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imagineclaireandjamie · 6 years ago

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Imagine if Claire gets in between Jamie and Dougal in the midst of anger and Jamie accidentally hurts Claire.

Dougal counted the money Rupert and Ned had gathered inthe tavern, his smile widening with each coin dropped into the small bag.

Jamie sat ramrod straight, naked from the waist up, backheaving, the ugly twists of his scars catching the firelight.

Across the tavern, Claire clutched her tankard of ale,feeling slightly sick at what had just transpired.

“That’s all of it,” Ned reported quietly.

“Aye, well enough.” Dougal tied the string to seal thebag. “It’s not a great deal, but we can’t expect much from a small place likethis. Still it’s a respectable sum. And with young Jamie’s back to show – that’smoney in the bank guaranteed.”

Perhaps it was the ale. Or the fact that she hadn’t had agood night’s sleep in weeks, shivering on the moors surrounded by a dozenstinking men. Or the bile rising in her throat from a desire to defend Jamie’sprivacy – this man who never wanted anyone’s pity for what had happened to him.Or the aching desire to go home – go back to the stones, go back to Frank. Or thelong-simmering desire to just smack Dougal MacKenzie in the mouth.

But Claire Beauchamp had had enough.

Dougal bent to retrieve Jamie’s ruined shirt, then threwit at Claire’s feet.

“Be a good lass – get ye a needle and thread, and mendthat.”

She set her chin, picked up the shirt, walked straight upto Dougal, and in a single motion threw the shirt at his chest and herhalf-empty tankard of ale in his face.

“Mend it yourself,” she hissed.

For a long, horrific second nothing happened. Only whenWillie told her the next day what he’d seen from his vantage point did sheunderstand the correct sequence of events.

Dougal roared with fury – his breath stale and hot in herface, veins bulging thick on his forehead.

Jamie a blur between them, one hand pushing her hard inthe sternum, one fist crunching against his uncle’s jaw.

Dougal’s own fist scrabbled in the air as Claire spunaway – and Jamie’s punch, meant for Dougal, knocked her unconscious against thestone fireplace.

When she woke with a start, head pounding, she rolled toher side and vomited.

“Seas, lass.”Gently Willie pulled back her hair, while Angus held a bucket. “Get it all out.”

She spat to clear her palate, then gratefully took thewaterskin Angus offered. She wiped her mouth on the back of her sleeve, finallytaking stock of her surroundings.

“We’re in the room above the tavern,” Willie explained. “It’smid-morning. Ye’ve been out cold since last night.”

“Aye,” Angus added, picking the inside of his ear withhis pinky. “Jamie was afraid he’d kilt ye, only ye were still breathin’.”

“Where’s Jamie?” she croaked.

“He slept wi’ the horses last night. After ye fell to theground, he and Dougal stopped trading blows and he carried ye up here.”

Claire sat up a bit straighter against the headboard. “MayI see him, please?”

“Aye – I’ll go fetch him.” Angus gingerly picked up thebucket and toddled out of the room, leaving the door open while Willie helpedClaire sip more water, all the while quietly updating her on the evening’sevents.

Heavy footsteps on the stairs – and Jamie was there, darksmudges beneath his eyes, and a mighty knot on his forehead.

Quietly Willie stood and slipped out of the room –leaving them alone.

Jamie remained firmly in the doorway, watching her. Belowand outside came the sounds of the tavern keeper cleaning tankards, and horseswhinnying, and men shouting in Gaelic.

Claire swallowed. “Looks like someone fixed your shirt,”she remarked.

“I mended it myself,” he replied quietly. “I’ve alwayshad a good hand wi’ needle and thread. Wi’ the clicketing, too.”

Nervously Claire touched the huge bump on her jaw. “Doyou mean knitting? I’ve never met a man who can knit before.”

A ghost of a smile teased the corners of his mouth. “AndI’ve never met a woman who can’t.” He sighed. “Are you all right, Sassenach?”

“I’ll be fine.” She returned the smile, but her heartsank as his face tightened with sadness.

“I’m so very, very sorry what happened.”

