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the-firebird69 · 1 year

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There's a lot of stuff going on huge numbers of things happening and I just realized something our son is struggling a lot more than he's given on and she is too and cries out to him and he says I'll be there and she feels better he means he'll be there and she says good and ask him again. Full time and says that he's going to be there full time now they're struggling okay this is mentally trying and these people are mean and Tommy have this meaner and other people are completely out of clueless and insensitive that these bikes are saving his life in hours took a while for him to hit the right thing he's trying all sorts of things but his grandpa is helping and that's where we got that kick and it is helping and he did this routine with way with the other motorcycle and he lost his attention was insulted and it worked

Max says he forgot and remembered and then it totally forgot in one day this motorcycle thing came up with his name on it from China for the Chinese motorcycle the cheap one it was working and then Wayne said I can't sell any and he just wants to buy them and use them underground and I can't do that. And it got taken away and it stopped then this company started because they're both pissed off at him and when that guy is on the mat okay all society's picking it up now he's he's on the mat he got slammed down real hard like Andre came out and did it when really it was way Chan Lynn us and her son and daughter and John Cena was asking for it too see we can't do this we can't do that and it's like powerless up here and it's losing all his positions cuz he's trying to bring our son to trial and this huge gang so these bikes huge gangs and we are also granting our people his cadre our son and daughter their cadre award of merit for blocking John Cena from doing it he was going to sell these bikes and take them back can we stopped it tons of Acts are doing it too. Went ahead and checked and there's too many orders then I was setting up mega plants so I went ahead and set up like five and they're 100s and they're gigantic and there's so many people working there it's not even funny and we got robots everywhere and we need more. The memorabilia is selling like madness. Camille helped design it. You should see what she's done some of its award-winning designs and he says you get the belt and then like a big biker belt buckle so she went to town she made all this stuff up gloves and leathers pants and dusters and Boots all sorts of stuff and the design like he wears and people are like maniacs they're going after the stuff like maniacs they're absolute Maniacs okay. It's starting to work too they're a huge numbers of people helping him from our side and from the other side is you they see what he did and they're amazed by it and they couldn't believe that he felt so sad till they heard what it was. Is a blarney Stone and that's what it is you're trying to move it by carrying it. This is amazing they got it right away. The show me a particular custom and it's Scotland and it makes sense it was near Scotland it was the Scottish doing it and it's like the fleece is full and it talking about Tommy f and they're hungry so they should take it but not feed the sheep because they're Tommy f sheep. This is working and sales are enormous they're enormous okay they are gigantic he sent the first run to Mac Daddy and the second to Ben Arnold and we meet in the first run the first 200,000 it was split between them and part of it went to way Chan Lin and part went to his Japanese parent in Russian parent but they got the first ones and the others didn't because they are not ready. And it's going on now that they have early releases is what they have it is a massive massive massive movement and it's working. Dan said he made one last year and he drove it. He's getting blamed for the idea only his partially responsible he's always doing with Wade Chan Lin and he says he presented but we don't know if that's true no we do and it's coming out and tons of people can't stand it they thought they were going to try and make them and they did and they couldn't and that's what they're up to they needed the money and they can't get it it's too hard.

And yes a bunch of kids you would have to go dormant and Tommy f was the one threatening from below many times and it's going on now and the Stonehenge and things like that were created from the fingertips of giants Stonehenge in particular was a particular giant of our sons and daughters that's why there's two in their hands are together and they're calling out to us with a calendar

But this chopper is making headlines globally damn it's just clear there's a lot of plans he has it's kind of one of them but this guy is a bear he's never had so much trouble in his life he's never had so much trouble and he's and it's being overcome in this bike is doing it they're building plants everywhere today we're going to have huge numbers of plants up and we can have huge numbers of the chopper he wants to put contest out there so regular people can win them he wants to go to all the malls and to Rally's and things like that but at the rallies he wants to raffle it as a fundraiser for the groups that are paying into the raffle and members who are rescue rangers will receive the funding or in kind to fight Tommy f and to locate the missing cuz he's being blamed our son is being blamed we approve this

Thor Freya

They donate their time and all sorts of things to him and don't look for other stuff lots of times so he's going to start donating the bikes and we're going to go ahead with it now

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ghostiewriter · 3 years

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JJ, where’s yer troosers? | jiara

Summary: From dreams to reality, JJ and Kiara are taking on their world in their surf trip, one country at a time. However on their visit to Scotland, JJ seems to have taken on some of the local culture and Kiara can barely keep her sinful thoughts under control.

Warnings: swearing, SMUT!! (duh) and I think that’s really it?

Word Count: 4.1K

A/N: Yes, I wrote a fic about them in Scotland, what about it?🤡anyways welcome to day four of jiara week!! Please do enjoy this short wee smut fic about JJ in a kilt cause why not. Also the name of the fic is based off a song called “Donald, where’s yer troosers?” and literally no one else outside of Scotland will get it but I don’t care cause it made me laugh so💀for all I know this might turn into a series of Jiara having sex in different countries during their surf trip so lemme know if you wanna see that👀ANYWAYS ENJOY AND SEE YOU TOMORROW!!

masterlist // jiara week

“It’s a kilt, Kie,” JJ told her as he stood proudly with his hands on his hips. “A traditional Scottish garment, the guys down at the pub told me themselves.”

She nodded her head slowly, lips pressed together. “I think they were…how is it the Scots say it? Taking the piss?”

“Kilts are Scottish, Kie, I googled it.” JJ answered with a roll of his eyes. “Plus there’s like a kilt store every twenty feet! It was about time I try and fit in with the culture.”

Kiara blinked. “I don’t think they just go around wearing kilts on a night out though.”

“Don’t be a jealous wee slag!” JJ scoffed, his attempt of the Scottish accent crashing and burning into a million pieces.

“What did you just call me?” Kiara frowned.

“A jealous wee slag!” JJ repeated with a grin. “It means like, you’re a jealous friend. It’s like a term of endearment here.”

“I—” Kiara sighed, running a hand over her face. “JJ, slag means whore. Someone lied to you.”

READ HERE ON AO3!!!

#jiara #outer banks #jj maybank #kiara carrera #jj maybank x kiara carrera #jiara fanfiction #jiara fanfic #obx fic #outer banks fanfiction #jiara smut #jj maybank smut #kiara carrera smut #my fic #jiaraweek2021 #day four: surf trip

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kizzys · 3 years

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Starkid Rewatch: A Very Potter Senior Year 🧙‍♀️✨

Schlongbottom and luna are precious souls

Joey and the blue headband - a thrilling saga

Once again: hermione's hair is more accurate than anything the movies ever did

Fuh-reeze motherfucker we're the wizard cops!

You would have made one good god damn wizard god damn wizard hell of a wizard cop

It has an inscription at the side saying "i open at the close" whatever the fuck that means

Avp Harry and hermione really deliver the sibling dynamic

Have you ever read a book? Have you ever not read a book? No!

Someone had pointed out that all the weasley kids are redheads but Arthur and molly are both brunettes, and now I can't stop thinking about it

Tyler as mcgonagall is the greatest thing ever

It was DORA

MISS EXPLORER!!

Seamus looks like a fucking angel

Look at himmm

I'm gonna say it

Harry's a douchebag

Does baby want some wine with that cheese? Fuck you.

Tom

Mar

Mervl

Mer

Mar

Meervl

Rydle

You know who accidentally killed his sister while he was in a fight with his boyfriend? This guy, right here 🤙

That part in always dance where voldemort dances with ginny is genuinely so creepy

This makes fifty shades of grey look like a fucking book for kids

The basilisk is the funniest character in the whole show

Ginny's such a dumbass I love her

A squad™

I have no idea who jim is supposed to be but xir hair is on point

His wig fell off i-

(don't make me laugh I'm pissing)

Britney i love u

The boyfriends are at it again

Meanwhile ron and lavender are in a relationship speedrun in the bg

The lyrics may be weird as shit but get in my mouth is a fucking bop

This is like that b99 meme

Hagrid - the only scottish guy in a story set in scotland

You all remember fAWKES? The phOENIX? dumbledore left him to me when he deid

Brian just shaking darren more violently every time he laughs

So does this mean he was speaking dragon language in avpm or was the dragon speaking english

The school just blamed it on some Latina chic, cause they're racist!

Sssshhhhame on you, sssshhhheamus

Oh my god we're at that scene

You know the one

Scold me professor

That's the most i can type out

Gilderoy the mouse prince

Greatest scene ever

She can't see me unless she touches the notebook. Just the same rules as death note

There's very little we can do about it. You and I are the two stupidest people i know

I got it from professor slughorn before he got busted for "collecting young boys"

You can find harry at your neighbourhood bookstore this fall motherfucker

THIS SCENE

THIS GODDAMN SCENE

That'll be like taking our whole world and- and- fucking it in the face?

They're just resin! And boy howdy do they break like fucking twigs

How about a real butterbeer? Its just cream soda you fucking idiots!

God bless starkid and their spiderman references

I'm just your everyday, working class, blue collar...gay guy with a beard

Joey really made me cry here someone please give ron a hug

Okay alright fuck harry

I'd say we FOUND each other

Fuck the tie

Whoa is that a flying diary? Oh shit

Bloody hell! that snake is almost as big as THIS SNAAAKE

Scarfy is a damn hero

Joe walker dies

I just realized hagrid is not wearing any pants

He wouldn't have wanted you kids to be sad for one moment. He would have wanted you...to be gay 🏳️‍🌈

The hugs are gonna make me cry

Neville is crying i can't-

You are named after two of the bravest men i ever knew

ALBUS SCARFY POTTER

QUIRRELMORT ENDGAME WE REALLY WON FOLKS

He taught me how to love i'm crying

I love them so much

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malethirsty · 3 years

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The Master Of The Claymore - Drew McIntyre

Summary: Following his success in recapturing the WWE Championship on RAW, Drew has some debts to pay and learns never to cross a swordmaster, especially one who knows how to handle a strong Scottish blade.

Warnings: M/M smut (21+), Bareback (Wrap Before You Tap!)

1, 2 & 3! You lept up and down in the Guerrilla cheering & clapping with other members of the roster whom had come to watch as the sound of Bagpipes filled the ThunderDome, Drew McIntyre had just won back the WWE Championship, the Scotsman ascending once again back to the pinnacle of the Men’s division. As Drew walked up the ramp, issuing a warning to Roman, his opponent for Survivor Series, you used the cover of the swarm of fellow wrestlers to retreat back to his dressing room, there you sat down on the sofa and waited for his arrival. It took a while for him to arrive, but sure enough he turned up, sweated out but still in high spirits, seeing you on the couch he smirked down at you “Well hello there pretty boy, I bet you’ve come to congratulate the champ in person.” You rolled your eyes “Yes of course, all hail the great Scottish stud of a champion.” You sardonically responded and Drew grinned at you “Later I’ll get you to say it like you mean it” he promised, a glint of mischief and eroticism in his eyes.

