#wouldn’t be no Scottish psychopath without him

[jazzy-tzw]

#drew mcintyre #dolph ziggler #wwe #wouldn’t be no Scottish psychopath without him

[maxineswritingcenter]

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 23

--------

2000

We were ten years old, Derek and I. Playing a game of hide and seek with his sister Laura. It felt like it was more a game of “let the kids run around and not bother me”. We were deep in the woods outside of their home, laughing and squealing delight as we ran and ran. That is until lightning flashed through the sky and thunder boomed immediately after. Spooked, we ran further from the thunder and lightning, finding a small improvised shelter that we had made a few years before when we would play cops and robbers. Derek’s uncle Peter had helped us build it, occasionally playing the sheriff when he deemed us “less annoying than usual”. 

Once inside the little hut, we sat and decided to wait out the storm or at least until someone came to get us. It was mostly dry with only or two leaks in the roof. We waited a while in silence, only the rain and wind howling filled the air. It was almost peaceful. I had been sitting there, literally twiddling my thumbs when I noticed the anxious movements Derek was making. He was tapping his foot against the soft earth and he was repeatedly cracking his knuckles. 

“What is it?” I asked. He seemed to snap out of his trance and looked at him, then looking away with a slight blush on his cheeks. 

“I was just thinking about what my mom said last year... About us being arranged in a marriage.” 

“What about it?” I turned my body so that I could face him. 

Derek rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact, “I dunno... I guess that I wouldn’t want to be forced into a marriage with you. It doesn’t seem fair.” 

“You’re right.” I glanced out towards the woods, smiling fondly, “I want to fall in love. I want someone like Dimitri in Anastasia.” I sighed dreamily. 

“Wasn’t he a con-artist?” Derek raised an eyebrow. I shoved him playfully. 

“No...Well, yes. But he doesn’t take the money the Duchess offered him as a reward because he wants Anastasia to be happy.” 

“He’s a cartoon.” 

“And you’re a dork.” I shook my head, “What about you? Who would you wanna marry someday?” 

Derek thought for a moment, “I guess... I would want someone like Anastasia. She’s super badass and defeats the villain all by herself. She also went through a lot and did a lot even when she didn’t remember who she was, she fought for her future.” 

As sweet as that was...

“She’s a cartoon.” I mocked his voice. He grinned and shoved me, starting a wrestling match that ended with Talia and Peter finding us. They brought us home and made us hot chocolate. 

-

After landing, Michael and I had taken a ferry to the Shetland islands to Sumburgh, the village on the island where the Lunar Circle was settled. We actually were brought to a castle, which was already insane enough. The next insane thing was a statue just inside the massive doors into the main room of the castle. It was a humanoid with the head of a wolf, wearing a kilt and armor. The creature also carried a sword. 

“What is that?” I whispered to Michael. 

“The Wulver. A werewolf that had come to peace with his wolf and human sides. He was friendly to locals and they seemed fine with him. That’s when hunters came and tried to kill him. He was the reason for founding the Lunar Circle - coexistence. 

“Can I do that?” I whispered under my breath. 

“Unfortunately, no.” Our attention was brought to a man with a thick Scottish accent walking into the room, “Our world has lost touch with the old magic. But maybe someday we can bring it back.” He was average height, with salt and pepper hair that was on the longer side and a bit shaggy. His eyes were a kind blue color. He held out his hand to me. 

“Praetor Lachlan McLeod.” The stranger introduced himself, “It’s so good to finally meet you, (Y/N).” So this was the man who wrote the letter, it was nice to have a face to a name. I shook his hand and smiled politely. 

“It’s nice to meet you too, Praetor.” From my googling, Praetor was a Roman term for an official, which was an interesting concept since Rome had completely invaded all of England, Ireland, and Scotland and almost wiped out their culture. But whatever. 

“Please, call me Lachlan.” 

I nodded, “Okay, Lachlan.” He held both of my hands in his smiling sympathetically. 

“I want to extend my condolences, again, for your loss. Your mother and father did so much for the Lunar Circle.” 

Slowly, I slipped my hands from his, “Thank you... I just have a lot of questions about them.” 

“All in due time, my dear. You’ve had a long flight and I’m sure that you’re exhausted.” 

Michael sighed, “Oh, we sure are-”

 “I’m not tired. I want answers.” I said sternly. Michael looked incredibly nervous which made me wonder how high up this Lachlan guy was, “I appreciate your concern, sir, but I am coming from a place where I am just now remembering my parents were a part of a secret werewolf society that gave them the tools to take all of my memories away and said society wouldn’t allow me to be accompanied by my partner. It took a lot for him to let me come by myself, especially since he had never trusted the Lunar Circle in the first place.” 

“Ah, yes, Derek Hale.” He said, almost amused, “I remember his mother’s rejection letter. It was somehow very personal. I think she referred to me as ‘a spineless coward who would rather fraternize with the enemy than fight them.” 

I clicked my tongue, “Sounds like Talia.” Michael nudged my side, signally for me to chill. 

“And another thing-”

“Oh no.” Michael hid his face in his hands.

“This guy.” I pointed to Michael, “He killed my parents, isn’t there some kind of punishment for that?”

Michael ripped his hands from his face, “Hey, that wasn’t my fault.”

“Mr. Keaton’s unfortunate affliction caused by Peter Hale has been reviewed.” Lachlan put his arms behind his back, “I assure you. It was all the Hale’s doing.”

I jerked forward, Michael had to grab my arms to hold me back, “Derek is not his uncle.” My eyes flashing red. 

Lachlan raised his eyebrows and smiled, leaning down and flashing his alpha red eyes at me in return, “I’m sure he’s not.” The red left his eyes and he stood up straight, “Take her to the infirmary and then straight to bed.” He said to Michael, his eyes never leaving mine. I kept my eyes on him, even as he started to walk away, this kilt swaying with each step.

“The infirmary? Why?” Michael asked. 

“I believe Miss (Y/L/N) is carrying something.” He grinned, “Something that may calm her temper.” 

-

After a blood test in the infirmary, we were escorted to two rooms in the castle. Of course, this left me alone with my thoughts that I really didn’t want to think about. Knowing that Derek and everyone else was back home fighting against the alpha pack while I was in this ancient castle where I haven’t gotten the answers I wanted. Why was I even here? To take up my parents’ mantle? Whatever it was, I didn’t want it. I just wanted to go back home and help. I looked out the window of the castle, seeing the moon high in the sky. 

I mean, what could they tell that I didn’t already know? My parents took my memories to keep me safe and look where it got them? Burned to ashes. And what else? I was only stalked by a psychopath and had to watch my friend struggle to not hurt anyone. I mean, hell, I was still struggling with the change. Uncle Noah was still processing what I was. Yes, he’s supportive but to what end? And Stiles? I wasn’t there to protect him when he was kidnapped and beaten by the Argents and now I was millions of miles away and if he was in trouble there was nothing that I could do. And if anything happened to Derek and I wasn’t there to save him? What was the point of even being alive? I would be without them, helpless and guilty, all because of some stupid secret society. 

My chest got tighter and tighter as my emotions ran high. My thoughts and feelings were moving so quickly that it felt like I didn’t have control of my own mind. My hands clenched tight, I could feel all of my features shift. Coarse hair growing down the sides of my face, the bridge of my nose tightening. I screamed loudly, the high pitch lowering into a loud roar. 

“This is your fault!” She shouted, standing up, “Take me home!” She lunged forward. Michael lunged forward, using the shield to knock her back across the room and into the window. Surprisingly, it didn’t break. She fell to the ground, looking up quickly. 

MICHAEL

From the loud roar that just came from the next to his, Michael had a feeling that the Sheriff had been right. She was a time bomb and she just exploded. Michael quickly grabbed a shield from one of the suits of armor that for some reason always decorated castles and made his way into (Y/N)’s room. (Y/N) was on the bed, tearing at pillows. There were feathers and fluff flying all over the room. She was in full shift, her eyes fiery red, her canines sharp. Her eyes took him in, snarling loudly. She jumped off the bed, landing in front of him on all fours. Michael jumped back, shield held tight in his hand. 

“Come on, (Y/N)!” He tried to put on a brave face, “You just need to calm down and get some rest.” 

“SCREW YOU!” She shouted, lunging again. This time, Michael moved on the way, letting her slam into the door, which also didn’t break. 

“That’s a good door.” He said to himself. Michael looked from the door and back to the angry werewolf. She was seething with rage and one step closer to killing him. 

“Think about this.  You don’t want to kill me!” 

“Yes, I do! I hate you!”

“Hate is such a strong word...” He said nervously. (Y/N) lunged again and was met by a door to the face. Lachlan had opened the door and they both looked down at (Y/N) on the floor. She was on her behind, rubbing her forehead. Lachlan sighed, reaching down to help (Y/N) up. 

“I seem to have underestimated your anger. Please, walk with me.” 

(Y/N)

Lachlan led me out of the castle and down to the grounds. In the back of the stone walls, there was a large garden. The Praetor hadn’t said anything since we had been out here, but I think that’s what he wanted. The moon and the atmosphere around us was calming, must be the magic here. 

“I apologize for dismissing your concerns earlier.” Lachlan said finally, leading us to the cliff side where we could see the waves crashing against the rocks, “You have been through a lot lately. More than any new werewolf is expected to handle as well as you have.” When I looked at him, I could tell he was being genuine. 

“I just...” I sighed, leaning against a nearby oak, “I didn’t want to come here. I didn’t want to leave my partner behind. And... I didn’t want to meet the people who told my parents to take my life from me.” 

Lachlan looked up at the moon, the wind flowing through his hair, “Your concerns are near and dear to my heart. My own parents used the Wolf Eclipse spell on me after I mated with a she-wolf from a rival clan. The look in her eyes when I told her I didn’t know who she was... I see it every time I close my eyes. And then I lost her.” His voice shook a bit, “I never forgave them after that.” He looked back at me, “When your parents told us that they had done the spell after the Hale fire, we told them it was a bad idea. You needed to be stronger than ever, maybe even leave Beacon Hills, but they became too attached to the community, to the sheriff and his son.” They stayed for them... I have no idea what my life would have been like without Stiles in it. It was so different. That was a life I didn’t want to think about because it was a life without my best friend and his insane antics. It was a life without Uncle Noah who loved me no matter what. It would be a life without Derek, or at least a life where I wouldn’t be there to meet him again. 

“I remember now that my father thought we were safe.” I wrapped my arms around myself, “Chris Argent is loyal to his word and the code his family is supposed to follow. Unfortunately, he is the only one who follows that code. Even his own daughter was corrupted by his father and his sister and she was dating a werewolf.” 

“Unfortunately, not every hunter can be Chris Argent. From our understanding, he is the only one fighting with his head while the others see us as inhuman.” He chuckled, “You might even say that we are more human than they are.” I chewed on the inside of my cheek. 

“Lachlan?” 

“Hmm?” 

“What am I doing here? Why bring me all this way?” 

Lachlan looked back up at the moon and smiled, “Well, it was originally to restore your memories. Thankfully, that resolved itself. Now, since you are the only member left of your clan - an alpha was two sparks - we were hoping that you could spend some time with us to relearn the basics. And I also want you to relax, experience your culture, your legacy.” 

“That sounds great and all. But I don’t have time to do that. I need to get back to Derek.” 

“(Y/N), you know that it is too dangerous for the both of you to be there. I don’t want you to experience what it’s like to lose a mate. It’s... It’s soul crushing. Losing who you love most - that is the worst pain anyone can feel.” Lachlan turned to go back to the castle, “Think about it. You aren’t a prisoner here. You may leave whenever you like. But I think you could do great things with just a little help.” With that, his footsteps faded into the darkness; leaving me with only my thoughts, the moonlight, and the ocean below. I had to make a decision, one that would ultimately decide my future as an alpha. I just wish someone I knew was here to help me make this decision. If only Uncle Noah were here. He was so level headed and wanted the best for me, but the werewolf drama was probably too much for him already. And Derek would want me to hone in on my skills, even if that meant going into battles alone and possibly losing them. 

I just wish it wasn’t this hard. 

-

After pressing Derek’s contact, I pressed the phone to my ear and listened to it ring. I had no idea what time it was back home, I just needed to at least pretend I was talking to him. 

“Hey Der.” I smiled, “I know it’s late or early. Honestly, I’m not sure. But I wanted to call you and tell you how today went. The flight was long, the food was okay. Uh they made me get a blood test for whatever reason. Oh, and there’s this thing called the Wulver and he was a werewolf that came to peace with his human and animal side. Lachlan’s really nice and doesn’t want to take me from you so the coast is clear on that one. And uh I remembered something today. When we were kids, we got lost in the woods in a storm and we talked about crushes. Funny how you had a crush on a girl who lost her memories.” I laughed, “Anyway... I miss you. And I love you. And I’ll be back as soon-”

I was cut off by a beep and a message telling me that the allotted time of this  message was over. Sighing, I set my phone down and flopped back on the extravagant bed that seemed to form to my body in just the right way. All the fluff and feathers had been cleaned by the time I came back so I should probably thank whoever the cleaning staff were. All I can do is sleep and hope that tomorrow will give me better answers. 

