#tales of the tartan
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What the Tartan Tells Us
Or, Tales from the Tartan
(I wanted both titles!)
Updated 10 Nov 2023
I've been reading up a bit about tartan today to what it can tell us, and it seems its not too hard to do. The clues are more in the colours, and the overall pattern, there aren't any particularly rigid rules that need to be stuck to.
For the colour analysis, I'll be referring to my recent colour meta All the Colours of the GO Rainbow for interpretation. I need to tweak the interpretation for red on it, though, based on what I'm seeing here, and some other information I just got. That's OK, red and yellow are the two hardest colours to pin down, they are quite complex in their meaning and perhaps not what you expected them to be, and I expect that it will be a meta that evolves a bit over time anyway.
So for a warm up, let's start with the tartan blanket Aziraphale provides to cover the naked Gabriel on the first day he arrives at the book shop.
Lets lists the colours we can see:
White - for his base angelic nature that is showing since he misplaced his memory.
Oystershell gray - for his high angelic ranking as Supreme Archangel Gabriel.
Teal* - Blue mixed with green, Heaven mixed Hell, Lawful mixed with Chaos; which is one of Aziraphale's signature colours.
Black - that hint of a mystery in play. What is being hidden?
Dark Gray - the thick cross stripes, which are interesting. "Shades of gray" are something we associate with Aziraphale and Crowley. That's the world they walk in on Earth together, where their two sides blend together. Another hint that Gabriel was starting to see something else than the one-sided thinking of Heaven?
[*I've bounced around a bit on this colour while writing this, but I'm going back to my original thoughts on it. It's not Heaven blue, its tainted with green, and its the same colour Saraqael and Muriel wear (see below) so its something else.]
Next, let's look at Aziraphale's own tartan. We mainly see it in his bow tie, but it also appears on the bike rack he miracles onto the Bentley when they give Anathema a lift back to Jasmine Cottage in S1E2. I'm going to use the examples from this older post by bluebandedagate back in 2019 called A Discourse on Tartan, as they make it quite clear, and when I looked at it closely again after doing my colour meta I actually gasped. Because it tells us there is very little of Heaven left in Aziraphale, despite what he openly says, and one other very revealing fact.
Here is the tartan swatch. It's called "Heaven's Dress Tartan," despite there being next to no Heaven in it.
For a start, there is no white base, which we night expect with an angel. Its all been removed.
We have a beige base instead, which is one of the working angel colours, probably there as part of his Earthly duties.
There are some wider dark gray stripes. My interpretation here is this is the work of Crowley, who has made him question the morality of Heaven over time - the shades of gray.
Then we get the thin black stripes - the mystery of his unpredictable nature. You never quite know what he's going to do next... Plus the constant effort to hide what he is doing with Crowley.
And finally the red. Red is never a colour associated directly to angels in the present day, so it can only mean one thing - a declaration of his bond to the one who does wear that particular shade of red - Crowley.
Red is not necessarily a demonic colour per se, its more a colour of devoted passion. Shax also wears red, usually a darker red, and she is devoted to climbing the ranks of power in Hell with a passion. And the Red Team in the paintball battle at Tadfield Manor represented the faction devoted to management and following the rules.
The other noticeable thing about Aziraphale's tartan is the tightness and intensity of the pattern. The stripes are quite thin and they repeat often.
Saraqael's tartan is:
Purple, for royalty. they rank high, somehow, or they're aligned with Gabriel's office.
Oyster-shell gray, for the Archangels.
A pinstripe of primary blue, for Heaven.
White for angels
A wide stripe of dark gray (on the collar.)
Wow. That's some heavy hitting in combinations of colours there. We've recognized them as one of the "dark horses" in the series, and their Tactical Turtleneck backs up the idea that they are now involved with surveillance and spy work in Heaven (eh, they were certainly watching and spying on Crowley and Muriel during their little jaunt in Heaven in S2E6. And I sooo wish I could get a good look at their ring, but there just isn't high enough resolution to do so.)
Muriel's tartan is very similar to Saraqael's but has a pattern with a teal theme in it as well. It's a bit hard to tell the shade of blue-green here, but a closer look at Saraqael's trouser leg reveals all the colours in their tartan displayed in a strip down the outside seam. Purple and silver-gray dominate, but the teal-blue pops out as well. It looks very similar to the shade of teal in Jimbriel's blanket above. Yep, a dark horse, indeed. I wouldn't trust Saraqael, if I were you.
There is some question as to whether Muriel reports directly to Saraqael, but I am wondering if this marks them as one Saraqael has to keep their eyes on as well - because of something that happened in the past. How does one become a lowly 37th ranked scrivener? I mean, c'mon, doesn't that just sound...ridiculous? What did they do to get demoted so far down? And how many others were demoted before them? Questions for another day, perhaps.
Edit: I missed this example in my original post - Jimbriel wearing a dressing gown with a similar tartan to Saraqael and Muriel. This occurs right at the beginning of S2E3, if you are looking for it. It's all the same colours - royal purple, archangel silver-gray, white but also a cross stripe of black and a wider cross stripe of dark gray. He only wears it in this one upstairs shot. There is some metaphorical context here - Jim is looking out and down over the "Outside" as everyone moves about on Whickber street below, much like an angel looking down from Heaven at humans moving about on Earth (yes, you should think about the upper level of the bookshop as corresponding to Heaven...it is "upstairs" after all.)
The other tartan I saw was on the kilts of the angelic soldiers behind the quartermaster in S1E5, when Aziraphale has discorporated in the portal and gone up to Heaven. The tartan there is just in two to three different shade of working-angel beige and off-white, in big wide stripes. Fairly ordinary, run-of-mill stuff. Rank and file, if you will.
I couldn't get a good look at the colours of the tartan on the thermos of holy water Aziraphale gives Crowley in S1. When you enlarge the images they go a bit blurry as they are not high-def enough. I can't tell if its green or gray stripes running vertically, and if the horizontal ones are black or red, or both. If so, that's an interesting colour choice for Aziraphale to give to Crowley, and it's certainly not the same pattern as his bow tie. I could understand if it was just a wider pattern of the beige-grey-black-red. If anyone can help out I'll update with a description and analysis.
#good omens#good omens 2#aziraphale#crowley#good omens meta#good omens analysis#celestial tartan#tales of the tartan#color theory#color meta#muriel#saraqael#gabriel
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Royal Stewart lace cross OP, Summer Tales Boutique
#summer tales boutique#onepiece#western indie brand#gothic lolita#lolita fashion#egl fashion#oldschool lolita#tartan lolita#kawaii#harajuku fashion#jfashion
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Peter Anderson: Hi, my name is Peter Anderson. I'm from Peter Anderson Studio and we created the title sequence to Good Omens Season Two. So this scene is quite literally a continuation from Season One.
An interesting detail with this scene is the fly. The fly is significant because it stores Gabriel's memory.
Gabriel is hidden in every scene. This is the first time we see it.
This goat is half bird, half goat, representing a mistake in a moment of transformation.
