#fergus edgely | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sherifftillman · 1 year

Text

Cheers to the Weekend

Pairing: Tom Grant x f!Reader

Genre: smut

Tags: Make Up (film), 18+ (minors DNI), established relationship, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), pillow humping, cmnf (clothed male, naked female)

Summary: You and your boyfriend discuss what to do with your weekend off together.

Word count: 3k

"Babe, I'm here!" Your most favourite words. You jump up from where you'd been sprawled across the couch, running all of about five feet before being able to embrace your boyfriend. He buries his face into your shoulder, humming happily.

"You alright?" You ask as you let go, reaching over to gently intertwine your fingers with his instead.

"'M very tired," he admits with a sleepy smile. "How was your shift?"

"My cheeks hurt from all the customer-service-smiling I've been doing," you admit with a grimace. "Still, that family's the weekend staff's problem now."

"Yep, and now your only problem this weekend is having your annoyingly doting boyfriend constantly wanting to snuggle with you, watch TV with you, maybe go for a little walk on the beach with you…" Tom's head cocks from side to side as he lists off activities.

"That sounds like the opposite of a problem, actually," you grin at him, pulling him in for a kiss. He kisses you back, starting with little pecks that gradually linger more, getting more and more intense with each one, pulling you into the bedroom.

He pulls back with one final chaste kiss. "So, what was that family's deal?" He asks, sitting on the edge of the mattress to start unlacing his boots.

Getting yourself comfortable on the bed, you sigh loudly, "Mum was trying to find every excuse to get free stuff while her kid emptied all the soil out of Fergus' pot onto the floor. "

Tom lets out a sharp gasp as he tugs one shoe off, "Not Fergus the ficus! That's murder!" You laugh, and he smiles over at you adoringly. "See, this is why I couldn't do your job, I'd have told them all to piss off and made that kid scoop it all back in," he shakes his head as he kicks off the other shoe. He flops onto the bed on his stomach, groaning into the pillow. The way his face squishes into it makes you laugh again. "Ugh, was your bed always this comfortable, or is it just the day I've had?"

"It's definitely just you," you point out amusedly, laying on your side and propping yourself up by your elbow. "I could never do your job, either. Big, strong handyman, slaving away at that workshop, carrying all those big, heavy things…"

Tom laughs as he pushes himself up. "Y'give me far too much credit, angel."

You soon fall into your natural position in bed; Tom's arm wrapped around you, his fingers rubbing up and down the top of your arm, your head against his chest, his heart thumping against your cheekbone. It isn't long, though, before he squeezes your shoulder in a way you know means that he wants you to lean up so he can kiss you some more. Tom hums, "Really missed you today."

"Missed you, too, Tommy," you purr between kisses.

"Couldn't stop thinking about you," Tom admits, and you grin.

"Oh, yeah? What about me?"

"Just, y’know. Thinking about all the stuff we can do this weekend, all those things I were just saying about," he muses.

You grin coyly, "And nothing else?"

He rolls his eyes and tuts jokingly. "Yes, yes, and that stuff, too, horndog."

"What?" You giggle. "You're the one thinking about that stuff at work."

"Oh, and you're not?" Tom asks you in disbelief.

"...I didn't say that," you tease, moving over to straddle him.

"Oh, hello," he grins at the change of position, his hands running up and down the sides of your body, wrapping his arms around your back once you lean down to kiss him intensely, hips grinding down against his. He hums against your lips, "Mmm, somebody's eager, aren't they?"

"No shit, look at you," you grin back before kissing him again, your tongues engaging in a twisting dance of passion, accompanied by the harmony of you both moaning together.

"Fuck, yes, sweets, y'feel so good like that," Tom groans. "Keep making those sounds, yeah? Please, s'fucking hot." You move just slightly to moan deliberately into his ear, and his grip on you tightens. "Mmm, is this what you've been thinking about all day, love? Counting down the minutes until you could ravish me?"

With a sheepish giggle, you lie, "No…"

"Certainly seems like it," he raises his eyebrows at you as you sit upright, rocking yourself in circles against the erection you feel pressing through his tracksuit bottoms. He bites his lip tightly as he watches you, his hands slipping underneath your pyjama top to squeeze your hips, digging his grip in. He groans, "Want this off, want to see my fingers press into you."

"Is that all you want to see from me being topless?" You mimic his tone from earlier, and Tom laughs as he helps you pull the garment off of your body. He constantly slides his hands up and down your body, stopping each way to grip your breasts and your hips. Every squeeze earns him an evermore desperate buck of your hips.

Tom smiles dreamily up at you. "'M never gonna get tired of this view, pretty girl. My pretty girl."

You hope your, "'M not," is muttered quietly enough for Tom not to hear it, but no such luck.

"Uh, excuse you, you're fucking gorgeous, babe. 'M a lucky, lucky boy," he smirks, pulling your face down to kiss you again. He gasps out a moan against your lips, "And the way you're humping me like that, fuck, so good. Make me feel so good, looking like that, 've hit the jackpot, me. Fuck, is that good for you, too, yeah?"

You play with the collar of his shirt. "Please, Tommy… Wanna really make you feel good."

He groans again, this time out of exhaustion. "Listen, babe, literally any other time, you know I'd have my clothes off at that in an instant, but… 'M just so tired tonight, angel. I'm sorry."

"I could just ride you?" You offer, and he chuckles, rubbing his face wearily.

"You know I don't like just sitting there and letting you do all the work," he frowns up at you.

You mirror him, "And yet you'll spend the best part of an hour going down on me without expecting anything back?"

He pulls a face of intrigue. "What a wonderful idea." Before you can react, he wraps an arm and a leg around you, swinging his whole body around to roll you onto your back, as he hovers over you.

You giggle, "What happened to being tired, eh?"

"That was my last bit of energy," he grins back. "Well, almost. Think I've got just about enough to get these off you." He hooks his fingers over the elastic of your shorts, pulling them down your legs before settling himself between them. "There she is," he coos under his breath, his fingertips tracing the outside of your folds. "I've especially missed you."

You groan, "Tommy… 'S not faaaair."

"What isn't, angel?" he asks, sliding his middle finger inside of you with ease. You gasp out a long moan, your eyes unfocusing, and he grins up at the sight of you.

“Wanna make you feel good, too,” you whine.

He tuts, shaking his head. “Now, now. Sulking in’t gonna get you anywhere, is it?” He pulls his finger almost completely out of you before sinking it back in again quicker. You thrash your fists against the mattress and he breathes out a soft laugh. “What did I just say, sweets?” he asks in the same soft tone as before.

“Not sulking,” you pout. “Just wanna - wanna touch you and taste you and fu- Fuck, Tommy, I really wanna fuck you, please,” you plead as he adds another finger.

He does climb up your body, still working your core with one hand, to silently kiss you. His motions get far more rapid, moving in and out of you until his fingers are so slick with your juices that they just slip out of you, to which he then starts rubbing your clit at the same speed. Your cries of pleasure come out as muted vibrations against his lips, and you don’t realise him taking the pillow next to you and pulling it back down with him even as he breaks away. You blink your heavy-lidded eyes over and over, watching the imaginary spots that shower your field of vision slowly dissipate.

“Plenty of time for that, love,” he soothes once he’s settled back down where he wants to be. “But right now, I fucking need your thighs around me.” His palms slide up and down the inner sides of your legs as a gentle prompt, and you comply, crossing your ankles loosely between his shoulder blades. He sighs contentedly. “So soft…” He shuffles into position to press a kiss to your clit, his hands wrapping around the flesh of your thighs to hold them in place. “So warm…” you hear him from the cave he’s made for himself between your legs as you feel him nuzzle his way further down to your core. “Perfect.”

His tongue works as tenderly as it would if he were kissing you, gently poking its way through your folds and sliding through. Your fingers card through his curls as his head turns, this way and that, as he plays you like an instrument, eliciting different noises from you with every motion. Your legs twitch, instinctively squeezing together around his head, and he moans delightfully, pushing down on your thighs to tighten their hold on his head even more. He snakes his tongue inside of you, extending it to its stiffest, most pointed length as he bobs his head back and forth to fuck you with it.