-------------------

Read part 24 here!

I watched Inside today so I am no feeling good. 

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#derek hale fic #derek hale x reader #teen wolf fic #teen wolf x reader

[joezworld]

More Sodor Shenanigans

Not every prank on Sodor involves strategically used F-bombs. Sometimes your appearance is enough...

2015

“No! An’ that’s final! I hate paper mache an’ you know it!” Douglas said finally as Henry rolled into the shed. 

“What is it now you two?” He asked  - hoping he wouldn’t be involved in yet another daft argument about some intricate Scottish custom.

“The daft basterd over here disnae’ like my idea of a halloween costume!” Grumbled Siobhan. She’d been driving Donald and Douglas since the early 90′s, and the trio were so used to each other that they acted like they were fathers and daughter rather than engines and driver. Including the arguments.

“What costume?” Henry asked, wearily - he really didn’t want to be the replacement for Donald in tonight’s bickering. 

“I wan’ to do this wit’ him or Donnie and they both think it’s daft!” Siobhan stuck her ‘smart-phone’ in front of Henry’s face. A looping video was playing, showing an engine dressed up as a “ghost train”. The costume was quite frightening, and looked like it would scare children and adults alike. 

Henry told Siobhan this and she threw up her hands in irritation. “It’s a halloween costume ya great green wedge! O' course it’s supposed to be scary! People are supposed to get the piss scared out o’ themselves!”

“Well, I don’t think that sounds very fun.” Henry said finally. 

“Lands sake! You’re all a bunch o’ sissies!” Siobhan finally gave up and went home, grumbling the whole way. 

Douglas chuckled as she left, and went to speak to Henry. Before he could so,  he was rudely interrupted by the arrival of James and Gordon, who had decided that ‘waiting until they got into the shed to start an argument’ was out of date, and were therefore already bickering as they pulled in. 

-

The details of their argument were so mind-numbingly stupid that they don’t bear repeating, but they managed to keep going all through the night. 

Douglas and the other engines managed to eventually tune them out, and fell asleep around midnight. 

Henry, on the other wheel, was a very light sleeper on a good day, and was acutely aware of exactly when the Dynamic Duo stopped arguing. 

It was at 2:30 in the morning.

The Flying Kipper left at 3:15. 

As Henry blearily backed down onto his train at the docks, he began to plot an idea for revenge. 

-

Later that morning, Henry cracked open an eyelid as Siobhan wandered in to raise Douglas’ fire. 

“Siobhan - about that Halloween costume...”

-

October 30th

A good prank was not done alone, and Henry made sure to rope in Bear to ensure maximum efficacy. 

He chose the diesel hydraulic because unlike Edward and BoCo, who both had massive reserves of Tact and would therefore skimp on the truly messed up scary stories, Bear had no opposition to scaring the unprepared into a frightened, whimpering, traumatized stupor. 

It was actually a quite horrifying story that Bear ended up telling - about an (hopefully fictional) engine that was caught in a chemical spill, and was forcibly mutated into a ghostly monster as result - and Henry had to school his expression so as to not appear like a psychopath when he gleefully realized exactly how scared James and Gordon were. 

-

Halloween

On the night in question, everything was ready. Siobhan and her husband had spent most of the last week manufacturing a large amount of decorations that could be mounted to Henry’s boiler and tender, along with a giant, skull shaped mask that fit over Henry’s smoke box. It had red lights in the ‘eyes’ and belched ‘smoke’ from a fog machine under the jawbone. Henry saw himself in a reflection and agreed with the stationmaster’s assessment that he looked like he’d escaped from the bowels of hell.

A whistle had been sourced from America - a loud, deep, “hooter whistle” that the ‘ebay listing’ had said could be heard for miles.  

Finally, as the sun fell, Henry was ready. 

Siobhan had managed to get Henry on an empty stock train from the Crovan's Gate Works all the way to Arlesburgh, meaning that they’d pass through Tidmouth just as the other engines were returning for the night. (Dulcie and Isobel were thrilled to take part, and assured the pranksters that they knew how to scream and wail like they were being eaten - much to Siobhan’s delight!)

Just as the sun set, the signal dropped, and train 666 left the works, bound for Arlesburgh via all 7 Circles of Hell.

-

Their first “victim” came much sooner than they’d planned - roaring around the blind curve near Kellsthorpe Road station in a whoosh of steam, a high-pitched scream could be heard from the ‘up’ line. As his vision cleared, Henry could see a line of High-Speed coaches roll by, and realized that he must have given Pip or Emma a huge fright. 

“Sorry!” He whistled to the other power car - he thought it was Emma - as he went by. 

Of course, Henry hadn’t realized exactly how frightening his new whistle was, and proceeded to scare Emma just as much as he had Pip. 

“HOLY FUCKING SHIT LET’S GET OUT OF HERE!” Was the only response he got as the HST sped up and raced out of sight. 

Henry felt a little bad - he had no quarrel with the HST - but Siobhan, who could barely see through her laughter-induced tears, thought it was hilarious. 

-

Next up was Wendell, the works diesel. 

He had been hauling a rake of hoppers back to the works, and saw something coming towards him on the ‘down’ line. 

It whistled hello at him in a deep, demonic pitch, looked at him with beady red eyes, and whooshed smoke at him as it rolled by. 

Wendell stopped where he was - and neither he, nor his trucks, nor his crew, said much of anything for the rest of the night. The rescue engine sent out for them tried to get answers out of them, and only got: “I saw the devil, and he greeted me like a friend...”

-

At Knapford, Daisy was taking part in the station’s annual trick or treat festivities, when The Train roared past. 

The children were delighted to see an engine taking part in the costume competition, and immediately decided to award the ‘scariest costume award’ to the mystery engine. 

Nobody noticed until much later that Daisy had been so frightened that she’d burst an oil line. 

-

Tidmouth

The station’s annual Halloween celebrations were in full swing, and the humans were enjoying themselves. 

The engines? Not so much. 

“What a bunch of hoopla over nothing!” Grumbled Gordon. “Why would anyone ever admit to being scared?” 

“And why would anyone ever want to hide what they look like?” James said, clearly more horrified at the thought of people being unable to see his shiny red paint and dashing facial structure. 

“Because not all of us are emotionally bereft sticks-in-the-mud like you two.” Said Bear thinly. He had dressed up - in full British Rail Diesel Locomotive Green with the Double Arrow logo - and was very annoyed that none of his coworkers had noticed. 

“Aye.” Said Donald, who was eying the festivities with suspicion. Siobhan hadn’t made an appearance yet, meaning that she either wasn’t showing up - a statistical improbability - or she’d found someone to rope into her daft ‘ghost train’ idea. 

“I will say, Gordon,” Put in Duck. “For someone who speaks so definitively on not being scared, you seemed very frightened last night.” 

“Stow it.” The blue engine snapped. “You were scared too!”

“Yes I was, and I admitted it.” Duck said. “Although I believe you just admitted it as well...”

“Why you!” Gordon wheeshed and dissapeared in a cloud of steam. 

-

On the platform, The Fat Controller (the third) stared at the engine yards. 

“I do wish that more of the engines would get into the spirit of things.” He said to his wife, who was struggling to contain her mirth at the clash between her husband’s dour face and his absurd clown costume. 

“Just leave them Stephen,” She said. “Halloween isn’t for everyone.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re r- what the dickens?!”

He was cut off as a very loud whistle sounded in the distance.

It was long, it was low, it was loud, and it was ghostly. 

It stole the attention away from everything else in the area, and drew eyes to the station throat. 

In the yard, most of the engines began babbling to each other about something - they were inaudible over the confused murmuring of the crowd. Stephen noted that the only ones who didn’t seem frightened were Bear and the Scottish twins, who seemed eager and disbelieving, respectively. 

-

As they passed through the final signal before the station, Siobhan couldn’t help but keep a smile on her face. “Ready Henry?!” She said as she pulled down her skeleton face mask.

“Let’s do this!”

“Atta boy!” She crowed as she hauled back on the whistle cord, allowing the American whistle to bellow its haunting note across Tidmouth. 

Her fireman grabbed the paint-pot full of sawdust and chucked it into Henry’s firebox, while Dulcie and Isobel began screaming like banshees.

Henry, overcome with the absurdity of the situation, began cackling like an engine possessed as he rolled into sight of the platforms. 

-

It was a train. Right?

Right?

Stephen Hatt couldn’t be sure as the demonic, skull-faced, fire spouting monster rolled through Tidmouth. It was cackling madly, and hauling a train of the damned that squealed and shrieked as it went by. The monster, crewed by skeletal beings, rolled through the freight platforms without stopping, its glowing red eyes casting odd shadows on the terrified partygoers. 

He was sure that people were screaming, but the beastly whistle emanating from the ‘train’ was so loud that he couldn’t be sure. 

When it finally passed, disappearing into the distance like the Flying Dutchman of old, dead silence reigned over the platform. 

Then, a child somewhere on platform two spoke up: “That was bloody amazing!” 

The platform broke out in cheers, and Stephen collapsed onto a bench. 

“Did you plan that?” His wife whispered in his ear. 

“No!” He said at last. 

-

The shed

Gordon and James eventually stopped screaming around midnight, falling into a whimpering fugue state before finally passing out. 

Duck was paralyzed with fear, and the next morning he had to be hauled out of the shed and pushed onto his train before he started moving again. 

BoCo - who had been sleeping in the back of the shed, woke the next morning and told his co-workers about the horrible nightmare he’d had that night. When he was informed that it was no mere nightmare, he left the shed a wide-eyed, quiet, and subdued engine. 

A visiting diesel from a mainland freight company who had been parked by the diesel pumps said nothing for the remainder of his time on the island. When his story was confirmed by an equally frightened Pip and Emma in Barrow the next morning, he left the island, never to return. His tale of the ‘Ghost Train of Sodor’ spread far and wide across the British Isles.

Donald and Douglas, who noticed that the ‘demon train’ looked a lot like Henry, said nothing that night. The next day they privately told Henry that it was the greatest prank they’d ever seen, and never turned down one of Siobhan’s Halloween ideas again.

Bear was amazed to see one of his scary stories come to life, and was practically beside himself with pride at a job well done.

-

Arriving at Arlesburgh about half an hour later, Henry was greeted by horrified screams from Oliver - before he passed out in fright - and astonished looks from the small railway engines, who immediately knew it was Henry and demanded to know how he did it. 

Siobhan showed their controller the video she’d based the costume on, swore the small engines to secrecy, and was able to remove most of Henry’s decorations before Oliver woke back up. 

Isobel and Dulcie laughed themselves silly at a prank well pulled, and all parties settled down for a well-deserved sleep. 

-

The next day

“I can’t help but feel like I’m forgetting something...” Henry said to Siobhan as she drove him down to Tidmouth the next morning. 

“Me too.” She said as they pulled into the passing loop at Haultraugh. 

A very pale looking Duck rolled in with the morning’s train. He whistled a weak hello to Henry, and practically jumped off the rails when Henry’s ‘hooter’ whistle replied. 

“WHERE Did yOU geT ThAT?!” He demanded shakily. 

Henry now knew exactly what they’d forgotten. “I found it on the ground.” He said quickly. 

Duck looked more horrified than before. “It was REAL!” He said, scuttling away in terror. 

Fin.

--

Henry’s appearance is based off of the following ideas: 

https://youtu.be/8grHpQAB1jA?t=205

https://youtu.be/zBm-ONvNhS4

https://youtu.be/ZB1rTgUesDc?t=64

#ttte #shenanigans #halloween #happy halloweeeeeeen #scary #ghost train #pranks #ttte henry #ttte duck #ttte donald #ttte douglas #ttte gordon #ttte james #I wrote this for like me and two other people at most #spooky scary ghost train #long #oc #ttte boco #ttte bear #ttte pip #ttte emma #ttte fat controller #headcanon #story #fanfic #ttte oliver #the fat controller #fic

[elan-and-dragonboy]

For the oc thing Luna :)

Luna

Full Name: Luna Delilah Bain

Gender and Sexuality: amm… she’s bisexual and she can’t figure out her gender but I think she’s agender o nonbinary

Pronouns: she/they

Ethnicity/Species: Scottish

Birthplace and Birthdate: Dumbarton, Scotland. September 27, 2005

Guilty Pleasures: Dancing

Phobias: she doesn’t have phobias but she doesn’t like bugs lol

What They Would Be Famous For: Because her brother is a psychopath,,, and she has a cool sword

What They Would Get Arrested For: for walking around with her psycho face and a sword in her hand

OC You Ship Them With: James :)) (she thinks he looks like a renaissance artist, only without the beard and ridiculous clothes, besides she loves to watch him draw and lets him draw things on his arm when he's bore)

OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Arthur lol her evil brother with anger issues

Favorite Movie/Book Genre: I think she likes Jane Austen but she wouldn’t admit it lol but her favorite movie is kill your darlings

Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: she doesn’t like John Green, his kind of romance is unreal to her.

