#she may be half english but like. the other half is fucking scottish! were scottish! we currently live in fucking scotland

[hearties-circus]

Ok my pal got on my case for speaking scots again but me and my other pals laid in a pile together in the sun during lunch so it evens out

#gamer txt. #all i said was wee #i said it had been a wee while and she gagged like. what #she described hearing people speak scots as an ick for her #she may be half english but like. the other half is fucking scottish! were scottish! we currently live in fucking scotland #i like. just. how?? how does that happen?? #but anyways i nearly fell asleep during lunch in the cuddle pile bc it was just so nice and warm and i havent done that since primary

[cyberdva]

The Haunting Of Queen Mary's Castle-  C.B  ~P.1☆

 ☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Main Masterlist

Colby Brock Masterlist

Summary: Sam and Colby had the bright idea to drag their friends to Scotland, and where would the perfect video location be? How about Queen Mary’s haunted castle? It didn’t help that aspiring physic, Y/N wasn’t too happy to head out of the country, but Colby was there to help. And maybe he wanted something more than being there to help her. Could the spirits be on his side for once?

Word Count: 4k

Date Uploaded:  8/31/20

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: This fic is from the vault. I wrote this around January of this year, I start school again in two days and the work and stress load is going to be horrible, especially with it being half in person, half online. I hope to get some more creativity back when more pressure is put on me. I have plenty of ideas with just not enough passion and time. It’ll trickle back one day.

 ☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

“Holy Shit…” Colby held his camera closer to his chest as he walked closer towards the breathtaking Neidpath Castle. It’s aura seemed to engulf the curiosity of the young man. His friends splurged on a ten hour trip to Scotland for a quick Youtube video series, he knew near the end, half of them would be begging to go home. The comical routine played its key role in every single episode, no matter what the occasion was. It did make good money to be completely honest. Although, that wasn’t the main focus of their careers. He found himself under a tall bridge-like banister connecting its way to the entire estate. Next to him was his long time roommate, Corey. He sported a bright yellow hoodie in large contrast with Colby’s black one. It was sort of funny, each of his friends had a unique personality, yet connected so well. Of course, they were wearing their own merch. It helped the sales go up, not to mention it was awfully comfortable. A perk to the business if you say.

“And we thought the church was cool…” Sam, Colby’s best friend and other handler of the videography series on their channel, gaped in front of him. This place was bigger than any other private plot they’ve ever visited! It was a couple thousand dollars to rent out for the night, but with the palace’s history it was born to make a hefty income.

“We have this all to ourselves!” Colby nudged Sam, he handed the camera off to his friend Jake, who was talking a mile a minute to the other attendees. A new face poked out of the regular bunch.

“Are you gonna catch me when I get scared, Y/N?” Jake stuck his face in the view of the content woman. Her persona seemed quite drained due to the long trip. She was partially new to the Youtube platform, especially with ghost hunting. Not like Y/N was easily frightened, unlike her friends, it just wasn’t her go to for a cheap thrill. Nerves were indefinitely strained, since it was the first time out with the entire group. Nothing Jake couldn’t fix.

Her laugh trickled out blissfully, ”Wouldn’t Tara get jealous? You don't want to get on her bad side? Do you?” He quickly shook his head and gave a hesitant reply with his sheepish smile.

“We get this all to ourselves?” Colby queried. This place was double the size of the Trap House by far, they had to be scared shitless by the time they left. There had to be some sort of restrictions or a down sided catch to it all.

“Did you do any research on this place?” Y/N  slid up behind the unfocused main man, a small quirk to her. Colby jumped a smidge in light shock. He wasn’t expecting anyone to be genuinely interested with the property. Colby mentally cursed for being so jumpy.

“Jesus Y/N, you scared the shit out me.” He replied, not answering the girl’s question. Y/N met Sam and Colby way back in highschool. Each of them slithered their way into the other’s channels and have made frequent appearances. They definitely weren’t strangers, even though it seemed that way with fans. Y/N had more paranormal encounters out of all of the boys, despite a bit of distaste towards the topic. She was lugged around on long adventures to help them with videos. Some of her videos ranged from ‘‘accidentally’ joining a cult to “selling her soul”. She was the wicca-pedia they needed to not get possessed each trip.

“Ok pussy.” She walked off to talk to Corey, the pair oddly all had a strong connection from somewhere, and Colby sighed as to quickly put on his cheery online persona once more.

Sam waved up at a vacant window as the group, “Hello!” The woman replied unknowingly and aroused quite a shock of embarrassment. A faint giggling came from the couple in the back, “No,no, I do it better.” Corey got a hold of herself, “A Ra-Ta-Ta-tah.” The two burst back into their ceremonial laughs and briefed on about some TikToks they watched on the remotely silent ride from the airport. 

Sam turned back around to see the shorter woman. Notwithstanding her first place in line, “How is he gonna get a kiss kiss? Very ugly to me!” The duo rounded up to each other and laughed on their way up the trail, leaving the others confused and focused on talking to the groundskeeper.

“I’m assuming you are the caretaker of this?” The blonde one waved more at the older woman. She seemed more on the reserved side and peeled her eyes at the sight of a camera. A lovely addition to the already uncomfortable scene.

The woman gracefully approached Sam, “Yes, Yes I am. My name is Katrina.” Sam went on with the lady into a dark back door. The young adults glanced on in uncertainty. 

