#considering i think they should be roasted over a spit for eternity

[alchemistc]

won't make my mama proud

read on ao3

Buck's just gonna say it. He's not gonna be cagey about it. He's not gonna make it weird. Everyone important doesn't need an announcement, they'll - they'll see him, and they'll understand, and Buck will get to enjoy himself.

His parents are the wildcard.

"E- Buck," his mom starts, brow furrowed as she looks at the seating chart. She's getting better at catching herself, and it's small fries but it's not nothing. "Why did George get moved to table seven?"

He'd been a little giddy, sitting at Maddie's kitchen table with the seating chart out, the tips of his ears bright red and the smile refusing to leave his face, basking in the little hip-shake arm-wave dance Maddie'd done when he asked if she could fit a plus one in.

Buck honestly couldn't remember who they'd moved to make it work, but it'd made the most sense - Tommy knew Bobby and Athena, he knew Karen and Eddie and Marisol, he wouldn't have to sit with a table of strangers who didn't even know a "George" anyway.

His mom's eyes flit to the extended family table, where Tommy has been tucked in between Eddie and Denny. He'd made the place card himself, intent to match the script from the printers, tongue sticking out as he swooped the 'Y' out in gold Sharpie on a piece of leftover cardstock cut to match.

"Uh - I'm bringing a date, after all," Buck says, and he watches his mom slide through names, a mental list of people she vaguely knows of. The Marisol thing had been a point of contention - extended family meant family to Margaret and Phillip Buckley, and they'd already made an exception to let Chim include Eddie and his son at that particular table. They'd acted like the relationship to the bride and the groom was going to be hovering over the top of each table. So. She knows the name Marisol. She knows Athena and Bobby. Knows Karen.

The list of potential dates is growing smaller by the minute and clearly it's not computing.

He's just gonna rip the bandaid off. "His name is Tommy. My date."

Once upon a time, he'd have taken an opportunity like this to make sure he was the center of fucking attention for as long as he possibly could be. Maybe drive home the point that his parents didn't know him as well as they claimed they did. Definitely press their buttons, see if he could invite a reaction out of them.

Now he waves off his mother's confused silence. "I already ran it by Maddie and Chim, they know him." Sort of. It's too complicated to explain to his parents, right now. Maybe if the dancing goes well, at the reception. Maybe once he's snuck about fifty more kisses in.

"Buck, you can't bring a friend as a plus one to your sister's wedding."

He doesn't see why not, really, but that's - very much not the point. Oh. Oh yeah, that's a little painful. He gets why Tommy'd slammed the brakes, now, when he'd stuck his foot in it.

"Good thing he's my date, then, mom."

Even after all this time, he always feels like he's one bad interaction away from laying into his parents, but he tempers it. This isn't really about him, or them. This is about Maddie's wedding, which is two days away and doesn't need the distraction of the brides family having it out. Again.

"What do you mean?" she asks, and - her defensive voice always sounds like she's expecting a direct attack, teeth at her jugular and she's too frail to stop it. He's always hated the way she does that, because it always makes her sound like the victim of a heinous crime when half the time she's just trying to deny something she's been accused of.

Buck takes a deep breath through his nose. "Tommy. He's my date to the wedding. Once we've all eaten and toasted at the reception he'll be the one I'm getting drinks for, he'll be the one I'm introducing to Maddie's work friends, he'll be the one I'm dancing with." He'll be the one I'm going home with, Buck doesn't say, even if he really fucking wants to. He'd gotten a dick pic for the first time last night that had rocked his entire fucking world and he's very ready to explore the realities of finally understanding he's attracted to the male form in a sexual way.

She goes through what seems like all the stages of grief at once. Not unexpected, but still kinda shitty to witness. But she's - they're both better. His parents are trying. He'll give them that. She shores up a PTA mom smile.

"Oh. I didn't know you... Well I just didn't know."

"It's new," he says, because now doesn't feel like the time to tell her he's been analyzing old friendships for weeks now, that his penchant for trying to create deep bonds with men he admires has taken on a new meaning to him. He doesn't want to get into the conversation he'd had with Tommy two nights ago, Tommy laughing but understanding as Buck regaled him with the tale of how he'd followed the varsity kicker around like a lost puppy for most of his junior year and he'd only just figured out why. "Tommy used to work at the 118, though, so he's not exactly a stranger."

He doesn't really feel like giving her more than that. It's new to him, too, it's new and fragile and it's settling warm in his gut, this feeling like he finally knows the way to make a proper chili is to add some unsweetened cocoa powder. The recipe works without it but it was never quite right, until the secret ingredient got thrown in.

"You'll have to introduce us," his mom says, and Buck thinks about it - about the way Tommy will internalize the confused looks his parents try to hide, and the way Buck will want to curl tighter around him because of it, the way he'll want to shrink under the force of his parents never quite getting him and how he knows, he knows Tommy won't let him shrink.

"Yeah," he says, and his mind goes back to thinking of Tommy in a suit.

Tommy with a button undone that turns into three by the third song, Tommy fiddling with cufflinks, Tommy with suspenders, Tommy's ass in a pair of crisp tapered trousers. Buck wonders if he's an ankle sock with dress shoes guy.

His mom turns back to her trove of little gift bags, plastic crinkling as she ties another finished one off. He's - it feels a bit like he's waiting for a shoe to drop, sitting there next to her as her hands continue to pull jute twine from its roll in even six inch lengths, cutting them, twisting bags and tying them off.

