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[portaltothevoid]

you're losing me part ix -- copia x reader

warnings: all the angst, brief mention of blood

word count: 4.8k

taglist: @bitchywitchygardener @calitmediondell @copias-juicebox @copiasprincipessa @da-rulah @deetz-ghuleh @fishwithtitz @ghostfangirlsweden @ivycasket @justa19 @ladyrevealedofcloak @lurancyvenom @sodoswitchimage @water-ghoulette @zombiesnips-blog (divider by @gothdaddyissues!)

Copia bursted through Sister Imperator’s office door, emotions still running high. “Where is she?!”

“Who– Where– What?” Her tired eyes showed a slight disdain at someone barging in unannounced yet again. She pinched the bridge of her nose with a lengthy sigh. “What happened now?”

“Fucking Terzo! All of a sudden he’s been talking to Infernals and saying there’s more about the goddamn prophecy!”

“Such as…?”

“‘By her side remains one of the halves from the sacred consanguineous line. Together, they bring forth a new age.”

Imperator pursed her lips together, a look of concern eclipsed her face before she slammed her hand on the table in frustration. “We need those fucking books from Rome.”

“With all due respect, but what good are some books going to do?” 

“Cardi, listen to me. You and I both know Terzo cannot be the one by her side. I don’t care what the Infernals are saying to anyone. She needs to complete her first summoning ritual immediately and you– you need to summon an Infernal.” Her tone was stern, words commanding.

“He threatened to send me back to Italia,” Copia said, briskly and quietly.

Imperator let out a cold laugh. “Ha! He can try. Let me worry about that. Right now, you need to worry about finding her.”

Copia ran his hand through his hair as he let out a breath of disdain. “I’ve looked everywhere for her. There’s only so many places she could be!”

The sound of running could be heard from outside the office. Copia opened the door and stuck his head to see what the commotion was. Ghouls were bolting towards Terzo’s office. One looked at Copia and broke away from the others by his side. Copia presumed it was Swiss. He dragged Copia out of the office as he casted a glance back at Imperator, who hurried to follow them. “Wh-what’s going on? Is she in trouble?” Swiss only nodded in the response as he picked up the pace, quickly catching up with the other Ghouls.

That’s when Copia realized exactly where they were headed:  Terzo’s office. Anger instantly fueled up inside him. They burst through the door to find Terzo near purple and about to pass out with your hands wrapped around his throat. The determination in your eyes, the anger… No, the hatred that exuded from you. It permeated the whole room. 

Two of Terzo’s own Ghouls, Alpha and Omega, pulled you off of him. Your reaction, near animalistic. This wasn’t you. This wasn’t who you were. It couldn’t be. With your arms pinned down, you stopped thrashing your legs, realizing you weren’t going to be freed anytime soon. 

You were panting. Your eyes, crazed and wild, despite being completely black. A snarl was still plastered onto your face. Your eyes followed Copia as he approached you. You were too far gone to recognize him right away. 

In an instant, all sounds faded, everyone remained still, frozen in place. and then Copia felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“My child, it’s time we’ve had a talk, isn’t it?” 

His muscles tensed and his eyes widened. Slowly, he turned around to face a man, slightly younger than himself with pale white hair that cascaded down past his shoulders. His angular features made his beauty ethereal as did his brilliantly deep, crimson eyes. Copia didn’t even need an introduction; he knew exactly who was finally appearing before him.

Taking the hand on his shoulder in his, he turned and knelt down to kiss the ring on the man’s finger. “Lord Lucifer,” he greeted. 

“I truly admire your devotion, but I’m afraid we’re short on time. You’re on your knees enough for me already as it is,” he lightly chuckled, motioning him to stand up. Once Copia was at eye level with Lucifer, he continued, “I need you to forgive my tardiness. It seems we have a rogue part of The Trilogy who takes a liking to meddle in things.” He casted a weary glance at Terzo’s slumped form. With a heavy sigh, he turned back to Copia. “You are just as valuable as either of them. Just because I haven’t blessed you with a vision, doesn’t mean you are any less worthy than he is. Do you understand?”

Copia blinked at the Dark One in front of him, shellshocked. His worth was something he always struggled with. It’s partly why he was as high up in the Clergy as he was; he had to prove he deserved to be there. He had to do everything and more to make sure there was at least that one thing that stood out about him, above all else. Finally he nodded. “Y-yes. I– I understand,” he stuttered.

“Good! Between you and I… if I could choose who is by her side,” he said, pointing at you, “it would be you. Nothing against dear Terzo here, but he can be, eh… irresponsible at times. Whereas you are able to keep a level-head and stay steadfast. That being said, freewill does play a part in this…” Lucifer sighed and shrugged. “So, no matter what happens, you keep that in the back of your mind.”

“I– Heh… thank you, Your Eminence.” 

“You have a way with people, Copia. You understand them. You can lead them. And I know that’s no easy task. The rituals of ascension will be… demanding. Extremely demanding, but I’ve chosen you three, because I know you all can handle it. There’s just one thing you must remember. She may still love Terzo,” a look of pain shot through Copia’s eyes, “but she does love you too. You bring balance to her life; you keep her grounded. She needs that now more than ever.”

“Something happened between her and Terzo that started all of this, didn’t it?” His voice was quiet and soft. The question just sort of slipped out of him as he voiced his musings.

Lucifer nodded. “But that’s not my story to tell. You have a great deal of power, my child. Never underestimate the power of seeing, of understanding those around you. That will give you an upper hand… should you need it.” Copia furrowed his brows. He opened his mouth to speak, but Lucifer held his hand up, stopping him. “I’m sorry for the ambiguity, but I fear our time here must come to a close due to the state our beloved is in. But before I return you, I need you to give Sister Imperator a message for me.” Copia nodded. “She needs to stop hiding the truth. It won’t do anyone any good if she continues to keep her secrets.”

As quickly as He appeared, He was gone. It was like the play button on the scene around him had been pressed. Your snarling filled his ears. His head was swimming with what had just happened and the overload of information, but his attention was focused on you. 

Without hesitation, he strode over to you, cupping your face in his hands. You tried to thrash your head side to side to avoid his gaze. Your wild eyes bored into Terzo as he lay crumpled on the floor still.

Not that he had time to really register what he was feeling, but Copia’s white eye started to tingle the longer he looked at you. He changed his grip so he was holding your head tightly enough to stop your incessant thrashing. Shaking you, he forced you to look at him. “Come back to me,” he commanded, giving you another shake. Your eyes landed on his, which made the prickling sensation increase to the point where he was fully aware of it. Similar to pins and needles, it intensified to a burning feeling as your eyes locked. “This isn’t you, amore,” he added gently.

You blinked, his words enveloping you like a blanket after a day out in the cold as if warming you, comforting you. Slowly you feltl the darkness fade from you. Copia’s hold on you loosens as his hands slip to your shoulders, allowing you to take in the scene before you. 

First you see the look of total concern and worry etched into Copia’s features, then it hit you that you're being held by ghouls. Cautiously, your eyes find Terzo who had stopped his dramatic display on the floor and had sat up, resting his head in hands on his knees. He looked up at you, hearing your commotion stop. You see the bruises, in the shapes of hands, starting to form on his neck, and his beaten and bloodied face. His eyes met yours, fear instantly widening his, while tears formed in yours.

Abruptly, you turn away, shame diverting your gaze. You practically go limp in the ghouls’ hold as tears fall. They release you and you slump forward, Copia’s arms fly out to steady you. He could be looking at you with sympathy, with anger and frustration, or with hurt. After everything, it’s almost impossible for you to distinguish between them. 

Quickly your eyes dart towards the exit, your body twitching as if you’re about to make a run for it, but when you see Sister Imperator, Primo, and Secondo standing there, you stay frozen.

“Lucifer in Hell…” Sister Imperator gasps, clutching her grucifix. With a shake of her head, she doesn’t waste a single moment getting straight to business. “Copia, get her back to your quarters and out of sight. Primo, Secondo, you are to start preparing for the first ritual – her ghoul summoning. She’s left us no choice; we must start the ascension. Tomorrow it begins,” she barked.

Secondo nodded and turned to leave. Primo couldn’t help his eyes darting from Terzo, to you, and to Copia, then back to Terzo. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but no words came out. A pained look in his eye at what had befallen his family. “Andiamo, Primo,” Secondo said softly to him, as he tried to turn him away from the scene in front of them. All the oldest Emeritus brother could do was sigh and nod as he followed his brother to begin the preparations.

Omega looked like he was watching a tennis match with the way his eyes jumped from Sister Imperator, to you, and to Terzo, waiting for something to give him a command. 

Impatiently, she said, “Omega, take Terzo back to his chambers and get him cleaned up. And make sure his vocal chords aren’t damaged. We are set to leave for the last Meliora shows in Mexico the day after tomorrow!” She squinted her eyes at you, simultaneously blaming you for this mess and warning you not to fuck it up further.

Omega and Terzo pass by you on their way. He was practically clinging to his ghoul, but his eyes showed a forlornness that made you think he at least felt some sort of guilt towards all of this. You bowed your head, feeling nothing but shame and remorse.

“Sister, what if the siblings see?” Copia asked.

“It’s dinner, the chances of anyone besides ghouls roaming about are slim, but we need to act quickly. Move! Get her out of here!” 

Alpha places a hand on your shoulder. Are you strong enough to walk, Your Eminence? 

You nod at him. Just don’t ask me to run a marathon. You could see the ghoul’s shoulders shake from a fleeting burst of laughter. You took a deep breath and wiped the remaining tears from your face. After straightening out your clothes, you nod once, keeping your head held high as you make the trek back to Copia’s.

The apartment is silent except for the movement from Cannoli in his cage. After taking a shower and changing, you took your usual place on the couch. Copia opted for the chair. A telltale sign the unreadable expression on his face leans towards your earlier assessment of him possibly being angry with you might not be far off; he always sat on the couch with you, always. 

“What were you doing in Terzo’s office? Aside from trying to kill him,” he asked, breaking the deafening silence. You winced at his tone.

“I… He wanted to talk to me about something.” 

Copia raised an eyebrow at you. “How long were you in his office?” 

You chewed on your lip, avoiding his eyes. Consequences, dear child… you heard ringing through your thoughts. Needing an outlet for the surmounting anxiety, your leg wouldn’t stop bouncing. “Not that long…”

With a shake of his head, he tossed a glance towards the ceiling. “Don’t fucking lie to me,” he said through barely parted lips. His exhausted tone was somehow worse than if he had yelled. “Were you there when I was?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words came up empty. The shame had opened a hole in the ground and swallowed you whole – or at least, you wished it would. Solemnly, you nodded.

“Why? Why were you even there? Why were you hiding? What were you tw–?”

“Because I was terrified of what he would do to me!” you cut him off as your words rushed out. “If I didn’t see him… I didn’t know what– how he would retaliate, s-so I went to his office when I didn’t hear from him. I was scared… I wasn’t sure if it was a test or not.”

“Terrified? What did he–?”

“I can’t talk about it, Copia. I promised… I can’t lose you. I can’t. I–” You pulled your quivering bottom lip in between your teeth, biting down just enough to try to keep the levy of tears from breaking. 

“He can’t send me away, if that was his threat, which isn’t even a new threat now that he said it to me himself. Sister Imperator would never allow it anyway,” he said as he waved his hand dismissively before he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You haven’t been yourself since the summons, all the changes aside. Just… tell me what happened.”

“It was my fault; this is my fault,” you mumbled. “I should have stopped– stopped it, o-or stopped him. And– and I didn’t.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. A tear slipped down your cheek and you turned quickly to wipe it away. You sucked in a shuddering breath through your teeth. Nothing could hold back the tears now that you were left without a choice but to confess everything.

“What happened, cara?” he stressed. “Did he hurt you?” He shifted to the edge of his seat like he was seconds away from finishing what you had started.

Your eyes shut tightly again as you shook your head. “No, no. Not physically. I– we–” you stammered, before your voice turned into a meek whisper. “I think… I think there was a part of me that… that liked it…” What was the point of hiding anything now? You looked up and rapidly blinked, doing your best to keep the tears away.

Even without seeing him, you could feel the emotion draining from him. His posture turned rigid and tense. His jaw clenched and the leather of his gloves creaked under the strain of his hands balling into fists. He knew now exactly what had transpired. And that caused the levee to break and the tears to freely flow while the words flew from your mouth in a stream of consciousness. 

“I didn’t want to. I didn’t. I told him to stop. I pushed him away. Please, please believe me. I didn’t want to hurt you. But… H-he said if I kept fighting him or I breathed one word of this to you… he’d send you away and I couldn’t– I didn’t know… And then there was this voice, telling me to… submit? And I just… I let him do whatever he wanted to me. I let him…” Your eyes scrunched shut, a look of pain casted over your face as you shook your head. “When he was done with me… when it was over… he said again if I said one syllable of this to you, you’d be gone. And that I was his. And I think that’s when… it happened. I don’t remember anything but rage after that. Pure rage. But it was my fault. It was all my fault I let him. And then I… I left s-something in his office and he texted me last night that I had to get them today and I just didn’t know what he would do. I didn’t know if he’d try and– try and hurt me again or hurt you if I didn’t. Even after the hex I casted, I just– I didn’t know what to do. So I went and then he told me everything. And I thought… It was like he was back, like my Terzo was back. And before I knew it, I– we were… we kissed and– but then he mentioned you and I pushed him away. And he kept saying how it would be him, it’s always gonna be him, and he promised to be better, but the promise… I just– That’s when I snapped. I tried to kill him. I tried. I just wanted to make it stop. But it’s all my fault.” Your voice finally broke after everything flew out of your mouth in a burst. When you finally looked at him, you couldn’t even register what emotions were on his face, if any. Your eyesight was so blurry with tears. So you flew off the couch, kneeling in front of him, sobbing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m s-so sorr-rry,” you repeated over and over.

Copia slid out of the chair and onto the floor to hold you as you sobbed. He didn’t say anything. He allowed you the space to cry, the space to mumble your string of apologies between gulps of air and wails of despair. 

When you calmed down enough to almost be able to breathe normally, he was shocked when you pushed away from him suddenly. You pushed yourself back until you hit the couch, frantically shaking your head. “No, no, no. Why aren’t you– You should hate me. You should be— What are you doing? I don’t deserve this. I– I’m…” The pain that flashed through your eyes was nearly indescribable. Your voice sounded so strained as you tried to speak through your gasping intakes of breaths. “I’m– just– like– him.”

There was no way for you to see the utter look of shock and hurt and remorse that came over him. You missed how his eyes watered with tears he couldn’t let fall, because you needed someone strong, you needed someone to hold you up as everything crumbled around you. Leaning forward on his knees, he placed a hand beside on the couch to hold him up as he leaned over you. His other hand found its way to your chin, trying to gently convince you to look at him. 

“Dolcezza, look at me…” he spoke gently. “Look at me.” Reluctantly you obliged. “You are nothing like him. You will never be anything close to the monster that he is, do you understand me?” You couldn’t do anything but stare at him as your eyes continued to well up with even more tears. “He manipulated you, cara. He used you. Time and time again. The only way for that bastard to change is for his soul to leave his body,” he growled. He shut his eyes briefly, taking a deeping to regain his composure.

You shook your head, sliding away from him, trying to create distance. “No, I’m worse.” You hugged your knees to your chest. 

“You’re n–”

“I tried to kill him, Copia. I wanted to kill him.” Your eyes grew distant as you stared ahead. “I could have, too… if no one stopped me. Y-you don’t know what it’s like to lose control like that – to not have any control.” A humorless laugh fell from your lips as you shook your head almost in disbelief. “And then there’s everything I did to you.” Your lips curled over your teeth as you pressed them into a straight line in a feeble attempt to fight the next onslaught of tears. You turned your head away from him as one managed to escape.

Your eyes stayed shut as you heard the rustling of fabric as he got up, sighing as he did so. His soft footsteps told you he was walking around the coffee table to kneel beside you. “Cara, I was aware of the precariousness of our… relationship well before it began.” You weren’t sure what direction he was going with this, so your eyes snapped open in time to watch as he avoided looking at you. “What surprises me the most is that I didn’t see this coming.”

When his eyes met yours, you could feel the searing pain of your guilt slashing your heart with shallow cuts. He’s upset because he should have expected this of you? For a split second you thought about getting defensive. You opened your mouth, but quickly shut it. Copia was probably the only person outside of your relationship with Terzo who knew the ins and outs of it. You had confided in him time and time again; you sought him out for comfort. He knew the pain and devastation you felt. And he knew how much you had truly loved Terzo.

“I–I– I’m sorry,” you stammered. “I didn’t want to lose you and… I thought if I could hide it from you, it would hurt you less. It– I was– Everything is just so fucking complicated now.” You ran your hands through your hair, gripping it frustration.

“I just need you to answer one question for me. Will you be able to resist being intimate with him again if the opportunity arises?”

Hands falling to your side, you took in a shuddering breath, slowly turning to look at him with a dumbfounded expression. Your stomach dropped and you could feel the thundering in your chest as your hands trembled. There was no choice but to tell the truth. “I can’t…” you shook your head. “Copia, I can’t promise that…” you breathed out the words in shame.

He nodded once. His face hardened with stoicism akin to a marble sculpture. “Grazie per la tua onestà (thank you for your honesty),” he said with his voice devoid of any emotion as he stood up. “We need to tell Sister Imperator about what happened to you. She needs to know for the sake of the upcoming rituals.” He took out his phone and began to call her as he went into the bedroom. You couldn’t hear exactly what was said, but you knew enough that he had informed her of how urgently she needed to see the two of you. 

Somehow you were able to force yourself to stand up and get yourself a glass of water as you hopelessly tried to pull yourself together. He didn’t have to tell you that Sister Imperator was on her way. You weren’t sure how long you stood at the kitchen sink, staring off into nothing, until three sharp knocks at the door pulled you out of your trance-like state. 

She eyed you as you let her into the small apartment. You casted your solemn eyes down. Copia emerged out of the bedroom and gestured towards the chair, “Sister, please sit.” 

“So what is the arduous new development now?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“The truth about her awakening,” stated Copia bluntly. 

“Ah. Of course. There had to be more than a mere conversation to set you off.”

You fought physically cringing, taking a deep breath to prepare yourself. Copia leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. He couldn’t look at you, his eyes trained to a spot on the ground. Sister waved her hand impatiently to tell you to get on with it. 

“He— Terzo, um…” you sputtered at first before you just spewed the story out without taking a breath. “Terzo forced himself on me and threatened to send Copia back to Italy if I said anything at all to anyone about what happened and said I was ‘his’ and I just remember the rage I felt after that and today I was hiding in office when Copia was there so I heard everything but he told me everything because Asmodeus came to both of us but then he made a dig at Copia and I tried to kill him.” You took a deep breath as you finished, sheepishly looking at Sister Imperator. During your small monologue you kept your gaze fixed on your restless hands in your lap, missing how quickly Copia’s eyes darted to you when you mentioned the visit from Asmodeus. 

Imperator’s mouth dropped slightly as listened. “Lucifer in Hell…” she breathed as she shook her head in dismay. “Do not utter a word of this to anyone, but the problem that is Papa Emeritus III will be dealt with in the coming days. I will not divulge any information on what is to happen for your safety; it is best you know as little as possible.”

“That’s not all, Sister,” Copia spoke up. “Something also happened — to me — today.” Both yours and Sister Imperator’s brows furrowed quizzically as your heads turned to face Copia. “I don’t think we need to, eh, prepare a ritual for me to summon an Infernal.” Deeper cuts from your guilt and shame slashed your heart further. He was sharing this information with Sister Imperator, not you. He probably would have shared this with you first and foremost, but not after the knife you just twisted into his heart.

Sister Imperator put two and two together. She recalled both you and Terzo having seen Asmodeus, which meant all three involved were having the visions concurrent with the awakening. The look of bewilderment etched itself deeper into the lines of her face. 

“Who did you see?” you asked, your voice sounded rattled and cautious. 

He rubbed the back of his neck as his eyes sheepishly darted between the ladies in front of him. “Lucifer himself, eheh.” 

“Copia that… That’s amazing. What did he say? What happened?” you asked, moving to the edge of your seat. Having not seen Lucifer yourself, you knew how significant this was.

“Terzo has really fucked things up, which was apparently the reason He hadn’t shown himself to me. He stressed that freewill plays a large role in your choice. So, um,” he cleared his throat, “in the end, the choice is yours and it will be respected. But, Sister… He– He had a message for you. He said that you need to start telling the truth and continuing to keep secrets won’t do anyone any good.”

You watched as the color drained from Sister Imperator’s face. She clasped her hand around her grucifix as she closed her eyes, probably muttering a silent prayer of strength. “C… I– I had wanted to tell you when I felt the time was right, but if The Dark One says that time is now…” She was stalling, trying to put together the right words. After taking a deep breath, she bared her secret she had been carrying around for decades. “There is a reason you have the Emeritus Eye. The claim you are not part of this bloodline simply is not true. This– Not even Papa Nihil is aware of what I am about to tell you. Maybe at one point he was, but I think we’re lucky he even knows his own name these days. I digress.” She paused as her hand covered her mouth for a moment. Her eyes scanned a distant spot in front of her as if she was searching for the next piece of the story she would tell.

“Before the awakening started, I was working on making it so that the rightful heir to the papal seat would be chosen. I suppose that process is now being rushed. Copia, you are the next in line to be Papa.” 

His mouth dropped, hanging open in shock. Your eyes widened. 