“Yo, why are they going off by themselves?” Colby asked Jake. The first rule of all of their videos was not to go off by yourself. Bad shit always follows. “He literally was like-”

“He’s been looking at her ass like all day.” Jake joked back, Corey attentively diverted himself from Y/N to get a jump in on whatever that conversation had morphed to.

“That’s whatever the fuck he was doing.” They all snickered and continued on with the inappropriate jokes. Editing this would be like a field day to Reggie.

“Is Kat gonna think…” Colby looked around jokingly, getting another round of laughter from the friends.

“I don’t know..” Colby softly replied. He pressed on to dumbfoundedly impersonate Sam’s girlfriend, “Oh it’s not cheating if he’s not in the same country.”

“It’s sexual relations Jake.” Y/N whispered at him. They continued to poke fun out of the cougar-lady, but her and Sam rushed back soon enough. Just in time to ask questions. 

“Uh, that was pretty much the coolest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” Sam pulled everyone aside with a smug look on his face. He honestly always had one of those. The blank stares that were thrown back at him weren’t what he expected. 

“Uh Sam what does that mean.” Jake chuckled. He looked around at everyone not able to catch on. The seriousness of the situation began to settle as everyone genuinely thought Sam could have done some weird shit with that groundskeeper.

“All I have say is that was quick man…” Colby scraped some gunk off of her nails while waiting for following instructions.

Sam obviously didn’t understand, “To fill you guys in I had to learn, kind of, where all the specific light switches were. I didn’t even look around. I just kinda looked at the ground until she saw.”

“You were like that’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.” Colby turned the camera to focus on him and Jake mocking Sam’s slight happiness by seeing fancy rocks.

“It was only the stairs!” Sam said defeatedly, he didn’t want to spoil the real first looks.”That’s just giving you a little hint, but um, I asked her if she could you know fill us in on some of the information of, likewise castles here, the hauntings or any deaths and she said she knows some information.”

“Oh cool…” Colby was already quite unenthusiastic about this idea anyways. Katrina retreated out of the building quickly with keys in her hand. She sprinted over to all of them.

“Look it’s Sam’s new girlfriend!” Y/N cheered. Sam spun his head around, probably pulling a muscle in the process. The pure look of utter horror could not be more hysterical. Sam became flustered with a loss for words, his face tinted with a light shade of pink. Before he could muster up any sort of retort Katrina, the groundlady, came jogging back to the group.

“What’s some of the backstory about this castle?” Jake asked, he spun some rings around in his hand. Paying no mind to the other plot line adhering to his right.

“This castle was built in the second half of the 14th-Century, but there was another castle built before that in here. That was built in 110,so uh.” Few ‘Wows’ and ‘Oohs’ cut her off. “That was quite a while ago, but the Neidpath was built by the Family Of Fraser’s and they built a Buddha made castle. This one was burned down by the English army. After a guy named Simon Fraser, who’s the cousin of Braveheart, was captured and executed and that’s why the Buddha made the castle was burned to the ground. Another family built this castle, which was besieged in 1650 by the Cromwellian army. Legend says that this was the only stronghold of the Scottish borders which actually withstanded the siege. Whether it’s true or not, we don’t know, but what we do want you to know is that one-third of the castle collapsed, non-existing anymore.” She spoke with absolute passion. The place had so much rich history, the surrounding observers listened with extreme intent, not to miss one sentence in case it may help their investigation.

Colby raised his eyebrows at this question, “One-third of it?”

Katrina continued on, “Because of the siege. We do have a dungeon in the castle as well.” Everyone went silent.

“A dungeon?!” Jake nearly dropped a silver band he was picking on by the mention of this. His personality perked up and suddenly the whole crowd was uplifted. Finding weird places in “abandoned” areas is always a plus side, but this tops all of it.

“Guys shut up!” Y/N whacked Jake with her phone, he stuck his tongue out while rubbing his shoulder. She didn’t want to leave too bad of a first impression. It would be mortifying if something went wrong and the owner already hates you.

“Is there a dragon?” Corey brought everyone back to the topic of the castle, he didn’t want to be there a minute longer, but in this group you just do what you’re told and shut your mouth.

“We do have quite a big colony of bats under the roof, so I’m not sure if you really want to go down there Mister.” The group laughed and groaned at Katrina’s statement. Running into bats could be the worst thing to encounter.

Corey nodded in response, “So there are dragons.”

The history went on, “It was quite widely used during the 14th and 15th century because that was the only reason for the whole county.” The darker side of it all became slowly prevalent. It wasn’t just a posh place the others expected it to be. 

“Prison?” Sam posed. This just got a lot weirder than they all expected.

“Yes. You’ll be able to get into it because there is this rough opening through, which was made in the 17th century, but before that the only entrance to the dungeon was through the trap door from the guards. I should have shown you that, but I’m not going to. You’ll find it by yourself.

“Oh god…” Colby rubbed the bridge between his nose, an inevitable  headache was beginning to form.

Sam tittered, “Are we just going to fall through? Is that ok?” He got no proper answer, which set his worries on the run.

“So, the last prisoner was there in 1594, I think. We know there was a teenage boy like a 14 year old boy who was just pick pocketing people and he ended up here. The note didn’t say that he actually came out of there again.”

“Like meaning it’s haunted?” Colby preyed on.

“Uh, it is haunted!” Katrina stated blandly.