Their hands meet the next time he slides a pile of filled bags over to her -- a bubble jar, three Jordan almonds, four Kisses, a quarter inch of crinkle paper on the bottom. Buck goes to move his hand back and her soft, wrinkled hand reaches out to pat his knuckles before she returns to her twine.

-----

He picks up Tommy's call when he's halfway home. "Hey," he says, and he knows Tommy can hear the smile in his voice. He can't bring himself to care.

"Hey. Did you already eat at your sisters?"

"No, my parents took Jee out to dinner so Maddie and Chim could have the night before Maddie imposes her weird twenty-four hour no contact rule."

"You Buckley's," Tommy says, and there's something fond in his voice that makes Buck's heart squeeze, just a bit. "I know I'll see you tomorrow night, but I thought, if you're not busy --."

"I'm not busy," Buck interrupts, and Tommy's little chuff of a laugh echoes back at him.

"Maybe I'm about to ask you to detail my truck for me."

Buck's still trying to find the right way to word his thoughts about armor-all and gear shafts when Tommy cuts across them.

"Low hanging fruit, Evan," he warns, even though he can't have possibly known what Buck was thinking.

"I was thinking about the twig, not the berries," Buck shoots back, and Tommy groans.

"You have sufficient evidence not to call it a twig."

"Which is why I was trying to compare it to the gear shift, before you derailed that train of thought."

"Do you wanna come over for dinner or not, Evan Buckley?"

Buck taps his thumbs on the steering wheel, does a little jig in his seat, tries not to smile so wide that he scares the driver next to him as he coasts to a stop at a red light.

"Are the berries on the menu?"

"The stick shift too, if you're lucky."

"This metaphor is getting a little murky."

"If you wanted to stop for shitty burgers I wouldn't mind," Tommy admits, voice softening, and Buck is already trying to plot out the best route to In-N-Out from here to Tommy's. "If you think of a way to make an Animal Style innuendo you are not getting into my pants tonight."

"I'll stick with the hot meat puns, then."

Tommy laughs, bright and loud, goofy like he can't quite control it, and Buck settles into his seat, flipping his blinker to get into the turn lane so he can double back a few blocks.

"You far enough away I can hop in the shower without telling you where I keep my hide-a-key?"

"Yeah, but maybe you should tell me anyway."

Tommy hums, and something settles under Buck's skin when Tommy gives him a frankly ridiculous set of instructions that no first responder is ever gonna follow in an emergency when they could just kick the door in, dispatch instructions be damned.

It's far too early in this, but Buck's pretty sure he's deep enough in this that it wouldn't weird him out if Tommy told him to keep the spare. He doesn't, and Buck doesn't mind, but it's there, in the back of his mind, that feeling like they're both in this for the long haul.

"Hey, I told my mom you're coming as my plus one," Buck says into the comfortable silence that drifts over the line. Tommy knows the bare minimum about his family, really, but he knows that's significant all the same.

"How did that...go?" And Buck keeps forgetting that Tommy wasn't always confidently out, that he's experienced the coming out conversation with a lot worse results than Buck's experienced, so far.

"She was mostly weirded out that you made George move to table seven," Buck jokes, because he's not sure he's fully unpacked how he feels about it yet, and Tommy - Tommy gets that.

"If I'm stepping on toes, I don't mind sitting with all the weird singles and estranged aunts, Evan," Tommy assures, for the twentieth time.

"You're sitting with the people I want you to be sitting with," Buck reminds him, and hopes he understands the part of that that Buck doesn't know how to say out loud yet.

"Noted," he says, that same tone as when he met Buck for coffee, a few weeks ago now, the weight of understanding the things between the lines.

"Go shower," Buck tells him, and tries not to let his imagination run too wild at the thought. "I'll see you in a bit."

Tommy doesn't immediately respond, and Buck can imagine him on the other side of the call, debating whether or not to make the dumb joke about detailing his gear stick himself. He clearly has better impulse control than Buck. "See you soon," he says after a beat, and hangs up before Buck can draw him back in.

[alexdecampi]

The Scottish Boy is 90% funded! Plus a new excerpt: death & the seaside

I can’t believe that my novel is 90% funded. We’re so close to being fully there. If you fancy sharing it or pledging for an eBook ($15), the illustrated 530-page hardback ($35) or more, I’d really appreciate it. Go here on Unbound to read more excerpts, see me be a dork on a video, and see some of the book’s amazing cover art and illustrations. Meanwhile! A new excerpt, from Chapter 2, in which Iain is very much Iain. 

The next morning, Montagu, Ufford and the rest of the Galloway Dozen break south, direct to Carlyle, leaving Harry at a small crossroads with Montagu's man-at-arms, a hired local guide, and a boy in a cage. They're to take the long way around, bypassing the English nobles and their households streaming south along the main London road from their Scottish victory, avoiding their questions about the prisoner.

Harry's little band head west, towards the Irish Sea. The guide, in his heavy accent, says it will be two days along the Cumbrian coast until the old Roman road bends eastwards again through the forest and meets the London road at Kendal. Harry has always loved the ocean, and he feels as if a great weight is lifted from him now that he is out of the company of Rabbie and the other knights. He's almost calm. It's the most peaceful he's felt in months, and if he could get off his horse and kiss the English soil without his companions laughing at him, he would.

But as they sway in single file down the dirt track leading westwards, past dramatic hills dotted with curious sheep and wary peasants, Harry can't get his mind off the boy. He's still bound and gagged, his cage still covered by a sailcloth sheet. But he's awake.

An hour into the vast Cumbrian landscape with no witnesses but sheep, Harry makes a decision. He rides back and yanks the cover off the cage. This gets him a glare from Johann, Lord Montagu's bald, red-faced man-at-arms, but the boy is quiescent, huddled in a corner, glaring at them.

