 This is more like I was like if this wasn't an abracame book, this is how this would go. It makes your spine tingle when he smiles like a soviopath. I mean, whatever floats your boat. Oh, I have to list it because it's him talking. Hey guys, it's Leanne and I'm here today to read some first Lafaynfic. Why am I doing this? Cause I think it'll be fun. Even if no one else thinks this is fun. Okay. We're gonna go with the first one that looks interesting to me, which is called an affair of the heart, which is about Sandan Glokta and Artie West. A little blurb is when Sandan Glokta, oh yeah, I guess spoilers are first law. When Sandan Glokta proposed to her, he had made it out to be the least of many evils, but deep in her heart she knows that love has its own ways. It is an affair of the heart after all. Eyes may deceive you, bodies may betray you. The heart speaks true. Artie West had lost her heart to the dashing Colonel West long ago. And when he returns as someone new, her heart recognized the man of her dreams, you know, Glokta. I mean, in fairness, I refer to Glokta as my book boyfriend. So I feel like this fanfic is for me. I've been warned that there will be adult content, including rough sex. So we may skip that. Artie leaned back in her chair in the dining room, watching her husband over the clutter table. He seemed to feel her eyes on him and looked up, an audible click in his neck. A wince. Then he straightened to meet her gaze. What evip that have you so enthralled my wife? He lisped. This is my opportunity to channel my inner Steven Paisie, and I am not gonna miss my shot. Artie held his gaze, swapping her wine glass between her hands. Sand didn't look away. Can I just say how awkward it feels to have somebody view Glokta's first name? Like, I know his name is Sand, and it sounds fine when you say Sand and Glokta, but just saying Sand, I really don't like it. Call him Glokta, you know, or Loverboy or Pumpkin. Sand didn't look away, but his left eye twitched ever so slightly. A single tear ran down his got cheek. Artie watched its path mesmerized. Her heart and mind heavy with good company and wine. She sat forward in one fluid motion and carefully wiped the tear away with the tip of her thumb. Lingering on the corner of his mouth and then tracing her thumb all the way down across his lower lip. His eyes were huge with surprise. After a month of marriage, he had not gotten used to her touch. Still, Artie did not retreat. The tips of her fingers brushing softly against the mutilated shell of his ear. A spasm ran through his body, but he didn't flinch from her touch, not yet anyway. His thoughts a mystery to her even now. I'll just say that this is kind of like, I remember when I got to this in Last Argument of Kings that they'd be together, I was like, if this wasn't an Abercrombie book, Baez would be like, in exchange for your service to me, Glockta, I'm going to restore your like virility. And then Artie would be like, the man of my dreams, you look like you did when you were the champion. And like, she gets to marry him now. And like, handsome sand on Glockta with Artie on his arms shows up and Giselle gets to be all jealous because he sees that like Glockta's hot again and Artie's with him and, you know, this was like a romance book. But of course that's not how it goes because it's an Abercrombie book and that's why we love it. Anyway, this is more like, I was like, if this wasn't an Abercrombie book, this is how this would go. She couldn't tell what he saw in her. The feisty younger sister of his best friend, who managed to get herself knocked up by a soon to be king, sand grunted softly, stretching his left leg under the table. His cheek now cradled in the palm of her hand, his eyes still intend on hers. In her wildest dreams, she had not dared to believe a man like him could fall in love with a girl like her. I mean, have you seen what Glockta looks like in your wildest dreams? You didn't think that you could score that. Girl, dream bigger. And yet here they were, sitting in their home as man and wife. And I mean, I was just thinking, I was like, well, maybe in this fanfic, he's not crippled, but they're like the second mind was him lisping at her. So he's definitely still crippled, but okay. Would there come a time when he would bear her touch? I mean, again, in last argument of kings, they kissed and this is a month into their marriage. So he seemed fine with kissing her. I don't understand. A time when he would not turn his face away from her in shame when they woke in the morning, her eyes swept across his scarred face, his fever bright eyes. He had become her best friend, her confidant. I'm pretty sure they meant to say confidant. This says her confident. And was still after all this time, the man of her dreams. Then a sudden spasm in her lower back made her wince and sit back. Fucking pregnancy. Her body became thickler every day. Would