“Fun for us!” Y/N shrugged to hide her panic. Colby glanced at her. He sensed her anxiousness, he didn’t want her to be upset. Definitely not in the shitty environment. Of course, he cared for her, he just didn’t know how to open up and tell her. Would this really be the place?

“We do have our own one. Her name is Jean Douglas. She died in 1750, she was the daughter of one of the owners of the castle and she died of a broken heart.” The mood fell, a breeze pulled through and messed with the mics. Leaving just a sprinkle of static in the footage. Just in time.

“She was engaged to a young man, but he wasn't wealthy enough to win her family over, so he went abroad to win his fortune and fame and because he was away for far too long she went really sickly and pale and she didn’t eat. She didn’t sleep, so she was really frail when he finally came. When he was riding his horse through the archway she was at the window and he failed to recognize her because she was so altered and broke her heart and she died on the spot.”

The group had a silent reaction to the news, not knowing how to react.

“Ever since then she is walking through the castle being very tall, very gray, very pale looking, weeping.”

“What’s her name again?”

“Jean.” A tiny shiver racked through Sam’s body. He didn’t tell anyone. Just not to set anyone off. Now he really didn’t want to face this spirit.

“Have you ever seen Jean?” Y/N asked, trying her best not to be insensitive with the approach. These things are held really close to some people. Their experiences could be life changing, for others it could most certainly be a lot different.

“No, but I do have ghostbusters coming in several times a year and I asked what was the best recording ever and they were like ‘We got brilliant ones of screams.” 

“Ah..”

“And I was like inside of the castle. I’m here sometimes on my own in the middle of the night at midnight, one, two, three o’clock. When I have to lock up after the events and such. Do I really want to do that with screams in my head? No I don’t, I said no.”

“Alright sounds like it’s a nice haunted Scottish castle.” Sam tried his best to play off his uncomfortable feelings with humor. It did not work.

“I’m going to do the dungeon now. I’m not telling you what I’m going to do now and then the place will be yours” Katrina headed back into the castle with an odd vibe. 

“So, she’s gonna make us fall down the trap door, wow.” Jake leaned in for slight commentary.

“How much do you want to bet that we’re going to die?” Y/N grabbed her backpack to locate her wallet and pulled out a twenty.

“I bet 15.” Corey grabbed his wallet too.

“Guy, that is so sad though…” Colby came into the center of all of them, “Ok, that story. Imagine your husband comes home on a little horse and you're in this window, literally right there and then you die on the spot because he's like ‘Who’s that?’ It’s a tall, frail old lady that’s crying everywhere.” Colby clung to his sweatshirt, “Oh that’s so creepy!”

“Colby if you ever do that to me you’ll have to go back to VidCon alone again.” Y/N was putting in her best bet and threw a five at him. “You can use that for your ticket.” He blushed, just like Sam moments before.

Sam added more commentary from behind the camera, “They’ve heard screams within the castle.” Katrina came right back out with her deafening personality, handed the keys to Sam and hopped right back in her small, blue car, and left with no exchange of words.

“She creeps me out.” Jake in discomfort. To be fair, she is a creepy ass old lady who owns a castle in the middle of nowhere.

Corey turned away from the groundskeeper's car and shrugged off his jitters, "So we have a castle to ourselves...”

“This is amazing!” Sam couldn’t contain his excitement.

“No Shit. I still can’t grasp why you all buyout expensive stuff like a castle.” Y/N gripped the abundance of bet money and slid it all bad into her bag.

Colby inspected the property more in depth, as if he was waiting for a ghoul to poke out at any given time, “This is where we’re staying tonight.” With a grand motion upwards Sam panned the camera up and down.

“And you guys...” Sam pulled the camera away from the stronghold and directed the frame to the rest of his friends,”..have not even seen the inside at all.”

“I know, I know.” Colby pulled his beanie down his head, the enlightened sun seemed to cascade into the clouds with a faint breeze.

“Let’s go find our cottage, get ourselves completely set up and ready for the night. Take some pictures before sun down and then go into the castle, because like we can’t lose this sunset and we got to figure this out.” Sam did some weird hand movements in front of the camera and handed it off to the other’s opinions.

Colby nodded his head up and down in agreement,” Yeah definitely.” Jake wandered around with a rock and for the most part everyone said eye to eye.

“Unfair treatment. I wanted to go in now.” Y/N gave a side glance to Sam and Corey brushed his hand over her playfully. She walked back into frame,“All I gotta say is, Colby Brock Hot Edits.” Colby walked up next to her with a shit-eating grin in approval. Who doesn’t love Colby Brock edits?”

“Shut up, you’re just jealous that there’s no Y/N L/N hot edits for you.” He playfully jabbed back at her with a growing flutter in his stomach. He fucking hated that feeling to no end, but it was such a drug. Only when she was around.

“Alright let’s go, I’m bored as shit.” Jake came back with his new pet rock and put his arm around Corey. Sam cut the camera and went down the forked path. Right down the road was a cottage for visitors.

“Hey Y/N,” Colby came jogging up to the colleen, “Did you see any weird stuff yet?” He shoved his hands in his pockets, a symptom of his bashfulness, he began to rethink his uncolorful wording in his sentence. He just had the sudden urge to go up to her and she wasn’t complaining one bit.

She looked over at him, “No, not yet. I just got really put-off by that lady. She just was so…” Her eyes connected with his and a glistening highlight overcame the peaking iris. The words weren’t verbally there, but he understood what was there.