At midday, the hilltop road  splits, a spur of it dipping down to a wide, sandy beach, fed by a clear stream. They pull up by the stream to break their fast and water the horses. Their guide lopes off with some of Harry's coin to a nearby collection of hovels, looking for a peasant who can sell them anything other than salt beef and hard biscuit. He soon comes back with a brace of hare, and he and Johann set to skinning and cooking them.

Harry checks on their prisoner. He is all too aware the Scottish boy hasn't eaten in three days. The boy stares back at him, long hair now matted with dried blood, shirt stained with piss and filth. He looks exhausted but his eyes still burn with a pale, fevered fury, a determination Harry has never encountered before.

Harry can't find it in his heart to hate him, whatever Rabbie says about the Scots. The boy obviously had some upbringing, given his ease in French and his mother's dress, finer than any his own mother had ever had, fine as any of the great ladies at the King's table, even denuded of its embroidery.

Harry unlocks the cage and reaches in to pull the boy out. The Scottish boy flinches hard when Harry touches him, and Harry wants to strangle Rabbie in that moment. The boy shivers uncontrollably as Harry helps him out of the cart, shaking with hunger and exhaustion and some combination of fury and terror.

The boy's bare feet sink into the dark beach sand and there's a moment where he pokes it with his toes, digging in, feeling the wet grains. It's a strangely endearing, intimate gesture, so normal after days of blood and horror, and Harry has to glance away.

When he looks back, the boy is watching him again, waiting for whatever comes next.

“We're in England now,” Harry says. “I'm cutting your gag. You can yell all you want. Please don't bite me again.”

The smell of roasting hare wafts over and the scent causes Harry's stomach to clench in hunger. He can't even imagine what the boy is feeling.

Harry cuts the gag before he can second-guess himself. He steps back, holding the boy up but also at arms length. The boy's wrists and ankles are still bound, but he does his best to stand tall, defiant, even if the shaking undermines it. Uncurled, he's not nearly as small as Harry thought, only a few inches shorter than him. But the boy is so thin. It's a thinness born of constant hunger, of not enough, for a prolonged period of time. Harry thinks back to Montagu's words, they would have starved in that keep, and realises their terrible truth.

The boy yells.

And yells and yells, in Gaelic.

At the sky. At Harry. At the hills. Johann and their Cumbrian guide, Tom, jolt to their feet and reach for weapons but Harry stops them with a raised hand. After what seems like an eternity the boy falls down in the sand, shaking. No tears fall, but it looks like he's crying. His voice cracks and breaks, and the yells crumble away first into hoarse whispers, then nothing. He's just hitting his forehead against the sand, over and over, his lips moving soundlessly as if he's reciting a prayer, or a curse. The silence is startling after so much noise.

Harry squats down next to him. “I'd like to wash you. Can you swim?”

The boy sits back onto his knees and turns his head to Harry. There's sand stuck to his forehead. Harry's hand twitches, the urge to brush it off stilled instantly by the look the boy is giving him. It's a narrow-eyed expression of complete and utter disdain.

Then, in the most beautiful French Harry has ever heard, the boy whispers, “Of course I can fucking swim, you great Sassenach idiot. I grew up in a tower in the middle of a loch.”

Harry laughs, despite himself. “Well, I'll have to leave your arms tied then.” He reaches forwards and cuts the rope binding the boy's ankles.

Harry helps the boy up. They walk towards the ocean, the boy shaky as a newborn foal, his thin legs barely holding him. The boy stumbles, and Harry should expect what happens next but he's still caught by surprise when the stumble becomes a sweep of leg that knocks Harry square on his ass.

The boy runs.

Harry shouts to Johann and Tom, and they give chase. The boy falls, skinning his knees, but pushes himself up rapidly and keeps running, blood coursing down his shins. He's not fast. He's too exhausted to be fast, and Harry catches up to him just as he gets to the stream at the top of the beach.

The boy glances back at the thunder of Harry's footsteps. Harry watches in horror as the boy's ankle turns on a stone and he starts to go down. With bound arms, there's no way he can break his fall.

Harry lunges and grabs the boy before he can hit the ground. They both end up in a heap on the marshy edge of the stream, the boy thrashing and keening his anger. But Harry has both height and strength on him, and just wraps his thickly-muscled arms around the boy from behind. Harry still has to dodge the boy's attempts to break his nose with the back of his skull, and his shins get a bruising from the boy’s heels, but they’re both reasonably unscathed.

“C'mon,” Harry says, hauling the boy to his feet. “Let's get you into the ocean.” Harry holds the boy by his upper arms, in front of him, and frog-marches him towards the slow roll of waves. The boy doesn't fight, and Harry can't tell if he's given up for the time being, or if he's just waiting for his opportunity.

The boy hisses as the cold salt water washes over his many cuts, over the irritated, broken skin at his wrists and ankles. But he obediently ducks under the water when Harry exerts a gentle pressure on his shoulder, letting the sea clean the filth and blood out of his hair. He dunks himself a few times and then stands up and shakes like a dog, managing to get a substantial amount of water on Harry.

Then the boy tips his head back and closes his eyes for a moment, the midday sun hitting his pale, elegant face and turning the drops of water in his raven-dark hair into something like jewels. His long linen shirt is translucent from the water, clinging to his slim body. His lips are rose-red from the abrasions of the gag and the irritation of the salt water.

Harry's throat goes dry. Who is he?

“Better?” Harry chokes out.