Ever since you first met him, Drew had been cockily arrogant and at first you’d hated it, your tempering flaring whenever Vince’s ‘Chosen One’ tried to flex his strength towards you and the rest of the roster. However when he won the intercontinental title, that was when your rage boiled over and you had confronted him about his arrogant nature, by the end of the night, you realised his cocky attitude could be backed up with his skills... and wrestling was only the tip of what he could do with his body. Ever since then, you’d engaged in this relationship where you’d show up to wherever he was, he’d drop what he was doing and fuck you, your submissive nature in the bedroom paired perfectly with his cocky demeanour. However as of recently, you’d been in a draught, twenty two long days of no Scottish stud, as insensed by losing the title, he threw himself into training, completely neglecting you. You’d acted fine to his face, but tonight you were going to remind him that you were the only gold he needed to cherish, not some fucking leather strap.

Deciding to keep the nature of the conversation sweet for now, you turned the conversation to a fact you’d discovered on the show that night “I never knew Claymore was a type of sword till Sheamus gave you it in the box.” Drew, whom had been bothering with packing up his stuff to head back to his hotel room, looked across the room at you, rather surprised “Really? It’s quite well known in Scotland.” “Yes, well some of us haven’t lived in Scotland for out entire lives Drew.” “Sheamus is Irish and he knew, maybe your just uneducated about your knowledge of combat weaponry. So Y/N, I think I better teach you about it.” He abandoned what he was doing and crossed the room and sat next to you, his cocky nature out in full force “So the Claymore is quite an old yet strong weapon, known in my homeland for being a symbol of pride and strength. Only the strongest of men can wield it, it needs two hands to cover it” He stopped and leaned in to whisper in your ear “a lot like me.” He nipped at your ear lightly and drew back, which let you know that you had him where you wanted him, so you flirted back “Impressive, I’d like to get my hands around one sometime, wouldn’t that be a sight, little old me handling something so big, heavy and strong? You’d probably have to hold me up so I can keep balance” You moved onto his lap and sensing his hardness, trailed your hand down his hairy chest, above where his title was positioned. Drew groaned, his eyes fluttering closed for a second, as he minicked your ministrations onto your own bare chest, including tweaking your nipples as his cock got harder as you continued. He looked deep into your eyes and said “Why wait? Reach down into my kilt and handle it yourself.”

You didn’t wait to be asked twice and slid down onto the floor pulling off his kilt as you went, his cock flying up, very erect, hitting your face for your trouble. Not wasting anymore time, you slipped your lips over it and began to suck, “Oh yes, suck it down deep Y/N.” Drew groaned, throwing his head back as he got used to your wet, hot mouth around his member, his cock got even harder than before in your mouth, so you had to be careful not to take too much or risk choking, so you lathered it a little before pulling out, taking it in your hand and slapping it on your face “Nah-uh Y/N, remember you handle Daddy’s Claymore with two hands.” Drew chided, grinning at the dirty show he was watching below him, and so you grabbed onto his cock with both hands, fully covering the length of his dick, and pulled down, exposing the head. You trailed your tongue around it, eliciting soft growls from the champion, which soon turned to full out moans as you licked across his slit. “Yeah, you like that Daddy?” You asked, sweetly with a hint of cheekiness, as you knew what licking his slit did to Drew “Fuck yeah I do pretty boy”, motivated by his praise, you moved back onto Drew’s slit, this time giving it kitten licks while looking up into his eyes “Jesus Christ, your tongue’s incredible Y/N. Get back onto my cock before I cum on your face, I wanna bust in your mouth.”

Finally poised to strike, you moved away from him, leaving Drew panting “Wh-wha?” He looked up at you confused “Y/N, I said to get back on my dick.” “No Drew. See this is what’s been going on for the entire time Randy’s been reigning as champion, you’ve been fixated on training and your desire to hold that belt, while ignoring the fact that I’ve been needing you, having to wait for you to come to bef and fuck me has been fucking painful. Do you know how many times I’ve had to pull up the dick pics you’ve sent me and wanked to them cause you won’t man up when you finally stop training and fuck me?” Drew was looking taken aback, a mix of something that looked like anger on his face, but you were past the point of caring about hurting him and carried on. It was as if a faucet had been turned on in your brain, and everything you’d been wanting to say was spilling out of your mouth “I guess you haven’t thought at all, because you’ve been fucking piss weak after losing the championship to get up and keep moving forward, you’ve been so fixated that your forgetting about the one person that has needed you that entire reign. Goddamn it Drew, I WANT YOU TO BE A FUCKING MAN!” You yelled the last part out, all composure gone. You turned around to leave, expecting him to be too stunned to do anything, wanting him instead to think about how he’d left you so lonely and return to your hotel room with an apology with chocolates or some shit like that. Blood was pumping loudly in your ears from the shouting you had done, that you didn’t notice the thud of leather meeting the floor.

You had almost crossed the room before a hand grasped your head and you were slammed into the door, the hand protecting your head from bouncing off it, turning around, you saw Drew, a dangerous alit look in his eyes, dark and determined. With a gruff growl, he moved his hand from your head down to your pants, ripping the fabric clean in two and tossing it away. He then aimed his cock at your entrance and thrusted upwards, your cry of shocked pleasure drowned out by Drew’s bellow. You stayed like that for a while, Drew grunting as he took deep breaths to speak “That man enough for you Y/N? Huh? That enough to sate your slutty fucking ass?!” Drew yelled out and too shocked to form words, you nodded instead. Satisfied, he began to piston forwards, slamming into your ass so hard, the door began to shake. As you cried out from his ministrations you stared at him, the light hearted cocky man he was in the ring now gone, now he looked determined, powerful, dominant. “You want to be treated like a little fucking slut Y/N, is that what you want to be? Daddy’s fucking cock sleeve?” You tried to respond but stunbled over your words, only Y sounds coming from your mouth as you tried to say ‘Yes’. Suddenly he stopped moving and grabbed your face “Nah-uh pretty, you’re gonna use your voice and tell Daddy how much you love his dick fucking your ass, otherwise I can stop right now and leave you desperate to cum.” Drew was meeting you halfway, the fucking bastard.. the fucking hot bastard, so you responded “Yes Daddy, fuck I’ve needed this for so long!” Drew grinned “Good little slut, wrap your legs round Daddy’s waist.”

Obeying him, you wrapped your legs around his strong waist and with no effort at all he lifted you off the ground and trapped your lips in a kiss so hot, it felt like steam was coming off the both of you. After a while like this, he began to buck into you again “Fucking love how your tight little ass clenching round my thick hard dick. God damn Y/N, you know how to take Daddy’s cock just right.” You couldn’t respond, he was hitting your prostate so perfectly it felt as if shots of electricity were surging through you, the most you could do was hold onto the hunks back as hard as you could to prevent yourself from falling over from how ferociously he was pounding you. The sound of Drew’s balls slapping against you was joined by the sounds of his moaning and feral growling, which only increased as you raked your fingernails across his back, a thin trail of blood starting to form “Fucking hell babe, two can play at that game!” Drew lowered you to the ground and lifted your legs onto his shoulders, and began to fuck you at a different angle as he began to travel down your neck, kissing and nipping at it, intending to leave hickeys all down it, a mark of the Scot to show the world you belonged to him and him alone. You made soft mewling sounds as he did so, and trailed your left hand through his raven dark hair and your right through his chest hair “You like that?” Drew withdrew from his ministrations to ask “Yeah, I don’t know what about your head and chest hair really gets me going, but it does.” “It’s the sign of a fucking man, a fucking warrior. My raven hair on my head and my chest hair looks like I’ve come from a hard fought battle against a giant or soldier or some shit and I’m ready to claim your arse as a reward.” He punctuated this with a harsh thrust forwards, and you turned into a moaning mess all over again.

Drew moved away from your body now, looking up you saw him standing on his knees, his hips lazily pistoning forward, you began to push up to meet him halfway, his dick now seemingly coated in sweat as Drew pulled it out. He brushed the tip of it with his thumb and saw the sweat was actually precum, catching sight of you looking he grinned down “Want to taste my precum Y/N?” You moved up to him, only to be stopped by a rough hand covering your chest “Manners baby, what do you say to Daddy if you want to taste him?” “Drew, please I-“ “What do you say?” His voice grew seductively dark as he asked twice, so you swallowed deeply and said “Please Daddy, may I taste you?” Satisfied Drew moved his thumb to your mouth and you lapped your tongue out to taste his salty precum, eventually taking his thumb into your mouth “How is it that you look as hot taking my cock balls deep into your mouth as you do my fingers?” Drew pondered looking down at the sweaty mess he made of you, you moaned around his thumb before Drew pulled it out and thrusted his cock back inside you.

His cock began to pulse inside you, the veins bulging as he neared his end. Knowing he was close, Drew grasped onto your cock and began to stroke violently. Already sensitive, this only made you cry out loudly “OH FUCK DREW! YES DADDY, STROKE MY COCK!” You yelled, not caring if Adam Pierce, Randy, Charley or anyone else heard you, you were too intoxicated from Drew fucking you at last to care. Drew got right down to your face, noses touching, his eyes baring down into you so hard, it was as if he was looking into your soul “Tell me who you belong to Y/N, submit and tell me, and I’ll let you cum all you want. Who. Do. You. Belong. To?” Each word was accompanied by a hard thrust into your ass, your muscles clenching softer than before, that it was amazing they hadn’t lost their grip from how hard Drew was railing you “You Daddy Drew! I belong to you!” You wailed out, utterly blissed out on Drew’s cock. He smirked, leaning down to your ear to whisper “Now Y/N, cum for me.” You cried out in relief and pleasure as load upon load shot out over Drew’s chest, spattering onto his chest hair, he waited until you stopped before pulling you up onto his lap and bucked wildly “Fucking hell Y/N, your ass feels so good when you cum that I’m gonna shoot my load, all deep into that slutty ass of yours, your fucking craving it yeah? Craving Daddy’s load up your ass. Well Daddy’s gonna give it all to you my twenty two day load, and you better take every last drop!” Utterly blown out by lust, you kissed Drew deeply, him returning with equal passion until he reached the edge and withdrew from your lips “Yeah, fuck Y/N, I’m cuming, I’m gonna cum deep inside you!” The air was wrent with a crying growl from the WWE Champion as he came, his release shooting inside you, thick and hot. Drew’s eyes were wound shut, his body thrown back so far, it was as if his orgasm was stretching him out. You didn’t think his cock would stop shooting forth his load, but eventually it stopped and Drew collapsed onto you, kissing you all over the face.

It was a while before either of you spoke “Holy fucking shit” you huffed out, Drew releasing a guttural laugh “That’s damn right, fuck Y/N, you’re like a fucking vice when I cum, you milk it all out, bet it’ll drip out of your hole by the time we get back to the hotel.” As your senses restored, you realised that you were still in his dressing room, you’d been caught up in how well Drew fucked you, you forgot you weren’t in privacy, you were in public and likely the whole roster had heard you turn into a desperate needy whore for the Scotsman on top of you. Catchhing your eye and seemingly understanding, Drew lifted you up “Own it, at least your getting dicked down by a fucking man.” A smile forming, you nodded “Now, I’m gonna get my kilt back on and get you some pants so we can head home and get you showered up before round two.” “R-round two?” You questioned “Yeah, you said I left you without sex for the entirety of Randy’s reign, so over the next week I’ll fuck you all over the hotel room that it’ll more than make up for it.” He said, as a matterafactly as talking about the next day’s weather. “Now look who’s the needy slut.” You sardonically responded to a grin from Drew, whom having just fastened his kilt back up, crossed over to you and cupped your face “Now don’t start with me Y/N, you were complaining about me not manning up for you. I’ll tell you what, if you’re good for me then when I win Survivor Series, I’ll make you the Prince of Claymore Country, make you a crown out of my seed, would you like that Y/N.” ‘Damn this man was something else’ you thought, but contented Drew with a nod of your head “Good man, now wait here while I get some new pants for you, and then we can leave and fuck in our own bed.” With that, he left his dressing room and you sat back onto the sofa, getting a little excited about the many more times you’d be getting to handle Drew’s Claymore in the future.

