhood, and she opted not to pressure him. It was clear enough that it was horrific in many ways, and bringing up all those memories didn’t make sense to Elain.

Told her how his father, who was rich and vicious, won custody of him from his mother, not because he wanted his son, but out of spite, to torment the mother. And then it was years of solitude and loneliness and emotional and physical abuse. Azriel’s only reprieve was drawing, making designs, sometimes with chalk on the pavement, sometimes on scraps of paper. His stepmother threw everything out as soon as he made it. He languished in his father’s world for 8 years, until a catastrophic event took place—his stepbrothers doused him, his hands, in gasoline and lit him up. They didn’t call the paramedics either, and simply stood there, watching, as he burned. Finally, the neighbors heard his screams and police and ambulance came at last.

Because he was young, he recovered most of the sensations and feeling in his hands, but the skin was permanently scarred and his father refused skin grafts.

He’d met Cassian at the hospital, who came there having been beaten so badly by his foster father, that he had a concussion, broken ribs and a punctured eye socket.

Mrs. Darling, Rhys’s mother, who was one of the biggest benefactors of the children’s hospital where they were recovering, heard their stories and thankfully, her wealth opened every door. Her influence and wealth were no match for Azriel’s father. Hence when she decided that she wanted to adopt the two boys, little could be done to dissuade her. Azriel and Cassian still spent some time in foster care, while the documents were being processed and all the formalities legalized, but at the end, they ended up with the Darlings, as their adopted sons.

Elain wanted to cry for him, for his destroyed childhood, for his tormented youth, for his injuries, for the lack of love in his life. For his sake, though, she didn’t.

Sensing that he needed her support, she didn’t release his hand for the remainder of the day.

And she told him how much she loved him and how happy he made her.

 They left Montepulciano, and then drove for a few hours and stopped at Orvieto, and explored its unnecessary enormous Duomo, which was situated on the hill, amidst the Umbrian lushness. The tiny town did offer spectacular views and great wine, which they enjoyed with lunch.

 Now

Azriel worked his fingers into the supple warmth of her damp pussy and looked down, before ordering, “wider, Lainey”.

She spread her legs wider, her knit dress folded haphazardly over the belly.

“Wider,” he said and she placed one foot on the seat, exposing herself completely to him.

It was never wide enough for him, for he liked to see everything, liked to spread and open and pull her wide apart for his eyes, for his exploration.

He pressed his thumb to her plump pink clit and began to rub.

She whined impatiently and he smiled,

“We are almost there…”

“I need you,” she moaned, kissing his shoulder through his shirt.

“I need you too, my beauty,” he nodded, “but I think once we get there, you’ll forget all about me.”

She tsked and announced, “I don’t know if anything will impress me as much as your cock in my mouth,”

He started at the blunt words, her amused grin and then burst out laughing.

“Naughty.”

In a few minutes, he rounded a small green hill and Elain’s breath caught in her throat.

“Oh, gods…Az…”

He was smiling.

He’d never been here before, but he’d done his research, finally finding the right spot.

A tiny hidden valley, nestled between a few rolling Tuscan hills, with a small turquoise lake sparkling in the late afternoon sun. In the distance, a mandatory Tuscan villa.

And poppies. Fields of poppies, stretching as far as the eye can see. A blanket of ruby-red poppies, gently swaying in the pine-scented air.

This place was a damn Walmart painting come true, and Azriel loved it for its kitsch, its predictability.

“It’s gorgeous!” she gasped. Then chuckled, adding, “Like one of those mass-produced paintings,”

At that, Azriel roared with laughter, killed the engine and they got out of the car.

“My thoughts exactly!” he nodded vigorously.

She ran into the poppies, brushing her palm over the petals, “But it’s worth it! No painting can ever do this justice! Az…it’s so beautiful!” she twirled in the field of red, her white dress a stark contrast to the vibrancy of the colours around her—the cobalt of the cloudless sky, the emerald green of the hills, the blood-red of the poppies.

He folded his arms and said, “I am glad you like it.”

“Like it? I love it!”

She inspected all the wildflowers that bloomed among the poppies, picking a few purple ones and a daisy and tucking them behind her ear. Another daisy she brought to him and tucked it into his hair.

“There is a blanket in the trunk,” he jerked his head towards the car, and unbuttoned his shirt almost to the navel, “if you want to picnic,”

“I want to picnic!” she squealed and ran to the car to get what she needed.

Soon there was a blanket on the grass and a few bottles of wine in a basket.

He slid down, stretching on the blanket, toeing off his shoes, rolling his shoulders. This was nice. He also relished her happiness, how her high ponytail bounced about as she ran through the field barefoot, and then began twirling, arms outstretched and singing loudly,

The hills are alive with the sound of

Griswold, he helped out.

“Are you coming here?” he called out, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“No,” she yelled, “I am picking flowers!”

“They’ll wilt,” he muttered reasonably, but she didn’t hear him.

Azriel dozed off, surprising himself. But the pleasant heat, the sunshine, the breeze, the birds—all lulled him into sleep. He stirred only when he sensed Elain near, and when he opened his eyes, he was treated by a lovely surprise. He propped himself on his elbows and watched his beautiful girl walk towards him completely naked, with a heap of flowers in the crook of her arm. What she did with her dress he didn’t know and didn’t care. But he drunk in the slim, curvy silhouette of her body, the long, slender legs and the toned thighs. Her smooth, pink sex glistened just a bit with her usual arousal, and full breasts bounced with every step. Her hair flowed behind her, unbound.

“I got hot,” she announced.

He grinned.

“I can see that. I like it when you get hot like this.”

She stood over him, her delicious slit taunting him and he made to touch it, but she dumped all the flowers on him instead and said, “get up”.

“Why?!” he frowned. “I am so comfortable.”

“I can make you a little more comfortable,” she promised, “but for that, you have to get up.”

With a groan, he got on his feet, only to have her slide on her knees in front of him. She looked up and murmured, “by the time you are done with me, I only want to have gelato to soothe my throat.”

He swallowed audibly, watching her unbutton his trousers and then his shirt. She removed the pants completely, but left the white shirt on, before placing a few soft, loving kisses on the thick slabs of muscles on his stomach. The well-defined outline of his Adonis Belt she traced with her tongue, inevitably making her way from his hip towards the final destination.

“And I want my knees bruised,” she added with a wicked smirk.

He flicked her nose and shook his head, “such filthy words coming from this pretty little mouth.”

She licked her lips with impatience, hungrily watching him fist his member and give it a few rough, preliminary strokes.

“Gods, your cock is gorgeous,” she gasped with admiration, watching him work himself with practiced determination.

“You like my cock?” he drew the thick, smooth head of it over her full lips and she whimpered with anticipation, nodding, kissing it affectionately, with slow, open mouth kisses, as he continued to pump it lazily.

She admitted, “more than anything. Az, Az,” she begged impatiently, as he smeared a trickle of liquid that dribbled from the tip over her lips, “please,”

“Please what?”

She rested her hands on his thighs, kneeling close enough so that her breasts brushed against them, “I want it in my mouth. Please.”

He lightly smacked the thick girth of his shaft over her half-opened mouth, making her shake with anticipation, smiling down at her. Her eyes burned with raw, overwhelming desire.

“But I like it when you ask me, baby. Tell me more,”

“That your cock is gorgeous and ridiculously huge?” she chuckled, relishing in his rubbing the tip insistently over her lips, as she licked the little slit.

“Keep going,” he encouraged.

“That I love you and can’t wait to suck it?”

“Alright, babe,” she nodded at last, “I guess you’ll just have to suck my huge dick,” and with that, he slid between her lips.

She smiled around him and pulled on it deeper, dragging her tongue over and under the thick shaft. It was always just a little too big for her, so she gasped, as he filled her mouth more and more, sliding in steadily. She eased her throat as much as she could, accepting the thrust and feeling the smooth head dip down, brushing the back of her throat. He was watching her intently, every bob and swallow of her throat, making sure that she was comfortable enough to hold him in. “Big?” he murmured. Her eyes teared up, but she managed a small nod. Her hands squeezed his thighs nervously, tightly, stroking the backs of them, while he began to pull out slowly, before sliding back in.

Nothing was more exciting than Elain’s ability to mould her throat around his shaft, while those big brown eyes blinked at him, seeking approval. He put his hand over her head, stroking it, then caressing her face, her hollowed cheeks, while giving her mouth a few exploratory thrusts.

She readied herself and pulled back, releasing the cock with an audible pop, and then licking the underside, from the balls to the tip.

“Just like that, my love,” he nodded, watching her tuck her face in the crease of his hip and slide her tongue up and down the sides of his cock. “Is that good?”

“It’s the best,” she vowed, “I love licking!” she added enthusiastically, proceeding to do just that.

He always remembered that she was very innocent and whatever she knew, no matter how sensual, erotic or even perverse, it all came from him. He taught her—gently, firmly and thoroughly the art of the bedroom and whatever they did, he was completely assured that she enjoyed and wanted every moment of it. Thankfully, she was so innocent that she didn’t know how to pretend or fake anything, especially when it came to sex, and didn’t know how to play games. She was eager and loving and excitable because what they did together, with each other, pleased her, and for no other reason. Azriel cherished this level of honesty more than anything.

Therefore, when she said that she loved licking, she showed him just how much she enjoyed it, licking up and down voraciously, over the sides, watching him unblinking. He cupped the pouch of his balls in one hand and carefully eased it into her mouth.

“You are so good to me,” he groaned, as she wrapped her lips around the ball and began to suck eagerly, not caring if she was loud, smacking her lips, tongue working non-stop, caressing the flesh. She hummed appreciatively around the balls, sending a pleasant shiver down his thighs, her mouth completely filled with him. “That’s good, my girl,” he stroked her head, “just like that. Keep going,” his head fell back with satisfaction, and she swallowed hard around his balls, almost moaning at the sight of his neck, the expression of pleasure written on his face.

“Can I tell you a story?” he muttered huskily, looking back down at her, his eyes dark and his face tense. Elain nodded. He gripped his cock and then slid it back in her mouth, almost to the hilt, making her choke and gag at once, watching her eyes widen.

She was drooling, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the pressure of her member in her throat, or from the visual display of his stunning body above her. The thick pectorals, adorned with black and blue ink twitched as he began to pump in and out of her mouth, hard and steady. He held the back of her head, but the clutch of his hand was light and casual, only keeping her in place, as his narrow hips flexed with each deep push. A delicious bead of sweat ran down the cobbled network of his abdominal muscles, slowly making its way to the deep V etched into his hips, towards the thick cock that he was currently ramming into her mouth.

She drooled. She licked and laved and lapped. She didn’t care how messy or ridiculous she looked, because her man loved her and loved her on her knees in front of him.

“I couldn’t stop watching you talk,” he grumbled, “the first time I saw you. Your plump lips…Oh fuck, baby, you feel so, so good,” he rode her smoothly, with deep, expert strokes, “you wore that rose-tinted lipstick…and all I could think of afterward was those lips wrapped around my dick.”

She smiled over his member, lightly shaking her head, as much as her current position would allow.

“I am sorry, honey,” he smiled at her, “this pervy mind couldn’t think of anything else but getting my dick down your throat.”

And demonstrating just that, and the resolution of his dream, he pushed further.

“Alright?” he asked, carefully holding her jaw. She blinked her approval. He was unable to take his eyes off her, her lush lips wrapped tightly around the dark mass of him, her beautiful eyes tearing from pressure. He wiped the tears with his thumbs and then gave a brief nod, “give me those flowers, baby.”

Obviously, she couldn’t glance down, so she blindly grabbed a handful of flowers and handed them to him, her expression amused, a little surprised.

“What’s more romantic,” he murmured, stroking her hollowed cheeks and then pulling out a little, before pushing back in, “than putting pretty flowers into my Lainey’s hair,” and he plucked a small poppy from the heap, and pushed in into her hair, “while she deepthroats me?”

He was heavy and thick in her mouth, salty, delicious and familiar, and as he began thrusting firmly, the thick head hitting the back of her throat, Elain settled in for a ride. She wasn’t kidding when she asked for her throat to be raw by the end of it—she liked being sore somewhere in her body from him, at all times. Between her legs, inside her rectum, in her throat—it didn’t matter, though it was nice if it was everywhere, but she loved being marked by him in some way.

The hum and rumble in Azriel’s throat, that of masculine satisfaction and some kind of primal dominance made her so wet, she leaked down her thighs. But he didn’t tell her to touch herself, so she didn’t. He just fucked her throat steadily, the audible sound of her choking and sputtering around his cock and the satisfied snarls emanating from him, the only sounds around them. His hips rocked hard, pumping deep, as he garbled endearments and praise to her, “is that so good, honey? You feel amazing…”

She squeezed his thighs in affirmation. As he worked on her, he kept putting flowers in her hair, admiring her sucking and his work, “so gorgeous, baby. My beautiful girl…Good cock?”

“Mmmm,” she only managed, saliva bathing her chin and chest, her eyes rolling back with pleasure and exhaustion.

“Can you handle a little more?” he begged, “I don’t want to come yet, my love,” another flower in her hair. “I love you on your knees with my cock in her mouth.”

He set a brutal rhythm, muttered, “choke, baby…” and she did, gagging and panting over his member, the lack of oxygen making her pliant and obliging, her mouth existing for his pleasure. When they played a little rougher, he could request to squeeze her throat a little with his hand, while he choked her with his cock, but today, he was feeling romantic, as was she.

Her hair dripped with flowers of all kinds, as he fashioned her into some kind of Summer Lady. Or maybe a Dusk Lady, since the sun began its descent and shadows spread over the pretty little valley.

“Fuck me, you are so beautiful,” he grunted, looking down at her. “My flower girl, with my cock in her mouth. Bob a little, love, show me how much you like it,” he encouraged and she immediately began to bob her head  up and down on him, drool sliding down his shaft, her eyes pleading for his approval, which he gave generously.

He gently, kindly stroked her face, her throat, feeling his cock deep inside it, moving in her, rubbing at the indentation with his thumb. Then, he cupped her face between his large hands and murmured, “open up”, thumbs brushing over her damp cheeks, as tears slid down when he started to thrust intently, battering her throat. “My girl is sucking so well,” he was relentless now, pounding and pounding, an Elain thought that she might just pass out from the sensation, feeling lightheaded. Azriel had inhuman stamina when he was between her legs, but that also translated to when he was in her mouth, which meant he could ravage her completely. “I’ll feed you all the gelato myself, if you can suck a little more,” he promised with a smirk, pulling out completely. “Breathe,” he ordered, and she gulped in some air, before he thrust back inside, “are you tired?”

She shook her head ‘no’. She was never tired for him. She moaned, though his cock pushed down all sound with brutal, excited enthusiasm, as he cupped his balls tightly in his hand, readying to finally come. “Fuck, baby, you suck so well,” he squeezed her shoulder, stooping over her, the muscled of his abdomen twitching and tensing, his balls tight against her chin. Grabbing her shoulder with one hand, he cupped her under the jaw and kept her head still, as he exploded in her mouth. He poured down her throat with a pleased, blissful moan, throwing his head back, pumping harshly and erratically, filling her mouth over and over. She sucked and drank, swallowing quickly, gluttonously. Azriel always tasted heavenly, but perhaps it was something about being in Italy and all the fruit and wine that they’ve been consuming, but she couldn’t get enough of him now. He shot rope after rope down her throat and she lapped it all with pleasure. He dropped on his knees, exhausted, his cock still in her mouth, and she stroked and caressed his body soothingly, swallowing the last of him.

“Gods, Elain,” was all he managed, as he finally withdrew in an endlessly long pull from her lips.

She gasped, and licked her lips, before placing a loving, playful kiss on the pink, wet head of the shaft.

“Did you have fun, my love?” she cooed tenderly, as Azriel slumped on the blanket, head her on her lap.

“Baby, why do you spoil me like this?” he moaned, reaching for her bare plump breast and cupping lightly.

“Probably because I love you more than it’s prudent,” she smiled, her voice hoarse. “More than anything. Love you like I didn’t know I could love anybody. Also,”

“Yes?”

