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dellyduck · 3 years

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A Pirate’s Life For Me

@rip-in-pieces-my-last-braincell It took me a day and a bit but I DID IT! 2.145 words, I hope you like it!

Just so you know, it has been ages since I’ve watched the movies, and this is not an official version, I just wanted to use as many characters as possible. The only characters that are mean to be in place are Kit, Della and Wildcat.

At some point of their long travel, even Della’s endless energy had come to an end. Donald felt relief for that at first, enjoying the rare peace and quiet in his life. However, as time passed by, the minutes being dragged at the same pace their ship calmly, quietly sailed through the fog, Donald almost wished his sister would still be running and climbing and screaming around.

The small twins were sitting side by side on a crate, eyes on the fog and ocean ahead without really paying attention to it. Donald didn’t know why or exactly when, but Della suddenly broke the silence by humming a not so unfamiliar melody. His fingers moved almost like an involuntary reflex and before the boy noticed, he was carefully playing the melody on his guitar. That was the moment Della chose to turn her humming into words.

“Drink up, me harties, yo-ho. Yo-ho, yo-ho... A pirate’s life for me. We extort, we pilfer, we filch, we sack, drink up-”

Della’s voice and Donald’s fingers where abruptly stopped when each twin had an adult hand grabbing their shoulders.

“Hush now, kids,” said the adult, in a tone of warning and looking around in agitation. “Real pirates travel in these waters, and the legends say that singing their songs is basically calling for them.”

“Wildcat!” shouted the voice with a tick Scottish accent that the kids knew very well. Their Uncle Scrooge didn’t look pleased as he approached them with his cane. “Ah would appreciate it if ye could not fill ma nephew and niece’s heads with untrue legends of the sea.”

“But they are true, Mr. McDee,” Wildcat insisted. “It’s bad luck to sing about pirates, everyone knows that.”

Donald gulped at these words, dropping his guitar at once; as if he needed more bad luck. Della, by other hand, didn’t look frightened in the slightest as the talk continued, captain Baloo breaking in to add his two cents.

“Wildcat’s not lying, Mr. McDuck, it’s common knowledge between us mans of the sea. And specially with us in the middle of this weird fog, I dunno ya but I’m not here to take risks.”

“Bah, fine,” Scrooge dismissed the topic with a hand. “If ye two are so bothered, they will stop singing.”

For Donald, his uncle didn’t need to say twice, looking forward for when the adults decided to change topics.

But Della didn’t seem ready to let go of this talk yet, “I think it’d be exciting to meet a real pirate,” she declared with her usual, innocent cheer.

Scrooge chuckled humorless, “Think again, lass.” He narrowed his eyes at the fog, as if daring the pirates who could be hiding behind it.

“Vile and dissolute creatures, all of them. Stealing without a care from those who earned their belongs fair and square.” Scrooge felt very much like spitting on the floor, but that was a habit from his old life and not a proper reaction from a governor. “If ye ask me, any person who dares to answer by the name pirate deserves the same fate: A short drop and a sudden stop.”

While Donald’s confused eyes didn’t move from their uncle’s face, Della turned her head to Baloo in search for answers. The captain hesitated for a moment, but in the end, he dropped a hand from the rudder, using it to grab the kerchief around his neck. By the way he stretched the tissue, dropping his head and letting his tongue roll off his mouth, Della quickly caught the message.

With a now frightened gasp, the girl snapped her head back forward, her wide eyes staring at the ship’s floor.

It was her reaction that made Scrooge notice his wee niblings’ faces to his last commentary. He then dropped his vexed expression for a concerned one. Oh marvelous, Hortense was going to kill him.

“Erh, but enough of pirate talks, aye? Ye kids enjoy the rest of the trip, with no singing,” he added before walking away to another part of the ship.

The twins just exchanged a look between each other, as if asking “what now?”. After a moment with no answer, Donald simply decided to jump off the crate and walk towards Baloo. Donald loved ships, boats, and the sea itself, and he was always eager to learn more about them, so it wasn’t hard for Della to imagine her brother’s plans.

Because of that, she stayed behind, looking around for something that would be of her interest. She found it when her eyes once again fell over the nets that leaded to the crow’s nest. Della had climbed it not even two hours ago, but the current boredom and the memory of the way she felt being up there were enough to make up her mind.

Della was lucky. Her parents were less strict than her friends’ about how a young lady should behave (although dresses and good manners were still a must) and her uncle didn’t give a feather if his ten-year-old niece acted boyish during their expeditions. That was how the girl got so good on activities like climbing.

Firmly grabbing the ropes, Della climbed up every step with patience, but no hesitation until she hit the middle of the net. There, she stopped. Dropping her right hand from the net, Della turned around on a complete 180°. She was facing the ocean now.

The fog turned the view way less appealing than it was a couple hours ago, but the duckling didn’t really mind. Just being up there, with wind in her hair, felling so free that it was almost like she could fly, was everything the young girl could wish for.

Della closed her eyes to breathe in deeply. But when she opened them again, her smile was quickly dropped when something through the fog caught her attention.

There was something on the water, floating.

Della needed to narrow her eyes to recognize a large wooden board. And laid on it, there was…

“A boy!” she exclaimed, starting to climb down the fastest she could, while still shouting. “Uncle Scrooge!! Baloo, Wildcat, look!”

The three men rushed to her, Scrooge grabbing her shoulders and checking his niece up and down after any wound in the instant Della was back on the ground.

“Lass, what’s the meaning-”

“A boy!” Della didn’t wait her uncle to finish, this time pointing a finger to where the floating board was. “Look, there’s a boy on the water!”

In the meantime that it took Della to climb down, the board had floated to even closer to the ship. Which allowed the three men to easily catch sight of the young, unconscious, brown-furred bear on it. Baloo’s eyes went wide, and he shouted,

“MAN OVERBOARD!”

Five more men from the crew came running to help, and with all of them working fast and together, it was a matter of seconds before the boy was out of the water and in Baloo’s arms. Della could just watch all the commotion from some steps behind, trying to get a better look, but the men were too tall and crowded to allow her any sight. She was able, however, to hear when Baloo declared,

“He’s still breathing.”