“Times were very different when you were born…” she continued. “The reason you will be our next Papa is because of your parents. It is true, Papa Nihil is, unfortunately, in fact your father, but why you deserve this is due to who your mother is.”

Copia blinked repeatedly before he interrupted, “But– But they told me my mother felt she was too young to have a child and dropped me off al Ministero della Roma (at the Ministry of Rome) with nothing but a note. How… How do you know?”

“That part is true. Your mother did feel she was too young to adequately care for a child, especially considering the antics of your father and his parenting, or lack thereof, of your brothers. It was best for you to be raised by the Sisters of Sin who could show you the care you deserve.” Copia scoffed. “Primo taking you under his wing was the best thing that could have happened.”

“But how do you know?” he repeated through his teeth. “What does my mother have to do with me being next in line for Papa?”

“Because, Copia, I am your mother.”

part viii | part x

#the band ghost #the band ghost fanfic #ghost the band #cardinal copia #terzo #papa emeritus iii #papa terzo #cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia x female reader #terzo x reader #terzo x female reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #papa emeritus iii x female reader #copia angst #terzo angst #cardinal copia angst #you're losing me

[outsourcingbpo]

Catch Da Craze Podcast. Episode #450. Entrepreneur talks about relocating, drive and determination in Costa Rica

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#appointment setting #B2B #BPO #Business #CEO #COSTA RICA&039;S CALL CENTER #cx #Entrepreneur #GAMIFICATION #lead generation #Leadership #Marketing #NEARSHORE #outsourcing #PODCAST #RICHARD BLANK #Sales #Small Business #telemarketing

[markvogler]

As island people, the locals of Tristan da Cunha are a sea people, with their primary economy driven by the crawfish (aka Lobster ) - some of the rarest in the world, served in very high end restaurants around the world. They are and have always been amazing conservationist, having established strict catch quotas long ago, understanding that short term overfishing would be a huge one hit bump for their economy but would destroy their sustainability. In addition, they have limited sized herds of cattle and sheep, due to the limits of the size of crazing land, numerous potato patches, and communal/private gardens producing additional food. While they do receive some limited consumer products by ship from South Africa a few times a year, these hearty Tristianians are completely self sufficient. They are very careful with their economy and have a general fund, from fishing proceeds, that will sustain the entire population, if necessary, for 8 years! #beardedhomo on #Tristan (at Tristan da Cunha) https://www.instagram.com/p/CqIQCDGNiYk/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#beardedhomo #tristan

[ibijau]

Writing prompt: Role reversal AU where Nie Huaisang is the one who discovers demonic cultivation. Wei Wuxian becomes his first and closest disciple, but Xue Yang isn't really making things easy for either of their reputations. And when Nie Minjue dies... well, desperate times call for desperate measures. After all, if Wen Ning could be brought back to life, then why not Nie Minjue?

What could possibly go wrong?

Oh, only absolutely everything.

“I’m just saying the option is there,” Wei Wuxian said while tinkering on… something.

For his own sanity, Nie Huaisang had learned not to be too curious.

“We’re not bringing my brother back as a fierce corpse, Wei Ying,” Nie Huaisang slowly replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. He felt as if he might start crying again. He’d been crying all week, and he’d had a massive headache for most of that time.

Then again, headaches were just a normal part of his day lately, due to the company he kept.

“I think it’d be fun to try!” said Xue Yang, the second and biggest cause of his headaches. Then, catching Wei Wuxian’s eye, Xue Yang backpedalled a bit. “I mean I think it would be… scientific to try?”

“You can’t always replace ‘fun’ with ‘scientific’ to make yourself sound less creepy,” Wei Wuxian said, as if Xue Yang hadn’t picked the habit from him. “Though I think it would be pretty scientific. And also our Huaisang has been missing his da-ge. And with a really strong fierce corpse at our side, we’ll finally be safe! No offence, Wen Ning.”

“None taken,” Wen Ning mumbled, who was currently helping Wei Wuxian with his tinkering.

Nie Huaisang couldn’t resist a glimpse, saw a lot of moving viscera and talismans, and quickly looked away. He didn’t mind corpses, he could deal with blood, chunks of flesh, or bones scattered around, but for some reason Nie Huaisang remained squeamish about the sight of most organs. Those were meant to stay inside.

“If I had family,” Xue Yang said, “and if they died, I’d want to raise them back to life.”

“If you had a family and it died,” Nie Huaisang snapped, “it would be because you killed them.”

“Yeah, but I’d still want them back.”

“I’d want that too,” Wei Wuxian claimed. “Remember when shijie got wounded? I’d have done it if needed.”

Nie Huaisang’s headache increased. He needed water. Or wine. Wine was more tempting, because while it would give him a worse headache later, with enough of it he might pass out now.

“You would not have brought your sister back as a fierce corpse,” Nie Huaisang said, “because Jiang Cheng would have fucking murdered all of us for that, including A-Yuan, which is bad, and me, which is worse. And I am not bringing my brother back, because we would not be able to control him. I mean, Wen Ning was already a crazed monster that tried to kill us all… no offence, Wen Ning.”

“None taken.”

“And that was with him being a very weak and inexperienced cultivator when he was alive. Still no offence.”

“It’s fine.”

“If we bring back my brother, how are we going to control him? We’ve never dealt with a person that powerful!”

“Well, if Wen Ning helps us tie him up…”

“Da-ge would tear him apart limb by limb in the blink of an eye. He could have done it even when he was alive. No offence, Wen Ning.”

“You know what, I think I’m starting to be a little offended now.”

“My point is,” Nie Huaisang said, raising his hand to order silence, “that we are not bringing my brother back. Unlike you people, I have a sane and healthy attitude towards death. Just because I use corpses and ghosts doesn’t mean I can’t accept the fact that my loved one will someday be lost to me. I have that emotional maturity. I know how to let go.”

“If you brought him back,” Xue Yang pointed out, “maybe you’d get a hug. Don’t you miss that?”

“Fuck you,” Nie Huaisang informed him, before breaking into tears and storming out of the cave.

-

It still pissed off Nie Huaisang that he’d agreed to this, but the perspective of another hug from his brother after years of separation had gotten to him. So they’d made their way to Nie Mingjue’s grave, keeping out of view, avoiding every system in place to alert Qinghe Nie of intruders. Nie Huaisang, of course, had cried at the sight of his brother’s name engraved on a tombstone, but the other three hardly said anything.

Well, Xue Yang tried to mock him for it, until Wen Ning grabbed him and placed a hand on his mouth to silence him.

Bless Wen Ning, Nie Huaisang thought. That boy needed a raise. Or maybe he needed to be paid at all.

Eventually, Nie Huaisang got a grip of himself, and set to work. It wasn’t his first grave-robbing, far from it, and his friends had just as much experience. But none of them were used to doing it without just destroying everything that stood between them and the corpse of their dream, so that took a while.

The grave, when they opened it, was empty.

“Oh,” Nie Huaisang said. “Ok now I really want to bring him back.”

#nie huaisang #wei wuxian #xue yang #wen ning #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #oops it's a short one

[queen-erika-the-songful]

Okay I’m just kind of confused at how hard they’re pushing the idea of mermaids in the Dreamhouse Adventures/Go Team Roberts/It Takes Two universe. I mean just think about how much we’ve seen them play a big part in the last few years:

2017 - This continuity starts with Dolphin Magic, which we KNOW is part of the Dreamhouse Adventures (+Go Team Roberts) universe because these EXACT versions of Barbie, her sisters, and Ken appear later when that series premieres. Plus, in some promo material, DM is advertised as a kickoff special to the Netflix series. In this movie, Barbie meets Isla, a REAL mermaid. As a side note, we can conclude from this movie that mermaids and magic are 100% part of the canon. 

2018 - Dreamhouse Adventures premieres its 1st season in May, and its 2nd in September. We get a two-part episode in Season 2 titled “Barbie Roberts: Undercover Mermaid”. Barbie and friends go to a mermaid convention on vacation. Nikki wants to impress fashionista Fairuza Ukwani, who is called “The Mermaid Queen” with her own line of mermaid dresses.

2019 - We get Season 3 of DA as well as the 1st season of its “sequel series” Go Team Roberts!.(Sidenote: I have no idea why Netflix split GTR’s 2 seasons into a separate series. Not much in terms of themes, settings, or anything really separate it from the rest of DA). Go Team Roberts opens with a mermaid-centric 4-part episode, “Magical Mermaid Mystery”. Yes, 4 parts! May as well just been another movie/special. Several stories are happening at the same time, mainly Barbie trying to figure out a shady mystery at her new job at the waterpark. The rest of her family go to Costa Rica for some whale migration that is rumored to be aided by a mermaid. Chelsea believes in it wholeheartedly, because of course she would - THEY MET ONE. But for some reason Skipper and Stacie aren’t totally on board with the idea. Again - THEY ALREADY MET A REAL MERMAID. So, Barbie solves the mystery, plays a mermaid along with her other friends in the water park’s show, and then goes to Costa Rica to see her family. Then in the end, Chelsea catches a glimpse of a mermaid helping the whales and she - for some reason - looks exactly like Barbie.

2020 & 2021 - Surprisingly enough, I think we got a break from mermaids during this time, unless I’m forgetting something. BUT THEN - 

2022 - Barbie: It Takes Two premieres following Big City, Big Dreams (2021), both of which take place in the same universe as DA+GTR. And now we get word that one of the next movies that is coming out is Mermaid Magic, again a mermaid movie that appears to be taking place in the DA+GTR+ITT universe. At the time of writing this (04/22) I have no idea what it’s about or if magic is involved again or if they’ll mention Isla at all. I kind of hope they do though.

And this is all just one media continuity! None of this is even getting into the amount of mermaid (+ other fantasy) dolls and toys we’ve gotten over the last several years from Barbie. I guess the mermaids craze just hasn’t slowed down or died yet. I mean, I’m already biased since I love mermaids, so maybe I just didn’t notice, but seriously the amount of mentions of them in the DA-verse is so weird to me.

I’m probably overthinking this but it’s hard not to notice now.

#long post #barbie #barbie: dreamhouse adventures #barbie dreamhouse adventures: go team roberts #barbie: it takes two

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The General (part 3): Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: Things are explained, and you’re taken by surprise more than once. 

wc: 2.7k

tw: none

masterlist

Moonlight streams into the tent from a gash in the fabric above, illuminating your captor as he sleeps in the massive bed built for a giant or two. You, however, lay on the ground beside the bed, eyes glued to the sleeping general in spite.

Geto had yet again embarrassed you at dinner, making you kneel on the floor next to his chair instead of taking your place at the table. His kinsmen had laughed at you under their breath, and when he began to feed you from his plate by handing you pieces of food from his hand, that had completely annihilated any piece of pride you had left. Gojo made a joke about you being a beautiful, albeit begrudgingly obedient puppy which earned him a round of riotous laughter. It took all you had not to burst into tears right there.

And when the General got tipsy and began to pet your hair with a fondness you could only describe as possession, you felt even more defeated. 

But now it was all over. You were alone with him once more, trapped - even on the ground - and unable to leave. You were physically unrestrained - because where could you go when the camp stretched on for miles? - but the entrapment was mental. Nothing like this had ever crossed your mind when you considered your future. It all rested on Yuko’s shoulders not two da--

Yuko. 

What had that one soldier mentioned? 

“Is she really as beautiful as Yuko said?” 

Yuko. 

The idea that he had anything to do with this encounter would have been absurd to you, except… now, it wasn’t. 

When you gasp and sit up abruptly, Geto cracks open an eye and his hand shoots out to grab the neck of your kimono. “Easy there, little one.” But when he sees your tears, his features go from scrutiny to a softer gaze, and his hand releases from your kimono and flops to the side of the bed. 

“Why am I here?” you whisper, wiping your nose. “What am I to you?” 

“You’re here because I want you here,” Geto replies, sitting up fully and letting the sheets slide down his perfect frame.

“Why me?” 

“You were headed to the Imperial Court. Like I said, it’s a hellish life there. You should thank me, really. If we hadn’t gotten to you befo--” 

“What does Yuko have to do with any of this?” As soon as you mention Yuko, the atmosphere in the room changes from careful and concerned to an inquisition. Geto places his feet on the floor, eyes glued to your tear-stained face as he stands and then crouches in front of you. His hand drifts to your cheek, rubbing away a fresh tear before a thumb is smoothed over your dry lips.

“I almost forgot… you were close to him, weren’t you?” You neither confirm nor deny the accusations by remaining dreadfully still, eyes locked with the man in front of you. “Your silence confirms this.” Geto stands again, moving past you before lighting a few lanterns and then walking around you much like the previous night. 

“I have eyes everywhere, little one. When I heard that the Imperial Matchmaker was headed around the country, I made sure of two things: one, that she would conveniently look for a common girl to wed to a Prince, and two, that she would be from one of the towns where my eyes were.” 

‘My eyes’… Yuko is a… traitor?

“You see,” Geto leans down to brush his lips against your ear as his hair tickles your shoulder. “I’ve been waiting for a moment like this ever since I was denied my rightful place in line for the throne, and I’ve tried everything to get it back.” A shiver runs down your spine at his admission, and you crane your head up to look at him in shock, fearing the next words out of his mouth. His onyx eyes are crazed, almost feral with ambition. “Well, that is… except start a war. And what better way to begin one than over a stolen princess-to-be?” 

_______________________________________________________________________

When Kaori enters the tent later on that morning, you’ve made up your mind. The eater of curses made it very clear that you were a pawn in his bid to usurp the Imperial Throne, and he also reiterated that escape was absolutely impossible. You were being watched by eyes you couldn’t see, listened to by ears you couldn’t deafen, and talked about by mouths you couldn’t shut. 

But there was one thing you could do. 

As the woman tends to your bruised knees, you examine her tools. 

“Do you have something that I could use to mend my old gown? And do you know where it went?” Kaori looks up at you, her brown hair falling behind her ears as her face contorts into a confused expression.

“Your old dress is gone, my Lady.” 

“It is?” 

“Sent downriver to the nearest village and made to look like you had been killed.” The news of your faked death is alarming, to say the least. 

“You mean I’m--” 

“Like most captives, you will no longer be searched for.” How many others had this happened to? 

“I-” 

“And I know what you’re thinking, Lady y/n. I am not permitted any sharp tools aside from what I am allowed to use in the hot springs with the other ladies, but they are not sharp enough to take a life. I am sure Master Geto will allow you to join us one day, though.” 

“H-how many women has he had before me?” Kaori looks up at you again; her eyes cold and unforgiving. 

“Only one, and she almost ruined him.” Her hands return to your calf, massaging the muscle carefully. “But that will never happen again. That we will all make sure of.” 

Another blue kimono, another morning spent alone until lunch had been brought to you. You now roam around the camp, followed closely by Kaori and another young woman you don’t know yet. As you bite into the pear in your hand, you try to catch bits and pieces of their chatter, but you lose the noise as soon as you encounter something new - which is every three seconds. Out of all of the women you see - most young women probably not above the age of twenty-nine - none of them wear blue kimonos. They’re either in red or green, perhaps signifying rank or job. But in all of the days you’ve seen Kaori, she’s dressed in multiple different colors, all except blue. 

You wonder what that means for a moment before you chance upon a large, open field full of men practicing their swordsmanship and hand-to-hand combat. You’re standing on a high part of a hill just before it slopes downward to where they are sparring. As your eyes scan the crowd from above, you look for your long-haired captor, and you cannot find him until a hand points over your shoulder. 

“You see that ring there?” The other woman speaks, and your eyes instantly hone in on a ring of men huddled around two figures fighting. “Master Geto and Master Gojo fight there all the time.” 

“Who wins?” you wonder, looking back at the giggling maid. 

“Which way will the wind blow tomorrow?” she answers, and at your confused expression, Kaori steps in.

“Some days it is Master Geto. Other days it is Master Gojo. We can never tell until the spar has ended and the dust has settled.” Your eyes turn back to the men in the circle, and you see a long stream of jet black hair and then long white hair, but they’re moving much too fast for you to be able to discern their movements. 

“They won’t be done for a while,” The other maid adds, and places a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sure Master Geto will come find you when he’s ready to… unwind.” The giggles at this comment do nothing for your nerves. 

_______________________________________________________________________

The General returns to the tent after a few hours, cuts and bruises dotting his half-clothed physique. You eye him carefully as he stalks past you on the bed, followed by a male attendant who rushes to help him undress and take a bath on the other side of the curtain. 

He’s silent as the water sloshes around, and you can barely make out any other noises besides the occasional hiss of pain or deep exhale. It’s obvious that the man who attends to his wounds did his job properly when Geto emerges with only a bandage on his right side, blood dotting the cloth taped to his ribs. 

“Scoot over,” Geto waves his hand at you, flopping onto the space you’ve made with barely so much as a ‘thank you’.

“Did you win?” you inquire and Geto looks over at you before touching his arms behind his head and giving you a toothy grin. 

“Of course I did.” You both lapse into another silence before Geto clears his throat and slides a hand from under his head and onto your back. “You went to see us train… I’m surprised you’d be interested in that.” 

“I was walking around and happened to observe the melee.” 

“Kaori told you about how our fights end, then.” 

“She and her companion didn’t add much to the already obvious; you two spar well.” 

“Do you fight, little one?” he asks innocently. You give him a look and that’s all he needs to see to know that the answer is ‘no’. “I should teach you to fight, then.”

“Why, so I can fight you and then run away after I win against you?” you retort, and Geto laughs suddenly, clutching at his injured side. 

“I didn’t say I would teach you how to beat me, I just said ‘to fight’,” he chokes out, wiping away the tears that dot his bottom eyelid. “You have a very interesting sense of humor.”

“It keeps me alive,” you mumble and you feel the hand on your back run up and down your spine. While the comforting gesture is kind in nature, it makes your skin crawl that someone so evil could touch anyone in an affectionate way. 

“Did Yuko ever touch you like this?” At this question, you look over at the man who spoke, eyes blazing. 

“He would never,” you snarl.  

“Smart man,” Geto grumbles, sitting up; now placing his hand on your leg. “I told him not to touch my things. He learned that lesson as a child and it seems it has carried over well.” 

“I’m your thing, now?” You snatch your body away from his grip and climb off the bed, shuffling to the far side of the tent to be alone. “You know, when people get pets, they at least give them something to play with and keep them busy during the day.”

“You want something to play with?” Geto moves off of the bed and raises a brow, fingering the waistband of his pants thoughtfully. “That can be arranged.” Fear leaps into your throat even though the man doesn’t move a single inch closer to you. You swallow hard, then Geto speaks, running his hands through his hair exasperatedly. “When I imagined taking a woman, it did not seem as hard as it actually is. Besides the frustrating part, you vex me entirely in areas I have never been tried in. I’m trying to keep you pure, so when this is over and I can release you to your hometown and you’ll be free to do as you please… but little one, you make it hard for me to control myself when you act this way.”

“It is obvious that you are a patient man and tha-” 

“It is not enough when that very vexation causes me to be kinder than I’ve ever been toward someone who repeatedly disrespects my existence.” 

“Kind? To me?” You scoff, turning away and crossing your arms. 

“I have been far kinder to you than anyone else I have held captive.” He’s advancing on you, but you can’t do much except back up against the tent side with fear. 

“All for some war so you can take the throne?” 

“All for my rightful place as Emperor.” 

“As a bastard son of the current Emperor, really.” Your cheeks are squeezed between fingers, and you taste the tang of iron in your mouth. You try to yank your face out of his grip, but it’s too strong, and you find that you’re held quite close to him as a result. He brings your face closer to his, eyes running wild over your features for a moment as he holds you captive. 

“Watch your tongue,” Geto warns, then lets you go, inhaling deeply before shaking out an exhale. You rub at your cheeks and now bitten tongue mournfully, giving the General a nasty look. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“I would if you told me everything,” you mumble, looking away from the way his muscles were illuminated and painted perfectly and to the ground. “If I’m to be a pawn in your game, at least let me in on your plan.” 

Geto looks over his shoulder at you, a small smile lifting the corners of his lips up. It’s something you can’t look away from, and your mouth dries up at the gesture of familiarity. “You would like that, wouldn’t you? I’ll tell you my secrets and then you’ll go and tell your kinsmen the plan, right? Somehow get that information to them… then plan your escape.” The smile falls, and the General turns back to you, his face now utterly serious. “I’m not a fool, little one. Foolishness did not get me this far, and I won’t begin to act like one now.” 

At this, he stalks out of the tent and leaves you alone again, stuck with your thoughts and your increasing desire to run away and never look back.

_______________________________________________________________________

Dinner. 

You’d come to dread the most decadent meal of the day where you would be sitting on the floor next to the General. You were not permitted to speak, but only eat from his hand and drink from his cup when allowed, and anyone could make fun of you behind hands or openly, as you were nothing more than an object. 

As you contemplate your fate yet again, you feel the familiar tap of something warm at your lips. 

“Eat.” Geto urges you, and you reluctantly open your mouth to accept the piece of meat. When you look around the table, you can just barely see the eyes of Gojo and Haibara following the motions of Geto’s hands as they converse about military strategy, but you can definitely see the eyes of the one they called Nanami following your movements with precision. 

Another piece of meat is presented for you to consume, and you do so mindlessly, observing the others at the table with less interest. That is, until you catch the little eyes of a child who sits at the other end of the table. He’s mid-chew with his little hands in the food, perhaps just now seeing you sitting on the floor like an obedient dog. 

You hadn’t seen children here before now, and it seems that the “little one” here was actually him, with his pink hair and brown eyes observing you curiously. It isn’t until he hops down from the table - his little hands plucking a piece of fish off of his plate - and disappears that your head eagerly follows his movements. 