His chest constricted from her simple admissions, from the pure earnestness of her words, from the love that was shining in her brown eyes. He was undeserving of this woman, of her overwhelming love for him, of everything that she gave him so selflessly. But he listened and listened, because everything she told him was like a balm on all the wounds of his soul, and music to his heart.

Her lips were gorgeously, obscenely swollen, and he dragged his thumb over their plumpness. She added, “you are very hot.”

“Ahhh,” he chuckled. “So you are using me for my body?”

“I’d be stupid not to use you for your body. You got one hell of a body, my mysterious, shadowy Azriel.”

“Well, flower girl, you go ahead and use my body as much as you want, for anything you desire. It’s yours.”

He kissed her hand. Then, reached up and kissed her pretty pink nipple.

“As is my heart,” he added softly. “Anything you want. It’s all yours.”

She lay next to him, both of them sprawled in the blanket of flowers. She picked a poppy and stuck it behind his ear.

“Pretty boy Azriel.”

He propped his cheek and turned to face her. She was still covered in flowers, from all his handiwork.

“We are good together, aren’t we?” she murmured, laying her hand on his neck.

“We are. We are very good together, Lainey.”

She bit her swollen lip and then said, voice quiet, a little uncertain,

“Maybe you want to marry me?” she proposed.

He stilled, waiting for more.

She squeezed the back of his neck a little tighter and continued, no stopping her now, “I know we were thinking later, maybe next y-,”

“Yes,” he nodded, “yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, Elain, I want to marry you now.”

She gasped, tears of joy moistening her eyes, “In Florence?” she begged.

“Yes. In Florence,” he cupped her face in his. “Let’s go get married!”

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[astrovian]

Richard Armitage interviews Harlan Coben for the Win audiobook (released 18/03/21)

Full transcript under cut

RA: Hi, I’m Richard Armitage. I played Adam Price in the Netflix series The Stranger, which was adapted from Harlan Coben’s novel of the same name. With me is the man himself, Harlan Coben, number one New York Times bestseller, the author of over thirty novels, including the one you’ve just listened to. I’m delighted to be talking to Harlan about his book, Win.

Okay Harlan, thanks for taking the time to chat about your audiobook and thanks for sending me a copy of the book. Um, it was so nice I ended up wrapping it up and giving it to my brother for Christmas.

HC: *laugh* You’re supposed to read it first, but okay, thanks Richard.

RA: No, I got the electronic version so uh, so I’ve had a good read. Congratulations, a great story. Brilliant, brilliant central character. I mean the first question I’m gonna ask is – because people listening to this have just been listening to the audiobook – are you, um, a big audiobook listener yourself?

HC: I – I go through stages, um, because my mind wanders, I sometimes have trouble focusing. But when I’m in a car, um, that’s most of the time that I’m- that I really love to use the audiobooks because it does make the ride just fly by. However, I’ve set up my life that I don’t have to commute to work every day, so I don’t have it steadily – it’s usually when I’m doing a nice long ride, I get a really good audiobook and time just flies by.

RA: And have you- have you got any favourite audiobooks that you’ve listened to recently, or any podcasts or what is it that floats your boat?

HC: You know, it’s funny. I still remember when I was a working man, way back when, when audiobooks were really first starting out and we had them on cassette tapes, I listened to the entire Bonfire of the Vanities by Tom Wolfe, um, it was about thirty hours long, going back and forth to work for almost a month. And I still have memories of that experience, and it’s probably, well god, it’s probably 1990 I did that, 1989, something like that.

RA: Mm-hmm. Yeah, I mean I’ve got a- I’ve got a few journeys up and back from Manchester this year, we’re about to start working on Stay Close, so I’ll happily – I’m happy to take any recommendations of any good books, so maybe I’ll listen to Bonfire of the Vanitites.

HC: Well I tell ya, a lot of people – first of all, it’s a brilliant book, it’s maybe a bit dated, but I doubt that, um. I think Richard, I get more people telling me to listen to any book that you read.

RA: *laugh*

HC: I said, “Hey, I spend a lot of time with this guy, I’m about to do my second television show that stars Richard Armitage. No one I think has starred in two shows that I’ve done ever, so I get a lot of him anyway.” *laugh*

RA: You don’t need my voice in your head when you’re driving, that’s – that’s torture.

HC: That’s right, I’ll be hearing notes on, on scripts in my head if I hear you going. For those who don’t know who are listening, y’know, Richard starred in The Stranger, um, and now is going to be starring in Stay Close, uh, based off two of my novels which I’m sure you can get on audiobook.

RA: And on that note, what um, you’ve had so many adaptations now that have moved from page to screen – what is it like when you go through that process? When you’re – ‘cause you’re very hands on in the way that you kind of collaborate with not just the actors, but with the producers and y’know, the writers. I mean, you’re – you’re writing it yourself. Um, what is it like through, through that whole process, from starting to developing to seeing it kind of realised on screen?

HC: I think the key for me is not to be slavishly devoted to the novel. I think that’s a mistake that a lot of people who are trying to make an adaptation make. So, I go into it, ‘what is the best TV series we can make?’, if it’s true to the book, great. If it’s not true to the book, also great. Um, so I move my stories to various countries, we’ve changed characters around, we’ve changed motivations. Because they’re two very different mediums – a book is a book, and a TV series is a TV series. They should not be the same. One is a visual medium, one is not. Even, even um, audiobooks are slightly different um, than what you read. And they should be. Um, y’know, there’s a performance involved. 

Also, because I’ve spent most of my life alone in a room coming up with writing a book, um, where I am just everything – I’m writer, director, actor, key grip. I don’t even know what a key grip is, but I’m that. Um, it’s really nice to collaborate. So um, you’ve worked with me, I hope you agree – I like to collaborate, I like to hear the opinions of other people and um, I really enjoy that aspect of it. I look at it like I’m – like I get to be captain of a World Cup football team, rather than being a tennis player where I’m standing there on my own, which is what happens with a novel.

RA: Yeah, and actually it’s the same when I get to narrate an audiobook, like you say – you get to be director, you get to be the cinematographer to an extent ‘cause you’re setting the scene, but one thing that I’ve – I really appreciated about working with you was having read your, your books and sometimes you’ll pass by a character that is useful to the, to the narrative that you’re telling, but when that comes to developed for TV or film you’ll take a bit more time to investigate that character, and you’re very open to treading those paths, which makes for a very kind of dense narrative with the screenwriter.

HC: Well that’s what I think we’re trying to do. If you think about The Stranger, um, y’know in the book the Stranger is a sort of nerdy teenage male.

RA: Mm-hmm.

HC: And that just – we even tried out some people, and that just didn’t work. And it was really my idea – and I don’t say it in a bragging way, I say it as a way to show how open we all are – to change the character from being male to being female. And once I saw Hannah John-Kamen do it, then I pictured her in a room with you in that first great scene in the bar, um, or at the club when she tells you the big secret, it just worked. Um, you have to be willing to, to sort of stretch your imagination all over again and re-think your story. Which is also fun.

RA: Yeah, and also I suppose because y’know, as much as we love a faithful adaptation of a novel, um what you don’t wanna do is just deliver the novel in screenplay. You want to, for everyone that has read it it’s a new and exciting surprise, and for everyone that hasn’t it’s, y’know, it’s gonna be the same. So, um, it’s nice to kind of have a, to have your audience ready for people who have read a lot of your work, and there were, y’know, a guaranteed audience of people that had, had looked at The Stranger but what you gave them was something really surprising.

HC: Yeah, it was a lot of fun. A lot of fun. And Stay Close, there’s a change in the ending to that which will hopefully shock everybody but especially the people who have already read the book, who will smugly think they know exactly what’s going on.

RA: *laugh* And me, probably. I haven’t read it yet. Um, so when you’re writing – I’m gonna double up on this question now, so when you’re writing, do you write in silence? Do you have any music playing in the background or are you – do you have like a, a kind of sacred writing space?

HC: Um, my routine is not to have a routine. Uh I, I do whatever works until it stops working and then I change up. It’s like I’m riding a horse really fast, and then the horse dies so I gotta find a new horse. So most writers will tell you ‘yes, I use this space, I do it at this time’. Um in the days before Covid, I would go to different coffee shops all the time, I would try out different… any place. Y’know, my favourite example is the end of – when I was writing The Stranger, um with about three weeks left to finish it, I had to take an Uber for the first time. This was a number of years ago. I had to take an Uber in New York City, and I felt really guilty about spending the money on an Uber and trying to justify it, so I was sitting in the back of the Uber and I was writing down notes, and I start writing really well. So for three weeks, I took Ubers wherever I went just so I could finish the book *laugh*

RA: ‘Cause that was the magic formula.

HC: Yeah, that worked! Then that stops working and then I have to find the new, a new place. So my routine is not to have a routine. If you’re trying to write out there, the key to anything is ‘does it make me write more?’ – if the answer is yes, it’s good. If the answer is no, it’s bad. It really is that simple.

RA: I’m gonna make a note of that for when I start writing myself. Um, do you – do you speak any of your characters out loud, your dialogue or your prose passages, do you say it out loud?

HC: The very last stage um, of editing. Okay first of all, no writer gets it right the first time. I know a million writers, I don’t know any writer who doesn’t re-write and re-write a lot. Well, I know one but he’s the guy none of us wanna hang out with, you know what I mean?

RA: *laugh*

HC: So um, the last stage that I do, and it’s usually after I’ve done all the editing with my editor and everything like that, we’re ready to go. I will sit in a room and I read the entire novel out loud to myself. Um, because what happens is, it’s a little bit like a musical score. Where you can – if you read it out loud, I can detect false notes that I may have missed along the way. Um, I can hear them. So the last step is that. I rarely y’know, I’m not – I’m not crazy, I’m not sitting there maybe talking out loud to myself, I’m maybe testing out lines by doing that, and I do that a lot when I’m helping with the screenplays on our shows. But um, for the most part that’s how I do it.

RA: So, in that case, would you ever narrate one of your own audiobooks?

HC: I did narrate one, uh, many years ago called Promise Me. What had happened is we had -  my Myron Bolitar series we did seven with the same reader and he retired. I hadn’t written um, I didn’t write Myron for about five or six years it was. And so they said, ‘hey, why don’t you do it?’ which was a huge mistake in many ways. One, I’m not a professional. But two, the people who were fans of Myron Bolitar liked the first guy, and it felt to them liked they had tuned into their favourite TV show and every actor had changed.

RA: *laugh*

HC: It’s really difficult to re-do or start a series, uh, when people know the- the old reader. So um, I also figure- it was also, Richard you know this of course, so for people who don’t know, it’s a lot of work. I’m a guy from New Jersey. I speak very quickly, which does not go over well in audio. I don’t do voices. I would have to sit with a pillow on my stomach because uh, my stomach would sometimes grumble and that would be picked up- *laugh*

RA: Oh, yeah!

HC: By the microphone. And it took me um, a week to record it because – and I don’t know if this is still the case – but back then, the abridged version wasn’t just a cut up version of the unabridged, I had to do a whole different reading for it. So um, it was – it was a lot of work. Um, and it’s a skill that I’m not sure I’m best to do.

RA: Yeah, it does take a lot of stamina. I mean what’s interesting is, having gotten to know you, and when I, when I now read your work, I can hear your delivery, I can hear your voice. And there’s humour in the dialogue, and there’s humour in the as well, and I – it’s an instant ‘in’ for me, so I – ‘cause, ‘cause often I read and I speak aloud when I’m reading alone in the dark, I say things out loud but I think people approach it differently. But I definitely hear your voice in, in these characters. And I think particularly in Windsor Horne Lockwood.

HC: That’s so interesting because Win, I think of my heroes that I’ve had, Win is probably the least like me. I mean um, when you think about Adam-

RA: *laughing* You have to say that! You have to say that because he’s such a badly behaved person, isn’t he?

HC: *laughing* Yeah! ‘Cause I usually like to think of myself as more of like Adam in The Stranger, who you played, or some of the other characters that – the ‘I’m a father or four’ or those kind of guys. What I love about getting into Win of course is that Win is something of an anti-hero. Um, he sort of says and does things that are not necessarily prudent or appropriate, and he can get away with that. Um, so I really loved – I loved getting in his head, it was really an interesting experience. But on the surface anyway, he’s probably the least like me of any uh, main character that I’ve ever written.

RA: Yeah, I mean I- I relate to that totally. It’s a little bit like- it’s probably a side of you, you daren’t investigate, but- but when you get the chance to do it in a fiction um, you can tap into those things that we’re not allowed to do or say in your, in your regular day. But um, where did that character spring from? What was the seed that germinated into his story do you think?

HC: Rarely is this the case, but um, Win is actually – y’know, he’s the sidekick in my Myron Bolitar series but um, when I first created him I based him off my best friend in college roommate, who has a name equally obnoxious as Windsor Horne Lockwood the Third-

RA: *laugh*

HC: Very good looking, blonde guy who used to say before he would go out to parties when we were in college, he would look in the mirror and say, “It must suck to be ugly”. And so I took him and I tweaked him and made him more dangerous, uh and that’s how I, I kind of came up with Win.

RA: And does this person know that you’ve based this character on him?

HC: Oh yes! In fact, some people know who he is, he uses it. He’s still a-

RA: Oh, really?

HC: Owner of all these fancy golf clubs, he’s president of one of the most famous golf clubs, um, in the world right now. He looks the part. In fact, he one time came to one of my books signings years ago and um, he’s sitting in the back, and I tell people the story of how I created Win, and I say, “I’m not gonna tell you who, but Win is actually in this room right now”. It took the crowd about four seconds to figure out who he was, and he had a longer line to sign books that I did *laugh*

RA: Amazing. I mean I have to say, it’s- you, you start reading the story and thinking, ‘I don’t know if I’m gonna like this guy’ but he really grows on you, warts and all. I wonder how many people are gonna go into Saks on Fifth Avenue and go looking for the vault.

HC: *laugh* Yeah, no, I made that up. But there is place in Saks-

RA: I know, so brilliant!

HC: -but the rest of it is completely made up, this involves an app that you’ll read about when you- hopefully when you, when you read book. But yeah, it was fun to do an anti-hero where he makes decisions and does things that you don’t like, and yet you still wanna hang around with him. I always think the key to a fascinating character is not um, that he’s likeable necessarily, but that you wanna spend time with him. Not that he’s a nice guy, but if you were at a bar and you could sit with somebody and have a conversation with them and learn about their life, would this be a person you’d wanna do that with? And that’s sort of the test whenever I do a character. And Win, I think, passes that with flying colours. There are people who love Win and wanna be just like him and there are people who loathe him! But everybody, or I hope many people, are fascinated by him and his life.

RA: Well, also you’ve given him such an incredible kind of tool kit, like a skill set. I mean, I think everybody would look at that character and wish they could do the things he does, maybe not in the way that he does them, but I mean he’s- he’s exactly the kind of character that you’d hone in on, certainly from an acting point of view. I look at that and if I was, y’know, like fifteen years younger, I’d be leaping on that character to play. Which is, it means – it means he’s sort of relatable or aspirational in a kind of anti-hero way.

HC: I’ve heard this a lot, and I think it’s one of the most flattering things that I hear from my actor friends – I think everybody would want to play Win. I mean, I think the- it’s an interesting challenge, um, for a lot of actors. More so than even Myron Bolitar who is my lead series character. Um, everybody kind of wants to play win and kind of wonders who would play Win. Uh, and I take that as a – as a compliment.

RA: Are we gonna see more of him? Is he ge- are you writing more stories for him?

HC: My guess is the answer’s yes. I plan each book as it comes, so I never know until I’ve started. Is it gonna be a stand alone? Is it going to be a Myron Bolitar? Is it gonna be a young adult? Mickey Bolitar is now going to be a Win, and I don’t know until I – each book, y’know when I finish a book, I’m like a boxer who’s just gone fifteen rounds and can’t even lift my, my arms anymore, I gave it everything I had, I can’t even imagine fighting again or writing another novel. So I don’t know is the answer. Probably? I do wanna see Win again, separately or at least back with Myron, so I do think we will see Win again. But the book I’m writing right now is a sequel to The Boy From the Woods, which is the book that came out in 2020, so that’s what I’m writing now. Will I return to Win? Maybe. Maybe. We’ll see how- we’ll also see how people react. Not that I would work necessarily off of commercial interest, but it people really love this book, y’know, we don’t live in vacuum, that would probably somewhat influence what I do.