Sam cut her off, “Dude. Look how big this place is.” It was rationally smaller than their house back in LA, but it was sizable for an ancient brick living space.

Jake made the most commotion out of the seven, “Whoever is first picks where they sleep!” He dashed ahead of the group and everyone picked up speed, almost dropping the rock he just adopted.

“I think there’s only like three beds.” Sam panted. No one paid much mind to him and kept running. They all toppled into the door and Corey unlocked it, which left the rest to run up to a room. Jake took the first one to the left, Sam tumbled into the one across. A room had a small couch for Corey and last, but not least…

“Looks like we’re bunking L/N.”

“Fuck you Brock.”

Sam peaked his head in, “Guys, we have film some shots of the place. Come on.” The three made it to the living room where all and sundry were. Sam grabbed his camera and got everyone in shot.

“What?!” With grand motions each person stood up in their acts of shock. Even though it had been there for a solid five minutes the audience always has to be entertained.

Colby turned around, “Yo! We got a TV too!” A small Toshiba was put on a step stool. It would probably gain no use tonight anyways. It looked like a piece of crap too, thank god for Youtube.

They all got up from their seats and went to uncover the rest of the place, “This is nice, very cool.” Colby led them into Corey’s room. A huge bed frame was around a pink canopy bed. Old photos and paintings of the fortress were hung evenly around the perimeter. Sam went through the rest of the rooms and told everyone to head off and get ready.

The guys took cold showers and Y/N soaked in a muddled bath in the basement. She didn’t like it here. Her mind couldn’t unravel much. Sam was stationed upstairs doing a camera touch up with Jake by his side talking about the new Harry Styles album. A half an hour later everyone was wearing at least one faction of Sam and Colby merch, phones were charged and beams from flashlights slid across the floor like a jumping snake.

The group divided into pairs as they walked to the castle. The sky grew much darker than expected and it felt like a looming spirit chipped away at the warm function of friends. The camera was whipped right back out.

“Alright, we are all showered, changed, and ready to explore the castle before sunset.” All went under the arch while the audio was whacked around by the wind.

Colby turned from his conversation to the viewers, "I’m still like flipping out that we’re staying here tonight. That’s crazy!” His lantern swung below him and the towering castle was engulfed by the purple skies. “Look at this place! Look at that beautiful sunset!” He yelled.

Y/N raised her eyebrows, “Since when were you PG-13?”

He blandly stared at her,”Shut up I need to make money,” He looked back at the camera, “When I was like blow-drying my hair and stuff after my shower, my hair dryer was insanely powerful. There’s obviously a lot of energy in it, like the voltage.” 

“I thought he said blow-j-.” Corey chimed in. He shut himself up so they wouldn’t get demonetized, it would be a funny way to go down though. Y/N and Colby giggled along with him. It wasn’t a rare occasion that they all were out laughing and joking, just the side chick with the haunted castle. 

Corey swung his flashlight up and down, “His blow dryer started smoking and like almost blew up.”

“So, what I’m saying is the spirits could use all of this energy to talk to us.”

They all made it to the castle and it was around five-thirty. There wasn’t much to do at this time, but she was always watching. There was something about to happen they could all feel it and that thing, it wasn’t going to be good.

 ☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Part 2? Send me an ask if you want it!!

#Sam and Colby #colby brock x reader #colby brock imagine #colby brock x you #colby brock #xplr #sam and colby fan fiction #sam and colby fan fic #jake webber x reader #jake webber imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #queen mary #corey scherer x reader #fandom

[inky-duchess]

History Bites: Bad Ass Moments (Women)

In History Bites, I pick the best moments of history and the antics historical figures in order to give you inspiration for your WIP. Think of History Bites like prompts, only juicer and 90% accurate (results may vary).

Today, we will discuss the bad ass moments of history (women). This post may have a part two. Let's get to it.

Arsinoë IV was the younger sister of Cleopatra. During the civil war between her elder sister and brother who were meant to be jointly ruling, Caesar besieged Alexandria on behalf of Cleopatra, taking the royal family hostage within the palace. In the confusion after the Library of Alexandria was accidentally burned down (I mean Caesar, I love you but you're fucking dick for burning the library), Arsinoë escaped the palace and took command of the Egyptian army. Under her control, the army enjoyed success even trapping Caesar as he tried to take the Lighthouse of Alexandria. This was an important symbol to the city as well as a masterful weapon, whoever controlled the Lighthouse controlled the harbour. To escape, Caesar had to swim across the bay throwing off his great purple cloak and fine armour, holding up his important papers as he limped back to dry land, defeated by a 15-18 year old girl.

Katherine of Aragon handed Scotland its biggest defeat in history. She led troops at Flodden, winning a battle where the Scottish King died. When she wrote to Henry as well as sending him the Scottish king's coat and banners, she mentioned that she had wanted to send the body of the king but the nobles were being pussies and said no. It may have been the shadiest letter of all the Tudor period.

Artemisia Gentileschi was one of art and history's all time bad asses. She was a skilled painter at a time when women were not permitted to attend art schools. She surpassed her father's own works and some of his other students. At 18, she was raped by another artist. In a time far behind today's understanding of rape and justice, Artemisia took a great risk in publicly accusing her rapist. She underwent numerous tortures so the judges could be sure she was telling the truth. The rapist was convicted (a major win). Artemisia went on to become one of the Baroque period's most powerful painters.

