Summary: Rasmodius breaks Elliott out of a writing binge
CW: Arguing but not really. Ras just puts his foot down. Domestic Fluff
Notes: RasElliott started as a rarepair I shipped just for funsies and has slowly become my actual OTP. Can’t believe this is my first time writing them. It WILL happen again. Written for my friend @astellus 's Quilluary event for all things Elliott. I dont thiiink I'm gonna write more for this since I have some other stuff I'm working on this month but who knows. Inspiration grabbed me by the throat at midnight on this one
Words: 630
Read below or on AO3
Rasmodius appeared on the edge of Elliott’s vision but he didn’t look up. He could feel the wizard’s heavy presence like a blanket waiting, calling out to his weary bones.
“Are you well?” His rumbling voice was low, words not quite cutting through the fog of letters and symbols in Elliott’s mind swirling and trickling onto the page.
“As ever, love,” Elliott muttered unthinkingly as the scratching of his pen drowned the echo of his words.
“You don't even know what you're saying.”
The disapproval in his voice had Elliott blinking dry eyes and sitting up. “Yes? What do you mean, what is it darling?”
Rasmodius extended his hand and ran his thumb along Elliott's jaw. It met the rare resistance of stubble with a rasping sound. “You’ve been at this for some time.”
Elliott knew to read between the lines of his lover's few words; saw the concern sharpening the edges of his pupils.
“I can't waste this inspiration, darling, you understand,” Elliott whispered, tearing his eyes from the wizard's lilac gaze and returning to his own world of ink and paper.
But the hand that had pet his jaw now gripped firmly, pulling his chin to force him back to the world they shared. Elliott gave a startled gasp.
Anger was more obvious on Rasmodius. It wasn't something he cared to hide. He seemed larger than life like this; all Elliott could see. Flaming lilac and enveloping shadow; the magnificent oppression of a night sky.
“Stop.” A simple command. Firm. It was the voice that commanded spirits, the powers of nature. He was a force. It might have been a spell, though Elliott could never say for sure. Rasmodius swore he'd never used magic to compel him.
Either way, the pull of -one more sentence one more paragraph, just need to wrap- thoughts ceased. The twitching ache in his fingers to return to writing ebbed and he dropped the pen. It felt as if blood was flowing back into his hand for the first time in a long time, and he looked at it with a sort of shock.
Rasmodius returned his own hand to his dark robes. His anger vanished as quickly as it appeared.
Elliott closed his eyes and pressed into them with the balls of his hands. “I have been working for a long while haven't I?” he mumbled.
“You have.”
“I’ve been neglecting you.” He cast his gaze back to his lover for signs of it. Besides his insistent presence and the momentary flash of anger, his expression was as stony as ever.
“You’ve been neglecting yourself.”
“You’re right. You're right! You’re right,” Elliott sighed and turned in his chair to lean into him, resting his head against Rasmodius’ stomach.
“As always,” he responded coolly.
“As… very often.” Elliot smiled up at him, and the beginnings of a smile shined down at him past the wizard’s beard.
“And what if I say I've prepared a bath for you?”
Elliott's smile melted and he straightened in disbelief. “Did you really?”
He nodded.
Elliott shot up from his chair and wrapped the wizard in a tight embrace before kissing his whiskery cheek. “Oh my love, in that case you’re always right. Always right, you can do no wrong, you are an angel amongst men and my champion! My king.” He kissed him again and laughed as the miser’s smile finally broke through.
“Go. I can even help you remove that sandpaper from your face.”
Elliott laughed again. “Yes, splendid darling, whatever you want.”
He took his lover’s face into his hands and looked him in the eyes before giving him one long kiss on the lips. “I adore you. Thank you.”
Rasmodius blushed a little, and the look in his eyes was all the answer Elliott needed.
I could not think of a way to finish this AHHH. I actually did do this with books on my shelves and it was really fun! I only really had trouble with War of the Worlds. I also cheated slightly with No Rest for the Wicked because I did want something a little steamier but not outright smut, yknow? That's for later ;]
They met at the library right when the doors opened. They had been attempting to come up with unique date ideas that they could do in the village. As expected, it was a fairly difficult task. There were only so many times you could watch the water or gaze at the clouds or forage from the forest or stare at the produce at Pierre's. Library dates were cute, of course, but they needed to do something more than just parallel read. There was a plan today, however.