Talents and/or Powers: She has good coordination and has no powers

Why Someone Might Love Them: Because she’s brave, it’s the mom friend. And she makes good sandwiches

Why Someone Might Hate Them: she can be aggressive sometimes, and she’s kinda impulsive

How They Change: well she used to be a person who smile a lot, like the loud friend who is always trying to be friendly but is quieter now. She is friendly but now she knows that not everybody is going to like her and that’s fine. She’s learning to say “fuck you” to people who try to be rude to her.

Why You Love Them: because she’s kind to others but doesn’t let them abuse her hospitality. She is a good person and although she does not ask for help, she knows how to express when she is not well.

#oc #my oc story

[nanshe-of-nina]

Lately, on Crusader Kings II...

First, I played as Ermengarde, Viscountess of Narbonne.

I went on Crusade at 18 and became mega-rich by finding some religious artifacts.

My annoying douche of my overlord, Anfós Jordan of Toulouse, tried to confiscate my viscounty, but never got around to it.

I married a Lusignan, who I had two sons by, but then he murdered two of my courtiers, so I had him thrown into a dungeon, where he eventually died.

My half-sister had my elder son and second husband murdered, but the Pope wouldn't excommunicate her.

Then, I played as Konstanza, historically Duchess of Bretagne, but called a petty queen in game. I had a son named Alan and then died of cancer at 25.

Alan grew up to become a violent psychopath who hated his own youngest daughter (he made her his court jester and antagonized her until she left home at 16 to marry a Scottish prince) and made his horse, Glitterhoof, Chancellor. (Glitterhoof was later assassinated by jealous nobles). In between that, Alan also went on Crusade three times and came home covered in glory each time.

I've still been trying to figure out how to take Nantes away from the Plantagenets without provoking them all to come after me, but no luck so far. 😤

#crusader kings ii #video games #medieval

[writinglionqueen]

Soft

Summary: You and Drew are partners for Mixed Match Challenge. The Scottish Psychopath has been acting....different, especially when you get hurt. 

Pairing: Drew McIntyre x Reader    

Word Count: 2,264

Warnings: none

Special Thanks: @writing-reigns this one’ s for you babe!!! 💛🖤

You rolled out to the beat of your theme song, hearing the roar of the crowd as you made your wait to center stage. Who would’ve known that anyone would’ve actually had been thrilled for you being paired with Drew for Mixed Match Challenge? Who would’ve thought that the two of you would be unstoppable after you agreed on treating each other with respect? Certainly not you...and certainly...not when Stephanie paired the two of you together last minute. 

You awaited for the sound of bag pipes as Drew’s theme played through the loud speakers. The drum beat in it kick started your heart and prepared you for the fight ahead. 

You smiled to yourself, giving yourself a cocky air as Drew strode to stand by your side. You smirked at him, watching him flick his head back to move his hair out from his face. He smiled at you. It was the same shit-eating smile he always gave, but you knew he was on your side and the two of you were going to win this match easily enough. 

The two of you strode to the ring side by side, like equals, like you agreed on a few weeks prior when you made him converge with you, to make him promise to treat you as an equal and you’d return the gesture. Even with a begrudging sigh, he did agree but the two of you had never had an in-ring disagreement, the two of you never lost sight of winning the match. 

He worked with you well enough, gave you respect to do your job and you treated him the same way. The two of you had been on the same page ever since, and now...the two of you were so close to winning this entire challenge. 

The two of you got to the ring, got to the same corner Drew usually does his yell in. The two of you yelled together under the blue lights before smirking out at the crowd in confidence. 

You were fighting Nikki and Randy anyway....it wasn’t going to get easier than this. The two of you had already one-upped them on Monday’s RAW taping anyway. This was just going to be another victory for you and Drew. 

The two of you waited in the ring, watching Randy and Nikki enter together. In true Cross fashion, she dashed ahead trying to run at the two of you before Drew stepped in front of you, glowering down at her to get her to back off. The little psychopath didn’t even flinch at Drew trying to protect you. She just gave him a crazy smile and ran back to her corner. You watched her carefully, wondering if she’d dash at you the moment the bell signaled. 

“I’m startin’ this,” she declared to Randy who held his hands up. He had no objections to it and neither did you or Drew. You turned to your partner, giving him a nod off to leave the ring. He gave you a short nod in return. The two of you didn’t need words. You were already on the same page. 

You waited in your corner as you watched Nikki practically bounce like a kid on candy...until the bell did sound. 

You were right about her dashing at you, catching you off guard with a clothesline that knocked you to the canvas with a gasp. You were quick to bounce back up but received another clothesline for your trouble. You were going to try to get up once more when you felt a series of kicks from her. You raised your arms to protect your face...and that was where it went downhill, fast. 

She was quick to grab at your left arm, using it to twist you around, pinning your belly to the canvas as she yanked your arm back. 

Nikki pressed a boot to your back as she held on tightly to your left arm, keeping it in a lock. The twinge of your previous injury was there. It made you cry out, arm reaching out towards Drew to make a tag, but it was no use. Nikki had you in the middle of the ring. Drew was feet away. His hand was nowhere near you to end the hold. You looked up at the concern on Drew’s face. He could do nothing but reach for you past the top rope, uselessly, while you reached for him back. 

“We say ‘hi,’” Nikki mocks to the other Scottish psychopath as she waved your left arm backwards at your partner. You whimpered out in pain. The twinge was too painful. You looked up at Drew. 

“Drew,” you cried out. He looked from you to Nikki. There was a look of uncertainty on his face. He was at a loss of what to do. He was absolutely defeated. There wasn’t really anything he could do. You cringed at the familiar tear-like pain in your shoulder. You whimpered at the thought of tearing your labrum again as you pressed your face into the canvas below you, hissing and puffing in pain. You’d be damned if you had to tap out this way. But at the same time, you didn’t want a repeat of last year, being taken away due to injury. You could only whimper. “Drew.” 

“C’mon,” you heard him call out to you. “Get up, for me, princess.” You looked back up at him. His bright grey eyes held concern and his hand was outstretched in desperation. For you. You wanted to get to him. You needed to get to him. To get to the safety of his arms but also to end what Nikki was putting you through. You wanted to get to Drew so you could recompose and allow Drew to have your back and win this match for the two of you. 

Growling in determination, you slowly rose up. All you wanted was to get to Drew to end the suffering Nikki was making you endure. There was no way in hell you’d let anyone -anyone- make you tap out.

“That’s it, princess,” Drew says encouragingly. “C’mon.” 

“Yeah c’mon, princess,” Nikki mocks as she used your arm to try and push you back down to the mat. You cried at the position your arm was forced at. Then you growled again getting one foot on the mat even with the torque in your shoulder. You clenched your free right hand. Swiftly enough, you twisted your body, swinging your right hand at Nikki, catching her in the face. It was enough to help throw her off momentarily, allowing you to get to your feet. But she still held on tight even though you dragged her a bit towards Drew, reaching out for his hand. She pulled me back with a manic grunt. You growled again as you turned around, punching her again. This time, it got her to let go, allowing you to jump to Drew’s outstretched hand. Catching it and allowing the Scotsman into the ring. There was no time for him to offer you any kind of assistance or to make sure you were ok. The time for that was after winning this match. 

You leant heavily on the outside post, watching as Drew decked Randy Orton. Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath. 

She almost got you. She almost made you tap out. 

The thought made you growl and glare at her from across the ring as she watched Drew pummel the Viper in the middle of the canvas. You weren’t paying attention much to the match. Drew had it pretty much handled. You were able to catch him using a Claymore kick on Randy and covered him for the pin. The three-count sounded by the crowd and it was over. 

Drew stood to his feet as the announcer declared him the winner. You slowly moved to him, still holding onto your shoulder. Drew turned to you, looking concerned about the possibility that you were injured. You gave him a small smile as you grabbed his wrist, holding it high in victory. Drew allowed it before he dropped your arm. The pain was still there in the other arm, adrenaline running out making you feel dizzy. You pressed yourself into his side, leaning against him for support. 

“Are you ok?” he asked. You only nodded as Drew fully turned to you, pulling you into him. You allowed yourself to be led towards him. Your face pressed into his chest. “Let’s get you backstage.”

Drew helped ease you out of the ring and backstage, making sure to check on you while you left the arena, making sure you can stand on your own two feet. 

You made it back there well enough for a medic to rush to you, pressing a gloved hand against your shoulder, making sure you can move the joint without a whole lot of pain. Drew watched as you winced here and there, but you knew it wasn’t a tear this time. It was probably just sore. His eyes were still full of concern even as the medic told you it was more than likely just going to be sore, that there was no tearing by the way you could move it. They had a bag of ice and was quick to wrap up your shoulder with the ice bag and a bit of plastic wrap. You kept quiet, hating the feeling of having Drew’s eyes on you like this....in worry....in concern....as if you were weak. 

The moment you had the ice bag secured, you moved around everyone to try and escape Drew’s soft stares. It was short lived because Charlie was waiting right outside for you and Drew to ask you what had happened and what your thoughts were. You stiffened at the sight of the camera waiting for Charlie to start asking questions. 

But Drew was by your side so you couldn’t get to pissy at this. 

“The two of you won yet another match, what is going through your heads as you move on through Mixed Match?” Charlie asked. 

“I think we’ve never been as strong as we are right now,” Drew said. “We’ve worked so well together the past couple of weeks and this match solidified our teamwork and our trust in one another. She has had my back like no one’s ever had and, from here on out, I’ll always have hers until we win this.” You nodded along in agreement, feeling Drew’s large hand at the small of your back. 

Charlie gave her signature reporter smile as she turned towards you. Here came the question you were dreading. 

“And what about you? Nikki put you in quite the submission hold. What has to be going through your mind right now?” You placed your hand on your twinging shoulder. The ice that covered it was able to keep it in a frosty, numb state, dulling the pain. It wouldn’t last. You knew that, when the ice melted, it would bring back the dull reminder of Nikki almost getting the one-up on you.

“I’m thinking...if I ever cross paths with Nikki, she’s going to remember how dangerous it is to mess with a me,” you growled. With that you brushed past the interviewer and Drew as you made your way to the locker room. You heard Drew follow behind you closely. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Drew asked, obviously worried. You stopped in your tracks, looking at the Scotsman from over your shoulder. 

“I’m fine,” you said, trying not to snap at him. You knew he was concerned about your wellbeing. You sighed to yourself as you pressed a hand to your shoulder. “I’m....angry more than anything.” You saw Drew nod his head. 

“That’s understandable,” he murmured. You sighed quietly. 

“I’m not angry at you,” you added. “I know...you couldn’t put an end to it....not the way you would if I was Dolph or Corbin.” Drew said nothing. You turned to fully look at him, catching the hurt in his eyes. He was worried about you getting hurt in the ring, and he was damning himself for letting you even come close to getting reinjured. It surprised you. 

But you remembered the thing Baron had said about Drew during SmackDown last week. You remembered Corbin said he noticed a change in Drew since he became your tag team partner, the very reason you saw Drew deliver a nasty Glasgow Kiss to the Lone Wolf with a growl; Baron proclaimed Drew had gone soft for you and you alone.

You had to admit...it was likely...and...it made sense.  

You moved closer to him, catching the way he tried to put on a stoic façade with every step you took towards him. When you reached for his hand, however, Drew raised a brow at you, confused for a moment but allowed you to settle your small hand in his larger one. 

“I know you won’t admit it...not to anyone else that is,” you said to him, quietly. “But....I can see how you treat me differently than anyone else on the roster...you’ve gone soft for me.” Drew was about to growl at your words, but he stopped himself. He sighed. 

“Ay...but if you ever bring it up in front of anyone, princess, Baron included, I’ll deny it,” he said to you. A smile broke your face, uplifting your mood. A pleasant hum left you. 

“My lips are sealed,” you said to him. “But...I may use it in the future...just beware.” The Scotsman only smirked at that, smiling down at your interjoined hands. 

“I don’t doubt it princess.”

Tag: @adriennegabriella @alwaysbenhardysgirl @amariemoore @andie01 @annoyingasian @artemisapalla316 @aspiringhorrorfilmmaker @balorstrowmanblackmurphy @biforbecky2belts @blackmoonrising @br0th3r-n3r0 @burning-coco @calicina @calwitch @claymoreme @darlingambrose @dcnmarvelgamergeek @demonqueen29 @desstehhnee @detectiveramen @drewmcintyreinarefereeoutfit @finnsauroraborealis @fireyegale @fivefootxo @flawlessglamazon @haharollins @hardcoresweet45 @homeorbust @i-have-saracasm @itsicantbelievethis666 @kalliravenne @king-drew-mcintyre @lilred91 @littledeadrottinghood @littlesuperstar @lolorockstar101boom @madamaholmes @madebypointlesswerewolves @meishaabae @mermaidqueen @moxleysbaby @moxley-unhinged @moxtiel @neversatisfiedgirl @new-zealand-chic @nicolewoo @nothinginlifebutgreif @number1120 @queenofthearchitect @reigns420 @rollynch-roman-empire @sassymox @sassyspacedust @savemeroman @scuzmunkie @shieldgirl18 @snowtroopergirl @softmoxymuffin ​ @superrezzy00 @taryn-dibiase @thatpanpal @the-beastslayers-queen @thehoundsofjustice @thewrestlingwarehouse @theworldofotps @trashofambrolleigns @trent7thirsting @twistedbeautifully @unprettypeony @voidstrugh @writing-reigns @writtingrose @xbreezymeadowsx @xladyxfatex @xprincessofthefallenangels @yaint-me @youcantreignonmyparade 

#drew mcintyre #drew mcintyre x reader #such mass

[hitchell-mope]

(Third film. After “goodbye”. 23 years ago. The afternoon after the isle was set up. Olympus. Zeus is milling about the throne room excessively drinking in celebration. The marble floor cracks. From them vines fly out and form a Venus fly trap. The mouth opens and out steps a figure in a dark verdant hooded cloak. They send vines in Zeus’s direction which wrap around neck)

Zeus: WHO ARE YOU!!!!

