#precious stone trilogy

[madlovenovelist]

Book Review – ‘Emerald Green’ (#3 Precious Stone Trilogy) by Kerstin Gier

The conclusion to a teens stumble through time learning to trust her heart. Genre: Y/A, Historical Fiction, Romance, Adventure No. of pages: 480 Gwen has a destiny to fulfill, but no one will tell her what it is. She’s only recently learned that she is the Ruby, the final member of the time-traveling Circle of Twelve, and since then nothing has been going right. She suspects the founder of…

[hawnks]

MINNNNT! “Wondering when the anchorpoint of your life became fear”? You’re killing me

I’m so happy to see coincide updated! I wanted to start reading from chapter one as a refresher but I couldn’t wait to read the new chapter. I’m definitely forgetting some important detail I know it.

My poor evil baby Hawks. I actually harbor a serious grudge against him for how he did my man Twice, but you write him so relatabley miserable that I almost want to forgive him.

Why is reader on the hit list? When is she gonna stop playing and let this man love her? So many questions. I’m on the edge of my seat. Thank you for continuing the story!

i am sharing a lil snack lunch with u rn anon <3

[medievalandfantasymelee]

THE HOT MEDIEVAL & FANTASY MEN MELEE

FIRST ROUND: 16th Tilt

King Arthur Pendragon, First Knight (1995) VS. Èomer, Son of Èomund, The Lord of the Rings Trilogy (2001-2003)

Propaganda

King Arthur Pendragon, First Knight (1995) Portrayed by: Sean Connery Defeated Opponents: - Robin Hood [Sean Connery], Robin & Marian (1976)

“A lot of my text propaganda for Sean Connery in First Knight might boil down to: why is Guinevere looking at Richard Gere!Lancelot when her husband is RIGHT THERE looking like THAT? And looking at HER like that? And he makes her laugh! And he holds her like she's the most precious thing in the world! And he trusts her political and administrative capabilities (so sexy of him)! A lesser man might look silly waiting for a procession to reach him past standing stones and torches. Not he. Is this movie good? no. Do scenes from it live in my head rent-free? Yes. Sean Connery, just a force field of gravitas and charisma in this thing, as King Arthur ought to be. Also have I mentioned the warmth in his eyes when he looks at her? Not over it.”

Èomer, Son of Èomund, The Lord of the Rings Trilogy (2001-2003) Portrayed by: Karl Urban Defeated Opponents: - Gimli [John Rhys Davies], The Lord of the Rings Trilogy (2001-2003)

“He was always one of my favorite characters from the books and in the movie he is portrayed just as well. He cares for his sister and physically assaults Gríma Wormtongue. Both things are hot. Also, he has to-kill-for eyebrows and a fierceness about him. And I like his voice ;-)”

Additional Propaganda Under the Cut

Additional Propaganda

For King Arthur:

No Additional Propaganda Submitted

For Èomer:

(+ Bonus Leoglas)

[boookfreeak]

YES ESPECIALLY THE SECOND PART

I really didn't like the movie version, it was so much more dramatic and fun in the books

Also another point I'd like to add:

The scene in Ruby Red where Gwen sees a future self of herself kissing Gideon and they just never talked about it again in the movies?!? It was so fun reading Emerald Green, reaching that part and going "OOOH RIGHT that happened. Cool!"

two scenes that I would've loved to see in the e.merald green adaption:

the one with the family picnic in gwen's room, with her family + gideon & leslie. idk it was so cute & gwen was so happy to have most of the people she loves in a room together 🥺 also the gideon & leslie banter afterwards!!

the plot twist that it was gideon himself who knocked his younger self out in 1912 (in book 2) & him calling himself an idiot during that scene multiple times fudjdjdndjsjskz

[thepencilgirlsv]

"Ruby Red", "Sapphire Blue" and "Emerald Green" by Kerstin Gier

Side-by-side of my cover redesigns for the first 2 books of the Edelstein/Precious Stone Trilogy, hoping I can add Emerald Green soon!

❤️ ruby red post

💙 sapphire blue post

💚 emerald green post

[exquisiteserotonin]

Precious Possessions 10: Every Rule

Pairing: Dave York X F! Reader (Original Female Character)

Rating: E is for Explicit - 18+ only 🔞MDNI🔞

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Word count: 7401

Summary: Firefly takes some time for clarity and understanding about everything and everyone, including the role she plays in Dave's life and the one he plays in hers.

Warning: This chapter is incredibly PLOT heavy...and while it absolutely 100% includes Dave, is very focused on reader and her feelings for and about him. Angst. Religious symbolism. Angst. Violence. Angst. PiV sex - wrap it up lovahs, riding, mild restraints, creampie. Angst. Once again please DNI if you are not 18 and over. Also not beta'd, so all errors are my own. Please be kind.

A/N: Thanks to all my babes who encourage me to continue writing even though it can be fucking hard and so personal especially when you put your heart and soul into each character. Also, if you are familiar with the Equalizer trilogy then you will know and understand some of this.

@youandmeand5bucks @pink-whiskey-woman @redhotkitchen @arcanefox207 @legendary-pink-dot @sparklefarts38 @morallyinept @secretelephanttattoo

Taglist: @nerdieforpedro @sheepdogchick3 @casa-boiardi @missladym1981 @untamedheart81 @drewharrisonwriter @guelyury

“Lying on top of you is one thing, but getting close to you is another. I feel close to you, one with you, you’re mine whether it is acknowledged or not.”—Henry Miller 

In the morning you awoke with a start, reaching for an alarm clock that didn’t sound, for a body that wasn’t there. Morning light whispered through the paper-thin curtains, shining on the bare stone wall. Working together with the gentle breeze from outside, a slow sense of calm began to hold you. Seabirds and salt air surrounded you as you opened a window—a wooden shutter with three slats crooked, broken, and beautiful, the only barrier to a rectangle shaped hole in the stone.

Slow and easy, sometimes boring—those were your mornings since you had arrived. You stumbled through the first few days like an infant taking its first steps. No electronics, no real connection to the outside world, relying on shuffling through pages of a pocket-sized English to Italian dictionary to navigate your way through the occasional brief conversations you had with the Altamonte locals as you gathered your bearings.  

The constant overthinking presented an obstacle to overcome. By your eighth day there, the simplicity of life wouldn’t allow it. Neighbors shouted morning greetings through open and bright green shutters as you dressed. A t-shirt, white and crisp, a pair of well-loved jeans, and a black leather jacket finished with a pair of white sneakers. A uniform or sorts, you thought, as you descended the stairs from your apartment. A passerby could have been a mirror image of you just by clothing alone. Was this what people meant by “dressing like a local”?

At a nearby café, your ability to blend in was tested as you found your place in a sea of color neutrality, sitting at the lone empty table near the front door. A youthful and friendly server who looked to be no older than 17 approached you, her raven curls atop her head bounced when she stopped. Not a line tempered her smooth, dark olive skin as she flipped open her notepad with a smile. 

“Cosa desidera Lei?” 

“Un caffe per fevore,” you replied, with the young server nodding in acknowledgement at your order. 

From your purse you grabbed a journal of worn, brown leather. Its corners curled upward from opening and closing it frequentlly The pages lay ruffled and beaten with the gift of constant use. Your fingers also grasped a pen lost in the depths of your bag that met you like an old friend that had come to save you in your time of need. The ink flowed from your pen to the paper as you wrote about the salt air, the distant cawing of seagulls skimming the shore, and the mist of calm that seemed to settle over every corner of the town.

You turned your head to look through the clean windows into the cafe to observe the locals—individuals, couples, families. The images of them gleamed like reflections on a stream. In the window, you imagined Dave next to you—a mirage, a specter haunting and present no matter how hard you tried to push it away. In the back of your head, you asked yourself: Do I really want to? 

“Buongiorno!” a voice rich and deep in time and timber reached out to you. 

A newly familiar face greeted you. His hands, like his voice, showed evidence of assuredness through lines of time and wisdom that were beginning to settle on the backs of his hands. The smile lines on his face were set dark and deep into his face, indisputable evidence of living. 

“Buongiorno, Dottore!” you exclaimed, standing up to take his hands and give him a kiss on each cheek. 

“Everyday, at the same time, I see you here,” the rich melody of his voice and the kind smile he gave you managed to whisk away the chill that coursed through your blood, if only for a moment. 