you have a spasm in your back? I mean, I've never been pregnant, but after a one month of pregnancy, I feel like you wouldn't, but whatever. Maybe they didn't get married right after. He proposed, maybe. No, they'd have to, so that people would think it's his. Well, whatever. Ah, the pleasure of the human body. Oh, nothing for me to list. Her marked her husband, smiling at her in that way that made her spine tingle. It did not touch his eyes. Makes her spine tingle when he smiles like a Soviet path. I mean, whatever floats your boat. She gave him a withering look, which made him chuckle softly, his eyes dancing with glee. At least mine is a temporary condition she quipped, arching her back with an audible pop. Indeed, sand conceded. I was hoping mine was as well. At that, Artie frowned up at him. Life, you see. He paused, wiggling in his chair. It said to be short in the grand theme of things. I think they meant the grand scheme of things, but they wrote it is said to be short in the grand theme of things. That's not a thing. Pretty sure they mean grand scheme, not grand theme, but okay. Artie did not know what to say to that and watched with some horror as her husband made to stand. His arms straining against the arm rest of his chair, his cane making a soft clicking noise, his sluggish foot scraping along the floor. Artie watched her husband walk to the fireplace where a cauldron of hot water simmered and a few rags hung from a nearby rack. Is he a witch? Then he moved around the table, his limp more pronounced now that the day was almost done. He was still a tall man despite his slight hunch. The body underneath his black robe all courted muscles and sinews. Yeah, I mean, he has muscles. His eyes as full of pain as ever, but there was something else in his gaze that she could not quite place. It would be best if you lifted your blouse up for this. There's a lot of us sitting at this all these then. After she'd done what he asked, her husband placed the soft rag against the bare skin of her back. Artie felt her whole body flush with heat, the worst of the pain subsiding quickly. She watched his hand on the cane tremble with the effort to stand, hunched over as he was. His breath warm against her cheek. Now she wished there was that kind of relief for him too. Even a hot bath every evening had not made a difference. Artie still woke her husband's screams of agony and it made her angrier every day that she couldn't do a damn thing to help him. She placed a sitting hand to his elbow. Better, he asked at her touch. Yes, she breathed softly. Yes, thank you. She amended almond after a heartbeat. You are quite welcome, he answered her, freeing his elbow gently but firmly. The warm cloth disappeared from her side and so did her husband. Artie almost winced at the loss of his touch. I mean, I know that this was tagged as having like really dirty sex, but I mean, so far he seems as incapable of that as ever. So, like I don't want to see the, the, the nis, but I'm very curious like to know how we intend to pull that off. One day she would find the man who did this to him and kill him with her own bare hands. I mean, unlikely. In his eyes, he was a repulsive thing doing what had to be done until he was. What? Until he was what? In his eyes, he was a repulsive thing doing what had to be done until he was. Now what does that mean? Don't you love me at least a little? She found herself asking his retreating form. Sand stopped, frozen in place. Then he turned. Is that the romantic in you speaking, he mocked her. Artie held his gaze, her hand unconsciously moving to her growing belly. Sand watched her movement with hawk's eyes. I see, he whispered. He sucked at his gums where another might have worried their bottom lip between their teeth. Artie shook her head. Shook her head? And stood slowly from her chair. Her husband did not move from his spot when she walked up to him. Or her husband didn't move from his spot when she walked up to him. That there shouldn't be a comma there? I really shouldn't be copy-editing or proving this is fanfic. No, you don't, she hissed into his face. Your eyes are wide open, but you don't see. Sand's face twitched. His body going rigid with pain. They meant rigid, but they wrote rigid, okay. I have loved you half my life since I first saw you fencing down in the yard with my brother. She thrust her chin up, staring. Well, she wrote starring, but staring into his eyes all the while. Call it what you want, but don't push me away, Sand. Because I am going to stay. You asked me to marry you. Remember? Artie, he said in a cold voice and gripped her elbow tight, his cane clattering to the floor between them. That man you once knew, he is dead. His words were cold, lifeless, almost Artie shivered. Her free hand came up to his strained face. He died in the crooked ribbon. I am not him. Sand's eyes were intent on hers, yet he did not flinch from