Geto notices that you’re distracted and puts a hand on your shoulder, directing your attention back to him.

“If you--”

“Eat.” The voice of the child and the sliver of fish pressed to your mouth shocks both you and Geto, and the whole table is silenced by the interaction. “Eat.” The child encourages you again, and you accept the fish, his little fingers placing it in your mouth with care. As expected, the laughter begins anew, but you feel like laughing too as the child climbs back up to his seat and continues his own meal, unaware of the spectacle he’d just created. 

“It appears you have an effect on little Yuji, Geto,” Gojo howls at the end of the table, holding his stomach as he and Haibara roar with laughter. “Soon he’ll be feeding his own lady just like you!” 

And Geto laughs as well, tossing his head back and letting the sound carry into the night.

#geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen getou #jjk geto #geto suguru #getou x reader #jjk gojo #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #getou suguru

[guqin-and-flute]

Holding Me Holding You [Ch. 4]

[Chapter 1][Chapter 2] [Chapter 3]

[Ao3 Link]

[This chapter drops sharply deeper into angst, so there are some trigger warnings under the cut. If you’re worried about any of them, the Ao3 link end notes have summaries to check if you wanna read or skip! 👌 Next chapter will still hurt, but won’t be quite as dark as this one and from then on, it gets lighter.]

[TW: PTSD nightmares, mild unreality, anxiety attack, brief mention of child death, nongraphic description of dead body, general canon typical violence and gore (lots of imaginary blood), mild descriptions of violence, brief mention of suicide, canonical self harm, canonical alcohol abuse, burns, non-graphic description of injuries, Xichen’s worsening mental state, mild emetophobia warning]

The stimulant slowly brightens his mind to a sort of sharpness that borders on unreality. It feels as if his neck is strung with little filaments of wire, pinging with a tension that radiates through his jaw, up into his skull and down his shoulders, even to his hips. But words come easier and the lists of duties can be lined up like neat little stones. It’s alright. It’s necessary.

A-Fu is more animated than yesterday--sometimes he swivels about with keen eyes, sometimes he dozes, only occasionally he whines. At one point, he even proclaims, “S’eepy. Nigh’ nigh’,” and, for all intents and purposes, seems to drop directly into sleep. Mostly, he simply watches everything go by and clings any time Xichen unwraps him. People seem to find him funny. One of the liaisons from Caiyi Town they briefly meet with smiles and leans down to ask A-Fu if he is a little leech who won’t let go. A-Fu just chews on his fingers and stares at him. 

Throughout the afternoon, Xichen continues to feed him snacks--little carrots, berries, shreds of buns. The boy holds a few back up to Xichen’s mouth expectantly, sharing again. Xichen smiles and accepts, the tang of the berries bursting over his tongue,  bright and startling. 

There is even a moment between meetings, just one moment where he sets A-fu down and sits on the steps of a forest path to put his head in his hands just so it would stop spinning. And A-Fu, from where he is latched onto Xichen’s sleeve peering up at him, says, “Sad? So sad?”

“No. No, I’m alright. Tired.”

A-Fu only cocks his head. “Aww, so sad?”

At this endearingly imperfect mimicry of sympathy, Xichen raises his head and smiles down at him, ignoring how that simple movement of his neck has sent white hot pain singing down his spine. “I’m fine. Just busy.”

At this, A-Fu pats (smacks) his palm directly to the right of Xichen’s nose repeatedly, narrowly missing his eye. He announces something utterly incomprehensible with great confidence; it almost sounds like a rhyme, but the vowels are so warped by his young age and half the consonants are missing. Whatever he’s saying seems to satisfy him because he segues directly into being distracted by Xichen’s headband, his other hand trying to hook into Xichen’s mouth for leverage. It’s enough that he chuckles, briefly, before gathering him back up to stand again. In any case, it’s nice to have something that he can physically hold and influence in this moment. 

Xichen continues in the flow of the day, feeling like a blind cave fish in a current as everything closes over his head. The air is clammy and chill, bringing the scents of the woods and distant storms. He makes sure to keep wiping the little pebbles of mist off of A-Fu’s face and keeps him shielded when he can. He organizes for more medicine to be brought. He speaks with the doctor caring for Wangji and the sick child. He speaks with his Uncle, with those who are injured and dying. He speaks to the recovering elders his brother had fought, lets their betrayal and rage and disbelief wash over him as he bows deeply and apologizes on Wangji’s behalf and nods and nods.

He lets A-Fu wander around the Hanshi’s main room as he responds to urgent missives from Clans Nie, Jiang, Jin, Yao, Ouyang, and more. Da-ge, as Clan Leader, not as his partner. His heart. 

The smooth of his hand over the paper feels almost raw against the prickliness Xichen’s skin has become. He yearns for softer things to send his loves, but now is not the time and he doesn’t have room in between thoughts.

It’s not a question when he takes A-Fu back to the Hanshi to sleep again. He hasn’t the strength to wrestle against his obvious stubborn attachment. Xichen’s skin is crawling like something is underneath it and he is simply unwilling to tempt fate. Let the boy have what he wants. Let him be happy. If it was Xichen who made him so...well, at least that’s something. He will deal with it tomorrow. There is always tomorrow.

Now that it’s dark and the stimulant has since worn off, his sleepless nights are crowding in like unwanted visitors and words and intentions are growing somewhat...vague. He doesn’t know exactly what placations are falling from his mouth like wet autumn leaves--distant encouragement, compliments for his good behavior, mindless crooning. At one point, he can feel himself humming but cannot place when he has decided to do so. It’s dimly concerning, but A-Fu doesn’t seem alarmed by him, simply tired. He curls up right in Xichen’s arms and falls asleep almost immediately after they both fall into bed. Xichen is not far behind, sinking, sinking….

The lull in his pocket of the battle allows him to catch his breath, filling his mouth and lungs with the prickling acid of resentful energy and death. It’s burning like meat. He smells it. Tastes it. It’s as sour as his fear. Shouyue is blood slick in his hand. Sticky. A fresh peal of crazed, despairing laughter blooms above the thunder of screams and clashes. Viscera has turned the ground to slippery mud. He is shaking.

He is turning to search out his brother, fear choking. Finds him leaving. He’s leaving him, flying away, blood raining from his back, spattering down onto the upturned faces below and when Xichen takes a step after him, it’s into the middle of a crowd of corpses. They are Lan and Wen, faces twisted to inhumanity--they are clawing at him, swiping, screaming, savaged and broken. His blood is fire, seething in his chest and gut, running over his skin and everything is wet with it and he--

A scream slices the snarls and Xichen is whipping around, bile flooding up because it’s A-Fu, standing, alone, wailing helplessly in the middle of this slaughter. 

No. Not alone. 

There is a white form in front of him, hunched over and, all at once, Xichen knows that A-Fu is watching his mother die. 

The boy-- 

He can’t. 

My boy--  

He shouldn’t, shouldn't have to see--

Xichen is fighting, each step bringing him no closer. He is heavier and heavier until the malicious weight of his own bones drags him down to his knees, incandescent with terror. The swords of the corpses slide home. He is pierced. Pinned to the ground. He is a wild thing, struggling and clawing to get to A-Fu, to shield him from this sight--and the figure is looking up and he sees with a shock of spine numbing horror that she is not Lan Liu. 

She is Xichen’s mother, blood bubbling in her breath, weeping, hurting, dying, intestines spilling wetly out, pink and red and black, and he can’t get to them, he’s trying, help, oh gods please no, he can’t move, skewered and heavy and useless, and blood is still somehow raining down, every drop burrowing into his skin as A-Fu just screams and screams and screams, reaching out to Xichen, begging, “P’ease! P’ease!”

 Wei Wuxian is rising behind the boy like a shadow unfurling, face an unfamiliar white mask, burning eyes black and empty empty empty. His hands are long, blood rusted knives, rising, curling and Lan Xichen is far past dignity, is sobbing and pleading and screaming please no don't please stop please please please don't hurt him please--

Xichen bolts upright in the dark with his thundering heart shuddering him, an alien moan leaking from his lips. The ghosts of screams. He’s soaked in sweat and terror, shaking in the metal of the cold night air. Breath sawing in and out, he twists, searching.

There. A-Fu is beside him, barely visible in the gloom, sprawled face down on the bed, near the wall, still. He must not have thrashed or called out too loudly. Good. Xichen swallows. He can taste the edge of a sword in his mouth and he swallows again. 

It’s still there. It’s in his nose. 

Xichen tries to calm his heart rate, to pull in breath slower. Puts a shaking hand on the back of A-Fu’s head and--

He’s cold as a stone.

The world falls sideways through him. Every limb turns to water, every nerve ending ice as he rips back the covers and there’s blood, blood everywhere, devouring the bed, squishing and pooling, black in the darkness and he turns the boy over. It’s A-Zhan, grey and slack, eyes glassy, head lolling. “No, no, no--” Xichen clutches his brother’s face, tries to lift him, but everywhere he touches, he leaves palm prints of blood--the walls, his clothes, his stiff flesh, the pillows--

True consciousness jerks him to life on the floor, knelt on throbbing knees, Liebing in his hand. Some broken sound crawls from his lips like a dying animal and he lets the flute clatter to the floor as he gasps. Stomach clenching, head swimming. A-Fu, is he--is he--

Even as he crawls back onto the bed, something in him is thrashing, is pleading, don’t turn him over, check that he’s breathing and that’s all, don’t make it real, don’t touch him and he can’t, he can’t not. He pulls away the blankets (white) and turns him, putting shaking hands on his face (clean, they are clean) and he is damp and warm in his arms, smelling of sleep sweat and soap. He blinks muzzily up at Xichen, making a vague sound of annoyance before yawning. 

Alive. He’s alive. He’s fine. 

He sits, shuddering, wrapped around the slightly squirming boy as he fights to breathe. His entire head is throbbing. The terror is not leaving. It’s growing. In the deep of the night, silent and oppressive, he has no idea what time it is or how long he slept, but he needs to see Wangji safe, he needs to go now .

Some part of him is aware that this is not in the least bit logical, knows that he should meditate, should calm himself to coherency and let the boy sleep, but Wangji bleeding, his A-Zhan long dead and cold and the screaming is still so present that he’s certain he will see it with every turn of his head. It’s here, it’s now, and he has to make sure that it isn’t. 

With hands trembling so hard he can barely shove Liebing into his sash, he throws himself into an over robe and his boots. He bundles A-Fu in a hasty blanket wrap for warmth and staggers out. The cold wet of the night smacks his face, searing into his nose with the edge of imminent rain. Xichen knows he looks a sight, striding quickly across the walkways in the middle of the night, forehead bare and hair loose, panting and clutching a mass of blankets but he can’t bring himself to care. He can see Wangji’s quarters. He’s almost there. A-Fu is struggling free from his fabric bindings, fighting to look around. “Why?” He asks, plaintively. “Why?”

Xichen can’t answer. 

There is no moon and no stars, everything on the mountain deep and muted, save the shimmering dots of lanterns here and there. There is one that drips its dim light down the walls and door to Wangji’s house, to pool on the front porch. The door.

The door is open.

Xichen can’t feel his face. In fact, when he bursts in and finds only an empty, blood stained bed and the lone, sick child still sleeping, he can’t feel much of anything at all. There is a distant bell shrilling somewhere far away. 

He’s gone. Wangji is gone. 

The room smells sharp and astringent. Familiar, but he is too far away to place it. 

Is he dead. Has he killed himself. Will he find his broken body--

Xichen thunks to his knees gracelessly, sets A-Fu’s bundle beside the sick boy. Hears himself say, “Stay here. I’m coming back, I’ll be back, I promise I’m coming back.”

A-Fu is panicking. He’s fighting free of the folds of the blanket, eyes white rimmed. He’s reaching for him, but Xichen fumbles out a talisman, locks the door so it cannot be opened from the inside. “I’m coming back. I’m coming back.”

A light floods through his fingers--another talisman, piercing--and the white stone path blooms with small splatters of scarlet in its brilliance. Blood. Wangji.  

His sprinting steps make no sound on the stones. Or perhaps he’s not hearing anything, because when cold begins to patter down on his head, to slither down to his scalp with icy fingers, he hears nothing but the ringing of that far away bell. The blood is scattered. Weaving, wandering down, twisting down the path of the mountain.

It’s being washed away by the steady, slick rain.

He desperately searches instead for any thread of energy, of familiar qi he might sense as the world slowly fills to black and silver needles around him. He finds some, distant, sleeping, not who he was looking for--

A crash, muted and close, and everything floods back in--the hiss of the rain, the rasp of his speeding breath, the hush of treetops in the gathering shower. It had come from the storage building across the clearing. He could have flown for how fast he is suddenly there, seeing the swipe of bloody fingerprints against the gaping screen of the door. The razor clarity of this nightmare unreality tilts him and he is now inside the dry quiet of the building, his clammy clothes and hair cling to him, dripping. Shadows sprawl and jag crazily from his swinging hand light, glints of tidy treasures and weapons wink back from the darkness. “Wangji.” The voice is hoarse and shaking.

A clatter, a flash of white. 

Around a line of shelves, Xichen finds him. 

He’s alive. (Xichen could collapse with relief, locks his knees against it.) 

Wangji is knelt in the debris of cast aside bamboo rods, half draped over a box he is rummaging through, face expressionless, eyes burning. He, too, has no headband, his hair unbound, robe nowhere to be seen. The ruddy bandages on his bare torso sag away from his cracked and gaping wounds. Blood is seeping down his back, staining the waist of his white pants crimson, dribbling onto the floor. The rest of his skin is chalky white, save the blood rusted on his hands. And he seems not to feel a thing. 

“Wangji, ” Xichen whispers again as he goes to him, abandoning the glowing talisman on the floor behind him.

When he puts a hand to his brother’s shoulder, Wangji’s head swings around to peer at him with a gaze unfocused and bleary. He smells overwhelmingly of blood and alcohol and sways into his touch. The astringent smell from his house.

Drunk. Very drunk. 

Xichen’s heart is still thrashing in the cage of his throat and his stomach is roiling with leftover terror and dawning uncertainty, but he pulls Wangji to him, wrapping his arms around his head to spare his back, burying his face in his hair. Awake. Alive.

Wangji struggles in his grip and then shoves him back, sprawling himself against a barrel before going back to the box as Xichen catches himself on a shelf. “Flute,” he mutters, thickly.

“What?”

“Flute. ”

At a loss, Xichen pulls Liebing from his sash and mutely holds it out to him. For a moment, Wangji takes it in one bloodstained hand and stares blankly. Then, he throws it aside, making it bounce off the wall with a hollow ‘tok’. “ No .” 

The light from the talisman is crooked and too low, lighting them eerily from beneath, drawing out the hollows of Wangji’s eyes and rendering his gaunt face cadaverous as he turns back to the box yet again. Xichen catches his wrist, holds him fast when he resists. “Wangji, please. Let me help you. What do you need?”

“Flute.”

“What flute?”

“Dizi.” His brother’s tone is not...flat. It’s practically monotone, but slurred. Lost. “The dizi . ”

‘The’....Oh. Xichen gathers a ragged breath, his temples, his sinuses, his tightened spine throbbing in time with his heart and he captures Wangji’s other wrist, gently. How to explain the idea of ‘never’…. “Wangji, Chenqing...is gone. It went over with Wei-gongzi . We looked but we couldn’t find him.”

He freezes at this name, his blink slow as he stares up into Xichen’s face. His eyes are wide and uncomprehending, shining opaquely in the light. 

“Wangji...A-Zhan, I’m--”

“Wei Ying,” his brother says, as if clarifying, as if insisting, and Xichen knows that he knows Wei Wuxian is dead, he was there, but….

“Yes. Wei Ying is gone.” His throat is burning, tightening as Wangji falls silent once more, face vacant and sightless, staring into the murk. The only sounds are their uneven breathing, the shush of rain across the roof, and dripping--from Xichen’s soaked clothes and Wangji’s blood.

All at once, Wangji surges to his feet--he almost collapses back down, but Xichen is there, catching him around the chest. Then, his brother sways, staggering down the row of shelves into the darkness with a white knuckled grip on them, not seeming to absorb anything he was seeing. Xichen could only follow him, helplessly. “Let’s go back, A-Zhan. Let’s go home. You’re hurt. I can carry you, you can have my robe--here,” he fumbles the sash to his over robe open with half-numb fingers and slips out of it, holding it out. 

Wangji has halted, braced before a shelf with long, black rods, head bowed. Xichen is about to coax him to lift his arms for the robe when his brother’s hand darts out, fast as a snake. Snatches up one of the rods, deftly twists it around and thrusts it against his chest, over his heart. A wordless shout shocks free of Xichen--but it’s too late. 

An ember glow. A hiss and sizzling. The stench of burning flesh. 

He yanks it from Wangji and throw it, clattering behind him. He clutches his brother’s arms, staring at him in mute disbelief, shaking. Wangji sways, but his face stays lax and desolate, even as tears seep down his cheeks, even as he looks down at the raw, blackened curls of skin he has branded onto himself. The Wen emblem. 

Why why why why--

All of Xichen’s skin is crawling, is buzzing, and he feels like he’s shuddering apart. So he wraps his robe around Wangji and crushes him to his chest. Too hard, too low on his shoulders, but he can’t stop and Wangji doesn’t respond, just hangs limply in his arms. His brother. His little brother.

He smells of burnt meat.

Xichen has failed again. And again and again. Keeps failing. Can’t keep him safe. It will never be over. It will never be enough. 

Help. I can’t--

Xichen swallows, hard and rasps, “Wangji--”

“A-Yuan.”

Each new turn shoves him down a mountain, tumbling, groundless. He doesn’t understand. Wangji pulls back, head lolling, and Xichen lets him. He peers at him with intent on his bloodless face, hazy eyes still shining with silent tears. “A-Yuan.”

Xichen is still, searching. Then, weakly, “The...boy?”

“Mine,” Wangji insists.

“‘Yours….’”

Wangji’s hands curl into the lapels of Xichen’s under robe. Smearing his own blood there. “For me.” He’s pleading, Xichen realizes. Desperate. “Mine.”

For him. He’s asking Xichen to let him keep the boy. To do it for him. Anything. To keep you here--anything. “Yes.”

Wangji gives him a wordless shake from his grip on his robe.

“Yes.” Xichen repeats, “I promise.” 

It seems to be what he wants because one of Wangji’s hands reaches up to touch his own bare forehead, where his headband usually sits, absence normally betrayed by a paler strip of skin. All of him was pale, now, a ghost of white and black in the gloom, a smear of red on his forehead, left by his finger. “A Lan.” Wangji’s tears are still coming, but so is something deeper--Xichen can see it in the press of the lines by his nose, the tightening of his mouth. 

“A Lan,” Xichen agrees automatically. Whatever he wants. Whatever he needs. Whatever Xichen can give. He is shivering from the cold, clammy draping of his clothes and the shock of everything. Fear. Helplessness. Anything. The smell of charred skin is astonishingly overpowering. His brother’s.

He wants to throw up.

Wangji hasn’t blinked. “My son.”

That stutters the breath in Xichen’s chest, but he nods. “Yes, A-Zhan.”

Whatever has been coming up through Wangji is here, dredged from whatever depths by his drunken vulnerability because the usually strict edges of him sag, the habitual distance in his expression ravaged. He looks so young. He looks so shattered. He hasn’t looked away. His hands fist themselves back into Xichen’s robes, this time for support, and in a low, cracked whisper, he says, “He’s gone.”

The entire tract of Xichen’s breathing, from nose to lungs to heart is searing and he nods and nods. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

“We killed him.”

The ache of missing Mingjue and A-Yao, multiplied by the eternity of death. The knowledge of what he had meant to Wangji, the brightness he had lent him, the cheer and understanding. The first person besides Xichen to approach Wangji and see him as a man instead of a distant and revered Twin Jade of Lan. A friend. The one he had seen Wangji choose just that much too late. Slipping through bloodied fingers. The one he loved.

The one that had killed so many of their Clanspeople. Had tried to kill them. The one Wangji had left Xichen fighting for his life for.

...burning eyes black and empty empty empty….

There was no right road, no clear path. No matter what, it was wrong. To mourn. To resent. To rejoice. It was all wrong.

“I’m…” he chokes.

Again, Wangji shoves him away and they both stagger back into the shelves. A few things skitter and clatter to the floor. Xichen feels hollowed out. All at once so enormously exhausted--too empty for any more fear or anger or sorrow. Blame. Wangji’s breathing is harsh and wet and he is crying as he had as a child. Contained. Silent. Shaking. 

Xichen reaches out. Slowly slips beside him. Loops an arm around his shoulder and turns him into his chest. Wangji stays, shuddering. Xichen holds him. “It’s alright, A-Zhan,” he whispers raggedly into his hair. It still smells of smoke and blood and old sweat. Burning. “You’re going to be alright.”

#YAAAY PARALLELS #I'm gonna go make some text post memes to make up for this angst good lord #Someone hug this man BACK #my fic #3zun raises Jingyi au #3zun raise jingyi au content #my stuff

[elysiashelby]

In Another World - T. Shelby Imagine Ch. 5

Paring: (Eventual) Thomas Shelby x Aliena Welsh (OC)

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Word Count: 5, 835

WARNINGS: Cursing

Summary: Aliena Welsh has been living in the universe of the show Peaky Blinders for a year, and the time has come for the show to start. But how will this affect her and Thomas’ relationship?