“Jamie – I know you didn’t mean to – ”

“I’m no’ apologizing for hitting my uncle – he is anidiot, and he deserved what he got, for trying to attack ye, even if what yedid wasna exactly the best way to deal wi’ the situation. But to know that Ihurt you – ”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You had no idea that would happen.I’m fine – truly. Just a massive headache.”

He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorjamb, thetail of his kilt swaying a bit behind his legs. “I ken. I’ve had one or two badhead injuries myself. Did ye throw up yet?”

She tried another small smile. “I did.”

He echoed it. “Good. Ye’ll be fine. I’ve told Dougal we’reto remain here all day, and go back on the road first light tomorrow. Do yewant anything from downstairs?”

“Not yet, thank you. To be honest, I really don’t want tosee Dougal again.”

He took a step into the room, then remembered himself.

“I vowed to ye, Claire – ye need not be scairt of me, oranyone else. I can put ye under my protection.”

He meant it, she knew. How happily he shouldered thatresponsibility.

“I’ll be all right. Just need to rest a bit more. I’lltry to come down this afternoon.”

“As ye say.” He smiled one last time, then swept the doorclosed behind him, footsteps echoing down the stairwell.

Claire loosened her tight grip on the quilt, and let out thebreath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

#Anonymous #;mod gotham #episode 1x05

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aceofwhump · 4 years ago

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I AGREE SO MUCH!!! I CRIED SO MANY TIMES BUT THAT SCENE OF CLINT STANDING AT THE MEMORIAL OF THE BATTLE OF NEW YORK AND TALKING TO NATASHA ABOUT HOW MUCH HE MISSES HER AND HOW HE’S TRYING TO LIVE A LIFE WORTHY OF HER DESTROYED ME!!!! I’M AN EMOTIONAL WRECK. JEREMY RENNER KEEPS KILLING ME IN THIS SHOW!

This show just keeps trying to kill me with the Natasha and Clint feels. If they play the Vormir theme one more time I might die.

Sidenote: This whole episode Clint was just sooooo tired. Every movement, every sentence he said, was just bogged down with pure exhaustion both physically and emotionally and I loved it so much.

this week’s hawkeye episode got to me

i completely lost it when clint went to the battle of new york memorial to talk to natasha and as soon as the vormir theme started playing… IT KILLED ME! I AM STILL CRYING…SOMEONE SEDATE ME

#hawkeye spoilers #spoilers #hawkeye #hawkeye 1x05 #hawkeye series #clint barton #whumpypepsigal #mod replies #i have the feelings

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stargatevp · 3 years ago

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Thursday 22nd of December Stargate: SG1Universe 1x05 Light Host:

Sunday 25th of December Stargate: SG1 6x15 Paradise Lost. Host: @dorothyoz39

Time: 3pm EST / 8pm GMT / 9pm CET

Your Local Time Thursday

Your Local Time Sunday

Links: Episode List | Watch HERE

DM a MOD: (@arrowsbane @1989nihil @dorothyoz39 @angelblaze) for the password.

#stargate #SGVP #SGVP promo #promo gallery #promo by dot #stargate: SG1 #SG1 #Stargate: Universe #SGU

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fanfoolishness · 3 years ago

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how strange to stay

Fennec Shand wonders why she can't seem to leave Tatooine. Spans The Mandalorian 1x05 to The Book of Boba Fett 1x04. ~1000 words.

Tatooine was supposed to be an afterthought. A temporary hideout. One of those worlds where the sand would barely have the chance to cling to her boots before she was off again.

That was before Fennec had shot her mouth off instead of her sniper rifle. She’d had bounties on her head before, but none this… enticing. Bad luck for her that the fool she’d pissed off had powerful friends in the New Republic. Now here she was shipless and on her own, deep in the Dune Sea.

She had a plan, though. Always did: two or three if she was lucky. She settled into wait on the rocky high ground beneath the gleaming triple moons. They were prettier than she’d remembered, their light surprisingly clean and clear despite the ever-present sand on the wind.

It was by that fading light, mingled with the rising dawn, that she sank to her knees from a blaster shot in the gut. Her cuffed hands could do nothing but break her fall. She crumpled to the ground, blood in her mouth mingling with the fine grit of sand.