Persephone (removing the cloak): who the fuck do you think it is your “majesty”

Zeus: eurghooh uh. Lady Persephone. To what do I owe the pleasure

Persephone: oh stuff it you old sot. You know what you did!!!!

Zeus: I assure you. I have no idea whatsoever as to what you mean

Persephone: my husband and my two week son where missing when I woke up this morning.

Zeus (feigning concern): really? That’s horrible

Persephone: he did it didn’t he? Adam. He set that, that horrible god awful prison up

Zeus (dropping all pretences): I’m happy to say he did. Now all of those, ahem, people, for want of a better word, are where they belong and can no longer harm us. Oh don’t look at me like that my girl. This is a good thing. Now you’re no longer bound by that pissy little contract he forced you into. You can rejoin your mother here on Olympus and all is as it was a should be before my idiot little destroyed your life

Persephone: if he destroyed my life I wouldn’t be here defending him you stupid slut. Nobody gets it. Nobody has ever seemed to have gotten it. I went through that fissure. I approached the skull throne. I threw myself at him. Being up here was a fucking snooze fest of banality. So I took the first out I could find. And I could not have been happier of what my life has become. The only reason the contract exists is because my mother threatened humanity’s livelihood should I stay there. If it were up to me I would’ve never have come back. I had to sign that to save the mortals

Zeus: how can you possibly be happy in the worlds basement

Persephone: hades is a good husband and provider. He respects my boundaries. He’s never strayed without my consent. And unlike you. He’s never purposefully killed anyone.

Zeus: and what of what he did to my son?

Persephone: ok. I shan’t defend him for that. Because he doesn’t defend himself for it either. He knows he did something disreputable. But he’s more then made up for it. Among other things he paid for and officiated the boys wedding

Zeus: where the Helios was I in all this?

Persephone: you were wine drunk, literally swanning about and harassing anyone and all naiads that stayed still long enough for you to approach them

Zeus (fondly): ah yes, good times, good times. Wait. Where are you going

Persephone: I’m going back home. Pain and Panic are good babysitters. But when Persey cries she tends to burn their limbs

Zeus: who cares. They’re the help

Persephone: they’re family.

(She leaves the way she arrived. On the isle. It’s dark, cold and barren. Hades (John Barrowman) is unconscious. There’s a large green and yellow bruise on his left temple. He’s woken up by the sound of crying)

Hades: hey kiddo. It’s alright. We’ll be ok. I tbini. We just have to get to shelter

(A very large very angry dragon jumps out of the fog. End of flashback. Underworld. Present day. Persephone is at her desk on her laptop)

Persey: see ya ma! I’m going out

Persephone: goodbye dear. Wait. Where are you going?

Persey: Auradon. Don’t tell me you haven’t heard? Chad Charming’s gone postal, stole Verna’s wand. Ben’s missing and Lonnie just sent out the batsignal.

Persephone: oh my goodness. Wow. Do you need me to help?

Persey: just look after our home.

(They disappear a wisp of steel grey fire. Outskirts of Auradon. Elsa’s unconscious on the ground. The girls have found her)

Lonnie: oh my god

Jane: your majesty

Dizzy: we’re off to a great start

Jane: your majesty wake up. Please wake up

Dizzy: the bazooka use the bazooka

Jane: right yes of course

(She squirts ends with the bazooka which instantly wakes her up)

Elsa: ouch. Use that sparingly dear. We may need it more than you think. Could somebody help me up please. Thank you Lonnie

Lonnie: what happened?

Elsa: I teleported here and then I hit something

Jane: it’s a barrier. She put up a barrier around Auradon

Dizzy: ohhhh she’s good. I mean she’s an evil psychopathic bitch. But she’s clever

Lonnie: how do we get inside?

Elsa: Jane?

(Jane makes confused questioning noises)

Elsa: if you would be so kind as to assist me in getting past the barrier?

Jane: ohhhh. Yeah sure let’s do it

(The ice queen and light fairy use magic to create a hole in the barrier. As they do so a flaming comet zooms down and crash a few feet away from them)

Elsa: what the hell

Barrowman!Hades: Name's Hades, Lord of the dead. Hi, how ya doin'?

Jane: fuck

(Elsewhere in Auradon on the school grounds Mal and the others have just touched ground. Mal’s a human again doubled over in pain)

Mal (groaning painfully): urgh. FuckDAMMIT!!!! Jesus I’m not made for this

Hadie (worriedly): are you alright

Mal: I will be. A minivan I am not.

Hadie: was this the first time you’ve carried this many people?

Mal: yeah. Normally it’s just Ben. And even then it’s only if he asks.

Hadie: really.

Jay: let’s just say he wouldn’t watch GOT for the political intrigue

Carlos: or HYTTD for the animation

Evie: or merlin for the story line

Hadie (knowledgeably): ahhh, he’s a scaly

Core four: yep

Harry: can you let me go now?

Jay: uhhhh. Nah

Harry: why?

Mal: because we may yet need a human sacrifice. And you’re the only schmo who fits the bill.

Harry: huh?

Carlos: Gil and I are loved by everyone. I’m the kings adoptive son. He’s the kings brother. You’re the ground people use to scrape gum off their shoes

Evie: that’s an insult to shoes gum and ground. And scraping

Carlos: my apologies. To shoes gum ground and scraping

Harry: I hate you all.

Jay: don’t expect us to lose sleep over it

Harry: besides. I’m the last person who should be a sacrifice

Evie: that specific criteria has been discontinued

Harry: huh

Jay: people like you can be scarified now

Harry: shit

Mal: oh no. Oh no no no no no. This is not good

Evie: they’re all asleep. DOUG

Mal: BEN

Gil: LONNIE

Evie: please pickup please please please pickup.

Mal: nonononononono. Gah. I miss you

Gil: please be safe

Jay: Jane isn’t answering either.

Mal: ok ok ok. So. The king. His major-domo/regent. And both their regents are missing. All the remaining students are asleep. It’s only half past two in the afternoon but I already want to take a brandy bath. Because Auradon has no leader. So we’re all screwed to fuckery

Jay: well that’s not entirely true is it. Hadie could you summon the three little bitches. Cause I really really want them to see this

(Hadie makes Uma, Harriet and Cj appear via grey smoke)

Uma: what the hell’a going on?

Harriet (very confused): we were still on the bridge and what’s all that funny coloureds stuf on the ground?

Jay: you three are gonna hate this. You, Uma, especially are gonna hate it. (In his announcer voice) NOW PRESENTING. MALEFICENT BERTHA. THE ACTING QUEEN OF AURADON

(He bows to Mal, closely floored by Carlos Celia Gil and Hadie. Evie is pulled to her knees by Carlos. Mal looks like she was just clipped by a car)

Uma: what?

Jay: well after the wedding she’ll be queen legally. But for now she’s just the regent. It’s wonderful don’t ya think?

Hadie: it’s marvellous. Now bow heathens

Harriet: fat fucking chance.

Jay: oh but Harry’s bowing to the one true queen

Harry: Celia bent my spine

Celia: it was my pleasure

Uma: I am not bowing to that.

Jay: oh you act as if you have a choice

(He uses magic to make the three pirates kowtow to the dark fairy)

Jay: there ya go. Isn’t that better?

(Mal takes a swig of her hipflask and disappears into purple smoke. Everyone stands up again)

Gil: where did mal go?

Jay: I think I know

Evie: then tell us ohhhh. Yeah. Sounds about right

Hadie: where is she. I’ll go to her. Me Evie and Harry

Harry: I don’t fucking think so

Hadie: she’s family. We have to help her

Harry: I’ll bring the coughing

Evie: if that’s going with you then mal will probably commit a sin on sacred ground

Hadie: where is it that she’s gone to?

Jay: you’ll see

(He moves his lower arm around creating a cloud of gold smoke that surrounds Evie and Hadie. When it clears they’ve disappeared. The smoke deposits them on stone steps. Hadie’s clutching Harry’s arm)

Harry: I hate you. I honest to mmmmother hate you

Evie: feelings mutual. Come on let’s go

Hadie: where are we Evie

Evie: where the king was crowned a year and a half ago

(They enter the cathedral . Only Mal is now where to be seen)

Harry: well she’s not here let’s go

Evie: up bup bup. There is one way to lure her out of hiding. Hadie the dagger please

Harry (having flashbacks to when he was 14): no Nono don’t you dare dont you fucking think about it. FUUUUUUCK! She did it

(Evie uses the dagger to slash Harry’s shin. He falls down in pain. Mal pops up from behind the pulpit)

Mal: I heard Scottish screaming (realises she was played) aw crap I shoulda known. I hate it when you do that

Evie: it’s a tested tried and true method. Plus it’s fun to maim him

Mal: yeah...(she heaves a sigh and sits down heavily on the stage) I’m queen. “Yay” I want Ben. Is that pathetic? It sounds pathetic

Evie (sitting down next to her): no. I want Doug. Does that make me ok pathetic?

Mal: no. It’s a change though. Did you ever think two years ago we’d be wanting our boyfriends here protecting us?

Evie: two years ago I wanted to sink my claws into a prince. Now I have the perfect man

Mal: no, the perfect man bypassed you and asked me out. But Doug’s a close second though

Evie (cackling): bitch

Mal: sister. Older by a day

Hadie: May I scoot in if we’re sharing things?

Mal (making a space for him between her and Evie): sure. What do you want to talk about?

Hadie: I never knew my mother. And before you say “don’t rub it in”. I wasn’t born on the island. I’m an Olympian by birth. But when Adam set the isl...you know what, let’s just call it what it is. When Adam created the prison he convinced our beloved uncle Zeus to put our dad there first. Theory was that if Satan could be subdued by a human. Then other “undesirables” would be easier to round up. So when I was two weeks old, Zeus and Hypnos used their combined magic to put him and I there. I have never known anything else. And the next year Hook uh “hooked up” with a street walker, Harriet. And uh

Evie: not a lot stuff to do over there

Mal: well you know except

Evie: don’t. Please. Don’t. It’s bad enough I’m related to that thing on the floor. But having to imagine THAT happening. Gah...it crosses a line

Mal: thanks for the nightmares

Evie: you started it.

Hadie: I’m a hedonist. A disciple of Dionysus to be precise

(Evie looks at him with her mouth agape)

Evie: well that took a turn

Mal: what is a “disciple of Dionysus”?

Evie: it’s basically some sort of cult. Mostly guys. Girls are there as well. I had the unfortunate honour of delivering a flyer to one of their clubhouses last month

Hadie: sorry about that. I told them to be a little bit more discreet after that

Mal (overjoyed): no

Evie (slightly sick): it can’t be

Hadie: I was eighteen and bored. What else was there to do but set up a club

Evie: try to find us.

Hadie: whenever I wasn’t with my friends or our dad I checked up on you. One time you were trying to puncture the barrier with magic. And another you were crying in an alleyway Mal. I even tried to make a wig for you when you were in the market place with a buzzcut Evie.

Mal: that’s actually quite sweet.

Hadie: I just want to tell my mother “don’t worry. My life wasn’t completely terrible. I’m happy”.

Mal: when this is over I wanna tell Maleficent “fuck you, you giant living accessory, fuck you”

Evie: I want to tell Grimhilde. “You were wrong. Princes are not for me, Doug is perfect for me and I eat what I want when I want”

Hadie (wistfully) and Mal and Evie (vengefully): I cant wait to see the look on her face

(This is when “hey look ma, I made it happens. At the school Gil has a peace offering)

Uma: what the hell are these?

Gil: berries. They’re amazing. Blueberries, blackberries, strawberries, fun fact, never get in a strawberry eating contest with Mal. You will lose. And need your stomach pumped

Uma: this is this supposed to make up for what you did? You betrayed me. Abandoned me for this. No amount of whatever this shit is is gonna erase that

Gil: I didn’t leave because I wanted to hurt you Uma. I left because it was best for me. You know as well as anyone that the island is an awful place for people like us. So, yeah, I left. But that’s what you wanted. I did what you wanted. Just not how you wanted it to happen. The fact of the matter is Uma, you scare me. I still love you. But you scare me. All I could think of at the dance when you were attacking the ship was “this is what I get for trying to be happy”. I still have nightmares about it. If you care so much about getting kids off the island why were you so mad that I left. Irrespective of who I left with. Shouldn’t you be happy I got away at all?

