#snowy shite

[guerrilla-operator]

THIN LIZZY

[sgiandubh]

Welcome to the shitshow

We have:

A ✈ sighting. No pics.

The MPC live, scarce details. No rings. Spartan decor. Suntan and out of Bonnie Scotland. No further details on destination, which might or might not be the same as the flight. Mark me, I think it is - he is in Gran Canaria and for a very precise reason: keeping his part of the deal and his Onlies on tenterhooks.

C is seen in Marseille, hullaballoo ensues. We pinpoint some coincidental details. I was expecting the shite to hit the fan in 4, 3, 2, 1...

And it did. With both sopranos hinting at the same person, but only one brave (or rather foolish enough) to push a name out there. Disingenuous, to say the least - but oh, how convenient for any given agenda. Because it's too easy, when you give out a name to a thirsty crowd to say: 'well, of course it's because of the shippers! They did this or that (sky is the limit)! They are to blame!' (excuse me?) and 'well, of course they won't say a word, now' (how convenient if the thing does not stick, eventually).

That was, IMHO, a strategic mistake and the petticoat is showing across the pond.

Around the same time, I started to get a different kind of Anon, day after day after day. Very brutal. Foul-mouthed. And...with some intel. I answered the first, but then when things started to 'happen', the coin dropped very quickly that: a) I did hit a nerve and b) someone or some people wanted me to push this particular agenda - remember when...?

For reference:

And then today, just in time for the long, boring, chilly and even snowy (depending on your location) week-end, the bomb dropped and the cargo was juicy:

A name. A woman. A gym. Not one, but three suspicious videos: the one with the leg, the one with the clear voice (unmistakably S!) and the one with the dog (and more S voiceover). How nicely connected. How fucking perfect.

An Airbnb close to the gym. What would a single woman traveler do in a three-bedroom gargantuan villa all by herself, when you are in Winterbird Central with a bajillion other accommodation options, is beyond any logic. So easily and lazily - OMG, date!

Unless...

Unless you conveniently forget some details:

Not one, but three different promos/endorsements, with a discount code to boot - 10% off, how nice!

The one that has been discussed by just about everyone:

The one that provided the discount code for new subscribers: Gymshark, a fitness attire manufacturer (https://eu.gymshark.com/).

And the most important one, hiding behind a humble hashtag: #metcon. Now I don't know you, but I'd rather digress about tea parlors and bookstores, and so had no fucking idea Metcon was, in fact...

Yup. Nike. A very recent model - expensive and sure, in need of immediate product placement/promo:

And so, for tax reasons, she just had to (mandatorily) include the #ad (as in advertisement, lest we'd not have naive Anons again!) hashtag.

Also, this, posted along the short reel with S's voice (but who cared, all 👂were there and only there):

That woman was working. She has, after all, 450k Insta followers. If she and S met at a gym in a winter destination very sought after by Scots should be none of our business. If they met again or have a regular training schedule does not mean they fuck or that we're going to look out for Remarkable Week-end 2.0. If they met in Hyrox GLA - so what? What is this, I beg your pardon, Gilead? People just can't hang out, like ever, I mean men and women?

🙄

But.. but... the gargantuan villa...?

Och. Sure enough, the place is correctly identified. You can check chez Marple. I am not posting it, because I do not want to and by now, I trust just about everyone has seen those pics. But this time, I am not going there. The name of that villa, even, made me laugh like a drain. I mean how more in your face can they be?

Who footed the bill of this rather comfy PR shitshow, reminiscing of Ha-wa-wee, 🐰 and whatever else you could think of? SRH?

Perhaps. But what if Nike did, as a freebie to a very good promoter? They sure can spare the dime and, to be honest, as we speak, there is no sign S and her share anything else than a gym schedule. What tells us with absolute certainty, at least at this moment in time, she is not there with friends, family or even a group of fellow promoters, Avon-style?

Oh, and the world is definitely a handkerchief, especially in GLA, it would seem. Wanna know who also follows her on Insta?

Paul Donnelly. Nope, not the chef. This Paul Donnelly:

The one who literally owes S a shitload of cash. A post that earned me a report (I was just explaining, if I remember correctly, that S would have been wise to legally secure that hefty loan, nothing more).

And now you know what? That post is gone, vanished, poof and I have no idea why. I surely did not take it down, I never do this.

And surely enough, just before I started writing, Filthy Anon came back and warned me there was more (pics, 👅👄) about McFitness. Surely enough, the same info (albeit toned down) was picked up by *urv in her comments' thread, about twenty minutes after Anon dropped by.

Agenda, anyone? God forbid!

You draw your own conclusions. I can only very honestly say:

Welcome to the Shitshow - the Winter Edition!

This page is not going to follow blindly your script, whoever you are. This page simply hopes to cleverly hit a nerve every time it considers necessary. Other than that, big effing deal, really. Ship on.

Sorry for the length. I was never good at summing up.

[grogusmum]

💘HAZEL'S CONVERSATION HEART GAME!!💘

Hazel is feeling like Cupid this snowy Valentine's Day. But cupid is blind! So who knows which P Boy you'll get!

Just throw a heart in my inbox, and I'll dig into my bag and pull one out for you!

For a random color, pop me a <3

If you have a color preference, here are your choices 🩷🧡💛💚💙💜🤍

That will be your Pedro Boy Valentine!

It isn't a tag game. Everyone and everyone can play!

Feel free to reblog!

(I will be answering most of the asks after work)

Just tagging some folks to get the ball rolling:

@oonajaeadira @writeforfandoms @insomniamamma @honestly-shite @chaoticgeminate @pagannightwitch @max--phillips @agentjackdaniels @katareyoudrilling @mandoblowmybackout @morallyinept @firstofficerwiggles @littledragonlady @littlemissskuld @littlemisspascal @coulsons-fullmetal-cellist @fromthedeskoftheraven @lellowberry @ladamedusoif

[owlespresso]

ashen slumber. estinien.

tags: fem!reader, poly!wolestimeric mentioned

“You need to get some rest,” Estinien says, arms crossed, hips cocked, leaned up against the doorway of Aymeric’s office. His hair cascades down his shoulders, hoarfrost white cast mellow orange by the dim lamplight.

“I don’t need any more rest.” you frown, resisting the urge to drag your hand over your face. Your dry eyes ache from hours of combing over idle paperwork. Returning to the star has seen you entrench yourself in Ishgard’s political complex, mostly for Aymeric’s sake. Splitting the paperwork between the two of you gives him more free time, something which he has been in desperate need of ever since he took place at the head of the House of Lords. The people have welcomed you with open arms, for the most part. There will always be an amount of the population which remains stuck in their old ways, determined to hold onto the grief and rage and resentment the Dragonsong War inflicted upon them, but you know you can’t please everyone. There is no world in which every soul agrees.

The highborne of the state have been more bewildered than anything. The Warrior of Light, savior of nations and states and the realm at large, dwindling herself down to a simple secretary sounds like a ridiculous idea on paper, ludicrous. Fortunately, you now have more than your fair share of experiences with paper. 

