Born in the Tundra of Minnesota, I have since become a bit of a Gypsy. Currently calling home base the hot sands of Arizona, I do still travel often. Whether the journey is a physical one, or one taken by reading a fantastic book it doesn't matter, the fun is always in the adventure. As always I am an eclectic person that likes a wide array of things and has many passions. Creating, advocating for animals and Mothering just to name a few.

Enter your email address:

Delivered by FeedBurner

Follow on Bloglovin
Follow on Bloglovin

The Purple Booker

Add this to your site

Posted by


The Prompt this week *drum roll please* Slash. **This is a throw back post not feeling very creative this weekend but i wanted to post something. Hopefully next week will kick creative in the butt*





Day 1

The thing is McCoy has had a bad day. All the other cadets are way younger than he is and he bets half of them are going to spend their first evening on campus founding a fraternity. McCoy doesn’t need a damn fraternity to get himself comfortably boozed. Actually, he’s already halfway there and doesn’t plan on moving away from his bottle of bourbon any time soon.

Thing is, his life never went according to plan; it just laughed in his face and screwed him over. So he rolls his eyes and finally opens the door after having lived with its chiming for a few minutes. He’s drunk and pissed and this better not be one of these stupid fraternity boys asking if he wants to join them.

It’s his luck that the blue-eyed boy smiling at him just looks like one of its founding fathers.

“Who are you?” He barks.

From one second to the next the grin vanishes from the boy’s face and he looks like a kicked puppy … oh, yeah, that’s something McCoy remembers. He searches for a name in his mind, but it’s really difficult when the bourbon is spreading through his bones, and the kid is turning away, already a few meters away from his door, when he finally remembers.

“Jim! Jim, hey, stop!” The kid turns back to him and he sees the suppressed, but hopeful look in his eyes. “Don’t you want to come in? I’ve got enough bourbon for two.” A smile is spreading over Jim’s face and McCoy swears that swears the kid could do toothpaste ads with it. He must have said that aloud, because Jim is laughing when he follows him into his room.

Day 2

McCoy is cranky, and in a bad mood and Jim really is just the easiest target available and he kind of deserves it for coming to McCoy’s dorm again, and for pestering McCoy again.

After the first “boy” Jim doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even give any notice he had heard it.

After the second “boy” he reminds McCoy that he has a name.

After the third “boy” Jim grabs his stuff and leaves without a word.

McCoy feels even worse when the door closes again, and he never calls Jim “boy” again.

Day 3

“You got plans?” Jim asks, leaning casually at the door frame as if he had a reason to be here. He hasn’t, just for the record. He just keeps coming back like a stray cat. Stray dog. Stray … something. Not feeding him doesn’t actually help to get rid of him.

“Plans?” McCoy blinks and swallows the ‘Who the hell are you and why are you stalking me?’ that’s on the tip of his tongue. He kind of figures they covered that yesterday. And the day before.

“Yeah, you know, for tonight?”

McCoy rolls his eyes. “Drowning in Bourbon and feeling angry at the world sounded like a good plan until now. You got any problems with that?”

“No, that’s pretty cool.” Jim nods. “Mind if I join you?”


“Great. I got crackers.”

Day 4

“I had a thought!” Jim exclaims theatrically as soon as McCoy opens the door.

“The hell …? What are you …?”

“I just realized we could drink bourbon and wallow in misery the whole night outside your room, too! So come on man, this is going to be a blast!”

He hasn’t even time to explain to Jim that the whole concept of wallowing in misery and ‘having a blast’ are mutually exclusive. In Jim’s world they’re probably not.

Day 5

“Are you drunk?”

He has kind of forgotten how he ended up next to Jim in Basic Warp Design. Or when he ever decided he should take a course about Basic Warp Design?! What the hell is wrong with him? He’s a doctor, not an engineer.

Since the moment he set foot on this shuttle, he knew he would crack eventually. And as soon as he decided to replace his morning coffee with bourbon today he knew he was screwed. Usually he can hold his liquor, but not even he’s that good.

This was a bad idea. Everything. The whole Starfleet Academy-thing. Bad. Bad idea. He’s too old and too cynical and he’s way too miserable. He doesn’t belong here, right in the middle between fresh-faced, overenthusiastic teenagers. He’s a doctor, not a student, and at the moment he’s not even a good doctor.

His wife was probably right about everything, including the fact that he’s a loser and will be a loser until the day he’s going to disintegrate into particles.

“I don’t believe it,” Jim hisses. “… You’re drunk!”

“I’m not.”

“You’ve got to be kidding. Shit. It’s like eleven a.m.!” He sounds exasperated, amused and worried, all at the same time. Jim is completely unable to be only one thing at a time like normal people. He’s everything at once, too intense and too bright and too much and he crashed into his life like a meteor … and McCoy doesn’t even remember how they’ve gotten out of the classroom. So yes, maybe he’s a little drunk.

