I feel like Eve,” I said softly, watching the moon set behind him, over the dark of the forest. “Just on the edge of the Garden of Eden.”
There was a small snort of laughter from the vicinity of my navel. “Aye, and I suppose I’m Adam,” Jamie said. “In the gateway to Paradise.”
He turned his head to look wistfully across the creek toward the vast unknown, resting his cheek on the slope of my belly. “I only wish I knew was I coming in, or going out?”
I laughed myself, startling him. I took him by both ears then, urging him gently up across the slippery expanse of my naked flesh.
“In,” I said. “I don’t see an angel with a fiery sword, after all.”
He lowered himself upon me, his own flesh heated as with fever, and I shivered under him. “No?” he murmured. “Aye, well, you’ll no be looking close enough, I suppose.”
Then the fiery sword severed me from consciousness and set fire to my body. We blazed up together, bright as stars in the summer night, and then sank back burnt and limbless, ashes dissolved in a primordial sea of warm salt, stirring with the nascent throbbings of life.
Claire and Jamie Fraser, Drums of Autumn, Chapter Two
i caught up on the good place and i love how at no point did anyone tell michael schur “you can’t do this. this is way too crazy for a sitcom.” like watching the good place is like reading a fanfic, and not because it’s gooey or whatever, but because it’s something completely out of the box, clearly written by someone who is passionate about their story. like is it perfectly polished? no. is every aspect of it executed in the best possible way? probably not. but is someone having a hell of a time writing it and putting their all into it? definitely
Gift for @onheil-ferguson for the HolidayStoking exchange!
There were many wonderful options to choose from, but the winner was the dream sequence from their fic Petrichor, since I really liked the intimacy displayed on the scene. And pretty much because I can’t resist a good stoki smooching.
The rigid, repressed Victoria was never a particularly cozy mum, candidly acknowledging early on that she derived “no especial pleasure or compensation” from her large brood of children. Even when they were tiny babies, Victoria regarded them as distasteful little creatures. “I have no tendre for them,” she once remarked, “til they have become a little human; an ugly baby is a very nasty object…..and the prettiest is frightful when undressed…..as long as they have their big body and little limbs and that terrible frog-like action.”