“For all the seven seas!” Della almost yelped at that sudden scream. When had Donald stopped by her side??

Nonetheless, her brother was looking even more frightened. Turning around and following his gaze, the girl could easily see why: hundreds of different types of merch floating on the water, them all coming from a ship, not so different from the one they were, crashing and burning in the middle of the ocean.

Scrooge, Baloo and Wildcat rushed to approach them and see it too, every man around trying to understand what could’ve happened there. Baloo wanted to believe in the easiest option, that merchant ships carry a lot of weaponry and somehow, accidentally, the powder was lit. But a tiny, distant voice in his mind wouldn’t let another, more scary option rest.

“P-p-pirates?” Donald gulped.

“Ah donnae know, lad, but we better be prepared for everything. Captain!” Scrooge started to command, and quickly everyone on the boat had a new role to play. Except for the little ones. “Donald, I want you to stay with me. Della-”

Scrooge cut himself off when he saw his niece wasn’t standing by her brother’s side anymore. Luckily, he just needed a quick look around to find the white duckling in a gray dress. It shouldn’t have surprised him that she was standing near their new crewmember. Scrooge walked to them, arriving just as a sailor took the boy from the ground, to take him away from the ship’s side edge.

“Della,” he called again, this time getting her attention. “I want you to accompany the boy. He will be in your charge. Take care of him.”

“Yes, Uncle Scrooge,” Della nodded, before following the sailor.

The brown cub was put to rest over the same crate the Duck twins had been sitting just some minutes ago. As she approached, Della knew she had a better chance to observe the boy now. He looked her age, maybe older for one or two years, if that much. His worn, patched up green sweater was completely soaked, and so was his fur, causing some of hair to fall over his eyes.

Gingerly as her housekeeper had taught her, Della touched his locks, gently moving them away. But no matter how gently, that disturbance alone was enough to wake the boy up with a chocked scream, grabbing her wrist with a shaking, yet strong hand.

Della sighed, trying to calm down her heart from the scare, before meeting his eyes. Petrified browns against calming light blues.

“It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe now,” she guaranteed. “My name’s Della. Della Duck.”

“Kit,” he sounded breathless, scared, and tired. “Kit Cloudkicker.”

At that new piece of information, Della smiled.

“I’ll be watching over you, Kit.”

It’s like that was all the boy needed to hear, his grasp on her wrist loosening as his body fell unconscious once again.

Della kept her promise and stayed by his side, glad that now Kit looked more asleep than dead. It was while watching him that she noticed something loose around his neck. Touching it, Della easily recognized a red kerchief. Chances were high that it was just a piece of tissue, a cheap, meaningless adornment… But what if it was something his parents gave him? A memory of his family who, if traveling on that now burning ship, were probably no long in this world?

Biting her cheek, Della carefully took the kerchief within her hands, planning to keep it safe, maybe even wash it, before giving it back to Kit when he woke up-

Any thought was frozen, her heart leaping in surprise when she saw the drawing printed on Kit’s kerchief. She had never seen it before herself, but by the stories, Della knew exactly what the drawing of the white skull meant.

“You’re a… pirate?”

“Vile and dissolute creatures, all of them,” Uncle Scrooge’s words echoed in her head, alongside everything Della had heard about the bandits of the sea. But as she looked up to the boy again, she couldn’t see it. Kit didn’t look vile; he didn’t sound vile. He was just a kid, like her and Donald.

“Did he say anything?”

Della jumped, quickly crumpling the tissue in her hand, and hiding it behind her back as she turned around to face Baloo. He was accompanied by some other men of the crew, and not so distantly, the girl could see her uncle as well. Before she could even notice there was a choice to be made, Della was already executing her decision.

“His name’s Kit Cloudkicker. That’s all I found out.”

Baloo simply nodded, not looking suspicious of anything. After the last events, it was normal that such a young girl would be a little jumpy.

“We’re gonna take him bellow, alright missy? Our doctor can treat him better there.” The captain explained.

It was Della’s turn to nod, stepping behind so Baloo could take Kit in his arms again. The girl watched as they left, knowing she should be following them, but first and foremost, she needed a better place than her closed fist to hide that kerchief.

Confirming there was no one around her, Della opened her hand and the tissue again. Her eyes meticulously scanning the red fabric as her fingers caressed the skull figure.

At this point, this day was clearly one to be remembered by Della. But when she raised her head to catch sight of another ship on the distance, the same skull figure flapping on a black flag at the mast… Those few seconds were marked in her memory like a burn.

#ducktales #talespin #delkit #della duck #kit cloudkicker #baloo #scrooge mcduck #donald duck #fanfic #ducktales au

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peach-the-owl · 4 years

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The child reader x mighty nein is really wholesome! This is a first time we got a child reader for Mighty Nein! I'm not sure if you okay with request, but think you can do a birthday surprise with mighty Nein? As in a whole group together to throw a surprise party for child reader?

Omg my first request! Thank you so so much for liking my Child of the Nein stuff, I feel this world needs some more wholesomeness in it. Please do feel free to suggest things I may not get to write everything right away but I’ll do my best. I hope this is what you’re looking for 😁

(Also kleiner means little one, if I translated properly and (f/f) is favourite flavour)

Birthday Surprise

Mighty Nein & Child!Reader

Being on the road with a bunch of adventurers usually meant things went by pretty fast and sometimes important days were forgotten… or so you thought. You where in Xhorhas for a few days on one of those rare break times from adventures, and you where happily playing a game of tag with Jester and Nott. You dash towards the kitchen to get away but before you could Caleb steps through the door blocking your path.

"Kleiner, what are you doing?"

"I’m playing tag, and Jester's it so I gotta go before she catches me." You say, trying to wedge around him, he still doesn’t move. You look up and pout at him, hoping you can sway him to let you through.

"You can continue your game, but not in the kitchen, you might break something." You knew he was right you just didn’t like how firmly he spoke. With a sigh you turn to find another area to keep away from she who is it only to see Nott run up to you and tap your shoulder before darting off yelling that you’re now it. You yell your payback as you chase after her.