“Look, don’t worry, it’s only the first week, they don’t know the faces anyway. Nobody is going to remember we weren’t there today,” Jim says walking next to him. “I’ll just take you to your room and nobody’s going to know anything. And Basic Warp Design is kind of … basic anyway. Who cares about the basics, right?”

“You should go back,” he says, because it’s the right thing to say, even though for the first time he actually doesn’t want Jim to go.

Jim waves airily, one hand casual and steady on McCoy’s elbow. “Nah, been there, done that. Basic Warp is not that hard. You promised to show me how to avoid space herpes anyway. I’m an eager learner.”

Only hours later McCoy realizes Jim most likely had just saved his ass. And he has not the faintest idea why he did.

Posted by


Get inspired take our Saturday Sanctuary idea or use your own!

This week on Saturday Sanctuary:

favoritepasstime Source



“Tell me when you want me to stop.”
Her heart swelled with elation, filling her to the point of terror. She did not speak her answer. She breathed it, from somewhere deep within.
He hesitated for a moment—just the briefest of moments—his eyes probing hers for any sign of doubt. Are you sure you want this? they seemed to ask.
She arched up into him, and her fingers knotted themselves in his hair. She wanted this. This may have been the only thing she had actually ever wanted, really and truly. Wanted on an elemental level, an animal level, as insistent and undeniable as the most painful hunger or thirst.
She had only the vaguest idea of where this driving need was taking her. She had never been here before. Never seen it. Never tasted it. She did not even have a name for it, only knew that she wanted.
She wanted.
The longing in her gaze was his undoing. His mouth captured hers, and it was only when she felt the suddenly urgent pressure of his lips that she realized he had been holding himself back until just that moment. He sank his full body weight onto her, pressing her more deeply into the mattress, and the feeling of heaviness, of being pinned beneath him by her own desire, was delicious.
His hands had been cupping her face, drawing her closer to him, but now one of them worked its way into her hair, the fingertips massaging her scalp as they threaded through the heavy tresses. Gathering a fistful of her long locks, he tugged—gently but insistently—tilting her head and forcing her to offer up the vulnerable skin along her neck. His hot, demanding kisses sliced across her cheek and blazed a trail of fire all the way to the hollow between her collarbones that left her panting for breath.
“Are you all right?” he asked, and his voice was low and husky in a way that she had never quite heard before.
She could only nod her head yes. She did not trust herself to speak.
In response he took her firmly by the wrists and hauled her upright, using one arm to encircle her waist and keep her melded tightly against him. With his unoccupied hand, he gently brushed back the whisper-thin material of the short, diaphanous robe she wore over her nightgown, revealing the pale skin of her left shoulder. His lips followed immediately behind, searing every inch of her exposed flesh, and she could do nothing but shiver, wrap her arms around him, and cling on for dear life while he nipped at her skin and wrung gasps from her lungs. He repeated the process with her right shoulder, his movements teasing and agonizingly slow, before he finally pulled her arms free of the garment and impatiently tossed it aside. He then broke her hold on him, and—loose-limbed and gulping for air—she toppled back onto the mattress, her head thumping against the pillows and sending a small spray of feathers flying. As she giggled at him through the floating cascade, he lifted her hand to his face, pressed a kiss into her palm, and once again uttered the words that had simultaneously shattered and stitched her up again moments earlier:
“I love you.”
Reaching up for the collar of his shirt, she pulled him hungrily down to her, balling the fabric up in her fists as she opened her mouth against his and felt the glide of his tongue on her lips. Her hands slid down along his sides, searching for a way in, and finally brushed against the embroidered hem before diving underneath so that she might run her palms along the bare expanse of his back and abdomen.
It was not enough, though. Not nearly enough. Once more taking the material in her hands, she yanked upwards, desperately needing it removed. She wanted nothing between them; she longed to be as close to him as was earthly possible. The shirt bunched up and snagged around his neck, breaking their kiss and caused them both to laugh. He reached back for it just as she did, and she nearly pulled his ears off in her haste to rip him free.
Then, quite suddenly, he was.
He sat up and rested on his haunches as he carelessly dropped the shirt to the floor, giving her a clear view of him as he sat outlined in gold and all aglow in the pale morning light.
She had never seen him bare-chested before. This was new. New and startlingly intimate.
The frailty of his early years was reflected in his thin frame, but she could also see an emerging strength, the man within coming to fruition. But none of that mattered. No matter what stage of his life, no matter what incarnation of Francis with which she was faced, he was hers. Just as he had always been hers, and would always be hers.
He belonged to her, and she to him.
She pushed herself into a sitting position and peered up at him from underneath a fringe of long lashes. Without any idea as to what she was doing, knowing only that she wanted to taste the salt on his skin, she leaned forward and traced the ridge of his breastbone with her tongue, which drew from within him a deep, shuddering breath.