“Well, the calm is a nice…change,” you mused and paused for a moment, contemplating if you really believed your own words.

Enzo settled down in the chair next to you, the smile beneath his mustache was warm and fatherly.  As he sat next to you, the young server returned carrying two small cups of coffee for both you and Enzo. You observed closely as Aminita, as Enzo lovingly called her, greeted him with greater familiarity than you had combined with an even greater respect. He spoke to her with the kindness of a doting grandfather. Bits and pieces of their melodic words met your ears, the depths of your brain manipulating them until you worked out their meaning in English. 

“So, what have you seen since you have been here?” Enzo inquired as he settled into a chair next to you. 

“Oh, it’s only been a few days, but,” you sighed with a dramatic pause, “just having the ocean right here has been more than enough.” 

Enzo smiled back at you and his eyes glimmered with excitement and wonder. It was the kind of gleam that you had only seen among young children and the old. Pressing his hands together he stood up and waved at you in a gesture for you to finish your coffee. You sipped as quickly as you could, your coffee just on the right side of warm---the cozy kind of warmth that wrapped you in an invisible hug on a cold day. 

“Andiamo,” he urged you as you swallowed the last of it. “Come on, I’ll show you the real Altomonte.” 

“Ok, ok!” you replied, conceding to him. 

Uncomfortably, you chugged the last bit of coffee with an audible hiss before you stood up. You took quick steps over the cobblestone streets as you followed Enzo. His gait was quick and determined for a 60-year-old. A smile curled at the corners of your lips as you watched him skip ahead of you with more excitement than a tour guide being paid to show you the village.  

He walked you through one of the many archways of the town, this one longer than others. The path was just wide enough to allow for the regular flow of movement brought to life by the villagers. What greeted you through the arch was more life than you had expected, not dark and dank as you had presumed. Nestled along the stone walls were market vendors selling homemade wears of rosaries, crucifixes made of wood from olive trees, and hand-embroidered scarves delicately adorned with intricate, swirling designs. You could feel your mouth drop open in awe as you caressed your fingers along a deep blue scarf with two white lilies embroidered at each corner. You were certain that the elderly woman who made this was grossly underestimating the time and talent it took her  to fashion such a unique and beautiful item. A small, rectangular piece of paper lay on top of the scarf and written in ballpoint pen was the price of a mere 50 euros. 

“Beautiful, yes?” Enzo remarked with a smile. 

His eyebrows were raised as he looked back at you. Reaching into your purse you pulled out your beige, leather pocketbook to procure a one hundred euro note. It called to you, that foreign feeling that you so rarely experienced of reaching for something that you just knew you had to have. It had only happened once before.

Your hand trembled slightly as you handed the woman the euro note, a sign of the thoughts of Dave that took hold of you. As the woman took it, the wrinkles around her smoothed from her wide-open eyes. The look of shock overcame her as she examined the note. She waved at you, her tone an odd mixture of gratitude and scolding that could come only from a strong Italian woman. 

“Ti prego di prenderlo,” you insisted in as humble a tone as you could. “E magnifica.” 

You watched in earnest as Enzo spoke to the woman, conceding to her and talking her down until she stared back at you with a satisfied glimmer in her eye while handing you the scarf. Immediately, you tied it loosely around your shoulders while following Enzo’s lead ahead of you. As you sauntered through the cobble stoned streets, Enzo pointed out the fish market. The owner, Angelo, waved at you alongside his wife and son as they proudly arranged fresh fish on piles of ice—waiting for villagers to snatch them up for their evening meal.

The sunlight greeted you on the other end of the archway, where ancient stone walls guarded each side and where Enzo stood at the foot of a steep set of stairs. He turned around to you and gestured towards the steps with excitement surging through his fingertips. 

“Have you gone up to visit the church?“

Your gaze followed Enzo’s upward to a church set into the mountains, that stood proud with its pristine ivory in color that was brighter against the lush, green foliage of the mountainside. A hint of premature frustration crept beneath your skin as you mentally took in the slope of the stairs. You were in good shape, you had to be. Yet your legs automatically ached with a phantom pain that you knew would come from traversing the steep climb to the church. 

Enzo gestured for you to come over, picking up one foot after another over narrow and steep stairs. The waves of the Mediterranean crashed over the walls guarding the village. The fresh salt air traveled with the breeze until it began to dance in your hair. 

“Climb these steps every day and you’ll be young the rest of your life,” he teased, “That is my doctor’s order for you.”

Something between a laugh and a gasp escaped you before he gestured for you to catch up. When you finally did, your eyes settled on the weathered rock as the air caressed your hair and your lungs filled with deep, cooling breath that led to a wistful sigh. 

“Come on, old man!” You took the chance to take a break from your jog to rib your dark-haired companion as he fought to catch his breath standing amidst a steep, but beautiful set of stairs.

You rocked your hips back and forth as you kept your feet bouncing from side-to-side in a stationary jog. He looked up at you, gathering his hands at his hips as sweat began to gather at the center of his charcoal-colored t-shirt, clinging to his lean, but broad-shouldered form. Not one speck of amusement found itself on his face as he glared at you. The steadiness of his stare caused you to slow your jog to merely stepping your feet beneath you. When a smile finally slid over the surface of his pouty lips, his eyes bore into you, heavy, dark, and tempting --- the look of the devil you always wanted to know. 

“I’ll be generous,” you recalled him saying, his words dripping like the sweetest nectar from the most forbidden flower, “and give you a head start.” 

“Just like you to assume I need one,” you challenged as you stood above him, placing your hands on your hips. 

He readied himself a few steps below you, a determined glint in his brown eyes that sent a chill scurrying up and down your spine. Simultaneously, it sent a warm, throbbing sensation at your center as he looked you up and down. He doubled down on his threat, setting himself in a starting stance to race up the stairs. You followed suit, turning your back away from him, trying to keep your focus ahead of you. His very presence behind you already threatened to consume you and though he was steps below you, you swore you could feel the heat of his exhales rippling on the back of your neck.

And with no warning, he spoke, “Run.” 

The memory of you leaping up the stairs traveled through your feet as you slowly made your way up the steep stairs leading to the church. It was silly really—the present was just a moving dichotomy of your memory. 

You didn’t dare look behind you. Doing so would have meant certain defeat. An feeling of nervousness mixed with intrigue filled you as you ran, ran, ran as fast as you could. The sense of him gaining on you heightened through every pore. Your feet pounded on the steps and your arms swung tightly with each quick stride. Quick breaths rattled from your lips as you focused your eyes to the top of the majestic stairs. Cockiness lined your lips into a premature victory smile, when you suddenly felt a pair of hands grab at your hips, forcing you to slow down to a rhythm that matched his body. You felt the heat of his warm fingers wrapped around your elbow as he pulled you into a dark, concealed alley. Breathing even harder than when you were running, Dave pressed you against the wall, his hips rolling against yours. 

His face was so close that you could smell the clean, yet intoxicating sweat that collected upon his skin that had been made golden with Sicilian sun. Each breath he drew was quick and in time with yours. A quick gasp escaped you as you felt his warm hand lower to skim the waist of your leggings, his thick fingers. A shiver circulated through your body as he toyed with the elastic band. 

“When are you going to learn, Firefly?” he growled into your ear, his lips brushing at your neck and earlobe. “I’m always going to catch you.”

***

“Bella! Bella!” 

Enzo’s voice sounded through the cloud of your memory. Without even really being cognizant of it, you had made it to the top of the ancient stairs. The breeze blew stronger at this height, whipping your hair across your face. As you brushed your waves back, your eyes beheld how the wind danced on the rich, blue water and how it made ripples that shimmered with the golden sun. 

“You see, all this makes Altamonte,” he gestured to the church, the statues, and the paintings of the woman. 

You stared at the wonder and pride in his eyes. Somehow, you knew he meant more than just this place. If he could, he would just stretch his arms from here to the ocean. From his voice that trembled with pride and from the gleam that shined in his eyes, you knew. Only an act of God could wash it away. 

“Come in child,” he said, as he gestured you over to the door of the church. 

“Oh no, I’m not religious,” you said as your shoulders shrunk from the discomfort of the words. 

You didn’t need proselytizing. 