Uma (standing up to her full height which just barely reaches Gil’s chin): you left me. To go galavanting off with them. You may not think it. But a lot of sins are never forgiven. So no. I’m not “happy that you got away” because you betrayed my loyalty to do so

Jay: Gil, buddy, leave her to stew. She’s not worth it.

(Gil leaves heartbroken and joins Carlos and Celia near some of the sleeping students)

Uma: lemme guess. You’re his bit on the side? Or is he your chippy?

Jay (chuckling sarcastically): oh Uma. He’s with Lonnie. I’m with Carlos. He and I are not together. But he’s done so well here. He’s great at chess and tourney and R.O.A.R. He’s set up a book club. Every month he goes to the isle and hands out flyers and food and blankets and weathers the hate he for it. He’s a good guy. And him “disrespecting you” wasn’t malicious. Because here’s the thing. You seem to be belabouring under the impression that this is your story. It’s not. It’s ours. It’s always been our story. Mal and me and Carlos and Evie. You don’t even get a look in until way way after this whole thing started. It is not about you. It has never been about you. I’m just sorry you still think that after all these years.

Uma: you don’t deserve to have people celebrate you after what you did.

Jay: what about what you did. You set Harry on Carlos five years ago. You kidnapped Ben and tried to murder him to get under Mal’s skin. Face it “Captain”, you say that what you do is for the island but it’s not. It never has been. What you did was for you. To make yourself feel less worthless than you are

Uma: so what now? You gonna kill me?

Jay: no. Not today. Not while Mal still feels guilty about the shrimpy incident. But I want you to know something. I would’ve done it you know. I would have murdered you if you murdered Mal and Ben. And neither Evie Doug Carlos or Dizzy could have stopped me. Because that is what you get when you mess with my family. And I would’ve made that thing that follows you around like a fixed mutt clean up your remains. Just bear that in mind next time you try to wrest control from my queen

(At the cathedral Harry’s trying to bandage his leg. Hadie sits down next to him and heals him with magic)

Hadie: there you go. All better

Harry: I guess I should say thank you.

Hadie: nah. Don’t expect you to. But I do wanna show you something.

Harry: what?

(Hadie flicks his wrist and there in a darkened bedroom. A baby’s bedroom. It’s filled with roughshod burlap sack stuffed toys hand stitched and fraying. A makeshift mobile of various coloured glass hangs above a safe looking but old crib)

Harry: where are we.

Hadie: where you should’ve been for the past nineteen years if I hadn’t panicked and took you to the Jolly Roger.

Harry: this is my room? At the wherever it’s was you lived.

Hadie: our room. At the lair.

Harry: holy shit. You two. You two wanted to

Hadie: yeah. Dad wanted to keep you. But I was four. You got stuck on the way out. I thought I broke you.

Harry: yeah well, a lot of people would say that there is as nuffink you coulda done

Hadie: I could d waited for dad to wake up. I could’ve asked her what to do.

Harry: like you said you four. When I was four I went down to the docks to try and get rid of ol leftie here. Thought it’d get dad to like me

Hadie: I know. I heard the story. Tick-Tock wouldn’t go for it.

Harry: why settle for the after mint when you can have the rotting steak? You can still see the scar. Look.

Hadie: is that why you carry the...

Harry: the hook? Yeah. That and added protection. For some reason people don’t really like me. Might be the skull face. I dunno

(Hadie laughs. Evie enters the illusion)

Evie (drolly): how sentimental

Hadie (brightly): hey sis

Evie: I mean I haven’t been this choked up since got a chunk of moussaka caught in my throat

Mal (also crashing the conversation): Doug made her laugh at a state dinner eight months ago.

Harry: well I’ve seen him. He doesn’t have to do much.

Evie: have you ever had a telekinetic wedgie?

Harry: no

Evie: oh. Then we’ll be in for a treat then

(Her eyes glow briefly, the illusion breaks and Harry’s lifted ten feet in the the air by the back of his underwear yelling in pain all the while)

Evie: you know, I’ve been thinking. The ember is defunct because calamari thee it in the bay. So we need to reignite it. And correct me of I’m wrong but hades has a massive temper problem?

Hadie: not for years but yes.

Evie: and Hook is the angriest person I know. So. If he by some twisted non miracle gets his hair set on fire while he’s holding the ember then it can work again.

Hadie: don’t appreciate the word phrasing. But I understand the general idea

Harry (bored): so how’re you gonna do it. Beat me up. Conjure up my worst fears.

Evie: talk to you. I’m just gonna talk to you. Believe me. It’s gonna hurt me a lot more then it hurts you. At least not physically

Harry: like I give a shit. Just get on with it so it can be over. Who’s got the pebble

(It conks him on the side of his head)

Mal (sarcastically): oops

Harry: ok first off. I hate you and your carcass needs to be burned with you still breathing.

Mal: immune to fire.

Harry: I meant iron.

(Mal lunges are him it Hadie holds her back)

Evie: now where was I? Oh yes. Breaking your spirit. You realise of course everyone hates you. Your father, us, Jay, Carlos, Ben. Hell. Even Gil only hung around with you out of pity. And Uma. The first chance she got she dumped you like yesterday’s trash. Because that’s what you are Hook. Trash. Useless rotting disgusting trash. Nobody loves. Nobody cares about you. Nobody wants you around.

Harry (nervously): Uma

Evie: threw you away and branded you traitor the minute you questioned her judgement. She never wanted a first mate or a, whatever it was you were to her, she wanted an easily malleable, easily swayed, lapdog. That’s all you were to her “Icarus”.

Harry (voice brittle): Harriet

Evie: lied to you for nineteen years. To save her own skin.

Harry (weakly): stop. Please. Stop

Evie: sorry for what I’m about to say Mal but it’s necessary. (Turning back to Harry). Did you stop when Carlos begged you to stop chasing him in the market that day. Did you stop when dizzy asked you taking all the money from the till? No? Then why the hell should I stop now? Face it Icarus. Nobody wants you. Nobody likes you. Nobody loves you! You mean nothing to anyone. You were born useless. You will die useless. So stop wasting everybody’s time and just do it. Die like the dog you are!

(Harry roars and lunges at her. She evades him easily and he crashes into the stage. He stands up. The verbal beat down worked. His eyes are glowing blood red. His hair on fire in the same colour. The ember has reactivated)

Harry: now it’s your turn

(He shoves his palm out and Evie’s thrown into the wall. Brass candle stands wrap around her neck and starts to dig into her skin. Evie screams hits and kicks at the air. Mal calmly walks up to Harry, uses the sceptre to stab him in the back and pulls out his heart)

Mal: put her down gently. Good. Now lie down like the bitch you are. (She notices Hadie looking at her in horror) what? Did you really expect me to touch him with my bare hands? Here you go (she swings the aorta over to him). You can put it back. You alright E?

Evie: yeah I’m ok. I’m just going to stomp on his face with SPIKED CLEATS!

Hadie: that horrible experience worked. Now we gotta try to make it work for all of us

Mal: how. And don’t say what I think you’re gonna say because I am not working with him

Hadie (sane time as her): we need to work together as a family

Evie: fuck

Mal: how’d you propose we do this then.

Hadie: friction. I think. When I got us out of the isle I rubbed the ember

Harry: and covered it in your own blood

Hadie: yes. So if we replicate that. Then maybe. Just maybe. We’ll all be able to use it.

Evie: good plan. But again. How do we all do it. Cause in case you haven’t noticed. There’s three of us. And one ember.

Hadie: Harry’s here as well

Evie: I know. I intentionally left him out. To me he doesn’t count.

Hadie: well dear you’re going to have to get into his headspace.

Mal: my Scottish accent is legally classed as offensive

Evie: it’s true. Absolutely fucking horrendous

Hadie: heh?

Mal: one time in class we had to put ourselves in the shoes of evil we hate most.

Evie: all four of us chose Harry.

Harry: now ya see what I gotta put up with?

Hadie: indeed I do.

Mal: gargh! Fine. We’ll do what you think is right. But only because I need to stop Maleficent. Ok.

Hadie (smoking giddily): ok

Evie: urgh fine.

Harry: whatever it takes for me to get away from these two twigs

(This is when “friction” happens)

#disney descendants #zendaya!mal

[monigheandonn1743]

Ceart-leth

Previous Chapters

Chapter 7

After two days on horseback and two nights sleeping on the cold, hard ground, there was nowhere she didn’t ache. The ibroprofen in her bag called to her like a sirens song, but under the watchful gaze of eight suspicious highlanders, and one pissed off redcoat, she couldn’t risk even opening her bags, never mind taking pain killers.

She wasn’t the only one that needed them either. As much as he tried to hide it, Jamie’s side was bothering him, not that she was surprised. To resounding cheers from the men, he’d come strolling out of the forest last night carrying a great big bloody doe over his shoulders. She was starving, and grateful for the meat, but she could have quiet gladly throttled him where he stood.

No matter how sexy he’d looked.

He hadn’t been alone, he’d taken two other men with him, so why the hell they couldn’t have carried the beast she didn’t know.

Bloody idiot!

She sighed and shifted, attempting once again to ease the pain in her back, and Jamie sighed along with her.

“T’is no too far now, Sassenach. Leoch’s just over the rise an’ ye can rest a wee bit before supper.” He whispered, subtlety squeezing his thighs against her in reassurance. Like him, she’d attempted to hide her discomfort, but he missed nothing.

“I’m fine honestly, but I really need to check your wound and change the padding today. Is there somewhere we can do it at Leoch?” She whispered back. She’d wanted to check it last night, afraid that he’d ripped it open hunting, but hadn’t been able to. Jamie’s uncle, Dougal Mackenzie, had taken an instant dislike to her, and had barely let her out of his sight long enough for her to pee.

They’d ridden from dawn till dusk yesterday and not once did he stray out of hearing range, always staying close enough to listen into their conversation. As a result she and Jamie had barely spoken two words together and, although she’d been nestled snuggly between his thighs, he’d been distant. Keeping his hands securely on the reigns, rather than around her as he had the day before, and she missed him.

Even now, she could feel Douglas eyes on them and knew without looking that he was close enough to hear if they’d spoken anywhere above a whisper.

“Aye. We’ll get ye settled then I’ll come find ye after I’ve done speaking with Collum.”

Collum Mackenzie, another of Jamie’s uncles, and laird of castle Leoch. Jamie had told her what he could about him, in those rare moments that Dougal had been distracted, but she still didn’t know what to expect, other than a man that was as charming as he was sly. But through whispered, broken conversation, Jamies message had been clear: like Dougal, Collum wasn’t to be trusted.

But it was a moot point. The only man she trusted was Jamie. Even his Godfather, Murtagh, who he’d left to watch over her last night, was still someone she regarded with caution. He was protective of Jamie, and that spoke well for him, but still. He was a man of few words and she hadn’t really be able to take his measure.

Other than a brief round of congratulations on the first night for maiming Randell, none of the men had spoke to her. When there was conversation, it was clear that she wasn’t welcome in it, speaking as they were in Gaelic, knowing she didn’t understand a word of it.

So, left to her own thoughts, she’d been attempting to asses each man and the hierarchy of the group. It was clear that Dougal thought of himself as their leader, but to Claire it seemed that half of the men followed his orders simply to placate him. The other half didn’t even bother, and blatantly looked to Jamie for direction. It was only on his silent, if reluctant, nod of acquisition that they did as the older man had ordered.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Dougal either, and he did nothing to hide the fact that he loathed Jamie, as much as he loathed her, if not more so. Jamie, for his part, treated Dougal with respect and never once sought to usurp his position as pseudo leader. Murtagh on the other hand, didn’t, and he’d had a watchful eye on Jamie’s back throughout the journey.

The whole complex make-up of the group balanced on a knifes edge, and the tension was so thick, that it was almost its own entity. It gave her the distinct impression that, with one wrong move, the whole lot would come tumbling down and there’d be a fight to the death. It was as nerve-wracking as it was fascinating, and she warily anticipated seeing how it would play out at Leoch.

“See there, lass.” Jamie said, breaking the silence and pointing into the distance, “Leoch.”

She followed his gaze and had to bite back a grimace. The imposing castle loomed large less than a mile away, but with the flood of relief came a wave of anxious butterflies. She was past ready to get off the damn horse and to sleep in an actual bed, but she was far from ready to face what awaited her there.

As much as she wanted him to, she couldn’t expect Jamie to be with her every second of every day. He’d be busy, and if, God help her, he had a wife and children waiting for him, he’d be spending what free time he had with them, not her.

But this had been her choice. She could have stayed at Craig na Dun and tried to find a way to get back home, but she hadn’t. She’d walked away, turned her back on her old life, and chosen to stay in 1743. She couldn’t deny that Jamie had been a part of that choice, but she couldn’t hide behind him. She couldn’t rely on him for the rest of her life. She needed to be brave, to face the unknown, and learn how to be herself here.

She was terrified beyond belief, but she had to stand on her own two feet, and be the strong independent woman she knew she was. This wasn’t the first time she’d found herself in a strange environment, and it wouldn’t be the last. She’d either sink or swim, but she wouldn’t know which until she tried.

