#ooh look french so fancy ooh la la

[sequ0iart]

Shoot for The Moon 🌙

Inspired by the Japanese and Mayan moon rabbit folklore, and the 1888 Flammarion engraving from the book L'atmosphère : météorologie populaire.

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[voyageofthenautilus]

Translation Notes, Part 2

Mod Blue: After I saw @mysticalspiders contemplate whether the original translation of Twenty Thousand Leagues is less homoerotic, I decided to check for myself, and then I spiraled out of control and decided to use this post as a means of doing what I love to do: screaming about the differences between Mercier's original translation, and the Walter translation we're reading now.

I don't have the greatest eye for what is and what isn't considered romantic/erotic, but I figured Aronnax's physical description of Nemo was a good place to start. Here's an excerpt from Walter's translation:

"Without hesitation, I identified his dominant qualities-- self-confidence, since his head reared like a nobleman's above the arc formed by the lines of his shoulders, and his black eyes gazed with icy assurance; calmness, since his skin, pale rather than ruddy, indicated tranquility of blood; energy, shown by the swiftly knitting muscles of his brow; and finally courage, since his deep breathing denotes tremendous reserves of vitality."

Here's how Mercier translates the same passage:

"I made out his prevailing qualities directly: self-confidence-- because his head was well-set on his shoulders, and his black eyes looked around with cold assurance; calmness-- for his skin, rather pale, showed his coolness of blood; energy-- evinced by the rapid contraction of his lofty brows; and courage-- because his deep breathing denoted great power of lungs."

Leaving aside all the pseuoscience... I think it's still clear in Mercier's translation that Aronnax is captivated by Nemo, but the language isn't quite as rich (in my opinion) and is a bit more impersonal- Nemo's head "rearing like a nobleman" paints a much more compelling picture than merely being "well-set on his shoulders," and the "swiftly knitting muscles of his brow" is (to me) more physical and visceral than the "rapid contraction of his lofty brows." Still, this isn't all that different.

The differences led me to wonder which translation is truer to Verne's text, so I'll refer to it here:

"Je reconnus sans hésiter ses qualités dominantes - la confiance en lui, car sa tête se dégageait noblement sur l'arc formé par la ligne de ses épaules, et ses yeux noirs regardaient avec une froide assurance : - le calme, car sa peau, pâle plutôt que colorée, annonçait la tranquillité du sang ; - l'énergie, que démontrait la rapide contraction de ses muscles sourciliers ; le courage enfin, car sa vaste respiration dénotait une grande expansion vitale."

Google's word-for-word translation is as follows:

"I recognized without hesitation his dominant qualities - self-confidence, for his head stood out nobly on the arc formed by the line of his shoulders, and his black eyes gazed with cold assurance: - calmness, for his skin, pale rather than colored, announced the tranquility of blood; - energy, demonstrated by the rapid contraction of his eyebrow muscles; finally courage, for his vast breathing denoted a great vital expansion."

It seems Mercier was truer to the text with the "rapid contraction" line, but Walter hit the mark in the description of how Nemo's head rises above his shoulders (expanding on "nobly" to mean "like a nobleman"). And he also chose some more fanciful, descriptive synonyms that aren't present in the French language- "ruddy" for "colored/colorée," "swiftly knitting" for "rapid contraction/rapide contraction," "tremendous" for "great/grand."

Walter also restores two paragraphs following this passage which Mercier excised from his translation. These talk about the "harmony of [Nemo's] facial expressions" ("de l'homogénéité des expressions dans les gestes du corps et du visage") and how Aronnax felt "'involuntarily reassured'" in his presence ("Je me sentis « involontairement » rassuré en sa présence"). To that last line, I say- ooh la la. Shame Mercier cut it... (I would also like to know why "involuntarily reassured" is in quotes- is it referring to something that audiences at the time would have been familiar with?)

Also in Walter's translation, Aronnax describes Nemo as "the most wonderful physical specimen I had ever encountered." Now that's homoerotic if anything ever was. In Mercier's translation, Aronnax still seem attracted, but perhaps slightly less dazzled: "This man was certainly the most admirable specimen I had ever met." Verne's original is a bit closer to Mercier's, as far as I can tell: "Cet homme formait certainement le plus admirable type que j'eusse jamais rencontré" (as translated by Google: "This man was certainly the most admirable type I had ever met"). (I now ask if any native French speakers/anyone who didn't just take two years of Duolingo lessons before getting frustrated and giving up, like I did, can chime in on whether these translations I'm getting from Google are accurate or not.)

Finally, here's an excerpt from Walter's translation where Aronnax gushes over Nemo's eyes:

"When this stranger focused his gaze on an object, his eyebrow lines gathered into a frown, his heavy eyelids closed around his pupils to contract his huge field of vision, and he looked! What a look- as if he could magnify objects shrinking into the distance; as if he could probe your very soul; as if he could pierce those sheets of water so opaque to our eyes and scan the deepest seas...!"

To me, this reads very much as "ooh, Aronnax's got a crush." Meanwhile, Aronnax's thoughts are more subdued in Mercier's translation:

"When this stranger fixed upon an object, his eyebrows met, his large eyelids closed around so as to contract the range of his vision, and he looked as if he magnified the objects lessened by the distance, as if he pierced those sheets of water so opaque to our eyes, and as if he read the very depths of the seas."

One line seemed notably omitted here: what about Nemo "prob[ing] your very soul?!" Naturally I had to run to the original text to confirm, and yes, it is there: "comme il vous pénétrait jusqu'à l'âme !" Aronnax also uses exclamation points in this scene, which he doesn't in Mercier's translation, which I've noticed is common throughout- Nemo's "You are my prisoners of war! You attacked me!" speech ends each sentence with a period, as if he's saying everything in a calm, cool, and collected manner. The original text and Walter's translation are considerably more fiery with the usage of exclamation points.

Moving on from Aronnax's physical description of Nemo, I've seen others point out that the offer Nemo makes Aronnax and the ensuing tour of the Nautilus is very Beauty and the Beast/"I can show you the wooooorrrrld" (I know that's from Aladdin, don't worry, I've got my Disney movies straight). Here's Walter's translation of Nemo's initial offer:

"Let me tell you, professor, you won't regret the time you spend aboard my vessel. You're going to voyage through a land of wonders. Stunned amazement will probably be your habitual state of mind. It will be a long while before you tire of the sights constantly before your eyes. I'm going to make another underwater tour of the world-- perhaps my last, who knows?-- and I'll review everything I've studied in the depths of these seas that I've crossed so often, and you can be my fellow student. Starting this very day, you'll enter a new element, you'll see what no human being has ever seen before-- since my men and I no longer count-- and thanks to me, you're going to learn the ultimate secrets of our planet."

This definitely could be read as a romantic overture. How does it compare to Mercier's version of the scene? Well... Mercier actually cut everything following the "land of wonders" line. He also cut what I joked was an "intricate ritual" of Aronnax wanting to touch Nemo in an appropriate way:

"I thought the commander would offer me his hand to seal our agreement. He did nothing of the sort. I regretted that."

The only other moments that immediately came to mind for me to compare the texts were when Nemo told Aronnax that their cabins are right beside each other, and when he singled him out among Conseil and Ned to take him on the tour of the Nautilus. Both of these incidents are very much present in Mercier's translation.

[cwmorton]

Title: "The Hilariously Outrageous Guide to Street Eats, Bro!" Yo, yo, yo! You chillin', broheims? Alright, fam, get ready. Today, I'm about to share some real downtown wisdom about the best grub spots where your bucks can buy you bombastic bites that'll light you up like Times Square on New Year's Eve! We talkin' street food, baby! Let's rock and roll! First off, remove that silver spoon from ya mouth, scrap that Michelin Star crap, and don the mantle of some true culture crawling, my dudes. You put on those back-alley-ombre shades and get ready to hustle these heavenly havens of heartiness! 1. "The Hotdog Stand Hustle" Check it, brotatoes! Uptown, downtown, right on the corner of "Who cares?" and "I’m gonna chow down regardless"—there’s that magic moment when your beady little peepers spot that showstopper of a hot dog stand! Those dogs get grilled up better than your lame excuses for not texting back last weekend! Sloppy, scrumptious, and straight-up sinful, there's nothing like munching on a good ol' hotdog at 2 AM when you can’t remember your own name! 2. "The Taco Takedown" Listen up, amigos! Tacos are not just food—they're a freakin' street phenomenon! Gorge on guacamole-filled wonderfulness topped with the spiciest salsa, tucked into a teeny tortilla that makes your taste buds scream "Ay, caramba!" You might bite your tongue with the first crunch, and when the flavor hits, your tongue's like "Worth it, bro!" 3. "The Pretzel Pandemonium" Look, if you don't dig pretzels, we gotta problem, palski. Salty, dough delirium twisted into knots like your brains after one tequila shot too many! Whether it's a classic glazed baby or a loaded one sprinkled with some funky flavors, y'all ready to get twisted, fam? 4. "The Pizza Pie Hurl" Bro, even your Aunt Karen knows that there ain't no party like a pizza party! We ain't talkin' 'bout some fancy-schmancy cardboard cut-out crap from a Pizza Palace; we mean the real deal! The gooey meltdown of mozzarella on your mucky mitts that leaves a trail of tasty tomato sauce running down your chin, that’s the life, homies! 5. "The Crepe Crusade" Finally, to the land of the French! Ooh la la… let's sizzle and shimmy with some seriously sweet street sophistication – crepes! Delicate dollies of syrup-drenched satisfaction to flip those frowns upside down. Chocolate, strawberries, bananas - legit whatever your heart desires! So, there ya have it, my home slices! A slammin' and jammin' guide to the world's bomb-diggiest street eats! Get out there, and go gobble up the deliciousness that’s greasier than your hair gel! And hey, always remember - Calories don't count on the street, bro! Peace out!

https://oaidalleapiprodscus.blob.core.windows.net/private/org-ebiS2uoTJCiy7DgIarKqzpPd/user-LilFgADY9X3ssMBrnG5HyJkp/img-f7znXVa2yG1tXbgNh7JkHN1q.png?st=2024-02-25T20%3A40%3A52Z&se=2024-02-25T22%3A40%3A52Z&sp=r&sv=2021-08-06&sr=b&rscd=inline&rsct=image/png&skoid=6aaadede-4fb3-4698-a8f6-684d7786b067&sktid=a48cca56-e6da-484e-a814-9c849652bcb3&skt=2024-02-25T10%3A31%3A10Z&ske=2024-02-26T10%3A31%3A10Z&sks=b&skv=2021-08-06&sig=8%2BwFj8QAqEXMdmSm9Ivy7NFCkg%2BdGAH%2B4sJMCQQ81Wk%3DYo, yo, yo! You chillin', broheims? Alright, fam, get ready. Today, I'm about to share some real downtown wisdom about the best grub spots where your bucks can buy you bombastic bites that'll light you up like Times Square on New Year's Eve! We're talking about street food, baby! Let's rock and roll! First off, remove that silver spoon from your mouth, scrap that Michelin Star crap, and don the mantle of some true culture crawling, my dudes. You put on those back-alley-ombre shades and get ready to hustle these heavenly havens of heartiness! 1. "The Hotdog Stand Hustle" Check it, brotatoes! Uptown, downtown, right on the corner of "Who cares?" and "I’m gonna chow down regardless"—there’s that magic moment when your beady little peepers spot that showstopper of a hot dog stand! Those dogs get grilled up better than your lame excuses for not texting back last weekend! Sloppy, scrumptious, and straight-up sinful, there's nothing like munching on a good ol' hotdog at 2 AM when you can’t remember your own name! 2. "The Taco Takedown" Listen up,

[maemisnippets]

Homebuddy (ft. Hwang Yeji)

The house smells of flowers, the candles light up the room, and the man inside is suited up waiting for his partner to arrive. You hear keys rattle outside the door, you excitedly wait with anticipation, you stand in front of the door with flowers in hand. The door swings open.

“Ahhhh! Don’t look at me! I’m a mess!” With her hands covering her face and in her dance outfit, she runs to her room like a gremlin, a cute one. She immediately shuts the bedroom door as she gets in. She shouts, “I’ll be out in a second! Let me fix myself up!”

“Take your time, honey!” Not the start you expected for this evening, but given the quirks and dynamics of your relationship, it is one that is very fitting. Can’t complain though given that you ordered takeout. You can’t cook and God forbid, she can’t either.

It doesn’t take her long to get ready. As you were waiting for your food in the microwave, the bedroom door swings open. Out comes the woman of the hour in her stunning black dress, Hwang Yeji. You approach her. You kiss her hand as you greet her.

“Oh my, you didn’t have to do all this,” she blushes at your act of chivalry as she looks around the room.

“It’s our second anniversary. Of course, I want it to be special.” As you say that, you hear a loud ding from the kitchen. “Food’s ready!”

You lead her to the table and pull out her chair for her. As she is sitting, you get your food from the microwave but place it on a tray so it seems fancy.

With the tray in hand and your terrible French accent, you entice her. “For our dinner, mademoiselle.”

“Ooh.” She is impressed.

“We have…” You take the lid off. “...mint choco chicken.” You immediately see the disappointment on her face.

You lose the French accent. “I’m just kidding. We have chicken and salad, and mint choco ice cream later, which we can eat over there.” You point to the couch, where a blanket and some pillows are already set up.

“I would love that,” she replies excitedly.

You and Yeji enjoyed the night eating and talking, and ended the night sleeping cuddling on the couch after watching La La Land for the nth time together.

[toscrollperchancetomeme]

Lestat de Lioncourt - A playlist

So, guess who made a Lestat Playlist (like there aren't enough already) and decided to sit down for 4-6 hours to find some excerpt corresponding with each song? Featuring 80s and 90s music (clearly showing my age...) as well as many european songs and showtunes. Enjoy!

1. Cathedrals – Ramin Karimloo (Original by Jump, Little Children)

In the cathedrals of New York and Rome There is a feeling that you should just go home And spend the lifetime finding out just where that is

And that was not a good year for me. I was wandering aimlessly. I was sick of things. I was furious with myself that the „beauty“ of life wasn't sustaining me, wasn't making my loneliness bearable.

I wanted to join them. Always do want to join them and never do. „Go home,“ he whispered. - Prince Lestat

(I actually feel like there are quotes that would correspond to this song in every one of the books and indeed have not yet found any other song that captures the general spirit of The Vampire Chronicles as perfectly.)

2. Edge of Seventeen – Stevie Nicks

Well, I went today Maybe I will go again tomorrow Yeah yeah, well, the music there Well, it was hauntingly familiar Well, I see you doing what I try to do for me With the words from a poet and a voice from a choir And a melody, and nothing else mattered

He sat next to me, hugging me and asking me why I was crying, and though I couldn't tell him, I could see that he was overwhelmed that his music had produced this effect. There was no sarcasm or bitterness in him now. I think he carried me home that night. And the next morning I was standing in the crooked stone street in front of his father's shop, tossing pebbles up at his window. When he stuck his head out, I said: „Do you want to come down and go on with our conversation?“ - The Vampire Lestat

3. I ain't scared of lightning – Tom McRae

No I ain't scared of lightning And thunder never killed I was born in a summer storm and I live there still

I wasn't part of the world that cringed at such things. And with a smile, I realized that I was of that dark ilk that makes others cringe. Slowly and with great pleasure, I laughed.

And the labor that brought it forth was rapture such as I have never known. - The Vampire Lestat

4. Junge Roemer – Falco (Young Romans – Full Translation)

Don't ask for new old values See white light, see only feeling The night is ours till morning We play every game Don't ever let this journey end The doing comes only from the being Only from dimensions, that Are worth illusions and sensations Give me more, give me more, give me more...

... and again she laughed. „Ah, but we are splendid devils, aren't we?“ „Hunters of the Savage Garden,“ I said. „Then let's go into Paris,“ she said. - The Vampire Lestat

5. Running up that hill – Candy Says (Original by Kate Bush

If I only could, I'd make a deal with God, And I'd get him to swap our places, Be running up that road, Be running up that hill, Be running up that building,

„Not even with Nicolas?“ „No, god, no!“ I looked at her. She nodded slightly as if she approved of this answer. „Why not with Nicolas?“ she asked. I wanted this to stop. „Because he's young,“ I said, „and he has life before him.“ - The Vampire Lestat

6. Florence – Notre Dame de Paris (Full Translation)

The little things always triumph over the large And literature will kill architecture The school books will kill the cathedrals The Bible will kill the Church, and man will kill God This will kill that

„I never lived in it. I push against the glass. But how do I get in?“ „I can't tell you that,“ I said. „You have to study this age,“ Gabrielle interrupted. Her voice was calm but commanding. He looked towards her as she spoke. „You have to understand the age,“ she continued, „through its literature and its music and its art. You have come up out of the earth, as you yourself put it. Now live in the world.“ No answer from him. Flash of Nicki's ravaged flat with all its books on the floor. Western civilization in heaps. - The Vampire Lestat

7. Go your own way – Fleetwood Mac

Loving you isn't the right thing to do How can I ever change things that I feel

If I could maybe I'd give you my world How can I when you won't take it from me

You can go your own way You can call it another lonely day

„Keep your promise,“ she said. And quite suddenly I knew this was our last moment. I knew it and I could do nothing to change it. „Gabrielle!“ I whispered. But she was already gone. - The Vampire Lestat

8. Désenchantée – Olympe (Original by Myléne Farmer - Full Translation)

If death is a mystery Life isn't exactly tender If heaven has a hell Then heaven can still wait for me Tell me how to handle this headwind Nothing makes sense anymore, nothing's fine

Laughter. That insane music. That din, that dissonance, that never ending shrill articulation of the meaninglessness... Am I awake? Am I asleep? I am sure of one thing. I am a monster. And because I lie in torment in the earth, certain human beings move on through the narrow pass of life unmolested. - The Vampire Lestat

9. A kind of magic – Queen

The bell that rings inside your mind Is challenging the doors of time It's a kind of magic The waiting seems eternity The day will dawn of sanity

And quite completely I understood that it was looking for me, this sound, it was seeking me out.

Blood like light itself, liquid fire.

It seemed beneath the roar of the flow he spoke. He said again: „Drink, my young one, my wounded one.“ I felt his heart swell, his body undulate, and we were sealed against each other. I think I heard myself say: „Marius.“ And he answered: „Yes.“ - The Vampire Lestat

10. La quête – Bruno Pelletier (French version of „The Impossible Dream“ from Man of La Mancha)

To try when your arms are too weary To reach the unreachable star

This is my quest To follow that star Ooh, no matter how hopeless No matter how far

I would remain in New Orleans if New Orleans could only manage to remain. Whatever I suffered should be lessened in this lawless place, whatever I craved should give me more pleasure once I had it in my grasp. And there were moments on that first night in this fetid little paradise when I prayed that in spite of all my secret power, I was somehow kin to every mortal man. - The Vampire Lestat

11. Wicked Game – Chris Isaak

What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you

Yet Louis gained a hold over me far more powerful than Nicolas had ever had. Even in his cruelest moments, Louis touched the tenderness in me, seducing me with his staggering dependence, his infatuation with my every gesture and every spoken word. - The Vampire Lestat

12. Do I disappoint you – Rufus Wainwright

Do I disappoint you, in just being human? And not one of the elements that you can light your cigar on Why does it always have to be fire? Why does it always have to be brimstone?