A part of you enjoys the monotony of the work, the simplicity.

“Aye.” Estinien says. He lets the side of his head thunk lightly against the wooden frame, lips pressed into a thin, flat line. He’s as close to rolling his eyes as he can get without actually doing it. He’s remarkably unconvinced.

“I’m not tired.” you insist. You’ve been to the Sea of Stars and beyond. You’ve lasted a day or two without rest before, and in much less luxurious places. In the dusty flats of Ala Mhigo, dogged by Garlean soldiers and the merciless sun. On Coerthas’s snowy ridges, buffeted by the winds and the ice. If there is an ideal place to go sleepless, Manor de Borel is as close as you can find.

“Then those bags under your eyes are just for show?” Estinien takes a step into the room. He’s shed his armor in favor of a white shirt with a low neckline and billowing sleeves. And a pair of high waisted riding trousers, ones you distinctly remember Aymeric weareing last week. You draw your gaze away from the lovely thick of his thighs with a swallow, but he’s already caught you, as evidenced by the wide smirk drawn from cheek to cheek. You open your mouth to deliver what is hopefully a stinging retort, but he beats you to it. “Don’t get clever with me—we both know you’re burning the candle at both ends. Do you plan on working until you drop?” “You can’t expect me to stand idle while you waste away at that thrice-damned desk.”

“Thrice-damned?” your lips quirk into an amused, shite-eating grin. “You hold the strangest grudges, Estinien.” 

Estinien scoffs. The steel of his boots’ heels clicks against the polished floor as he strides across the room, coming to stand at your side. He leans a hip against the desk’s edge. It’s nearly impossible to tear your gaze away from his toned thighs, lovingly squeezed by those leather pants. 

“I can hardly pull Aymeric away from it, and now it’s seized you in its clutches. I have half a mind to toss the bloody thing.” Estinien gruffs, capturing your chin between his forefinger and thumb. The pads of his fingers are calloused, roughened by years of handling a lance and handling his own survival in the realm’s untamed wilds. Slowly, contemplatively, he shifts his hold, cradling your cheek in his palm.

“I doubt Aymeric would appreciate that.” you mumble, pressing your cheek into his hand, like a cat stretching towards a spot of sun.

“Aymeric also fusses after everyone else only to not get a wink of sleep himself. Ishgard will ruin that man, I swear it.” Estinien grouses, rubbing circles into the space underneath your eye. It’s too easy to go boneless into his touch. Your shoulders slump, your entire body leaning in his direction. 

“On that, we agree.” you say, voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. The taut muscle of his abdomen tenses and shudders.

“Aye. Now be a good lass and come to bed.” Estinien huffs. He reaches down, hooks his hands underneath your arms and lifts you from the chair like you’re some poorly-behaved feline. You’re so gobsmacked that it renders you completely still, frozen long enough for him to readjust his grip after he sets you back on your feet. His arms curl underneath your knees and bring them upwards. You shout, hands scrambling for his shoulders in blind panic as the ground disappears from beneath you a second time. 

“Estinien!” you squawk in a manner most undignified. “Put me down this instant!” Your fingers curl into his shoulders, squeezing the broad muscle you find there. 

“The rest of your Scions will gut me if you wasted away under my watch—and I’ve no interest in another visit from your infernal secretary.” You duck to avoid thunking your head on the top of the doorframe, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. He smells like a campfire, like levin in the air after a storm. You bump your nose into him as he shifts you in his grasp, wincing into his skin. 

“But I still have so much to do,” you protest halfheartedly. Your eyelids are already beginning to betray you. It’s harder and harder to keep open and fully awake when he’s got you pressed tight against the warmth of his body—his torso is broad and his waist so delectably thin. Caked in lean muscle, just plush enough for you to dig your fingers into his upper back. 

“Your parchment piles will still be here in the morning,” he assures you with a wry, amused huff. With you still in his arms, he twists the doorknob to the master bedroom and shoves it open with a cocked hip. You try to not think about how hot that is. Instead, you savor the wall of warmth that encompasses you as Estinien steps into the threshold. “Unless I make the wise decision to toss them into the fireplace.”

“I’m telling Aymeric if you do.” The threat is immediate, and it earns you a dry laugh. Estinien drops you onto the mattress, looks down at you with half-lidded, appraising eyes. Your robe has been rumpled by all the manhandling, collar knocked over your shoulder, exposing ilms of soft skin along your arm and bust. 

“You say that as if the lord commander won’t agree with me. You both work yourselves to the bone, but he’s more concerned for you than he ever is for himself.” he says with a sigh, flopping onto the other side of the bed. The plush mattress bounces underneath his weight, nearly knocking you off in the process. You grumble discontentedly as you right yourself, scuttling under the covers. They’re cool and buttery against your skin, a finery that only the wealthiest in the city get to enjoy. Here, in the calming dark, you could easily float off to sleep—but Estinien is still moving around. The sheets glide smoothly against your cheek as you peek out of your makeshift shelter.

His long, lean fingers clumsily bat against his chest, undoing a few of his buttons. You’ve been able to see the taunting jut of his collarbones this entire time, but every ilm of fabric lowered reveals more of his broad chest. A dusky areola peeks out from underneath the silken cloth.

“Shouldn’t you be chasing Aymeric around, instead?” 

“You would have me impose a curfew on the Lord Commander?” Estinien asks, sliding out of his shirt and kicking his boots off. They land somewhere near the door.

“But you can impose one on me?” Agitation bleeds into your voice. Your shrewd look becomes a menacing glare, space between your brows scrunched up.

“You,” Estinien reaches over, cupping your cheek in his massive palm. His fingers splay around the back of your head as he pulls you close, kisses your temple, and then your cheek. His warm breath rolls across your skin, sends a shudder down your spine as he nips the tip of your ear. “Are just small enough for me to get away with it.” Estinien says, flopping his head onto one of the pillows. Waves of white hair gleam pearlescent underneath the firelight. Amusement is worn into his statuesque features, painted across his high cheekbones and handsome nose. His eyelashes, even, hoarfrost in color, tinge pink in the hearth’s golden love. 

“Don’t look at me like that. You could have clawed yourself free if you wanted, you just like being doted on.” There’s a smugness to his words that makes your blood begin to boil, but it’s remarkably difficult to remain cross with him when he’s so shirtless and so in front of you, the long, lean stretch of his body splayed out for your viewing pleasure. The curves of his defined abdomen give way to sharp hip lines, a wisp of white hair guiding your vision lower, to the parts of him hidden by the covers.

“I’m ignoring you.” you mumble, shoving your face into the pillow. His touch roams to your back, warm hand coming to rest between your shoulder blades. When you don’t fuss, he adjusts his position, curling around you, pulling you close to his chest. 

You’re too stubborn to help, but you submit yourself to being maneuvered around. It’s nothing new. Countless nights, you’ve fallen asleep at the very edge of the bed, only to find yourself pressed between them when next you wake. Estinien has no qualms with picking carrying you to and from various rooms of the house, scooping you into his firm embrace whenever he gets the (frequent) urge to hold you. Even Aymeric grabs you and seats you on his lap whenever you wander into the office whilst he’s at work. 