Marguerite de Bressieux was a 15th century noblewoman in France. When her father's castle fell to the armies of the Prince of Orange, Marguerite and the other women of the castle were all sexually assaulted. As the French army passed through the devastated lands, they came by a group of twelve knights armoured and mounted, bearing a black banner with an orange pierced by a spear. The commander revealed their face... it was Marguerite. She asked to join the French King's forces and he allowed her though he was quite taken aback. At the Battle of Autun, each of the female knights and Marguerite hunted down the Prince of Orange's men, unmasking their faces before they killed their rapists so they would know just had come.

Harriet Tubman was an American slave who ran the Underground Railway, ferrying slaves off to freedom. After escaping herself, Harriet refused to leave others behind. Known as Moses, Harriet risked life and limb to free slaves from the plantations. During the Civil War, she worked for the Union first as a cook then as scout and spy. Over her life, Tubman released over 300 slaves.

Countess Constance Markievicz was the first woman to be elected to a British Parliament ... while imprisoned for her art in the numerous acts of rebellion in the last years of English rule. Markievicz was one of the figureheads for Irish freedom, even acting as a sniper during the 1916 Easter Rising. When the rising was over, she was imprisoned but not executed (being a woman and a high status woman) which made her angry. She believed that the fight for Irish freedom was not just a male one. Her advice to women and girls of the time was "Dress suitably in short skirts and strong boots, leave your jewels in the bank, and buy a revolver"

Grace/Grainne O'Malley, the Pirate Queen of Ireland was one of the Lords of the West of Ireland. On her father's death, she inherited his lands and fleets as his heir, turning her into one of the most powerful lords of the west. She fought in the Nine Years War, becoming a thorn in the side of the "Governor" Richard Bingham. When her sons and half brother were captured and threatened, Grainne turned her sails to London to speak with Elizabeth I. Grainne did not bow to Elizabeth and began hammering out the terms of a peace. Bingham was fired, her sons and brother were released on the terms that Grainne would stop supporting Gaelic uprisings. Grainne didn't.

Jeanne de Clisson or the Lioness of Brittany, was a 14th century noblewoman. Her husband was imprisoned by the French King who suspected him of being a spy who had lost a battle on purpose. He was executed. Jeanne went immediately to the fort her husband had commanded. The garrison let her in. Jeanne's army took the fort. By the time the French King heard, Jeanne was gone. After a treacherous crossing over the Channel where she lost at least one child, Jeanne resurfaced in England. The English king granted her three ships which she used to wage war on France in revenge.

Ching Shih was a Chinese pirate queen, formerly a prostitute. When her husband died, she took over his fleet of ships. Ching Shih went about on tightening the reigns on her sailors. They could not rape captives, if they did they were beheaded. If they wanted to have one of the women, a sailor had to marry her and treat her right. To disobey a superior twice was death. As she got the fleet into shipshape, Ching Shih began her reign of the seas amassing millions. The government fought her a few times but soon gave up their war, paying Ching Shih to go away. She retired as a respected millionaire.

Osh-Tisch or "Finds Them and Kills Them” was a Native American warrior. She had been born male but chose to live as a woman also known as a baté, a person which two souls in their body. Osh-Tisch took up arms along with the other batés when her tribe went to war with the Lakota, winning the war. As missionaries came to to stick their noses in where they weren't wanted, Osh-Tisch and the other batés were subject to horrific abuse. Batés were forced to dress and act as their assigned gender by the dickheaded missionaries. Osh-Tisch disregarded the missionaries and continued to work with batés across America in order to support one another.

Harriet Tubman escaped from slavery in the years preceding the Civil War. Harriet refused to leave others behind and returned about nineteen times to volatile south to rescue slaves, under the name Moses. During the war, Harriet served as cook, nurse and spy for the Union. Harriet saved over 300 slaves.

Matilda, Lady of the English once escaped a besieged castle. How did she do this? She walked out of the gates and left. She was wearing a white cloak which camouflaged her against the snow. She walked eight miles in the snow to continue her fight for the crown.

Cleopatra VII (that Cleopatra) was once summoned to Tarsos go meet the new Governor of the Eastern Provinces of the Roman Empire, Mark Antony who wanted to borrow some money. They negotiated back and forth on who should come to who. Cleopatra refused to go... but then showed up in Tarsos on luxurious barge. While feasting with Antony at his expense, Cleopatra claimed that she could host the more expensive meal. She dropped a pearl earring into her wine, where it dissolved and downed it like a queen.

Caterina Sforza was an Italian noble woman in the Renaissance period and you could literally not find a bigger bad ass. She rode at the head of an army to occupy the great fortress of the Castel San Angelo in the name of her husband, while being seven months pregnant. At the siege of Ravaldino, Caterina and her children were prisoners of the treacherous Orsis family who had killed her husband. Caterina persuaded the commanders to let her enter the city to negotiate the surrender of the castle. One inside, she climbed the battles and cussed out the besiegers. Utterly stunned, one commander threatened to kill her children but Caterina lifted her skirts and flashed them, claiming she could make more. OK, that may be a rumour. She may have touched her belly or claimed to be already pregnant but still it was a moment. It ended up buying her enough time for more forces to come and beat the army outside.

Catherine the Great born a minor German Princess overthrew her husband Peter III in a successful military coup. A few days before the original coup was going to commence, a co-conspirator let slip to another guard that it was happening. The man was arrested. When the news got to her, Catherine left the palace via carriage commandeering horses along the way. She went to the barracks of the Ismailovsky regiment dressed in burrowed military uniform and made an impassioned plea to the soldiers to earn their support which they gave her. She was crowned sole ruler of Russia and forced her husband to sign his crown away.