#Drew McIntyre #Male Reader #Drew McIntyre x Male Reader #Drew McIntyre Smut #Fanfic #Smut #WWE #WWE Smut

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thesassenachswiftie · 4 years

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Lover Chapter 5 - “False God”

Read on AO3

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4

Summary:

Claire has made up her mind to end things with Jamie. How will he react when she makes a confession to him?

Notes:

Thank you all for following along on this journey. We left off in a pretty angsty spot and the angst is going to continue for a bit here.

New chapters every Friday, moodboard release every Monday, previews on Wednesday

Chapter 5: “False God”

Claire managed to somewhat keep it together all morning as they picked up their discarded clothes scattered about the room, grabbed a quick breakfast and got on the road. Jamie, of course, noticed the look on her face shortly after waking. When he inquired, she blamed a hangover (which wasn’t entirely a lie) and assured him she would be fine. She would not be fine, and neither would he, she suspected. He seemed so chipper, so alive, like he was ready to conquer the world. She knew she was a terrible person to do this to him, but if she didn’t do it now it would be so much worse for the both of them later. She decided to tell him when they were about a half hour from her house. That way, if he left her on the side of the road--which she wouldn’t blame him for--she’d be close enough to call Jo to come pick her up. She had made sure her phone was charged the night before if that was to be the case.

For the first stretch of her trip, she remained quiet, still blaming the hangover and staring out the window as Jamie talked about Scotland and England and all the places he’d love to take her and people he wanted to introduce her to there. She tuned out most of what he was saying. She couldn’t bear dreaming with him, and needing to mentally rehearse what she would say when the time came. She watched the road ahead of her, trying to focus on the movement of the car instead of the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Eventually, the time came--she couldn’t put it off any longer.

“Jamie, we were crazy to think that this could work” she blurted out, more abruptly than she had intended.

“I know Claire, but we might just get away with this, it’s going great so far--”

“No Jamie, I mean, this isn’t going to work. We can’t keep seeing each other like this, and what’s going to happen when you leave?”

“Have you not been listening to me for the past hour? Remember how I said I’d fly ta ya? What are you doing Claire?”

“We were stupid to jump in with an ocean separating us. We can’t just fly back and forth whenever we feel like it. It’s not realistic. We’re living in a fantasy world, Jamie. We’re living in a dream and it’s time to wake up to reality.”

“Claire, I--”

“No, let me finish. I know I’ve had a setback in my career, but I still want to be a doctor. I’m not going to be able to spend any time with you when I do eventually start my residency, whether you fly here or not. It’s not fair to you or me. It’s not fair to you that I keep you away from your family. It’s not fair to you that you have to sneak around and lose sleep on my account. I’m doing this for you, believe it or not.”

Jamie’s hands gripped the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white, his jaw tightened and his face felt hot as something within him broke. “Claire, how could ye possibly be doing this for me when it isna what I want at all?” He reached for her, knowing it would be easier to talk to her if they touched.

Claire stared out the passenger window, arms crossed across her chest, shrinking herself as far away as she could. “Don’t touch me.” she hissed. She knew she couldn’t do this if they touched, she’d be lost in him again, it was taking all her resolve to say her piece.

Jamie, ever the gentlemen, knew even something as small as a touch on the shoulder was something that needed consent, and reluctantly put his hand back on the steering wheel. “I can’t talk to you when you’re like this, staring out the window like I’m not your favorite. God dammit Claire, it’s hell when I fight with you.” He felt so frustrated, he couldn’t understand how less than twenty-four hours ago she confessed her love to him and now she was doing this. “This canna possibly be what you really want. We belong together, we were meant to meet Claire, we were meant to be together. Ya really wanna leave? Go ahead, try and leave me, try and tell me honestly that’s what you really want.” He thought if he could scare her maybe she’d come to her senses and change her mind.

The tears were flowing freely from Claire's eyes now. “Yes.” she said quietly. “Jamie, I’m New York City, you’re the English countryside, we don’t belong together, we don’t fit together. If this was meant to be we’d be on the same path, and we’re just not.”

You’re not New York City, you’re my Sassenach, you don’t belong to any place, that’s what I love about you, you just belong with me. Jamie thought to himself. “Claire, I can’t let you go that easy. I love you so much, I’d die for you Claire. If you want me to fly to you every week, I will, I swear to it, tell me what to do Claire.”

Claire’s resolve was weakening, he wasn’t supposed to keep loving her, to keep worshipping her as if she were worthy of his love. She only had one thing left to say, the confession she hoped she wouldn’t have to share. The last thing she wanted to ever tell him, but the thing that might finally make him leave. “I’m not what you think I am Jamie. I lied to you!”

“What are you talking about?”

“That first night we were together, I told you Frank broke up with me… he didn’t. I didn’t even talk to him. I used you. I wanted you, I wanted to piss Frank off--I was bored and lonely and horny and I lied to you to get my way. That’s the type of person I am, I’m not this wonderful person you’ve made me out to be.”

All he could do in reply was grunt a Scottish noise of disapproval. Her confession ignited a livid fire in him, he didn’t know what to feel or how to respond. He would never have consented to sleeping with her that night knowing she still belonged to Frank. God, she was engaged to him for heaven’s sake. How could she let him do that, knowing how he felt about the situation. He had been under her spell, completely captivated by her, and he didn’t know if he fully regretted it. The final minutes of their car ride continued in heated silence. The air in the car was thick with something that felt like it would ignite and burn up fast if either of them uttered a word.

Jamie dropped Claire off at the end of her street as she had requested earlier, she grabbed her weekender bag from the backseat and softly said “Goodbye, Jamie” before shutting the door, not daring herself to look at him as she did. She walked to her house as quickly as she could and collapsed to the ground sobbing as soon as she was inside her door. She knew it was for the best, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

----------

Jamie drove away from her, glancing one last time at her figure in the rearview mirror in spite of himself. He felt betrayed, upset, confused and aimless. Above all, he felt heartbroken. They had warned him about times like these--his father, his Godfather, even his brother-in-law. “When you fall in love”, they said, “the road gets hard and you get lost in it” and Jamie was just now figuring out what they meant. He had been following her with blind faith, doing anything she asked without a thought, sneaking around--even allowing her to cheat with him, albeit unknowingly. He was still too eager, too willing. How could he forgive himself for that? How could he allow a woman to consume him so deeply, body, mind and soul? Worst of all, who was he without her, now that she had walked away?

He found himself pulling into the parking lot of a Catholic church. He didn’t attend weekly anymore, nor did his family. “The Lord kens how difficult it is ta get seven bairns dressed and ready for church and the Lord kens how much we love him.” his sister Jenny would say. He knew he didn’t need the church building to love and worship God. He also recognized that the Roman Catholic Church was as flawed and marred by sin as the worst sinner, but he still found something comforting and spiritual about visiting. Something about the waxy smell of candles and the glow the stained glass cast on the cold marble interior, made him feel like he was connected to something ancient and holy, something bigger than himself--and in this moment he needed something bigger than himself to help him make sense of this situation. He dipped his hand in the font and crossed himself as he entered, strode to the pews, and genuflected before taking a seat in the middle of the empty church. He rested his forehead on his clasped hands, elbows resting on the back of the pew in front of him, ready to speak to the only one who could listen. The one who knew him best and could help him sort through all the raw emotions that weighed so heavily on him in this moment.

He allowed the tears he’d been holding back to flow freely as he prayed: Lord, please have mercy on my soul for I am a sinner. I thought that you had made her for me, I selfishly thought that we were meant to be together. I tried to be good, I tried to respect and honor her. With her I knew heaven was a thing, I went there when I touched her. Lord, I confess I coveted my neighbor’s wife--well, fiancée if we’re being technical about it--but you of course know these things. I beg you for forgiveness for that, and I’m afraid I am guilty of a bit more than just coveting. Please forgive me for the sins I did not know I was committing. Lord, if you did not make her for me, please, please, take my desire for her from me, I beg of you. I fear even if she is a false god that I am still sorely tempted to worship this love. However, Lord, if you did in fact make her for me, and me for her, as I believe you are good enough to do, please Lord, bring her back to me. Heal her wounds and bring her back to me, I swear to you I’ll care for her, honor her and never let her leave me again. I’ll do whatever it takes Lord, please, just free me from this pain I feel. It’s too much to bear without her.

#lover #false god #outlander #outlander fanfic #outlander fic #outlander fanfiction #jamie fraser #claire beauchamp #jamie x claire #modern au #inspired by taylor swift #angst #i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry

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stixxxy · 3 years

Text

Merry Siegemas All! Day 12.

Sorry for posting so late, but I finally got home- thank you so much to @dualrainbow for allowing me to take part in Day 12 of this fun r6s writing event. :D

And apologies in advance incase there’s any grammar errors- I write and grammar check myself.

Fun Short Story; about 1.5k words.

Promt: Unexpectedly spending the holidays together

——

"You'd recon these people have at least some families for Christmas," James 'Smoke' Porter sighed, rubbing his hands together in trying to warm up to the cold Northern British atmosphere.

The north was never actively warm, which actively meant that late December would (as James would say) cause you to "Freeze your tits off", it got cold and dark quickly with wind and rain but alas no snow, snow was rare to see despite the country's cold atmosphere. It was a few days before Christmas as well; so instead of being home or in the base with friends- Porter, Mark 'Mute' Chandlar, Dominic ‘Bandit’ Brunsmeier, and Sébastien ‘Buck’ Côté had been sent to the Shetland isles in hope that they could work on developing a secret base so to speak just as a last resort. The place wasn't so bad- it was just extremely freezing but at least the town was quite nice. At the centre there were bright lights hanging from the olden wind beating buildings, a large festively decorated tree sat in the opening besides the shore. Moods were high throughout the few townsfolk they saw- 2 days before Christmas always brought either stress or glee, which you clearly could tell by how the people commuted.

"They're terrorists," Mute responded, "they hate happiness. Be thankful we're just sorting out a base."

Mark spoke in a tone that was almost as bitter as the northern air which prickled at James’ skin. ‘Even if the white masks didn’t kill us before we get to the base, the cold sure would have’ the Londoner thought. James didn’t get why they needed yet another base- they already had England and Greece, they were about to colonise an island in north Scotland next. Harry had insisted that the base was meant for training in ‘harsher environments’, and since Russia probably would say no to a military group that wasn’t theirs, the next best thing was Scotland.

