#(love how i just made another post in which i said i liked duncan in the tags but like)

[canonically47]

FUCK THIS SHOW. THIS IS RIGGED

RIGGED!!!

[theangelcatalogue]

Saw you request post could you write some Yandere Scott Summers for us please. I love x-men evolution and there is only one other person who writes for them and I am at my wits end trying to find more x-men content, thank you have a good day.

୨ৎ―PROTECTION(AND JEALOUS) ꩜ .ᐟ || YANDERE SCOTT X READER

୨୧┇ Oneshot!

୨୧┇ Romantic/Platonic!

୨୧┇ Gender Neutral!

୨୧┇ Pov character(s): Scott and Author(me :D)!

୨୧┇TW: JEALOUS BEHAVIOR, PROTECTIVE BEHAVIOR, BAD GRAMMAR, BAD ENGLISH , POSSIBLE OOC AND MADE BY A MINOR!! TELL ME IF I MISSED SOMETHING!

ˏˋ⋆ SUMMARY ⋮.. !?

๋୨୧┇Scott is and always was a protective and strict person with his loved ones, that's not a surprise

୨୧┇But with you, he was more! Like, REALLY

୨୧┇It was no surprise he liked you

୨୧┇But It had a thing, sometimes he felt another thing for you, no, for people next to you

୨୧┇Jealous.

ˏˋ⋆ AUTHOR ⋮.. !?

If Scott got a nickel for every time you went out with Duncan, he would have two, which isn't much, but it's strange that it happened twice, since seeing you talk and go out with Duncan was too much for him.

Duncan asked you out once, and you accepted out of politeness? Genuine interest? Boredom? You don't really know, but you accepted and discovered that Duncan wasn't so bad to hang out with (despite being the perfect jock stereotype), and after that, he wanted to interact with you more, and yesterday you went out with him again.

Was Scott jealous? Yes, after all Duncan and Scott don't get along.

But it got to the point where Duncan was sending you flowers! Always with a little note from him, which Scott was happy to give you (the flowers, without the note).

Now waiting for you outside the school to leave as normal is something he enjoys (not that he didn't before), even though other people left with you, it was just you and Scott, without Duncan.

He looks around, no sign of you, you're just taking a while, that's all, then when you arrive, everyone will leave for the institute.

He looks around again, it wasn't you, but it was Kitty, you two talk a lot so maybe she knows why you're taking so long.

"Hey Kitty! Have you seen Y/n?"

Scott asks calmly, a simple question

"Ah! She's going somewhere with Duncan! "

Kitty replied, getting into the car

Ah.

So you're going out with Duncan? Really?

Scott felt his blood boil, jealous? Why? You and Duncan are just two colleagues going out together.

Plim

New message, Scott picks up his phone

New message from Y/N, the app shows

He opens the message

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Y/N: I'm going out with Duncan! No need to worry, he'll take me to the institute later, we won't be here for so many time!

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Scott thought about what to say, how he wanted to say that you couldn't go out with Duncan

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Scott: Really? Duncan?

Y/N: Yes, why?

Scott: I don't know, he's a bit of an asshole

Y/N: Yeah, I know, but he's kind of nice to hang out with when he's not an asshole!

Scott: Him not being an asshole? That's rare.

Y/N: I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, Scott! It was last minute, I couldn't say no to him! He insisted a lot, and I'm a people-pleaser...

Scott: Oh, you could have said no.

Y/N: Did something happen? I feel you're in a bad mood

Scott: It's just that I don't trust this guy, what if he tries something with you?

Y/N: He wouldn't, I think! You don't have to worry, if he tries I can defend myself

Scott: But I don't know, what if something goes wrong? I worry about you

Y/N: If something happens i will deal with that, relax! Also i can't go away now, we're getting there

Scott: And where are you two going?

Y/N: Oh, we're going to that hill with the nice view, you know? It's a really relaxing place!

Scott: Oh, Okay

Y/N: Don't worry ok? Bye!

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Scott put the phone back in his pocket and finally got into the car, turning it on.

ˏˋ⋆ SCOTT ⋮.. !?

" Hey man? Are you okay? Did something happen?

Evan asks me, was I so distracted that I didn't see Evan coming and got into the car?

"What happened? Don't make us curious! "

Kurt also asked, is he already here? I was distracted talking to Y/N

"Nothing."

I replied, nothing's happening, everything's normal

"Y/N is going out with Duncan and he doesn't like it! "

Kitty answered Evan and Kurt, I didn't like it...

Okay, I don't like it, but Y/N and Duncan? Going out together? Why?

They even likes him?

" Oh~! I think Scott is jealous! "

Kurt said playful, i'm not jealous, i am just a little protective, because what if that asshole hurts Y/N?

" Hey Scott, relax! Y/N can defend themself, also you should be less protective! "

Really Evan? I don't think

I mean

Being protective is not bad.

୨୧┇ NOTES ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

୨ৎ Erm, here it is, bad i know-

୨ৎ I LOVE X MEN EVOLUTION SO MUCH I-

୨ৎ I am writing for Brotherhood too! (they are so silly)

୨ৎ Damn i had a HUGE crush on Scott when i was a kid (maybe i still have)

୨ৎ Sorry if this is short, OOC and dind't make any sense-

୨ৎ Idk what to say now, but ily you guys

[what-gs-watching]

"It said quarter to five, but it was quarter to ass…"

I’m sorry but it’s time for a quick appreciation post for Community’s season 5. I realize I shouldn’t be watching Community yet again since I was just into it like eight months ago and obviously wrote a love letter to it  but we’re here already so deal with it. 

This is an incredibly deep cut situation, but I don’t care. Season 5 has some of my all-time favorite episodes, even if it’s likely a lot of people gave up on the show before it ever came out because Dan Harmon had left for season 4 and there was always so much upheaval around it even being renewed and blah blah AND Donald Glover left that season.

Which, I admit, was devastating. But even so, there are a bunch of gems in the 13-episode run. 

Starting with "Basic Intergluteal Numismatics", wherein the study group tries to FINALLY solve the case of the Asscrack Bandit, a shadowy figure who’s running around campus dropping quarters down unsuspecting asscracks. Literally, that’s the entire premise. The episode is based on movies like Zodiac, it’s dark and brooding and it’s fucking hilarious because everyone takes it so seriously and it’s a perfect Community homage. They had BEN FOLDS do two different songs to include in it and they’re catchy as hell, honestly they fucking slap, and I’m still not sure who I think is the asscrack bandit, and I hope to never find out. 

Another pure favorite is “Geothermal Escapism”, which is Donald Glover’s final episode, and a perfect way to send him off. Abed declares a school-wide game of “the floor is lava” and it’s such a good replacement for the paintball game episodes. As usual, everyone in the school is completely committed to the bit except for Britta for once, who’s trying to force the group to properly deal with Troy leaving, she’s the surprising voice of reason throughout and the loophole they come up with to help Abed deal with losing his best friend is so Community. I cry everytime I watch this one - literally, their relationship is so pure and beautiful and sweet and the episode is simultaneously fun and bittersweet. 

Also, we can’t forget about "Analysis of Cork-Based Networking". The only reason I love this episode is like, a fairly small part of the entire story, but it makes me hysterically laugh every time. The group has formed a ‘Save Greendale’ committee and Annie is off navigating the labyrinth of bureaucracy which leaves Jeff, Shirley, Chang and Duncan to pick a theme for the midterm dance. After Chang has a meltdown, they agree to his pitch of “Bear down for midterms” which no one understands, but they commit to it. Eventually, they find out why Chang was so insistent on the theme, and it’s not great. I honest to god still yell “BEAR DOWN FOR MIDTERMS” when I’m dealing with something I don’t want to do. Like right now, with the case study I’m doing for an interview process. My husband always knows what I mean, and I love it.

Finally gang, "App Development and Condiments". Fucking Meowmeowbeanz. This is the episode where the entire school gets caught up in a social media app that lets them rate each other, and the entire social ecosystem falls apart. The important part here is that this episode was made BEFORE that Black Mirror episode you’re thinking about. Community is streets ahead, and always has been. The commentary is scathing, and fucking hilarious. 

I have no real point to any of this, I’ve just been thinking about it for the past two days and I had to get it out. I can never sing enough praises for Community. I’ve decided on this (10th? 15th? who knows) rewatch that it is literally my favorite show in the world. Like, it’s my desert island show and my comfort show and my comedy show and my sad show. It’s my every show.

Community, oh how I love you.

[omg-hellgirl]

Hiii!! This pic reminded me of your blog because I saw your post about angie's book and you actually see her past the typical descriptions the media and david gives her.

This made me think of how she gave up duncan and did not fight for his custody because it was the only way then to save david, to have him take responsibility of their child and her being a mother, should be hurtful. They fell out of love and it hurts ;-; ;-; david used her like he did in the early days.

Thanks for reminding of me! I love this picture. I love David and Angie as separate entities (never together). Another important but never mentioned detail that I never had the courage to bring up is that in her book Angie says that she participated in a threesome (without David) and that there were photos from that day. Now, she says that these photos came to David at some moment, but she doesn't explicitly say that they were used in the divorce process (I believe so). Still, she says that this fact also contributed to her disadvantage at court.

The incident was par for the course, really, just some highgear sex involving me, Roy, and D, a female heroin dealer, but this time Roy jumped up at a certain moment and said, "Hold it, girls, hold it! You look so fucking good I've just got to get pictures!" I was so stoned I didn't even think twice about it, and cooperated as Roy went through a pack of Polaroid film.

[...]

Because of the bias of Swiss law, the fact that I didn't claim custody of Zowie, and crucially, the Polaroids Roy Martin supplied to him, David probably didn't even have to give me that much. He insisted on a gag clause stipulating that I could not discuss our marriage in the media for the term of the settlement, which has now expired.

Possibly he used photos of her in sexual moments "cheating" on him while he was a slut and did worse than her.

He put a gag clause in the divorce to force her to keep quiet. Not very feminist or cool the above two points, right? Wearing skirts and makeup and all the gender revolution didn't help him be a better person with Angie.

Is there anything to be called besides Parental Alienation for a mother who in 2016, even after David's death, needs to send messages to her own son via Twitter? How many years of being away from his mother and knowing about her only through David's distorted words did it take so that even after David's death they didn't have a mother-son relationship again? I don't know what their relationship is like these days.

This tweet above made me cry a lot. I understand why she did what she did, but every day I wish she had made a different choice with Duncan.

Again, thanks for remembering me and seeing this photo was a nice surprise! Even though I seem hard on David, I still love him. It's pretty hard to let some things go, though.

[diana-bluewolf]

I don’t know who could attack them in Hogwarts. Rookwood, Ranrok, Harlow? I favour that it was Ominis, who had just heard another gossip about them traversing a mountain in Loyalist territory, and who just got REALLY fed up with these two idiots, risking their lives.

I can't believe that this post was intended as a joke but turned out to be a short hurt/comfort fanfic. But it is what it is. The fic is about Ominis, Chris (my MC) and Sebastian with a focus on the first two.

Careful

Sebastian Sallow and Chris Mongrel were leaving the transfiguration classroom in the evening. It was late enough, and they were really knackered after their night tour to the Loyalists' mountain and the whole day of learning, never mind Professor Weasley’s detention. But what could they do? 

Both of them felt really sleepy before the class that morning, so Sebastian had transfigured Professor Weasley's owl into a pillow to have a nap at his desk just before the class started. Chris was supposed to wake him up but couldn’t help falling asleep, too. So when Professor Weasley tried to attract the boys’ attention to begin the lesson, well…Perhaps it wasn't very wise of half-asleep Sebastian to brush off her, muttering “back off and leave me alone”. And perhaps it was even less wise of Chris to laugh at that.

So they had just finished sorting some old paperworks and were hoping for a good rest.

“Depulso!” someone cried out of the blue. The spell hit Sebastian into his chest, and the boy crashed into one of the desks. 

“Protego!” Chris had managed to whip out his wand and reflect another spell just a second before it hit him, creating a defensive shield for both him and Sebastian. 

Not the most flawless protego he had ever produced, and even so he made it only because Sebastian had been attacked first, which had a couple of spare seconds left for him to react. But then again, who could attack them in Hogwarts?

“Ominis?!” The boys couldn’t believe their eyes. The Slytherin’s heir was standing in the doorway to the classroom, pointing his wand at them. He was a bit out of breath like he had been running in there, but despite this he looked frighteningly calm.

“I…I guess you haven’t just mixed us with a training dummy by mistake, have you?” Chris chuckled, lowering his wand. 

"What's come over you?" Sebastian grumbled, standing up and shaking off the dust of his robe. “If you needed to blow off steam after Sharp's another detention, we could go and find a puffskein for Duncan or something.” 

“Shut. Up.” Ominis pronounced almost blandly. ”You haven’t even reflected simple Depulso, how is it even possible for you to be here, alive, after traversing a mountain in Loyalist territory with such pathetic defensive skills?”

He knew he wasn't fair to Sebastian, no one could remain vigilant all the time, even such a skilled duelist as Sebastian. But Ominis didn’t care, he was furious and needed to let it out. Merlin knows how long he had been trying to behave, merely trying to talk Sebastian, and since recently Chris, out of their insane ideas. 

“Maybe because I usually don't expect my best friend to practise spells on me on a whim?” Sebastian said matter-of-factly, arching his eyebrow. 

“How did you know about the mountain?” Chris asked. 

"So the gossips were true? How lovely," Ominis brought out coolly. 

"Ominis, listen—"

"No, you listen,” the blind boy inhaled audibly, trying to regain composure. “I don't know what you two are up to, I believe that this is something important. I do want to believe! But you…It’s not a mere coincidence that you always attract troubles, is it, Chris? Just try to look at yourself from the outside. It seems…” he faltered. “It might seem like you seek death on purpose."

Even though the other boy couldn't see him, Chris averted his eyes. 

Ominis had been really hoping that he was mistaken and just misread the new fifth-year's motivation. But the fact that Chris hadn’t replied caused a freezing numbness in his chest.

"And you keep dragging Sebastian with you into living on the edge," Ominis continued anyway, his face inscrutable. Hiding unnecessary emotions was a skill that he had been honing for as long as he remembered. He couldn’t let himself be even more vulnerable than he already was, being blind. Couldn't give others another advantage over him.

"I thought he was a big enough boy to make his own decision." Chris was really annoyed by Sebastian's behaviour at the mountain last night, making excuses for Sallow’s overprotective mummy was the last thing he wanted to do right now. 

Though there was something else behind his annoyance he couldn't grasp so far. He couldn’t be really envious that Sebastian had somebody to worry about him that much, could he? That Ominis was that somebody?

"I'm still here, you know." Sebastian waved his hand.

"Yes, Sebastian, I have already expressed my astonishment at this matter,” Ominis said snidely. “It is very much like you, is it not? After everything that had happened with your parents, with Anne, to be that reckless and then just play the fool like it’s nothing. Has it occurred to you that one day I may lose—" his voice cracked hardly noticeable but he forced himself to continue, gripping his wand tighter. "That you may not come back?"

There was a tense silence. It was obvious now that Gaunt wasn’t just furious - he was desperate, and no matter how hard he tried to hold back tears, his pearly eyes were somewhat glimmering with moisture. Chris exchanged worried glances with Sebastian and swallowed, his mouth going dry suddenly. 

He and Ominis definitely didn’t have the best start. 

Chris Mongrel was a subject of at least half of Hogwarts gossip, and at least half of them were affiliated with deadly danger. Ominis probably wouldn’t have paid that much attention to that if it wasn’t for Sebastian, being an enthusiastic participant of some of them. As if he wasn't already reckless enough without Mongrel’s encouragement. And the new boy seemed to have a finger in every pie. The more life-threatening a pie was, the better. So when Sebastian brought this show-off to his Undercroft… Well, it was the last straw. 

Besides, there was something else that annoyed Ominis really intensely. No matter how hard he tried to be sarcastic and passive-aggressive towards the new fifth-year, Mongrel had never seemed to be really offended.

Maybe because this walking magnet for troubles never saw a Gaunt in him, being ignorant about too many aspects of the Magic World yet. Or maybe Mongrel was fully aware of Ominis' so-called venomous nature but was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Just like the new boy was attracted to fighting trolls in his free time. Not that Ominis was used to comparing himself with trolls, but who could say for sure what’s going on in Mongrel’s shaggy head. 

If Ominis didn't know any better, he would even assume that the poor thing was too naive to realise when someone tried to insult him. But he suspected that it was worse than that. It seemed that somehow the new student saw right through Gaunt’ mask of an arrogant aristocrat, and sometimes Ominis felt…compassion that the other boy radiated. Like Mongrel really understood him somehow.   

Anyway, eventually Ominis gave up trying to persuade Chris that he was the evil in the flesh. They didn’t even notice how they started to spend some time together, quite enjoying each other's company. Eventually Ominis discovered, to his own surprise, that he can trust Mongrel with something personal he had never told even Sebastian. It was refreshing to speak with someone who didn't try to use your secrets for their own benefit. 

Chris, in his turn, enjoyed that Ominis didn’t need his disguise as the Troll Slayer, which helped the new boy to assert himself in Hogwarts. Ominis respected honesty, and Chris was more than happy to be himself a little, more and more opening up about things he would never speak with others about. Like his fears and doubts, which the role of the fearless one was not supposed to have.

So watching Ominis, being on the edge of despair, was unbearable. The last and the only time Chris had seen him like this before was in the scriptorium, when the blind boy found out what had happened with his aunt. And now the Slytherin’s heir was standing there, apparently scared to death that he may lose Sebastian, too, the only other dear person who remained alive, as it seemed that Ominis didn't believe in Anne's return. 

At least it was how Chris interpreted the situation. He swallowed, his eyes darting between the other two boys, his mind racing, trying to think of a way to calm the blonde one down a little. He knew that he'd rather die himself than bring Ominis dreadful news about his best friend someday. Perhaps, it could help?

"Ominis,” Chris started, running his fingers through his hair and thoroughly choosing words. “We…I can't promise that we won't do something like this again but I swear that, whatever happens, I will protect Sebastian. No matter the cost. If needed, with my life." Not that Chris wouldn’t have died for Sebastian before, he only wanted Ominis to know. 

But somehow he made it worse, as at his last words the blind boy’s face suddenly became even paler than usual, as well as the knuckles of gripping the wand fingers.

There was an awkward silence. 

"As if I would allow you…"Sebastian tried to protest, but Ominis interrupted him.

"For someone who manages to make up for four missed years of study so brilliantly you are incredibly obtuse," he muttered, turning his head in Chris' direction. Despite the words his tone was soft, a pained expression came over his face.

"Was it a veiled compliment or you just haven't reached your daily dose of insults yet?" Chris was baffled. 

He had almost forgotten about the time when Ominis tried to sting him. Only now he realised that it actually had never happened for a while, having been replaced with well-natured banter and snide remarks now and then. 

"You really don’t understand, do you?” Ominis frowned. Perhaps, his habit to hide his emotions turned against him, as Chris didn’t see the obvious - it all was not only about their mutual friend. “All right, let me enlighten you then. Everything I said regarding my concerns is related to you to the same extent as to Sebastian." 

"Y-you mean…" Chris stuttered, his emerald eyes growing wide. "That you…I mean…about ME?"

"Somewhere in this set of words should have been 'worry'. Yes, Chris, I do worry about you, too, to my great misfortune.”

"Welcome to the club, bro," Sebastian muttered. He was obviously annoyed by Ominis' attempts to control his safety, but for Chris it was an absolutely new experience. He looked stunned, as if Ominis had just casted Stupefy on him. 

To have someone who worried about him without any benefits for themselves, rather the opposite. Who cared. It had always seemed unattainable for him. And the fact that it was Ominis made it all even more shocking. The other boy hadn't guessed it completely, Chris wasn’t exactly searching for an opportunity to die. But…

Had his life really had such a value per se? He had always been assured of the opposite. And it made putting himself in danger on a daily basis much easier than people who called him brave realised. But was he really brave? Was it bravery to risk his life in a desperate attempt to prove everyone that he was capable, that he was worthy? Was there something really important at stake? Apparently, it was for Ominis. 

Chris suddenly felt afraid of owning something so trifling for him but so valuable for someone else. He couldn't decide whether he hated this new information or cherished it, as it also brought this sudden warm feeling inside his chest. Isn't it something he was always so craving for?

"Oh.” Chris shook his head vigorously as he realised that he had been staring at Ominis with an unblinking gaze all this time. “Well then…I can't promise that we won't do something like this again but I promise to try and be…careful? And I'll try to make sure Sebastian does the same," Chris glanced at Sallow, who was already rolling his eyes. 

"Oh great, now I have two mother hens," Sebastian moaned.

Ominis kept silent. He realised of course that, no matter how he felt, it wouldn't refrain the other two from their…whatever they were doing. But hearing that Sebastian and Chris came within a hair's breadth of death again was unbearable, so he lost it. 

And now he couldn't believe his luck that the most hopeless of these two had actually listened to him and at least promised to be 'careful'. He wasn't sure if Chris really had this term in his vocabulary, but it was a start. Even if it meant that Mongrel would be more careful, purposely riding a dragon over a camp full of Ashwinders, poachers and goblins all together next time. Perhaps, over time, this could have a positive effect on Sebastian as well.

It was better than Ominis could have hoped for, bursting into this classroom fifteen minutes ago. 

"Thank you," he brought out without addressing anyone in particular and turned away, intending to leave the room. Or at least that was what Sebastian and Chris thought. 

"Depulso!" Ominis suddenly exclaimed once again. 

The other two reflected the spell perfectly this time. Ominis nodded, satisfied, and walked out. 

"Have you seen it?! Does he want me to get paranoid?" Sebastian didn't sound very indignant though. 

Chris teared his eyes away from the doorway, quickly grinned at Sebastian, and looked again to where Ominis had just stood. For some reason he couldn’t help but keep smiling broadly.

[ne-spivay-ranenko]

Jukebox January: Day 4, and 5, and 6... and 7... and 8 and 9 too...

the original post tag of all my posts

So, I fell victim to the classic "I got distracted and missed one day... so now I'll just do two the next day... but that's overwhelming so maybe I'll wait until the weekend... and then somehow now it's the 9th and I missed doing a whole bunch of days that I really had great songs for." So I'm doing it all now. At once. But in a smaller format: no links, and I'll only write paragraphs for the ones that I have a lot to say about. Then I can feel good about catching up!

On to D, E, F, G, H, I:

Demoni - Joker Out My soundtrack of 2023. The song that changed my year by making me fall in love with the music of five shagadelic Slovenians. The first Joker Out song I listened to when I wanted to check out more music from Eurovision artists, and I was hooked. Seriously, this song creates such an atmosphere that I had to listen to it over and over and over. I think it's that the beat kind of reminds me of a heartbeat? Like when you're alone and it's very quiet and all you can hear is your own heartbeat. Which does feel a bit like you're alone with your demons...

Democracy - Leonard Cohen Released in 1992, but sounds almost like it could have been written in 2020. I listened to this song a lot that year, and it captures America so well, all about the irony of the struggle for democracy in a country that's theoretically based on democracy. I could say a lot about this song, and maybe I'll come back to this later and write more, because every line has something I could say about the connections between 1992 and 2020.

Dear Dictator - Saint Motel All I have to say here: "It's not too late to say you're sorry, but it's too late to truly mean it" is one of my favorite lyrics ever, never have I heard it said so well, how I feel about people who have done unforgivable things.

