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sunburnacoustic · 1 year

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The First Great British Guitar Band of the 21st Century

(NME, October 1999 after the release of Showbiz)

Oh the angst! The Pain! Searching for truth in a meaning less world.. Such is life in Teignmouth. Just ask Muse, three lads who've escaped small-town hell to be the toast of America. This just looks silly.

Three 21-year-olds from the sleepy fringes of Devon, lording it up in a glitzy Manhattan hotel lounge, chomping gleefully on tree-trunk cigars like they've just shagged New York senseless and eaten the entire music business for dessert. Any minute now these straggly indie-kid interlopers are sure to be turfed out on to the sidewalk with all the other guitar toting losers, back to their Transit van world. See ya. Keep dreaming, suckers. Except this never happens. Because even if they remain just above toilet-gig level at home. Muse are trainee rock royalty in America right now. Madonna herself beat half-a-dozen bidders to sign the youngsters to her Maverick label last November. Which is why the Teignmouth trio are billeted in New York for three weeks of back-to-back promotion for an album that hasn't even been released yet.

When British record companies sniffed around Muse, they declared them 'the new Radiohead' and shuffled away. When American labels saw them in New York's CMJ in November, they declared them 'The new Radiohead!' and formed a queue to sign their asses on the spot - cultural differences or Brit snobbery? Probably a bit of both, as Muse are more than the new Radiohead - they're the new Pixies, Nirvana, Mansun, Queen and Guns N' Roses too. And in their own broody intense way, they are about to explode.

Matthew Bellamy (singer/guitarist), Chris Wolstenholme (bass) and Dominic Howard (drums) were thrown together in a dark place of stagnation and decay, despair and degradation. It's called Teignmouth. Just below Torquay on the English Riviera, Teignmouth is a black hearted realm of eternal torment from which few souls emerge unscathed. Beneath its sleepy surface of genteel retirement homes and crazy-golf ranges, something deeply wicked festers in the remorseless south Devon sun. Possibly. "It's sort of like Torquay without the nightclubs" shudders Dom. Sounds pretty sinister. Like one of those elegantly shabby red-brick English towns where it's forever 1952 apart from the raging crack problem... "I think the best way to describe Teignmouth would be if we sent you the article that was printed on the front page of the local paper," sneers Matthew. There's a picture of the mayor of Teignmouth putting our CD in the bin because apparently we said in some interview that Teignmouth is a boring place, full of drug-takers. He said "I don't know who these drug-takers are, no-one takes drugs here...' Hahaha! That gives you an idea of what the town is like." Naturally, growing up in a stifling backwater run by rock-hating killjoys straight out of Footloose, the Muse boys were sometimes suicidally bored. They even resorted to doing 'dodgy stuff' on occasion.

There was a whole lot of nights when there was nothing to do and the only stuff that was fun to do was music," recalls Matthew. "You ended up doing dodgy stuff like breaking in to swimming pools, just because that was something to do. Most of the friends we had have either gone to University or become drug dealers." Ooh, the mayor will love that. Picture a bonfire of NME's outside the town hall. But at least the nascent Muse had something to kick against. And kick they did, starting with their debut sixth form gig five years ago. "The first gig we ever played together was a Battle of the Bands contest," says Matthew. "We wore loads of make-up, played loads of trashy punk stuff and got the crowd to invade the stage and smash all our gear. And we won! That's the weird thing. Because we beat all these bands that were really technically proficient, bands that sounded like Jamiroquai. People were shouting, you fucking cunts!' That totally affected our view of what music's about - it's not necessarily about music, it's about really believing in what you're doing."

So Muse kept plugging away, ignoring their critics, trashing their gear, dreaming of the big league. They eventually signed with a West Country management company and won a UK record deal with Mushroom, home of Garbage. And now, five years later, Madonna owns their souls. Sweet revenge on snobby old Britain and tight-arsed little Teignmouth, right? "That's what started us but I don't think that's what we're doing now," says Matthew. "The stuff we write now is more of a realisation of what the world's like. It's easy to blame stuff on a small town but then you go out there and you realise that some of the attitudes that you thought were just in your small town are actually all over." Muse's debut album is called 'Showbiz'. Oh yes. Most first albums contain two or three half-great peaks padded out with fillers. 'Showbiz' has a dozen tracks. ALL of which are heart-wrenching Wagnerian uber-anthems with fiery Spanish rhythms seismic meta-choruses and bile-spewing ultra-lyrics from the scabrous depths of Matthew Bellamy's charred-black heart. In other words, it's fucking great. But, bloody hell, is it miserable. Not trouser-fumbling hey-nonny-no Belle and Sebastian wistful nor chest thumping Daddy-never-loved-me Pearl Jam feel-my-pain self pity. Not even beautifully desolate and fragile like Thom Yorke, but aaaargh! post-apocalyptic heart-on-skewer Nick Cave tormented and urrrgggh! self-lacerating edge-of-darkness Ian Curtis fucked-up desperate. Heroically, bracingly, cathartically tragic. Hooray!

And yet Matthew seems like a pleasant well-balanced chap in person. Why the long face Sadboy-Slim? "Erm.... is this the time or the place?" Matthew wonders nervously "I don't think it is. Aren't we all tormented in some way? I've always had trouble.... I think it's like existentialism or something. The problems I'm having, if everyone else is having them the world's a scary place." Is miserable music some kind of perverse comfort in a cruel world? "All I can say is some of the music I listened to when I was young was like how we sound," shrugs Matthew. "That emotional deep stuff was what made me feel good because someone else out there is saying things the same as me. I used to listen to a lot of blues - Robert Johnson, Ray Charles I think that music was way deeper than I could have understood but for some reason it spoke to me."

Of course, Muse will be roundly mocked for taking themselves so seriously. But cynics said the same thing about Nirvana at the end of the '80s. Remember these boys are only 21, hurtling into a new millennium with their emotional wounds wide open. "I think things pick up generally towards the start of every decade." nods Matthew, spotting light at the end of a very long, very dark tunnel. "In 2000 or 2001, people will start getting more positive. There's a lot of fear hanging around which people are trying to deny but there is. And when that's over hopefully there will be a positive thing. Either that or extremely negative, hahaha! And it will all be over..." The first great British guitar band of the 21st century has arrived. Enjoy them while there's still time.

#Muse band #Muse interviews #1999 #NME #Matt Bellamy #Dom Howard #from the archives - rocketbabydolls.com #where would we be without the internet archive #the websites are all gone #muse band #matt bellamy #dom howard #muse #muse interviews #Showbiz Muse #Showbiz era

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bryndeavour · 3 years

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wip wednesday

** in which a grand house sits on the edge of an old west town, Ms. Win, granted a swift divorce from her philandering and gambling husband, the town Sheriff Thursday, runs a lush house of some repute where gentleman of all sorts give entertainment and comfort for any weary traveler or townsperson seeking their services **

Morse stumbled through getting his boots and stiff uncomfortable clothing off, and once finally stripped down he splashed himself at the wash basin for a bit of a refresher. The sun was out but that was as much he knew about the time, so he finally opened his window to the bustle of the street below. Even at this end of the town things were busy in the daylight. Wagons carted goods to all the various shops, errands were run, and business was being put on. The window beside his, within arms reach, had a set of long legs propped on the edge and if Morse leaned forward he could see the smoke wreathing out from behind it.

“Morning, Morse,” Box’s feet withdrew and his head craned forward into view with a cigarette in his lips and one eye squinted. His gaze dragged from Morse’s tousled hair to his pained squinting and all the way down to his flagrant nudity, “Fuckin hell. You look rough.”

Morse would have argued it but he did feel like absolute shit so the most he managed was a knowing shrug.

“Don’t forget,” Box took the cigarette from his mouth and shook his hair back in the cross breeze, “Ms. Win wants us in the parlor at midday.”

“What?” Morse knew it sounded familiar but there was a throbbing in his skull that was drowning out most rational thought.

“Al heard tell it’s a new doctor,” Box’s brows raised.

“Mrs-” It was a hard habit to break, calling her Mrs., “Ms. Win told him that?”

“Well,” Box leaned both elbows on the sill and gestured with his large hands, “Joan and Jim were-” He gestured.

“Flirting painfully and mercilessly?” Morse muttered and opened his eyes wider with a few blinks. He was waking up slowly.

“Flutterin’ lashes and all,” Box flicked his cigarette down on the road, except he seemed to be aiming for one particular old man with a bent back and straw hat. The cigarette actually hit the brim, bounced past his face, and fell to the dirt.

“Son of a bitch!” The man squawked up at him.

“Oh, that you Howard?” Box smiled in a slimy way that Morse recognized, “Didn’t recognize you with that limp.”

Morse rolled his eyes. Howard’s wife had started coming round a few weeks ago and she was a loud woman both in the bedroom and without. The entire town knew by now, about both her visits to Win’s and her husband’s particular inability to rise to the occasion. She was rather frank about it.

“Fuck off, Box!” Howard’s voice actually strained in his genuine annoyance.

“Got a free slot tonight,” Box curled his lips and winked, “I’ll give you a discount. Buy one-get-one, on your wife’s tab.”

Howard had also cheated Box out of cards around the same time his wife began to frequent the house. Ronnie was absolutely living for it.

“The doctor.” Morse reminded Box as Howard went cursing off down the street.

“Right, so Joan slipped to Jim they got a new doctor. Then Win cancels all our appointments for today. Mandatory house meeting, remember?”

Morse thought that through. Joan tells Jim, Jim tells Ian, Ian tells Jakes and Jakes tells everyone. There was always the possibility it was a lie but the established predictable train of gossip wasn’t usually wrong.

“Midday, you said?” Morse scratched across his bare chest and yawned.

Box was moving. Buttoning his open grey shirt and tucking the tails into his dark pants, “Mmmhmmm. Which I’d say,” Box pointed out to the road where a neat little carriage rounded the road and pulled up out front, “Is bout now.”

The carriage door opened to reveal the voluminous skirts of Miss Frazil, Ms. Win, and a bowler hat wearing stranger who he couldn’t quite see from this angle. Win looked up at him, the windowsill only providing modesty from certain angles, and she furrowed her brows.

“As rousing of an afternoon it is, Morse dear,” She glanced down his nude body swiftly, “We have company, if you wouldn’t mind putting something on.”

“And a good afternoon to you too, Morse!” Miss Frazil called with a loud laugh and made no effort to disguise her looking him over.

The stranger looked up at him placidly through round spectacles. His brows raised but his expression was nearly impossible to read from here. There was something scrutinizing about his gaze, but he didn’t blush or laugh or even grimace. He simply observed Morse there, tilted his hat slightly in greeting, and then moved on to follow the women inside. Morse realized that his sudden warmth wasn’t the afternoon sun, but the slight flush of embarrassment that blossomed over his neck and chest and he swiftly ducked inside and closed his shutters.

#wip wednesday #My writing #weve already got fred content #and max and morse #and boxfancy #its a whole ass universe lads #win and joan run this shit #THIS IS ABOUT BUSINESS WOMEN

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1kook · 3 years

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commercial break ; TEN

this is part of my netflix & chill series takes place directly after vickey & hickeys !

SUMMARY See, there’s no one in this world who ignores his house rules more than you. Even worse, there’s no one on this planet who can make Jungkook ignore his own rules like you do. WARNING smut, kissing, unprotected sex, missionary, a love for cum/precum, mentions of hickeys, uhhh idk what else lol MISC valentines day, jk cute housewife tbh, jk being in love again u know the usual, jk clean freak RATING m (18+) WC 1.4k

NOTES its not proofread bc im lazy but i love them... doesn't that amount to something.... YES! we move lads

Jungkook has been living by himself for about four years now, give or take, and in that time he has come to understand the dire need for order when maintaining a home. He never understood why his mom was such a stickler for rules until he began living on his own. Those first few months had been awful, just the mere memory makes him shiver. His kitchen counters had been littered with an array of stains. His laundry basket seemed to fill up faster than usual. He never envisioned his adult life would start off with him polishing each and every inch of his hardwood floors. But because of that experience, Jungkook has finally followed in his mother’s footsteps and composed his own list of rules, eponymously titled Jeon Jungkook’s 5 Rules for a Happy Home.

He liked order and peace, liked when his coats were lined up from lightest to heaviest, when his glass plates were all stacked according to size and collection. He’s generally a neat person, prides himself in maintaining a clean personal environment. But of course, because the universe just loves him so, they repay him for all his efforts by giving him an absolute wildcard of a girlfriend.

See, there’s no one in this world who ignores his house rules more than you. Even worse, there’s no one on this planet who can make Jungkook ignore his own rules like you do.

The list goes like this:

1. Shoes must always come off at the door; this keeps them clean and allows the hardwood floors to retain their glossy sheen for as long as possible.

The plan is to spend Valentine’s Day at his house, watch some Netflix, maybe chill. You had been giggly the whole drive back from the store, brandishing your repaired phone screen like it was something incredible. And because Jungkook had so graciously paid for it, he is reimbursed with a flurry of kisses that have the two of you stumbling into his house. “Baby,” he pants, hand at your waist. He hears rather than sees the loud thump of your sneakers against his hardwood floor. But Jungkook has long since mastered the careful art of distracting you, and it only takes one twirl and careful push until you’re pressed against the door, his hardwood flooring saved from your outside shoes.

Of course, you misread the action. “Are you gonna be mean to me again?” you purr, throwing your hands over his shoulders. Your breathing is a little shallow now, lips kissing against his jawline as he helps you out of your shoes. You surge forward once more, press those satin lips against his. But this time, it’s your sock-clad feet that step onto his flooring, a soft whimper falling through your lips.

2. Return everything to where it belongs; coats should go in the closet, keys on the key rack, etc, etc.

“Take it off,” you husk out, pushing his jacket off his shoulders, and then rather mindlessly tossing it against the base of the stairs, where it was certain to be a safety hazard. Jungkook doesn’t even have time to protest, because then your coat follows. And then your top. And then your bra.