“I still think we could have bribed Jordan to come,” The voice of the German operator piped up, as he and their Canadian coworker, Sébastian, jogged up the small hill with their kit.

Smoke turned his head towards the duo approaching, “And have him complaining nonstop?”

“Source of entertainment I call it.”

Buck looked at the three other operators, “what did I do wrong to be picked with you people?”

——

The trip was originally scheduled for the 4 operators to camp overnight, get a feel for the place and then decide whether it would make a decent enough area for training with harsher/colder environments. The harsher and colder had already been challenging before the group even reached their site- there was no denying that fact. Sébastian had been the only one who hadn’t complained yet, that was until a certain shorter than average Brit accidentally got his clothes wet.. which lead to Mark reluctantly lending Buck one of his hoodies. So the trip was going swell.

“If i give you £20 will you let me share your sleeping bag?”

“Piss off.”

After the request, James received an elbow to the his side- a smile growing oh his face but again they returned back to their quiet. Sounds of the ocean they sat lulled the silence, distant talking and cars came and went as the minutes went by.

“How’s lily?” For a change Mark initiated a conversation, putting his phone down on the grass besides him.

James let out a sigh, bringing a hand to go through his hair. He paused.

“I promised her this year I’d be with her for Christmas, like- the whole 2 weeks she gets off,” he started, turned to his hands which he was fiddling with his sleeves with. “I don’t know how Zofia can do it- do this and then be a mother. What kind of parent am I if I barely even see my kid?”

Silence once again filled the air, Mute leaned back- his arms supporting his body as he thought. He was never one for emotional conversations, he could ramble about computer science for hours but the second it gets touchy and feely- his brain shuts off. Mark turned to James who’s face was the opposite of how he usually was, a frown plastered on his lips and his normally bright eyes were tinted dimly.

“I’m sure she understands, it is your job after all. She’s 16; when I w-“

“-She’s not like you Mark,” James snapped, turning to face the younger, “You’re practically a child genius who has no manners socially, Lily’s... you know what the kid’s like.”

James nuzzled his chin into his scarf, in a way to both shut himself off and to try warm himself up before he started to cry and freeze his cheeks off. He never felt homesick, James loved his job, but he just hated that he couldn’t keep a promise.

“At least you’ll be with her for Christmas Day.”

The only response was a small breath and a nod.

——

Sharing a tent with 3 other men was not Sébastians initial plan for Christmas eve’s eve- likewise having to borrow one of the others’ clothes because his own got soaked by a prank. He knew he wouldn’t get to visit home this year but spending Christmas with his friends wasn’t so bad, Sébastian was just lucky he had managed to visit Canada for his birthday a few months prior.

“Fucking freezing out here,” the words of Dominic alerted Séb from his book, a hint of tiredness in his voice.

“It’s not too cold,” Buck smiled, moving in his seat besides the small campfire.

The German scoffed, “because you have a hoodie which is too big, a beanie and gloves. My gloves to be exact.”

“You offered.”

Dominic pushed Sébastian’s beanie over Séb’s face as he walked by to sit on the seat besides his teammate. A small laugh coming from him while he watched the Canadian huff when he reorganised his beanie.

“Before I forget; Harry called- there’s a storm coming to welcome us a merry Christmas,” Séb knew where this was going. Bandit dipped his head and then leaned back, “he thinks we’re going to be stuck here for a few days longer than expected.”

“Typical.”

Dominic kicked his legs up onto the stand besides the fire, “he did say we could stay at a friend of his rather than risk being killed by the high winds of Scotland.”

“How thoughtful.”

It wasn’t long until Mark and James returned, the news hit James hard; being in the middle of nowhere for Christmas was never ideal- at least they weren’t alone in the middle of nowhere.

James sighed, sitting up in his sleeping bag- the wind was already starting to pick up and the rain was battering the tens thin material. Silent breathing from the sleeping people continued, unfazed by the storm brewing. Smoke lay back down, staring at the green above him. Butterflies fluttered around in his stomach- anxiety from both Christmas being the next day and the fact he couldn’t keep a single promise towards his daughter. If only it wasn’t raining he could at least walk the nerves off.

—

“For professionals you all like to sleep in.”

A Scottish man let out a laugh, watching the four Rainbow operators crawl out of the tent in dampened clothes as the tent got ripped after something bumped into it due to the high winds the previous night.

“You try sleeping in a leaking tent,” The pleasant morning voice of Mute spoke, “then we can talk about ‘sleep in’.”

A hearty laugh came from the man, “well if it means anything, I’m sorry about your situation.”

Sébastian stepped up, apologising for the other three’s attitude- making some small chat to the Scottsman who was called Duncan.

—

“Hey Lilypad,” James stood in the hallway- looking around at the tinsel wrapped around the staircase, “so plans changed, I’m sorry.”

“You promised dad-“

“I know.. I know- there’s a storm and the boats been cancelled-“

Dominic appeared from the doorway, “Porter?”

“I’m coming,” James mouthed then turned to the phone,” I’ll hopefully be back for Boxing Day- we can get Gramps and everyone over. I’ll, I’ll make it up to you Lils.”

“It’s... Sorry’s not good enough okay?”

Before he could even mutter another ‘sorry’, the line went dead.

James sat on the staircase, letting his head fall into his hands. It was the one thing he and Lily had been looking forward too, 2 weeks together for Christmas and having the family over; god how he missed his own parents. A person slid down to sit a stair above, resting a comforting hand on James’ shoulder.

“Coming from someone who’s been through the same thing as Lily, she knows it’s not your fault,” the Quebec man let out a small laugh, “of course she’s hurt, but you’re her dad; she loves you and as long as you both have each other- she’ll forgive you. Just let her process.”

James nodded, inhaling a shaky breath. He patted the hand on his shoulder and stood up.

“Let’s make this a good Christmas from what we have,” he turned to Séb who promptly followed him down.

“You gehirnverweigerer! Just tell me what the fucking thing is! The zucker! STOP LAUGHING JUST TELL ME WHAT IT IS!” The voice of a very angry Dominic came from the kitchen.

Buck smiled and wrapped an arm around the English man, “Merry Christmas James.”

“Merry Christmas to you too.”

#Siegemas #Siegemas 2020 #rainbow six siege fanfic #Rainbow Six Siege #Buck r6s #Sebastian Cote #James Porter #Smoke r6s #mark chandar #Mute r6s #dominic brunsmeier #bandit r6s #r6s #r6 fanfic #short story #christmas #christmas short story #christmas fanfic

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beetlebitchywitch · 3 years

Note

Man I love everything about the conglomerate update but I was wondering... could you tell us more about Lag maybe? 🥺👉👈

OhohohoHO, why yes I can!

So, appearance. Lag is a big man. Just, lorge. Zhuk may beat everyone in height, but Lag is just a brick wall of a man. Here’s some art that @sofaabear drew of him just to make it clear how LORGE he is

Lag’s backstory is sorta up in the air. We have a vague idea that he used to work for Juno (whose relation to the dons is constantly changing, we’ll figure it out at some point I promise) and then changed sides when he bonded with Cia with a friendly Scotland vs Ireland rivalry. Now he is basically Cia’s right hand man, helping him run the pub when necessary and taking care of other stuff when needed.

All the dons have some kind of trauma/issue, right? Gio has a monster complex, Zhuk was whacked by another mob and came back as a demon and slaughtered them all, Cia constantly has to fight for his life thanks to his deal with the fae, Bajo’s decades sober from drug addiction, and Scarabee was burned at the stake for witchcraft and watched his lovers die. But Lag? He’s never been through anything quite that severe. So he’s much more jovial than the rest of them, even Bajo and Cia (the typical troublemakers). Constantly making jokes, typically in a good mood, and very difficult to piss off.

Run when you do piss him off though. There is nothing scarier than a drunk Scotsman cursing at you in Gaelic while running you down with a pack of hellhounds.

Oh yeah. So. Lag takes care of a menagerie of mythical creatures/cryptids on the estate property. Unicorns, hellhounds, wyverns, Pegasi, hippogriffs, all that jazz. He genuinely gets so much about of caring for them, and he loves to give you tours and teach you how to make sure they have the best lives possible. It’s truly his passion in life.

As for the other dons: him and Cia are practically like brothers, which means he’s very close to Bajo as well. As stated before, this man is smitten with Scarabee, but is content with being his friend and occasional lover. Zhuk likes him well enough, and Gio...eh. Gio’s difficult to win over sometimes, and isn’t much for joking around, so their personalities kinda clash. But he doesn’t dislike him by any means.

Relationship wise, he is quite the lover. A big ol’ softie, he wants nothing more than to wrap you up in his arms and take care of you. A very selfless partner.

He’s @turtlepated’s favorite. She loves herself the Scottish man.

NSFW INCOMING

A big ol switch. Definitely a soft dom when he tops, telling you how gorgeous you look and how good you’re being and making you feel safe and loved. And a big ol slutty bottom when he subs. Size king for sure, bottoming for Zhuk while getting facefucked by Scarabee is his favorite activity. Will literally pay you to peg him if you don’t have a dick.

The KING of aftercare. You can literally have this man be your mattress after sex. Just let him wrap you up in those big ol man arms and rock you to sleep.

So yeah, that’s Lag! If anyone else from the discord wants to contribute, feel free! @monsterlovinghours @realmonsterboyhours @yankyo @pastelnacht @memedemonhours @ahighwaisted-demon @insomni-snacc

Bonus: here’s art that my partner drew of Zhuk embracing his Slavic energy. The jug is full of Ovaltine.

#beetlejuice #the conglomerate #Zhuk #Lag #conglomerate #Beetlejuice au #mafia!beej au #mafia beej

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softlass27 · 3 years

Text

Flufftober Day 26 – on the road

AO3 link here

The trip to Scotland was Robert’s idea, a little week-long getaway before the craziness of the Christmas season really kicked off. Perhaps it was slightly mad to travel further north in the middle of November, but they’d both agreed there was only so many times they could keep going back to Wales for their mini-breaks.

So Robert booked the hotels, Aaron packed their warmest clothes, and they set off in the car first thing on Monday morning. The plan was to drive up to the Highlands and spend a few days in the tranquility of the Isle of Skye, before coming back down towards Edinburgh and spending the last couple of nights in the city.

That was the plan, anyway. But since Aaron had started complaining about half an hour after they crossed the Scottish border and had barely stopped since, Robert wasn’t entirely sure they were going to make it to their first destination without murdering each other.

“My arse is killing me,” Aaron moaned in the passenger seat, shuffling around uncomfortably. “How long till we hit the next rest stop?”

“About three minutes less than the last time you asked,” Robert replied through gritted teeth.

Aaron huffed and readjusted his legs, crossing them and uncrossing them for the hundredth time. He briefly tapped at his phone, scrolling through his social media before putting it away again.

“Bored.”

“Play a game on your phone or something.”

“I can’t look at my phone anymore, it’s sending me cross-eyed.”

“Look out the window, then.”

Aaron shot him a baffled look. “Sorry, do you think I’m Seb or summat?”

“Well you’re definitely acting like him.” Robert’s grumble was betrayed by the exasperated laugh that escaped his mouth. “We’re in one of the most beautiful parts of the UK – of the world – nothing wrong with taking in the view.”