One pale eye opens, and a bowed red lip curls in a snarl. “You honestly expect me to congratulate you on that being the least shit thing that's happened to me this week?” The boy spits, hitting Harry in the cheek. “You killed my family. I will kill every one of you.”

Harry uses his free hand – the one that isn't gripping the boy's bicep against his next escape attempt – to wipe the saliva from his face. He sighs, and changes tack. “I'm Harry. What's your name?”

The boy laughs, sharp and hollow. “You killed them all and you don't even know my name. Fuck you. Death. That's my name.”

He turns his back to Harry. “If you're done being the Good Samaritan, I'd like to go back in my cage.”

(psst, if you enjoyed this, please consider buying the book! It’s all written, and will be published as soon as we’re funded, edited, and typeset!)

[the-gedonelune-times]

New Year, New Chapter Of Our Lives.

Hello, hello everyone! First off, allow me to wish everyone a Happy New Year! 

Second off, I just want to say that there will be some spoilers in this story regarding the recent pick-up series. It’s nothing too big, but just in case!

This was the final writing project of 2018 but the first published story of 2019, I think one thing that I hope for in this year is to improve my writing skills, so I may bring some more stories to this wonderful fandom! Also, I’d like to give a thank you to @leonthecardboardunicorn who gave me the idea for some cute background pairings and some cute little background scenes!

"It's hard to believe...." Alfonse's voice rang out in the room, drawing Caesar's attention towards him. "Hard to believe what?" He asked before closing his book and walking over to his boyfriend, his chin resting on one of his shoulders while he peered at whatever it was Alfonse was looking at. "It's hard to believe that it's officially been a whole year. By midnight we'll be entering a whole new year. It's crazy to think back on everything that's happened up until now." "We've really been through a lot, haven't we?" "Yeah, from the Raging Wizardess to the BBW." "Not to mention the Black Robe Plague, to breaking your curse and even finding out about the Prince who was cursed to be trapped in the underground Labyrinth for all eternity. Not to mention the moment we freed him." "Don't forget about the newfound odd friendship between the once masked man; Hugo.". "That too." Alfonse smiled before closing his eyes and rest his head against Caesar's. They stayed that way for a little while before Alfonse let out a sigh and pulled away. "I wish we could have stayed like that for a while longer, but we have a party to get ready for soon. It's best if we go and see how the preparations are coming along." "Listen, I'm sure they have it under control, I mean what's the worse that can happen?" "Caesar, Zeus is on that committee, as is Hiro, Lucious, and Liz. Now why I understand that Liz can hold her ground, I do feel a bit bad considering she might be the only one doing any of the work." "I see your point. But after we go down and check you owe me some more quality time." "I wouldn't dream of doing anything but that." Alfonse replied with a smile before walking out of the dorms and straight to the auditorium, hand in hand with Caesar. When they arrived they both heaved a sigh at the sight that lied before them. Zeus had apparently eaten the snacks that Liz had brought and both Hiro and Lucious were chasing after him. Hiro then drew out his sword out and Caesar sprang into action. "Hey, hey hey! Don't be swinging a sword around here! Woah-" Barely dodging Hiro's attack, Caesar found himself tumbling on the ground, prompting Alfonse to call out to him. "Caesar, are you alright?!" "I'm fine! Go find Liz, I'll try and handle this!" Alfonse nodded and walked around the auditorium; parts of it were already decorated and boy was a breathtaking sight. The colors chosen for this occasion was pearl and rose gold, both colors were quite a delight to one's eyes. As he navigated through, Alfonse spotted Liz and...Hugo? The two of them were sitting on the stage; Liz had her head resting on Hugo's shoulder and Hugo was gently stroking her hair while giving a kiss or two on her forehead. Next to them sat another pair, one that Alfonse was a bit unfamiliar with but had seen around the Academy from time to time. The long white-haired young man was having his hair braided by a dark-haired young man who wore foreign attire. The white-haired man took notice and called out to the one who was braiding his hair. "Hey Azusa? Was someone supposed to come see you?" "No? Why do you ask, Leon?" "Because there's a man standing here at the stage just looking at us..." "Huh? Oh! Alfonse!" Liz spoke up and greeted him with a smile. "How do you like the setup so far?" "I think it's amazing! I especially like what you're doing with the decor, like  the table topper candles." "Heh, I can't take all the credit, the candles were Hugo's idea." "It's nothing really..." "Azusa and Leon have been helping out a lot too," "Because Zeus and the other are goofing off?" "Well, I know they were working before, their job was to decorate the entrance." "There might be a delay with that." "What, why?!" "Because Hiro and Lucious were chasing after Zeus after he apparently ate the last of whatever snacks you brought." A groan escaped her lips and Liz found herself leaning into Hugo even more. "You've got to be kidding! If they're fighting then they might ruin all the stuff we've set up so far..." "I'll go and handle this, Goddess. You continue to take a rest." "But Hugo!" "No buts." His voice was stern as he removed himself from the stage and walked by Alfonse, off to the direction of where the chaos was going. Just as Hugo walked by, Caesar came walking forward, he seemed to be shaking his head and gave a sigh when he reached where Alfonse stood. "Caesar, are you alright?" "I'm fine, I may have bumped my head in the process of getting those guys to stop, but other than that, I'm fine." "You what?! Caesar come here and take a seat and don't you dare move!" Alfonse's voice was filled with a little worry while he frantically searched through his pockets, pulling out a small object and touching it with the tip of his wand. "Here, put this on your forehead." "Okay? But Al, I'm fine." "I don't care, just in case there's any swelling from the place of impact. I just want to make sure you're alright." A giggle resounded out and when Alfonse turned around, he saw Liz staring at them both. "You both are so cute!" "Liz!" The both of them shouted at her simultaneously and soon found themselves in a fit of laughter. During this time, Hugo had made his way back up to the stage area and took a seat. "Wow, that was fast! Hugo, how did you do it?" "I froze them in time." "Wait...you what?! Hugo!" "I'll unfreeze them in a little bit, right now we don't have to worry about them damaging anything. Not to mention the added bonus of having some noise-free relaxing time by my goddess's side." Saying that, Hugo wrapped his arms around Liz and pulled her into a hug, where he rested his forehead against hers. "Who's the cute ones now?" Alfonse grinned as he teased her and Liz found herself becoming a blushing mess. "I think we should leave the lovebirds alone and head out. You made a promise anyway." Caesar smirked and he watched as Alfonse gave a cute smile; the same cute smile that he'd make when he was happy about something. "You're right. We'll see you guys later at the party, alright?"

