#i also got a few cannas the same way and buried them last month so it'll be another surprise if/when they come up

[jensownzoo]

This past fall there was a box on the walkup to one of the houses I pass when I go to the library. It said "free irises" and was full of bare tubers. So I took a couple and buried them in one of my flower beds. I had no idea what they were going to look like (assuming they survived the winter).

Jackpot! Love it. Free plants ftw.

[writeawayjake]

Got a fun Flashback Chapter!!!

    Could this finally be it? He wondered. After months of following old legends and grasping at shadows, had they finally found it?

    The entrance sat, carved into a sheer rock face. The type of stone, a pale gray granite, marked it as a place sacred to dwarves. Faded runes worn away by the centuries and covered in lichen marked it as a place of ancient importance. He'd never learned the language of the dwarves, few men even could. Hell he'd barely learned to read his own.

    "Brock," Kayle asked, jaw slackened in awe. "Can you read it?"

    "Ahm afraid no' lad. Mah people haven't spoke thus dialect in ages. Ah could pick out maybe a word er two."

    "It's better than nothing. Go ahead."

    "Cair - caaair," he muttered under his breath.  "No KAR. Kar gorim. Ach, somethin' 'bout the morning. The one who finds tha mornin' I don't know. I told ya I cannae read tha bloody thing."

    Placing a hand on his shoulder Jared gave the old grumbler a reassuring look. 

    With a sigh, Kayle's face twisted in a frustrated frown. 

    "Well, no point in standing out here gawking all day. Let's go." Trudging toward the narrow opening Kayle's hulking frame took up the entire space. It was frankly surprising he was even able to get in at all. With some grunting and effort he eventually squeezed his way in. Once he was out of sight things became eerily quiet.

    The rest of them waited outside for a moment, holding their breath and waiting for something to break the silence. 

    Jared's eyes narrowed, muscles tensing, readying himself for what might come. He noticed Brock's grip on his axe tightening and Oren beginning to take an arrow from its quiver. Without even thinking he slowly shuffled himself between Nyah and the entrance to the cave.

   "Come little brother! Or are you afraid of the dark?" A voice echoed from within the ancient cavern. 

    "Jackass…" Jared muttered, relaxing his shoulders and unclenching his jaw. The others let out a relieved sigh as well.

    They all made for the entrance, having to enter single file. Oren let brock go first follower by Nyah. He motioned for Jared to enter,

    "Oh after you," He replied with an overly swishy gesture and posh accent.

    With a scoff and a smirk Oren entered the old temple, taking care that his bow didn't hit the walls. Jared took one last look outside before entering the dusty gloom, maybe it was an old habit of making sure he wasn't being followed, or maybe he was just trying to appreciate the sun and fresh air for what could be the last time. He honestly couldn't say.

    Letting a small sigh out through his nose he started after his comrades. After feeling his way along the walls for a moment and trying to follow the sounds ahead of him, his eyes finally adjusted to the darkness. They adjusted pretty well actually. Too well. His vision was good but never this good, plus it had never left a blue tinted to everything he saw. 

    Taking a closer look he saw millions of little blue lights wriggling along the ceiling and walls of the cavern. Glow worms, glow worms feeding on glowing blue lichen that clung to the stone bathing them in soft pale light. 

   Jared found himself wondering if that was how the ancient Dwarves had lit their caverns.

    "They're beautiful," he heard Nyah say awestruck. 

    Without his permission he felt a smile cross his face as he heard the wonderment in her voice. He found himself doing that a lot lately. For the first time in a long time he noticed himself feeling happy more often than not. 

    He was never quite sure how to define love, every persons definition seemed to be different. His mother had described it as a warmness that you felt all over, his father as a glow in your chest. Brock described in a long list of lewd metaphors usually regarding someone ending up with a black eye whereas Kayle said he didn't understand the question. Oren simply pondered the question a while before simply smiling and then holding his hand to his chest. 

   As far as he could tell, Jared felt all of those at once but something about it was so much more intense. He felt as if he'd burst into flames if he had to hold it in while also somehow feeling completely at peace around her. 