He’s a weak man.

He kisses down your throat, makes sure to glide his tongue over the bruises from last night. Not because he wants to see them heal, but because they ignite this sort of possessiveness in him that has him pushing you against the wall once more, guiding your leg over his hip. “So pretty for me,” he mumbles, letting you manhandle him out of his own shirt. And when your pebbled nipples press against his chest, the blood rushes down to his nether regions. You whimper, an airy little sound that sends him to the brink of insanity.

3. Always hold the stair railing; the steps can be slippery sometimes, so it is best to be safe.

Just as predicted, his discarded coat ends up being the safety hazard it was destined to be. One blind step backwards sends him tumbling onto his behind, the edge of another step digging painfully into his back. “Fuck,” he groans, but not at his blossoming bruise. You shimmy out of your bottoms, present him with this stringy little thong he doesn’t think he’s seen before. “C’mere, baby.”

You’re his good girl, always, so you climb onto his lap with ease, slot yourself over him where you belong. “Right here?” you ask in the soft voice, look at him with this sinful gaze that sends shivers over every inch of his body.

“Right there,” he confirms, wrapping an arm around you, uses it to pull you flush to his chest. The other slides over the curve of your ass, along the length of your thigh. His gentle touch makes you arch against him, a soft sigh escaping through your lips. “Gonna be good for me?” Jungkook murmurs, pressing a kiss to the tops of your breasts. You nod, and he slips his hand just behind your knee, uses it as he hauls you into his arms. He can’t even see his own two feet as he stumbles up the stairs with you in his arms.

4. Don’t slam doors or unnecessarily swing them open; you can damage the walls or the door itself.

It’s a joint effort; you twist the doorknob and Jungkook kicks it open. It slams against the wall, but Jungkook doesn’t really care, not when you look like that sprawled over his sheets. He can’t get his pants off fast enough, eyes trained on you as you slip out of your thong. You’re already so wet, gliding your fingers through your arousal as he stumbles out of his jeans and boxers. Always a tease.

“Open,” you murmur. It’s what he should be saying to you, hand lingering on your knee, but he does it anyway. Jungkook parts his lips and savors the sweet taste of your arousal on your fingers, sucks and licks until you’re pulling away with a whine, spreading your legs for him to slot himself in between. He has half the thought to reach for the lube in his nightstand, the warming one that you love so much. But Jungkook is desperate and impatient: he spits in his hand and calls it a day, grips his cock in one hand and gives it a harsh tug. Unexpectedly, it’s an action that impresses his audience. “Me too,” you beg, tugging at his forearm.

And Jungkook complies. He revs up his throat and leans over you, spits in your mouth like you wanted him to. But he’s off today, not completely sane, and half of it splatters against the corner of your mouth, over your cheek. You flinch, eyes squeezing shut. A moan slips past your lips. And then Jungkook watches in awe as your tongue peeks out, licks at the corner of your lips like you’re trying to save it from going to waste. “Oh, baby,” he groans, and it’s with that final thought that he guides himself in.

You’re so warm, tighter than usual. He hopes it doesn’t hurt. By the sound of your cries, it doesn’t seem to. Still, despite his concern, Jungkook can’t bring himself to hold back and begins thrusting after only a couple seconds. You claw at his shoulders, probably leave bright red marks all over him. You’re exceptionally needy today, cross your ankles at the base of his neck and make it impossible for him to get too far.

Jungkook isn’t any better. He can’t let go of you even if he tried. If he’s not holding your waist, then it’s your breasts. If not there, then it’s your throat. There’s something so sexy about you today, so needy for him. He just fucked you last night, made you cum until you cried, and yet you always want more. More and more, just like him.

Neither of you last that long. Normally, he’d be embarrassed about that. But today, one press of his thumb against your clit has you spasming around him, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your cum coats his cock. So he’s not embarrassed, mostly proud. It’s a new record.

5. Always say I love you.

“I love you,” he gasps, holding your leg against his chest as he follows in your stead, vision fuzzy as his orgasm overcomes him. A hand touches his abdomen, gentle and encouraging. “I love you, I love you— I wanna marry you,” he shudders, before the pleasure eventually subsides and he’s slumping over your equally tired, equally sweaty form.

That he’s embarrassed about, hiding his face in your neck as you card your fingers through his hair. “Me too, sweet boy,” you hum, pressing your lips against his forehead.

Jungkook isn’t sure which of those two confessions you’re addressing.

(He hopes it’s both.)

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jjk smut #jjk fic #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #bts fic #bts smut #mine

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skiyoosmi · 3 years

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post-break up heartaches

⤷ verse 2. in the dreams that we once shared

⤷ miya osamu, bokuto koutarou

⤷ verse 1 | verse 3

⤷ play. sorrow by sleeping at last, wrong direction by hailee steinfield

commissions: open

⇢ OSAMU stays still in his seat, melancholic eyes contrasting your bright ones while you twirl around in the middle of the ballroom. he admits, your dream wedding gown fit your figure perfectly as it flowed so gracefully the more you moved. but no beauty can compare to the happiness on your face as you danced with his previous volleyball teammate; the latter having a small smile on his face, not even having a single care about the funny looks you've been getting from your distant relatives. despite the minimal expression he adorns, to someone who has known him for a long time, it's clear as day just how ecstatic suna rintaro was to declare you as his wife, just as you were to call him your husband.

that could've been us, his mind screams all throughout the time he's been in the wedding ceremony, that could've been him dancing with you. he remembers little by little— how those smiles and laughters used to be solely for him whenever you try out his new recipes, from tasty to funny, how he used to be the one suddenly dragged to dance with you, how you used to dream of being married to him. him and only him.

but time was a cruel thing. he should've known better than to keep you waiting for more than so many years with nothing but empty and broken promises. i'll be done soon, yn, you know how much this means to me, this is my dream we're talking about here. stop being selfish please— he recalls himself telling you. he fails to see the disappointment and hurt that cross your eyes, fails to protect the already fragile relationship as you say your goodbye's to him a few more arguments and weeks later— i'm sorry for holding you back, samu. make sure to reach your dreams, okay?

i'm sorry. no matter how many times he says it, your fate was already done with him. you only needed him and he couldn't even give you that.

"hey there, stranger. wanna dance for a bit?"

he looks up, blinded by your brightness that almost seemed as if it mocked his sappy mood but he nods nevertheless, taking your hands as you pull him to the dance floor. in his peripheral view, he sees suna give him a wholehearted smile.

"you should stop frowning. it doesn't suit your face you know? what did you do to my lively samu?" you huff after a few minutes of nothing but silence and awkwardness while you swayed side to side with him, pouting when he shrugs, "you're such a gloomy ass! are you still in love with me or something?"

you swear it was supposed to be a joke, something to lighten the air between you two. but how were you supposed to laugh when he replied to you in the way you least expected?

"yeah, actually, i still am."

silence engulfed the two of you as you tried to overcome your shock. and for all the years he has been with you, it was painfully obvious that the answer he hopes for will not come. not now, not ever.

"samu... it's been—"

"i know. almost 8 years, is it? i know but i can't help it, yn. how could i when you're literally all i see everywhere i look?"

you fail to give him back a reply and (un)fortunately, he feels a tap on his shoulder and immediately, he knew it was time. he lets go of your waist and turns around, heart ready to get drowned by the bitter wine he's planning to drink all throughout the night, accompanied by the tears he won't be able to let out until he comes back to his hotel room.

"congratulations on your wedding, yn."

he ignores the hollowness inside him brought about by the unfinished conversation and goes back to his seat and repeats it like a mantra: not all fairytales get their happy ending.

and much to his dismay, his was one of those that don't.

⇢ BOKUTO was a star, luminous and blinding yet always longing to be part of the galaxy that held the awe of many other people. he was a child with dreams that wander all over the world and with confidence, he wants hear it, see that same world cheer for him.

he was an enormous star but his dreams were even bigger— and as he reaches out his hand to take more of what the universe can give him, he unknowingly lets go of yours.

"you look like you've dropped a huge shit on your underwear with the way you're staring down the court," konoha comments as he takes the seat he reserved beside you, hands deep in his pocket while he does so.

you glare at him, scoffing at his vulgar choice of words, "and you look like that shit, asshole. we haven't seen each other for so long and that's how you greet me?"

he laughs out loud, opening his arms and shoving you in them, "here! is this what you wanted instead? so adorable, yn! i knew you loved me at some point!"

you let out a series of groans, struggling to get out of his hold, "no! you're so annoying, get off me!"

he cackles, releasing you as the buzz rings out throughout the whole court, signaling the beginning of the match between msby and schweiden adlers. you shift in your seat, watching the players get introduced one by one, gasping when your ex-boyfriend literally does two cartwheels in his turn. is he... serious?

"where does he think he is... some kind of circus?" konoha snickers, shaking his head in amusement. oddly, you find yourself laughing with your companion. after all, this was typical bokuto, so full of energy and surprises.

"he looks... okay. very much okay," you bitterly state, placing your chin right on your palm as your arms and elbows rested on your lap. envy envelops your whole being as you watch him lively wave to the crowds, a large grin staying on his face. you huff silently, eyes trying to look at the other players but gravity seems to be playing its tricks on you as you find yourself reverting back to his figure. you wonder if time will let you become that happy someday.

"you're not...?" the lad beside you trails off, sighing when you shake your head 'no.'

"of course not yet, aki. it's not that i still love him or anything but he's just... he was everything, you know? he's become part of all my routines and now that he's gone, it... it just feels empty. like the dreams that used to help me sleep at night suddenly went away," he nods, not pushing you to say anything further. you both knew better than to have a shameful breakdown in public.

"god, i keep forgetting that the air conditioning in here is the worst," you grumble under your breath, rubbing your hands together to keep them from freezing out... because bokuto was no longer there to keep them warm, no longer there to offer you his own hands because you both forgot your gloves at home, no longer there to blow on them as if it was effective (it distracted you both at least), no longe—

"here, give me your hand," konoha reaches out to you, palms awaiting for yours to be in contact with his. you blink, surprised by his sudden offer, along with the pink hues that dusted both sides of his cheeks.

"we can't have them becoming numb, can we? i... i want to hold these hands for a very long time, you know?" he stutters as he begins rubbing both of your hands together, successfully getting rid of the cold and providing a new warmth you never expected will come sooner. oh... it's time, huh?

"uhm... yeah... thank you," you felt your face get hot. it seems like something... rather, someone has come to distract from the coldness you've been recently feeling.

"give me your days," he coughs out, still blushing. if anything, he's flushing even more now, "i'll fill the emptiness in them... and... and i can be your dream so you can sleep tight... and you'll be mine."

you gape at him, thousands of scenes flying through your mind but all of them led to one specific scenario.

"i... i have a lot of dreams, yn! i want to become a star player, someone who everyone will look up to and cheer for! and i... i think i want to focu—"

"i get it, bo. i'll get out of your way then. thank you... for everything."

"i-i'll be your dream?"

konoha chokes on his own saliva, "y-yeah! don't make me repeat it though, do you even know how cheesy that sounds? i can't believe i just said that, god... the things you make me do, you...!"

"okay."

it was his turn to blink, "e-eh?"

"i guess this is day one then?"

"eh?! wait... we... we're dating now, right?!"

"shut up now, aki."

as his golden eyes observe the two figures sitting by the stands, bokuto wishes he could've seen sooner that you were the one he had always been dreaming of, yearning for; wishes it could be him that was holding your hands again and he swears to whoever god there is, he won't let go of them anymore.

but then again, it seems like you were finally ready to wander with someone that wasn't him— who was he to stop you from doing so?

he was just a star;

you were the whole universe,

his universe.

#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #osamu x reader #bokuto x reader #osamu headcanons #bokuto headcanons #haikyuu writings #haikyuu angst #miya osamu #bokuto kotaro #haikyuu fics #hq x reader #haikyuu hcs #post break-up heartaches

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queenofbaws · 3 years

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The (Almost)s An unexpected epilogue by TheIcyQueen

SURPRISE!!! Man oh man, it’s officially midnight my time, meaning it’s officially September 15, meaning it’s officially been one whole year since I posted the final chapter of T(A) and like??? AHHH!!! I’d outlined this a while ago, figured I’d write it eventually to sort of kick off those extended/alternate scene oneshots I mentioned a year ago, but when you mad lads started talking about PRINTING THIS DANG STORY OUT so you could hold it in your actual goddamn corporeal human hands, I said “FORGET EVENTUALLY - THIS IS HAPPENING NOW!!!”

I’m keeping this piece separate from T(A) itself on AO3 for a few reasons, the biggest of which being…like…look…I’m like a lot of you: I read the Epilogue That Shall Not Be Named. I know a lot can go wrong in an epilogue, and that things can be handled poorly. Like so much of the rest of T(A), I want what happens AFTER the story to really be up to your own interpretation, to live in YOUR head, and to take on whatever life you want it to have. I really just wanted to offer y’all a fun little peek into T(A)’s universe without it being stuck onto the story in a permanent, immovable kind of way �� like my flash fiction stuff, it’s here for you if you want it, and if you don’t? Hey, I get that too!!! It’s sort of its own thing anyway, a passing wave to Chapter 33 specifically.

I just wanted to say thank you all again: Thank you for going on this journey with me, thank you for laughing at the bad jokes, thank you for gasping at the guts and gore, thank you for keeping me company and making me smile during some tough times, thank you for all the comments and conversations and REAL-ASS BOOKS on REAL-ASS BOOKSHELVES. T(A) was always meant to be a story about healing and friendship, and thanks to all of you, I truly feel like so much of that has been made a reality <3 You guys are the best, and I hope this will suffice since I can’t reach through my screen to hug each and every one of you. Thank you, thank you, thank you! <3

(A year later)

#until dawn #josh washington #sam giddings #chris hartley #ashley brown #the almosts #queenie writes supermassive #my fanfiction

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hana-akari · 2 years

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Do you think there are vikings in the Naruto universe? Like there are samurai villages, whos to say there isn’t like a nordic country out there just vibing and minding its own business.