her touch. I am not the man you claim to have loved once. There's nothing to listen to that. I'm so disappointed. Once? Once. I'm not the man you claim to have loved once. What? She asked, laughing right into his face, because you lost half your teeth and a few toes. He lost considerably more than that. She stared at him, he glowered back. Because you shit yourself every morning or can't get out of bed without withering in agony? I mean, yeah, that's it right there. Her eyes became small slits, his grip still is tight around her elbow. Because you're going around torturing people, I mean, there is all of that. I fit mostly, he sneered back. But thank you for your very graphic description of my whole thorny life. There was a sting to his words. I told you that I was not what a girl like you wanted in a husband. Who are you to decide what I want? They glared at each other. There's a lot of blaring going on. What do you want? He lisped after a pause. Uh-uh, he did not lisp that after a pause. There are no Ss in what do you want? You can say that in just no problem. What do you want? He lisped after a heavy pause. You, she'd almost screamed. I want to share a bed with my husband for instance. For instance? Sand chuckled mirthlessly. So you want to wake up covered in my filth every morning? It's vetted. I already gripped the back of his elbow so that their forearms were locked together. This is a marriage you initiated, she reminded him, cooling. You had your reasons for asking me. I had my reasons for the answer that I gave. You were there when no one else would have me. I respect you, Sand. Everything you are, everything you stand for. But I won't spend my nights in a co-sleeper. If you want my body so bad, have it, he sneered back. You bathed me, you moved me. And now you want to fuck me too? Yes, she'd almost, almost whispered, I love you. These three words from her froze him up for good. Why echoed in her mind? Why would you? Artie steeled her grip on his elbow and gently moved him back to the tape before she went to gather his cane. Without another word, she thrust it into his hand and left the room. Okay, well, they haven't started banging yet. Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. Okay, well, we're not gonna read this sexy times, but this typo made me laugh. Oh, I have to list it, because it's him talking. You want to have me inside you so desperately that you try to goat me with the words of love? I think she meant goad, not goat me with words of love. Anyway, yeah, so then they get it on. Okay, that wasn't as amusing as I hoped. We must do better. Okay, what do we have? Logan and Farrell. We have Sandan, Glokta, and Artie again. What I really want to find is Logan and Giselle. I'm really hoping for that. Oh, oh no. There's a lot of Orso and Jappo. Glokta and Artie, Glokta and Artie. More beer and day. Monza and Kahl. Okay, here's first of all crossover fanfic with a song of ice and fire. Ooh, Column West and Sandan Glokta. I have not been able to find any Logan and Giselle fanfic, but I have found another Artie, Glokta one, where he gets her to help him with torture. It's called Confessions. Artie, I wonder if you might be able to do me a favor today, Sandan Glokta said to his wife over the breakfast table one morning. Depends on what it is, Artie replied. She sipped a cup of tea and frowned down at an open book on the table she had been idly reading. Right, well, I have a relatively simple routine interrogation to carry out, but Practical Pike is ill. There are other practical, I could use, but. Artie looked up from the book, a flash of understanding in her eyes. You don't trust them, not after what happened with the last two. Exactly. And when we were so, and when we were so unfortunately bereaved of the last two bereaved, you can't be bereaved of someone. You showed a thinning aptitude for the job yourself. You want me to come to work with you today to substitute for Pike? I want you to consider it if you don't object to leaving Thavine with the servant for a while. And what she leaned forward across the table, her book and beverage apparently completely forgotten. Glokta hesitated, unprepared for how quick she had been to agree to his carefully worded proposal. She's almost too eager. I suppose she must get bored sometimes at home taking care of the baby while I'm at work. Well, I might work when he's talking about being a torturer. But also by this point, Glokta is in charge. Like it'd be unlikely that he'd be, you know, doing the stuff himself because he's got people for that. Okay, I read out of it and after she does some torturing with him and is quite good at it, she starts giving him a handy, which I don't think is possible. Pretty sure he doesn't have that equipment anymore. I guess in fanfic, that would be the thing they change, isn't it? But she's doing this to prove a point that he enjoys torturing as much as she does. I