„And suppose the vampire who made you knew nothing, and the vampire before him knew nothing, and so it goes back and back, nothing proceeding from nothing, until there is nothing! And we must live with the knowledge that there is no knowledge!“ „Yes!“ he cried out suddenly, his hands out, his voice tinged with something other than anger.

And then I sensed it. He was afraid. Lestat afraid. - Interview with the Vampire

13. Ordinary World – Duran Duran

What has happened to it all? Crazy, some'd say Where is the life that I recognize? Gone away

But I won't cry for yesterday There's an ordinary world Somehow I have to find And as I try to make my way To the ordinary world I will learn to survive

I do not remember when it became the twentieth century, only that everything was uglier and darker, and the beauty I'd known in the old eighteenth-century days seemed more than ever some kind of fanciful idea. - The Vampire Lestat

14. I'm still standing – Taron Egerton (Original by Elton John)

And there's a cold lonely light that shines from you You'll wind up like the wreck you hide behind that mask you use And did you think this fool could never win? Well look at me, I'm coming back again

But after the third night up, I was roaring around New Orleans on a big black Harley-Davidson motorcycle making plenty of noise myself. […] I was the vampire Lestat again. I was back in action. New Orleans was once again my hunting ground. - The Vampire Lestat

15. Catch my fall – Billy Idol

I have the time so I will sing, yeah I'm just a boy but I will win, yeah Lost song of lovers, fellow travelers, yeah Leave me sad and hollow out of words

It could happen to you so think for yourself If I should stumble, catch my fall, yeah

I've survived, obviously. I wouldn't be talking to you if I hadn't. And the cosmic dust has finally settled; and the small rift in the world's fabric of rational beliefs has been mended, or at least closed. I'm a little sadder for all of it, and a little meaner and a little more conscientious as well. - The Queen of the Damned

16. I want it all – Queen

I'm a man with a one track mind So much to do in one lifetime (people do you hear me) Not a man for compromise and where's and why's and living lies So I'm living it all, yes I'm living it all And I'm giving it all, and I'm giving it all

It is not enough any longer that my little rock band be successful. We must create a fame that will carry my name and my voice to the remotest parts of the world. - The Vampire Lestat

17. Let me entertain you – Robbie Williams

Hell is gone and heaven's here There's nothing left for you to fear Shake your arse come over here Now scream

I'm a burning effigy Of everything I used to be You're my rock of empathy, my dear

So come on let me entertain you

"I AM THE VAMPIRE LESTAT!" I shouted at the top of my lungs as I stepped way back from the microphone, and the sound was almost visible as it arched over the length of the oval theater, and the voice of the crowd rose even higher, louder, as if to devour the ringing sound. - The Vampire Lestat

18. La bien qui fait mal – Mozart l'Opera Rock (Full translation)

I can feel a violent urge I feel like I'm sliding towards the ground If I don't find out where this plague is coming from I adore having it under my skin Bewitched by mad ideas Suddenly all my cravings take off The desire becomes my prison Until I loose my mind

Yet I was in her arms in this chilling darkness, in the familiar scent of winter, and her blood was mine again, and it was enslaving me. When she drew away, I felt agony. - The Queen of the Damned

19. Tainted Love – Soft Cell

And you think love is to pray But I'm sorry I don't pray that way Once I ran to you Now I'll run from you This tainted love you've given I give you all a boy could give you Take my tears and that's not living, oh

„What do you think I am that I am so easily swayed? I was born a Queen. I have always ruled; even from the shrine I ruled." Her eyes were glazed suddenly. I heard the voices, a dull hum rising. "I ruled if only in legend; if only in the minds of those who came to me and paid me tribute. Princes who played music for me; who brought me offerings and prayers. What do you want of me now? That for you, I renounce my throne, my destiny!" What answer could I make? - The Queen of the Damned

20. Dancing in the Dark – Ruth Moody (Original by Bruce Springsteen)

They say you gotta stay hungry Hey baby, I'm just about starvin' tonight I'm dyin' for some action I'm sick of sittin' 'round here tryin' to write this book I need a love reaction Come on now, baby, gimme just one look

"I want you to put the book aside and come join us," he said. "You've been locked in here for over a month." "I go out now and then," I said. I liked looking at him, at the neon blue of his eyes.

"Do you love me now?" I asked. He smiled; oh, it was excruciating to see his face soften and brighten simultaneously when he smiled. "Yes," he said. "Want to go on a little adventure?" My heart was thudding suddenly. It would be so grand if- "Want to break the new rules?" "What in the world do you mean?" he whispered. - The Queen of the Damned

21. I want you – Savage Garden

Oh, I want you, I don't know if I need you But oh, I would die to find out

"You don't think you'll be back?" he asked. "I think you will, whether I call or not." Another little surprise. A little stab of humiliation. I smiled at him in spite of myself. He was a very interesting man. "You silver-tongued British bastard," I said. "How dare you say that to me with such condescension? Maybe I should kill you right now."

I thought of David Talbot's face, and that moment when he'd challenged me. Well, maybe he was right. I'd be back. Who said I couldn't come back and talk to him if I wanted to? - The Queen of the Damned

22. Lay your hands on me – Bon Jovi

I'm a fighter, I'm a poet, I'm a preacher I've been to school, oh baby, I've been the teacher If you show me how to get up off the ground I can show you how to fly and never ever come back down

I sat down on the bed beside him. And then I bent down and kissed his face again gently, as I had in New Orleans, liking the feel of his roughly shaven beard, just as I liked that sort of thing when I was really Lestat and I would soon have that strong masculine blood inside. I moved closer to him, when suddenly he grasped my hand, and I felt him gently push me away. „Why, David?“ I asked him. He didn't answer. He lifted his right hand and brushed my hair back out of my eyes. „I don't know,“ he whispered. „I can't. I simply can't.“ - The Tale of the Body Thief

23. 20th Century Boy – Placebo (Original by T-Rex)

I move like a cat, charge like a ram Sting like a bee, babe, I wanna be your man, hey!

He drew back with a speed that astonished me, cleaving to the wall. „Don't do this, Lestat.“ „Don't fight me, old friend. You waste your effort. You have a long night of discovery ahead.“ - The Tale of the Body Thief

24. Way down we go – KALEO

Oh, Father tell me, do we get what we deserve? Whoa, we get what we deserve And way down we go

„In chains, to my friend and my scribe, I dictated these words. Come with me. Just listen to me. Don't leave me alone.“ - Memnoch the Devil

25. Personal Jesus – Depeche Mode

Reach out, touch faith

"Don't tell me," Gabrielle said slurringly, "that it's a matter of faith." She sneered and shook her head. "You come like doubting Thomas to thrust your bloody fangs in the very wound." "Oh, stop, please, I beg you," I whispered. I put up my hands. "Let me try, and let him hurt me, and then be satisfied, and turn away." - The Vampire Armand

26. Papillon – Editors

Darling Just don't put down your guns yet If there really was a God here He'd have raised a hand by now Now darling You're born, get old, then die here Well that's quite enough for me We'll find our own way home somehow

"And if I spill my blood down into this coffin now," Lestat asked her, "what do you think will come back? Do you think it will be our Louis that will rise in these burnt rags? What if it's not, chérie, what if it's some wounded revenant that we must destroy?" "Choose life, Lestat," she said. - Merrick

27. Sunday Light – Choir Boy

Why, why, why, are you silent on the ride home? I'd love to see the temple with you Heavenly and bright, golden angel twisted scathing You were one of us, one of us, one of us, you were one of us

"Then come, Little Brother, take me to where you want to talk," he said, and I felt the soft squeeze of his fingers on my arm. "Why are you so kind to me?" I asked him. "You're used to people being paid to do it, aren't you?" he asked. - Blackwood Farm

28. Für mich solls rote Rosen regnen – Hildegard Knef (It should rain red roses for me - Full translation)

It should rain red roses for me All wonders should encounter me The world should rearrange itself And keep its worries to itself

I want to be a saint. I want to save souls by the millions. I want to do good far and wide. I want to fight evil! I want my life-sized statue in every church. I'm talking six feet tall, blond hair, blue eyes- Wait a second. Do you know who I am? - Blood Canticle

29. Constant Craving – K. D. Lang

Even through the darkest phase Be it thick or thin Always someone marches brave Here beneath my skin And constant craving Has always been

I was hunting, thirsting though I didn't need to drink, at the mercy of the craving, the deep agonizing lust for heated pumping human blood. - Prince Lestat

30. Kalte Sterne – Jan Ammann (Cold Stars from the musical Ludwig² - Full translation)

Get up, ride home, on your horse, through your land Across the morning with your reins trailing behind you Build a castle like a dream, build it with mighty hands And it shall be named „future“

Build a castle like a dream Up from the ashes and close to the heavens Build a castle like a dream And realise the future as king

If we wanted to survive, if we wanted to inherit the millenia […] then we had to meet the future with respect as well as courage and count fear and selfishness to be small things. - Prince Lestat and the realms of Atlantis

31. C'est une belle journée – Mylene Farmer (Full translation)

I'm going to bed To bite eternity With my mouth wide open It's a beautiful day

And I felt the cold numbing shell of alienation and despair which had imprisoned me all of my life among the Undead – I felt that shell cracked, broken, and dissolved utterly into infinitesimal fragments. - Blood Communion

32. Princes of the Universe – Queen

Fly the moon and reach for the stars With my sword and head held high Got to pass the test first time, yeah I know that people talk about me, I hear it every day But I can prove them wrong 'cause I'm right first time

„I know that you meant full well to bring Rhoshamandes down, of course you did. But you had no way of knowing that you could. And no one would have predicted that you could. And with the willingness to die, you gave yourself over into his hands... and you disarmed him and destroyed him.“ – Blood Communion

And finally, because I can, a bonus track:

33. Primadonna – MARINA

And I'm sad to the core, core, core Every day is a chore, chore, chore When you give, I want more, more, more I wanna be adored

[deafwestnewsies]

il me dit des mots d'amour

Against all odds, Davey and Jack grew up. 

david jacobs x jack kelly 

read it on my ao3! 

Give your heart and soul to me

And life will always be… 

Their faucet dripped, the paint in the bathroom was peeling. Withering flowers sat in a dusty vase. The curve of Jack’s profile fit perfectly in the crook of Davey’s neck. Some things were simply meant to be. 

“Dance with me,” Jack offers his hand. Davey almost bats the hand away in playful annoyance, “This article isn’t going to write itself!”, but he closes his eyes instead. Feels the warmth of Jack’s palm seep into his skin. Suddenly, he’s flying.

There’s a slight melody playing in the distance, blown in through their open window with the clean, bright muslin curtains dancing in the breeze. There is always some sort of music playing- it’s Paris and the world has stopped fighting long enough to listen to its song. Davey and Jack were young boys long ago, and now they are blessed to be alive. Visions of army fatigues and a physician’s coat blooming with scarlet still tiptoed through their dreams, haunted their quiet moments and tore through their loud ones. A bullet was still lost somewhere in Jack’s left leg. Davey still secretly poured over medical journals that promised to fix him.

Right now, however, they felt young again. An old spirit possessed them, one that sounded of a brazened young woman looking her father straight in the eye, a hundred wizened  children buzzing for attention, the leather footsteps of boots on cobblestone. They didn’t talk about their youth anymore- too painful, too much of it stolen by men who would never know that death has a lingering, burning stench. The acrid taste woke Jack up in the middle of the night, and Davey would spoon-feed him honey like a child. Jack had cried the first time, Jack never had a mother to gently kiss his forehead in search of fever, Jack had Davey and a handful of memories that couldn’t be explained in simpler terms. 

Davey had grown up with a mother and a father, a sister and a brother, but he only said their names in prayer. Barukh ata Adonai Eloheinu, melekh ha'olam. Protect my sister, bless my brother, love my parents. He wished, sometimes, that he had followed Les into the battlefield with his scalpel and sutures. His brother had died on a rainy April day from a disease Davey knew how to prevent. They told him after a particularly difficult amputation, one that required a steady hand and sound mind, and Davey’s first thought was back to when Les was a mere three years old. He had been so small that Davey and Sarah watched, enraptured by everything he did, toddling down the street, gripping at toys with his pudgy fists, putting just about anything he could in his mouth. They swore to protect him. 

Jack was drafted seven days after Les had enlisted, Sarah ran far from her problems, and Esther collapsed with grief. Davey and Mayer buried the letter that had arrived at the Jacobs’ doorstep in their mother’s flower garden, and with the spring came a bought of daisies that bloomed right over the words We’re sorry to inform you… 

Jack came home. Others did not. 

Jack buried seven of the long-gone newsboys, he buried them alone with what little money he had, and Davey didn’t even bother offering his help. He had lasted fourteen months before he aged out of selling newspapers and their enticing headlines; Jack was raised in the dark alleys and echoing hallways of a lodging house. Each boy’s grave was marked with a stone spattered in paint and a nickname. Jack didn’t even know Racetrack’s real name, he would admit years later, wrapped in the dark quilt of night. All those years spent together. It hadn’t felt important at the time. 

They sold what little they had and bought a bungalow in Paris, where the sun rose golden and the streets were paved in a different shade of gray. Davey wrote letter after letter in search of his twin sister, older than him by four-seven seconds, and prayed that she would appear on their doorstep. Jack had once asked if maybe, possibly, she was… Before he could finish the wheedling question, Davey stopped him. I would know, he had said. I knew her in birth, and I’ll know her in death. She’s out there. 

Still, they were happy. Jack painted the eiffel tower at night, decorated with the electric lights that illuminated the roses people threw at its iron feet. He sold his works to wealthier couples, ones that oohed and ahhed over the homegrown talent only a natural genius could bear. Davey learned to bake bread and drink tea instead of coffee, he scoured the shops for antique teacups and old, frail copies of books no one had ever read. They spent the days in a compatible routine, and at night they drank French wines and let themselves dream of a different life- maybe not a happier one, but different all the same. 

“Les would still live with my parents,” Davey would laugh. “That boy would take a wife and still crave Mamma’s latkes. And I’d be some perfectly fine surgeon who lost patients all the same, with a simple little wife to make me a brandy when I arrived home.” He would hold Jack’s hand a little tighter, possibly with relief, never with regret. 

“Kathy woulda said yes when we were eighteen,” they would both grimace at the memory. “We’d have some fancy mansion and I’d be her adoring, deadbeat husban’ who met with ‘is best friend more n’ he should. Probably kids.” Jack’s eyes would cloud over for a moment, lost in a future he couldn’t have. “Def’nitely kids.” 

Davey’s hand travels across the great expanse of Jack’s broad, flat back. The two men sway gently to the trumpet, roaring on in the distance. They were older now, older than they ever meant to be, and the days felt like sand slipping through a timepiece. Davey would always murmur, “There’s so much I haven’t done.” 

Jack would always placate him. “But look at what we have.” 

Give your heart and soul to me, 

And life will always be,

La vie en rose.

[lu-undy]

Chapter 80 - SBT

Here it is!

“You can’t drive back, can you?”

“Non, I cannot. It would be a disaster. I haven’t been as drunk as this in years…!”

Lucien and Mundy were on the street in front of the pub where they had spent a wonderful evening.

“So we gotta walk, eh?”

“Oui, I guess so - ooh! Be careful!” Lucien helped his lover stand and walk straight. 

They clung to each other and started walking back home on foot.

“What about your bike?”

“It will come back home on its own.”

“You shittin’ me?”

“Non…” Lucien chuckled. “I am not shitting you.”

Mundy laughed.

“What?”

“So weird to hear you say that…”

“Well, I do tend to select my vocabulary with care, oui. I think that now, it is part of my charm.”

Mundy looked at Lucien. The Frenchman had an arm across his shoulders while Mundy held on to his waist. 

“Pfff, even drunk, you speak like a king…”

“Am I not yours?”

Mundy chuckled, he looked around in the streets and didn’t see anyone around. He grabbed  his lover’s jaw and kissed him then and there, sloppy and awkward. They both stopped walking to appreciate the moment. Lucien was hanging from his lover's neck like a teenage girl having her first kiss.

“Mh-? Mundy…” Lucien laughed. “Your kisses are even worse when you are drunk.” Lucien started walking and his lover followed, still clinging to him so that both could walk reasonably straight.

“Oi! You sayin’ my kisses are shit?”

“I wasn’t the one to say that.”

“Never heard anyone complain before, eh.”

“I am not anyone.”

“Course not, you fancy little snob.”

“Maybe, but you have a weakness for this fancy snob. Besides, I am not little.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“Non, you are just tall.”

“Oh I'm too tall, now?”

“I did not say that.”

“Yeah, you did!”

“When?!”

“Right now!”

“Mundy, I never said you were too tall, I just said you were tall!”

“Bah, whatever! Same difference!”

They both chuckled and caught their breath. They looked left and right, trusting each other to keep their balance and walked under the street lamps, showering them in yellow, periodically.

“So…” Mundy started.

“Oui?”

“Sing us something.”

“Now?”

“Yeah, something I know too, and I can sing along.”

“Mundy, we are walking in the street, completely drunk!”

“Exactly! What’s a better moment than this to just sing?”

“Mon Dieu…” Lucien sighed.

“Alright then, I’ll sing somethin’, but don’t complain if you don’t like it, cause I won’t change it!”

“Fine! Show us your skills!”

Mundy cleared his throat and took a deep breath to fill his lungs with air.

“Je l’ai trouvée devant ma porte, un jour que je rentrais chez moi…! 

[I found her at my door, one evening, as I was coming back home…!]

Partout elle me fait escorte, elle est revenue, la voilà!”

[Everywhere she follows me, she has come back, here she is!]

Lucien smiled. Despite Mundy's accent and his drunkenness, he recognised the song. Of course, he did. It was the first one he had sung here, in Australia: La Solitude. He joined in Mundy's singing. 

"La renifleuse des amours mortes

[She can smell dead loves]

Elle m'a suivie, pas à pas"

[She followed me, step after step] 

"Elle nous fait le coeur à pleurer

[She makes us such that our hearts will cry]

 Elle nous fait des matins blêmes

[She gives us pale mornings]

 Et de longues nuits désolées

[And long, sad nights]

 La garce ! Elle nous ferait même

[The bitch! She even makes]

 L'hiver au plein coeur de l'été

[Winter come in the middle of summer]

They both sang their lungs out in the dark of the night, using the street lamps as their spotlights in the improvised stage that was the pavement. One was singing in drunk but perfect French, while the other reproduced the sounds he had heard on the cassette on loop… 

"Your voice is atrocious…!" Lucien put his hands on his ears and leaned on his lover. 

"Oi…! I'm singin' in a language I can't even speak, eh! Have some respect!"

"For what? Even the pronunciation you are butchering!" Lucien giggled as Mundy held him close.

"You're just jealous cause I sing so much better than you."

"What?! You aren't even respecting the tempo!"

"Whatever!"