MASTERLIST  CHAPTER 4  CHAPTER 5.2

A/N: So, there was supposed to be chapters before this one, but because I have such a hard time writing Aliena’s character into the show, I decided that those extra chapter will come after I finish S1! The first line break will indicate spoilers for those chapters, so skip to the second one, if you want to avoid reading what’s gonna happen.  

“Tommy! Tommy!” A man yelled from outside.

I was jolted from me sleep, and me body sprang forward. I wasn’t the only one who had this reaction. Tommy ‘n I both sprang up. We looked at each for a second before he leaned over me body and looked out the window. 

Tommy let out a little sigh of relief. “It’s just Curly.” He yanked the blankets off of himself. 

Meanwhile, I was busy rubbing the sleep out of me eyes. “Why would he be here at night? Did you get a new horse, Tom?”

He was busy getting his work pants on. “No. It should be about a delivery that was supposed to come in.”

Me ears perked up. “A delivery?” I leaned closer to him, practically leaning over his shoulder.

Tommy was putting on his shoes. “Yeah. I made a deal with a guy in London. Wanted motorcycles.” 

I widened me eyes in shock. 

‘The show is beginning…’

Just as Tommy was rising to his feet, I grabbed his arm. 

His eyebrows furrowed then his hand stroked me face. “What’s wrong?” He asked.

I kept looking side to side. I was trying to come up with a proper excuse. I was brought out of me trance when Tommy placed down his other hand on me face and tugged me to look at him. 

“Oi, Ali! What’s wrong?”

I huffed, closing me eyes shut before opening them. “Guns.” I said with a shrug. “Guns not motorcycles.” 

Tommy blinked his eyes a bunch of times before he shook his head with a dismissive scoff. “No, Aliena, it’s a shipment of motorcycles. Go back to sleep. I’ll be back.” 

I rolled me eyes, shoving off his lingering hand on me face. I hummed. “Yeah, you’ll see. If you wanna talk ‘bout it when you come back, just wake me up. I don’t mind.” I turned 'round and laid back down.

“Right...” The bed springs sang as he stood up. I heard the door close rather than saw it. It took some time, but I went back to sleep. 

“Aliena, wake up! Wake up, right now!” Tommy yelled as he shook me. He held me up by me arms.

Me eyes were squinted as I was trying to find the strength to open them. “Wha?”

“How did you-? No…” He muttered something before he began to speak again, “What’s a TV show? Explain to me how you knew about the guns.” 

I chuckled with a smile on me face. I couldn’t help it. “Can you think about letting me go first? You’re soaking wet, by the way.” He let me go but the crazed look on his face never went away.

“Explain.”

I nodded. I started to climb out of the bed. “A TV show is like a series of movie pictures.” I stood on me feet, reached up, and carefully took off his cap. Tommy was just staring down at me.

“Except they’re shorter and meant to tell the same story in this case, at least.” I slipped off his drenched coat, never looking away from his gaze.

“A TV show has episodes and sometimes if it’s successful, or they were highly popular- they would have a season. A season or sometimes called a series, they both mean a collection of episodes.” I turned around and went to hang his coat on a chair.

“So, you’re telling me that me and my family had something like that. In what, your world?” He scoffed to himself. A hand raised to his mouth, going over his bottom lip. 

I turned back to him. I knew I had a grave look on me face. I tried to look stern as I replied. “Yes.” 

He shook his head while pursing his lips. “No.” He muttered.

I sighed, looking down at me hands while trying to pick out the non-existent dirt from under them. “Try not to think of it like that.” I rushed to him and cradled his face in me hands. “Think of me as Gypsy kin like you said. I can see into the future, that’s all. I have dreams. I hear spirits.” 

Tommy chucked humorlessly and looked up while his tongue poked out to quickly lick his bottom lip. He tsked as he brought his head back down while nodding. “Right.”

“I don’t know what else to say.” I laughed nervously while looking away. I never took me hands from his face. 

Tommy sniffed before saying. “We keep this between us. You can’t tell anyone else. They’ll lose their minds, or think you’ve lost yours. I have questions. Can you answer them?”

I, finally, put me arms down. I shrugged. “Don’t know. It would depend. But you can give it a shot.”

Tommy sat down, so I scurried to do the same. 

“The guns that just came. Would I be-! No. … Is it safe to keep them?” He asked.

I furrowed me eyebrows as I scoffed. “Tommy, it’s common sense that it’s not safe to keep ‘em.”

He sighed. “Not like that. Would it be a stepping stone to the family business?”

I thought about it. “Yes.” I jumped as I had a thought. “I got it. I’m not giving you any details, so form your questions into ones that can be answered by ‘yes’ or ‘no’.”

Tommy leaned forward, spread out his knees a bit, then rested his elbows on his knees while his hands held up his head. 

There was silence for a while. I managed to keep sane as I fiddled with me hands. Tried cracking them all.

Tommy cleared his throat. “Very soon, I’m going to take a horse down to Garrison courts. There’s a rumor that a Chinese girl there is a witch. I’m gonna pay her to do the powder trick. Does it pay off?”

I whispered. “Yes.” 

Without any warning, he stood up and walked to the door. Before he left, he said. “Go on back to sleep.” He closed the door behind him.

I was staring at the door long after he was gone. The room was oddly colder than before. I ran out of Tommy’s room and went into me own. I didn’t go back to sleep. I just drew until it was time for me to go to work.

It’s been a year since I magically appeared in the universe of Peaky Blinders. It’s been a wild ride. Me birthday here was celebrated with the Shelby’s and me girlfriends. Polly got me paints and pencils for me drawings. Ada’s present had to be given to me at night since it was lingerie. She said it was because I would have a fella of me own anytime now.

‘Yeah, right!’

Arthur was so sweet and bought me canvases. Only to find out it was because John had bought me paints, who was beaten to the punch by Polly. They told me after that they planned on giving me two pound each if I didn’t like the present. 

I had to get me present from Tommy the day after me birthday. He walked with me a little ways out of Small Heath, where there was a lone tree in a field. I could see it now. I remember clasping me hands over me mouth. Me tears wasting no time to flow down me face. I ran to it and started tracing the lettering engraved into headstone that was there under it. 

I talked about it in passing. I never expected for him to get it done for me. I told him that I wanted a headstone for me ma’. I would never see her again, so I wanted somewhere where I could grieve me loss. He gave me that. I sobbed into his arms so much that day.

It sucked going over to the Ritz after that. I was supposed to still be having fun which I was, but me eyes stung. Angelica gifted me expensive dresses she thought I would like, and I did. Christiana gave me hair accessories which I appreciated. Cassie gave me a pearl necklace. I cried again. It was me da’s birthstone. It was like I got them back for a day. 

Despite me joy for having a place for me ma’ and carrying a piece of me da’ around, I think it made me depression worse. After all, me ma’s birthday was in February. The guns were found a week before me ma’s birthday. 

On that day, I had Freddie drive me to Blackpool beach. I had me a good ‘ol breakdown at there, then I went back home. I didn’t explain it to Freddie, but I think he understood. He must have known that I was grieving.

I locked meself in me room and got bladdered. I stole a bottle of whiskey and almost drank it all. I should have known that Tommy would catch me. He decided to babysit me, and made sure I scarfed down some bread and drank water before I went to sleep. I made him talk to me, though. I made him talk to me ‘til I fell asleep.

Work was hell the next day. I wasn’t hungover, but I had a good headache. Had a cob on the whole day, but I had to keep a lid on it. It’s hard dealing with people who control your salary the whole day ‘cause if ya piss them off— they can easily dock your pay. 

Mrs. Davies down at the bakery and Mrs. Aitken down at the flower shop loved pinching me cheeks. It was nice at first, but then they started fucking doing it harder and harder every time I came in.

Anyway, the first season starts today since Tommy told me in the morning that he’s taking Monaghan Boy down to Garrison courts. 

‘Let me tell you, I am not happy that I’m gonna have to deal with Grace fucking Burgess. I do not want to see Thomas Shelby fall in love! In front of me face! It’s torture! As if I’m not already depressed. I have enough baggage all on me own, sir!’

I stopped sweeping the floor and pinched the bridge of me nose. This is how fucking gutted I am! I exhaled slowly before I decided to stop worrying ‘bout the inevitable and focus on me work. 

“Finn?” That was Tommy.

Me mind instantly connected the dots and I ran to the parlor. I got there just in time as he picked up Finn’s discarded ciggie. 

“Finn Shelby, what in the ‘ell are you doing smoking? Stop smirking, Tom. Arthur wants you.” I took the ciggie out of hand and pushed him aside. 

“Sorry, bud. You’re on your own.” Tommy lightly brushed the back of his cap on Finn’s face as he left. 

Finn looked up at me. I shook me head. I crouched down to meet his gaze. 

“What have I told you abar these horrid things? Huh, Finn! Just ‘cause your brothers smoke doesn’t mean you hafta.” I stubbed out the ciggie and left it in the dish. 

“But it’s no fun being the only one who doesn’t do it. They don’t have anyone yelling at them.” He said with a pout.

I huffed, feeling annoyed. “That’s not true. I nag Tommy all the time.” I crossed me arms.

“Liar! I’ve never seen it!” 

“Yeah ‘cause then he wouldn’t be able to face ya, so I have to scold him in secret. So, don’t tell ‘em I told you about it.” I ran me hand over his hair, smoothing it out. “I catch you with one of these again ‘n I’ll smack you upside the head. I promise.” 

“No, you won’t.” 

“I bloody will!” 

Suddenly, there was a shout that caught our attention and I flew to me feet. 

“I'm calling a family council tonight at 8:00. I want all of us there. You hear me? There's trouble coming.” Arthur yelled as Tommy stormed off. 

Arthur and I made eye contact ‘n we just nodded at each other. I walked around the table and shut the door to the betting shop. I dusted off me hands then turned me attention back to Finn. 

“Go on then, la. It’s your free day.” I walked back into the living room where I had to finish sweeping. 

Finn followed after me. He sat in one of the two chairs. 

“Aliena,” He said. “when I grow older, you’ll be my wife, right?”

I froze at the question, or was it a statement? I giggled. 

‘Does little Finn have a crush on me?’

I stopped laughing and asked. “What are you on abar, Finn?”

“I don’t know. I figured that when I grow up, you’ll marry me.”

I began to giggle again. “Finn Shelby, you won’t even propose to me. Just expect it of me, eh? Well, I’ll make you a deal. If I’m still single by the time I’m 30, I’ll marry you.”

Finn jumped off the chair and rushed over to me. I had to crouch again to meet his eyes.

“You promised, Ali! You can’t take it back!” His smile was so big and adorable. It made me heart melt. 

‘I can’t believe that me first love confession is from a 10 almost 11 year old. Just me luck!’

“Now you take me promises seriously, huh? Yes, I promise. Now, run along. I still need to work out some errands, and I can’t have you bugging me.” I shoved him toward the door, and I didn’t pay attention to where he ran off to. 

True to me word, I got done with the sweeping then went on to finish me errands. Mrs. Davies’ pinch was slightly less harder than Mrs. Aitken’s today, and thank the Lord for it! 

‘I swear one of these days these ladies are gonna leave me with bruises!’

I had to run to the house ‘cause Mrs. Davies was chatting me up for so long. When I got there, Polly and John were walking in at the same time. They noticed me. 

“Aliena, how come you aren’t in the house already?” Polly asked me. 

I had to run a few more steps before I was caught up with them. “Mrs. Davies was chatting me up again. Wouldn’t let me leave ‘til I finally made up an excuse.” I was clutching me side since it had cramped up a little. 

‘I’m getting better at running. Which is good since I’m, well, maybe used to be an asthmatic. I don’t even need glasses to see far away anymore!’

“Well, shit. Looks like when the meetings over, we’ll have to fucking hussle to make dinner.” 

John opened the door for us and we walked in first. We walked into the betting room where Finn was standing by the door of. 

Polly and I walked on ahead. 

John said to Finn, “Sorry, little man. Maybe when you’re older.”

Arthur clapped his hands before shouting. “You’re all late. Why the-!”

“Yeah and we’re here now. Let’s get on with it.” Polly interrupted while taking off her coat and taking a seat. 

John took a seat and I leaned on a beam next to him. Me eyes naturally drifted over to Tommy’s direction. He had a ciggie burning. 

‘I swear this man! Well, baby steps.’

I’m fucking tellin’ a blag to meself, but at least I got him off the opium. He’s not drinking or smoking any less, though. 

‘I’ll give him one year. On December 3rd when the season is over, I’ll get to him. By all that’s holy, I’ll be bugging him abar his smoking!’

I think he felt me glare ‘cause he looked straight at me. I knew I was caught, but I wasn’t flustered. I glared at the ciggie by his side then back up at him. 

The little fucker just smirked and raised it to his lips. 

I rolled me eyes and looked to Arthur who was about to start the meeting. 

“Right! I've called this family meeting because I've got some very important news. Scudboat and Lovelock got back from Belfast last night. They were buying a stallion to cover their mares. They were in a pub on the Shankhill Road yesterday, and in that pub there was a copper. Handing out these.” Arthur said as he passed one to Ada then the rest of the pile to Lovelock.

Ada passed it onto John who read it aloud. “If you're over five feet and can fight, come to Birmingham." John passed it to Polly.

“They're recruiting Protestant Irishmen to come over here as Specials.” Arthur told us.

“To do what?” Ada asked.

“To clean up the city, Ada.” Tommy answered. “He's a Chief Inspector. The last four years, he's been clearing the IRA out of Belfast.”

I bit me lip as I knew that the tension in ‘ere would start to rise.

Arthur asked, quite agitated- might I add. “How do you know so bloody much?”

“'Cause I asked the coppers on our payroll.”

“And why didn't you tell me?”

“I'm telling you.”

Arthur took a swing out of his flask. I’m not equipped to handle stressful environments within friendly prescenes. So, I was making dumb faces in the corner. Like meme worthy faces. I literally did a tight lipped smile, that “white people” meme smile. I sported that smile with me eyebrows raised while widening me eyes, and looking away to the corner where no one stood.

“So, why are they sending him to Birmingham?” Polly asked with a magnifying glass in her hand.

“Well, there's been all these bloody strikes at the BSA. And the Austin works, lately. Now the papers are talking about sedition. And revolution. I reckon it's communists he's after.” Tommy said. 

But I noticed that when he said the comment about the communists, it got a reaction out of Ada.

“So this copper's gonna leave us alone, right?” 

“There are Irishmen in Green Lanes who left Belfast to get away from him. They say Catholic men who crossed him used to disappear in the night.”

“Yeah, but we ain't IRA.” John said. The attention turning on him. “We bloody fought for the King. Anyway, we're Peaky Blinders. We're not scared of coppers.”

“He’s right.” Arthur said.

Then, John delivered that famous line. “If they come for us, we'll cut them a smile each.” 

Let me just say, I had to hide me smirk. It was crazy how I felt pride when he said that.

“So, Arthur. Is that it?” Thomas asked. He looked unimpressed. 

“What do you think, Aunt Pol?” Arthur completely dismissed Tommy. 

Polly looked over at Thomas. I knew she knew that Tommy was up to something. I just hoped she never suspected I knew anything abar it too.

“This family does everything open. You've nothing more to say to this meeting, Thomas?”

“No. Nothing that's women's business.”

“This whole bloody enterprise was women's business while you boys were away at war. What's changed?”

“We came back.” 

Polly said or did anything after that. I was expecting a judgemental hum, at least! 

“Right! This concludes the family meeting!” Arthur announced. 

Polly stood straight up, her chair scraping the wood floor. “Come on, Aliena. We need to hurry up with dinner.” 

I followed her into the kitchen.

After dinner, I noticed that Polly had pulled Tommy aside as I was taking everyone’s dirty dishes to be washed. Not a minute later, Tommy came up to me.

He cleared his throat, his hand reaching for a ciggie. 

“Reach for it now and I may just throw this cuppa water at you.” I said with a teasing smile.

“Don’t know why. You know I’ll smoke it the minute I’ll leave your sight.” 

I blew raspberries at him.

“Well, Polly asked me to join her in church. So, it’s best if you sleep in your room tonight. I’ll probably be working ‘til late morning anyway. Okay?” He was looking at me with such expecting eyes. I noticed that he always wanted a definitive answer from me, hardly ever accepting me nods. 

“Yeah. Got it.”

“Good.” The second our conversation was over, he reached for a ciggie again. I paid it no mind this time and focused on getting the dishes done. 

The next morning, I got up abar an hour earlier. I was almost tempted to go back to sleep, but instead I crawled out of bed and took out the suitcase that hid under me bed. I unlocked the one that had an assortment of items, and took out me locked diary. 

I still don’t know why I was given a suitcase full of miscellaneous item, but I knew they would come in handy someday.

When I first came here and I couldn’t sleep, I took the liberty of writing out what I could remember from each episode. I knew it would benefit me!

I wrote, ‘After Thomas and Polly talk, the scene shifts to Grace coming into town. She gets the job. Then, Arthur gets captured by Campbell and gets roughed up badly. Tommy goes to the Garrison where he meets Grace. He comes back to the house and-’

Simultaneously, I shut me eyes and shut the book. I heaved a big sigh. 

‘Tommy will meet Grace today. “Are you a whore?” The gobshite! He’ll probably start distancing himself from me.’

I sighed again. When I gathered me pride, I got up and decided to have an early start on the day. I won’t allow Thomas Shelby to write me off from his life like that. 

‘I don’t care if the little fucker sees me like a little sister. I’d still be special to him and that’s all that counts. He stands between me and the whorehouse, in me opinion.’  

I did me hair in a bun, as always, but I choose a maroon button-up shirt and a green midi length skirt. Look, the skirt came to about the middle of me legs, alright? Then, I made breakfast. Polly wasn’t up yet which was absolutely weird for me! I didn’t know if she was out doing something, or something.

When I was done eating, I got me coat ‘n headed out the door. Men greeted me and moved out of me way like always. When I got to John’s door, I was troubled. The kids weren’t used to seeing me this early neither was John. I didn’t want to exactly intrude, but I also wanted to get some stuff out of the way, so I could see the scene where Arthur comes home after he gets beat up. 

So with that in mind, I unlocked the door to John’s flat. I immediately started cooking breakfast. When seven rolled ‘round, footsteps came pattering down. A head peaked from ‘round the corner and it was Katie.

“Ailena?” She asked. “Why are you here so early?” 

I smiled at her. “I just missed youse. That’s all.”

She scoffed with a smile. “It’s only been a day.” She took a seat.

I got up from the chair I was sitting on ‘n poured her some juice. “A day can feel like an eternity.” 

We had some time to talk before John came down. He was definitely surprised, but happily took the breakfast I made him and left to the shop. Once he left, I went to get the other kids up. I had them all dressed and “in school” by 9 am.  

They moaned and groaned abar having to be taught by me, but they would learn it’s for their own benefit in the future. By the way, the only one who was civil was Katie and John Jr.. But that was because I just read ‘em books— so he had nothing to fuss abar. When it hit 10:30, I said me goodbyes and told them to stay safe. 

I rushed back home where I found Finn smoking. I kept me promise and smacked him upside the head. Told ‘em it was time for school ‘n he ran off to get his stuff. He was getting better. Already getting closer to reading in his grade level. 

See ever since I took up the job to be their teacher, I’ve gone to sleep later. It was around 3 in the morning when I was by meself and 12 when Tommy decided he needed sleep. Any other time I would have to hassle him to sleep. His sleep schedule was a mess, but no matter what- he always got up at 5:30 or 6. 5:30 is with sleep while the latter is without.

When I was by meself, I would stay up making the lessons. 

It would be critical thinking problems that you’d get back in the 2000s. Stuff that I was asked. For math, it ranged from each kid. Katie was on percentages and long division, Ilsa and Finn were on multiplication and division and the adding and subtracting of long numbers, while Robbie was barely learning how to add and subtract. John Jr. was learning how to count to 100. 

It was almost 12 when Arthur pounded at the front door. I had abandoned Finn and ran to tell Tommy, who was in his office in the shop. 

I opened the door without knocking which caused him to look up at me. 

“It’s Arthur.” I said, almost breathless. 

His eyes widened and he instantly got up and rushed past me. I followed after him. We both went to the parlor where Polly was looking after him, working on wrapping up his hand. Tommy took one look at his face then ran out. 

‘Grace.’ I thought. 

“Ali, heat up a kettle of water, will you?” Ada told me.

I nodded. I went into the kitchen, filled the kettle with water, and heated it up. 

“Here ya go, Ada.” I said once it was done.

She took it and set it aside while I walked over to John who was leaning on the doorway. I took on the left since he was on the right. 

“John, wipe the blood out of his eye.”

“Since when did you give orders?”

“I'm a trained nurse.”

John and I both had these smirks on our faces while Arthur scoffed.

“Don't make me laugh.” Arthur said. “It hurts me face.”

“I bloody am.”

“You went to one first aid class in the church hall and got thrown out for giggling.” John said.

“Not before I learned how to stop somebody from choking.”

“I'm not bloody choking, am I?” Arthur said.

“You will be when I wrap this cloth ‘round your neck.” Ada said while pouring the water into a pan. The door opened and in walked Tommy with a bottle of rum.

I couldn’t stop the chuckle that came from me throat. John and I looked at each other, still having similar smiles.

“Let me see him.” He walked ‘round to Arthur with a ciggie hanging from his lips. He inspected his face before giving ‘em the bottle of alcohol. “All right, have this.”