RA: Right. I mean, because so many of your- your books are being developed and being snapped up to be turned into film or television – I mean, Myron Bolitar is, is a recurring series waiting to happen, and then you’ve got your spin off of Win – I, I- I wonder if, y’know when your first ever, uh novel, did you write with kind of cinema television in your head? Is that something that as modern storytellers we can even avoid? Um, did you ever dream that these would ever turn into sort of film and TV?

HC: Well, everybody dreams, but there’s sort of two answers to it. The first answer is when I’m writing a book, I never ever, ever, not for one second do I think ‘Ooh, this would make a really good movie’ or ‘Ooh, this would make a really good TV series’ because that’s the kiss of death for a book. It really is. It’s, it’s- it’s just a disastrous thought, and if you’re out there writing really don’t try it, because it’s, it’s a big mistake. At the same time, to be realistic and honest, I grew up watching TV. Who didn’t? That’s my – I mean this is what we grew up with. To pretend you’re only influences – y’know you ask a writer ‘What’s your influences?’ “Oh, Shakespeare and Proust and Yeats” – come on. You watched TV growing up. And so that’s an influence on how you tell a story. To deny that is silly. So writers today do think in terms of cinema more just because they grew up with it. Where writers of a different generation did not, so they wouldn’t have that influence.

RA: Yeah, I mean I- I think this all the time – it’s impossible to even de-program your brain not to imagine scenarios in terms of cinema. I mean I- I often think about sort of Victorian novelists that didn’t have y’know TV, and their trying to describe something that they’ve never seen or experienced. And we have references for so many things – I mean it’s almost impossible not to, we’re- we are and will always be influenced by one or the other, especially in the written word. But I- I find that it means that you can kind of uh, put aside the investigation and just get on with the storytelling. And maybe go even a little bit further. It’s like instant access. Y’know, I know exactly the world that you’re talking about when you’re y’know at the beginning of Win, but- but y’know at the same time I felt there was something very Agatha Christie like about the um, the backstory of uh, of this book, I really liked the fact that there was a historic event that was really informing what was happening right now.

HC: Well, y’know when I start a book, there’s- I’m always- I have a bunch of ideas and I’m trying to think which ones are going to go in the story, and it ends up being several. So for example, in this book, I wanted – I’ve always wanted to do an art heist. Y’know, like the Gardner Museum Heist, where they still haven’t found the paintings that were stolen, the Vermeers and the Picassos that were stolen in that particular – I can’t remember if it’s Picasso now, I know it was a Vermeer – um, stolen in that- that, heist in Boston years ago, I wanted to write a book about 60’s radicals – the Weather Underground and what would happen to people who were involved in that so many years later. I also wanted to write something about a kind of Patty Hearst-type character who was a famous kidnapping here in the 70s. So those were like three of the things that I wanted to like – to delve into. And I ended up delving into all three *laugh* which sometimes happens. 

Oh, and the last one I wanted to do – I always wanted to do um, a hoarder that was actually someone famous. There was actually um, something of a case of this in New York City where somebody died who was living in a top floor of an Upper West Side building, and it ended up being the missing son – not really missing, but had just kind of gone off the rails – of a very famous American war hero. And so, I took all of these aspects, which would seem to make three or four different novels, and I make it into one novel if I can. It’s not that different from – again, I’m referencing um, um – The Stranger y’know, because you’re here and provably a number of the people listening to us have seen The Stranger on Netflix, but it’s the same thing with The Stranger a little bit, where I had a lot of ideas for secrets that could be revealed by the Stranger, and each one could have been a separate novel. And instead, the challenge is put them all in one story and find a way to hook them together.

RA: Yeah. I mean, it’s rich in a way that when I- I’m reading it and the producer head in me is saying ‘gosh, this is gonna be a great TV show’ ‘cause you know, you’ve got the present day, you’ve got the near-past and the um, the heist story, which uh, is kind of crying out for – you just want more of it, which is brilliant in a book. When you’re – you’re leaving the reader wanting to know more and wanting to, to know more about that family and what happens to them. It’s – it’s the perfect recipe, really.

HC: And so much of it does come from your life in ways that you don’t expect – right now, maybe a lot of people are watching this uh, the Aaron Sorkin movie about the Chicago Trials from the 70s, Abbie Hoffman, who is played by uh, I think Sacha Baron Cohen played him in, in the movie. When I was in college at Amherst, Abbie Hoffman was on the run, um, but he still showed up one day at our college and gave a speech, then disappeared again. And boy, that stuck in my head always. Man, I’d love to write a character that’s kind of like Abbie Hoffman. ‘Cause he had that charisma even then, y’know on stage he was funny as heck, I must have been eighteen or nineteen um, when I – when I heard him speak. And so that – I never consciously back then, I didn’t think that, but every once in a while those experiences come to head and you wanna write about it.

RA: Mm-hmm. You’ve been writing for quite a few years now-

HC: *Laugh*

RA: -you’re – I don’t know if you can even remember what it was like when you first stated your very first book. Um, and some people have said that books are like children in a way, you sort of rear them and then the more you do, the more familiar you are with that process. But would you – I mean, it’s difficult for you to answer this, but would you say you have a favourite book that you’ve written?

HC: I don’t have a favourite book that I’ve written. Um, this – this sounds self-serving, but it’s usually the book, the most recent book, that I like the best. Um, it’s a little bit like – and the way I try to explain this is – maybe you wrote a paper, an essay when you were in college which you thought was brilliant. You remember that moment in school and you wrote a paper and you thought it was brilliant and you find it now and you re-read it and you go, ‘wow, this wasn’t good after all’. It’s not that it’s not very good, it’s just that you have sort of moved on and you’re not that sort of person and so you see all the flaws. So in the older books, which I don’t re-read, I see all of the flaws. I always think, y’know even if you think of yourself, what you thought ten or fifteen years ago – you sort of go ‘ugh, what did I know back then, I’m so much smarter now’. So the same thing a little bit with books, where I think I’m learning more and the current book is better. One of the interesting experiences of working on these adaptation is having to go back and read a book – in some cases we’re doing one, the next one I think uh comes out in France for example, is Gone for Good, which I think was released in 2002! Or 2003. So I wrote it twenty years ago. And to have to go back and read it now, I’m always kind of cringing at some of the stuff-

RA: Mm-hmm.

HC: -some of the stuff I’m kind of thrilled with, like ‘wow, that’s an interesting twist. You don’t have that kind of ending anymore’ and some of it I’m like, ‘wow, why’d you go there?’ so it’s an interesting experience.

RA: Yeah, I feel the same. I very – I, uh, very early on in my career I would watch my work back in quite a lot of detail, thinking ‘I’m gonna learn something’ and then as I got older it was – it was almost unbearable to just do that. And I actually haven’t been able to do that, but it’s because when you’re – when you’re first starting out you throw everything you’ve got into that first breakout role that you do, and then your realise that you’re always in danger of repeating yourself and you think – ‘gosh, people are gonna suss me out that I’m only capable of doing one or two things’, but you live in hope that you can, y’know, find that one thing that you can completely reinvent. Y’know I still hope for that.

HC: I still think that everyone who I’ve ever met who is successful at what they do has imposter syndrome. If you don’t um, you’re prob- you have a false bravado and you’re in trouble. I always say, “only bad writers think they’re good”. The rest of us really suffer with that, and really questioning and always think we’re gonna be sussed out. And I can tell you, um, Stephen King sent me a book not that long ago because he’d nicely put my name in it and wanted my reaction. But even Steve, after all his success and whatever else, he still worries about the reaction, that he’s as good as he used to be, that people will still like it, he’s – I know him. He still worries about it. And when you stop, that’s when you’re in trouble I think as an artist, when you’re starting to doubt what it- when you don’t have the doubts, you start having an overconfidence that you sort of got this. It’s a little bit like my golf game, frankly.

RA: *laugh*

HC: There’s moment’s when I’m about to swing, y’know, I’m gonna be okay and then you get out there and you stink all over again. So-

RA: Yep

HC: -you’re constantly trying to get better and so I imagine it must be difficult to look at your old roles and you – you’re kinda cringing, right? You see all the mistakes you’re making. You see through you so to speak, right?

RA: Yep. Absolutely.

HC: And then someone will come up to you, right, and they’ll say, “Oh, my favourite thing you ever did was-“ and then they’ll list something you did twenty years ago, and you want them to pay attention to what you’re doing now *laugh*

RA: Yep. Yep. Seeing through you is, is one of the things that is quite haunting because I do, I see through me. I can’t shake myself off, if you know what I mean.

HC: Well, you are very cool, you don’t watch any of it until it’s all over. Uh, that’s correct right? You never watched any of our rushes or I remember trying to tell you that you’re doing great and all that-

RA: No, I watched, I watched the first shot-

HC: -and you had not seen any of it and I watch you every day when you’re on set working on our shows and I’ll comment if I see something or whatever, to either you directly or the director, uh, and most of the time I’m – I’m complimenting you, but you don’t – you don’t know either, because you’re not watching, you’re not getting lost in that.

RA: Yeah, I don’t like to watch or be somebody that studies myself to much, I don’t think that’s my job. I think my job is to be inside the character looking out, rather than the other way around. I leave that to the experts like you and the director.

HC: Also, I think it’s- I think if you start worrying about what – you’re right – and also you don’t have the distance. This is always an issue when I – I first start watching the cuts of the first episodes, and I read the book while I’m editing it, while I try to take time between my writing it and then seeing it, I have to sort of put myself in the position of being somebody who knows nothing about this, and doesn’t come in knowing the story already that I’ve already read or seen a thousand time. How do I keep it fresh in my head when I’m trying to be objective and watching it so we can make edits. Uh, both on the screen or on the page.

RA: Mm-hmm. What draws you to crime/thriller? What – I mean is that – I, I can’t often imagine you writing a romantic novel, but what is it that draws you to this particular genre?

HC: Well, y’know to me it’s uh, not really a genre. It’s more like – it’s a form. It’s more like saying it’s a haiku or a sonata.

RA: Mm-hmm.

HC: And within that form I can, and hopefully have, done everything. Um, I think The Stranger for example is more a story about family, uh, and the secrets we try to hide, rather than it is about who killed who – y’know, the mystery angle of it.

RA: Yeah.

HC: One of my most, uh well-known books, my first bestseller, was a book called Tell No One which was made into a French film starring François Cluze, and that’s really a love story, it’s about a man who’s madly in love with his wife and eight years earlier, she was murdered. And then eight years passed, he gets an email, he clicks the hyperlink, he sees a webcam and his dead wife walks by, still alive., And the pursuit, the wanting to get back, the hope for full redemption is really what drives the story more than ‘who killed who’.

RA: Mmm-hmm.

HC: So different stories do different things. But the great thing about the form of crime fiction is that it compels me to tell a story. I’m not getting lost in the beauty of my own genius, my own kind of navel-gazing. I have to continue to tell a story and entertain you. So any of the themes that I wanna tell, any of the things I wanna discuss, has to be slave to that story. And I think that’s probably a rich tradition. If you think about Dumas really, wasn’t that all crime fiction? Even Shakespeare is mostly crime fiction.

RA: Yeah.

HC: Most great stories, if I ask you to name a favourite novel that’s over a hundred years old, Dostoevsky, whoever, you will find that there’s almost always a crime in it. There’s almost always a crime story.

RA: I mean it’s one of the things that I get very excited about, um, I mean obviously I haven’t read your entire canon but I – there’s a signature, or a theme that you love to play on which is this idea that – that um, the people you know aren’t telling you everything about themselves, or that there’s something to hide and that in our modern world, with technology, we have this sort of ability to – to sort of lead multiple lives of truths or lies. And it’s something which I think we immediately recognise. ‘Cause I think we – we’re living that, that reality, and it’s a theme that I really enjoy about your writing.

HC: Well, first of all, thanks. Second, um, there’s a lot of things we’ve heard about the human condition. One of my favourites about the human condition that I used to write, is that we all believe that we are uniquely complex and no one knows the inside of us. And yet we think we read everybody else pretty well. We all think we are uniquely complex and the person across from us, we can kind of figure out. They’re not quite like us. Um, and that’s something I love to play with when I write. Because you’ve gotta remember that everybody is uniquely complex and on a humanity level, and on an empathy level, I raise my kids and I’m always teaching them that every person you see, the richest, the poorest, the happiest, the saddest – everybody has hopes and dreams. Just think that, when you see a stranger on the street, when you’re going to interact with somebody, when you’re getting angry at somebody, whatever it is – just remember, they have hope and dreams. Um, small little thought, but it helps me create a character as well.

RA: There’s also a- a kind of very strong level of self-deception involved, which I think can be quite surprising. Because you always read a character and go, ‘I’m not like that’ or ‘I would never do that’ and then if you really think about it, we – there’s a truth we tell ourselves about ourselves which isn’t always honest.

HC: Well, exactly. It’s really come to fruition in the world the last few years, where I kind of joked that I’ve been working too hard on making my villains sympathetic, the villains in today’s world don’t seem to be very – very complex at all.

RA: *laugh*

HC: But for the most part, people don’t think they’re bad guys. Even the bad guys don’t think they’re bad guys.

RA: Yeah.

HC: They have some way of, of justifying. It’s one of the great things about human beings, or one of the most prevailing thing about a human being, is we all have the ability to self-rationalise, to self-justify. Um, and so I’ve always tried with my villains, and I hope that I did it in everything that we’ve done together, to try to make even the villain – you may not like the villain, but you get them. I don’t really write books – I don’t write books where the serial killer is hacking up people for no reason, that doesn’t really interest me. I prefer the crimes where you can say, ‘Yeah, I wouldn’t have done it maybe, but I can see why that happened. I can see if I was put in that position, um, where I may have done something similar’. That to me is a much more interesting villain than somebody who’s just cruel and evil.

RA: Yeah. Um, final question actually, is – I mean, as a listener/reader yourself – are there any other authors whose books you love and just go back – I mean, you’ve mentioned Stephen King, um I’m with you on that one – but are there any other authors who really kind of inspire you and, and y’know, like a little guilty pleasure reading for yourself and not for work?

HC: Yeah, well the problem always is that I start listing authors, and then someone will say, ‘well, what about so-and-so who’s a friend of mine’, and then I say ‘oh shoot, I forgot – I forgot that one’.

RA: *laugh*

HC: Y’know I saw recently that it’s the eleventh anniversary of the death of Robert B. Parker, who wrote the Spencer novels, if by any chance you haven’t found the Spencer novels, and I don’t know how popular they are overseas – they’re fantastic, wonderful detective series. Um, so that’s one guy I would go back in time and try to find for audio. But I actually like Philip Roth a lot on audio, even though he doesn’t do crime fiction. I’m a big Michael Connelly fan and I like Lee Child, um and Laura Lippman. Y’know, I could sit here just naming um, people all day. I’m always curious also – who is reading – who does it because of the reader and who does it because of the writer. I know there’s a number of people who will listen to anything you read, Richard, because it’s you. Um, which is really quite nice, but it’s interesting the combination of the audio reader. I have Steven Weber, he’s been reading most of my novels, though I’ve had a female lead – a woman named January LaVoy who’s fantastic – and I think Weber captures my voice. He sounds a little bit like me, we both have a similar background, similar sense of humour, so part of it with the audio is also the match you end up making.

RA: Yeah. It’s interesting, isn’t it? Because I certainly find I don’t often get to read something which is purely my choice, I have a stack of things that are work-related, or that I’m about to record. So I don’t think I’ve – I’ve chosen a book recently which is just been- I don’t know how I would pick something, it’s usually a recommendation, so I’ll certainly have a look at the Spencer novels, they sound – they sound brilliant.

HC: Yeah, and they’re fun – there was a TV series in America for a while called ‘Spencer for Hire’ – this is s or going back to the, I guess the 70s or 80s I think. Um, those were not great, but the novels themselves were sort of – Raymond Chandler to Robert B. Parker to the guys who are working now. So he’s a huge – he was a tremendous influence on most of your favourite crime writers. I said in his obituary eleven years ago, I said, “90% of writers admit that Robert B. Parker was an influence and 10% lie about it”. So um, if you can find Robert B. Parker Spencer novels that would be a good clue for everybody out there.