In the pickled herring barrel, we have literally red herrings sticking out.
A lot of the gravestones have hidden engravings, easter eggs, all written by Neil.
[This one says: HERE LIES THE FORMER SHELL OF BEELZEBUB referncing Beelzebub having a new face in S2 :), another ones are: EVERYDAY, JANE AUSTEN, Here lies ADAM (the Adam from Adam and Eve is meant)]
Another hidden Gabriel.
Our same character that was trying to escape Hell in Season One titles is also trying to escape here, moving in the opposite direction to the rest of the procession. Except this time he's apprehended and dragged back into the procession.
Our Hell spider from episode four makes a little appearance in the background here.
Can you tell where the bus is going? Director Douglas McKinnon selected Powell and Pressburger's Stairway to Heaven to put on the billboard.
Another thing to note here is the type is all handmade specifically for Good Omens. The Alphabet only exists within the show.
The big floating turnip is a nod to Azirafel's magic tricks.
The Ladies of Camelot poster we pulled from the show.
We added plaques to the back of the chairs and Neil chose who to honour.
[There are: A TALE OF TWO CITIES by CHARLES DICKENS, PRIDE AND PREJUDICE by JANE AUSTEN, THE CROW ROAD by IAIN BANKS (twice!) and GOOD OMENS by TERRY PRATCHETT (Neil missing for some reason :) <3)]
Saraqael made an appearance from Heaven.
Our Space is back from Season One. Aziraphale and Crowley are having a little dance here. A moment of flirtation. There's a tiny planet in the middle that comes into existence at this moment.
Our Scottish tartan hills make an appearance here.
The aeroplane and the airline is a little bit of a clue here.
[THY KINGDOM AIRWAYS 👀]
It's raining love hearts in reference to Aziraphale's attempt at making Maggie and Nina fall in love.
Here are elevators to Heaven and Hell. A wee thing to spot. Here is Gabriel in the lift arriving from Heaven.
We've updated our flags to reference some of the plotlines in Season Two. For example, The Second Coming.
The movie poster artwork changes every week, representing the episode plotlines and the minisodes. We made the posters to look like the time period and in this case we've got a Good Omens version of Buddy Holly.
[The posters are:]
In the snack bar some of our popcorn is actually communion wafers.
There are specific characters from Season One in the boxes watching the movie as the procession goes by. This includes some of our original concept art from Season One.
The duck playing the accordion is from a newspaper headline that someone is reading in The Dirty Donkey from one of the episodes.
[this is also from the Good Omens book :): "Daily Mail. 'Letter From America.' Um, August the third," said Newt. "Just after the story about the woman in Worms, Nebraska, who taught her duck to play the accordion."]
Each episode is showing a new movie on the screen, each one selected by Douglas, and has clues about what's to come.
The season one phone box tumbles in the background.
The big mountain is made of all the ingredients from Season Two and a couple of remnants from Season One. We are heading towards the biggest Easter Egg, which is the lift. We're heading towards the Second Coming..
#good omens#perer anderson#peter anderson studio#bts#opening title#s2 opening title#fun fact#second coming#kingdom thy airways#duck playing accordion#videos#bts videos#easter eggs
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CONSUMED by dadsbestfriend!Price rn
He and your dad served together when they were both younger men, boys really, and they fought side by side for years before your dad packed all that in and decided not to renew his contract - leaving for a white picket fence life with your mum and you
You’ve never gotten to meet him before, but you feel like you kind of know him anyways because of the stories you’ve grown up hearing. He’s always been like a kind of figment of your imagination, someone your dads always spoken highly of in all of his tales from drunken weekends and adrenaline spiked firefights, he’s like some kind of mythic hero haloed in beer fumes and musing looks that get shut down when your mum asks if they both got themselves into any trouble on their latest gambit
Sure, you’ve seen pictures, you know what his face looks like, vaguely anyways. Apparently he has mutton chops now, something your dad is ‘always shocked by’ when they meet up now. However the pictures don’t do him justice. You realise that quickly after you do lay eyes on him.
You go over to your parents house, summoned for an early birthday dinner for your dad, and that’s when you see him. The man, the myth, the legend is cosied up on your usual spot on the corner couch, at the end of the short side with the chunky red tartan pillow barricading the hard brown couch arm. He turns when he sees you staring directly at him, meeting your gaze with a raised eyebrow.
The pictures didn’t really encapsulate how big he was, how broad his shoulders were as they took up an expanse of the chair back, how expressive his eyes were as they rover over you, how nauseatingly good he looked when ripped out of the confines of ink and paper and pressed into the lumpy old sofa you’d never been so needy to jump onto before.
Every little overworked neuron in your mind was busy exploding while you pictured tugging on his hair and beard and moaning out filthy things for him.
“You must be the kid,” Price observes, not knowing how much it would sting you, “how’s the head?”
If you weren’t aware of how childish it would be you’d huff that you were far from being a kid anymore.
“How’s my what?” Part of you wants to quip back that it’s ‘great- it comes recommended’ but then the sane part of you kicks in and thinks ‘perhaps don’t get yourself kicked out just as you’ve gotten in the door’
“Your dad showed me that charming little photo you stuck in the family group chat from the party last night. Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree by the looks of it.”
Your face would flame up like a radiator in the dead of winter, you were just about spluttering and hissing like one too. You’d forgotten all about the drunken selfie you’d sent while in a full haze of peace love and a couple draws of your friend’s j after countless rum and cokes. ‘Love u guys, see ya tomoz’ you’d typed over it - remembering how you fumbled and squinted at the screen just so that it would be halfway coherent. Now sober, you knew it probably wasn’t.
“Fuck me, it actually sent,” you grumbled, jumping when you hear his earthy laugh tumble out.
His voice is like tree bark and honey, stolen straight from the mountains and imbued into his throat. You hang on his every sound, keen eyes glued to his plush pink lips that Peak out from under his beard.
You hardly notice your dad coming in until he’s all but shouting your name, wrapping you in for a bear hug you weren’t in the slightest prepared for.
Every response form there on out was hazy, as if it had been preprogrammed. For the entire night all you’d be able to focus on was John - He’d tell you to call him that after awkwardly addressing him as Sir, though not before something dark slithered over his eyes and passed in the instant it had come.
You’d spent the whole night fixated on John, hanging on his every word, sighing heavily when he reached back and combed through his hair, tousling it to a point that made you wonder if that’s how it looked after a night well spent in passion.
You were lucky you got through the dinner without making an arse of yourself, though to be fair your mum had gotten a jab in about how quiet you’d been. Better that than being embarrassing.
Though you weren’t to get away unscathed. It’d get late and after spending the whole night before fanatically talking and dancing, you had no energy left for being at your parents - present company included or not. However before you could call a taxi, Price would jump in and offer you a lift, claiming taxis were far too unsafe for someone so precious.
It’d make your parents laugh, but you weren’t even smiling. You’d stutter your excuses, telling him he didn’t need to make a fuss, but he’d be persistent. Being an army Captain and all, he was very difficult to argue with, so of course you found yourself in the passenger seat of his monstrous car, watching nervously as the old beast sputtered to life.