Dzeguzes balss - Carnival Youth A cover of a song from a Latvian movie from several decades ago, and while I admit I don't know the whole context of the movie, the song's lyrics are so, so good. No matter what, the voice of the cuckoo can't be stopped: "Mēs to norakām bedrē, sirds stūrī/Bet, kad mazliet atlaidās sals/Tad kā naiva narcise izlīda/Dzeguzes balss!"

Dead Star - Muse

Do I Wanna Know? - Arctic Monkeys

DESTROYA - My Chemical Romance For one of my favorite lines ever: "with blood they wash in money", and for how much I love the overlapping vocal parts in the end.

Dear Jealousy - MIKA

Dīvainas Parādības - Embark I have to plug this band because I'm one degree of separation away from the ex-drummer. So, check them out!

Eternally Missed - Muse Too good of a song to be buried as a B-side forever, the guitar effects in this building up the tension are amazing, and the emotion just pouring from Matt's voice.

Eve of Agnes - XIXA and Imarhan

Eyes - Sudden Lights

Enjoy the Silence - Depeche Mode

Ero s onoga svijeta - Let 3 I always love crazy Eurovision acts because they almost always have a serious meaning buried underneath the music. When I got to learn about Let 3's long history of saying "fuck you" to fascism and the background of this song (taken from the most famous Croatian opera), that's what made me love them most of all.

Fifty Years After the Fair - Aimee Mann So, this is again a song of some really specific interest of mine, and this is from a time in my teens when I had a fascination with the 1939 World's Fair. And the song is all about how the fair was showing such a bright future and then--WW2 in Europe broke out while the fair was still going on. "How beautiful it was, tomorrow" is the line that breaks my heart every time.

Famous Last Words - My Chemical Romance

Fallout Shelter - Mike and Bernie Winters Another one of those Fallout-game-vibe songs that I love so much.

Figure It Out - Duncan Laurence I don't actually listen to Duncan much, but this one is important to me because it's the one that @sorrelink sends to me when I'm anxious about the future.

Friction - Imagine Dragons I know this band is much-maligned for making empty stomp-clap stadium music, but their second album is really, really good and has some incredible lyrics. This one in particular I remember listening to a lot in my last year of high school when I was feeling a lot of pressure to succeed and stressing about it.

Fitter Happier - Radiohead Less of a song and more of an interlude on the album. I just used to listen to OK Computer a lot in my teens and this is what I always think of with that album.

Gennifer Flowers - Fever Dolls

Give Me The Future - Bastille

God Knows I Tried - Lana Del Rey Another artist I don't listen to much anymore but who I listened to a lot in the past. To me she does satire of America amazingly, but at the same time doesn't seem self-aware of it, but it also might just be an act of her stage persona? Anyway, this song is a favorite of mine just for how this line makes me feel: "Put on that Hotel California, dance around like I'm insane/I feel free when I see no one and nobody knows my name"

Ghost Lights - Woodkid

Gladiator - Jann

Hysteria - Muse One of the best songs ever, and I know I'm biased because I love Muse, but: The legendary bassline. The way the guitar solo builds all this tension and then explodes out. "I'm not breaking down, I'm breaking out." 1000/10, if you don't know this song you need to.

Hooked on Radiation - Atomizer Sometimes Spotify gives you some random song from 2003 and it's really good?

Haemoglobin - Placebo

H.S. - Tom Cardy The most inspirational comedy song ever. Like, it's meant to be funny but it also makes me feel so much better about myself. Also it's about space.

Home - Dotan

In corpore sano - Konstrakta Every single time I look at the lyrics of this song (or someone's analysis of the song) I get more and more layers of meaning. This whole song is literally an art piece, she is so good at seeing social issues and writing about them in a way that packs so much into a 3 minute song. And as someone who has a lot of health related anxiety -- "a sick mind in a healthy body" is all too real of an experience for me.

Izbēgšana - Sudden Lights

I Appear Missing - Queens of the Stone Age

Istanbul (Not Constantinople) - They Might Be Giants Could not resist adding this. If you don't know it, you need to. Why did Constantinople get the works?

In the Year 2525 - Zager and Evans A classic in the "looking at the future from the 1960s" genre I love so much.

I Am Not a Robot - MARINA (Marina and the Diamonds) An important reminder to me, someone who struggles a lot with being a people-pleaser: better to be hated than loved for what I'm not.

[nikatyler]

𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟙

What a year this has been. All I can say is I hope we won’t be getting 2020 pt. 3. But now, let’s talk about what you’ve seen on this blog this year, shall we?

𝕛𝕒𝕟𝕦𝕒𝕣𝕪

Gen 6 came back after a long absence in 2020. We watched as Regan healed from her Isla Paradiso experience. Miracle was still alive at this point. Well, on the blog at least, she died in my game in early February. On her birthday, actually.

𝕗𝕖𝕓𝕣𝕦𝕒𝕣𝕪

February was totally Regan and Wynona’s month. And, not pictured here, but in ts4, I played a lot with the Paranormal stuff pack in my random gameplay save. I still have that save, I just don’t play it anymore, usually I just use it to try new outfits for my sims.

𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕔𝕙

February was her mothers’ month, March was Addie’s month. I’m surprised she was a child by the end of it. We had to say goodbye to the gen 5 couple (truly the end of an era). As for the other things I did here, outside of the legacy posts, I let Ross grow some facial hair, I tried making cc (and even released a simple edit of the vampire earring) and I was rebooting Ravens, but just in cas. I said this in the previous post but I’m not sure if Ravens will actually come back as a legacy. It’s fun to take pictures of them from time to time though.

𝕒𝕡𝕣𝕚𝕝

Not much was happening in April, I think I was just reposting gen 3 of NSB before starting Claudia’s gen. I played my random gameplay save a lot. Caleb is bi now, we talked about that in another post...oh, I celebrated five years of Roses! Well, celebrated is a strong word, but it’s just crazy to me that I’ve had one sims family for so long.

𝕞𝕒𝕪

Exciting stuff. I changed my username. To be fair, I never really vibed with Ronnie anyway, and even when I used it in a sentence, it was to mock myself. I genuinely liked shortening it to Ron though, I felt like that fit me. Much to think about. We’re not gonna unpack that though and we’re gonna stick to Nika, which really suits me the best.

Obviously, this was a grey gen month, Claudia moved to the city and the city was glitching out and it made me murder Brytani Cho, Vi my beloved was born, but my random gameplay save was fun too. Fun and also frustrating. This happened and then he went and had twins. And I don’t like them and it might be one of the reasons why I don’t really play that save anymore lol sorry.

OHHHH and at the end of the month, on May 28, I started my lepacy! Beginning of an era. I think that’s what really defined my 2021 on simblr, tbh. I have so much fun with this save.

𝕛𝕦𝕟𝕖

Vi grows up, Claudia’s evil clone steals her girlfriend, but that’s okay because then that leads to Claudia finding her one true love, and the weekends belong to the lepacy! I’m so glad that this is how I decided to post it. I hate having to wait for months to show you what I did in the game. I can’t talk about it, and then when I can and you’re excited about it, often time I’m not as excited anymore and it sucks. Also, doing it this way allowed me to announce a BC with the boys, which is really my simming highlight of this year. That was a fun week. And I still can’t believe I completed it in a week.

Anyway, June, pride month! I did a lot of pride posts that I’m still, well, proud of. They turned out really nice.

𝕛𝕦𝕝𝕪

Vi moves to Oasis Springs and has to say goodbye to his best friend, more goodbyes are said when Sunset and Dawn decide it’s time to go, and as for the lepacy, Clementine cheats on Duncan with daddy Goth. Yes we’re still calling him daddy Goth, fight me. This is also the month I played the BC and as I’ve said already, I had a blast.

𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕦𝕤𝕥

Claudia’s generation ends, but honestly, it ended a while back already, then Vi came and stole the spotlight. He was a teenage disaster, almost died in the jungle, but then he didn’t and had to take this terrible selfie. Anyway, the focus is shifting to the lepacy. After Vi, Ember takes over the blog.

𝕤𝕖𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣

...he takes over and then takes off to go on his adventures, steal treasures, fight mummies and find love! I loved it. I’ll repeat myself but World Adventures is a great pack. Vi returns for the weekends, and he reunites with a certain someone...and it kind of doesn’t always go well. Oh and in September, I slowly but surely started working on the gen 4 story, yes *the* story that I’ve been talking about for literal years. I haven’t worked on it since October, but we’re gonna blame uni for that, it’s not discontinued, I just don’t have time or energy.

𝕠𝕔𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣

We have another set of triplets! :) I’m in pain. Even though I love these guys a lot. I’m in pain once more because Vi is once again a disaster. And Roses (as in, the legacy) return for one last time. Some of my best 2021 posts are from October, I had so much fun doing all those Halloween prompts.

𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣

Honestly, these last two months, with a huge portion of October, are kind of a blur and feel like just one Very Long Month. Again, blame uni. I was probably at my worst this month and it shows because I can’t really say much about what was happening, the November part of the Very Long Month is the blurriest. Anyway, Ember’s adventures are over and it’s time for the BC! As for Roses, we kinda come full circle as the final heir meets the founder. I almost cried when that happened, it was so cute.

𝕕𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣

And we’re at the end! December was a bit kinder to me, but still, I don’t remember much, it’s all just anxiety and stress and wanting to yeet myself to another world. The BC continues. Roses come to an end. I take a lot of Christmas/winter themed pictures. I bought The Sims Medieval, 10/10 would recommend.

Sooo yeah, this year was quite something. It feels like a fever dream. I really hope the next one will be kinder to all of us. I wish you only the best things in 2022. But maybe we’ll all be happy, free, confused and lonely at the same time, and it’ll be miserable and magical and -- yeah I’ll stop.

Happy new year, everyone!

[soobasaur]

spent all my love on you

lee!felix x gender!neutral reader

warnings: since laser tag is in this fic theres mentions of shooting and guns, which is referring to the game where they shoot other players in order to gain points, nothing violent

a/n: hey look a felix au finally in your pov! i told you i’d do it hehe,, and if you remember when i accidentally posted this then no you don’t (⊃｡•́‿•̀｡)⊃ i’ll finish ur requests i swear ಠ_ಠ anyways enjoy!

« masterlist prev work »

for the longest time, your lifelong friend jisung had been bugging you to go to this arcade with him

you eventually said yes since you physically couldn’t say no to his puppy eyes and he took you there one weekend

he was practically bouncing the entire way, babbling about all the people you’d meet

turns out he came here every weekend to play laser tag with a couple of friends he made here

this was news to you, but you let jisung lead you to a pool table in the back where six boys were..attempting to play pool?

after several games of game pigeon pool you were an expert !! or at least more then what these guys were doing

the one with long hair was holding the billiard the wrong way (╥_╥)

you could hear the cheerful laughs coming from them as jisung tugged you beside him

“guys, this is y/n, the friend i mentioned! y/n these are the dumbasses i started hanging out with-,”

“if anything, you’re the dumbass!” the one holding the billiard upside down reprimanded, dropping the stick and making his way towards you both “i’m hyunjin, nice to meet you!”

“hi hyunjin—,”

“move out of the way! hi i’m jeongin!” a new boy appeared, shoving hyunjin away as he held his hand out

“oh, hello!”

one by one all the boys came up to introduce themseleves to you, well six of them at least, didn’t jisung say there were seven of them?

“where the hell is felix?” jisung asked, looking towards who you now knew as minho “is he doing the thing again?”

minho solemnly nodded before gesturing to the claw machine a couple feet away from them, and there stood a blond haired boy with his back faced to them as he aggressively tried to win what looked like a stuffed animal

jisung shook his head before gesturing for you to follow him

“is this a normal occurrence?” you asked as you both made your way to the boy

“yeah, last month is was the dance revolution game and this week it’s the claw machine-felix!”

said boy let go of the claw to turn and smile widely at the both of them “sungie! do you have a token i can use to try again? pleaseeee?”

jisung rolled his eyes as he tossed the boy a token before pointing to you

“this is y/n, they’re playing with us now.”

“oh,” felix turned his head to you, giving you a once over before winking “nice to meet you,” before rolling the token in “let me make my first impression winning a stuffed toy!”

“you’ve been at this forever, which one do you want?” jisung asked, waking closer to press his head against the glass

felix solemnly pointed to the chick plushie tucked into the corner, and you admit it was cute so you could see why he was trying so hard

“want me to try?” you asked, stepping closer as you looked over the machine

“go for it!” he smiled, moving out of your way to press himself against the glass next to jisung

you clicked start and took a hold of the joystick

you squinted your eyes and found the same plushie a bit closer, hidden behind another one and aimed for that instead

you heard gasps coming from where the two boys were standing as the claw grabbed the two plushies and dropped them into the box

and since you had some extra seconds left you managed to grab one more

“there you go!” you pulled out the plushies and handed felix the chick one and gave jisung the squirrel one, keeping the llama one for yourself

“wow we all match now!” jisung cheered

“thank you!” felix said, his eyes shining with glee as he looked at you, and you were this close to getting all the plushies out so he could always look this happy

“no problem-,”

“HEY LOSERS OUR GAME IS STARTING HURRY UP!” you heard minho interrupt, as he and the other boys disappeared behind some doors

you guys ran behind him, tucking the plushies away for later

there was another group of people with you and since the teams were randomized, your group got split up after getting the gear on

“prepare to lose!” hyunjin teased, sticking his tongue out at you, chan, seungmin, and jeongin (who were on the same team as you)

“shut up!” jeongin glared, holding up his laser gun and pretending to shoot the other

jisung joined in and started to play shoot you, while you feigned getting shot

before you could play shoot him back the lights went off and the gate opened, letting you guys inside as the game was about to start

you and your team each split up, making plans to shoot at least one member

your ignore the way your stomach fluttered at the thought of felix chasing after you but quickly shook those out of the way, you had to stay focused !

once the bell rang you were off, you hid behind the walls as you shot a couple of the other team’s players

you spotted a familiar pair of shoes and quickly went to go shoot jisung, who gave you a pout as you ran off giggling

you watched your score steadily go up as you got more and more people, and the adrenaline was getting to you, you were motivated to win this thing 〴⋋_⋌〵

you had only been shot a couple of times so you weren’t too worried about getting caught,

you were currently hiding in the corner where no one had found you yet as you shot anyone who ran past

you were just about to shoot a player on the opposing team when you felt a prescence behind you

quickly turning around you were met with felix giving you a sly grin as he backed you into the wall

“your cornered now y/n,” he whispered, pulling out the gun as he aimed it at your vest, “game over for you.”

you ignored the fast beating of your heart as he made his way closer, his free hand coming to make trace its way down your jaw

“you look really pretty under these lights,” he muttered, quirking an eyebrow up and he angled his face a bit closer “lucky i get to see you like this.”

you were too nervous to squeak out a thank you as felix closed the gap between the two of you, but just before he could come any closer you heard the familiar beep on your vest

you look down to see you’ve been shot and felix shooting you a sly grin, the little shit

“distracted by my charm?” he teased, his lips right beside your ear, “am i that handsome?”

you rolled your eyes as he backed away

“i’d love to stay but your vest is charging up so i’m gonna blast, bye sweetheart,” he blew you a kiss before running off

you huffed as you waiting for your vest to reset, following after the blonde boy as you did so

no way you were gonna let him get the last shot between the two of you

and maybe you wanted to be that close again to him...

after ducking behind a couple of pillars you finally spotted him crouching behind a wall as he shot one of your teammates

you let yourself grin in victory as you made your way behind him, making sure you weren’t seen, then aiming your gun at the back of his vest

you shot him and watched in glee as his vest gave out a beep and saw him look around for the culprit before spotting you giggling behind him

“you!” he smiled, geting up from his hiding place on the ground and wagging his gun at you

“you didn’t expect to get away with that, did you?” you laughed, backing away as he made his way closer to you and holding out your gun, “i’ll get you again!”

“cool down time is a minute,” he grinned, letting you back yourself up into the wall, “what do you wanna do with that one minute?”

you let your eyes wander off toward his lips,,but you swear it was cus he was talking!

not cus he looked extremely kissable

perhaps you stared too long cus he took notice and cupped your jaw

“mhm, ten seconds is enough,”

“enough for what—?”

you were shut up with his lips capturing yours, leading you for a bit before pulling back

“sorry babe but my time is up,” he winked before shooting you in the vest and running off

took you a few moment to realize what happened before you were chasing after him

“FELIX YOU MF”

when the game ended you and felix were tied to your immense surprise, while jisung was currently boasting about his first place

now that you were out of the dim lit laser tag room you could see felix in better light,

and god damn

you could see the swear glistening on his face from all the running and his unkempt hair from the humid room

you weren’t too sure if this was a one time thing or he actually wanted to try something with you

you were crossing your fingers it was the latter

you got ur answer soon enough when you felt a tap on your shoulder and an awkward felix made his appearance

it was endearing to see his confident side and nervous one all in one day

“do you maybe wanna, grab lunch after tomorrow? just me and you?”

you played along to being oblivious before you replied,

“lee felix...are you asking me out?”

his cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink before nodding at you

you gave him a smile before saying yes, the rest was history

bonus headcanons:

apparently jisung had a bet on which one of his friends you would end up dating, ro your surprised he had guessed it would be felix

ಠ_ಠ sometimes you forgot how well jisung knew you

you also found out he didn’t come every week just for laser tag, he also wanted to get close to a specific boy named changbin ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

which was endless teasing material for you

after the lunch date the next day, you both stopped by the arcade again and this time he managed to win you a little prize

since you both had just met one another a good majority of your dates were just you two chatting as you walked aimlessly, getting to know one another

and after about one month he invited you over to his place to cook dinner for you, which is where you shared your next kiss <3

thank you for reading ⁂

[couslie]

Alistair is not a ‘himbo’: discussion of the continuous mischaracterization of Alistair with disregard to his trauma.

Throughout the fandom, Alistair is seen as a ‘cheese-loving himbo,’ and his personality is narrowed down to these two factors. People often see him as stupid, to put it simply, and others see him as ‘annoying’ and ‘whiny’. However, Alistair is quite possibly one of the most in-depth and fleshed out character that BioWare has developed. He is not actually stupid, and he should not be labeled as ‘whiny’ or ‘annoying’ either. Under the cut is an in-depth perspective of Alistair, his trauma, and his personality. 

Disclaimer: this is not going to be a ‘callout’ post to the fandom in any way. It is simply a character analysis on Alistair and his coping mechanisms for his trauma and how it is often misperceived. Warning for length.

Firstly, what is a ‘himbo?’

A ‘himbo’ is described as “an attractive but stupid young man,” most commonly used in reference to Alistair in the Dragon Age fandom. While the jokes are funny, sometimes it is taken a little too far. I have seen many people truly believe that Alistair is dumb and incompetent, and honestly, at first I also believed so. Throughout Dragon Age Origins, numerous characters comment on Alistair’s intellect including himself. This is often misinterpreted that Alistair is indeed unintelligent since he says so himself, right? Not quite.

Trauma:

Anyone who has played Dragon Age Origins knows that Alistair is the secret bastard son of King Maric to a ‘serving-girl in Redcliffe’. Instead of being raised by King Maric, Alistair was hidden away with his half-brother’s uncle, Arl Eamon, in Redcliffe. Eventually, rumors floated around that Alistair was Arl Eamon’s son, a rumor that Arl Eamon’s wife believed. Consequently, Alistair was sent to a Chantry monastery to begin training as a Templar around the age of ten; ten years later being ‘saved’ by Warden Commander Duncan and conscripted into the Grey Wardens. This is the biggest subplot in DAO, and other than the Blight looming over Fereldan/Thedas, is a main point in DAO’s storyline. 

This alone sounds absolutely awful for a child to have to go through. But it gets much, much worse for Alistair. Traveling though Fereldan with Alistair and talking with him gets him to open up a little about what his childhood was like. Most of it is shrouded in humor; however, he lets some truth shine through.

From this we can confer that Alistair did not have an ideal childhood living with the Arl in Redcliffe. Especially since when the Arl would visit Denerim, Alistair would sleep with the hounds. Not only is it hinted that Alistair suffered child neglect, it is also hinted that he may have suffered verbal abuse. As Arl Eamon was one of the only people to know that Alistair was Maric’s bastard, the verbal abuse and belittlement most likely came from him. 

 Throughout Alistair’s life he felt uncared for, and was so ignored and neglected as a child that even grown up he feels invisible and unheard. 

So uncared for, that even the simple act of giving him a gift he acts as if he never had anyone ever give him anything (which is possible except for maybe a few times). 

Or, even just remembering that he mentioned something.

Or, even a simple compliment makes him feel unworthy.

No one would listen to him or what he wanted, and that is another main sub plot of DAO. Going to visit Goldanna, the player can choose whether or not to harden Alistair and basically tell him, “People only look out for themselves. It’s time you did, too.”

Alistair felt he was unloved, unwanted, and a general burden to his family (and especially felt this way after meeting Goldanna). The only person he felt may have loved him was his mother who he believed to be a serving-girl; a main reason he holds on to his mother’s amulet. She represents the only person in his life, up until Duncan, who he thought would have loved and be proud of him. 

Coping Mechanisms:

Now that Alistair’s trauma is laid-out, we can move on to how he copes with said trauma. Alistair uses humor as a defense mechanism to cope with his childhood traumas, and it is very common, especially self-deprecating and dark humor. According to G. Swaminath, “Freud postulated that humor [sic] works by means of two principal mechanisms, ‘condensation’ and ‘displacement’. Condensation entails an economy in thought and expression and conserves psychic energy, and displacement transfers this psychic energy arising from conflict or incongruity to a humorous anecdote, which brings relief. Freud believed that cultivating a sense of humor [sic] could help lift repressions (i.e. unconscious conflictual material) but could also be harmful, particularly in certain forms of sarcasm and irony, directed at the self.”

(source)

Most, if not all of Alistair’s humor, is directed at himself in a very self-deprecating manner. Whether to make the player feel better, to make himself seem unimportant, or because his self-esteem is truly that low.

For Alistair, appearing as an idiot was the easiest way to be under the radar. He never wanted to be King. He didn’t want people to treat him differently, either, for knowing that King Maric was his father. The best way to seem insignificant was to belittle himself and appear that he was an ‘idiotic nobody’.

On top of all this, the player can even callout Alistair for using humor as a defense mechanism and deflecting questions that he doesn’t really want to answer.

It’s not that Alistair is truly unintelligent or ‘whiny/annoying,’ he is using humor to cope and defend in the best way he knows how.

So, is Alistair actually intelligent?

Firstly, intelligence is hard to measure. One person’s definition of intelligence could vary wildly from another person’s. There’s also the perspective that intelligence can be categorized. For example, a person may be book-smart but not street-smart and vice-versa. Who is to say, however, that both are not equally as intelligent, but just in different categories? There is no basis for ‘intelligence.’ Everyone can be intelligent in their own way, and for Alistair, he is intelligent on history (specifically chantry), battle tactics, and knowing deception/people’s motives. 

(Alistair not being told what the dark ritual is for)

As @mahariel-theirin​ said: “Right from the start you can just tell Alistair is smart, and not just because of his wit. When the Warden asks him about the origin of darkspawn he says, “You want the Chantry version, or the truth?” When asked about the fight with the mage, he calls out the revered mother’s power play by using him as a messenger. Look at that insight. That awareness. And that’s just from the first 5 minutes of meeting him.”