Today was fun, but you’d noticed that everyone was a bit off, you couldn’t place why but they just seemed off. They wouldn’t let you into the kitchen or the rooftop garden either, it was weird and when you’d ask they just give you some half-baked excuse before someone else would come and distract you with a different activity. But you were getting impatient feeling like you were stuck inside all day, or night it's always hard to tell here, either way after your rigorous day(?) of activities Jester suggested you go shopping with her. It was nice going out and to your surprise Fjord decided to tag along too, he said it was to keep an eye out so Jester didn’t buy everything in sight, seemed believable enough to you. Your little trip went well Jester asking for your opinion on different objects whether it was little trinkets, bobbles, clothes and even a few magical items. When you’d give your opinion on if you liked it or not she’d place it back where she found it and would drag you along to the next item, you figured this was because of Fjords rule, speaking of Fjord you seemed to have lost track of him.

"Hey Jester, where'd Fjord go?"

"Fjord's a big boy, he can take care of himself." Jester states, waving off your concerns.

"But how will he know when we have to go back?" You looked to the sky and was once again reminded there was no way for you to tell time in this city of endless night. Looking back to Jester, it appeared as though she was looking off into space, when her focus came back she gives a little giggle. You tilt your head in confusion.

"Don’t worry, I’ll just use Sending to get a message to Fjord." She gives you a devious smile, you can only imagine what crazy things she’ll add with her short word limit. She casts the spell and you walk a little away from her, covering your ears to avoid anything dirty she might say. When she’s done she scoops you up into her arms, both shocking you and enlisting a fit of giggles before placing you back onto the ground and the two of you walk back to the Xhorhaus.

When you step inside everything is quiet, no chatter from the Nein, no clattering of pots and pans in the kitchen. You look around confused and are about to ask Jester where everyone was but find that she too has disappeared, and wonder how she did so as fast and sneakily as she did. You wander around a little but still find no one so you decide to try the rooftop garden, when heading up you swear you hear someone scuffle away from the door, and with one swift motion you push it open…

"SURPRISE!!!!" You’re immediately greeted to a beautifully decorated garden and the sweet smell of cake and other goodies, everyone looking at you expectantly, you even noticed Essek was amongst the group. You take a second to stare trying to piece together what was going on, then you notice the homemade banner saying 'Happy Birthday (y/n)' and everything fell into place.

"You did this for me?" If it were possible your jaw would’ve dropped to the floor. Having forgotten to get up out of the doorway Yasha strolls over and picks you up, giving you a rare and sweet smile.

"Well duh, you only bothered us about it for the past week." Beau pipes up only to be elbowed by Molly who quickly interjects.

"What Beau means to say is, yes of course we did. I handled the lovely decor." He gives a proud smile.

"We handled the decorations." Beau corrects, earning a shrug from the flamboyant tiefling.

"I made you a cake, if I remember you said (f/f) was your favourite kind." Caduceus steps in holding a delicious looking (f/f) cake. "Sorry we had to keep you away, we didn’t want to ruin the surprise." You couldn’t find words for this so you settle for just shaking your head and give him a smile as a way of saying it was ok. Caduceus goes to set down the cake and your attention is directed to a small pile of both well and poorly wrapped presents. A feeling of excitement washes over you as you point to them and practically jump on the balls of your feet in a silent question.

"I think the child would like to open thier gifts first." Essek states rather blankly, he may not be the best with these types of things but at least he’s trying. Caleb hands you the first gift and the moment you open it you recongnize the object as one you specifically liked from your shopping spree, you look towards Jester and Fjord.

"I was a pretty good actress wasn’t I." Jester smiles with her hands triumphantly on her hips.

"We had all decided to pitch in some gold for a few gifts, but of course Jester went a little overboard in the options so we slimmed it down a little." Fjord explains. Your smile just gets bigger and you give everyone a hug, after opening the rest of your gifts of course.

Finally it was cake time, Caleb using his magic to light the candles and Nott getting swatted away for being a little too eager to get her hands on a slice. Jester starts to sing happy birthday with Molly and Nott joining in, purposely singing off key but you loved it all the same. This was hands down the best birthday you’ve ever experienced and you got to share it with your crazy but loveable found family. With the festivities coming to a close and a cake that still needed its candles blown out there was only one thing left for them to say.

"Make a wish (y/n)."

Did I over do this a little? Maybe. Did I stay up into the wee hours of the morning to finish it? Yes. Do I regret it? Nope.

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thebrochtuarachs · 5 years

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I just watched it and I just cry because I suddenly don’t recognise Claire and Bree anymore and I feel super bad for Jamie - not because Roger deserved that beat up - but that Brianna and Claire did nothing - NOTHING - to, at least, make him understand.

HERE ARE SOME OF MY OTHER THOUGHTS ON THE 4x10 EPISODE:

1. Though I really missed the JB fireplace/cuddle scene (which I feel is equally, if not more important scene to be featured), I did like that they included the part where Jamie provoked Brianna and showed her that she couldn’t fight Bonnet even if she tried her hardest. I loved that Jamie was hesitant about hurting her but it was the only he knew how for her to realise that it wasn’t her fault. I hope Brianna knew that Jamie did it as his way to show his love for her.

2. That scene in the end where Bree revealed he knew Jamie understood what was done to her because she knew it happened to him is indeed another block in the building of their relationship. I loved the fact that Bree opened up to him even though the topic was about murder, but trusted Jamie enough to guide her in understanding the situation. I loved that Jamie said that he did for Claire and he would do all over again if need be - in some way, its his way of telling her that he’ll do anything for her too.

3. I skipped all the Roger parts. All of them.

4. I felt that the “abortion” conversation ran too long and Claire keep circling around the topic in very vague terms which elongated the conversation. When Bree asked if she considered it with her, my heart swelled a bit when Claire declared that “she and her father wanted and loved her” (I just didn’t like that the dialogue went ‘I wanted you, I loved your father and he wanted you’ - I mean, why can’t it be a collective like ‘we loved each other and we wanted you’, small thing but meh). I loved that revelation thinking about what happened in 2x13 and Jamie and Claire’s decision to part forever for her sake. Brianna, I think, also needed to feel that she is loved unconditionally by both of them and that they’ll do everything they can to help her whatever they decide.