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

With that, they waved off before retreating back to their dorms for the alone time that Alfonse had promised. "Finally." Caesar spoke before plopping down on his bed, causing Alfonse to let out a chuckle. "You really wanted out of there that bad?" "Well, sort of. I mean, we've been working to the brink of exhaustion lately, any chance I get to come and relax or spend time with you is important to me. So while I do love seeing our friends, I also love enjoying the small moments we get to share as a couple. I mean come on! When's the last time we went on a date?" "The last time we went on a date, I kissed you and you turned into a pig, then the chef tried to catch you and roast you on a spit." "Oh...right." A shiver went up his spine as he recalled the memory. " But despite that part, the date itself was enjoyable." "It was. I'm not going to deny it. To be honest, I would like to go on more dates with you.....and so much more..."Alfonse's voice trailed off into a hushed whisper. "Wait, what was that last part?" "It's nothing. Hey, you know what we could do now?" "What?" "Well we still have a few hours until the party, I was thinking now would be as good a time as ever to do this.”

“Do wh-”

Cutting Caesar midsentence, Alfonse’s lips made contact with his, initiating a sweet but passionate kiss. He then wrapped one arm around him and pulled Caesar closer to his body. When he broke the kiss, Alfonse looked at him directly in his eyes before whispering I love you over and over again gently before holding him in his arms.

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

They weren’t sure for how long they had been asleep, but they knew that if they didn’t get themselves ready soon, they’d be late for the nightly festivities.

“Wait, have you seen my bowtie?”

“This one?”Alfonse asked.

“Yes, thank you.” Taking the bowtie, Caesar quickly gave a peck on Alfonse’s lips before putting it on. “Now… how do I look?”

“Breathtaking.”

Clearing his throat, Caesar attempted to hide his embarrassment and turned away from Alfonse’s view. “We should probably get going, or we really will be late.”

“You’re right, but hey before we go I need to get something, you can go on ahead, I won’t take but maybe a minute.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Okay…”

Once Alfonse was alone in the room, he made his way over to his nightstand and took out a key from one of the pockets on his prefect uniform. Taking the key, he unlocked a secret compartment and once opened, revealed a small object in the corner. Gently taking the object in his hands, he tucked it away and locked the secret compartment back up and placed the key back where it belonged before heading out the room.

Meanwhile, down at the end of the hallway stood Caesar who seemed to be patiently waiting for someone. He had been pacing back and forth in the empty hallway for a little while but stopped when he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. There, heading right in his direction was Alfonse. The moonlight that was pouring in from the windows accented his features and before he knew it, Caesar found himself blushing at the sight of his boyfriend.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. Shall we get going?”

“Yes..”

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The two of them walked hand in hand, to the auditorium, on their way there, they ran into a large cluster of people, which slowed their arrival time down by quite a bit. Regardless though, they managed to get into the area; which was lively beyond words. Music was blaring from the magic speaker invention that Randy had created for the occasion. The table-topper candles were captured in magic bubbles and now floated in the air in the room, dimly illuminating the room in a soft orangish hue.

“I thought this place looked good in the daytime but seeing it now is just…” As he spoke, Caesar looked around and felt a squeeze on his hand.

“I know…”

“Hey you two!”

A familiar voice called out to the couple and when they turned in the direction from where the voice came from, they saw Liz walking towards them with Hugo in tow.

“Good to see a couple of familiar faces.” Alfonse spoke up.

“Leon and Azusa are here too, they’re the ones who were on the stage with Hugo and I earlier.”

“Oh? They came together?”

“Yep, they even came in matching Hinomoto formal attire. It’s so cute!”

“You and Hugo seem to be matching too.”

“O-oh, so you noticed?” Scratching her cheek gently, Liz began to blush. “It was kind of accidental.”

“Really, how so?”

“We went shopping and well… the lady running the store at the time told us about these matching New Year couple outfits.” Liz explained.

“The way the goddess looked at the outfits...I decided we would get them.” Hugo added.

“So it was Hugo who chose them?”

“She looked happy…”

���To me, you both look rather happy.” Caesar interjected and flashed a grin at the both of them.

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The two couples engaged in some more small talk, they shared a few laughs, they all danced and even went to a table and had a few bites to eat before waving one another off and headed their separate ways to other parts of the auditorium. Caesar and Alfonse had found themselves making their way outside, where an outside seating area had been set up. Floating lanterns lit up the area, as did the stars and moon in the crisp clear night.

The scene was perfect, everything was perfect. Looking over, Alfonse could see Caesar looking up at the stars, a smile on his face *this is it, do it now while he’s distracted!*. Alfonse took a deep breath and reached in and grabbed out the small object that he had grabbed earlier and cleared his throat, grabbing Caesar’s attention.