RA: Brilliant. Well, that just about wraps it up. And uh, thanks for talking to me. I really enjoyed the book and no doubt it will be another best-seller and fingers crossed it ends up as a TV series.

HC: Well, thanks Richard, and I look forward to seeing you work on uh, Stay Close. I know that uh, Armitage Army out there *laugh* that – your, your loud uh supporters and fans who just adore you are going to go gaga cause you get to play somebody quite different from Adam in The Stranger. Um, it’s-

RA: Yeah. Looking forward to it.

HC: Yeah, it’ll be a lot of fun. Thanks very much.

#this was actually more interesting that I thought it would be #sorry the audio ain't great I had to compress it a lot #it is longgg #richard armitage #harlan coben #win

[moonlightkitkat]

May I Have this Dance?

Chapter 1: Eve

Prince Ali’s arrival in Paris had been a surprise to no one. The tabloids had been talking nonstop about it, as had Lila and Chloe.

Even before the Prince’s visit was made public, Chloe was bragging about how he was coming back to stay in her daddy’s hotel, and how he was so excited to see her again. As soon as that bit of knowledge had been revealed, Lila had snatched onto it, suddenly going on and on about how they’d been writing letters back and forth to each other.

“He even confessed to me and asked me to be his princess, only i had to turn him down of course. It isn't right for a Prince to date someone so far from nobility as I.” Lila had gossiped to their classmates. She even sniffled as she spoke, as if it had been a sacrifice to turn him down, and was quickly comforted by Mylene.

“I’m the one who recommended the school to him, and he was all too eager to agree! He told me he couldn't wait to see me again! I do hope that he isn't too hung up over me… I don't want to break his heart again..” Her shoulders slumped at this, and she let out a sorrowful sigh. “I only hope that we can have some time together, but I understand if he’s busy.”

Glancing over her shoulder at Lila in the back, she wasn't surprised at all to hear everyone listening to her tale of woe. What did surprise her however, was that Rose wasn’t among her. Both were seated at their own table, not listening to her at all.

“You’d think Rose would be more excited,” Alya whispered to her, making her jump and quickly turned around to look at her.

“What do you mean?”

“You remember how she was when he first visited right? Girl was head over heels for him! Think her crush on him went away?”

Humming in thought, she looked back at the blonde, giggling to Juleka about something they were watching on her phone. Shrugging, she turned to Alya, offering a small smile. “I dunno, maybe? Or maybe she’s more interested in her girlfriend?” She teased, making Alya blush and quickly drop the subject.

Chuckling, she leaned forward on the desk, wondering where Adrien was. It wasn’t like him to miss class, was he sick?

Class went by slowly, each second filled with thoughts of Adrien, slowly growing worse and worse. Did his father take him out of the school? Was he dying? Was he sick? Did his driver gets in a car accident and he couldn't make it to school from fright? Did he find a lonely hamster and insist on taking it home and taking care of it? Naming it Cedric and feeding it the stinky cheese she always smelled?

Yeah, it was probably that, she chuckled to herself, picking up her bag and heading home. In light of their new student’s arrival, the class had been assigned a paper on the Kingdom of Achu. To her delight, Rose and Juleka were more than eager to join her after school, Rose full of knowledge of the kingdom and eager to share.

“Do you think we could get some cookies?” Rose asked excitedly, bouncing on the way to the bakery.

“Sure! I’m sure Papa wouldn't mind us taking a plate up. Anything you want Juleka?”

Shaking her head, the taller girl offered her a shy smile, opening the door for them. “Do you… have any tea cookies?”

“Tea cookies?” Sabine popped her head out from behind the counter, her eyes sparkling. “We just made some! Go ask Tom for some, I’m sure he won't mind fixing your kids some!”

Juleka’s smile warmed at that, and she followed Rose and Marinette into the kitchen, where they were welcomed with a warm smile. He nearly bearhugged them before Marinette reminded him that he was covered in flour. Once they received their bowl of assorted cookies, they headed upstairs, getting settled to work on their assignments.

“What are you planning on writing about Rose?” She asked curiously before biting into a chocolate chip cookie.

Rose’s eyes lit up at the question, and she quickly swallowed her bite, her hands flailing as she waited. “I’m going to write about the Royal palace! Prince Ali told me all about these secret passages in there! He always sneaks through them when he wants to get away from meetings or from his tutors and guards. Apparently, they were made by the Crown Princess over two hundred years ago! She wanted a way to get around without anyone knowing, and had completely shut down the palace for several months! Nobody saw her for the entire time, she even cast out the servants during that time! She wanted it to be hers and hers alone,but the children in the castle were able to discover it since they had so much free time!”

Her face was red and she was completely out of breath, panting softly. “Sorry.. Was that too much?”

Both Marinette and Juleka shook their heads, their eyes wide and lit up with interest. “No no not at all! It was incredible! Do you think I could read it after you finish it?” Rose’s smile lit up with excitement, and she happily nodded.

“Of course! I’d love if you read it!” Looking over at Juleka, she smiled up at her from the ground, Juleka sitting on her Chaise. “What are you gonna write about Juleka?”

Blushing at the sudden attention, she looked down shyly at her paper. “Well, um.. I was thinking about wiring about..” She hesitated for a moment, and the two girls waited patiently for her. After a few seconds, she wrote something down and held it up for them to see. “The Myths of Achu.”

Rose gasped in excitement, sitting up and pulling her leg a little. “Which one? Which one are you gonna do?”

“Vulpecula.”

“Vulpecula?” Marinette asked curiously.

Nodding her head, Juleka looked down at Rose. “You want to tell it?”

As excited as she looked, she shook her head. “No it's okay, it’s your story.”

Taking a deep breath, she nodded, a small smile forming on her face. Sitting up, she shifted so she was more comfortable.

“Well.. Once upon a time, there was a bird. It’s wings were covered in stars, it’s eyes silver as the moon. It flew across the sky, blocking out the sun and granting night to the humans on the earth below. During the day it rested in a cave in the mountains, resting from it’s nights journey. Every night for a thousand years it flew, it’s wings spread throughout the sky.

“One night, a fox suck into it’s cave as it slept, it’s paws stepping quietly as it approached the sleeping bird. It had watched the bird every night, captivated by it’s starlight wings. It wanted one of its feathers for itself, believing that it would be able to receive its powers. Several feathers were discarded on the cave’s floor, but it wanted a fresh one. Ignoring them, it crept forward, plucking a feather from its wings. It's a relief, it did not awaken, and it quickly left the cave. Unbeknownst to the fox, the farther it ran, the quicker its paws left the ground, running into the sky. The feather began to melt into its fur, turning it as dark as midnight, several stars filling its fur. Savoring it’s freedom, it ran higher and higher into the sky. Unlike the bird however, it didn't know how to fly back down.

“When the bird finally made its rounds across the sky, it was startled to see a new constellation. The fox didn't have the magic the bird did, and had become a constellation, trapped forever in the sky. It’s said that every constellation in the sky is born by someone who was greedy enough to steal the night bird’s feathers. Always forgiving, the Bird named every one. It named the fox Vulpecula, and now it watches from the sky for all eternity,”

“Wow Juleka, I didn't know you were so interested in myths!” Marinette said in awe after she finished her tale.

“Luka was obsessed with myths and fairy tales a few years ago, I loved to listen to them,” she explained, a fond smile on her lips.

“Really? I thought he was into music.”

Chuckling, she leaned back against the chaise, eating a tea cookie. “And you were into beading when we were in elementary.”

Oh god,shed been obsessed with beading. She’d braided her hair in so many braids, covering them in colorful beads. Making jewelry of beads, adding beads to her clothes, so many beads.. “Lets not remember that,” se muttered, blushing warmly.

Chuckling,Rose looked over at Marinette, who was sitting at her desk. “So what are you writing about Marinette?”

“Me? Well…”

Humming as she flipped through the tabs she’d saved on her computer, she clicked on a page, gesturing for the girls to come over and look. “I really liked the Era of fashion under Queen Elra's rule. She loved fashions, and wanted to make it affordable for every person so that no one would have to live in rags. She changed women's clothing there, making their clothes more practical. The skirts stopped around the ankles, and she helped design boots to protect their feet as they walked and worked. She really changed how the fashion industry worked, putting affordability and functionality first. She even helped her seamstresses in making her own gowns, since at the time it was believed a woman didn't have a place in politics. She didn't let that stop her from making a change though, and the Kingdom of Achu has been known for its well priced fashions.”

“If only France had learned from her too,” Juleka huffed, causing Rose to giggle.

“It sounds wonderful Marinette! Well, at least we all know what we're going to do!”

They spent the rest of the Lunch period working on their projects. Marinette considered saving the work to her tablet, but decided against it, saving it to her Laptop. “Hey Rose? Juleka?” She asked after thinking for a minute. Once she had both girl’s attention, she took a deep breath and asked “do you think we could keep this a secret? My project I mean?” After a moment of confused silence, she hastily added “I just.. After what happened with Lila last month.. I’m kind of scared of her learning about what my projects about and her trying to copy it or something…”

Guilt pricked at her, nervous that her friends wouldn't understand and think shes being over dramatic. When she finally met the eyes of the couple, she was met with understanding smiles.

“We get it Marinette, your secret’s safe with us,” Juleka promised.

“We won’t tell Lila, or anyone else in the class. It’ll be our secret!” Rose winked, skipping over to her and pulling her into a hug, which Marinette practically melted into.

“Thanks you two, I can't tell you how much that means to hear.” Letting go of her, Rose went back to Juleka, picking up her backpack and intertwining their fingers together.

“Well I’m glad we could help! Now let's hurry! I don't want to be late for Mme. Mendeleiev’s class!” With that, her and Juleka raced down her trapdoor, giggling as Marinette scrambled to grab her things and run after them.

#miraculous ladybug #ml #marinette #miraculous fanfic #adrien agreste #Rose #juleka

[marshmallowatheart]

To All The Boys I've Loved Before (Part 45)

There's not much she learns at the office that she doesn't already know - and the things she does learn, she doesn't really want to know (see: Vinnie Van Lowe singing Private Eyes).

And so she asks him, simply and directly to let her help on a case or go on a stakeout, all she needs to do is know how to use a camera (she doesn't mean to brag but her photography skills are enough to be called skills).

She's not surprised that he's surprised, she's been here for all of three days. He tells her, emphatically, that photography isn't all that's to it before shrugging in agreement that she can tag along and learn the ropes.

She wishes she could learn from anyone other than Vinnie Van Lowe but Vinnie is all she has.

He plays the fool; get's people's guard down and let's them underestimate him to get the information he needs. She's always found it infuriating that her brain was judged by her petite figure and blonde hair. She learns now that it's not a weakness; it's a weapon.

--vm--

She meets Duncan at Java the Hut, she doesn't have much of an appetite - hasn't had much of an appetite since that night in Aspen - but she gets cake, the chocolate kind that should help make her feel better (she doesn't think anything would).

Duncan orders pie and coffee and it feels like it's been forever since they've hung out (it kind of has been).

They're across each other with badly sung karaoke as background noise. "Is it me or does karaoke night attract every Tritons reject?"

"We've got to put our musical aspirations somewhere," he cracks a smile with his joke.

"I still can't believe you wanted to be a Triton, am I gonna see you on America's got Talent next?"

"Oh, so you don't think I've got talent?"

"Prove me wrong, Kane."

"Like you're so much better."

"Child, please, I could give the Tritons a run for their money."

He laughs. "So how's it feel to be a part of the working class?"

"I feel more like a trainee than anything else. It's different," she says. She wants to add, the realm of ethics doesn't seem to exist, manipulation is a rite of passage and being a girl has more perks than she's ever taken credit for. But she knows she can't tell Duncan any of that. He wouldn't understand this part of her, she's not even sure she understands the lengths she'll go to to find out the truth.

"As long as you're happy," he says, sweet smile and caring blue eyes.

She nods, offering an assuring smile and then asks, "Is everything going alright at home?"

Duncan shrugs. "Same ole' same ole'. Lilly's lashing out. Dad and mom fight about it. I've kind of tuned it out."

"Ah," she lets out, fork carving out a piece of her chocolate cake. "The perks of having your mother run off on you. No more middle of the night arguments."

Duncan gives an uncomfortable chuckle as he agrees with her. "Is everything okay with you and Logan?"

She bites her lip, despite all her efforts, Logan never left her mind. Logan's partly the reason she asked Duncan to hangout. She wanted to know the truth behind Lilly's actions. She wants to understand. She knows it wouldn't fix everything between them but needs to know for sure what had happened. She isn't all that surprised that Duncan doesn't know anything - if he did, he wouldn't be asking her that.

"We broke up."

Stopping mid bite of his pie, he stares at her with widen eyes and his mouth half open. She can see that he doesn't know what to say, so she continues, "In Aspen. Lilly was there. They were hugging, well past midnight. I freaked. Then Wallace said Logan had been gone all night. Logan wouldn't tell me why."

She hates that her breath stammers over Logan's name and that her heart betrays her all over again because all those feelings still rush up and she can't seem to get rid of it - no matter how hard she tries.

It takes him seconds to pull out of his thoughts "We have a cabin there," he says. "Not too far from the Casablancas. Dad went to LA so we decided not to go. Lilly must have decided that she really wanted to go. I'm sorry. But Logan never deserved you anyway. You were always too good for him."

She tries to smile and thank him but she can't get it out. She knows he's trying to make her feel like she'd made the right choice but it hurts. Despite it all, this isn't want she wants to hear about Logan. She doesn't want him to insult Logan. She doesn't know what she wants but she doesn't want that.

--vm--

Duncan drops her home and she waves him goodbye. At the very least, she's got her friend back.

"Honey, I'm home," Veronica calls out as she closes the door.

"So am I, honey," Meg says, bright smile and even brighter eyes.

Veronica turns, surprised eyes and growing smile. "Meg, you're home!" She laughs, disbelieving as rush to hug each other. "Oh my God. How are you here? I thought you were getting in on Friday."

"I finished my exams early," she grins, brushing Veronica's hair from her face. "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever."

"I missed you so much," Veronica lets out, hugging her sister tight.

"I missed you too," Meg says, soft and heartwarming. "Why didn't you tell me you've got a job? With Vinnie Van Lowe, no less?" She asks, quizzing, the softness turned curious with a head tilt that hides none of the judgement.

"I was planning on starting next year. I was gonna tell you about it when you got home," she offers as retribution. "A job's a job. What does it matter if it's serving coffee in a restaurant or in an office?"

Her sister's brow arches up, doubting her words. "Is serving coffee really all you're doing?"

"The more the better, right?" Veronica shrugs as though she's indifferent to it but the more is the reason she decided on this job. "I spoke to dad about it, what's with the Spanish Inquisition anyway?"

"It's Vinnie Van Lowe. His work isn't all that kosher."

"We're not Jewish. Besides, in the grand scheme of things, he isn't even the worst person we know."

"These late nights are gonna affect your grades, did you even think about that?"

"My 4.0 GPA is still intact. Stanford's been my dream since elementary, Meg, I'm not gonna screw that up." She doesn't want to fight with Meg, she doesn't know why she this feels like a fight. She takes in a deep breath and lets out, "So how was your flight?"

--vm--

Veronica is happy Meg's home. She's missed her sister, she's saved up things she'd wanted to tell her. But maybe that's the problem.

It started with her job - which she hadn't meant to keep from Meg - it all happened so fast and it got to the point where she thought it'd be better to tell her once she came home.

There's a lot of things Veronica stored away in the back of her mind under things to share with Meg when she came home.

It doesn't go the way she plans; they don't eat ice cream and gossip or bake cookies and catch up. Meg notices changes and comments and all Veronica could think is I meant to tell you about that.

She feels bad about it. She does. But does Meg really have to get so snippy with her about it? It's hard remembering every little thing over the phone (and she admits that her getting a job falls into the list of big things but she doesn't know how to explain that working in the underbelly of Neptune is the only thing that makes her feel like she's doing something worthwhile).