End Notes:

Take out of this what you will. But Alistair is more of a ‘hunk’ than a ‘himbo,’ and shouldn’t be discredited. He was abused and neglected his whole life. I personally believe Alistair should be given more credit than he has been receiving, and BioWare for creating a character that is so in-depth and fleshed out they have deceived people in believing that Alistair is truly dumb. Which, ironically, is what Alistair wanted in-game. I am not in any way saying to quit joking about Alistair being a ‘himbo’ either! A lot of the jokes are quite funny. This was purely made out of the informational interest of some people not quite understanding Alistair’s character and truly believing he might be one of the most stupid people in Thedas (and potentially misunderstanding his humor/defense/coping mechanism as stupidity). If anything, Alistair is ‘himbo-passing’ at best.

Also, with special thanks to @planesofduality for their Dragon Age Compendium. It was tremendously useful, and I thank you for all the time and devotion you put in to it to make it possible. Many thanks! Also thanks to @sundogsandrainbows, @not-plaidweave​, and @irhinoceri​ for discussing this with me and encouraging me to make this meta.

[scapegrace74-blog]

Ginger Snap, Chapter 6

A/N  Well, here it is.  The last chapter of Ginger Snap.   As an unplanned fic inspired by a vanity license plate, I’m happy with how it turned out.   There will be a short epilogue posted in the next week or so.  In the meantime,  thank you so much for coming on this unexpected ride with me!   This chapter’s themed title is Fire in the Belly.

Previous chapters are best enjoyed on my AO3 page, because I have a bad habit of going back and editing them after they’ve been posted.

The next five months were some of the most difficult of my life.  

After our talk, Frank and I agreed that it would be best that we parted ways.  The Southside flat was close to the university, plus I’d never truly felt at home there, so it made sense for him to keep it.  Fortunately, we’d never combined our savings and I still had money tucked away from my time as a medical resident in Boston.

Geillis wanted me to move into her sprawling Murrayfield home, at least temporarily, but I knew that I needed a place of my own.  To stand on my own two feet, as it were.   Which was how I found myself moving my few belongings into a modest Morningside walk-up as the rest of Edinburgh celebrated Hogmanay with fireworks and drunken revelry.

I scheduled the written component of my medical licensing exam for February.  This was likely foolhardy, but I’d already wasted enough time.  As a result, almost every waking hour was dedicated to studying.  The flat remained an empty box whose naked beige walls bore witness to my rudimentary existence.

Geillis called regularly, reminding me to eat and to occasionally step outside for a breath of fresh air.  Returning up the high street from one of our weekly coffee dates, a bright flash in a shop window caught my eye.

I stopped and stared as the afternoon sun lit the vase like a shard of stained glass.  It was a profound shade of blue: the colour of a field of indigo, of the night sky in a Byzantine icon, of Jamie’s eyes when he laughed.  It sat on my windowsill, filled with the season’s first daffodils, as I pored over practice exams.

***

“Geillis, I passed!  I fucking passed!”  An elderly woman seated across from me on the bus muttered under her breath about vulgar Sassenachs, but I was too elated to care.

“Of course ye did, ye brilliant disaster.  Now I can brag tae the neighbours I have my own personal physician.”

“Not so fast, Duncan.  I still need to pass the clinical exam, and that’s no small thing.”  My gut twisted just thinking about it, but unlike the written exam, there was little I could do to prepare.  Either I knew how to perform as a doctor or I did not.  The long months since I’d last treated a patient loomed like a large shadow over that question.

“Och, yer bum’s oot the window Claire,” my friend dismissed blithely.  “Ye’re gonna do great.  When do ye head down tae yer homeland, then?”

“May first.”  The practical examination took place in Manchester and needed to be scheduled three months in advance.

“Sounds like ye’ve got some time on yer hands.  Whate’er are ye going tae do with yerself?” Geillis asked in a singsong voice.

Fortunately for me, spring was Edinburgh’s most pleasant season.  Its many gardens and laneways erupted in carpets of buds and blooms.  The air smelled fresh and green, like biting into a tart apple.  I took long walks and fell in love with the city I now called home.  There were secondhand bookstores to explore and a weekly craft market where I gradually amassed an assortment of items that made my flat feel like a home.  With each passing day, my existence felt more and more like a life; one I defined for myself.

I also started to explore my options for employment, hoping for a job offer from one of the city’s hospitals that was conditional upon my successful completion of the licensing process.  It was to that end that I found myself walking down the corridor of The Royal Edinburgh hospital after what I hoped had been a rather successful interview with the deputy director of surgery.

“Claire?”

I recognized her voice immediately.  Before turning around I closed my eyes and sent out a fervent appeal to the universe.

“Jenny, hi.  How are you?”

She looked just the same, her straight black hair such a contrast to her brother.  Next to her stood a man, but not the man I had conjured the moment I heard her voice.  I was unclear whether that meant my prayer had been answered or not.  Seeing my gaze stray, Jenny jumped to introductions.

“This is my husband, Ian.  We’re here fer treatment on his leg.”

“Nothing serious, I hope.”  

“Jes a fitting fer a new prosthetic.  Jenny keeps beatin’ me o’er the head with the old one, ye see.”  I laughed, instantly liking his easy-going manner, so in contrast with Jenny’s intensity.

“Ye must be the Claire I hear sae much about,” he went on, and I wondered what had been said about me in the Fraser household.

“Nothing bad, I hope.”

Ian smiled warmly.  “Only good things, I promise ye.”

“What brings ye tae the hospital, Claire?” Jenny interjected.

I explained how I was in the process of qualifying to practice medicine in Scotland, provided I could pass my exams.  Jenny and Ian were both delighted, congratulating me as though I’d already accomplished my goal.  As we spoke about Wee Jamie’s latest exploits and the ongoing growth of Ginger Snap, I couldn’t help notice that Jenny was staring at my hands.  At my left hand in particular.  Finally, I couldn’t resist temptation any longer.

“And, how is Jamie doing?”  I tried to sound casual, but I was certain my faltering voice betrayed me.

“Very well,” Jenny replied.  “Busy, as ye can imagine, but he thrives on chaos.”

I nodded, trying to be satisfied with the news that he was well.  It was the most I could hope for, really.  Jenny eyed me shrewdly before continuing.

“He’s a good man, my brother.  Any lass would be verra lucky tae have him.  I’d like tae see him settled, but he refuses tae be rushed.  Says the right woman is worth the wait.”  She paused before adding,  “I reckon ye ken wha’ he means.”

“Yes,” I breathed.  “I know exactly what he means.”

***

I took the overnight train from Edinburgh to Manchester.  It meant I was likely to arrive at the testing centre deprived of sleep, but I rationalized that most of my residency could be characterized as one long evaluation under similar conditions, and I hadn’t killed anyone yet.  Still, as the velvety darkness slipped by outside my window, studded by the lights of passing farms, my doubts got the better of me.

I texted Geillis, looking for moral support.  For once she didn’t reply immediately.  There was one other name on my laughably short list of contacts.  I deliberated for all of a minute, but the late hour and creeping panic made me impulsive.

Hello.

Best to start with something innocuous, rather than the slightly more revealing “I miss you.  I think about you every day.”  A reply bubble appeared immediately after I hit send.  At least I hadn’t woken him up.  A small tempest stirred in my gut.

Arsonist.  Hello.  How are you?

I tried to picture him.  Was he at home?  Working late?  Or, in a scenario that played out far too often in my mind, on a date?

I’m alright.  Well, to be honest, I feel like I’m going to puke and cry.  Not necessarily in that order.

Och, lass.  Do you need me to come over?

Damn it, this man.  I had done nothing to deserve his unswerving loyalty but mislead him and then disappear for months on end.  And yet here he was, willing to come to my aid on the flimsy pretext of a late night text.  Guilt and tenderness warred for possession of my heart.

That may prove a bit difficult, Jamie.  I’m on a train to England.

There was a long pause, and then a two letter reply.

Oh.

I realized at once that he’d leapt to the wrong conclusion: that I had left Edinburgh for good.  I rushed to correct the error.

I’m taking the second stage of my examination to practice as a NHS doctor tomorrow.   It’s all hands-on situations, and the licensing facility is in Manchester.

Arsonist, that’s wonderful news!  I’m so proud of you.

I blushed, then leaned my heated cheek against the chilled pane of glass.  It had been a rash impulse, but this conversation was exactly what I needed.  I wasn’t alone in this.  Geillis and Jamie were in my corner.

What has your stomach in a twist, then?

What if I’ve forgotten what to do?!  It’s been almost a year since I’ve so much as used a stethoscope, Jamie.  The exam is eighteen real-life situations and you’re given eight minutes to respond to each one.  Not a second longer.  I’m just...  what if I fail?

And there it was.  The kernel of fear that lived at the heart of everything I did.  What if I failed?   What if my best wasn’t good enough?

Claire, listen to me.  You’re a doctor, just as I am a chef.  It wouldn’t matter if I had not set foot in a kitchen in ten years, I would still remember how to cook, and I know that it’s the same for you.  I believe it with everything in me.

On some level, I knew that he was right.  But it still comforted me tremendously to hear it from someone I trusted.

Alright.  That helps.  I should let you get to bed.  Thank you for talking me off my ledge, Jamie.

Anytime, Arsonist.

As I got ready sign off, another text bubble appeared.

Oh, and Claire?  Don’t burn down their wee laboratory, okay? ;-)

I laughed out loud, muting my phone and reclining my seat.  Outside, the stars shone brightly, tiny fires in the firmament to guide me on my way.

***

It was a lovely late spring day, and the retractable doors to the fire station were open to the warm breeze.  I could hear Angus’ voice as he led a cooking demonstration for a group of young women; a bridal shower by the look of their ridiculous costumes.

“Mind the coriander, lass.  Tis a verra powerful aphrodisiac, ken?  I willna be held responsible if ye canna resist my considerable charms after ye eat yon soup.”

There was an outburst of giggles as I rounded the corner and entered the reception area.  Jenny was on the phone.  She halted mid-sentence when she saw me walk in.  I rubbed my hands down the front of my jeans, trying to stay calm.

“He’s in the storeroom, in the back,” Jenny prompted before I could even offer a greeting.  I smiled gratefully, relieved I didn’t have to make small talk.  I had only so much courage stored in reserve, and I didn’t want to use it all up before reaching my destination.

The storeroom was long and narrow, lit by a single naked bulb and girded with shelves.  Jamie stood with his broad back to the door, his curls absorbing the light like amber.  He had a clipboard in one hand, performing some kind of inventory.

“Jes how many lentils dae ye reckon we need, Janet?  There’s nine cans of them here already, and ye have us ordering ten more.”

I’d almost forgotten how much I loved his voice, the undulating grit and silk of it.  I had to remaster the art of speech before I could reply.

“It’s not Jenny.  It’s me.  Claire.”

He froze, and if it weren’t for the sudden rapid flow of his breath I would have assumed he hadn’t heard me.  My nerves got the better of me and I blurted out, “I like lentils.  You should listen to your sister.”

“Claire.”  More sigh than word.  He slowly turned.  It was when our eyes met that I knew nothing had changed for him.  It was still there, after all these months.  That look that told me I was the map to his journey, the focus to his vision, the reason to his why.  

Hopefully he could read that same certainty on my face.

“I passed my exams,” I began.  “I’m a doctor again.”

“Ye never stopped bein’ a doctor.  This jus’ makes it official.”

“I’m still a disaster in the kitchen,” I continued.  “Last week I ruined two saucepans.”

“Tha’s only a tragedy if ye dinna have someone willin’ tae cook fer ye,” he replied with a strange squinting motion I understood was meant to be a wink.

“I’m still learning who I am.  How to be true to the person on the inside,” I confessed.  This is what had kept me away for so long, worried that I would escape from Frank’s orbit just to be caught up in another.  Jamie never once expected my submission, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t offer it out of habit.

“I’ll let ye in on a secret.  Sae is everyone else,” he replied.

Without realizing it, we’d both been moving until we were crowded together amongst the dried herbs and canned goods.  My hand rested against the solid metronome of his heart.  Just one more confession to go.

“I burn for you in a way I’ve never burned for anything before.”

There.  It was said.  A thousand wings of rapture beat against the cage of my ribs, clamoring to break free.  Jamie carefully pushed a loose curl behind my ear before cupping my jaw.

“Wee arsonist.  Come, set my life on fire.”

[redrose-arrow]

Do you think Royal Ranger is not as good as his other books? I know a lot of people don't like Madelyn.

I honestly don’t think the Royal Ranger is a weak link in the series. I am aware that a lot of people don’t like Madelyn, and I think that’s fair and understandable, even if I don’t agree. I actually have another post up about that, so go check that out if you want to know more about why I like Madelyn and why I think many other fans do not!

In regards to the strength of the Royal Ranger itself - personally, it’s as high up there in my personal ranking as some of my other all time favourites. I’ll explain why in a bit.

For starters - I think a lot has to do with expectation management: we never would have gotten the stories we wanted. Romantic relationships - and even emotions, in some ways - don’t even reach the podium in terms of the series’ focus. I think, since I never really expected to read a book in which Will and Alyss’ relationship would be a focus, I also wasn’t that disappointed not to get that. More on that later.

Obviously, there’s the discourse surrounding Maddie. If you don’t like her, it’s already challenging to convince you to like her books. I have another long post about this, in case you’re curious :). In any case - I love her.

What I also loved was Will’s character development. Now, this is a tricky point, because I know a lot of fans do not approve of how Will’s depression was handled. Let me preface my own point by saying this: I understand. I understand that the harsh pull-back to reality is not something that works for everyone and I can understand that many fans would have liked to see something else. But here’s the thing: it works for some. It worked for a close friend of mine. It worked for me. Throughout the series, we always see Will as the hero. Even when he’s addicted to warmweed, he recovers from that quickly (ignoring the trauma is another point unrelated to this one). He almost dies - more than once - but he’s always quickly back on his feet. The Royal Ranger is the first (and so far only) book in the series that explores a different side of his character. His darker side. The side that’s hurting, that’s uncaring about anyone, least of all himself. The side that could kill him in more ways than one. The side that he needs to be saved from. Seeing that side of him shocked me, and I love the book for it. Especially to see his growth back to happiness. He laughs again, for the first time, but when he’s reminded of Gilan and Jenny’s relationship he’s sad and a little jealous. He has to physically restrain himself when he finds out he’s hunting Ruhl, but he’s also joking around with Maddie when they’re coming up with their plan. And then there’s the crying, and we read that the tears are for Alyss, finally, but they’re also for Maddie. And for him - most of all, for him. That growth was so relatable for me, that sentence so close to me, I loved it so much, I cannot help but love the entire book for it.

But. Alyss had to die. Believe me when I say that that was a shocker for me too. In my post about why I like Maddie I mentioned that I think many dislike Maddie because she’s Alyss’ replacement, and I want to include that here as well. Yes, Maddie’s pretty much a replacement for Alyss. And something in me hates it, to excuse a male author for killing off one female character to introduce another, and yet again, I cannot help but do so. In this book, Maddie has two roles: one, to be a female hero, and two, to help Will’s character development. There’s little for me to say about the first point, so let’s delve into the second. Given the fact that the Royal Ranger was initially the finale for the series as a whole, we can assume that Will’s character development (that I mentioned earlier), was the most important aspect of the book. So, his dark side needed to be brought out. If Halt would’ve died, Will would’ve been heartbroken and he might’ve gone a little crazy too, but his mentor was old, and so the impact would’ve been different. Halt getting murdered was just too unrealistic, which leaves a semi-natural death, and that’s just not interesting for this series to explore. (Not to mention that that would’ve truly made the fandom riot.) The death of Horace or Cassandra would’ve disrupted the Royal Family too much, and it would’ve required much more of a politics focus than the series likes to delve into. That leaves us with Alyss as the only viable, realistic, and simply useful character death. Yes, yes, YES, I would’ve loved for both Alyss and Will to mentor Maddie, I think she could’ve learned a lot from them together. But that situation wouldn’t have made good on Maddie’s second role. Add to this that a Will-and-Alyss relationship never would’ve been explored a lot anyhow, and her death can be seen in a different light. Hence, I don’t very much mind her being killed off as much as others (but I am still heartbroken about it). Especially since in the future books, Maddie has really come into her role as a character of her own, and since her second role then isn’t so important anymore, she doesn’t really feel as a replacement anymore.

Now that we’re on the topic of death, here’s a quick detour to Crowley’s. Yes, I would’ve loved to see more of Halt’s grieving, but again, that’s not something the series pays particular attention to in general. It would’ve been a little too Halt-focused book and honestly? Wouldn’t have really added something to the plot. So we have to make do with a short sentence that mentions Halt finding comfort in the fact that Crowley died happily. (Also, why do y’all want Crowley to have been murdered so bad?? The man was ancien, let him rest in peace after a natural death with a smile on his face.)

Then there’s the matter of Cassandra and Horace’s parenting. Again, something that not everyone approves of, and rightly so. Yeah, maybe disinheriting your daughter is not the way to go. I agree. I also think it’s a very interesting “mistake”, because it is something that happened in medieval times. Furthermore, Cassandra takes after her father and Horace admits to being a bit sexist. It’s interesting, especially when you see how much Horace and Cassandra grow as parents throughout the Royal Ranger books. Fairly, the fact that Horace and Cassandra admit to not being the best parents makes me readily excuse their actions, but I cannot help it (and, I have loads of headcanons about the Royal Family that make me love them more and more).

Another thing about the Royal Ranger that tends to be disliked is the “repetition” - by which I mean Will turning in Halt 2.0 (in more ways than one). Again, there’s a few reasons why I don’t mind, and even love it. One - why wouldn’t Will be like Halt? Everyone loves their father-son relationship, and there’s more than one son I’ve seen turn into their dad in real life. Two - Will’s confronted with acting like Halt by Jenny. He tells her he just tries to copy his mentor, and she shoots right back saying how much he always complained about that. Yes, Will’s a lot like Halt, but it’s fully backed up and admitted by the series - also when it’s said that Will was barely considered as Commandant because, like Halt, he tends to bend the rules a little too much, and again in Duel at Araluen, when Duncan expresses his faith in his granddaughter partially because Will’s her mentor and Halt was his. Third - I like the parallel between Halt and Will’s relation-/apprenticeship and the one between Will and Maddie. Again, it makes sense for Will to copy Halt in a lot of things (Gorlog knows I copied a bunch of my teachers when I was standing in front of a class). But here’s the thing - Will and Maddie already know each other. They’re close. They’re almost literally family. It’s a very interesting balance that I loved to see in the Royal Ranger 1, and again in book 4. I’m really hoping for it to be explored even further in book 5.

All in all, I really like the compromise of the Royal Ranger. We got another apprenticeship, without the repetition of Halt being the mentor. It’s in the future, so we get a glimpse into the later lives of our favourite characters, but the fact that there’s 15 years unaccounted for leaves enough to the imagination. We have a new main character, but the original characters play important and recognised roles. For me, that means the Royal Ranger is many of the things I love about the original series, but it’s also fresh and new and therefore a valuable addition. Getting back to a point I made earlier: it’s an addition to the series because it is a little different and a little the same. Again, if the series would’ve ended with the Lost Stories, that would’ve been perfect. But if it would’ve continued the way a lot of fans wanted it to (honestly me included, and again, a very understandable point) the series would’ve become extremely repetitive (something that it is risking now as well, I’ll admit, but it’s taken a few more books). So, to me, the Royal Ranger seems like a fair compromise between continuing the series and keeping it intact!

Again, a bit of a longer answer, sorry anon! Also, I want to stress again that no one forces you to love the Royal Ranger - least of all me. If you want to pretend none of that happened - be my guest (even I love doing that every now and then). But I hope to have shown you why I also celebrate its existence!

[notbecauseofvictories]

Hi Sarah! My friend and I are starting a bookclub (as much as you can with two people who aren't pressed for deadlines) and I was wondering if you have any recommendations? (That is if you have time to rec anything!) We're starting off with Deathless and have Fitzgerald next in line somewhere but I def want to try to expand the genres we read and tbh from years of following you, I trust your judgement

I don’t...like giving recommendations? At least not directly, it seems like too much opportunity for getting it wrong. Everybody has their own tastes, after all, and even the best of friends don’t necessarily vibe with what you vibe with. (I’ve experienced this with multiple friends, so I know what I’m talking about.) Truly, one of the reasons that my whole “I’m going to get back into reading for pleasure!” push has been so successful is that I only bother with books that interest me, and stop reading when they fail to catch my attention.

But I’ve now read at least 60 books in 2020, which is approximately 60 more than I’ve read in the years prior, so I’m happy to share that. Below is my list of recent reads, beginning to end, along with a very short review---I keep this list in the notes app on my phone, so they have to be. Where I’ve talked about a book in a post, I’ve tried to link to it. 

Peruse, and if something catches your interest I hope you enjoy!

2020 Reading List

Crazy Rich Asians series, Kevin Kwan (here)

Blackwater, Michael McDowell (here; pulpy horror and southern gothic in one novel; come for the monster but stay for the family drama.)

Fire and Hemlock, Diane Wynne Jones (here; weird and thoughtful, in ways I’m still thinking about)

The Secret History, Donna Tartt

Gone Girl, Gillian Flynn (here; loved it! I can see why people glommed onto it)

Swamplandia!, Karen Russell (unfinished, I could not get past the first paragraph; just....no.)

Rules of Scoundrels series, Sarah MacLean (an enjoyable romp through classic romancelandia, though if you read through 4 back to back you realize that MacLean really only writes 1 type of relationship and 1 type of sexual encounter, though I do appreciate insisting that the hero go down first.)

The Bear and the Nightingale, Katherine Arden (here)

Dread Nation, Justine Ireland (great, put it with Stealing Thunder in terms of fun YA fantasy that makes everything less white and Eurocentric)

The Haunting of Hill House, Shirley Jackson (VERY good. haunting good.)

Tell My Horse, Zora Neale Hurston (I read an interesting critique of Hurston that said she stripped a lot of the radicalism out of black stories - these might be an example, or counterexample. I haven't decided yet.)

The Rose MacGregor Drinking and Admiration Society, T. Kingfisher (fun!)

St. Lucy’s Home for Girls Raised by Wolves, Karen Russell (some of these short stories are wonderful; however, Swamplandia's inspiration is still unreadable, which is wild.)

17776, Jon Bois (made me cry. deeply human. A triumph of internet storytelling)

The Girl with All the Gifts, M. R. Carey (deeply enjoyable. the ending is a bittersweet kick in the teeth, and I really enjoyed the adults' relationships)

The Door in the Hedge and Other Stories, Robin McKinley (enjoyable, but never really resolved into anything.)

The Hero and the Crown, Robin McKinley (fun, but feels very early fantasy - or maybe I've just read too many of the subsequent knock-offs.)

Mrs. Caliban, Rachel Ingalls (weird little pulp novel.)

All Systems Red, Martha Wells (enjoyable, but I don't get the hype. won't be looking into the series unless opportunity arises.)

A People's History of Chicago, Kevin Coval (made me cry. bought a copy. am still thinking about it.)