“Al?!” Caesar took a step back, taking in the view that was right in front of him.

Alfonse was on one knee and was looking up at Caesar with almost teary eyes, in one hand he held a small velvet box and opened it, revealing a sparkling ring.

“Caesar, I know this seems so sudden, I know that it was only this year that I confessed my love to you. We don’t have to get married right away but… I know that I want to be more than just your boyfriend. I want to be by your side Caesar, that’s where I belong. After being alone for so long….I never believed that I could love someone truly… that was… until you showed up in my life. So what do you say, Caesar? Will you allow me to be by your side?”

“Al…” Caesar began speaking through tears “We’ve known each other for quite a while, even before we confessed our feelings, I always wanted to be by your side. Regardless of what I was, whether it be a friend, colleague or lover. I too know where I belong… and it’s with you Al.”

Without wasting another moment, Alfonse got up off of the ground an ran over to Caesar, giving him a tight squeeze. They stayed in one another’s embrace and inside, voices began to ring out.

“7….6….5….4….3...2...1! Happy New Year!”

At the signal, everyone inside gave a sweet kiss to the ones they loved. Hugo had wrapped his arms around Liz and pulled her close, giving her a sweet soft kiss upon her lips. Meanwhile, Azusa brushed away a few loose strands of hair from Leon’s face before giving him a kiss as well.

Outside, Caesar lifted Alfonse’s chin upwards and gave him a loving kiss.

“I love you, Alfonse.”

“I love you as well, Caesar.”

“I can’t believe the year has ended….”

“But a new one has arrived and opened the door to so many possibilities.”

“And to a new chapter of our lives.”

The two embraced once more, knowing that their love would only continue to grow more and more with the years to come.

[thepinkmancut]

Outfit #172 “I Don’t Know If You’re into That”

Breaking Bad S05x07 “Say My Name”

So, I’ve been sitting on this one for ages. I love this scene so much and I’m like, how do I do it justice in my own stupid way? ◔.◔

Babe is in casual mode with a burgundy v-neck, grey hoodie and what I think is a black, coated denim jacket. It could be just a synthetic mimicking that look, but it’s effective regardless. I love casual Jesse, not just because he’s super cute in layers, but because it’s in his casual, ‘out of hours’ moments we get many of the best, emotionally raw scenes with Walt. The amount of times he nearly cries in this scene, but holds himself back, murders me. ⊙﹏⊙  That burgundy v-neck he wears gives us foreboding bad vibes, which feels right considering he gets his ass Heisenburn’d to high Hell here. He’s come to see Walt to tell him he’s out of the business, but is Walt having that? I should think not. Here’s a nice little summary of Walt’s Heisenburns from this scene:

You have nothing in your life except video games and go karts (extra points for burning J on a hobby he invited you to do with him)

If you aren’t working as Mr. Meth Maker, it’s only a matter of time before you turn to drugs again ↜ LOW

Let me remind you of your terrible, laughable coping skills, ie. curling up in a ball and crying, and hiding away to get high whenever something bad happens

We’ve done things just as bad as Todd killing Drew Sharp, but mostly GALE. You. Killed. Gale.

You’re a quitter who’s laying down like you’re already dead in Hell since you don’t want to cook meth with me any more (a bit over the top even for Walt, methinks)

You’re pure and have great emotional depth, and so you deserve no filthy blood money (he wasn’t even hiding his burn level behind manipulation at this point, it was just straight up imma cut you)

So, Walt brings up the concept of Hell here when he’s laying down the sick burns. After making a point of reminding Jesse that he killed Gale, he says:  “If you believe there’s a Hell, I don’t know if you’re into that, but we’re...we’re pretty much going there, right? But I’m not gonna lie down until I get there.” The crappy philosopher in me wants this scene rewritten so badly so we get a direct response from J (I wonder what The Schnauz would have written into Jesse’s mouth!). Does J think he’ll burn in some sort of Hell for everything he’s done, or does he believe redemption is possible? 

Walt is not at all concerned about a torturous, eternal damnation. He bridges Hell, and then introduces the concept of blood money, which I’m pretty sure J would’ve taken much longer to get to without the seed being planted, all to stir up Jesse’s emotions. This scene is really the introduction to Jesse’s arc for the rest of the series. Walt knows he’s losing Jesse to his conscience, and so he attempts to empower him by offering him his Very Own Cook™ using the logic that he’s every bit as good as him now (barf). He tries to persuade J that you can’t just throw away the luxury of being the very best at something. Talent is so rare, guys! But, once again Walt has misjudged the situation, and when these ‘empowerment’ techniques fall flat, he resorts to cold, hard manipulation. He decides to implant the seeds of life-ending guilt. He’s like, you’re going to Hell, AND I’ll be there! Oh, and good luck trying to do anything else with the rest of your earthly life ‘cause that money you think could save you from me, it’s tainted. Every dollar you spend will drag you further into the depths of Hell. Guys, if I thought I’d have to spend eternity spit-roasting in Hell with Walter White, I’d want to live the LONGEST LIFE possible. Omg. Vitamins and exercise every goddamn day. Wheatgrass shots. Even spinning class, for christ’s sake. 

Although clearly upset by every single thing Walt says to him (he needs a hug), J doesn’t allow himself to be swayed by Walt’s manipulations this time. He says nothing to insult Walt in this entire scene, and instead challenges Walt when he, yet again, says that if Jesse were to stay cooking with him, no one else will die. In the end, Jesse merely walks out on Walt. And damn, that shit is good. 