The game was to pull 4 random books a piece, flip to a random page in each one, and construct a letter using a one sentence from the page.
They stepped through the door and immediately split. With pencils in hand they began.
Elliott dove for the classics, pulling Bram Stoker's, “Dracula”, Victor Hugo's, “Les Misérables”, Nathaniel Hawthorne's, “The Scarlet Letter”, and finally, Aldous Huxley's, “Brave New World”.
Finding immediate success with “Dracula”, he dove into “Les Misérables” anticipating another easy score. As Elliott scoured his next to books, he was beginning to wonder if the classics were too easy of a pick. Sure grafting together vastly different books will always turn out awkward, but he felt his letter was semi-passable. The quote from “The Scarlet Letter” was an especially good find.
On the other side of the library, Marcie had snagged all sorts. Two horror, one sci-fi and one romance novel she thought had to have had something a bit more forward in it. Her stack consisted of Augustina Bazterrica's, “The Unworthy”, William Peter Blatty's, “Thr Exorcist”, H.G. Wells’, “War of the Worlds”, and Kresley Cole's, “No Rest for the Wicked.”
“This is SO bad” she muttered under her breath. Maybe picking books with different perspectives wasn't the best idea. She could only imagine the smirk on Elliott's face when he pieced together a masterpiece and she had, well…. Something?
They reunited at the center table, Elliott wearing a proud grin and Marcie looking a bit sheepish.
“How did you fare, dearest?” He asked, taking the seat across from her.
“Uh… yeah…” she snorted, “it's pretty awful.”
“Nonsense!! It was touched by your very hands, it must be perfect!” He gently took the paper from her hands and read the following:
To my beloved,
“She had been growing increasingly hysterical, fearful, and depressed during the two days’ journeyings.” (War of the Worlds)
“She pulled herself up to kiss and nibble at his ear, putting her silken neck right before his mouth.” (No Rest for the Wicked)
“I was still trying to figure out if it had been a dream, an illusion.” (The Unworthy)
“Good luck with the world.” (The Exorcist)
Yours,
Marcie
“Darling, that was wonderful!!” He beamed. “Although, it makes it seem as if I were unfaithful.” He chuckled lightly.
“I was just trying to make something cohesive!” her face burned.
Elliott reached across the table to grab her hand. He flipped his hair, puffed out his chest, and recited:
My Radiance,
“There is a way of falling into error while on the road to truth” (Les Misérables)
“We don't encourage them to indulge in any solitary amusements.” (Brave New World)
“Thus, therefore, the floor of our familiar room has become a neutral territory, somewhere between the real world and fairy-land, where the Actual and the Imaginary may meet, and each imbue itself with the nature of the other.” (The Scarlet Letter)
“I tried to go to sleep, but could not.” (Dracula)
Elliott
“Wow…” she cooed, gazing at him intently. “That was really beautiful!”
“I owe it to the authors who came before me, I merely stitched their words together.”
“Mary Shelley would be proud, Doctor Frankenstein.” She snickered and squeezed his hand.
That afternoon was spent exploring different stories of each others’ tastes. Marcie was becoming invested in “The Portrait of Dorian Gray” while Elliott (regrettably) was nose deep in a trashy romance novel with a man on the cover who oddly resembled him. He imagined Marcie reading them and pondered if she could have ever imagined that the man on the cover of her dirty romance books would be her very real lover one day.
I'll get past 1000 words sometime this month hehe. Fun fact, I think things like showering and like helping each other groom is the cutest thing and it never fails to make me smile. Apex fics involve showering/bathing and caring for each other
“I've never let anyone touch my hair before,” words stuttered out of his mouth, “not since I've turned 18. Growing up… it was kept short.” Elliott stirred uncomfortably in the chair as Marcie combed through with her fingers.