“It’s…huge.” She settled on when all other adjectives failed her. She’d was going to say beautiful, but that wasn’t true. It was impressive and daunting and she honestly hoped they wouldn’t be staying there too long.

Though where she’d go afterwards she had no idea.

“It’s no my favourite place to be either, lass.” He laughed as he leaned down again to whisper in her ear. “Just remember what I said an’ ye’ll do fine. When Randell’s on his way to the gallows, we’ll leave.”

“How long will that be do you think?” She whispered back.

“A fortnight, maybe less. Depends on Argyll.” He sat back and pulled on the reigns, slowing Donas until they fell toward the back of the group. As they slowed she caught sight of Dougal, his eyes hard, calculating and murderous, as he watched them and she quickly looked away, unable to suppress her shiver.

Working at the hospital, she’d had the opportunity to tend to people from all walks of life. One of those had been a prisoner under guard. From the whispers amongst the staff she’d discovered that he was a suspected serial killer, and she seen the same, terrifying look in his eyes as she did Dougals.

Sociopath or psychopath, she wasn’t sure, what she was sure of was that neither she or Jamie were safe so long as they resided at Leoch.

Jamie guided Donas to fall in step with Murtagh where he rode silently at the back of the line, his eyes flicking between Dougal and Randell, who was being lead on foot, tied to the back of Rupert’s horse. He glanced at Jamie, and to her surprise, he smirked. It was the first expression she’d seen on his face since they met, and she realised that beneath his bushy black beard, he wasn’t an unattractive man.

“Vous prendrez soin d'elle quand je ne peux pas?” Jamie asked Murtagh, nodding slightly in her direction. She blinked up at him, surprised by his question and sudden shift in language. He’d told her he’d lived in Paris, so she shouldn’t be surprised that he could speak French. But she was, and she was both alarmed and touched by his request.

Yes, she’d feel safer knowing that someone Jamie trusted would be looking out for her, but what about him? From what she’d observed, it was Jamie’s blood that Dougal truly lusted for. In the grand scheme of things, she was irrelevant.

“Je t'ai dit que je le ferais. Ne vous inquiétez pas. Elle sera en sécurité.” Murtagh sighed with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. It was clear that this wasn’t the first time Jamie had asked him to protect her, but other than last night when he went hunting, she’d neither seen nor heard them taking.

“Promets-moi, Murtagh.” Jamie pushed. “Je ne lui fais pas confiance.”

No, neither do I!

“Aye, lad. I promise.” Murtagh answered in English, flicking a curious glance at her. She offered him a small smile of thanks, then turned her head to look up at Jamie.

“Si Murtagh surveiller mon dos, qui va surveiller le tien?” She whispered, startling Jamie and she laughed as he frowned down at her, miffed that he’d been caught out.

“Dinna fash, lass. He’ll no be alone.” Murtagh promised her quietly, drawing her attention back to him. She nodded to him and reached to squeeze Jamie’s hand discreetly.

“Fait attention. Je n'aime pas la façon dont il te regarde.”

The sights, sounds and smells of eighteen century life hit her with glaring reality as they passed through the gates into the courtyard of Castle Leoch. It was one thing to believe she’d travelled back in time, but to actually see the evidence before her was shock inducing.

It had been just over forty eight hours since she’d travelled through the stones, but even journeying with a rag-tag bunch of highlanders across the Scottish countryside, she’d been somewhat sheltered from the truth of it. Here she had no such comfort. The blinkers were well and truly ripped from her eye, and they shot two and fro with the wonder of it all.

There was so much to take in that she didn’t know where to look first. A blacksmith drew her attention for a moment, and she watched as he worked the iron, sparks flying from his hammer and landing, alarmingly, amongst the straw at his feet. A fire hazard if ever she’d seen one.

Next to him, a gaffer shard his kiln, twisting a ball of glowing glass amongst the flames. She wanted to sit and watch what he was making, but Donas reared slightly, shying away from a group of children as they ran passed, battling with wooden swords, and she turned sharply to grasp hold of his mane.

“Soirbh, mo giullan,” Jamie soothed him quietly, as he pulled on his reigns and guided him neatly around the fray. Donas snorted and shook his head, seemingly dismissing his master and Claire couldn’t help her own small snort of laughter.

“He takes after you with his stubbornness. I see why you get along so well.”

“Aye, an’ it says a wee bit about ye too, Sassenach, taking to ye as he did.” He laughed as he stopped beside the men and jumped down. He turned to her, one eyebrow raised, and she rolled her eyes and allowed him to lift her down.

“Maybe.” She conceded stubbornly as she turned to scratch at the horses nose. “But I just think that you’ve got good taste in women haven’t you, boy?”

“Dinna coddle him, lass. Ye’ll make him soft.”

“Pot meet kettle.” She huffed playfully giving Donas one last pat and a kiss on his nose.

“If I let ye ride me, will ya kiss me too?” Rupert chortled, surprising her. All the men were in good spirits on returning home, but she was shocked that he’d deigned to speak to her at last.

“Not in this lifetime.” She retorted, as she reached to take her bag from Jamie. But like on that first day, he shook his head and motioned her forward.

“No in the next either.” Jamie added quietly.

Rupert laughed harder, then rushed around her forcing her to stop as he scooped an older, plump woman, up off her feet and spun her around.

“Ack, Rupert ye wee fool. Put me down afore ye break ye back.” She chided, laughing as he jiggled her about before planting her on her feet. “Git on we ye! There’s food in the kitchen, go help yerselves.”

“We’v come baring gifts, Mrs Fitz.” He told her, sobering as he turned her by the shoulders and guided to within feet of Randell.

Mrs Fitz froze, and gasped silently as she clasped her hands over her mouth. Claire wasn’t surprised, Randell was a sight to see. Unable to hold himself up, he was collapsed in a heap on the ground, but his misplaced pride kept his head held high. His nose was swollen to at least twice its size, and his eyes were a horrid purplish blue from where she’d kneed him in the face.

His clothes were caked in mud, sweat and blood, and his wrist were raw where he’d been dragged along at the back of Rupert’s horse. He truly was a pitiful sight, but with all Claire knew about him, she held no sympathy. As far as she was concerned he deserved all he got.

“Bless the lord!” She cried, tears springing to her eyes, as they darted around the gathered men. “Ye caught him! Oh, I’ll sleep in peace t’nite, lads. Ye’v given an old lass a gift for sure.”

“Dinna thank us, Mrs Fitz.” Angus, the Ying to Rupert’s Yang, proclaimed as he passed them and slapped Jamie on the back, “Mac Duh’s wee Sassenach stopped him when she nigh on ripped his bollocks off!” He laughed. She’d heard some of the men refer to Jamie as such, it was almost a sign of respect, and she’d wondered more than once what it meant; she just hadn’t had the nerve or the privacy to ask him.

Mrs. Fitz turned to face them, and noticing Jamie for the first time, she rushed to him and reached up to grab his cheeks. She heard him sigh quietly and had to bite her lip as he reluctantly bent to receive the affections of the mother hen.

“James Fraser! As I live an breath, it’s bin too long Laddie. Let me see ye!” She shoved him back up and held him at arms length as she looked him over. “Aye, I heard of ye woes, an I kept ye in me prays. But I see ye’v come out stronger for em.”

Jamie’s mask was firmly in place, but he smiled at the older woman and squeeze her hand as he carefully distanced himself from her.

“Thank ye, Mrs Fitz. But if I can trouble ye, Mistress Beauchamp is dead on her feet, an’ she’s in need of ye care.” He asked, distracting her and guiding Claire forward to stand before him. She wanted to hit him, or at the very least glare at him, but she couldn’t because she was already under the scrutiny of Mrs Fitz.

As kind as he was being attempting to have her needs seen to, she knew she was being used as a means to pull the attention away from him. She loathed being centre of attention, and the blush that burned to life in her cheeks, was something she supposed she’d have to get used to.

“Ye did all that to Randell?” Mrs Fitz asked her, eyeing her and her strange outfit with suspicion.

“Um…yes. He attacked me and I…um…”

“Yanked his balls off an’ busted his corker!” Rupert cheered, slapping her back so forcefully that she staggered forward towards Mrs Fitz.

Jamie grabbed her, just preventing her from falling, and Mrs Fitz turned sharply and walloped Rupert across the head, much like Jamie had that first night.

“Rupert Mackenzie! Did ye fall on ye head, lad? That no way to treat a lassie! Come mistress, lets get ye washed up and settled.” She soothed, linking her arm through Claires and pulling her towards the castle…and away from Jamie. “Jamie, put her wee bags in the kitchen, I’ll see they get to her room. Then eat, ye’r skin an bone.”

If Jamie, of all people, was skin a bone, what the hell must Mrs Fitz think of her? She glanced around the courtyard, trying to work out if it was the layers of dresses and petticoats that gave all the woman such healthy figures, or whether it was just their natural shape, when Mrs Fits words sank in. Wide eyed, she turned to look at Jamie, and guessing her concerns he swiftly fell into step beside them.

“Dinna fash, Mrs Fitz, ye’v enough to do. Lead the way and I’ll settle her bags for her.” He smiled, flashing Mrs Fitz one of his owlish blinks. “I need to see Himself and wash up before I eat at any rate.”

“Have it ye way.” She huffed, as she frog matched them though the narrow winding passageways of the castle. “Now, Mistress…”

“Please, call me Claire.” She asked quietly, attempting unsuccessfully, to memorise the path they were taking. It was like a maze, and if she ever needed to escape in a hurry, she’d stand no chance.

“Claire it is, and I’m Mrs Fitzgibbons…but ye call me Mrs Fitz, like the lads do, Aye.”

“Thank you, Mrs Fitz.” She smiled, half in love with the motherly woman already.

“Now tell me, Claire, what brings ye all the way to Scotland?”

“She’s here at the request of my da.” Jamie jumped in before Claire could even draw breath, or think of a suitable lie. She’d been wracking her brain throughout the journey, but had come up with nothing that wouldn’t sound suspicious.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and he blinked at her, causing her to bite her lip.

“Mistress Beauchamp’s a fine healer from Oxfordshire, my da had the use of her services when he was last in London. Jenny’ll be having the bairn soon, and wi’ no healer or midwife at Lallybroch, he requested she come.”

“I’m just lucky that Mr Fraser came upon me when he did.” Claire continued, picking up where Jamie had left off, trying desperately not to wonder who Jenny was. “I was travelling with an escort when I was set upon by captain Randell. We were separated.”

“Aye,” Jamie agreed, “but he’s been discharged of his duty now, and I’ll see ye home to Lallybroch once we’ve dealt with the blackguard.”

“Sounds like ye’v had an adventure. But did you no travel with a chest?” She enquired suspiciously as she pushed open the door to a spacious bedroom.

Claire looked around in awe, it was sparse, but larger than her apartment, and a roaring fire was already lit in the grate.

“I was, but we lost a wheel on the cart and Mr Fraser had no means to transport it. My companion will see it mended then take my belongings on to Lallybroch. But unfortunately that means I’m confined to my room for the next while.” She added, forlornly as she fingered her skirt, then eyed Jamie as though embarrassed by his presence.

He smiled at her, then placed her bags on the bed, bowed to the two women and quickly left the room.

It wasn’t right for him to be in her bedchamber after all.

“I was bathing when captain Randell accosted me.” She whispered to Mrs Fitz as though she was afraid that the walls had ears. “I lost my dress in the…confrontation.”

“Ach, I see ye we’re injured, mistress.” Mrs Fitz proclaimed, buying into the story they’d woven, and gently touching her neck, “but are ye…hurt anywhere else?” Claire blinked at her, then realising her meaning, she shook her head.

“No. Thankfully Mr Fraser arrived before he could do any permanent damage.”

“Good. That’s good. Now then.” She smiled, glancing around the room. “Ye rest ye feet a wee while an’ I’ll send for some water an’ find ye some clothes. Himself will want to see ye, an we have the duke coming. Ye’ll need something for the festivities.”

Chapter 8

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Translation:

I’ll apologise belatedly…I don’t speak any language other than English so I’m afraid I’m relying on google 🙈🙈

“Vous prendrez soin d'elle quand je ne peux pas?”

“You’ll take care of her when I can’t?”

“Je t'ai dit que je le ferais. Ne vous inquiétez pas. Elle sera en sécurité.”

“I told you I would. Don’t worry. She’ll be safe.”

“Promets-moi, Murtagh.” Jamie pushed. “Je ne lui fais pas confiance.”

“Promise me, Murtagh.” Jamie pushed. “I don’t trust him.”

“Si Murtagh surveiller mon dos, qui va surveiller le tien?” “If Murtagh’s watching my back, who’ll be watching yours?”

“Fait attention. Je n'aime pas la façon dont il te regarde.”

“Just be careful. I don’t trust him either, and I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

#outlander #jamieandclaire #outlanderfanfiction

[hekate1308]

That Vanished Abode There Far Away, A Season 13 Drowley AU - Chapter Five

Masterpost

Having assessed his situation, Roderick, as he has chosen to call himself, is certain of a few thing.

One, his memory has been wiped clear and he woke up on an empty field in Scotland.