“Is this thing even legal to ride?” You’d mutter, frowning at the persistent choking noise that rattled underneath the engine roar.
“Could ask the same about you.”
It was barely a whisper, almost lost to the growl in his throat and the sound of the engine, but you were so sure you’d heard it said nonetheless. The possibility of it sent your back stick straight and your mouth plummeting to the floor, though in the back of your mind you wondered if you’d only heard him say it from out of the depths of your subconscious.
“Excuse me?” You’d chirp.
“I said: couldn’t get you to pull up some directions, could you?”
He’d side eye you as he said it, smiling to himself as he indicates and pulls out onto the road and out of the cul-de-sac.
Right. Directions, of course. You were just being filthy minded, you’d had a long couple days and you were strung out and tired. Why would he insinuate that he wanted to know if you were the right age to fuck or not. Especially when - even if you were by many measures - he was off limits to you. Forbidden. No go. Like the battle zones he probably waded into through his day job.
“Here you go. It’s not far!”
You’d pull up your phone, placing it on the dashboard so that he could see. He’d tell you to put on music too, shocking you when he’d produce an aux cord (by rights this car shouldn’t have even had the words aux cord uttered in it, but somehow it supported one).
“What kind of stuff do you listen to?” You’d ask, waiting to hear whatever dreary nonsense he was likely to come out with.
“What do you think I listen to?” He’d ask, barely paying attention to you as he made his way down the main road. “I’ll be happy with whatever you put on.”
“I mean i doubt our tastes are super similar.”
“You trying to drive at somethin’ here, sweetheart?”
You’d light up at the name, lighting up from the inside out in quiet awe. It’d be a challenge having to suppress your little firework show off happiness, so you’d hide it by shrugging and saying “figured you’d listen to old man music.”
He’d shake his head and grumble about ‘no such thing’ up until you put on an old Killers song and watched him smile - then you’d sagely nod your head and repeat ‘old man music’ delighting in his playful growl.
“Killers ain’t even that old sweetheart, at least stick some Dylan or Cash on if you’re gonna patronise me.”
“This came out in 2004, dude - I don’t know what to tell ya. It’s old.”
“Dude,” he’d grunt back. “Earlier it was Sir, was it not?”
You’d flush again and face the window, suddenly absorbing yourself in the outside world. The way he said that was far too…inviting. The no go zone was looking like the ‘get right the fuck in here and stomp all over your parents relationship with this man’ zone.
You couldn’t help yourself.
“Sorry, sir,” you’d tease. “Won’t happen again.”
Stupid insatiable brat, you’d inwardly curse, watching as Price’s smile widened again, pulling his whole face into a knowing grin.
It’d be clear to see you weren’t the only one fighting the urge to cross the barrier and take what you wanted. And with two people smashing at the confines…well.
One thing was for certain, you knew it in the pit of your belly, there was no way you were going to stay away now.
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Hi!
Thanks for your hard work keeping your system organized! Really helps during my 3AM reading sessions lol.
I was wondering if there are any “and there was only one bed” fanfics for Aziracrow? Thanks!
We have #there was only one bed and #sharing a bed tags, so take a look at those! Here are some more to add...
Away by HopeCoppice (G)
They can command reservations at the Ritz at a moment's notice. They can perform miracles, or the demonic equivalent, for- well, for Somebody's sake. There is absolutely no way that they should ever be able to find themselves in a situation where there is only one bed.
And yet.
Welcome to the Petty Party by Mimsynims (E)
Oh fuck. It was him. Crowley tried to make himself smaller where he was sitting in the back of the Greyhound bus. It had been almost a year - and another continent - since he last saw him, but there was no mistaking that blonde fluff of hair or those strong shoulders on the man entering the bus. It was Aziraphale.
Fortunately there were very few other passengers, and Aziraphale chose a seat in the middle of the bus, sitting down without spotting Crowley further in the back.
Seeing him now catapulted him back in time, to that fateful night in Birmingham - the one and only time they’d met.
Aziraphale and Crowley find themselves stranded in a motel for the night - sharing a room. Last time they met, they spent the night together.
Now they are both - wrongfully - convinced that the other never wanted more than a one night stand.
(Basically, this is a "there was only one bed" PWP)
Warmth by HolyCatsAndRabbits (E)
The excitement of spending a day traveling with Crowley had turned to deep embarrassment. Rather than a flight followed by a late dinner somewhere and then a night apart, Aziraphale was cold, wet, hungry, and injured, in the wrong city, and facing a night sharing a room with his secret crush in which there was only one bed. And— Aziraphale looked down at what he was holding. Flannel pajamas, tartan ones. He was going to have to go back out there and face the ever-elegant Crowley in his night clothes.
No Such Thing As An Omen by FeralTuxedo (E)
On a snowy New Year’s Eve, rock star Anthony Crowley arrives at Tadfield Manor Hotel to check into his room. Under a fake name, naturally. But to his dismay, it has already been claimed, and the deceptively angelic impostor with the audacity to have stolen Crowley’s alias as well as his room doesn’t appear to want to vacate it any time soon.
Romancing The Tome by Anti_kate (E)
Romance novelist Aziraphale Wilder is pulled from his carefully ordered life when his sister is kidnapped and held to ransom. With the help of antiquities forger Anthony J Crowley, he braves the wilds of Scotland to rescue her and keep a priceless book from falling into the hands of dangerous book thieves.
Waking Up Slow by the_moonmoth (E)
“Then you’ll just have to come back with me," Aziraphale said.
“You what?”
“You’ll have to come and isolate with me, at my cottage.”
The thing about messing with people, Crowley thought, was that sometimes, they genuinely surprised you.
After both being exposed to coronavirus, total strangers Crowley and Aziraphale are forced to wait out their isolation together. A tale of soft winter romance by the sea.
- Mod D
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young gods | marauders.
writing masterlist | askbox
summary: the gryffindors have a little tradition on the first night back at hogwarts.
word count: 1.2k.
warnings: pre-established relationships, tooth-aching fluff, a brief mention of war.
notes: a wee excerpt from an old marauders fic i wrote years ago. i reread it recently and this section made me cry so i tidied it up and i'm posting it here as a little ficlet. enjoy!!
Now, as Dorcas and Marlene slip into the common room, they find their friends in the corner, keeping warm by the fire. Lily and Alice are curled up together on an armchair built for one person, their legs tangled in long, fluffy dressing gowns.
Mary sits on the sofa next to them, legs stretched across Remus and Peter, the latter of which looking as though he has no idea what to do. James and Sirius are sitting cross-legged on a tartan blanket that covers the floor, and the latter looks up and grins as they enter.
"McKinnon's brought snacks!" he cheers with as much enthusiasm as he can muster, clapping his hands as they approach. Dorcas pushes Mary's leg out of the way and squeezes into the gap between Remus and Peter, before letting Mary return her legs to their former position.