Aaron rolled his eyes but took Robert’s advice, his head lolling against the seat as he turned to stare at the lush green hills surrounding them.

“Suppose it’s pretty nice.”

“Wow, don’t hurt yourself.”

“Okay, it’s beautiful. Stunning. The most amazing view I’ve ever laid eyes on,” Aaron laughed, eyes widening with exaggeration. “Happy now?”

“Ecstatic.”

They drove in silence for a few moments, until Robert sighed contentedly, eyes scanning over their surroundings.

“Dunno why it’s taken us so long to come to Scotland. I’ve always wanted to see the Highlands.”

“Right,” Aaron said, his face sceptical. “Do you actually mean ‘always’, or do you mean since you got into Outlander?”

“…Both?”

“Which you only started watching ’cos you fancied the posh brunette. Or was it the ginger bloke?”

“Again, both,” Robert said sheepishly, causing Aaron to chuckle. “But the plot’s really good, too!”

“Pfft, no it’s not.” Aaron waved a dismissive hand. “It’s literally the same thing every time you make me watch it – they’re always either shagging or one’s having to rescue the other from being kidnapped or something. And then they shag some more.”

“There’s also a lot of compelling historical drama,” Robert sniffed haughtily. “Maybe it’s not as highbrow as Love Island but – ”

“Oh for God’s sake, it was one episode, Rob, one.”

“One episode that I caught you watching. Who knows how many more?”

“None! I just couldn’t find the remote that time!”

“A likely story. I bet you secretly binge it while I’m out.”

“Piss off.”

They bickered back and forth for a while, Robert laughing at Aaron’s outrage until he spotted a sign a few feet ahead of them.

“Look, next services are only 5 miles away. You can stretch your legs.”

“Oh,” Aaron blinked in surprise. “That was quick.”

Robert hummed and stretched his aching back as best he could in the driver’s seat. Christ, he was getting old.

“I’m glad we’re getting away for a bit,” Aaron sighed, smiling at him. “Spend some time together, just us.”

Aaron always did this when they went away together; even if it was just for a day or two, he had to vocalise how happy he was to be there. Robert sometimes wondered if it was leftover feelings from the early days, when their time together was so limited – when Robert’s time was so limited – and they had to fight for every stolen hour they got.

He took a hand off the steering wheel to wrap it around Aaron’s, squeezing their fingers together.

“Me too.”

#i'm still going lol #robron #my writing #flufftober2020

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normadeathmond · 4 years

Text

the spanish princess ep 3 thoughts

(now with pictures!)

this week was surprisingly silly for an episode named ‘grief’, and indulging in entertainingly dumb historical shenanigans is when this show is at it’s most enjoyable. comments, complaints and lots of poking fun inside.

- i am not the biggest fan of charlotte hope’s performance in this series, but i thought she did good here, showing catherine fighting her grief before putting on a brave face. i do think she would do better in the role if catherine wasn’t written as such a cardboard strong woman™ all the time.

- lmao i love wolsey and how low-key hammy phil cumbus is playing him, you can tell he’s having a whale of a time

- political genius maggie pole, everyone

- love that catherine’s seduction technique is to bring up wolsey, there rlly are three people in this marriage

- what even was that scene - catherine pressuring henry for sex, him calling blow jobs unnatural and then trying wank off to the sight of her neck (was that supposed to be a hint at him beheading his later wives)?? rip to whatever got left on the cutting floor to make room for that nonsense

- blah blah blah the scots are violent and barbaric, lather rinse repeat. i am always distracted by how there is not even one nursery maid in the whole of scotland

- i enjoy catherine dunking on the name barnaby, it deserves it. (surely one of them babies should be named henry after the king?)

- given that there’s a reference later on to thomas more being a great favourite of henry’s, why isn’t he hanging out in these council scenes? i’m sure he can still eyefuck maggie pole while also dispensing sound advice. and is howard just gone forever now? i was hoping he’d stick around as catherine’s begrudging ally

- his smug little face! perfection!

- ursula, possessor of this show’s singular brain cell: marrying for political power and monetary gain? sign me up!

- jokes aside, this was a good scene. i like that ursula isn’t portrayed as greedy, but instead someone who’s realistic about what she wants from life based on her family’s experiences so far, even if she is a little naïve to think money and titles will protect her absolutely. i also liked that maggie’s objections weren’t so much “but twu love!” as much as “but maybe find someone you can stand to be around for twenty years of marriage”

- catherine: i am a political genius also catherine: *can’t keep a straight face in public for two seconds*

- honestly catherine is a real shitty friend. i get that she’s struggling, but calling lina’s kids “ordinary children” like they don’t matter and her bitchy “you’re having a girl” last episode is such mean girl behaviour.

- the great scottish babysitter shortage of 1515 continues

- hahaha of course the one good scot™ is a raging anglophile

- also why is angus being written as such a literal angel? he’s going to have to turn into a prick at some point

- if catherine can hire lina some wet nurses do you think she can throw a few coins meg’s way for a nanny?

- please can all of catherine’s scenes just be her and wolsey cattily sniping at one another

- i really dislike how in order to make catherine seem smart everyone else has to be clueless - first advising maggie pole on how to petition the king like she’s new to court and then being the one to suggest mary pick her second husband. it’s a weak way to prop up an under-written heroine.

- my baby ;_; (georgie really is shining as an actress this season)

- this part was very cute, i like their squabbling childhood friends with secret deep romantic feelings dynamic. i thought we would get more of mary this episode though :(

- the court musician is the babysitter now? pay one female extra to hold the baby, i beg you

- sorry to my girl meg but this speech/sing-a-long was bad. this show is just not good at the rousing speeches.

- guess everyone’s going on a road trip to france! the whole royal fam taking a nice holiday to recently enemy territory seems totally believable!

- seasick wolsey is the highlight of this episode

- maggie: all creatures crave union, there’s nothing fanciful about it ♫ you and me baby ain’t nothing but mammals ♫

- ARE these two gonna fuck?? i genuinely thought it wouldn’t go beyond a lot of angsty longing looks because matthew graham compared their plotline to remains of the day and laura carmichael said something like “it’s the incredibly religious, pious people’s version of a steamy romance”, but uhhh their horny little convo in the coach is starting to make me wonder if thomas more’s cold bed isn’t going to get a little warmer in a few episodes

- also i was hoping more’s marriage would be portrayed as two pals who got married for convenience rather than his wife being painted as a prude who denies him sex

- this dress 😍 also, her face 😍

- i can’t tell if maggie is an impatient idiot or a genius who figured henry would give her everything she wanted out of spite if she said catherine told her he wouldn’t (i give this show too much credit, it’s definitely the former)

- i know groom of the king’s stool is an easy thing to dunk on for a modern audience but the royal arse wiper was a very trusted and intimate friend of the king who commanded a lot of royal favour, so maybe hop off your high horse maggie

- tudor sexpert maggie pole: don’t say yes yet, sweetie, u gotta check if you’re hot for him first ursula: please stop talking

- i hate myself for loving them

- i like that even though compton is an awkward, slightly creepy weirdo, his crush on maggie does seem 100% genuine. i assume he’s going to get entangled in the henry/anne hastings affair next ep and that’ll let maggie wriggle out of the betrothal somehow?

-not this show making me feel sorry for henry. i like that they’re giving him human feelings about the loss of his children and ruairi is giving a great performance.

- this was really the best french accent they could find? but mary attempting death by pillow fight was hilarious

- no one: bessie: your grace, I do believe charlie brandon is truly sex on legs

- lina seems absolutely terrified that she pissed off catherine, a very healthy friendship dynamic there!

- shouldn’t wolsey have a swankier outfit now that he’s an archbishop?

#the spanish princess #apparently i am a wolsey stan now #more of him and catherine going after each other like two drag queens in the interior illusions lounge thnx

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midnightartemis · 3 years

Text

Chapter Two

On A03

TW: Attempted Assault, Abuse, Language

The Past, Time Uncertain

There were two things that I remember about passing through time. The first was the feeling of falling, though I could see nothing around me to signify my fall, just black, murky darkness. The second was the sound, muffled language that passed quickly by me, too fast for me to comprehend what was being said or sung. It was as if I was hearing every snippet of conversation spoken to the rocks since they were first placed there to stand as silent guardians.

My fall was ended suddenly as I hit the ground, dazed and confused. Had I passed out? The sky above me was now dark violet and filled with stars. There was nothing that I could remember that would have caused me to faint, so did someone hit me with something? Had I been robbed? I looked down at my finger to see that my simple wedding band was still there. Where there was once a small diamond, it was now missing. I sat up suddenly and scrambled my fingers through the grass searching for it desperately. The small band with the tiny diamond had been all that Henry could afford on a soldier’s pension. He had always promised to replace it with a bigger, better ring, but I had refused. It was our wedding ring. I didn’t care how much it cost or what it looked like as long as it meant that him and me became a we. But now the diamond was gone.

Did I lose it on the hike up the hill? Or worse, somewhere along the road? Even in the bright light of the full moon, it was hopeless trying to find it. We would have to come back tomorrow and search for it, even if it was so tiny that we would never be able to find it. I had to try. We had to try.

I hurried down the gravelly path, desperately trying to get back to my motorcycle and back home. I didn’t really know what time it was, though if I stopped to stare at the sky, I could probably figure it out. Navigating by the stars had become like second nature to me during the war.

If I hadn’t been so eager to get back home, perhaps I would have noticed that where there once was a fence for the pasture, there was now nothing. And the path that I traveled on was less worn down and muddier than before.

Maybe I would have gone back to the circle to see if I had gone the wrong way. Maybe I would have kept searching for my diamond. Maybe I would have touched the stone once more, and my time trespassing into a different life would have been brief and unnoticed.

My feet raced down the path until it ended suddenly and my confusion began. The road should have been there. My motorcycle should have been not two meters away. I turned around trying to orient myself again. Had I gone down the wrong path? Taken a turn that I hadn’t seen before on my way up?

A gunshot ripped through the air and the ground beside me exploded. My next reactions were ones that had been ingrained in me nearly every day for the last four years. Run. Hide. Cover. No time for thinking. Thinking means death.

My eyes search the skies for bomber planes as I race towards the closest available cover, the thick trees of a heavily wooded area. Had I been in my right mindset, I may have noticed that these trees were much older and thicker than the modern forests of Scotland. But it was hard to think when all I heard were the muffled sounds of gunshots and men’s yells that echoed through the forest. I kept running, kept moving, until the land descended to a stream bathed in moonlight, but otherwise hidden by large juts of rough, mossy stone.

I pressed myself against the rock and tried to calm my breathing. I could still hear the gunshots and yells, but they sounded more like pistols than machine guns. One shot at a time, long pauses between. But the war is done. The war is over. My brain tried to think rationally. I knew that the Scots didn’t really like the English, but much of the tension was between the Irish and the English. And who would call for infighting so soon after the end of the Great War?

None of that much mattered when they were shooting at me. It didn’t matter why if I was just going to get shot anyway and die.

See? Think later. Run. Hide. Cover. I was about to make my move to skirt through the forest and around the edge of Craigh na dun to find my bike and get the hell out of here when I heard the undeniable click of a hammer being pulled back.