Khutulun, the great-grandaughter of Genghis Khan was badass from the beginning. She was the only girl in a family of boys and grew up to be the fiercest. Khutulun was a highly sought after bride. She didn't hate men but felt she shouldn't be married to somebody unequal to her. Every man who sought to wed her had to wrestle her or pay ten horses. She had ten thousand horses by the time she died.

Boudicca was the Queen of the Iceni, a Celtic tribe in England. Her husband, an ally of the Romans, left half his kingdom to Rome and the other half to his daughters. When he died, Rome took it all. When Boudicca spoke out against it, she was flogged and her daughters were raped. Boudicca decided that it was time for the Romans to fuck off and die. Raising a massive host, Boudicca burned three major Roman settlements down Londinium (London), Verulamium (St. Albans) and Camulodunum (Colchester). She was the greatest threat the Rome since...

Amanirenas, Queen of Kush was an African Queen who fought the Romans. Kush lay south to the new conquered Egypt, which meant it was next on Rome's agenda. Kush moved first. Though one-eyed, she was an able warrior who survived at least a dozen battles. Though the Romans burned the capital and took slaves, Amanirenas still fought on bringing Rome to its knees. Rome and Kush signed a peace treaty, preventing Rome from crossing the border ever again. Amanirenas's badass moment came thousands of years after when archeologists were digging up the tombs. Found under her the foot of statue, was the head of the Emperor Augustus.

#tw: rape #tw:sexual assault #writing resources #history bites #badass moments of history #writing advice writing resources #writing reference writing resources #writing advice #writing reference #writer's problems #caterina sforza #Katherine of Aragon #Amanirenas #boudicca #grace o'malley #Catherine the Great #Cleopatra vii #arsinoë iv #artemisia gentileschi #Jeanne de cousin #ching shih #countess markievicz #harriet tubman #Marguerite de bressieux #khutulun #osh-tische #baté #Matilda lady of the English #fantasy guide #fantasy prompts

[kookacademy]

No One Knows

Part 2

Twelve X Clara

Flashback to their first meeting.

Smut. NSFW.

Part one can be found on my blog very easily.

-----

As she walked into the pub she knew the night was going to drag. Clara loved spending time with her friends, but they had been here for 2 hours already and were, to put it plainly-pissed.

Sighing, she wandered up to the table. If it wasn’t for it being Holly’s birthday she wouldn’t have bothered coming out tonight. She wouldn’t have said no to a night in with a cup of tea and Killing eve on the telle. But here she was, might as well try and enjoy herself. 

“Clara! So glad you could make it !” Holly beamed.

“Hey you! Happy Birthday, I’m going to the bar, does anyone want anything?”

“Two pink gins please, and Clare will have a glass of white” Holly replied.

With that Clara turned from the table after saying hello to Clare and  Stacey and exchanging light hearted banter. As Clara approached the bar she cringed at the sounds of her friends giggling and screaming. She needed to get a drink in her-and fast. 

“Hello love, what can I get for you” asked the barman.

“Two pink gins, glass of house white and a glass of house red please” she answered. 

Scanning the bar she noticed a few couples, a couple of other groups of young adults and a table of slightly older men sat not too far away from her friends.  One of the men looked about as happy to be there as herself, as he was turned slightly away from the other men, not really engaging in conversation and drinking at a rather quick pace. She noted he was unconventionally attractive, skinny frame, greying white hair, long slender features, and no ring. 

“That’ll be 18 pounds 58 please love” the barman said knocking her out of her thoughts

Clara paid for the drinks and thanked the bartender as he handed her a tray to run her drinks on. As Clara arrived at her table she felt a set of eyes on her, looking up she saw the man she noticed  a few moments ago, he looked away almost instantly. Brushing it off, she sat down at the table next to Clare, but remained with a view to the mysterious older gentlemen.

“Clara! What’s new with you then ? Still working at that school?” Clare asked her.

“Nothing much. Yeah still at the school, I’m now the head of English though, which means more responsibility but no pay rise haha! What about you?”

Clara and her friends spent half an hour or so catching up and joking about the latest news  before she felt the need to go outside for a cigarette, she also needed another drink, the glass of wine she ordered had almost gone. 

“I’m just popping out for a smoke “ She told the girls as she put on her leather jacket to make her way out back. 

None of her friends smoked, and she ought to quit really, especially when working in a school. But whenever she had a drink in her system, the crave came crawling back, like a toxic lover you couldn’t quite shake off. 

She was outside lighting her cigarette when she felt a presence next to her, looking up she saw the eyes of the rather attractive gentlemen she laid eyes upon earlier. 

“Have you got a light” He asked, his voice dripping with a scottish accent that had been tainted by the english around him whilst in London.

“Oh erm, yeah of course” She replied reaching into her pocket and handing him her lighter.

“Cheers” he said.

“ No worries” 

“ That isn’t a London accent”  he asked her.

“Neithers yours” She said a twinkle in her eye.

“ Glasgow born and raised. Yourself?”

“Blackpool born and raised. How did you end up down in London?”

“Went to university down south, got a job in the city, haven’t quite left since. You?”

“Something similar”

She didn’t want to get into them details, she wasn’t about to tell a stranger her life story. She needed a few more drinks before she got into that. 