Soon they arrived at the front door.

"You have your key?" Mundy asked while Lucien patted his pockets.

"Of course I do, don't you?"

"Bah, I dunno…" 

Lucien giggled and took the key out of his pockets. He struggled to align it with the lock, and Mundy didn't help. 

"Mundy, hold on… Stop it… I can hardly see straight already…!"

The Aussie was hugging his lover from behind and nuzzling in his neck, peppering kisses on his jaw. 

"There we go-oh!"

Lucien eventually managed to push the door open and enter but Mundy pushed him in and slammed the door shut with his foot. He took Lucien's jacket off of him and threw it away while pushing wet kisses against his lips, his cheeks and his chin. 

"Mon Dieu…"

They breathed louder and Lucien shuddered when Mundy's canines connected with his neck. He could feel their pointy sharpness pushing the skin there.

"M-Mundy!"

The Aussie pushed Lucien's back against the wall and it hit it with a thud. The house was dark and none of them wanted to switch a light on. They were busy. Busy, and cosy. Mundy was pushing Lucien harder and harder against the wall. First, it was only with his mouth, but now, his entire chest and abdomen was crushing the Frenchman. 

"You're so bloody sweet…"

Lucien raised his head and rolled his eyes in bliss, offering more of his neck for Mundy to play with. The Aussie laced his fingers between Lucien and pinned his hands against the walls. He put a leg between the Frenchman's.

"O-oh… H-hold on, let us go to the bedroom…"

"Alright, c'mere!" Mundy pulled back and put his hands on Lucien's backside. The Frenchman smiled but felt Mundy's hands continue to slide to his thighs from behind.

"What are you-? Wow!" 

The Aussie pulled Lucien off the ground and carried him in his arms. One of them was below Lucien's behind and the other, laced around his back. The Frenchman wrapped his legs around Mundy's waist and held on to him dearly while he walked to the bedroom.

"There, bedroom, ya happy now?"

Lucien looked his lover in the eye and smirked. 

"Not yet…"

"Right then, guess I need to fix that." Mundy pushed his lover against the wall again and dived to his lips, holding his cheeks in his hands, sliding his fingers through Lucien's long silver hair. 

The kisses grew heated, hungry even. Lucien's fingers were clawing on Mundy's sides, trying to dive deep in his skin through his clothes. 

There was no time to waste. Buttons flew as shirts were flung wide open. The cold air of the night bit their skin and the hairs along their body slowly stood up. Goosebumps shot along their spines. 

"Oh mon Dieu…" Lucien hardly managed to speak between two kisses, two twists of his tongue around Mundy's. He started to try and roll his hips against Mundy's. A reflex, nothing he could control, drunk as he was. 

"Bugger…" Mundy spun around and both tumbled and fell on the bed. Lucien ended up on top of him. They finished stripping off of their clothes, not knowing which way was up, down, left or right. Their mouths connected and disconnected with each other's, or their skins. God only knew if they were lying the right way around on the bed. 

Mundy grabbed his lover's jaw, pulling it down to him, and their tongues met before their lips did. Lucien's hair drowned them both, it kept them warm, their cheeks were past pink as their legs were sliding along each other's.

"Oh, Lu'-!" Mundy screwed his eyes shut and took a handful of Lucien's hair as he felt his beard scratch his cheek and slowly sink to his neck. The Aussie raised his eager hips to meet Lucien's and when they made contact, the Frenchman bit his lover's shoulder while the latter growled. The sting of Lucien's fangs was nothing but pleasure, especially when he let his tongue gently - if messily - lap the skin that had just been bruised. 

"Gosh… Lu'..."

Lucien continued going down. Mundy's chest. Oui. His messy dark brown hair couldn't hide the pink skin standing and beckoning the Frenchman. He made his way to it and didn't wait before circling it with his tongue, lap lasciviously around and pull earnest moans out of Mundy. Soon, his entire mouth was playing with Mundy's nipples and the poor Aussie grabbed whatever could bring him comfort. 

"Oui…"

Lucien felt the powerful fingers on his backside, kneading the skin there possessively. He rolled his eyes and continued his journey down, licking Mundy's stomach and biting his hip.

"Oof-! God, how d'you know I'm sensitive there?"

Lucien raised his eyes to Mundy. 

"I didn't. But now, I do." He gave Mundy's right side all the attention it craved. Kisses, licks and soft bites. They all made the Aussie sing and his hips roll into nothing. 

"C'mere, I need you."

"I am not finished." 

"Doesn't matter." 

Lucien raised a confused eyebrow but Mundy pulled him to his lips way too strongly for him to resist. When he kissed him, they both melted on each other.

"Need you more." 

"How do you want me?" 

"Turn around." Mundy answered but seeing that Lucien started to lie on the bed, he stopped him. "No, not like that." 

"How?" 

"On all four." 

Lucien obeyed, ending up on all four with Mundy looking up at him. 

"Now, turn…" Mundy pushed Lucien's arms to his right and grabbed his legs. "Yeah, like that." 

Lucien was speechless. He was still on all four, above Mundy, but this time, the Aussie's head was between his knees. 

"C'mere… Mh…" Mundy pulled Lucien's hips down.

"Oh-!" Lucien's eyes rolled up on their own when he felt Mundy's lips around his masculinity. "M-Mundy… Gently, please…" 

Mundy let the warmth and softness of his mouth and cheeks do the work for him. Lucien laid down and stuck his tongue out.

"Gosh… Yeah, just like that, ooh…"

His fingers were firmly wrapped around Mundy's eagerness while his mouth kissed and his tongue lapped. 

Both savoured each other lazily. Wet sounds and moans rose in the air. 

"Y'know…"

Lucien's eyebrows jumped. He didn't expect Mundy to start a conversation in the middle of… that. 

"I uh… I love ya."

Lucien smiled through his licks.

"I love ya and - oh, yeah, that's nice - I feel like sometimes… I don't even need to put any effort in. It's just… It's just natural. I love you and you love me, like it's easy, like the sky's blue or - orh, yeah - or the sun's bright. Lovin' you, it's… It's normal - aah! Oof, that felt real nice…"

Lucien sucked again and Mundy's toes curled up. He ended up treating Lucien's member with the same care and love as Lucien was providing his. 

"I understand what you mean, Mundy. More than this, I feel the same - ah, oui…" He gave a lick and a kiss below Mundy's begging for more and the Aussie's hips jolted gently. "I live this life with you like a free man. A free man who is living his best life. I wouldn't change a thing in the world - aha… Mundy… Oui…"

Lucien laid his head on Mundy's upper thigh but couldn't resume his speech. Mundy was giving some love to what was below his masculinity and Lucien had a bit of a weakness for it. 

"Oui… oh…" He moved his hips, giving him a good angle to have an easier access, encouraging Mundy to spend more time there. Lucien opened his legs a bit more. Mundy continued to suck, lick and kiss down until Lucien had to sit up. "Ah-! Please… Gently…"

"Or what, hm?" Mundy gave a furtive lick at Lucien's vulnerable entrance and the Frenchman's hips jumped on their own.

"O-or I might now last long…!"

"Your problem, not mine." Mundy answered in a growl and Lucien splayed his hands flat on the Aussie's stomach. It was less lean than his own, as Mundy's love for beer showed. But it wasn't much and Lucien had a weakness for its softness. Mundy kept on savouring, taking his time and playing Lucien like a delicate instrument. The song of the Frenchman's pleasure filled the air and with his tongue, Mundy controlled the pitch, the rhythm and the melody. "Listen to you sing, eh…? You got a beautiful voice." 

"Ah-!" 

Mundy pulled Lucien to sit better and the Aussie had his fun. He loved it and now that he thought about it, never had he enjoyed being on the giving end that much. 

But why? What pleasure was he getting out of pleasuring Lucien?

Pride. As simple and vicious as that: pride. He was immensely proud of making Lucien sing in octaves unheard of before. He revelled in making the arrogant man above him melt into a puddle of moans, liquid tremors and weakness. And it had its effect on his own body. Mundy could feel his masculine end more needy than ever, throbbing in rhythm with Lucien's song. 

"M-Mundy… Hah…" 

Mundy pulled Lucien to lie on him in his arms. The Frenchman was breathing heavily. He was out of breath. Why? He hadn't run, he hadn't tried to flee or escape this new life like he did the previous one. Non, he was out of breath because Mundy had taken it away with his mountains of affection and love. 

Mundy cupped his face and pulled him such that they rested their foreheads against each other's. He started to kiss him and Lucien's eyebrows arched up. It wasn't heated, it wasn't hungry at all. It was mellow, passionate, gentle and slow. Good God, where did Mundy learn how to kiss like that…? It was almost too romantic for him. He brushed Lucien's lips with his own, guiding them slowly while he brushed his long hair with his open fingers. His thumb came down to brush Lucien's upper cheek, above his short beard lovingly.

Oh.

Mundy felt it. His thumb had brushed a drop of water on Lucien's cheek. A tear. He wrapped an arm around him and stroked his entire back to support him, but he didn't break the kiss. No, to Lucien's surprise, he slowed down even more. Mundy pushed his lips against Lucien's and stayed there. They exchanged their breaths. They remained in the total silence and darkness of their almost empty bedroom. They didn't need anything but each other.

"Lu'...?" Mundy whispered. "Lu', I love you." He gave his lips a chaste kiss. "I love you, gorgeous."

Lucien frowned and more tears streamed in silence. He reciprocated the kiss and surprised Mundy with how eager he was. Through his tears and without a word, he was telling Mundy's lips all those things that words cannot possibly express, because those things are too big, too strong to fit in a string of letters. 

And they were back at it, Lucien rolling his hips against Mundy and both realised they were more than in the mood for more. Lucien's mouth slid in kisses to his lover's ear and he whispered. 

"I want you, Mundy."

"So do I…"

"Oh-!"

Mundy had slid a hand down and was stroking both their wanting for more in his fist. 

"How do you want me, luv'?"

Lucien's eyes snapped wide. He didn't expect Mundy to…?

"A-Are you sure?" The Frenchman asked. "You can… If you want…"

"No. Tonight, you take me."

Lucien bit his lip and rolled his eyes as he pushed his hips into Mundy's fist.

"Stay as you are." He eventually answered. Lucien went to the edge of the bed and let his arm fall to the floor, his hand groping at the floor below the bed. Suddenly, he located the bottle he needed. He fished it out from beneath the bed and in a fluid movement, he opened it and coated his fingers generously. Lucien went back on top of his lover and bit his neck. 

"Oh-! God, yeah… Nnh… Please, slowly…!"

"Ssh…" Lucien whispered. "Close your eyes, mon amour."

Mundy obeyed and felt Lucien's fingers massaging his intimate entrance. The slow, circular movement of the Frenchman's index finger was delightful and Mundy opened his thighs for more. That's when Lucien decided to kiss Mundy and lead it the French way. The Aussie melted in a low groan and he frowned at first, surprised by the intrusion and the unknown sensation.

"Calme-toi, mon chéri… Relax et laisse-toi faire. Je te promets que ça va te faire du bien…"

[Calm down, my darling… Relax and let yourself go. I promise you will feel good…]

Mundy's breath wasn't that of a calm man so Lucien switched to English. 

"Relax, Mundy… Take a deep breath." 

A smile slowly appeared on the Aussie's face. 

"Luv'...?"

"Oui, mon loup?"

[Yes, my wolf?]

"Say it again…"

"Say what? Take a deep breath?"

Mundy's smile widened with his eyes still closed and he breathed slower. 

"Gimme your hand, please." 

Lucien obeyed and Mundy held his hand on his chest, dearly. 

"What is it, Mundy?" 

"Take a deep breath… I think I fell in love with your eyes when you said that to me for the first time." The Aussie answered. "D'you remember? You said that in the hangar with the beasts, the first time we went there. You said that at Duchemin's party, when I felt overwhelmed by the people there… Oh… Each time you say that to me, it's like a magic spell, everything around me disappears and - ah - I see only you… Your gorgeous eyes… You manage to calm me down with only one sentence and yer eyes… Y-you're amazin', luv'..." Mundy's voice broke and Lucien dived against his chest to hug him. He tightened his grip on Mundy's hand.

"Ssh… I'm here for you… I am here for you, mon amour."

[My love.]

"Please, Lu'..."

"Oui?"

"Please…?" Mundy couldn't even ask the question fully. But he didn't need to. Lucien understood on his own. He removed his fingers and gently positioned himself. 

"Are you ready?" He whispered in Mundy's ear.

"Yeah."

And Mundy felt it. It was extremely slow and Lucien didn't leave his lips for the whole duration of it. 

"L-Lu', I-I'm sorry…" 

Lucien stopped and Mundy wrapped his arms around him. He started crying. The Frenchman's eyebrows jumped and he slowly tried to withdraw from his lover, but Mundy held him back. 

"No… Please..." He whispered between two sobs. 

"Are you sure?"

"I need you, bloody hell!"

Lucien obeyed without flinching and sheathed himself slowly back in.

"More, please - Aargh…!"

"Mundy, if it hurts, we shouldn't-"

"It doesn't hurt!" He cut him. "I… Please!" He grabbed Lucien's backside and pulled. 

"Orh!" 

That was it. They were one. Their lips were devoted to each other's. 

Mundy exhaled in a long, lovestruck sigh. His entire body melted. He slowly wrapped his legs around Lucien's waist. 

"What is it, mon amour? I can feel something is different."

Mundy's breath broke out and he sobbed again. 

"It's just that… Oh, bugger, listen to me… Pathetic…"

"Non, please… Tell me." 

"I've always dreamt of… Y'know… Finding someone I could trust this much, finding someone I could try this with… I mean… It might sound ridiculous but…"

"Please, non, it doesn't…" Lucien continued to whisper while holding his lover dearly. 

"I… I love you… I just… Turns out I've never loved people like I love you now. Please Lu'?"

"Oui?"

"Please never leave me." Mundy screwed his eyes shut.

"I will never leave you."

"You left me once and it was too hard." 

"I won't leave you, ever."

"You left me once and I thought I'd never make it."

"I will stay with you."

"You left me once and I needed you, everyday."

"I am staying at your side, forever." 

Mundy slid a hand behind Lucien's head and pulled him to himself. He put his lips next to his ear. 

"Please, take me." 

Lucien's hips started moving and Mundy's moans rose in the air. The Aussie had wanted it forever. He had always been in a position of giving, which is comfortable because as such, he knew he was leading things the way he wanted. But now, he trusted Lucien to have his way with him. He knew he was safe enough to let go of his pride, let go of his fears and face them. The truth was that Mundy had always been terrified of receiving, because he couldn't escape if things went in a direction he didn't want. He had no control, no power. 

And yet. As Lucien made love to him, he realised he needed neither control, nor power. He needed to feel supported, to feel that if even he himself wasn't in control of his life, even if he let Life unhinge her jaw with her impressive fangs in front of him, Lucien would be there to shield him, to protect him, to comfort him. Lucien would bear the burdens of his life with him. Lucien would take his problems and help him face them. Lucien would willingly step in, between life and Mundy, to save him. 

"Gosh…"

Lucien's hips rolled not to satisfy a craving, or an impulse. They slowly rolled to give love as much as to make it. He was giving his hips, his masculinity, his nudity and his time not only because it felt good, but because it was a sacrifice. He trusted his most intimate and fragile parts in Mundy's body. There was no other place where they would be safe, no. 

He didn't pick up the pace and it might have lasted for hours. Who knew? Both were slowly sobering up, sweating away the alcohol and the effort that they hid through the dark shadows of the night. They were both past exhausted and did not care for completion. They needed to feel they were one, they needed to feel each other. 

The kisses resumed. Mundy brushed Lucien's hair away from his face and nipped at his beard on his cheek before taking his upper lip between his own. He kissed not like a hunter, but like a prey, abandoning himself to the one man it wasn't shameful to show weakness to, the one man who wouldn't mock him for it, the one man who would support him, pull him up and carry him if he showed any signs of weakening.

Being the hopeless romantic he was, Lucien yielded to Mundy's wordless declaration of love, almost a declaration of submission, of surrendering. 

"I'm yours." 

Lucien wasn't sure he had heard the words but Mundy was sure to have said them. He spelt them with his tongue against Lucien's, his tears formed the words on his rough cheeks that hadn't blushed half as much as since he had met Lucien. 

"You are mine." 

"I'm yours."

"I am yours."

"You're mine?"

"I am yours."

"You're mine… I'm yours."

"I love you."

"You're everythin'."

"The sun I wake up to, the moon I fall asleep to, the air I need to breathe and the water I need to live."

"I'm-?"

"Oui, you are all these. All these are you."

Mundy pulled Lucien's lips to his and while the Frenchman smiled, the Aussie's tears rolled along his temples.

"Thank you, Lu'..."

"Sshh."

Lucien stopped rolling his hips and lay on top of Mundy. They were stuck to each other, in the middle of the bed, their clothes scattered in the room as if they had burst from their skins. Two bodies now one. 

"Take a deep breath." Lucien whispered with a smile and Mundy nodded silently. His lips pursed up in a smile and he kissed his lover. 

On the cheek.

[artificialqueens]

Revelation Sunshine, Chapter 8 (Courtney/Vixen) - Veronica

A/N:  Look, sometimes a story has conflict and narrative tension. And sometimes you just want to write about characters you love wearing fancy clothes and having self-indulgent fun. Thanks as always to @theartificialdane for her help. Previous chapters are here.

Last chapter: Vixen got settled into her new life in LA, and Courtney enlisted Violet’s help for a Met Gala ensemble.

This chapter: A romantic weekend in Paris and a star-studded Gala both bring old friends back into Courtney’s life. 

***

The plan was for the Met Gala to be their first public appearance together. A sort of coming-out, as Adore put it.

But all of that went to shit in early April. Vixen had just wrapped up the last of her workshops in Chicago, her friends and family throwing her a huge going-away party, making her promise to visit often. Then, instead of flying to Los Angeles for the Spring term, she found herself sipping champagne on a flight to Paris, where she was meeting Courtney for a Met Gala fitting-turned-romantic-getaway.

And it would have all gone to plan, probably, if not for the crafty French paparazzi, who caught wind of Courtney being in Paris and began to tail them through the city.

It had been a gray, drizzly day, the clouds not breaking until early in the evening as the sun was setting, encouraging them to leave their little café and stroll across the Pont Neuf to Square du Vert Galant, hands clasped together, giggling about Courtney’s attempt to get oat milk in her coffee with broken French.

When Courtney caught Vixen’s face in the warm light, she couldn’t resist pulling her in for a kiss, hands stroking her cheekbones before brushing their lips together, tasting the perfection of the moment, overcome with joy and gratitude for her gorgeous, loving girlfriend.

The nearby paparazzi went nuts, and that’s when they both realized that they’d been followed.

“Oops,” Courtney whispered, biting her lip, still unable to let go of Vixen’s face, unable to tear herself away.

“Cat’s out of the bag, huh?” Vixen said. Fortunately, she didn’t seem too broken up about it.

“Yeah.”

“I guess there’s not much we can do about it now.” A smile played on her lips, and Courtney was overcome with the urge to kiss her again.