Your legs wrap tighter still around him, and you feel his grip slip around to your ass cheeks to grip them roughly. The sensation of his fingernails digging into your supple flesh have you crying out in pleasure, which you can tell from his moans is turning him on insanely quickly.

But, with your thighs in a vice around him, it gets harder for you to grab his hair, make a mess of his curls so that when he resurfaces, it's obvious for the rest of the day what he's been up to. You don't get to look into those dark, rich eyes of his that caramelise when the sun sets just right through the window.

You pout, "Tommy…" as you relax your thighs, pulling them slightly away from him.

"Everything alright, sweets?" He asks with concern.

You continue in the same tone, "Miss your face."

With a soft laugh, he kneels up slightly, your heels naturally sliding off of his shoulder blades as he does. "Of course, angel, 'm sorry." He pushes your legs wide open, looking down adoringly at your glistening folds. "Such a perfect, pretty thing, isn't she?" he smiles, running the pad of his finger along them. Placing his hands just within the crooks of your legs, he gently pushes outward, spreading you even wider. He marvels at the sight in front of him studiously, his eyes darting around until he places another, calculated, kiss down between your legs, his lips and tongue working in ways no form of self-pleasure could ever replicate.

His eyes flutter shut as he flicks his tongue in all kinds of formations: he lays it flat against you as he licks along your folds from the bottom up; he gently traces the insides of your lips with the tip; he waggles his tongue back and forth, at a speed your eyes can barely keep up with, as it works your clit from every angle he can move his head to reach. Every sound of pleasure you make is harmonised by his humming against you.

As you melt against him, warm brown eyes flicker up to look at you through his eyelashes as he starts suckling on your clit. All you can see of him are his curls, now wildly spread out thanks to your handiwork, his eyes and his nose, but with just those alone, his expression tells you how much he adores you. The way his brow softly knits together, the glint in his eye, it makes you feel like a goddess that he's obsessed with worshipping.

You cry out, "Fuck, Tom… Feel… So good, 'm gonna -" The rest of your sentence is swallowed in a high-pitched whine as you feel the first pang of your crescendo forming.

Tom groans against you, pulling away just to tell you, "Perfect timing as always, angel, this has been turning me on like mad, wanna make you cum so badly."

You whimper, "Please… Want yours, too, Tommy."

He tuts, shaking his head. "No time, sweets. Think you coming on my face is exactly what I need to get off, too." Before you can answer back, he resumes suckling on your clit, burying two fingers inside of you and working them at the same speed he had earlier, until you're seeing those spots again. "So fucking gorgeous when you're all fucked out, babe," he croons. "C'mon, be a good girl and come all over me."

As you let your orgasm take full control over your body, he stops fingering you to immediately get his tongue in there, cleaning you up as you cream all over his mouth for what feels like eternity. His look changes as he devours you, one you recognise as his own orgasmic expression. You notice a little movement in the corner of your eye, and prop yourself up on your elbow to investigate.

You'd not even noticed you were a pillow short, let alone that he had slid his tracksuit bottoms to his knees to fold the pillow between his thighs, humping it as erratically as he'd move if he were coming. You let out a small, disappointed whimper. "Y'didn't need to use a pillow, 'm right here."

"Can't eat you out and cum inside you at the same time, sweets," he points out with a smirk, his whole body looking on the verge of giving up all movement as he slides back up to be eye-level with you.

"I could've sat on your face and sucked you off at the same time," you retaliate in a similar tone, and he chuckles.

"Nah, needed that. To just make my girl forget that anything else exists for a bit. Helps me feel the same, too," he explains, leaning over to kiss your forehead. "S'pose I should clean up what's in these boxers, though, eh?"

"Is it weird that it actually turns me on, knowing you came in your pants over me?" You ask as he heads into the bathroom, and half his laughter gets drowned out by the sound of running water. As he's cleaning himself up, you notice the discarded pillow and start rearranging the others until the one he'd been humping is beneath your head.

As he returns, he looks quizzically at the bottom of the bed, pointing to where the pillow had been. You bury half your face into it, smiling coyly as you look over at him, and he bites his lip. "Speaking of things that weirdly turn y'on, that's so doing it for me," he groans under his breath as he sits on the corner of the bed and reaches again for his shoes.

You frown, "Where you off to?"

"We have to eat at some stage, horndog," he teases, leaning over to tap your nose playfully.

"What are you gonna go and get, then?" You ask as he puts on his second boot.

"Thinking that Chinese place just outside of here, it's never that long of a wait," he shrugs, and you hum happily as you redress yourself in your pyjamas, opting to stay sitting up on your bed as he gets up.

"Sounds good to me. Could I have a -" Tom interrupts you by reciting your order exactly as he walks towards the door. Feeling nothing but the pure ecstacy of being around someone who remembers even the littlest details, you mindlessly call back to him, "You're the best! Love you!"

Your little bubble of contentment pops when you realise what you've said. How it's the first time you've said it. And it's just on a throwaway goodbye on his way to get a takeaway. He rushes the few paces it takes to get back to your bedroom to look at you, his expression tough to read, and say, "Say that again." You start to fluster, unsure how you can potentially backtrack from here, but he kneels one leg back onto your bed, leaning over to cradle your cheek in his hand. "Please. Say it properly, to my face," he pleads softly.

Grinning widely, you place your hand over his and look him dead in the eyes as he gives you that worshipping gaze all over again. "I love you, Tommy." A surprised chirp escapes the back of your throat as he tackles you back down onto the bed, furiously kissing your lips over and over and over again, and you laugh against him. "What happened to getting food, horndog? Now you've made me hungry!"

"'M not doing this to fuck ya, 'm doing this 'cause I love ya," he mutters as he kisses your neck. You lay back and revel in how good it feels until your stomach betrays you, growling loudly. The breath from Tom's laugh tickles your neck as he slides down to pull your pyjama top up enough to expose your tummy so he can kiss it. "Alright, message received, loud and clear, boss," he says directly to it before climbing off the bed. You giggle as you readjust your top, and he looks at you softly. "I do love you, y'know."

"If you did, you wouldn't keep me starving here, now, would you?" You tease, falling apart with laughter once more as he bolts out of the door. You head back to where the sofa is - where you'd left your phone - and send him a text: I love you, too, btw. 😘

#tom grant #tom grant x reader #tom grant x you #tom grant imagine #tom grant fanfiction #tom grant fanfic #tom grant fic #tom make up #tom make up x reader #tom make up x you #tom make up imagine #tom make up fanfiction #tom make up fanfic #tom make up fic #*myfics #fic: tom g

293 notes · View notes

captain-mj · 1 year

Note

I plead with you, on my hands and knees, for some Selkie!Soap x Human!Ghost where Ghost meets Soap's father-

Oh hell yeah! In this au, Ghost is a changeling, I hope its okay that I kept with that

Soap was frantic, going back and forth between pacing and rambling. It was only their second day of leave and his dad asked Soap to bring his new boyfriend.

Ghost didn't want to tell him to calm down since he had Soap's coat on so instead, he just stopped him with his hands.

"Johnny, it's going to be okay."

"You're about to meet my family!"

"I've been talking to your mom for weeks." Ghost reminded him gently. "You're going to be okay."

"My sisters will be there! Both of them!" Soap said softly. "What if they don't like you? What if you don't like them?"

Ghost laughed. "Usually that's my line." He moved closer and held his hands. "You like me and I like you. That's all that matters."

Soap nodded. "My dad is..."

"I know. I know." Ghost sighed. "We'll get through it. It's just two days and after this, we can go back to our cabin."

Soap leaned into his shoulder. "I don't understand why he wants to meet you."

Simon softened and squeezed him. "It's okay, love. Promise." They were rather close to each other.

"You called me love."