"Dinner was less than an hour ago, Sirius," Marlene says with a roll of her eyes. She drops the food in the middle of the blanket, so all of them can reach it. Alice is quick to snatch up a handful of droobles. Marlene's tone takes on a falsely disapproving note, and she narrows her eyes mockingly. "You can't be hungry already."
"McKinnon," he replies, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "there is a profound difference between food hungry and snacks hungry. You ought to learn it, for your life will be much better once you have."
Marlene quirks an eyebrow. Her hand is halfway to reaching for a chocolate frog. "Is this the same sort of wisdom as when you told me that getting a leather jacket would change my life?"
Sirius only smirks. He shares a cursory glance with James, who thinks Marlene's jacket has almost become an extension of her sunshine-scary personality. "I was right though, wasn't I?"
Marlene thinks of that bright yellow jacket, sitting in her suitcase, waiting to be unpacked. She thinks of wearing it when she got onto the train earlier in the day, and how she'd been almost sad to take it off when she had to change into her uniform, and how careful she'd been in stowing it away in her suitcase.
She allows Sirius a begrudging roll of her eyes. Both of them possess egos far larger than they ought to be, and she will not let him gloat. She'll probably smack him, otherwise.
The evening moves on. Dorcas suggests that they pass around a box of Bertie Bott's, and Marlene knows it's a mistake when she reaches into the box with her eyes closed and picks out a speckled yellow-and-white bean between her fingers. The taste of rotten egg lingers for a while, no matter how many cauldron cakes she consumes.
And she consumes many, many cauldron cakes.
It doesn't take long for the tales of summertime exploits to begin being told with great detail and exaggeration. At some point, the conversation is steered by Lily ( rather expertly, her friend would say, although Marlene would argue that it was by no means subtle ) into the direction of muggle music. It doesn't take long for them to burst into a poor-but-hilarious rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody. Dorcas joins in at the first verse, dramatically crying Mama, just killed a man! Remus, much to their surprise, does a fantastic Galileo, Galileo, which makes James and Sirius howl with laughter even though they don't know what the hell is going on.
It's over too quickly. It grows dark outside, and the fire is dimming, and they're all a little bit sleepy now. There are crumbs all over the tartan blanket, and Marlene's head is resting in Sirius' lap, his fingers running through her tangled blonde curls.
Lily has fallen asleep on top of Alice, ginger hair splayed out across the older girl's face, while Alice tries not to choke on hair. James is watching them, a dopey grin across his face. It's the kind that only appears when Lily isn't looking because he knows it annoys her now (even though it doesn't, really, but Lily won't tell him that because she's only just stopped wanting to smack him.)
Peter's snoring away on the sofa. Remus is asleep, too, his head resting on Dorcas' shoulder, and Marlene thinks it's the most peaceful he's looked in a while. She doesn't know why she thinks that, but she does wonder about the scars that cover his body and how he gets so ill sometimes. He's her friend too, and she worries. She worries about all her friends.
Dorcas is awake, and she's got a soft smile on her face. Mary's still lying across the top of the three of them, except she's asleep now, too, and about to roll right off the edge. Dorcas looks like she'll let her.
Marlene takes a deep breath. She's not too good at talking about her feelings, but something about this moment feels right. She looks at the lot of them, half-asleep. When she thinks of the word home, this is what comes to mind ━ her friends, her best friends in the whole world, peaceful and happy together.
Part of her knows it won't last, but she tries to push that thought away. The war won't catch them, not as long as they are students at Hogwarts, and it's over a year before they have to deal with the danger in the world, isn't it?
The war can wait. The world can wait. Right now, here, this is everything she needs. Her brothers can leave her behind if they want; if they love her, they'll come back, in the end. In this moment, she can't fix it. She can't save anyone.
But this is home.
"I promise I'm not drunk or sleep-talking," she murmurs, letting her eyes fall closed for a moment. She feels Sirius' hand fall still, hovering with expectation. "But I love you guys. All of you. You know that?"
Lily makes a snuffling noise, as if she's heard Marlene's words, but she stays asleep. James chuckles quietly to himself. Dorcas looks like she might leap across the room and attack Marlene with a hug.
Sirius looks down at her. His eyes are like steel in the dying firelight.
"You need to chill or I'll tickle you, because nobody needed to hear that." He says it jokingly, because he did need to hear that. It is a symptom of growing up in a loveless home, he thinks, and he knows Marlene feels it too. One must be told, regularly, that they are loved and wanted.
James tells him, every day. James, who is more of a brother to him than Regulus is, really.
Carefully, she rises from Sirius' lap, rolling onto her knees. And then she says, "You'll have to catch me before you can tickle me, Black."
She grins, suddenly filled with mischief and glee, moving quicker than lightning across the room, and the night ends with him chasing her around the common room.
In that moment, with hair flying and her friends laughing and the thunder clapping outside, she thinks they are all infinite. They are all invincible. They are young gods with the world at their feet, the ones who will never die, and time stops moving.
And then Sirius catches her.
And the moment's over.
#the marauders#marauders era#marauders era fic#marauders era fanfiction#james potter#sirius black x reader#sirius black fanfic#sirius black fanfiction#marauders imagine#marauders fluff#marlene mckinnon#marlene mckinnon fanfic#* chapter update.
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(Aziraphale x Crowley) Headlights - Chapter 5
Read Here - NOW COMPLETE!!!
Good Omens Human AU with a divorced Crowley and Aziraphale finding love again and getting back together.
Soho, Present Day
Crowley is a coward, plain and simple. And so what if he is? His cowardice brings out Aziraphale’s bravery. After all, it was Aziraphale who called first after three years. It wasn’t that Crowley had been too stubborn to make the first move, and it wasn’t anger that stopped him from dialing the number of the bookshop. Only now, it isn’t the fear of rejection that stops him from proposing.
How does someone propose the second time around? There’s a shortage of articles on the subject of remarrying your once-spouse. He knows Aziraphale too well to doubt that Aziraphale’s expectations grow with each passing day. Because a ring would be too small and my physical heart too impossible, I gave him nothing and nothing was enough. Is that romantic or pitiful? Crowley wonders.
Now, with all of his grand plans, his ability to propose falls short. So, if he can’t take to one knee, he resorts to a course of action he knows Aziraphale will understand. He’s tried his pen at romance and never managed a convincing tale. The one he’s written now, to him is the essence of romance but to others, it must be a maddeningly ineffable tale of two idiots
The binder is thick and heavy between his hands, and he holds it awkwardly like a sandwich, presenting it to Aziraphale the way in which a child presents a drawing to a parent–clumsily, with both pride and embarrassment. Binders are new–he’s never put the pages of a book in a binder, but it’s helped him this time around to have the presentation. It’s a crude approximation of cloth-bound pages he’s used to, but it gives the image of a finished product.
Aziraphale eyes Crowley suspiciously, his brows furrowed. “What’s this?” he asks, but his heart thumps in his chest. Best not to assume , Aziraphale reminds himself. The memory plays over in his mind, and if it is what he thinks it is, then Crowley must be telling him he’s ready. His hand hovers near the binder, too afraid to take it.