It wasn’t until they separated slowly that Courtney thought of a possible solution.

“We could beat them to it…”

She pulled out her phone, taking a series of photos, the setting sun and rain-washed buildings around them doing half the work of making the pictures glowingly beautiful. Vixen’s eyes were bright with happiness, and Courtney couldn’t help gazing at her with total adoration, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

She posted the pictures as they stood right there, captioned with a simple heart, and then put her phone away, taking Vixen’s hand and continuing on their walk like everything was business as usual.

***

Vixen wasn’t sure what to think when they finally arrived at Violet’s on Saturday morning, an ordinary-enough apartment building.

“You’re sure this is a legit designer?” she asked, and Courtney grinned at her, pulling her inside. She held a box of pastries and a Glimmer-branded reusable bag full of swag for Violet’s five-year-old daughter, Melati.

“One of the best I know!”

When Violet opened the door, Courtney greeted her like a long-lost sibling, pulling her into a fierce hug, kissing her cheeks. Violet seemed to tolerate this, but still let out a relieved sigh as Courtney let go.

“Violet, this is Vixen!” Courtney said excitedly.  

“Hello. Nice to meet you.” Violet stuck out her hand and shook Vixen’s, very formal and professional.

“Vix, Violet is basically a sorceress with fabric. I can’t wait for you to see her stuff in person,” Courtney told her, sliding off her shoes. She then let out a happy squeal, spotting a tiny face with big dark eyes poking around the corner bashfully. She bounded forward to greet Melati with a happy, “Bonjour, Melati!”

Melati’s eyes widened and she disappeared, hiding under a table.

“Sorry. She’s still processing that Princess Lucie is real, and knows her name. I’ve attempted to explain that you’re an actress, but Sutan keeps sabotaging my attempts,” Violet explained. “Something about keeping the magic alive.”

Courtney giggled, dropping to her knees and peeking at Melati under the table, singing, “Bonjooour, mon petit chou!”

Vixen had removed her shoes by this point, holding them awkwardly in her hands.

“You can put your shoes on the top shelf there,” Violet said kindly. “I’m afraid our dog can’t be trusted with anything. I’m still mourning the loss of a pair of Louboutins.”

Vixen chuckled, placing her shoes (and Courtney’s) carefully onto the shelf, and then followed Violet into the house.

Melati seemed to have gotten over her initial shyness, jumping into Courtney’s arms and laughing joyfully as Courtney swung her around.

“Courtney, not in the living room, please,” Violet said, then to her daughter, “Pas ici.” Melati obeyed, sliding down from Courtney’s arms and clinging to her side.

“Je suis désolé!” Courtney cried dramatically, and Melati giggled. She looked at Vixen and explained, “I know that from Madonna’s ‘Sorry.’”

“Impressive,” Vixen told her, while Violet rolled her eyes.

“Shall we get started?” Violet asked, guiding them quickly through the apartment and up a small flight of stairs.

“Where’s Sutan?”

“In London for the weekend. He sends his regrets.”

“Aww, bummer.”

Violet opened the door to her studio, then turned to them with a stern look on her face, addressing Courtney directly.

“Child rules apply in here. You may look, but don’t touch.”

“Oui madame!” Courtney said with a salute, then walked inside, immediately exclaiming over a bunch of intricate fabric flowers, picking one up to ask, “Did you make this?!”

“Courtney! What did I just say?” Violet snatched the flower out of her hand.

“Sorry. Can’t take her anywhere,” Vixen said.

“Ooh, I love this beading…” Courtney walked towards the wardrobe rack, Violet nearly diving in front of her to stop her from touching that, too.

She put her hands on her hips, making Courtney pout playfully, and then leaned down to tell Melati something in French.

“Viens,” said the little girl, pulling Courtney out of the room by the hand.

“Help, I’m being kidnapped by a tiny little person!”

“I told her to keep you out of trouble!” Violet called after them, then turned to Vixen with an apologetic look on her face. “I’m sorry about that.

“It’s fine,” Vixen laughed. “I live with her, so I’m pretty used to it.”

Violet chuckled under her breath, and walked to the wardrobe rack to unzip a few garment bags.

“If you’ll please disrobe, we can get started. I can give you some hangers for your things if you need.”

“Oh...that’s okay.” Vixen was wearing skinny jeans and a black t-shirt. Not really clothes she’d normally hang. She began to remove them slowly, feeling only slightly awkward.

“I’m sorry that we haven’t had a chance for more consultations, but with the distance, and my job, and my family…”

“Please don’t apologize! I’m so grateful for all the work you’re done.” Vixen turned around, down to her bra and panties.

“The top has a built in bustier, so no bra is needed.” Violet held it out, and Vixen nearly gasped.

The sketches had been lovely, but this was absolutely stunning, a flowing sleeveless top with gorgeous pearl and gold beading in cascading floral patterns. When you looked closer, it became apparent that the beads were in fact pearl buttons, gold cufflinks and other menswear elements.

“Given your desires, and my own aesthetic, it was a bit of a challenge to incorporate the menswear theme, but I did my best. I still have a bit of beading to do, but it’s mostly done.”

“It’s incredible,” Vixen said, unclasping her bra. “Really, so far beyond what I was expecting.”

Violet gave her a satisfied nod, hanging the top and lifting another garment from the rack.

“Shall we try on the trousers?”

‘Trousers’ wouldn’t exactly have been Vixen’s way of describing the bottoms: a pair of draped, beautifully moving pants, with a satin strip down the side reminiscent of a tuxedo. After showing her, Violet quickly turned them inside out and then held them out for Vixen to step into.

It was a very strange experience. This woman that she barely knew dressing her, something she hadn’t experienced since she was a small child and her mom helped her into her clothes for preschool. She tried not to be awkward about it, happy that she’d at least remembered to wear nude panties today.

Violet stepped back, examining her with a critical eye, before picking up a set of pins and kneeling. Vixen stood as still as possible, trying not to be self-conscious. This was Violet’s job; she probably dealt with people’s bodies on a daily basis. The fact that her tits were out surely didn’t faze her, so why should Vixen feel weird?

She worked quickly and carefully, getting up to examine the pants from multiple angles. Her long dark hair was pulled away from her face, into a high ponytail, and as Vixen studied her serious expression, she realized that what could be read as coldness was actually just deep concentration, a passion for her work that made Vixen feel right at home.

They tried on the top next, the heavy and intricate beading telling Vixen that it was by far the most expensive garment she’d even had on her body. It was amazing.

Vixen watched herself in the floor-length mirror, turning slightly, admiring how beautiful the whole ensemble looked. She started fantasizing about what she was gonna do with her hair, when Violet’s voice cut into her thoughts.

“Have you thought about shoes?”

“Oh, um...not really. What do you think?”

“I can give you some suggestions if you like,” Violet offered, and Vixen smiled at her.

“That would be great! Thank you.”

Violet was walking around the room, again examining the look from multiple angles, once in awhile stepping forward to place a pin here or mark something down on her notepad. At one point, she gave a thoughtful nod, then said, “You carry this look well. How do you feel about it?”

“Oh, um...it’s beautiful!” Vixen could tell by the thoughtful way she said it that a compliment like that from Violet must be rare and sincere. She felt comfortable enough to continue, admitting, “I’m a little nervous--not about the clothes! Just...I’ve never been to anything like the Met Gala in my life.”

“That’s understandable, but I wouldn’t worry,” Violet assured her. “The most nerve-wracking part is the red carpet, and you’ll be with Courtney, who I think might actually like it.”

“I know she likes it,” Vixen laughed.

“Right.” Violet shook her head. “I will never understand her.”

***

The rest of their time in Paris (well, the day and a half before they had to fly back to L.A.) was like a dream. Of course, their social media had been blowing up like crazy ever since posting those pictures, and Courtney did nothing to quell the wild speculation, posting more pictures, as well as tweeting mysterious, romantic things like “I get to wake up to her every morning. #gratitude” and “When she’s breathing beside me, I’m home.”

But for the most part, they ignored all of the messages, all of the questions, and simply enjoyed the fresh spring air and the beautiful city, doing their best to avoid the ever-present paparazzi until they realized that it was no use, and just rolled with it.

On Monday, Courtney woke up to clear, blue skies and sunlight filtering in through the gauzy curtains. She rolled over, brushing away a curl that had fallen across Vixen’s face, smiling at her eyes fluttered open.

“Good morning,” she said, placing a soft kiss on Vixen’s cheek.

“Morning…” Vixen rubbed her eyes, yawning, then snuggled against Courtney’s body, seeking out the warmth of her skin.

“You bummed to be going back home today?” Courtney asked, and Vixen shook her head.

“Mm-mm,” she said, voice slightly muffled against Courtney’s neck, then added. “How could I be bummed? I’m going back with you.”

Courtney inhaled sharply, caught off guard by her sleepy sweetness, and pulled her in tighter.

“I love you so much,” she whispered fiercely into her hair, and Vixen gave a small, adorable sigh.

***

There was really no reason to be this nervous, Vixen thought. It wasn’t like she was a real celebrity. The cameras and attention would be on Courtney and Honey, the actual movie stars, not on her.

Nevertheless, she couldn’t deny the rush of butterflies as she sat beside Courtney in the car. The ensemble Violet designed fit her perfectly, and upon her suggestion, she’d paired it with some Miu Miu stilettos, ruby lipstick and a jeweled hair clip in her brand new weave--long, rich, dark brown hair with chestnut highlights, styled in meticulous Marcel waves that made her feel like a goddess. She caught Courtney’s eyes, grinning at her.

Her girlfriend was stunning as usual, her black, high-necked, open-backed tuxedo gown just the right balance of revealing sexiness and teasing modesty. The full skirt had a slit almost the whole way up that you didn’t see until she was in motion, and her blonde hair was tucked under, giving her an almost masculine illusion. Her minimalist jewelry consisted of a simple diamond bracelet, the only splash of color her shiny, short, deep red nails.

“You look very classy,” Vixen commented.

“Yeah?” Courtney asked. “I don’t know how I feel about such an extreme lack of color.”

“No, it’s good.”

“Yeah,” Honey chimed in, from where she sat with her date across from them in the limo. “You need to give the rainbow explosion a break once in awhile.”

“Well...I do have pink and yellow panties on,” Courtney admitted, and they all laughed.

“Of course you do,” Vixen said.

“I mean no one will see them!” she exclaimed. “Probably. Unless the night gets real crazy.”

“Can we make bets?” asked Honey’s date, Michael, making Vixen giggle. She’d only met him a few minutes before, but she already liked him.

“Let’s not,” quipped a woman tersely from the front seat. She was a publicist from Disney whose name Vixen kept forgetting, instead just thinking of her as The Dragon.

“Oh, right,” Courtney said, reaching for Vixen’s hand as they approached the Met. “I guess since we’re here on Disney’s dime, I need to be on good behavior.”

“Only until we get back to the hotel, though, right?” Vixen asked, and Courtney shot her a naughty grin.

“We’ll see…”

Honey and Michael exited the car first, the photographers going nuts over her stunning white pinstripe suit, tailored to perfection.

“Ready?” Courtney asked, and Vixen nodded.

The Dragon was already shooting instructions at them. Well, mostly at Courtney, but it made her head spin a little.

Before they got out, Courtney leaned in and whispered, “If she pulls me away, stick with Michael. He’ll take care of you and make sure you guys stay close.”

Vixen laughed, steeling her nerves, feeling weirdly like she had back in junior high before a basketball game. Here we go...

***

Once Courtney was finally finished with her press obligations, she turned to Vixen with a happy, relieved sigh. She couldn’t help but once again think about just how gorgeous she looked: the cream and ivory ensemble Violet had designed made her dark skin glow, and she’d opted for an understated, barely-there look with her eye makeup--all lashes and just a hint of shimmer. Plus those lips. So red and full and kissable...Courtney could barely wait to get her alone later and just ruin it.

First, though, they had to get through this gala. Courtney took Vixen’s hand and led her inside, where they wandered around together. They looked through the exhibit, and exchanged pleasant, mundane small talk with a mind-boggling number of people. Vixen completely cracked Courtney up with her impression of one of the Vogue editors, and then for a little while, they played a game where they pretended to be museum docents, describing the various pieces to each other with the most pretentious language they could come up with.

While Vixen used the restroom, Courtney found one of the bars and got them a couple of drinks. Champagne always went straight to her head, but she figured that if there was ever a place to get a bit silly, this was it.

“Yes, you heard me. One champagne and a tequila sunrise,” said a familiar voice, and Courtney turned, a big smile on her face.

“Bianca!”

Bianca’s gruff expression melted into a grin as she reached forward to give Courtney a hug.

“Hey there! Nice dress!” she held Courtney by the waist to get a good look. “Siriano, right?”

“Yeah. And I see you really took the menswear theme to heart.”

Bianca was wearing one of her favorite silhouettes: a boat-necked, figure-hugging, floor length gown with a trumpet skirt. It was black and beaded and of course looked great on her, but had nothing whatsoever to do with the theme.

“Listen. Anna Wintour can’t fucking tell me what to wear!” she barked, and Courtney threw back her head with laughter.

“Never change, B.”

“Not much danger of that at this point,” Bianca said, accepting the drinks from the bartender. “I’m glad I ran into you. We found your date, but-”

“We?” Dread filled her stomach like a lead balloon as Bianca directed her gaze to where Vixen stood, talking to none other than Miss Fame herself. Seeing them, Courtney had a lightheaded rush of fear that she hadn’t experienced for almost ten years, and she inhaled sharply.

“What’s the matter?” Bianca asked. “You think Fame’s gonna eat her?”

“I…” Courtney couldn’t explain it. How the anxiety that she felt as a 21-year-old could still return in the presence of that woman. She knew that logically, everything was fine. In recent years, things between her and Fame had gotten downright friendly. And she appeared to be having a perfectly pleasant conversation with Vixen, clad in one of her signature 50-shades-of-white ensembles.

“Relax,” Bianca said, chuckling softly, forearm resting on Courtney’s shoulder. “Our brides are fine. They actually look cute together, don’t you think?”

A laugh bubbled up from Courtney’s chest; they did look awfully bridal, especially standing together. She turned to Bianca, a rush of gratitude coloring her cheeks, thrilled by her tacit approval. She pulled her in for a hug, saying, “They do.”

“Aww, look who else just arrived,” Bianca said, and Courtney turned again.

Raja and Raven, in complementary outfits of royal purple and gray, had joined the little group.

“Okay, now we really do have to save her,” Courtney said, rushing towards them, Bianca laughing behind her.

***

When they finally arrived back at their hotel, the first thing they did was kick off their hideously uncomfortable shoes and strip down. The hotel had sent up a huge basket of luxury bath products, and Courtney suggested filling the jacuzzi tub and dumping all of it in. The result was a fragrant tub with so much bath oil and moisturizing products that their skin immediately became slick and slippery.

Vixen relaxed against the side of the tub, one of the powerful jets aimed at her lower back, and another at her feet. Courtney leaned against her, eyes closed as Vixen’s fingers carded through her hair, slowly removing bobby pin after bobby pin until her hair hung down in stiff waves. She dunked her head under the water, scrubbing to remove the residual mousse and hairspray before coating her hair with a thick layer of conditioning mask and cuddling up once again.

“It was more fun than I thought it would be,” Vixen said, breaking the comfortable silence, fingers trailing up Courtney’s arm.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Less stuffy. Not that I’d want to do it often but, I had a pretty good time.”

Courtney smiled, leaning her head back to rest on Vixen’s shoulder.

“I did too…” she said, then added almost as an afterthought, “Bianca approves of you.”

“Oh yeah? Did you need her approval?” Vixen asked. It was a casual enough question, but it still seemed to make Courtney pause. Did she need Bianca’s approval? Vixen waited for her to respond, realizing that she’d be okay with any answer. After all, Bianca was an important person in her life.

“No...not exactly…but it was still nice.” Courtney smiled sheepishly, and twisted around slightly to tell Vixen, “I guess maybe I didn’t realize how much I didn’t need it until I got it.”

“Fair enough,” Vixen laughed, dropping a kiss to Courtney’s shoulder.

“So...I’m glad you liked it.”

“I did. Although I think I underestimated my ability to wear stilettos for that many hours without dying.”

“Aw, do your feet hurt, baby?” cooed Courtney. She slipped from Vixen’s arms to the opposite side of the tub, where her feet were.  

“They’re killing me…”

Courtney took Vixen’s feet into her lap, and began to give them a gentle massage. Vixen’s eyes fell closed blissfully, luxuriating in the warm water and tender caresses. Courtney began with her feet, but after awhile, moved up to her ankles and calves. Vixen nearly fell asleep three times, but finally blinked her eyes open, pulling Courtney towards her for a kiss.

“Can I do something for you now?” she murmured, and Courtney lifted her head to give her a heavy-lidded smirk.

“Let’s get out of here and see…”

“I was thinking like, helping you rinse this shit out of your hair, but...” Vixen touched her hair, still covered with that thick mask.

“Oh fuck,” Courtney giggled. “I guess we better do that first.”  

Vixen smiled at her, taking the handheld nozzle off the hook and turning it on. She tested the water with her hand, gesturing for Courtney to turn around, and then quickly rinsed her hair, fingertips scratching at her scalp. When she turned it off, she pressed a kiss to Courtney’s neck.

“Come on. Let’s go get bath oil all over those fancy sheets…”

“Sold!”

***

There was something different in Vixen’s eyes tonight as she hovered over Courtney on the bed. She was usually content to be pampered and guided--not submissive exactly, but certainly leaning in that direction. Tonight though, Courtney shivered in anticipation, looking up at her hungry brown eyes, shining dark in the dim light, every once in awhile catching a glint of gold.

They’d been at it for awhile, having tumbled into bed after their bath, Vixen’s mouth traveling all over Courtney’s heated skin. She’d lost track of time completely as Vixen made her tremble and whimper, getting her all worked up, only to tease her cruelly. Her fingertips now danced up Courtney’s thighs, light as a feather, making her breath catch in her throat. Courtney reached up towards her, one hand on her waist, another one her face, thumb stroking her cheek.

The corner of Vixen’s mouth twitched, becoming a smirk as she looked down at Courtney. One finger began to trace slow patterns along her collarbone, little circles getting bigger and loopier over her chest. Courtesy whimpered, back arching, trying unsuccessfully to pull her body down.

“Trying to tell me something, baby?” The pad of her finger circled one of Courtney’s nipples teasingly.

In response, Courtney arched up again.

“I want you,” she said, failing to suppress the pathetic need in her voice.

Vixen crawled forward slightly, pressing a thigh up against her pussy, giving her something to grind wetly against. It was good, so good that Courtney gasped in pleasure, Vixen’s thigh flexing against her as fingers continued toying with her tits. But soon, it wasn’t enough, and Courtney was pulling Vixen’s hips down, head falling back to expose her throat.

Vixen licked up her neck, layering kisses against her hammering pulse point. Courtney’s legs spread open, the gentle pressure of Vixen’s weight pressing her down into the mattress.

Courtney loved Vixen’s body. She had small tits that fit perfectly in Courtney’s hands, long slender limbs, and the most buttery soft skin she’d ever felt, especially fresh out of the bath. She loved to touch her, to feel her and taste her and kiss her all over.