The Sol Majestic, Ferrett Steinmetz (charming, a sf novel mostly about fine dining)

House in the Cerulean Sea, TJ Klune (immensely enjoyable read, for all it feels like fic with the serial numbers filed off)

The Au Pair, Emma Rous (not bad, but felt like it wanted to be more than it is)

The Night Tiger, Yangsze Choo (preferred this to Ghost Bride; I enjoy a well-crafted mystery novel and this delivered)

The Left Hand of Darkness, Ursula Le Guin (unfinished, I cannot fucking get into Le Guin and should really stop trying)

The Ghost Bride, Yangsze Choo (enjoyable, but not nearly as fun as Ghost Bride - the romance felt very disjointed, and could have used another round of editing)

Temptation's Darling, Johanna Lindsey (pure, unadulterated id in a romance novel, complete with a girl dressing as a boy to avoid detection)

Social Creature, Tara Isabella Burton (a strange, dark psychological portrait; really made a mark even though I can't quite put my finger on why)

The Girl on the Train, Paula Hawkins (slow at first, but picks up halfway through and builds nicely; a whiff of Gone Girl with the staggered perspectives building together)

Stealing Thunder, Alina Boyden (fun Tortall vibes, but set in Mughal India)

The Traitor Baru Cormorant; The Monster Baru Commorant, The Tyrant Baru Cormorant, Seth Dickinson (LOVE this, so much misery, terrible, ecstatic; more here)

This Is How You Lose the Time War, Amal El-Mohtar, Max Gladstone (epistolary love poetry, vicious and lovely; more here)

The Elementals, Michael McDowell

Gideon the Ninth, Tamsyn Muir (didn't like this one as much as I thought I would; narrator's contemporary voice was so jarring against the stylized world and action sequences read like the novelization for a video game; more here)

Finna, Nino Cipri (a fun little romp through interdimensional Ikea, if on the lighter side)

Magic for Liars, Sarah Gailey (engrossing, even if I could see every plot twist coming from a mile away)

Desdemona and the Deep, C. S. E. Cooney (enjoyed the weirdness & the fae bits, but very light fare)

A Blink of the Screen, Terry Pratchett (admittedly just read this for the Discworld bits)

A Memory Called Empire, Arkady Martine (not as good about politics and colonialism as Baru, but still a powerful book about The Empire, and EXTREMELY cool worldbuilding that manages to be wholly alien and yet never heavily expositional)

Blackfish City, Sam J. Miller (see my post)

Last Werewolf, Glen Duncan (didn't finish, got to to first explicit sex scene and couldn't get any further)

Prosper's Demon, KJ Parker (didn't work for me...felt like a short story that wanted to be fleshed out into a novel)

The Secret Garden, Frances Hodgson Burnett

His Majesty's Dragon, Naomi Novik (extremely fun, even for a reader who doesn't much like Napoleonic stories)

Three Parts Dead, Max Gladstone (fun romp - hard to believe that this is the same author as Time War though you can see glimmers of it in the imagery here)

A Scot in the Dark, Sarah MacLean (palette cleanser, she does write a good romance novel even it's basically the same romance novel over and over)

The Resurrectionist, E. B. Hudspeth (borrowed it on a whim one night, kept feeling like there was something I was supposed to /get/ about it, but never did - though I liked the Mutter Museum parallels)

Stories of Your Life and Others, Ted Chiang (he's a better ideas guy than a writer, though Hell Is The Absence of God made my skin prickle all over)

Gods of Jade and Shadow, Silvia Moreno-Garcia (fun, very much a throwback to my YA days of fairytale retellings, though obviously less European)

Four Roads Cross, Max Gladstone (it turns out I was a LOT more fond of Tara than I initially realized - plus this book had a good Pratchett-esque pacing and reliance on characterization)

Get in Trouble, Kelly Link (reading this after the Chiang was instructive - Link is such a better storyteller, better at prioritizing the human over the concept)

Gods Behaving Badly, Marie Phillips

Soulless; Changeless; Blameless, all by Gail Carriger (this series is basically a romance novel with some fantasy plot thrown in for fun; extremely charming and funny)

Black Leopard, Red Wolf, Marlon James (got about 1/3 of the way through and had to wave the white flag; will try again because I like the plot and the worldbuilding; the tone is just so hard to get through)

Pew, Catherine Lacey (a strange book, I'm still thinking about it; a good Southern book, though)

Nuremberg Diary, GM Gilbert (it took me two months to finish, and was worth it)

River of Teeth, Sarah Gailey (I wanted to like this one a lot more than I actually did; would have made a terrific movie but ultimately was not a great novel. Preferred Magic for Liars.)

Mexican Gothic, Silvia Moreno-Garcia (extremely fun, though more trippy than Gods and the plot didn't work as well for me - though it was very original)

The New Voices of Fantasy, Peter S. Beagle (collected anthology, with some favorites I've read before Ursula Vernon's "Jackalope Wives", "Hungry Daughters of Starving Mothers" "The Husband Stitch"; others that were great new finds "Selkie Stories are for Losers" from Sofia Satamar and "A Kiss With Teeth" from Max Gladstone and "The Philosophers" from Adam Ehrlich Sachs)

[karls-writing-space]

『 Backstory 』

➵ Any TWs? :

➵ Subtle Mentions of Transphobia.

➵ Beau Romano - his deadname being Bianca - was born a year after his older sister, Faye. He lived with his semi-wealthy parents, Camilia and Dylan Romano in Manitoba.

When he was in second grade, Beau began to have a big sprout of creativity. He had drawn pictures of people and anthropomorphic animals, and create small little tales about these people/animals he has drawn. He Drew more and more of these as time slowly passed, and he enjoyed telling stories about these drawings. This had grown into a hobby, and something he enjoyed thoroughly.

His older sister came out when she was nine that she felt like a girl and that she was attracted to girls. Now, their parents are very accepting people and proceeded to assist and support Faye - who was formerly known as Lovino - get what she needed to transition.

Beau happily cheered on his big sister on, supporting her and showering her with love. He celebrated her transitions and her relationships happily, happy that he had such a prideful older sister.

By the time Beau was ten, he had begun to experiment with his sexuality by feeling some weird way towards a guy in music class. He talked with this guy more and more, and these feelings continued to grow.

After a couple of weeks, he felt the same way towards a girl in music class too. The feeling for the boy stayed, but now he had feelings for a boy and a girl.

One day, while walking to school with his mom, he heard two girls behind him talking about the people they liked. One of the girls had said that she was Bisexual, to which little Beau tugged on his mother's sleeve and asked what "Bisexual" meant. The woman explained that it was when someone liked two or more genders.

Beau put that into thought, and not even a minute later, he exclaimed "I'm Bisexual!"

His mom smiles and ruffled her son's - then daughter's - head. While Beau was still a kid, and she thought that Beau didn't know what he was talking about, the boy knew exactly what he was talking about.

Those feelings of the boy and girl faded over time. When Beau was twelve, he had fallen for another person. There had been this really cute girl in class who enjoyed drawing, and boy, what a talented artist she is.

Slowly, but surely, Beau began to fall in love with this girl, and spent time with her. Months went by, and the two had fallen in love.

The girl had confessed to Beau, which he accepted.

These two were a great, healthy Lesbian couple at the time. They were both very happy and loving. Beau had welcomed his girlfriend into the family, to which they welcomed with open arms.

The relationship lasted for two years until they fell out of love. The spark was gone. Their breakup wasn't nasty - they awkwardly stated that they lost that romantic spark on both sides. Beau had turned thirteen at the time. Beau and his ex-lover are on good terms to this day.

Once puberty hit, Beau looked at the body he had at the moment. He didn't quite fit with how it was. It made him feel like he didn't fit in a girl's body. He wanted to cut off his developing melons. So, he decided to talk to Faye later that evening, whom had fully transitioned. She was a beautiful woman. As he talked to her about what had been up, Faye stated that Beau could be Transgender, and even gave him a few articles on Gender Dysphoria.

Weeks of looking into gender identities later, Beau took the label "Trans Male" and used it to describe himself. With encouragement from Faye, he came out to his parents, who accepted him. He didn't want to transition as quickly as Faye, and wanted to take it slow. Testosterone and binding first.

As he grew older, Beau got bullied for being a Transgender Bisexual man. He was experiencing Transphobia from a few of his fellow peers. He knew that not everyone would accept him for being who he was, but this hurt quite a bit. Being bullied for this wasn't fair - he had every right to express himself! - but nooo, people were idiots.

His love for writing had grown more and more over the years. He began to write little stories that he presented in school and posted online. People loved his little stories. Whether they were fanfiction or characters and universes he had created in his head, they received a lot of positive feedback. Sure, there were haters, bullies, trolls, and rude people in general, but Beau didn't pay attention to them too much.

Beau had gotten top surgery when he was fifteen. He had been on testosterone for a year, and he had been binding for that time being. He loved his new, flat chest. Sure, he would have a scar on his chest from the surgery, but it didn't really bother him. He was happy that his tibbies were deleted. Now he could feel like a guy somewhat.

During the time passed from fourteen and fifteen years old, Beau had been watching a show known as "Total Drama" with Faye. The show was appealing to the young teen. The risky challenges were entertaining, most of the cast was likable, and it was really entertaining for the young boy. He'd talk about joining the show every now and then and would think about what his label or cliche would be on the show.

Timeskip to now, Beau and Faye are sixteen and seventeen respectively. After watching an ad to audition for the next season of Total Drama, Faye looked over at her little brother.

"Hey... You should audition to be on there!"

Beau, liking the idea, auditioned for the show. Once his audition was seen, Beau was invited to be on a season of Total Drama.

『 Voice Claim 』

『 Miscellaneous Facts』

➵ Theme Song

➵ Quotes

"O-Oh, hello...!"

"I'm Beau. It's nice to meet you!"

"It's too people-y in there. I-I'd like to stay right here."

"He's... Kinda pretty."

"Are you lonely? I could hang out with you if you'd like."

"I-It's not a diary! It's just a journal that I put my writing and ideas in."

"Sorry, I'd rather be by myself. I-It's nothing personal -- I j-just don't like large groups of people."

"Sorry... I'm rambling again, aren't I? Sorry about that..."

"He's a... He's a man. And I'm just a boy."

"Ciao, bello..!" (Hello, handsome..!)

"Aren't you guys a little too old for a bedtime story?"

"Fine, fine. Once upon a time, there were a few guys on an island who needed to go the fuck to sleep. G'night, guys."

"What do you mean that 'isn't a good bedtime story? I think it's a brilliant story."

"Fine... There was once this God named Fóllame de lado-"

"Hey - do you wanna fuck around with the others?"

"H-Hey! I apologize for interrupting what you were doing, but... I'd like to confess something if that's o-okay? Look, I'll cut to the chase. I... love you, dude. And not in some bromance way. Like... I have romantic feelings for you. I love you so much I could scream it to the world..! I hope you f-feel the same way. And if you don't? That's p-perfectly fine."

"Good morning, mio amore."

"Sorry, but could you like, shut up for five seconds? Thanks..."

➵ Ship Names (OC X Crush or OC X OC)

Duncan x Beau = BeauDun/ BeauCan

DJ x Beau = BJ / BeauJ

Alejandro x Beau = AleBeau

Mike x Beau = Meau/Bike

Lightning x Beau = Blightning/BeauLight

Topher x Beau = Beaupher / Beaupher

Shawn x Beau = Sheau / Bawn

➵ Random Facts

• If they're comfortable, Beau calls his male friends "Bello" (Handsome), and his female friends "Bella" (Beautiful).

For Nonbinary folk, it depends on what they prefer.

•Beau has learned how to play the ukelele from Faye.

•He would actually like to go windsurfing sometime!

• Speaking of his sister, she's a well-known acrobat/performer for her age. He admires her for being so talented in such a thing..

• His sister is an extrovert, and more outgoing than Beau. The two are opposites,,but yknow, opposites attract!

•Beau prefers to write stories that are/include horror, action, and supernatural/fantasy. He can write romantic stories, but he doesn't prefer writing things like that.

•He has written some shitty fanfictions when he was younger. He will share them among his friends and laugh at what he wrote.

•The languages he speaks are:

• English

•Italian

• (Some) Spanish. [Italian and Spanish are similar language-wise in a few ways. That, and Beau just wanted to learn Spanish.]

• Respectful boi when it comes to Pronouns, Names, People's likes and dislikes, etc.

•Beau has some family members that live in Italy. He has gone to Italy to visit them numerous times.

• Beau doesn't believe in soulmates. He thinks that it's just some fairytale thing that people believe in. He wants to love someone on his own accord - not someone who the universe was like "Oh, let's put these people together.".

♫♪.ılılıll|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|̲̅̅=̲̅̅|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|llılılı.♫♪

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

[agentrouka-blog]

ASOIAF - Food symbolism: apples and Jon “You have to choose.”

Inspired by this amazing post by @thoughtsandgrumbles I felt compelled to look at apples a little. 

Apples are a deeply symbolic fruit on a good day, but I’m not going to go too deeply into the general use, because who has time for that? I’m looking at the text itself. This post will be all about apples in Jon’s chapters, once I get the preliminary rambles out of the way.

Warning: LONG. Many quotes.

Just a few things: 

Popularly associated with temptation and the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil in the garden of eden, the realization of being nekkid, the Expulsion of Adam and Eve from paradise as a result. (That would botanically not have been an apple, though.)

The apple “to the fairest” handed out by Eris, godess of discord, for Paris to choose among the three godesses Hera, Athena and Aphrodite, ultimately leading to the Trojan War, which GRRM heavily draws from.

Snow White and the poison apple

Sansa is the name of a variety of apple that was developed in the 1970s, an early ripening mix of Gala and Akane.

Just by the general use, we get a theme of choice and destruction. Also Sansa is an apple. But - spoiler alert - that is NOT very central in Jon’s chapters. YET.

Also, some boring numbers, because this is not as easy a fruit as the persimmon to parse for the sheer amount of them:

Apples in general have 155 mentions in all searchable publications, 135 in the novels directly, 22 in Jon chapters. Only 9 of all the novel-mentions concern House Fossoway, 11 in the other literature. 

Top chapter uses: 

AFFC, Prologue - 14: Oldtown, Quill and Tankard inn backyard. Alleras shoots them with bow and arrow while the acolyte nerd squad discusses Dany and her dragon rumors. "Where's Rosey? Our rightful queen deserves another round of cider, wouldn't you say?" The apples are withered and wormy, the cider is fearsomely strong. Pate agonizes over his betrayal and theft for his creepy, obsessive love. His choice is “love”. Then he is killed. Complex.

ADWD, Jon V - 11: Jon passes out food and asks the wildlings at Mole’s Town to choose if they want to fight for the NW or not. Apples and onions, you have to choose. The apples are withered.

ADWD, Davos II - 7: Getting information about Manderly from an apple seller in White Harbor. Bad apple, good information. Theme in WH: who are you truly loyal to? The apple is dry and mealy, “bad”. Apples and onions, again.

ASOS, Bran III - 5, and ASOS, Jon V - 3: (8 combined) Rotten apples carpet the ground near an abandoned Queenscrown inn. They provide the background for Jon’s break with the Wildling Undercover Operation and flight back to the Watch. Theme: the abandonment of the Gift, the decline of the Watch, the Dream of Spring and Jon really doesn’t even really pretend to want a future with Ygritte. He chooses. The apples are rotten. 

POV uses: Jon 22, Arya 18, Prologue AFFC 14, Sansa 13, Davos 8, Jaime 8, Bran 8, Tyrion 8, Brienne 6, Catelyn 6, Dany 5, Eddard 5, Cersei 3, Theon 3, Samwell 2 JonCon 1, Asha 1, Quentyn 1, Arianne 1, Areo Hotah 1, Prologue ADWD: 1.

Jon is not only the single top POV character to feature the apple, he also has two of the top-use chapters that give the apple significance in setting the background. The apple is very closely tied to Jon. 

A short note on the  red apple Fossoways (Cider Hall) and the green apple Fossoways (New Barrel): 

The branches split at the trial of seven at the Tourney at Ashford (of the Ashford Theory), where the red apple fought for the bad guys (Aerion Targaryen) and the green apple for Ser Duncan the Tall.

Both had the red apple of the Fossoways painted on their shields, but the younger man's was soon hacked and chipped to pieces. "Here's an apple that's not ripe yet," the older said as he slammed the other's helm. (…)

"Ser Raymun, if you please." He cantered up, a grim smile lighting his face beneath his plumed helm. "My pardons, ser. I needed to make a small change to my sigil, lest I be mistaken for my dishonorable cousin." He showed them all his shield. The polished golden field remained the same, and the Fossoway apple, but this apple was green instead of red. "I fear I am still not ripe . . . but better green than wormy, eh?" 

(The Hedge Knight)

Again with the split of loyalty, with the following your moral code, with the choices. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So how do apples feature for Jon himself?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Apples are connected to Jon’s struggle of loyalty to the Night’s Watch, and with his inner struggle in general. Every time they show up, he is confronted with a choice of who to stay loyal to, what values to follow. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

First apple: AGOT, Jon IX. 

Jon’s final chapter in the book. Big Drama!

Jon eats a brown, withered apple when he tries to flee the NW the first time. He is heading South because his father has been killed and he wants to join Robb. He is plagued by self-doubt and fear. Then he takes a break to eat. 

In his saddlebag, he found a biscuit, a piece of cheese, and a small withered brown apple. (...) He kept the apple for last. It had gone a little soft, but the flesh was still tart and juicy. He was down to the core when he heard the sounds: horses, and from the north.

Straight after, he is caught and prodded back in an incredibly moving, nonviolent confrontation by his new Brothers reciting the NW vows. 

"… and all the nights to come," finished Pyp. He reached over for Jon's reins. "So here are your choices. Kill me, or come back with me."

Jon lifted his sword … and lowered it, helpless. "Damn you," he said. "Damn you all." 

In his mind, Jon is determined to try and escape again, but the next day, Mormont lets him know they knew what happened. 

Jon’s throat was dry. “You know?” “Know,” the raven echoed from Mormont’s shoulder. “Know.” The Old Bear snorted. “Do you think they chose me Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch because I’m dumb as a stump, Snow? Aemon told me you’d go. I told him you’d be back. I know my men … and my boys too. Honor set you on the kingsroad … and honor brought you back.” “My friends brought me back,” Jon said. “Did I say it was your honor?” Mormont inspected his plate.

Jon thinks he’ll be executed. Instead, he will be taken along to the great ranging beyond the Wall. 

“So I will have an answer from you, Lord Snow, and I will have it now. Are you a brother of the Night’s Watch … or only a bastard boy who wants to play at war?” Jon Snow straightened himself and took a long deep breath. Forgive me, Father. Robb, Arya, Bran … forgive me, I cannot help you. He has the truth of it. This is my place. “I am … yours, my lord. Your man. I swear it. I will not run again.” The Old Bear snorted. “Good. Now go put on your sword.”

Apple = choice. The choice is the Watch. Because the war against the Others is more important. 

Apple Quality: Brown and whithered. But still tart and juicy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Second apple: ACOK, Jon I

A former green apple (the valiantly knightly Fossoway kind) is to be dispatched from the Wall to garner support from a Baratheon king... 

"Renly is not like to heed a quaking fat boy. I'll send Ser Arnell. He's a deal steadier, and his mother was one of the green-apple Fossoways."

"If it please my lord, what would you have of King Renly?"

The conversation turns toward maester Aemon, his repeated refusal to become king and the incredibly foreshadowy information about the ending of the dragon line. 

It made him feel odd. “My lord, why have you told me this, about Maester Aemon?” “Must I have a reason?” Mormont shifted in his seat, frowning. “Your brother Robb has been crowned King in the North. You and Aemon have that in common. A king for a brother.” “And this too,” said Jon. “A vow.” (…)

Jon drew himself up, taut as a bowstring. “And if it did trouble me, what might I do, bastard as I am?” “What will you do?” Mormont asked. “Bastard as you are?” “Be troubled,” said Jon, “and keep my vows.”

Apple = choice. The choice is the Watch. The bigger picture is more important.

Apple Quality: green and unripe. (But honorable.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Third apple: ACOK, Jon VII

Jon and the Qhorin Halfhand crew are on the losing side of a game of cat and mouse with the warg-powered wildlings. Squire Dalbridge is about to sacrifice his life by going to shoot the Wildlings that are stalking them. 

The squire bowed his head. "Leave me as many arrows as you can spare, brothers." He stroked his longbow. "And see my garron has an apple when you're home. He's earned it, poor beastie."

He's staying to die, Jon realized.  

And that’s almost right at the end of the chapter. This is the only apple chapter where Jon is NOT immediately confronted with a moral dilemma of loyalty or the making of choices. And Dalbridge’s self-sacrifice, his off-page death, all of that means it’s a more long-term projection of the dilemma. 

The next, final chapter, Jon and Qhorin Halfhand are captured and he is compelled to kill Qhorin to prove himself a turncloak to the Wildlings, in order to start his Undercover Operation. 

The flames were burning low by then, the warmth fading. “The fire will soon go out,” Qhorin said, “but if the Wall should ever fall, all the fires will go out.” There was nothing Jon could say to that. He nodded. “We may escape them yet,” the ranger said. “Or not.” “I’m not afraid to die.” It was only half a lie. “It may not be so easy as that, Jon.” He did not understand. “What do you mean?” 

(…)

Rattleshirt’s bone armor clattered loudly as he laughed. “Then kill the Halfhand, bastard.” “As if he could,” said Qhorin. “Turn, Snow, and die.” And then Qhorin’s sword was coming at him and somehow Longclaw leapt upward to block. The force of impact almost knocked the bastard blade from Jon’s hand, and sent him staggering backward. You must not balk, whatever is asked of you. 

(…)

He knew, he thought numbly. He knew what they would ask of me. He thought of Samwell Tarly then, of Grenn and Dolorous Edd, of Pyp and Toad back at Castle Black. Had he lost them all, as he had lost Bran and Rickon and Robb? Who was he now? What was he?

“Get him up.” Rough hands dragged him to his feet. Jon did not resist. “Do you have a name?” Ygritte answered for him. “His name is Jon Snow. He is Eddard Stark’s blood, of Winterfell.”

(ACOK, Jon VIII)

Ouch. From this point on, Jon will have to make his own choices, no longer guided by other people’s rules, other people’s honor. The choices will be harder, lonelier. They will be contradictory, they will involve even more tangible loss. They will involve dishonor. The reward is as distant as home. Sacrifice. Death.

But one day, the poor beastie will get an apple, he will have earned it. 

Apple = choice. The choice is the Watch. The bigger picture.

Apple quality: unknown. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fourth apple: ASOS, Jon I

As inconspicuously as above, the apple features in a memory of home, featuring not-yet-deserter Mance Rayder at Winterfell, meeting Robb and Jon up to shennanigans:

“I remember,” said Jon with a startled laugh. A young black brother on the wallwalk, yes … “You swore not to tell.”

"And kept my vow. That one, at least."

"We dumped the snow on Fat Tom. He was Father's slowest guardsman." Tom had chased them around the yard afterward, until all three were red as autumn apples. "But you said you saw me twice. When was the other time?"

"When King Robert came to Winterfell to make your father Hand," the King-beyond-the-Wall said lightly. (ASOS, Jon I)

A neat connection between desertion, vow-keeping and the events that led Jon to take his own path to the Wall. Before Meeting Mance, Ygritte has been praising the values of being “free” like the good Little Wildling Propagandist that she is. But Jon isn’t biting yet.

The following conversation gives the backstory of Mance Rayder’s desertion from the Wall. It was over a cloak, mended by a Wildling woman who tended to him while he was injured.