There's nothing she can do about it now, she can't press rewind and include Meg in all of those moments that's passed. She thinks, she should have messaged her right away, taken pictures and shared these things with her.

Maybe then Meg wouldn't be staring so intently at Alicia and Keith during dinner. Maybe then Meg wouldn't flinch at her and Wallace's bunk mate jokes. Maybe then when Duncan came to return her bag she'd forgotten in his car, Meg wouldn't have stormed off into her room.

"I didn't know she was home," Duncan says, helpless.

"She came back early," Veronica lets out a heavy sigh.

She hadn't meant to not tell Meg that she'd hung out with Duncan. The whole situation with Duncan was awkward because there's so much between her and Duncan that Meg doesn't know about. There's so much in her life that Meg doesn't know about and she doesn't know how to explain any of it; the letters, Duncan, Logan, Lilly. She can't explain any of it. She just wants her sister back and for things to go back to normal - the way it was before she'd left to New York.

--vm--

"Hey, Sam," Veronica says to Vinnie who's leaning back on his chair with his legs up on his desk and a flyer in his hand as he chews on the last piece of his sandwich.

"Hey, Ralph," he grins. "Did you bring me gummy worms?"

She rolls her eyes and digs into her bag as she throws the small packet to him. "You're such a baby."

"You're gonna want snacks on today's case," he says, already ripping the packet open. "Tailing and stakeouts, VMars. The only thing worse is the paperwork."

"Which you never bother to do anymore," she points out, looking pointedly at the growing paperwork on his desk.

"It's what I got you for," he quips, getting up on his feet.

"So what do we have?"

"Classic, cheating spouse."

--vm--

She gets a flask full of coffee as preparation for the stakeout and an apple if she gets hungry.

"You had to bring your dog, huh?" Vinnie shakes his head, looking at the brown pitbull who stares at him, daring him to move.

"Dad's condition is to take Backup," she shrugs, she has a bag set for Backup; water, dog treats and his rope to chew on while they waited.

She should have taken a look at the case, asked for more details but she'd been fidgeting with equipment and learning about bugs, tracers and hidden cameras in ordinary objects.

So it takes her by surprise when she realizes that they've stopped in front of Kane Software. She's completely thrown when she learns that their target is none other than Software Billionaire Jake Kane himself.

Veronica scoffs, disbelieving. She knew that their family had their issues, Duncan used to come by just to get away from it all but she never thought that Jake Kane would do something like this to his family. Wasn't he the poster man for family guy?

"Are you seriously telling me that the beloved Jake Kane is cheating on his wife?"

Vinnie shrugs, unphased. "You'll be surprised what people are capable of."

She blinks, staring at the large glass window and the silhouette of a man leaving the office. She's lived with an alcoholic until she abandoned them without so much as a goodbye. She shouldn't be surprised of what people can be capable of. But here she is, still surprised.

"Why would Celeste even think he's cheating on her?"

He shakes his head, eyes in front as he starts the engine to follow Jake Kane. Vinnie had lo-jacked Jake's car, so they could follow him without being seen.

Lo-jacking was convenient like that. She thinks if regular people knew how to use them, private investigators would be out of a lot of work.

"Wrong Kane," he cocks his head. "Lilly Kane is the one that hired us."

Veronica's brows crease, eyes stare wide in surprise but Vinnie doesn't notice or care as he continues, "Says she caught him in Aspen with some hussy, wants us to find out who it is. She left before he saw her. Lucky for us she didn't get any pictures to go along with her accusations."

Her heart thumps wildly in her heart and everything starts to make sense. This was why. This had to be why. Lilly hated her mother but she loved her father. If she saw her father with another woman, that kind of betrayal would make any girl cry.

She wishes Logan would have told her, cleared it up that the reason he was with Lilly was because she found out her father cheated. She wouldn't have expected Logan to turn Lilly away when he's been through the same thing.

Why couldn't Logan have just trusted her and told her the truth? She would have understood. She understands. How could she begrudge them for this? She knows what it's like to be betrayed by a parent too. Why couldn't he have just trusted her with the truth? Fight to clear up the misunderstandings she had instead of letting her walk away - walk away from him - them.

They follow him all the way to Camelot and Veronica knows that Jake Kane is guilty. You didn't have to be a private detective to know what goes on at the Camelot motel.

"Guess the girl was right," Vinnie remarks. "Not a lot of high powered business meetings take place at the Camelot at one in the morning."

She angles the camera to face the motel, ready to get the money shot, she doesn't know how long it would be and she figures this is what Vinnie means when he says it's boring but she watches the door like a hawk while Vinnie yaps at either her or Backup and eats his candy.

She doesn't say much of anything as she tries to concentrate because all she can think about is Logan.

"Keep the camera, ready, Mars," he reminds, chewing on liquorice when he sees Jake exit the room.

"All right lady, let’s see ya," Veronica blows out, snapping several pictures but the woman in question never comes into view. It's only when she snaps pictures of Jake climbing down the stares and driving away that she sees a familiar car. She snaps a picture of the license plate and sucks in a breath. She knows this car. She knows this license plate; 4VG-000.

She stares back at the room, takes another deep breath and says, "I know who he's with."

"You do?" He arches a brow, staring at her expectantly to share the information.

She meets his gaze and lets out, "It's my mom."

She jumps out of the car, ignoring the sound of Vinnie calling her name and she's racing up the stairs. She takes a moment, staring at the number on the door before she knocks.

She doesn't know what to expect or what to say but her mother is here in Neptune. Anger guts at her, she's here in Neptune for Jake Kane and not her - for their family. Did Lianne even qualify as family anymore?

The door opens after two knocks and even though Veronica knew her mother was on the other side of this door, she feels the air being knocked out of her.

"Veronica," her mother says, stunned and then repeats her name in that motherly tone that she has no right to use anymore.

Veronica's words are caught in her throat and she just stands there, staring and Lianne shifts uncomfortably at the door before offering her entrance.

"What are you doing with Jake Kane?"

Her eyes strain with unsheathed tears. This woman abandoned them when they needed her the most. This woman that decided to get her life together for another family instead of her own. Only to apparently rip it apart for Jake Kane.

Why would she come back to Neptune for Jake Kane and not for us? That's the real question she wants to ask.

"Why don't you sit? Do you want some water?" Lianne asks, evasive and nervous as she fidgets about.

"No, I asked you a question," Veronica stares at her, trying to reign in her emotions and look as intimidating as possible.

"I'm sorry, honey," Lianne says, soft whisper and helpless look in her eye as she reaches to touch her.

Veronica jerks back, breathing turns into a ragged mess that she has to concentrate on to not fall apart. "Don't," she warns. "All we ever did was love you. And all you ever did was love yourself," she can't hide the disgust in her voice.

She'd spent all her years thinking of questions for her mother that she'd laid them to rest when she saw her with her new family - but here Lianne was; lying, cheating, drinking and falling back into old patterns.

"Do you know that Meg lives in New York now? She's studying journalism and she's been more of a mother to me than you ever were. Heather's top of her grade, she's funny and smart and she'll be just like dad and nothing like you. We're all doing fine without you," she tells her, angry tears falling down her face as she gets the words out.

She shouldn't feel guilty when Lianne starts to cry. She shouldn't listen to Lianne’s excuses and life's regrets. But she does. She stands and listens to what Lianne has to say; she talks about how her husband was a con artist that's imprisoned and her step daughter's following in his footsteps. She talks about Hunter; the half brother she's never met. She talks about Jake Kane, how they were so in love as high school sweetheart and a man she could never stop loving no matter how hard she tried. She talked about leaving for herself and not because of any of them. She talks about her addictions and not being strong enough to fight it.

Veronica silently listens (despite her need to scream and fight every sentence that comes out of her mother’s mouth) and then tells her to never come back into their lives and to never come back to Neptune.

She always wished her mother would come back. She knows now that she never wants her to.

The bridges between them had burned to ash a long time ago. She couldn't go back in time. She couldn't fix what had gone wrong. She couldn't make Lianne love her more than her addictions.

She doesn't want anything to do with Lianne Mars or Lianne Scott or whatever she goes by now and she doesn't want her to come back into their lives only to mess it up again. Her family deserved better than that.

--vm--

She sits on the hood of her car outside of Logan's house with only the moonlight and streetlamps to give her light.

He hurries out in a track pants and hoodie, face etched in concern, rightly so, considering she hasn't spoken to him in days, ignoring all points of contact and now she's outside his house at three in the morning - she’s sure she’s woken him from his sleep but he looks as alert as ever.

"You knew, didn't you?" She accuses, wounds fresh and eyes vengeful. "You knew about Jake and my mother and you didn't tell me."

"I'm so sorry," Logan says, anguish and concern behind brown eyes. "I didn't know if it was really your mom. I needed to know before I told you anything," he confesses. "How'd you find out?"

He says I but she knows he means we (the we being him and Lilly).

"It was my job to find out," she grits, she sounds harsh and she knows it's unfair because she's not angry at him, she's angry at her mother. She's angry at this situation. "I started working for Vinnie."

He stares at her, soft and concern apparent. "I thought you were starting next year."

She takes a breath, trying to calm herself down. "I needed to focus on something that wasn't you," she confesses, voice dipped low but the words come clear in the silence of the night.

Hope resides in his eyes, he steps closer to her, hugging her and she lets him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry I let things get this way. I'm sorry about your mom."

"I know," she whispers, warm breath sinking into his chest.

"All I care about is you, Veronica," he whispers, forehead resting on hers as the warmth of his hands comfort her. "All Lilly and I did was talk about her dad, her family, she thought the person he was with was your mom but it's been years since she's seen her. I needed to be sure, to have proof before I said anything about it which is why I told her to go to Vinnie."

"I wish you'd told me," she lets out, exhausted. "I wish you'd came to me and let me help figure it out."

"I didn't want you to get hurt." He tucks her hair behind her ears and rests his palm on her cheek.

"I got hurt anyway," she says, voice quiet. "I get it now that I know the truth but all you had to do was be honest with me and you didn't do that. I need honesty, no matter what. I need honesty so I can trust you."

He nods, head on hers, promising it all to her. "I hate that I hurt you when all I wanna do is protect you."

"I don't need protecting, Logan,” she says, tired breath escapes her as she looks into his eyes. “I just need you."

He pulls away slightly, kissing her hair and he can’t help himself but to ask, "Does this mean we're okay?"

She sighs. "We're going to be,” she tells him. “I just need some time."

"Take all the time you need," he presses a kiss to her forehead. "Just come back to me, please."

"Always," she leans into him and his arms wrap around her like he's welcoming her home. Like he is home.

#veronica mars #logan echolls #vinnie van lowe #duncan kane #meg manning #meg mars #lianne mars #inspired by to all the boys i've loved before #to all the boys i've loved before #part 45 #vm #vmars #vm fanfic #fanfiction #vm fic

[sunnyupsidedown]

Thoughts On: The Raven Cycle

(Or more appropriately named, Me screaming about my feelings into the void known as the Internet.)

Note: I never actually finished writing this out and editing it so it would be readable. It’s been in my drafts for years and I’m spring cleaning. Here’s me uncensored and with no direction.

Let’s get this out of the way. So if you haven’t read The Raven Cycle Series by Maggie Stiefvater, this is the part where I tell you to put aside all your misgivings and just read it. That is, if you’re like me and the summary didn’t do it for you. If you’re like me and thought that it’s going to be four books about Blue and her harem of boys crying about the fact that she can’t kiss any of them. Let me tell you, you’re wrong. You’re so far from right, you’re in a different galaxy. The summary does the books zero justice. I tried to summarize it better to my roommate and I couldn’t. These books are books you just have to read.

That aside, the rest is below the cut because it’s basically me ranting about anything and everything from the series because I have a lot of feelings.

Spoilers Below

Individual Books - Romance - Characters - Miscellaneous 

The Raven Boys

This book here was basically me asking myself why I didn't read the series sooner. Like the prologue was eh, but the moment Blue implied that she was an amp, I was in. I love shit like that. And then there was chapter two with Gansey being Gansey and then finding out Adam and Ronan do dumb shit together. Yeah. Well. I was doomed. Yes yes the usual, plot was a little slow paced. I kept wondering "man, when are Gansey and Blue gonna meet?" Or "when are they gonna go King hunting?" When they finally did stuff it was great! But I think it was great because the characters are so well established. But I'll rant on that later.

Anyway, actually yeah, getting to know the characters in this book was wow. God damn it's not a fucking competition on who has the worst backstory. My heart cannot take it. I really want to read a prequel about how they all came together. I need details. Everything is so vague (like mentioned in offhand lines) (i.e. Ronan hating Adam at first or how Adam helped Gansey's car (which is pretty solid but give me more conversation)).

Speaking of vague...NOAH! God. Let me be smug for a bit. I figured out the mystery as soon as Barry mentioned being in his mid-20s.

Hints:

"I've been dead for 7 years."

Noah having a first name when everyone calls each other by their last. 

Barry's friend only having a last name.

Boom yeah. Anyway. Noah, my boy. The true mvp, but that rant will come later. "Don't throw this away.” Gosh. End me.

Again speaking of vague. I love and hate Ms. Maggie's style. I love how pretty it is.

Favorite character in this book kept switching between Gansey, Blue, and Adam. Me while reading was basically, Who’s Ronan?

The Dream Thieves

I love that Ronan’s POV was included in this. I stereotype book characters all the time. It’s natural since it helps establish a certain character without having to spell out every single detail. So yeah. I stereotyped Ronan as a punk (true) that was crude (true), rough (half true), and didn’t care about anything (not true). Getting to know Ronan more in this book killed me.

Kavinski was meh. He was a cool kid. Idk why ppl love him so much? Like he was def a cool character. Maybe I read the books too fast to really appreciate him.

Bragging again, I figured out Ronan’s mom was a dream thing from the prologue (though it wasn’t that hard? idk. Matthew was a surprise).

Adam was winning the favorite character battle but now Ronan’s a strong contestant.

Blue Lily, Lily Blue

RONAN HAS WON. HE IS MY FAVORITE CHARACTER. Why? The EpiPens! That sealed it. Nothing will be able to trump that. I seriously had to stop reading at that part. It was too much.

I really don’t know what happened in this book. That’s one of the things about the writing (or maybe it was just me reading things too fast) but it was kinda hard to keep track of time. Things that I though happened weeks apart happened on the same day, or things that I thought happened on the same day actually happened weeks away. So it was kinda hard to keep track of events.

TRC & Romance

Before we get to the last book, I just want to put this rant that I started about two chapters into the 4th book because I just love this series so much and I was wondering why.

So typically I’m like “Fuck Romance! Get out of my books and tv shows!” (well, unless I’m specifically looking for it…) but the romance (or relationships in general) in the raven cycle is SO. GOOD.

And here I was wondering why and why and why and I figured it out.

The thing about Romance in YA novels (I say YA because I mainly read YA), is that it feel like it’s a prize for the Main Character to achieve at the end of the book. Like, you battled a bunch of crazy zombies alongside this hot babe you met maybe a week ago, now make out and live happily ever after! Like the Love Interest is only there for the MC to end up dating in the end. Sure they can be important to the plot too but there’s always a focus on “These two will be together in the end. Period.” And I hate it. I guess it’s because I love slow burns and I find it so unrealistic because Love typically doesn’t happen like that.

Like typically, a guy or girl will not walk up to someone and say “You’re hot go out with me.” Well, not unless they want maybe a drink dumped on them. I don’t like how when the MC meets their LI, they stop knowing how to communicate with other human beings. Like haven’t they ever had a normal conversation with another human? Don’t they have friends.

And that’s where I figured it out. Gansey & Blue and Ronan & Adam, they were FRIENDS first.

Well, Adam did ask Blue out kinda…. I’ll get to that later.

But they became friends! It wasn’t all about mantic pixie dream girls/boys. Or the most popular girl/boy in school. Or some rival from an enemy territory. It was a just a bunch of kids looking for a king together.