She grimaced at the implication. “Thank you for trusting me to do this.” Marcie soothed. “How long until the surgery?”
“One week from tomorrow.” Elliott sighed looking at his wrist.
“Its a shorter surgery, right? I think I've read that carpal tunnel release only takes like half an hour.” she began to brush but was meeting a lot of resistance.
“Yes, but I'll have about an eight week recovery.” A slightly uncomfortable silence filled the air as Marcie continued.
After working through a particularly hard knot, Marcie asked, “Ell, how long has it been since…?”
“A few days, I think.” His eyes shifted. “asking for help with this is…” a long pause suffocated the room. He cleared his throat and finished, “rather difficult.”
“Again, thank you for trusting me with this.” She took a moment to press a kiss to the crown or his head.
He sat silently ashamed. No matter what she said, it didn't change how pathetic he felt.
They started dating a week before his wrist started bothering him. They had spent a lot of time together since then but they hadn't done anything as intimate as this felt. He never concerned himself with being machismo, but as most partners do, he wanted to be the one she could lean on, not the other way around. But alas, here he was, nearly in tears because someone was touching his hair. He attempted in vain to relax.
She guided his head back and over the tub. She took a ceramic jug and gently poured water over his hair.
She began to massage shampoo into his scalp when she noticed tears beginning to form.
“Elliott? Do you need me to stop?” She asked, pulling away. With his good hand, he wiped the tears away from his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Marc, I just feel useless. I moved out here to write my novel. Not only have I not finished it, I physically can't write it anymore!” He choked. “The one thing I took pride in, my hair– I can't even take care of that!” he reached again to wipe tears away but winced at the pain in his right hand. Frustrated tears continued to pour. “My family were right about all of this,” he motioned with his good hand, “the writing… the hair…”
Marcie sat on his lap facing him and hugged. “Elliott, I know you're frustrated, I imagine I'd be the same way in your shoes.” she sat up and rubbed his chest and shoulders. “But I love you, and I need you to know that you aren't useless. You've injured yourself because you've been working so hard.” Her hands moved back into his hair to work the shampoo through. “And I know in the future, when something inevitably happens to me, you'll be here doing the exact same thing.” She kissed his chin before standing back up to wash his hair out.
He sat silently as she washed his hair. He slowly began to relish the feel of her fingers tangled in his hair. She was meticulous in her ministrations, massaging every part of his scalp. She watched his expressions intently, monitoring for any sign of strife. But as she continued, she saw the tension in his eyebrows dissipate, his jaw unclench, and his shoulders relax. By the time she had washed out the conditioner, he was humming contently.
She applied the leave-in conditioner, taking care to lather every inch. The bamboo brush glided beautifully through his hair.
“Marcie, thank you.” He whispered as he stood to look in the mirror. His hair looked especially shiny, he was sure it was because of her.
“Of course, my love,” she started, “we have nine more weeks of this.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and nuzzled into his back
A small chuckle escaped his lips. “I look forward to it.”
A quick thanks the the Fandom wiki for having his schedule up hehe its the 4 heart event but with a couple of slight changes!
5:00 AM Wake up.
A leftover habit from corporate life. Up early in order to take a moment and exist before trudging off to a dead-end job. Coffee was put on the pot while he dressed for the day. It was early spring so a light sweater and slacks would do. Breakfast would be fruit and cheese brought over by the farmer. It was her second year here and he felt he never really attempted to initiate a conversation despite her going out of her way to gift him items he liked– sometimes even loved! Perhaps it was time to change that. He sat at his desk to pen a letter.
Marcie
When I sat down for breakfast this morning, I was reminded of all the kindness you have shown me in the last year. I'm afraid I've been a rather lackluster friend. If you will have me, I'd love to make it up to you at the Stardrop Saloon. Let's say 7 PM?
Cordially,
Elliott
Lewis came by just in time for the letter to be at the farm by 6. He hoped to see her. A glass or two of wine was the least he could do. In the meantime, he sat down to continue his novel. It was romance, based on the farmer's suggestion…
12:00 PM Leaves his cabin to stand on the beach south of his house.