I have an oc based around that. Like he was adopted into that country as a baby after his parents looted a boat and he was the only survivor. And it turned out he was adopted by the village chief and his wife and no one ever told him. Even though he massively does not look like anyone in his village.

This country is so disconnected from the rest of the world that when the great ninja war was happening and the moon went all red and shit everyone lost their fucking MINDS. They thought the gods were mad and it was the end of days because their culture centers tightly around gods. And so mass panic happened, people started killing each other and shit and when it was all over the country was devastated and left confused because the world as a whole was still around??? That’s not what the stories told??? And then they thought maybe they were the only ones spared.

Out of curiosity, they sent my oc out into the world to see how the rest faired and for him to report back to them. Which is a great honor because no one has been to the outside world in like 200 years.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my boy and like the Boruto universe and how they have all this tech now just casually around and how he would go into absolute culture shock because the most advanced thing his people has are their weapons and maybe the fact they have paper. And ninjutsu?? Would just mind blow him because his people have a different set of powers based on runes. And not just anyone gets them. You have to complete a set of dangerous trials and both your ruins and weapon chooses you. And he completed his trails and has the big ass axe and water based runes because he’s a shark looking lad that was SUPPOSED to be from the hidden mist but parent murder and surprise adoption happened. He be based on a tigar shark because they’re my fav.

He’d be so frickin offended seeing literal baby children just casually blasting powers around when he nearly died for his. And while he’s having an internal meltdown people be side eyeing this big ass viking man.

I’ve been thinking of bringing him to tumblr nut idk if people would be that interested. I have so much lore and notes on this character its insane. vjgkjgdjkdjk

#TiredPunk: Ooc #//I've been thinking about my lad a lot lately #A friend and I have been bouncing back and forth about his redesign looks #Siiigghhss #I scared it dumb idea

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luckycheesefoodie321 · 4 years

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Just wanna tell y’all... Julie and the Phantoms is freaking dope (SPOILERS AND LONG POST)

And here’s my thoughts and a few things I’m hoping for S2 (since they gotta, amirite?)

The whole Julie can touch the phantoms thing in the last episode better be legit and not change, which means I can more confidently and more peacefully ship Julie with Luke, since the fact that he’s a ghost and therefore doesn’t exist on the mortal plain really puts a wrench in my plans to squee over them...

this also opens up the potential that they’re gonna bend the rules of the universe even more and have the lads basically come back to life? Idk if that’s what they’re gonna do but if they have the goddamn nerve to make a series where you are basically COMPELLED to ship a “lifer” and a ghost boy, then DONT send them to the afterlife straight away, AND THEN ALLOW THE LIFER TO BE ABLE TO PHYSICALLY TOUCH THE GHOST BOI, then they better hit that reverse Uno and make these boyos alive again!!

I was goddamn waiting for their hands to magically connect at some point bc of their intense chemistry and connection AND THEN THEY WENT THE EXTRA MILE AND FRIGGEN HAD THEM HUG WITH ESSENTIALLY NO REACTION FROM ANYONE?!?! I just about died bc hoo boi when they were singing they were literally:

The goddamn INTIMACY (he really just couldnt help himself at the end there and swooped in before he disappeared to sing in perfect harmony while gazing romantically into each other’s eyes)

Like ok Julie “gotta stop making eye contact with him during performances bc I can’t be falling for a ghost boi but also I’m just naturally drawn to him” Molina and Luke “yeah ok I have chemistry with everyone I sing with but it also makes me sad when Julie isn’t singing with me and sharing the mic and looking directly into my eyes” Phantom!!!

“It sure is interesting, this little relationship we have” or whatever tf the line was idk it was fuckign CUTE

That said I would also not be opposed to my lil bi boi Reggie and Luke! (he’s not totally straight, i was reading this correct bc we got that scene where Luke serenaded the crap outta him!) and Julie and Flynn (bc Julie also serenaded the crap outta her)

Uh obvi for Willie and Alex to kiss. They hugged, and I am goddamn delighted we have a canon gay ship to sail but uh... maybe some handholding and a build up to a cute ass kiss... Boo Boo I wasn’t expecting you to be here but I am GLAD

Reggie’s one sided friendship with Ray (Julie’s dad) is my everything and I hope they one day get to meet bc I want my boi to be happy

The deal with Trevor/Bobby?? Whatever he does will definitely impact Carrie’s relationship with Julie... though I do like that Carrie isn’t completely one dimensional... we see hints of something more about her here and there... the convo about how she earned her spot in the music program as opposed to a general “I’m better than Julie” situation... and she did seem to recognise how much Julie had changed in taking that stage alone and had overcome at least her some of her confidence issues... idk if I’m down with the “Dirty Candy” or whatever her name is...

I see the actor who plays Nick is gonna have more to his character than kinda cute crush that missed his chance bc Julie fell for a ghost boi... so that’s nice

Cheyenne Jackson did not hold back as always and I appreciate him for it... his performances were spectacular... though I do wish we’d seen the moment where the bois broke free but the more important climactic moment was them showing up for Julie

I didn’t pay attention in the first couple eps bc I had uni work to do and my sis was the one who started watching so idk what the brother and the tia’s deals are but I do hope to see more fun stuff from them!

That scene. Unsaid Emily. Tears. Heartbreak. I was not ready. Charlie Gillespie’s acting was goddamn on point and there is no shortage of feels in this show that deals with the loss of loved ones, dreams and regrets so friggen WELL

I lost my train of thought but yeah! GO WATCH JULIE AND THE PHANTOMS. ITS FREAKING FUN THE MUSIC IS GREAT, GOT A WOC LEAD AND WOC BEST FRIEND, A (at least half?) HISPANIC/LATINO MAIN FAMILY, ONE OF THE MALE LEADS IS CANONICALLY GAY AND HAS A MALE LOVE INTEREST AND ITS NOT HIS PRIMARY DEFINING FEATURE BC THE DUDE HAS EPIC SKATER BOI HAIR (which helps bc he’s into a skater boi)... A POTENTIALLY BI OTHER MALE LEAD (purely my own speculation based on one scene in particular - y’all know the one) AND THE OTHER ONE IS YOUR TYPICAL SOFT BOI HOTTIE WITH EYES FULL OF HEARTBREAK! But like they all look friggen good... the dad too. Idk where he’s from but I feel like I know him from somewhere he is a fine looking pops...

Anyway that’s enough now. Go watch it and get us a season 2!!!

#julie and the phantoms #spoilers #julie and the phantoms spoilers #long post #kenny ortega #netflix #julie molina #madison reyes #sunset curve #charlie gillespie #owen joyner #jeremy shada #jadah marie #season 1 #julie and the phantoms s1

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skeezsbbygirl · 4 years

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call me that too + kim seungmin

this one’s for anon who requested a seungmin scenario with a dash of oppa kink. i didn’t go too overboard hehe, just a sprinkle of a suggestive theme at the end (i’ll leave it to your imagination asdjhfrirgjgl cuz i can’t handle them feelssss ugh)

nonetheless, I hope you guys enjoy! oh and thank you for the love that you guys are showing for “peaches + bang chan” uwuuuu (ღ˘⌣˘ღ)

REQUEST BOX IS STILL OPEN. STREAM GOD’S MENU AND VOTE FOR OUR BOYS.

[5:12 p.m.] A yawn escaped your lips as you managed to go through all your assigned lectures for the day. You logged out from your university's portal and shut your laptop close, not wanting to stare at the bright screen any longer. You sauntered towards the kitchen and opened the drawer that contained all your caffeine-related pick-me-ups. As you were about to grab a mug, your actions were halted by your phone's ringtone, signalling a call as it rang on the coffee table from your apartment's living room. You managed to accept the call before it was dropped.

SeungMong <3

"Hey," you answered, sauntering back to the kitchen as you cradled your phone in between your right ear and shoulder to keep your hands free. "Baby, are you busy?" Seungmin asked. You shook your head but you mentally facepalmed as you remembered that the boy on the other line couldn't see you, "No. I just finished some school stuff. What's up?"

"Can you come over? Chan-hyung wants to take us out for dinner," Seungmin replied and you could faintly hear Jisung and Changbin screaming in the background -- something about Chan covering food expenses for the first time. You lightly chuckled and responded, "Yeah sure, I'll be there in twenty."

An hour passed and you were all gathered at the boys’ go-to restaurant, which was three blocks down from your university's dormitory.

"Am I dreaming?" Jisung teased as he hopped off Chan's car, Changbin and Jeongin not far behind him. “Somebody drive him back home,” Chan groaned to which the younger one giggled, jumping on his back in the process. “Hyung, come on. I was just poking fun at you,” Jisung cooed at the elder, earning him a light flick on the forehead from Chan.

You beamed at the sight of the boys playfully bickering. “Pay attention to me,” Seungmin whined and nudged your shoulder. You broke into a cheesy grin and gave his cheek a peck, “You always have my attention.”

Seungmin extended a hand towards you, to which you gladly complied, squeezing his hand three times as you intertwined your hand with his -- your silent way of saying ‘I love you’.

Soon after, you guys were seated inside the restaurant and you fell into each of your own said conversations.

“How was your day?” Seungmin asked as he adjusted his seat closer to yours. “Better now that I’m with you,” you said in a voice soft with affection. Seungmin chuckled, “Stop it.” You shook your head, leaning closer so that your forehead touched his. “You’re so cute,” you teased, which earned you a pout from the older male. “You do know that I’m a year older than you, right?” Seungmin bragged. You rolled your eyes, “Your point being?”

Seungmin sighed in defeat, opting to plant a kiss on your lips, but you were interrupted by multiple groans and a chorus of complains. “Get a room already!” Felix exclaimed with his hands covering his eyes, a poor attempt to discard the sight of yours and Seungmin’s “sickening” affection, as Minho described it. You stuck a tongue out at Felix, “Stop being so bitter.”

Felix faked sob and Jeongin joined in on his act, embracing the older male and patting his head.

Soon, your playful banter came to an end as your orders arrived. You guys were eating in silence, uttering a compliment here and there towards the dishes that you were served, until Hyunjin called for your attention.

“Oh, (y/n), before I forget,” the older male started, only stopping for a second to sip on his drink. “I found that outline you’ve been looking for,” he continued. “Please tell me you have it,” you pleaded, eager to finish the book review that your professor has quested upon your class a week ago. Hyunjin nodded, “The copy is in the car, I got you.”

You cheered as you reached out your hand to give him a high-five. “You’re the best, oppa.”

With your response, Hyunjin immediately side-eyed Seungmin’s reaction. He might have known something or at least sensed something, specifically when Seungmin blabbered -- well, more like ranted -- about you not calling him the said endearment you just used on Hyunjin a few seconds ago.

Let’s rewind, shall we?

Hyunjin was an hour away from a deadline, and yes, he admits that he may have finished his project sooner, but a certain someone, who goes by the name of Jisung, decided that it would be more fun to play video games over at Felix and Changbin’s dorm. “That stupid project isn’t even due for another day. Chill out, dude,” Jisung claimed with burgeoning excitement. Instead of turning his friend down -- or better, kicking his tempting ass out of the dorm -- he caved in.

Hours later, he was cramming at least two days worth of work into an hour. Then comes your boyfriend, Seungmin. “Hyunjin!” the younger male called out from their dorm’s entrance. “In here!” Hyunjin hollered, his fingers still hot on his laptop’s keyboard, seven more questions and a descriptive about his said stand on the project, and he’ll be done -- both figuratively and literally, his brain’s slowly pan-frying itself to destruction. He mentally cursed Jisung.

“Procrastination at its finest,” Seungmin mocked as he entered Hyunjin’s room. “You can nag me later, bur right now I have to finish this and then kick Jisung’s ass,” Hyunjin said with firm persistence. The younger lad sighed and sat down on a bean bag at the corner of the room. “I don’t have the energy to nag,” Seungmin whispered, but Hyunjin still managed to catch his words. He jokingly rolled his eyes, finding slight amusement towards Seungmin’s puppy expression.

“You and (y/n), had a fight?” Hyunjin asked, his attention still on his laptop but he figured he needed Seungmin for a little background noise to keep him sane, plus the guy’s one of his best friends. “Not really,” Seungmin disagreed. “Then, what got you all gloomy?” Hyunjin insisted, but he was only met with silence.

“Seungmo, come on, spill.”

“She addresses you as an ‘oppa’,” Seungmin blurted out after a few seconds. “Who addresses me as what?” Hyunjin asked, his eyebrows contorted in confusion. “(y/n),” Seungmin answered as he buried his face in his arms. “Seungmo, you do know that she does that to everybody that’s older than her, right?” Hyunjin replied, “It’s called being polite.”

“Well, I call it being unfair.”

Hyunjin chuckled in amusement, “Please elaborate.”

“You and I are the same age, which means that I’m older than her too, but she doesn’t call me that,” Seungmin whined.

And that’s how Seungmin ended up being silent for the rest of the night. You, being unaware of the situation, shrugged it off, thinking that he was just exhausted from his vocal lessons. Until, Hyunjin decided to let you in on the puppy’s cause of gloominess.

“Here, now go ace that literature course,” Hyunjin handed you the outline he promised, giving your head a pat in the process. “Thank you, oppa.”

“One more thing, (y/n),” Hyunjin said as he leaned down and whispered, “Seungmin wants to be called that too.”

“Huh?” you turned to him in confusion, but Hyunjin just stared at you and decided that you would come into revelation in a few seconds. “Oh,” you gasped, eyes lighting up in the process. “That’s why he’s been acting weird,” you added. Hyunjin smiled in approval, “Do something and wipe that pout off his face.”

The car ride back to your dorm was silent. Seungmin kept his eyes on the road, no words were exchanged between the two of you and he clearly showed no effort of doing so any time soon. You’re slowly running out of time as your building came into view a few minutes later. Seungmin slowly stopped the car and got out, he jogged towards your side and opened the door for you.