“And she sewed up the rents in my cloak as well, with some scarlet silk from Asshai that her grandmother had pulled from the wreck of a cog washed up on the Frozen Shore. It was the greatest treasure she had, and her gift to me.” He swept the cloak back over his shoulders. “But at the Shadow Tower, I was given a new wool cloak from stores, black and black, and trimmed with black, to go with my black breeches and black boots, my black doublet and black mail. The new cloak had no frays nor rips nor tears … and most of all, no red. The men of the Night’s Watch dressed in black, Ser Denys Mallister reminded me sternly, as if I had forgotten. My old cloak was fit for burning now, he said. “I left the next morning … for a place where a kiss was not a crime, and a man could wear any cloak he chose.” He closed the clasp and sat back down again. “And you, Jon Snow?”

Jon uses Mance’s story of visiting Winterfell to spin his own lie:

“And did you see where I was seated, Mance?” He leaned forward. “Did you see where they put the bastard?” Mance Rayder looked at Jon’s face for a long moment. “I think we had best find you a new cloak,” the king said, holding out his hand. 

What will the bastard do? Be troubled and keep his vows. So far, so true. But he did kill Qhorin Halfhand, he is pretending to be a deserter. Lines are a lot more blurry than they used to be.

Apple = choice. The choice is… the Night’s Watch. Shifting more and more toward simply the bigger picture. 

Apple quality: red autumn apple. 

Red silk patches. Conflicting values. Women. There is uncertainty on the horizon. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fifth apple. ASOS Jon V.  BIG apple chapter.

His final confrontation as an Undercover Wildling.

This confrontation takes place at the abandoned tower and village of Queenscrown, which gets a closer description in the accompanying Bran chapter: 

No one had lived in the village for long years, Bran could see. All the houses were falling down. Even the inn. It had never been much of an inn, to look at it, but now all that remained was a stone chimney and two cracked walls, set amongst a dozen apple trees. One was growing up through the common room, where a layer of wet brown leaves and rotting apples carpeted the floor. The air was thick with the smell of them, a cloying cidery scent that was almost overwhelming. Meera stabbed a few apples with her frog spear, trying to find some still good enough to eat, but they were all too brown and wormy. 

(ASOS, Bran III)

The abandonment of Brandon’s Gift is a subject of conflict between Jon and Ygritte. A carpet of rotting apples. It opens the very next Jon chapter, as they are on the way to Queenscrown. Ygritte mocks the farmers who left the Gift as fools. Jon doesn’t take the bait yet. He briefly indulges in a fantasy of introducing Ygritte to Winterfell before being overcome with guilt and shame again. Ygritte is super great at reading his mood: 

“Might be after we could come back here, and live in that tower,” she said. “Would you want that, Jon Snow? After?”

He doesn’t think about it, doesn’t answer for a while, it rather reminds him of Ned’s Dream of Spring, the plan to resettle the Gift. The Starks and the Watch. 

If winter had come and gone more quickly and spring had followed in its turn, I might have been chosen to hold one of these towers in my father’s name. Lord Eddard was dead, however, his brother Benjen lost; the shield they dreamt together would never be forged. “This land belongs to the Watch,” Jon said. Her nostrils flared. “No one lives here.”

Jon isn’t even tempted. Like, no, Jon, Bambi, you did not love this person, no matter what your telling yourself later. He doesn’t even really contemplate it. 

Instead of bonding them closer together, Ygritte’s invitation to make long-term plans has the opposite effect. It fans the flames of what divides them. They argue about raiding and rape. Ygritte spouts nonsense.

“You know nothing, Jon Snow. Daughters are taken, not wives. You’re the ones who steal. You took the whole world, and built the Wall t’ keep the free folk out.”

Ygritte, no, that is not why the Wall was built. You think they built a gargantuan magic ice structure to keep out Styr, Magnar of Thenn, or what? Really? Jon is also sceptical of this version of history:

“Did we?” Sometimes Jon forgot how wild she was, and then she would remind him. “How did that happen?”

"The gods made the earth for all men t' share. Only when the kings come with their crowns and steel swords, they claimed it was all theirs. My trees, they said, you can't eat them apples. My stream, you can't fish here. My wood, you're not t' hunt. My earth, my water, my castle, my daughter, keep your hands away or I'll chop 'em off, but maybe if you kneel t' me I'll let you have a sniff. You call us thieves, but at least a thief has t' be brave and clever and quick. A kneeler only has t' kneel." 

Ygritte is basically a bland political extremist. I could sympathize with her criticism of feudal culture if it didn’t come hand in hand with her passionate defense of violent theft and rape culture. Like, you paragon of intelligence, not everyone resides at the fair top of the food chain like you do in your peak fitness status within your warrior culture. But of course, rape is fun! Just bring a knife!

"Harma and the Bag of Bones don't come raiding for fish and apples. They steal swords and axes. Spices, silks, and furs. They grab every coin and ring and jeweled cup they can find, casks of wine in summer and casks of beef in winter, and they take women in any season and carry them off beyond the Wall."

Apples in a breath with women. People should not be “stolen”. But Ygritte thinks men who successfully abduct and rape women are sexy. She’s like Dany that way. There are some cultural divides that cannot be pretended away, and their entire conversation circles around it. Jon is plagued by terrible guilt, he tries to warn Ygritte that their plan is doomed, she (rightfully) suspects his loyalty to the Wildlings and Jon believes himself in love but he never wavers in his actual allegiance to the NW.

She grinned at that, showing Jon the crooked teeth that he had somehow come to love. Wildling to the bone, he thought again, with a sick sad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He flexed the fingers of his sword hand, and wondered what Ygritte would do if she knew his heart. Would she betray him if he sat her down and told her that he was still Ned Stark’s son and a man of the Night’s Watch? He hoped not, but he dare not take that risk.

GRRM is going out of his way to undermine the supposed romance by constantly referring to the conflict between them and the apples-of-choice are just all over. 

Anyway, Jon is thoroughly eaten by guilt over having to betray these human beings who are a vicious and brutal threat to the place and people he loves and swore to protect. His true identity is hinted at:

Jon wondered where Ghost was now. Had he gone to Castle Black, or was he was running with some wolfpack in the woods? He had no sense of the direwolf, not even in his dreams. It made him feel as if part of himself had been cut off. Even with Ygritte sleeping beside him, he felt alone. He did not want to die alone.

Ghost. Not Ygritte. Not the wildlings. Not the Watch, even. Ghost. Wolf.  

They arrive at the Queenscrown inn and an old man is captured.

Jon walked away. A rotten apple squished beneath his heel. Styr will kill him. The Magnar had said as much at Greyguard; any kneelers they met were to be put to death at once, to make certain they could not raise the alarm. Ride with them, eat with them, fight with them. Did that mean he must stand mute and helpless while they slit an old man's throat?  

The apples are rotten. Jon spends one last moment with Ygritte contemplating Queenscrown and then the “kill the old man” business starts. He struggles but ultimately refuses. Bran’s wolf Summer disrupts the tension with a bloody attack and Jon doesn’t hesitate to Escape. Like when they met, Jon didn’t slit Ygritte’s throat, but she slit the old man’s. He will not shoot arrows at her, but she did at him. Love. 

Thunder rumbled softly in the distance, but above him the clouds were breaking up. Jon searched the sky until he found the Ice Dragon, then turned the mare north for the Wall and Castle Black. The throb of pain in his thigh muscle made him wince as he put his heels into the old man’s horse. I am going home, he told himself. But if that was true, why did he feel so hollow?

Apple = choice. The choice is… NOT Ygritte. NOT the Wildlings. Time and again. But it also isn’t the Watch. Not as it had been before. Jon followed his instincts, his inner values, but it had a cost, it is hard. Jon is lost.

Apple Quality: rotten. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sixth apple: ASOS, Jon VII  

The Battle at Castle Black They await the attack, Jon and Satin share a meal. And they get a nod to Renly’s peach quote:

"Eat," Jon told him. "There's no knowing when you'll have another chance." He took two buns himself. The nuts were pine nuts, and besides the raisins there were bits of dried apple.  (ASOS, Jon VII)

Compare to Renly, which also took place before a nightly sneak attack. 

"A man should never refuse to taste a peach," Renly said as he tossed the stone away. "He may never get the chance again. Life is short, Stannis. Remember what the Starks say. Winter is coming." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. (ACOK, Catelyn III)

Peaches have an air of incest and hedonism about them, nostalgia and summer, Baratheons and Arya and Asha. The apple is different. It’s about choice, about conflicted loyalty and personal values, about identity and the bigger picture. (And again and again, they connect to women.)

Jon commands part of the fight, it’s grim. He recognizes some of the wildlings as they pepper them with arrows but cannot shoot at who he thinks is Ygritte. Wildlings die, his brothers die. The battle is brutal, Jon’s POV is distant. Satin remains by his side all throughout, grounding him. Jon remembers advice from Theon, from Ned. They eventually beat the wildling attackers with a horrifying fire trap on the stairs, they win. Immediately after, Jon goes looking for Ygritte, Satin still by his side.

The ice crystals had settled over her face, and in the moonlight it looked as though she wore a glittering silver mask. The arrow was black, Jon saw, but it was fletched with white duck feathers. Not mine, he told himself, not one of mine. But he felt as if it were.

We get a Dany-Val nod… 

The light of the half-moon turned Val's honey-blond hair a pale silver and left her cheeks as white as snow. She took a deep breath. "The air tastes sweet."

"My tongue is too numb to tell. All I can taste is cold." (ADWD, Jon VIII)

...and a lovely double-layered “not mine, not one of mine”. Not his arrows, but he feels guilty. She is not his pack, but he feels guilty.

She just smiled at that. “D’you remember that cave? We should have stayed in that cave. I told you so.” “We’ll go back to the cave,” he said. “You’re not going to die, Ygritte. You’re not.” “Oh.” Ygritte cupped his cheek with her hand. “You know nothing, Jon Snow,” she sighed, dying.

Jon struggles to let go of the fantasy. He is loyal to the cause of the Watch, if not the letter of the vows, but he knows now that his souls want more. He indulges Ygritte’s fantasy of returning because it’s the only thing he has, the only thing he can offer. 

Apple = choice. The choice is… the Watch. But painfully. Numbly. No passion. Duty. 

Apple quality: dried. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seventh apple: ASOS, Jon X 

Tormund’s daughter Munda.

After vicious attacking Janos Slynt for insulting Ned Stark during a hiostile interrogation in the previous chapter, Jon is sent to kill Mance Rayder under the pretense of parley to prove his loyalty. He is resigned and shame-filled, contemplating his future, where he will be remembered in honorless infamy.  Much bitterness, plenty of woe. His reception by Tormund is surprisingly jovial. They drink mead to honor their fallen Donal Noye and Ygritte, with surprisingly little bitterness. It helps Jon return some of his cheer.

"You bloody crows." Tormund's tone was gruff, yet strangely gentle. "That Longspear stole me daughter. Munda, me little autumn apple. Took her right out o' my tent with all four o' her brothers about.” Toregg slept through it, the great lout, and Torwynd … well, Torwynd the Tame, that says all that needs saying, don’t it? The young ones gave the lad a fight, though.”

“And Munda?” asked Jon. “She’s my own blood,” said Tormund proudly. “She broke his lip for him and bit one ear half off, and I hear he’s got so many scratches on his back he can’t wear a cloak. She likes him well enough, though. And why not? He don’t fight with no spear, you know. Never has. So where do you think he got that name? Har!”  Jon had to laugh. Even now, even here.

Autumn apple. Stolen women. Cloak. 

Stealing women was a hot topic with Ygritte and Jon is immediately concerned, but is reassured. The tenor of the conversation is conciliatory, while he is revealed to be loyal to the Watch, there is mutual respect. In Jon’s thoughts, Ygritte becomes a mentor voice, drifting away from the romantic woe of before. 

Easy for you to say, he thought back. You died brave in battle, storming the castle of a foe. I’m going to die a turncloak and a killer. Nor would his death be quick, unless it came on the end of Mance’s sword.

Similarly to Dany later, Jon is arguing with dead beloved abusers in his head, like she will do in ADWD with Viserys. Ygritte is less obviously horrific, but the “voices in my head” aspect and the sheer idealising that both of them engage in feels disconcerting. Never the less, we see Jon’s current identity status on Facebook is “turncloak”. Not Night’s Watch.

The rest of Mance’s “court” is less welcoming, but Mance draws him in for a private conference. The Horn of Winter is revealed, the mutual cause of the Wildlings and the Night’s Watch is identified.

“If I sound the Horn of Winter, the Wall will fall. Or so the songs would have me believe. There are those among my people who want nothing more …” “But once the Wall is fallen,” Dalla said, “what will stop the Others?”

(Dalla has the brains that Ygritte lacked. Why can SHE not be Jon’s mentor?) 

Mance offers to hand over the Horn of Joramun if they let the Wildlings pass through the Wall, or he will destroy the Wall in three days. Jon hesitates because he fears they will ransack the place, but he also has no negotiating credit with Thorne and Slynt. He contemplates just smashing the Horn, when suddenly Stannis attacks. The Wildlings are smashed, a helpless Jon enters the tent with Val to attend Dalla.

He is just... disillusioned.

Apple = choice. The choice is… the bigger picture. The Watch is headed by irrational scum, the Wildlings are no less dangerous to the North than they were before and Jon has no hope of saving his ruined reputation either way. He was about to murder Mance, then about to smash his bargaining chip, yet he has no ill will toward them. Only a depressed, numb resignation to preventing the worst of all outcomes. 

Apple Quality: autumn apple.

Again with the autumn apple. There are only 3 “autumn apples” in the books, all in ASOS. Jon I (above with Mance), Samwell II, and Jon X here. 

In Jon I it connected Mance’s disloyalty to the Watch to the red-and-black cloak given to him by a woman. Also Bael the Bard, deception and stealing. Jon consults his inner values, and chooses pragmatism. His break with “blind” honor will leave him flailing a bit.

In Jon X it specifically refers to a young woman being stolen. Jon consults his inner values, he chooses the bigger picture, but he’s frayed and his choice is interrupted. Stannis will offer him Winterfell. Ghost will remind him of who he is. Ultimately, he will become Lord Commander and his struggle with loyalty will cease for a long time.

What’s Sam’s autumn apple about?  They are listed with many foodstuffs that the angry NW brother’s at Craster’s after the fight at the Fist of the First Men expect to receive. Mormont just remembered the true purpose of the Watch. Gilly has just given birth to her son. Sam offers to take the boy, Craster gets mad. they bury a dead brother and the mood is mutinous.

“Apples,” said Garth of Greenaway. “Barrels and barrels of crisp autumn apples. There are apple trees out there, I saw ’em.”

A confrontation breaks out and they kill Craster and stab Mormont. Sam’s friends flee, the others raid and rape, Sam cradles a dying Mormont. Some wives approach and order Sam to take Gilly to safety. 

Gilly was crying. “Me and the babe. Please. I’ll be your wife, like I was Craster’s. Please, ser crow. He’s a boy, just like Nella said he’d be. If you don’t take him, they will.” “They?” said Sam, and the raven cocked its black head and echoed, “They. They. They.” “The boy’s brothers,” said the old woman on the left. “Craster’s sons. The white cold’s rising out there, crow. I can feel it in my bones. These poor old bones don’t lie. They’ll be here soon, the sons.”

The massive abundance of apples suggests a link to the abundance of women, to the connection to inner values over formal loyalty, to the “stealing” of Gilly to save her. To the massive bigger picture. With Jon it translates to his trademark quick-thinking pragmatism, with Sam it translates to compassion and identifying valuable information. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

8th and final apple: ADWD, Jon V  - The Grand Appling.

ADWD Jon V is another big apple chapter:  you have to choose!

Much time has passed since the last apples were mentioned. Jon is Lord Commander and has sent away Sam, Gilly and maester Aemon. The Wildlings are south of the Wall. Food is a constant worry. Bowen Marsh is upset with Jon, Jon is super-diplomatic. Not. It’s time to bring provisions to the Wildlings at Mole’s Town. A Mirror to Dany in ADWD, Daenerys VI, bringing food to the Astapori refugees. The Wildlings are grumpy. Jon struggles to balance the culture clash between free folk, Stannis’ men and Wildlings.

Pig ignorance, Jon thought. The free folk were no different than the men of the Night’s Watch; some were clean, some dirty, but most were clean at times and dirty at other times.

Jon is much removed from his earlier woeful struggles or idealism. A weary pragmatism guides his every action. Grey.

Apples ensue:

"You can have an onion or an apple," Jon heard Hairy Hal tell one woman, "but not both. You got to pick."

The woman did not seem to understand. "I need two of each. One o' each for me, t'others for my boy. He's sick, but an apple will set him right." 

Hal shook his head. "He has to come get his own apple. Or his onion. Not both. Same as you. Now, is it an apple or an onion? Be quick about it, now, there's more behind you."

"An apple," she said, and he gave her one, an old dried thing, small and withered.

"Move along, woman," shouted a man three places back. "It's cold out here."

The woman paid the shout no mind. "Another apple," she said to Hairy Hal. "For my son. Please. This one is so little."

Hal looked to Jon. Jon shook his head. They would be out of apples soon enough. If they started giving two to everyone who wanted two, the latecomers would get none.

"Out of the way," a girl behind the woman said. Then she shoved her in the back. The woman staggered, lost her apple, and fell. The other foodstuffs in her arms went flying. Beans scattered, a turnip rolled into a mud puddle, a sack of flour split and spilled its precious contents in the snow. 

Apples are once again almost aggressively connected to choices. Apples or onions. Not both. You have to pick. 

Barring another meta, I can’t really say what the onion is supposed to represent. Some things that echoe Jon’s apple themes:

His sons were good fighters and better sailors, but they did not know how to talk to lords. They were lowborn, even as I was, but they do not like to recall that. When they look at our banner, all they see is a tall black ship flying on the wind. They close their eyes to the onion.  (ACOK, Davos I)

Denial. 

Dany nibbled at an onion and reflected ruefully on the faithlessness of men. (ACOK, Daenerys III)

Faithlessness.

The feast was a meager enough thing, a succession of fish stews, black bread, and spiceless goat. The tastiest thing Theon found to eat was an onion pie. Ale and wine continued to flow well after the last of the courses had been cleared away. (ACOK, Theon II)

Theon about to be ordered to attack Winterfell. Betrayal.

The last time it was life I brought to Storm's End, shaped to look like onions. This time it is death, in the shape of Melisandre of Asshai. (ACOK, Davos II)

Life and death brought by the same person.

Melisandre’s manichean world view vs. Davos’ more encompassing one:

"What if I am? It seems to me that most men are grey."

"If half of an onion is black with rot, it is a rotten onion. A man is good, or he is evil."  (ACOK, Davos II)

Bless you Sam. 

Hungry as he was, Sam knew he would retch if he so much as tried a bite. How could they eat the poor faithful garrons who had carried them so far? When Craster's wives brought onions, he seized one eagerly. One side was black with rot, but he cut that part off with his dagger and ate the good half raw. (ASOS, Samwell II)

Considering apples represent the choice you make to serve an ethical bigger picture (not necessarily loyalty to an order), onions seem to show a contrasting duality of bad and good, a refusal to position oneself honestly, dirty compromises, the darkness in human beings. 

Davos’ entire arc circles around being a very decent human being who none the less supports a whole lot of questionable crap. Our resident kraken Theon is torn inside unable to choose between Greyjoy and Stark identity and becomes monstrous. 

Melisandre downright denies the existence of grey. The presence of bad cancels out all good.  Samwell, on the other hand, embraces the good while disregarding the bad. 

Ygritte smelled of onion. Dany eats wild onion on her dragon grassland chapter,  Jorah eats onion. Brienne has onion soup on her way to Lady Stoneheart. Jon offers the Wildlings onion soup after they burn their god’s for Melisandre in echange for safety. Dark compromises. 

So the choice between apples and onions is the choice to MAKE a choice. Stop hedging your bets or practicing denial, position yourself, one way or the other. 

The woman who refuses to choose, loses her apple, loses the fruit that will set her sick son right, loses her cance at following her inner moral compass and doing the right thing. 

There is a tussle, Jon tries to rally them with a speech. They are in a Mutiny at Craster’s Keep kind of mood.

“You want more food?” asked Jon. “The food’s for fighters. Help us hold the Wall, and you’ll eat as well as any crow.” Or as poorly, when the food runs short. (…)

“Fight for you?” This voice was thickly accented. Sigorn, the young Magnar of Thenn, spoke the Common Tongue haltingly at best. “Not fight for you. Kill you better. Kill all you.” The raven flapped its wings. “Kill, kill.” Sigorn’s father, the old Magnar, had been crushed beneath the falling stair during his attack on Castle Black. I would feel the same if someone asked me to make common cause with the Lannisters, Jon told himself. “Your father tried to kill us all,” he reminded Sigorn. “The Magnar was a brave man, yet he failed. And if he had succeeded … who would hold the Wall?”

Jon believes in the greyness of men, but he also believes in choices. You don’t have to be perfect to do the right thing. But you have to do the right thing. Or a thing, anyway. You have to choose.

There is more commotion. Jon decides to make it simpler.

"Hal, what was it that you told this woman?"

Hal looked confused. "About the food, you mean? An apple or an onion? That's all I said. They got to pick."

"You have to pick," Jon Snow repeated. "All of you. No one is asking you to take our vows, and I do not care what gods you worship. My own gods are the old gods, the gods of the North, but you can keep the red god, or the Seven, or any other god who hears your prayers. It's spears we need. Bows. Eyes along the Wall. (…)

He recruits, actively. 

“The choice is yours,” Jon Snow told them. “Those who want to help us hold the Wall, return to Castle Black with me and I’ll see you armed and fed. The rest of you, get your turnips and your onions and crawl back inside your holes.”

Apples yay, onions nay. Dany killed the slavers of Astapor, and left alive only children under the age of 12. Jon recruit ages 12 and up for the Watch, girls and boys. Dany killed 163 random slavers. Jon recruits 63 Wildlings.

By the time the last withered apple had been handed out, the wagons were crowded with wildlings, and they were sixty-three stronger than when the column had set out from Castle Black that morning. 

The apples win out. No more mention of onions in this chapter. 

The chapter ends on a grey note, uncertain but hopeful. 

Marsh was unconvinced. “You’ve added sixty-three more mouths, my lord … but how many are fighters, and whose side will they fight on? If it’s the Others at the gates, most like they’ll stand with us, I grant you … but if it’s Tormund Giantsbane or the Weeping Man come calling with ten thousand howling killers, what then?” “Then we’ll know. So let us hope it never comes to that.”

Hilariously, it is not the treachery of the apple-choosing wildlings Jon will have to worry about. 

The abundance of onions and apples in this chapter sets up the struggle Jon faces in later ADWD chapters. The bigger picture v. Arya. Apples are done, for now, the onions stalk him. He tries to strikes a balance. He hesitates, he sends Mance, he struggles. In the end, the Pink Letter sends him over the edge.

Apples v. onions.  Jon has chosen. 

Apples = choice. The choices is… NOT the Watch. Arya. The North. The bigger picture. House Stark. 

Apple Quality: withered. Like the very first apple. 

Jon stood tall. He told himself that he would die well; that much he could do, at the least. “I know the penalty for desertion, my lord. I’m not afraid to die.” “Die!” the raven cried. “Nor live, I hope,” Mormont said, cutting his ham with a dagger and feeding a bite to the bird. (AGOT, Jon IX)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In conclusion:

Apples signal the necessity for Jon make a moral choice according to his own personal values. 