“You think she cares?” Enzo asked, already halfway through the threshold of the church. “But you choose.”

Humoring him, you stepped inside. An unexpected shiver oscillated, tapped, and pricked over your body. Goosebumps arose beneath your sweater. The cold that lived in the walls easily could have trapped you, threatening to take away whatever life you felt beneath your skin. Instead, it invigorated you as they made union with the warm colors of the sun that painted the walls of church like they were her own, personal canvas. You peeked through the windows that let that light in. Each had a perfect view of the village. The beauty had you holding your breath as you marveled at how the stone buildings gathered together and overlooked the bluest water you’d ever seen. 

When you finally let yourself breathe again, you found a seat next to Enzo. He knelt in reverence, his eyes closed and hands clasped together. The flicker of several candles set the room aglow, his flame burning brightly among the many. 

You, on the other hand, sat with quiet patience. It was more like a museum to you. Your eyes settled over the statues and paintings that adorned the church. So much adoration for a woman filled in a church that was ostensibly governed by men. 

Maybe they had it wrong, you thought. Maybe the church was meant to be built upon the shoulders of a matriarch who chose her path of raising a leader, instead of a girl who was bestowed the gift of raising a savior. The way these thoughts meandered through your mind was nearly enough to make you laugh. Sometimes you shouldn’t be left to your own thoughts. 

Enzo settled back into pew in the empty space next to you. A deep sigh escaped him as he turned his head to you. His eyes softened in concern. A slight discomfort pressed onto your shoulders as you navigated your response to the kindness. 

“People always come and rest here, some pray, some meditate until they find an answer,” Enzo said, his voice imbued with the notes of great wisdom. “Even me.” 

You nodded in acknowledgement, waiting for him to continue. 

“And you, too, correct?” He asked. 

He didn’t even entertain you with the space or time to answer, not that you had one to give him. Not one that was truthful by any means. Instead, you nodded and waited for whatever wisdom he was ready to give you.  

“I don’t judge,” he stated with a look so deep with thought and an undercurrent of pain that you knew his words were true, “Nothing good comes from it.” 

He sighed again. The weight of whatever memory he was holding was heavy on his shoulders. The tired lines around his eyes seemed to grow in real time, a remnant of the pain that remained.            

“I’m not trying to…ehm…intrude in your personal business,” he paused to find the words, “but are you really here for rest, to find peace, as you say? Or…are you running from something?” 

And there it was: the truth. It had never left. In that moment you could have felt anger, maybe something bordering on hatred for someone cornering the truth out of you. But you didn’t, not this time. You met the doctor’s gaze with the same hesitancy of a child who was hiding something from a parent. Without words, he knew the answer but bore no judgment against you. Instead, he patted you reassuringly on the hand as you took in the warmth of the flickering flames at the altar. 

The sky was a bolder blue against the midday sun as you took your sojourn back to the main square. It seemed impossible that you’d spent as much time in the church as you had. Enzo held onto your arm lightly as you climbed down the steep stairs. A steady stream of pedestrians began to fill the cobblestone streets as you ambled through corridors from which you came. As you walked through the town, the warm and smiling faces of the locals continued to greet you even as Enzo departed from you to continue with his day. 

The remainder of your day moved in an ethereal mixture of fast and slow. From the time you made it back into town you were able to stroll along the seashore, allowing yourself to bathe in the wind as you dug your toes in the sand to buying bread from the local bakery and enjoying it with a cup of tea you watched the sky melt into shades of coral, purple, and then blue as the sun disappeared beneath the horizon. 

As a deeper blue settled in the sky, the evening sounds of Altamonte whispered in a different way than the sounds of the morning. The vibrations were buzzed with an energy that was somehow  enlivening but calming at the same time. It should have called you to join everyone. Instead, you let the sounds energize through the open window of your apartment. And you waited as the locals left the restaurants, drunkenly and lovingly alive. The whispers of the night called you as they always had, as they always would. While the citizens of Altamonte were beginning to turn in for the night, you dressed yourself and immersed yourself in the comfort of the late night. 

You approached a restaurant a few blocks from your apartment. A low, heavy feeling struck you in your stomach. Something pulled at your shoulders, tight and aggressive until it pressed and pulled at the skin of your throat. The invisible intensity threatened you with an unsettling and ominous aggression. You tensed into defensive mode as you moved closer and closer to the scene. Loud clatters of silverware and the dragging of chairs against the cobblestone streets set you into a stance that you only ever needed when a job with Dave and the team called for it. 

You dashed with light steps across the cobblestone to gain a better vantage point of the situation. Despite yourself, you heard Dave’s voice in your head as though he was walking you through a training exercise. 

“Your brain is your best asset. Read, know, and breathe the situation and you have the upper hand.” 

You slinked closer as your eyes focused on the situation before you. The threat: two men. His frame was wiry. He couldn’t have been more than 5’9” you surmised. His dark, wavy hair was slicked back, and the ends curled just past his ears. What he lacked in stature he made up for with menace. His stare was wide and manic as he loitered among the tables strutting forward towards a beautiful, young waitress who’d been cleaning the tables outside. The thin man’s counterpart was noticeably taller and more physically imposing. He stood with an unwavering posture, his wide shoulders. He had a closely cropped haircut, and a brow that dipped down into a deep frown that seemed permanently affixed to his face. 

Fear darkened the face of a young woman’s face as the thin man continued to advance on her, trapping her among tables and  into a corner. The owner, her father, stood in the doorway, his feet ready to stomp forward and rescue his daughter. A few strands of her hair fell over her face as she gestured to him to stay inside the restaurant. Two heavy and threatening hands belonging to the burly crony pushed her father back impeding any heroic action he might attempt. The thumping of your heartbeat was fast and loud in the silence of the night, fast enough and loud enough for you to take a deep breath with the hopes of calming it.

“Collateral damage is always messy and always a liability. Blend in: the less remarkable you are, the less of a target you become.”

With Dave’s instruction resonating in your head, you closed in on the restaurant picking up your pace to a light jog. The thin goon continued to advance upon the young woman as her father struggled against the tall man’s hold, keeping their attention from you. It was as though panic traversed through her body the closer you came. The fear that seemed to hide behind her eyes thumped toward you, pumping you with adrenaline and readiness. He held her hostage with a lascivious scowl as he pushed a strand of hair from her face. His hands grabbed the back of her neck, each finger white with violence as he dragged her forward, her skin already red with pain beneath his vice grip. Both men, so arrogant against the struggle of their captives, paid you no attention. 

“Let them underestimate you, then you can always find a way to get the upper hand.” 

All at once a scream from the waitress, yells, and grunts from her father as he struggled, rose in the air as you lunged towards the thin man forcing his grip from the young woman. Adrenaline pumped through every one of your veins as you pulled his thumb backwards and shoved him back with concentrated strength as you simultaneously pulled the gun that he so arrogantly placed in the waistline of his pants. Losing his footing, he stumbled backwards to the ground. You stood protectively in front of the girl as his brutish sidekick attempted to lunge toward you. 

The man raised his eyebrows for a moment and lifted the corner of his lips into a disgusting smirk. He was big and monstrous. You analyzed how each movement was stifled by how grotesquely bulbous his muscles were. Your foot was already hooked to the leg of one of the metal chairs closest to you. In the second he lunged in your directions, you lifted and ejected the chair at his solar plexus. With an additional, forceful stomp of your foot to his chest that knocked him to the ground. 

In the time it had taken you to knock them to the ground, the waitress and her father had escaped inside, and the sound of a police horn approached quickly. You looked down on the two men and brushed a few wayward strands of hair from your face. Adrenaline rushed from your veins to the tips of your fingers. 

The two men stood up, attempting to smooth out the wrinkles of their expensive Italian suits. The thin man glared at you with his hand placed protectively at his chest. It burned still from the pain you inflicted upon him. 

“I think that’s your signal to leave,” you stated with a voice as steadfast as your stance. You kept your hands tightly on his firearm.

With one more snarl, the men disappeared into the night. The motor of their car rumbled off, growing quieter the further they drove into the night. It was silent and more of Dave’s words surrounded you. 

“Never call attention to yourself, but if you have no choice, you need a plan to leave fast.”