Go time.

“I’ll text you when I get home,” Seungmin said. His expression was sad but he still managed to give you a kiss on the forehead. He was about to pull away but you prevented him from doing so by holding his face in your hands. You stared at him lovingly, thanking the universe for bringing this man into your life.

“I love you, oppa,” you whispered, but loud enough for him to hear you.

A soft gasp escaped from his lips as his eyes widened, “What did you just call me?”

“Oppa, why?” you giggled and gave his nose a kiss. “Don’t get me wrong, I feel like I’m on top of the world right now, but you never call me that,” Seungmin wondered, his arms now wrapped around your waist, allowing him to pull you closer. “Let’s just say, a little bird told me,” you teased.

“Hwang Hyunjin!”

You laughed, “Don’t get mad at him.”

“Listen,” you called back for his attention, “I don’t call you oppa because I use that on everybody who’s older than me, well close friends of course, but you know what I mean.”

“And you, Kim Seungmin, are not just anybody. You’re my person, my everything, my whole world. You’re special to me and you matter the most,” you explained, pouring your feelings out for the said man. You were about to say more in order to get rid of Seungmin’s doubt, but he cut you off with a kiss.

You guys were practically making out in your dormitory’s parking lot, but it’s the least of your worries right now.

You pulled away first as you tried to catch your breath. “I love you so much, (y/n),” Seungmin confessed, his expression now darker as you witnessed his eyes fill with desire. “And I’ll prove that to you.”

“What do you mean, oppa?”

Seungmin leaned down, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “Don’t test me, baby.”

You whimpered in response, “Do whatever you want. I’m all yours, oppa.”

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scapegrace74-blog · 4 years

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Now or Never Now

A/N Really more of a PSA: drunkenness and unrequited (or unacknowledged) feelings for your roommate aren’t the best of bed fellows.

All other parts of the Metric Universe are available on my AO3 page.

The song by Metric that inspired the title and a few lines is here.

May 1, 2018, The Pride of Spitalfields, London, England

If he were forced to account for his twenty-eight years of life, he reckoned he’d made a decent start of things. It helped to have been born into a loving, boisterous family, cradled in the bucolic nursery garden of the Scottish Highlands. A good education, good values, a strong sense of duty: these he owed to his parents.

Since moving to London at twenty-two, he’d begun to weave the advantages of youth into the intentions of adulthood, with varied results. Failed relationships, the struggles of establishing a career in his uncle’s shadow and the cataclysm of his accident were setbacks, to be sure, but they forged his character in the blast furnace of adversity. He enjoyed the comradeship of a tight-knit group of colleagues and friends. Only three months ago, he’d been promoted to Crew Manager at the Bethnal Green station, and he had his eye on a Station Officer post before he turned thirty-five, his ambition to finally break free of Dougal’s influence. And Claire. He couldn’t count his blessings without numbering his Sassenach among them.

He performed this annual stock-taking as he walked to his local pub. It was his birthday, and he was meeting some friends for a celebratory drink. To absolutely no-one’s surprise except her own, Claire had finished her first year of medical school at the top of her class, and he’d convinced her to join them.

The air was warm and sweet with blossoms as he entered the pub to a rowdy cheer. His mates had secured two tables near the tiny stage where a three-piece band were setting up. The party was well underway, and a pint of lager was thrust into his hand before he’d even taken his seat.

He thought he’d been rather surreptitious in checking the door each time it opened, but Hamish slapped him hard on the back and commented in a voice the whole table could hear.

“Yer Sassenach missus willna get here any faster wi’ yer eyes glued tae the door, lad. Christ, has she got ye whipped!”

He felt the tips of his ears grow warm as the rest of the table laughed and joined in on the good-natured ribbing. When he looked back up, Claire was standing there shedding her coat. He momentarily forgot to breathe. She was wearing black tights and the jean mini-skirt from their first meeting in this very pub, along with a sleeveless, cropped, ruffled confection that he’d definitely never seen before. She was, quite simply, stunning. The momentary lull from the rest of the table told him he wasn’t the only one who thought so. He stood and hastened to greet her with a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Jamie!” she cried. “Happy birthday!” Her arms wrapped around his neck and she leaned in to return his kiss, barely missing his lips. He could smell whisky on her breath.

“Did ye get a headstart on yer celebratin’, Sassenach?” he asked, both amused and confounded. Claire hadn’t mentioned any other plans, and it wasn’t like her to drink alone at their flat.

“Aye, I have,” she giggled. “I had a partner in crime. Look who’s here!”

Claire gestured towards the coat check, where a familiar redhead was flirting with the attendant. His wame plummeted towards his shoes.

“Geillis,” he greeted as she approached. “Welcome back tae London. I didna realize ye were visiting.”

“Aye, we just arrived yesterday. Happy birthday, fox cub. Ye look well,” she commented with a smirk.

“As do ye,” he replied politely, glancing quickly at Claire to gauge her reaction, but she was observing the band, who had just begun to play.

“Och, mince,” Geillis replied. “My arse needed its own baggage allowance, but at least my tits are huge. Ferget about the bairns, I hadta pry Juan Carlos off ‘em so I could join in yer wee festivities!”

It was comforting to see motherhood hadn’t dampened Geillis’ spirit in the slightest.

“I see the lads are all here,” Claire segued quickly. “What are we drinking?”

Jamie slid his chair over to make room for the two newcomers. Before she’d even sat down, Geillis bought a round of shots for the table, to the general delight of his mates. It was going to be an interesting night.

***

“Com’ dance wit’ me!” Claire yelled in his ear louder than was absolutely necessary. Several hours had passed, and he’d lost track of the number of pints and shots she’d consumed. Realizing one of them would need to stay relatively sober, he’d been nursing the same ale for the past hour.

“Claire, I really dinna dance o’ermuch,” he stalled as she dragged him towards the small area between tables where a few other couples were rocking together to a slow ballad.

“Neveryouworry, lad. I’ll lead.” Of course you will, he thought fondly.

Instead of leading, Claire literally fell against his chest, allowing his bulk to catch her. Chilly hands met behind his neck and began teasing his curls where they lay against his nape. He couldn’t’ help it. He shuddered. Drunk, he reminded himself. She is drunk, she is yer roommate, and she trusts ye.

“Are y’ havin’ a good birthday, Jamie?” she murmured into his clavicle, where her forehead was resting. He couldn’t help smiling. He’d once compared her to a lioness, but right now she was doing a fair impression of a dozy kitten, allowing him to sway their bodies side-to-side in complete contradiction to the music’s rhythm.

“Aye. Aye, I am. And ye, Sassenach? Did I mention how proud I am of ye fer acing yer exams?”

The moist air of her chuckle seeped through his shirt. “Only a dozen times. Thanks for keepin’ me fed and caffeinated whilst I studied. I couldinit have done it wi’out you.”

“Twas my pleasure, Sassenach. We make a braw team.”

He said it offhandedly, but Claire stilled in his arms, leaning back to peer up into his face. There was something there, behind her slightly glazed eyes, that he’d given up hope of ever seeing.

“We do, don’t we?” she whispered, gaze flitting between his eyes and his lips, before skittering away. The humid air of the pub seemed to press in on him from all sides, making it difficult to draw a solid breath. A warning bell began to peel somewhere in his mind, alerting him to the fact he was in very grave danger of making an ass of himself.

She’s no’ yours, lad, he coached himself. No’ unless she wills it, and she canna know her own mind when she’s hammered. He tried to divert the conversation to safer territory.

“Tis good tae see Geillis again. Ye must have missed her somethin’ fierce.”

“Mmmm,” Claire hummed noncommittally. One of the hands that had been resting behind his neck began to thread through his hair, fingernails scraping lines of pleasure into his scalp. Christ, that wasn’t helping his cause at all.

“Claire...” he entreated into the scant space between them. Her long legs had somehow become entangled with his own. She was practically riding his thigh. Another few inches, and she was going to come into contact with the only part of him that was enthusiastic about dancing with a beautiful lass.

“I think iz time y’ take me home, James Fraser,” the limpet formerly known as his roommate purred in his ear. Thank Christ. Another few minutes of that sultry upright writhing, and he might have taken her right there on the beer-stained table in front of the darts board.

Navigating Claire’s increasingly pliant body towards the door and the salvation of the cool night air, Jamie ran directly into the diminutive roadblock of her best friend. Pulling him aside, she grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged his head down to her level.

“I ken she’s yer roommate and ye look at her as though she’s the sun after a thousand days o’ rain, but she’s my best friend an’ I love her. She’s scared, but she trusts ye. Dinna fuck it up.”

Without awaiting a reply, Geillis spun around and returned to their table. When he turned towards Claire, she was giving him a peculiar look. He shrugged it off as nothing more than inebriation, and started the short three-legged stumble back to their flat.

“Ye know, Sassenach, this is twa times I’ve had tae practically carry ye home from tha’ pub. Ye’re a verra predictable drunk.” They were navigating Brick Lane with a heavy list to starboard, where Claire leaned heavily into his side.

“First of all, milad, I am. Not. Drunk. You canned be drunk if y’ can shtill walk upright. Thas your rule, may I remind you.” Mid-lecture, the heel of her boot caught between two cobbles. She would have gone down in a heap were he not already bearing most of her weight. “Ooops!”

“An’ second of all,” she continued undaunted, “when didyu carry me again? Since? Fuck! Before?”

He chuckled. If nothing else, Claire was a very amusing drunk.

“Twas the first night we met, actually. Ye were shipping out tae Afghanistan the verra next day.”

They’d reached their front door. He was fumbling for his keys when he noticed Claire had gone remarkably silent. Even in the yellow glow of the hallway, her face was incredibly pale.

“Are ye alright, Sassenach? Are ye gonna be sick?”

What came out of her mouth next was even worse.

“You fucked Geillis. That night. In our shower.”

Golden eyes interrogated him, tearing away any hope of evasion. Gone was the cuddly kitten, and the lioness was on the hunt for blood. Christ, he was going to kill Geillis for sharing intimate details of their one-night stand. Assuming he lived to see tomorrow.

She trusts ye. Dinna fuck it up.

His father had an aphorism he was fond of repeating. Being an adult has little to do with your actions, he would say, and everything to do with living with the consequences of those actions. Any callow lad could stick his cock in a lass, but it took a man to live up to his responsibilities thereafter.

“Aye. I did. Twasn’t planned, nor somethin’ I’m particularly proud of, but thas’ the truth of it. It didna mean anything, Sassenach. Twas jus’ sex.”

They were inside the flat now. He was mentally trying to evaluate whether it was safe for Claire to shower, or if he should simply tuck her into bed with a basin and some Gatorade. She wasn’t moving, though. She stood in the streetlight that illuminated their living space, a disheveled, beautiful mess.

“It’s my turn.” She sounded sober, all of a sudden. He poured a tall glass of cold water from the sink for her, regardless.

“Yer turn fer what, Sassenach?”

“My turn for you to fuck me.”

There was a hollow thunk and the cool splash of water against the cuffs of his trousers as the glass he had been holding hit the floor. His chest felt like he was trying to suck cake batter through a straw. To make matters worse, while he was in the kitchen she had shed her top and was standing in a sheer black bra, the peaks of her nipples cast in silvered shadow.

“Claire...” he breathed out.

She approached slowly, extending a hand to lay over his sprinting heart.

“Don’t you want me?” Asked by any other woman, the question would be coy, but he heard the truth behind her query. She really didn’t know. Either he was a better actor than he gave himself credit for, or she was still seeing him through the filter of her past mistreatment.

“So much tha’ it hurts tae breath, lass. But ye dinna want this, Claire. No’ now.” His body was already protesting his declaration, a pulsing ache centered in his balls, but rooted in his heart.

“It’s now or never now, Jamie. This is all that I have to give. Isn’t it enough?”

She took his hand and placed it over the scalloped seam of her breasts. Without volition, his fingers curled, testing the pliant firmness beneath them. His muscles ached from holding himself in check.

“Tis far more than I deserve, Sassenach. But the answer is no.” He pulled his hand away, his fingertips still tingling from the velvet of her skin. “Ye should get some sleep.”

Her glass face showed every emotion, each more painful to witness than the last: hurt, anger, embarrassment, spite, and finally betrayal. Mumbling a hasty goodnight, she practically ran to her own room. He could hear her there now, sobs muffled by the wall he placed between them.

Dinna fuck it up.

He cradled his throbbing head in his hands. How could doing the right thing turn out so horribly, spectacularly wrong?

***

May 21, 2018, Spitalfields, London, England

It has been twenty days since Claire’s drunken proposition, and they’d barely spoken a word to each other in that time. As much as he was prepared for awkwardness to descend upon their once-easy relationship, he was shocked by how much her avoidance pained him. Couldn’t she see that he’d acted out of affection, and as her friend, ignoring the very great temptation she’d lain at his feet?

His first strategy had been to give her space. He snatched at any excuse to be out of the flat: long runs, a pint after work with the lads, and even a long weekend with his family at Lallybroch. Each day his phone was a constant weight in his hand, waiting for the moment she would text him about something bizarre she’d read, or call to ask where he’d hidden the olive oil. She never rang.

Next he tried haunting their flat, planning to bump into her and force that first, clumsy conversation. He was certain that once they got past that hurdle, they could begin to rebuild their rapport. Almost certain. Desperately certain. She didn’t come home, working double shifts at the hospital and timing her visits for a shower, nap and change of clothes to coincide with his work shifts. One night he fell asleep on the couch listening for the sound of her key in the door. He woke the next morning covered in the plaid from his bed, but once again alone.