"It's a good nickname for you." Simon tried not to blush, aware that he didn't have his mask.

Soap leaned forward and kissed him softly. "Mo fhíorghrá." He pushed Simon's hair back and trailed his fingers through it.

"What does that mean?"

"A devious insult. You probably don't want to know."

"You're a fucking bastard. Go finish getting packed. I'm going to ask Price to extend our leave when we're done."

"Thank God. I want to spend more time here."

Ghost grinned. "With me?"

"Nah. Wish you'd stay outside, you bawbag." Johnny teased back before pulling away to get dressed.

Ghost grabbed his things and waited for him.

The journey there was luckily quick and then they were on Soap's parents doorsteps.

Soap had managed to chew all of his fingers to the quick in anxiety.

The man that opened the door was... well, he looked almost exactly like Soap. His hair was longer though, cut in a more... traditionally male cut to Soap's mohawk. His eyes were green and he was clearly a bit older.

"Hello, sir." Ghost straightened up, glad he had his mask on. The man set him on edge and he couldn't decide if it was what Soap told him or just... the vibe around him.

Soap smiled. "Hey, dad!"

"Fergus MacTavish. So you're my sons..."

"Husband." Ghost saw his eyes go to the coat.

"I see. Come in. Your mom is in the kitchen, Johnny." Fergus made a dismissive motion and Ghost watched him shrink down just a bit before slinking off to the kitchen.

Ghost sat across from Fergus and immediately noticed someone walking right behind him.

Davina, Ghost could tell because her hair was dyed a bright purple, smiled at him. "Are you Ghost? Johnny's talked about about you before!" She was the other selkie.

"Oh? He's talked about me?" He could feel Fergus staring at him.

"Yep. Said you're a giant hardass who works him too hard." She smiled and winked. Ghost huffed.

"He's right. I'm his Lieutenant. Someone has to keep him in line."

Davina laughed. "Cup of coffee?"

"I'd kill for a tea."

Davina laughed harder. "Wow, you actually are that british. I'll see what I can rustle up. Mom keeps some usually." She left him in the room with Fergus again.

The man was still staring at him.

Simon thought about when he came home from the army for the first time. The way his mom's sleeve had lifted up just a little and he had seen his dad's handprints on her. He had dragged him outside and beat him in the street like he was a dog.

This man hadn't done anything in his sight, but already, he felt the same anger he had felt that day bubbling up. His mom had tried to pressure him into seeing his dad in his final days and he hadn't because he was sure he would take him out of the bed and finish the job. The anger was something he knew well. He dealt with it occasionally on missions.

"So Simon." Ghost grit his teeth. "How long have you had his coat?"

"A week now. Not too long. Still getting... used to it." Ghost measured his words carefully.

"I see. Treating my son well?" Fergus tilted his head, looking genuine enough. "Selkies are a bit fragile. Emotionally. I'm sure you've noticed how sad they can get."

No. Ghost hadn't. "In their eyes right? Always so sad."

"Exactly. It's best to keep them busy. So when can I be expecting him to leave the military?"

"What?"

"You're not going to let him reenlist are you? Shouldn't you keep him at home?"

Ghost stared for a minute, more than a little taken back. He was expecting cruelty like he experienced as a child. Beatings or being told you were useless. Not this. It caught him off guard.

"I want to keep him in the military. Keep him close to me."

"Makes sense. Easy access huh?" His tone was light. Normal. Like they were talking about the weather.

"I like spending time with him." Ghost answered honestly.

"If you tell him to shut up, they can't speak until you give them permission to. Comes in handy. Especially with my kids." He laughed and had sorta leaned in. Trading secrets. "You really can make them do whatever you want. As long as they can physically do it, they will. They have these instincts too. This drive to be the best for their person. Best partner. Best friend. Anything they can. Eventually, you barely have to order them."

Ghost felt bile in the back of his throat. "That simple huh?"

"Yep. Snap your fingers and he'll jump." He snapped his fingers. "Just make sure they stay busy. Can't let them find the coats, ya know?"

Ghost held Soap's coat a little closer around himself. "Right..."

Davina came back with a cup of tea for him and cup of coffee for her dad. She perched on the window seat, right behind Fergus. She glared into Ghost, her calm demeanor disappearing.

Slowly, she mouthed at him. "Watch yourself."

Oh thank god. She was cool.

He didn't pay much attention anymore, just staring blankly ahead as Davina and Fergus talked. Already, he was starting to regret this.

Soap sat next to him, almost but not quite touching him which he was thankful for. Ghost picked up that Fergus didn't talk to him with the others around. He tried not to think too much about that.

Soap's mom was lovely. She smiled at him and commented that it was nice to have someone else that doesn't drink coffee.

"I hope vanilla is okay? I don't really keep Earl Gray in stock..." She was a tiny lady, but her hair was incredibly dark for her age. It curled around her and was clearly something she took care of.

Ghost quickly shook his head. "No, vanilla is fine."

"It's his favorite but he won't admit that." Soap laughed and Ghost instinctively pulled him just a little closer. Fergus gave him a sharp look but Ghost interrupted before anyone got the chance to say anything.

"Maybe." Ghost smiled.

"Oh! Do you want to see some baby photos?" Moray, Soap's mom, said excitedly. "I never get to show his partners these!" She grabbed a book and his sister quickly crowded on Ghost's other's side. He tried not to fidget too much at all the contact.

"Mom..." Soap whined but he let her.

Moray put the book on the table. "A little hard to explain that he was born with white hair." She showed him the baby photo of tiny Soap. His eyes were almost black, like an actual seals and his hair was a pure white color like snow. As the photos changed to his toddler years, he looked perfectly human but they were now intermingled with pictures of a tiny seal pup.

''You were so small." Ghost hummed. "So you guys actually turn completely into a seal?"

"Completely." Soap smiled. "It's pretty fun. I'd have to have my coat back though."

"Never going to happen then." Ghost replied like he was told. He saw Moray flinch but one glance between them and she immediately relaxed.

As hard as he tried, Ghost couldn't imagine being this vulnerable and also this trusting. He could be puppeting Soap to act like this around his family and none of them would know.

What a disconcerting thought. He glanced at Soap.

Ghost hadn't noticed it earlier, but around his family, he could see it. This faint sadness. It was more prominent in their mom. Davina had it, though only when looking at her family.

He couldn't handle this. He needed air.

"Excuse me." Ghost pulled away and went outside, hugging the coat closer. He couldn't feel the cold, but he knew outing himself as not human wouldn't be smart. The snow piled up but he just stepped out.

Fucking hell.

He missed his mom.

Ghost jerked up, straightening his posture. Where the fuck did that come from?

He thought about her. She'd love Soap. Of course, she would though.

Mary Riley was a good woman.

What would she do?

She'd help. Somehow.

Ghost should help too.

Simon let out a breath. "Alright. I'm going to find this woman's coat if it fucking kills me."

#call of duty modern warfare ii #soap call of duty #soapghost #johnny soap mactavish #soap mw2 #simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #selkie soap

336 notes · View notes

lestatslestits · 5 months

Text

It’s still Monday (at least for me, which means I’m not late for TOTA Takeover Day 1, dedicated to Rosalie Garrity.

So enjoy a little ficlet, which is. So so sad. I’m sorry.

(And also totally not a projection of my own OCD symptoms)

The halls of St. Jude’s are quiet and it takes Rosalie a moment to understand why: Campbell Bain isn’t running through them like a bat-out-of-somewhere-she-can’t-say, because of some nebulous Bad Thing that might happen if she does (she doesn’t know what that thing might be, and she doesn’t want to know). Normally Campbell keeps the hospital lively, an excitable outlier among patients who are kept largely sedate by their medications. The days when he’s not gamboling his way through the ward usually indicate a slide into depression so black that it hurts to look at for too long. She’s got a soft spot for Campbell that she tries not to overthink because it always leads her back memories of Robbie, who she’ll never see look that grown (if you can call Campbell that: there’s still something of a puppy that has not grown into its extremities about him). She’s taken to sitting with him when he’s in a bad way, chattering about the goings-on elsewhere in the ward. It seems to comfort him, and it’s nearly a distraction from the knowledge that she’s fighting a one-woman war for cleanliness on the losing side. Not quite, but nearly.