The last thing she thought before the light vanished was Another rookie mistake.

Firelight danced on the sand. The smell of burning bantha droppings, sweeter than she would have guessed, drifted past her on the night breeze. Boba Fett sat beside her, skulking in the heavy dark, and he spoke plainly.

She listened with a wary ear. Could be another trap. Anger flared within her, the sick sear of knowing that that Corellian punk had been the one to take her out. She’d had him on her side. The audacity! What did Fett have to offer that made him any more trustworthy? Trust was just another liability.

But her hand brushed against the whirring mechanical mods humming away in her belly. Fennec gave Fett a long, appraising stare, the intense sort that most people instinctively looked away from. He didn’t break. He simply regarded her with the same level of concentration.

This wasn’t the same Boba Fett she’d seen in passing here and there in scuzzy nightclubs or glittering highrises, taking jobs from the highest bidder. That Fett would have left a competitor to their death without a second thought. This one… The armor and ego were gone now, replaced by plain black robes and a keen gaze.

Maybe there was something here. Maybe she could bear the sand on her boots a little longer.

She’d always thought Jabba’s palace had good bones. Not just the ones piling up in the rancor pit and the middens, but the walls themselves, good solid Tatooinian sandstone. In the Core, this stuff sold well for luxury apartments. Examining its red whorls and patterns up close, feeling its cool slickness beneath her gloved hand, she could see why.

There was work to do here here. The sort she was good at, yes, but there were hints at something more. Partnerships, trade networks, even… diplomacy. Shit she’d never in a thousand years or a million parsecs thought she’d have a hand in, but here she was. Life was funny that way.

She leaned back in her chair, raising up one boot to rest against the wooden table. Wood on Tatooine was priceless beyond measure, and the feast laid out upon it worth nearly as much. She grabbed a platter of ronto ribs and a dish of braised Rustibaran vegetables, gleaming with fresh red and green herbs that left a delicate perfume wafting above the dish. She allowed herself the private luxury of a wide grin of anticipation, before letting her face settle back into its customary mask.

She didn’t mind being on her own for the moment. Boba was still working on healing after his ill-planned spelunking in the sarlacc’s corpse, and while he was decent company, this was a spread as easily enjoyed by one as it was two. She dipped a vast crusty tengrain loaf into the glistening ronto juices and took a bite. It was a helluva lot better than black melon juice.

Fennec let out a long breath, eyes skimming over the exit points of the room, always searching for the flicker of movement that might indicate a threat. But there was no movement. There were only the sounds of the distant desert winds out on the Dune Sea, audible even through the shielded windows. They sang a lonely song, and Fennec wondered about Boba’s Tuskens, the journeys he might have taken with them, the curious weapon he kept always at his side. Perhaps they were out there still, beneath the triple moons.

She took a drink of spotchka, sighing as its familiar burn gilded her throat. How strange to find a tribe instead of being born to one; how strange to stay with one at all. Leaving was far easier. It was one of her many well-honed skills.

A shadow at the entrance to the hall moved, but it was only Boba, looking better. He surveyed the table and its offerings, luscious meats, basted landshrimp and sandfish, towering platters of green flatbreads and mashed marrow.

He grunted. “I’ve told them this is unnecessary.”

“Speak for yourself,” said Fennec, dropping her leg from the table so she could more easily tear into one of her ronto ribs. Dank farrik, it was good. “Besides, your new pet can always have the leftovers.”

Boba’s face worked into something like a smirk. “Fair enough.”

He sat at the table, serving himself. She made a note to try some of those roasted jewelbirds later. They ate together in near-silence, breaking the quiet periodically to discuss the next plans of attack, what they would need to deal with the Mayor and the Pykes, what they could commit of their allies and tribute. It was talk among equals, business-like and direct, but easy, too.

It’s probably temporary, she thought. But here, spotchka bright and burning in her chest, Boba Fett at her side, and damn good food at the table, she could believe that maybe it was something more.