He sat in an outdoor cafe, watching London unfold under the warming sun like a rose, and considered what he knew about Claire that would help mend the breach. She was stubborn. The past twenty days were testimony of that. She was proud. She would sooner suffer than accept help. She held herself to incredibly high standards, and hated to fail at anything. She would have taken his rejection in the worst possible light. She’d been badly hurt and deceived. Their relationship had been one cautious step after another across the tightrope of trust strung between them. Fueled by drunken emotion, she’d leapt forward, and he had not been there to catch her.

He opened his phone and stared at her photo in his contacts. She’d been furious with him the day he snapped it. He’d dragged her to a park on her day off to play rugby, only to find out the match had been cancelled on account of the heavy rain. Heavy ringlets hung over a soaking jersey, and her glowing eyes promised swift revenge.

A dozen flowery or flippant texts were considered and abandoned before he opted for the simple and true.

I’m sorry. I know I hurt you, and I want to make it better. Please tell me how.

He pocketed his phone and crossed the road to the fire station for his evening shift. If she hadn’t answered by the morning, he’d try again, and keep trying until she finally responded.

Twelve hours later, dawn was just cracking the sky as he prepared to walk home. The station alarm rang out, but the day crew would take the call. Even now, they were throwing on their gear and firing up the engine.

“Corbet Place. Isn’t that your neighbourhood, Fraser?” the driver commented as he hastened past.

Ice water flushed into his veins. There were exactly two buildings on Corbet Place, and one of them contained a flat where a beautiful Sassenach was currently sleeping off a double shift. A beautiful Sassenach who could sleep through a fire alarm.

He hoisted himself into the cab of a departing engine.

“Hey lad, this isn’t a taxi!” one of old hands joked, but sobered when he saw Jamie’s face.

The streets were empty. They made the trip in record time that felt like an eternity to his racing heart. As they drew near, the reek of a burning structure filled the air. A half dozen other engines were parked haphazardly in the adjacent lot, their booms extending like insect antennae towards a cruelly familiar five-story brick building. Flames licked the corner of one of the lower levels, punctuated by the pop of shattering glass and the skeletal groan of old beams giving way.

Grabbing a spare coat, hat and respirator, he ran towards his building, ignoring every professional protocol and ounce of common sense he possessed. Claire was in their flat, and there wasn’t a power under the sun that would keep him from getting to her.

“Jamie!”

He spun towards her voice, thinking he might be hallucinating. But no, sitting on a picnic table, wrapped in his Fraser plaid, was his beautiful Sassenach. His knees turned to water and he sank to the bitumen at her feet.

“Claire...” he wheezed, adrenaline still coursing through his limbs.

“Were you on your...”

“How did ye...”

They both spoke, then lapsed back into stunned silence.

“Ye’re safe.” He said it as much to himself as to her. “Ye’re here. I thought.. when I heard the call... Christ, Sassenach. I’ve never been sae scared in my entire life. How did ye get out?”

“I got your text. I was dozing on the couch, waiting for you to come home so we could talk. The fire alarm woke me. There was already so much smoke. I used your plaid to cover my nose and mouth and ran down the fire escape. Oh Jamie, I’m so sorry.”

Claire’s chin fell towards her chest, a lone tear streaking through the soot that marked her cheek. He ran a shaking hand through her unbound hair.

“Why are ye sorry, Sassenach?”

“All your things. Your memories. They were all in that flat.”

He tilted her up by the chin.

“Claire, look at me. There isn’t a feckin thing in tha’ flat that I care about that isna sitting in front of me right now. Jesus, woman, do ye no’ ken the thought of losing ye tears out my guts?”

She looked deeply into his eyes, peering into his very soul. For once, he did not think to hide behind a mask. Let her see how she utterly destroyed and remade him. All around them, the world faded to smoke.

“You... you love me?”

Nownownow.

“Aye. I do.”

#my writing #outlander

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thanksjro · 4 years

Text

Dark Cybertron Chapter 8: Swoop is a Good Ally

Bumblebee doesn’t turn into a convertible, but that won’t stop Megatron from riding around with his legs hair in the wind, as the two of them book it for Iacon from the Crystal City. Bumblebee’s making great time, despite carrying a dude who is significantly larger than he is. As the burning city comes into view, they discuss the fact that the Titan that’s making its way downtown (walking fast, and it’s homebound) is full of Shockwave ores. The life and death ones, to be exact. This is a problem, because that means it’s neither alive or dead, and you can’t kill something that ain’t alive.  Then Megatron goes on about how Cybertron needs him, and has always needed him, to end oppression.

Mighty high opinion of yourself you got there, Megatron. We’ll see how that plays out as the day goes on.

Over with Starscream, our fearless leader’s reflecting on how true the term “rat bastard” fits dear Rattrap. Rattrap’s more concerned about the fact that people are literally dying right now while Starscream has a pity party. Good thing Rattrap brought some party guests.

Starscream double-checks that all these friendly faces aren’t with the Titan, then gets called incompetent by just about everyone. Prowl puts together a strategy for this nightmare scenario, staring directly into the camera and showing off his lovingly rendered nose as he starts giving orders. While everyone else is going to be either rounding up the injured or trying to pick a fight with a dude roughly 50 times their size, Prowl’s going to try to figure out how to stop the Titan.

Back inside Metroplex, things are looking tense, as Nautica and Chromia are about a hair’s breadth away from beating the Rod Pod Squad to death. In an effort to dispel the hostility, Getaway points at his bellybutton, and then sat Nautica’s, quoting Optimus Prime and saying that there’s no reason to fight, because a bunch of little murderous bastards are about to pour in and cause some trouble for everyone.

And then a bunch of little murderous bastards are about to pour in and cause some trouble for everyone.

Everyone starts climbing up the rope Nautica and Chromia dropped last issue, except for Whirl, who would prefer to spend his time kicking ass as opposed to hunting for Metroplex’s brain. As the gang crawls around in the vents- because of COURSE they do- Nautica realizes that she’s talking to none other than Ratchet, and has a bit of a moment. Ratchet’s more concerned with the concept of gender being introduced into his world.

You’re right, Ratchet, it doesn’t matter. Just let people live, dude.

Everyone ends up in the left shoulder blade area of Metroplex, where his brain is, and where we meet Windblade- our fan-created character, and a huge part of why IDW had to jam the concept of sexual dimorphism into their continuity posthaste.   In 2013, the Fan Built Bot polls were held on the Hasbro website, where fans could vote on several traits of a new character. One of these traits was gender. 

Which I’m sure Furman was thrilled about.

The majority rule was for a female Transformer to be created, one hailing from Kaon, who was an Autobot telepath who turned into a jet and had a sword. Not all of this information was kept, simply because it didn’t jive with what had been established about gender previously. Things were still very messy, so Windblade’s place of origin was changed.

But we’ll get to that later on.

Right now, all you need to know is that Windblade is here to keep Metroplex alive.

Over in the Dead Universe, Nightbeat leads Team -Imus to Kup, the lot of them blasting and gunning down zombie robots the whole way. Cyclonus still has the Hollywood Tuberculosis cough. When they reach Kup, Orion Pax calls him old. Cyclonus has a gun now. Rodimus explains why he’s got numbers carved into his palm.

After the nightmare that was Overlord happened, and then the Luna 1 stuff, Rodimus enacted the Crisis Act. Now, the last time we saw the Crisis Act was in Eugenesis. It’s been a minute, so here’s a refresher:

In this case, Rodimus enacted the Act on himself, having the crew of the Lost Light vote on whether he should remain captain. 89 voted for him to get the boot. This weighs heavily on his mind, so much so that he’s decided to carve the vote into his hand, so he can never forget those he failed.

Off in the corner, Cyclonus is dying, but this isn’t about him, this is about Rodimus’ sense of guilt.

Orion isn’t thrilled with how Rodimus handled the situation- he claims that Rodimus would have simply stepped down from his captaincy outright, if he really felt that badly about the situation.

Off in the corner, Cyclonus is still dying, but this isn’t about him.

Not my space dad.

Nightbeat scoops Kup off of his bed and helps the old man stand, not that he needs it. No sir, this crotchety old bastard is so full of piss and vinegar, he’s gotta have the entire Industrial Revolution backdropping his big badass speech.

And then that final claim is tested, as Cyclonus’ limp body is fastball-specialed into Kup’s torso. Nova Prime’s here, and he’s pissed. Orion decides he’s gonna square the fuck up. It’s time for Prime Prime-Time Fight Time.

Back inside Metroplex, violence is taking place, as Whirl, Getaway, and Skids are eviscerating the Ammonites. Over with Metroplex’s brain, Windblade is explaining her whole deal.

Chromia, don’t be fucking rude.

Windblade is a City Speaker, a robot who can interpret the the lights and wave patterns of a Titan’s brain module for the purpose of communication. It’s a pretty sweet trick. Brainstorm doesn’t care about that though- he’s more concerned with getting the hell out of here. Ultra Magnus agrees, though he’s more concerned about the current state of Cybertron and the fact that Shockwave’s still running around. Windblade tells them to do whatever, but she’s gonna stick with Metroplex. It’s at this point that we find out how our new friends got here in the first place.

Turns out Thunderclash’s ship was taking new crew members on, and these three lovely robots were a part of the new blood. The Vis Vitalis ran into Alpha Trion not too long after they joined, freaking the hell out because Metroplex- his best friend in the whole entire world, as established in Spotlight: Orion Pax- just vanished.

Not sure how you lose an entire city that you’re riding around inside, but whatever, Alpha.

Alpha Trion was worried about his friend, but not enough to stop looking for the Holy Grail. So he had Chromia, Windblade, and Nautica come out here to do it. Unfortunately, they haven’t been able to do much. This might be why Metroplex pulled the Lost Light over to this rinky-dink little water planet- so he wouldn’t die.

Do you think Roberts and Barber were aware that they were having a bunch of male characters walk all over the hard work of these female characters, by way of making them better at the thing they were sent here to do? Do you think they thought about that? Because that’s pretty much what’s happening here. They’ve been here all of ten minutes, and Nautica- who is a quantum mechanic and engineer, as will be established- has been outdone by a bunch of doofuses who’ve only got the benefit of being properly established characters helping them out.

With a little set up, Metroplex’s brain is plugged into the Lost Light’s engines remotely, and Ultra Magnus tells our boy to rise and shine.

Back on Cybertron, Fixit and Flatline are about to throw down, which Starscream thinks is hilarious. There’s a whole medical slab that contains only a single shin. People are laying in trailers, but I guess that lone shin has priority for whatever reason. Outside, Scoop is being a good lad and helping get the injured to safety. Rattrap is also there.

The Titan has hit the city limits, and everyone’s shooting at the thing to cope. The Dinobots are upset because they’re being ignored, but at least Swoop is proving to be a good friend, as he’s already acclimated to Slug’s name change. Good on you, Swoop.

The plan of attack here is shooting the Titan in the neck until the signals to the brain are cut off from the rest of the body. It’s not really working out so hot, but smart boy points for trying, Prowl.

A building explodes, because we haven’t had an explosion yet this issue. Prowl, whose little red chevron seems to be shrinking by the panel, asks Soundwave for his opinion on the current situation. Soundwave goes “I dunno” and then Megatron shows up.

Friggin’ drama queen.

Prowl, who’s had about enough of everyone at this point, breaks out a gun and tells Megs to start talking before things get uglier than they already are.

Megatron has a plan. Are you ready to hear it?

He wants everyone to:

Load up on ships

Fuck off into space

Come back later when the DJD show up

Bumblebee does not like this plan. He dislikes it very much, in fact, and throws Megatron’s legs on the ground in protest. Megatron pouts about being called a meanie warlord shit-for-brains.

Bumblebee rattles off a very inspiring speech about the perseverance of the Cybertronian spirit, and how you should never give up, and oh would you look at that Metroplex just showed up with the Lost Light.

Time for some Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots. Hell yeah.

#transformers #jro #dark cybertron #issue 8 #mtmte #issue 26 #maccadam #Hannzreads #overthinking about robots #incoming analysis #text post #long post #comic script writing

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ms-demeanor · 5 years

Text

SOMEONE HAS ASKED ME FOR HELP TRANSLATING OLD ENGLISH (OE). WE ARE GOING TO TALK ABOUT LANGUAGES AND I’M EXCITED.

I CAN’T TRANSLATE INTO OLD ENGLISH BUT I’M STILL EXCITED.

Okay, so, this was partially based on my recent, completely hilarious, translation of the first verse of Baby Got Back into Middle English.

I did that because I’m a complete slut for Middle English (ME). I am, in fact, such a slut for ME that I decided to make a free translation of the Canterbury Tales for people who were more advanced readers than most high-school level translations could help but who had trouble reading ME because its grammar is WEIRD and FUCKED. (I only got through the general prologue and six tales and my analytical asides are insufferable but good job baby Alli I’m so proud of you for wanting to make a free translation you little punk fucking shit up you; now fucking finish it you ADHD gremlin)

SO ANYWAY. Chaucer is Middle English. What you’re currently reading if you’re reading this blog post is Modern English (ModE). POP QUIZ!

What language did Shakespeare write in?

*Final Jeopardy countdown tune*

Wrong! (probably, statistically speaking, you were wrong about that. I’m sorry, I set you up)

Shakespeare wrote in Modern English! It’s Early Modern English, sure, but it is nonetheless the same language that you are reading and speaking and writing today.

BASICALLY

What I’m trying to say is that Lizzo (2019) has more linguistic overlap with Shakespeare (1616) than Shakespeare did with Chaucer (1400) in spite of the fact that Shakespeare and Chaucer were only about 200 years apart and Shakespeare and Lizzo are 400 years apart. That’s because Samuel Johnson was an Absolute Lad in 1755.

(THE PRINTED WORD IS FUCKIGN AMAZING; DICTIONARIES ARE THE SHIT)

Anyway when I was first on tumblr I made a VERY embarrassing mistake and insisted I knew something about OE grammar that I extremely did not (I think this had to do with possession confusion when writing about two people of the same gender and I jumped in with a very bad take) because being a slut for ME doesn’t mean you know shit about OE.

Because Old English is OLD. Like. Really Old.