(Adam and Blue something about including her with the boys, how when the began to know each other it doesn’t work out. and that’s normal. But they still end up friends because they do like each other. And it’s not all suddenly, we’re dating so we now have no other friends/I can no longer think rationally [cough Graceling cough]) Gansey eyeing their hand holding less because “Omg im in love with this chick” and more like “who is this girl invading our group.”

The way the small love triangle between Blue, Adam, and Gansey was so well handled. Like the friendship between Gansey and Adam didn’t suffer (too much…) because they weren’t gonna let something like that ruin it because it was strong.

And then Gansey’s all like “I gotta think of something clever to tell Blue later” and it’s so fucking dumb and sweet and that’s kinda what I do to my friends and they don’t really like like each other but it slowly grows with the night calls and the driving to nowhere and they still fight with each other and it’s all so normal and real that it hurts and I actually look forward to their interactions, not necessarily romantically, but just hanging out. Like I could read chapters of all of them just playing cards or something, doing mundane shit.

Ronan and Adam. Idk because I haven’t gotten that far but apparently in the beginning god sai- in the beginning Ronan hated Adam because Ronan loved Gansey and not really in the romantic way but in the we are friends and I will now DIE FOR YOU, type of love and he was fucking jealous. But now they’re cool and they go do random shit together (like framing a crazy dude). And it’s not all, I like you and now you will magically start liking me back. There was build up to this, like Ronan going back for Adam from his dad, and Ronan paying for Adam’s rent secretly, like Adam actually saying thank you.

Even Blue and Ronan. Like how he doesn’t even think about saving her from falling down a hole. How he cries on here shoulder because he can do it and not be judged. Because they are friends. Even if they do not interact often.

And then there’s Maura and the Gray Man. idk where this one is going.

tl;dr: The complex relationships and romance between the characters in the Raven Cycle are hella good.

The Raven King

Oh my god. I am dead. My soul has been carved from my body. Gansey. My boy. Fucking Noah. God damn.

Let me just say that Adam’s analogy(? metaphor?) of the summer storm and the kiss was so fucking good. I will remember that forever. Like that is probs my favorite passage from the book.

Ronan is so sweet and pure and needs lots of love.

Writing in General

Weird how it skips around. Like there’s a little view in the scene and then suddenly it jumps to a vague conclusion. I like knowing what happens between. I like the clean up shit. But then again if it happened the pacing of the book would have been very weird.

Characters

Gansey: it’s like watching someone slowly learn negative emotions. He started out all innocent and full of ideals and happiness, he just wanted to find his King, and then he learns fear and anger and worry and death. Real life. He’s definitely very grounding. How he steps back occasionally and thinks “God this is so fucked up. This is not okay. I want everybody to be safe.”

Ronan: God. Ronan. This boy. I like how you don’t really think of him as I guess nice. But he’s probably the most human of all. Like his outward appearance is some tough boy who’ll fuck you up, but he’s actually really soft? His words are crude but his actions are caring.

Adam: 😫

Blue: I love her. She’s so fierce and strong and human. How she just rolls with it. Kinda.

#the raven cycle #trc #thoughts on #m #this is literally me crying into a puddle about how much i love trc

[massielandnetwork]

Important Economic Trends During Anarchy

2021 - Let the Games Begin

3.   A Christian Secession – Opposing Privus Legis.

Two quick observations:

1.     Did you read that half of the windmills in Texas froze contributing to the huge decline in electricity available during the Artic Vortex in Texas.  People complained their electric cars and cell phones all died.  I did not read about any gasoline powered vehicles not working.  AOC’s tweet blaming white privilege for the power outages demonstrated her level of intelligence, roughly equivalent to a box of rocks. What great leadership.  Not!

2.     How about the impromptu Trump Rally in south Florida on President’s Day?  The pictures I saw displayed great enthusiasm and energy.  Quite a contrast with The Demented Marxists (DM) in DC who celebrated President’s Day by huddling in fear behind fences and soldiers.  I read that the faux president (fp) was at Camp David where he was able to stay up until 7 PM before going to bed.   Millions of Americans without electricity in Texas and other southern states but fp could not be bothered with a call to the governors to see if he could help.  According to the media, fp was busy with a rousing game of Donkey Kong so when some foreign leaders called, they were treated with a conversation with Harris.   Has anyone started a pool betting on how long fp will be in that chair/bed/the White House Nursing Home?  The Deep State loves him.

Privus Legis is a Latin term that means “Private Law”.  That is the origin of our word “Privilege” which refers to the existence of two sets of laws.  Unfortunately, this phrase describes the situation in the USA today.  The Clingers Deplorable Chumps are subject to one set of laws and the Demented Marxist (DM) and their allies, the Global Elites/Deep State, play by a different set. 

Last week saw two confirmations of Privus Legis:

1.     The unusual press release by the U. S. Chamber of Commerce bragging about how they along with their large international corporation members worked with the media to determine the outcome of the 2020 election.  I read the article that came from the press release.  It displayed a complete lack of concern for the average American while demonstrating their total focus is on the profits of the major international corporations.  They were very proud supporting those that ignored Clinton’s private server, Anthony Weiner’s laptop, Hunter Biden’s laptop, massive vote fraud, etc.  More ice cream?

  2.     The Impeachment for Giggles II, The Sequel.  The DMs spewed their hate and thereby turned what should have been a somber experience into a comedy of errors reminiscent of a Shakespearean play.  Seven so called Republicans and 50 Democrats self-described as having been in DC too long.  Did you see the interview with the hapless CBS female talking head (they have no reporters) with one of Trump’s attorneys who correctly called her out for suggesting that it is acceptable to manipulate evidence.  It was a hoot! I loved it when he dropped the mic. The talking head was clueless. Privus Legis was highlighted! 

  Privus Legis is extremely dangerous to the economy because the Chumps eventually will decide that “What is sauce for the goose, is sauce for the gander”.  Add to that the current situation where the majority realize they were robbed in November 2020.  No wonder Nancy and Chuckie want a military guard in DC until September. 

Among the many newsworthy items last week, there are two more that I want to highlight because of their impact on the economy and therefore the land market.

1.     Chairman Powell of the The Federal Reserve (The Fed) gave a speech indicating that

a.      The Fed would keep interest rates low via Quantitative Easing (QE - continuing to buy $120 Billion per month of US debt) until the USA has full employment;

b.     The Fed is happy with increased inflation.

  Increased inflation will be a result of the $1.9 Trillion “Virus” stimulus bill the DMs are scheduled to pass in mid-March.  This ugly monstrosity is being touted as “virus stimulus” but really is simply the DM wish list including having the USA taxpayer bailout state governments -Illinois, New York, and California (20% of the bill) and various union pension funds (10%).  Just like the Center for Disease Control modified its criteria for a positive Wuhan Virus test once Biden got installed so that the number of virus cases have rapidly declined, now the DM governors are keeping their states locked down to aid the passage of this horrible bill. 

  2.     Christian Secession – Facebook, Amazon, Google, Apple, Twitter all banned Trump supporters.  Microsoft has announced they have withdrawn financial support of Trump supporters and others (Christian?).  This past week Google/YouTube concentrated on taking down every Christian site that is antiabortion.  This “Censorship” is consistent with Marxist behavior.  Marxists hate Christianity because they want people to worship the “State”.

Amazon’s profit comes primarily from its Amazon Web Services (AWS).  The easiest way to impact Amazon is to terminate any use of the AWS “cloud”.  I have found that Barnes & Noble (BN) has an excellent website that makes book buying, electronic or printed, just as easy as Amazon.  I have already purchased one book from BN and became a member this week.  If you have an Amazon Alexa in your house and are uncomfortable with the Chinese Communist Party knowing everything that is discussed in your house, I suggest the Alexa device would make excellent sledgehammer target practice.  For me, it is “Goodbye Amazon”.   

  Whether one is in familiar or uncharted territory, it is critical to have landmarks to guide decisions.  In a capitalistic society, the financial markets are critical to the allocation of resources via the cost of money versus the anticipated return.  Because of the importance of the 10-year Treasury relative to interest rates especially mortgage rates, we have discussed that your “canary in the mine” is the 10-year Treasury. 

  However, The Fed is massively distorting the 10 Year Treasury market.  Elon Musk made a $1.5 Billion bet on Bitcoin.  This highlighted both the level of speculation (not investing) in our economy and the need to avoid the Treasury market since The Fed declared they are happy to fund the DMs via QE and devalue the Dollar (called inflation).  Last weekend I started looking at other markets to determine what might be a good landmark for financial decisions. 

  In the process of my review, I noticed that oil has increased from approximately $35 per barrel in late October 2020 (prior to the so-called election in November) to $60 per barrel today.  The resulting increase in gasoline prices is the equivalent of a huge tax increase.  We discussed this several weeks ago as being one of Bidenharris’ pins that burst the economic bubble here in the USA.  The DMs and Global Elites will be fine, they do not care about the Clinger Deplorable Chumps.  But the oil market is too easily distorted to be a guide for anything other than its impact on the Chumps and therefore a broad indication of the trend of the economy.  However, rising gas prices are a seed of the coming recession.

  The residential real estate bubble is still intact.  In the next 60 days we should see an increase in both commercial foreclosures and retail bankruptcies which will begin to hit the real estate and the financial markets.  The current land market – the commercial land market is soft, industrial land will soften under Bidenharris, residential land is a bubble that will burst, and the rural land market is active but price sensitive.

  It sounds trite but the best way to weather what is coming is with a balance of liquidity and solid investments.  The peak of a bubble is a risky time to buy.  Fear is keeping a record $5.9 Trillion in cash in insured bank accounts.  I encourage you to remember that in times of financial panic “Cash is King” and make your decisions.

  “Conduct yourselves honorably among the Gentiles, so that, though they may malign you as evil doers, they may see your honorable deeds and glorify God when He comes to judge”.

(1 Peter 2:12   New Revised Standard Version, Oxford University Press)

  A great piece of land remains The Best investment long term unless the DMs get us to full-fledged Marxism.  Capitalism builds wealth, Marxism/Socialism consumes it in self destruction.  Pray for a return to honest elections in the USA.  God is in control.  Men make plans, God wins. 

  Stay healthy,

Ned 

  Copyright Massie Land Network.  All rights Reserved.

[stellalights]

Miraculous Ladybug: Trip to Disney World AU

i’ve seen this AU a ton but I wanna put my own Disney World experiences into this AU. Also I know it’s more logical for this to take place in Disneyland Paris but i don’t know anything about it so they’re going to Disney World let’s do this

*disclaimer: this is extremely long

So Marinette is a total Disney fanatic.

She has all the movies from Snow White all the way to the end of the Disney renaissance period on VHS and the rest on DVD.

Her family goes to Disney World every three years and they go all out.

I’m talking Disney bounding. i’m talking enormous collections of hats, Mickey ears, and pins. 5 filled autograph books. scrapbooks of pictures of Marinette meeting the characters. they are experts when it comes to planning a trip to Disney World.

So one year her parents suggest that she invites her whole class to go with them.

Marinette’s like “hell yeah” and the class is like “hell yeah” which means Marinette gets to be in her favorite place in the world with her friends and ADRIEN. so now Marinette is panicking because this trip needs to be absolutely perfect.

Marinette plans the entire trip from the resort to the dining reservations to the fast passes. She is completely on top of everything, making a schedule around the dining, fast passes, and park events. It all must be perfect.

Trip day arrives, and after they’ve landed and settled in the hotel (the Contemporary), the class takes a bus to Disney Springs to do a little shopping before they go to the parks in the upcoming days.

Everyone goes off to find some sweet apparel and other merch.

Adrien is like a kid in a candy shop since he’s never been to Disney World, but he adores all the merchandise, and Marinette is just so happy because he’s so happy??

Marinette helps everyone pick out their headgear. 

Juleka gets Maleficent ears, Rose gets Sleeping Beauty ones #girlfriends

Max, Kim, and Nino get Star Wars ones.

Ivan and Mylene get matching Minnie and Mickey ears

Chloe refuses to listen to Marinette’s suggestions and instead buys Rapunzel’s tiara

Alya gets the rose gold Minnie Mouse ears cause they are fabulous

Alix buys the Pluto cap

Adrien gets a simple Mickey hat with his name embroidered on it. Alya “Wingman” Cesaire tries to convince Marinette to get a Minnie hat with her name embroidered on it

Marinette freaks out and says no

Alya buys it for her (for the sake of love)

Marinette gives Alya the death stare as Alya places the hat on her head

Adrien is so happy to match Marinette

Next, they visit the art gallery which Marinette loves

Nathaniel admires every painting and even thinks of spending $600 on one of The Little Mermaid

Yes, it is that beautiful

They grab some dinner at The Boathouse which is amazing

Max suggests they all go to Disney Quest. 

Marinette reluctantly tells him that it just closed down. They share a moment of silence

Next day is the first park day: Animal Kingdom.

Marinette does not fuck around. 

She wakes everyone up at 6 am sharp because they need to get to Animal Kingdom before the park opens at 8 am so they can get to Pandora.

Marinette physically breaking into everyone’s room and ripping off their blankets

Even Chloe isn’t willing to test Marinette right now that’s how serious she is.

They take the bus to the park and head over to Flight of Passage (Best. Ride. Ever.).

Tom and Sabine go off and do their own thing (and do so the rest of the park days)

They hang around Pandora for a while, trying the food and watching the drum ceremony until their fast pass for the Na'vi River Journey is ready. 

Alya strategically sits Adrien next to Marinette. 

Adrien is in awe because he loves Avatar and he remembers every detail

Marinette continues to be so happy for him.

They ride the other rides

Adrien crying a little on Dinosaur as he flashes back to when Ladybug was almost eaten by Animan

Nino: “Adrien, dude, you know that ride was all animatronics, right?”

Adrien, traumatized: “Y-yeah I know.”

Rose holding onto Juleka during Expedition Everest

Kim holding onto Max during Expedition Everest

They do a little shopping, Marinette buying an Animal Kingdom pin just like every trip

Alix insisting they ride Flight of Passage one more time

Checking the wait time for it

It’s 225 minutes

Cue disappointed classmates

They watch the Rivers of Light show together, and head back to the resort

Next day: Epcot

Because the fast pass system sucks for Epcot, the class SPRINTS to Test Track before it gets crowded (or breaks down) because they had to choose between getting a fast pass for that, Soarin, or Frozen Ever After (and Marinette did NOT wanna wait on line for that so thus chooses Frozen Ever After for the fast pass slot)

Alya and Marinette bet Nino and Adrien that their car design will beat theirs and Nino and Adrien are all about it. 

Alya and Marinette's car exceeds in all the tests and they brag about it for the rest of the day cause power girlfriends™

Next is Soarin which is Marinette's favorite ride in the park. 

She literally cries from how beautiful it is

Adrien is kind of taken by how much she loves the ride and Disney World in general

He finds her passion inspiring

Time for world showcase! 

Marinette's favorite pavilion is Italy because the food is delicious and the Venetian Carnival Masks in the store are her favorite

She traditionally buys a new one every trip

When Adrien visits the store in Japan, he is in literal tears

Anime products everywhere. 

He spends $200 there on merch include a Sailor Moon keychain, a giant Pikachu plushie, and a Goku onesie

He also gets 6 different flavors of Pocky

Nino loves the Morocco pavilion (for obvious reasons) and he insists on snacking on the Moroccan food which turns out to be soo good. 

Frozen Ever After time!

Adrien sings “Let It Go” with Elsa and everyone giggles but it's honestly adorable and he's pretty good at singing too??

They visit the other pavilions, including France where they all have a mini photo shoot together

Cue the class posing like Ladybug and Chat Noir in front of a fountain

Marinette and Alya posing as Ladybug and Chat Noir respectively

Adrien, seeing them pose, and asking Marinette to take pics with him in LB and CN poses

Why are these kids so clueless: a novel by me

They also meet Belle and Adrien cries a little because she’s such a believable Belle and he feels unworthy to be in the presence of a real Disney Princess

Marinette buys her Epcot pin, following tradition

They finish the night watching Illuminations in the Canada pavilion

Adrien lowkey watching Marinette watch the show because wow she loves it so much?