“I’m John by the way” He said offering his right hand to her as he finished the last of his cigarette with his left. 

“Nice to meet you John, I’m Clara.”

“Would you let me buy you a drink Clara?”

The next thing you know she was stumbling up the stairs to her flat, fumbling in her pockets for the keys. John was behind her, hands on her waist and lips grazing her neck. 

After what seemed like a lifetime she finally opened the door to the flat and John wasted no time taking her clothes off. 

“Christ Clara you’re beautiful”  He whispered, hands roaming her body.

She could only  hum in response as his fingers started working their way underneath her shirt. 

Maybe she’d regret this in the morning, fucking a complete stranger, but for the moment her intoxicated body only wanted one thing, and who was she to deny herself ?

They found themselves in the bedroom. Lips on lips, clothes discarded, hands roaming freely and skin on skin. John threw her onto the bed towering over her as she reached up to drag his neck down to her to kiss him. He happily obliged, sealing their mouths together and running his tongue over the bottom of her mouth asking for entrance.If she was a sober person she’d be worried about disturbing her neighbours, but she couldn’t care less at this moment in time. 

His lean figure towered above her as he pushed them both onto the bed. Skeleton like hands wandering freely against her short frame. The cold air blowing against her breasts soon became a distant memory as his hands covered the right one. 

His forefinger and thumb began to tease her nipple, earning him a slight moan in response from her. Satisfied with the melodies that she was producing,  he dipped his head so his lips could wrap around her other breast. Teeth grazed against her nipple, a motion filled with desperation, a moan escaped John as he began to suck against the flesh she bore.

His hot and heavy tongue teasing her nipple as his right hand continued to wander, journeying from the soft thighs and curvature of her arse to her heated centre. He looked up from her breast, meeting her eyes 

“May I tease you clara “ He purred

She offered a moan in response and parted her knees, which he took as a yes, his right hand cupping her centre, gently massaging her. He continued to leave a trail of kisses against her breastbone, teeth nipping at her skin. Her hands found themselves gripping around his head as he opened up her folds.

“Oh my Clara, you’re dripping wet” he mumbles, applying a gentle pressure to her clit, testing out the waters, he knew he found the right rhythm when her breathing increased, gasping for air, hands tightening around his hair and bringing him up for a kiss. He dipped a finger into her centre, invoking a gasp from Clara. 

“John” She moaned

“Mmm” he hummed, continuing to tease her with the one finger.

“If you don’t fill me up I’m going to kill you” She pleaded.

With a chuckle he obliged entering a second finger, opening her up. 

The pleasure was rising in her, John could feel it, her shortened breaths, the way her mouth was gaping open, head leaning back in anticipation of reaching a climax, just as she was about to find it he removed his fingers from her centre. 

“That’s, that’s cruel” She groaned.

In turn she reached between his thighs to take hold of his hardened member.

“Clara, my darling, you need to learn some patience” He whispered against her neck as he dived in scraping against her skin.

“I’ll learn patience later, just fucking fuck me” She replied, her impatiance causing her anguish.

“As you wish”

And without a second thought he’d entered her, his cock thrusting into her heated and wet walls. He started with a steady, slow and teasing rhythm, finding what made her tick, experimenting with different paces and forces of thrusts, until he found just what he wanted.

 He wanted her to enjoy this, to think about this night weeks later, he wanted to tease her and serve her well, it was for her pleasure. He wanted to please her. He wanted to make sure she was squirming underneath him, begging for more. And that he achieved, lifting her legs higher, finding a new angle. This caused Clara to cry out with pleasure, her hips buckling against him.

He was about to come undone at any second, but he held off as long as he could until she reached her end. The pleasure was creeping up on her, she felt it in her nerves and muscles, electricity flew through her veins, until a wave of relief washed over her, clearing out the built up desires. 

As she came, John could feel her pulsing, like an electric current shooting through his nerves, the release of her own orgasm led to his own sweet release, no longer being able to hold on. With a groan filled with deep satisfaction he collapsed onto Clara, catching her lips with a  hungry kiss.

His arms embraced her as he spooned her from behind,hands trailing against her skin, leaving small kisses in worship of her body.

They where both coming down from the high of ectasty of sex, drunk with both desire and alcohol. She felt herself sobering up enough to feel the tiredness pull her into a deep and well needed slumber. 

In the morning she awoke to a headache and the hands of another person around her waist. Then everything from the previous night filled her mind. The very very great sex they had.

John and herself saw each other for 3 weeks, nothing serious, a few dates here and there and a lot of sex. It was only when John received a call from work that he was needed in New york for 2 years that they stopped seeing each other and they became a distant memory. 

 

That was until today.

#twelve x clara #doctor who #twelfth doctor #whouffaldi #clara oswald

[mymelodyheart]

Highland Destiny Chapter 3 ~The Meeting~

James Fraser knew he was doomed when he realised he couldn't shake off the image of the Sassenach. What he thought of as a fleeting attraction had become an obsession that plagued his dreams and waking life.  He couldn't stop thinking about her. It's as if when their eyes locked for a brief moment, the stars aligned only to be scrambled again like some cruel joke. Jamie knew it was no longer a matter of choice - he had to find her.