“God, Mary.”
She dragged her mouth upwards, feeling him begin to tremble beneath her lips. She reached the base of his throat and bared her teeth to nibble her way up to his jaw, and he ran his hands underneath the heavy weight of her hair and squeezed great handfuls of it between his fingers as he tried to regain his composure.
Her breath hot against his skin, she murmured, “You’re so beautiful.”
Gripping her hair, he tenderly tilted her head back so that she was forced to gaze into his eyes. He then brought forth his thumb and brushed it softly across her cheek, trailed it along the plump smoothness of her bottom lip, then used it to tip her chin upward as he dipped his head and lowered his mouth to hers in another kiss. “You are—” he brought his knee between hers “—the most—” he guided her back down onto the bed “—beautiful thing—” he pushed aside the thin satin straps of her nightgown “—I have—” his fingers peeled down the fabric, baring the top half of her breasts “—ever seen.”
The desire coursing through her was almost painful. “Francis, please.”
His hands moved across her breasts and then slowly down to her thighs. He spread them wider by insistently pushing them apart with his knee, which ground against her sex with a pressure that was both more than anything she had ever experienced, and yet somehow not enough. Wantonly, she rubbed herself against him, and he rewarded her with a low rumbling groan from deep within his throat. His touch then slid beneath the fabric of her gown, where she soon she felt it tiptoeing across the bare skin of her most intimate places while she writhed beneath him. His eyes bored into hers, searching for any signs of doubt as he cupped his hand against her and slid a finger into her liquid center.
A small cry, sharp and keening, burst from her, prompting him to sigh and drop his forehead against hers, whispering her name like a prayer. She twined her arms around him, one hand clawed into his hair, the other digging nails into the flesh of his back. Through sheer willpower, he held himself still as she trembled and melted and grew accustomed to the new sensation, and he forced himself to inhale and exhale slowly several times before adding his index finger and opening her even further.
It felt better than anything had ever felt, and yet somehow she knew that she still wanted more, needed more, and it was just as she thought this that something perverse within her called forth into her mind the realization that, while this was all so new to her—while his every touch charted unexplored territory—the moment held no such revelations for him. She may have been a novice, but Francis had been here countless times. She was not the first girl to go mindless at his touch, not the first to clutch him close and cry out against his shoulder. He had shared his bed with girls far more experienced that she, and their ghosts seemed suddenly to crowd around her, jeering her and mocking her. An image of Olivia appeared in her mind’s eye, bringing with it the echo of all the pain and heartache of the previous weeks.
You may be here today, her specter hissed, but I was here only yesterday. Which of us do you think will be here tomorrow?
And at those words, imagined though they may have been, Mary flinched.
Like an arrow loosed from a bow, Francis was off her and across the room almost instantly, leaving her feeling bewildered and exposed upon the bed.
“Francis, I’m sorry—”
“Don’t,” he interrupted, his voice strained. “Please don’t. I am the one who should be apologizing. I never should have…” His voice trailed off, and he reached down to scoop her discarded robe off the floor before holding the sheer bundle of material out to her like an offering. “Here. Take this.”
She glanced at it briefly before her eyes flew back to his face. “No,” she said flatly. “I don’t want it. Please. Please come back over here with me.”
He turned away from her and, raising his arm, leaned heavily against the window frame. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t—I should not have let it go this far.”
He thinks this is a mistake. The realization jolted through her, turning her desperate. He is going to ask me to leave. “I want this, Francis.”
“The way you reacted to my touch just now…”
“I didn’t mean—”
“No, please. This isn’t your fault.” He grew quiet for several beats, and when he spoke again his voice was thick with emotion. “It has occurred to me that perhaps you feel pressured into doing this. The way that I carried on with…” He faltered, then spun back around to face her with an expression that was pained in a way that tore savagely at her heart. “I need you to understand that this was never my intention. I didn’t turn to her because I felt there was something lacking between us, or because she could offer me something that you wouldn’t. I was only trying to force myself to forget you, and failing miserably.”
She shook her head and repeated, in a voice filled with a bitter sort wonder, “Only.”
“Only what?”
“You were only trying to forget me.” The air hung heavy with the things she did not say. You only caused us both agony. You only smashed both our hearts.
“Mary, forgive me.”
“Please come back to bed.”
“You don’t have to do this…not to keep me. I’m yours. Despite all my foolish behavior, I have always been yours. But though I have loved you, I know that I have not honored you, and, Mary, I swear—I swear—that from this moment on, I will. I will. God forbid, there may come a day when we both have to promise vows to others, but until it comes I will love you, and cherish you, and honor you, and that isn’t something you have to earn, Mary. As long as there is even a possibility of a future with you, there will never again be anyone else in the world for me.”