The young waitress and her family looked at you, their eyes gleaming with grateful tears. The only thing you felt you could give was a nod. Receiving gratitude, handshakes, and hugs weren’t anything you were prepared or willing to receive. You just weren’t built for it. 

You rushed away using shadows and looking over your shoulder anytime you found yourself in the light. When you arrived back at your apartment, you set your already neatly folded clothes inside your suitcase. It was another trick Dave had taught you. 

Cellphone. Passport. Wallet. Keys. 

With all of them accounted for, it was time to go. You stared at the gun that you had taken from the thin man. You tried to sift through your options of discarding the weapon, when slow, quiet knocks tapped at your door. In an instant you were pressing your back to the wall, sliding along as you made your way towards the door with the thug’s weapon in your hand. It wasn’t in your itinerary to take care of two gangsters on your vacation. 

One, two, three deep breaths.

The knocks became quicker and more urgent. You listened closely for any noises that would alert you to the kind of weapons they had. Just as you reached to open the door you heard a familiar voice through the door.  

“Child, it’s me: the dottore!” 

You wanted to let out a huge sigh of relief, but your heightened vigilance had settled over your neck and shoulders holding you in a position that disallowed it. 

“Enzo,” you finally called out after much deliberation, “are you alone?”

With immediacy, he replied, “Yes!” 

His voice was as steady and confident as a surgeon who was moments away from performing life-saving surgery. You analyzed it, homing in on its lack of fluctuations, listening for any indication that someone else might be standing next to him waiting for you. You drew one more breath and opened the door. Seeing Enzo standing on the other side alone allowed you to let go of the breath you held in your chest. He rushed past you, closing the door behind him. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked through gritted teeth. 

“I heard what happened.” 

“How did you--,” you began to ask. 

“I know everything in this town,” he stated plainly, as he looked you directly in the eyes. “Where is the weapon?” 

You felt your brow immediately furrow at his request. This was the kind of situation Dave urged you not to find yourself in. Trusting people, feeling for people, even giving a little bit of yourself to anyone would be a folly in your line of work. One that would certainly get you killed. 

“No, not happening Enzo,” you insisted as you shook your head. “I cannot get you involved.”

“I think it’s too late for that.” 

You stared back at him, feeling a pressure of disbelief and gratitude as he held his hand towards you with a dish rag that he had pulled from a kitchen drawer. You pressed your lips tightly together and a painful sting of tears began to form at the corners of your eyes. Enzo reached his hand out to you again. 

“Are you a good person or a bad person?” 

An unfamiliar feeling of confusion, guilt, and sadness came over you. One that had you re-evaluating nearly everything. 

You replied to Enzo tearfully, “I don’t know.”

He stepped forward and offered you his fatherly stare. The one you felt was so undeserved. 

“Only a good person would say that.”

It was at that moment, you wondered, maybe, if Dave had it all wrong. 

You looked back at Enzo with a look that you hoped conveyed your gratitude. There were no words that existed that held enough magnitude to describe it. You grabbed your things quickly, looking at him once more before you walked out the door. He gave your arm a reassuring squeeze and you pulled him in for a hug. You held him tight, your hands nearly squeezing to the point where neither of you could breathe, shaking as you let him go. 

“Non dimenticare mai chi sei, cocca,” he said followed by a kiss to your forehead that instantly made you feel like you were truly cared for.

And with one last look, you disappeared into the night. The cool air met you and the sound of ocean waves ascended to your ears. Each smell and sound engulfing you and holding you in what you wished was a long goodbye. The bittersweetness of your tears met the corner of your lips. Yet somehow, each event, each choice, and each movement you made reminded you that all of this was just as it was supposed to be. 

***************************

The last 24 hours blasted by you like a bullet train. Everything around you moved in a blur while your body somehow moved at a pace slower than everything around you. You moved through each moment with an exhausted automaticity: getting off the plane, getting a taxi , and finding your way home. 

With caution still at its peak, you entered your home. You checked every room and every closet two times until you felt certain that no one had followed you from Italy. You held your phone in your hand staring at the black screen, contemplating if you should even turn it back on. With a long sigh you pushed the buttons at the side of your phone, setting it quickly aside on your nightstand before running to the bathroom to avoid any notification like they were a plague. 

You stepped into your spacious shower, jumping a little as cold water met your skin before gradually raining on your body with much needed warmth. You stepped out of the shower, drying off before wrapping yourself with your towel. You shook your hair with your fingers until your wet waves rested at your shoulder. A notification appeared on your phone connected to your security system.

Filling your lungs with a deep and steady breath you walked towards your kitchen to pour yourself a drink of water. Standing in silence, leaning against your kitchen counter, stood Dave. His eyes stayed only on you with his hands crossed over his chest. He was wearing his best poker face: no anger, no fear, no hate…but for a moment you spotted it: an inkling of relief, a hint of regret, a glint of—? No you wouldn’t let yourself welcome the thought.

You brushed past him, pouring yourself some water. You looked up at him, no words leaving either of your lips. The water was cold, refreshing, and awakening on your lips. As you walked past him back to your you could practically feel him seething. Coming at you like heat waves but bouncing off you as you kept your cool. 

Staring back at him from the end of the hallway just outside your bedroom you called to him.

“Are you coming to bed or not?”

You swore you heard a sigh of exasperation escape him as he crept towards you with his hands on his hips — the way he always did when he was particularly frustrated. Satisfied by his inescapable allure towards you, you turned away from him, confident in the knowledge that he would follow you. 

“I’ve got to hand it to you,” Dave spoke as he perused your hair, your eyes, your face, your skin, “I’m impressed you were able to be off the grid for as long as you did.”

“I don’t think that matters much now,” you declare looking up at him as he moved towards you. “I’m back.”

Dave took his hands to caress your face, his grip against your skin pressed with the perfect amount of firmness. A faint shine of gratitude emanated from his eyes. He would never say it, but you could see it. You could feel it from the touch of his hands and by the warmth emanating from his body—he missed you. 

It was enough. You pulled one hand from your face bringing it down to where your towel wrapped around your body in a tight tuck. With firm guidance you made him pull the towel off your body letting it tumble to the floor. His eyes darkened and he shook his head with a smirk near disbelief as he admired your body. 

“Fuck, you’re fucking beautiful as ever.” He groaned as he grabbed at the front of his pants. 

Nearly a month without him, not one text or phone call…by your own design. Forgetting him wasn’t the answer. Understanding yourself in your entirety always led back to the same conclusion: you were his. 

Not able to wait a moment more, you grabbed him by his dark sweatshirt pulling it over his head and tossing it away. You didn’t think you’d taken a pair of pants off a man faster in your life. His breaths came heavy and fast as you pulled him towards you, admiring his naked body as he did yours. 

And then you kissed him.

After so long without him, the fire that sparked from touching him burned hotter than ever. You pulled his body to yours so tightly that your breasts pressed onto his chest, feeling each desperate breath that rose and fell over him. Somehow your arms found their way around his broad shoulders while he wrapped his around you, his hands grabbing your ass massaging up your back, until his fingers are threading themselves in your hair. 

Your kisses were an exploration of renewal, of remembrance of how each other tasted while also, somehow, feeling brand new. His tongue had never been so needy before. The gruff moans that released from his mouth were so different and more unbidden than you’d remembered. And his cock, his lovely, thick, uncut cock, was so hard against your lower belly. The tip already cried for you with precum. 

With one swift movement you spun around and shoved him to the bed. His eyes widened with devilish excitement as he spread his limbs across the expanse of your bed. His cock stood at attention for you, ready to comply with your every demand. 

You crawled towards him, like a black cat slinking in the dark. The smell of him was so musky, salty, and clean as you lowered your face and then your mouth to the tip of his manhood. Holding the warmth of him again felt like a gift as he throbbed in your hands. The taste was even better as you took in the precum onto your lips and then your tongue, each taste bud lighting you up with desire. 

He moaned, his hand hitting your pillow with a thump as your mouth and tongue continued to worship him. 

“Oh shit, fuck!” He growled as he gripped your sheets. 

Not even close to satisfied you lifted your face from your handiwork, tucking your hair behind your ear. You glided forward over his body, giving him another kiss before straddling him, only letting him feel the outer lips of your wet cunt. He reached his hips upward for you.

“Tsk, ah ah ah,” you crooned, teasing him with another grind of your hips, “not til you beg for it.” 