    Catching up he watched her gaze at the glowing edifice. The blue light glowing on her cheeks and leaving a twinkle in her eyes. He must have been wearing a rather stupid grin as she noticed him staring and chuckled, 

    "What?" 

    "Nothin." He said smiling.

    She nudged his shoulder sweetly as she took his hand in hers. Together they walked hand in hand towards the relic they'd been searching for for months. 

    All around them the glow worms illuminated ancient runes and glyphs, no doubt detailing the histories of mighty kings and epic battles, great feasts and famines. The whole saga of a bygone empire. But they weren't here for a history lesson, they'd come for the weapon. The weapon that could end all this awfulness.

    Every child grew up hearing stories of the legendary rune forged sword. Said to be so sharp you could cut yourself just thinking about it, so holy it could banish any evil, so strong a pissed off giant couldn't break it. The greatest work of the greatest smith's who had ever lived. It was a legend but so far nothing else anyone tried had worked on the Dark Lord. Pinning their hopes on legends seemed foolish but no one else was trying, so why not?

    Kayle led them down the winding corridors of the ancient temple. Eventually opened  into a massive vaulted chamber, towering pillars bearing the faces of revered ancestors circled a large rune covered plinth that supported an anvil the size of an ox. Topping the ancient rusted anvil was what they sought. The blade. 

    A modest bastard sword, it's blade buried in the steel work surface. Rather underwhelming for such a legendary weapon truth be told. Its hilt consisted of a black leather wrapped handle and simple steel fittings with complex yet unremarkable silver inlays.

    "That's it?" Kayle asked incredulously.

    "Maybe it's a test?" Brock mused, stroking his beard. 

    "Well. One way to find out I suppose." Making his way up a small set of stairs on the side of the plinth, he reached out for the sword. The moment Kayle placed his hand on the hilt a bright light flashed from its blade, nearly blinding them all. 

    After a moment of hard squinting they were able to finally notice that the light was coming from runes running along the length of the plinth.

    "Brooock." Kayle asked tentatively. "What's going on?"

    Straining to make out the runes Brock replied, "Something about the worth or worthy - Only the worthy." 

    Naturally assuming that meant him Kayle yanked on the sword, then tugged on it, then wrenched and heaved with all his might but to no avail. Veins in his neck showed as he strained to remove the ancient blade. His arms shook and his face went red yet it simply did not move. 

    This didn't make sense. Kayle was everything a hero was supposed to be, handsome, strong, charming (to most milk maids anyway), and an excellent swordsman. If anyone was worthy it had to be him. 

    "Is there anything else?" Nyah asked. "A password oooor a ritual?" 

    "Maybe you're s'possed to push." Jared quipped. 

    "By all means try your luck little brother." Kayle panted.

    "There's no way it'll budge for me. I'm probably the least worthy one here. Hell have Nyah try before you ask me to give it a go."

    "Ooooh no, yer not getting me involved in your dick measuring contest." She chuckled. 

    "Brock? Oren?" He asked. They both simply shrugged and gestured toward the anvil.

    Fuck it, might as well, he thought with a sigh.

Trudging up to the anvil Jared shook his head at the pointlessness of the scenario. He was a street tough - a dirty fighting, bread stealing, dock workers son. Not a hero, not a leader, and certainly not pure of heart. 

Making his way up the steps to the anvil, Jared took a breath before casually gripping the hilt. 

A surge of lightning shot through his arm and he recoiled in surprise. He simply stood there like a dumbass trying to blink things into making sense. Had it done that to Kayle? Was it normal for that to happen? 

“Well little brother? Did it bite you or something?”

That answered those questions but only created more. Was it because he was so unworthy that the sword was rejecting him? Realizing that standing there all day wouldn’t solve anything he decided to try again. 

For some reason he couldn’t explain he looked over to Nyah. Maybe he was worried the sword could kill him, maybe he was worried she’d think less of him if he failed, or maybe it was just for reassurance. 