don't know where I expected this to go. That's, I should have expected that. That's on me. Oh, there's one called, you've got whatever's left of me to get. I think it would have been better if it had just been called, you've got whatever's left of me and not said whatever's left of me to get. But it's tagged with light bondage trauma, pregnancy, married couple and Glokta and Artie. Scenes from an unexpectedly happy marriage. There is a fanfic of Glokta's mom meeting Artie and the child called Mother knows best. I'm a little too excited about this. I hope it's genuinely good. Sande and Glokta, the most hated, feared and powerful man in all of the union was sat up in bed, leery eyed, body throbbing with pain, silently cursing himself for whatever bastard, shred of compassion it was that had compelled him to marry Artie West. Here, she's been fed so she's settled down a bit. Oh, she's someone's handing a baby over. Okay, here, she's been fed so she's settled down a bit. Unable to do a little more than blindly hold open his shaking arms, Glokta accepted the infant in question. The infant in question. This just sounds so like detached and technical. The infant in question, not, you know, you're a fucking kid. They heard Artie hustle around their room. Like it's bustle, not hustle, to the wide window and winced when the sunlight filled the room. Blinking at it, he found himself staring into the wide blue eyes of Savine Dan Glokta. She gurgled up at him, clenching her little fist into his bed clothes and he cursed as a spasm of pain knife down his spine. Yeah, I'm kind of liking this. Cursing in front of the baby, she tutted, presumably Artie, not Savine, straightening her bed. Starting early on that corruption, aren't you? Of course, he hissed, what time of it? So about 6.30, high time we can get you ready and out of bed. Do your sheets need changed? Need changed? That's a huge pep of mine. It's not, that's, need to be changed. Miraculously, you know, but why? Do you need me to bring you anything? How's the pain this morning? Maybe bring me an aspirin. No worth or better than it is any other damn day. Well, that's good. Up up then, the baby was picked out of his arms and placed on her mother's bed. Artie made a move to grab him and haul him out of bed a little rougher than her custom. Manhandling, he would call it, but not suffer it. He pushed at her until she stopped to look at him. Woman, pray tell. What hath crawled into your ass this morning and caused you to be in such, to be such a nuisance? She frowned. It's today, she's coming today. Oh, that explained it then. The dread dame, Cardelia Dan Glockta comes calling upon her recently promoted son and his new family. Come to inspect that the new lady Glockta and issue are acceptable to the breeding line. Artie, my mother is a compliment bitch of the aristocracy. Nothing you can do or say will impress her. Save the fact that you married me and had my child, supposedly. But then Glockta was definitely not the type of man to mention such a thing aloud. And Artie was, as always, willing to go along with the truth. It had saved her life after all. Even then, she will still find fault. The sad truth of it, I'm afraid. I know, but I still have to try and make some kind of impression. Very commendable. He accepted his cane from her and braced himself to stand. But you really needn't get yourself so worked up over her opinion. Whether it'll be that you're calm, blah, blah, blah, blah. Let's meet mom already, okay? Asking him if he's jealous of the baby suckling at her breasts. Should have expected that. Okay, mom's carriage is in the yard. Glockta flicked his wrist carelessly and the boy dipped his head in a couple of spasmodic bows and ran from the doorway. I think somebody had a word at the day calendar and found spasmodic. But that was the boy that announced Dame Glockta arriving. And I don't think Glockta would be able to flick his wrist cause you know, pain. Where's mom? Where's mom? Dame Cardelia Dan Glockta stood as tall as her son had been but was as stout and strong as he himself as he was himself now shriveled and bent. She had a square jaw and a handsome face but the grim line of her mouth made her look all the more dour. She wore an immaculate traveling coat made of the finest spun wool money would buy. Finest spun wool money could buy. No doubt it smelled of dog as much as it looked so fine. There were however no actual dogs in sight. I might have skipped over where we said she had dogs. Ah, mother, you look healthy. She ignored him. Imagine my surprise when I heard you had not only become engaged but married and with a child on the way. I'd like you to do that. Imagine, but yourself in my, put yourself in my place if you can. Humor your poor mother. She strode toward him, her voice even and high. Her eyes fixed to some unknown space just above him. The shock I felt at not being involved in any part of