Saturday stuff: happenings; hop; new stove; Harvey Birdman
Okay. Hopefully I’ve managed to wrangle all the commenters and everything. A couple of people didn’t give me their preferred format, so I’m going to have to hunt them down (full on safari style).
Other than that, this hop has been going great. Thank you to everyone that has entered. I love you!
Btw, I found out I could export my feedback for various posts as a .csv file, which has been extremely helpful.
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Cool shizz: my dad bought me a brand new electric cook stove with a glass range top and a self-cleaning, coil-free oven. It’s so beautiful that I want to marry it and have its stovey babies.
I may have cried a bit when I saw it. Wonderful gift.
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I’ve broken out my old Harvey Birdman DVDs and I’ve been enjoying rewatching them. They really are very good. Especially since Harvey Birdman is voiced by Gary Cole (not Gary Coleman, but the guy from Brady Bunch and Office Space) and the other man star is Stephen Colbert. That’s right. The man hisself 😛
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Title: Faizel 02
Author: Harper Kingsley
World: Deacon
Genre: mm paranormal romance
EXCERPT —
He could feel dawn approaching, an encroaching unease across his every nerve, and wrapped himself closer against Faizel, never wanting to let go. He had never loved another as much as he did Faizel.
He fretted that someone would discover his secret and Faizel would be taken from him. To be used and abused, or worse, killed as an Abomination.
For once Charlemagne wished that he was stronger. He finally had something worth protecting, and he was weak. It had never bothered him that he was the meat of stronger Masters until now. Until Faizel had given to him his love.
“I will protect you,” he whispered. He let his hands make promises against Faizel’s bare skin.
“Or perhaps I will protect you.”
Once again Charlemagne swallowed back his instinctive fear. Faizel did not understand how dangerous and subversive their enemies could be. Charlemagne had protected him from the world outside, had watered down the horrors that existed outside of the apartment’s safety.
“I think that you would try and that frightens me,” Charlemagne said. “I could not bear to see you hurt for my sake.”
Faizel propped himself up on his elbows so he was above Charlemagne looking down. “And I don’t like you being hurt at all. I don’t like how Isadore or the others treat you. I don’t like that you let them abuse you and you don’t even imagine a world where things could be better.” He leaned close, his nose almost touching Charlemagne’s, his eyes fervent. “You are beautiful and gentle, yes, but you are also stronger than you dare to show.”
Charlemagne was humbled. “You have such faith in me.”
“Because you have none in yourself. You don’t see what I see when I look at you: the strength, the spirit, the fact that you could be so much more than you allow yourself to be. If you would only fight for what should be yours, you could be great.”
Charlemagne felt hypnotized by the fire in Faizel’s eyes, the pure conviction. He had never had so much faith focused on him, raw belief that he could be greater if he only wanted it enough.”
“I look at you and I don’t see a lesser master Made to serve others,” Faizel said. “I see an uncrowned king.”
Charlemagne gasped and flipped them over on the bed, pressing the fingers of one hand against Faizel’s lips to silence him. “Do not say such a thing. If anyone were to hear …”
Faizel pushed his hand away. “You are the only one here to listen and I hope that you do. Take my words to heart: you are so much more than you’ve let yourself be. you have greatness in you if you would only accept it.”
“You think too much of me.”
“And you don’t think about yourself enough,” Faizel said. “It makes me sad.”
Charlemagne wanted to tell Faizel that he was being foolish. He prepared himself to destroy the illusions Faizel had about his strength. But dawn was no longer approaching.
“It’s here,” Charlemagne whispered.
He slumped against the bed, shifting himself so he lay alongside Faizel as his body turned to dead-weight.
Dimly he felt a kiss pressed against his forehead and a brush of fingers through his hair. “I wish that you could see what I see when I look at you. If only you could believe in yourself a little bit.”
Charlemagne hated that hint of despair in Faizel’s voice. Hated that he had disappointed his only love by not being the well of strength he desired.
Then he knew nothing at all.
/EXCERPT