Turning back to the sword, he reached his hand out yet again. Gripping the hilt with a bit more purpose this time, he felt the electric surge yet again, this time however, there wasn't any pain. It was more like a violent vibrating, like holding a hummingbird in your hand. The rapid tremors shook his arm to the point where he had to focus intensely just to pull. Despite his muscles not cooperating, the blade itself began to move, sliding from the anvil like a warm stone on ice. 

As the blade freed itself from the anvils tight embrace, a blinding white light filled the room. A second sun chasing away the dull blue of the glow worms. Blinding Jared and no doubt everyone else in the shrine. A long moment passed before the light began to fade to a humming glow. His vision finally returned, Jared could see an exquisite blade, bright and dark steel rippling in patterns like waves or woodgrain. A keen edge that showed no sign of age and a fuller covered in ensorcelled  runes that glowed with the same bluish hue of the worms. 

The violent hum in the handle had subsided and became something more akin to a slow and calm heartbeat. Starring dumbfounded, Jared couldn’t come to terms with what he was seeing - with what had happened. This was impossible. It couldn’t be happening - it shouldn’t be happening. 

            "I - I'm not a hero. I'm not - a hero. I'm…" he stammered, tears forming in his eyes.

[takemeawaytocamelot]

A Wild Night in Vegas -- Part 18.3

Alrightie darlings! The final installment of chapter 18! Thanks for sticking with us! I’m pretty sure @outlandishchridhe and I had this part written before Fergus had even been born. It’s been sitting in our ‘written ideas’ doc for AGES and now we can FINALLY share it with you!! Buckle up because it’s a steamy one!

Catch up on 18.1 HERE and 18.2 HERE

Previously...

She let out a deep breath of relief and leaned against him. He put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her close, glad they’d talked this out.

“It’s so quiet,” she whispered, afraid to break the spell.

“It is,” he replied equally as soft. “I could give Murtagh a ring and get him back if ye miss the noise s’much,” he continued, laughing softly, knowing without looking that the look on his wife’s face would be one of disdain.

Her head lifted and she pulled his face so she could look through her lashes at him. She had the most beautiful eyes, like the depths of the ocean, mysterious and fathomless.

“Perhaps another time. I think I owe him a proper apology, but I’m enjoying our time alone.”

“Aye,” he said, hooking one finger under her chin, stopping her from laying her head back on his shoulder. “So am I.”

Her kiss was soft, gentle, and hungry. There was a hint of vegetables on her tongue, making him smile as he recognized the flavor of cucumbers. They hadn’t kissed like this in weeks, usually only a quick peck here and there while one of them tended the bairn.

But that bairn was asleep and there wasn’t another soul drifting around the apartment. They were as alone as they’d ever be and he planned to take advantage of it. By unspoken agreement, they moved further onto the bed, Claire laying down on her back as she pulled Jamie above her.

“If I recall,” he said, sliding his hand beneath her shirt. “You promised me anything I wanted if I got Murtagh to go and kept wee Fergus home.”

“I was hoping you’d forget about that.”

“No’ a chance,” he laughed huskily, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

Slowly, teasingly, he began kissing down her neck, tugging her sweats down with him.

“Really?” she asked, glancing at him with a quirked eyebrow. “That’s what you’re doing first?”

“Never heard ye complain about it before. And besides, I believe I ha’ a debt to repay if I’m no’ mistaken.” She smiled widely.

“Oh that’s not a complaint, I just thought-”

He didn’t need to hear what she thought. All he needed to hear was her wee squeaks and groans as he tasted her.

“Ye ken,” he said a moment later, pushing her thighs apart so he could breathe. “Some women shave or wax their honey pot?”

“How the hell would you know that?” she asked, chest heaving.

“I heard talk, from some of the women in the show, but also from the lads I used to work wi’.”

Forcing her eyes open, she looked down at him.

“And why, exactly, are you thinking about shaved honeypots right now?”

His tongue darted out and she flinched.

“Weel… It’s only I’m glad yers isna. I think it’s verra sexy to keep ye as natural as can be.”

“W-would you rather I s-stop shaving my legs too?”