She was painfully aware, though, that there were things she needed to be sensitive about when they were together. Even though she and Vixen had jumped into bed together on their first date, she’d spent a lot of their excruciating months apart asking gentle, probing questions about what she liked, what she didn’t, if there was anything that made her uncomfortable. Vixen was a bit shy at first, so Courtney didn’t push too hard, but every once in awhile, if she’d had enough wine, she would open up quite a bit, giving Courtney real insight into her fantasies.

And then of course, once they’d been able to really take their time and explore with each other, Courtney discovered a whole world of possibilities. Where she was most sensitive, how her fingers flexed and then curled slowly into fists when she liked something. How she was generally more interested in gentle, loving touches than hard, orgasm-focused penetration.

Courtney was careful to go slowly, and to follow her lead for anything below the waist. She didn’t want to make any assumptions about her body, or make her feel fetishized - but she also wanted to make sure to express how beautiful and sexy she found every part of her. It was a fine line, a balancing act that Courtney wasn’t sure she always got right.

She knew, for example, that Vixen preferred the term “girldick” and was partial to having it treated more like a clit - kissed and licked and rubbed and gently sucked. And Courtney was happy to oblige, loving the feel and the taste of her, how her cum had a faint sweetness to it. But recently, she’d surprised Courtney with a whispered confession in the dark that she wasn’t expecting.

“I’ve been thinking that maybe I want to try...topping,” Vixen said, hiding her face in Courtney’s hair, adorably bashful. “I mean, it’s so hot when you do it, and it doesn’t make me think of you as any less of a woman, and so…”

“You’re 100% woman. Every bit of you,” Courtney whispered back, but she’d also been a tiny bit nervous. After all, the last time anyone had tried penetrating her had been a bit of a disaster, and ever since then, she hadn’t wanted to revisit it. But on the other hand, she loved Vixen so much, and trusted her, and so maybe it was time to rethink her own boundaries.

“I don’t know if I can, though,” Vixen then added. “I mean, it doesn’t get hard the way it used to…”

“We can figure it out,” Courtney had said, kissing her, wrapping her up into a sleepy embrace. But the conversation never went any farther. Vixen hadn’t brought it up again, and Courtney didn’t really think any more about it. Until right now.

And tonight, there was something so fucking sexy about the way Vixen rutted against her, soft little sighs leaving her as she rolled her hips. Courtney grew wetter and wetter, fingers digging into her firm ass, pulling her closer. Vixen lifted her head, interrupting a deep, messy kiss to look into Courtney’s glazed eyes.

“Is this okay? Are you…”

“It’s perfect…You’re perfect.” Courtney could feel the soft tip of her girldick pushing against her, and she arched up, welcomed it deeper with her hand, loving the feel of Vixen getting closer and closer with every thrust.

It was so different from anything Courtney had ever experienced; so flexible and warm. It was a gentle kind of fullness, nothing rigid or demanding or painful like it had been for Courtney in the past. Courtney hugged Vixen’s hips with her thighs, hands sliding up her back, raking over her shoulder blades and back down to her waist.

“Baby, this is so hot,” Courtney whimpered, and then Vixen angled forward so that she was rubbing vigorously against Courtney’s clit, making her moan. “Fuuuck…”

Courtney could feel herself getting close, right on the verge. She captured Vixen’s lips in another kiss, sucking hard on her bottom lip and then tangling their tongues together. She panted into her mouth, snaking one hand down between her ass cheeks to stroke her, eliciting a little gasp from Vixen’s thoat, a familiar sound that told Courtney she was close too.

As Vixen’s hips pumped faster and faster, Courtney tried to hang on, but knuckles brushing over her stiff nipples was the last straw, and suddenly she was racked with ecstatic pleasure, wave after wave hitting her. By the end, she was barely moving, just clinging to Vixen’s body as her muscles convulsed, ankles locked together to keep her as close as possible.

The intense, messy kisses soon turned slow and gentle again as Courtney slowly caught her breath, bodies still sandwiched together.

“Wow…”

“Uh-huh...”

“That was different,” Vixen said, lips brushing against Courtney’s temple.

“Did you like it?” Courtney asked, fingers dancing up Vixen’s spine.

“...that might be an understatement.”

“Yeah, it was pretty...amazing,” Courtney giggled, nodding, catching her gaze. Her brown eyes shone softly in the dim light. “I love you so much.”

“Me too, baby.”

[infinitelytheheartexpands]

Opera ask challenge. La Boheme, Act 2, 30 lines

Hmm...let’s do this!

Parisian Vendors: HERE’S A BUNCH OF STUFF TO BUY LAST-MINUTE AS CHRISTMAS GIFTS BECAUSE YOU CAN’T GET ANY CLOSER TO AMAZON SAME-DAY SHIPPING IN THIS DAY AND AGE

Colline and Schaunard: YAAAAAAY SOME LAST-MINUTE CHRISTMAS GIFTS FOR ME LIKE FRENCH HORNS AND OLD OVERCOATS AND STUFF

Mimì: Ooh, this pink bonnet’s pretty, Rodolfo! Would you get it for me?

Rodolfo: Sure, just as long as you never cheat on me because I’m a naturally jealous person! After all, I am a tenor! 

Marcello: I NEED A GIRLFRIEND OR A ONE-NIGHT STAND OR SOMETHING BECAUSE I’M SAD AND ALONE

Rodolfo: I got it, Mimì! Let’s go to the café!

Marcello, Schaunard, and Colline: Hi, waiter! We need a bunch of food like salami and turkey and lobster and fancy wine and ice cream and all the good stuff! And make it snappy, we don’t got all day!

*The waiter, who is extremely overworked and just needs a vacay, is annoyed.*

Rodolfo: We’re here, guys! Meet my new girlfriend, Mimì! We’re so in love!

Marcello, Schaunard, and Colline: Nice to meet you, Mimì! What did Rodolfo get you?

Mimì: He got me a pink bonnet because he can read my heart and he knew I wanted one even though I totally didn’t tell him that! Yay love!

Marcello: Love is stupid.

Everyone: You know what? Down with despair, life is fair! A toast!

*Musetta and Alcindoro show up.*

Alcindoro: I HATE BEING A SUGAR DADDY

Musetta: AND I HATE YOU ooh there’s my ex Marcello and I still love him

Mimì: She’s pretty. Who is that?

Marcello: That’s my crazy ex-girlfriend Musetta. She eats hearts. Like she ate mine.

Musetta: I need to get Marcello’s attention HEY WAITER THIS PLATE SUCKS AND I’M GOING TO SMASH IT NOW

*Which she does, along with, in certain very special cases, everything else on the table. The waiter is understandably extremely annoyed by this point.*

Musetta: he’s still not looking dammit FINE I’LL SING ABOUT HOW EVERYONE THINKS I’M GORGEOUS AND SEXYYYYYYYYY

Alcindoro: PLEASE BEHAVE I DON’T WANT TO LOOK ANY MORE STUPID THAN I ACTUALLY AM

Marcello: don’t pay attention don’t pay attention don’t pay attention

Musetta: MARCELLOOOOOOOOOO I KNOW YOU STILL LOVE MEEEEEEEEE

Rodolfo: Musetta broke up with him in search of a better life. Mimì, promise me you’ll never be like Musetta.

Colline and Schaunard: THIS IS THE FUNNIEST THING EVER

Musetta: Time for Operation New Shoes. AHHHHHHHHHHHH I HAVE A PAIN IN MY FOOT GET ME SOME NEW SHOES ALCINDORO AND THIS IS TOTALLY NOT BECAUSE I WANT TO GET BACK WITH MARCELLO

*Alcindoro leaves with Musetta’s shoe.*

Marcello and Musetta: I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

*The waiter gives the bill to the bohemians.*

Rodolfo, Marcello, Schaunard, and Colline: ...Shoot. We don’t have any money left. Maybe we should’ve managed it better.

Musetta: Hey, let’s have Alcindoro pay for it!

Mimì, Musetta, Rodolfo, Marcello, Schaunard, and Colline: LET’S GO BEFORE HE COMES BACK ALSO ALL HAIL MUSETTA

Parisians: YAY CHRISTMAS AND YAY PARADE

*Alcindoro comes back and is presented with the two bills.*

Alcindoro: WHAT THE-

*He faints.*

[anime-dub-transcripts]

Hetalia: World Series Episode #10 Transcript

This episode has France starting a bank, French strikes, and tomatoes.

Chibitalia: Weeeeee!

Spain: Ahhhh…Italy, why are you so cute? Maybe you could teach Romano to be a little less mean.

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

{Text on newspaper: Economics Newspaper}

France: Eauh! This economy can bite my derriere!

(Derriere: Behind → French)

France: It’s bad enough I have jerk Britain laughing at me all the time without suffering these little animated insert thingies.

(Britain: Hahahahaha! Hahahahaha!)

France: Sometimes I wish I could be you, Switzerland. All you do is hide the corrupt games of the financial elite.

Switzerland: You have farmland, so you don’t have to sell your soul to Satan! You’re the lucky one. When I was young, nothing would grow in my country, so laundering foreign money was the only way for me to make a decent living. Oh, sure, there were jobs, but mercenary work sucks. I didn’t want to become the dumping ground for Nazi gold and Iraqi reconstruction money, but without any real skills, I had to start a bank. Even so, I wouldn’t trade those centuries of hardship ‘cause they made me the man I am today.

France: Wow! This whole banking thing sounds like an excellent idea for me!

Switzerland: Hey! You interrupted me before I got to sing my fancy-dancy song!

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

Switzerland: Hetalia!

{Caption: Hetalia}

{Text on building: French Bank}

France: Check it out. It looks kind of like a church, am I right?

Switzerland: What?! You mean this is really your bank?

France: Oui, but of course!

(Oui: Yes → French)

{Caption: Super Computer}

France: America taught me how to print slash steal money with computers. And we own the police force, so we’ll never get caught. Regular people are just happy to have a job with a sweet uniform, so they don’t ever complain. I made it look so gorgeous on the outside because I figure a bank should make you feel rich!

{Caption: Smirk smirk}

France: See, that way people don’t notice when we start taking all their money away. Creating a central bank is a lot like the putting on of a play. Smoke and mirrors do all of the work.

Switzerland: Yeah, I know.

French man: Sir! It’s terrible! All of the bank employees have decided to go on strike!

France: Awuh…

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

France: Hetalia!

{Caption: Hetalia}

{Caption: Because I like strikes}

Narrator: Strikes happen so often in France, they’ve practically made it their national pastime.

Japan: Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left…aah!

{Text on sign: Strike}

Narrator: Famous art museums can get closed down by strikes.

Japan: Ahuah!

Narrator: Luckily, art is boring, so you decide to go somewhere else. Unfortunately, the buses and trains are on strike too.

(Japan: Auoh! Auoh!)

{Text on bus #1: Strike}

{Text on bus #2: Strike}

Narrator: You drag your butt back to your hotel just in time for a service worker strike.

{Text on banner #1: Strike}

{Text on banner #2: Strike}

Japan: Huah…

Narrator: You rent a room from a one-armed clown. And there’s a power strike! Clowns are scary.

(Japan: Aaaaaahhh!)

(Clown: Hehehe)

{Text on building #1: Public Organization}

{Text on building #2: On Strike}

Narrator: Whole buildings can go on strike and disappear without warning. Ooh! Until all you’re left with is a teapot and a magic floating faucet, who also go on strike. Ooh la la! Haha! Okay, I might have made up some of that last part, but there are a lot of strikes in France. They even have a strike calendar to help you plan accordingly! But you can never tell when some overzealous government authority is gonna spark a weeks long riot in the Paris suburbs. So you do have to be ready for anything.

{Text on sign #1: Strike}

{Text on sign #2: Public Organization}

{Text on sign #3: Travel Agencies}

{Text on sign #4: Art Museums}

{Text on sign #5: Schools}

{Text on sign #6: Bus and Subways}

{Text on sign #7: Banks}

France: Strike strike strike strike striiiike!

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

{Caption: Boss Spain and Chibi Romano}

Chibi Romano: Spain the Boss and Chibi Romano!

Spain: Hey! How’s it going, Italy?

Chibitalia: Hola, hermano España!

(Hola, hermano España!: Hello, brother Spain! → Spanish)

Spain: Would you like to try one of my tasty ripe tomatoes?

(Chibitalia: Ahha…)

Chibitalia: You brought one here just for me! I sure would! Nomnomnomnom…‘maters are good ‘cause they’re high in carotenoids and lycopene!

Spain: Easy there, you little dictionary brain guy! Oh, Italia.

(Italia: Italy → Spanish)

Spain: You’re cute, cuddly, and muy inteligente.

(Muy inteligente: Very intelligent → Spanish)

Spain: ROMANO! I’m home! Did you finish up all of your chores?

Chibi Romano: Snnooorrreee…

{Caption: Clutter}

Spain: Jesús!

(Jesús!: Jesus! → Spanish)

Spain: You bum! Que haciendo?!

(Que haciendo?!: What [are you] doing?! → Spanish)

Spain: I try to give you every possible chance to prove yourself to me, but all you do is get me upset and hurt my feelings a lot! Now I’m going to cry! Wehehe! Parenting is really hard.

Chibi Romano: Uah…

Spain: Wehehehe!

Chibi Romano: Nomnomnomnomnom…

Spain: Okay! How about I read to you from the historical compendium on tomatoes?

Narrator: How about you let a girl make a dollar? Spain brought tomatoes to Europe from North America and influenced Italian cuisine when they ruled over them. Cue Romano!

Chibi Romano: Nomnomnomnom…

Narrator: Spaniards are crazy for this fruit; yes, it’s a fruit. Google Spain and tomatoes to see for yourself.

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

Germany: Auh…auhn…

Chibitalia: Waaahhhhh…

Germany: Who are you?

Chibitalia: I’m your worst nightmare!

{Caption: To be continued}

Children: To be continued, maybe.

[aurianneor]

Volcanic Explosion

- Oh no! What a disaster! There is hot chocolate everywhere, even in the grooves of the dishwasher. - It is necessary to clean immediately, otherwise the milk will rot. With that, Bixente went to get the Spanish mop and sponges. Bachué went to the living-room to warn his friends. As she burst out laughing, she recounted how she had stirred too much chocolate and how the foam had risen and how the case had ended in a volcanic eruption on the washing machine. Oh yes! The kitchen was tiny and the top of the machine served as a worktop. Chuckling with laughter, she added: - We'll have to leave you, because the longer we wait, the harder it will be to clean up. - Chocolate is everywhere, everywhere! Bixente commented jovially. Explosion of hot chocolate! What a story! The guests stayed in the living room because the kitchen was too small for them to be of any help. Bachué and Bixente sponged, sponged and mopped again, but it seemed that there was always one more place to discover and that it was necessary to clean up. It took a lot longer than they would have imagined. - A Basque and a Colombian, unable to prepare chocolate ... Traditions are getting lost it seems. - No, it's at least the hundredth time that we enjoy this recipe. Even the best cooks can be wrong at least once in a hundred. - You call it wrong, it's a real disaster! And what will our friends think? - They'll think we have a volcano in the kitchen! joked Bachué with a mischievous tone. They suspect that we would have preferred to drink our chocolate while chatting ... Cleaning is still not a great hobby ... - For sure. But we should ask your grandmother how she prepares hers. I do not want to use that damn chocolate that your mother offered you! - Okay, but she can still serve as a carafe of water. It is beautiful all the same, replied Bachué. - OK. Water is easier to mop ... After a long time ... scrubbing ... "Well now that they have been waiting for an eternity, they should still be served something," said Bachué. - Not chocolate, I have an overdose. After an episode like this, you need at least one Irish coffee. - But we’ve never done any! - I do not care. I just asked them and they are very up to it. I want one and, with them, I'm looking for a recipe on the net. They seem to know how to do it, it looks simple, besides the whipped cream. Do not whip too hard ... Otherwise, foam eruption ... - Ooh! You make me proposals, whispered Bachué in response to the joke. - Prepare a coffee please my love while I inquire. He returned two minutes later, I’m going to the Monoprix to take some whipped cream. It will avoid catastrophes. I will also take a little Whiskey because it must be heated with sugar. It's just in case we have to do it several times. Leopold, Noor and their son Fael came to put their head on the door: - So, how are you doing? Bixente pulled on his shoes and as he grabbed his coat, another explosion was heard. - Ah! that's it! Now I saw how a volcano works, Fael was super happy with this scientific experiment. - Oh! My God!, marvelled Bixente. - We will have to clean everything again, demonstrated Bachu. There is some all over the ceiling, the whole window and all the tiles! There are even some in the grooves of the dishwasher. It's even worse than chocolate! - Come on, come out of this kitchen, you've done enough cleaning for today. We are taking care of it. Keep an eye on Fael, will you? And then, it's not as bad as it seems, Noor comforted her. - It's true, two explosions and zero wounded, it is rather a good record, ventured Leopold while holding back with laughter. After all this typical cuisine was quite untypical. Today it's a great circus show, an acrobatic but an explosive one! But this is not an opera buffa; with all that, we have nothing in the belly. Noor scowled at him. - That's why I propose to fetch fries with coke and beers, Belgian, of course. - Very good idea, thanked Bixente, I'm coming with you. I already have my shoes and my coat. Once the men left, Noor analysed the situation: Fael was right. It was like a volcano. It's not coffee but coffee powder that you have from floor to ceiling. And that's good news because a sweep and the turn will be played. - Magic magic! I love you. Thank you, Noor,! - Be careful, I do not fly on brooms ... I'm just a poor old maid with broken back by these long years of toil! - You have well-chosen your profession. - Witch? - No, you know. Actress. And while she was cleaning the Italian expresso machine, Bachué realized she had taken the top of one machine and the bottom of another one. No wonder the explosion!

Since then, the four friends remember this fancy snack regularly and always, always, laughing a lot ....

And Fael! Fascinated, like many children by volcanoes, he keeps asking his mother to agree to put a mentos in a bottle of Coke... It's funny this fascination for volcanoes. Despite the risk of injury, these two explosions have marked the minds of our five friends, positively. They remember it with great pleasure.

Volcanic explosions exert this same fascination on humans, despite the victims. These volcanoes represent a huge danger but let us not forget that they allow survival in many places, such as islands, because they fertilize the soil. This single image of the volcano represents a life drive and a death drive simultaneously.

When a human is about to crack nervously, we say that he is under pressure and we use the image of the volcano as a metaphor for this state. The pressure is cracking, it is the negative element but let us not forget that the fact of cracking makes one take matters in hand in order to no longer accept the unacceptable and to reorient his life towards a healthier situation.