“Turn. Slowly.” The voice is rough but oddly familiar.

I slowly raise my hands and turn to face my attacker. The moonlight is faint, but my eyes have adjusted well enough to see the man standing in front of me holding a gun to my head. “Henry? Henry, what the hell?”

He was dressed very strangely in what seemed to be an old British uniform, though this one seemed brand new. His eyes were hard and furious. “What’s an English woman like you doing in the middle of the woods?”

“What do you mean? Henry, what are you playing at? This isn’t funny.”

“Henry? There’s no Henry here. Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in with those Scottish scum,” he eyes me with a leering eye and I slowly take a step back. “Though you are half-naked in strange clothes. Don’t you miss a British man? Refined? Less hairy? Or maybe you prefer wild savagery.”

“Henry, please stop, you’re scaring me.”

“My name is Captain Johnathan Snoke.”

My heart stops completely and my feet turn to run, but he’s on me before I can take a step. He throws me against the ground, and I scrape at the dirt to get away but he’s on top of me and tearing at the top of my pants and there’s a hand on my mouth to keep me from screaming so I scream on the inside. “Prancing around the Queen’s countryside pretending to be a man won't keep you-“

A loud crack above me cuts off his words, and his weight is lifted from me. I don’t have a second to think or breathe before I’m hauled to my feet by a different hand and dragged through the dark forest. I desperately try to pull away from my rescuer, but his hand remains firm around my arm. He’s a giant beside me, nearly seven feet tall, all bushy hair and wild-looking in the dark. He’s not wearing the British uniform, but something darker and more rugged.

“Stop yer fussing if ye don’t want a bullet to your head or a cock in your cunt.”

I freeze, but this only prompts the man to tug me harder along with him. “I’ll scream.”

“Do that and I'll leave ye here for the dogs. Ye come with me quietly and I can at least keep ye safe 'til morning.”

More gunshots ring out in the distance and it takes me an instant to realize that if I am to survive the night and wake up from this nightmare, then I should comply with this beast of a man. I let him lead me through the dark woods which he seems to know like the back of his hand and it isn’t long until we come to a small dark cottage. He opens the door and throws me inside, and I’m suddenly basked in candlelight. A dozen eyes focus on me.

“Who’s this.”

“British lass. Caught her being attacked by none other than Captain Jack.”

“I hope ye sliced his throat for me.”

“No chance.”

My mind is racing to take in the information that is surrounding me. There’s nothing but a group of men, but they’re unlike any men I had ever seen. They seemed to be playing dress-up, wearing knives and swords and pistols and clothes that looked like they were pulled out of a history book and dragged through the mud.

“She could be a spy.” There’s a short, dark-haired man leaning against the wall of the small stone house. He moves in a way that tells me he’s the leader of this lot.

“I’m not a spy,” I say and the reaction in the room tells me that they’re surprised I can even speak. “Did no one tell you that the war is over and it wasn’t against the British?”

A hearty chuckle goes around the room and I’m beginning to move beyond scared and into pissed.

“The war is just beginning, lassie.” Another man chimes in.

The leader of the group sends him a look that could kill and the man immediately shuts up and turns his eyes down. The leader takes a sip of something that I don’t think is water. “Would ye tell us what a young English woman like yourself is doing dressed as a man in the middle of the woods at night in times like these? Speaking to Captain Jack of all people?”

“I wasn’t speaking to him. ” I spit out.

The man’s eyes narrow. “That dinna answer my question, lass.”

“I was at Craigh na dun. I took a wrong path down the hill and before I could trace my steps back, I was shot at. So I ran.”

“Nearest town is more than a fair walk away.”

“I rode.”

“Where’s your horse?”

“My horse? No- I rode a-“

A sharp cry of pain interrupts me and I stop to look at its source. There’s a figure by the fire doubled over in seemingly grand amounts of pain. I watch as the leader goes over to him and touches the figure’s shoulder. The figure winces. In the light, I can see now why he’s in so much pain. Dislocated shoulder.

“Let’s put that back where it belongs.” The leader takes the man’s arm and he groans in pain. He’s doing it wrong. He’s going to-

“Stop!” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. All eyes in the room turn to me, including the man at the fire. His eyes are dark and intense, wet with the pain he’s holding back. “You’re going to injure the tendons and muscles even more. Let me.”

I step forward and am met with a wall of heavily armed men about ready to place their blades in my side. I stop and eye the leader, completely unsure as to why I’m even bothering to help my now kidnappers. “I’ve been trained in first aid. I know how to reset his arm correctly.”

The leader eyes me for a moment then nods. I slowly inch forward until my hands are on the injured man's arm. He groans as I slowly maneuver his arm into the correct position. “I’m going to need you to resist me. Push when I push, okay? I’m not strong enough to do it on my own. And it’s going to hurt. A lot.”

The man says nothing, just quietly nods. I take a deep breath and still myself. “On three. One… two… three…”

I push with all my might and he pushes back, groaning as the joint slips back into place. His dark eyes are watching my every move. “Is there a long bit of cloth for a sling?”

Someone hands me a bit of dirty cloth and I suppose it’s the best we’ve got right now. I fashion him a sling. “Rest your arm for a few days. No strenuous activity or you’ll hurt it further.”

“We’ve best be going. Won’t be long until those bloody bastards find us again.” The leader says and all the men begin to move. I head toward the door ready to make my way through the night and back to the stones to find my bike and get very, very far away from here.

“Where do you think you’re going?” A hand grabs my arm and I yank away. I was getting very tired of strange men grabbing me whenever they pleased.

“Back to Craigh na dun and far away from you lot.”

His eyes narrow and I can tell he doesn’t like my answer. “I think you’re coming with us, lass.”

“Like hell I am.” I spit at his feet and this time blades are actually drawn. The leader of the group just laughs.

“Yer a feisty one,” he chuckles. “Until I get the truth of who ye are and whether or not yer a spy for the British, yer not going anywhere.”

“And what if I chose to go somewhere?”

“Then ye will be forcibly readjusted to the correct course.”

My heart pounds as I stare at the wild men before me. None of this made any sense. My head rebelled at the possible conclusions to this mess that I had already drawn. If that truly was Captain Johnathan Snoke back in those woods and not a horrible prank by my husband, then that meant that I was no longer in the safe hands of 1945. That somehow I had been transported through time to the mid-1700s.

Impossible.

It was all impossible.

My mind clung to the last possible sane explanation, that this was all a strange dream. And soon I would wake up in the too small, too squeaky bed of our bed and breakfast. I would roll over and tell Henry about the strangest dream I just had.

And then I remember that I hadn’t gone back to the bed and breakfast. That this couldn’t be a dream. That this all felt very, very, terrifyingly real.

#reylo #reylo fanfiction #kylo x rey #rey x ben #reylo fanfic #reylo ao3

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cbk1000 · 4 years

Note

Could you give me a list of your top 10 must read books? They don’t have to be your favorites, just books that you think everyone should read in their lifetime at some point (preferably English for right now lol).

Well, I’m gonna’ have to include some Russian books on this list, but I’ll be helpful enough to include suggestions for English translations (though preferences, of course, do vary from person to person, and if a book has a few different translations of it, you should always read some samples and see which you like better; the translation can mean the difference between one of your favorite books, and one you had to slog through).

Without further ado, and not in any particular order:

1. War and Peace: So far I’ve read three translations, and having now read it in Russian as well, my favourite translation is still the Rosemary Edmonds Penguin Classics edition. I know it’s a great big fucking book, and daunting, but I read it in Russian side by side with an English translation to help me with vocabulary when I was only 6 months into learning Russian, so if I can read it twice through simultaneously in two different languages, you can give it a shot once. Tolstoy puts an incredible amount of humanity into his writing. He’s one of my favorite authors of all time.

2. Survival In Auschwitz by Primo Levi: This is actually the first of a trilogy, but it’s not technically necessary to read the rest (though I would suggest it). Primo Levi was an Italian chemist imprisoned in Auschwitz who wrote about his experiences there. It’s a really disturbing examination of humanity and why and how it perpetuates the atrocities it perpetuates.

3. The Gulag Archipelago by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn: Solzhenitsyn was imprisoned in the gulags after slagging off Stalin, and he was PISSED about what he saw and experienced: so pissed he wrote three massive volumes about what a bitchboy Stalin was. There is a one-volume abridgment if you feel light-headed at the idea of three 700+ page books about the Stalinist government. This is another work that forces you to take a good hard look at the human race, and a good hard look at the parts of yourself that are capable, as every human is under the right circumstances, of participating in some of the worst acts of our fucked-up species.

4. The Count of Monte Cristo: Not as literary as the preceding works, but I had a damn good time reading it. I finally just got my dad to read it (by buying him a copy as one of his Christmas presents so he’d feel obligated to give it a shot), and when he finished it he e-mailed me to say he couldn’t believe he’d never read it before and it’s now one of his favorite books. Poison!! Revenge!! Infanticide!! Who said 19th century literature can’t be a sexy, sexy time?

5. The Lymond Chronicles by Dorothy Dunnett: I’m cheating on this one because it’s a series, but more people need to know about Dunnett. This is a six-book historical fiction series set in mid-16th-century Europe as well as the Mediterranean, following one Francis Lymond, a Scottish nobleman who gets himself mixed up in the political shenanigans of the time period. And there were a lot going on, in multiple countries: and this series spans an immense amount of them. Scotland, France, Russia, Turkey--there are some absolutely fucking fantastic set pieces here. Dunnett has some truly stunning prose and is an extremely atmospheric writer; I feel like I can touch and taste her writing. I do think some people will struggle a bit with the first book in the beginning; Lymond likes to speak multiple languages, to quote poetry, make obscure references, etc. etc.; if you feel flummoxed by him, so is everyone around him. I actually think he’s a bit of a twat. This is one of those rare series where I don’t care all that much for the main character, but the supporting characters and plot make up for it. And for the majority of the series, you see Lymond through the eyes of other characters, so I wasn’t oppressively trapped in his head, screaming at him to stop being a whiny bitch. He’s a sort of Byronic hero, so YMMV. 10/10 swashbuckling. There are some action sequences so gripping I became physically angry if interrupted while reading them. Mr. Jenn got ignored quite a lot while I was dipping in and out of this series.

6. The Once and Future King by T.H. White: More than another piece of Arthuriana, this is a touching and even sometimes hilarious examination of war and our propensity for violence. The first book in the collection is whimsical and funny and feels every bit the comfy childhood read that it is: and the next book opens with a cat being boiled, which should tell you something about the tonal shifts the series undergoes as White works his way through the myths. I only read this for the first time a few years ago, and I’ve already read it three times since then. It’s left its mark, needless to say.

7. Les Miserables by Victor Hugo: Another War and Peace, this time with French people. Listen: I know Hugo goes on for much too long about the Parisian sewer system. I know it. But there’s so much soul in this book, and so much compassion, and maybe he did spend too long waffling on about literally everything in the world, but dude did it with a style few people can match. Even in translation this is a gorgeous book. I’ve read it in English and Russian and it’s equally beautiful in both.