Marinette glancing at Adrien

Adrien quickly looking away and blushing (these kids I can’t with them)

NEXT: Hollywood Studios 

Nino is SO HYPE. A park about film. It's everything he could want

Chloe insists on taking solo pics in front of Hollywood Boulevard

Everyone actually agrees

Adrien being the diva he is and Marinette close to fainting

First stop: Rock ‘n’ Rollercoaster

Quick photoshoot in front of the guitar, posing like Jagged Stone

Second stop: Toy Story Mania

Marinette and Max going all out

Max surprisingly winning the game

Marinette claims her cannon was broken and therefore was the leading cause of her loss

Third stop: Tower of Terror

Everyone is lowkey scared to ride, even Marinette who has ridden it hundreds of times

Alix suggests that they all dab when the photo is taken

No one knows when the photo is taken on the ride, so they all dab like 5 times

The picture actually turns out super funny, and they buy it

Fourth stop: Star Tours

Nino, Max, and Kim fangirl so hard

Kim tries to join the Jedi Training show, but is #rejected for being too old

Alix steals a pair of 3D glasses from the ride

Fifth stop: The Great Movie Ride

Marinette ADORES this ride because it’s a tribute to classic movies

She loves everything about it from the cheesy tour guide to the montage of movies at the end

She ends up crying after the ride is over because she remembers that it’s closing in the upcoming weeks

Classmates comfort Marinette

Marinette buys a Hollywood Studios pin

They watch the Star Wars firework show and head home

Time for the most important park day of all: Magic Kingdom

Marinette does not hesitate, bitch

She needs this day to be the best of the best

Marinette wears her Minnie Mouse Disney bound which makes all the classmates’ hearts skip a beat

like she is so pretty in her red dress with white polka dots, yellow converse, block stockings, space buns, and bow in her hair

They get to the park and Alya insists on taking pics of Marinette in front of the castle

Marinette is a little embarrassed but she does it anyway

Adrien can not get over how cute she is like wow???

Alya catches Adrien staring at Marinette

Alya: “hey Mickey Mouse, why don’t you take a few pictures with Minnie?”

Adrien, caught off guard: “Wh-huh yeah sure!”

Marinette, using telepathy: “Alya, I will get you back for this.”

The pictures actually turning out amazing and Adrien makes one his phone wallpaper

Marinette once again almost passing out

They head to Space Mountain aka the best ride (before Flight of Passage was built that is)

Adrien loves it sooooo much he wants to ride it all day

but alas, the line is 110 minutes long after they exit the ride

They spend about an hour and a half in Tomorrowland

Next stop: Fantasyland, Marinette’s favorite area

Adrien finds the Princess Fairytale Hall and demands they get on line to meet Rapunzel, his favorite princess.

the line is 45 minutes, a bit much, but they let him

Adrien running up to Rapunzel and hugging her like a 5 year old child

He tells her how much he loved Tangled and that she is his idol

Rapunzel kisses his cheek and Adrien almost dies right there

Marinette gets a little jealous

Because it’s Florida, there’s a thunderstorm

The class quickly finding a place to take cover

Adrien trying to block the rain from Marinette so her outfit doesn’t get ruined

Marinette slipping on the wet ground and Adrien catching her

Cue insane blushing

They take this opportunity to see Philharmagic

Alix steals 3 pairs of the 3D glasses

Rose tells her to return them

Alix gives her a pair to keep her quiet

The storm clears out

3:00 pm: time for the Festival of Fantasy Parade!

Marinette singing the parade music because she knows it by heart

Flynn Rider winks at Sabrina

Sabrina actually fainting due to a mixture of heat, dehydration, and Eugene Fitzherbert

The paramedics come to take Sabrina to the infirmary

Sabine offers to stay with her 

The whole class in awe when Dragon!Maleficent breathes fire

After the parade, the class proceeds to go on the rest of the rides

They dab during the Splash Mountain photo

Ivan comforts Mylene during the Haunted Mansion

Everyone sings “Heigh-Ho” on the Dwarf Mine Coaster

Also singing during Pirates of the Caribbean

Snack Break!

Marinette buys everyone Dole Whips because they are amazing

More rides, more photos, more fun

8:00 pm: 1 hour until the fireworks

Marinette insists that they must get their spot now

They play Heads-Up on Alya’s phone to help pass the time

Sabrina and Sabine rejoin the group

9:00 pm: time for Happily Ever After

Marinette has never actually seen this show because it’s fairly new

The whole class is in awe

Halfway through the show, Marinette bursts out into tears because the show is just so well done

The music, the fireworks, the projections on the castle, it just brings back all her memories watching Disney movies

Adrien sees this and puts his hand on her shoulder

Marinette panics, but Adrien gives her a soft smile and she’s smiles back

The show ends, being the perfect finale to a perfect trip

On their way out of the park, Adrien realizes that Marinette never bought her pin from Magic Kingdom yet and decides to buy one for her on Main Street

They head back to their hotel and begin packing for their departure in the morning

Adrien knocks on the door to Marinette and Alya’s room

He thanks her for making the trip so amazing and magical

He then pulls out the Magic Kingdom pin from his pocket and gives it to her as a thank you

Marinette, face as red as a tomato, freezes for a moment

Alya is eating this up

Marinette takes a breath and hugs Adrien, thanking him for also making this trip amazing for her

I definitely would like to go into more detail about each individual day, but here’s a summary of basically all the points I wanted to hit! If you have any ideas/headcanons please send them my way I’d love to hear them :D

#miraculous ladybug #disney au #ml disney au #adrienette #stella writes #jsdknkd i love disney trip aus save me #this is so long wow i'm sorry

[dailyaudiobible]

11/28/2017 DAB Transcript

Daniel 5:1-31, 2 Peter 2:1-22, Psalms 119:113-128, Proverbs 28:19-20

Today is the 28th day of November. Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I am Brian and, like always, it's wonderful to have this opportunity to be together for a few minutes as we take the next step forward into our adventure through the Bible this year. And, right now, the path is leading us through the book of Daniel, and through second Peter in the New Testament. This week we’re reading from the contemporary English Version and we begin with Daniel chapter 5 verses 1 through 31.

Commentary:

Alright. In second Peter today we have a bit of a tirade against false prophets. And our understanding of prophet in this day and age is often tied to a person who predicts the future. But here we’re more appropriately talking about a person commissioned and sent by God to speak on his behalf. And, so, sometimes this is translated, false teachers. So, a person claiming to be commissioned and sent by God to speak on his behalf, but it's not true, it's false. And there was plenty of this going on. A lot of people were saying a lot of things for a lot of reasons about the faith. Before we dive into this, I think an important distinction needs to be made, because we can read passages in the Scripture like this and get the impression that we can’t ask any questions because we've seen a lot of that in our time. Anyone who asks questions that might mess with our tidy little box of assumptions can be labeled a false prophet, a false teacher, simply for posing questions or asking them. And I don’t think that’s the same thing and I don't think that's fair. I ask questions constantly. I ask questions of the Bible. I ask questions of the Lord every single day of my life, simply because I want to know the answers and you probably due too. That's not what we’re talking about here in second Peter. Peter is being very forceful about people who are claiming to speak on behalf of God, who have come to faith in Christ and then have begun to or have completely turned away from some of our all of the core essentials of the Christian faith and are leading people to do the same thing. And Peter has little tolerance for this. And, so, to quote him, ‘these teachers don't really belong to the master who paid a great price for them and they will quickly destroy themselves. Many people will follow their evil ways and cause others to tell lies about the true way.’ And, so, we’re pretty clear what he's talking about and what he's saying is, this is not going to work for those people, in fact, it's going to go quite badly for them in the end. And then he goes on to give some examples of what that will look like, and he uses the examples of rebellious angels in heaven, the wicked and ungodly people in Noah's time, and the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. So, we could all agree, that's not a good time and that's not a trajectory to aim your life in. And then Peter tells us what's going on. Right? What the behavior is that he's so upset about. And it's here that we have the opportunity to look into our own lives to see if any of this is going on with us. These people, Peter says, ‘speak evil of things they don't know anything about. They have done evil, and they will be rewarded with evil. Their immoral and the meals they eat with your spoiled by the shameful and selfish way they carry on. All they think about is having sex with someone else's spouse’. Right? So, in other words, they are consumed with lust. ‘They trick people who are easily fooled and their minds are filled with greedy thoughts, but they are headed for trouble. They have left the true road and have gone down the wrong path by following the example of the prophet, Balaam’, which is a reference to unrighteous behavior for personal gain. ‘These people’, Peter says, ‘are like dried up waterholes and clouds blown by a windstorm. They brag out loud about their stupid nonsense and by being vulgar and crude they trap people who have barely escaped from living the wrong kind of life. They promise freedom to everyone, but they are merely slaves of filthy living because people are slaves of whatever controls them.’ And there’ something to put in your pocket carry around today. I am a slave of whatever I let control me. And it is here in this last paragraph that we read today that Peter shows us what happened to these people and where that road is going. He says, ‘when they learned about our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ they escaped from the filthy things of this world, but they are again caught up and controlled by these filthy things. And now they are in worse shape than they were at first. They would've been better off if they had never known about the right way, because even after they knew what was right, they turn their backs on the holy commandments that they were given. And that is like a dog coming back to lick up its own vomit.’ Alright, this is pretty poignant, and this is pretty direct, this imagery that Peter's using to describe what it's like to know the truth, have tasted the goodness, and then turn around and walk back into the filth of a former life. So, I imagine that most of us have at least been around a dog. I guess I've been around dogs most my life in one way or another and I've watched them do this. Right? Haven't you. Dog goes out into the yard, has to poop, and can barely finish before they have to turn around and smell that nice steamy pile of waste. You're out walking your dog, they’re smelling every mailbox, but if they can come around some other dog poop, oh, that's just a treasure and they smell that and maybe even eat it. Dog is sick, pukes on the ground, pukes in the kitchen, and they might give it a nice whiff and even lap it up. I know, I mean I know that's gross, I know what I said is his disgusting, and I said it frankly because it's disgusting to go back to a former life after the beauty of the presence of God. It's like puking in a bowl and then eating it like soup. Sometimes understanding something starkly can shake us away to what we’re doing. And when we realize what we’re doing it explains a lot about the shape our life is in. To turn away from the narrow path that leads to life and go back and try to resurrect a life that is no longer a part of our story is like walking into a gas station bathroom, seeking out toilet that has been backed up for days, hoping to ladle out some of that filth into a Styrofoam cup so that we can go back to our car and drink it down. That is what it is like to try to resurrect the corpse of who we were before Christ. That is what it is like to wander into territory that will only lead us away from our union with God and the intimate collaboration in life that we've begun with Him. And that helps us understand the context of so many of the books of prophecy that we've read and are reading, when God is exasperated and essentially saying, why would you choose this over me? Why would you choose sewage over the banquet I have prepared for you?

Prayer:

Father, those are questions that have no valid answers. They never have. And we’re all guilty of this. And we’re all humbled at the starkness of what we’re doing. And, once again, we are called to repentance, we are called to change from within. And this can only happen with our surrender and Your participation. And, so, together we pray the ancient prayer of repentance, most merciful God, we confess that we have sinned against You in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done, and by what we have left undone. We have not loved You with our whole heart. We have not loved our neighbor as ourselves. We are truly sorry and we humbly repent. In Your mercy, forgive what we have been, help us to amend what we are, and direct what we will be, that we may do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with You, our God. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is the website. It’s home base. It’s where you find out what's going on around here.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible here as we move toward the end of the year, you can do that at dailyaudiobible.com. There's a link on the homepage. If you prefer the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Springhill Tennessee 37174.

And as always, if you have a prayer request or comment 877-942-4253 is the number to dial.

And that's it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Song:

O God Forgive Us ​for KING & COUNTRY https://youtu.be/tz4toSf-xQU

Lyrics 

We've prayed the prayer with no reply

Words float off into the night

Couldn't cut our doubt with the sharpest knife

O, O God forgive us

Silence isn't comfortable

We want drive through peace and instant hope

Our shallow faith it has left us broke

O, O God forgive us

O, O God forgive us

 A slave to our uncertainty

Help us with our unbelief

O, O God forgive us

 Young and old, black and white

We're rich and poor, there's no divide

Hear the mighty, hear the powerless, singing

O, O God forgive us

O, O God forgive us

 A slave to our uncertainty

Help us with our unbelief

O, O God forgive us

With our white flag sailing in the night

Eyes pointed to the sky

Hands up and open wide, open wide

With our white flag sailing in the night

Eyes pointed to the sky

Hands up and open wide, open wide

With our white flag sailing in the night

Eyes pointed to the sky

Hands up and open wide, open wide

With our white flag sailing in the night

Eyes pointed to the sky

Hands up and open wide, open wide

 O, O God forgive us

A slave to our uncertainty

Help us with our unbelief

O, O God forgive us

[fear-god-shun-evil]

After Escaping the Shackles of Money, I Am Free

“Money isn’t everything, but without it, you can do nothing.” Many people approve of this view, thinking that in today’s society, you need money to make others look up to you, and that without money, you are a second-class citizen. Once, I used to believe this as well, and I strove to earn money, but it only brought me endless bitterness and torment …

My Determination to Become Rich and Escape a Life of Poverty

When I was young, my family was poor. We couldn’t afford the 500 yuan tuition fees for my brothers and sisters. Even borrowing money from everywhere we could, we barely got by, and our neighbors all looked down on us. I remember how the children in the neighborhood would often brag about the new appliances in their house, and when I saw how proud they were, I admired them. I thought society was precisely this materialistic, that “Money isn’t everything, but without it, you can do nothing,” and that if we had money, all of our family’s problems would be resolved, that our material lives would improve, and that we wouldn’t be looked down on by others. Those thoughts made me very impatient to grow up so I would have the ability to get work and earn money.

Entering Society and How I Began Living for Money

Finally, when I was 17, I was able to leave home and begin my life of working at a job and earning money. At my factory, I was paid per piece, so to earn more money, I gave up chances to go out with my friends and instead worked overtime. Finally, when I was too tired to keep my eyes open any longer, I would drag my exhausted body back to my dormitory. Sometimes, the factory had rush orders, and the bosses would raise the piece rate, so to earn even more money, I would work overnight, sometimes going three days and nights without sleeping. Even though work was very tiring, each payday, when I saw the amount of money in my bank account growing, I felt that my sacrifices were worth it and worked even harder. And so, through several years of effort, my family’s lives took a turn for the better. But when I saw the people around me buying foreign-style houses and cars, I wasn’t satisfied with my current conditions, and wanted nothing more than to earn even more money.

Later, I came to Hong Kong, and there, I could earn in a day what it took me a month to earn in my hometown. I looked forward to having my house and car before long, and very quickly, I found a job as a waitress in a restaurant. To promote the restaurant’s seasonal products and earn more commission, I spent every day enthusiastically greeting customers, and some days I was even too busy to eat. As time went on, my irregular diet caused me to develop a stomach illness. Despite the severe stomach pain I felt, when I saw customers coming, I had to bear the pain and greet them with a smile. Before long, my boss promoted me to shift leader, and though my salary increased, so did my workload. Aside from ensuring my customers were appropriately taken care of, I also had to wrack my brains to find ways to build relationships with them and keep them happy, so that they would be willing to come to my restaurant and buy its seasonal products. Every night, I dragged my exhausted body home. The lifestyle was physically and mentally draining, but at the end of every month, when I received a thick stack of banknotes, I felt like all the hardship I endured was worth it.

After several years, I had saved some money, and even though I knew Hong Kong’s housing prices were high, I bought one anyway. After that, burdened with heavy mortgage payments, I worked even harder to make money. I was so exhausted that I didn’t have time to take care of my children or family, and my husband often fought with me about that, but I didn’t care, because I thought nothing was more important than making money. All I knew how to do was, like a robot, to work with all my strength and make money. My years of hard work caused me to suffer from sciatica, and the doctor advised me to take a break, but to make more money, I endured the pain and continued working 12 hours a day.