#fennec shand #the book of boba fett #boba fett #the mandalorian #my mando fic

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baltears · 3 years ago

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on the las mudas sequence in 2x04

i have thoughts! william related thoughts. gonna miss a million and one things because it’s westworld but anyway.

first! this is a very important sequence because this is an occasion where william sees his own actions reflected back at him and does not like what he sees. craddock is established as william’s mirror via his repetition of the same things william himself did last time he was in this town, except this time, william seems affected by craddock’s cruelty and feels pity for the locals as he sees them being tormented and killed.

craddock comes in with a very strange take on this. of course we know that william is normally very comfortable with cruelty (although he usually doesn’t go out of his way to inflict it or has some justification, it’s only nominally different from what craddock is doing here). but he says this:

william brushes this off and denies that lawrence is his friend, despite the fact that he’s said the opposite more than once. he’s been as cruel to lawrence as any of the hosts, but in fact he does like lawrence and consider him a friend. the extent of that loyalty or care is very limited, but it’s certainly more than he’d ever say about any human. small note here that this little observation from craddock reminds me a bit of how ford talked to william during their conversation in 1x05, mentioning how his obsessive and urgent pursuit of the maze displays “a certain anxiety” that doesn’t fit the persona he normally takes on in the park (that of the man in black). so i feel like it’s being pointed out to us again here that a lot of what we know about william is indeed that – a persona. he’s said or implied many times before that the man in black is his “true self” and it’s fairly clear from his speech in 2x09 he’s sincere in that belief. but other characters often pick up on the fact that he’s play-acting, which he never engages with directly when they point it out – he always just changes the subject.

again, though... on the face of it, a very weird thing to say about william. but at the same time we do know on some level that it’s true or is at least resonating somewhere. there is a side of him that’s very bothered by death, suffering, and unnecessary cruelty – it’s just one we haven’t seen in quite a while.

while craddock is boasting about how he and death are besties, william kind of scoffs, clearly thinking he’s just an idiot spouting bullshit. then this happens:

hey, that’s the same thing william did in 1x02!

suddenly everything craddock says takes on a different tone. it’s as though william himself, or at least the persona of the man in black, is directly talking to him. death can’t bear to lay claim on me, he says. so it sent me back here to do its bidding. because i do it with such goddamn style.

an obvious, though unintentional, roast of the man craddock is talking to. style, image, machismo, coolness, it feels weird to come out and say it, but these are such vital and present elements of the man in black as a character. he’s got his cool modded gun, he’s dressed all in black, he’s never flustered, he’s a perfect shot, always ready with a quip. it’s all Image. it’s all Performance. it’s all theater. but broadly speaking, the only audience is himself. he’s always putting on a show, trying to convince himself of something. that he’s fine with a life absent of meaning and connection, that he is thriving, that he is winning. but he’s not.

as craddock is saying all of this, all meaningless bullshit that might as well have been ticker-taped out of william’s own head back when he was in craddock’s shoes, william is now in a very different position. not only is he having to look at himself from an outside perspective and witness the effects of actions identical to his own, but he’s also being looked to for help. william being asked for help!

by the same woman he blithely shot in the head last time he was here, no less.

here’s where we start to pull in some more of the issues with his self-concept. he’s seeing certain elements of the scene around him and they are bringing up his memories of juliet’s suicide. I personally would say that william is much too hard on himself with regard to how he conceptualizes that moment in his life, but in any case he understands it as a moment that crystallizes his self-concept, that being that he is fundamentally a source of harm, or “disarray” as dolores would put it. he went through all those years thinking he could exist as the man in black while in the park, and it didn’t mean anything, or more literally that it wouldn’t affect anything in his life. but it did mean something. it meant enough for his wife to kill herself.

he keeps looking around, seeing these moments of suffering that he may as well have inflicted, intercut with those traumatic memories. he is paying attention, he is self-criticizing and self-interrogating. and he’s clearly not happy with what he’s seeing, either his memories of his own actions or what craddock is doing in front of him. and we see him make a decision about what he’s about to do. he is stepping out of the role of the villain, just for a minute.