“Fuck, Firefly, fuck—!” 

You moved your hips again. 

Dave couldn’t stop the moans that came from his beautiful lips. So beautiful, you traced your thumb over them. 

“Is that all you have to say for yourself?”

You grew wetter with each teasing press of your hips. 

An unintelligible and wanton groan came from him. 

You tugged him by the hair, his eyes staying on yours and his brows angled downward in a combination of anger, frustration, and desire unique to him. 

“Tell me, daddy.”

“Fuck, s—so fucking sexy,” he groaned. “Fuck I’ve missed this, your fucking body, my pussy.”

It was all you needed to hear.

You lifted your hips and braced your hand on his chest before you slowly began to sink over his cock. You bit your lower lip as you felt each thick inch of him enter you until he was so deep you could go no further. Pressing your hands onto his soft belly you began to move. Just that nearly sent him over the edge. 

“Fuck, Firefly, how are you even better than I remember?“ Dave praised, as he gripped your thighs with his hands. 

You rolled your hips slowly against his, adjusting to his thick size in your tight pussy. A shuddering breath left your quivering lips. With each bounce and roll of yourself on his massive member turned your breaths into loud and melodic moans. Not wanting to lose yourself just yet, you pressed your lips tighter together the more rhythmic your pace became. His cock throbbed within you, feeling impossible deeper with each move you made. 

“Ah, my god!” You whined, unable to keep silent as Dave suddenly thrust his hips upwards to match your moves. “God, your cock is so good.”

Dave could only muster a gruff moan before interlacing his fingers between yours. You could feel his breath becoming more erratic with each move of your tight cunt over his cock. His hands began to squeeze yours tighter and tighter as your pussy squeezed him.

With a quick forward movement of your hips, his hard member popped out from inside you. 

“Ahh, fuck!” He moaned as he gritted his teeth in frustration at the loss of your wet center around him. 

You climbed off Dave and reached over to your nightstand, pulling a rope from the drawer. You straddled his waist while fashioning a strong knot around his wrists, tying him to your bed frame. He looked up at you, hazy and hungry to feel his cock sheathed in the tightest walls of your pussy. A smirk unfurled itself on his lips as you rocked yourself along his shaft, anointing him with your nectar. 

“How does it make you feel,” Dave spoke, the sound coming from the deepest part of his throat, “thinking you have some kind of control?” 

The words stopped your gyrations and brought your face an inch from his. You could feel your breath circling his lips, close enough that you could see them quiver. With a strong squeeze of your right hand to his face you licked from his chin to just above his lips before kissing him. Your tongue parted his lips with a firm swipe, leading his tongue into a dance he had no choice but to follow. The way your bed frame rattled as you looked down upon him told you more than any words from him could say. 

“So you’re telling me this,” you squeezed and rubbed his cock with the tightest fist you could make around him, “is the gift I get after being gone for so long?”

You slinked your hips back down, teasing his cock with your opening. With the most sultry intent, you stoked his primal want for you, not settling onto him right away. The way he continued to fight against the taut rope around his wrists sent chills that emanated from your center.  He’d never say it, but you certainly knew everything he fought against confessing.  

Generosity began to sneak over you and you allowed him to fill you as you lowered onto him, inch by throbbing inch. And as though your life, your everything, depended on it, you took him for a ride. Consuming, savoring, and indulging in every delicious, warm, and pulsing inch. You brought him to the edge of ecstasy only to bring him back. Your bodies devolved into a beautiful mess of sweat and desire.

Until it was time. Neither of you could hold back. You clutched the headboard as your hips bounced vigorously on his cock. You looked into his eyes and he into yours until you both came with a hot, violent shaking of your body and an uncontrollable thrust from his hips up to yours. Together you filled the walls of your bedroom with a duet of rapturous groans and sobs of euphoria. 

Still holding him inside you, you graciously removed the bindings from his wrist. With urgency, he circled his hands around your waist until they gave your ass one more squeeze. The warmth of his hands traveled up your back and worked through more of your waves before they pulled you in for a kiss. Simultaneously hot and chilly aftershocks of your orgasm trembled through your body before you lifted yourself off him. 

“Goddamn,” he sighed, his voice cracking as you collapsed on top of him.

Minutes passed like hours as you breathed in time with one another. In the silence, you listened closely to each other's sounds. The unexpected feeling of his hand beginning to your hair startled you. He stopped for a moment surprised by your reaction, slowing the movement of his hand, wrapping his arm around you to caress your shoulder with an embrace. He slowed the racing of your heart with more slow breaths and a barely audible hush from his lips. You could feel the intentional slow rise and fall of his chest against your back, your eyes growing heavy until both of you fell into the arms of a deep sleep. 

Late into the night, you stirred with one arm tucked close to you and the other draped lightly over Dave’s. The hum of your ceiling fan drummed peacefully in your ears as your eyes fluttered lightly looking at his form lying next to you. You almost surrendered yourself back to sleep when a sudden thrashing motion shook you awake. 

You propped yourself up and saw Dave tossing next to you, sweat beading at his forehead. His voice started with quiet mumbles, groans, and bellows that shook with anger and fear. You reached over to him, gently caressing his forehead. 

“Dave…Dave?” You started gently. 

He continued to writhe as his brow furrowed and wrinkled his forehead. 

“S--, no, S-- Sa---,” he called out, still trapped in his nightmare. 

“Dave, it’s me!” You said more firmly wrapping his face with your hands. “I’m here. I’m here.” 

He awoke, startled as he looked at you with wild eyes. He pressed his lips to yours, wetting your mouth with a soft warm touch of his tongue, before turning your back to his chest and wrapping you in his arms. He thread his fingers between yours, kissing your shoulders. He murmured words you were almost certain he was unaware of before drifting back to sleep.  A demand? A request? A plea?

“Stay,” his voice breathed through the silence as he gripped you tighter against his warm body, “just stay.”

[chloefraazers]

“burden of command” should have been about negotiating a deal between whichever desert commander you chose, and the oseram trespassers in desert tenakth territory settling in an area with an abundance of drinking water, and i will die on this hill.

regardless of who you chose, it could have been a great opportunity for growth of aloy and both tenakth npcs. yarra would have to realise she can’t solve everything with bloodshed and to give diplomacy a try. drakka could easily have set himself apart and shown that he has the capacity to lead the entire clan, not just a small settlement. and aloy could have brokered a peaceful resolution that provides desert tenakth with a precious resource, while maybe the oseram could, idk, not colonize more land with absolutely no repercussions.

it also could have addressed why there are so many oseram “trespassers,” as the tenakth call them, building settlements in tenakth territory and making themselves at home when there are tenakth who even say that if they catch oseram, they bury them alive in sand.

it’s obvious that aloy needs the different tribes aligned for the final instalment of the trilogy and this could have been a small but wildly important stepping stone in that direction.

and if they need a machine fight in the quest, there’s a tremortusk right there, it and a stormbird and heck, throw in the slitherfang too, could have all interrupted negotiations and aloy, the desert tenakth, and the oseram could have had to work together to take them down.

i love aloy with kids but this errand as-is had no real impact on the decision aloy made on choosing a leader, especially since the dialogue was almost the same regardless of who you chose.

for the most part, horizon forbidden west did a good job with the side quests and errands advancing aloy as a character as well as (to a lesser degree) npcs, but this one fell a little flat for me personally in the overall-arc regard.

[landwriter]

Ten Books To Know Me

Rules: 10 (non-ancient) books for people to get to know you better, or that you just really like.

Tagged by @softest-punk, thank you for utterly derailing my afternoon into nostalgia <3 My problem is less not picking ancient books and more not picking exclusively Canadian and English children’s lit published between 1995 and 1999. (Still the first three picks all the same though because it is like, the opus within which my psyche is almost wholly contained.) This got long but I'm going to be very brave and not apologize about that at all. I love talking about books, and these are some of the books I love the most. In chronological order of arrival into my heart.