She makes up her mind and makes her way to his room. Through the latticed pattern of the window in his door, she sees him lying in bed, curled in on himself. His face isn’t visible, he’s just the back of a loudly patterned tee-shirt and a tuft of hair. She raises a gloved hand to knock on the door.

“You don’t want to go in there.”

She nearly jumps out of her skin. Fergus emerges as though from thin air, as he’s wont to do. He’s as stone-faced as usual, staring through dark bangs. Fergus is intimidating, but she’s never felt intimidated by him, a paradox that she can’t quite unravel. “And why ever not?” She demands. He nods his head towards the window and she peers inside just in time to see Campbell move from a state of total stillness into a coughing fit that rattles his whole frame.

So that’s why he’s not roaming the corridors. He’s ill.

“Oh Lord,” she says, taking an instinctive step away from the door. A wave of shame washes over her. By the time of Robbie’s death she had been so pathologically afraid of germs that the very act of stepping into the hospital—a hospital for proper sick people, not loonies—to visit him had been nearly impossible, an exercise in terror and a battle that she lost almost as often as she won. Many afternoons had been spent waiting in the car, sobbing, while her husband made the visits alone. She knows she’ll never get those lost moments back. The floodgate to her memories opens and she’s struck full force by them as she sees Campbell sick in bed.

“Just thought you would want to know,” Fergus tells her. Then he’s gone, as quickly as he appeared, and before she can thank him.

Rosalie stands outside the door, at war with herself. She wants nothing more than to be able to step into that room and sit on the edge of Campbell’s bed, rubbing the ache in his taut shoulders away when another round of coughs consumes him. It would be like penance for Robbie, a way of doing better for someone else than she had for him.

But she can’t. Once she thinks she’ll just crack open the door to ask after him, but she can’t even wrap her fingers around the handle, no matter how she tries.

In the end she stands there, frozen in place, for the better part of twenty minutes, until Stuart comes and asks her with a sneer if she isn’t afraid of the germs sneaking out through the crack under the door. Then she has to retreat to change her clothes and wipe down her shoes, a feeling of shame heavy in her chest.

Her brief guardian angel presence goes totally unnoticed by Campbell, who never uncurls himself from his protective posture, and never turns towards the door.

#takin over the asylum #tota takeover #tota #rosalie garrity #ruth mccabe #takin’ over the asylum #takin over the asylum fanfic

37 notes · View notes

always-outlander · 10 months

Text

Outlander 7x05 Easter Eggs and Spoilers - “Singapore”

Spoilers below the cut!

Singapore is the name of this episode, and it opens with goats on a cliff face. This is in reference to the Highlander’s whom fight for the British, we later find out. The title is a direct reference to the battle of Singapore and the attack of the Japanese, which Claire describes to Jamie as a parallel with the impending attack on the fort, which informs his actions for the episode.

Lallybroch

Gem and Mandy are playing in a graveyard, as Mandy wanted to talk to Jamie. Jemmy tells Bree that Jamie told him to leave him a stone and built him a cairn if he ever came to Lallybroch. I try very hard to tolerate Sophie’s acting but she’s so wooden at times. Other times she’s fine (mainly in the more emotional scenes) but her line delivery is quite hard to swallow sometimes. She has changed her pronounciation of ‘Da’ like 4 times now, and that’s hard for me to ignore.

Roger and Bree read another letter from Jamie and Claire. The letter is dated June 18, 1777, which is our ONLY way of knowing the timeline and how much time has passed between episodes. In it, Claire writes that Jamie continues to dream about the children and Bree reveals she’s been to the fort before with Frank. Her and Roger decide not to look at the history books and find out what happened there.

Before Bree heads to work, these two have another attempt at a romantic scene that doesn’t quite land (a hard hat in bed and his hands down her pants just made me uncomfortable). These two try but they just don’t have it!!!! And I think Richard Rankin could if he wasn’t opposite Sophie, as he is a great actor.

Jemmy gets off the bus from school and Roger follows him into his hide out (which I think is referenced in the books as a place Fergus used to play). Roger tries to talk to him about it and Jemmy says he got in trouble at school for defending their family in Gaelic. This child actor playing Jemmy is so great!!! He’s doing such a good job!

Ticonderoga

They have now been there for months, and Jamie once again organically finds himself leading men, this time they refer to themselves as ‘Fraser’s Irregulars.’ Claire is practicing medicine under Lieutenant Stactoe, and the fort is under the command of Saint Clair. We also meet General Formoy (who is mirroring the ignorance of the Bonny Prince). Ian has reunited with them as well.

Sugarloaf hill is mentioned as a point the English can attack from. For those unfamiliar with the location of Fort Ticonderoga, it sits on the edge of the New York and Vermont boarders, along a narrow portion of Lake Champlain. The fort is surrounded by water on three sides, and as of now it doesn’t look like there is a Sugarloaf hill near the site. There’s a sugarloaf ski mountain in Maine, though!

Jamie has a dejavuex moment with Formoy when he uses his knowledge to advice against an attack and is found denied and insulted, akin to a goat for being Scottish (like the episode preview implies). Jamie is once again being sidelined and watching history repeat itself with the ignorance of leaders like Formoy and the Bonnie Prince (and simultaneously history is…happening? But where they know the outcome, could you consider that history repeating itself?).

Denzel Hunter and Claire finally meet towards the end of the episode and the two of them help a man named Walter Woodcock together. It’s the dream team finally united! They successfully opperate on Mr. Woodcock and amputate his leg, but only after Denny so kindly recognizes Claire’s struggle to be taken seriously and back door allows for her to help him.

The Hunters and William

Denzel makes a comment about attending medical school in London via a distant relative after their parents died. Their mother died in childbirth having Rachel, and their father died a few years later in a flood having drown. The Quakers who took them in made that connection for Denzel when they learned of a shared last name Hunter, so this scene hammers home the importance of their Meeting (and reminds us that they are now kicked out).

William and Denzel debate over morals and how Denzel can be within his beliefs while practicing medicine. They come upon a man on the road who offers them a place to stay for the night and they are fed a disgusting meal of rat stew. William is shown the realities of the war and he and Rachel speak outside. In the few short scenes they’ve had you can tell William has a crush on her, which is exactly how the books describe their relationship from Williams internal monologue.

While sleeping, the Johnsons attempt to attack William, Denny and Rachel with knives and William is able to show his strength and skills as a fighter. Charles is such a great casting, as he is every bit the young man described in the book and his size and strength is akin to Jamie’s. The Johnson’s have evidently done this many times before so to steal from un expecting visitors.

William feels guilt over taking that man’s life and tells Rachel that he’d never killed anyone before. This scene you can see Jamie’s heart come through in him. He has a flurry of feelings about it that he cannot sort through and worries that Rachel might think less of him due to her beliefs but she reassures him she knows him well enough to know he did it to save them.

When they part William tells them to ask for his uncle should they run into trouble. He gives them the money from Ian and keeps the rosary beads. When Rachel watches him leave with fond eyes Denny reminds her that he is a British soldier, and violence follows men like that. There’s a sweet scene between the siblings where Denny gives Rachel an out, but she insists they stay together.

Loch Errochry

The Land Rover Bree and her boss drive around in is a dream, I want one. The setting is also stunning, having driven through the highlands last year it’s still so hard to believe that country looks like that. Bree meets her new male employees including Rob Cameron (!!!). He immediately locks her into the tunnel like a jackass and Bree discovers the light they gave her has no batteries. She quickly lights a match and finds some lights and proceeds to inspect the tunnel. I’d be clostrophobic down there and it feels like something out of a nightmare watching her walk through the tunnels.