8. A Higher Call by Adam Makos: This is a true story about a badly damaged American bomber flying over wartime Germany, and the German Messerschmitt who escorts it to safety. The writing is pretty standard narrative non-fiction: adequate, but you’re not going to get your panties in a luscious twist over any of Makso’ sentences. But it is truly a gripping story, and a moment of incredible humanity amidst so much inhumanity.

9. The Children’s Book by A.S. Byatt: The author uses fairytales and the power that stories have over us to examine society as it careened toward WWI. I forced myself to slow down while I was reading this book because I wanted so badly to savor it. It’s an evocative look at how stories (fairytales, in this case) can be both an escape when we need it and an excuse when reality needs us.

10. Schindler’s List by Thomas Keneally Not just an example of someone doing the right thing when so many people wouldn’t, but an example of an imperfect human doing the right thing when so many people wouldn’t. Schindler was a chain-smoking heavy drinker with a wife, a mistress, and a girlfriend who risked his life to keep Jews from the concentration camps. It’s important to know that just as all the people who contributed to the atrocities of the Holocaust were not soulless monsters, and therefore could have been any one of us, so too were its heroes not all paragons of virtue. There is the capacity for kindness and violence in all of us.

Thanks for the question, come back any time to talk about books!!

#books #jenn reads

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calamitascalliope · 4 years

Text

Vriska and Rose=====>Make Them Pay

My submission for @ladystuck2020, written for @haruspeks. You can also find it on Ao3 here. Enjoy!

From the day she was born, everyone knew Rose Lalonde was a peculiar child.

Most children, when brought into this world, scream and cry and generally make a huge fuss about things. Rose, on the other hand, made not a single sound as the doctor brought her out into the light. No screaming. No wriggling. Nothing.

It was so alarming that Rose was immediately placed into intensive care, fearing that her lungs had not developed properly. But after multiple tests and several weeks of head scratching it was discovered that no, Rose was perfectly healthy in every way. Aside from the strange fact that she never cried.

While this certainly made her mother’s life easier, a poor woman who was woefully unprepared for raising a child, it lead to a lot of concern as this pattern continued into Rose’s older years. When she began eating baby food, she never made a mess of things. When she fell over while learning to walk she shed not a single tear. When she became a toddler, she never threw a single temper tantrum.

On paper, Rose would seem like a perfect child. A child who never fussed? What more could a new parent ask for! In practice however, Rose was exceptionally unnerving.

It was on Rose’s thirteenth birthday that her existence took a turn from unnerving to terrifying.

It had been a small affair. Some family had been invited, but all that really amounted to was her uncle Dirk and cousin Dave. Dave was what you would expect from a thirteenth year old boy. Loud, full of energy, and never staying in one place for too long. He was everything Rose was not.

As Dave tore a path through the living room, playing with a small toy bird he had brought with him, Rose sat delicately at the table, taking careful bites of her cake. Rose’s mother was chatting with Dirk on the couch, with Dirk having to occasionally tell Dave to not try and jump off of high places. It was a rather peaceful scene.

Until Rose was lying on the floor, completely unresponsive.

One panicked rush to the hospital later, and Rose was in a hospital bed, dozens of monitors hooked up to her small body. Her heart monitor was the chief among them. Every so often, her heartbeat would begin to beat sporadically, nearly tripling in speed for less than a second before returning to normal. It had been decided that these palpitations were what caused her fainting spell, but they were still trying to figure out why they were happening.

After a tense couple of hours filled with tests, tears, and nervous pacing, Rose opened her eyes and did something she had never done in her thirteen years of life.

She screamed.

Rose screamed with a fury far beyond her age, and began to violently try and tear apart the many apardi that was attached to her body. A panicked nurse rushed over to try and calm her down, to tell her she was safe, but Rose snapped at the woman like a mad dog. When the nurse tried to approach her again Rose kicked her in the stomach causing her to stumble backwards, doubled over in pain.

Rose’s heart rate, obviously high due to her sudden physical exertion, spiked higher than it had ever gone. Rose fell back in her bed, going unconscious once more.

After that they got permission from Rose’s mother to strap her down.

When Rose next awoke, she was her usual self. Confused at her location, but nowhere near the violent state she had exhibited earlier. A few doctors spoke with her, asking if she was okay and if she was calm. Asking how she felt. Asking why she attacked that nurse. Rose answered all the questions with her usual calm demeanor. All except the last one. To that question she simply gave a confused look, and said that she did not remember that happening.

The doctors were stumped, but Rose seemed to be doing fine. The palpitations had stopped, and while her behavior was not normal by any stretch of the word, she was her usual self once more. Rose was prescribed some medication that would hopefully stop this from happening again, and she was to make regular checkups to ensure that she was doing well.

Exhausted, Rose’s mother took her straight home. She held her daughter tight, trying her best to ignore how detached and cold Rose felt in her arms. She eventually fell asleep, but Rose did not. When her mother’s breathing leveled out, Rose carefully slipped out of her grasp. She planned to head to the kitchen to find a snack, but her plans were put on hold when she saw something that would change her life forever.

Floating lazily near to the ground was a small girl. Well, girl would not be the proper term. Sure she was small, and sure she had a messy tangle of long hair, but no one who saw this thing would describe her as just a girl.

Her skin was a mottled grey, flaky and ashen. She looked as if she was a snowman made of ashes. Her tangled hair was not just dark, it was the color of the blank night sky. The color of nothing. Sprouting from between her impossibly colored hair was a pair of brightly colored horns that clashed heavily with the darker tones of the rest of her body.

She had eight eyes, but they were not arranged in the way a spider’s were. Two of her eyes were in the places one would expect them to be, and the remaining six were placed in a circle around her left eye. The sclera of her eyes was not the typical white, but instead a bright orange, and her iris seemed to be missing in its entirety. Her pupils were slits, much like that of a reptile, and all eight of them were darting around the room sporadically.

Rose stared at this strange figure for several seconds, and a few moments later the figure took notice of Rose’s attention. She gave a cautionary glance behind herself, before turning back to Rose.

“You can see me?”

The creature’s voice was deep, and had a chittering to it that Rose could not fully understand. A good comparison would be trying to understand someone with a heavy Scottish accent when you have never heard of Scotland in your entire life.

“Yes.” Rose said, a bit hesitant. “Who are you?”

“Vriska. I think. How did I get here?”

“I’m not sure. Um, give me a second.” Rose turned towards her mother, and gently shook her awake. “Mom?”

“Oh, uh, yeah?” Rose’s mother woke up with a start, looking dreary eyed around the room. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Do you see that weird grey girl?” Rose asked, and could immediately tell by the lost expression on her face that the answer was no.

“What do you mean Rose?”

“It was nothing, just a, uh, dream I had.” Rose assured her, and within a few moments her mother passed out once more. Rose turned back to face the strange girl, Vriska apparently, who was nodding.

“So only you can see me. I guess. That is real fucking weird.”

“Your flippant use of crude language is....Interesting. Although not surprising given your situation. ” Rose spoke with the voice of a sixty year old woman, and Vriska scoffed at it.

“And who’s gonna fucking st8p me? You’re the 8nly one who can see and hear me, so try it 8itch.”

“How did you say the eight with your mouth.”

“Fuck y8u that’s h8w.”

Rose paused, her rational mind slowly turning to try and fully comprehend this situation and figure out the best way forward.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be antagonistic.” Rose said. “It has been a weird day for me, and I’m assuming it has been a weird one for you to.”

“That is putting it lightly.” Vriska’s words still carried a sharp tone, but Rose could tell that she was settling down a bit.

“I know your name, it is only fitting you know mine. I’m Rose Lalonde.”

“That’s a pretty long name if you ask me.”

“Well, it is usually just Rose. Lalonde is my last name.”

“What’s that?”

“Well,” Rose was prepared to go into a long winded history lesson on the use of last names in ancient times, but she figured that she had better things to do. “Never mind. So….What exactly are you?”

To that Rose received a lazy shrug from Vriska.

“Hell if I know. All I know was that I woke up inside of a tiny pink monkey’s 8ody and I felt extremely pissed a8out the whole thing. Then I passed out again and woke up here, talking to you.”

“So you have no memories about why you are here? None at all?”

“There is nothing 8ut my own name in my head.” Vriska said. “That and a lot of anger, 8ut I’m not exactly sure what I’m angry at. As we’ve been talking its been going away though so now it really is just my name.”

“Can you….Do anything?” Rose asked, and upon realizing the vagueness of her question she clarified. “I mean we know that no one can see you except for me, but can you interact with the world around you?”

“Dunno.” Vriska contemplated for a moment, and then reached down to try and pick up a toy bird Dave had left behind in the panic after the party. Her hand phased right through it, but the toy trembled slightly. Almost as if it had been blown by a slight breeze. “I guess the answer to that question is kinda 8ut not really.”

“To be perfectly honest, I am not entirely convinced that I’m not hallucinating right now.” Rose said. “I have just undergone an extremely traumatizing experience, my brain playing tricks on me should almost be expected.”

“Well I am very much real, 8ut I have no clue how I could possi8ly convince you. I can’t touch anything, and….” Vriska paused for a moment, her eight dark eyes focusing on Rose much in the way a cat does when it is preparing to pounce.

Vriska pounced.

Rose jumped at the sudden movement, and was doubly shocked when she felt her . Vriska’s body crashed into Rose’s, toppling them both to the ground.

“Okay! You’re real! Get off!” Rose said, but Vriska did not seem to be listening to her. Vriska’s eyes were still massive, all eight of them looking directly at Rose’s chest. Vriska raised one clawed hand, flexing her fingers before burying them into Rose’s chest.

There was no blood, there wasn’t even a wound, but Rose felt Vriska’s sharp nails burrow into her chest. Rose screamed, thrashing about to try and get Vriska off of her, but it was no use. While Vriska seemed capable of attacking her, Rose’s own blows passed right through Vriska.

The screaming did alert Rose’s mother. The poor woman woke up with a start to see her small daughter screaming her head off and flailing about the floor for no apparent reason.

Meanwhile, from Rose’s perspective, Vriska was still tearing into her chest. The pain was gradually growing unbearable, and Rose was beginning to feel the room spinning around her as she grew faint. She was on the edge of losing herself once again when she felt her hand wrap around something solid.

No, wait. That wasn’t her hand. That was Vriska’s hand. Vriska’s hand had wrapped around something solid. Why had Vriska felt Rose’s hand?

Rose wasn’t in her living room anymore. She was weightless, floating in an empty abyss. She couldn’t feel anything, anything aside from the rhythmic pumping of Vriska’s own heart.

No, not Vriska’s heart. HER heart. Why did Vriska keep doing that?

No, she’s not Vriska, she’s Rose. Why was her mind all over the place, where-

The dark void around Vriska lit up into a brilliant gold, blinding Rose’s eight eyes. She saw a sigil, burnt onto the bottoms of her eyelids. A small sun. It was everywhere she looked. She could close her eyes for hours on end, but Rose could not escape it. It pulsated in time with her heartbeat, with their heartbeat.

Vriska and Rose woke up in Rose’s room, already tucked into her bed. It was dark, the small digital clock on the nightstand reading eight pm.