Some of the Kinder Planets - Tim Wynne-Jones This book has been a part of my life for so long I cannot remember when, exactly, I first read it - only that it was taken from my gran’s shelf; Tim had sent her a copy with a lovely inscription. It’s a short story collection which remains today (and forever) my favourite format. Ted Chiang’s Exhalation, Karin Tidbeck’s Jagannath, Karen Russell’s Orange World, Margaret Atwood’s Stone Mattress are all fabulous examples, stacked before me at my desk, but Some of the Kinder Planets itself lives (alongside my two most precious childhood stuffies) at my mum’s house, the safest place of all. The stories are kids being kids in the way you want to read as a kid yourself: clever and wondering and scared and brave. Special mention also to his Zoom trilogy, beautifully illustrated in black and white by Eric Beddows.

Skellig - David Almond Another book likely pilfered from my granny’s library. There’s a little magic in Some of the Kinder Planets, but here is ALL the magical realism, and it changed me. This book has a sickly bird-or-man-or-angel in a garage being nursed to health by a boy with an ill baby sister in hospital that he can’t help at all; the indelible image of surviving off bluebottles and then getting snuck Chinese takeaway and brown ale; nature and weird kids and William Blake poems. I will weep if I continue thinking about it.

[Not Any Book But Just A Lot Of Books] - Kit Pearson, Diana Wynne-Jones, Kenneth Oppel, Philip Pullman, Madeleine L’Engle, etc. Listen, I know this is an INSANE cop-out but if you know the authors you know more or less exactly what I mean. These are the books that made me more tender than I already was, made me believe in Good, and Kindness, and Love, in a totally immutable way I thankfully do not ever want to change, because I don’t think I could.

Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett My first introduction to Neil Gaiman, Terry Pratchett, and footnotes. Also one of the first books I did not simply pick up because it was Lying Around. I bought it because my older cousin listed it as one of her favourite books on Facebook, and she was (and is) impossibly, horribly cool. I was maybe 13 or 14 and wanted to be cool too. I’ve since read a smattering of Gaiman but I’ve yet to read Terry Pratchett on his own. I’d like to! I know I’d love it.

The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul - Douglas Adams Loaned to me by my best friend before we were best friends. It is, apparently, the second novel in the Dirk Gently series, and I remember nothing of it except a very good bit about a couch getting stuck in a stairwell; nonetheless it’s listed here because this is clearly actually a thinly disguised chronology of sentimentality, and also because Douglas Adams is a wonder and delight to read and I don’t need to fully remember the book to know that in my bones. I’m not sure if it’s fair but I’ll also blame Douglas Adams for my inability to be brief and to resist using semi-colons. Could’ve been someone else. But it was definitely someone English.

Sailing to Byzantium - W.B. Yeats This is not a book, but it was in my English Literature textbook in high school, so it counts. If it wasn’t, I would still count it. Why a sixteen year old girl connected with a poem that begins “That is no country for old men.” is irrelevant, as is every stanza but the third, which contains the fateful, ruinous lines: “Consume my heart away; sick with desire / And fastened to a dying animal / It knows not what it is;” I remember when I read it, and I remember the chill feeling of Yeats’ spectral hand reaching all the way from his grave in County Sligo, across the whole Atlantic and the enormous landmass called Canada, to reach into my chest and cruelly grab my own heart, and I remember thinking How, and Exactly. The first thing I read that named the strangeness I felt inside of me. The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost of all my teenage angst. Written on my bones to this day, if I’m being honest.

Hamlet - Shakespeare We got off on the wrong foot, after I was personally victimized by the line ‘Brevity is the soul of wit’, but I do love Shakespeare. I credit this to having an excellent teacher for it, and reading it aloud in a cohort of tryhards and musicians and theatre kids. A case of familiarity breeds...appreciation, actually. We did a lot of Shakespeare, but we were asked to learn 20 lines of Hamlet specifically, and rewrite them, marked down for every error. Forty lines for bonus marks. There was much grousing and it seemed like a cruel, outdated task of rote memorization, but writing this a decade later, I am belatedly realizing this was a sneaky way to get a bunch of kids to recite a soliloquy so much that they couldn’t help but find the life in it, the rhythm and meter to make it stick in our minds. And now look! I love it! I am writing fanfic in iambic pentameter! Wherefore art my fucking restraint!! I learned my lines so hideously well that when I pulled up the scene just now (2.2, from “Yet I, a dull and muddy-mettled rascal peak”), I a) noticed and b) was offended by, minute differences from the version I memorized, which I then searched out and knew the moment I found. Incredible?!  

Still Life With Woodpecker - Tom Robbins The most recent time I’ve read a work of fiction and been rearranged by it, at the tender age of 21. here I am, I wrote, in my journal, after a very good sob, happier and more rudderless than ever. This man writes with totally unfettered joy and unhinged sincerity, two things I am hopelessly into, but also with a deep distaste for institutions and conformity that I desperately needed back then: lost, returned from a year of magical realism and the sort of adulthood growth spurt that makes you feel dizzy, home and yet horribly missing the home I’d made for myself elsewhere, all my nearly-fulfilled ambitions towards security and prestigious government postings feeling sort of hollow and reeking in my hands. It comforted me that I wasn't wrong as much as it spilled my own guts into my hands, and while I went on for another year seeing things through, it planted a seed that quickly grew proper roots and pushed me right off the ledge of respectability. And it’s a love story, of course.

It’s his prose that sits glowing on the horizon to me when I try to write richly: a distant shore of orgiastic language (from which you can surely hear the wind-carried cries of people fucking day and night), towards which I, still shy and prudish, ever point my prow.

How to Be Happy - Eleanor Davis A comic collection. Sharp and wonderful and alive. Another Best Friend gift (bless those around us with impeccable taste), of which every single panel is MARVELOUS. I meant to share one of my favourites here but apparently it has! Gotten up and left!! I will buy another copy in hopes of coaxing it back out of wherever it’s hiding.

Down to Earth - Monty Don This did not rearrange anything. But it does give me a good hug about it, so to speak. A month-by-month gardening guide which is chock-full of brilliant, sensible advice, and also so cheerfully comforting in a highly specific English way that I actually feel like I’m drinking a cuppa whenever I read a page or two of it. It makes me think of my grandmother. And so we’ve come full circle, eh?

I hope some of you are now nodding thoughtfully and thinking, well, Chrissakes, that explains it. Very sorry, hope this helps, etc. Passing on the tag to @fancy-rock-dove, @chubsthehamster, @broomsticks, @wordsinhaled, @btwimkindagay, @hardly-an-escape, @xx-vergil-xx, @that-banhus, and anyone else who wants to expose themselves on main and chat about their fave books

[mask131]

The oldest French fantasy novel?

In 2005, the French fantasy author Laurent Kloetzer read the masterpiece of the classic 19th century author Flaubert: Salammbô. Upon finishing the book, he decided to post online a mock-review of the novel, treating it as if it was a new publication, a recent fantasy novel of the 2000s. This mock-review gathered some attention, and is one of the reasons many people like to evoke Flaubert’s Salammbô as the “first French fantasy novel”.

Here is a rough translation of the review:

The French fantasy exists, and I discovered it in a collection of general literature! We know the reluctance of some authors to be published in collections with colorful covers, probably fearing to lose a potential audience. It is probably what Gustave Flaubert thought, a new author very promising for the genre. His surprising novel, titled Salammbô after the name of the female protagonist, proves that there is a possibility for my favorite type of literature to be recognized and respected in France.

Carthage and its cruel civilization at the time of Hamilcar Barca are the core and the main subject of this book. The author pretends in an annex that he heavily documented himself and that he has read everything there was to read on the topic, but it was probably to make the literary critics believe he had written a historical novel, a genre that is very trendy nowadays. However, no need to dig deep to understand that it is not a pile of badly-digested erudition, neither a patchwork of references stitched to each other : rather it is a powerful dreaming, a crazy and shimmering imaginary world, a Carthage just as unreal and fantastic as the gods and heroes of Gustave Moreau’s paintings.

Sir Flaubert crushes with his shadow all the French-speaking authors that tried to walk the same path as Tolkien’s. What incredible images! What coherence, what harmony, between the Gods, the palaces, the landscapes, the clothes! The surprising sonorities of the names, of the characters, of the precious stones and of the materials carry us in a far-away otherworld. We are taken into a civilization that can seem alien to us, for it was vanquished and destroyed without leaving much traces behind, and yet in which we will find men whose feelings are too close to our owns.