She had listened to his impassioned words with tears swimming in her eyes, and she quickly blinked them away as he walked over to her with his hand extended. “Take my hand. I’ll see you back to your rooms.”
She snatched up one of the pillows and held it before her like a shield. “No!”
“I’m trying to do the right thing here, Mary, but don’t overestimate my strength. You aren’t making this easy.”
“I don’t want to make this easy.”
“A moment ago I know that I said we had been doing entirely too much thinking, but right now I’m not sure if you’re doing nearly enough. If we were to continue, and four months from now you are forced to accept another man’s hand in marriage—what then? You are a queen, and when you marry, you will be vulnerable to slander and speculation in ways that I am not.” His eyes, stricken, dropped to the ground. “Don’t make me be the cause of some future punishment for you, Mary. I couldn’t bear it. I won’t see you hurt because of me.”
“Don’t you understand?” she exclaimed, flinging the cushion aside and leaping to her feet.
“Understand what?”
“That’s why I’m here!”
“Please, Mary, you’re upset—”
“Of course I’m upset! I just watched your mother poison a dozen armed men! I saw my friend brutally beaten right before my eyes! I was nearly raped, my future almost destroyed…”
His eyes had grown bright with threatening tears, and he rushed forward to gather her in his arms. “Oh, Mary, Mary, I’m so sorry,” he murmured, caressing her hair and rocking her weightlessly back and forth. “What can I do?”
“I told you what you can do.”
“Make love to me.”
“I know what you’re thinking. I used to feel as you do. Do you remember our evening by the lakeside?”
“Vaguely.” But he leaned back and offered her a small, teasing smile that made it clear his memories were anything but vague.
“I wanted you so desperately, but I was afraid,” she confessed wretchedly. “I was engaged to Tomas…we were set to leave France within a matter of days. It was only when I returned that evening and found him waiting in my rooms that he finally showed me his cruelty.”
Francis’s jaw tightened at the memory, and his blue eyes sharpened to steel.
“It wasn’t until…after…that I allowed myself to think about what might have happened…how my life would have suffered at his hands. The self-restraint you and I had shown by the lakeside would have done nothing to save me, nothing to spare me. I would have married Tomas and submitted to him according to my duty, but his pride and his anger…I know what my wedding night would have been, with him. He would have hurt me. Hurt me for pleasure. Hurt me for sport.”
Francis had remained silent, but now he squeezed her close, buried his face against her neck, and through gritted teeth choked out, “No, he wouldn’t. I would have killed him. One way or another, I would have killed him. He was a dead man from the moment he threatened you.”
She lifted her fingers to his hair, twirling the fair curls into golden rings around them. He was so protective, so brave, and so very, very dear to her. She forced herself to press on, though she knew her words were gutting him. “And then last night, with Count Vincent…I would have been ruined, in an instant. Left with no choice but to marry my rapist. My life in France, with you, would have been over.”
She felt a teardrop hit her shoulder, as soft as summer rain. “You think that I don’t know that?”
“Then why is it so hard for you to understand?”
He stared at her helplessly before releasing her and turning once more back to the window.
She refused to allow him to put distance between them, physical or otherwise. “Look at me,” she commanded, grabbing his arm and forcing him to face her once more. “Don’t you see? We’ve been lucky, so very lucky until now, but what if you aren’t there to save me the next time?”
“I will be.”
She reached out and touched his cheek, a tender caress. “I hope so.” She then lowered her hand, bringing his with it, and held them both clasped against her heart while she gazed up at him with pleading eyes. “But you were right, you’ve always been right, about the uncertainty of our future. And if something happens and tomorrow I am sent away to spend my life with another, or make room for a new dauphine, I want to go knowing what it’s like to be with someone who loves me. To be held…and touched…in that way. Even if it’s just once. Please, Francis. Don’t make me beg.”
He looked so torn, so incredibly torn. “But a moment ago, when I touched you—”
She flushed crimson. “You know I’ve never done this before,” she admitted sheepishly. “I know you have. I couldn’t help but worry about…how I would measure up.”
He shook his head, utterly bemused, but she could see his resolve weakening. Sensing that she had the advantage, she took his arms and wound them tightly about her waist, pressing herself so closely to him that they were breathing the same air.
“Take me back to bed, Francis,” she whispered, bringing her mouth to his ear, nipping it with her teeth. “I want it to be you. I need it to be you.” Then she pulled back to stare deeply into his eyes, so blue and so unlike her own, and finally said what she had yet to say, though it had been in her heart for years:
“I love you.”
His face went soft in a way that was both beautiful and heartbreaking. Closing his eyes, he dropped his forehead against hers and sighed like a man who had been holding his breath for a thousand years. “You don’t know how good it feels to hear you say that,” he told her with a joyous laugh, his beaming smile shining through his every word.
Her hands skimmed up the bare skin of his chest, across his shoulders, then down his back, accompanied by the gentle scrape of her fingernails. His gaze dropped to her lips, his eyes once more darkening with desire.
She grinned and bit her lip as she walked him backwards toward the bed, her flashing eyes both an invitation and a challenge.
“Show me.”