5. Loved that when Claire suggested that she leave back for the stone now, she didn’t want to leave. I think she wanted to spend more time with her mother and Jamie as well. She wanted to know Jamie.

5. Again, bummed that the writers didn’t include Jamie and Claire’s argument when she was contemplating suggesting abortion to Bree. It was to be another impactful moment for J/C as they navigate being parents together, especially to a daughter caught in a complicated situation as Bree.

6. TIME TRAVELING THEORIES TIME!! Hahaha!

7. Wee Ian being all grown-up and Brianna finally having a cousin! What a momentous moment.

8. Am I the only one who cringes and hurts for Jamie every time Brianna refers to Frank as “my father”? UGH UGH UGH

9. “I CAME HERE TO FIND YOU TOO” JUST PULL MY HEART OUT ALREADY. I NEED MORE JAMIE X BREE MOMENTS. THANK U, NEXT.

10. Is Lizzie even sick anymore? I guess not?

11. I honestly didn’t get the trade scene? Is it important? Was it in the book?

12. Claire must’ve really done herself in with all the gardening cause she looked awfully tired in the dinner table.

13. Love Claire and Bree scene just talking about stuff in the future. Of course, these are things they cannot mention to anyone but to each other and surely, there’s a certain relief and freedom that they can talk about it now and its such a relief for both of them. Love this mother-daughter scene (though not sure how this scene adds to the story, I mean they could’ve used this airtime for some other important thing?)

14. OMG THE NIGHTMARE SCENE - DANG, BREE IS GOING THROUGH PTSD JUST LIKE JAMIE DID BEFORE AND I FEEL SO BAD FOR HER. It’s the same when Jamie thought he saw Claire and then Randall will seep through. For a while, I thought Bonnet was really there! I guess that’s how victims feel inside their head - good representation for me. Kudos to Sophie and Ed for giving me the chills.

15. OH GOD HERE WE ARE IN THE MISUNDERSTANDING SCENE THAT TOTALLY MISSED THE MARK FOR ME. Though I dinner justify Roger’s beating, Jamie couldn’t have known what Roger looked like. Lizzie said it was the man and she was sure and Jamie was acting on pure instinct to save his daughter’s honour. But the way Bree explained it to him at the beginning of this argument was confusing already and Jamie, albeit not intentionally, thought otherwise of Bree’s intentions because he did not know there was another man. But slapping him? I get she’s angry, but he’s still her father and he deserved some respect. I wonder how many times in his life Jamie have been slapped, not many I’m guess, and especially from the people he loves. I think this part went a bit far especially when the “other man” is revealed. AND CLAIRE JUST STOOD THERE AND NOTHING, DID NOT EVEN MITIGATE A BIT, DID NOT DEFEND HER HUSBAND NOR LIGHTLY REPRIMAND HER DAUGHTER. I get that she had to appease Brianna but her face says that she’s angry with Jamie too but that was not the time nor place to show that anger. Jamie apologises and Brianna just blurts out “go to hell” I MEAN WHAT IS THAT. THAT IS JUST CRUEL. AND CLAIRE DID NOTHING STILL. (I AM SO ANGRY AT THIS SCENE AT THIS POINT). AND THEN WE GET “MY FATHER WAS A GOOD MAN AND YOU’RE JUST A SAVAGE” MORE CRUELTY THAT JAMIE DID NOT DESERVE. Gosh, I wonder what Frank Randall would do if he found out his daughter is unwed and pregnant - I bet he’d suggest losing it first. Brianna has been Frank Randall’s daughter for 20 years and it shows and I don’t like it one bit).

16. WHEN CLAIRE REVEALED IT WAS BONNET, THE WOMAN HAD THE NERVE TO LOOK AT HER HUSBAND WITH ANGER AND RESENTMENT - WHEN SOME EPISODES AGO, SHE WAS TELLING HIM ITS NOT HIS FAULT BUT NOW, SHE’S BLAMING HIM. I HATED THAT LOOK CLAIRE GAVE HIM. I HATED THAT SHE HAD THE GALL TO EXPRESS IT. I JUST HATE THAT SCENE. THAT IS SO NOT JAMIE AND CLAIRE. THAT IS NOT HOW THEY DEAL WITH FIGHTS AND ARGUMENTS. NOT LIKE THESE. THEY DO NOT RESENT EACH OTHER BUT NOW, APPARENTLY, THEY DO. Jesus Christ, I AM SO SAD.

17. DEAR LORD SAM HEUGHAN. HE IS THE SAVING GRACE OF SEASON 4. THE LOOK OF DESPAIR IN HIS FACE WHEN BREE ASKED “WHERE WAS ROGER” AND HE HAD TO HOLD HIMSELF TOGETHER. DAMN, THAT WAS SOME FINE GREAT ACTING. WHEN HE GOT ANGRY AND BRIANNA CALLED HIM OUT, THE RESTRAINT IN HIS ACTING, JUST WOW. HE DESERVED ALL THE NOMINATIONS THIS YEAR. JESUS, HIS ACTING IS JUST SO STRONG AND IMPACTFUL THIS SEASON.

18. BREE IS JUST ALLOWED TO HIT PEOPLE, SERIOUSLY?! HERE WE ARE DEFENDING ROGER’S BEATING AND BREE JUST HITS PEOPLE. AND JUST THEN DID CLAIRE TRY TO REPRIMAND HER. SERIOUSLY. THE INCONSISTENCIES OF THE WRITING THIS SEASON IS JUST DESTROYING THE SHOW.

19. I don’t even have words for the “Planning” scene other than Brianna is so demanding and Claire is being dramatic and everyone is just in a foul mood.