Jon always has his eyes on the bigger picture. 

His choices becomes increasingly divorced from the concept of loyalty to the Watch.

There is a pronounced conflict between apple and onion, between moral choice and refusal to choose. Jon tries to walk the line between the letter of his vows and his values. He ends up choosing his values. It goes badly. 

The quality of the apples has a relationship with the ease of choosing. 

whithered apples are fairly clean choices, 

rotten apples are traumatic choices, 

autumn apples relate to choices influenced by the wisdom of women, the stealing of women. 

There is a future apple promised to “the beastie” as a reward. 

If we want to draw a connection to the show, Jon will clearly face another apples v. onions conflict and the need to choose will feature heavily. It will go badly. But there is the promise of home and reward.

[alittlefrenchtree]

Hiii, it's me again! I actually want to quickly move forward in my reading and not fall behind with notes. Because it makes less sense to write them if I already know what's going on 7 chapters ahead. So let's get started.

SPOILERS DUNE BOOK II : MUAD'DIB (Chapters 5-9)

Chapter 5:

*happy sigh 😌😌😌*

(learn silence, people. It's important.)

You already know how much I love this litany and if there's more in it, I'd be delighted.

Ok, I actually have a nerdy not really funny story about moving dunes. When the worm pops a bit later, Paul describes it at mound-in-motion and there's actually some truth about that. I've recently read an article (and I want to read more about it) about dunes and some scientist thinking that dunes are moving and communicating with each other (in their own mineral, sandy way of course). It sounds fascinating so I let you know if I learn more stuff more or less related to Dune.

This both hurt and feels relatable somehow, even if I don't know how exactly. I like the idea of things approaching from a different angle, of Paul being the only motionless point in a world that keeps spinning around him. The key then wouldn't be to change the world or even to do anything but only to adjust his own position in the universe so he ends up what he meant to be. And the sentence is pretty. The vision appeared to have shifted and approached him from a different angle while he remained motionless.

I still wonder how it works though. The visions and their changes. Do they significantly shift every time he comes close to death? Or say the litany of fear and survive? Or is it more realistic, the smallest details and decisions becoming the biggest changes? I wish Duncan would have been there with them and yet I like this journey through sand and survival just between Paul and Jessica. He probably would have been killed soon after anyway. Unless he's not really dead. Ok, moving on.

Remember when I said that Paul could have/find a way to control sand worms? And now he's saying this:

There are a lot of cues in these few chapters about worms, about riding (or whatever it's called) them with the hooks, about how they're in all likelihood the ones creating the Spice? That's why they're called makers? And that's what the Fremen who died with Hawat was about to called them? I kind of hope there is more to it though, other than only being respected because they're making the spice. There is another quote at the end of the chapter that intrigued me about the relation between Paul and the worms:

He looked at his hand. How inadequate it appeared when measured against such creatures as that worm.

I really like this chapter a lot. Firstly because I love scenes with only two characters so this is delicious for me. Secondly, I love reading about walks through endless lands with nothing but nature, so double yummy. Thirdly, there is a lot of informations. About the worms, and about how Paul is evolving in the desert. There is the rescue of his Mom but, even more importantly, how he rescues the pack. I think it's a very important scene both literally and metaphorically. It doesn't seem like an important scene but it really is in the building of the Paul's character. I hope to see it address in some way in the movie. Because not only he uses the Spice for another purpose than money and getting stronger or smarter or higher, but he uses it to take back what's necessary for his survival in the desert. If that's not adapting to Dune, I don't know what it is.

Chapter 6:

This is going to cause some trouble at some point, isn't it? Halleck and his people teaming up with smugglers, thinking the Atreides are dead. He's going to end up fighting against them without knowing it, right? 😔

Chapter 7:

Moooom, I love him so much 😭😭😭

But, I hate not knowing what's going on exactly and I hate it even more when it's about Paul and Paul's power so we're all going to sit here together, read this again and again util we've rambled enough to come up with AT LEAST five theories about something.

Like why. Why does he cross a time barrier at this precise moment? How does it work? He came close to death again so has he defeated another timeline where he was supposed to die? Hence the unknown territory, the darkness? Or are there defined blindspots? Around the worms maybe? Because of their spice maker job? Or is he just exploring and developing his new abilities? Learning to not rely only on his inner eye but on all of his powers and abilities? I need answers. I need to finish reading this book (books) and reading the theories of someone who's been thinking about every detail of them for the past 50 years.

I really liked this couple of chapters about Paul and Jessica's journey through the desert. You can really see Paul coming to terms with it. Fighting it, using it, accepting it, welcoming it. Seeing its beauty and his future in it. I'm looking forward this symbiosis. It looks beautiful.

Chapitre 8:

Ok, that was painful. Firstly, because I wasn't expecting to see Kynes die at this moment and secondly, because it was a very slow agony to witness. To be honest, I'm getting a bit tired to see characters die? It denies so much of the potential for characters development and for relationships development. The lack of it is going to become a bit sad for the whole story.

And it's heartbreaking to understand that Liet gave up his only chance of survival to save Paul and Jessica. I don't know how much he knew before, if he already knew he was going to die or if he thought he had a real chance but it's going to give so much power to Paul with the Fremen? If it becomes known that Liet died to save him and his mother, believing in them.

I supposed there is some kind of parallel to see here, between the previous chapter and this one, with Paul practically arising from the desert and Liet dying in it at the same time/shortly after? Like how Paul is supposed to take Liet's position of influence with the Fremen?

The chapter is also heavy on... social/political/ecological talks. Or one-sided conversation since the other side is dying. Not saying they shouldn't be there since they are the actual themes of the book but maybe it could have been made in a more natural way? Or not all at once?

But it made me think of Caladan. Which I could have done earlier, I agree. But Caladan is the planet of water, right? Water. The very thing Arrakis is lacking of and wants/needs. I would have like to see a bit more of Caladan, actually. How it was. How Paul was on it, actually. If he was as adapted as Caladan's environment than he seems to be to Arrakis'.

Chapter 9:

There it is. Paul as an outcast Duke finally facing Fremen forces for the first time.

This is a good chapter but I think the key point here is this:

I scrolled past a post the other day (without reading it entirely because of fear of spoilers), that was saying how people thinking Dune was about religion hadn't understand it because it was a story about propaganda. But, at the risk of sounding blasphemous and as a non-religious person... Isn't it kind of the same? Religion, propaganda, fandom,... At some point, there was someone with high powers of influence who comes to make people believe in something (whatever it's true, partially true, partially false or entirely false) to make them adopt a specific behavior, most likely a form of submissiveness? (@ tumblr porn bots, i'm not talking about you). What people make of that belief, it's what really matters.

What interested me more here is to consider this in relation to the opening chapter quote.

It's the eternal question with prophecies. Would a prophecy become true even if nobody knew about it or believe in it? Or do people, by acting according to it because they heard and believed it, make it real and effective? Did the Missionaria Protectiva create its own Kwisatz Haderach or would Paul would have been born with the same abilities and the destiny if they hadn't existed?

We see the future isn't set in stone in Paul's visions, but does his actions and decisions influence the shape of the future or is he just bumped from one predefined timeline to another? And are there really that much differences between the two? How many metaphysical questions can you write in one post?

Quick word about Chani before wrapping this one up. I think I'm going to like her? She seems cool at least. I'm not sure about Paul's reaction to her though. Yes, he supposed to be 15 but he's also something like half of a divinity so. *snorts*. Or maybe I'm just every day more tired of seeing romance being put everywhere and romanticized to the point of 99% people still thinking it's the ultimate form of love and relationship and the ultimate thing to achieve in life. OR maybe it's because everybody engaged in a classic couple-relationship immediately lost 12 points of esteem in my eyes. Don't know. Will see. I imagine I have to brace myself for Paul x Chani babies at some point, since it's 1964? If they survive that long. Very not looking forward to it. The babies, not the survival.

Anyway gotta go before I start wishing bad things to hypothetical fictional babies. Tschüss! 🌔💛

[bee-kathony]

Blue Christmas | Jamie & Claire one shot 

a/n: Merry Christmas! I wrote this a few weeks ago, so I thought I’d finally post it. Comes in at a whopping 13,154 words so you’ll need to brew a cup of hot chocolate and settle in for this one! Now... this will probably be my last fic for awhile, possibly ever, we’ll see how I feel after everything has settled. I hope you enjoy and Merry Christmas! xx and thank you @julesbeauchamp for the moodboard! 

December 23rd, 2019

Oxford, England

The wine glass in her hand was becoming dangerously low. Dangerous, because without the warm liquid filling Claire’s belly, she’d remember just exactly why she was drinking alone.

Christmas was a time of celebration and joy. A time for families to come together, laugh and exchange presents. Everyone would gather around the fireplace and tell stories or watch a classic Christmas film.

Claire was celebrating in her own way two days before Christmas. Her divorce had been finalized this morning, which was a good thing, but not exactly something that would lift the spirits.

Her ex-husband, Frank Randall had been a kind man, emphasis on had. They’d been married a short five years, and during that time, Frank hadn’t been faithful — at all. When Claire found out about one woman, it led to another and another… and another. Frank seemed to have a string of women lined up all around the city. It made Claire feel like a fool for trusting him and believing that he truly loved her.

So, with her divorce final, Claire was celebrating Christmas alone for the first time in her life. The first several years of her life she barely remembered, and until she had married Frank, she had spent every Christmas with her aunt and uncle in London.

Uncle Lamb insisted she come and join them this year, but the thought of having to pretend she was okay was mind-numbing. Being around her family would be nice, but seeing all the cheer and jovial faces wasn’t something she could handle.

A quiet meow came from her left, and Claire looked over to see her cat Adso licking his feet. Well, she wasn’t quite alone, at least she had her cat.

“I’m becoming a crazy cat lady at the ripe age of twenty-seven,” Claire said wistfully, petting Adso on the head, making him purr gently. “Just you and me now.”

There wasn’t even a Christmas movie that Claire could watch because they usually all ended with two people falling in love, and love was not something Claire wanted to think about. It killed her to know that Frank was probably screwing some blonde university bimbo right now, while she sat alone in the dark, not a decoration in sight.

Thankfully, she had the next two weeks off to wallow in self-pity. Claire worked at the local library, where she was able to read to her heart’s content. Her best friend Geillis also worked with her, although she didn’t read all that much, which always made Claire laugh. Why take a position at a library if one didn’t like to read?

Gathering enough energy to get off the sofa, Claire set her now empty glass down in search of a new bottle. If she had to spend this Christmas alone, she certainly wouldn’t be spending it sober.

As Claire grabbed a new bottle, she passed by the fridge, which was still littered with the odd bits and pictures of her and Frank’s life. A yellow post-it note caught her attention. It read, “I’ll be out late, eat without me!”

She yanked it off, crumpling it into a small paper ball before tossing it in the trash can. “You bastard,” she said to the post-it and to Frank.

Sooner or later, she would need to get rid of all his things. The process had begun two months ago when she’d found out about his affairs. Claire had gathered up as many clothes of his that she could carry in her two arms and tossed them out the second-story window, much to Frank’s complaints.

Laughing at this memory, Claire grabbed a packet of biscuits before plopping back down on the sofa.

“Another glass for the woman who’s destined to be alone,” Claire said to herself, watching the dark liquid fill her cup.

Just as she picked it up, a loud knock came from the door, making her spill it all over her pajama pants. “Shit!” Claire stood up quickly, checking to see if any had got on her couch, and thankfully (or not so thankfully) it had all landed on her.

Another knock came from the door, “Open up!”

“Geillis?” Claire raced to the door, patting at her pants. “What on earth are you doing here?”

Her friend held up a bottle of wine and a box of pizza. “Solidarity? I wasn’t going to let you spend tonight alone. I canna be wi’ ye on Christmas, so I thought tonight would suffice.”

“Get in here,” Claire grinned, hugging her friend as she passed. “I should make you buy me a new pair of pajama bottoms! Spilled half my glass of wine all over them when you knocked.”

Geillis looked her over, wincing as she saw the dark red stain. “Och, Christ, Claire. I’m verra sorry about that.”

“You should be,” Claire crossed her arms as she leaned on the counter, the smell of the pizza making her mouth water. “But you brought sustenance so all is forgiven!”

“Go make yourself at home, I’ll just go change out of these,” Claire rolled her eyes, laughing as she went to her room. It should’ve been hard to be in the bedroom that Frank and she had shared, but he was barely home towards the end. The reason for that was clear now. They had moved into this house only two years ago after Frank accepted the teaching position at Oxford. Most of the memories Claire had made here, had been on her own.

Returning with a freshly washed pair of fuzzy bottoms, Claire sat down next to Geillis who was already on her second slice.

“So ye really didna decorate for Christmas, huh?”

It was true. The room was dark with the lack of twinkling lights and not a bauble in sight. “I didn’t feel like decorating just for myself. Not this year at least.”

“I get it,” Geillis nodded. “But I wish ye wouldn’t spend the whole holidays wallowing in self-pity. Ye should put on a fancy dress and go get yerself laid,” she winked. “Now, that will lift yer spirits, ye ken?”

“I ken,” Claire smirked. “But I don’t think anyone would want to get with this sorry lump of coal.”

“Excuse me?” Geillis nearly spit out her wine. “If yer a lump of coal, then what am I?!”

“Oh, you’re gold darling, absolute gold,” Claire laughed. “I appreciate the encouragement, but I’d rather not wake up in a strange bed with a strange man.”

“But that’s often the best kind,” Geillis nudged her in the side. “Well, if ye willna go get laid, please dinna stay here in this miserable depressing house. Go see yer uncle or go take a trip somewhere. Ye’ve earned it, Beauchamp.”

That hit her like a gut punch. Beauchamp. Her maiden name. “Guess I’ll have to get used to saying that again. A trip you say?” She sipped her wine. “But it’s two days before Christmas, where on earth could I go that would have availability?”

“Try Scotland, my homeland,” Geillis grinned and ran her finger gently down Adso’s back. “Tis just a quick hop on a plane, gets ye out of England at least.”

“I’ve never been to Scotland,” Claire said. “Do I just find a bed and breakfast in some quaint village?”

“Aye,” Geillis nodded and then whipped out her phone. “Or ye can search for a cute holiday spot in Scotland. Let’s say the highlands somewhere.”

As Claire let Geillis search for a place for her to go, she looked around at her house. While she could wallow, the idea of sitting in the dark wasn’t exactly appealing. She had the next two weeks off, and she might as well try and enjoy herself a bit. After all, she should be celebrating the fact that she’s no longer married to Frank who took every opportunity to cheat on her.

“How long do ye want to stay?” Geillis asked.

“Umm, I don’t know. Maybe four days? Five? I’ll have to find somewhere for Adso to stay,” Claire smiled as her cat purred beneath her hand.

“Oh, I’ll watch the wee cheetie,” Geillis mumbled. “So, in the highlands… with availability.”

“Oh and make sure it’s not some romantic getaway destination,” Claire added.

“Lassie,” Geillis laughed. “It’s Scotland. The whole damn country is a romantic destination! But dinna fash, I’ll find ye a good spot.”

“While you do that, I’m going to turn on the fireplace,” Claire said as she stood up. She flicked a switch that turned on the gas and immediate heat came to life. Claire stood in front of the fireplace, trying to get warm.

There was something rather exciting about traveling to a country she’d never been before. Claire fancied herself as a bit of a gypsy — her home was wherever she was. And Scotland was a place she’d always wanted to visit, it seemed like now was as good a time as any.

“Oh, I think I found it,” Geillis stood up from the sofa to show her the phone. “Tis called Fraser’s Ridge. A collection of cabins of all sizes up in the Highlands.”

“Fraser’s Ridge,” Claire repeated and began to flick through the pictures. The cabins looked very cozy and inviting. “They have availability?”

“That’s what their website says,” Geillis said. “Want me to book it? It’ll be my Christmas present to ye… since I may have forgotten to buy ye a gift,” she winced.

“You don’t have to do that, Geillis!”

“I do! Ye need to take time for yerself,” Geillis slid her arm around Claire’s waist, squeezing tight. “Ye’ve had a rough year, and now ye can go up to a cute wee cabin and relax.”

Claire looked through the pictures again, noting how charming they looked. “It says here that each cabin was hand-built by the owner and his father.”

“Oooh, the crafty type,” Geillis winked. “Ye should make sure ye get a good look at the owner then. If he’s good wi’ his hands…” she made a lewd hand motion.

“Geillis Duncan!” Claire laughed, nudging her friend in the ribs. “There will be nothing of the sort. I bet he’s in his 60’s, overweight and balding.”

“Are ye picky then?”

Claire shot her friend a look, then laughed and moved back to the sofa. “Fine, if you want to book it, then go for it. It’ll be better than me and Adso rotting away like Miss Havisham while I sit in my wedding dress.”

“Ye should give that away or somethin’,” Geillis said as she typed Claire’s details into her phone to book the holiday. “I mean, I ken it’s full of memories and such, but surely those have all been tainted.”

“I guess you’re right,” Claire sighed, leaning her head back on the sofa. “I could give it to charity. Or you. Would you like a used wedding dress, Geillis?”

“Not a chance,” Geillis smirked. “Okay, I’ve put yer name as Claire Beauchamp. It’s five days, and you leave tomorrow.”

“Christmas Eve,” Claire ran her hand through her curls. “Guess I’d better pack!”

“Will ye promise me ye’ll bring somethin’ sexy to wear? Just in case the owner turns out to be a mysterious highland hunk?”

“God, you’re insufferable,” Claire chuckled and tossed a pillow at her friend who narrowly dodged it. “For you, I’ll pack it, but it will get no use.”

“We’ll see,” Geillis smirked, forwarding Claire the confirmation email.

++++++

After Geillis went home that night, Claire went into her closet and packed a travel bag full of everything she thought she’d need. The owner said he would have a car come and pick her up at the airport, and then to get some groceries if she needed them. Besides that, she wouldn’t even need to leave the cabin. Cozy sweaters and loungewear were all that she intended to wear, but she did pack a sexy silky pajama set she had yet to wear just so when Geillis asked her about it later, she could say she brought it.

She felt nuts to be boarding a plane on Christmas Eve, but she wasn’t alone. The airport was packed with other holiday travelers flying all over the world. Claire loved to people watch — coming up with stories for people.

There was a little girl Claire had been watching for the last several minutes while she waited for the plane to take off. She sat two rows in front of Claire and kept popping her head over the seat to look back at her.

“Hi,” Claire waved. The little girl ducked back down with a shy smile before popping her head up again. This pattern went on several times before the girl’s mother told her to sit still.

The flight was a short one, but Claire always got motion sickness on flights or in cars and so she took a Dramamine to help ease the nausea she was already feeling. She was also slightly nervous to be going to a place she’d never been on her own. Every vacation in the past had been with Frank, so now she was venturing out, and so far things were going well.

Nearly two hours later, Claire woke up to the sound of the pilot telling them that they would be landing shortly. Her head felt foggy, and she stretched in her seat the best she could.

“Couldn’t have sprung for first-class, Geillis?” Claire chuckled to herself.

She only had a carry-on duffel and a large purse that held her laptop and a few books for the trip.

The email said that one of their employees would be picking her up and would have her name on a sign. So it wasn’t a surprise whenever she walked out of the gate to find a tall bearded man, holding a sign that read, “C. Beauchamp.”

“Hi,” Claire smiled at the man. “Are you from Fraser’s Ridge?”

“Aye,” he nodded. “I’m Murtagh FitzGibbons. I take it ye are C. Beauchamp?”

“That’s me. I don’t have to wait for a bag so I’m ready when you are,” Claire said.

The man made a Scottish sound in the back of his throat and then took her duffel. A slight panic crept in as she followed this stranger out to the car. She was a woman traveling alone on one of the busiest holidays. This would be the time that she could be taken advantage of, perhaps taken to some remote place and murdered.

“Christ, Beauchamp,” she shook that murderous thought out of her head and told herself everything would be fine.

“Do ye need to stop at the grocer’s for any food for yer stay?” Murtagh asked as he started the car.

“Um, yes please, if there’s one on the way,” she replied.

“Aye, there is. The Ridge is about an hour away from here, so best get comfortable,” Murtagh smiled at her as he turned on her seat heater. Fraser’s Ridge did have five-star reviews, and so far, she knew why.

Murtagh drove her to the grocery store where she picked up snacks and food she could easily prepare. Wine of course, and a bottle of whisky… two bottles of whisky. The rest of the drive was silent, as Claire took in the beautiful Scottish landscape. The rolling green hills, covered in snow as they drove further north.

By the time they reached Fraser’s Ridge, the sun was beginning to go down, even though it was just the afternoon. The air was crisp and cold, making Claire shiver as she stepped out of the warm embrace of the heated car.

“The owner, Jamie, my godson, is out tonight and tomorrow to be wi’ his sister and her family. But, I’ll help ye check-in and then see ye safe to yer cabin. Jamie will probably stop by to welcome ye properly when he gets back,” Murtagh said as he picked up her bag again.

“You’re his godfather?” Claire asked. “Why aren’t you spending Christmas with them, if you don’t mind me asking?”

He grunted, “Och, well, I’m no’ much of a holiday man. And someone had to see to the place over the holidays. Jamie did it last year and I kent he wanted to spend time wi’ his sister, Jenny.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Claire smiled warmly. “I look forward to meeting this Jamie whenever he comes back. This place is absolutely beautiful.”

“Aye, lass,” Murtagh smiled as he walked up a trail towards a small building that must be their offices.

“There’s a wee book that tells ye a bit about the place,” Murtagh said as he wrote her name down. “It also has information about wifi, if that’s somethin’ yer interested in.” He opened a drawer and pulled out a gold key. “Cabin 2,” he handed it to her. “If ye’ll just follow me.”

They walked back outside, and it was beginning to snow lightly. On the way up here, Claire noticed that they really were in a remote part of the highlands. Although, it seemed most of the highlands was remote compared to the busy streets of Oxford or London.

“Are there other people here? Or is it just me being a complete and utter loser on Christmas?” Claire chuckled sadly.

“There are a few other folks,” Murtagh looked back at her. “A few families that like to spend the holidays up here. We have ten cabins in total, and this season only three are vacant.”

“Wow,” Claire was impressed. It was an ideal location, but most people stay at home with their family’s at Christmas time. “Well, it’s really lovely.”

Her cabin was just a short walk from the office, with its own trail that led to the door. Claire could tell that it was built with skill and precision. Everything looked so intentional and yet still had that rustic element that all cabins had. Murtagh walked up to the door, waiting for her to unlock it.

She turned the key, opening the door to a dark room. Murtagh flicked on the switch and Claire gasped.

“Pretty, ain’t it?” Murtagh smirked and then set her bag down. “Jamie insisted on decorating every cabin for Christmas. I told him ‘twas a bit much, but,” the man shrugged.

There were lights strung around the room, making it sparkle. A large tree stood in the corner, fully decorated, with cranberry and popcorn and every bauble to go with it. The fireplace had greenery on top, fit with knitted stockings. It wasn’t cheesy or tacky. Claire wasn’t trying to escape Christmas, just her depressing home she had shared with her ex-husband. This… this was perfect.

“Well, I’ll leave ye to it,” Murtagh said. “Our office number is listed in the book as well if ye need anythin’. Enjoy your stay, Miss Beauchamp.”