Crowley thrusts it out to him. “I want you to read it,” he insists, handing off the binder with its hundreds of pages.
“Is it your book?” Aziraphale whispers.
Crowley nods.
Aziraphale isn’t prepared for this. He desired this so desperately, but he still hadn’t brought himself to buy a ring. He’d looked at several, comparing each to the platinum band with a crimson stone that Crowley once wore. None ever came close to it. You don’t need a ring to ask , Aziraphale tries to tell himself.
“Could we read it together?” Aziraphale asks instead.
Crowley miscalculated. He hadn’t accounted for those moments when Aziraphale chose cowardice, too. And then he would pass off the helm to Crowley, eagerly awaiting his savior. He’s smiling so innocently, the bastard, Crowley stews.
But Crowley agrees and sits down with Aziraphale on the couch, sharing a thin tartan blanket. It’s supposed to be Aziraphale’s reading hour, and the room is already set–a candle with wooden wick flickers, infusing the room with warmth. The lights are dimmed except for those nearest to the couch, for ambience.
Crowley clears his throat, shifting as Aziraphale lays his head on Crowley’s shoulder. He begins reading, inflecting as he’d imagined the pages should be read. Aziraphale smiles, mesmerized by Crowley’s cadence and the gentle rasp of his voice.
He had the patience of Job. The nameless man lives in the dark. It isn’t the kind of dark that eyes can adjust to, forming dim and blurry shapes. The darkness is perfect and impenetrable. The man walks through the void, measuring days on his watch that never stops running, the sole light that reveals nothing in the darkness. He knows time, just as he knows he’s spent one thousand one hundred and eighty-two days here.
And while he doesn’t remember his name, he might as well be called Job because, against reason, he believes the darkness will abate. Job had been left here, all those many days ago, to wait. How and who had left him, he doesn’t know. But he remembers a flit of blond and the smell of a good bookshop. He remembers the pleasant voice of a man, reading from Chaucer at his desk. Job remembers love, vivid and bright, that carries him through the pitch blackness of this place.
“Too bad it won’t be published,” Crowley states wistfully, interrupting the flow of the novel.
“It’s too beautiful not to publish,” Aziraphlae argues. He thumbs over the pages fondly, smiling at Crowley. It’s a smile that Crowley struggles to argue with, blinding and beautiful and sincere.
“It’s you and me,” Crowley reminds him, nevertheless.
“I wasn’t reading Chaucer when we met,” Aziraphale notes. “So is it really?”
“Creative liberties, angel.”
#good omens#aziracrow#ineffable husbands#crowley#aziraphale#aziraphale x crowley#ao3#fanfiction#good omens fanfiction#aziraphale loves crowley#good omens fic#good omens fandom#gomens fic#crowley loves aziraphale#good omens au#good omens human au#human au#good omens fanfic rec#fanfic rec#fic rec#good omens fanwork#ineffable divorce#ineffable idiots#ineffable spouses#romance#mutual pining
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Remember when Friday night was X-Files night?
Crowley remembers!
You can find out just how much he loves the show, and his journey with Muriel to solve the mystery of the missing archangel in Pass the Remote, Angel. (Rated M).
This one is an oldie, but a goodie. Well...I think it's a goodie, but then again, I wrote it, so I'm biased. 😆
I posted it today on @goodomensafterdark for the first time, to spread the paranormal love. Summary and excerpt below.
Summary:
Aziraphale has returned to Heaven, leaving Crowley a tv binge-watching wreck. However, healing can come from the most unlikeliest of places. While Muriel has been instructed to provide daily reports of the demon’s emotional state, they find that sharing time together, even by watching a scary show, can be the catalyst that builds friendships. And they’d probably both be couch potatoes by now if the Supreme Archangel hadn’t just gone missing.
Excerpt:
In the first week following Aziraphale’s return to Heaven, Crowley had experienced multiple stages of grief. When he stood by his car, he was in denial. When he stole Aziraphale’s tartan blanket from the bookshop, he was in the throes of anger. And for the several days that he sat in his chair trying to talk to a God that never listens, he engaged in bargaining.
Now he was in the sad-TV-binge-watching stage. And when you’re an occult being that has just broken up with an angel you never technically dated, you binge the X-Files.
It had been one of Crowley’s favorite shows during the 90s after the Golden Girls went off the air. He had found most of the tales preposterous, but he had become rather invested in Mulder and Scully’s relationship. It was clear the two humans wanted each other and the sexual tension was excruciating to watch, all of which made the show maddening and addictive. His emotional attachment to the paranormal crime fighting duo’s relationship used to bother him, but back then he could never put his finger on exactly why.
And now here he was, over twenty years later, lying on the couch with his fourth bottle of Merlot and watching season three, having an epiphany that transcended the manifestation of Jesus.
“I’m Mulder.”
Mulder. Passionate, intuitive, tall. Slightly unhinged, but reasonably paranoid. Always trying to convince the stubborn Agent Scully of the Truth and failing even when the Truth is staring directly in her face in the form of a giant galactic spaceship. And he was “spooky.” Crowley liked spooky.
And then there was Scully. Kind, intelligent, a bit short. Often pouty, but adorably cute. Always so sure of her faith in God. And clearly pining for Mulder while pushing him away for years because she didn’t think she could ever have a real future with him.
F**king Scully.
He considered throwing what was left of the bottle of merlot at the television.
Continue reading on Ao3.
#GOAD writers guild#good omens fanfic#good omens fanfiction#aziraphale#crowley#muriel#x files#good omens after dark#aziracrow#good omens 2#ao3 fanfic
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A look at the S2 title sequence:
Crowley lights a match "Let there be light"
As with the first season, all (nearly all?) the faces of these figures are made up for David & Michael's faces
Gabriel & his box
We see Job's goats, his children's house, the permit, & crows with goat legs
In the graveyard we see a tomb with 'Archer' on it, graves with 'Everyday', 'Peter Paintball', 'Jane Austen', 'Left early to avoid the rush', 'Here lies the former shell of Beelzebub', & 'Here lies Adam "I do not understand surely your very existence requires the ending of the world" '
In the last image from the graveyard you can see the blue lizard in the parade
Gabriel's box can be seen again behind the cross on the left
In hell we see the n**i eating spider, desks & office chairs, a pentagram, unicorn (?) skulls, a guillotine & buildings in the background
In the bombed out London streets we see a gents toilet sign, an tube sign, a double decker bus with 'Wings For Victory' on the side, a 30 mph speed limit sign & a poster for 'Stairway to Heaven'
In The Windmill theatre we can see the turnip in the background. It's raining rabbits & there is a large bronze rabbit on its side on the ground
The backs of the seats have plaques with book titles on, they are: A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens, Pride & Prejudice by Jane Austen, The Crow Road by Iain Banks, & Good Omens by Terry Pratchett. All of these books appear in Aziraphale's shop, being organised by Jim. There is also another bronze rabbit sitting in a seat & a green hat hanging on The Crow Road seat, this is the book we see Muriel reading in ep 6
We see another bronze rabbit, this time in a spacesuit, as Aziraphale & Crowley dance around each other
This is possibly Alpha Centauri between Crowley & Aziraphale, slightly closer to Crowley
'Thy Kingdom Airways' and tartan grass
Piles of records surround the coffee shop & jukebox, as it rains hearts that smash on impact with the ground. Some of the records have things visible on them but I can't make them out
We see the parade pass lifts, with angels descending from heaven
Leading the parade is Saraqael, followed closely by a dark figure carrying a giant coffee cup on their back. idk about the coffee theory but there's no denying that coffee cup [Edit: the coffee cup appears at least 3 times, only from modern times on though]
Each episode the marquee and posters on the cinema change to match the episode title. The cinema is called 'The Parousia', parousia refers to the second coming
Inside the cinema there is a duck playing the accordion (or possibly half duck/half accordion hybrid idk) under the seats, on the left. [ETA: as @straphangerr has pointed out this is a reference to Mr Brown's newspaper that's on the back of his clipboard throughout the series] There is also a duck headed figure in one of the booths in the wall. Above which there seems to be a Crowley/Aziraphale couple kissing (maybe?)