Time really flies when you have inspiration, but it was time for a break. Elliott grabbed a basket of bread and packed some leftover soup for lunch. He strode just south of his shack to enjoy his meal by the fire pit. Surely tonight would be great! But something was nagging at him. A fullness in his stomach kept him from eating his lunch, although he didn't feel like he ate a lot for breakfast. His mind wandered back to his meal- the fresh strawberries with goat cheese. He felt like he was eating like royalty. Hopefully Gus had some wine somewhere that would leave her with the same feeling.
1:30 PM Leaves the beach and returns to his cabin.
Back to work, just for a little while longer. Imagining Marcie's warm smile and cheery eyes made his heart flutter– with inspiration! Right? Or was it something else? No matter, it was time to write! And write he did.
3:00 PM Leaves his cabin to stand on the bridge just north of the beach.
Normally, his stroll to the bridge is quaint and peaceful. He liked to loiter around and take in the soundscape. The river flowing, the slight chatter from the village, it was a perfect blend of urban and rural. It always put him at peace. But today he couldn't help but feel anxious. Ever since writing that letter, he's been on edge.
What for? She was a friend and that was all. A very beautiful friend, but alas all of his friends were beautiful in some way. She was just…
“Divine?.... Enchanting?....” he frowned. “Mesmerizing?... no… Fae-like?..”
He stole a nervous glance to the town, hoping to find some word that fit, but instead, caught a glimpse of her.
“Ethereal” he huffed under his breath. Elliott felt a moment of reprieve but soon swelled again with nerves after she waved at him. Was it an acknowledgement? Or her standard kindness? He supposed he'd find out soon enough. In the meantime, he leaned into the stone bridge, pulled put a novel he'd be reading and attempted to delve into some literature.
6:00 PM Leaves the bridge to return home for the night go to the saloon
He couldn't wait any longer. He couldn't keep focus on his book, he had paced the bridge countless times, he skipped rocks, he watched clouds… still restless. Maybe getting a head start would settle him. It was 6:10 when he entered the saloon and standing at the bar was Marcie.
“I thought we were shooting for 7?” She grinned at him, waving him over. He joined her at the bar, taking note of the cocktail she was nursing. “Nerves!” She soothed after catching him studying her drink.
He chuckled and stated, “precisely why I was early.” He gazed up at the lights, relishing in the stretch. “I think is wrote eight hours today.”
“That's a lot,” the farmer began, “do you have many days like that?”
“If I did, I'd have five novels done by now!” He beamed, earning a small giggle from the woman. “Bartender! Fetch me your finest ale! And bring some wine for the lady!” He continued with the same false bravado. Gus appeared perturbed as he looked at the two. He poured their drinks and scuttled away to attend elsewhere.
The glass was to his lips before Marcie declared, “Wait!!!” He promptly lowered his drink. “I propose a toast! To….” She pondered a moment before hoisting her wine up, “our friendship!”
“That's a great idea!!” His ale quickly joined her glass, “to us!”
He wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or the idea of, “us” that rouged his cheeks but nevertheless, they burned a crimson. Looking down at his companion, however, he couldn't help but notice a similar color dancing across her face.
For Quilluary day 1, I wanted to try my hand at making pommegranate jelly and thumbprint cookies!!
I have never made either, so I was excited to try it out! I found a simple jelly recipe:
Enjoy pomegranates year-round with tart pomegranate jelly made from fresh pomegranates. Make it easy with bottled pomegranate juice!
And followed it using store bought pommegranate juice! I just used Great Value hehe. The jelly turned out tasty! I doubled the recipie so I could also use it for other things!!
As for the cookies, the only kind I've ever made were chocolate chip, so I followed this recipe!
These thumbprint cookies are similar to those made by Chef John's mom and can be made two different ways for melt-in-your-mouth, jam-filled
I was a little nervous because the consistency of the dough was a bit crumby but I think it was because of my butter not exactly being room temp.
They turned out lovely!! The slightly tangy/bitter pommegranate was complimented by the sugary cookie!! They were a hit around the house!