Two, he’s by no means deficient – as a matter of fact, he’s starting to suspect that he’s downright clever – and he can accomplish anything he sets his mind on.

Three, his companion is way too attractive.

If Michael were not as able and smart as he is handsome, he probably would have left him by now, but the hunter is an asset he can’t afford to lose – suffering from the same affliction and quick on his feet.

Plus, Roderick has to admit (and for some reason, it makes him feel a little uneasy), he likes Michael. There’s something about that boyish charm of his...

Nothing can come of it, of course. Pursuing... anything at a time like this would be utterly foolish.

Still, he’s nice to look at.

Also rather efficient at stealing, but Roderick isn’t really one to judge in that regard.

Granted, to most people it might seem a tad insane to retreat to an empty island in the middle of the rough Scottish sea with someone he barely knows; but since their seems to be an anti-monster mafia going around that also happens to have something against hunters, it’s best to beat a graceful retreat. For now.

And Michael’s far from bad company, even regardless... Everything. He can be quite amusing, when he puts his mind to it.

Although he doesn’t know exactly what he’s working on at the moment. He’s been carefully sifting through his knowledge at night, when Michael’s asleep; more than once it has already brought on an attack, but since he usually goes to the bathroom before taking the risk, he has yet to wake the hunter.

He’s learned that he knows a lot, especially about lore and Hell. If he wonders for too long why that might be, the agony sets in. But it’s something, he guesses.

He has definitely met the Men of Letters before, too. Sadly, the pain obscures any details.

But.

His knowledge, while at certain times tainted by his memories, is still rather clear in his mind, and so he knows that there are merman along the Scottish coast. They might just get them to cooperate – they’ll need help getting supplies et cetera.

At times, the thought that he’s trying to make a deal with them has crossed his mind, but the unfortunate results learned him to avoid the word when he can.

He’s been wondering if he ever made a deal with a crossroads demon...

He shakes his head. He knows exactly where that train of thought will lead.

“Roderick? You okay?”

He looks at Michael and nods. “Don’t worry about me, darling.”

He rolls his eyes. “As if I ever... Come on, there’s an island we need to get to.”

And he understands that Michael’s very aware that something’s wrong, but is letting him off the hook for now.

It’s almost eerie, how quickly they’ve come to understand one another, and it fuels his suspicions that they must have known each other... before. They haven’t spoken about it of course, because that would at best lead to nothing and at worst leave them rolling around the floor at the same time.

“True.” They have made quite a bit of progress in the last three days, but there’s always more money to be stolen.

Sometimes he wonders why he doesn’t feel and in the least for committing petty theft, but that’s easily enough explained – it’s petty theft.

No, it sadly doesn’t mean that he’s an emotionless psychopath, because if he were, he certainly wouldn’t feel so drawn to... certain people.

Oh well. He’ll have enough time to figure out his no doubt tragic back story once they’re settled.

They have already managed to procure a boat while only getting a few surprised looks (the Scottish accent he discovered one night he can do rather convincingly certainly helped; Michael has caught on and is usually silent when they’re speaking to the locals). And his companion apparently has some knowledge how to stir it, too.

Strangely enough, the only thing Roderick can say about it is that it’s too modern for him, but every time he tries to explain that better, the pain hits.

“Why did you get so many burn phones?” Michael asks as they’re loading the boat.

“Wait and see” he answers.

Michael – pouts (he’s not cute, he tells himself. It doesn’t really work). “You know I tell you everything –“

“And that is always your first mistake. Trusting people.”

Michael shakes his head. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m a bit on edge too, with... everything that’s going on, but it doesn’t strike me as a very happy lifestyle.”

And he continues to load the boat while Roderick just stares at him.

It seems Michael will never run out of ways to surprise him, and it makes him slightly uneasy how intrigued he feels at that prospect.

“So?” Michael asks when they are on sea – thank God it’s a fine day, and the island isn’t that far off – “The burn phones. What aren’t you telling me?”

“We’re at sea. And not just any sea. That’s the Scottish coast right there.”

He’s learned by now that Michael knows far more than he believes – or rather, than he is aware of – and soon, his eyes widen.

“You mean –“

“Yep.”

He throws the phones into the water, citing an old Scottish verse as he does so.

Michael shakes his head. “Alright, I think you’re from around here. No one can talk like this unless –“

When he sees the expression of pain on his face, he stops talking.

Thankfully, the mermen reach the surface at that moment and distract Roderick from his own thoughts.

“How. That’s what I don’t understand. How can both Dena and a corpse just suddenly vanish with no trace. You should have been able to sense something, anything.”

Sam is slowly growing desperate. All these years of his brother at his side, fighting the good fight with him; not knowing where Dean is feels like suddenly missing a limb.

“That’s what we’re trying to find out” Cas answers simply, as always refusing to give up, thank God.

Sam thinks he would feel better if there was any development, anything at all.

He can’t know that today of all day is the day something finally happens.

They have just been calling around again, just in case someone forgot to let them know that Dean is alive and well (the odds are low, but their whole lives they’ve beaten them, so you never know) when there are three very distinct knocks on the bunker’s door.

Sam turns to Cas. He shakes his head. “Whoever it is has warded himself against –“

Another knock. A rather... impatient one.

If Crowley was still alive, Sam would imagine him to knock like that.

The door opens before either of them can react.

Sam couldn’t be more surprised at the sight in front of him, not even if Dean suddenly returned without an explanation.

“Hello, boys. Now, ruling Hell has been fun, but I am starting to grow impatient – where have you hidden my son?”

Silence.

It’s Cas who finally says, “We don’t know, Rowena.”

#my writings #dean winchester #crowley #drowley #rowena

[vampyre-poet]

"Oh, you're Alastair McGregor aren't you? My, my...what a treat." The small, slim vampire male with short, wavy blinding white hair stood a hundred feet in front of Alastair with his neon green eyes glittering in the pale moonlight. Alastair looked him up and down with narrowed eyes before moving to take a step forward, but the smaller vampire wagged his finger at him while giggling. "Nuh-uh, silly billy! I know you, I know what you do-"

"Then you should run." Alastair stated bluntly but the smaller vampire simply shrugged nonchalantly with that gleaming, glittering look of playfulness in his eyes. "I don't run, Alastair. I never run." He bit his lower lip with an excited smile and Alastair scoffed with a smile before his fangs fully extended. "Then this will be easy-"

"Oh, no, you are mistaken! Easy? No, no, no, no! No, it won't be easy." The smaller vampire laughed and Alastair ran his tongue over his upper fangs. Who the fuck was this kid? He only looked about seventeen, but Alastair could sense he was much older than him. Much older than by a long shot. "Who exactly are you-"

"Me? Oh, you want to know my name? Oh- oh, my goodness, the excitement I feel! The Alastair McGregor wants to know my name! My name!" The vampire squealed excitedly while clapping his hands together and doing an excited bouncing motion. Alastair gave him a strange look, and at that moment, he very much decided that this smaller vampire was insane, and no, not in the good way. There is a good type of insanity, and then there is a horrible type of insanity, and that horrible type shined in the vampire's green eyes. "...You know what? I have something I need to do, so, you're not worth my time-"

"I'm- I'm...not worth...your time..." Oh, how that was the wrong thing to say, and Alastair instantly realized this as he saw something snap in the white-haired vampire. That childish, playful like persona was gone, and was replaced with wildness danger the Scottish vampire had never seen. Not even in Alek- hell, not even in Barney or Arvid. "Mmn...okay...I'm not worth...your time, hmm? Is Edgar? Or Barney? Or Estelle? Or fucking Arthur? Hmm? Hmm?!" The vampire smiled, a demented, cruel smile, and Alastair froze. No one knew Arthur was back except Ezra's clan and Cain's clan, and most likely Cassius' clan, but this vampire was from none of those. No. No, he was just a loner lunatic. Right? "...I-"

"You what? You what, Al? Do you know how many years I've watched you? How many years I've wanted you? With me? And you just- you just say I'm not worth your time?! I CAME ALL THE WAY FROM BELARUS TO BE HERE! TO SEE YOU! A-AND YOU JUST-"

"H-ha, ha, okay! Okay, your name! I want to know your name!" Alastair laughed nervously, the Devil Touched much too intelligent not to know to play along, and this instantly stunted the smaller vampire, his big eyes growing wide before a smile broke out on his face. "M-Mikhail. Mikhail, but everyone calls me Mikki..." The vampire smiled happily and Alastair knew there was no getting away from him at this point. A name has power, and that power can't be undone once spoken. This child, this...immortal child, far from a child in the mind but not in form, radiated the most terrifying energy Alastair had ever felt in his life, and this was truly saying something. Alastair is a classified, genuine psychopath, yet this child before him made him feel fear.

"Mikha- Mikki," Best to use his nickname, Alastair thought to himself. "You go back on your way, aye? Go on back to wherever-"

"Oh, no, I'm not leaving you. I finally got the courage to meet you, aren't you- aren't you...proud of me...?" Mikhail smiled softly and Alastair inhaled sharply, the Devil Touched screaming loudly for Arthur in his head. Arthur wouldn't come, but it was still worth a try. "P-proud of-"

"Yeah, aren't you proud of me? I faced my fear of meeting you. I was so terrified that you would reject me, that you would- you would- h-ha-ha, mmn...mmn..." Mikhail laughed breathlessly as he hugged himself tightly, that crazed look returning to his eyes. "I heard so much about you from others...how terrifying you were, how...controlling..." Mikhail practically moaned out the word 'controlling' and Alastair, without thinking, took a step back with a weirded out expression. Wrong move. Mikhail's face instantly fell and, for a split second, sadness entered his eyes, only to be replaced with unimaginable hurt and rage. "You're rejecting me-"

"Mikki, when you're me, you're not used to...someone acting like this towards you. I usually get screams, or sounds of terror-"

"Oh!" Mikhail gasped as he suddenly rushed forward and Alastair completely froze in terror on the spot. The scent of wintergreen invaded his senses as well as the strong tang of metal, the Belarusian vampire stopping in front of him and gently taking the Scotsman hand. A gentle gesture, to say the least, but it felt more invading than gentle. "I get it, you're used to being rejected, is that right? Oh, Al, how silly of me to think that you didn't like me...you're just not used to affectionate displays of words and gestures." Mikhail breathed out and Alastair stared down at him with wide eyes. "...Sure." Alastair finally mustered out after a moment and Mikhail nodded quickly before smiling. "We're going to go home now, okay, Alastair?" Wait...what? "I'm sorry, excuse me-"

"I'm going to go home with you, yeah? We're destined to be together, okay? I've known this since I first heard of you after you were created by Arthur. I simply fell in love with your name, yeah? And now...that I'm standing here...h-holding- holding your hand-" Mikhail's breathing quickened as his grip on Alastair's hand tightened and Alastair fought back the urge to whimper. To fucking whimper. "M-Mikki, I've got shit to do-"

"Not anymore," Mikhail's eyes met his and, yet again, there was that demented, crazed look in his eyes. "Not anymore, Alastair, we're going home." And Alastair knew better than to say no.

(A Twist of A Century)

[raining-v-coffee]

River Song/12th Doctor fic recs

*Multichapter    ~my notes

in the space between your hearts

"I have loved every moment of the time I’ve spent with you here. And I wouldn’t trade it for the universe. But sometimes, Sweetie, on those mornings when you wake up crying in my arms because of the nightmares, I can hardly bear it. Because I think of all those mornings you must’ve woken up like that alone.” River confesses, voice wavering. “And when you told me about Trenzalore…I just couldn’t bear the thought of you having to go through that for so long. It broke my heart. So I decided to do something about it.”

i use the stars to find you

For all of his searching and dreaming and hoping, for every sleepless night and every failed attempt, the Doctor never actually thought he would find home again. And he certainly never thought he would step out onto the red dust of his planet with his wife standing at his side, her hand small and steady in his.

come whatever, i'll be yours all along

“Have we met before? Well, no matter – that makes things easier. Or perhaps not depending on our last encounter.” Without waiting for a reply, River reaches for the gun strapped to her thigh and levels it right in his face, smiling serenely. “Don’t make any sudden moves, Scottish Eyebrows. I’m going to need you to marry me.”

we both know that it's not fashionable to love me

"I told you - I had to keep talking."

"And you went with a detailed accounting of how your husband never loved you?"

Each and every next

“A good husband always spoils his wife. Just a wee bit.” - an experiment with Twelve, and giving River something to look forward to.

Can't find you in the body sleeping next to me

She adjusts to her second life quickly. There’s a day with a fair bit of crying and jagged, muddled memories, where he feels like he’s dealing with Mels all over again, but once her body and soul learn to work together again, she’s River, instantly. It takes him longer.

and let love clasp grief lest both be drown’d

Where his former self would have dropped the kettle or broken a mug or spilled the tea bags all over the floor and alerted River to his presence with the general racket that preludes his appearances, he actually manages to sneak up on her.

you take me by the heart when you take me by the hand

She’s on a bed that’s far too soft for her liking but the unmistakable hum of a TARDIS tells her exactly where she is and so what if she’s already contemplating how to override the ship’s controls and create a little havoc? A girl needs a hobby, after all.