She hears buzzing halfway down and a weird blue light at the end that she has to walk through (the graphics are strange but hey, hard to depict what was written) and it leads her to her escape. It’s implied that somewhere in the tunnel may be a portal for time travel.

Bree tells the kids at dinner about being trapped in the tunnel and how she escaped but you can tell she’s still unsettled by the event. Her and Roger step away from the table to discuss it. She’s worried the men are never going to respect her and Roger reminds her Claire did it at Harvard. A bit of a turn around from him being slightly sexist last episode about her working in general.

While in the office they uncover a hidden drawer in the desk and he gifts her a pen. Doesn’t undo his comments from last episode but that’s just me, and his insistence on her wearing knickers and a hard hat needs to stahhhhhp.

Bree heads to the bar where the men and Rob Cameron are hanging out and tries to awkwardly earn their respect. They all try and play it off as a joke and she tries to insert her dominance. Sophie also can’t say the word “anything” without a Scottish accent.

Young Ian

Joseph Brant of the Mohawk is at Shadow Lake and Ian is recruited to deliver a letter to him. Ian is reluctant because of personal reasons. He asks Claire how baby’s come to be and why he was unable to get his Mohawk wife pregnant. His belief is that his spirit was not strong enough and fears he cannot get a woman pregnant again and would refuse to take another wife. He tells Claire that Jamie told him about sperm and asks her to look at his (had to laugh). When asked, Ian tells her Iseabell was perfect and not deformed, but Claire has a Frank conversation to help Ian understand that it’s not a matter of his spirit but science and gives him renewed hope he may be able to have a child with another woman one day.

When he arrives at the Mohawk camp he sees Emily, who is happy to see him. She tells him she now has two children and is happy. Ian seems to finally be at peace with that, and asks to meet her son (who does not look Mohawk). He tells Ian that Emily’s mother tells him he’s the child of his spirit. Ian gives him the name Ian James and I’m sat here smiling like a fool over how cute that scene was.

Simon Fraser

One of the few scenes we get with Claire and a Jamie this episode, Jamie tells Claire that a Simon Fraser is one of Burgoyne brigadiers on the side of the British. Book readers will know that he is a ticket home to Scotland for them later on, and Jamie tells her it is not the same Simon Fraser she met in season 2 but not the old fox or his son but one of Jamie’s second cousins from Balnain (located outside of Inverness, not far from Loch Ness). It is also now understood that with their troops low on supplies they will need to attack the fort sooner than later. Jamie knows that a Fraser in the camp, the troops will know well enough to attack from higher ground as Highlanders do.

Jamie brings Formoy and the men to higher ground to show them that it is possible to the English can reach them by cannon, and once again finds himself standing across an incompetent soldier (with a terrible accent). These scenes are so short and choppy, and for that I dislike them. It’s not enough time with Jamie (or Claire for that matter) before we are abruptly switched over to another character. The atmosphere of them walking around at the Fort was palpable in the books, and we are missing it so far in the show sadly.

Later on the British set up shop in the exact place Jamie warned of, and Jamie uses his knowledge how Highlander warfare to help lead an evacuation by boat. Claire won’t allow Walter Woodcock to leave the fort because his injury is still too fresh, and sadly has to leave him. She tells him due to his injury the British will have to show him mercy, but also gives him laudanum. I was surprised she didn’t outright show him how to use it if he needed to drift off to sleep. The civilians are all put into boats in the lake and the fort is abandoned. The next sequence of events in the books is fairly action packed so I’m curious how they go about it all next episode.

Ian and Rachel

When Ian returns to the fort, he spots Rachel. A critique I have of this season is that they make the traveling seem so fast, and it’s incredibly hard to keep track of time passed. Ian was just in Virginia, now he’s suddenly back in New York. That said, these two have great chemistry without even trying, and Ian let’s Rachel know Claire is his aunt. It’s implied they will be seeing much more of one another, thankfully. I think the actors have done a great job of establishing the differences between Rachel and Ian and Rachel and William - Izzy plays Rachel differently around Ian and it’s great work on her part.

In the End

Roger goes out into the dark to search for the Nucklavee and we see a camera angle from across the yard watching the front door of the house. I suspect next episode we will actually set eyes on Buck for the first time.

The episode ends when Bree goes to the graveyard to talk to Jamie and brings him a stone. She tells him about her new job, buying Lallybroch, etc. and it fades to black (a weak ending and my least favorite thus far). Nothing happens this episode action wise, and it was mainly an episode used for establishing upcoming plot. The pacing is getting really bad in that such large expanses of tiem are not being explained. How in one episode did Jamie have two conversations about Sugarloaf Hill and the British Invasion, and The Hunters / William Travel by Horse to New York from Virginia, Ian leave camp to go see Emily and return…it’s so many moving parts and it’s not clear how they all make sense. Even having read the books I’m getting confused with how they are choosing to speed things up.

I will say this until I’m blue in the face, but this show works best when Claire and Jamie are together and on screen, and every time I dislike an episode it’s in large part due to a lack of them. That can be said with this episode, but I’m optimistic we will see much more of them next episode thanks for the preview.

Episode 6 Preview

Preview for episode 6 shows what looks to be an action filled attack on the Fort - we see Jamie attacking British soldiers, William in a red coat again, Roger running into the yard angrily, and Ian and Rachel getting closer. Lots of good things that I hope we get proper screen time to dissect.

#outlander #outlanderedit #jamie x claire #jamie fraser #claire fraser #sam heughan #claire x jamie #jammf #caitriona balfe #james alexander malcolm mackenzie fraser #outlander spoilers #outlander season 7 #outlander 7x05 #outlander review #outlander books #outlander ep: Singapore

66 notes · View notes

danjaley · 4 months

Text

[The following scene was impossible to pose, but I wanted it in the story like this, so I'm leaving most details to your imagination.]

Matthew stirred and mumbled something that was entirely unintelligible. “You may take my calendar from my pocket”, Fergus said, “and write on the blank pages what you want to say.”

So far Matt had thought all this was really happening, but now he knew he must be dreaming. Father never allowed anyone to write into his calendar – although they all longed to use the tiny slim pencil attached to it. He said they’d get calendars of their own once they had appointments to note. Which wouldn't be until a very hazy future when they were grown up. And now Matt couldn’t even properly enjoy it. With a swimming head and clumsy fingers he opened a blank page. “I’m so thirsty” was such a long sentence with so many letters. When he had written “I”, he wondered if he’d ever make it to the crucial part. Father called for Owen to stop the carriage. Without the rumbling it went better. Father always knew what to do or say.

“Do you want something to drink?” Fergus asked cautiously, and Matt nodded against his chest. Luckily Fiona had packed a bottle of water for them. Fiona always knew what to do, and Fergus wished she could have come with them. He used a good deal of the water to wash Matt’s face, as he didn’t want him to drink his own blood. Twenty-four hours ago he’d never have thought he could do all this without even getting to the edge of tears. He had feared this excursion almost as much as Matt had, but now he felt he could manage. He was the head of the family after all.

He always kept the slightly blood-stained page from his pocket-calendar, with the very sloped line on it: “Im so tirsy”

#mcc fergus au #mccarric scenes season 3 #tw: blood #tw: dental

33 notes · View notes

the-frostiest-of-flakes · 4 months

Text

Test Run

Fandom: rotbtd | Characters: Merida, Rapunzel, Hiccup, Jack Frost

Prompt(s): Merida, Favorite AU

Word count: 1851 | Warnings: None | Read on AO3

Summary: While giving her new gear a test run, Merida nearly dies and winds up meeting several budding heroes. Some more impressive than others.

Author's Note: I wrote this for the third week's prompts of the 2023 Big Four Fest, which were Merida and Favorite AUs. My favorite au is a very specific one by lucidorange on tumblr, and it's based around the larger superhero au. Unfortunately, the creator of the au deleted their tumblr account a while back, so everything I know about the au is thanks to the wayback machine and reblogs of the comic. (You can find part 1 here)

I tried to give the triplets more unique personalities while still staying in line with the au versions. I hope you enjoy!