Arthur took one swing before putting it back down with a groan. Tommy wrang the cloth of its excess water. “Give me that.” He said, pouring some of the bottle into the cloth before pressing it against Arthur’s face.

He inhaled sharply in pain. 

“You’re all right.” Tommy said, trying to soothe him. Both of his hands cradling his brother’s face.

But Arthur clasped his hand around one of Tommy’s arms. “He said Mr Churchill sent him to Birmingham. National interest, he said. Something about a robbery.”

Tommy backed away from him. Almost visibly upset, if you knew how to read him. I didn’t miss the pointed stare Polly gave ‘em either. 

“He said he wants us to help him.”

John interrupted. “We don’t help coppers.”

“He knew all about our war records. He said we're patriots. Like him.” 

I scoffed to meself since I knew the truth. ‘Fucking bastard! Didn’t even fight in the war.’

“Wants us to be his eyes and ears. I said-!” Then, he groaned in pain. Polly sh-ing him up as she bandaged his hands. “I said we'd have a family meeting, take a vote.”

Tommy said nothing. Just kept staring off. Now that the show was starting, it was so much easier to read him. It was obvious to me that he was rattled, but I’m sure to the rest of the family it looked like he couldn’t have been bothered.

“Well, why not? Hmm? We've no truck with Fenians or communists.” 

Tommy kept his mouth shut again. He was looking over at Polly and then at me. He exhaled audibly before Arthur started up again.

“What's wrong with you? What the fuck is wrong with him lately?” He turned to Polly.

She said. “If I knew, I'd buy the cure from Compton's chemists. Ali, come help me clean his face up.”

I stood straight. Tommy and I shared a glance before I looked away and took the cloth that had been discarded onto the table into me hands. I barely touched his face with it and he fuckin’ hissed.

It was the dead of night. I was busy correcting past homework that I had given to the kids. I was on Finn’s math when I heard Tommy’s door open and then close.  If I remember correctly, he was supposed to use his pipe to go to sleep tonight. 

That worry alone motivated me enough to finish up Finn’s paper faster. 

‘The bastard is stubborn. No, all men of this age doesn’t like asking for help. Especially the help of a woman.’

I exhaled with puffed cheeks as I marked Finn’s last problem. I hurried out of me chair and to Tommy’s room. Me robe whipped around me. When I opened the door, he had a fire lit and was rolling out his pipe. 

He looked at me. No emotion shown. I was mad. I was-!

‘I didn’t think as I marched up to him. I didn’t slap him, but I slammed me hand down on the light he had lit.’ 

No, that was just an intrusive thought. I really wanted to do it, though.

I walked up the light and blew it out. “You’re not doing this. You have me.”

“I did this because I don’t want you.” Despite saying that, he rerolled up his pipe and set it down on the nightstand.

“I outta break that thing, you know. Just chuck it into the fire downstairs.”

He whipped his head up at me and he glared. 

It made me shiver and not in a good way. Reflexively, I glared back. “Don’t try intimidating me, Thomas. Not tonight. You want to sleep. Let’s do it my way as agreed. Because you have fallen asleep my way and you were the one who set up-!”

“Yeah! Okay, I got it.” Very childishly, he laid down with his arms crossed above his eyes. 

I sighed. ‘I should probably ask him about the shovels. If he still hears them with me.’ 

So, I did. 

“Tommy, do you still hear the shovels? Even when I’m here… with you?” 

He stiffened. Then, he dropped his arms. He looked up at the ceiling with his jaw clenched. He tsked, closing his eyes. “No. I don’t hear them.” 

“Do you still dream abar them?” Me throat burned as did me face. 

“Yes. But not as often anymore.” His tone was so sad.  

“Then, why were you-?”

“Because. I shouldn’t be relying on you, a girl who’s not my family, to get me sleep at night. One day we’ll have to go our separate ways. It’s only right that you find yourself a good man and you can’t sleep with me then, now, can you?” He looked at me. The look on his face was sharp. 

‘It’s like he’s breaking up with me.’ I laughed at the thought.

“You don’t have to worry abar that. I’m not gonna find meself a good man anytime soon.”

“You don’t-!”

“I do! So, let it go and let me help you. You’re a good man, Tom. I don’t want to see you suffer. Especially when all you want is to do is get a good night’s rest.” I stopped fiddling with me hands and dropped them to me sides. 

‘He wouldn’t know that there was a warning lying ‘round me words. That he was gonna be suffering more. Soon, he’d have to orchestrate Danny’s fake death. Then, everything else.’

“Fine.” He said. 

I took off me robe, climbed over him, and laid beside him. I bit me lip before deciding to speak. “Lay lower than me. Don’t question it, just do it.” 

He sighed and did as I said. I scooted meself up then closer to ‘em. “Lift your head.” He did it and I extended me arm under his neck. “Face me.” He did it. His head near me chest. With me free hand, I brought it up to his face and began to stroke his cheek and run me fingers through his hair. 

I whispered things to him like, “You’re safe now,” “You’re home,” “Nothing’s gonna hurt you,” and “It’s okay to fall asleep.” 

And he fell asleep. He fell asleep fast. I, on the other hand, didn’t. I was too hyper aware of his body being so close to mine. This was the first time I’ve ever held a person of the opposite sex. It surprised me that this even worked! 

But, like I said, I didn’t fall asleep fast like he did and sometime during the night, his breathing quickened and his hold on me tightened, by a lot. I figured he was ‘aving the dream abar the tunnels, so I started soothing him again. It took ‘em awhile, but he calmed back down. I couldn’t bloody go to sleep after that, so it took me abar another 30 minutes before I fell asleep.

The next day was calm, nothing noteworthy happened. At night, Tommy told me that I was to head to bed. I asked him why ‘n he said that he was heading to Charlie’s yard. I twitched at the name. I always did when he said that name. After all, it’s me birth name.

The day after that in the midmorning, he ran to me ‘n asked me if his plan to fake Danny’s death would work. I told ‘em yes.

I saw when he came back, visibly disturbed, his head hanging low. I wanted to comfort him but Arthur got to him first. I remembered me place then. I couldn’t comprehend the plot that much. I watched as they had their dispute. I jumped when Tommy closed the book shut and then walked off. 

He grabbed me arm before he left ‘n told me I was sleeping by meself t’night too. I nodded and then he left the shop. 

That night I watched as the snow fell. Me heart felt as if someone was squeezing it through me chest.

Guess me wish wouldn’t come true, afterall.

TAG LIST: @amirahiddleston​ @nemesis729​

#thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x oc #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby fanfic #in another world #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine

[catchdacraze]

Path of the Pale Rider and The art of Looking up EP538 https://www.youtube.com/live/TFxlORWBkgQ?si=Mq7MvR2psii7fBRe via @YouTube

#podcast #indiecomics #interview #talk #art #artist #writer #publishing #listen #watch #subscribe #geek #nerd #YouTubeLive #twitchtv #catchdacraze #trending #comicbooks #comiccon #recap

#podcast #talk #interview #comics #indie comics #art #artist #writer #publishing #hot topics #trending #catch da craze #listen #watch #subscribe #geek #nerd #Youtube Live #Twitch TV

[idabbleincrazy]

Childe (A Spangel A~Z ficlet)

Fandom: Angel (Buffyverse)

Rating: E 

Pairing: Spangel

Word Count: 782

Warnings: Smut, biting, blood drinking, rekindled relationship, emo-porn, pwp, Sire/Childe dynamics, vampire dynamics

Summary: Sometimes, all it takes is a single word to make everything fall into place. 

A/N: Okay, so, this is basically stream-of-consciousness style smut. Not detailed like my usual porn, but still pretty hot imho. The idea came out of nowhere but I’m damn glad it did.

Feedback fuels my creativity! If you like my work, plz reblog/comment!!!

“Childe.” 

Amazing how that one word could sound like a blessing and a curse. Made him feel as though he were at once a whore and a saint as it filled his ears, falling to his knees before the only god he would ever worship. Left him wondering what he would find if he looked up into those gold-threaded dark brown eyes, redemption or condemnation? 

“My beautiful Childe.”

Strong fingers trailing softly through gel-slicked hair, guiding him. Towards salvation or damnation, he cared not which. Heaven or Hell, made no difference here in the solace of their own private Eden. Souls brought bare in the flicker of candlelight, no longer able nor willing to hide from all they had wrought. 

“Sweet Will. Always my perfect Childe.”

He chanced a look, his throat catching at the lovelustlonging he found there. Eyes shining amber as they stared back, and for once, in all his many years, he truly missed his reflection, wished he could see himself there, in those ever-widening pupils, wished Angel could see his own, too. Windows to the soul, but theirs were still too darkened to see through to the other side. 

Fingers trailing, along and away, beckoning him forward as his dark avenger fell back against downy pillows and silk sheets. Voice deep and lilting as the brogue threaded through, calling for him, and he was helpless to refuse, unwilling to do anything other than follow that same path.

“Spike. Come here, my lovely Childe. My William.”

Crawling across the luxuriant bedding, head bowed in supplication until the firm grip on his jaw urged him closer. Yielding eagerly to cool lips pressed hungrily against his own, each kiss washing away another smudge of hellpitch from his dead heart, pulling him closer to the light yet forbidden to them both. 

“Angel, please...need you.”

“Love it when you beg so pretty, my bonny Childe.”

Hands tugged at leather, and cotton, pushed dark silk over ever-tense shoulders, desperate for the balm of lust-warmed skin. Fingertips caressing, smoothing over battle-hardened muscles and pale planes of willing flesh. Bared bodies pressed together as tongue and teeth map out familiar territory, memorize it anew, planting fresh blooms that will too soon fade away and leave the landscape of marked skin once again unblemished. 

“Please, Sire, Angel, ‘s not enough. More, luv. Christ, wanna feel you, always.”

“Could never deny you, my boy, my lively one. My favored Childe. Mine.”

Fingers pressed slowly, gently, as lips soothed, distracted, devoured every proffered moan and whimper. Muscles loosened, allowed entrance too long denied; never again. Too long spent fighting, spitting at each other like crazed panthers; no more would they fight against their hearts, their souls. Cravings rekindled, flames stoking electric heat across cool skin. 

“Now.”

“Not enough, Will. Don’t want to-”

“Like it to hurt, Da. Now…”

“Jesus!”

Backs arched, hips pushed as passion climbed higher, bucking and clawing, zipping down their spines. Faces rippled, bones crunched, shifted, nails sharpened as eyes blinked, chocolate and storm-darkened sky turned molten gold. Fangs descended, flashing sharp and hungry behind kiss-stung lips. Senses heightened, feeding off swirling scents of stolen blood and long-repressed arousal. 

“Fuck, ‘Gelus, Da...Sire. Harder, Angel, luv, please!”

“My insatiable, willful Childe, never enough for you, is it boy?”

“Never.”

Legs and arms moved, quick as a flash. Bodies flipped, fingers wrapped around slender wrists, pinning pale arms above curly, blonde hair. Thrusts pushed deeper, sped them towards the release they’d longed for for countless years. Broad chest pressed heavy and comforting against his and he leaned into it, still not close enough to close the circle. Calves locked around thighs, pulling, knees digging into pistoning hips, urging Angel in ways words never could. He turned his head, throat bared in offering.

“Do it, Da.”

“My Childe…”

Fangs sliced through giving flesh, like still-glowing blades through butter. Simpering moans and rumbling growls filled the silence of the half-lit room as his blood pooled on Angel’s tongue. Too soon that deadly, luscious mouth pulled away, found his lips to bruise and stain them red. Clipped grunts and wanton moans turned to keens and cries as muscles seized and rippled, hips faltering in their brutal pace, stilling as white-hot pleasure overtook them, held them in time like flies trapped in amber. Souls shining bright as the forbidden sun as their gazes locked, imagined reflections glimpsed in yellow before contorted bodies fell lax, collapsing together with heavy, unneeded breaths, hands once more gentle and soothing as they wrapped around each other. Lips and tongues soft and sweet, wiping away sweat and blood. 

“Mine. My sweet William, my Spike. My Childe.”