Estinien presses his lips to the side of your head. A soft, rumbling sound coos from somewhere deep in his chest as he drags you upwards. Your face rests on his shoulder, half of your torso wedged between him and the blankets. A comforting, cradling embrace, saturated with the soft scent of after rain and fresh linens. The ease with which he moves you sends a shiver down your spine, a warmth building within you that you pointedly ignore.

You need rest, after all.

[konjaku]

辛夷[Kobushi] Magnolia kobus

It grows up to about twenty meters for the larger ones. Sometimes, still early spring, in a deep, cold forest, it is breathtaking to come across a kobushi with white flowers blooming in profusion on its branches as if it was covered with snow only there.

The following is a scene of Kiso, Nagano Prefecture, in spring from the train on the novelist 堀 辰雄[Hori Tatsuo] and his wife's way to Nara to see the flowers of Asebi.

僕はもう觀念して、しばらくぢつと目をあはせてゐた。とうとうこの目で見られなかつた、雪國の春にまつさきに咲くといふその辛夷の花が、いま、どこぞの山の端にくつきりと立つてゐる姿を、ただ、心のうちに浮󠄁べてみてゐた。そのまつしろい花からは、いましがたの雪が解けながら、その花の雫のやうにぽたぽたと落ちてゐるにちがひなかつた。……

[Boku wa mō kannen shite, shibaraku jitto me wo awasete ita. Tōtō kono me de mirare nakatta, yukiguni no haru ni massaki ni saku to iu sono kobushi no hana ga, ima, dokozo no yama no ha ni kukkiri to tatte iru sugata wo, tada, kokoro no uchi ni ukabete mite ita. Sono masshiroi hana kara wa, imasigata no yuki ga toke nagara, sono hana no shizuku no yō ni pota-pota to ochite iru ni chigai nakatta. ......] I gave up and was closing my eyes for a while. The flowers of Kobushi to be said the first to bloom in the spring in snowy regions that I could not see with my own eyes at last, in the eyes of my mind I could just picture them (the tree) standing clearly on the edge of a mountain somewhere. From those pure white flowers, the snow that had fallen just a few moments ago must have dripped as it melted, as if they were drops of those flowers. ...... From 辛夷の花[Kobushi no hana] Source: https://dl.ndl.go.jp/pid/1133550/1/29 (ja) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tatsuo_Hori https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PhHoCnRg1Yw

[titiro]

You can take the King away from the Hand, but you can't take the Hand away from the King

Day 5: Wanderer/Prosperity/Ground

“… We’re on New Life. That was two years ago, Martyn, get over it! It was two years ago! Third Life was two years ago!”

“Third Life never ended for me.”

---

“Oh, shite.”

As Martyn stares down at what had been meant to be a marker of his snowy kingdom, he could faintly hear laughter in his head. It sounds far too much like Cleo. Shut up, he insists.

Really, Martyn?

It’s not that bad, is it? Martyn hopes so, at least.  Yes, he convinces himself, it’s just because of the cobble. And the wood.

At any rate, he puts it to the back of his mind. He has work to do! So he gets right to it, building up the inside structure of his outpost, and as he steps away from his finished job, Martyn is quite pleased with himself, and brushes the whole incident aside.

But then, of course, his friends discover it.

“MARTYN!” comes the voice of Jimmy Solidarity, climbing up to his little frosty dollop.

“Tim?”

“WHAT IS THAT?”

“Wait, what do you mean?”

Timmy’s face screws up as he gestures wildly out across the horizon to the other patch of snow that can be barely seen from here.

“What do you mean, what do you mean—Martyn, you—“ He cuts himself off, mumbling to himself. “Yes, of course I’m fine, no I’ve definitely moved on, he says. He’s only gone and rebuilt Dogwarts and he says he’s fine—“

Martyn pales. “Oh.”

Jimmy grabs him by the shoulders and drags him over to sit by the haystack. One of the Colins nudges at him, ducking under his hand and waiting patiently for scritches.

Martyn lets out a shaky breath. “I—I wasn’t sure. I didn’t—“ He clams up, unsure of how to say what he’s thinking, looking over at Jimmy despondently.

“Wait, you genuinely didn’t… you didn’t do it on purpose?” Jimmy asks.

Martyn huffs. What’s he meant to say? That he’s haunted by the memories of the friend, the king whose service he swore himself to but can’t ever serve again? Or that he misses Ren? It’s the truth, at least.

“No,” he admits. “I really didn’t. Not until it was done, anyways.”

They sit there in silence for a while. It’s nice to hang out with Jimmy like this, with nothing else going on. They haven’t really had a chance to just hang out since… Martyn actually can’t remember when. But it’s Jimmy who breaks the silence first.

“You know, we all kinda thought you were just playing it up during Limited Life,” Jimmy says. “The whole ‘Unguided Hand’ bit you had going on with the…” he waves his hand. “…banner and everything.”

Martyn almost laughs. “It started like that, at least. But… it was just so weird without Ren, you know? I feel like an idiot saying it but genuinely, I. I did feel lost without him there,” he admits.

---

"No! I won't do it! You took me in when I was a lowly traveler, going across the lands searching the four corners of this world. I learned there was nothing in this world for me. Nothing but walls, corners, edges. And you know what? You showed me life. As much as I've taken it from you, you gave it back to me in bucketfuls. And I just... I'm with you. This is us now. This is us.

---

“I mean, I’m sure they’d let you on to visit Ren for a while,” Jimmy says. “Like, it worked last year. D’you want me to ask Tango? ‘Cause I could, you know. If you wanted?”

Martyn laughs quietly. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

also on ao3, written for @treebarkweek 2023!

[laskume-dragon]

After going through all my Dragon AU posts to make my masterpost i noticed that I've never actually talked about any specific characters. I dropped some tiny bit of general lore once....but that was about it.

So now that I've doodled Alucard, i decided to drop some general AU lore about him!

Species:

Alucard is a so-called Iceling and would be classified as western dragon.

Icelings are quadruped, two winged, of a very lean build and tend to show a lot of resemblance to wolves. They're generally covered in white fur and have feathered wings. Their paw pads, skin and nose are black while their eyes and tailfeathers tend to have bluish tones.

They're native to high mountain ranges and very cold regions.

Their fur then helps them to stay undetected in snowy areas, while the black skin has the same use as for polar bears, to stay warm.

Even though they're dragons, Icelings aren't reptiles. They're warmblooded mammals and their evolution is thus analogous to reptilian dragons, sharing a lot of the classic characteristics of a dragon, without sharing the same ancestor. Though birthing living young has a lot more advantages in cold areas then it is to lay eggs. At least for dragons that spit ice instead of fire and don't have as specialized breeding techniques like penguins. Though in general they're quite immune to freezing. A layer of natural antifreeze (i think glucose had that ability??) right under their skin, shields them from frost. A minimized bloodflow to the extremities and the skin also keeps them from loosing too much heat, making them probably very cold to the touch, while in their core they're warm.

Character appearence:

I said Icelings are usually white but Alucard isn't. What's up with that?