Enjoying himself too much, he delayed answering for a little while.

“I think I’d leave that to you,” he said as he caught his breath. “I think you’re verra beautiful anyway, that would only make ye better.”

“You really want me to walk around with gorilla legs?!”

“I said,” he breathed the scent of her arousal deeply. “I’d leave it to you.”

He cut off whatever her next statement was by burying his face between her legs. She filled each of his senses until they nearly overloaded, but he didn’t stop until she was shaking.

“Jamie, please,” she begged. “I need you inside me.”

“Oh I’m no’ done yet. Just be patient, mo chridhe.”

She groaned and tried to roll onto her side, but he kept her pinned down.

“Oh, fuck me,” she complained.

“I promise I will. But it’s been some time since I made love to ye properly and I’m gonna take my time about it, aye?”

“You dirty Scottish bastard. You’re torturing me on purpose.”

Pulling himself up, he turned her face to his and kissed her deeply.

“Ye sound surprised, Sassenach.”

“I’m not. Not when I promised you anything, which I now regret.” She took a steadying breath. “Well… Maybe I’m a little surprised.”

He gave her a reproachful look and clicked his tongue at her.

“Thought ye kent me verra weel by now.”

He bit gently on the side of her neck while one hand moved slowly down her stomach.

“I do. Which is why I thought you’d want the back way with my ‘sweet round arse’ in the air.”

She’d tried to mimic his accent which only made her sound silly. He smiled into her neck, releasing the skin for a moment.

“I’ll work my way there. But how can I no’ worship the body that carried and delivered my son? My first born? How can I rush loving you when I’ve no’ been blessed wi’ the ability in so long?”

“My. God. You’re such a romantic! Where’s the crazed passionate knight I knew only a few months ago?”

“He’s waiting. Now hush, Sassenach. Can ye no’ see I’m busy?”

Returning to the faint red spot on her neck, he dipped his free hand between her legs. She was slick and sensitive from his attentions already and it didn’t take long for her to start whimpering. The way her moans got louder nearly drove him into a frenzy. But he’d meant it when he’d said he would take his time with her.

Watching as her face contorted in her pleasure, he captured her lips just before her cry released. One of her hands let go of the quilt she’d been gripping and instead took hold of his hair, pulling him harder against her. His scalp stung and he felt a few hairs pop free.

He could feel her heart thundering in her chest as he kissed the valley between her breasts. Sweat covered her pale body and he longed to taste every bit of it. Her hand shook as she combed her fingers through his hair.

“Are you… ever going to make love to me properly?” she asked, breathless.

Looking down at her, he gave her his best ‘you canna be serious’ face.

“Do ye really think, after all this, that my balls are’na aching something fierce? Or that my cock isna throbbing painfully?”

“If it’s so bad, darling,” she said too sweetly. “Perhaps you should do something about it.”

Both blue eyes glittered at him, filled with lust and longing.

“Perhaps,” he said, pulling her up with him as he got to his knees. “I just might.”

“Finally!” she moaned loudly, eyes raging with lust.

Arms tight around her, he kissed her for a long while. One of her arms wrapped around his neck while the other snuck between his legs and stroked him slowly. Before long, she had his hips rocking in time with her strokes and she smiled against his lips.

“Still throbbing?”

“No’ for long.”

Reaching down, he grabbed the backs of her thighs and pulled her legs around him, which forced her onto her back again. She was smiling and giggling up at him and he prepared himself to finally have her again. But then he stopped.

“Oh for Christ’s sake, Jamie!” she yelled when he hopped suddenly off the bed. “What the bloody hell is wrong with you?!”

“Safety first, my lady,” he said, digging in the nightstand drawer for a condom.

They hadn’t needed to use one for some time, with her being pregnant. But now that she’d given birth, they had to be careful again.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m no’ sure if you remember, Sassenach. But something happened that first time we had unprotected sex. I just canna seem to recall exactly what that was…”

“You’re a cruel man, James Fraser.”

Her glare intensified as he opened the foil wrapper slowly.

“I told ye I’d take my time.”