20. AND THEN WE GET ANOTHER UN-JAMIE/CLAIRE-LIKE SCENE. Jamie, now, wants to understand and he asks his wife for answers too. He’s asking so he can understand the extent of the damage he’s done, if he can repair his relationship with his daughter, he just wants to know and understand and what does Claire do - WALK AWAY. If this was the Jamie and Claire I know, they would hash it out all in the open until all is said and done (aka First Wife scene, Blade under the grass scene, FAITH scene, etc..) SHE DIDN’T WALK AWAY. HE DIDN’T WALK AWAY. THEY TALKED THE PAIN AND ANGER OUT BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT THEY DO - that’s what healthy relationships do, that’s always been them, it’s why they work. Secrets but no lies (well, Jamie lied about the hand but the Claire I knew will call him out then shut him down). I AM SO ANGRY THAT THIS SCENE DIDN’T GO TO AN ALL OUT CONFRONTATION CAUSE THAT IS WHAT I EXPECTED FROM JAMIE AND CLAIRE. Clearly, the writers had them in a different light where they walk away from each other - I DO NOT LIKE JAMIE AND CLAIRE WHO CAN EASILY WALK AWAY FROM EACH OTHER. NO. NO. NO. Because if it was easy to do that, then Jamie and Claire’s relationship are in trouble.

21. I hated this “goodbye” scene too. ALL JAMIE WANTED TO DO, AND YOU CAN SEE IT IN HIS FACE, IS TO HUG IS DAUGHTER AND SAY A PROPER GOODBYE TO HER - BECAUSE TO HIM THIS IS A MISSION HE MIGHT NOT RETURN FROM (spoiler: it’s why Bree made her mama go with them). NOW MAYBE I JUST WANT JAMIE NOT TO RETURN TO BREE CAUSE SHE DOESN’T DESERVE HIM (okay, I went a tad overboard with this but I am so frustrated with these characters and story, im letting me feelings out). AND CLAIRE JUST STOOD THERE, DID NOT EVEN ENCOURAGE HER OR HIM TO PROPERLY SAY GOODBYE. SERIOUSLY, WHERE IS CLAIRE FRASER? THE REAL CLAIRE FRASER?! Seriously, and then Claire and Bree hug and Im just imagining Jamie there at the side, wishing he could too. I mean, he even passes by them again just so maybe he could but still, nothing and they all went in their merry way. (im so emotional about this scene)

22. MURTAGH AND JOCASTA MEETING AND REMINISCING ABOUT ELLEN IS THE ONLY SAVING GRACE OF THIS EPISODE. I HAD SO MUCH FUN WITH THEIR INTERACTION.

23. “WHILE MY MOTHER AND JAMIE...” Wow, I just don’t like Bree in this episode. So Jamie is relegated from Da back to calling him Jamie. Wow, such a disrespect. Could’ve called her “father” if she wanted something more formal or distant to call him. But calling him just “Jamie” just boils my blood with anger cause Jamie doesn’t deserve this cruelty. Jesus Christ, he sacrificed himself for all and it still is not enough, especially for the people who mean most to him. Brianna’s bratty attitude didn’t sit well with me this episode and I hate it.

Bottomline, I knew this scene was coming. From book to TV, I didn’t expect the writers would delete important parts to give more context to feelings to justify it. No, they just jumped from one place to another, trying to go through the chapters so fast, they missed the point of it all. I missed a lot of scenes from the fireplace cuddle to the abortion argument. But Brianna’s and Claire’s attitude towards Jamie in this whole ordeal have felt nothing short but cruel for me. They didn’t give him a chance to explain, give themselves a chance to make him understand the depth of the situation. Instead, they shout at him, keep secrets from him, call him names, don’t acknowledge them, walk away from him, shut him out, and I hate that because he knows he’s done wrong and just wants to make it right but no one would tell him how or at least, again, make him understand. Jamie must be frustrated as heck between his wife and daughter, the only family he cares most about but he just stays silent. The turmoil inside must be killing him and he’d already decided that he will bring Roger back even if it costs him his own life.

But damn, the writers just missed the mark so much with Jamie, Claire and Bree and how to handle the progression of their situation and I am so sad because I’m anticipating this moment most and they ruined it.

Now, I don’t even have the courage or will to watch the last 3 episodes. They story, characters and actors (except Sam) aren’t just there this season and I just sad because this is my favorite book in the series.

Fin.

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gaiatheorist · 7 years

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Testing boundaries.

OK, I did it, I went ‘out’. No big deal for most people, but I’m not most people. I’m socially awkward, and have, historically, had a tendency to get catastrophically drunk, to avoid just lurking in the corner, like an unwanted ginger standard-lamp. As it turns out, I don’t ‘need’ the booze, which was fortunate, because it was quite expensive.

I’d seen the ‘flyer’ for the Twitter meet-up a few weeks ago, and just dismissed it with “Can’t go.��, because it was 2 hours travel away, and an unnecessary expenditure. Some time on Thursday, I’m not entirely sure when, I started looking at train-prices, and dabbling in the arena of ‘could go, if...’ That’s abnormal behaviour for me, and I’m still not entirely certain whether it was turning-away-from this episode of poor emotional well-being, or holding my nose, and jumping straight into it.

Crowds freak me out, unfamiliar locations make me uneasy, I don’t cope well with excessive noise, flashing lights, and the proximity of unknown-people. I know, let’s travel to another city, alone, and spend a few hours in a pub, with a bunch of strangers! Add to that the facts that I’m probably more neurotic-protective than most, and never really went ‘out’ much on my own for 20 years, and my anxiety probably burned off the three glasses of wine before I eventually threw myself back in through my front door. (Without falling out of the taxi, which I did last time I was ‘out’. No, for anyone familiar with my back-story, or PIP-assessors, I didn’t fall off the toilet, either.)

Yesterday, I went ‘out’, this waffly-blog is likely to be the very dull story of how I didn’t get murdered, or wake up in a gutter with my pants on inside-out. I know I ‘should’ have saved the money I drew out of the cash-point, but, in my off-centre logic, it was ‘spare’ money, left over from last month’s salary, and I virtually never do anything for myself. (Yes, there was a really weird side-thought about ‘What if the washing machine breaks, and I have to do my laundry in the bath for a month?’ I wouldn’t be doing my laundry in the bath, washing machines are relatively easy to reverse-diagnostic repair.) Welcome to the less than wonderful world of ‘What if?’

First up “What if somebody takes a photo, and I look half-dead?” Well, that’s easy, I DO look half-dead, but I tend to dye my roots on pay-day anyway, so I’ll at least look less like I’ve walked through cobwebs if I do show up in the background of someone else’s photo. I’m not ‘big’ Twitter, nobody’s going to want to snap a selfie with me to prove they’ve met me.