Long story short: gene variation and mutation still exists in this AU. So the magic term is ✨Melanism✨

Or more like pseudomelanism, cus Alucard is not entirely black. The degree of this varies with each form.

Vladcard: probably most black form of all with a few lighter patches of fur on his chest and belly.

Usual Alucard: left frontpaw and two primary feathers on each wing white, rest black

Lady-/Girlycard: mostly white with black patches scattered across her body. Ladycard & Girlycard are basically the same form, only differentiate in the age of appearance (if you know what i mean. Language is hard), depends on what Alu is in the mood for lmao

Backstory:

Has vague similarities to canon but at the same time its very different. Its kinda of patchy and probably things will change in the future but here's a summary of what i have so far:

Alucard was born into the leader family of a pretty big Icelingpack, which was having quite a lot of problems with neighboring packs and defending their territory and shite. So... environment was tense when he grew up and finally took over the pack. At some point there was a big attack on the pack and their territory, catching Alucard by surprise. The attackers, partially Tainteds, were ruthless and killed who they could, including Alucards mate and cubs at the time. He too then fell as he got attacked by another rogue Tainted. But bc they didn't really care what they were doing, they didn't notice that they hadn't killed him completely. Instead the tainting curse befell Alucard. His turn was rough, only driven to success by his own desperate want to stay conscious and alive.

So now he was an accidental tainted, with no master or guidance, no pack and unsure what the hell he even was. For a long time he stayed on his own as he struggled with bloodlust and powers he did not understand.

At some point he stumbled upon a demon (Baskerville) who was for some reason locked out of and unable to return to hell. On his own the demon wouldn't have survived on the mortal plain, but since both had something the other needed at the time, they formed a bond. Alucard needed guidance and company, which Baskerville could provide. In turn he received protection from Alucard and a body he could possess and reside in.

After gaining control over his tainted aspects, Alucard traveled north in search of new territory. He came across a piece of land that was under the rule of the Hellsing pack, lead by a strong goldheavic with the name Abraham (wink wink nudge nudge). Ofc as a stranger hanging around in some other packs territory and also injuring some residents there, when he needed to feed, (in opposite to canon he did not kill all kinds of random people just bc he needed a nibble lmao) Alucard quickly pulled the Alphas attention to himself. Since Alucard wasn't very keen on wrecking the same kind of havoc he had pretty much just survived, he formally challenged Abraham to a duel. This served as a matter of damage control, cus it would keep uninvolved dragons out of the fight and would still provide him with a pack and territory should he win.

Turns out he severely underestimated Abrahams strength and firepower, cus he got his ass KICKED. Still, Abraham was very impressed by Alucards strength and willpower and instead of killing him or driving him out of his territory, he took him in and let him join the pack, providing him with a new home.

And thats pretty much it.

Ofc i could keep going with Alucards life in his new pack but i kinda wanna make it a post of its own, so I'll stop right here.

If you actually took the time to read this absolute rollercoaster. Thank you! Have a cookie and, if you want, a hug!! I appreciate it very much. And if there are questions...pls ask.

I'd love to rant more about my AU lmao!!

[Masterpost]

[scapegrace74-blog]

The Man from Black Water, Chapter 4

A/N  As promised, here in a pre-Christmas installment of my crossover fic.  In it, we see Jamie find a place for himself at Netherton, despite hostilities on all sides.  He and Claire are finally formally introduced, and we learn a bit more about Claire’s plans for her future.

Previous chapters and a character mapping to the Man from Snowy River universe can be found on my AO3 page.

Merry Christmas to all who celebrate, and a safe and happy holiday to all!

From his imposing stature to his iceberg gaze, Dougal Mackenzie would have been the epitome of a Highland warrior, had he been born two hundred years earlier.  As it was, he’d grown up in the industrial slums on the south banks of the Clyde, going to work in the textile mills at the age of twelve. Being on the winning side of a knife fight several years later saw him fleeing the city in search of less hostile horizons.  Brawn made him a desirable labourer.  An ability to keep difficult men in line with his ominous reputation made him an adept foreman.  He’d risen through the ranks to become the chief overseer of Netherton’s agricultural holdings over the past twenty years.

“He’s a hard worker, that one,” the estate’s chief cook remarked to Dougal as they crossed paths in the kailyard one afternoon.  She gestured towards Jamie, who toiled nearby, splitting firewood for the kitchen stoves with admirable economy.  The August sun stared down from an azure sky, and he occasionally paused to wipe sweat from his eyes and take a swig of water from a tin canteen sitting in the shade of an ornamental rosebush.  Rollo lay nearby, his pink tongue afurl in the hot air.

“Aye, seems willing enough,” Dougal said a bit begrudgingly. He hadn’t been consulted about the hiring of this latest labourer, which rankled him.  There was a long list of cronies he would sooner have assisted.

“I canna understand why the master hired him,” the stout woman continued in a lower tone.  “He comes from the Highlands.”  This last word was pronounced as though it was a communicable disease.  Despite being in the shadow of the Grampian mountains, Netherton had always been staffed by Lowland Scots, even if, like Dougal himself, they were only a couple generations removed from their Gaelic roots.

Dougal had entertained similar thoughts himself, but he wasn’t about to stand about and gossip with the house staff about them.

“Twas a long time ago,” he said instead.  “Good day, Mrs. Crook.”

Walking past the woodpile, he called out.

“Fraser, when ye’re done here, ye can muck out the stables.”

“Yes, sir.”

Despite a dark blue smear of sweat across the back of his cambric shirt, the young man seemed cheerfully willing to work without pause.  He wasn’t even breathing hard.  Dougal stalked back to his quarters in a foul mood.

***

Netherton’s stables were more luxurious than any croft Jamie had ever set foot in, with two long rows of stalls bisected by a stone alleyway that funneled the mountain breeze in summer and absorbed the anemic sunlight in winter.  Still, horse shite was horse shite, no matter how pampered the beast that produced it.

Most of the animals were away from their stalls, either grazing in the paddock near the river where the grass was the sweetest or serving as mounts to Netherton’s large workforce.  This made Jamie’s job easier, but he missed the opportunity to gaze into their limpid brown eyes and admire their glossy coats.  He was on his sixth stall when two familiar pests stopped to watch him.

“Lookit than, Rupe.  The teuchter’s shovellin’ shite.  Pretty canny fer a teuchter, usin’ the flat end o’ the shovel an’ everything.”

This was Angus, a dark wiry stockhand who was perpetually spoiling for a fight.  His companion, Rupert, was a soft-bellied lout who followed Angus around like a sheepdog, laughing obligingly at his jokes.  Jamie had met men like them before and did his best to ignore them.

“They eat a lot of neeps an’ tatties in the Highlands, Rupe.   Are ye diggin’ fer yer supper, laddie boy?”

Jamie unbent to his full height, well over a head taller than Angus.  The smaller man stepped back but made a show of lighting a cigarette with casual indifference.

“Have they given ye the day off, Angus?” Jamie asked.  

“I’m studyin’ tae be supervisor,” Angus declared with no little arrogance.  