“Thank you,” Claire smiled as Murtagh shut the door, leaving her on her own. The first order of business was to get the fireplace going, and upon first inspection, it wasn’t a gas one like Claire’s.

There was wood already set up, as well as kindling and a box of matches on top of the mantle. “Here goes nothing,” Claire muttered as she struck the match. At first, nothing happened, but soon the kindling caught the flame and began to fan out to the logs.

“First try,” she clapped her hands together.

There was a small kitchen connected to the living room, stocked with all the appliances one could need. The master bedroom was spacious, with a cozy king-sized bed that Claire was very much looking forward to getting into later. A bathroom connected to the bedroom, with a shower and clawfoot tub.

“The pictures don’t do this place justice,” Claire sighed as she walked back into the living room which was warming up nicely. There was a ladder that led up to a small loft area with plush seating. A cute little reading nook for later.

Claire continued her curious look around as she opened up the back door. There was a fire pit outside, with logs set up around it for seating. She managed to get the inside fire lit but wasn’t counting on her skills with an outdoor pit.

Before she settled onto the comfy looking sofa, Claire took her bag into the room and unpacked it. Then she put her groceries away, grabbing a packet of crisps and a plaid before snuggling in for the night.

The remote was on the coffee table and when she turned it on, The Holiday was playing.

“I can’t turn this off, now can I?” She rolled her eyes but smiled as Jude Law’s character put on his glasses.

After the movie ended, and Claire had eaten her weight in crisps, she groggily made her way to the bedroom. Not bothering with pajamas, she flopped down onto the bed face first and within moments fell fast asleep.

++++++

On Christmas morning, Claire treated herself to a cup of coffee and store bought croissants. There were no presents under the tree to open, and no one would call. Maybe her uncle Lamb, but later once his own children had opened their gifts.

“Another day of movies and crisps,” Claire sighed as she took up the corner spot on the sofa.

Hours passed in that order. One movie would end, and another would begin. She had given up on trying to avoid cheesy Christmas movies, as that seemed to be the only thing playing on virtually every station.

Claire felt herself drifting off to sleep during Elf, but was startled when a loud knock came from the front door. “What the bloody hell,” she yawned and jumped off the sofa. Grabbing the plaid, she wrapped it around her body as she shuffled to the door.

A very tall, very large, red headed man stood on the front porch. He had an axe in one hand, and a bag in the other.

“Um, are you going to murder me?” Claire glanced at the axe.

The man followed her gaze and burst into a laugh. “Oh, Christ! It does look like that. No, God no. I came to see if ye needed any wood cut for the place.”

“Perhaps,” Claire said, eyeing the man. She had to admit that he was very attractive, and his accent had that deep burr of someone who had lived in the highlands all his life, the r’s rolling off his tongue.

“Yer probably wonderin’ who this strange man is on yer front steps,” the man said as he took off his gloves and stuck out his hand. “I’m Jamie Fraser. Of Fraser’s Ridge.”

“Ah,” Claire smiled and shook his hand. “That makes a lot of sense,” she laughed. “I’m Claire Beauchamp. I just got in last night. Your godfather, Murtagh, was it? He said that you wouldn’t be around today.”

Jamie put his gloves back on his large hands. “Well, I wasna supposed to be, but then my sister Jenny’s daughter Maggie got sick after the festivities and so I was freed. Thought I’d just come back to check on everyone and to wish them a Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Claire grinned. “I must say, this place is wonderful. Did you really build every one?”

“Aye,” Jamie’s cheeks blushed. “With my Da before he passed a few years back. We ran this place together. It was a way to show the beauty of Scotland, and remind everyone to take time for themselves. What brought ye here?”

“Oh,” Claire paused, not sure how much of her personal life to disclose to a near stranger. “Just needed a break from my life back in England.”

“I kent ye were a Sassenach,” Jamie smiled warmly.

“Sassenach?”

“English person,” he replied. “More or less.”

There was still snow falling, and Claire began to shiver in the doorway. “Would you like to come in Mr. Fraser? It’s bloody freezing out there!”

“Och,” he shook his head. “I’ll just go and chop the wood for ye and bring it back. I wouldna want to impose on ye.”

“It wouldn’t be an imposition,” Claire said, and realized that she really wouldn’t mind spending more time with this man. He had a kindness to him, one that instantly drew her to him.

“I willna be long,” Jamie turned to leave. “And call me Jamie please, Sassenach.”

She waited until he had fully gone to shut the door. He would be back.

Racing to her bedroom, she tossed the plaid on the bed and began to root around in the drawers for something more suitable to wear. Of bloody course she had only brought oversized sweaters and lounge wear. “Didn’t think you’d be meeting a handsome Scot, now would you? Didn’t listen to Geillis,” she mumbled.

Pulling out a green sweater, Claire thought it was the most presentable option and replaced it with the old t-shirt she had been wearing. She only felt a little foolish to be primping herself for his return. Licking her fingers, she tried to assemble the bird’s nest called her curly hair into order.

She was not certain how long it would take him to chop down fresh wood. An image of the man Jamie holding the axe in his hands, droplets of sweat on his brow as he struck down with force on the wood filled her mind. Claire let her eyes closed as she pictured how he would grunt with every strike, again and again. He was clearly well built, so his muscles would flex.

“Christ, Beauchamp,” she shook her head, looking back at herself in the mirror. “Would you get a bloody grip?!”

She knew she shouldn’t have changed her appearance for a man. There was nothing that would come of this, so why did she want to look good for him? After Frank, Claire thought it would take her a long time to be open to any kind of relationship, let alone whatever she was imagining with Fraser.

He said he was going to chop down wood for everyone that needed some, so it could take awhile. The sofa called to her, and Claire sat down, grabbing a book off the coffee table. Her ear was tuned to any slight sound outside, waiting for Jamie’s return.

It took several tries for Claire to focus on the pages before her. She must have read the same paragraph nearly ten times, as her mind was picturing running her fingers through Jamie’s red curls.

“My God woman,” Claire muttered, feeling herself growing flushed. “This is not a cheesy Christmas movie. You’re not going to get laid by the owner of the place who kindly brings you wood.”

If Geillis were here, she would tell Claire to be open and take risks. But Claire had exchanged a few words with the man, and while she assumed he didn’t have a wife or family of his own, there was no way of knowing he wasn’t promised to some other woman.

Soon, Claire’s attention was hooked by her book, and as the minutes turned into hours, she had nearly forgotten about Jamie coming back. One look out the window showed her that it was still snowing, nearly a blizzard too. It was also growing dark outside, and she knew enough to know that chopping wood in the dark was a recipe for disaster.

Her curiosity sparked, Claire rose from the sofa and went to find her boots. Her gut told her that she should at least check that he was okay, if she could even find him out there. Once her shoes were tied, Claire grabbed her coat off the hook near the door. The fresh cold air hit her face, making her gasp as it took her breath away.

The steps were icy as she descended slowly. Obviously, she should look in the woods behind the cabin first. What would she do if she couldn’t find him? Go to the offices, demanding to know where he was? She would look insane and probably desperate. However, he did say he would come back and it’d been nearly four hours.

As she turned the corner round the back of the house, a flash of red caught her eye and she made her way carefully over.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!”

She wouldn’t have to venture out into the icy woods after all. Jamie was lying in the snow, clearly stuck and unconscious. His axe lay nearby as did a pile of wood. He didn’t have any signs of bleeding, so he must have slipped on the ice and passed out.

Claire bent next to his body, her fingers instantly checking for his pulse at his neck. His skin was chilled, but she felt a steady thrum under her fingers, echoing her own. Jamie’s lips were a light shade of blue — he must have been out for hours. And all this time, she sat warm and inside, none the wiser.

“Jamie,” she rubbed her hand over his cheek. He didn’t stir. There was snow covering his body and she began to wipe it off. If he didn’t wake, she wasn’t sure she could lift him into the cabin to warm him up. “Jamie, please wake up!”

Rubbing her hands together for warmth, she then placed them on his cheeks to warm them up. She had no idea what else to do save strip naked and put her body next to his. Things hadn’t gotten to that point she thought sadly.

“Jamie,” she said again loudly. “Mr. Fraser, you’ve got to wake up.”

Finally, she saw a twitch near his lip, and soon his eyes slowly opened, snowflakes falling down his cheeks. “Sassenach?” He said with a dry voice.

“Oh thank God,” Claire sighed, leaning her head briefly on his chest. “You must have slipped on ice and passed out. I think you’ve been out here for hours, and the snow has really picked up.”

“Have I?” He blinked rapidly. “Aye, I can barely feel my fingers so I must have.”

“Do you think you can stand?” Claire asked, “I might be able to help get you inside.”

“Let me try,” his mouth quirked up into a smile. It seems even freezing temperatures couldn’t dampen his spirit. Jamie sat up stiffly, flexing his gloved fingers out in front of him. Rising to her feet, Claire offered him both her hands to pull him up. It took all the strength she had to lift him up. And when she did, he nearly toppled them both over again.

“Okay, let’s try walking,” Claire wrapped one arm around his waist to steady him. They took slow steps and thankfully they were very close to the cabin. The steps took a little bit longer, but with the promise of warmth inside, Jamie managed to make it.

“Och, Christ, I’m freezin’,” Jamie shivered as Claire shut the door behind them.

“Come and sit by the fire,” Claire led him over. “I’ll get you a blanket.”

She walked quickly to her bedroom to grab the plaid she’d tossed there earlier. When she came back to the living room, Jamie was standing in nothing but his trousers. His chest was gleaming, with a tuft of auburn curls, and Claire froze in her tracks as she stared at him.

“Um,” she said, her eyes greedily taking him in.

“I need to get out of these cold wet clothes,” Jamie blushed, bringing color back to his cheeks. “I’m sorry to appear so indecent before ye, but…”

She waved him away and moved closer, holding out the blanket. “No, it’s fine. You’re right, anyways. You can’t be sitting in those clothes.”

Jamie held the blanket in his hands gingerly, staring back at her. “Would ye perhaps look away for a bit just so I can get my trousers off? I swear I willna flash ye or anythin’,” he chuckled.”

“Oh, that’s fine!” Claire blurted, wondering if she meant it would be fine if he flashed her. Feeling heat creep up her chest, she turned and walked to the kitchen to heat up a cup of tea for him.

Jamie’s clothes made up a wet pile near the door, and he now sat by the fire, presumably naked.

“I’ll hang these up in the bathroom so they can dry out a bit,” Claire set his cup of steaming tea before him.

She now had a nearly naked Scotsman in her living room, clothed in a plaid with no dry clothes. What had she gotten herself into?

As Claire returned to him, she was pleased to see that his color was already returning, his skin no longer showing a startling sign of blue. “You really scared me out there,” she said as she sat down across from him on the carpeted floor.

“Who knows what would have become of me had ye not found me,” Jamie sipped the tea. “Were ye comin’ to find me or was there another reason ye were out in the blizzard?”

“I was worried,” Claire admitted freely. “It’d been nearly four hours and you hadn’t returned.”

“Tracking the time, eh?” He teased her, clearly loving to watch her squirm. “I’m glad ye did.”

“I suppose I’ll have to go back later and fetch the wood,” Claire pointed back outside. “I don’t want you to go outside until you’re fully warm and your lips are no longer blue!”

“Are they?” He touched them with his fingertips. “Christ, my balls are blue too,” he laughed.

Claire couldn’t help but laugh, and tried her hardest not to let her eyes wander down to that part of his anatomy. She had heard that old joke about how Scotsmen don’t wear anything under their kilts and she wondered…

“What’s yer story, Claire Beauchamp,” Jamie said a moment later, startling her out of her thoughts.

“My story?” Claire grabbed another plaid from the chair nearby, wrapping it around her shoulders. “I’m quite plain really, there isn’t much to say.”

“Och,” Jamie scoffed. “I dinna believe that. A beautiful English woman such as yerself is far from plain, and besides, everyone has got a story.”

“Then what’s your story, Jamie Fraser,” Claire asked, feeling completely at ease.

“Agh, that’s not fair! I asked ye first,” he laughed.

“I’ll tell you once you tell me yours,” she nudged his bare foot with her fuzzy sock clad one.

Jamie eyed her suspiciously, and Claire noticed for the first time how strikingly blue his eyes were. A stark contrast to her own dark amber ones. Everything about his was a stark contrast to her — his flaming red hair to her dull brown, his tanned skin to her pale, and his largeness to her smaller frame.

He set the cup of tea on the coffee table, careful not to let the plaid slip. “Well, ye ken about how I built this place wi’ my Da. I mentioned he passed a few years ago, and my Mam passed a few years before him.”

“I’m so sorry, Jamie,” Claire said.

“Tis hard sometimes,” he shrugged, giving her a warm smile. “Not always, as most days ye think of them randomly and wi’ a happy memory. Holidays are hard, especially this time of year for me.”

He began to tell her about his life. How he had lived in Scotland all his life, but gone to university in Paris, and earned his degree in business. He had one older sister, Jenny, who was married to his childhood best friend Ian and they had three children. As Jamie talked about his family and his childhood home, Lallybroch, Claire could picture it in her mind. His knack for telling stories was unmatched, and she figured that would be the Scottish-ness of him. Geillis was quite good at telling stories of her own.

“I’m a simple man, who only needs a few things,” Jamie continued. “I remember when we first found this land. I’ve always thought that I needed a mountain to live on, a space to call my own and this is it.”

“You live here on the property then?”

“Aye, just a five-minute drive down the road though,” he nodded, pulling the plaid tight around him. “My Da and I built that first to see if we could even build anythin’,” he laughed.

“But it was somethin’ special once we finally finished it. The first night there was everything I thought and more,” he said dreamily. “There’s somethin’ about building yer own house wi’ yer own two hands. It makes ye appreciate the walls around ye that keep ye warm and safe.”

“It’s amazing what you’ve created here, Jamie,” Claire reached out and placed her hand on his. “I’m sure if your father were here, he’d be proud of all the success.”

“I’d like to think so,” Jamie moved his fingers over hers, squeezing lightly. “Ye said that ye were plain,” he sniffed. “I feel my story is quite plain and boring.”

“It’s not,” Claire shook her head slowly. “It’s yours and that’s what matters.”

He cocked a brow at her, and she rolled her eyes playfully. “Alright, I get it. My story is important too. Although once I tell it to you, you’ll find it’s rather depressing.”

“Well, spit it out, Sassenach,” he rubbed his thumb over her fingers, still clinging on. “Dinna leave me in suspense.”

Claire took a deep breath, deciding that she would be truthful with him — after all, he had told her all about his life, it was the least she could do.

“For starters, I should tell you the real reason I’m here… alone, on Christmas,” Claire began. “I just recently got divorced, and quite frankly, I didn’t want to spend another second in my house that wasn’t decorated and that reminded me of my ex.”

“Who was daft enough to let a lass like ye go?” Jamie smirked, not making her feel pitiful like she usually did when she told people.

“Frank Randall,” Claire groaned. “That’s who. He cheated on me with nearly half the population of Oxford. I was the fool who found out five years into our marriage. I really thought he loved me, and that he was different, but I guess all men are the same deep down.”

Jamie cleared his throat at this, causing her to look up.

“Perhaps not all men,” she corrected. “But the Frank’s of the world are all cut of the same cloth. It’s a relief to not be married to him anymore, but I never thought I would be a divorced woman at the age of twenty-seven.”

“Frank Randall is an idiot,” Jamie said sternly. “He had a wonderful wife, and he clearly didna pay any attention to her. A wife is someone that should be cherished, kissed every day and respected.”

“Are you married?” Claire gulped as she asked. She had seen no ring on his finger, even now as he gripped her hand.

“No, no I havena been so lucky,” he smiled sadly. “But I watched how my parents were. I saw the love between them, the partnership they shared, and I ken that one day I want to have a love like theirs.”

Claire could see that he loved his parents very much, and was sad for him that he had lost them both. “I lost my parents when I was about five,” she said. “I don’t remember what their marriage was like, but my uncle whom I lived with told me they loved each other deeply.”

“There’s hope for ye yet, Sassenach,” Jamie grinned. “Ye’ll find a man who will treat ye as ye  deserve, I ken it.”

With stories exchanged, a hush fell upon the room. Claire’s hand was still held between Jamie’s fingers, and she had no intention of letting go. She looked out the window to see that the snow was still falling, adding to the already high pile of fluff.

“It looks like you may be here for the night,” Claire said and he followed her gaze to the window. “The roads are probably covered with the stuff, and you’re still shivering.”

Jamie’s teeth chattered, proving her right. “You should take the bedroom, you’ll be much warmer in a cozy bed than on the sofa. I don’t want to be held responsible for the owner of Fraser’s Ridge losing all his toes!”

“Nah, Claire,” he shook his head. “I canna take yer room. Ye paid for it, and I wouldna feel right puttin’ ye out. I’ll sleep by the fire if I must.”

“No,” Claire stood up and held out her hand to him. “You were passed out in the snow for hours, Jamie! You’re obviously still cold, and there’s a small fireplace in their too. You would know after all.”

He seemed to be weighing his options. While the sofa was comfortable, it was nothing compared to a pocket of warmth one found in a big bed. Jamie was a large man, and Claire bet that his feet would hang off the sofa.

“If you feel so guilty, then you can comp me the night for putting me out of the room,” Claire smirked, her hand still stretched out for him to take.

With a deep grunt, Jamie took her hand and stood up, keeping the plaid wrapped tightly over his body. Claire wanted to slip her hands inside to touch him but pulled her hand away as soon as he was stable.

“There’s also a hot water bottle under the bathroom sink,” Jamie sniffed. “Would ye mind fixin’ it up for me? It seems I still canna feel the tips of my wee fingers,” he wiggled them in front of her.

“Of course,” Claire grinned. “And I’ll bring you another cup of tea once you’re settled. Who knew I would be tucking a very large scot into bed on Christmas night?!”

“Certainly no’ me,” Jamie chuckled. He turned then to go to the bedroom, leaving Claire alone to fix up a fresh cuppa.

There was no way she could fall asleep tonight knowing that he was sleeping in her bed. As she waited for the water to boil, her thoughts turned to his long limbs under the sheets — his freckled arms reaching out to pull her close while she curled into his chest. Claire had never particularly been one for physical touch, but even now, her fingers missed his touch, and it was as if her body was longing to be next to his.

Claire went into the bedroom quietly, seeing that Jamie was already in bed, his eyes closed, but she knew he wasn’t asleep. She found the hot water bottle exactly where he said it’d be, and returned to the kitchen to fill it with the hot water. With that in hand, as well as the cup of tea, she went to him.

“Delivery from Santa’s elf,” Claire whispered, and his eyes popped open, a grin on his lips. “This ought to warm you up.”

Jamie took the tea from her, his hands curling around the cup. The covers were tucked under the bed and Claire pulled them up to tuck the hot water bottle at his feet, making sure it didn’t burn him. She had to admit that it looked awfully cozy in there, and she wanted to hop in next to him.

“Ye ken tis no’ that late,” Jamie said as he sipped. “There’s a TV in here as well, we could put on a Christmas movie?”

“You mean… get into the bed with you?”

He blinked, owl-like up at her. “Aye, yer no’ goin’ to sit on the floor while I have the whole bed to myself, Sassenach,” he gave a loud pat to the spot next to him. “We’re hardly strangers, since ye saved my life, ye ken.”

She probably should have hesitated far longer than she did, but with a shrug, Claire walked around to the other side and climbed in, still quite far away from him as it was a rather large bed. The remote was on her side, and she pressed the power button, bringing It’s a Wonderful Life to the screen.

“Och, this is one of my favorites,” Jamie grinned and wiggled deeper under the covers. Claire laughed at that, and he glanced over at her with a matching smirk. “I love the old black and white ones, don’t ye?”

“Oh yes,” Claire sighed happily, and pulled up the covers. “There’s something so nostalgic about them.”

Geillis would be happy to know that Claire did, in fact, have a man in her bed. It wasn’t exactly what she had in mind, but Geillis didn’t need to know all the details.

The two of them laughed at the funny parts, and were silent as George Bailey went along with Clarence the angel. The heat from the fireplace was comforting, and the bed was soft beneath her tired body. Claire’s eyes were fluttering shut, and while her brain knew she shouldn’t fall asleep next to him, the rest of her body didn’t seem to respond. Sleep washed over her, and she heard the distant ringing of bells as she fell into a deep sleep.

When she woke a little while later, she was surprised to find it was still dark outside. She must have drifted off for only a few hours. Claire was also surprised to feel a heavy weight — Jamie’s arm — wrapped around her stomach. As Claire’s senses came back to her, she realized that her body was curved with his, and his face was nuzzled into her neck.

There was no way she could get out of his embrace without waking him, and she knew he needed to sleep. No wonder she’d woken up, his body was radiating heat now and she was now covered in a thin layer of sweat. His breathing was deep and heavy, his arm tight around her, so she went limp and tried to relax herself into going back to sleep.

But her senses were on high alert now. Her imagination running wild as she felt with her mind his body against hers. With her knees bent, he had his legs pressed against hers. They were spooning. She was the little spoon of course. It was such an intimate position to be in with someone she’d only just met that day. Although, Claire had never slept like this with Frank. He was always on the other side of the bed, with only a kiss on the cheek before he fell fast asleep.

Perhaps, Claire had been craving someone’s touch all her life, and had never found it. Jamie lightly snored and the vibration ran throughout her body. Shifting to get more comfortable, Claire froze and gasped.

Her bottom was pressed snugly against his crotch, and there was no mistaking the hardness she now felt. Claire couldn’t suppress the laughter nor the arousal she felt. Any warm-blooded male would surely get turned on with a woman’s arse wedged between his thighs.

If it was anyone but Jamie, she would have been disgusted and jumped out of the bed. But she felt safe here in his arms, and the idea that she could turn him on even while he slept was erotic.

With that part of his anatomy reminding her just what she wanted to do to him, she gave up on sleep, and simply enjoyed being in his arms, as this would most likely not be a repeat occurrence.

“Sassenach,” he mumbled sleepily, startling her. Her body was now tight as a bowstring, waiting for him to realize what position they were in.

“Oh,” his arm around her stomach slipped away, allowing her to turn and face him.

“You know what they say about body heat,” she grinned, her face barely visible in the dim glow of the dying fire. “It’s the best way to get warm. Don’t worry about it, Jamie.”

“I dinna want ye to think I was takin’ advantage of ye,” he rubbed his hand over his eyes to better see her. “I must have drifted over to ye in my sleep w’out knowin’ it.”

“Jamie,” Claire laughed softly. “We’re still on your side of the bed. If anyone drifted, it was me.”

“I do feel much warmer now,” Jamie observed as he stretched his legs. “I can go out to the sofa now so ye can sleep.”

He made to move, flipping the covers back, and without thinking, Claire grabbed his arm to pull him back.

“I want you to stay,” she whispered, as her heart hammered in her chest.

Answering her plea, Jamie fell back into the bed and turned on his side to face her. He moved his hand to settle on her waist, waiting to see if it was okay. With a slight nod from her, Jamie pulled her closer until she fit against his chest. She looked up at him, meeting his blue eyes only inches from hers. There was no going back now.

“I dinna have any mistletoe,” Jamie said softly, his arms cradling her body.

“What?” Claire laughed, not expecting him to say that.

“Mistletoe,” he said again. “The wee green stuff ye hang over yer head at Christmas so ye can kiss someone.”

Claire buried her head against his chest, laughing. “I think we can manage without the mistletoe, don’t you think?”