I’d kill to know what Jesse does with himself after this absolute onslaught of vileness from Walt. He’s gonna be real low all night. Since he’s been staying sober, I’m guessing he’s not going to lock himself up and get blitzed, and I would imagine Walt put him off both video games and go karts. Pizza, beer and Discovery channel? Wendy? Does he still ‘hang’ with Wendy these days? Maybe he’s moved on to high-class call girls, like Pretty Woman style. Oh, someone who’s not me please write that story. 

[cathygeha]

REVIEW

Highland Crown by May McGoldrick

Royal Highlander #1 In 1820 life in Scotland for the Scottish was one of oppression and being under the yoke of an occupying force. Having lived in such a situation I know that what the occupier and those being occupied experience is not the same. It is true of Scotland and many other countries that have been occupied in the past. There are atrocities perpetrated, freedom-fighters heroes of the country considered terrorists by the occupiers and...anyway...it has not changed in centuries and no doubt will remain the same for centuries. Anyway, this book is set in Scotland when England is occupying it. The English feel they have valid reasons for being there and doing what they are doing BUT that is definitely up for debate. The people that suffer most in situations like this are often the poor who are without means of any sort to deal with the political shenanigans and horrors they face but...they do often survive against the odds. So...I digressed but in doing so perhaps set the stage. There is a woman with a bounty on her head. She is wanted by the English and also by others. She believes she has found a place to hunker down and hide till she can move on to Halifax with her half-sister and step-daughter but while she waits to move on events are set in play that change her life entirely. A ship founders on the rocks of the bay near where she is hiding and when her skills as a physician are put into play saving the ship’s captain both her life and the captain’s are changed forever. This book contains a fair bit of politics and history but not to the detriment of the romance and the wonderful introduction to the books that will follow. We meet Isabella: physician, widow, step-mother, guardian of her half-sister, forward thinking female who is being hunted for treason. We also meet Captain Cinead MacKintosh: orphan, man of the sea, ship’s captain, man of honor, charismatic leader, superb lover, and more. That Isabella saves Cinead’s life is not lost on him and when he is able to return the favor he manages to do so even when not at his physical best. What I liked: * Isabella’s strength, intelligence, skills, calm demeanor, passion and so much more. * Cinead...I really liked him and how he managed to do what was needed even when he should have been laid flat on the floor PLUS he was a swoon-worthy book boyfriend – at least in my opinion. * Searc (though I think his name is said Shark) – his cunning and ability to play both sides for the benefit of all...especially himself. * Jean: for an older woman she is a great role model * Carmichael: the physician didn’t get a lot of time in the book but his role really supported Isabella’s abilities and character * The relationship between Isabella and Cinead and how the two grew together and as individuals. What I didn’t like: * Hudson the Hussar and his buddies – talk about people who deserve to be roasted on a spit over a fiery pit! * Habbie – and his village companions out to glean what they could from the ship that crashed on the rocks...I mean...really? Sure...the sea takes and it gives but it also gives not only goods from shipwrecks but also human lives that should be saved and not squandered! * The historical times – I hate reading about injustice...in the past or in the present and yet...sometimes the story has to have mention of these injustices to give them the setting and impact they need to solidify the story. What am I looking forward to in this series? (yes, I do want to read more in this series) * Finding out how Isabella and Cinead move forward now that they are a couple * Finding out more about Cinead’s background * Seeing who Maisie and Morrigan end up with * Finding out whether or not John Gordon survived his time under torture and finds a HEA. Thank you to NetGalley and St. Martin’s Press for the ARC – This is my honest review. 5 Stars

ABOUT HIGHLAND CROWN:

Scottish pride, persuasion, and passion—this is Highland romance at its breathtaking best.  Inverness, 1820 Perched on the North Sea, this port town—by turns legendary and mythological—is a place where Highland rebels and English authorities clash in a mortal struggle for survival and dominance. Among the fray is a lovely young widow who possesses rare and special gifts.  WANTED: Isabella Drummond A true beauty and trained physician, Isabella has inspired longing and mystery—and fury—in a great many men. Hunted by both the British government and Scottish rebels, she came to the Highlands in search of survival. But a dying ship’s captain will steer her fate into even stormier waters. . .and her heart into flames.  FOUND: Cinaed Mackintosh Cast from his home as a child, Cinaed is a fierce soul whose allegiance is only to himself … until Isabella saved his life—and added more risk to her own. Now, the only way Cinaed can keep her safe to seek refuge at Dalmigavie Castle, the Mackintosh family seat. But when the scandalous truth of his past comes out, any chance of Cinaed having a bright future with Isabella is thrown into complete darkness. What will these two ill-fated lovers have to sacrifice to be together…for eternity?

EXCERPT

Cinaed looked up into a woman’s face. Fine black eye- brows arched over brown eyes that were focused on his chest. Thick dark hair was pulled back in a braid and pinned up at the back of her head. Intent on what she was doing, she was unaware that he was awake.

Her brow was furrowed, and lines of concentration framed the corners of her mouth. The grey travel dress she wore was plain and practical. She was not old, but not young either. Not fat, not thin. From where he lay, he guessed she was neither tall nor short. She was beautiful, but not in the flashy way of the women who generally greeted sailors in the port towns. Nor was she like the eyelash-fluttering lasses in Halifax who never stopped trying to get his attention after a Sunday service. He didn’t bother to assess the pleasant symmetry of her face, however. The “brook no nonsense” expression warned

that she wasn’t one to care what others thought of her looks, anyway.

But who was she?

The last clear memory he had was seeing a flash from the shore. The next moment his chest had been punched with what felt like a fiery poker. Everything after that floated in a jumbled haze. He recalled being in the water, trying to swim toward some distant shore. Or was he struggling to reach the longboat again?