“Yours, Liam. Your boy, Angel, luv. Your Childe. Always.”

~~~~

@prose-for-hire @thewhiterabbit42

#angel: ts fanfic #buffyverse fanfic #spangel #spangel a-z #lemon #spike/angel #spike #angel

[anonymoushouseplantfan]

Submitted:

The late great Gerald Durrell was a celebrated modern British naturalist. He was sort of the “writer” version of David Attenborough. Durrell used to be the pre-eminent British naturalist until he was supplanted by DA in the new TV era. 

Before the recent PBS series “The Durrells”, there were several versions of his book, “My Family and Other Animals”, in 1987 and 2005. The 1987 version was put together by the BBC’s Drama Department and Natural History Unit, and it was hard to find to watch again before the internet : ) . The 2005 version has Imelda Staunton as Gerald’s mother, and Matthew Goode (heart eyes) as his older brother Lawrence, the novelist (MG was also Antony Armstong-Jones in The Crown); played by Josh O'Connor in “The Durrells”. 

There’s his Corfu trilogy, which The Durrells is based on, and then all of his other books, which are much shorter and breezier, like 

The Overloaded Ark The Bafut Beagles The New Noah A Zoo in My Luggage  Menagerie Manor  Two in the Bush  Fillets of Plaice  Catch Me a Colobus  Beasts in My Belfry 

If you have kids who love Attenborough’s programs, Durrell’s books are good literary companions. He was very prolific and while his books aren’t children’s books, they’re eminently suitable for animal-crazed kids. They also make great family readalouds : ) . 

Princess Anne has been patron of the Durrell Wildlife Conservation Trust for almost 50 years, since 1972.

____________________________________________________________________

Thank you!

[ad1thi]

au masterlist

okay ive been meaning to do this for a while, and ive finally got the time to do it so here’s a list of all of my aus!! this is divided by ship for ease, and i do have a lot of pieces that don’t fit into any specific au - so this post is specifically for aus (this is a rly long post so im hiding it under a read more) (also please nobody comment on how similar the summaries are ive never had to think of how im summarising these aus before this post)

all my writing on tumblr // all my writing on ao3

buckytony

1. your pain (is my burden to bear) AU 

Summary: soulmate AU where you can feel your soulmate’s pain, and marks that originate from your soulmate’s injuries can be found on your body

2. target and assassin AU

Summary: The Asset has been tasked with the mission of killing Antonia Stark. Falling in love with her along the way was never part of the plan.

3. park bench AU

Summary: they’re both running from their past. in New York, they find each other.

4. taste of your lips AU

Summary: TVD au. Bucky wasn’t planning to stick around in New York, just drop in long enough to fix whatever his brother had fucked up and then leave. But then he meets Toni Stark, and against all odds - he finds himself staying in the one city he’d sworn never to step foot in for all of his immortal life. 

5. the second (love of his life) AU

Summary: greek gods AU, Aphrodite!Bucky x Hephaestus!Bucky . Bucky has spent over a thousand years resenting his marriage to Tony, content to ignore his husband in favour of his lover, Steve. but when he’s captured by Joann Schmidt and its Tony, not Steve who comes to his rescue - Bucky finds himself falling for the husband he spent so many years ignoring. Is it too late, or can he fix a marriage that was doomed from the start?

6. waste my time AU

Summary: Tony doesn’t do boyfriends. Tony has a boyfriend - Tiberius, or he will anyway once he convinces Ty that breaking up with him was a horrible idea. But then he meets James Barnes at a bar, and suddenly things don’t seem so black and white anymore

7. elite AU

Summary: a/b/o dynamics. Bucky isn’t planning on starting anything up in his new school, and would’ve been completely content to keep his head down until he graduates. But after a chance kiss with a bambi-eyed omega at a party in the beginning of the school year, things weren’t looking so simple anymore

8. 1000 lives (for you) AU

Summary: James hasn’t been subjected to the Chair in close to 3 years. After all, why would HYDRA use the Chair to control him when they’ve got his soulmate instead?

9. Secret Love Song AU

Summary: Marrying Steve wasn’t what Toni had in mind when she pictured the rest of her life, but it wasn’t any hardship. Of course, that was before James came into her life. (this au has been race and gender bent since the original post)

10. Dilwale AU

Summary: mafia au. Tony and Bucky used to be in love. Now they’ve sworn never to see each other again. ‘Course, MJ and Peter falling for each other puts a kink in those plans. 

11. K3G AU

Summary: desi au. As a member of the illustrious Barnes dynasty, Bucky is expected to undertake certain responsibilities; chief of which is marrying someone from a respectable family. Tony Stark from Chandi Chowk might just put a wrench in those plans.

12. buckytony teen wolf AU

Summary: when Tony and Rhodey went searching for a dead body in the woods, a rogue Alpha werewolf was not what they were expecting to find. Overnight, their entire lives change

13. undercover cop AU

Summary: After the events of Afghanistan, Tony can’t bear to work at Stark Industries anymore. Handing over the reins of the company to Pepper, he quits and starts working at Midtown High. but the US government isn’t about to let one of the country’s biggest assets work at a public highschool without even the smallest bit of protection. Enter Agent Barnes, or as Tony knows him - Midtown High’s new gym teacher

14. the K2 AU

Summary: Bucky just wanted to live his life without the Army ever finding him again. Saving Tony Carbonell at a metro station and getting sucked into the intricate life of the italian mafia was never on the agenda. 

15. Mara Dyer AU

Summary: fem! Bucky. Bucky was an extremely normal 16 year old girl - if you discounted the fact that her bestfriend and boyfriend died after an abandoned building collapsed on them; and that she was the only person to survive. Then bodies started dropping around her, people that she imagined dying who died in the exact grotesque way she pictured is. and suddenly, there’s nothing really normal about her at all.

16. ACOMAF AU

Summary: fem! Bucky. Bucky kills a wolf. Except its not a wolf, its a Faerie and the High Lord of the Spring Court comes collecting his pound of flesh. 

17. centre of his universe AU

Summary: The Asset is fascinated by the Stark Heir. 

18. one shot AU

Summary: highschool AU. nerd! tony x punk!bucky. Bucky has has a crush on Tony Stark for his entire highschool career, but he’s never thought he had a shot - choosing instead to pine uselessly while Tony dates what feels like the entire highschool body. Bucky’s resigned himself to the belief that Tony will never be his, until Tony breaks up with longtime girlfriend Rumiko Fujikawa, and suddenly - Bucky has one shot. 

19. 1000 lives (for you) AU

Summary: James Buchanan Barnes and Anthony Edward Stark are impossible soulmates - separated by time, distance and space but brought together by horrible pain and suffering. This is their story. Starts from TWS, and is largely canon compliant.

stevetony

1. student of the year AU

Summary: Steve was supposed to keep his head down, get good grades and get a scholarship to a university far enough away that he wasn’t even breathing the same air as his family. But then he becomes bestfriends with Bucky, falls in love with Bucky’s boyfriend Tony - and things get a bit more complicated along the way

2. just friends(?) AU

Summary: Tony did this, thing where he fell in love with his friends. All of his friends, except maybe Steve. (too bad nobody told Steve)

3. captain americana and the heartbreak prince AU

Summary: Steve Rogers has known Tony Stark for 10 years, 4 months and 11 days. He’s been in love with him for the exact same time. 

4. om shanti om AU

Summary: It should be noted, for the sake of posterity - that Steve usually wasn’t one to buy into the craze that surrounded celebrities. At the end of the day, they were still people. Tony Stark though, that was his exception.

5. stevetony lawyer AU

Summary: raising a 14 year old boy while juggling a demanding job at the DA’s office wasn’t easy, but Steve made it work. It wasn’t an easy life, but it was a good life. They were happy - and then Peter gets charged with the murder of his classmate Wade Wilson and everything falls apart. With his son facing life in prison, Steve does the only thing he can and calls the best defence lawyer he knows - his almost fiance Tony Stark.

6. schitt’s creek AU

Summary: David! Tony x Patrick! Steve

7. kidnapped! tony stark AU

Summary: Tony gets kidnapped and Steve loses his mind.

8. zindagi na milengi dobara AU

Summary: desi AU. in college, Steve, Sam and Bucky made a promise. 3 weeks, 3 activities, 3 boys and the country of Spain. 15 years later, Sam is getting married and its time for them to make good on that promise, to give him the send-off of the century. But between Sam’s conflicted feelings over his engagement, unresolved tension that threatens to break up the trio; Bucky’s secret agenda and Steve’s workaholic tendencies - it definitely promises to be a trip they’ll never forget

9. arranged marriage AU

Summary: desi AU. Steve has been in love with Tony for years. So when his mother asks him to settle down, he impulsively sends a rishta to the Stark residence; and thinks nothing of it. And then - they reply.

10. betrothed AU

Summary: Tony and Steve are princes of neighbouring kingdoms, promised to each other at birth. But the life of a royal is not as smooth as it seems.

11.  the salacious bisexual life of tony stark AU

Summary: As a journalist, Steve Rogers is expected to write articles on a great many number of things. He didn’t realise that could include his ex boyfriend.

12. Civil War AU

Summary: everything’s the same except: (1) Steve and Tony are dating, (2) Steve doesn’t know Tony is Iron Man

13. stevetony lucifer AU

Summary: Tony is tired of being the Devil, tired of following Howard’s order, tired of all the bullshit that comes with divinity. Malibu isn’t great but its a refreshing change of pace, a nice break from the screaming and the pain. And then he meets Detective Steve Rogers and Malibu suddenly has a lot more to offer.

Note: this AU was started by @imposter-human and all credits for it rightfully go to her. i just piggybacked onto it and added a couple of my own thoughts, but this AU is hers. 

rhodeytony

1. Dostana AU

Summary: Rhodey and Tony desperately need a new apartment, and there’s a brilliant one that’s close to where they both work. There’s only catch though, the landlord, Pepper (who is stunning) only accepts applications from couples. After a night drowning their sorrows in the local bar, they come up with the brilliant idea to pose as a gay couple for the apartment. They move in, and come up with increasingly stupid ways to impress their new landlord without exposing that their marriage is a shamNeither bestfriend likes to lose, and both of them have their eyes set on one person: Pepper (or do they?)

2. rajput tony stark AU

Summary: desi AU. Toni Stark comes from a long line of rajput royalty. (this au has been genderbent since the original post)

3. civil war rhodeytony AU

Summary: civil war scenes re-imagined with an established rhodeytony and a past stevetonyrhodey otv.

4. me and my bestfriend but make it rhodeytony

Summary: memories of me and LRP but re-imagined as Tony and Rhodey

5. meri pyaari bindu AU

Summary: To the rest of the world, he’s always be a Mr someone - but to Rhodey, he has and forever will be, his very first love, Tony.

6. doctor who AU

Summary: Doctor! Tony Stark x River Song! fem James Rhodes

7. female tony AU

Summary: Tony doesn’t like Rhodey’s new girlfriend. (he’s still trying to figure out why)

stevebuckytony

1. stephanie rogers AU

Summary: Steph Rogers was never supposed to find herself on the frontlines of World War 2. Then again, she wasn’t supposed to do a lot of things. - the mcu re-imagined with genderbent Steve. eventual stevetonybucky otv

2. on your knees AU

Summary: dom/sub AU. Tony is relearning what it means to be alive in a world where he’s not in the clutches of HYDRA, and misinterprets a scene between dom! Steve and sub! Bucky

samtonybucky

1. president tony stark AU

Summary: Tony Stark is sworn in at the 46th President of the United States. Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes are assigned to his detail.

buckytonynat

1. the Carbonell Family AU

Summary: Anthony Carbonell is the patriarch of the Italian Mafia, Natasha and James are his bodyguards (and lovers). Steve Rogers is the FBI agent who’s vowed to bring him down.

clarktony (superiron)

1. bound by blood AU

Summary: when Clark’s parents die, Howard Stark takes him in. Desperate to recreate the serum by any means necessary he starts experimenting on both his new foster child, and his own flesh and blood son in an attempt to create the next supersoldier. Years later, Clark has broken free of Howard and is now Superman; but he and Tony are connected in ways he couldn’t even begin to understand

gen

1. morgan stark’s villain origin story AU

Summary: Morgan Stark isn’t a normal girl. It might have something to do with the death of her father.

2. blind tony stark AU

Summary: Tony loses his sight when he’s 15 after a kidnapping gone wrong.

3. desi! tony stark AU

Summary: just a link to all pieces that have desi! tony stark in them.

4. slytherin! tony stark AU

Summary: just a link to all pieces that have slytherin! tony stark in them.

5. AU-gust 2020

Summary: a masterlist to all the AUs i did for AU-gust, spanning various ships and fandoms

6. sins of the father AU

Summary: Harley has always known who his birth father is. It just never occurred to him, that his birth father might not know who his son is. im3 compliant. slightly aged up harley keener (he’s in highschool not middle school)

#my writing #au masterlist #this genuinely took ages to compile so please appreciate this #and give my aus some love #making this made me realise how many AUs that i have to update or extrapolate #some of these AUs will probably never be revisited #but who knows maybe if someone shows interest in a dead AU #i might find inspiration to add to it

[officialyourdailyinspiration]

The Amazing Story of 'O Holy Night'

Declared 'unfit for church services' in France and later embraced by U.S. abolitionists, the song continues to inspire.

The strange and fascinating story of "O Holy Night" began in France, yet eventually made its way around the world. This seemingly simple song, inspired by a request from a clergyman, would not only become one of the most beloved anthems of all time, it would mark a technological revolution that would forever change the way people were introduced to music.

In 1847, Placide Cappeau de Roquemaure was the commissionaire of wines in a small French town. Known more for his poetry than his church attendance, it probably shocked Placide when his parish priest asked the commissionaire to pen a poem for Christmas mass. Nevertheless, the poet was honored to share his talents with the church.

In a dusty coach traveling down a bumpy road to France's capital city, Placide Cappeau considered the priest's request. Using the gospel of Luke as his guide, Cappeau imagined witnessing the birth of Jesus in Bethlehem. Thoughts of being present on the blessed night inspired him. By the time he arrived in Paris, "Cantique de Noel" had been completed. Moved by his own work, Cappeau decided that his "Cantique de Noel" was not just a poem, but a song in need of a master musician's hand. Not musically inclined himself, the poet turned to one of his friends, Adolphe Charles Adams, for help.

The son of a well-known classical musician, Adolphe had studied in the Paris conservatoire. His talent and fame brought requests to write works for orchestras and ballets all over the world. Yet the lyrics that his friend Cappeau gave him must have challenged the composer in a fashion unlike anything he received from London, Berlin, or St. Petersburg.

As a man of Jewish ancestry, for Adolphe the words of "Cantique de Noel" represented a day he didn't celebrate and a man he did not view as the son of God. Nevertheless, Adams quickly went to work, attempting to marry an original score to Cappeau's beautiful words. Adams' finished work pleased both poet and priest. The song was performed just three weeks later at a Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve.

Initially, "Cantique de Noel" was wholeheartedly accepted by the church in France and the song quickly found its way into various Catholic Christmas services. But when Placide Cappeau walked away from the church and became a part of the socialist movement, and church leaders discovered that Adolphe Adams was a Jew, the song--which had quickly grown to be one of the most beloved Christmas songs in France--was suddenly and uniformly denounced by the church. The heads of the French Catholic church of the time deemed "Cantique de Noel" as unfit for church services because of its lack of musical taste and "total absence of the spirit of religion." Yet even as the church tried to bury the Christmas song, the French people continued to sing it, and a decade later a reclusive American writer brought it to a whole new audience halfway around the world.

Not only did this American writer--John Sullivan Dwight--feel that this wonderful Christmas songs needed to be introduced to America, he saw something else in the song that moved him beyond the story of the birth of Christ. An ardent abolitionist, Dwight strongly identified with the lines of the third verse: "Truly he taught us to love one another; his law is love and his gospel is peace. Chains shall he break, for the slave is our brother; and in his name all oppression shall cease." The text supported Dwight's own view of slavery in the South. Published in his magazine, Dwight's English translation of "O Holy Night" quickly found found favor in America, especially in the North during the Civil War.

Back in France, even though the song had been banned from the church for almost two decades, many commoners still sang "Cantique de Noel" at home. Legend has it that on Christmas Eve 1871, in the midst of fierce fighting between the armies of Germany and France, during the Franco-Prussian War, a French soldier suddenly jumped out of his muddy trench. Both sides stared at the seemingly crazed man. Boldly standing with no weapon in his hand or at his side, he lifted his eyes to the heavens and sang, "Minuit, Chretiens, c'est l'heure solennelle ou L'Homme Dieu descendit jusqu'a nous," the beginning of "Cantique de Noel."

After completing all three verses, a German infantryman climbed out his hiding place and answered with, "Vom Himmel noch, da komm' ich her. Ich bring' euch gute neue Mar, Der guten Mar bring' ich so viel, Davon ich sing'n und sagen will," the beginning of Martin Luther's robust "From Heaven Above to Earth I Come."

The story goes that the fighting stopped for the next twenty-four hours while the men on both sides observed a temporary peace in honor of Christmas day. Perhaps this story had a part in the French church once again embracing "Cantique de Noel" in holiday services.

Adams had been dead for many years and Cappeau and Dwight were old men when on Christmas Eve 1906, Reginald Fessenden--a 33-year-old university professor and former chief chemist for Thomas Edison--did something long thought impossible. Using a new type of generator, Fessenden spoke into a microphone and, for the first time in history, a man's voice was broadcast over the airwaves: "And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed," he began in a clear, strong voice, hoping he was reaching across the distances he supposed he would.

Shocked radio operators on ships and astonished wireless owners at newspapers sat slack-jawed as their normal, coded impulses, heard over tiny speakers, were interrupted by a professor reading from the gospel of Luke. To the few who caught this broadcast, it must have seemed like a miracle--hearing a voice somehow transmitted to those far away. Some might have believed they were hearing the voice of an angel. Fessenden was probably unaware of the sensation he was causing on ships and in offices; he couldn't have known that men and women were rushing to their wireless units to catch this Christmas Eve miracle.

After finishing his recitation of the birth of Christ, Fessenden picked up his violin and played "O Holy Night," the first song ever sent through the air via radio waves. When the carol ended, so did the broadcast--but not before music had found a new medium that would take it around the world.

Since that first rendition at a small Christmas mass in 1847, "O Holy Night" has been sung millions of times in churches in every corner of the world. And since the moment a handful of people first heard it played over the radio, the carol has gone on to become one of the entertainment industry's most recorded and played spiritual songs. This incredible work--requested by a forgotten parish priest, written by a poet who would later split from the church, given soaring music by a Jewish composer, and brought to Americans to serve as much as a tool to spotlight the sinful nature of slavery as tell the story of the birth of a Savior--has become one of the most beautiful, inspired pieces of music ever created.

From "Stories Behind the Best-Loved Songs of Christmas" which may be purchased here: https://www.zondervan.com/9780310873877/stories-behind-the-best-loved-songs-of-christmas/

#Christmas Hymn #O Holy Night #The Amazing Story of 'O Holy Night'

[randomvarious]

SWV - “Right Here” 18 Top Hits 1/94 Song released in 1993. Compilation released in 1994. R&B

The first wave of R&B girl groups in the 90s was dominated by three separate entities: first, there was En Vogue, who were responsible for starting the whole craze, and then came TLC, who were then followed by SWV. And since this is a post that’s gonna be littered with a bunch of fun, little trivia nuggets, here’s your first one: SWV, which is an acronym for Sisters With Voices, originally wanted to call themselves TLC, based on the first initials of their three members, Tamara, Leanne, and Cheryl. But they received a cease & desist letter from Epic Records, who had the TLC name locked up for the soon-to-be sensational Atlanta trio that was on their own roster. And so, Tamara, Leanne, and Cheryl begrudgingly settled on calling themselves SWV instead.

They began in 1988 in New York with two members, Leanne and Cheryl, who both sang at church, and were in search for a third girl to finish out the group. After going through auditions, they chose Tamara, who, according to a Rolling Stone article, was really shy and originally would only sing with the lights off. The three girls also donned stage names. Leanne would be Lelee, Cheryl would be Coko, and Tamara would be Taj. As a quirk, they sent out demo tapes with bottles of Perrier because they couldn’t afford to send champagne. They would end up catching the ear of legendary producer, as well as the father of the new jack swing fad, Teddy Riley (more on him later), and he would end up getting SWV inked to a ridiculously terrible eight-album contract, which the group never completely fulfilled. But at least they got themselves signed to a major, right?

In 1992, SWV released their debut album, It’s About Time, with most of the production coming from a guy named Brian Alexander Morgan. Morgan has gone on to produce, remix, write, and arrange for a bunch of music superstars, including Usher, Drake, Wu-Tang Clan, Mariah Carey, and Ariana Grande. But his first big opportunity came from...right here...with SWV’s debut album.

In fact, it was “Right Here” that would kick things off for SWV, becoming the group’s first single, before their debut album ended up hitting the shelves. But here’s where it might get a little confusing. That first single isn’t the version of “Right Here” that everyone would end up remembering SWV for. Actually, almost no one remembers the original version of “Right Here,” which is an excellent song on its own. Morgan laced his new jack swing beat with organ, electric guitar, and ringing bells that remind us of Run-D.M.C.’s “Peter Piper” and Snap!’s “The Power,” which both trace back to Bob James’ “Take Me to the Mardi Gras”. And Taj raps, too!

The original version of “Right Here” would peak at #92 on the Billboard Hot 100 and #16 on the R&B/Hip Hop chart. The next pair of SWV singles, “I’m So Into You” and “Weak” would fare much better, both reaching the top ten on Billboard’s Hot 100, with “Weak” going all the way to #1. These singles would then set the stage for the release of a new version of “Right Here,” the one everyone knows and loves, which is credited as a Teddy Riley remix, and was fresh for the summer of 1993. It’s commonly dubbed as the “Human Nature Mix” because of its liberal sampling of the Michael Jackson song off Thriller. That particular mix would also feature on the Free Willy soundtrack, which would also contain and lead with Michael Jackson’s “Will You Be There”. 

(Another famous sampling of “Human Nature” would happen in 1994, too, with Nas’ “It Ain’t Hard to Tell,” which was produced by Large Professor. Now, you could be thinking that the “Human Nature Mix” might’ve provided some inspiration for Large Pro to conjure up that particular beat, but as it turns out, “It Ain’t Hard to Tell” was actually recorded in ‘92.)

So here’s the coolest piece of trivia you’ll run into today. Know who’s delivering that catchy “ess, double, you, vee” line throughout the “Human Nature Mix”? Pharrell. And it’s his first vocal credit, ever! One day, he was performing in a high school talent show with his R&B group, The Neptunes (not his production project with Chad Hugo), and guess who was in the audience? Teddy Riley! Riley’s studio just so happened to sit next to Pharrell’s high school. How’s that for luck? Pharrell would end up writing Riley’s verse on Wreckx-N-Effect’s old school hip hop summer classic, “Rump Shaker,” and the following year he was on the “Human Nature Mix”. There’s also a captivating, “give-it-some-time-to-work-itself-out” kind of “UK Remix” of “Right Here” on which Pharrell raps, and in 1996, The Neptunes (now just Pharrell and Hugo) would receive their first production credits for two songs (and an interlude) on SWV’s second album, New Beginning.

And now for something probably even less people know about. Although the “Human Nature Mix” is credited to Teddy Riley, it’s not his work. It’s Brian Alexander Morgan’s, the guy who also produced the original version. Riley’s name was merely attached for marketing purposes only. The label probably thought that if they sold the single as a remix that was made by a production superstar who was using a Michael Jackson song(!), it would move more units than if they said it was by Morgan, which is a name that barely anyone knew. And it seems like the label was correct in its calculus. Even though it didn’t end up hitting #1 (it hit #2), the “Human Nature Mix” remains SWV’s most remembered song, and you can credit it for leading to a re-release of SWV’s debut album, which at that point would add the remix, and would help generate over two million copies sold.

And come to think of it, how many songs can you name in which the remix ended up becoming far more popular than the original version? Before the advent of EDM, anyway. And “Ignition (Remix)” doesn’t count, by the way. That totally misunderstands what a remix is. There’s like a handful of tracks that come to mind: a pair of Amber remixes by Hani and Thunderpuss (”One More Night” and “Sexual (Li Da Di),” respectively), another Thunderpuss remix of “It’s Not Right But It’s Okay” by Whitney Houston, a Latin house remix of Madonna’s “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina” by Pablo Flores and Javier Garza, and of course, Todd Terry’s remix of “Missing” by Everything But the Girl. But the “Human Nature Mix” of “Right Here” might be at the top of the list. Lots of people aren’t even aware of the original’s existence. When you say the words “’Right Here’ by SWV,” everyone just assumes you’re talking about the “Human Nature Mix”. When the song is included on compilations, a lot of times the words “Human Nature” aren’t anywhere to be found, like on this random German comp I have that gathered 18 of the top songs from January of 1994. That’s how much more popular the “Human Nature Mix” is than the original. Let me know if you can think of any other remixes that hold a similar status.