Again we get a different screen for each episode here
The ship below them here says 'P.A. Resurrectionist' on it. It is the same ship sticking out of the "mountain" as the title comes up
All through the titles we see the parade carrying flags & banners
#im sure i missed loads & there are mistakes but its 4am so be kind pls#good omens#good omens spoilers#gos2spoilers#spoilers#|#long post#good omens easter eggs#neil gaiman#terry pratchett#queued
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*sigh*
listen
u seem like the perfect person to ask
but I need to know if you've got any Scottish or Irish headcanons about the boys
you out of all people seem like the one to have em, just based on vibes
please-
-✨
I hear bagpipes playing for some reason.....
Yes! As a proud descendant of the Stewart line and an partially Irish family, I very much have some Scottish headcannons for the boys! Granted, I didn't get a lot of cultural education from my parents because ✨american military family✨ but yeah.
Warriors in my fics is actually the Hylian equivalent of Scottish! It's not super apparent because he tends to hide his heritage and mask his accent (on account of maintaining the respect of his men who, like many hylians, are pretty racist), but he and his sisters are all very Scottish. Heavy accent, lots of pride, absolutely overflowing with the stories and fairy-tales and heroes that they adore, but they rarely speak of any of it in front of those outside of their culture. I tend to headcannon they lived in the North of Hyrule before, but moved to the capital in hopes of finding better work and maybe improving their standard of living, which happened when Warriors joined the army. They miss the Hebra countryside though.
Do you want to know how many times I've almost drawn our captain in a kilt? The answer is probably the same as how often guys think of the roman empire. The only reason I haven't done it before is because I hate drawing legs (I might do it anyways though, for reasons) and my experience in kilt drawing reminds me that, oh yeah, TARTAN is tricky to draw too. (So many variations and patterns, and what tartan would I even put him in? My dad's? My mother's? My mom's might be appropriate because the Black Watch sort of suits a knight, but also I don't think his family would have that one?)
Yes though, Warriors is just straight up Scottish!
As for the others, I like to think that the fairies and those of the Kolkiri forest tended to also have something of an Irish accent, and are sort of like the fae of Celtic legend in some ways. So, whenever I write Time speaking the fae tongue it's literally just Irish-Gaelic from one translation service or another (I suck at learning languages so yeah...) So yeah, Hyrule and Time have some influence from the culture. They don't have it as fully as Warriors though, so it's kinda annoying because he speaks their mother tongue better than them and despite not being fae or fae adjacent, he is incredibly informed about it all?!?!?!?!
Proxi adores this. Mask kinda hated it, but it also made him feel more at home because Warriors was the first person since Saria to speak to him in his own language.
I've been tempted to throw out a fic where the boys actually meet Warriors' family (sisters and mother) but accents are not my strong suit in writing and the idea of writing eight people with heavy accents is...daunting. I need to get my hands on some George MacDonald again if I want to do that, so I can tune myself in properly (if you enjoy stories set in Old Scotland please read his work, I love him! The Fisherman's Lady and The Highlander's Last Song are two of my favorites!)
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Here im midsize-ish (XL and XXL for comfort) but in Asia im obviously. A lot bigger (6XL) according to a size chart (I know my sizes in cm I got measured today) Where could I find a good lolita shop that supports the not really petite and isn't not frowned upon ?? ^_^ I'm new to this also sorry if you said this 10 billion times I'm also not sure what 2 search T_T
i do have some tips on this topic that i've picked up here and there! though i don't have personal experience with this, so admittedly my knowledge on this is a bit limited and not as fleshed out as i'd like it to be..
i would generally recommend looking for pieces that have shirring. (the stretchy material often found on back panels of dresses, tops and sometimes waistbands) the stretchiness of the gathered fabric allows for a more "flexible" sort of fit, rather than just fitting the base measurements. for most brands, i believe JSKs are often a bit more forgiving than OPs due to the shoulder measurements being a bit narrow for some releases.
now, i don't know your exact measurements.. so be sure to double check the size portion at the bottom of the pages for each product (not sure if it differs from item to item) but metamorphose carries plus size friendly items here. i don't know your exact tastes, but the flower print mary ladder lace is a particularly cute JSK that's in stock now!
glitter tale is an indie brand i know of that offers custom sized lolita, which will be great since you just got measured! the tartan old school JSK they make is beautiful!
sellers on lacemarket will indicate if an item is plus size friendly, and some items that have been altered will pop up occasionally! here's a link to a search for plus size items and one for altered items. i recommend to always check if the alteration is suitable for your measurements and if it's been altered by someone with an understanding of lolita pieces, as they are quite different from regular alterations.
@lovecraftian-lolita offers a very helpful resource, (and a lot more thorough than this answer!) an archive of plus sized brand items along with their measurements if you'd be interested in checking that out!
and as always, if anyone has any advice, please feel free to help out!!
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DCA Info Part 63: Halloween Outfits
Jinlong as Thorn Dragon
Much like how Diasomnia's costumes were based on Jiangshi, hoping vampires in Chinese folklore and their theme was based on East Asian Dragons, Jinlong's costume is based on western dragons, the kind commonly seen in fantasy literature or fairy tales.
In the Prototype, the outfit consisted of a gray gown with a gold and black collar, armor like accessories above the elbow, a belt and cuffs. The skirt appeared to have a slit at the side that reveals purple ruffles. The outfit also includes a pair of gray stockings with thorn detailing and black heels with gold trim and soles.
The Final Version of this costume has the colors differ greatly, now having a purple and black color scheme with the interior of the skirt being green and now having black ruffles. The outfit now has a pair of silver and black heels and purple stockings with roses and thorns. The gown additionally includes a chain attached to the belt buckle and said chain is attached to a heart charm with a sword in the center.