Next, “I have NOTHING to wear.” Don’t be an idiot, you have cupboards full of clothes, as was demonstrated by pulling EVERYTHING out of said cupboards, and raging at myself for putting things ‘out of the way’ instead of ‘away’. I’d wanted a particular top, I’m not as emaciated as I was this time last year, but I didn’t want the glockenspiel look, people have a tendency to try to make you eat pies when they can see your ribs, and if you complain that wheat doesn’t suit you, the automatic assumption is an eating disorder. I’m a pain in my own arse, because once I’d found ‘that’ top, I decided I didn’t want to wear it, and settled on another one.

“Is that going to be enough money?” It’s going to have to be, and that will ensure you don’t go overboard with the drinks. (Half-grinning, because it turned out to be exactly the right amount of money to cover my slight miscalculation.)

“Where’s my make-up?” Ah, remember when you threw a tizz about the ‘expectation’ that women should tart themselves up, and smear tonnes of crap on their faces to be deemed acceptable? Remember your ‘refusing to be aesthetically objectified’ tantrum, when you threw the make-up in the bin? It’s in the bin. Your entire make-up collection now consists of the one mascara that hasn’t completely dried out, a black eyeliner pencil that needs sharpening, and the boy has had off with the sharpener, and several red lipsticks. Challenging.

“Why is my hair so shit? Why won’t it behave?” It’s shit because you’re overwhelmingly stressed, which in turn leads to you not eating properly, the combination of stress and poor diet is responsible for the fragile hair, and the hair-loss. It won’t ‘behave’ because it’s part of you, it is ‘behaving’ entirely as it always does, which is like a dead ginger mop. (Interesting couple of minutes on the train, where I realised I’d used some gel the boy had left here to stop the frizzy-cloud effect, but not scrunched it through, leading to stiff tendrils here and there, and a very difficult to manage urge to shout “It’s not spunk!”)

“What if I miss the train?” Just get the next one, you nine-tonne mega-idiot, you’ve already allowed additional time for when you invariably get lost. “What if there are no seats on the train?” In that case, you’ll regret wearing five inch heels a bit sooner, won’t you? “What if I get on the WRONG train?” Seriously? This was getting tedious, bearing in mind I hadn’t even left the house. Occam’s razor is applied to my thought process even less often than razors are applied to my skin. I’m Stig of the Dump, and I ALWAYS start at the most ridiculous-unlikely, and work my way back from there. I’ve generally completely forgotten what the ‘problem’ was, by the time I’ve explored all the disturbing tangents my brain likes to send me off on. “What if I trip over something?” can very quickly morph into “What if I’m murdered, I don’t think I closed the living room curtains, and next door will assume I’m ‘in’, and nobody will realise I’m missing.”

Given the cyclic nature of my peculiar anxieties, and the fact that I’d imagined myself murdered and dumped in the canal about seventeen times before I even put my impractical boots on, the logical thing to do would have been not to go. I’m not logical, and I’d set myself the ‘task’ of travelling, alone, from the arse-end-of-nowhere to Leeds, having a couple of drinks with a load of strangers, and then finding my way back without my head being discovered in a bin, and my body only being identifiable by my tattoos. No, I don’t know why, either.

Neurotic-protective. I’d let different people know where I was going, which is awkward, because of the cross-over. I was ‘going’ as @GaiaTheorist but I’d also notified two real-world people, and alluded to my plans on my tiny, locked Twitter account. (Not Fakebook, though, the ex is on there, and the boy would flip shit if he knew I was trotting off out unsupervised. Oh, and there’s the “Well, she can’t be THAT ill if she can go out!” tangent.) Welcome to the messy web that is me, remembering to use the hashtag on the Gaia Twitter so I could be ‘tracked’, but not mentioning the # on my quiet-Twitter in case I was cross-referenced-outed. I’m like a really shit James Bond.

I set off earlier than I’d originally intended, and stood, freezing cold, wearing make-up in the day-time at the bus stop. (DID I lock the door?) The USB charger-point on the bus didn’t actually increase the battery-power on my phone, because I kept flicking between screens, checking routes that I knew I wouldn’t remember. (What if the battery completely dies?) Two kids on the bus appeared to be having a game of “Who can make the most annoying noise?”, and I had an intense desire to bang their heads together. The man on the seat in front of me for half of the journey had appalling body odour, and I could smell wee from somewhere else. I realised I’d forgotten to put any painkillers in my bag, and hoped that I wouldn’t have to use the hospital codeine, that’s probably expired by now.

The reason for setting off early was to make sure I didn’t get stuck in a queue for the automated train-ticket machine. I didn’t actually know where the ticket machines were, and had a bit of a panic about “What if I buy the wrong ticket, or the machine over-charges me?” I walked into the ticket-office instead, and managed to ask the man behind the counter for the right ticket. No biggie for most people, but, when I’m anxious, I sometimes muddle my words. I was anxious. I didn’t however end up with a yearly Oyster card or anything, so that’s a bonus. I’d also set off early so I could empty my bladder in the interchange toilets. I’d already walked past the toilets, and my fucking stupid head won’t let me ‘walk backwards’. I was half an hour early for the train, standing outside, in the cold, concentrating so hard on not ‘jiggling’ because I sort-of needed a wee that my thigh decided to do that weird tremble-spasm thing it does sometimes. Nice. In those heels, I’m a touch over 6ft, I’d just re-dyed my hair a fairly intense shade of auburn, I was wearing scarlet lipstick and heavy eyeliner, and my leg wouldn’t stop shaking. I had sufficient personal space.

Train. OK, there are seats, so I wouldn’t have to stand for an hour and four minutes, with my left thigh having its own personal disco, I also didn’t use the toilet on the train, due to five inch heels, and the aforementioned disobedient thigh. About ten minutes before Leeds, I found all the stiff bits in my hair, the person behind me might have thought I had headlice with all the fluffing and scrunching going on. (I’m SO 1990s, ‘scrunching’ my hair is still pretty much the only thing I do to it.)