this rings a bell to me here of william potentially talking about himself. back when he was alive, so to speak, he didn’t know who he was or what he wanted. “death is always true,” he goes on to say. this echoes a line of dialogue that he said to dolores back in 1x10, where he says to her that “you were nothing if not true,” as well as the “one true thing” that dolores says she has and that juliet asked him for. (the association here with dolores is emphasized by the fact that craddock references being killed by dolores.)

what i’m getting at is that william very strongly associates his self-actualization and self-understanding with his own death. and when he says this:

it becomes even more literal. the man in black is death and embodies death. specifically his own death – the death of william, the death of love, and the death of meaning. he understands himself to be essentially a walking corpse, not just because his sense of self changed dramatically or because he became a new person because “the person he used to be is dead.” he is not, in his mind, even capable of being a person anymore. i feel i need to emphasize again the shadow of dolores, the “deathbringer,” that’s hanging over this scene. william’s death and conceptualization of himself as Death is integrally tied to dolores, his ego death at losing her, his literal death indirectly at her hands later on.

then he ganks craddock and starts taking out his men.

and here comes my favorite moment of the episode. because what do we hear here... but dolores’ theme, “this world.” for those who do not tend to notice what’s going on in the score, her theme plays whenever what’s happening on the screen relates to her love for the world, and ties into the tension she feels between loving the world and being betrayed by or trying to escape that love. right now it is playing over william taking on the role of the hero, which is – again – integrally tied to his relationship with dolores. a couple of points are coming up with the score here: firstly, that the version of him that she loves is still in there somewhere. but secondly and more crucially, the version of him that can still see meaning, that can still believe anything matters, that is “alive,” is still in there somewhere. i’ve said this before in other posts but i think potentially the most important thing to understand about william is that his entire locus of meaning is dolores. without her he has nothing, nothing means anything, nothing matters, he is dead. but conversely, the suggestion of dolores comes along with the suggestion of his being able to find meaning.

after he’s done doing the classic man in black thing where he shoots everybody, we see his attention return to lawrence’s wife, this vulnerable figure who was begging him for help and is still vulnerable. so he goes and helps her, and she’s reunited with lawrence, both of them safe. a concrete good, which is something the man in black has never done. (not talking about his actions outside the park, because to his own mind those don’t really count.)

but it doesn’t last. william ambles on over to his double with the nitroglycerine that he took from lawrence’s wife, and forces it down craddock’s throat. in the score we now hear the return of the man in black’s theme, which is used to symbolize his cruelty, and more broadly his sense of alienation. the transformation into something vaguely resembling his living self was momentary, not permanent. he can’t separate this act of goodness from his broader conception of himself as bad. it’s a blip, rather than a change.

he gives the gun to lawrence, who shoots and kills craddock. (i feel i would be remiss to not mention this moment, of him overseeing the death of a character who’s his mirror, being tied in to william’s suicidal tendencies and very intense desire to self-annihilate.)

later, william is being thanked by the townsfolk of las mudas and all of lawrence’s cousins, which he receives a little uncomfortably and tries to play down, but still seems to appreciate. then ford comes along, speaking through lawrence’s daughter, the same way he did the last time william was here.

“it wasn’t a good deed,” is the implication, despite all of the subtextual evidence to the contrary. but at least by this point he is back to saying that it’s not a good deed because that would imply a level of meaning. and the mantra of the man in black is, nothing means anything. no action i take can be classified as either good or bad, because nothing i do matters.

i don’t want to go on a whole long tangent here about william’s feelings of shame and badness because i feel like some of my tendency to see that in his character is subjective and my main point is that he still can’t hang on to a lasting idea that anything he does is meaningful. but i do think it’s worth noting that he did something good, and ford came up to him and essentially said, “that good thing you did doesn’t matter because i know that deep down you’re bad,” and william’s reply was, “yes, i know i’m bad.” i do think it’s worth noting that the “stain” he sees on himself is tied to shame and his sense (rooted in his alienation) that he doesn’t have value, is unworthy of connection, doesn’t deserve to live, and is only capable of making things worse.