An Unexpected Debt Sets Everything Back to Zero

As I was desperately running myself ragged for money, I suddenly and unexpectedly received a debt letter. I had no idea that my husband had been gambling behind my back the entire time, and he had actually bet the house and lost. It was like a bolt of lightning from the blue that made me completely collapse. I never imagined that I endured so much pain, and even made myself sick, only to see the house I had worked so hard for taken away from me. I was so crushed I wanted to die. After losing my house, I felt that there was no hope in life. It was as if I had completely fallen apart … Although I was still busy every day, I felt like a soulless walking corpse, my health got worse and worse, my sciatica recurred, and I began to suffer from insomnia. I became very unhappy and had no interest in doing anything. During that period, I often asked myself: I worked so hard to make money, and what did I earn except for illness? But isn’t money what people should live for? What should I pursue if I don’t pursue money?

The Revelations in God’s Word Allow Me to Clearly See an Evil Trend

I didn’t know who I could tell my troubles to or how to proceed in life, and this was the moment one of my colleagues preached God’s gospel of kingdom to me. During that time, my brothers and sisters often read God’s word with me and fellowshiped with me on God’s will regarding my difficulties. At one meeting, I read this passage of God’s word, “‘Money makes the world go round’ is the philosophy of Satan and it prevails among the whole of mankind, among every human society. You could say that it is a trend because it has been instilled into the heart of every single person and is now affixed in their heart. People went from not accepting this saying to growing used to it so that when they came into contact with real life, they gradually gave tacit approval to it, acknowledged its existence and finally, they gave it their own seal of approval. … So after Satan uses this trend to corrupt people, how is it manifested in them? Don’t you feel that you couldn’t survive in this world without any money, that even one day would just be impossible? People’s status is based on how much money they have as is their respectability. The backs of the poor are bent in shame, while the rich enjoy their high status. They stand tall and proud, speaking loudly and living arrogantly. What does this saying and trend bring to people? Don’t many people see getting money as being worth any cost? Don’t many people sacrifice their dignity and integrity in the pursuit of more money? … Isn’t this a loss for people? (Yes.) Isn’t Satan sinister to use this method and this saying to corrupt man to such a degree? Isn’t this a malicious trick?”

My sister fellowshiped, “From God’s words, we can see that the torment we suffer in life is caused by Satan’s evil trends. We have been inundated with satanic toxins like ‘Money makes the world go round,’ ‘Money is first,’ and ‘Money isn’t everything, but without it, you can do nothing.’ We believe that people will only look up to us if we have money, that when we have it we will be respected wherever we go, and that without it, we are somehow beneath others. To live a life that surpasses others’ lives, we make the pursuit of money our lifelong goal, we work overtime and on extra tasks, and we even ignore our health. The ways we constantly struggle to earn money, work day and night, abuse and exhaust our bodies, and live inextricably trapped in torment with no hope of release are the harms caused by Satan’s evil trends. In the end, they doom us, and we don’t even realize it …”

After hearing God’s word and my sister’s fellowship, I was deeply touched. I recalled my family’s poverty when I was young, how the other children would refuse to play with me, and how everyone in the village looked down on us. Back then, I thought all those problems came from a lack of money. To earn more money, I gave up all my time to rest, I worked extra hours and did extra jobs, I refused to rest even when I was sick, and even when I earned money, I had also gained a host of illnesses, but I kept earning money like a machine. I was living numbly, and not happy at all. Worse than that, everything I had worked so hard to earn had been lost by my husband, which left me in deep pain and torment, feeling as though death would be preferable to life. This is when I suddenly realized that satanic toxins like “Money is first,” and “Money makes the world go round,” had already been planted deep within me. They had twisted my thoughts and views, caused me to pursue in a mistaken direction and torment myself to an unthinkable degree, and without the revelations in God’s word, I still wouldn’t have known to stop. When I thought of these things, I prayed to God, repented, and expressed my desire to stop following evil trends.

After that, I often had meetings and read God’s words with my brothers and sisters, which allowed me to feel a degree of release in my life, and step by step, I began to emerge from my torment. This was all due to God’s love. I recalled that at my most painful time, God used my colleague to bring me before Him, allowed me to hear His voice, and showed me the root of my torment in life so that I could wake up. Wasn’t all this God’s love? When I thought of these things, I swore an oath in my heart: No matter how busy I was, I would never depart from God, and would diligently pursue the truth.

Clearly Seeing the Essence of Money, Refusing to Make the Same Mistake Again

But before long, I saw that my family needed money for many things, and I thought that I needed to earn more money so that we no longer had to live such an impoverished life. I secretly began to do calculations in my heart: I worked 3–4 days a week, so outside of my meetings, I still had some time, and I wanted to make use of this time to earn more money. With that in mind, I began to look everywhere for part-time work, and whenever I had free time, I earned extra money. Gradually, meetings became just a formality for me. While I was at meetings, I was actually thinking about ways to make more money. In the evenings when I got home after work, God’s words didn’t sink in when I read them, and sometimes I was so tired that I went straight to bed and fell asleep…. I was further and further away from God, and had returned to my previous life of living for money.

Just as I was again becoming trapped in the vortex of wealth, I read this passage of God’s words, “Because people do not recognize God’s orchestrations and God’s sovereignty, they always face fate defiantly, with a rebellious attitude, and always want to cast off God’s authority and sovereignty and the things fate has in store, hoping in vain to change their current circumstances and alter their fate. But they can never succeed; they are thwarted at every turn. This struggle, which takes place deep in one’s soul, is painful; the pain is unforgettable; and all the while one is frittering away one’s life. What is the cause of this pain? Is it because of God’s sovereignty, or because a person was born unlucky? Obviously neither is true. At bottom, it is because of the paths people take, the ways people choose to live their lives. Some people may not have realized these things. But when you truly know, when you truly come to recognize that God has sovereignty over human fate, when you truly understand that everything God has planned for and decided for you is a great benefit, and is a great protection, then you feel your pain gradually lighten, and the whole of you become relaxed, free, liberated.”

God’s words touched my heart. I thought that although I followed God, I didn’t have any real understanding of God’s dominance, nor did I possess any real obedience. During this time, I had only thought about how to make more money. I hadn’t even bothered to read God’s words or pray regularly, and meetings seemed to get in the way of my earning money. But now, I saw that I still lived by the satanic notion and view that “Money is first,” and saw money as supreme. The Lord Jesus said, “For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?” (Matthew 16:26). Yes, what was the point of earning money if it cost me my life? I thought of how for all these years, I hadn’t understood the significance of life. I only knew that I had to struggle with all my strength to earn money, and the result was that I was riddled with illness, lived in unspeakable torment, and now, even as I had come before God and knew that God expresses words of salvation for mankind, I still didn’t take them seriously, and I still single-mindedly pursued making money based on satanic notions and ideas. Yet, through this pursuit, I was only damaging my own life. The fact is that I earned enough for my family’s needs at my usual job, but I had extravagant desires, and wanted enough money to live a wealthy lifestyle, which is why I returned to my single-minded pursuit of earning money. I didn’t want to make the same mistakes again. I wanted to betray these satanic notions and views, pursue according to God’s words, place myself in God’s hands, and obey God’s orchestrations and arrangements. I offered this prayer up to God, “God, thank You for lifting me up and bringing me into Your house. However, I have been blind and ignorant, I have clung to the notion of making money and been unwilling to let go, and I have clearly known the truth yet not pursued it. God, I don’t want to continue like this. I wish to obey Your sovereignty and arrangements, and not live by satanic views.”

In the days that followed, outside of work, I spent more time pursuing the truth. I practiced spiritual devotion and prayed to God every day. My relationship with God became ever more normal, and without my realizing it, my health greatly improved and my sleep became normal.

Finding Release and Freedom After Ceasing My Struggle for Money

One day, when I had just arrived at my workplace, my manager greeted me with a smile and asked me if I wanted to be a shift leader, a promotion which would come with a raise. When I heard the manager say this, I was a little moved, and my colleague next to me said, “If it were me, I wouldn’t even have to think about it, I’d say yes immediately.” When I saw the longing in her eyes, I couldn’t help but think of how I was willing to pay any price to earn money, of how desperately I worked to earn money, I had driven myself to exhaustion and illness, and I lived in torment. Now that I had come before God, I knew that all of these harms come from following Satan’s evil trends, and I was determined to betray them. If I took the job as shift leader, it would occupy all of my mental energy, and I wouldn’t even have time to go to meetings. In addition, I still suffered pain in my legs, and if I tired myself out that way, I would only aggravate my condition, and I would have to return to the pain I experienced before. The amount of money I can earn is preordained by God, and not something I can change through my own effort. The path I had walked was too difficult, and when I thought of that, I swore an oath in my heart to never again walk that path. So, I said to the manager, “I haven’t been a shift leader for a long time now, and I’m still suffering from sciatica. Thank you for the thought, but I think you should find someone else.” When I said this, I felt a peace and steadiness I had never felt before. Through this environment, I became more certain that money cannot bring me true peace and joy, that only pursuing the truth and walking the path of obedience to God is valuable in life, and that this was what I should pursue.

In the days that followed, I went to spread the gospel with my sisters, and every day I felt especially at peace. Whenever I see that there are still so many people living under the influence of Satan, who run themselves ragged for money and for lives that surpass others’ lives, and who don’t know what pursuits are meaningful, I feel God’s eagerness to save people even more urgently, and become even more determined to pursue the truth, perform my duties as a created being, and bring more people before God to repay God’s love.

#Christian Testimonies #Return to God

[fadingfartconnoisseur]

Skiing in Salzburg, Austria – Shredding Slopes and More in the Skicircus

This trip to the Salzburg mountain region was the first of many that will form part of my ‘Year in Austria’ project. I am now the official UK ambassador for the Austria Tourism board, where I will be travelling all around the country (using my home of Vienna as the starting point) over the next 12 months. I will be sharing content on my social channels and on the Visit Austria channels also. A big part of this project is to include insights from what you know already and questions about what you don’t, and even challenges set by you, the readers, on what you want me to see and do. Ultimately, I want you to come here too! I hope you will follow along and join in, and put Austria more on the map!

Skiing in Salzburg is as Austrian as it sounds and since ski is the national sport of the country, shredding the slopes of Austrian Alps is a rite of passage for every visitor who passes through the country in winter. Now that I live in Austria, I need to up my ski ante to assimilate and pretend I can be a proper Austrian too.

Alpine pursuits are quite the thing to show off about here.

A year had come around fast since I first ventured on a ski slope in Tirol, where I mastered a very brief introductory ski lesson that firmly planted the desire to continue. Now, the Salzburg mountain region would stage the next round of my professional ski training.

A four-hour train journey from Vienna to Saalfelden (with a halfway change at Salzburg city station) brought me straight into the heart of the ‘Skicircus’. It is a gigantic winter production born from the combination of the four regions of Saalbach, Hinterglemm, Leogang and Fieberbrunn into one.

Now that this enormous sugar bowl of the Austrian Alps has become one of the largest ski areas in Austria, where do you even begin?

After checking into my rustic alpine hotel in Leogang, I went straight out to catch a cable car up into the peaks for the last few hours of blue-tinged daylight. This winter arena is so big, it now has 70 of these mountain lifts to take you up into altitudes reaching 1,914 meters, and 270km of powered slopes that can get you all the way back down.

The pivotal place for all the fun is the Asitz Mountain, and arriving in the early afternoon meant my first activity would be an alternative to ski. And so I took to a toboggan for a seven-minute adrenalin-pumped whirl down to one of the middle cable car station, admiring the panorama of distant jagged peaks on the way.

People often seek more thrills away from the piste, and in the Saalfelden Leogang Skicircus area there are plenty of options. Aside from the vintage wooden sledge fun, Asitz has now added an even faster option that incorporates the endorphin addiction of flight. The new Flying Fox is one of the longest and fastest ziplines in the world at 1,600 metres and 130km/h that soars you between two peaks and over the wide expanse of the valley floor. It hadn’t officially opened when I was there, but such is the dilemma with Austrian ski destinations. The demand for adrenalin addictions other than ski means more activities get added to the winter mix, so you are tempted to come back.

Skiing in the Salzburg Mountains

My first full morning was designated solely for private ski lessons, where I spent three solid hours on a beginner slope before a celebratory beer with lunch. With 140km of blue slopes, Skicircus is welcoming to beginner skiers, with a variety of leisurely routes to tackle once your confidence kicks in.

While my first lesson a year before concentrated on the technical perfection of the snow plough and speed control, my one-on-one lesson here built upon that, where I learnt how to turn and really put that snow plough into action. I sometimes lost my control (as is expected), although would often venture into a few seconds of adventurous speed freestyle by accident, before realising I’m no Olympian. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time, and all a part of the learning process.

However, if you are aching for an adrenalin-charge, there’s also enough incline to tempt the more advanced, with 110km of red slopes and 20km of black to shred. I’m aiming high, literally.

More Than Ski in the Austrian Alps

Aside from the ski Austria humble brag, the Salzburg mountain range lays claim to 150km of cross-country and racing trails, seven ski-touring routes and snow parks, two free ride parks, five toboggan runs and a dedicated ‘Nordic Park’. You can even learn how to ski-jump, which is one of my adventure goals.

The new Saalfelden Nordic Park is a winter sports facility where alternative ski activities come together in one huge arena. You can slow down and ice-skate on Lake Ritzensee, take a horse-drawn sleigh ride around the area or build an igloo, or you can continue with the athletics.

There’s 150km of cross-country forest trails and racing routes, where you can hike challenges path such as the Haid Trail and the winter wonderland of the Kolling Forest or take a light 30-minute meander on the Ritzensee Trail. You can also book snowshoeing tours and torchlight hikes to reach the Salzburg mountain panoramas via nature’s forest bound pristine tracks.

If, like me, you find yourself wanting to take on one of these options and are held back by a snow flurry while nature decides to re-load the slopes and valley walls, there’s always the chance to climb up, Spiderman style, on one of the indoor bouldering walls. This last-minute change of plan was a good thing – leading me towards a new sport I will soon be taking up back home in Vienna.

As the name suggests, Skicircus is quite the stage for wintertime in Austria, where you circuit the mountain slopes and valley walls of a huge patch of the Austrian Alps by alternative means, while keeping up the ski traditions it’s always been known for.

Things to Know:

Getting to Saalfelden Leogang for the Skicircus

By Train. The closest railway stations are Saalfelden and Leogang, with has taxi stands and a bus to get you to your resort areas / accommodation. The ÖBB network is extremely well connected. I took a train from Vienna Hauptbahnhof to Salzburg Hauptbahnhof and changed from there to Saalfelden.

By Plane. The nearest international airport is Salzburg, which has good connections with many of the major airlines. There is now a ‘Holiday Shuttle’ that travels non-stop eight times daily between the airport to Saalfelden Leogang.

By Car. From eastern Austria, use the westautobahn Vienna – Salzburg (A1) and exit at Wals-Lofer. Saalfelden Leogang is 400km from Vienna. From Germany take the autobahn Munich Salzburg (A8). Saalfelden Leogang is 200km from Munich.

Learning to Ski in Saalfelden Leogang, Salzburg

Saalfelden Leogang Skicircus has five ski schools with approximately 250 ski instructors, including snowboarding, cross-country and children’s ski instruction.

Private ski lessons (1-2 people) start from €65 for one hour in the morning and €55 for one hour in the afternoon. A full day of instruction is €230.

Group lessons (adults and children aged 15+) start from €50 for a half day, €100 for 2.5 days and €145 for 3.5 days.

How much does it cost to Ski in Saalfelden Leogang, Salzburg?

The costs for a Salzburg Superskicard starts from €55 per day, up to €290 for 7 days. This is a more economical option for those wanting to ski in a variety of areas.

Costs for the Skicircus area start from €35-42 for a half day pass and €52 for a full day pass.

A ski bus operates in Leogang and Fiberbrunn to particular cable cars. Check your local timetable for scheduled stops, time and routes.

Further Information and Research

For a complete list of activities and events, alongside costs and accommodation options, visit the Saalfelden Leogang tourism website.

Inspiration on the ski season in Austria and beyond can be found on the comprehensive site for Austria Tourism.

Further Reading on the Winter Season in Austria from Borders of Adventure

My very first ski lesson in Tirol

The winter wheeling activities of Segway and fatbiking on the winter coated alpine 

Theres’s even MORE activities to try in winter in Austria other than ski! Some things may surprise you…

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