Posted by


Get inspired take our Saturday Sanctuary idea or use your own!

This week on Saturday Sanctuary:


** Teaser shot**
** This is unedited raw work**

The moment he walked in the door and saw her standing there he couldn’t help himself. Discarding his jacket as he moved towards her with swift and sure motions. It didn’t take long to reach her as she was kneading dough over the table her back to him. Having closed the last bit of distance between them Ross wrapped his arms around Demelza and drew her back firmly against him, only to be rewarded with a little gasp of surprise and a small giggle at the end.

“Ye be home then?” came her slightly breathy greeting.

“I am..and I only want one thing?”

“Ye dinner?” of course she was being cheeky because she could clearly feel what he wanted up against her backside.

Ross smiled a bit to her cheeky comment but decided words were overrated at the moment and slid his hands down to get a firm grasp on the silk of her skirt and hiked it up slow inch my inch. Perhaps this was not the most gentlemanly way to go about things but today he did not care. He gave her pert behind a firm swat as he drew the skirt all the way up and simply tugged her unders away. The smack and the shifting of clothing had given him the desired gasp from Demelza.

As much as it pained him to waste any time he was not going to risk any hurt to his wife. He loved her and would never do that so as he used one hand to work his pants open the other slid over her bare skin firmly holding around her until his fingers found her core and slid over then gently in, grinning as he did he found her well wet and ready already. Good he mused inwardly as he freed himself from his pants shoving them down then reaching up to firmly press his hand to the small of Demelza’s back, holding in her place..controlling but being kind about it. He loved her after all and they had not been together like this yet, it had always been gentler in the bed.

“Any objections Wife?” he said his voice a low gravely growl.

“No…” she responded right away..easily her breath a pant as she wiggled that pert rear end for him, showing him more then her simple word said she was ready to be mounted.

Posted by


The Saturday Sanctuary has been missing for a while but it returns this week I have been inspired.

This week on Saturday Sanctuary:


It had been two weeks since Francis had given her permission to be with Conde as long as it was kept discreet and although Mary thought that was what she wanted, she was finding that it wasn’t. Was it possible to love one more than one man at a time she wondered. Since the incident, it was nearly impossible not to picture Francis as part of what had happened to her and yet Mary still loved him. Not only did she love him, but she knew how much it had cost him to allow her to go to Conde. He loved her so much he was willing to let her go, to find happiness and to heal. Yet now Mary was asking herself constantly, what if it was truly Francis that she needed to find that healing? With so many questions constantly running through her mind it was getting harder to focus on matters of state and she could tell when they met that Francis was distracted as well. Mary knew she would have to make a solid choice and she would have to do it soon. As a woman, perhaps she could have had both men, but as a Queen, she had to make a choice her Husband or the man who might be her lover. It seemed like an impossible choice.

As time continued to spin on and she met with Conde for their sessions of speaking of leaving for Scotland and kissing Mary was finding that she may never be able to make a choice. Yet, it was not what had happened to her before that was keeping her from taking that next step with Conde, as patient and understanding as he was Mary knew it was Francis on her mind and in her heart that kept her from consummating things with Conde. It was as she waited now again for a meeting that she made her choice. When Conde came in to see her he looked paler than usual,

“What is it Louis?” Mary said softly.

“The man we sent ahead about Scotland has been found and your letters..”

Mary froze, looking terrified and she couldn’t really fully focus on what he was saying next. Something about him meeting with his man and knowing that it was not the French who had it but it could be the English. It was only when he got to something about secret meetings with a man about a possible wedding to Elizabeth that she snapped her eyes back to him.

“What did you say?”

“I am sorry Mary I just….”

Mary stared hard at him this man she loved and had almost given everything to and yet, before this she had made a choice. Still the betrayal stung and she couldn’t keep some tears from streaking down her face. Conde neared her to offer comfort and Mary backed away looking at him hard again before she turned and fled out into the cold of the winter. Her feet carried her fast over the frozen ground, she didn’t care who saw her as she ran. Let them say what they would the Queen running as she was across the grounds. It didn’t take her long to reach the palace, but she didn’t stop running once she went inside. Her lungs burned and she could feel a stitch in her side starting but she didn’t stop. Only slowing on a room that he might be in, but a brief glance told her that he wasn’t within and so she kept running her hair flying out behind her. The guards let her pace even at the rate of speed she was traveling into the rooms they once shared. The rooms that he now slept in alone.

That is where she found him, standing near a window and looking out, but at her footfalls he turned from the window and looked at her his face suddenly creasing with worry.

“Mary? Are you alright? Has something happened?”

The warm baritone, he spoke with genuine concern was a balm to her hurting pride and heart. She had made the right choice, Francis. The man who had been willing to sacrifice everything for her. Even if there had been mistakes and lies before, when it came to what truly mattered Francis had gone above and beyond. He continued to look worried as she didn’t reply to his question. Instead, she crossed the carpet between them and wrapped her arms around him. Flush from running, cold and a sudden feeling she had not felt in some time Mary pressed her lips to his.

Francis was understandably taken aback at suddenly having her pressed to him and tasting her lips, but his hesitation only lasted the briefest of moments before he pressed back to her, wrapping his strong arms around her and kissing her back with everything he had. It was too much for the young king to hope for that she had come back to him for good, but he would not turn this moment away. This moment would sustain him for as long as it had to and so he kissed her but didn’t push further.