the process. The spacing question turned out to be the mantle of the unused fireplace just behind him. He didn't bother to turn. The pain in his spine wouldn't have been worth it. Instead, he met Artie's fearful eyes and winked. His other eye began to twitch. She stared back at him just as rigid as ever hands clasping around the child in her arms. He sighed and rocked his neck to pop the vertebrae there. When he turned his head, he was met with his mother's hand in his face outstretched finger placing some unknowable blame. Dust on the mantle piece, she tutted. There was no actual dust on her finger as far as he could see, but she wiped it off on her coat all the same and no firewood kept nearby. Well, you know how it hit the mother. Hard to find competent help to keep a health hold this large. The titiline estate was inherited from my predecessor. His health was not. One should think the salary of the architecture would more than compensate for the hiring of such help to keep the fireplace in such a disarray shows very badly on the part of the host. It's, oh, that's Artie talking. Sorry, I'm overzealous on the list. It's summertime. Artie, having chosen to speak for the first time, went, was then the center of the room. Up until that point, Glockta had noted with no great surprise that his mother had not even dared to look her way. No point in it, really, she shrugged. The dame made a noise, not unlike a wasp in the back of her throat, sharp and high. She said nothing. How would you make that noise? Like, how do you make a sharp high noise in the back of your throat? She said nothing but stood beside Glockta's chair. Still as though they operated with one agenda to glare at the offensive vermin in the room. He smirked at the look on Artie's face and settled back into his comfortable chair eager for the show. I don't know how much sand wrote to you, but I'll start with the basics. I'm the former Artie West of England. Not Dan. My brother was a good friend of sand's. He served in sand's regiment in the Girkish War. My brother was the late Lord Marshall West, actually. No quaver held her voice. That's, there was no quaver in her voice. Her voice held no quaver. No tears built in her eyes. To his never-ending amusement, she had even thickened her accent somewhat. Good girl, let the old hag have it all in one go and choke on it for all I care. I know who you are, girl. I had the pleasure of meeting your brother once. It didn't sound like she had found it pleasurable, but on the whole, little did please her. I found him acceptable, acceptable. Very generous praise indeed from the woman who had less than acceptable puppies drowned. I seem to recall him being turned away from seeing sand following his return home to Agua. Column was very put out. Okay, I've read on. And there's a bit of, you know, back and forth between Artie and mom and Savine gurgling. But here's, I guess, the punchline. Oh, by the way, mother, I had wondered, where are your dogs? You usually don't go anywhere without a pack of the beef. She hummed her eyes closed in rapture. She pressed her nose into baby Savine's hair. My man, Ravos, will be taking care of my kennels in the foreseeable future as I'm going to be staying with my granddaughter. Glockton nearly choked on his own spit, flecks of it flying out of his mouth as he coughed out. What? Artie slapped his back none too gently a couple of times. Almost he felt she was taking revenge on him for his mother. Of course I must stay, she said. Matter of fact, you are newlyweds and you, the arch-lector. I only want to help to ease your burden. And of course, to get to know Savine. Isn't that right, my darling? Help? This was an accursed nightmare. He'd almost rather retort her again and have his mother's help. He felt Artie's hand clench on the back of his shirt uncertain. And that second, before he could say another word, his mother had the baby above her, looking up adoringly into her blue eyes and the baby looked back down and promptly puked on her grandmother's face. Oh, he heard Artie breathe. I forgot to burp her, I'm afraid, she said with a note of amusement. A very entertaining accursed nightmare to be sure. That wasn't half bad. So what I've learned from this experience is that there is not nearly enough first law fanfic and there isn't any Giselle and Logan fanfic. And I know a certain somebody will be very upset to learn this. Hashtag brokings forever. Let me know in the comments down below if this was fun at all for you, if you'd like me to do something like this again ever or never ever ever again. Presumably, if you hated this, you're not still watching and don't know that I want you to tell me that you hated it. Oh well. Whatever you want to let me know. I post videos on Saturdays, other random times as well, but I think Saturday is so like and subscribe. Join my Patreon if you feel so inclined and I'll see you when I see you. Bye.