Train station. In a very boring aside, the last time I alighted from a train in Leeds, I walked in the wrong direction for 20 minutes, completely lost, and alone, in a city I didn’t know. It was bad enough then, when I was trying to find a training venue in the daylight, it was dark by the time I hit Leeds, and I was wearing heels and lipstick. I excelled myself by getting lost IN the bus station, which didn’t help with the general panic situation. That tripped-out to me not text-messaging the person I was going to contact, because I ‘had to’ save my phone battery for emergencies. I’m a knob. After several laps around the train station, becoming increasingly aware that 5-inch heels don’t make stairs or escalators easy, I found the right exit. I also ‘found’ a probable homeless man, who offered me the use of his cigarette lighter. Then he asked me if I had a boyfriend. Of COURSE I do. Would I go out with him if I didn’t have a boyfriend? Well, I couldn’t answer that, because I DO have a boyfriend, but thank you very much for the light. Yes, I have a spare cigarette for you. Yes, enjoy your evening too, I’m going to meet some friends now. At that point, I pulled a ballpoint pen out of my bag, and stuck it in the back pocket of my jeans, in case of needing to stab sex fiends/muggers in the eye. Off I strutted, in my impractical heels, with my imaginary boyfriend. In the wrong direction.

I don’t know Leeds at all. I had a vague idea of where I should be going, but I have no sense of direction, and irrational anxiety about being mugged for my phone, so I’d wandered about, trying not to look lost for a while before I caved in, and tried to get Google maps to work. I CAN read a map, but reading a map in stilettos, on cobbles, while you’re having a massive panic about being mugged for your phone is a whole different kettle of fish. I’d saved the photos of the maps on my phone in case I didn’t have enough signal for Google maps, but a static map is only any use if you know which direction you’re walking in, and I didn’t. I managed to get the voice-directions working on Google maps, but couldn’t really hear it over the traffic, cursing myself for not bringing the earphones, but aware that wearing earphones, on your own, in the dark, makes you more vulnerable to muggers, sex-pests, and people who might cut your head off and put it in a bin. I then had an irrational burst of anger at the bits of the instructions I could hear “Walk east...” Which way is east? The sun had already set, so I couldn’t walk away from west to ascertain east. There’s a compass feature on the phone, but that would mean coming out of the ‘map’ app. I had many strange and interesting things in my bag, but not a compass, I only went to Brownies twice, remember?

I found the bar about half an hour before the thing was scheduled to start, and ‘stuck’. I accidentally tweeted a photo of the outside of the bar on the wrong account, in a desperate “Somebody come out and get me?” panic, and then deleted the bloody thing, because I like my quiet Twitter as it is. I didn’t know if I ‘could’ go into the bar before the thing was due to start, so I stood outside, like an absolute pillock, absolutely resolute that I WASN’T going into another bar to sit on my own with a drink, in case someone mistook me for a prostitute. So I stood on a street corner. Like a prostitute.

I eventually made my stupid legs take me inside the bar, and realised I didn’t ‘know’ anyone in there. Well, of course I didn’t not everyone has their face as their avi, do they, and the ‘function’ was in a back area. 17 million people pushed in front of me at the bar, and, when I eventually was served, I didn’t count the change from my allocated £20 for drinks, but it looked like a glass of wine was over £6. (I’m SO Yorkshire-stingy.) Shitsticks, not counting fire-escapes, that I’d have no idea where they came out, there was only one entrance/exit, which disturbed my not-claustrophobia PTSD ‘knowing where the exits are’ thing, and would have led to a panic-loop if I didn’t MOVE.

I moved. I found the event organiser, and introduced myself with “See my comfort zone? It’s all the way back over there.” I babble when I’m anxious, and I was very anxious. I wrote my @-name on a sticky label, and wondered where to put it, not wanting to draw attention to my ‘impressive rack’, but the alternative being my forehead. Then I stood in a corner, like a 6ft ginger spider. Some boys rescued me, and I didn’t realise I was talking to a man I’d followed, and interacted with for years, because I didn’t want to stare at his sticky-label. I drank my wine slowly, because I was only ‘allowing’ myself two drinks, then had a minor panic about ‘spacing’ alcoholic drinks with non-alcoholic ones, and wetting myself on the train home, which was lovely.

Other than Venus’ funeral, that was the first Tweet-up thing I’d been to. Contrary to popular misconception, we didn’t all stand about staring at our phones, but it was still weird. Not in a bad way, in an “Oh, I don’t think I follow you, do you know so-and-so?” way. Pointless fact about me: when placed in a situation where I feel uncomfortable, my default-setting is to make it MORE uncomfortable, which makes the initial uncomfortable-thing more bearable. I used to think that was the alcohol-impulsivity, that would often see me presenting strangers with teaspoons, sweets, or all manner of jumble from my bag, but it’s not, it’s just ‘me’. By the time the only other person there I’d ever met arrived, and asked me to hold her cut-out-ferrets-on-a-stick, and her drink, I’d already produced a neon pink bra from my bag, and was wondering who to give the vibrating cock-ring to. You can’t take me anywhere.

I drifted about, giving people bouncy-balls, and yo-yos, and spinning tops, and mini-slinkies from my bag and pockets, I let lots of complete strangers put their fingers in my craniotomy scar, and I was generally a bit of an arse. Not a complete arse, because I couldn’t risk missing the train home, and ending up sleeping on someone else’s hotel floor. I sleepwalk, and talk in my sleep, and I hadn’t brought a change of pants. I only hugged a handful of people, and I didn’t lick anyone, if I am in any of the pictures, it will only be in the background. I didn’t fall over, and, when I showed one of my tattoos to someone, I did it out of the way, around a corner.

I knew I couldn’t walk back to the train station, so one of my babysitters took me outside, and managed to phone me a taxi. I missed the train I was supposed to catch, and had to get the next one. A gaggle of drunks boarded, and one sat next to me, it was bad enough when she started to do the drunk-wobble-falling asleep thing, it was hideous when she vomited into the aisle, but at least it didn’t splash on me. I’ve been in that state myself, and I don’t ever want to be that drunk again. Her ‘friends’ weren’t interested, which shook me up, and made me wonder where I’d be able to put my phone if I had to perform CPR if she asphyxiated on the vomit, after they just hauled her into the toilet and left her there.