It was Mary who gently pushed Francis into the wall near the window. Fitting her whole body against him and pulling her fingers through his hair. Finally, she had to break the kiss so they could both breath and now they were both gasping. Stripping off the leather gloves she had on outside against the cold Mary began to take away his jacket. It was then that Francis put his hand to hers gently and stilled hers.

“Mary, do not feel obligated in this….I told you before you don’t have to do this just for an heir.”

Oh, she loved him for that, but turning her face up gently she smiled, “I want you Francis. Not for an heir, but because I love you.”

That was all the encouragement he needed in that moment, but he didn’t go for her clothing not yet. He still wanted her to have a choice to be able to move away. Instead he stripped himself free of his jacket and then his shirt. Shoes followed and he began to work his pants. Pausing a moment, waiting to see if his Mary would pull away but she didn’t. No she was looking at him with the hunger she used to before that terrible night and so he took off the pants as well before moving in to hold her head and kiss her again.

Mary melted into that kiss and let her hands seek out his flesh. How could she ever have turned from him? His touch, his warmth, his smell and his kiss he was home. They were lucky for Royals they had love a deep and true love. It may have suffered damage with things that happened, but it did not break. How could she ever have thought her home and heart would break so easily.


More to come later today 😉

Posted by


This week on Saturday Sanctuary


A very young Loki was walking towards his parent’s chambers and absently rubbing sleepy eyes. He was started out of his sleep and felt uneasy, so he’d crawled out of bed. When he got to their doors, they were open, indicating the rooms were empty.
With a start he realized there must be something happening down in the hall, so he darted that way.


The winged-woman in chains stood before Odin, a permanent sneer on her otherwise beautiful features.
“Lilith, you are herby sentenced to death. Your children and yourself killed many in the attempt to steal life-force from my people.”
The red-haired woman moved a step, the chains singing with her effort. “You killed my children! You killed them because you assumed we were murdering your people!”
Odin stood and pointed at the demoness. “You were found over the body of an asgadian warrior with his blood on your mouth and face, need I remind you!” Beside him, his wife Frigga shivered silently, and wrapped her arms around herself as he spoke.
“Not to mention your demon children have since been found stealing energy from countless others! Many have come forward and said they were raped or given terrible nightmares.”
Lilith sneered. “You know the ways of the Succubi are ancient. We offer pleasures in return for energy.”
Odin slammed his staff and called for silence. “Sorceress you are dying this night, and your children will be hunted down until they are all dead! I shant have my people or my family at risk to your devious natures!”
From behind, Lilith heard small, light footsteps much like her youngest daughter’s. She lowered her forehead, as if in despair, but she actually did so to grin widely with malice. Fools, the lot of them.
The guards had stood off to the sides of her, believing she was well contained by the chains. Metal rings could not hold her, most especially her great wings. They were mistaken to think they could contain her
In the span of an instant, she crouched, channeled her reserve energy, and her wings pumped with her rage. The chains snapped with ease and she directed them easily to the faces of her captors.
Once free, she had less than moments. She spun, caught the shocked gaze of the pale little boy behind her. She knew she was a sight to his little eyes.
Lilith stood, crouched with her wicked leathern wings fully extended and her clawed hands spread out, ready to shred flesh. She grinned at the boy, flashing her fearsome fangs and his jaw dropped and he stepped back with fear.
Then, at the next heartbeat, the demoness shot across the distance. She snatched the boy up with ease and spun around, claws on his neck and wings lethal as they covered her from shots.
She was taking a risk grabbing an unknown child. However, it paid off when she watched the queen hold back a scream and fall to her knees, while even the Allfather himself paled and took a step back.
“My lucky day. A little princeling to escort me out?” She was bluffing, and Odin knew it.
Lilith would never be able to escape with the loss of energy she’d already endured. She had spent too much hiding her most loved daughters before her capture…but she could take a consolation prize.
“What is your name, little dove?” she asked and the shaking boy still raised his chin as best he could.
“Loki, Son of Asgard.”
Lilith allowed herself a genuine smile. “You shall be powerful then. You will have the aid of someone I love one day…in return you will protect her.”
She didn’t wait for his response as she harshly bit into her tongue. When blood flooded her mouth, she bit down on the boy’s neck and he immediately began screaming for help.
“Mama!” he cried, as tears poured from his eyes and his captor forced her blood into his body. It was very primal and old blood magic, but she had accomplished her goal. Her daughters would know what to do with her final orders.
She dropped the boy and let him run away towards Frigga, who had rushed to met him.
Once he was freed, she knew her death was moments away. She began laughing and raised her clawed hands high into the air. “My legacy!”
Frigga tried to shield the boy’s eyes when Odin threw a ruthless attack upon the woman and she burnt under his power. Her dying laughter would haunt Loki for years until they gave him a draught to make him forget…