---

Merida DunBroch, daughter of the wildly successful owner and CEO of DunBroch Technologies, Fergus DunBroch, was doing her homework.

Or, that’s what she was supposed to be doing.

In reality, she was perched on a flat roof thirty stories up, the lights of the city shining like stars below her. It was beautiful, and the wind gently caressing her face only added to the serenity. Unfortunately, it was currently being ruined by multiple voices jabbering in her ear. Tuning back in, she found that they were still going on about features and safety and blah, blah, blah. Pretty much everything she didn’t care about.

“—and if you notice sparks, tell us immediately and drop the—”

“If you’re done yapping,” she interrupted, grip tightening on her bow, “I’m gonna take this gear for a spin now.”

“Be careful,” buzzed one of the three nearly identical voices in her ear. Her amazing sister-senses told her it was Hubert. “This is just a test run — we don’t know if there are any glitches with the suit or bow.”

A second voice — Hamish — piped up, “Not that there will be any, considering we made it.”

“Don’t encourage her,” Harris broke in.

Merida rose, a wolfish grin spreading across her face as she looked to the ground below. So, so far below. “When have I ever needed encouragement?”

Three matching groans reached her ears, but she barely heard them over the rush of wind as she stepped over the edge—

And started free-falling.

All she could hear was the roaring of air in her ears as it whipped strands of hair out of her ponytail and stole the breath from her lungs. Her gut was long gone, left behind on the rooftop. The city lights pulsed brighter, getting ever closer. To most this would be a nightmare. But to her…to her it was exhilarating.

Sadly, all good things must come to an end. Grasping an arrow from her quiver, she drew her bow, changing the setting to “Zipline” with a flick of her thumb. Ah, the beauty of having genius inventor brothers. Aiming for a nearby building, Merida fired.

And was promptly disappointed.

Yes, the arrow flew true, arching through the air with the precision only a master could give, but it did so without the intended zipline attached. Leaving Merida still falling to her doom.

Okay, so maybe she should have checked that feature before jumping off a building.

A lump of panic rose in her throat. “Uh, guys?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve already broken it,” came Harris’s response.

Oh, she was never going to live this down, was she? “I, uh. Might be about to die.”

There was silence on the other end. All at once, her brothers’ voices came pouring over each other in crackling mayhem.

“It hasn’t even been five minutes—”

“—You are so irresponsible—”

“—More inheritance for me!”

Gritting her teeth, she was about to cut through their chatter when something soft and golden wrapped itself around her waist and promptly yanked her to the side. She was no longer falling, but being swung like a pendulum. Grabbing at the fabric that led away from her waist into the dark of the night, she realized it wasn’t fabric at all. It was thousands of strands of golden hair.

What in the bloody hell…?

A moment later she was dropped — surprisingly gently — onto another roof, much lower than the one she had originally been on. The hair loosened and fell away, disappearing in a flash.

“I don’t know what happened,” said a voice from the shadows, “or what you’re going through, but killing yourself isn’t the answer.”

Merida sprung to her feet, narrowed eyes scanning her surroundings. It seemed to be the roof of an apartment building, with a box-like entrance to a stairwell in one corner. And yet, no sign of whoever had— wait, there! There, in the shadows of the entrance, was a girl, parts of her golden hair somehow still managing to gleam in the dark, giving away her position.

Her hair…

Calling it long would have been an understatement. “Long” gave the impression that the hair went down to her waist, maybe a little ways past. But the mass of yellow didn’t stop there. It went to her feet, and then continued off, spilling over the edge of the building like a waterfall of spun gold.

“Are you okay?” The girl asked again, her voice just as soft as her hair had been.

“‘m fine. And I wasn’t trying to kill myself.“

The girl stepped out of the shadows, confusion making furrows in her brow. They looked out of place, and Merida had the sudden urge to smooth them out. “Then what were you doing?”

“Testing out my gear.” She motioned to herself and the bow that was still in her hand.

The girl’s green eyes lit up with understanding. “Oh! You’re like me then!”

“Like you?”

“Yeah, you know. Superhero, vigilante, whatever you want to call it.” She flashed a grin, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “This is so cool! I’ve been working alone for so long — well, not really alone, I mean I’m technically working alongside the police but that’s nothing like having an actual partner — not that you’re going to be my partner, I didn’t mean to imply—”

“Whoa, slow your horses!” Everything was suddenly falling into place, from the freaky hair to the large purple crown perched on the girl’s head. “You’re Swift, aren’t you? The vigilante people are claiming is running around?”

The girl — Swift — nodded. “Yes, that’s me.”

“I thought you were an urban legend!”

“Nope, I’m real.” The smile on her face grew ever wider. “And so are you! Ohhh, this is so cool!”

Despite herself, Merida could feel one of her eyebrows raising. This was…not how she had expected her first meeting with a vigilante to go. Granted, she had never really thought about it before, but Swift had a strangely innocent demeanor about her. She wasn’t remotely hardened or threatening.

Three loud beeps sounded from Swift’s pocket. She withdrew what looked to be a burner phone and grimaced at whatever was displayed on the screen. “Sorry, I gotta go. There’s a fire downtown and a…dragon?” She squinted at the screen. “I think that’s a typo.”

Merida perked up. A fire and possibly also a dragon? That would be a perfect test run for the gear! Never mind the fact that her original test run had almost ended in her own demise. “Mind if I come with you?”

The look on Swift’s face could only be described as ecstatic. “Of course! But, uh…since you’re having some issues with your equipment, would you like me to carry you? It’ll be faster that way.”

Well, she certainly didn’t want to die or get left behind. “Sure.”

Golden hair came whipping up and around her waist, and a second later she was swinging through the air again. It took all her willpower to suppress a scream. From the way the city was whizzing past below, she had been right to agree to Swift’s offer. She would have been left in the dust long ago otherwise.

Soon the sound of sirens and the sight of orange light licking the night sky reached her senses. As well as…Snow?

A moment later the two of them were safe on the ground outside a burning apartment building, above which was a dark cloud. From the cloud fell a flurry of flakes, killing the fire slowly but surely.

Swift frowned. “That’s…weird. It’s the middle of September.”

Merida’s comm piece crackled to life. “So…are you still there?” Came Hamish’s voice. “I need to know if I won the bet or not.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m here.” At Swift’s quizzical look, she gestured to her ear. “‘m talking to my brothers, sorry.”

“Dang it. Wait, are you with someone?”

“Just another hero I met. Turns out that vigilante, Swift, is real.” Merida followed said hero as she ran towards the entrance. “And now we’re gonna stop a—” she broke off at the sound of shattering glass.

The two girls skidded to a halt as a large black bundle landed in front of them. It was metallic, and as it slowly uncurled itself they realized what it was.

It was a metal dragon.

The craftsmanship was astounding. From the textured metal and leather to the glowing green lights that constituted eyes. There was an air of intelligence in them, making Merida second-guess whether it was really insentient or not.

The reason for its previous ball-like state became evident as well. Clutched between its paws — talons? — was a child. Covered in ash and smoke, Merida could barely make out where the kid’s dark skin ended and the gray smudges began.

“That’s the last of them!” Called a voice from above. A moment later a brown-haired teenage boy dressed in black and green landed a little ways away, not noticing the two heroines.

All at once, the fire went out. Instead of flickering flames, the building was now covered in layers of frost and ice.

Merida gawked at the now blue-tinted structure. Just how many super-powered people are running around in this city?!

Swift was helping the dragon move the poor girl to a safe spot for when the paramedics would arrive, acting as if this kind of thing happened every day. And hey, maybe it did. Before Merida could decide what to do to help, another boy landed next to the first, this one seeming to float down with effortless ease. His blue eyes were locked on her as he pulled down his hood, revealing a shock of white hair.

He grinned. “Hey, look at that! We’ve got an audience.”