Staring Jamie directly in the eye, he let the still-burning match drop into the dry straw at his feet.  A tiny curl of smoke immediately rose.  Jamie casually hefted a shovelful of moist excrement onto the growing flame. It was an advertent error that saw some of the load land on Angus’ well-polished leather boots.  The bully’s fists went up.  Rollo let out a low growl of warning.  Jamie tossed his shovel to the side in preparation for the altercation.

“What have you been up to, Kip?”

Claire Beauchamp’s precise elocution acted like a bucket of cold water and all three men scrambled to appear innocuous.  Angus was quick to offer his assistance saddling her usual mount. When she refused, he and Rupert left the stables on the pretense of having work to accomplish elsewhere, which was doubtful.  

For his part, Jamie went back to mucking stalls while still surreptitiously observing his employer’s daughter.  She was carrying on a one-sided conversation with her horse as he was wont to do himself when he was alone.  Her luxurious curls were tied back behind her ears but cascaded over her shoulders.  She was at least wearing a riding frock today, although she appeared to be preparing to ride without supervision.

“Can I help ye?” he asked, when he noticed she was struggling with the gray mare’s halter.

“No, I’m fine,” she replied without so much as glancing his way.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jamie watched her stubbornly endeavour to repair the halter for another few minutes.  Rather than offer his assistance again, he merely fashioned a halter and lead from a nearby coil of rope using a knot his father had taught him as a lad.

“Oh,” the young lady remarked as he slipped the harness over the docile mare’s ears.  “How did you do that?”

Eager to show off his competency at something other than mucking stalls or chopping firewood, Jamie demonstrated the technique behind the Tom Fool’s knot, enjoying the way the lass’ golden eyes narrowed in concentration as she followed each movement of his hands.  No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t duplicate his efforts, and they both ended up chuckling at her ineptitude.

“You’re the boy from the train station,” she realized after they had finished tacking up her horse together.  Jamie wasn’t certain whether to be pleased she remembered him or not. Certainly, the use of the word ‘boy’ wasn’t flattering.

“Aye,” he acknowledged.  “James Fraser, mistress,” he introduced himself while politely removing his cap.

“I’m afraid I wasn’t very courteous that day,” she half-apologized with a subtle grimace.  “A constitutional failing, I’m told.”

Sticking out her gloved hand, she introduced herself, as though he wasn’t aware to whom he’d been speaking all along.  “Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp.”

He’d never shook a woman’s hand before and was uncertain as to the appropriate response.  He wasn’t some titled suitor who might kiss her knuckles, even if they weren’t encased in leather.  A firm shake such as he’d been taught seemed equally unsuitable.  He was saved from having to hold her dainty grip indefinitely by her father riding into the stables.  They both dropped the other’s hand as though the contact suddenly burned.

“Fraser, cool off this horse and stable him,” the cattle baron commanded.

“Aye, sir.”

Jamie was walking away when he heard the man release an exasperated sigh.

***

“Why aren’t you at your lessons?”

It was always a tender balance, deciding how much leeway to give his headstrong daughter, and when to rein her in.  Lately, his attempts to argue that more feminine propriety was required if she was to secure a husband were met with greater and greater resistance.

“One of the broodmares is about to foal,” Claire replied.  “I want to be there to help her.”

“The men are quite capable of handling it,” he argued, drawing his unwilling daughter back towards the manor house with a firm arm around her shoulder.

“I can do it better.  If I’m to be a veterinarian, I shall need as much firsthand experience as I can obtain.”

This fixation with attending the Royal Veterinary College in Edinburgh was one matter in which he’d indulged his daughter for too long.  He’d been certain she’d outgrow the notion as she emerged into womanhood.

“You should be concerning yourself with marriage, child rearing,” he explained for the hundredth time.

“The gentleman cattle breeder has a breeding program for his daughter as well,” Claire retorted, demonstrating the independent spirit and sharp wit that made him despair of ever finding her a husband.

“You’ll spend the afternoon at the manor with your Aunt Rosemary,” he decreed, feeling his face grow hot in frustration.  “And Mister Randall will come to call on you this Saturday. I don’t,” he forestalled her protest with a raised hand, “want to hear another word about it.  You are my daughter, and you will obey me.”

Watching her skirts swish angrily across the courtyard as she hastened away, Henry Beauchamp wondered how his only child could so resemble a mother she’d never met.

[ladykatakuri]

Stardust Reblog Challange December Part 2

13th:

Think You Can Handle Me? 1/2 - Crosshair x AFAB!Reader by: @zoeykallus NSFW

The Last Mission - Jedi OC and Clone OC by: @arctrooper69 SFW

Dincember, December 1 - Gift by: @dindjarindiaries SFW

25 Days of Life Day, Day 1 - Cody x Reader Tree Decorating by: @ladysongmaster SFW

25 Days of Lifeday 2 - Hot Cocoa and Fire Place Cuddles with Rex - Rex x Reader by: @kaminocasey SFW

The Toothpick Incident - Crosshair x F!Reader by: @zoeykallus SFW

Gar Cyare Chapter 8 - Alpha 17 x F!Reader by: @wanderinginksplot SFW

Dincember: December 2 - Snow by: @dindjarindiaries SFW

25 Days of Life Day - Hot Cocoa and Fireplace Cuddles - Rex x Reader by: @ladysongmaster SFW

In Time - Tup x Reader by: @kaminocasey NSFW

25 Days of Life Day 3 - Sledding with Gregor by: @kaminocasey SFW

Echo x F!Reader by: @twistedstitcher27 NSFW

Eya Episode VIII - Eya ( and several OCs )by: @galacticgraffiti SFW

Take My Memory: Bonsoir Ch. 7 - Gregor x F!OC Cassia Nu by: @kaminocasey SFW

Meeting the Prodigal Daughter - Count Dooku and Y/N Jinn ( Reader ) by: @monako-jinn-stories SFW

25 Days of Life Day 3 - Soup, Sandwiches and Snow - Gregor x Reader by: @ladysongmaster SFW

Dincember: December 3 - Gloves by: @dindjarindiaries SFW

Caught Ya - Wrecker x Reader by: @kaminocasey SFWish

25 Days of Life Day 4: Decorating the House with Wolffe - Wolffe x Reader by: @kaminocasey SFW

Snowy Retreat - Hunter x F!Reader by: @zoeykallus SFW

Holding On - Hunter x F!Reader by: @nahoney22 SFW

25 Days of Life Day 4 : The Light of the Season - Wolffe x Reader by: @ladysongmaster SFW

Dincember: December 4 - Fire by: @dindjarindiaries SFW

25 Days of Life Day 5: Iceskating with Hunter and Omega by: @kaminocasey SFW

Captain Gregor x Physician F!Reader by: @twistedstitcher27 NSFW

I Will Always Wait for You 15 - Frankie Morales x F!Reader by: @musings-of-a-rose Mature

Inspiration - ARC Trooper Echo x F!Reader by: @wild-karrde NSFW

Walk Me Home Ch.7 - Wolffe x F!OC Cherise by: @cyarbika SFW

Dincember: December 5 - Cold by: @dindjarindiaries SFW

14th:

Security - Honor(Interlude) - Din Djarin x F!OC Astra by: @dindjarindiaries SFW

Cheeky Flashing - TBB x F!Reader by: @nahoney22 Suggestive

Snow, Gifts, Sweets and Life Day - TBB & Rex & Fives x F!Reader HC`s by: @zoeykallus SFW

25 Days of Life Day 6- Making Fudge with Tech - Tech x Reader by: @kaminocasey SFW

About Strange Turn Ons and Love Boners - TBB x Reader HCs by: @zoeykallus Suggestive

Permission to Dance - Tech x F!Reader by: @nahoney22 SFW

Dincember: December 6 Hot Chocolate - Din Djarin x Reader by: @dindjarindiaries SFW

25 Days of Life Day 7 - Life Day Lights Display with Echo - Echo x Reader by : @kaminocasey SFW

The Cover of Night - Marc Spector/Steven Grant x F!Reader by: @interstellarwraith SFW

The Gym Membership 15 : Echo - Echo x F!OC by: @imabeautifulbutterfly SFW

Dincember: December 7 Blanket - Din Djarin x Reader by: @dindjarindiaries SFW

25 Days of Life Day 8 - Decorating Gingerbread Houses with Wrecker - Wrecker x Reader by: @kaminocasey SFW

Dealing with their kids broken hearts - TBB HCs by: @zoeykallus SFW

Seeing Blue (AU) - Cad Bane x GN!Reader by: @nahoney22 SFW

Dincember: December 8 Candle - Din Djarin x Reader by: @dindjarindiaries SFW

Accidently Inflicted Pains - TBB & Cody x F!Reader by: @zoeykallus NSFW

25 Days of Life Day 9 - Decorating Firepuncher as a Joke for Crosshair - Crosshair x Reader by: @kaminocasey SFW ( suggestive language )

Sun and Rain: Age of the Empire Ch10 - The Crash - Hunter x F!OC Kimber by: @photogirl894 SFW



Taglist: @imabeautifulbutterfly@chaoticvampirejedi@hellothere-generalangsty@cyroku@reluctant-mandalore@uponrightful@zinzinina@saradika@galacticgraffiti@ashotofspotchka@dindjarindiaries@dinbeskarbaby@djarrex@djarinsbeskar@rowansparrow@photogirl894@rigelmoonshine@rigel-the-moonstrider@nahoney22@loth-wolffe@neon-junkie@bobafetts-princess@cyarbika@charnelhouse@zoeykallus@kin-rokku@jgvfhl@honestly-shite@here-comes-the-moose@dindjarindiaries@firstofficerwiggles@fictional-men-ruin-lives @ladysongmaster @lozalot @moonstrider9904@lorjukka@m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s @rain-on-kamino @monako-jinn-stories @middimidoris @wild-karrde @cross-my-heartt

[its-moopoint]

Ahhhh, shippers' love for Rolando's wifey. Not that it matters but CB doesn't care who he goes out with but as usual they go after her claiming she's jealous. 🤣

Anonymous asked:

I wish SH himself (or his prteam) gets him his own fake "proud wifey" one beautiful lady to whom he could pretend having kids together, someone he could take to premieres, movie promo circuits, award events, talks about her in ALL his interviews, etc. Let's see how CB is going to dealing with it, let's see how it does she feel being publicly ghosted, let's see how much it does hurt watching your partner parading another woman everywhere, plastering their ridiculous pictures in magazines playing the happy couple while you're relegated to be in the shadows like a big pile of shite. I'd like to see turn the tables, I bet it wouldn't be THAT funny and enjoyable for CMB. Fair's fair.

bat-cat-reader

The hired blondes are more difficult to control than a gay assistant without an OFFICIAL presence on the net (in these times when we are all interconnected by applications 😜 ) The last "recognized" ended up going over the marked line and Cait took the reins and here we continue. Don't forget they're partners in crime😉

snowy-winter-11

I think lately C has more difficulty with this. Maybe I’m wrong but these are not the early days of a relationship and she’s feeling insecure. I would do the same knowing my man attracts all those women.

They are so pathetic they had been praising her while T wasn't in front line then he appears and it's all mocking and insults to her. Same woman, same life, just 48/72h later.

[drachenblood]

      𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬  of  Ishgard’s  strength  and  might,  and  yet  the  entire  ordeal  of  boarding  and  forcing  the  ship  flying  familiar  colors  to  surrender  concluded  disappointingly  quick.  He  expected  more  of  a  challenge.  Though  mayhap  men  trained  to  fight  dragons  upon  snowy  fields  were  ill-suited  for  battle  upon  the  high-seas.  Fury  knows  he’d  been  no  better  at  first.  Still,  where  most  would  throw  down  their  weapons  at  the  very  sight  of  the  black  flags,  he’s  reminded  much  to  his  chagrin  of  the  mettle  of  a  people  forged  through  a  thousand  years  of  war.  

            They  resist  at  least  though  as  any  proud  son  and  daughter  of  Ishgard  should,  and  it’s  a  fair  bloodier  raid  he’s  seen  in  an  age.  ‘Tis  only  from  a  resounding  shout  from  a  man  dressed  far  too  fine  to  be  none  other  than  their  superior  that  they  at  last  surrender.  Then  the  hostages  are  taken,  lashed  tight  and  manhandled  to  the  brig.  Determining  who  to  ransom  and  who  to  leave  behind  is  made  easy  when  the  knights  themselves  squall  about  their  own  titles  as  if  such  would  have  any  bearing  so  far  from  Coerthas.  

      The  commander  is  taken  too,  shoved  across  the  gangway  to  join  his  fellows  below  deck.  Something  about  him  though  is  familiar.  The  recognition  sits  as  a  burning  coal  in  his  mind,  catching  every  thought  aflame.  He  knows  him.  Just  how,  he’s  not  the  slightest  inkling,  yet  he  knows  him.  And  from  the  steely  gaze  sent  his  way  as  the  commander  is  marched  to  the  brig,  the  man  knows  him  too.  

            His  chest  locks  up,  and  fear  splashes  cold  against  his  lungs.  The  sudden  urge  to  be  away  lances  through  his  insides,  muscles  coiling  in  the  same  way  before  a  leap.  Yet  he  remains,  both  feet  still  planted  firmly  upon  the  deck.  Leave  it  be.  Let  the  past  remain  where  he’s  left  it.  He  watches  the  commander,  fair  still  gleaming  in  the  sun  and  calls  out  ere  he  even  realizes  his  own  words.  