Cinaed didn’t know what part of his body hurt more, the fearsome pounding in his head or the burning piece of that poker still lodged in his chest.

“Where am I?” he demanded. “Who the deuce are you?”

Startled, she sat up straight, pulling away and scowl- ing down at him. In one blood-covered hand, she held a needle and thread. In the other, a surgeon’s knife that she now pointed directly at his throat.

“Try to choke me again and I’ll kill you.” “Choke you? For the love of God, woman!”

His ship. The reef. The explosion. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to clear away the fog. Everything he’d been through struck him like a broad- side.

The Highland Crown was gone. He’d detonated the powder himself. Where were his men? He’d climbed into the last longboat. They’d been fired at from the beach. He’d been shot.

Cinaed grabbed the knife-wielding wrist before she could pull it away. “Where are my men?”

An ancient woman in Highland garb slid into his line

of sight behind the younger one. She was making sure he saw the cudgel she had over one shoulder.

“This one is worth less than auld fish bait, mistress,” she taunted. The crone was ready and obviously eager to use that club. “And thankless, too, I’m bound. I was right when I said ye should never have saved him.”

Should never have saved him. He released the wrist, and the hand retreated. But the dark-haired woman didn’t move away. As if nothing had happened, she dropped the knife on the cot, out of his reach. The brown eyes again focused on his chest, and she put her needle back to work.

He winced but kept his hands off the woman.

By all rights, he should be dead. A musket ball had cut him down and knocked him into the water. He should in- deed be finished. Someone on shore had tried to kill him.

But he was alive, and apparently he owed his life to this one. Gratitude flowed through him.

“Want me to give him another knock in the head?” the old witch asked.

“Last stitch. Let me finish,” she said in a voice lacking the heavier burr of the northern accent. “You can kill him when I’m done.”

A sense of humor, Cinaed thought. At least, he hoped she was joking. She tied off the knot, cut the thread, and straightened her back, inspecting her handiwork. He lifted his head to see what kind of quilt pattern she’d made of him. A puckered line of flesh, topped by a row of neat stitches, now adorned the area just below his collarbone. He’d been sewn up by surgeons before, and they’d never done such a fine job of it. He started to sit up to thank her.

That was a grave mistake. For an instant, he thought the old woman had used her cudgel, after all. When he pushed himself up, his brain exploded, and he had no doubt it was now oozing out of his ears and eye sockets. The taste of bilge water bubbled up in his throat.

“A bucket,” he groaned desperately.

The woman was surprisingly strong. She rolled him and held a bucket as his stomach emptied. She’d been ex- pecting this, it appeared. However horrible he was feeling before, it was worse now as the room twisted and rocked and spun. Long stretches of dry heaves wracked his body. “Blood I can deal with,” the old woman grouched from somewhere in the grey haze filling the room. He heaved

again. “By all the saints!”

“I’ll clean up later. Don’t worry about any of this. Go sit by the fire, Jean. You’ve had a long night.”

Cinaed felt a wet cloth swab the back of his neck and his face.

Jean mumbled something unintelligible about “weak- bellied�� and “not to be trusted” and “a misery.” When he hazarded a glance at her, she was glaring at him like some demon guarding the gates of hell.

“Does my nephew know that yer a doctor?” she asked, not taking her eyes off of him as she snatched up the knife and handed it to the younger woman.

A doctor! He lifted his head to look at her again. She was definitely a woman. And a fine-looking one, at that. He was still breathing, and she’d done an excellent job on whatever damage had been done to his chest by the bullet. But the possibility of any trained physician, or even a surgeon, being here in this remote corner of the High- lands was so implausible. Male or female.

“John knows.”

“But ye say yer not a midwife,” Jean persisted, a note of disbelief evident in her tone. “And not just a surgeon, in spite of all them fine, shiny instruments in that bag of yers.”

“I trained as a physician at a university. But I’m find- ing that my abilities as a surgeon have more practical uses wherever I go.”

University trained. Cinaed stole another look at her. She had an air of confidence in the way she spoke and acted that convinced him that she was telling the truth. And for the first time since the Highland Crown struck that reef, he wondered if his good fortune was still hold- ing, if only by thread. Lady Luck, apparently, had sent him Airmid, his own goddess of healing.

Long-forgotten words, chanted over some injury, came back to him from childhood. Bone to bone. Vein to vein. Skin to skin. Blood to blood. Sinew to sinew. Marrow to marrow. Flesh to flesh . . .

From the floor, she retrieved a bowl containing bloody cloths. A musket ball lay nestled like a robin’s egg on the soaked rags. By the devil, he thought, his admiration nearly overflowing. She’d not only stitched him together, she’d dug the bullet out of him.

The deuce! He’d never seen anyone like her. Frankly, he didn’t care if she came from the moon to practice medicine here. He owed his life to her.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Authors Nikoo and Jim McGoldrick (writing as May McGoldrick) weave emotionally satisfying tales of love and danger. Under the names of May McGoldrick and Jan Coffey, these authors have written more than thirty novels and works of nonfiction. Nikoo, an engineer, also conducts frequent workshops on writing and publishing and serves as a Resident Author. Jim holds a Ph.D. in Medieval and Renaissance literature and teaches English in northwestern Connecticut. They are the authors of Much ado about Highlanders, Taming the Highlander, and Tempest in the Highlands.

Buy this book: https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250314987

Author website: https://www.maymcgoldrick.com/

Author Twitter: @MayMcGoldrick

Author Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MayMcGoldrick/

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