I make gifs & edits of Lord John Grey

“Gustav is of my own breeding—the best I have obtained so far.” Von Namtzen spoke with obvious pride. [...] Badgers. He is bred most particularly to hunt badgers.” “Really?” Grey was impressed. He had met a few badgers, and knew of nothing—including human beings—willing to engage with one; the badger’s reputation for ferocity was extremely well founded. [Lord John and the Brotherhood of the Blade]

He had been trying to suppress the feeling Stephan roused in him, but in the end, such things were never controllable—they rose up. Sometimes like the bursting of a mortar shell, sometimes like the inexorable green spike of a crocus pushing through snow and ice—but they rose up. [Lord John and the Succubus] 

Stephan von Namtzen turned and met his eyes, lifting a glass in salute, and at the end of the room the musicians still played Handel, like the music of his life, beauty and serenity interrupted always by the thunder of distant fire. [Lord John and the Private Matter]

“Have you any messages for me to carry, to the troops at the bridge?” Grey asked. “Since I will be going in that direction, anyway.” One English regiment lay to the south of the town, the other—Bodger’s—to the north, between the town and the river. A small group of the Prussian artillery under Stephan’s command was stationed a few miles beyond, guarding the bridge at Aschenwald. [Lord John and the Succubus]

“My club. The Society for the Appreciation of the English Beefsteak. We are taking dinner there today, with Captain von Namtzen.” He felt a small warmth at thought of Stephan. [The Scottish Prisoner]

The notion, as it had been explained to him, was that a white stallion had the power to detect the presence of the supernatural. The horse would stop at the grave of the succubus, which could then be opened and steps taken to destroy the creature. [...] Von Namtzen had insisted upon making the stallion a gift to Grey, “in token of our alliance and our friendship,” he had said firmly, clapping Grey upon both shoulders and then seizing him in fraternal embrace, kissing him formally upon both cheeks and mouth. At least, Grey was obliged to consider it a fraternal embrace, unless and until circumstance might prove it otherwise. [Lord John and the Succubus]

He swallowed audibly. “If … I mean … if you …” “I will do it very slowly, ja.” Stephan smiled, sudden as the sun coming from behind clouds, and reached for the large cushion they had used earlier. He threw it down and patted it. “Come then, and bend over. I will oil you.” [The Scottish Prisoner]

There was a bowl of flowers on the table. Chinese chrysanthemums, the color of rust, glowing in the setting sun. An odd thing to find in a hunting lodge, but von Namtzen loved flowers—or had used to. [Lord John and the Brotherhood of the Blade]

He had wished the Beefsteak to remain what it had always been for him -a place of peace and refuge. He could withstand the buffeting of circumstance, comforted by the thought that there was somewhere to which he could retire, if the pressures of the world became too much to bear. [Lord John and the Haunted Soldier]

With an effort, he kept his eyes on Quarry’s face, willing himself not to turn and stare, not to gawk after the flash of fire that had caught his eye in the corridor. [Lord John and the Hellfire Club]

Grey reached into his pocket and drew out a small piece of bronze, smoothly cast on one side, rough on the other. It was heavy in his hand, dark, clean, and cold. The last time he’d held it thus, it had been still warm from his body, and darker yet, slick with his blood. [Lord John and the Haunted Soldier]

It was a sapphire, dark blue as Fraser’s own eyes, and a good size, too. Grey opened his mouth, but said nothing, choked with astonishment. "There is your evidence that the treasure existed, Major." Fraser nodded toward the stone in Grey’s hand. [Voyager]

He dipped the pen again, and saw the slender splinter of metal that lay on his desk, straight as a compass needle, dully agleam in the candlelight. [...] He stopped, and touched the metal splinter with his left hand. Then wrote, You are true north. [Lord John and the Haunted Soldier]

He curled his left hand into a fist, feeling Hector’s sapphire ring press against the leather of his glove. Hector had died at Culloden. But he did not mean to speak of Hector. [Lord John and the Brotherhood of the Blade]

Von Namtzen flicked his free hand in dismissal, but made a pleased sound, deep in his throat. He had—against Grey’s protests—insisted upon making the stallion a gift to Grey, “in token of our alliance and our friendship,” he had said firmly, clapping Grey upon both shoulders and then seizing him in fraternal embrace, kissing him formally upon both cheeks and mouth. At least, Grey was obliged to consider it a fraternal embrace, unless and until circumstance might prove it otherwise. [Lord John and the Succubus]

He had taken Stephan from behind, thinking that Stephan would be less self-conscious that way, he himself loving the sight of the broad, smooth back beneath him, the powerful waist and muscular buttocks, surrendered so completely to him. [The Scottish Prisoner]