      ❝ Halt. ❞  The  crew  come  to  stop  nigh  immediately,  tension  in  the  way  they  carry  their  bodies.  ‘Tis  not  often  he’s  one  to  bark  orders,  such  shite  best  left  to  the  likes  of  the  Captain  or  the  First  Mate,  yet  they  still  know  to  listen  on  the  rare  occasion  that  he  does.   ❝ That  one’s  injured,  toss  him  in  my  cabin  and  we’ll  see  to  his  hurts  ere  he  rots  away.  I’ll  not  trade  a  ransom  for  a  corpse  due  to  fool  neglect. ❞  The  battle’s  done  and  already  the  vessel  they’ve  waylaid  is  becoming  a  dark  smear  upon  the  horizon,  still  there’s  dozen  and  more  tasks  to  contend  with  first  ere  he  considers  making  nice  with  some  old  acquaintance.  He  turns  his  back  in  dismissal,  spying  the  Captain  at  the  helm  and  makes  to  join  him  instead.  Let  the  wretch  wallow  in  his  guilt  for  a  while  longer,  no  doubt  he’ll  find  him  in  the  midst  of  prayer  to  the  Fury  by  the  end  of  the  day.  / @referentblood​

[ttuesday]

[dyrwoodan]

ok it is settled. i am going to the mountains.

[pacifymebby]

the boys as dad's 💌

Van

💮 doesn't care what gender they are he's insanely excited to teach them all about football, has bought them a football shirt. Will sit them on his lap and watch the game with them, teaching them to cheer when your team wins

💮 plays guitar hero with them, gets competitive but does sometimes let them win. Until he doesn't have to let them win because they're actually better than him.

💮 Dances his little baby around the room to Van Morrisson songs.

💮 Likes to watch the cartoons with them. Likes to sit and listen whilst mummy reads the bedtime story because she does the voices better, will fall asleep drooling on the kids mattress.

💮 Its kind of like you've got two kids.

Bondy

💮 carries them on his shoulders/ lets them sit on his shoulders at the hockey games. If you take the kids to see him playing hockey he'll totally goof around on the ice to make them laugh.

💮 Teaches them to skate as soon as you decide they're old enough to go on the ice.

💮 plays guitar hero with them, loses all the time, its not even on purpose.

💮 reads the bedtime story, does the voices. makes up the bedtime story on the spot!!

💮 encourages them to draw the absolute weirdest shite when they're colouring in.

💮 Is relentlessly proud of his family all the time, encourages them relentlessly. Doesn't force them to learn guitar but if they say they want to play guitar just like daddy he'll b e super patient teaching them.

💮 Takes the kids on country walks/ down to the beach to play and watch the birds.

💮 Teaches them revolution songs, raises little communists.

Benji

💮 Sleepy daddy, wakes up in the middle of the night if they have nightmares, is half asleep, probably falls back to sleep whilst he's comforting them.

💮 Goes in goal when he's playing football with them. Has wound up with many a black eye doing this.

💮 "I love the fishes and the fishes love me who dya like best the fishes or me?" style nursery rhymes that involve hanging the kid upside down off furniture, tickling them.

💮 Makes them the unhealthiest but tastiest sweet snacks.

💮 Rental movie nights, insists upon finding dvd rental shops to take them too so they can have an authentic movie night experience.

💮 builds dens with them, reads the bedtime story, tries and fails to do the voices, falls asleep before he's finished the bedtime story.

Bob

💮 Builds dens with them but outside.

💮 Falls asleep with baby on the sofa all the time.

💮 Likes teaching them drums with a saucepan and a wooden spoon. Can't wait to buy them all the musical instruments their hearts desire when they're older.

💮 Reads the bedtime story, does the voices but gets embarrassed and shy if mummy catches him doing the voices. Really likes teaching the kids to read!

💮 Tries to bake a cake with the kids on mummy's birthday, doesn't go too badly but they make a huge mess.

💮 Likes taking them on countryside walks, especially if its been snowy, or if its been rainy splashing in puddles with them.

Sam

💮 Probably got them a Newcastle shirt before they were even born

💮 Reads the bedtime story, does the voices but all the voices are in a Geordie accent.

💮 Reads Harry Potter with them, watches all the movies with them, takes them to the Harry Potter studios. Does impressions of Snape to scare them and make them laugh.

💮 half the time he's encouraging them to get up to mischief.

💮 definitely the kind of dad to mess around and play with his kids in that way that terrifies mum, throwing them in the air, slinging them over his shoulder, spinning them around by their hands.

💮 Is really worried he's not a good dad. If he has girls he raises them super feminist and is protective af but in a way where he never lets anyone talk down to them or let them think they aren't as capable as boys. Probably raises some badass girls that make the football team and make boys cry. If he raises boys he doesn't raise them with any toxic masculinity shite and is really conscious of letting them cry and express their emotions.

[kuroimarzipan]

FFXIV Black OC Week Day 2: “Who are their friends and family?”

“It’s good of ye t’always be visiting yer sister like this between yer adventures, but why don’t ye ever bring any of yer scion friends along? D’they not want t’see me cause I ‘ent join their little club too? I live right next to the beach n’ everything, ye’d think at least one of ‘em’d be keen.”

“I mean, at least two of them can’t swim, but that’s not why! Y’know most of them are scholarly types... They’re all over the place now looking into something or the other...“

“Aye, that’s true. Even me bleedin’ wife is too busy in Mor Dhona with Tataru t’come home n’ share a good meal late-- wait, who can’t fuckin’ swim?”

“Alphinaud... and Urianger, actually. Back when we were on the First, Urianger actually tried to cast a spell to walk on water instead, and well... It didn’t exactly work. Fell right in. Plop!”

“Bahahahah! And after a show like that, ye still slept with him. Wow.”

“Roeh!”

“What, I ‘ent wrong! Ye got weird taste in men, Niuwyb.”

“Like you can talk! Last I saw Curious Gorge, your girlfriend had just about sent him flying a malm high for some reason or another.”

“...Ye got me there. Well, they’re jus’ like that, y’know. Ehh... How ‘bout the other scions, then? Th’ lil’ lalafellin woman with that yellow coat? Coulda invited her.”

“Krile? She’s working with G’raha back in Sharlayan to rebuild the Students of Baldesion. She likes a good gossip over tea every now and then, but she’s had her hands full lately... G’raha too, before you ask.”

“The redhead miqo’te that’s keen on ye? Damn, I woulda poked fun at him fer it too.”

“I’d call that a bullet dodged for him, then.”

“Hah! Hrm, if those two’re busy... What about Thancred? I’ll never forget th’ day I came by after th’ mess with Leviathan and th’ man was surrounded. Bleedin’ hilarious, that was! I’d been meanin’ ter take him along drinkin’ again sometime.”

“He’s out in Labyrinthos with Urianger, helping out the Lopporits. So, unless you want your house full of them, it might have to wait...”

“I mean...”

“No.”

“Aye, fair... And the twins? Yer about t’ tell me they’re halfway ‘cross th’ world, ‘ent ye.”

“Funny you should say that! They actually returned to Garlemald to assist in recovery efforts. So, literally halfway across the world, yeah.”

“Eh? On purpose? They went back t’ that bleedin’ godsforsaken snowy hell? Ye couldn’t pay me a million gil t’go back there! I did m’job and came right back home!”

“Maybe you shoulda rugged up a bit better? They did tell you it was going to be even colder than Coerthas...”

“Bah. Okay. Twins’re busy. Freezin’ their hindquarters off. How ‘bout Estinien? Surely he’s got nothin’ better t’do.”