Missing the ‘right’ train also meant I missed the last bus from the city centre, and had to phone a taxi. Warpy-wrap-around-head phoned one from a company that DBS checks their drivers, and text-messages you the registration plate for the car. I had my ballpoint pen in my hand, and was ready to send the text-message out onto Twitter if the driver started going the wrong way. He didn’t, but that’s a worrying train of thought to have when you’re on your own, and going back to an empty house. I managed to cobble together enough money for the fare and a small tip, so had stayed within-budget for the night. I tweeted a photo, to let people know I was home safe, and I’ll periodically flick onto Twitter today, to check if I’m in the background of any photos scratching that spot inside my left nostril.

I did it. There was no real point to doing it, other than to prove I could. I have no unexplained bruises, I won’t be the subject of any gossip, and I managed to get myself there and back without incident. There’s something to be said for going out and not getting drunk.

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blongshong · 7 years

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Baby, mommy, long trip and luggage limits

What happens when panicky, finicky, lazy yet busy mommy goes on a trip with her baby girl in tow? Well the obvious answer is – potential chances of luggage limit violation!! Don’t you think that is quite legit? While munchkin needed her supply of diapers, baby foods, wipes and et al s for 3 weeks, a clearly excited and over-enthusiastic mommy won’t give up her chances of putting some style together on this dream trip. Needless to say this serious tug of war left daddy dearest petrified and giving occasional polite reminders of the number of suitcases 😊

Travelling light!?!???

I am one of those persons who just CANNOT travel light! I need my things…the most trivial of them. My daughter seems to have drawn from my genes, as quite evidently she can neither. I am not exaggerating by a bit when I say that most of the suitcase space was taken up by peanut’s essentials and some non essentials (only if her Moo Moo book and Appy the soft toy elephant qualifies as a non essential!).

Time for some clever packing

With such restrictions I had to be organised, careful and a wee bit clever when I was choosing my outfits. Afterall it was a 3 week trip and I wanted to put my best foot forward. Thus I divided my outfits into two sections A) Staples B) Accessories So the staples were the obvious jeans, thermals and coats. While the accessories were my secret weapons. Scarfs, sunglasses, slings, caps… they all added the much needed variation to the same coat or jacket. Shoes are a very important part especially while on a vacation. So while I wore a simple running shoe for the long flights, I carried another pair of pastel toned sneakers and the eternal knee length boots. ( Even after becoming a mother I cannot imagine Paris without boots!!)

Not a make up person

Make up for me means a good non- comedogenic moisturizer preferably with sunprotection, a super pigmented kajal, a tinted lip balm and some peachy blush for the cheeks. That is the maximum that I can fare. But this time I went a step ahead and threw in a couple of bright lip colours that surprisingly complimented the usual black/ grey coats and jackets wonderfully!

So yes that was pretty much it.

I have to mention here that it was a lot of homework and hardwork to take time out for myself after the usual feed, change, soothe and baby talks routine. But who said that the best things are easy!!!

Some general styling tips I followed

Layering

Accessorizing

Following the ‘no more than 3 Colors rule’ that Parisians take quite seriously

Giving comfort a chance!

Here are a few of my looks in Paris and Zurich. Tell me if and how you like them.

Simple day look while we visited Sacre Couer Basilica and the area in and around Montmartre.

Denim paired with a bubblegum pink sweater. A nice fuzzy woolen scarf to keep the chilly breeze at bay. Oversized eyeglasses, boots, my sling bag and a dash of pink for the lips.

A very basic look for an evening out and aimless strolls. Knee length striped pencil skirt with a black top and a black jacket. A pair of black leggings as the temperature dropped after sunset and a black sneakers.

Did i say I love black!!

It cannot get simpler and universal than this. Denims, black sweater, boots my constant companion, the leather sling bag and a little pop of colour for the lips.

This day was special in ways more than one. Visiting Disneyland with my daughter is almost a dream coming true with extra cheese!!! Some sunny peppy colours for the day. A bright pumpkin yellow sweater with denims and sneakers was all I needed.

Day trip to Versailles saw me wearing a black knee length dress over a black thermal top along with a favourite fabric statement neckpiece, my boots and my sling bag.

This was on the day before we left Paris and happens to be the nth time to the Eiffel tower! Evidently a very emotional me went a little overboard according to my standards. Wore this red and blue fit and flare dress with my boots and topped it off with some red lips. My way of bidding bye to Eiffel!

Note: the carousel ride added that tiny bit of magic dust to this day.

The area in and around Notre Dam was our favourite. The little green bookstalls by Seine, the quaint cafes and this particular shop became a routine during the 3 weeks that we spent in this city. This was the first day we went to Shakespeare and company. Wore a bright blue sweater with my black thermal , denims and turquoise blue sneakers. Tried a white cap to add some contrast.

Blues are not bad afterall!!

More often than not we would take these idyllic walks along Seine at and post sunset. The classic French architecture along the banks, a perfect Prussian blue sky and a lit up Eiffel in the distance all made it more magical. This day I was wearing a beige coloured woolen poncho with jeans and boots.

In the above pictures I am wearing the same black coat. I have tried to bring in a bit of variation by pairing it with oversized aviators, a fleece cap and a Kantha scarf respectively. These are the occasions when I used accessories to create do looks with a same basic outfit.

Day tour to Rheinfalls and Stein am Rhein. Wore a sand beige trenchcoat with the good old pair of jeans and boots.

So that was pretty much it. Needless to say I repeated quite a few looks in the three weeks.

Waiting for your comments and feedback.

Love

Devlina

😊😊

P.S. since munchkin comes first we always carried a bagpack, my sling sometimes the stroller and sometimes the baby carrier. Now that is what I call serious mommy fashion!

Love Devlina

Fashion for the mommy’s soul – Paris/ Zurich Lookbook Baby, mommy, long trip and luggage limits What happens when panicky, finicky, lazy yet busy mommy goes on a trip with her baby girl in tow?

#Disneyland Paris #Eiffel tower #Fashion #Mommy Fashion #Paris #Paris blog #Switzerland #Travel #Travel fashion #What to wear in Paris #Zurich

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