Like it probably came to England in around 450CE. OLD.

OE is basically Old German. (The development of Modern German is as weird or weirder as the development of Modern English and is no-shit heavily built on work of the Grimm Brothers. The Fairytale dudes.) But also kind of Old Scandinavian? And Frisian. Oh the Frisian. (English speakers: break your brain and listen to this video. Frisian is really closely related to ModE and spoken Frisian sounds infuriatingly close to comprehensible for most English speakers) and basically it’s a messy amalgam of the tribal languages of the various vikings who were continually taking the place over plus all the Brittonic languages plus Latin because of the Romans.

Anyway part of what I’m getting at is that OE was kind of a giant mess (just like ModE!) and translating into OE is also a mess.

Also because OE wasn’t just one language, it was four major dialects and constant moving goalposts as various groups gained and lost power. England didn’t even have a single monarch until almost 200 years after Beowulf was (maybe, probably) written.

So 1066 a somewhat-French dude fought a war with the King of Norway and a bunch of English dudes and long story short that’s how Norman French (which is French with a heavy salting of Scandinavian languages and a soupcon of Celtic) started beating up Old English and eventually turned into ME. (In the General Prologue of the Canterbury tales Chaucer makes a joke that the Prioress’s French is more of Normandy than Paris which is a joke because she’s claiming to be educated in Fancy French but she’s really educated in the form of French that’s like hootin’ and hollerin’ down by the crick can I get a yeehaw).

The deal is that we’re now approximately 4000 permutations away from whatever resembled a lingua franca in England before the Norman Conquest. Our surviving stock of Old English manuscripts is minuscule. Tolkein probably wrote more words in the languages he constructed than exist in OE.

OE is dead. We’ve reconstructed it as best we can and have an okay idea of how the language worked but our understanding of the vocabulary is. A little weird. There are some extremely specific words that kind of just don’t translate to the modern world (“bag specifically for carrying stolen goods” is a decent example). There are some words for which the context is kind of fucked (so if you wanted to translate a proposal it’s hard to ask someone to be your wife if “wife” and “woman” are the same word and “wif” is added to a lot of words to make them apply to women (we retain this in “housewife,” but generally don’t use things like “fishwife” anymore))

But, say you want to learn and translate anyway, what do you do? You make friends with a bunch of nerds and we’ll share our hoarded dictionaries with you. Even the really old ones.

REALLY old.

Actually I don’t have my 1820s Old English dictionary handy so have this one from 1916 instead.

Here’s a site that will translate ModE to OE or OE to ModE as you choose.

The University of Texas at Austen Linguistics Research Center has an online course for learning OE.

Here’s a whole-ass OE textbook.

Some nerds made a podcast about learning OE.

And here’s a very, very short look at the language if you’re thinking of looking into it more.

But if you don’t have time to study a whole new language and want to get something translated fast I recommend finding someone on their way to Kalamazoo and offering them twenty bucks because it’s a hard economy out there for Medieval Studies grad students.

Uh.

Anyway.

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teriwrites · 3 years

Text

manuscript tag game(s)

Thanks @akindofmagictoo! I actually couldn’t quite keep up because I have two of these to do (no complaints here, I’m here for collecting all the words), so I’m going to merge them into one big tag!

The words for me to find: what, dim, flight, mark, switch, music, chime

I decided to use Castle on the Hill for this because it’s the only project I have with all the words because I miss the lads.

What:

“Why don’t we just tell him we’re all going to hang out tonight?” Josef asked, rubbing at his temple. “I don’t see why we need to go through the whole effort of making some elaborate plan.” Klaus’ face lit up in mockery, and he explained as though it were obvious, “I’m pretty sure Hans is smart enough to figure out what we’re doing.” “You’re being an ass.” Josef planted his palms against the table and leaned forwards. “All I’m saying is that we don’t have to go making this some big deal. Peter’s right; Hans probably wouldn’t want a surprise party anyways. He’s turning eighteen, not twelve.” “You didn’t seem to mind having a surprise birthday last year,” Georg pointed out from the corner of the room. He leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet up onto the table. “You’re not helping,” Josef snapped back, but he relented. “Let’s just figure this out so that I can go back to studying. I’m saving a table down on the first floor, and a messenger bag isn’t going to hold off the vultures forever.”

Dim:

This was not how he had pictured university when he’d first arrived. Though he knew that they’d been exaggerated, he could only imagine the stories that he’d been told by some of his friends from gymnasium, who talked about late nights hanging out with friends and all-nighters to work on papers and studying together. Hans had nearly managed to pull an all-nighter, but it had been far from what Ulrich had described. He had spent time in the library, miserably poring over his books until they had closed, only to return to his room and stay up with the dim lamp lighting his book until the words had been swimming off the page.

Flight(s):

He stalled by the stairwell as he waited for Georg to return, running his fingers through his long hair. Concern edged into his features, eyebrows drawn and lips pressed into a thin line. Any signs of this disappeared as soon as Georg stepped back into view. “Anything yet?” Peter asked, but by his friend’s empty hands and disgruntled expression, the answer was obvious. “It’s been months,” Georg began as they started up the two flights to their flat.

Mark(ing):

“Writing a letter does not have to be this complicated,” Peter called out from his own room. Their doors, which were both opened, faced each other, and Peter had a clear view of his frustrated flatmate from where he sat on his bed. Georg twisted around in his chair. “Where am I supposed to even begin? It’s been months since I’ve written to my family.” Peter closed his book over his hand, marking his place. “How much is there really to talk about? A new semester started, and you’ve been spending all your time in the library.” “Quite the thrilling year this is turning into,” Georg agreed. He turned back to the fresh sheet of paper on his desk.

Switch:

Without a second thought, Hans switched off his bedroom light and closed his door.

Music:

The sky began to clear as the early afternoon stretched into evening. The sun had begun its slow descent, casting faint pinks and yellows across the lingering clouds. A short walk from campus, smoke was pouring out the open door of a local bar. A rowdy mix of blasting music and a television broadcast clamored from within, where a fog of smoke made the faces of the drunk and the sober indiscernible. Peter and Georg had found seats at the bar. The television overhead was displaying a football game, which Georg had engrossed himself in. He slammed his glass on the bar as the opposing team scored a goal. Peter flinched beside him, carefully sipping at his mostly-full beer.

Chime:

“We could do a whole variety,” Günter chimed in.

I’m going to tag @aconfusedomni @doggo038 @booksandlimes @meadowclarke @t-rexwriting @alannaofroses @moononherwings @bringingtherain @jasperygrace @rorganized @lady-of-himring and @hauntedluminarybbq!

Your words are: smoke, late, in, complicated, and careful!

#tag game #i was Shocked when i found 'chime'#but the context kinda sucks because it's part of an axed sideplot from the 1st draft #in fact a lot of this is scrap from the 1st draft #but i still like it so here it is

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mareliini · 4 years

Text

of Tangled and Corona and fictional maps

lads i just got up with pure spite bc my morning eyes fell into this post and to yet another “official” map and I want to talk about this. Listen. A couple of friends and I are going semi-feral over maps plastered in tts so it’s time to share that small collection and also yell. Presented below

1. Strategy room map

(ignore the fact the screencap is from rapunzeltopia. It doesn’t matter, only the rock placement is different and also nonexistent in the real map. I couldn’t bother my ass to go find a pic of the real map from s1 bc Fred always stands on the way and it doesn’t matter)

Immediate notes: Corona is positioned on a peninsula. There’s no way to tell the scale of the map but it appears to be rough topography map (argument point: mountains are drawn and not showed like they usually would but I’m a bitch and will ignore than in favour of ranting about that weird worm formation on north). (Seriously what’s up with that weird formation what could it be)

North of the country appears to be quite flat and near the ocean level while south of the country is higher ground (this at least pairs up with the “official” map which i will talk about later).

Wall... sure exists, but its placement in relation to sunflower spot and corona main city baffles me.

Sea monster status: hiding behind too fancy north arrow

2. Varian’s map

(screencapped and very fervently edited in ms paint by your’s truly. It’s missing some bits and pieces but also I’m not redoing it)

Immediate notes: starts the long line of “Varian appearing with some funky perspective map please learn to draw them like a sane person would” nightmare maps, yet somehow still the most accurate description of the country.

The peninsula shape is WILDY different from the strategy room map and they each have different river and lake formations. Peninsula here appears a lot smaller and shorter, and while we see some resemblance for scaling in the border, there’s no explanation for it still. Waterfall visible in some other maps is further south here and whole country seems to be more or less mountain/hill area.

Corona might have some map tradition of drawing maps only relevant for certain areas (Old Corona has given lots of detail here down to the field placements compared to other villages or to the capital which leads me to think other places might do the same). By style it tries to emulate old timey maps which is fine, bc they were all more or less mind maps.

Wall: has towers now

Sea monster status: it apparently exists but I cut it out (friend pointed out)

3. Movie map and book map

(Book map pic credit at the link at the very start of this hellshow of a post) I’m putting these two together bc from the bunch, they resemble each others the most (and are also only maps not shown in the series). Movie credit map seems to be almost identical for book map, just zoomed in.

Immediate notes: this is? drawn by Eugene? (I said and rewatched s2e3 which revealed man can’t draw shit but still) We have a scale now but un-fUCKING-FORTUNATELY it tells us shit. We can always assume that 0 ---- Kilometres means ---- is 1km, but there’s really no way telling that and thus I sadly have to ignore it. It’s also a mind map yet again, does corona...... does corona have any real geographers? no?

Capital placement differs from show maps and so does the peninsula shape, again. Unlike previous maps where landmass kept growing north, here it caps off, indicating even longer peninsula Corona is only a part of. South part of the country appears to be high cliffs while north part has fields and villages, which pairs with strategy room topography map, but could also just be weird perspective. Nothing’s so far explaining the worm formation.

Waterfall I pointed out in previous map actually factoid error, it is here in the same mountain area too. The out-of-the-country bridge is further south compared to varian’s map, but Old corona has still weirdly got lots of focus (ya telling me this bitch ass country got only two bigger towns??). Movie&book map has other, mostly movie related details not relevant and thus not visible in show maps, which saddens me a bit bc hey........ maps.... should be equal..... show us the dam in other maps too you cowards...

Wall: doesnt run from sea to sea, has towers

Sea monster status: definitely there

4. Spire map

Lord forgive me from ever trying to screencap this monster. Whoever did this should be both publicly shamed and fired from making any more maps, I have no words. Friend yelled in chat when I showed this. It’s a spawn of satan and not in a wholesome blue exorcist way.

Immediate notes: Burn it. There’s no north arrow, but based on Capital’s position north is either up or up-left corner (depending on which maps we go by). Neither of those position saves this map from the fact that thERE IS NO LANDMASS IN SOUTH OF CORONA THAT COULD FIT ALL OF THIS. IT’S A PENINSULA. THE WHOLE TIP OF PENINSULA IS CORONA. FUCK OFF-

Wall: Schrödinger's wall at this point

Sea monster status: finally defeated, like my sanity

5. Strategy map vol2

for some reason they had time to place down individual trees yet there’s no fields and also the river is all wrong when compared to reality.

Immediate notes: a clear example of really zoomed in map, the whole portion of the country between capital and old corona is skipped and that’s fine. North arrow comparable with previous show maps but not with movie&book map so it feels like they exist in entirely different universe where whole continent is slightly sifted to north-east.

I’d want to believe this maps gives more accurate reading to Old corona than Varian’s map, giving it’s nature, but it also does.... have the river all wrong and it drives me so mad.

Wall: is there

Sea monster status: left

- Bonus map for the geologists *blows kiss*

I am so sorry but they just bullshitted that particular group project there is no way, listen. I appreciate the effort clearly done here in cataloguing rock placements in what appears to be Old corona but a) they are facing south (Capital is always to the west and can be seen in the bg here) and you’re making pure assumptions based on how they are behaving on the very edges of your east border there and b) thAT PARTICULAR PIECE OF PAPER, LISTEN, that particular piece of paper is positioned smack under Old corona and it’s tunnel system yet you nuckleheads somehow think it’s comparable for the island’s tunnel system oN THE OTHER SIDE OF YOUR COUNTRY CAN YOU EVER STOP TO THINK-

I do have the map of s2 places but given how shitass of a map it is I chose not to include it here. It makes me so angry. Not quite as angry as the Spire map but it’s up there and I do not want to think about it. Also I don’t think it was even meant to be accurate or show any real continents so looking at it would give u nothing.

#tangled the series #tts #rta #omat paskat #I will keep you posted on new map discoveries but seeing how we're in s2 I'm not holding my breath #tangled #for friend's blocklist ur welcome also keep liveblogging it to me #i know you wont see that tag but still i enjoy it

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mymelodyheart · 4 years

Text

Starting Over Chapter 30 ~The Last Stand~

Claire stepped out of the pub, inhaled the fresh cold Autumn air and plucked the phone from the back of her jeans pocket. She'd decided to give Jamie a call to find out if he was still working. She listened to the phone ring while navigating the pavement filled with people coming in and out of pubs and restaurants. The time spent with her friend John had been pleasant and refreshing. It was great to talk to someone who wasn't from within her social circle and not had to go into discussions about Jamie and her present concerns. For the first time in ages, she felt more optimistic. Maybe it had something to do with the change of scene after being stuck in the repetitive work, home and sleep cycle. Or perhaps it had to do with her decision to stop moping and thinking the worse of what's to come. Being alone with her own thoughts at the moment wasn't a great idea by a long shot, which could cost her at the worst of times her peace of mind. Geillis was right. She needed to be more proactive about her issues instead of dwelling on the negativity.

Jamie's voicemail came on, so she terminated the call, weaving through a small group of revellers as she came closer to her destination. If he wasn't home, she knew he would be soon. Mildly tipsy, she'd left John at the pub not long after a couple of his friends had joined them at their table. She'd made it a point that a pint of lager and a dram of whisky was her limit for tonight if she was going to make it to Jamie's place whole and without staggering.