The Brunet turned, finally noticing her. He flinched, shooting a glare at his companion. “Jack! You said we wouldn’t be noticed!”

“Actually, I said we wouldn’t get in the papers. Big difference.” He was in front of her in a flash, lifting off of the ground like a leaf on a breeze. “That’s some outfit you got there. Who are you?”

Merida pursed her lips. She certainly wasn’t giving this weirdo her name. If she was going to be a vigilante like Swift, she’d need an alias. “Atlas,” she finally answered. “And what are you two supposed to be? Dragon Boy and Frosty the Snowman?”

The brunet made a noise akin to a broken squeaky toy. Jack only smiled wider. “Close. The name’s Frost. And you can call my sidekick whatever you like.”

“I am not your sidekick!”

Merida sighed internally. These two yahoos were obviously just playing around — although the metal dragon was pretty impressive.

“Well, aren’t you Miss Popular,” Harris’s voice rang in her ear. “Just how many people have you met tonight?”

She had forgotten her comm was on during that whole exchange. Great. She turned away from Frost and his sidekick/partner/friend and whispered through clenched teeth, “Shush. I’ll tell you all about it when I get back. I promise.”

“You better. We’re already making popcorn.”

#frosted words #rotbtd #bigfourfest2023 #superhero au #modern au #merida dunbroch #rapunzel #hiccup haddock #jack frost #fanfiction #ao3 link

17 notes · View notes

sassenach77yle · 4 months

Text

The moon rose huge and fast and golden, a great glowing disc that slid upward, out of the water and into the sky like a phoenix rising. The water was dark now, and the dolphins invisible, but I thought somehow that they were still there, keeping pace with the ship on her flight through the dark. It was a scene breathtaking enough even for the sailors, who had seen it a thousand times, to stop and sigh with pleasure at the sight, as the huge orb rose to hang just over the edge of the world, seeming almost near enough to touch. Jamie and I stood close together by the rail, admiring it. It seemed so close that we could make out with ease the dark spots and shadows on its surface.

It seems so close ye could speak to the Man in the Moon,” he said, smiling, and waved a hand in greeting to the dreaming golden face above. “‘The weeping Pleiads wester / and the moon is under seas,’” I quoted. “And look, it is, down there, too.” I pointed over the rail, to where the trail of moonlight deepened, glowing in the water as though a twin of the moon itself were sunken there. “When I left,” I said, “men were getting ready to fly to the moon. I wonder whether they’ll make it.” “Do the flying machines go so high, then?” Jamie asked. He squinted at the moon. “I should say it’s a great way, for all it looks so close just now. I read a book by an astronomer—he said it was perhaps three hundred leagues from the earth to the moon. Is he wrong, then, or is it only that the—airplanes, was it?—will fly so far?” “It takes a special kind, called a rocket,” I said. “Actually, it’s a lot farther than that to the moon, and once you get far away from the earth, there’s no air to breathe in space. They’ll have to carry air with them on the voyage, like food and water. They put it in sort of canisters.” “Really?” He gazed up, face full of light and wonder. “What will it look like there, I wonder?” “I know that,” I said. “I’ve seen pictures. It’s rocky, and barren, with no life at all—but very beautiful, with cliffs and mountains and craters—you can see the craters from here; the dark spots.” I nodded toward the smiling moon, then smiled at Jamie myself. “It’s not unlike Scotland—except that it isn’t green.” He laughed, then evidently reminded by the word “pictures,” reached into his coat and drew out the little packet of photographs. He was cautious about them, never taking them out where they might be seen by anyone, even Fergus, but we were alone back here, with little chance of interruption. The moon was bright enough to see Brianna’s face, glowing and mutable, as he thumbed slowly through the pictures. The edges were becoming frayed, I saw.

“Will she walk about on the moon, d’ye think?” he asked softly, pausing at a shot of Bree looking out a window, secretly dreaming, unaware of being photographed. He glanced up again at the orb above us, and I realized that for him, a voyage to the moon seemed very little more difficult or farfetched than the one in which we were engaged. The moon, after all, was only another distant, unknown place. “I don’t know,” I said, smiling a bit. He thumbed through the pictures slowly, absorbed as he always was by the sight of his daughter’s face, so like his own. I watched him quietly, sharing his silent joy at this promise of our immortality.

I thought briefly of that stone in Scotland, engraved with his name, and took comfort from its distance. Whenever our parting might come, chances were it would not be soon. And even when and where it did—Brianna would still be left of us. More of Housman’s lines drifted through my head—Halt by the headstone naming / The heart no longer stirred, / And say the lad that loved you / Was one that kept his word. I drew close to him, feeling the heat of his body through coat and shirt, and rested my head against his arm as he turned slowly through the small stack of photographs.

“She is beautiful,” he murmured, as he did every time he saw the pictures. “And clever, too, did ye not say?”

“Just like her father,” I told him, and felt him chuckle softly.

Cap 43~ VOYAGER

#outlander #outlanderedit #the frasers #jamie fraser #outlander series #outlander starz #outlander fanart #samheughan #jamie&claire #jamie and claire #claire fraser #dr claire randall #claire beauchamp #outlander books #outlander season 3 #outlander 3x09 #outlander book

15 notes · View notes

flyinghome-againstthewind · 8 months

Text

seven sentence sunday

Thank you for the tag @walkinginland!! 💕 Now that chapter 1 of Soften Every Edge has been posted, I can commence teasing the hell out of chapter 2... right??

There was a quick, sharp rap on his door that woke Fergus every morning, followed by his father’s voice, “Time to get up, mon fils.”

But he always took a moment, rubbing sleep from his eyes, before he inevitably rolled out of bed and dressed for the day. In the winter, that meant dressing in the dark and stumbling tiredly into the hall even once his vision had adjusted. His parents’ room was the closest to the stairs and he glanced in as he neared it, seeing his maman still in bed and his papa at her side of the bed, bending over to kiss her goodbye. Fergus did not catch such a scene every morning, but he suspected it occurred just the same if he was not there to witness.

He leaned on the doorframe with a sigh. “It is a harrowing prospect, to be separated each day for a matter of hours, but I have faith the two of you—”

“Fergus Claudel!” Maman shouted, though there was laughter in her voice.

not sure who has been tagged yet/has something they want to share, so feel free to consider yourself tagged if you want to do so!

#seven sentence sunday #tbbfiy #soften every edge #listen i love jamie and claire but SOMEONE has to give them grief for their codependancy #and that someone is fergus fraser

40 notes · View notes

balladofsallyrose · 8 months

Text

Over The Edge (1979) dir. Jonathan Kaplan

claude and the glitter princess he pulled by being autistic a stoner

bonus:

#over the edge #claude zachary #carl wilat #tom fergus #1979 #70s #film #filmedit #i'm sorry. i love him #still need to do my proper rewatch

17 notes · View notes

laurelsofhighever · 9 months

Text

Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins Characters/pairings: Alistair x Cousland Chapter: 7/? Rating: G Warnings: None Fic Summary: The story of the Fifth Blight, in a world where Alistair was raised to royalty instead of joining the Grey Wardens.

read it on AO3

August, 9:24 Dragon

A hush echoed through the castle, fearful and portentous, a held breath that penetrated even to the sanctuary of the library, where the sun glared its wrath hot across Rosslyn’s shoulders as she sat still in her riding clothes, and staring at her hands, and listening to the quiet, distant sobs of the Antivan girl Fergus had been trying to impress. Despite the sweat trickling down her spine and the headache starting behind her eyes, she made no effort to move, waiting like everyone else for what the mages would have to say. The servants hadn’t even come with a midday meal, even though the morning was long since past.

Her body might be trapped, tense and numb and waiting for word, but her mind wandered. Her vision played the accident over and over until she forgot the pattern in the carpet and saw instead the flash of harness bells as her brother’s horse, young and flighty and not used to its rider, spooked at a pheasant in the grass. She remembered a shout. An eternity had passed as he hung weightless in the air, and then the arc of is fall had curved, accelerated, stopped short with a thud that left him in the dirt unmoving.