Aurianne Or

Under Pressure - Queen

Teppanyaki

Foot massage à กาญจนบุรี: https://aurianneor.tumblr.com/post/166876296355/foot-massage-à-กาญจนบ-ร-soffrir-un-massage-des

Homme à barbe: https://aurianneor.tumblr.com/post/166258001410/homme-à-barbe

Riche: https://aurianneor.tumblr.com/post/173797489620/riche-cétait-une-belle-journée-et-le-paysage

Toulouse: https://aurianneor.tumblr.com/post/160848281930/toulouseThéâtre de rue: https://aurianneor.tumblr.com/post/161128273180/théâtre-de-rue

Dinosaure sur la route: https://aurianneor.tumblr.com/post/168470355765/dinosaure-sur-la-route-ah-il-faut-quand-même

Permis sur la planète rouge: https://aurianneor.tumblr.com/post/178817034225/permis-sur-la-planète-rouge-une-histoire-de

To read this in French: https://aurianneor.tumblr.com/post/168251271985/explosion-volcanique-oh-non-quel-désastre

[shooter-nobunagun]

Look At Me (R-18)

//Angsty one-shot that happens when I stay up way too late and my brain takes one thread of inspiration and spins it into a whole story before I know it. Like literally, this story feels like it wrote itself at times. I wanted to finish it in one go, for best “consistency” but my brain started futzing around 2:30am and so I was forced to go to bed. Exploring more of Adam’s feelings, and his guilt, of hurting her in order to save her, and Sio’s reservations at that guilt. Takes place shortly after Sio’s promotion. Starts angsty but it has a happy ending... :>;;;

Warnings: It’s R-18, but it won’t be quite as explicit as my usual smut. In fact, I’d hesitate to call this smut...more like, mature content?

He doesn’t look at her anymore.

Well, that isn’t entirely accurate--they encounter each other in the hallways, during the battles, and when she’s giving orders and commands to which he always responds with a nod and ‘of course.’ What she means is that he no longer looks at her that way. The way when his emeralds smolder and darken, even though he never says a word she knows that he is secretly undressing her with his eyes, and the second they get a reprieve they will retreat to one of their rooms to fulfill that hunger, that desire they have for each other. Sometimes it’s easy to tell, other times it still takes her by surprise, the passion that they have for each other.

He no longer looks at her like that.

At first she doesn’t think too much on it; so many things have happened--Asao’s death, her return, and the dreadful advancement of their alien foes. Of course there isn’t time to focus on their personal lives--not when the fate of the planet comes first.

But then she convinces him to share her room, if only so she won’t be all alone at night, suffering her own fears by herself; he agrees immediately of course, that is hardly a surprise. In the beginning it is nervous and exciting and overwhelming all at once; they no longer have to keep sneaking around, finding excuses to go somewhere. They have their own retreat now, a place only for each other, and she relishes the ability to be held in his arms, night after night. 

Of course they make love--as often as every single night, at least in the beginning they did. Soft, hard, fast and slow...it feels like no matter what position or mood they try, it always ends up feeling amazing. But lately it hasn’t been like that, or at least not like that. 

He still waits up for her every night, that is for certain. She’s amazed at how steadfast he’s been, making sure to never fall asleep before she returns from her exhausting schedule, sometimes lasting well until nearly dawn. But then again he’s always been stubborn, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise. The surprise is that he doesn’t seem to be as enthusiastic anymore; most of the time she initiates it now, and though he unfailingly obliges, his eyes are different now; the emeralds are duller, no longer rich and sparkling. She can’t remember the last time he actually looked at her straight in the eye. Most nights he seems only focused on satisfying her as soon as possible, nevermind if he is or not--‘I’m fine, just tired’--is a common excuse these days. It’s not that she isn’t satisfied--for he is a kind lover and knows precisely how her body works--but somehow, even the strongest orgasm still leaves her feeling hollower and emptier than when she first settles into bed.

She knows something is wrong; yet neither of them have the courage to say it. Their relationship having already narrowly survived a literal death sentence, her own excuse is to ‘wait until things have settled down’, but it’s a flimsy excuse and deep down she knows it. The war is only getting more serious and involved from here on out; their chances of having a quiet moment to digest and reflect on their own feelings will simply have to wait. For now, she manages to convince herself that at least they are together and mostly safe, and even if things between them have been getting more and more strained lately, well, it’s better than having nothing at all. Her mind blames it on the increasing levels of stress they are experiencing, her as the new strategist and he getting sent off to every corner of the world, fighting against monsters that never seem to stop spawning; on the death of her best friend, and countless others that they were unable to save.

Her heart knows these are just convenient lies, though.

One day she happens upon the rare occasion of Newton having tea by herself, and the older woman naturally invites her to join. One word, then two spill out, and before the scones are even finished she’s choking out her fears, her insecurities of this relationship possibly not lasting before the war ends. “I don’t understand--but, I feel like he’s so...distant lately. What if, what if he...no longer loves me?” She cries and cries for what seems like an eternity, the blonde very sympathetically lending both ear and shoulder as the sniper sobs, until at last no more tears are to be had.

“Oh Sio...there there. I know it feels like the end of the world, but I don’t think so. It’s natural for relationships to hit a plateau after a while. Especially given the circumstances...normally I’d say this is a sign for you two to take a nice getaway to some tropical country, but we both know that’s not exactly an option...” The blonde winces at her own answer, but they both know it’s the truth. “Think of it this way; the beginning of anything is always the most exciting--it’s new, it’s fresh, there’s so much to explore and learn. And after a while, things become...well, more settled. You get used to it, you fall into routine; surprises become fewer--though trust me when I say this isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Think of it as, um...well, like, wearing a comfortable shirt and fireworks.” The statement is met with a stare of pure skepticism, but Newton pretends she doesn’t see it and continues plowing through. 

“In the beginning, it feels like there’s fireworks all the time; as time passes, you start trading the fireworks for a comfortable shirt. Perhaps it’s not as flashy nor exciting, but it’s familiar and comforting. And you still get the occasional firework, here and there, which makes those moments even more special.”

The sniper doesn’t really understand any of these analogies, but she appreciates the blonde’s efforts. Her teammate doesn’t stop there, however; instead she whips out the digital calendar, and lets out a squeal of joy when they discover that the upcoming weekend is miraculously free of tedious meetings and scheduled skirmishes, and sends a request for a quick shore-leave (fast tracked for approval to the commander), some girl time for just the two of them before she knows it. 

“I know this isn’t exactly a romantic tropical vacation, but I think a bit of change will do you good, Sio-chan.”

And this is how she ends up being pulled along the streets of Toronto, the closest city the A. Logan happens to be flying over. She’s never been to Canada, but they speak English here (and for some reason, French) so Newton navigates them flawlessly through the busy downtown. For the most part, people don’t really seem to recognize them--though they do get a few curious stares, and one person even runs up to them and asks for a selfie--which she firmly but politely declines. 

“Anything you want in particular? Anything to eat, some new clothes--oh, I’ve just the idea--” And the next thing she knows, they’re stepping into what appears to be a high-end lingerie boutique. Under normal circumstances, she would be blushing and protesting and demanding that they leave right away, but what the hell--it’s just Newton, and frankly, at this point she can hardly think about what kind of underwear he’d might like to see her in.

She can tell everything is very high quality though, even without the price tag. Newton assures her that the sky’s pretty much the limit when it comes to cost, and urges her to try out a couple of items she thinks will bring out her lithe figure. “You complained that Adam hasn’t been as responsive in bed lately, maybe you two just need some new things to spice it up a little~” At least the blonde doesn’t insist on going into the changing room with her, although it is a bit irritating to hear her ask every five minutes if assistance is needed. 

“Oh, don’t be so shy Sio, let me take a look! Trust me, I was a model--I know my way around a fancy pair of knickers,” and before she can even launch another protest, the curtain opens and the blonde invites herself in after all. “Ooh la la, this one’s a real winner--the sheer lace, barely-there-coverage, the tie-only knickers--there’s no way Adam’s going to be able to take his eyes off of you when he sees you in these.”

“B-Beckham-san...” She hugs herself slightly and blushes, not used to wearing such...purposefully erotic underwear. “W-Well, if you say so...”

“If he doesn’t go for it, I’ll stomp him on the head myself,” Newton deadpans, before turning the girl this way and that. “Yes, it fits nicely as well...you know Sio-chan, I actually envy your petite figure. It’s so adorable.” Her face must have shown a great deal of surprise, for Newton only smiles wryly at her reaction. “Ah ha, you must be one of those girls who think that only big busts matter? Tsk tsk tsk, think again. While I do like my curves, they are a terrible bother at times...there’s so many cute outfits I can’t wear, and if it weren’t for DOGOO’s training regimen, I’m sure I’d be having back problems by now...” As the sniper starts undoing the delicate lace straps, she hears a small gasp from the other woman.

“Beckham-san? Is something...wrong?”

“A-Ah? Sio-chan...ah, nothing...just...” It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that the blonde is clearly troubled by something, and luckily she’s smart enough to know that the sniper won’t take excuses for an answer. “It’s just...I’d have thought that scar would’ve healed by now. I guess it’ll take a little longer, huh?”

She looks down at her left breast. A jagged line of scar tissue, some of it still pink and tender, cutting straight across her breastbone and then roughly juts underneath the slight curve, matching up with an equally uneven line of flesh across the corresponding shoulder blade on her back. “Oh...yeah. The doctor said honestly, it might never go away. I mean, they offered me the option to get it fixed cosmetically, but...” she puts on her regular clothes again and shrugs. “It doesn’t really matter anymore. I mean, it’s...not like it hurts or anything.”

“...I’m sorry.” Newton looks somber all of a sudden, even as they finish paying and walk out of the store. “I didn’t mean to bring that up again.”

“It’s fine; I...don’t really think about it anymore.” 

But that’s a lie and you know it.

Their little day trip seems to have ended all too soon, and to her surprise she is just a tad disappointed as the appointed chopper comes to pick them up, right on schedule. She returns with a bunch of small gifts for the rest of the platoons--some small snacks like ketchup-flavored crisps, cheese curds, and of course a bottle of organic maple syrup. The excitement and cheerful chatter from the other holders asking about her trip cheers her up slightly, and it is because she is so engaged with retelling her first taste of poutine to Gaudî that she nearly misses him coming in.

“So...sounds like you had fun today, squirt.” He looks about the same as always, cool and detached, especially when the others are around--but this time she is more observant, watching just exactly where his eyes are looking, what he’s doing. “Thanks for taking her out, Newton. I owe you one...”

“Aw, Jack! It was a shame you couldn’t join us, but sometimes, we girls just need to have a little ‘girl time’, you know?”

“Ah, Adam! I, here...I, got this for you...” She grabs the potato crisps and hands them to him. “I...think you’ll like them.”

He raises a white eyebrow, a small grin as he reads the label. “Ketchup flavor? Must be one of those weird Canadian things...thanks, Sio.”

He’s about to leave, to retreat back into whatever little corner that he undoubtedly holed up in while she was gone, when she grabs his arm and he blinks at her in confusion. “...Sio?”

“A-Ah, uhm, t, tonight...y-you, don’t have any plans...right?” For once her heart is pounding nervously, palms sweaty--as if this was right when they first kissed.

He stares at her curiously for a few seconds, head tilted with lips pursed, before he answers at last. “...No, not particularly...? Oh, well there’s just a small thing with Capa--but it shouldn’t take long.”

“Th, then, come back as soon as you can...” And then she takes his hand, which surprises them both, especially since it’s in plain view of everybody else in the room. “Actually, I...know this is selfish of me, but...try to leave early? Please?” Given her rank and the severity of the situation, she rarely tries to wheedle him with childish pleas anymore, but for some reason she feels that now is a time to use it. 

“...Heh, tryin’ t’ make me play hooky ‘ey?” A rare, true smile flashes across his emeralds and her heart skips several beats, a feeling she hasn’t experienced for a long time now. “Well all right, must be...important, if yer usin’ those eyes...” She blushes as he slowly runs his fingers over her palm, as if trying to memorize each digit and knuckle. “I’ll see what I can do. It’s been a while since I’ve had to utilize Jack’s cunning for this type of stuff...I’ll be back by 21:00. Latest, I swear.” 

Then he gives her just a slight kiss on the forehead, innocent and light, and he’s off to do whatever it is Capa wants. She remains standing there, cheeks a faint pink as everybody else disperses, though Newton and Gandhi remain behind, murmuring to each other about no doubt their leader and his sniper.

“So Sio-chan, sounds like you’ve got something special planned for tonight?” The Indian teases her just a touch, but she knows it’s all in good humor. “Newton gave me the basics; and all I have to add to that is...” he gestures her closer, until he’s whispering right into her ear, “go for it, and show that stubborn idiot just what it is he’s missing out on.” He winks playfully as her cheeks burn, before he too, bids them a farewell for now.

“Ah, before you go Sio, I just wanted to tell you: regardless of what you may think Adam feels, just remember that men are morons when it comes to emotions and subtleties. If he’s not getting the hint, then just bloody tell it to him straight, or better yet, show him. Men understand actions more than words. And if that still doesn’t work, then come find me and Gandhi and we’ll beat some sense into him.” Newton gives her an encouraging thumbs up, though she sincerely hopes that it won’t have to come down to physical violence.

Before she knows it, the clock is reading 20:30 and she’s standing in front of the only full-length mirror in the cabin, feeling a bit odd at preening herself and taking a more critical eye to her appearance for a change. The lacy bralette barely cups her breasts, though it’s not like they’re particularly large to begin with--only a single line of silk ribbon covers her nipples, and only if it’s placed correctly. The panties sit just below her hipbones, the ties hanging off in her best rendition of a bow, the sheerness of the lace fabric not doing much to hide anything--she cringes a little as she realizes her pubic hair is peeking through the sides a bit, and regrets a little at not having taken Newton’s offer to go to a salon and getting it trimmed, at least. Her hair has gotten white and long again--a dye job would be necessary soon, and probably another trim, but there hadn’t been time for that today and besides, it contrasts surprisingly well with the all-black lingerie. She nervously glances at the clock, which now reads 20:41--Adam had said he’d be back by 21:00 at the very latest, which means he must be on his way, soon.

It’s been a while since she’s felt like this, all excited and a bit nervous, even. Lately, sex has become more of a routine rather than something special--almost like a sleep aid, since it makes them more tired and generally speaking she tends to have less nightmares on those nights. Tonight though, she wants tonight to be special; to take their time, instead of simply going through the motions in the most efficient manner possible. Her palms are sweating and she realizes her heart is racing at the anticipation, and when she unconsciously crosses her thighs, she feels a bit of moisture between her legs, her body already preparing itself for the inevitable.

Just before the clock is about to hit 20:59 the door slides open and a cool gust of air comes in, followed by his groan of relief at having come back at last. “Heh, made it back like I said I would--swear to god it took all of Jack’s instincts to weasel my way out of Capa’s orders, I think he needs another assistant or something.” She hears him taking off his shoes, then jacket, loosening the tie after a long day. “So, what’s so important that you had me take off early--” his voice stops as she comes into view at last, standing nervously before him in her new lingerie, cheeks pinking a little at his scrutinizing view. His eyes are indiscernible, but he is definitely staring a lot longer than he usually does, emeralds widening a bit, and she swears there is a glint that she hasn’t seen in a long time.

“You, uh, y-you...wow Sio, that’s...” He laughs nervously a little, his face blushing a bit as he comes to the realization of just why she wanted him to leave early, before letting out a low whistle. “Christ Sio, that’s...wow.”

“D, Do you...like it?”

“Oh, yeh--you look, good--no, stunning,” and though is voice is nervous and she can hear that tinge of boyish lust, still something is not quite right; the odd, nervous energy that is not from the anticipation, but from something else. “It’s...very lovely. And you’re beautiful, love.”

His words are sincere, she knows it; but his continued lack of eye contact is starting to irritate her. Something is wrong; and no matter how messy or uncomfortable this will be, she’s determined to get to the bottom of it.

“If that’s true...then how come you won’t look at me?” His face is a stunned mixture of surprise and hurt, but she can’t stop now. “I don’t mean that in the usual sense; of course you’re looking, but you’re not really looking; you’re not seeing what’s in front of you. You haven’t for a while now.” Her voice is trembling a bit, but she doesn’t let it stop her. Even as she slowly backs him against the wall, his eyes nervous and guilty with shame, her maroons are even and just a bit hardened.

“Adam, what’s wrong? What’s bothering you?” He just shakes his head slowly, mouth open but no sounds come out. “Don’t lie, Adam; we both know something’s wrong; what is it? Are you dissatisfied with me? Are you...are you ashamed of me?”

That last line is what shakes him from his fear, and in an instant she’s the one who’s up against the wall, looking at last into tortured emeralds that are dark with shame and lust. “No; it...it isn’t that. It isn’t that at all.” She doesn’t say anything, only gently stroking his cheek, to encourage him to continue speaking. “...You are right; something is wrong, Sio. And I’ve been a coward because of it...” He answers softly at last, his hand slowly fingers the single-ribbon strap, right where it covers her left breast and as soon as it reaches the end he stops, as if touching fire, and suddenly she thinks she knows why.

“...It’s not your fault, Adam. It never was.”

“No, no you don’t understand--” She grabs his wrist before he can make his retreat, and firmly places it on her left breast, where that scar is now. “Sio, please, it’s not--” His eyes plead with her, but she refuses to let go. “It’s, it’s not...that--”

“Why are you so ashamed of this? You know I don’t blame you; I never have...! If anything, you saved me--so why are you so--” 

“--because I hurt you, that’s why--even though I promised to myself, the number one thing I’d never do is to hurt you, I did--I was supposed to protect you, not hurt--” And the man who’s always been her pillar of strength, of warm support crumbles before her very eyes, brows deepened with furrows as he goes off into a stream of all the wrongs he’s wrought and should’ves could’ves would’ves.

“Adam Muirhead. Stop this nonsense, and look at me,” the commanding tone she uses as Nobunagun surprises her, but it works; he stops babbling, if only just long enough for her to grasp his chin and pull his head up. “Listen to me for once, you idiot. That day, when I told you to take responsibility for your actions, to fix what you did wrong, instead of moping about...I meant every word of it. You know I don’t blame you for what happened; nobody did, or does, regardless of how they might have responded. Even if you left this scar...to me, it’s proof of our trust...that I trusted you with my life, to do the right thing, even if it’s painful...because I love you, you stupid moron.” A tear streaks down her cheek, but she refuses to wipe it away. “When you avoid me, or look away each time...it hurts. It makes me feel like I’m doing something wrong...that I’m not good enough for you...” 

She has to stop talking for a bit, because a sob hiccups up and she just can’t stop it. Crying was not in the plan at all, but saying these thoughts hurts more than she thought it would. “I-I...I don’t care about some stupid scar, o-o-or wha, what other people might think...I just want to be with you! I’ve already lost Asao-san...please, don’t leave me too, Adam...”

His body trembles, and it takes her a second to realize that he’s crying too, though he’s much more restrained. Still, he can’t stop his tears anymore than she can hers, and in that moment he can say nothing, only burying her in his arms as they both sob.

“I’m sorry...I’m sorry...! I didn’t mean to make you feel this way...it’s just, each time I see it...all I can think about, is that day,” he pants out, fists clenched in her hair as he holds her tighter, “that...look you had, then...it haunts me, you know. Always, whenever I dream about that moment...the outcome is not what it was.” He takes a breath, and exhales slowly against her strands. 