“What….What happened?” Rose mumbled, holding her head. It felt as though someone had smashed her head in with a hammer.

“I’m not sure.” The voice came out of Rose’s mouth, but Rose was not the one who controlled it. “Something in my head clicked and I just acted on instinct.”

“Vriska? Is that you?”

“Yeah. Not sure how 8ut now I’m, like, a part of you.”

“Why’d you do that?!”

“I dunno! Like I said, something just clicked in my head and I lost control.”

Rose swung her feet off the edge of the bed, and was about to stand up when the same sun sigil flashed into view. Rose her own body stand up from the bed as she was about to, and saw her foot get punctured by a knitting needle that had been thrown onto the floor.

Rose was suddenly sitting back in her bed, just about to stand up. Taking a moment, she peered down onto the floor and sure enough a knitting needle was lying there on the ground ready to stab her in the foot.

“Tell me you saw that too.” Rose asked.

“Uh, yeah? It would have 8een pretty hard not to.”

“Did we just see the future?”

“I think a more correct way of putting it is we saw what could have 8een the future, and then we changed it.”

“Were you able to do that before? Was that just a thing you could just do?”

“No! At least, I don’t think so, I,”

Vriska was interrupted by another vision, this time showing Rose’s mother walking into the room. As soon as it ended Rose leapt back into bed and pretended to sleep, getting into position just before the door opened.

Rose held still as her mother walked into the room, and gentle tousled Rose’s hair. She had likely heard Vriska and her talking before, and came in to check on them. Or, to check on her. Rose specifically. She didn’t stay long though, and before long Rose and Vriska were alone again.

“So what now?” Rose questioned, her voice in a low whisper. “We are now two people squished into a thirteen year old body, and we can sometimes see the future.”

“What’s a year?”

“Will this ever stop?” Rose ignored Vriska, continuing with her worrying. “Are we just stuck together forever? How did this happen? Why did this happen?”

“Okay, I think you are starting to panic. I can tell because it's starting to ru8 off on me. Come on, this isn’t the worst thing in the world.”

“And why not?”

“Well, for one you’ve got some gr8 company with me whenever you want it,”

“Oh, what a relief!” Rose rolled her eyes.

“And two, you can see the future! Sometimes. How cool is that!”

Rose let out a yawn, and started to feel her body grow weary. Despite all the sleep she had gotten in the last twenty-four hours, her body was still begging for more time to rest.

“We can figure this out another time.” Rose mumbled, already feeling her consciousness fade. “Another….Time….”

The following day was school. Rose’s mother tried to insist that she stay home, but Rose wanted nothing more than a sense of normalcy to return to her life. She managed to convince her mother that she was completely fine, and that she just wanted to see her friends at school. It was this last part that convinced her mother to allow it. She had always been concerned about Rose making friends, and was worried that Rose was going through her schooldays sitting alone and silent. She was right to worry because that was exactly what Rose had been doing.

As they had been preparing for leaving the house, Rose ran Vriska through a few ground rules. Vriska was not to speak unless the two of them were definitely alone. Rose was going to handle all of the talking. Vriska found the rules annoying, and a lot of complaining and grumbling came from her, but she eventually promised to keep her mouth shut.

Rose sat in her usual seat on the bus. Three rows up from the back on the right side. It was snowing out, and Rose was sweltering in her oversized sweater due to the constantly humming heater just below her feet. Rose tried her best to deal with it as she watched out the window at the slowly falling flakes.

That was until her eyes flashed with another vision.

This one was short, less than a second in length, and by the time she processed what it had shown her the small wad of paper had already smacked her in the face.

It wasn’t painful, but it was extremely surprising. It probably wouldn’t have been that bad if she hadn’t been disorientated by her powers flicking on. Rose looked up to see a small group of boys giggling and holding an open notebook, a page evidently torn out.

Rose rolled her eyes and turned back to the window, but Vriska butted in.

“What the fuck are y8u d8ing?” She asked, having the courtesy to at least keep her voice at a low whisper. “Get them 8ack!”

“It doesn’t matter. If I give them attention they’ll never let up.”

“N8, if you don’t do anything it’ll show them that they can walk all over you. Then they’ll never let up.”

“That’s not,”

Another wad of paper pelted her in the face. Rose tensed, and then sighed.

“This isn’t worth it.”

“It most definetly fucking is!” Rose could see the boys preparing another wad of paper out of the corner of her eyes. As she saw them prepare to toss it she could feel her heart racing in her chest, her muscles tightening as the sigil of light flashed in her eyes.

“ M a k e t h e m p a y .”

The sigil flashed brilliantly, and a lot of things happened at once. The boy preparing the wad of paper, a wiry kid with red hair, managed to give himself a papercut, and a pretty severe one at that. His finger began to bleed quite a bit, and his two friends pulled away from him to avoid getting it on their clothes. As this happened, the boy closest to the wall, a larger boy that Rose knew was on the school’s soccer team, placed his hand near the window of the bus. The bus hit a massive pothole at this moment causing the boy in the middle to bounce upwards and hit his head on the ceiling, and the window came undone and flew downwards, crushing the larger boy’s finger beneath it.

The bus driver noticed all of this sudden commotion due to the screaming of all three boys, and he pulled over quickly. He grabbed the first aid kit and ran to get them some help. All the while Rose sat in her chair, taking deep breaths as her heart rate returned to normal.

“Did….Did we do that?”

“I don’t….know.” Vriska mused. “It certainly felt like we did something. What are the odds all of that happened on its own? Right as we were freaking out and seeing shit?”

Rose looked around the bus. Everyone was either minding their own business with various projects or looking at the three injured boys. Everyone except for one person. A young girl with long, extremely curly hair and brilliant green eyes behind round glasses. This girl, despite all of the chaos, despite being able to do literally anything else, was looking directly at Rose. It was unnerving, and Rose looked away from her as soon as she was able.

“That girl….”

“What the fuck are you worried about? How could anyone possi8ly connect anything that happened back to us? 8esides, they had it coming.”

Rose sat in silence as the bus resumed moving, heading towards the school. Thoughts of the new power she wielded swirling through her mind, and the potential they could have going forward. While Rose sat in silence, thinking solemnly about the potential these new developments provided, Vriska did not work like that.

“Think about what we can do with this! We can get 8ack at anyone we want and there is no way we could ever be caught and punished for it! We could predict what people are going to do! Rose….With this power we could be gods.”

Rose could not see Vriska, but she could picture her smiling deviously at that. That was probably because she was also smiling at the prospect.

#2020 ladystuck #haruspeks #homestuck #rose lalonde #vriska serket #janethegaygal

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softschofield · 4 years

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parry/rossi, though!!!

like, rossi’s group, under his leadership, is functional, settled, comfortable enough with where they stand with each other and where they all stand with rossi, and assured enough of the love and care they all feel for each other, to be fundamentally calm and relaxed, even if they’re fully feral and shit-talking on the surface. rossi watches over them with jondalar, and all is safe, and all is calm, all is serene, or as serene as it can be with cooke at the core of it. as the eldest brother of a house full of younger siblings, rossi takes that responsibility both naturally and seriously.

and then there’s parry and atkins - and while everyone in rossi’s group defers to him as the leader and doesn’t try to take the piss out of him too much, parry, coming and going at the fringes, knows no such fear of god. and he’s just fucking feral. he’s the boss of his little duo and they just flit around the different groups in the battalion, eating dinner with one of them one night, another one another night, and then just disappearing again to enact schemes and loot old shops and lurk in the shadows and do whatever it is the fuck those two do, no one really knows and quite frankly, everybody’s a bit too scared of parry to ask. there’s a rumour going around that more than once, parry has managed to get the two of them away from the frontlines before a battle so they can pilfer the officers’ dug-outs instead. he sometimes resurfaces with atkins after a few days with their arms full of fresh, still-warm bread and fruit straight from an orchard, even when there isn’t an orchard around for miles.

point is, parry is the worcestershire’s little god of chaos. parry would run through the german guns at foy. but it wouldn’t be because he’s a hero, it would be because someone was trying to get the souvenir he’d had his eyes on and he just went full feral. he’d go from happily eating dinner to rugby tackling some innocent guy for some reason that only parry understands. and the thing is, he’s mostly quiet, and very often soft and gentle and sweet and compassionate, and that just sort of adds to this mysterious legend of this chaotic, manic, strangely charismatic little guy with an unbelievable capacity for violence and a sly, fearless sense of humour.

and so, when parry resurfaces with atkins trailing behind like an obedient dog and chooses the convoy boys for his group of the day, he’s rossi’s equal by default and no one knows what that means for them - because, can they take the piss out of parry? it’s like the boss of a rival gang just waltzing in and making himself at home - what the fuck does that mean for them and their understood hierarchy??

but parry mainly only speaks to rossi, anyway - and he’s all calm, dead-eyed snarkiness to parry’s flattery and chaos, and he never lets him get a rise out of him, much as parry tries to scope out rossi’s boundaries. and parry’s fascinated by him, by his care for these misfits he’s taken under his wing, by all their relationships with him. and his flirting isn’t subtle but rossi never responds in the way parry is clearly trying to get him to, aside from little crooked smiles and quietly amused glances out of the corner of his eye at parry’s grins. so, of course, that just makes him even more of a challenge for parry - and parry plays dirty.

and somewhere along the way rossi genuinely catches feelings and falls for him, but by that point parry has already slept his way through like, all of the group (which also creates drama between cooke and malky when parry pairs up with cooke, WE LOVE TO SEE IT), and rossi is left pining and quietly hurt, but it’s lowkey and scottish and he’s made of stronger stuuf, so he’s able to just sort of brush it off like ‘ah well, i’m a little fucked’ and get on with things. and every once in a while parry pops back in to see if rossi has changed his mind and is ready to fall for him yet, but it’s always the same hooded-eyed aloofness and snarky smile - because now it’s a matter of personal pride and not letting him see that he’s gotten to him, so he’ll take these feelings to the grave just to spite him.

and then the war ends, and he’s left with all these unresolved emotions. back at home in scotland, not knowing where parry is or what’s happened to him or if he’s been able to settle back into civilian life, he finds himself missing him more and more, finds himself dwelling more and more on all his good points, on his gentleness and his compassion, because parry really is so fundamentally kind. and when scho comes to stay with him and they kiss, rossi is still deep in that yearning for parry aesthetic and it just makes him miss him more.

and then maybe they find each other again, maybe they don’t and rossi is just left with all these feelings and no where to put them.

but in modern aus they absolutely end of together and parry is even more chaotic and dreadful - like, cooke is intimidated by him, it’s at that level - and they dance around each other in this like, three-year-long courtship of advances and rebuffs and glances and sarcasm and deadpan comments, but eventually they get together and they’re an iconic couple and i love them!!!!!!

#me: *is utterly committed to parry being chaotic despite the fact he's lovely and quiet in the film*#me: *actually uses the term 'scottish pining' because it fucking makes sense you cowards mwah*#1917 #mine #parry is actually pools by glass animals 'i'm a man of many tricks and tools and toys'#we love him we love to see it #i also love that my take on chaotic parry has been picked up by so many people in this community?? i love that so much #every time i see someone mentioning his chaotic energy i'm like :') so proud

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