anyway i just wanted to kind of attach this scene to what i see as william’s conflict going forward but particularly in season 2, which is “does anything i do mean anything,” and “if it does, what does it mean.” vanishing point is the fulcrum of this, when he kills emily and is forced to acknowledge that that action did have meaning and that he did something that mattered (in a negative sense), but then becomes confused as to what that meaning was, questioning whether he has a choice in any of his actions or if he is somehow being directed. and all that confusion and questioning can be traced back to that one originating moment of loss, which was his symbolic death and the death of meaning, the point where he lost any sense of who he was and what he was doing and most importantly why. he keeps returning to that point because that question, once he lost his grip on the answer (dolores and what she was to him – the embodiment of love and connection and meaning), has never been answered again. but i do think this scene shows that the answer is potentially out there for him, and that he’s not incapable of finding it at some point in the future and coming back to life. (in a way that will probably involve dolores somehow.)

#westworld #westworld meta #william westworld #his brain is a conference call

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aceofwhump · 11 months ago

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@whumpgifathon | Day 2: "Fever"

My New Boss Is Goofy, 1x05, Aigo Kinjou

#whump #whumpedit #whump gifs #whumpgifathon #day 2 #fever #my gifs #mod post #my new boss is goofy #aigo kinjou #1x05 #anime #anime whump #sick #collapsing #weak #worry #heavy breathing

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mercelotweek · 4 years ago

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Meet the Mods

Hello Mercelot Week Participants! We thought a little bit of “Meet the Mods” was in order, seeing how we have a new mod! Thanks so much to @little-ligi for joining the team! Now let’s hear from the mods!

@little-ligi Who are you? Well hello there! 😊 I’m Mod Ligi. Fanfic writer, reader and occasional artist. Extremely fond of Mercelot. Unapologetic Gemini. Tends to ramble a lot more than necessary (and thank God for auto correct because I can’t spell necessary) and use far too many brackets, exclamation marks and emojis!

Why are you a mod? Because I believe there is not enough Mercelot content in this world and I want to encourage more!! Also, call it fate, call it ✨destiny✨… but I had several things point to the fact I needed to get involved with this!

What is your favorite Merlin/Lancelot moment? Ooooooh how to choose?! (I mean, literally every single moment the two of them are on screen together is a favourite moment of mine!) But narrowing it down… either from ep 1x05 when Merlin is persuading Lancelot to lie about his nobility, or from ep 4x02, the bit after Merlin has been healed by the Vilia and is spear fishing, the playful teasing is just… perfect! 😍😍 (Did I rewatch every Lancelot episode for the thousandth time in order to decide this point? Yes I did. Did I list every single moment before narrowing it down to just these two? Yes. Yes I did. 🙈)

Best Mercelot Trope(s)? Lancelot snapping instantly into Protective and Defensive Mode if anyone ever finds out about Merlin’s magic.

Funny Mercelot Headcanon you have? Lancelot tells the best (and often dirtiest 😉) jokes, which always leave Merlin almost wetting himself laughing!

Why do I need to know who the mods are? So you can come and chat to us! We’re very friendly and enjoy screaming about Mercelot!

@rainbowvamp Who are you? Hi, Mod RainbowVamp here! I write things sometimes, and I’m generally incorrigible about Mercelot. I’m a Scorpio and a Slytherin, and I don’t apologize for either of those things.

Why are you a mod? My entire goal is convincing other people it is fun to create Mercelot content. And it’s working.

What is your favorite Merlin/Lancelot moment? Laying on the cots during the Dorocha attack in 4.02. It’s the closest thing we get to canon proof they sleep together. (That isn’t immediately made sad by Guards coming in to take Lancelot away. iykyk)

Best Mercelot Trope(s)? Is “Lancelot is the only knight who knows about the magic” a trope? Because that one.

Funny Mercelot Headcanon you have? Merlin and Lancelot secretly sabotage random little castle goings-on (usually related to Arthur) just to amuse each other. Because they’re dorks.

Why do I need to know who the mods are? Well, you see… knowledge is power. And you might need to get a hold of us.

Our ask boxes are open if you have any questions. Thanks for being great! 💗

#mercelot week updates

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