One more thing before I get to the music video. This mix is so different from the original. The original version has a much harder edge and clearly took way more thought and effort to put together than the “Human Nature Mix” since the “Human Nature Mix” primarily just coasts off of the Michael Jackson sample. It doesn’t mean the original’s better though. It’s definitely great, but it’s trapped in the new jack swing era, and for that reason, it doesn’t have the staying power of the “Human Nature Mix”. Sometimes a producer finds something that’s easy enough to cobble together and it just manages to hit really good. That’s definitely the case here. The “Human Nature Mix” is just so fluffy; it was perfect summer radio then and it’s perfect summer radio now. It’s like an R&B counterpart to DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince’s “Summertime,” which came out a couple years beforehand. In fact, if I were doing a nostalgic 90s summer mix, I would probably line those tracks up back-to-back (”Rump Shaker” would be somewhere in there, too). There’s just a super relaxing, enjoyable airiness that both songs seem to possess. Oh, and speaking of DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince, you know who provides the background vocals on Will Smith’s “Men in Black” song? Coko from SWV. Wild, right?

So, anyway, the video. It sucks. It just does. It’s not memorable at all, besides the awkward, intermittent slip-ins of footage of Michael Jackson performing “Human Nature” from his Dangerous tour and some clips of Free Willy swimming and breeching. It’s really a missed opportunity for the group. Apparently, there’s another video without Michael and Free Willy, too, but I can’t find it. It sounds like it’s boring though. Oh well.

The first single off of SWV’s next album (”You’re the One”) would do very well for itself, too, and that album would manage to go platinum. But they’d get lost in the fold soon after, while En Vogue and TLC would end up building much more on their prior success. And TLC would come out on top for the late 90s with songs like “No Scrubs” and “Unpretty”.

SWV made good songs, but they weren’t marketed well, at all. Case in point, your last bit of trivia: Taj was a contestant on Survivor in 2009. No, not Celebrity Survivor. Just regular-ass Survivor. No one knew she was Taj from SWV and she didn’t tell anyone on the show either. This lady helped sell millions of records for fuck’s sake. I guarantee you every contestant on that show knew an SWV song and they had no idea who this woman even was. Isn’t that kind of insane? I mean, SWV were by no means one-hit wonders, and they weren’t super popular for that long, but they were definitely an early 90s R&B staple. Anyway, for what it’s worth, Taj ended up finishing in fourth on Survivor. She’s also married to soon-to-be Hall of Fame running back Eddie George. 

So, there it is. One of the greatest and most popular tunes of the 90s. A song everyone likes that has a lot of fun, interesting facts that surround it. Shame that these girls couldn’t sustain their success for the remainder of the decade, but at least they and Brian Alexander Morgan gave us this indomitable classic.

#r&b #rnb #r&b music #rnb music #r n b #r n b music #rhythm and blues #rhythm n blues #rhythm & blues #music #90s #90s music #90's #90's music #90s r&b #90's r&b #90s rnb #90's rnb #90s r&b music #90's r&b music #90s r n b #90's r n b #90s r n b music #90's r n b music #90s rhythm and blues #90's rhythm and blues #90s rhythm n blues #90's rhythm n blues #90s rhythm & blues #90's rhythm & blues

[eclecticstarlightconnoisseur]

EDINBURGH TO BOSTON - CHAPTER 17 - WITH YOU, I AM BORN AGAIN.

Good evening all. I am re-posting the last two chapters of E-to-B so you can either catch up if you didn’t get a chance to read it or it is new to you. I will post Chapter 18 tomorrow night. The newest chapter will be posted most likely this Thursday. At the very latest Friday. Thank you for your patience in waiting for each chapter.

AND HAPPY WORLD OUTLANDER DAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This is a very, very long chapter. in fact it comes in at over 9300 words. I had considered breaking it up, but in the end, I felt it would lose some of the continuity if I did.

Also, when you think about this chapter this is a “making up” chapter. So at the end of the chapter, there is an NSFW scene. Please take this as an advisement if this is not your thing.

For the sake of the story, J&C are in business class on the plane. BUT, in order to make certain things happen, we must pretend that that darned console is not there.

Again the title of the chapter relates to a Motown song. The song to me represents coming together.  There is a link at the end and I wound hope that you will listen to it. To me, it just says Jamie and Claire. I thought it very apropos considering what they went through in Boston and having almost lost each other. That is the reason for the choice of title and song. I hope it makes sense to you like it does to me. There are still some unresolved feelings, but we will get to that a little later.

As always I am deeply indebted to @scubalass​ who keeps me honest with the story, finds my mistakes, and keeps me on the straight and narrow. Thank you, thank you, thank you.🧡🧡🧡🧡

I am always open to questions about this chapter or any other chapter. Any thoughts comments or suggestions are always welcome.

Thanks for reading my ramble. So without further delay, I give you the newest chapter of Edinburgh to Boston. Here goes nothing. I hope you enjoy.

Edinburgh to Boston

Chapter 17

With You, I Am Born Again

The slumbering beast droned awake. The engines hummed as the jet slowly taxied into position for takeoff. Having received clearance from the tower, th  e Captain released the deceptive power held in check. Roaring to life, the air shook around its massive body. Gathering speed, the lumbering giant began its climb toward its skyward goal. Thundering it thrust forward shearing the air mass surrounding it. The flaps moved into place and the brakes groaned as the landing gear retracted with a loud thud. Continuing its ascent, the silver leviathan increased its speed causing air molecules to strike the fuselage mercilessly. It finally reached cruising altitude leveling off.  And it became blessedly quiet. Claire Beauchamp raised her head up from its hiding place within the crook of Jamie Fraser’s neck. She looked like a snail peeking out of its shell after a rainstorm. “‘Tis alright lass. We’re in the air. ‘Tis safe tae come out now,” he coaxed her. “Easy for you to say, Fraser. You’ve never been in a plane crash.” Childhood memories of the plane crash that took the lives of her parents still haunt her. Claire survived the accident because her mother sacrificed herself using her body to shield her precious daughter from injury.

“Aye, yer right, Sassenach. And I hope I never find out what that’s like.” Smiling at her, he placed a gentle kiss to the tip of her nose.

Claire leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed. “Another seven hours and we’ll be in Scotland. I can’t wait to go home and leave the memories of this miserable trip behind us.”

“Ye ken it was no’ a total disaster Sassenach,” he suggested trying to lighten her mood. “We made the acquaintance of Harry and Maizie and we had fun in the park, did we no?” He looked at her with a sidelong glance, “Then we umm,” he cleared his throat. The beginnings of a spectacularly vibrant red blush colored his cheeks, “then we became better acquainted, several times. I hope I was no’ a disappointment tae ye Claire,” he said shyly.

“A disappointment? Were you a disappointment? Fraser, I have never been so thoroughly shagged in my life. A disappointment, forsooth!”

The redness on Jamie’s cheek deepened. A self-satisfied smile splayed across his face.

“Ye ken we still have three days left before we have tae return tae work. Do ye have any idea of what ye would like tae do?”

She tilted her head back as she stared upward contemplating his question.

“For one thing, a nice long soaking bath,” she exhaled with pleasure. “Wearing my softest pyjamas, curling up in bed and sleeping. Oh! And order take away so I don’t have to go grocery shopping and cook. It just sounds like heaven.” She smiled contentedly as she stretched languorously.

“Ye ken Sassenach I hoped that we could spend the time together.” Sagging into his seat he radiated a sense of disappointment at the prospect of not spending the time together.

Running her fingers over his cheek, “I didn’t say I wanted to do those things alone, did I? Is your bathtub big enough for two?”

“Yes. No. Yes!”

Is a bathtub big enough for two what it would take tae get Beauchamp into his home? He wondered? I may be looking at a bathroom renovation if it doesna fit the two of us. Ah weel a small price to pay, he thought.

“‘Tis big enough for me so a wee lassie like you should have nay trouble fitting in it.” Thinking about the last time they shared a bath together made the tips of his ears turn pink. What is about Beauchamp that could reduce him to an awkward blushing schoolboy?

“I guess we will have to find out together, won’t we Fraser?” Claire licked her lips as if she was going to sample a tasty morsel. “I also seem to remember you promised to do things to me that would make me scream once we arrive home. You are a man of your word, are you not?” Claire responded in a seductive voice.

It was his turn to make her squirm. “Claire, I am a man of my word. I intend to make ye scream with the wanting. I will have ye riding waves of pleasure till ye can bear it nay more,” his smile both reckless and savage made no mistake as to what his intentions were.

Her eyes opened wide, and her jaw dropped. She tried to swallow but her mouth had gone dry, arid like the deserts of her youth. She knew he meant it. It almost sounded more like a threat than a promise. A threat she couldn’t wait for him to make good on.

“Ye should get some rest, Claire. Ye’ll need it,” his whispered with a provocative voice weighty with a primitive want and need.

His eyes closed as a small smile curved on his lips.

Claire reclined her seat, but could not sleep. She was restless wriggling around trying to find a comfortable position to nap in.

“Ye canna sleep, Sassenach? Yer wiggling like a wee lad with a toad in his pocket.”

“No, I can’t sleep. Just couldn’t get comfortable.”

“What is it? Is there anything on yer mind?” Jamie didn’t trust that she still wasn’t keeping secrets from him.

She looked at him shyly, “Now that you mention it, I do have one more confession to make.”

He sat up straight, bracing himself for the worst. “And that is…what?”

“I really can bake you know. I just never made a cake with a saw in it.”

Laughing, she completely reclined her seat and moments later her body relaxed into sleep.

Jamie watched her fall asleep, just as easy as you please, “Christ, Claire, ye will be the death of me yet,” he muttered shaking his head. With one hand, Jamie took a blanket twirling it open with the dexterity of a matador swirling his Capote de Brega covering his Sassenach.

The cabin was dark for some time and all around him, the sounds of passengers settling in for the night time passage had little effect on Jamie. The pull of sleep would not come. His mind jumped through the events over the past several days. With her startling revelation of abuse and rape at the hands’ of her ex-husband, he feared she might compare him to Frank. Not that he would ever hurt her. God, no. But there was something about Beauchamp that drove him to extremes of emotion. He wanted to protect her like a wee kitten that he could keep safe in his shirt and cradle tenderly. And then. And then there were times he wanted to take her, spread her thighs wide and plow into her like a crazed rutting bull. That’s what worried him. What if he could not be gentle? Would he frighten her? He did not want to be compared to him. Over and over again, he told himself his fears were baseless, senseless. After all, they had been intimate several times without the slightest hint or suggestion that she was afraid of him. He would need to find a way to reassure her. And perhaps, himself.  Coming to a decision, he closed his eyes and fell into a restless sleep.

Several hours later, Jamie woke only to find Claire awake as well. She was reading a book on her tablet, one of those bodice-rippers that she was so fond of.  

Claire turned her head toward Jamie’s movement. “Can’t sleep?” she inquired.

“Nah. Uncomfortable. I see ye canna either.”

“No, I usually don’t sleep well, if at all, on planes,” she shrugged as this was an accepted fact of life.

They sat quietly for a while until Jamie broke the silence.  “Would ye like tae hear a story, Sassenach?”

“That would be wonderful.”

“Weel, did I ever tell ye the story of Mary McNab?”

“No, I don’t believe you have.”

“Then, I shall,” he smiled brightly. “Mary McNab lived with her husband and son in a small croft on the Lallybroch lands.  Her husband Ronald worked with my Da on the farm. Now Ronald was a very good worker.  He had one flaw. He turned mean when he drank. Whenever he got paid or came into some extra money, he would make his way to a local pub. After staggering home, he would take out his frustration and anger on his wife and his poor wee laddie. If his son made too much noise while playing or his supper was not to his liking, they suffered for it.

One hot summer day Jenny and some of her friends made plans to go swimming at the loch. As they approached it, Jenny spotted wee Rabbie McNab with his fishing pole sitting shirtless on a log, hook dangling in the water. On hearing the laughter of the approaching girls, he jumped up tae get his shirt that hung over a tree branch but dinna get himself covered before the girls saw him. The lad was covered in bruises in various colors, purple, yellow, and brown.

Jenny reached him and spun him around to face her while he struggled into his shirt.

“Rabbie, who did this tae ye?” Jenny demanded her face white with shock and anger.

“No one. I…I fell down the stairs,” the scared lad told her. He knew what would happen if he told.

“I dinna think sae. I ask ye again, Rabbie McNab, who did this tae ye?” Jenny had heard rumors about his father’s drunkenness and the abuse he heaped on his family.

The boy went silent. His head hanging down low.

“Sae that’s how ‘tis? Come on then,” Jenny grabbed him by the hand pulling and dragging the boy along with her.

“Miss, where are we goin’?”

“Tae see my Da. He’ll get tae the bottom of this.”

“No, Miss, no! Ye canna! Please!” The bairn clearly panicked at this possibility.

“Why no’, Rabbie?”

“Because if my Da finds out…” His free hand went tae his mouth as he realized what he had said.

“Mmphm. Rabbie dinna be afraid my Da willna let nay harm come tae ye.”

Da and I were mending the sheep’s pen, again. It seemed that Huey, the fifth in his line, managed to create a hole large enough allowing him and his harem to escape.

Holding Rabbie’s hand so he would not run off, Jenny explained to her Da what prompted her concern for the wee lad showing him the bruises on Rabbie’s back.

Rabbie finally and tearfully told the truth.

You could see how angry my Da became as he listened tae the story. His eyebrows drew in and his lips formed a tight line.

“Alright, Master Rabbie get ye inside. Tell Mrs. Crook tae feed ye up, aye? I need tae speak with my daughter and son.”  

Rabbie hesitated.

“Get ye gone, lad. Miss Jenny will come tae keep ye company directly.”

The boy took halting steps toward the door, fear and worry emanated from his small form.

“Oh, and Rabbie, dinna be afraid for yerself or yer Mam, aye? Nay harm shall come tae either of ye.”

The boy nodded his head. A glimmer of hope and trust brightened the sad hazel eyes.

I looked at my Da wondering what he would do. How do you interfere in another man’s family? But, then this was no ordinary problem. Wife beating. Child beating. This was different.

“What are ye going tae do Da?”

Da paced back and forth, running his hands through his thick black hair contemplating the question. “I dinna ken laddie, but by Christ, I will do something. I canna sit by and let the pur lad and his mam be beaten every time the man is gone with drink. Let’s go talk with Mistress McNab,”

So I went with my Da tae the McNab croft. Mrs. McNab, of course, denied everything saying her bruises were the result of accidental injuries. She claimed to be a clumsy person, always tripping and falling. She said her laddie took after her, bumping into things, falling, tripping.

Da took her by the hand leading her to a chair to sit. “Mary, ye ken that I know. I have seen Ron at the pub o’er taken with drink. I’ve seen him get into fights.” Brian’s hazel eyes went soft with compassion. “I will see ye and yer lad safe. I can give you the protection of my home and my family’s good name. But, Mary ye must tell me true. Is he hurting ye and yer son?”

Mary McNab searched the depths of Brian Fraser’s warm hazel eyes finding the kindness in his soul. She opened up in a great flood of emotions telling us everything.

Listening intently,  Da drummed his fingers on the table considering what she had tae say. He came tae a decision as Mrs. McNab finished her story.

“Mary pack what ye think ye and yer son will need. Ye will come tae stay at Lallybroch until we straighten this out. I will call my lawyer tae see what can be done legally tae protect ye. Then you can decide what you wish tae do. Jamie, go help Mrs. McNab.”

So Mary McNab came home with us. Da called Ned Gowan our lawyer and Mary decided it was in her and her son’s best interest tae get a divorce, which she did. Da hired her tae help Mrs. Crook with the running of the house.

“Jamie, what about her husband? Didn’t he create a fuss? I can’t believe that he agreed to a divorce so easily.”

“He dinna. Ron marched up tae our house and began tae bang on the door calling out my Da. He told my Da that he had no right tae interfere with another man’s family. And as head of his household, he would do as he saw fit.”

“So, my Da asked him where he lived.”

“Have ye gone daft man? Ye ken fine well I live here at Lallybroch.”

“So ye admit ye live on Lallybroch land, do ye? Which is my land, of which I am the Laird? So as the Laird ‘tis my duty tae see tae the welfare of all who live on it. I am responsible for the welfare of every soul here including yer family. So, I say tae ye now Ronald McNab get yer things and get ye gone from my property. Yer services are no longer required.”

With that my Da turned around and went into the house, leaving Ronnie standing there agog.

“Your father used his authority as the Laird to keep her safe and make her husband leave the property, then. I thought you told me that the title of Laird was only honorary.”

“That’s right ‘tis. But in the Highlands memories are long and traditions die slowly ye ken?”

“I’m glad everything worked out for Mary and her son, but why did you tell me this story?”

He took her very small hand in his large warm one, holding it tenderly.

“My Dad asked me if I knew why he brought me along with him. I foolishly told him because he needed another man along with him, to protect his right.” Jamie smiled remembering his youthful faux pas. “My Da looked at me with a benevolent smile and I could see him thinking. I think that day my Da realized that I was becoming a man and no’ just the wee red-heided bairn that chased after him.”

“Aye, Jamie lad I did need a man with me,” Brian Fraser remarked solemnly giving his beloved son his due. “And since ye are near becoming a man grown there are some lessons ye need tae learn that will govern yer behavior yer whole life.”

“Sassenach, ye should have seen me! I puffed myself up like a proud peacock ready tae receive the sage words of wisdom that my Da would impart tae me. I think my Da almost damn near collapsed trying no’ tae laugh at me.” Jamie shook his head recalling his younger self.

Looking at Jamie, Claire could see the love and respect he had for his father. Something she had always wished she had known with her father.

“Da said he took me along with him tae see Mrs. McNab because someday I would hold the title of Laird. As such it was necessary for me to become a fear an urram. Part of being a duine urramach was the need tae have respect for the land and the beasts in my care. And men of honor have a call tae duty toward the people in his care and those he would meet in life. Most of all, a true man had tae respect women and hold them in high esteem. For women are our strength, our hearts, and the hope for the future. Above all else, a true man respects and cares for those he loves. As they are the reason men rise in the dark of the morning and return home with the setting of the sun laboring so that they can be safe and secure. My Da had a wistful look on his face, staring at something only he could see. He looked at me then told me something I dinna understand at the time, but I do now.”

“Mo mac,” Brian Fraser said, “one day ye will find a lady who will be yer anchor in life. Ye will tether yerself tae her for she will be yer safe harbor. She will stand by yer side through the good and the lean. Yer bairns will be sheltered in her body then brought forth in great pain which she will willingly suffer. Her heart and body will comfort ye when ye are sore with fatigue and worry. She will take ye tae her and ye will find peace. She will be yer home. When ye find her ye must treasure her, Jamie, for she is a rare jewel. Dinna abuse her ever.”

Jamie grew quiet recalling the day the Fraser men discussed what would become the guiding principles in his life.

“I asked my Da if this was how it was between him and my Mam.”

“Da gazed out over the land he loved, the land my Mam loved. When he turned tae look at me, his eyes gleamed full of emotion, love, and joy for his land, his bairns, and his wife.”

“Aye Jaime ‘tis. ‘Tis.”

His hand moved to cup her face. “Ye mo chridhe are the love of my heart and my soul. I tell ye this as I dinna want ye ever tae be scairt of me. I would never hurt ye, or…” he choked on the words, “force ye. I couldna bear it if ye were afraid of me,” he said with a hitch in his voice.“

Jamie turned in his seat allowing him to drop his forehead to Claire’s touching, breathing in their shared space.

“I never thought you would, Jamie.” Her hand reached to cup his cheek.

They shared the silence and stillness of their own thoughts as the jet whisked them homeward.

*****************

Traffic back into Edinburgh was light at that hour of the morning. The Uber silently pulled up to the curb in front of Jamie’s flat. Gallantly, Jamie opened the door for Claire offering her his hand for her to step out of the car. Fishing around in his pocket he found his keys. Handing them to Claire, he told her to go inside and get comfortable. He would be along with the luggage shortly. The driver opened the boot and placed the luggage on the pavement.

“Oi mate, what does yer wife have in the bag, eh? Rocks?”

“My wife, he thinks she’s my wife. Do we look like a couple already?” The thought pleased him that they did and a wide grin spread across his face. “One day she will be my wife. One day she will wear my ring.”

Jamie cleared his throat, “She likes to be prepared.”

“Fer what? An apocalypse? Christ man feels like she packed the entire flat in here!”

Jamie just shrugged giving the man a generous tip for his help.

“She is a bonny lass, though. Weel, luck tae ye man,” and sped off to his next call.

He managed to get all the baggage into the foyer and kicked the door closed.

There she was walking around his sitting room picking things up and putting them down. Seeing her there made his heart speed up. She looked so natural there like she belonged there, with him.

Claire turned around after hearing the door slam shut. She flushed worried that he might think she was snooping about. Which she was.

“Jamie, I hope you don’t mind my looking around. You have a lovely home.”

“Thank ye. ‘Tis no much, but ‘tis comfortable.”

His flat reflected him, masculine and functional. Although the room was devoid of a feminine touch it was tastefully decorated. The room was spacious with a large butter-soft gray leather settee, a bold geometric white and black patterned carpet over the hardwood floor, several comfortable armchairs, and a bookcase filled with assorted books dominated the room. An antique wooden trunk place in front of the sette served as a coffee table. On a far wall, a fireplace with a large flat-screen television above it made quite the statement. Most likely for Jamie to watch his beloved rugby games. Another wall displayed various photographs and portraits of his family as well as small paintings of what looked like pastoral scenes. Here and there there were small splashes of color to break up the greys, blacks, and whites of the room. A tartan gracefully draped over the settee.

“Yer welcome to look about, Sassenach. ‘Tis no much tae see. Just a bachelor’s home. I’ll be putting the luggage in the bedroom.” He looked at her to see if she reacted to his statement. Claire only nodded then asked if she could help.

“Nah, I’ll manage. Why don’t ye make us some tea? Are ye hungry? I could make us something to eat if ye like.”

“Hmm, I could stand to eat a bit. I’ll start on making the food while you take care of the bags.”

“Ye can cook!? I dinna think ye had the opportunity to learn.”

“Oh, I can. I just don’t cook much since it’s only just for me.”

Jamie took their bags into his bedroom. A king-size bed big enough to accommodate his large frame stood as the centerpiece of the room. The palette of the room was neutral colors soft beige, cream, and taupe. The room spoke of a man for whom the room became a respite from the stress of his professional life. The en-suite could only be described as luxurious. One wall is covered in multicolor gray stone tiles, the others were painted white, a black marble countertop with a clear glass bowl basin sink completed the esthetic. He looked at the tub and felt delighted that it would accommodate the two of them. Should he get some scented candles, he wondered? What about some bubbly stuff that smells good? Is that what lasses liked? He thought of asking his sister but damn the wee besom. She would be all into his business and he would have no peace. He would need to figure it out himself. Moving back to the bedroom, Jamie opened his chest of drawers. Would she want to leave some of her things here, he wondered? Ought he to make room for her? He worried that he was pushing things too fast.  Better safe than sorry he reasoned. He picked up a pile of old workout clothes from a drawer and stuffed them into the back of a closet. He should have gotten rid of those clothes a long time ago. Having Claire in his life will mean changes, good changes. One that he wanted to make permanent.

He lifted his head and smelled an enticing aroma. She can cook. In the kitchen, he found her busy at work. She listened to some jazzy music as she cooked and was shaking that glorious arse of hers in time to the beat. He didn’t know which he was more hungry for the food or her.

“Something smells good Sassenach. What are ye making?”

Claire turned to face him beaming with happiness and pride. She had a towel draped over one shoulder and her hand one hip.

“Well, Fraser you didn’t have much in the way of food in the refrigerator so we’ll have to make do with this. It’s just a small snack, really. Just about two bites each.” The table was set and the food plated with the panache of a food stylist. There were crispy baguette slices toasted to perfection and fragrant with olive oil. She placed dollops of goat cheese on the bread and covered it with beautifully grilled peach slices. A chiffonade of sauteed basil garnishes the top. And to pull the flavors together a drizzle of honey making it sparkle. Mugs of earthy coffee sent tendrils of fragrant steam into the surrounding dining area whetting their appetite.

Jamie stood there with his mouth open in disbelief.