I haven’t even spoken of the plot, an abundant, complex, remarkable plot! We will find there, without ever being bored, battle scenes, an extraordinary party, politics, magic, the burglary of a sacred temple (worthy of Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser!), deadly tricks, human sacrifices… and battles, yet again. It is about the war of an old city against its mercenaries, of the impossible love between a barbarian and a princess lost in her mystical quest. Life is present everywhere. People dit a lot in Salammbô, blood is spilled, but it is to better regenerate the world.

Flaubert’s imagination would be the closest, in terms of Anglo-Saxon authors, to the one of Michael Moorcock, the one used to conceived his Elric series, and even more, his Gloriana. Just like Moorcock, the French authors likes baroque universes, colorful apocalypses, and atmospheres with a strange eroticism… But the reader can rest assured: no never-ending trilogy here! The novel is in one block, dense, balanced, perfectly built, from the introduction scene to the astounding but needed conclusion. Just like with Tolkien, the universe is complete, coherent and mastered, it is the goal and the foundations of the work. The battles are just as epic and bloody as those of Robert Howard, and I already talked about the surprising closeness with Fritz Leiber’s stories.

But unlike all those authors, that I can only read translated, our author is French and his novel is served by a fabulous language that is the true entryway to his imaginary world – a language that brings all the truth to this dream. I only ever felt spirited away by the magic of writing only once, with Stefan Wul’s Nôo.

With Salammbô, Gustave Flaubert gave to the French literature of the imagination a work that cannot be ignored, and that all the lovers of the genre must read. We can only wish him a long and successful career!

[thorinsghivashel]

I heard that in the filming of the Hobbit, they used an Ethiopian Opal gem to represent the Arkenstone.

In the film it was introduced as a "bad" stone, but in reality the magical and spiritual properties of the Ethiopian Opal (Arkenstone) seem to be positive, though it would be interesting to mention that in some folklore it is known as the "Unlucky stone".

However it carries vibes of inspiration, self-confidence, optimism, playfulness and desire.

It's believed to increase youthfulness, helps to deal with negative feelings and sad mood. Balances the mind, body and spirit, providing connection and harmony. It is also the stone of love, intensifies emotions and reflects the mood of its wearer. Encourages freedom, independence, and unlocks creativity.

Helps to release anger and claim self-worth, aiding in expressing one's true self.

It's the stone of loyalty, faithfulness and spontaneity. Strengthens the will to live.

The word itself "Opal" seems to have more than one roots, from the Sanskrit word "Upala" meaning "Precious stone" and the Greek derivative "Oppalios" meaning "To see change is color".

And strangely or not it seems to reflect perfect the mental and physical and spiritual state of our dear king Thorin...it did it's work (if speaking of its usefulness in the fantasy world of Tolkien) though not in its best way towards Thorin.

The producers of the trilogy did a great job of choosing this specific stone for the "role" of Arkenstone, smart even, definitely for a reason.

[madlovenovelist]

Book Review – ‘Sapphire Blue’ (#2 Precious Stone Trilogy) by Kerstin Gier

Another time-trippy adventure with a sassy gargoyle and not knowing who to trust. Genre: Y/A, Historical Fiction, Romance, Adventure No. of pages: 354 Gwen’s life has been a rollercoaster since she discovered she was the Ruby, the final member of the secret time-traveling Circle of Twelve. In between searching through history for the other time-travelers and asking for a bit of their blood…

[historical-mg-ya]

Favorite 2010s book or series

[zerogravity-photography]

Top 7 Engagement Ring Trends

There isn't anything better than shopping for a genuinely awesome engagement ring for those of us who enjoy jewelry, right? Even if it's only a supposition...

You may have noticed that a large percentage of people in relationships have checked off one of two boxes: revealing a new baby bump or an engagement ring. While many saw the past two years of lockdown (in all its various stages) as an opportunity to take up a new hobby, buy a pet, or really up your loungewear game, you may have noticed that. Some of the more successful couples have really accomplished both. But what about those of you scrolling there with your left ring finger exposed? Or even those of you who already have something on that finger but are working up the guts to ask for a replacement?

Which fashion should you pick? Or, if you want to stick with tradition, what fashion should you *subtly suggest* so that your spouse "picks" it out for you?

Whether you often follow trends or not, it might be interesting to observe what's sparking interest in the engagement ring market right now to provide you with fresh ideas you might not have had before.

Here is a list of the seven engagement ring designs that experts predict brides-to-be will want in 2022

1.The You and Me:

"Toi et Moi" means "you and me" in French, and the Toi et Moi ring symbolizes the union of two people in the truest celebration of love through the expression of two gemstones set next to one another on a ring. Toi et Moi rings generally use natural diamonds, but today's jewelers are experimenting with different precious stones to make up the other precious stones on this unquestionably romantic design, including sapphires, emeralds, and even pearls."

2.Diamonds on Slim Band:

For someone who wishes to make their diamond shine, this is a simple band. The potruding diamond may make the ring more glittering even if the forms differ. The ring will be nicer if the band is finer.

3.Solo Diamonds on a Chafing Sculptured Ring:

The most popular style right now is a single diamond ring set in a substantial gold sculptural band. People continue to spend all of their money on a single diamond, but they are also attempting to construct increasingly intricate settings for the stone.To add intrigue, couples opt for a distinctive design, a chunkier ring, and frequently an uncommon shape. Although people are prepared to stray from tradition, they nevertheless like very simple, classic designs.

4.Art Deco- Inspired Rings:

According to experts, customers are choosing modern rings with Art Deco design elements including clean, bold lines, geometric patterns, and uncommon diamond shapes like kites and baguettes.Couples are becoming far more daring when it comes to pairing various diamond shapes, such as baguettes and rounds. We adore the fact that there are no restrictions when it comes to creating an engagement ring.

5.Oval diamonds:

Oval diamonds are expected to be a highly popular shape for engagement rings in 2022.The most popular setting that we are seeing is the oval diamond being fitted into a delicate 4 talon claw setting on a narrow, plain band, where the stone speaks for itself. Oval cut diamonds are having a major moment, according to experts. People want to see oval diamonds in many different variations.

6.Tilted stones:

The lovely tilted diamond on your hand is the perfect way to begin your happily ever after. In terms of the trend of diamonds set on a tilt, we strongly think that this is going to be the most exclusive trend.

7.Splashes of Color:

People appreciate color. They like the sensation it gives them. Jewelry falls under this as well. More and more couples are inquiring about the many colors we provide so that their rings aren't merely white. To represent something special to them, some people choose to have a few pale blue, pink, or yellow sapphires put into their diamond pave, a trilogy ring with colorful side stones, or just a coloured stone at the base of the band.

Our experts say that you don't need to be a licensed designer to create your own ring online thanks to recent advancements in jewelry and technology. You may now take full advantage of the capabilities of internet tools that allow for customisation, whether it's a wedding band or an engagement band. You may easily create your diamond ring or a straightforward band with this from the comfort of your home.

You may also browse many rings on offer and buy for one you adore by taking your preferences and other aspects into consideration. Make sure that you would like wearing it frequently as well.

[joyner111]

Some common types of wedding rings

Wedding rings are a symbol of love and commitment, and they come in a variety of styles and materials to suit different tastes and preferences. Here are some common types of wedding rings:

Traditional Gold Bands: Classic round gold bands are a popular choice for their timeless appeal. They can be made from yellow, white, or rose gold.

Platinum Bands: Known for their durability and hypoallergenic properties, platinum bands are a luxurious choice that won't tarnish over time.

Titanium Bands: Titanium is a strong, lightweight metal that is often used for wedding bands. It's available in various colors, including black, and is known for its resistance to scratches.

Silver Bands: Silver wedding bands are an affordable and traditional choice. They can be sterling silver or silver-plated.

Palladium Bands: Similar to platinum, palladium is a white metal that is hypoallergenic and durable, but it's typically less expensive.

Rose Gold Bands: Rose gold has a warm, pinkish hue that is created by alloying gold with copper. It's a popular choice for its romantic and unique appearance.

Diamond-Encrusted Bands: Some wedding bands feature diamonds or other gemstones around the entire band or as accents on a plain band.

Eternity Bands: These bands are completely encrusted with diamonds or other gemstones, symbolizing everlasting love.

Three-Stone Rings: A trilogy of stones, often diamonds, representing the past, present, and future of a couple's relationship.