“In my dreams--no, they’re nightmares for sure--I...I never get it right. I never restrain myself, or cut the correct place, or, or something... There’s no Nightingale guiding me or telling me what to do. In the end, I always end up with blood on my hands...and I wake up knowing I’ve failed.”

So. It’s not so much a matter of trust between the two of them--but rather, his lack of trust in his own self. She pats his head gently, placing soft kisses against his cheek, though they don’t seem to help much.

“That’s why...I’m always scared, now. You don’t understand just how close I came to actually killing you; one wrong move, just one millimeter off, and you would’ve died instantly. Even though I know it was the only way to save you...that kind of responsibility in your hands...not just anyone, but the one I love...”

“...Even now?” She whispers, stroking his face as one would a child.

“...Yes. Always. My greatest fear is losing you,” he whispers back, finally looking at her again with wet eyes. “I know I’ve been a coward in avoiding it; no amount of apologies or admissions will change that.”

She draws a deep breath, before pushing him back gently so she can look at him squarely. “No, we can’t change what’s in the past. But like I said, that day when I entered your soul; you can change the now, start by taking responsibility for your actions.” As if to emphasize her point, she takes his hand, and uses it to gently cup and squeeze her own breast. “It doesn’t hurt, you know. Not anymore; I’m just fine, now.”

“...You are right, Sio. Heh, in the end, you’ll always have me beat, when it comes to words,” he gives a small, resigned half-smile, though his expression is still somber. “Truly though, I’m sorry; I didn’t realise you were so hurt...I’m sorry for being selfish. But on that note, I’m glad I made the right choice; that I chose you, because you’re the only one who could possibly have pushed me to grow, to be better about myself, and become a better person.” His hands are moving on their own now, actually tracing the scar, instead of avoiding them like he was. “I want to become a better man for you, Sio.”

Her heart squeezes warmly, and there’s a few more drops in her eyes again, though this time it’s from joy. Though it’s not perfect, and she knows that such emotional wounds will take more than just a single conversation to heal, at least he’s more open about it now. It feels as if the’s let out a huge breath that’s been held inside all this time, and even if it makes things a little awkward between them--at least she knows why, now.

“Then let’s start now, Adam. If you’re really sorry, and you want to do me right...then prove it to me.”

There’s a moment of awkward nervousness, neither of them sure who should make the first move or what to even do after all this. Usually, the routine is natural and low-key; once they’re both in bed, she’ll start touching or kissing him, and it doesn’t take long for him to get the idea. But this situation is far from the norm--nevermind finally addressing the elephant in the room, but her wearing lingerie that’s designed only for one purpose--seduction--it’s actually very new.

He’s just standing there, hands nervously fumbling around his belt and glancing at her nervously but not actually moving, and she remembers Newton’s words--“men understand actions better than words”--and pulls him into a heated kiss, taking his hand and firmly placing it around her slim waist and he responds instantly, perhaps a little too eager which results in some clumsiness as they nearly trip while heading towards the bed, but it’s the kind of eagerness that hearkens back to the beginning of their relationship.

“I do love you, Sio; truly and honestly. And if it takes me the rest of my life to prove it to you, then so be it.” He’s looking at her straight in the eyes now, a fierce, determined sort of look in his emeralds and her heart swells with emotions, but before she can even say anything he’s untying the delicate ribbon of her panties, takes a single breath to inhale her musk and then he dives straight into her moist core. Her hips buck instantly at the sensation and she whimpers slightly, having already been wet at just waiting for him to arrive.

“A-Aahhnnnn...nnnng...A-Adam...” She sighs and lets out the occasional cry, but mostly she’s focused on his touch; fingers that gently slide up her hips, then waist, and this time he doesn’t hesitate anymore, stopping briefly to help her out of the bra. It’s a shame that she has to take them off so soon after putting them on, but she doesn’t want to risk damaging the delicate material.

“You’re beautiful Sio,” he pants breathlessly, the moonlight making her skin glow with an un-earthly hue as he takes a second to admire her sleek body, her hair snow-white like his again but it makes her look like an otherworldly being. He groans as she palms his erection and struggles to undo his clothes, before finally kicking them off the bed.

Her breathing gets heavier as she gets closer, his tongue now working together with his finger inside her, her legs spread wide over his shoulders as she is propped slightly on a mountain of pillows, gently threading his hair while whispering her approval. It’s different now, even though is actions are basically the same, she can feel the difference--his intentions, his feelings, and in turn that makes it more pleasurable than it has been in a long while. So it’s a bit of a surprise when she suddenly comes, her back not even fully arched before that lighting bolt of heat hits and she is quivering, trembling with small shakes and then it’s over and he’s blinking at her with slight surprise, a bit of fluid still dripping from his lips.

“Oh...did you come already?”

“I...think so? I guess I’m just more sensitive today...” She gives him a weak smile, maroons hazy and hooded from the afterglow. 

“But I take it you’re not satisfied yet, are you?” There is a grin on his face, slightly mischievous but loving, and she can’t help but smile back because it’s been so long since he’s given her that look, the old Adam coming back a little bit.

“Noo...but I know a few ways we can fix that,” she smiles suggestively, beckoning him with a single finger and he mirrors that smile back, before climbing on top and they lose themselves in each other for the rest of the evening. ---- Sometime later, she is not sure exactly when--it must be at least midnight by the time they settle down--when they are both considerably calmer and he’s spooning her and they’re just lying there amongst the sheets, she remembers Newton’s words of trading fireworks for a comfortable shirt, and she chuckles quietly to herself, of how it turns out to be quite true.

“Hmm? What’s up, squirt?” He stirs a bit behind her, hands now gently cupping her breasts and she relishes the warmth.

“Ah, nothing...just, thinking about today. With Newton.”

“Oh. Speaking of which, somehow I have a feeling this whole thing was partly her idea...” he responds dryly, nodding towards the lingerie. “No offense, but unless I specifically said so, there’s no way you’d willingly walk into a lingerie shop and drop a couple hundred quid just for a set of nice underwear.”

She giggles, because it’s true that usually she could care less about what she’s wearing, nevermind what’s underneath it all. “Yeah...you got me there. What can I say, it helps to talk to others...plus, I actually liked that set a lot. More than I thought.” She turns around in his arms, until they’re facing each other. “Did you...like it?”

“Of course! I wasn’t lying about that part,” he pouts slightly, until she kisses him on the nose. “I am a guy, I do like seeing you look beautiful...and sexy...it was almost too sexy...” He frowns suddenly, turning the situation over in his head. “Wait, if Newton went with you, then does that mean she...?”

“Ah, ha hah...ah, yeah, well, I mean I had to show somebody, right? I can’t trust myself with fashion, let alone underwear,” she smiles sheepishly, Adam still frowning slightly. “Oh come on, don’t tell me you’re jealous? It’s like she said, sometimes girls just wanna have fun.”

“Yeh, I know I know, but still...” he grumbles a bit, pulling her tighter until she’s practically buried in his arms. “What can I say, I’m the possessive type who gets jealous easily; if we’re going to be honest and all that.” He leans down and kisses her deeply on the lips. “I don’t exactly like sharing; I’m greedy and selfish, and I want you all to myself.”

“You’re also kind of insecure,” she comments wryly, though when his face sinks a bit she feels a little bad. “Oh come on, it’s not a big deal; tons of people are insecure, me included. You think it’s easy for me to get up in front of all those old dudes and boss them around?” She sinks a little more into his arms, until her head is resting against the crook of his neck. “But that’s why we have each other; to keep going forward, even when it’s painful...”

“...Yeh, I know. It’s not going to be perfect, and I don’t make promises I can’t keep, but...I can promise that I won’t stop trying.” He nuzzles her and she laughs because his hair is ticklish, especially along the new skin growth near her scar. “If I’m ever being a moody asshole again, just call me out on it. I’ll know you mean well.”

“Good, because I don’t think I can afford buy sexy underwear each time I want you to spill your guts...” there’s a squeal of laughter as he nips the curve of her neck, but his eyes are soft when she finally stops laughing. “I know, Adam. I trust you. So I want you to trust me, too,” she responds softly, holding his face in her hands. “And trust yourself.”

He takes her hand and kisses them, first the palm and then every single finger, and then a final kiss right on the scar. “Will do, love. That...is a promise I can keep.”

She nods sleepily, a happy and content smile on her face. “Thank you...” Then, as if not knowing what else to say, she simply throws herself at him, holding him tightly and nuzzling against his chest until he laughs and hugs her back.

“All right...let’s get some sleep, ‘ey?” She yawns and quietly tucks her head against his shoulder, eyes already drooping. “We’ve a long day ahead tomorrow...and I also owe Capa for bailing early...” He groans at the thought, the old man was not pleased about him dropping the ball at the last minute.

“It’s okay, just say that I demanded you back because I haven’t been getting any lately and you had to come back early to satisfy my raging lust,” she dramatically postures, much to his bewildered amusement. “Well it’s true--if I’m going to be honest, tonight was probably the best sex I’ve had in a while...emotions make all the difference in the world.”

“While I do agree, I think I will spare Capa those details. He’s already a perverted old man, no need to give him any more ideas,” he shudders at the thought of the photographer learning about the new lingerie, those swimsuit shots were bad enough already. “Sorry. I will do my best to satisfy your raging lust from now on, Sio.”

She can’t help but laugh at his outrageous statement. “I’ll hold you to that, then. Oyasumi, Adam.”

“Good night, Sio.”

[ayyoitsalex]

Chapter 9 - Yes Chef!

Ooh! It's finally my turn to talk! We've never formally met, you've only read about me. Well anyway, my names Elizabeth Brooke Ryan. I go by a few names that my friends and family have come up with, so just pick one of those. Those names are; Elizabeth, Liz, Lizzy, Beth, Eliza, E.B., E.R, E., E. Ry, Ryan, and I think that's it. As you already know I'm youngest of my Ryan family siblings, I'm five foot five, blonde hair, green eyes, and I wear glasses. I didn't do sports like my siblings when I was in high school, I found a different kind of skill that I was good at. Instead I would learn cooking and baking at different rec centers and take classes wherever I could. I just found the whole thing so interesting, and it just came so natural. Despite my reputation as a picky eater. Hey I'm working on it! At this point I'd like to consider myself the best cook in my family. My siblings love being my taste testers and always have been ever since I made my first batch of cookies with mom when I was like..eight. Even though theres a pretty significant age gap between us, we're all close. I'm not any closer to one sibling more than another, I love them all equally. They all took time to take care of me growing up and in different ways. I study at a culinary school in San Diego, and my parents were gracious enough to pay for my entire tuition, but I do work at a restaurant for experience and y'know ya girl needs some spending money. I work at kind of a fancy-ish french restaurant, but I only do prep work. So I'm cutting lots of onions, carrots, potatoes, and crushing a whole mess of garlic. My dream is really to be a chef at a restaurant I love. Simple I know, but I'm a simple person. A lot of people think cooking is a chore or a hassle, but it's something I do that makes me happy and makes me feel creative and special. I live in a small-ish apartment near the school so on occasion I'll walk to school and work, but sometimes I'll feel weird walking around toting around a briefcase looking bag of knives. When I made the decision to go to culinary school it wasn't until I'd already done a year at a traditional college. I wasn't passionate about anything I was taking, and nothing seemed to make me want to dedicate my life to it. It was a real internal struggle since I didn't wanna feel like I was disappointing my parents in going an unconventional route. Though when I did finally tell them they were supportive. I don't know why I expected anything else from them, they're the best! Word got to my siblings on my decision and they all chipped in together to buy me my knives to show their support as well. They were Henckel knives that I'd walk by in Sur la Table all the time and just pine for. Can you say #Blessed ? -ALARM- I struggled underneath the covers trying to find my way out. When I finally emerged I turned the blaring alarm off, and made my way to the bathroom. I did my business and splashed some cold water on my face to wake me up a little bit more. "Alexa, play THE LIST!" I smiled turning to my reflection in the mirror. C'est La Vie began playing and I danced around my apartment probably looking like an idiot. Though what did I care I lived alone. "Say you will say you won't, say you'll do what I don't!" I continued singing probably off-key, dancing my way into the kitchen to make breakfast. Opening the fridge I examined the miriad of leftovers populating the shelves. First things first, i popped open a monster energy. I shook the caffiene through as I took the first sip. "C'est la vie!" I smiled hitting it right on time. -Knock knock- I skipped over to the door and looked through the peep hole. I unlocked the door welcoming inside my two best friends James and Rebecca. James walked in also holding the hand of his son. We usually walk to school together, but today they were early. "Healthy breakfast you got there." James laughed pointing to my energy drink. "It's just a warm up. I was going to have a real breakfast." "That and maybe put on some pants there." Rebecca said. "I'm wearing shorts! I wouldn't have answered the door pants-less I'm not a heathen Rebecca." Though I could see how I did look pantless with my big t-shirt covering my shorts. "Anyway, what're you guys doin here so early. We don't leave for another like..half hour." "I was actually going to ask if I could use your shower cause they were doin some stuff over at my building and the waters out.." Rebecca said pushing her index fingers together. "Well let me go first. And since I'm doing you this favor you make us breakfast then!" "Okay deal. See James look at how nice our friend Elizabeth is. That's why she's my best friend not you" "I can't help that my roommates had the bathrooms occupied when you came over. Get cookin there." I heard Rebecca rummaging through my cabinets for pans while I walked over to the bathroom to take a shower. The good thing about having friends in culinary school is that you can always rely on someone to cook. When I came out the cloud of steam flowed into the apartment. "Jeez you must take some hot showers." Rebecca said plating an omlette. I shrugged my shoulders, still drying my hair. "Okay I did my part. SHOWER!" She picked up her bag and practically ran to the shower. I sat down with James and his son, eating the omlette with what looked to be cut up portions of leftovers. I washed up the dishes and made final checks before we all made our way out of my place. I slinged my bag over my shoulder and picked up my knife kit on our way out the door. We talked about random things on our way to school, but not before making a quick stop for James. He dropped his son off at day-care which also was conveniently close to the school. "I really don't know how you do the whole single dad thing." Rebecca said. "What do you mean?" He said while replying to texts. "I mean I can barely take care of myself let alone another person, and ALONE." "Well he's not alone Becks. He's got us." I smiled. "Aha thanks Liz. But yeah I've got help but I just wanna do as much on my own as I can without burdening anyone else." "You're one of the strongest people I know James." Rebecca said before taking the last sip of her coffee. We made our way onto campus before parting ways to head to our classes. "Meet for lunch!" Rebecca shouted. Both James and I gave her the thumbs up. i walked into my first class of the day which was baking. I learned a lot of my baking knowledge from not only my mom but also my aunt Camryn. Along with her wedding planning business she has her own baking business on the side. She wasn't always my nicest teacher to me, but I did learn a lot. I buttoned up my chef's jacket and sat down in the lecture hall to watch a demonstration. I paid attention as best I could taking whatever notes I felt would help me the most later. This isn't like a typical lecture with slides,  it's literally a projection of someone making a dish. When it was finished the class went into the test kitchen to see if we could recreate it. I did fairly well on my recreation but just a few plating issues kept me from a perfect score. Still an A none the less with room for improvement. I checked the clock. I walked over to the cafeteria where Rebecca was already there waiting with her second coffee of the day. Though what can I expect from someone that considers themself a sommelier of coffee. "How was baking class?" Rebecca asked a little shakily. I'm assuming it's from all the caffiene she's had in such a short amount of time. "I made the pastry fine, but I just had plating issues. My coulis wasn't as thick as I wanted and it started streaking on the plate. So I got docked points, but still an A." I shrugged trying not to think about it too much. "Well that's good." "What's good?" James asked walking over to us carrying a tray. "Liz got an A in baking today, but she's mad about her coulis." "Oh bummer. Cookie?" He offered. I smirked taking it. "Ha nothing a cookie couldn't solve." "Okay rude you didn't offer me one." "Excuse me where are my manners, Rebecca would you also like a cookie?" "Hold the sarcasm with that one." Rebecca said reaching over. "But yes I would." I took a bite laughing at their exchange. "*SPITS JAMES!" I rubbed a napkin on my tongue. Both of them looking at me crazy. "THESE ARE RAISIN!" "...and?" James said slowly taking a bite for himself. "WHO LIKES OATMEAL RAISIN COOKIES!?" I fumed passing it back to him. Rebecca's eyes grew wide. "You would like raisins!" Rebecca huffed. "C'mon Elizabeth, let's get real food." We stuck our tongues out while James laughed to himself. Moving through the lunch line, Rebecca and I grabbed food onto our trays to forget the trauma of the raisin trying to be a chocolate chip. What sick bastard decided cookies needed raisins?! I settled on a chicken sandwich with polenta fries, while Rebecca got a skirt steak salad with chipotle dressing. Perks of going to a culinary school is you get food normally not thought of in regular college. "I can't believe you did that to me. I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS!" I took a hard bite into my sandwich. He just shrugged his shoulders before taking another bite of that monstrosity of a dessert. When we finished lunch it was time for me to head to my cooking basics class. The class I'm probably best at. Like my baking class we start off watching a demo of a dish being made and then are asked to recreate. I like this one in particular cause we get to eat whatever we make. I'm not so much a sweet tooth person so that's why this one takes rank over desserts. Also this way I usually don't have to make dinner. We were making pan roasted chicken, braised swiss chard, roasted parsnips, and carmelized cipollini onions. It's a dish I could make in my sleep. When I got into the kitchen it was time for business. I didn't hear anyone, I wasn't talking, the only thing I was doing was cooking. I finished somewhere in the middle of the class, and brought my dish up to be judged. My professor cut into my chicken and I hoped to fuck it wasn't raw. He picked the piece up on the fork and I saw BOOM right on the money. He took bits from around the plate onto a single bite. "Very good Elizabeth. Another good days work. You can enjoy your dish if you want or leave it to another student." FUCK THAT. I brought my plate back to my station and started eating. I did the dishes at my station when I got done, and packed up my knives. James and Rebecca were waiting outside my class as we were all going to work right afterwards. James is a waiter at the restaurant, and Rebecca works the bar. They're both a little older than I am, and I'm only twenty. I met them both pretty randomly when sitting alone in the cafeteria. Rebecca sat down at my table and just introduced herself to me. Complete opposite of my own personality, and then right after James did the same. I guess they could tell I was new or something and needed friends. Since then we've all just hung out, and they even helped me get the job at the restaurant. "Looked good whatever you were eating." Rebecca said. "Oh so good. I love having a class where you eat what you make." "Aha I remember those classes. Enjoy them now." James warned. "Aw James don't scare her!" Rebecca laughed. "I'm just sayin! I can't eat my accounting homework." Way to bring down my mood James. "Well whatever, let's get to work." We walked off campus and rode the bus. I made it to my station of unchopped vegetables and got right into it. "Hey Elizabeth." Our head chef greeted me. "Hi!" I smiled looking up from my pile of carrots. "I'm also gonna need you to break down those romaine hearts. We got tableside Caesars going tonight." "Ooh fun. Are you guys making the dressing from scratch?" "Yeah actually, you ever done it?" He asked inspecting the various stations. "Just at home, it was okay." "Aha hard to believe this is your first year at culinary." What can I say? Humble brag. "Well I'll leave you to get back to work." "Alright, bye chef!" I don't even think I know our head chef's real name. I just call him chef. I set my knife down for a minute to shake the feeling back into my hands. The pile of carrots slowly began to dwindle down, so I shifted my focus to the romaine hearts. After washing and spinning them I broke them down for salad. I brought the bowls to the trolleys for the table side service. I stood at the front of the kitchen just imagining what it'd be like. "Alright on order! Four covers!" I said pretending to read a ticket. I heard laughs behind me and immediately I turned around shook. A few of the line cooks had seen me. "Aw..she's playing pretend." One of them said walking past me. "How cute..thinks she's an actual chef." Another chef smirked attempting to pinch my cheek. I pulled my face away, trying to be as stone face as possible as they walked by. Inside I was dying. I was so embarrassed. I ran back into the walk-in fridge to cool off. I took a few deep breaths to collect myself. The head chef walked in, and jumped back surprised to see me in there. "Whoa! I didn't expect to see anyone in here." "Oh..um I was just..never mind I don't know what I was doing." "You okay?" He asked looking me in the eyes. "Yeah yeah just..nothing." I tried to walk past him back into the kitchen. He held his arm out blocking my way. "Hey tell me what's wrong." He leaned up against the door. "No one can hear what we're talking about it's okay. What you say will be between us, and I can tell you're a little rattled about something." "*sigh well..alright. I was at the front of the pass with no one in the kitchen and I kinda like pretended I was calling out orders..y'know like a real head chef. Then I guess some of the line cooks saw me and kinda..made fun of me for pretending." "Mm I see. So lemme ask you something. What's your goal from all this?" "What? To be a head chef." "So what if you imagine yourself in that role and some people see? You can see yourself doing that, and that's what matters. Those chefs are probably just content working the line and never getting better. They probably stopped learning a long time ago. You're dreaming bigger. You've got something Elizabeth and I'm not just saying that." I nodded my head. "Now walk back in there like you belong in there." He pointed me back into the kitchen. I pulled my shoulders back and walked confidently back in. I found the chefs that passed by me. They smirked at me again, mocking the motions I was doing earlier. "I will be a head chef one day, and a damn good one. So FUCK YOU!" The head chef covered his mouth laughing as I returned to my station. I must've said it pretty loud since I could hear both James and Rebecca laughing their ass off. Good thing we hadn't opened for dinner yet!