“He’s in Thavnair, helping out Vrtra.”

“And he’s prolly melting his arse off! Shouldn’t ye be supervising yer man, though? Heard he’s absolute shite with money.”

“He’ll be fine. I think. Probably.”

“Ye sound so very sure of that... Thal’s balls, I’m runnin’ out of people t’ask about now... Y’shtola? Tell yer girlfriend she should come back n’ visit Limsa Lominsa for old times’ sake!”

“I doubt Shtola’s going anywhere anytime soon... She’s buried in research again over at Matoya’s place. I’m not about to pry her away from that unless it’s something really urgent.”

“Me sister not bringing any of her friends or her lovers t’ visit is urgent! I’m getting bored! All I got right now is bleedin’ paperwork!”

"Is it really that bad? At least it’s not like when most of them were stuck on the First. If I recall, you almost burnt down your kitc--”

“I have no fuckin’ idea what yer on about w' that. Never happened. Yer gonna tell me where Ysayle is now, and we’re not t’speak of that again.”

“Hah! Well, seeing as you’re so insistent! She went with Sandrine and Sonje to Anyx Trine to talk to the dragons about what we saw in Ultima Thule. Sandrine seemed especially insistent on getting info from them, which is unsurprising.”

“Dravania, huh...Y’know what I’m thinkin’? Maybe I should take a holiday too. Been a minute since I was last ‘n Tailfeather. ‘m due for a good fishing trip, and it’ll be good ter see Marcechamp and lil’ Deftarm again.”

“Oh, I ran into Deftarm a while back! He was helping with deliveries for the construction in Ishgard. Working hard, as always.”

“I’m proud of th’ lil’ guy... Went from stealing gysahl greens to bein’ a full fledged adventurer. Awh, shite, I really should visit.”

"Hah, then after all that fuss you made, you’re going to travel too?”

“I weren’t makin’ a fuss, were I? Jus’ bein nosy about yer friends.”

[crimsonbluemoon]

83,80 and 37 for terrormoo!

This is proof I can give TerrorMoo nice things in life sometimes!!

Couple: Terrormoo Number: 37/80/83 Prompt: “Can I kiss you?”/“Is your seat belt on?”/“Stay there.  I’m coming to get you.”

“He’s in a what?” Brock tried to believe the words coming from Nogla’s mouth on the phone, already grabbing his keys and heading out of the apartment. 

“A tree. Man, ye got something in yer ears or what?” Despite the ridiculous statement that someone over the age of twenty five should never say, Nogla sounded as if Brock was the crazy one. 

“How? How did Brian end up in a tree?” 

“Cause he’s drunk. Ya know that tree outside of the Banana Bus Bar? He said he could climb it, and I said he couldn’t do it, so he did. But now he ain’t coming down. Said he’s gonna live up there now or something.” Brock’s keys turned quickly in the ignition, not letting the oil hit his pan before he was pulling the car out onto the wintry road.

“Oh my God, Nogla you-Stay there. I’m coming to get you and Brian.” 

“Okay. Hey, Brian! Brock’s on his way to get us. Ya really need to wife him up already.” A pause on the other line gave Brock enough time to shove the blush over the sentence back down, refusing to get embarrassed over Nogla’s drunk proclamations. “Brock, Brian wants to know-yah yah, I’m asking him!-Is your seat belt on?”

“The guy is stuck in a tree and he’s worried about my health. This is my life.” A hysterical laugh came from his through, strangled and tight from how crazy his life felt. 

“He ain’t stuck, he wants to live there. Oh, and can ye pick up some food on the way? We could go for some nuggets.”

”Nobody is getting anything until Brian is out of the tree.” Turning on the road that he knew the local bar was located, Brock was relieved to see Nogla’s lanky form in his headlights. The winter flurries hit his windshield when he illegally parked his car, rushing out onto the snow covered grass and toward his friends. Quickly shoving his phone into his pocket, Brock used the free hand to grab Nogla’s jacket, shaking him with his anger. “Why would you dare him to climb a tree at one in the morning?!”

“Well I didn’t think he could!” As if that was a logical answer, Nogla sputtered and flailed his arms around. “And I’m a little sloshed meself, so I ain’t thinking right.”

“You never think right,” Brock muttered, sighing at another mess he’d have to clean up. Letting go of Nogla, Brock moved to the trunk of the tree, squinting up at the barren branches to find his other friend. “Brian? You okay up there?”

“Brocky!” The tree’s limbs protested when Brian popped his head out and grinned, and Brock’s throat closed up from how high he’d gotten. None of the branches looked safe, but Brian’s lack of care and wobbling movements worried him more. “Hey cutie, come here often?” 

“Not as much as you,” Brock answered, hoping his friend could hear his worry. “Brian, please come down from the tree.” 

“But that beanstalk said I couldn’t climb it, and won’t give me shite for doing it.” 

“Why should ya get anything from me for being a monkey, eh?” Nogla barked back.

“See what I mean? I ain’t coming down.” Brian’s stubbornness made Brock close his eyes and count backwards from ten before re-opening them. 

“I’ll give you whatever you want if you come down, okay?” Brock’s smile turned panicked when Brian dropped down a few branches, his feet barely catching one of the thicker limbs in the middle of the trunk. 

“Like a kiss?” Brian looked elated at his stipulation, dropping down again and catching the branch his feet once stood with his hands. Now the idiot was hanging without support, but looked not worried while tilting his head at Brock. 

“Brian, be careful!” Brock gasped out, hands grabbing at his chest to feel his heart hammering in shock.

“Ya didn’t answer me, sweetheart.” Brian’s feet dangled without a care, and he looked fond when he spoke again. “If I come down, can I kiss you?”

“Yes yes of course! Whatever you want, but please be safe and stop hanging off the tree.” Brian’s cheer into the crisp night was loud, and Brock forced sharp breath into his lungs when the other’s feet finally swung onto a steadier branch. In seconds, Brian scaled down the tree with more balance than Brock could have had sober. Relief pooled through Brock when Brian dropped to the snowy ground, sticking the landing without a wobble. 

“Show off,” Nogla’s grumble behind him didn’t matter to Brock, who rushed forward to check for any injuries on his friend. 

“Why are you like this? I’m going to ban you from drinking alone with Nogla, at least Tyler could just pick you up and manhandle you away from the tree-” But then Brock’s ranting ramble was cut off by Brian’s mouth, which tasted of peppermint and alcohol and something Brock couldn’t put his finger on. Hands crowded his face and pulled him closer, Brian’s lips gentle and contrasting the skillful tongue that pressed into Brock’s warm mouth. Butterflies rushed in Brock’s stomach as he felt the stress and tension of the night fly away, leaving him to drown in the affection being pouring into the touch. His eyes fluttered closed, easily kissing Brian back without a second thought. 

Four years later, Brian would climb that same tree, friends and family hidden with cameras from Brock’s view. Sober and weighed down by a ring in his pocket, he’d ask for Brock’s hand as his stipulation in order to come down. 

And Brock would give the same reply he had before without a second thought.