Channel-Set Bands: In this design, the stones are set into a channel within the band, providing a smooth and secure setting.

Cushion-Cut Bands: These bands feature a square or rectangular stone with rounded edges, offering a vintage-inspired look.

Vintage or Antique Rings: These rings often have intricate designs and may be made from precious metals with heirloom gemstones.

Wood Inlay Bands: Some wedding bands feature a wooden inlay, which can be a meaningful and eco-friendly choice.

Tungsten Carbide Bands: Tungsten carbide is an extremely hard and scratch-resistant metal that is often used for men's wedding bands.

Custom-Designed Rings: Many couples choose to design their own wedding bands, incorporating unique elements that reflect their personalities and love story.

When choosing wedding rings, it's important to consider factors such as personal style, comfort, durability, and the meaning behind the design. It's also crucial to ensure that the rings are comfortable for daily wear and are made from materials that won't cause allergies or skin irritation.

[jewelerystoretoronto]

A Comprehensive Guide to Engagement Rings and Wedding Rings

Engagement and wedding rings are timeless symbols of love, commitment, and partnership. These precious pieces of jewelry not only signify the beginning of a lifelong journey together but also reflect individual styles and tastes. Whether you are preparing to propose or planning your wedding, understanding the nuances of engagement and wedding rings can help you make an informed choice. This guide explores the differences between engagement rings and wedding rings, popular styles, materials, and tips for selecting the perfect rings.

Engagement Rings

Symbolism and Tradition

The engagement ring is a symbol of a promise and the intention to marry. Traditionally, it is given during a proposal and worn on the ring finger of the left hand. This custom dates back to ancient times, with the circle of the ring representing eternity and the diamond symbolizing strength and permanence.

Popular Styles

Solitaire

The solitaire is a classic and timeless style featuring a single diamond or gemstone. Its simplicity highlights the beauty of the center stone, making it a popular choice for many.

Halo

A halo engagement ring features a center stone surrounded by a circle of smaller diamonds or gemstones. This design enhances the sparkle and size of the center stone, creating a dazzling effect.

Three-Stone

Also known as a trilogy ring, the three-stone design features three diamonds or gemstones, symbolizing the past, present, and future of the couple's relationship.

Vintage

Vintage engagement rings often feature intricate details, milgrain edges, and unique settings that evoke the charm of bygone eras. These rings are perfect for those who appreciate history and craftsmanship.

Modern

Modern engagement rings embrace contemporary designs, including geometric shapes, minimalist settings, and unconventional gemstones like sapphires, emeralds, and moissanites.

Materials

Diamonds

Diamonds remain the most popular choice for engagement rings due to their durability and brilliance. The 4 Cs (Cut, Color, Clarity, and Carat) are essential considerations when selecting a diamond.

Gemstones

Sapphires, rubies, emeralds, and other gemstones offer colorful alternatives to diamonds. Each gemstone has its own unique symbolism and charm.

Metals

Common metals for engagement rings include white gold, yellow gold, rose gold, and platinum. Each metal has distinct properties and aesthetics, allowing for a personalized touch.

Wedding Rings

Symbolism and Tradition

Wedding rings, exchanged during the wedding ceremony, symbolize the couple's commitment and love. These rings are typically simpler in design compared to engagement rings and are worn on the same finger as the engagement ring. The tradition of wearing wedding rings on the left hand's ring finger is believed to originate from the ancient belief that this finger contains a vein that leads directly to the heart.

Popular Styles

Classic Bands

Classic wedding bands are simple, elegant, and timeless. They are usually made of plain metal, such as gold or platinum, and are favored for their understated beauty.

Eternity Bands

Eternity bands feature a continuous line of diamonds or gemstones around the entire band, symbolizing eternal love and commitment. These rings add extra sparkle and elegance.

Half-Eternity Bands

Similar to eternity bands, half-eternity bands feature stones only on the top half of the ring. They offer a balance of sparkle and comfort.

Custom and Personalized Bands

Many couples choose to personalize their wedding bands with engravings, unique patterns, or custom designs. This personalization makes the rings more meaningful and unique.

Stackable Bands

Stackable wedding bands allow for creative combinations and layering with other rings, such as anniversary bands or additional wedding bands. This style offers versatility and personalization.

Materials

Metals

Gold (yellow, white, and rose), platinum, palladium, and titanium are popular metals for wedding bands. Each metal offers different benefits in terms of durability, color, and hypoallergenic properties.

Gemstones and Diamonds

Incorporating diamonds or gemstones into wedding bands adds a touch of elegance and personalization. These stones can be set in various styles, including pavé, channel, and bezel settings.

Tips for Choosing Engagement and Wedding Rings

Budget

Establishing a budget beforehand helps narrow down options and ensures you find rings that meet your financial parameters without compromising on quality or style.

Lifestyle

Consider your lifestyle when selecting rings. If you have an active lifestyle or work with your hands, opt for durable materials and settings that can withstand daily wear and tear.

Personal Style

Choose rings that reflect your personal style and taste. Whether you prefer classic elegance, modern minimalism, or vintage charm, there are rings to match every preference.

Comfort

Comfort is key, especially for wedding bands that you will wear daily. Ensure the rings fit well and feel comfortable on your finger.

Customization

Don't be afraid to customize your rings. Many jewelers offer bespoke services that allow you to create rings that are truly unique and meaningful.

Certification

For diamond engagement rings, ensure that the stones come with a certification from a reputable grading laboratory, such as GIA or AGS. This certification provides assurance of the diamond's quality and authenticity.

Conclusion

Engagement and wedding rings are significant symbols of love and commitment. With a variety of styles, materials, and customization options available, finding the perfect rings can be an enjoyable and meaningful journey. Check here https://www.serliandsiroan.com whether you choose a classic diamond solitaire or a personalized wedding band, these rings will serve as lasting reminders of your love story and the promises you make to each other. By considering your budget, lifestyle, personal style, and comfort, you can select engagement and wedding rings that you will cherish for a lifetime.

[themovieblogonline]

Before Midnight and...Beyond? A Fourth Film Possible?

Remember Jesse and Celine, the star-crossed lovers from Richard Linklater's unforgettable "Before" trilogy? It's been over a decade since "Before Midnight" left us wondering about their future, but director Richard Linklater is giving fans a glimmer of hope. Could there be a "Before" sequel on the horizon? In a recent interview with Comicbook.com, Linklater addressed the possibility of a fourth film. While there's nothing set in stone, he didn't shut down the idea entirely. His message? "Never say never." Seems like Jesse and Celine's story might not be over just yet. The Power of Nine (Except When It's Not) The "Before" trilogy is famous for its unique concept. Each film revisits Jesse and Celine nine years after their previous encounter. "Before Sunrise" introduced us to them in 1995, with a chance meeting on a train ride. "Before Sunset" picked up their story in 2004, and "Before Midnight" took us to 2013. But Linklater isn't afraid to bend the rules a bit. "We did kind of blow past our nine-year whatever thing," he admits, "but we weren't too precious about that." So, what would it take to get a fourth film going? According to Linklater, the story needs to feel organic. The characters need to have something new and meaningful to share with us. "We'll do it when it makes sense, when those characters have something to say," he explains. Love in the Time of Wrinkles? The beauty of the "Before" trilogy is that it explores love across different stages of life. From the wide-eyed idealism of young adulthood to the challenges of parenthood in middle age, we see Jesse and Celine evolve alongside the actors who portray them. A fourth film could delve into the complexities of love later in life. Maybe the urgency fades, but the connection remains. While a fourth film is a possibility, it's not something that's actively being planned. For now, the "Before" trilogy stands as a testament to the enduring power of love and connection. But hey, if Jesse and Celine have more stories to tell, we're all ears (and eyes!). A Look Back at the Before Trilogy The "Before" trilogy is a cinematic masterpiece directed by Richard Linklater and starring Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy. The first film, "Before Sunrise" (1995), follows Jesse, an American traveler, and Celine, a French student, as they fall in love during a whirlwind night in Vienna. The sequel, "Before Sunset" (2004), catches up with them nine years later in Paris, where they grapple with missed opportunities and rekindled feelings. The final film, "Before Midnight" (2013), takes us another nine years into the future, where Jesse and Celine, now a couple with children, navigate the challenges of long-term relationships. (Source: Comicbook.com)