Everyone had panicked, except for her father. As the fastest rider, she had been sent for a cart to bring Fergus home, for a messenger to go down into the city to get the mage healers serving in the chantry hospital. Guilt dogged her for how she had pushed her mount, how its sweat-darkened flanks had heaved as she leapt from the saddle and left its reins trailing to fly up the steps, but worse was the yawning void that grew with every moment that crept past without the joyous cry that Fergus had awoken.

And worst of all, the shame that asked whether it was her own selfishness that wanted her brother to live.

A floorboard creaked by the door.

“Rosslyn?”

Alistair stood anxious with one hand still on the knob as the other ruffled backwards through his hair. The movement exaggerated the bare inch of skin at his wrist where a recent growth spurt had outmatched the fit of his sleeves, and had finally made him taller than her. He didn’t look like he wanted to tease her about it today. Instead, he crossed the floor and took her hand as he sat next to her, holding it firm in both of his as if she might slip loose and vanish without it.

“He’s going to be alright,” he murmured into the silence.

“What if he’s not? What if he –” She licked her lips. “They can’t make me the heir. They can’t.”

“You don’t need to worry.”

He squeezed her fingers, and after a moment she let herself fall against his shoulder. A bird sang outside the window.

“I envy you sometimes,” she admitted after a while.

“That’s not surprising. Being able to fit seven dumplings in your mouth at the same time is quite an achievement.”

Sighing, she allowed him the jest. “I know we’re not supposed to talk about it – about who your father is –”

“Your father is the closest thing I’ve ever had to one,” he said, curt.

“I know.” The knowledge hung between them, as it had since she’d found out he was the son of the king. “But you’re free. No one has any expectations for you – when you grow up you’ll be able to do what you want, without anyone trying to turn you into something you’re not. You’re not the spare.”

“You’re not just a spare either.” His voice had softened, but not enough to completely dull the edge brought out by mention of the king.

“Sometimes it feels that way.”

Ever since her first lessons, rebuke and gossip and repetition had been hammer and anvil to her place in the world, forging it with such skill that it had taken her years to realise its shape. Her mother had had a ship and the open horizon, not the gilded bars of protocol.

“You won’t have to do this alone,” Alistair ventured. “If – if it comes to that. If I really can go and do anything I want, then I want to stay here with you. If only to remind you not to blame yourself for things that aren’t your fault,” he added, with a grin she didn’t see.

She had been trying to forget. “I’m the one who told him to take Sunbird.”

“You were joking,” he told her. “And he wasn’t paying attention. You probably saved his life getting back as quick as you did.”

“He was being such a prat.”

A deep breath hissed in through his teeth. “I… I think it’s because he’s in love with her. Oriana.”

“Then that makes him even more of a prat.”

Instead of replying, he merely sighed. The summer sun crept across the room, marking the hours until it retreated into a purple twilight and the servants could be heard on their rounds to light the lamps. None came to bother them where they waited, and hoped, and tried not to imagine what would happen next if hope wasn’t enough.

#dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age: origins #da:o #alistair x cousland #alistair x warden #warden x alistair #alistair theirin #cousland #rosslyn cousland #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age fic

18 notes · View notes

my-forgotten-notepad · 1 year

Text

A Big List of Art Pt.2

The Goblin Armour by Goblins-Worst-Nightmare

The King In Yellow by Taradrawstuff

Vriska Serket by So-Lay (Link directs to Zorume-star)

Slick by Endrae

Videl by humanmgn (Link directs to Tokyopandaclub)

Skulduggery Pleasant by LucianHale

Stephanie Edgely/Valkyrie Cain by Tanu-the-avocado

Fergus performing magic by Tanu-the-avocado

Golisopod Vs Volcarona by Inosuke0101

Lady Vemon by Old-cincearts

The Ghost That Walks/The Phantom by Clay Barton

Jaune Arc by Mrk50

Link, The Hero of Time by Cockybusiness

Genos by dancroft97

Gwen Tennyson by pon4ra-arts

Aku, Shapeshifting Master of Darkness (Link directs to villainquoteoftheday) no Artist credit given.

Samus Aran of the Red, Green and Blue Lantern Corps by Fedorasaurus

Gwen Tennyson, Kevin Levin, Breach, Rex Salazar,Van Kleiss and Shigeo by Starrforge/Promisenn

Fantomah by Anderjak-creations

Red Sonya by ErikVonLehmann

78 notes · View notes

renee-writer · 7 months

Text

April 15th Chapter Twenty-four

AO3

“Jenny!” He screams out as his brother covers his face to hide the laughter. Fergus looks back and forth between his mama and daddy.

“Daddy. Mama?”

“It is alright. Your mama is just getting ready to have your brother or sister.” His Uncle William says, “You want to come see me, little man?”

He frowns and holds tight to his daddy.

“It is alright, Fergus. You can go see him.” Claire urges. With his mama’s permission, he lets go of his daddy and allows himself to be sat down. His new uncle takes his hand and he leads him out.

“I will just go get Jenny.” Jamie says. When he turns towards the door, he runs straight into her.

“What in the world?” Then she gets a look at Claire, “ah, I see. Jamie, go fetch the midwife and send Mary in.”

Happy to have direction, he runs out. Jenny turns to Claire.

“How close are the pains?” she asks.

“Close. I don’t know.” She breathlessly says.

“Can you walk?” She takes her arm. “with my help?”

“I think so.” They carefully walk towards her and Jamie’s room. Once there, Jenny help her out of her clothes and into a loose dressing gown.

“Let’s walk. It will help.” Claire ‘s smile turned into a grimace as the tightening pain returns. Jenny holds her hand and doesn’t flinch, to much, at the squeeze.

Mary knocks on the door. “Come in.” She enters, taking in the situation at a glance. “Jamie is going after the midwife.”

“Good. Because I don’t believe she has much time.” Mary replies. There is something in the way she stands, the look on her face, even the look of her steel hard bump.

“Oh! I think she is right. Here it comes again!” Jenny frowns. The pains are about two minutes apart. She has been laboring longer then she let anyone know, or maybe, she even knew herself.

Jenny has her two children, Mary has Hazel. Neither though feels comfortable in delivering a baby.

“Lord, I pray Jamie hurries.” Jenny bites her lip.

Mary comes up and takes her other hand. “Don’t worry, my lady. We will get through this.”

“Oh God! This bloody hurts!”

“Yes, but it brings the sweetest reward. Think of the baby.”

Jenny, ever practical, puts water on the kettle to get hot. She strips the bed down to the sheet. What else? Her sister -in-law ‘s cries change. Something…

“Oh, I need to bear down!”

“No. No. No. The midwife isn’t here and…”

“Mistress Murray, I fear the baby isn’t waiting.”

“Okay, ah, come get on the bed.” Between them, they get her on there. She sits, knees up and spread wide as she does what she must, what her body demands. She starts to push her baby out.

Jenny and Mary, wash their hands in the hot water. Sleeves are pushed up. Mary fetches a blanket as Jenny sits on the edge of the bed, ready as she can be, to see her niece or nephew born.

“Oh, red hair.” She says as the crowning head grows larger. Instincts have her just watching as the baby and mama work together in the birth. Those same instincts see her sweeping the baby’s mouth out before holding it, as the turn is made and the shoulders emerge.

She is soon holding her nephew.

“Oh Claire. It is a lad. A braw lad.” Mary, softly weeping, hands over the blanket and he is wrapped up and handed to his mama.

The door slams open and Jamie and the midwife enters. They both stop at the sight that greets them. Claire and the baby. Jenny, her hands and arms covered in blood and the fluids of new life, Mary grinning and weeping.

“Come Jamie and meet your new son.”

#my writing #outlander fanfic #april 15th #chapter twenty four #jamie and claire #cannon divergence #outlander fandom

6 notes · View notes