With a start an adolescent Loki awoke on his bed. He felt pressure on his chest and looked up to meet glowing, red eyes in the dark. He jerked his head to the right, spotted his desk, books and scrolls just as he left them before bed. Knowing that slight comfort, he looked back up to the being.
His eyes acclimated to the darkness quickly and the face of his guest began focusing in around the blood red orbs. A bob of black, curling hair was the first thing he could see, as it transformed from the stark mass surrounding the eyes of crimson.
Loki was graced with the sight of fangs behind a feminine smile. Ah…he thought, with astonishment…A Mara?
“Hello!” said an energetic voice, with a slight accent.”
Loki smirked in the dim light, with his night vision finally at one hundred percent. She was a petite creature, with a seemingly permanent grin and a tiny waist to her slowly blossoming curves. She was a young adolescent to his eyes but he’d read that Mara, a type of Succubi, send their daughters out much younger. Still she was very small for a future as a seductress…
“I don’t believe we’ve met.” Loki said dashingly and she smiled widely, with her little fangs gleaming in the dim light.
“Not at all,” she said and tilted her head. “You’re my first mark ever, to be honest.” She whispered, as if in confidence.
“Mark?” he asked, as he lifted his hands to his head, and relaxed in preparation for some exchange of words.
He had not had anyone actually talk with him of late, besides his mother, Frigga. Occasionally, and fleetingly, his brother Thor would talk with him, though most of their conversations were on training or possibilities to join battles. There was no room for debate or speaking among the Warriors Three.
This little creature of lore was his first physical contact in ages, and he was not about to let her leave quickly. Even if he had to give her energy for the exchange, there was no way this little female could drain him to the point of damage. He would have fun with her.
“I think I should know you.” She said, and shook her head. “We don’t really know our marks but…since I’ve never done this before, what’s your name?”
“Loki Odinson, of Asgard.
“Oh!” she cooed and glanced around with interest, looking upon his room. “I think I’ve heard of you!” she said and looked at him with a wide grin once more. “Well, I’m Nyxet, but my sisters just call me Nyx.”
“Nyx,” he said and smirked. “Sounds like the name of someone who likes to have fun.”
She smiled and opened her mouth to say something, but there was a noise outside Loki’s doors. Nyx jumped and squeaked a little before Loki realized she wasn’t yet into her power to conceal. Without thinking much, he lifted his blankets and she darted beneath.
“Loki,” Frigga was heard through his doors.
“Yes, mother?” he said aloud and a heavy door opened to her face.
“The guards said they heard muttering in here. You aren’t testing spells are you, love?”
Loki smirked at that and shook his head. “No mother, just reciting them. I don’t want to forget what you taught me this week.”
A brilliant smile came to the queen’s face and she shook her head. “You flatterer…well, I’ll tell the guards to leave your room alone my sweet, but do try to get some rest?” at his smirk, she sighed. “Good night my love. Sleep well.”
“I shall mother.” He said and she closed the door once more.
He waited a moment more, before he lifted the blankets and spotted the Mara, curled up by his side. She was so small and young, he wondered if all her kind were so little at that age.
“It’s safe, Nyx.” He said and she unfolded slowly, before looking up at him.
“Sorry…” she said and sat up, shocked at the outcome. “Don’t say anything, please?” she whispered. “If my sisters hear about how bad I’ve bungled this they’ll lose their heads…I’ll have to lie no matter what but that would just be…”
Loki smiled at her and shook his head easily. “Who would I tell anyway, little Mara?”
She smiled in return and scooted forward on her knees, between his ribs and arm. With slightly timid hands, Nyx reached out and grabbed a little bit of his hair. “So, this is the silliest thing…I’m not like some of my more deviant sisters. They tend to um…hurt their victims. I would rather just be a friendly spirit! With maybe a silly or two?”
Loki kept his eyes on her and lifted a brow. “A silly?”
“A um…well, a trick or a joke on someone.”
At hearing that, Loki smirked and nodded. “Do your worst.”
Nyx grinned widely and it lit up her face. “You’re so nice, Loki!” She said and began to muss with his hair. “My sisters don’t let me.”
Over the course of her ministrations, Loki began to feel drowsy and his eyes closed. He’d never felt more relaxed and at ease. Her clawed fingers were surprisingly soothing and each time they scratched his scalp he felt a mild shiver. Eventually he fell into a deep sleep and didn’t wake until mid morning.