“Aye,” one hand came to brush back the curls from her face. Their bodies were pressed so close that kissing didn’t even seem like an intimate idea.

They found each other in the dark. Jamie cupped her cheek reverently as he pressed his lips to hers. His jaw and neck were covered with scruff that itched pleasantly against her skin, and Claire wanted to purr like a kitten as he kissed her deeper.

Guiding her hands into his curly locks, she held on tight as she parted his lips with her tongue. The heat seeped from his body to hers, but a shiver went over her body as his hand snaked down to grip her arse, squeezing lightly.

“Mmmm,” she moaned, pressing her hips against his.

Claire was not entirely certain this wasn’t just a dream, and that she would wake up alone in bed. But for the moment, Jamie felt very real and his flesh under her hands seemed to yield to her touch.

They broke apart, only so that they could push the covers out of the way before coming back together. Jamie pulled Claire on top of him, his hands finding her hips and anchoring her against him. Sadly, she found out that he had not been naked the entire evening as her fingers skimmed the edge of his boxer briefs.

Her hips moved seductively, rolling against his groin. He was hard again, and with every snap of her hips a small sound left Jamie’s throat. His hands moved from her hips to her arse to push her closer. The kiss was so deep that she could hardly breathe.

“God, Sassenach,” Jamie sighed. “I’ve never wanted anyone so badly in all my life!”

Claire peppered kisses over his neck and chest, not wanting to part with the low lusty sounds he was making.

“Jesus, lass,” he muttered between breaths as he realized what she was doing. Claire shimmied down his body, leaving a trail of kisses in her wake. “Ye dinna have to…”

Looking up at him through long thick lashes, she smirked. “I appreciate the choice, but I’m willing, that is if you are?”

He cocked a brow at her, almost as a challenge. “As long as I can return the favor,” he said smugly.

Heat flashed over her body as he stared at her. She had to tear her gaze away from him to settle to the task before her. His body was sculpted to perfection. She ran her fingers over the grooves of his abs, swirling around the wiry hairs at his belly button. His breath hitched as her hands rested on the tops of his boxers.

Claire held his gaze as she pulled them slowly down his legs. His cock sprang free as the material was removed. Her belly quivered at the sight of his impressive thick length jutting upwards towards his stomach. Reflexively, Jamie’s legs widened and she slid down further to fit herself between them.

“Sassenach,” Jamie said with a hoarse voice. “I dinna feel that ‘tis fair that I’m the one naked and yer still covered up.”

“Oh,” Claire glanced down at herself. “I didn’t even realize.” She reached for the hem of her sweater, but two hands stopped her. Jamie pulled her to straddle him again. Now his hands crept up her sweater, his skin warm on her flesh. His fingers tickled her stomach before finally pulling up the material and tossing it over the side. She saw his tongue snake out and wet his lips as he looked at her breasts, covered only now by her black bra. With his skilled fingers, he unhooked it in seconds, tossing it to join the pile of growing clothes.

“May I?” His hands drummed a tattoo against her hips as he held her body over his.

“Yes, please,” Claire blushed and threaded one hand through his hair, following his movements as he leaned down and took one of her pink nipples into his mouth. His pull was insistent, and he began to suck, his cheeks hollowing. Claire’s head fell back as he pressed her against his mouth, sucking harder. A deep cry left her throat as he flicked his tongue back and forth over the sensitive nub.

“Aye, that’s it, Sassenach,” Jamie kissed the underside of her breast. “Make those wee noises for me!”

His mouth moved to the other breast, repeating the same process. His tongue was warm and he swirled the tip around her nipple, and they puffed up, now engorged and swollen from his lips. Before she could move back down his body, Jamie’s hands found her tights and began to pull them off as well as her panties.

“I wish I could see ye in the light,” Jamie said quietly as she pulled the material off her foot, letting it fall to the floor.

“No you don’t,” Claire snorted unflatteringly. “This is enough light so you don’t see all my bumps and squiggles.”

“Bumps and squiggles,” Jamie laughed adorably and pressed his lips against her stomach. “Claire, yer so beautiful. I feel I dinna deserve to be here wi’ ye, holdin’ ye in my arms.”

“You’re one to talk,” Claire ran her finger lightly down the slope of his straight nose. “It’s like making love to a god.”

“Tcha!” Jamie rubbed his hands slowly up and down her sides. She began to rock her hips against him, feeling his length grow between her thighs.

“I’ve never felt like this, Jamie,” Claire admitted. “With anyone.”

He picked up her hand and entwined their fingers, bringing their joint hands to rest over his heart. “Neither have I, Sassenach. I think ye are my Christmas wish come true.”

At that, she shyly buried her head against his neck, her body still gently rocking against his, the friction building. Her arms wrapped around his neck, as his arms settled on her hips. Claire gasped as the tip of his cock brushed against her clit.

She felt his hand move between their bodies as he took hold of himself. Jamie pumped his cock once before sliding it along her wet center. Claire shivered, biting down gently on the padded flesh of his shoulder. He was teasing her entrance with his cock, and just the tip entered her and she clutched his hair tightly.

Her body was shaking with the need to sink down on him, and she pulled back to look into his eyes. One hand came to rest on her lower back, his other still between their bodies. From just the tip, she knew that he was huge, and would fill her completely. Her stomach tightened in anticipation, and she couldn’t help but roll her hips, hearing the sound of the wetness their bodies made.

“I must take ye, Claire,” Jamie said as his grip tightened on her. “I must or I’ll die!”

Claire felt the same, as her heart pounded fast and hard in her chest. She wanted to explode, and as she sank down on his cock, she thought she just might. Their moans mingled together in the air as he filled her.

“Christ,” he whispered. The hand that had been holding his cock found her hand and he gripped it tightly as she began to rock her hips. Claire had never felt so close to someone, not just physically but emotionally. No one had ever looked her in the eyes as they bared their soul with her. There was nothing left unsaid as they gave over to one another.

Claire kept up the slow and steady rhythm of her hips, and overcome with emotions, she pressed her face into his neck, feeling tears spring to her eyes. Jamie held her close, his other hand rubbing slowly up and down her back. He thrust upwards, hitting a spot so deep inside of her, that Claire didn’t know such pleasure existed.

“Oh God,” she panted.

“Oh Claire,” Jamie breathed heavily.

She was close, and she began to grind down faster and harder, feeling his body begin to tremble. Quickly, she pulled back so that she could watch him fall apart. His length throbbed inside of her, and his mouth opened and closed, as the words failed to come out.

With a sharp snap of her hips, Claire felt her own orgasm coming, as she clenched around his cock. Jamie’s hands squeezed her hips, helping her ride him. His eyes flicked back and forth from her bouncing breasts to her face as she came.

Jamie cried out, “Claire!” before spilling inside of her, his body spasming. Tingles shot down her spine, and she held onto him for dear life. Carefully, Claire adjusted her position so she could wrap her legs around his waist and she clung to him, almost like a monkey.

His hands were soothing on her back, lightly stroking. He stayed rooted inside of her, reluctant to leave her body.

“I didn’t know it could be like that,” Claire said softly against his chest.

“I didna either,” Jamie echoed. “Perhaps it depends on who yer wi’.”

Claire chuckled, but sighed happily at this. Whatever it was between them… it wasn’t usual.

After time passed and they both were sated, Jamie shifted and then moved Claire to lay in his arms, her head comfortably against his chest as she looked up at him.

“When I first met ye, all those hours ago,” he snorted. “I felt a… a sort of draw to ye, Sassenach. Like I just had to be close to ye. To hear yer voice, touch yer skin. I thought I’d do anythin’ to be near to ye.”

“Really?” Claire ran her fingers lightly over his stubbled chin.

“Aye,” he smiled. “Twas the strangest thing. While I was out chopping the wood, I found myself thinking about ye, and I’d known ye all of five minutes!”

“I felt the same,” Claire smiled, pleased that she hadn’t been crazy. “I was waiting for you to come back with the wood. I even changed my clothes,” she laughed quietly. “When you didn’t come back, I grew impatient and that’s when I decided to look for you. I just knew I had to see you again.”

“I dinna wish my niece any ill tidings,” Jamie stroked her cheek. “But I’m verra glad that she got sick after lunch and I came back here. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here wi’ ye in my arms. Ye see, Claire, and this may sound hasty, but I talk to you as I talk to my own soul," he said, turning her face to him. He reached down and cupped her cheek, fingers light on her temple.

"And, Sassenach," he whispered, "your face is my heart.”

Claire closed her eyes as he kissed her, feeling like something opened up inside of her at his words.

“I certainly didn’t expect this,” she said. “I thought I would never be able to recover after my divorce. That my heart was used and not able to be loved again. But, with you, Jamie… I feel things I’ve never felt. A closeness to you, as if I could tell you anything and nothing would surprise or scare you.”

He pressed their lips together once again. “I feel as if our souls have belonged to each other far longer than our bodies have.”

“I don’t think I can part from you, Jamie,” Claire said sleepily, yawning.

“Shhh,” Jamie kissed her forehead and slid further into bed, pulling the covers around her. “Sleep, a nighean donn. When ye wake, I’ll be here.”

“Mmmm,” Claire nuzzled against him, and fell asleep to him muttering something in a language she recognized as Gaelic.

++++++

When Claire opened her eyes, she did wake in his arms. The sun filled the room, and she wasn’t shocked to see that the snow still fell outside. The fire had gone out long ago, but Jamie’s body heat kept her warm. In her sleep, she had shifted to lie curled against his body, and she placed a soft kiss to his neck, rousing him.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” she kissed his jaw.

“Yer insatiable,” Jamie groaned, all while keeping his eyes shut. His hands were locked around her back, and they slid down to rest over her arse.

“The same could be said about you,” she poked him playfully in the chest.

Before the morning could unfold like the previous night, however, a loud gurgle came from Claire’s stomach, making Jamie’s eyes pop open.

“I guess all that activity made me hungry,” she nipped at his bottom lip.

Jamie laughed and then rolled her body on top of his. “First we shall eat, and then I plan to devour ye,” he nibbled on her ear lobe, making her squirm.

Another loud gurgle sounded in the room and this time from Jamie.

A cold breeze drifted across her naked body as Jamie pushed off the covers. She rolled off his body and stood up, grabbing the plaid to wrap around her. Jamie opted for his boxers, tugging them on as he yawned.

They ventured out into the kitchen, sitting on two stools. Claire placed a bowl in front of Jamie and poured cereal into it.

“Tell me when to stop,” Claire said as she poured the milk.

“That’s good,” he smiled. “Breakfast of champions.”

“If I knew I would have company, I’d have bought proper breakfast,” Claire said as she sat down at the counter next to him.

“I dinna think this will be our last breakfast together,” Jamie’s foot nudged hers, making her grin sheepishly.

“No, I dare say it won’t.”

They ate quickly, impatient to return to each other’s arms. Food was necessary to continue making love, but Claire was shoveling the cereal down her throat as fast as she could, with only one strange look from Jamie.

“Dinna choke, Sassenach,” Jamie laughed as Claire wiped the milk from her lips. “I canna make love to ye if yer dead.”

“Sorry,” she blushed.

Jamie pushed his bowl aside, and grabbed her hand. “Dinna apologize, ’tis charming for some reason. But now that yer belly is full, I can have my way wi’ ye!”

He stood up, spinning her on the stool until she faced him. Jamie’s arms wrapped around her stomach and he lifted her into the air, plaid and all. She landed over his shoulder, and her bum was given a nice firm pat, making her giggle.

“You better not drop me, Fraser!”

“Not a chance,” he chuckled, bouncing his knees as if he was dropping her. Claire shrieked, but laughed, letting her arms dangle over his back. She slid her hands over his arse, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Enough of that,” he smirked, walking into the bathroom where he set her on her feet. His hands reached for the plaid around her shoulders and pushed it off of her. Claire returned the favor by removing his boxers, enjoying the sight of his erect cock on her way back up to kiss him.

“Just what are we doing in here?” She hooked both arms around his neck.

“I’ve fed ye,” Jamie kissed her nose, “and now I need to wash ye.”

“Do I stink?” Claire blushed, self conscious as she put her arms down.

“No,” he shook his head. “But ever since I set eyes on that curly wig of yers, I’ve wanted to get my hands into it. If that doesna sound too weird,” he bit his bottom lip.

“Oh,” she said. The shower was certainly big enough for the two of them, and she moved out of his grasp to turn on the hot water, watching as the room began to steam up.

Claire grabbed his fingers, pulling him into the shower after her. They stood under the water, letting it drench them. Once her hair was wet, Jamie grabbed the shampoo and drizzled a fair amount into the palms of his hands, lathering until suds formed.

Spinning until she faced the shower wall, Claire sighed as his hands massaged her scalp. He had large strong fingers — fingers that had explored her body the night before. Fingers that made Claire moan as she imagined them inside of her.

“Feel good?”

“Hmmm?”

Jamie laughed, still rubbing the shampoo into her hair. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Feeling like she was floating, Claire allowed Jamie to move her under the water to rinse out the shampoo. He then pushed her back against the wall, his mouth landing on her neck. The water poured down his back, cascading down his skin.

Claire’s eyes sprang open from her dreamy state as she felt his lips nibble on her breast briefly before moving south.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” Claire muttered as she looked down to find Jamie on his knees looking up at her. His hands settled on her waist, making sure that she didn’t fall down on top of him.

“I told ye I would devour ye, Sassenach,” he growled before licking slowly up her center. Claire’s legs buckled, but his hands squeezed her hips. The tip of his tongue flicked out against her clit before two of his fingers spread her lips. His tongue darted inside of her, and Claire’s head fell back against the wall.

Her hands found his head, holding on tight to his hair as he began to bop his head. Like a kitten lapping at milk, Jamie began to lick and suck her folds.

“Oh God,” Claire sighed. Jamie lifted her right leg to rest over her shoulder and he adjusted the angle, now able to insert a finger inside of her. Her thighs involuntarily clenched around his head. Jamie chuckled against her skin, sending shivers over her body.

Glancing down, she could see that his cock was hard and throbbing. His other hand left her waist to take hold of himself, the thumb moving slowly up and down his cock. Watching his head move between her thighs as well as his hand pump himself made Claire’s orgasm come quickly, her body trembling under the water.

Jamie lapped up her juices, his mouth greedy for her taste. Peppering her thighs with kisses, he stood up, watching as she swayed slowly, her body still given over to pleasure.

“I could do that all day,” Jamie kissed her gently and she tasted herself on his lips.

“And I want you to,” Claire kissed him harder. “But not before I return the favor.”

Before he could say anything, she was already sliding down onto her knees. His cock was still hard, resting against his stomach. Finally able to see all of him in the light, Claire gasped. He was bloody huge and she was impressed that he managed to fit inside her so snugly the night before.

“Like what ye see, then?” He was watching her, grinning at her fascination with his member.

“I’m just trying to work out if you really are a god,” Claire said and kissed the tip of his cock, watching his thighs clench.

“Jesus,” Jamie grunted, placing one hand against the wall to steady himself. “Ye sure ken how to flatter a man.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Claire smirked, running one finger down his cock. Her thumb rubbed slowly over the head, pulling back the foreskin. Moisture dripped down and she moved her lips around the tip, tasting him.

Jamie’s buttocks clenched, and moans left his lips as Claire took more of him in. Her fingers were skating lightly down the backs of his thighs. She enjoyed the shivers that ran down his body at her touch. With one hand she cupped his heavy balls, squeezing them firmly as her other hand pumped his cock.

Her tongue snaked out, flicking quickly over the head. Jamie’s eyes were shut, but they opened, dark blue and he watched her take him in her mouth. Her cheeks hollowed, and as he hit the back of her throat, she gagged, but was too eager to please him to stop. Claire bopped her head, moaning as his hand found her hair, not pushing or forcing her, but just moving with her motions.

She felt his balls draw up close to his body, and looked up, seeing how he was breathing quickly. Claire pulled him out of her mouth, now only sucking on the tip of his cock. His head bent down to watch her again, and as she flattened her tongue against his shaft, he came in long hard spasms. She milked him, her eyes focused on his face as he spilled into her hand and she licked the head clean.

Claire stood up, her body gliding along his. She placed her hands under the water, washing his seed off.

“I could do that all day,” she smirked, returning his sentiment from moments before.

“I guess if ye bed a vixen,” Jamie leaned his forehead against hers. “Ye have to expect to get bit.”

Claire laughed as he kissed her. They finished showering with wandering hands. They simply couldn’t get enough of each other.

Not bothering with clothes, Jamie and Claire dried off and stumbled towards the living room. Claire laid down near the fireplace as Jamie lit it. The twinkling lights shined above them. Jamie rolled against her as he laid next to her.

“How much longer is yer stay?” He asked, sighing contentedly against her neck, his breath warm.

“Three days,” Claire said, her fingers brushing through his curls at the nape of his neck.

“Hmm, three days. Would ye really leave before New Year’s Eve?” Jamie smirked.

“Only if I had a good reason not to leave,” Claire looked at him.

“Do ye?”

Did she? Jamie was certainly not someone she expected to fall for, but she had. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since they met, but already her heart belonged to him. This Christmas would be one she would remember forever, always thinking back to the day she met the love of her life.

“Yes,” she kissed him. “I do. Is that a date?”

“Aye,” Jamie grinned. “I can show ye what a proper Hogmanay is like, Sassenach!”

“I thought this would be a blue Christmas, but the only thing that was blue was your frostbitten skin,” Claire laughed.

“And my balls,” he added, laughing.

“And those,” Claire snickered. “I’m glad you fell down in the snow.”

“So am I,” Jamie rolled his body on top of hers. “What were those lyrics again… I’ll have a blue Christmas without you. I’ll be so blue just thinkin’ about you…”

There on Fraser’s Ridge, two strangers met, and fell in love on Christmas Day. They laughed as they never had before, loved with a passion they didn’t know existed, and had a very very merry Christmas.

Five days later, after spending day and night in each other’s arms and getting to know everything there was to know about the other, Claire packed up her things and said goodbye to Fraser’s Ridge.

She wasn’t headed home just yet, however, as Jamie was eager to take her to his childhood home, Lallybroch, for a Hogmanay celebration.

“Is your sister going to be very shocked at my being there?” Claire asked as they drove. She’d called Geillis a couple of days ago to ask if she could keep watching Ados. Of course, Geillis had given her hundred questions to answer, but Claire told her she’d give her all the juicy details when she got back to Oxford in a few days.

“Probably,” Jamie chuckled, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on Claire’s thigh. “I havena brought a lass home, so she’ll want to interrogate me. The good thing,” he smiled over at her, “is that we’ll be arriving shortly before the rest of the guests do, so she willna have time to do that!”

“Ahhh,” Claire laughed. “All part of your master plan, I see. So that’s why we didn’t arrive there yesterday or the day before.”

Jamie squeezed her leg. “Tis no’ that I dinna want her to meet ye, but I still want to keep ye all to myself. Plus, I dinna want to subject ye to a million questions that she’ll ask ye. There’s no need to rush this.”

“My lad,” Claire sighed happily. “I think it’s a bit late for that.”

Jamie smiled in agreement, and they drove on. Lallybroch wasn’t too far away, and within the hour, they were pulling up to the large stone estate. Jamie was right, as there were other cars pulling up at the same time as them.

“This place is not at all what I imagined,” Claire said in awe as Jamie turned off the car.

“Tis quite charming,” Jamie smiled. “Lallybroch means lazy tower, ye ken? I suppose it does lean a bit.”

Claire tilted her head to the side, admiring the house. She left her bag in his car, they would come out later to get that to stay the night in Jamie’s old room. Sliding his fingers through hers, Jamie pulled her close and together they walked up to the house.

People were milling about inside, and the atmosphere was electric with the air of celebration. The room smelled of meats and pies and Claire’s stomach growled with the need to be filled.

“Jamie!” Came a loud voice from their left. A short, raven haired woman came running towards them and Jamie let go of Claire’s hand to embrace her. “Ye finally made it ye numptie.”

“Aye, sorry we’re late,” Jamie said, giving his sister a kiss on the cheek.

“We?” Jenny craned her neck to look behind Jamie at Claire. Her eyes went wide, and her brows shot up to her forehead. “Hello, there.”

“Janet,” Jamie eyed his sister as he wrapped an arm protectively around Claire’s waist. “This is Claire Beauchamp.”

Claire noted how he didn’t explain where or when they’d met, and she though it best to keep it that way for now. She offered Jenny her hand, and waited awkwardly before his sister wrapped her arms lovingly around Claire.

“I’ll yell at ye later for no’ tellin’ me ye were bringin’ a lass,” Jenny said to Jamie as she hugged Claire. “But I’m happy that ye did. ’Tis nice to meet ye Claire. Sadly I dinna have much time to talk wi’ ye, but we’ll have plenty of time for that tomorrow. Ye are stayin’ the night?” She directed this question at Jamie who nodded.

“Good,” Jenny squeezed Claire’s hand. “Ian is around here somewhere with the bairns. He’ll love to see ye.”

“Oh aye,” Jamie took Claire’s hand again, pulling her out of Jenny’s grasp. Jenny smirked at her brother before leaving them alone, off to fulfill her hostess duties.

“Well, that went better than expected,” Jamie sighed. “Ye must give a good first impression, Sassenach.”

“I’ve never been told I give a bad one,” Claire tapped his nose. “Now that that is out of the way, can we please get something to eat?”

“Aye,” Jamie grinned. “And to drink!”

They found the table of food easily, and filled their plates high with mountains of savories and sweets. While Claire carried their bounty, Jamie grabbed two full glasses of cider and they made their way outside into the chilly air to get away from the noise.

The sound of laughter and music could still be heard outside as they sat down on a wooden bench.

“This is lovely, Jamie,” Claire took a bite of a mince pie. “Thank you for bringing me.”

“I’m glad ye are enjoyin’ it,” Jamie grinned over his cup. “It’ll get rowdy as the night wages on. Swords dances and the like.”

“Sword dances?” Claire questioned.

“Aye,” gulped. “Ye place two swords crossed over the other, and ye dance atop them. Highlanders used to do these types of dances for celebration or before a battle to predict the outcome. It’s a tradition now.”

“Will you be partaking in these sword dances?”

Jamie’s cheeks turned bright red. “I do every year,” he took a bite of haggis. “But this year I’ll have ye to cheer me on.”

They kept eating until their stomachs were full, and while Claire wanted more of the delicious food, she felt ready to pop.

The music was drawing them back inside, but Claire took Jamie’s hand, rubbing her fingers lightly over his, not wanting to leave their peaceful cocoon.

“I didn’t expect to feel this way about someone I met only a week ago,” Claire said softly. “I came to Scotland to get away from my old life, and to make myself forget the pain.”

Jamie was silent, but his eyes were focused on her as she spoke.

“I came to escape my old life, but I found something new,” Claire grinned. “Something worth holding onto.”

One of his large hands came up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing off a bit of snow on her skin. “Something worth holdin’ onto,” he repeated. “Yer worth getting frostbite for, Sassenach. Yer worth shiverin’ until I canna feel anythin’.”

Claire smiled, “I know that you live here, and I live back in England, but I hope this won’t be the end.”

“Nah,” he leaned in close, resting his forehead against hers. “’Tis no’ the end, Claire. I reckon… it’s just the beginning.”

Snow began to fall harder, forcing them to move inside. They danced hand in hand, sang loudly and rang in the new year with a kiss, sealing their fate forever.