[seniorbrief]

These 13 2018 Dictionary Additions Are the Hardest Words to Spell and Pronounce

Culture

Molly Pennington, PhDSep 26

Get ready, wordies! That’s the new word for word-lover, but not all the new terms added to the dictionary this year are quite as straightforward.

Latinx

rd.com

Looking for gender-neutral pronouns and designations? There’s a new cultural wave looking to help with gender inclusivity in language. The adjective relating to Latin American heritage was commonly Latina for female and Latino for male. The new term Latinx, first used in 2007, is the gender-neutral term you can use as an alternative. An example: “The candidate worked to earn the vote of the Latinx community.” Pronounce it with an emphasis on either the first or second syllable, with the third syllable “x,” pronounced as “ecks” at the end.

Gochujang

rd.com

In the mood for some spicy Korean cuisine? If so, it might include the flavorful, thickening paste called gochujang. It’s easy to pronounce once you know where to stress the syllables: go-chu(chew)-jang (pronounce the “a” as “ah”). The spicy flavor in gochujang comes from red chili peppers. Use it like this: “You can find gochujang at most Korean supermarkets.”

Mise en place

rd.com

Ooh la la! Here is a French term related to preparing cuisine, and the best chefs recommend it to keep your cooking space efficient and organized. Mise en place refers to prepping and organizing all your cooking ingredients in advance. Use it this way: “The chef relied on mise en place to create perfect timing for each course.” Pronounce it like this: me-zahn-place (with an “ah” for the “a” sound in the last syllable.) Bon appetit! Here are 10 fancy words that will make you sound smarter.

Original Source -> These 13 2018 Dictionary Additions Are the Hardest Words to Spell and Pronounce

source https://www.seniorbrief.com/these-13-2018-dictionary-additions-are-the-hardest-words-to-spell-and-pronounce/

[fashiontrendin-blog]

The Best New Menswear Pieces To Buy Right Now

http://fashion-trendin.com/the-best-new-menswear-pieces-to-buy-right-now-39/

The Best New Menswear Pieces To Buy Right Now

Harry’s Shave With Pride Set

We’re nearly half way through a month of Pride 2018 celebrations and the fashion and grooming world has been joining the party in its droves. Not content with sitting at the bar watching all the confetti cannon action going down on the dance floor below, razor subscription service Harry’s has launched a new razor kit with a shiny rainbow coloured blade handle, a groovy emoji laden box created by graphic design duo Craig & Karl and all profits from the sets being donated to various LGBTQ+ charities.

Buy Now: £24.00

Vivienne Westwood x Yoox Sweatshirt

World Cup fever is reaching that horrible, shivering, dribbling stage when in a desperate attempt to get your footie fix you resort to watching Denmark against Australia on your iPhone in the work loos. To celebrate the tournament (not your job shirking) e-retailers Yoox have exclusively released a T-shirt and sweater from designers around the world to represent their countries while the cup is on. Starting for England is the great dame of British fashion Vivienne Westwood who has designed this typically punky sweater for the series.

Buy Now: £111.00

American Apparel They Okay Print T-Shirt

Another June day, another capsule collection to celebrate Pride 2018 (we’re not besmirching it, we’re just wondering how we’re going to get all these fanciful clothes in our wardrobe). Focusing on the use of pronouns in the LGBTQ+ community this collection from American Apparel is fun and empowering all at the same time. The totes were tempting, but we plumped for a tee instead so you can wear the message loud and proud, no shirking allowed.

Buy Now: £22.00

Jimmy Fairly Hometown Sunglasses

Uber chic French eyewear brand Jimmy Fairly has been protecting gallic peepers since 2011, but sadly us Brits have had to gaze longingly across the channel hoping that one day they would come here and protect ours too. Well from September they will with a boutique set to open on Regent Street and plans for 15 more across the country in the next year. Get on the hype early by shipping these futuristic pair of shades over before everyone is wearing them come the end of the year.

Buy Now: €129.00

Alfie Douglas Midnight Blue Large Backpack

Can the backpack ever be elegant? Well, while you might look like you’re on the hunt for your next Pokemon running around town with a hefty canvas one, a sleek made-in-England option crafted out of fine Italian leather will take you right up to boss level. Invest in this cracking backpack from family-run British brand Alfie Douglas which has the capacity to fit a 15-inch laptop despite the slim profile.

Buy Now: £380.00

Mr Porter Vive La France x Husbands Wool Blazer

The tastemakers down at online retailers Mr Porter have a hefty set of style chops, so when we heard it was releasing a range of exclusive capsule collections plucked from the hottest French labels, well we were drooling like someone had placed a 20 ounce steak in front of us. Maison Kitsuné, Lacoste and J.M. Weston all feature but this juicy double breasted jacket from highbrow French menswear brand Husbands is truly the chateaubriand of the collection.

Buy Now: £950.00

BoohooMan Pride Love Is Hoodie

Stuck for options on what to wear this Pride season? Yeah, thought not, but you can never have too much choice so in comes BoohooMan with a 30-piece capsule collection inspired by the love within the LGBTQ+ community. Our pick from the ripe bunch is this black hoodie with its domineering slogan imitating the high-end styles of Balenciaga and Off-White without the need to sell your second lung to pay for it.

Buy Now: £18.00

Puma Thunder Electric

When it comes to the chunky game, we might have to put Puma above Kit-Kat at the moment. For even though our love for the bulky chocolate bar knows no bounds, every time Puma drops another chunky trainer it is an absolute beast. The gorgeous Thunder Spectra sold out in a blink of any eye in April, so you’ll have to be quick to catch these new Thunder Electric trainers, but if you do, be sure to savour the crazed mish mash of mesh and nubuck and the 90s inspired colourway.

Buy Now: £110.00

Adidas Manchester United 50th Anniversary Jersey

We don’t want to take sides when it comes to football, but when it comes to fashion we are perfectly willing to make a stand. So while we may or may not be fans of the Red Devils, we certainly can vouch for this stylish streetwear version of their jersey with an embroidered Manchester United crest from 1968 to celebrate their victory in the European Cup that very year.

Buy Now: £99.95

Topman x Charles Jeffrey Loverboy Adoption T-Shirt

To celebrate Pride this year Topman decided to eschew the sloganeering and have instead hooked up with menswear designer Charles Jeffrey for a series of T-shirts that feature works of art from five young LGBTQ+ artists in Jeffrey’s creative collective. The standout is this bold yellow tee with a disorientating and schizophrenic illustration from French textile designer Axel Gutapfel.

Buy Now: £30.00

Sebago Docksides Ariaprene

Sebago is as synonymous with boat shoes as Ray-Ban is with sunglasses and Donald Trump is with Twitter. They still look ace despite edging towards the technical end of the market, with the upper on these docksides made out of a special water-friendly synthetic fabric, which means you won’t be slipping on any puddles of champagne left on the deck.

Buy Now: £109.99

Albam Sailing Smock

Continuing the sailing theme is this smock from utilitarian menswear masters Albam which lets face it is more likely to see some high seas action than our late run for the 2021 America’s Cup on the old man’s catamaran. Styled in a fetching pistachio green (may contain traces of nuts) stuff it in your backpack ready to whack out at after work drinks when everyone else is shivering and you’re looking smug in a sailing smock that you haven’t as much as rowed a boat in.

Buy Now: £169.00

G-Star Raw Lanc Slim Trackpants

The man who invents a trouser with the cushiness of a tracksuit bottom and the cut of a tailored suit will surely have hit on a goldmine worth a thousand ships (or you know a thousand tailored trackies). Anyway, G Star RAW has done it, and the results are pretty tasty, with the taper at the bottom of the leg making you look twice and hey, a double look is better than a single so we’ll take a thousand pairs please.

Buy Now: £85.00

FoR Roma Varsity Bomber Jacket

We love our Scandi minimalist brands, but the Arcadia group, home to Topman and Burton went and tricked us by copying the style and making it gobsmackingly better with new brand FoR. The prices are another attraction, and we don’t think you’re going to find a better bomber jacket under £50 than this sleek red option. You can also wash it in the washing machine so spill as much ice cream and beer as you want on it.

Buy Now: £38.39

Lacoste Fraisier Gold Croc Sliders

Lacoste was originally founded in 1933 to provide moveable polo shirts for tennis players including its founder, seven-time Grand Slam winner René Lacoste. But that slippery little croc started sliding away from the tennis court until it found a home lounging around the pool protecting our feet from the lava-like patio. That is to say, Lacoste makes great pool sliders, like these gold and navy ones, that are as timelessly stylish as the polo shirts René used to volley around the court in.

Buy Now: £35.00

Barbour Kelso Tailored Fit Shirt

We cannot espouse the benefits of a nice shirt enough. Firstly you’ll score brownie points with mum for your sensible clothing choices (cue baby fist-pump meme) and secondly it works for all occasions, working with chinos at work or jeans at the pub so you’re never under or over dressed. This 100 per cent cotton choice from Barbour is a muted tartan dream so if you have a Scottish mum that’s double brownie points to scoff.

Buy Now: £69.95

Mango Jersey Henley T-Shirt

The T-shirt game is a little too dominated by the crew neck gang, so in rooting for the underdog, we were pleased to find this sterling Henley neck effort from Mango. It comes in a fine-knit textured cotton, but while the body might look more like a jumper the sleeves are short and sweet freeing those biceps up to enjoy the glimmering sun outside.

Buy Now: £29.99

Percival Tan Brushed Cotton Shorts

A brave man would style his ace suede jacket with a pair of suede shorts, but we’re an ol’ chicken legs so we daren’t try it. Instead we would just go with a simple white tee. Now we just have to find the perfect suede shorts and like a suede short fairy Percival has only gone and made this rugged pair. Plus they’re in cotton so you know your thighs won’t burn up like a polar bear in Mozambique.

Buy Now: £79.00

Farer Ponting II

This new watch from Farer has us oohing and aahing in unison like the little Pizza Planet aliens from Toy Story, its intergalactic beauty coming from the dolphin-grey dial paired elegantly with aquamarine (and glow in the dark) hands and numerals. The strictly limited run of 50 colour-way designs are supposedly inspired by the British coast, although presumably the stimulus is more cool Camber Sands than Blackpool Pleasure Beach.

Buy Now: £1,175.00

Kenzo Acrylic Tiger iPhone Case

Tony, Shere Khan, Richard Parker (that one on the boat from Life of Pi that was definitely smaller than the raft Jack had to jump off of in Titanic) – we’ve got a lot of time for the cool cats of the jungle, especially when they adorn anything by French luxury streetwear brand Kenzo. Its tiger tees are iconic, but don’t let the branding stop there, with this grrrrrreat iPhone case made from a sturdy acrylic.

Buy Now: £35.00

[michelleknowstravel]

What it’s like to stay at the Shangrila Hotel in Paris

Fall in Love with Paris... Again.

The manager of the Shangrila Hotel in Paris, invited me to stay the night since I was passing through on my way back from Nice. The hotel is actually a former palace of Prince Roland Bonaparte.  The minute you drive to the front door, you feel as if you are entering a private chateau, rather than a hotel. Then lobby is breathtaking, white marble, ornate details. Royalty, indeed. In most Shangrila Hotels you don’t stand in line to check in. They sat me in the palor, gave me a cappacino and checked me in by the fireplace. Which was quite cozy on this cold November day. The manager came to greet me and escort me to my room.  How charming! The Room with a View

‘I have something special for you,’ he said, as we climbed into the ornate elevator. I expected maybe a nice bottle of champagne. Maybe a suite. Ooh Lah Lah, how exciting! What I didn’t expect was a two floor suite leading downstairs to 12 foot high double French doors open to a balcony, with a bucket of champagne on ice. And to top it off, there I was, staring at a jaw dropping view of the Eiffel tower! I gasped, it was literally that impressive. I covered my mouth and tears started to fall down my cheeks. ‘Oh my gosh,’ I said, ‘I am so sorry. But it’s unbelievable!’ I looked up at the manager and he was smiling, a bit of pride in his grin. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said kindly, ‘It happens to everyone.’ Then he handed me a tissue. Now that’s luxury. Of all the experiences in my life, 50 years of travel, the Eiffel Tower view from the Shangrila is definitely one of the best moments in my life. I spent the next hour sipping my champagne and shooting tons of pictures uploading to my social media pages.  Best check-in of the year, guaranteed. The Spa

Photo courtesy of Shangrila Paris CHI, the spa, lives up to it’s name. Taking on a hint of Asian colonial feel, it is also very quiet and peaceful. Excellent service, nice robes, nice sandals, white walls, pale blue accents. The treatment I had was one of the best massages in my life. I sampled the Rose Renewal Body Ritual. It combines rose, jasmine, ylang ylang and rose hip for a very nourishing and rejuvenating treatment. Then add an infusion of honey, rose petals, salt and sugar exfoliation followed by a deep massage. After my treatment I could barely walk, so they escorted me to the gorgeous pool where I rested and regained my composure in a chaise lounge while drinking tea. Pure heaven. The Bar

Photo courtesy of Shangrila Paris Of course I was famished after all that relaxation, so I scheduled a nice dinner at their Two Michelin Star restaurant L’Abeille. But before my table was ready, I decided to stop in the La Bar Botanisye bar and try a signature cocktail. What a treat. Another, comfortable, relaxing experience as the staff made me once again feel like I was at home. I purused the menu, where they invent signature cocktails of the day. I chose the Absinth cocktail to pay tribute to my favorite French artists and of course to see the sugar cube lit on fire. It was a citrusy light taste to smooth out the bitter absynth. Quite unlike anything I ever tasted. The maitre de came to fetch me when it was time for dinner. I was really thinking I am a real life princess at this point. The Food

Photo courtesy of Shangrila Paris L'Abeille, the two michelin star restaurant, pays homage to Napoleon's favourite emblem, the bee. The decor is very 18th century France, beautiful and comfortable. The five course meal was served to me alone by three handsome young French waiters. Lucky me, right? It was off season and cold, so the testaurant was fairly empty. That gave me a chance to chat with one of the waiters. He was in school studying and we talked about France and how it can be so fancy and very complicated. ‘Why do the French make everything so complicated?’ I joked. ‘You know. Love!’ he shrugged before his colleague dragged him off to another table.  I think my heart skipped a beat. Of course, Love! Ah, mon amour Paris! The Chocolate

Of course I could hardly stuff another bite of food in my mouth, but I couldn’t bear to turn down the homemade chocolates. These amazing treats are made by one of the finest chefs in Paris. It arrives in a honeycomb shape with flecks of gold. The bee theme comes full circle. The best part of the night was my three young, gorgeous waiters watching me take my first bite. Complete and utter bliss is the only way I can explain that chocolate. I tried to control the expression on my face but they all broke out into satisfied smiles. Yes, they win. Best chocolates on the planet. ‘That should be illegal’ I laughed.  They chuckled and moved onto the next table so I could enjoy the rest of the decadent chocolate in private. On the way out of the restaurant, as I headed back up to my room, the three waiters greeted me like I was royalty in a receiving line, thanked me, shook my hand, then passed me a take away package of more homemade chocolates! Love, indeed! The Room

I watched the sunset from my balconey, thinking how rare it was to see this amazing view. Then as if it couldn’t get any better, when darkness fell, the Eiffel Tower lights came on and I nearly fainted. Every bad thing that every happened to me in my life, every friend who ever betrayed me, every man who ever broke my heart melted away in that glorious moment staring up at the most magical view I had ever had the pleasure to witness. As my Mom says, ‘Life is good.’ After the lights flashed and made dancing patterns a few times, I decided it was time for a nice long hot bath, which was in a nice big porcelain tub and they even make sure you have some bath salts. After a fabulous soak, I put on the plush robe and lay in the bed fit for a queen. We book a lot of honeymooners in this hotel. Now I know why. Cuddled up in my robe, I could still see the Eiffel tower from my bed. Paradise.  And yes, pure Love! Goodbye

Even though I had to catch a limo for an early flight the next morning (a Sunday) the manager was waiting for me to say goodbye. He made sure I got to my car safely with a nice cappacino to go. I hugged him like he was an old friend. ‘You came here early on a Sunday to see me off?’ I smiled warmly. ‘That is so amazing!’ He smiled back, ‘That’s how we are here. Like family.’ In truth I did feel like I was leaving my family behind. Like I stayed at a friend’s estate and not a hotel. ‘It was such an amazing stay!’ I told him, hugging and thanking all of them. As I settled into the back of the limo, I waved goodbye to the Manager and his staff, who smiled and waved back. As we headed away from my beloved Paris and off to the airport, I couldn’t hold back a few tears falling from the corners of my eyes. Thanks to one perfect day at the Shangrila, after all these years, I felt for the first time I really understood Paris. Au revoir et Merci! Michelle Read the full article