~Missy is the best

24 Years Mature

24 years on Darillium without some kind of mystery to solve? Impossible.

River's Doctor*

River falls right into his life again without warning; fresh from Berlin and more lost than he's ever seen her. After a millennium the Doctor discovers that their story is far from over, and there are things he's yet to learn about her as their timelines coalesce once again. When she appears to seek out his latest incarnation, he realises that he's only now becoming her Doctor.

wonderful, in a loathsome sort of way*

He stands, holding out a hand the Doctor wastes no time in ignoring entirely. “Bruce Baldwin.” River darts her gaze between both of them, the love of her life and the man who has kept the loneliness at bay the past six months. “I’m a friend of River’s.”

The tense set of the Doctor’s shoulders relaxes somewhat, the lines around his eyes losing their hard edge, and a small, vindictive part of River – the psychopath that never really left her, only slept in some dark corner of her mind, waiting to be awakened – wants him to hurt just as much as she has been. It surges forward with a vengeance and makes her blurt out, “Lover.”

it's lost in our embraces like stars against the sun* Mature

Getting captured hadn’t been part of the plan, but she admits it’s had its advantages.

When You Least Expect It (But When You Need It the Most)* Mature

Time Baby fic: what it says on the tin.

For the River/Doctor ficathon prompt "Timebaby fic, with a realistic birthing scene" 

To my Master Post of Doctor Who fic recs <3

I also have rec lists for Harry Potter and Naruto.

#doctor who #fic recs #river song #the doctor #12th doctor #twelfth doctor #doctor who fic recs

[celticnoise]

How many articles on the mainstream media websites today about Dodgy Dave King? How many of them say he’s nothing but a bad joke and a liar who’s openly defying a court, who’s told his manager fibs about the kind of resources he’d have to spend, who is stirring up the most vicious elements of his fan base with conspiracy theories and nonsense?

Oh wait, none of them? Are you sure?

And of course you are correct. King is doing what King does best, and the media is writing everything that comes out of his mouth as if it was gospel truth from an unimpeachable source instead of flagrant nonsense from someone who wouldn’t know facts if he tripped over them running from the Fraud Squad. And this is part of what’s wrong with the media.

I remain a bit of a politics geek, and I never cease to be amazed at the press lamenting the rise of “populist” leaders like Nigel Farage and the way utter charlatans like Jacob Reece Mogg can go from complete obscurity to the point where they are thought of as national figures.

And always the press asks the same question; how does this happen?

Easy. The media itself gives them the profile to build a following. They let these people talk their absolute tripe in newspaper columns, on radio shows, they give them all the Question Time appearances they can book and they print their every word as if it was Holy Scripture. We would never have heard of these people otherwise.

If you have the slightest doubt that the media has, to some extent, legitimised these people and thereby the stuff that comes out of their mouths you only have to look at the hatchet-job the same outlets have been doing on Jeremy Corbyn since the minute, hour and day he was elected as leader of the Labour Party. His legitimacy is attacked, his personal views distorted, his political philosophy sneered at and when all that didn’t kill him the media now brands him an anti-Semite at every opportunity, never letting up, demanding the impossible from him – that he, personally, wipes anti-Semitism out of left-wing politics or be forever tainted by it.

How hard do you think it would be to find examples of Mogg or Farage or Johnson merrily whistling the tunes of the far-right? You could do it on a coffee break, but it never gets the wall-to-wall coverage attacks on Corbyn do. And in delegitimising him and not treating them the same way the media has helped create the conditions that brought us Brexit, Trump and a Tory government that just won’t die, like a fly you’ve hit with a swatter five times but keeps on twitching.

Treat these people as they are – extremists, shilling bullshit – and this country wouldn’t be on the brink of a “no deal” exit from the EU. We might even have a government that wasn’t comprised of the kind of people who’d drown puppies whilst sweetly smiling.

All of this is to say that the media treats King the same way that it does these toe-rags. It prints his every utterance without once qualifying his remarks with reminders that we’re not dealing with a straight shooter but a guy who’s lied about everything but the colour of his piss. King might not be an out-and-out psychopath but he ticks a lot of the boxes in the clinical definition of one, and I never cease being amazed by how the press is able to ignore that.

This is why so many of us are contemptuous of the mainstream press. They run King’s comments without placing them in their proper context. Maybe it’s laziness and maybe it’s not, but it completely lacks balance as a result. Today’s articles are full of assertions about how the Takeover Panel has been hard on him … the guy is full of it, as anyone who’s followed the story knows. He lost the case against them two years ago and has been stalling and messing them about ever since. His last available appeal was lost when this was still out-with the legal system … everything that followed has been to force him to comply.

When King blames South African exchange controls for his delaying tactics he is indulging in his favourite pastime; he is lying through his teeth. Did you notice how STV didn’t contradict him when he said he had the money, when his brief told the court that he was skint?

Does that even count as journalism?

The Scottish media act as enablers for this geezer, and especially those who, today, must have had to swallow their own professional pride to run the details of somebody else’s interview with him, without once pointing out that it was a puff piece designed to push King’s own agenda and not a serious attempt to get answers to tough questions.

Being a stenographer is bad enough … but to be cutting and pasting someone else’s stenography? Jesus, do these people have no standards at all or what?

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#CelticNoise #Celtic #CelticFC #TheCelticBlog #News

[celticnoise]

In the latter part of the campaigns of Alexander the Great, around 334 BC, the renowned general held a conference with the ambassadors of the Celtae. He asked them what they were most afraid of in the world. To his dismay they didn’t give the answer he expected – which was that they were most afraid of him.

Instead they told him they were afraid of the sky falling.

Look at your history books; superstitious people have always been afraid of that.

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Some, who wouldn’t regard themselves as superstitious, still do.

Stewart Regan worried about it back in 2012, when he talked about Scottish football facing “financial Armageddon.”

He voiced even greater, more apocalyptic, fears for our society when he talked about how there might be “civil unrest” if Sevco weren’t given a league berth. These kind of comments were scandalous. They were fear mongering.

And they were designed to let Sevco off, scott-free.

Some resisted. We owe them an enormous debt, the late Turnbull Hutton foremost amongst them.

A good man. A man of integrity.

He refused to bow to the pressure, and he refused to be silent as it was being applied.

He stood on the steps at Hampden and he called the SFA corrupt.

He was not alone in thinking that way, or in standing tall.

He understood the great, historic, maxim fiat justitia ruat caelum; let justice be done though the Heavens fall.

If financial Armageddon had hit our clubs, including his, he believed it was a price the game should be willing to pay in order to send a message to the rest of the world that Scottish football placed a greater value on honesty and integrity than in money.

Think on that for a moment.

On what that means.

On the noble virtue in what Turnbull and others believed and acted on.

The sky didn’t fall, but many chairmen had expected it to, yet they did the right thing regardless. They understood that justice sometimes comes with consequences and most fully expected there to be serious ones in relation to that decision.

I believe history will record it as one of the finest moments in the history of our game.

I think Scottish football would have been destroyed had those men not done what they did.

Fans would have deserted in droves. Stadiums would have been empty. The credibility on which the sport depends – and the concept of a level playing which underpins all of it – would have been wrecked and in a manner from which it could not have been rebuilt. The scandal would have enveloped us, and it would have been the prism through which Scottish football was viewed – by the only people who mattered; the fans – forevermore.

The people who would have plunged us into this darkness are still in office.

They were never removed, as they should have been, after the Sevco decision was made.

That should have been followed with a comprehensive debate on their competency, which should have ended in their immediate dismissal.

The club’s failed to finish the job.

Perhaps they were afraid that the sky would fall if they did. Perhaps they thought there had been enough chaos in that long, heavy summer, and they pulled back from creating more. For all we can understand that decision, it was without question the wrong one.

The integrity of the sport demanded not only that the effort at cheating fail but that those who tried it suffer the consequences of ever having done it in the first place.

Justice should have done, whatever the cost.

We are still paying for that failure, and for others.

The Resolution 12 case hangs over the SFA like a killing weight, that and the full impact of what was happening at Ibrox in the last decade of David Murray’s tenure. There was clear-cut cheating, even criminality, at a club that was, for much of that time, trading whilst insolvent. The Big Tax Case is in its final act right now, and should wrap up later this year. The verdict in that case is said not to be of interest at Ibrox, but it cannot be of no concern at all.

The lie this club clings to – The Survival Lie – is one so dangerous to it that it hardly needs stating.

We now know, through courtroom testimony, that either the SFA or Rangers lied to UEFA over their European License for the 2011-12 season. That is an uncontested fact, established in front of a judge and a jury, and tweezered out of witnesses under oath.

Someone is guilty of defrauding Celtic and other clubs out of millions of pounds in potential earnings.

Someone is guilty of misleading the European governing body.

Someone is guilty of lying to the Lord Nimmo Smith commission about this affair.

This is no longer speculation.

No longer the province of the Internet Bampots.

It is no longer in the slightest dispute.

These matters are back in the public domain, and with them a lot of potential after-effects.

Because justice must be seen to be done, or what’s the game worth?

I know some of our jaded hacks don’t believe this matter meets the standards of news.

They are a joke.

I meant the likes of Tom English who decries “bigots and bores” who want what he appears not to; a clean game, run for the benefit of all clubs.

That they won’t even explore these issues far less actually comment on them and demand that restitution be made is scandalous.

Fans are the only people who seem to care; Stein was more right than he ever knew.

Fans are the game, and it becomes clearer with every day that passes that our media is simply a parasite feeding on the margins of it.

Taking, without contributing a thing.

It is outrageous for these people to try to lecture those of us who care.

The clubs must push the SFA towards resolving these issues, and if the SFA won’t then the people who run the show there have got to go.

It is important to keep the pressure on, and that pressure has to start with the fans.

The Celtic Trust are our key representatives in this matter, along with the Celtic Supporters Association and their brother organisation the Affiliation. They can take a lead in jointly calling for the game here to be cleaned up, and for investigations into the EBT years, up to and including issues surrounding Resolution 12.

In their every discussions with the board these must be the core messages and those messages must get through to the people who matter.

The SFA maintains the fiction that Sevco and Rangers are the same club; fine.

Let’s see what it’s worth to them.

We must demand an inquiry into the whole matter of Resolution 12 and an answer to the question about who lied to who.

If Rangers lied, the SFA has a choice; to accept that the club died in 2012, and acknowledge that publicly or, if they insist on the fiction, then the SFA must open an immediate disciplinary case against the club at Ibrox right now and make it clear that everything is on the table including a European football ban and suspension from domestic cup competitions.

If the SFA lied then all involved should walk the plank without delay and Celtic should demand financial or other restitution on behalf of its shareholders.

It will plunge the game into crisis.

The SFA will maintain that such suggestions are damaging and threaten the cohesion of the sport; even if that were true and not more scaremongering the other option isn’t one we should remotely consider; to drop these matters and pretend they never happened.

Where does our game go from there?

When cheating has been established and proved and has gone unpunished?

How can anyone say that doesn’t matter?

There are some who will ask what the point in all this is, when the game has “moved on” and “gotten past” the arguments of five years ago. The problem is that the game never did move on. Lessons were not learned. No punishment was ever handed out.

Fresh outrages were allowed to happen.

The perpetrators, from David Murray to Charles Green, from Campbell Ogilvie to Stewart Regan, all got off scott-free.

No titles were ever stripped, no lines drawn through the history, no trophies removed from the record. It stands today as a testament to corruption and the perverse influence of one club, and the successor to that club will fight tooth and nail to make sure none of this happens.

But it has to happen.

There’s simply no choice here, and if its board threatens to close the doors then that’s a bluff we should be perfectly willing to call.

If the bullies and psychopaths in the stand want to march on Hampden then a police line should be there to meet them and the documents signed and the punishments handed out come what may.

If it wrecks their club and forces it to the wall, then sorry but that’s just the way it goes, and whatever that means to the wider game is simply something we’ll have to deal with.

Because nothing is more important than seeing these wrongs set right.

The future integrity of the sport depends on the misdeeds of the past being dealt with in an appropriate manner which puts them to bed once and for all.

Until then, this will linger over our game like a toxic cloud, poisoning trust and upping the levels of intolerance and hate to unsurpassed levels.

There will be consequences.

There will be pain.

That’s the price we might all have to pay.

Let justice be done though the heavens fall.

Think on what that means. Think on what the alternative is.

Sevco is already shredding the regulations, bending the rules on financial declarations and pissing all over financial fair play.

King might well be running a criminal enterprise from his boardroom.

The SFA cowers from even making a definitive statement against racism – I am working away on that behind the scenes, but this is now Day 11 of their shameful silence.

In other words, the sky might fall anyway as a result of doing nothing.

We can’t allow it to happen that way.

We can’t allow these people to bring fresh crisis and fresh scandal on our clubs and on our sport.

If the heavens are to fall then let it be because we tried to make things better instead of watching as it rots from the inside.

Otherwise, what’s it all worth?

What’s the point?

Who wants to pay to watch a rigged game, with corrupt leaders and clubs too scared to change it?

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#CelticNoise #Celtic #CelticFC #TheCelticBlog #News