“And if you take your time any slower, I’m going to finish without you and make you watch.”

Rolling the condom on, he smirked at her.

“Perhaps another time, Sassenach. I think it would be interesting to watch ye pleasure yourself.”

“Interesting?”

“Aye. I ken my way round your honeypot pretty well by now, but I think I’d enjoy seeing what ye do wi’ it yourself.”

Eyes narrowing, she began to run her left hand down her body, her ring catching in the silver moonlight.

“Keep talking and you’ll find out.”

“I said another time,” he growled, crawling above her. “No’ now.”

Pushing her hand away, he nudged her legs apart and guided himself home. God almighty, he thought. If she was any hotter, she’d burn him on contact. A choked groan of pleasure escaped him at the same time as her sigh.

“Yes,” she said in a dreamy voice. “Much better.”

As much as his aching balls told him to ride her hard, he moved slowly instead. For one thing, he was still aware that his son was asleep only a few feet away. For another, he didn’t need Claire’s screams to wake the boy and force them to end early. Above all else, though, he didn’t want to hurt her. This was their first time after she’d delivered Fergus and he was aware it could sometimes be painful or uncomfortable. That had been the other part of him teasing her for so long. Claire thought he’d stopped reading the blog he’d found online, now that their son had been born. But he wanted to be able to care for her as best he could, so he’d continued reading and absorbing the information. Hopefully he’d done his job and it wouldn’t hurt her too much.

So he loved her slowly, tenderly. Her hips lifted to meet his in their gentle rocking. Each time he was fully inside her, he felt her relax a little more. The tension in her legs released little by little, her fingers stopped digging into his shoulder and buttocks. When her breath caught and she made a tiny sound, he thought he’d pushed too hard and hurt her.

“Are ye alright, a nighean?”

“Yes! Yes I’m alright.”

“I didna hurt ye?”

“No. No you didn’t hurt me one bit. Actually, I think you could move a little more now and I’ll be fine.”

He searched her eyes for a moment to be sure she wasn’t saying that for his sake. Deciding she was ready, he let his body rock a little harder. Still, he was careful to not let it go too far. The last thing he wanted was to damage her.

She’d been right, she was ready for it. As soon as he’d picked up his pace, she began to shudder and squeak the way she usually did. All his teasing earlier ensured this would not be a long night for either of them, but it would be enough. He pulled himself up just enough to watch her full breasts bounce in response to his thrusts.

Her eyes opened slowly and she met his gaze.

“I love you,” she said in a strong voice. “I love you.”

Fire erupted in his veins and he lost all sense of reality. Nothing in the world was more beautiful than those words coming from her lips. He collapsed down on top of her, still mindful that he didn’t crush her.

They lay with their heads nearly hanging off the foot of their bed, both breathing as heavily as if they’d just completed a marathon.

“I almost forgot how good you are at that,” she panted.

“What!? Ye forgot?!” he whisper-yelled with faux indignation.

“I said almost!”

Rolling his head to glare at her, he caught the twinkle in her eye as she fought to restrain her giggles.

“Clearly I canna be that good if ye forgot after a few weeks wi’out!”

“I said almost!”

“I’ll just have to take it upon myself to remind ye every opportunity I have. Make sure ye never come close to forgetting that again.”

Claire rolled onto her side, arm tucked beneath her head, and yawned.

“You’re a good man.”

The sound of Fergus’ fussing crackled through the baby monitor and Claire made to go pick him up.

“I’ll get the bairn. Rest now, mo graidh.”

Jamie hastily cleaned himself up and slipped back into his boxers before lifting his son out of the crib. Something they’d learned early on was how much little Fergus loved skin-to-skin contact. As soon as he felt his father’s warm skin on his cheek, he settled himself. Jamie eased himself back onto the bed, using the wall as support. Sleepily, Claire turned herself around and crawled up to rest her head against Jamie’s shoulder. He’d settled the lad in the middle of his chest, his tiny body moving with each breath they took.

“He really is a beautiful little boy,” she murmured.

“Aye. That he is, my Sassenach. That he is.”