The sky was overcast and dark by the time she made it to Jamie's building and slipped the key into the main entrance, opening the heavy, wooden door. She hadn't seen his BMW parked anywhere in the street and thought he must still be working. Shivering and feeling the cold, she rubbed her hands together, craving for a nice mug of tea and the comfort of the snug recliner. She made a move towards the stairs, the sounds of her clunky boots echoing in the hall and the retro-styled wall lamp dramatically illuminating the interior as she started her ascend.

When she finally made it to the apartment, she slid the key into the lock, opened the door and slipped in. She heard jazz music coming from the surround system, and the lights in the hallway were dimmed. Jamie's home! Anticipation bloomed in her heart. He must have taken the taxi and left his car somewhere, a habit they both had when they'd had a bit to drink. Humming, she pulled off her jacket and hanged it in the cloak wardrobe. She stopped by the console table to deposit her keys and phone, and saw several post-it notes in Jamie's hurried writing and crumpled receipts. She absentmindedly glanced at them and lifted her head when she heard movements in the kitchen.

Impatiently, she toed off her ankle boots and headed towards the door that led to the open-plan room, a smile curving her lips when the smell of pizza made her stomach growl. It was a stranger's voice that froze her smile, a distinctly soft feminine laugh. She opened the door slowly, the lit kitchen illuminating a brunette girl with only a towel draped around her body. The girl was tall, and her long dark hair fell in soft waves just below her shoulders. She was pouring wine into two glasses.

Her head pounding and chest tightening, Claire stepped into the room. A part of her was screaming for her to leave immediately, but the other half wanting to see this through, to look Jamie in the eyes and show him she would not disintegrate. Although her feet weighed like lead, she took another step. And then another, the thin string of control almost at its breaking point, ready to snap at any moment.

When the girl finally turned and realised she wasn't alone, she let out an ear-piercing scream that sent a pair of heavy feet running towards their direction and almost busting Claire's eardrums.

Claire's hand clenched, her fury pushing hard through her veins. She ignored the girl's screams and waited for Jamie to come out. But ...

"Claire? What are ye doing here?"

Holy sweet Moses! Instead of Jamie, she was greeted by a stark naked Rabbie. Flusteredly pointing her finger at his dangly bits, she clapped a hand over her eyes and looked the other way. "Oh for the love of God, Rabbie put that ...that ...that thingy away." Tall as Jamie as he was but a gangly version, no way was she ever going to look at Jamie's wee brother the same way again. And to say the very least, there was certainly nothing wee about him.

"It's a penis," he said, his voice tinged with amusement. "Jamie's got the same, ye ken?"

Oh God, he's even as cocky as his brother. A hand still covering her eyes, Claire stomped her foot to make a point. "Rabbie!! I know what it is, for heaven's sake ...just put it away and put some clothes on, will you? I'm not speaking to you unless you're fully clothed."

"Roberto? What is the meaning of this? Who is this woman? What is she doing here?" the brunette girl rapidly launched the questions in a thick Spanish accent.

" Tranquila querida, it's only my future sister-in-law," he soothed. "Come, let's get dressed."

Future sister-in-law? Oh, whatever next?

"But she saw your berenjena," the brunette pointed out, a sulk evident in her tone.

"You calling my cock an aubergine?" Rabbie gently chided. "Now that's uncalled for."

The girl giggled as Claire heard them move away, and only when she was certain she was alone, did she take her hand off her eyes.

With shaking knees, she collapsed onto the nearest chair and wondered what the hell just happened.

..........

Jamie checked his phone as he headed towards the parking lot and noticed he had a missed call from Claire. She hadn't left a message, and when he'd tried to call back, she didn't answer. He'd just finished a session of photocalls for a sports magazine and was hoping to catch up with her in the pub. And find out more about this, John. But which pub?

His thoughts zeroed in on Joe and immediately called his number.

"Hey, buddy." Joe sounded merry, and there were music and loud voices in the background. He thought maybe he joined Claire at the pub.

"Hey, Joe. Is Claire with ye?"

"Claire? No, sorry, mate. I'm out with the lads from work. Have you tried calling her?"

"Aye, but she's not answering. She told me she's going to a pub, but I didn't have the sense to ask her earlier which one."

"Mmm, we usually frequent The Last Drop. Maybe you ought to try looking for her there."

"I will do." Jamie found his car, got in and closed his eyes, only half-listening, trying to remember his other purpose for calling.

"I hardly get to see you nowadays, buddy. Claire told me you've been really busy, and she barely gets to see you too. But then, work is work isn't it? Can't turn your nose up when the opportunity knocks. Got to take it by the ..."

"Joe." The moment he said his name, Joe stopped talking.

"Yes?"

"Claire went out with this doctor bloke ...whatshisname ...John from St Leonards. What do ye ken of him?"

"John? John Grey?"

"Aye."

"He's sound. Pretty straight-up guy, ace doctor and hilarious as fuck."

Jamie coughed, an uncomfortable weight settling in his chest. "So ye ken him good, aye?"

"Of course I do. I got Claire that temp job, didn't I? He's a good pal of mine."

Jamie got straight to the point. "Why is he hanging out with Claire? Doesn't he know ...eh ... she's with me?"

A few seconds went by before Joe let out a loud unrestrained laugh. "Whoa! Who are you, and what have you done with James Fraser?"

He muttered a curse under his breath. "Look, listen ...I don't have time for this. I haven't been around Claire lately, but that's all gonnae change very soon. It's just that I've been so busy with the sports complex and interviews and other stuff, I thought she might feel I've neglected her and all. And I was wondering if she'd said anything to ye or ye'd had any hints of her going off me and started seeing other people."

"Well, mate that's what happens when you don't keep an eye on your lass ...you snooze, you lose," he replied laughing.

Irritation skated his back. "Stop taking the mickey, Joe! If ye ken something, spit it out."

"Hey! Hold yer horses, man," Joe countered, this time his tone sounding more serious. "You can't blame me for taking the piss. Are you even listening to yourself? You start asking stupid questions, you'll get stupid answers. Fuck, Jamie ... sometimes you're a picnic short of a sandwich. What do you think of Claire? Do you think, just because you don't have time for her, she'd start seeing other people? She's got more depth than that."

Jamie banged the back of his head against the headrest of the car seat, biting his tongue so he'd not say anything he'd regret later. "Ah, bugger it."

There was a long silence on the other end. Jamie wondered if he had better luck calling up Geillis, but at his state at the moment, he didn't think he had the patience for her usual smart-ass remarks.

"John is gay." Joe finally spoke.

He straightened up. "What?"

"John is gay, and he has a boyfriend, but that isn't the point here. Even if John wasn't gay, you don't have anything to worry about Claire's devotion to you. And my piece of advice ...if your conscience is bothering you not spending much time with her this much, then I suggest you do something about it. She's been messed about a lot. And I sometimes wonder why she chose to be with a man who has a past like yours. But hey, I'm not judging. So if it feels like she is a little bit distant, it's just her self-preservation mode kicking in. She doesn't ask for much, Jamie ...but a little reassurance that you're there for her will go a long way. That's all I have to say to that."

Something loosened up inside of him, and he realised he'd been holding his breath and clutching the steering wheel in a tight grip. He allowed himself to slowly relax and breath. "Thanks, Joe," was all he could manage. Nursing unnecessary worries was probably the universe's version of biting him on the arse for all those times he'd broken many girls' hearts even though he'd told himself many times he'd never led anyone on. But right now, he needed to put those excuses and insecurities aside and focus on Claire and making their relationship stronger.

"Jamie?"

"Aye?

"Welcome to the incredible world of jealousy. For the price of admission, you get an inferiority complex, palpitations, cold sweats, and a nearly irresistible urge to commit murder, But don't worry, buddy it's all just part of the teething problem. You'll survive."

Jamie let out a laugh, said goodbye and hung up.

Having Claire in his life was worth the self-doubt and every pain in the arse things that came with it. But Joe's words' kept repeating over and over in his head. Well, mate that's what happens when you don't keep an eye on your lass ...you snooze, you lose. It was meant to be a joke, but he didn't like that one bit at all. Just a glimmer of risk to his relationship, suddenly, all he'd worked hard for, lost all of its meaning. Back when his entire life was all about making money out of fear for a shortlived career, he'd been ready to sell his soul. Then he met Claire. He'd said he was done with Forbes, done with the paparazzi, done with everything but the feisty Sassenach that turned his life upside down. However, not much had changed from his old life. He was still running around, trying to court big names in the celebrity world to sell his brand. Then the realisation hit him hard that there's a possibility he could lose her for good if nothing changed and he couldn't, at that moment, ever imagine another man with her. If that happened, it wouldn't be a laughing matter. And if that happened, he would never find another woman like her and all he'd have to show for in his life were the long hours at work but with no one to share it with. Just like what Ned Gowan once told him not too long ago. He closed his eyes to keep those horrible visions at bay. But somehow the images still managed to seep into his consciousness, and it terrified the hell out of him.

It dawned on him, he would give up everything, pay every cent of his fortune to keep Claire his. What the hell is happening to me? Maybe it had something to do with the time he'd spent with her when he didn't need to be anyone other than himself. Perhaps it was the way that, through her, he had taken a good hard look at himself and wanted to change. But he needed to do more to guarantee she wouldn't slip away.

But first, he needed to find her.

.........

Claire poured hot water over the chamomile tea bag in the mug and then a healthy measure of whisky in a tumbler. After the horror of seeing a half-naked girl in Jamie's kitchen and Rabbie in the bare scud, she needed the soothing effects of the herbal brew and the immediate heat of the alcohol to calm her nerves.

She lifted a hand and saw it was still shaking. She'd already taken the pizza meant for Rabbie and company out of the oven and washed the dishes to keep herself busy and pacify her jitteriness. Even the sight and smell of melted cheese couldn't entice her to have a piece of their untouched dinner, her earlier appetite gone and dissipated. The feel of walking into what's supposed to be a romantic setting clung to her, as did the guilt for doubting Jamie ...and if she kept thinking about it, she was going to need more than a dram of whisky.

Dropping down on the nearby stool, she allowed herself to simply be and for once to stop overthinking. So far it hadn't done her any good, only given her sleepless nights and probably making Jamie worried with her constant display of disappointment. These small acts of dubiety against her practical nature were starting to become a liability and a bad character trait. She really needed to pull herself together and give Jamie some credence.

Rabbie walked into the kitchen, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans and a tinge of red highlighting the tips of his ears. "Hey," he said, clearing his throat.

They looked at each other for a moment and then burst out laughing.

He ran an impatient hand through his hair. "God, that was embarrassing."

She wiped the tears from her eyes. "You didn't seem embarrassed when I saw you bollock-naked."

"Oh, that ...no. I'm not embarrassed about that." He jerked a thumb towards the living area. "Ye weren't supposed to know what we were up to ...I meant, at least not here in Jamie's apartment."

"Your girlfriend?" she asked.

"Maria ...aye ...weel, it's complicated. We've been on and off for the last six months. Tonight wasnae supposed to happen. I called Jamie earlier if I could crash here for the night and he said yes since you hardly come here anymore. On the way, I stopped by the pub and saw her. We had a few drinks, and then one thing led to another, we came here for some privacy and then ye appeared. She's still rattled about ye being here, and she's gone all shy. I'll introduce ye another time since she desperately wants to go."

"It's getting late, Rabbie. You can stay. There's enough room."

"Thanks but no thanks. We're good."

She gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry for ruining your evening."

"Ach, think nothing of it," he reassured with a wave of a hand. He was about to turn and go when he stopped on his tracks. "Ummm ...Claire?"

"Yes?"

"Please don't tell Jamie I brought a girl here."

"If he doesn't ask, I won't say a word," she said, smiling. "After I've drunk my tea and whisky, I'll go straight to bed, so I don't think Jamie will get a chance to ask questions."

"Thank you," he said gratefully. "umm ...I cleared all evidence in the guest bedroom."

"Good."

"See ye around, Claire."

She nodded and waved at the girl, thankful she didn't have to go through small talks with Rabbie's on and off girlfriend. As much as she would have loved to know more about the beautiful exotic looking girl, she couldn't wait to be on her own. Suddenly feeling spent from the roller-coaster emotions she'd been through that day, she downed the whisky in one go. She and Jamie needed to talk. Jamie wasn't the only one dealing with these massive changes in their lives. In the space of three months, there had been enormous upheavals in both their personal and professional lives, and she needed to tell him exactly what she was feeling even if only to vent and release what was troubling her. Constantly letting her imaginations run away from her wasn't healthy and certainly not good for their relationship.

Satisfied with her logic, she went to Jamie's bedroom, undressed and put on one of his t-shirts. And then she went to the kitchen and poured herself another dram, forgoing the tea, and taking it with her to the living area. Placing it on the coffee table, she plonked herself down on the massive leather recliner. It was her favourite place to snuggle into beside Jamie's arm. It had a remote, a seat warmer and it reclined into full position. Pulling the tartan blanket over her, she made herself comfortable. Forty winks were all she needed to regenerate and rid herself of today's troubles before Jamie arrives.

As she began to relax, a sense of peace settled over her. She murmured occasional comments to herself, reminding her of the things she needed to tell Jamie and making a mental to-do list for tomorrow. Gradually her limbs became heavier, and her lids closed, the image of the list floating away with her awareness.

"Claire?"

Her name sounded like dark syrup and caramel, rolling from a tongue. She sighed and lifted her face upward, too drowsy to raise her arms - the distinctive scent of Jamie, soap, and a hint of aftershave connecting to her senses.

"Hmmm?"

Calloused fingers caressed her cheek, and she leaned against that warm hand and kissed his palm. A low mutter escaped his lips. "Christ, Sassenach, I've been looking everywhere for ye."

"I'm here" She stretched, her muscles contracting and releasing in anticipation. She sighed. "And you smell delicious."