Elu as Bear Totem
Inspired by the world of Brother Bear, Elu's ensemble is based on Kenai, the protagonist of Brother Bear.
In the Prototype, the costume consisted of a tan parka with white fur trim, diamond like designs on the upper sleeves, and bear claw markings. The rest of the outfit consisted of a blue necklace with yellow diamonds and a bear in the center, a brown belt, a brown skirt and pants, with the pants having diamond like designs and brown shoes.
The Final Version of this costume keeps the costume mostly the same but the colors have been changed and the bear claw markings have been replaced by the same diamond like designs.
Allison as Rag Bones
This lolita like ensemble is inspired by Jack Skellington and Sally from Tim Burton's The Nightmare Before Christmas.
In the Prototype, the costume consisted of a yellow dress shirt layered underneath a black and white striped bolero blazer with gray trim and bows, also included was a black bowtie with a gray cat pendant with wings that resembled those of a bat. The skirt was designed with a patchwork like feel to it, with the skirt having three colors, green with stripes and spots, yellow with black dots and purple with stripes. Also included was a waist chain that consisted of black, purple and orange beads and having charms that resemble candy corn, a star, a moon and a jack o lantern.
The Final Version of this costume is slightly altered, with the dress shirt now being purple and the bolero blazer now having orange stripes and bows, as well as having puffs. The chain of beads is now gold and features skulls and the skirt now has a red tartan part replacing the green portion. The skirt's interior is also now purple. The stockings are made to resemble stitched up legs and feature the same patterns on the skirt. For footwear, Allison sports a pair of black loafers. Allison wears a black headband with a pumpkin on it and the pumpkin has purple bat wings. On the topic of wings, Allison also sports a pair of fake wings that resemble those of a bat with black trim and the interior being purple with Halloween patterns on it.
Briar as Wilting Baby's Breath
Resembling a wedding dress, this costume is inspired by another one of Tim Burton's films, Corpse Bride, with the outfit being based on Emily, the titular corpse bride.
In the Prototype, the costume consisted of a white sweetheart wedding dress with baby's breath flowers on the left side of the bodice and white roses on the right of the two layered tattered skirt.
The Final Version of this costume remains mostly untouched but now includes a blue bead chain around the waist and the second layer of the skirt is now sparkly blue with swirl like patterns. The dress also appears to have a baby blue tint. Briar also wears a pair of pale blue heels with white stockings. Briar accessorizes with a blue tattered veil with baby blue roses and a pair of white gloves with the left side having ribbon.
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🦸♂️ for the ask! What are the tsp kids' superhero names?
Oh no you've reminded me I'm terrible at coming up with superhero names noooo
In Draft Three of TSP I did try to give everyone names. Carla was Time Stopper, George was Speedster, and Hannah (Ash's sister who at that point had cryokinesis and was much more important) was Ice Queen.
It's nice to see I haven't changed since I was 13 that's all I've got LOL
This is why I abandoned it. Also because it wouldn't make sense in the world of Alium.
But I'll give it a go. Goodbye dignity
There's a joke in TSP where Robbie tries to come up with a superhero name and it's The Vermillion Energizer which idk why not I'll submit that. Akash came up with Flying Man. They're just like me FR
I feel like Guardian Angel could work with Akash too, as corny as that is
Gwen gets into some breaking and entering later in the series so the Invisible Infiltrator? That's not awful.
My sister has a teleporter named Vector since it deals with direction and magnitude. Lexi, Ewan, and Alex are not this nerdy to come up with it but Maddie or CJ or Tyler may.
Parker would call himself unironically the Whoosh Whoosh Motherfucker.
My sister tells me code names are design based so maybe Ash can be the Tartan Telepath.
That's all I got. Hope it's satisfactory haha
TSP intro
TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @fairy-tales-of-yesterday
#the secret portal#tsp#teaspoon#storyteller saturday#lexi morgan#gwen amante#robbie stafford#akash singh#ash hathaway#parker cassidy#writing blog#writers on tumblr#writing community#writers of tumblr#writing on tumblr#writeblr#writeblr community
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On November 16th 1891 Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show paid it's first visit to Scotland opening in the East End Exhibition Buildings at Duke Street, Glasgow.
The entourage had completed an engagement in Croydon, near London, on Saturday, 24th October, and proceeded to Glasgow by train immediately thereafter. The opening night finally took place on Monday, 16th November 1891, after a succession of delays had forced repeated postponements, whilst an army of workmen battled round the clock with the extensive preparations.
The show which caused such a sensation in the city that winter was entitled The Drama of Civilization. By means of a series of tableaux grouped into six dramatic episodes, it presented a highly culturally biased view of the manner in which ‘civility’ had supposedly triumphed over the primordial chaos of paganism and anarchy over the course of several centuries of American history.
It goes without saying that the native Americans were vilified as the villains of the piece, and that the near destruction of their culture was represented not merely as an unfortunate side-effect but as the crowning glory in the triumphant and inexorable outcome of the process of cultural evolution.
Exhibitions of marksmanship were given by Buffalo Bill himself, C.L. Daly the pistol and revolver expert, Johnny Baker, and best of all, the Wild West show’s ever-popular star attraction, Miss Annie Oakley, seen in the second pic in a tartan outfit specially made for the visit.
The native Americans in the show were genuine Lakota, and Oglala Sioux, amongst them was Kicking Bear, who was said to be the last of the tribe to surrender to the U.S troops after Wounded Knee only just over a year before. By the close of the same year, Kicking Bear had become a familiar figure on the streets of Glasgow.
One of the stories that gained notoriety during the time the show was in Glasgow concerns when one of the troupe who went by the name of Charging Thunder succumbed to the effects of "Fire water" who ended up falling foul of the local Sheriff, only this one wore a white wig not a stetson, and sat in the City's Sheriff Court.
The Scotsman reported on Charging Thunder’s trial at Glasgow Summary Court: “
‘Charging Thunder’, one of Buffalo Bill’s hostages from the American Government, was taken before Sheriff Birnie, in the Glasgow Summary Court, on a charge of having, on the 31st December last [1891], in the Wild West Show at Glasgow, assaulted George Crager, Sioux interpreter, by striking him on the head and neck with an Indian club.
“‘Charging Thunder’ pled guilty, and it was stated on his behalf that he was only 23 years of age, and was usually one of the quietest members of the Wild West Show, but in common with other Indians, the slightest drop of drink infuriated him, and on the night in question he had obtained whisky in a public-house in mistake for lemonade, which he asked for. He entertained no malice towards the interpreter.
“The Sheriff said that the assault was of so serious a stature that had ‘Charging Thunder’ not been a stranger he would have sent him to prison for a long period, but under the circumstances he would limit the imprisonment to 30 days.
“He thought it a great shame that publicans should supply these Indians with whisky.”
Another tale about Cody himself was found in the Glasgow Evening News of 11 November 1891. A ‘correspondent’ told of encountering a ‘distinguished looking gentleman, with a somewhat outré appearance’, who bought a pile of newspapers from an old lady in George Square and noticed a shoeless young girl helping her to sell the papers.