“Sassenach, you did this? By yerself?” His mouth hung open in surprise. He only had expected tea and buttered toast, but this was an amazing treat. It looked good enough to have been plated for a fine restaurant.

Claire squinted her eyes at him, her foot tapping showing her annoyance at the implication.  

“I told you I can cook and quite well for that matter. I just don’t. Now, why don’t you sit down and put some food into that gaping hole of your mouth before you begin to catch flies with it.”

He quickly sat rather than catch the wrong end of her pique. “I dinna mean tae offend ye, Sassenach. I just dinna think ye had much time tae learn with all the traveling ye did with yer Uncle ‘tis all.” Jamie decided the safest thing to do would be to just eat and not say anything else that could get him into trouble.

Claire somewhat mollified by his explanation simply nodded. “Uncle Lamb made sure I became exposed to what he called ‘womanly arts’. So I learned to cook, keep house, manage budgets amongst other things women should know,” she said with a devilish grin on her face. “It has come in handy.”

“I must thank ye, mo leannan. ‘Twas delicious. And I would like tae repay ye by being in charge of dinner. Would ye mind going shopping with me to fill up my empty refrigerator?”

They meandered along the High Street keeping well away from places where friends could easily spot them. Neither wanted to be found by colleagues or acquaintances just yet. At least not until tomorrow. Holding hands, fingers linked together, they peered into store windows, carried on conversations about things of no great consequence. With the afternoon chill descending on them Jamie and Claire stopped for tea at his favorite tea room. The tearoom evoked the feeling of being in a grannie’s sitting room. It was a bit cluttered with an assortment of antique nick-nacks  on display, lace tablecloths covering the tables, and a small bouquet of flowers on the table. In truth, it was cozy and utterly charming. The tea warm and fragrant was served in delicate rose-patterned china cups and a variety of sweets and pastries graced the table. They found a table by the window where they could observe the passers-by. Heads bent in whispered conversation, soft giggles uttered, they sipped and nibbled as hands connected unable to bear lack of contact.

The afternoon sky began to lower threatening a change in the weather. Jamie brought Claire’s hand to his lips leaving a tender kiss on her palm. “We need to leave Sassenach before we get caught in the snow.

Claire hummed in agreement. “Yes, you’re right. Let’s go buy something for dinner and go home.”

He was startled by her answer. Was she considering his place as her home already? He rather hoped that she would.

They went to the nearest market to stock up for a while.  Claire regaled Jamie about the different cuisines she tried while traveling with Lamb.

“Did you know that guinea pig is considered a delicacy in parts of South America? I never tried it myself but Lamb did. He had to or risk offending the Headman of the village.”

He marveled at the things she told him. Her life experiences were so different from his own.

“Ye mean the wee animals that live in cages and run on a wheel?” He grimaced at the thought.

“That’s a hamster. Guinea pigs shouldn’t use a wheel. Bad for the back, you know.”

He made what Claire referred to as a Scottish noise in the back of his throat. “I dinna ken ye knew sae much about the wee beasties.”

“As a child, I was like a sponge sucking up knowledge from my experiences with Lamb. It was an unorthodox lifestyle for a child but I wouldn’t have changed it for the world.”

He watched her as she stood amongst the display of produce, her index finger tapping her lower lip as she concentrated on what to choose. She examined everything for freshness, ripeness, color, texture before choosing. He was enchanted by her. She truly was a Sassenach, an Outlander. Claire did not belong to England nor Scotland nor America nor anywhere in particular. Having had such a unique upbringing, she was a woman belonging to the world. She belonged to nothing and yet to everything. It was this otherness about her that intrigued him, made him desperately want her to belong only to him.

Making short work of gathering their staples and perishables, they made it back to Jamie’s flat before the storm broke. The wind whipped up around them blowing Claire’s hair into wild disarray. Laughing they stumbled through the door almost collapsing on each other. The door slammed shut from the force of the wind.

They placed their bundles on the kitchen island unpacking their delectables. Jamie gave Claire a sidelong look. Clearing his throat and keeping his eyes averted he said in a nonchalant voice, “Sassenach I, er, um, I made some room for ye this morning in the bathroom for yer personal things. I, ah, also made room for ye in the chest of drawers and in the closet should ye wish tae put your things in there. Maybe ye might want tae leave some of yer things here. But only if ye wish tae.” The tips of his ears turned pink, he worried that this might be too fast, too soon to suggest such a thing.

Claire looked up at him her bottom lip quivering.  “You did that for me? I…” She placed both her hands on his cheeks bringing him closer to her. She leaned in kissing him soundly on the lips. Turning away quickly from him before the tears could escape the dam, she ran toward the bedroom to see what he had done for her.

Jamie smiled contentedly as he watched her scurry away. While she was occupied with unpacking her things, Jamie made a phone call he hoped would also please her. He continued to put away their purchases and set the table for their dinner. Hopefully, Aldo would not disappoint.

Claire busied herself with putting away some of her things. Jamie making room for her spoke volumes to her. He was trying to make her comfortable in his home. He wanted her there. As she placed her hairbrush, shampoo, and other toiletries in the en-suite she developed a warm feeling of belonging that she had never before experienced, not even in her own home with Frank. She wondered if this is what home felt like.

Having completed arranging her things, Claire came out to find the dining area glowing with the soft light from dinner candles, the table set, and dinner served. Jamie escorted her to the table, giving her a slight bow, “My lady,” seating her then taking his place opposite her.

“How did you, when did you…”

“I did promise you dinner. I dinna say I would make it myself,” as he waved his injured hand about. “I have a friend Aldo who owns an Italian restaurant close by. He sometimes sends dinner if I have a long day.”

“This is excellent, Jamie. How do you know Aldo?”

“He is a footie mate and a damn good goalie too.”

After finishing dinner and wine, Claire offered to clean up. “You went through all this trouble it’s the least I can do,” she smirked.

“Nay, Sassenach. ‘‘Twas my treat. Why dinna you get comfortable? It’s been a long couple of days.”

Standing she stretched until she heard little popping sounds between her vertebrae, “Perhaps you’re right. I think a shower is in order. Will you be coming soon?”

“Aye, I will. Just as soon as I put the dishes in the dishwasher and the leftovers away.”

Claire undressed taking her robe with her into the bathroom. She decided to ask Jaime for his tee-shirt again to wear to sleep. Having something of his next to her skin was a balm to her soul. She shampooed her hair then washed with her favorite body wash. Looking in the mirror she thought her hair resembled a wet poodle. With a towel wrapped around her head, she walked into the bedroom to find Jamie shirtless and shoeless only his jeans remained.

He smiled broadly at her, “A quick shower, then tae bed.” The heat of the water felt comforting. But he had no time to linger as his thoughts gravitated toward his lass. He wanted to, well he knew what he wanted to do, but would she? They were both jet-lagged, but just maybe.” He dried off and wrapped a low hanging towel about his hips. Opening the bathroom door, he stood there watching her as she tried to brush out several recalcitrant knots out of her curly hair. He could hear her mutterings and swearing. “Bloody-minded hair.” A particular mutinous snag gave rise to a blasphemous “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!”

“Here Sassenach, let me,” Jamie coaxed the brush from her hand. “When I was a young lad, I would brush my Mam’s hair for her when she felt troubled. She said it helped her tae relax.”

He sectioned her hair gently then began brushing it, working the tangles out. He worked slowly, carefully working each snarl out all while whispering softly in Gaidhlig.

There was something supremely peaceful in Jamie’s touch. Claire slipped into an almost hypnotic state. She relaxed under his skilled hand and the susurrous of the brush skimming through her hair. Her eyes closed enjoying his surgeon-like expertise. Methodical, proficient, and meticulous. Just like he approached everything. No wonder his mother liked him to brush her hair.

He was totally focused on the task at hand making the unruly mass of curls into soft waves and tender ringlets. One would have thought that her hair would feel coarse and rough. But no, her hair was soft and lush. He brought a lock of her hair to his nose. It smelled of herbs and flowers soft and fragrant. It smelled of her. Jamie paid great attention to the colors of her tresses. Predominantly it was brunette with wisps of caramel, cinnamon, and auburn scattered throughout. Jamie let the strands slip over his fingers like silken threads to once again cascade over her shoulders. “Mo nighean donn,” he whispered.

Claire turned her head to him. “You have called me that before but I never asked what it means.”

He smiled, “It means my brown-haired lass.”

“I have always thought brown to be a rather dull color.”

Jamie placed an errant curl behind her ear, “No, no’ dull at all. It’s like the water in a burn, where it ruffles over the stones. Dark in the wavy spots with bits of silver and auburn where the sun catches it.”

He put the brush down on the bedside table, turned to face her. He lifted her chin up and gazed into her eyes. Her eyes were pools of liquid honey warm and sweet.

Claire fell into the depth of his eyes, so impossibly blue that it seemed that part of the sky fell into them.

“Jamie…”

“Dance with me, Claire.”

She looked at him in surprise and question.

“You mean here, now, like this?” Her eyes took in their mutual state of undress.

“Besides, there is no music and truthfully I can’t dance.

“‘Tis nay bother. Music ye shall have. I’ll tell ye a secret, I canna dance too. I’m tae big and clumsy. Dinna be afraid ‘tis no’ but a bit of swaying. I think we can manage that without damaging each other.” Jamie extended his hand for her to take with a smile so brilliant it rivaled the summer sun.

She knew she should have resisted and said no.  But Claire found herself powerless, mesmerized by him. She reached out her hands clasping theirs together. He pulled her toward him. Their bodies touching.

“First, ye need to take this off.” He began tugging at the ties of her robe. “I need tae feel ye next tae me.”

Her hands entwined with his as they worked to release the tie allowing the satiny fabric to slip off her body. Standing there naked she felt just a bit foolish.

“Now your turn.”

Giving the towel a quick tug, it fell away landing on the floor. He kicked the towel and robe out of the way, widening their area to move.

They were bare to each other. His arousal full and complete.

Once again he drew her into him, his large hands settling on her hips, while Claire’s hands rested around his neck.

“Alexa,” Jamie called out, “Play With You I’m Born Again on repeat.”

The room filled with sultry vocals and seductive notes from the piano.

Jamie pulled her deeper into his embrace feeling the fullness of her breasts against him, her nipples hardening from contact with his chest. His rigid cock pressed firmly upon her belly.

Their bodies moved in sync to the music swaying together like flowers in the wind. His sound hand floated over her back holding her close, reducing whatever little space still separated them.

Tucking her head neatly under his chin, Claire’s eyes drifted shut, sighing in contentment. He was warm and had a masculine smell rather spicy she thought. Pepper, ginger, lemon, and coriander. Overlaying that was his own unique scent which could not be masked. She nuzzled into his chest breathing him in making small wuffling sounds.

“Are ye smelling me, Sassenach?”

She looked up at him with a dreamy look on her face, “Why yes. Yes, I am,” and returned to resting her head against him.

Jamie gave a soft chuckle and placed his head atop hers.

He crooned softly into her hair,

Come bring me yer softness

Comfort me through all this madness

Woman, don’t ye know with ye I’m born again?

Looking up into the face of her love, Claire sang softly back,

Come give me your sweetness

Now there’s you, there is no weakness

Lying safe within your arms, I’m born again.

They joined together in a duet singing softly of their love for each other,

I was half not whole, in step with none

Reaching through the world, in need of one.

Come show me your kindness

In your arms I know I’ll find this.

Lying safe within your arms, I’m born again.

Jamie bent down kissing Claire tenderly on her lips,

Woman don’t ye know with ye I’m born again

A single tear ran down her face,

Lying safe within your arms I’m born again.

Jamie bade Alexa stop the music. They came to a standstill, eyes locked on each other.

“I am naught but a poor simple man. I dinna have the words of a poet. Nor can I write ye a love song. This I tell ye true mo ghràdh, I love ye. I love ye more than I have ever loved nay will ever love someone. Ye have captured my heart.” He began to tremble in her arms and stumbled over his words. “I dinna ken what a soul is other than what the priests told us in kirk. But, I kent mine was only half until I found you. When I met ye, I felt mine call out to yers for I kent we share but one soul and one heart my Sassenach. Neither of us is complete without the other.”

Claire looked up into his face seeing the truth of his words.

“I feel the same way, Jamie. I do love you so.”

A tidal wave of lust coursed through him. His pupils were blown wide open turning the placid blue eyes dark and dangerous. He dropped his face toward hers, their lips just a whisper away. Jamie kissed her with a fierceness, no perhaps it was with desperation trying to convey his feelings with actions instead of his paltry words.

Claire felt the heat rising up in her belly spreading through her like the warmth from a dram of good whisky. She parted her lips in invitation. His tongue ran over her lips then invading her mouth tasting its deep recesses as they joined in mutual caresses.

Jamie broke the kiss. His breathing became heavy with want. “I need ye lass. I canna say it plainer than that.”

Claire’s eyes of toffee gazed up at him begging him to touch her everywhere. “Then take me, now.”

“I dinna ken if I can be gentle.”

“Then don’t.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Come lass let me love ye. ‘Tis been too long since I last held ye in my arms.”  He lifted her up and carried her to the bed, gently placing her down. Her hair spread over the pillow like a great nimbus cloud of light and dark. She opened herself to him with her arms raised up in supplication. She never looked lovelier than she did when flushed with desire.  “Ye are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

“As you say so.”

“Do ye doubt me?”

“No, what I mean is I am beautiful because you say it is so.”

“Aye, ‘tis so.”

He came to her like a starving man hungrily seizing her mouth. It would be her body and soul that would sustain him, nourish him, make him whole again. He had feared he had lost her in Boston because of his own negligence. And yet she forgave him, still wanted him. He needed to claim her as his.

“Mine,” he growled into her mouth. “Mine now and forever.”

“Yours, only you,” she sighed.

His kisses were hard, brutal leaving her lips swollen from the attention. She kissed him back with equal fervor pulling at his bottom lip biting down on it. Her own need to join with him raged through her like wildfire. She had almost lost him through her foolish fears, her foolish secrets.

Jamie began to rain kisses down the column of her neck. Kissing, nipping at the tender skin marking her as his.

“Jamie!” she cried as she raked her nails down his back raising red welts over the old scar tissue. He felt the sting of the scratches but couldn’t have cared less.

He moved down her body placing fevered kisses as he moved. Reaching her breasts, he took a delicate nipple in his mouth tongue circling it raising it to a hardened nub. He suckled it while kneading the other. Turning his attention to its fellow, it received the same treatment.

Claire arched her back and held his head in place to her breast. “Harder,” she ordered. With a ferocity, he did not know he possessed he sucked harder and bit down on her nipple. She cried out in pleasure and pain.

“Christ, I hurt ye. I’m sorry, Claire,” he worried.

“No, you didn’t hurt me. Don’t stop, please.”

“Yer sure, Claire?”

Yes, I’m sure, damn it. Please, Jamie. Don’t stop.”

He gently kissed each breast in apology before taking his leave. Journeying down her he nipped at the delicate skin placing soothing kisses at each bruise. Reaching her hip he placed tender kisses to each one.

“Jamie…please.”

“Please what, Claire?”

She huffed in frustration, “I need you, now.”

“Ye have me lass, I’m right here am I no’? Adoring ye, loving ye,” as he placed kiss after kiss along her stately legs. When he reached her feet, he massaged each foot working the tension out.

“Do ye like this a nighean?”

“Yes,” she purred deep and throaty as she arched her back in contented pleasure.

Jamie chuckled with delight, “I see. And what would ye do if I did this?”

He slid off of the bed pulling her by her ankles until her arse rested at the edge. Hitching her legs over his shoulders, he placed his face firmly between her thighs.

“Christ, mo leannan, yer so wet.

Claire moaned her head tossing from side to side writhing in anticipation.

Delicately he ran his tongue over her apex tasting her, “Yer so sweet.” He found her nub the source of all her pleasure lightly flicking his tongue over it.

Claire moaned and whimpered, thrusting her hips toward him.

“More, mo chridhe?”

“Yes, yes Jamie. I want more,” she gasped out as she ground herself against his face.

Greedily his mouth took possession of her bud, sucking, licking in long broad stripes and gentle circles driving her to the edge of madness. Carefully he began to drag his teeth over the sensitive tissue and began to hum. Relentlessly his tongue dipped and swirled tasting her heat and her honey.

The sensations electrified her senses. Her body jerking, thrashing clutching at the linens.

“Ah, Jamie, please, please,” she gasped. Her hand grabbed at his head, fingers tangled in his curls holding him captive to her need.

He knew she was nearing her climax. Slipping one finger into her sweet heat sliding in and

“Tell me, Claire, how ye feel,” he growled wickedly.

Her eyes were sealed shut and she mumbled unintelligible words as she continued to writhe on the bed.

“Open yer eyes lass look at me. Watch as I make ye come. Know who yer master is.”

His eyes were trained on her, intently watching. Adding a second finger he curved them both finding the sensitive area inside her. His tongue resumed its onslaught as he pushed her over the precipice.

Claire’s eyes opened wide, seeing but not seeing and screamed, “JAIME!” Her world narrowed until she became pure sensation, pure pleasure.

“Aye, ‘tis right lass. Scream my name so all will ken who ye belong tae. LOUDER,” he commanded.

She keened, back arched, head falling back against the bed, “Jamie, only you Jamie.” And convulsed into her orgasm.

He picked her up cradling her against his broad chest bringing back to the bed resting her head upon the pillows. He murmured soft words in Gàidhlig into the glory of her hair. “Rest a neighan. For I will need tae take ye soon. I am filled with savage lust that I canna control. I need tae feel ye around me for I mean to use ye hard. Forgive me, my Sassenach.”  He spooned into her back and pressed his nose into the crook of her neck. His manhood hardened with wanting resting on her thigh.

Claire smiled turning to face him as she cupped his face between her hands. Her voice hoarse and no more than a whisper, “I want to feel you too. I need to claim you as my own and hear you call my name in desire. And at the end, I want to hear you cry out as you find your pleasure knowing that it was I who took you there. She kissed him at his pulse point on the neck, then boldly bit and sucked the skin leaving a mark. “You are mine Jamie Fraser, now and forever. I have marked you for all to see.” Her eyes burned bright with an untamed yearning for this man. She dragged her lips across his face and down his neck leaving searing kisses along the path. Coming to his well-defined chest she bit hard again leaving the stamp of her lust on him.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“God no.”

Her tongue swept over his areola and his delicate pink nipple causing it to harden at her bidding. Again she sank her teeth into his flesh causing him to gasp from her assault on him.

“Am I too rough on you,” she whispered sensually in his ear while she rubbed her breasts across his chest making her buds become firm ready for him to suck.

“Yer a she-devil come to torture me,” he moaned raising his hand trying to grasp at her breasts.

Claire threw her head back laughing. “Aye, I am. A succubus surely and I will lead us to the fiery pits of hell where we will be consumed by our lust for each other.”

She continued to scatter kisses and bites as she moved down his magnificent body. She sucked the skin over his hip, then dragged her nails through his fiery thatch the last barrier before his cock.

Jamie jolted at the sensation. “Sassenach, please. I canna bear it nay longer.”

“Please, wot?” Claire asked innocently.

“Claire, ye ken what I want and need. Please, Claire.”

“Are you talking about this? She leaned over and took him in her mouth. She unfurled her tongue over his length. She took in his whole length working her tongue over the silkiness of his cock. Using her brazen wee hand she slid it up and down his length twisting and turning all while she worked the head with her mouth and tongue diving him to near completion.

“Lass, I’ll no last if ye keeping doing that.”

Claire ceasing her assault on his flesh giving him a sultry smile, “We can’t have that now can we.”

She sat back on her heels taking in the landscape of his body. He was beautifully formed with slanted eyes, long straight nose, high broad cheekbones, and full, sensuous lips.  The terrain of his body was formed by mountains of hard muscle and bone lying above the flat plains of his abdominal muscles. The man was a work of art, one of God’s finest creations.

Claire was broken out of her reverie as she became cognizant that Jamie was speaking to her. Actually, he was threatening her.

“By all that is holy, Sassenach, ye shall pay for this, severely.”

She laughed, “I believe that I have already, my lad. You had your way with me now it’s my turn.”

She lifted her leg to straddle him, brushing her wet sex over his engorged erection. “Or perhaps this is more to your liking, hmm? Which mouth do you want my lad?”

Shuddering from the sensation, he tried to will himself into control.

“Claire…” He warned.

She leaned over, drawing herself at length atop him grinding her hips against his. “Yes, Jamie?” She asked innocently.

“Ye are a verra verra wicked woman. And ye deserve tae be punished.”

Slowly his hand found its way down her back grabbing her magnificent arse fondling it pressing her close to him.

“Oh, and just how do you plan to do that?”

His hands clutched her hips moving them in lewd movements creating friction between them.

Raising up his hand Jamie gave Claire a slight slap on her buttock causing more of a sting than pain.

She wiggled her luscious bum in delight and giggled. “Is that my punishment, Fraser? I rather liked it,” she smirked.

“Then perhaps ye will like this.” Jamie seized Claire’s hands holding them above her head and flipped them over. Quirking his eyebrow, he pressed his arousal against her. “Ye like this Sassenach?”  

She opened her legs wider then flexed her hips hard against him.

“Do. It. Now,” she demanded. Her voice rough and harsh.

Jamie lined himself up at her wet entrance and slowly pushed in perhaps no more than a quarter-inch and quickly withdrew. Claire gasped at the sudden loss of him.

“Exactly what game are you playing at Fraser?” She huffed in frustration. Wiggling under him Claire tried to re-establish physical contact, needing the feel of him. But he kept his distance from her.

“Ye kent I told ye that ye needed tae be punished, did I no’? The best way is tae deprive ye of what ye want. But if ye yield tae me, ye can have it. What say ye?” He replied smugly. He inched closer, letting her feel him again at her entrance.

“You’re on some fucking power trip, Jamie,” she huffed. Her efforts to join with him were fruitless as he kept her pinned to the mattress with his body.

“Aye, I am. Ye remember I told ye I would make ye scream, did I no’? And I did. Now ye tortured me to near insanity and wouldna come to me. That was no’ nice of ye, Claire. So now Dr. Beauchamp ye get a wee taste of yer own medicine. Ye dinna like it do ye?”

“No.”

“Resign yerself tae me then, beg me, and ye shall have what ye want.” Thrusting his hips forward he was mere centimeters from home. He placed soft kisses on the corners of her lips, lightly running his tongue along the seam of her mouth.

Claire struggled a few times more, just for form’s sake.

She used her whisky orbs to do her pleading. “Jamie, please, I…I…need you. I want you now. I need to feel you inside of me.”

“That’s a good lass. But, remember, mo ghràdh I never said I dinna like yer teasing, ye ken.” And he drove home sheathing himself to the hilt in one swift thrust.

“YOU son of a…AHHH!”

His hips moved within her drawing comfort from her softness getting lost in her silken folds.

She felt herself stretch as he filled her and reveled in the power of him.

He put her hands on his chest, “Feel my heartbeat, Claire, it only beats for ye.”

His mouth sealed over hers, taking possession of her breath, her sighs, swallowing them making them part of his being.

Absorbed in the feel of him, Claire wrapped her legs around him pulling him deeper, deeper than either one thought was possible.

A burning tension built linking their hearts, souls, and bodies together. “Jamie,” she mumbled. “My lad, my sweet, sweet lad. How I need you. Oh god, Jamie.” Her body began to tremble and shake. “I…”

Jamie whispered softly in her ear, “Let it go, Claire surrender yourself tae me. Give me all of yourself as I give you everything I am. I can hold nothing back from ye lass.”

“Jaime. Oh god, Jamie.” Claire wrapped her arms around him succumbing to her all-consuming climax.

Jamie continued his relentless rhythm now that he had served her and began to seek his own pleasure.

Two, then three, then four thrusts, his hips moved wildly his cadence began to falter.

“Claire, sweet Jesus, Claire.” Shuddering, he bit down on her shoulder as his seed filled her.

Jamie collapsed on her then fell to the side avoiding crushing her. Pulling her to him he tucked her under his chin.  Claire felt the thrum of his voice in his chest speaking Gàidhlig words of love to her. She did not understand the words but knew their meaning.  Her arms surrounded his waist still not yet ready to release their connection.

“I love you, Jamie,” she whispered as she succumbed to the world of dreams.

“Tha gaol agam ort, mo ghràdh.”

Lying safe within our arms, we are born again.

*********************

Capote de brega  — a cape used by a matador during a bull fight.

A fear an urram - A man of honor.

Duine urramach - An honorable man

With You, I Am Born Again - sung by Billy Preston and Syreeta Wright

Songwriters - Carol Connors/David Shire/David L. Shire

Released - December 1979

Motown Records

Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oqTq8gckf8E

#ICYMI