As Loki ejected from his rooms, he went straight for the dining hall with eager steps. When he’d awoken that morning, the female of the night before was nowhere to be seen. Because of the lack of evidence, he assumed it was all just a very nice dream. How could a Mara actually visit him? He’d never heard of one in Asgard.
Dream or no, he had actually slept-in long enough to eat breakfast with his family for a change. He knew Frigga would like that very much, so he made a point to get there.
As Loki entered the hall, Thor saw him first. “Good morn, brother…”
When Thor stopped speaking and stared at his brother’s head, Loki frowned and pushed on toward the table. “Mother, good morn.”
“Loki, my…” Frigga’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “My darling, why did you set your hair so?”
Loki sighed as he made to sit down. “I did nothing to my hair, mother. Why do you ask?”
Frigga stood and caught a mirror nearby, and brought it him. Loki’s face dropped and he stared upon his reflection. His hair was set in fine braids, which looked intricate and well done.
“Loki!” she cried and set a hand on his should. “My poor boy, targeted by Mara. At least those are weak and not of the pure Succubi…and those demons are all gone.” She said with an air of dismissal and moved back to her seat. “You are too strong.”
At her words, and her following wink, Loki could not contain his grin. “It will be just fine, mother. I’m sure won’t happen again.” He said and grabbed some fruit and eggs to set on his plate as Thor sat beside him, trying to contain a wide grin.
“You look most fancy today, Loki.” He said and stabbed some sausages before him.
“The crotch hairs on your chin are looking slightly less sparse this day.” Loki retorted and gave him mother a look that said he would watch his mouth. “Sorry, mother…”

As if like clockwork, Nïx appeared on his chest the following night with a pure grin of excitement. He’d spent the day in the library, researching her kind. He couldn’t help but grin at her in return; he’d truly made an impression on her then.
“I assume you didn’t care for my act.” She said. “You know, with your hair.”
“Quite possibly, though that outcome was an issue for my mother. I found it to be a surprisingly solid trick, Nyx. You are not like the others of your kin.”
“So, you’ve had the chance read up on us have you not? You probably know quite a bit.”
“I can teach you much more than you know now.”
At that, she sighed and nodded her head slowly. “I am not the um, not the norm when it comes to my other kin.”
Loki shook his head. “I didn’t mean disrespect, Nyx. I meant that I could be an ally to you. I understand, you know…what it feels like to be the odd one of the family. My father tends to treat me a little differently.”
From her place, perched on Loki’s chest, she couldn’t help but feel a little flutter in her chest. “You’re the baby too, aren’t you?”
“The baby?” he asked, with an irritated look.
“You know, the youngest? The one that no one expects to do anything of importance? Everyone is looking at your older siblings instead.” She said.
Loki knew what she meant, and he felt a bit of a connection with her in that moment. “So, are you supposed to…you know, find male or female victims?”
Nyx blushed and immediately frowned. “We can choose our own direction to take energy. The early years are important, I think, because some of my oldest sisters didn’t have to worry about consciences…my mother was angry in the beginning.”
Loki had pulled Nyx off his torso and she instantly lied much like the night before. They were young and similar souls, so they seemed to know what the other wanted with ease.
When he pinched her side and smirked, she squeaked and pulled her knees up, to curl into his side.
“Tell me about them.” Loki said with a light smile.
“I have some very old sisters who are so powerful. I feel silly around them, like a little girl.” Nyx said and filled with the fabric of Loki’s green silk shirt. “Some of them are as old as my mother now, when she died. Most of them either utilize sexual energy or take from their hosts without any return. I do have two sisters who take very little and give in return…like I did in mussing your hair. I made you sleep.”
“Yet you were sent to me as your first mark?” Loki said incredulously, thinking he felt a little bit honored. She comes from a powerful line…and they sent her to him. He smirked and threw an arm over her side.
Nïx nodded at his question and smiled, feigning innocence. “Well my sisters found your signature and thought you would be a good match for my power blend…which I know nothing of.”
“Now I’m confused.” Loki said, “Power blend?”
“Well, my mother had many victims and few mates, and she chose each of them purposely.” The girl said with a snort. “To be fair she was a pure Succubus. Mother was one of the first and she had many names. Her nature was to seek power and even more powerful mates. She protected nine of us from danger and kept us separate, under heavy guard. Of those mates she chose…I was her last birth before she died.”
She sounded sad, but also at peace. “I’m supposed to be like my older sisters, but I don’t think I want to.” Loki understood her, but he felt that she would be capable of power, if she gave into it.
Something told him he should keep an eye on this one…
“Nyx,” he said and she looked up at him, expectantly. “Come to me when you need anything. If you need to feed, you come to me.”
She smiled brilliantly. “You mean it?”
Loki smirked but felt a bit of jealously at the idea of another person being touched by her. “Yes, I do. If you ever need to feed, in any way, come to me and I will give you all you need and more.”
That was the single most incredible sentence she had ever heard she wiggled a little with giddiness. “Loki, you can be my Schützling.” She said with a thick accent, before she hugged him quickly. “You name it, I shall come to your aid. I swear it!”
When their eyes met, she lifted her claws to his forehead gently, and then slowly rolled them down his face. “Sleep, Loki…” she said, in a voice that encased his mind and lulled him easily.
He woke the next morning, and grinned as he flew into his day and hoped for night to come. Loki went to bed early and waited until he woke the next morning without any sign of Nyx. He did this day after day…week after week…until she never came back.
It was centuries before he ever saw her again, and he had nearly forgotten their fleeting nights of whispers and secrets…

Newer posts


Copyright © 2017 - All Rights Reserved // Birth of a Notion is Powered by WordPress with a theme designed and coded by Nique Creations