"Sweet Jesus, ye're killing me."

The foggy haze of sleep clouded her brain waves. She blinked and reached out to brush back a strand of curl that fell on his brow and trace the edges of his soft, full lips with a fingertip. "You're so beautiful," she murmured. "Far too beautiful for me, though. Aren't you, Jamie?"

"A dhia. What am I going to do with ye?"

His lips brushed over hers, warm, firm, and sure, sipping from her mouth like he was savouring an expensive glass of whisky. The taste of him exploded on her tongue, and she whimpered, opening to him fully. He kissed her slow, without any concern about taking his time, tasting and sucking languidly until she dissolved into the recliner and the flesh between her legs throbbed with need.

Just when she was fidgeting to get more of him, he broke the kiss and stared into her eyes. "I was out of my mind searching every pub in Edinburgh for ye. And when I went to yer cottage, and ye weren't there, I thought ...I thought ...Christ I dinnae even want to say the words. Just thinking about it is tearing my guts out."

A little butterfly fluttered in her belly. "I'm sorry ..."

"No." He swept a hand over her hair and cupped her cheek, an unfamiliar light gleaming in his blue eyes. "I'm the one who owes ye an apology."

The unfiltered display of concern, dread and hope was visible in his face, making her want to alleviate the burdens on his shoulders and erase the worries she'd caused. He was trying so hard for her, a terrain she'd never encountered before when she was with Frank. She straightened and laid a soft kiss on his lips. "Well, I guess we just need to talk things over and ..."

Jamie gently pushed her back down onto the recliner. "Where do ye think ye're going?"

She frowned. "Ah, well, bedroom ... that's if you don't mind me staying over for the night," she mumbled.

"Is that so?" he whispered, a flicker of amusement lighting his eyes.

"Huh?"

"No."

"No?"

"Open yer thighs for me, Sassenach," he murmured, a muscle popping in his cheek. Without waiting for her reply or reaction, his lips coasted along her jawline, his hot breath on her skin, sending shivers spiralling down her spine.

"Jamie!"

"Sssh, let me love ye, Sassenach."

She wanted to object. There was so much she needed to say, express and unload, but her body had other things in mind. Her legs parted of their own accord, her desire to feel Jamie more potent than she realised.

Shifting on his knees by the recliner, Jamie slid his palm up her inner thigh. He stalled when he reached her centre and planted two fingers over the soaked seam of her panties, stroking the sensitive flesh underneath with deliberate slowness. Every particle of oxygen in Claire's lungs rushed out of her, lust turning the corner like a horse set free and thundering across the paddock. She could only close her eyes and allow Jamie to slip his hand inside the tiny scrap of garment that hid her modesty.

When his fingers slid down her wetness, her hips jerked on a moan and heat flashed in Jamie's expression.

She grabbed his shirt, drawing him in for a kiss, to taste more of him.

"No," Jamie muttered.

"Please, Jamie. I need you. I want you inside me." They weren't the words she'd planned to say tonight. But she still meant it in a way that went beyond her physical need. She needed his presence, his heart, his love, his mind, his spirit, and everything that makes Jamie, Jamie.

"No, Sassenach," he whispered, shaking his head and biting his lip. His fingers parted her folds and teased her nub in a tight circle. "I want to watch ye."

Head dropping back, her brain started to short-circuit, and her pulse boomed in her ears. She almost cried out loud when Jamie's touch abandoned her briefly to push the blanket away and strip her panties off, baring her for his perusal. Not that she could find an ounce of shyness left to care at that particular moment. The way he was touching her, rid the last vestige of finesse and decorum she had left, writhing wantonly to the movement of his skilful fingers. She was so hot, she thought her skin would surely scorch if touched.

"Sassenach, look at ye. So fucking beautiful, so bloody perfect I could do this for eternity, and it would never be enough."

Jamie rubbed her swollen nub with his thumb, chuckling when her back bowed with a groan. His laughter subsided when he lowered his head and sucked the tip of her breasts through her shirt. Just when she thought she couldn't take any more of his ministration, he caught her nipple between his teeth and simultaneously, twisted his middle finger up inside of her.

"Oh God, oh sweet Mother of God," she whimpered. "I can't...oh, Jamie, please. It's too much."

"Aye, ye can, mo chridhe," he said hoarsely, adding a second finger and pushing up her shirt to suck her nipple. "Move your hips more."

Jamie's command only drove her urgency higher. Unable to reply, her body did the talking and obeyed his instructions, her body thrashing as sob after sob escaped her lips. Her movements became more frantic when a coil inside her wound tighter and tighter, and his fingers delved in deeper. With her nerve endings going off like little bells, Claire moved her hips in time with his fingers. They drove in and out of her, faster and faster until she almost couldn't stand the oncoming onslaught of an impending release. It built, engulfed and intensified around her, just like in an opera when the act reaches a crescendo.

"Oh, my God, Jamie ...Jamie," she cried out, seizing the front of his shirt. "I'm...yes, yes, yes."

The climax billowed through her and clutched her muscles, blowing cinders at her nerves until she swore she would combust. Jamie's finger found her sweet spot and stroke it with swift, sure movements, a scream forming in the back of her throat.

"Aye, scream yer little heart out, Sassenach. That's my lass."

And she did, making her orgasm more luminescent and sweeping like she could jump into it and disappear. Perhaps she did for a few heartbeats, because when she finally opened her eyes, there was only the smell of Jamie's neck, the feel of his strong arms around her, even though she had no recollection of him pulling her close.

He kissed her softly, a small smile lighting his handsome face.

After her heart had settled into its usual rhythm, she reached out and touched his face. "Jamie, we need to talk." When he frowned, she quickly gave him a reassuring squeeze with her hand. "No ...it's nothing bad ...or anything like that. It's just that I have a few things I need to get off my chest."

Relief descended on his expression, softening his face, almost making her feel guilty she was the cause of the worried look. "Aye, tomorrow, we'll talk ..."

"But you're working, and we'd been putting this off ..."

"Are ye working tomorrow?" he asked, his thumb caressing the base of her neck.

"I have a late shift and ..."

"I'll take the morning off, and we'll talk." When she didn't answer, he pulled his phone from the back of his jeans pocket and made a demonstration of turning it off. "Phone off. Tomorrow, we'll have breakfast and talk. But tonight I just want to hold ye, is that alright, Sassenach?

She nodded, sighed and went limp, suddenly feeling drowsy but a lot lighter in her chest.

Moments later, he carried her boneless body to bed and laid her carefully down on her back. After a quick wash in the bathroom, Jamie stripped off his clothes, climbed into bed, and curved his front to her back, holding her tightly in the dark.

Just before sleep claimed her, she heard Jamie whisper, "Ye're mine, Sassenach as I'm yers," his arms pulling her in closer as if afraid she would get up and go. Before she could dwell on it, his words danced away with her consciousness into the oblivion of deep sleep.

#melodyheart #startingover #Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser #outlanderfanfic

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ofregiums · 4 years

Text

all the world’s a stage, and HAL WAGNER is merely one of its players. the thirty-four year old hitman is called the broken ace by most that know him. loyal to no one, he’s certainly a force to be reckoned with, considering that he’s resourceful and magnetic. however, if you want to bring him down, i’ll have you know he’s detached and wayward. – played by robert pattinson

— THE BASICS

full name: henry zachariah wagner ii date of birth: may 28th, 1986 place of birth: verona age: thirty-four star sign: gemini reimagined: prince hal from the henriad tetralogy profession: hitman alma mater: not applicable ( dropped out ) faction loyalty: neutral alignment: chaotic neutral mbti: estp spoken languages: english ( native speaker ), french ( advanced ), spanish ( advanced ), mandarin ( intermediate ) talents: interrogations, hand to hand combat, weaponry, negotiations mother’s name: mary wagner, estranged father’s name: henry wagner the first, estranged siblings, if any: thomas wagner ( deceased ), john wagner, blanche wagner, phillipa wagner spouse: catherine lewis ( est. january 2008 - may 2009 ) height: 6′ hair colour: dirty blonde eye colour: blue

— BACKSTORY

born as the first child to a shipping mogul and well-beloved actress, hal was placed into a life of luxury and notoriety from the moment he took his first breath. yet, his status as the future heir to a business dynasty was marked with high expectations and strict demands to ensure he would be the perfect successor to wagner industries one day. these standards were enforced by his father. often times harsh and selective with his love, the man typically made a young hal vie for his attention. thankfully, he had his mother to combat any cruelty inflicted by his mother. she was his whole world.

hal was the oldest of five and grew up incredibly close to his siblings. no matter how much their father seemed to make them compete, they instead bonded together. hal had a particularly soft spot for his youngest sister pippa and the sibling closest in age to him, tommy.

at the age of eleven, hal’s mother had reached her breaking point when it came to his father. she promptly filed for divorce and requested sole custody of the children. henry the first refused to take the embarrassment lying down. he reminded mary relentlessly throughout the process that he had more power and money than she could ever imagine. sure, she could divorce him. but she would never get a hand on his legacy. after a nasty array of court battles, hal’s parents divorced but it only left his mother with very limited visitation rights in retaliation for her decision. soon enough, she disappeared as a presence in his life overall.

as he blossomed into a teenager, parties became his form of escape. he had his first snort of cocaine far too young ( and his first drink even younger ) and discovered that these substances gave him a release from his reality for a while. while his father only cared for image sake, hal’s siblings begged him to give up his new habits, absolutely worried by what he was doing to himself.

he was eighteen, on the cusp of graduating from high school, when everything changed forever. hal and tommy went for a drive. but after a couple of beers, it became clear that hal wasn’t the best candidate. concerned, tommy asked for them to pull over -- but hal insisted everything was totally fine. and in a cruel strike of fate, the evening became completely the opposite when he drifted into the opposing lane and made a split decision to swerve into a pole to avoid the head-on collision. panicked and delirious, hal quickly discovered that he got the longer end of the stick when he noticed tommy’s body folded in half in the passenger seat. a boy shy of his seventeenth birthday, his best friend. gone from this world.

after tommy’s funeral, things changed with hal’s dynamic with his siblings. they blamed him for their brother’s death. that much was clear. even when little pippa ( god, she was only eight. . . she didn’t deserve such grief ) insisted that they just needed time to heal, he knew deep down in his heart that things would never be the same.

hal attended the university of verona. or as some liked to phrase it, hal’s father bought his way into university of verona. he’d never been a great student. intelligent, yes. but far too distracted and bored to actually do something with the smarts. he got through his university years with a party every night and paying some nerd to handle his assignments and essays. getting a business degree was only a formality anyways. he was still primed to take over the family business when his father saw fit.

during his senior year, hal met catherine. for once, someone looked at him and didn’t see all of his mistakes and failures. she laughed at his sardonic jokes. she smiled when he didn’t feel like doing so himself. was there any wonder that he fell head over heels in love with her ? but hal was a terrible partner. far too immature and hedonistic to actually be worth it. in a last ditch effort for catherine not to leave him, he proposed. she agreed, not wanting the relationship to end as much as he did, and the two eloped over night.

henry the first was absolutely livid. coming from a lower class background, catherine was definitely not his fist choice for hal’s wife. plus his recklessness was now on full spread in all the gossip columns ( eloped at 21 ? dear god. ). henry made his son choose: the family or catherine. hal didn’t hesitate to choose his wife. after all, his siblings despised him. he never wanted to take over the company. and now, he could be free from his father’s tyrannical reign. choosing catherine was the only option. after doing so, he promptly dropped out as a final fuck you to his father.

but as much as he loved catherine, he came to realize that he may have loved his freedom more. being tied down and expected to be better was a panic-inducing experience for hal. he wasn’t ready to grow up. that weighed on catherine and after only a year or so of marriage, she requested for the marriage to be annulled. erased as if it never existed.

as if that wasn’t more than enough to drive someone insane, hal received news from his mother that her health was declining.

hal was left with nothing by the age of 24. no wife. no family. no career or even a fucking degree. he floundered around aimlessly, spending nights in bars and eventually in the beds of strangers. one day, he happened to stumble upon a group one night. seemingly, hal just assumed that they were a pack of lads around his age that were enjoying their youth. but as he continued to hang with them more and more, he soon learned that their motives were far darker. they worked as a secret organization that offered an array of services to the shady underbelly of verona. theft, collections, even murder... you name it, they did it. it may have been enough information to horrify anyone else but for a listless hal, it was the excitement needed amongst the trepidation of trying to survive this world alone.

he started off with the most basic assignments. but it became quickly evident that hal had a oddly exceptional talent at compartmentalizing. after so much loss and pain and disappointment, he knew how to detach from everyone and everything without a blink of an eye. that made him a prime candidate to take on a more darker role in the organization -- killing. he relentlessly trained under older mercenaries and eventually was sent around town with assignments. it was never his place ( nor his desire ) to ask for the reasoning behind why he was taking the targets out. in a sick sense, he replaced self-indulgent vices with something far worse. a way to feel alive.

around the age of thirty, hal decided that he wanted out of the organization to work solo. requesting a leave came with a price -- a near death beating as a warning of what would be done to him if he ever exposed the secrets of the organization. it took him months to properly heal but once he did, he began to reach out to the clients that he had previously worked for. offered them a slightly better price than what they were paying and sworn discretion as per usual. after all, he didn’t need his former co-workers on his ass for stealing their business.

now hal walks these streets, alone and strangely work-oriented. though he occasionally has a haunted look in his eyes, he’s not particularly marred with the heavy darkness that some souls that roam verona carry. he simply does what he needs to do to survive and collect a paycheck at the end of the day. he promises zero loyalty to anyone, knowing that doing so means sacrificing a part of himself that died a long time ago. and while he is no longer the wild child that he was in his youth, if you need him. . . you can usually find him at the local bar.

#( * don't you ever tame your demons ; but always keep them on a leash | hal wagner. )#britt RIGHTS mfs!!!!!!!!!#( * introductions. )

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