The account continued: “Pointing to her shoeless feet, which evidently attracted his attention on the cold night, he asked the old woman what it would cost to get a pair of shoes for the child, and then handed her the amount she named. He paid for his papers, gave the old lady a sixpence for herself, handed a silver coin to another poor body in the neighbourhood, and then went off with a smile on his face, that showed he felt pleased at being able thus unostentatiously to do a kindly action. On inquiring who the gentleman was, the old woman replied - “Sure that’s Buffalo Bill, an’ he has bought his papers from me the last two nights. God bless him.”
Although the final performance was held on 27 February, the last performers didn’t leave Glasgow until nearly two months later.
Other notable moments from the tour included Cody attending the Court of Session in Edinburgh on a day off, causing a stir as he took a seat in the public gallery in full regalia, as well as a visit to the Palace of Holyroodhouse.
He is also reported to have climbed Calton Hill, and on seeing the view of Edinburgh from the summit, shouted: “Ain’t she a beaut!” Not the first or last to say that I bet!
The lengthy tour had taken in venues including Edinburgh, Arbroath, Fraserburgh, Inverness and Ayr.
Cody’s visit to the north east - Aberdeen, Peterhead and Fraserburgh - actually had an adverse effect on the fishing industry, as workers abandoned their trawlers to attend the performances. The price of fish reportedly sky-rocketed on the days following Cody’s shows in the region.
The aforementioned jailed Charging Thunder changed his name to the rather less distinctive George Edward Williams settled into anonymity within north-west England.
The third pic is a wee gem of a reminder of Buffalo Bill's visit to Glasgow, a statue of Cody riding a bucking bronco is hidden in the Dennistoun area of the city.
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I am insane so here is my list of nicknames for Tobias Forge. Please give me suggestions for ones I can add.
Tax Fraud
Toblerone Fudge
Toad Frog
Taco Friday
Tutti Fruitti
Toe Fungus
Tooth Fairy
Talking Flemish
Tall Flesh
Toxic Flowers
Technology Frogs
Turbulent Freckles
Thick Face
Tender Fucker
Thigh Floor
Titty Fungus
Tornados Fiddle
Truculent Fig
Territory Fire
Tickly Fractions
Tummy Fights
Teenage Frenchman
Tail Fucker
Tea Finder
Toe Friends
Tag Fights
Tub Fire
Top Front
Tiktok Fuckboy
Tumbling Fuck
Tooth Frog
Tiny Feret
Tumblr Fanboys
Today Federal
Trying Format
Type Formal
Trail Font
Terrorists Fingers
Tale Foreskin
Tuesday Fries
Thursday February
Tutorial Fungi
Tight Fit
Tranquil Form
Ten Feet
Tool Fangs
Trowel Food
Tower Flow
Took Forever
Treatment Favourite
Tormented Faculties
Torture Factory
Tartan Flag
Tingly Function
Twins Fox
Twat Fertility
Turnip Fabric
Tudor Fashion
Train Footage
Take Friendship
Thanks Fan
Telling Friendliness
Terrain Fun
Terror Fin
Told Fool
Toggle Flannel
Trousers Flem
Terzo's Family
Time Flies
Then Filtered
Twig Found
Tiger Fear
T-rex Fringes
Tween False
Twitter Facebook
Titanium Fewer
Taxidermy Frontier
Toepiss Frugal
Topic Feature
Topless Features
Tuned Facial
Tank France
Thanks Finland
Terms Failed
Tickletoes Football
Transparent Fluff
Transgender Federal
Translate Free
Teal Feat
Turquoise Foggy
The Federation
There Following
Teeth Floppy
Troubled Financial
Tobussy Fun
Tobacco Fungal-biologist
Tiebreaker Fluid
Toebeans Flattering
Tyrannosaurus Fillings
Tuna Follicle
Thalerophagous Family-Disturbance
Toyota Ford
#tobias forge#ghost band#ghost the band#the band ghost#this is so funny#humour#batshit crazy#ghost bc#ghost
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Bean duine briste
(Wife of a Broken Man)
Murtagh Fitzgibbons Fraser x Female OC
*I own only the OC, all other characters belong to the creators of Outlander*
18+ to Read!! (There will be smut down the road!)
Summary:
Having served with Claire as a nurse in WWII, Isla went with Claire and Frank to Scotland to see her mother’s home country. Her aunt Mrs.Baird told her stories of the stones and both Isla and Claire went to see for themselves the magic of the place. Neither expected to be transported 200 years into the past, nor did they expect to fall for rough and ruggedly handsome highlanders.
Will the women get back to their time and the loved ones they left behind, or will they fall too deeply into the strong arms of our favorite Fraser men?
Prologue: A summary of the altered story before chapter 1
Having fallen through the stones Claire and Isla wonder through the Forrest in search of the road to Inverness, only to be cornered by a man who looks like Frank Randall. As Claire is pinned to a tree about to be assaulted, Isla raises a jagged rock to strike Black Jack over the head, only to have a large bearded man beat her to it.
With Black Jack unconscious the women are whisked away by the bearded Scott to a cabin not far away. The room is full of more rugged Scotts, one of whom is injured, Claire steps forward to relocate the young red headed man’s shoulder while she swears like a sailor. The women then introduce themselves, Claire by her maiden name and Isla by her own name.
After the man is bandaged up, the women then are forced on horseback, Claire with the redhead named Jamie and Isla with Murtagh, the bearded man who found them. The ride is long, cold and wet, forcing them to share the tartan with their riding partners. In the middle of the night Claire recognizes the ambush location and warns the men, who dislodge the women form their saddle and tell them to hide. The men fight and find the women, continuing their journey to the castle.
When they arrive the next morning Claire and Isla are introduced to Mrs. Fitz, Murtagh’s aunt, who shows Isla her room and helps Clair clean Jamie’s wounds. Once dressed properly, the women are taken to meet the Laird, Colum Mackenzie, and are interrogated. Claire tells a tale of a widowed woman on her way to relatives in France, while Isla told a version of the truth, that she is a friend simply traveling with Claire on her journey. Colum still having doubts interrogates them at dinner and then holds them as “guests” for an undecided amount of time.
While held hostage, of a sort, Claire is made healer of the clan and keeps busy with herbs and tonics. Isla spends her time looking after Colum himself, having some experience with disfigured limbs and a decent understanding of his, not yet diagnosed, condition. Colum being very grateful, due to his decreased pain, allows Isla more room to explore the castle and spend time with Mrs.Fitz and her family.
When the time comes for the rent party to leave, Dougal, Colum’s brother, requests both women to accompany the party as insurance that Claire wouldn’t run away while on the road.
This is where our story begins…..
Chapter 1- June 2nd
Chapter 2-
#murtagh#murtagh fitzgibbons fraser#james alexander malcolm mackenzie fraser#fergus fraser#jamie and claire#claire fraser#outlander#highlander#men in kilts#kilts#murtagh x reader
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