It was a baffling notion that she could simply vanish from the face of the earth without a trace. He made enquiries in and around Inverness and not one of his contacts, emergency institutions nor were any of his friends were able to assist. His last hope in finding the elusive English woman was Mother Hildegarde from St. Agnes, and he planned to visit her later in the hospital. Surely she would know something considering the mystery woman was sleeping under her roof. 

Christ Sassenach, where are ye??

..........

It was early Monday morning, and Jamie was jogging back to the distillery. He sprinted the last half-mile in the hope that the exertion would diminish the frustration he was feeling. By the time he reached Frisealach Compound, he had worked up quite a sweat and his secretary, Laoghaire MacKenzie was waiting with a towel in her hand as he came through the door.

"Good morning to ye Jamie, enjoyed yer run?" He was greeted by a beautiful, blonde girl with too much make-up on and a dazzling smile. "I was watching ye from the window running like a mad-man, so I ken ye'd be here soon. I took the towel from your sports bag. Did ye spend the night in the office?" She approached Jamie purposely.

"Aye, and thank ye." Not offering any further explanations, he ignored the seductive look from his secretary and took the towel from her. "Don't ye have anything better to do?" Jamie asked, mildly annoyed and slightly out of breath from running all the way to the fifth floor.  

Disregarding the hint of sarcasm, Laoghaire smiled sweetly, "You have some messages, and I left them on your desk. Also, Murtagh called to remind you about the general meeting at 10 today." She reached out to Jamie for the towel. "Here, let me dry your back... ye're soaking."

"That'll be it Laoghaire, thank you." Ignoring her antics, he quickly made his way to his office, shutting the door firmly. 

Christ, I need to do something about that woman! 

Jamie quickly made a few business calls and arrangements with the bank to donate £50,000 towards the St. Agnes Orphanage's restoration. Next, he grabbed his sports bag and keys and headed back out again. 

"See you later. I'm going home to change, and then I'll be at the station for the rest of the morning. Anything important just passed it on to Rupert." 

Before Laoghaire could utter a word or react, Jamie was gone.

..........

Claire's first weekend in Inverness started off with a bang, literally. She belatedly discovered that the fire was caused by an exploding furnace. Fortunately, there were no fatalities, and everyone in the orphanage that night made it to safety.

Following the events of that Friday night, Claire made a new friend in the form of Tom Christie, the junior doctor from the paramedic team. She learned that he was employed at the Royal Northern Infirmary, where Joe had taken his residency job. With nowhere else to go after the fire, Tom helped her locate Uncle Lamb's cottage and carried her suitcases into her new home. She was thankful that only a handful of her possessions perished in the blaze as most of her belongings remained in the car when she arrived at St. Agnes. 

Claire spent the next two days unpacking, shopping, catching up with her best friend, Joe and visiting Mother Hildegarde in the hospital. Likewise, she visited some of the orphans and nuns injured in the fire. Worried about their plight, she was reassured by a nurse that the orphans were rehomed temporarily across the Highlands until St. Agnes is restored. This was comforting news! 

The remainder of her Sunday was spent at home unwinding and was pleasantly surprised when Tom popped in for a quick visit bearing a bunch of flowers and a basket of preserves from his sister's shop.

"Ach, it's nothing. Just a wee house warming gift and my way of saying thank ye for helping the other night," Tom explained, after giving Claire a quick awkward hug.

What a sweet gesture, Claire later thought as she got ready for bed. With that in mind, she dozed off, feeling confident that all will be well. And that night she dreamt of Frank whispering to her, "Yes darling, all will definitely be well. Hush now and sleep."

..........

Monday morning, Claire got up early to get a good head start at work. She had been previously instructed by a Mrs Henderson to come before 10 am in time for a joint general meeting between Scottish Ambulance Service and the Inverness Fire Department. Mr Fitzgibbons, the Head Fire Officer, wanted her to meet the whole team, including the volunteers with whom she will be working closely with in the future.

"Easy day on Monday Ms Beauchamp. I'm tae inform ye that yer first day will be familiarising yersel' with your surroundings and colleagues unless of course, we have some emergency. Yer official first day of work will be Wednesday when Mr McCoy goes on holiday so that will give ye plenty of time to organise yersel'," A woman explained over the phone. 

That's no brain surgery! Pretty straight-forward enough, Claire thought. 

But Monday didn't turn out to be as straight-forward. First, Claire's unruly locks refused to cooperate, so she tied it in the messy bun. Then her car keys were misplaced and spent 15 minutes looking for them. Then halfway to the Fire Station, her car over-heated and had to wait for roadside assistance to take it away for repair. Luckily enough, Tom was driving by and happily gave her a lift to the station before heading for work.

Claire arrived at 9:55 am to be exact. She thanked Tom and hurriedly made her way through the station. To her dismay, Claire realised the meeting had started. She followed the sound of the voice, addressing a room, and it led her to the back of the building. 

Right at the very end of the corridor, Claire saw an open door and peeked through. There were approximately 30 men assembled around the tables arranged in U-shape. At the head of the gathering, was a brown-haired man with a thick beard, doing a roll call. She surmised that it must be Mr Fitzgibbons.

Before stepping in, Claire checked her attire: everyday blue jeans, a white shirt, black leather jacket and white sneakers. She smoothed her hair and realised not much can be done. That will have to do Beauchamp... nothing fancy, just like one of the guys.

"Beauchamp!" the voice called out. The men in the room glanced around to determine who Beauchamp was. No answer. Meanwhile, Claire was unaware her name was called. She was too preoccupied smoothing her curly locks as she stood out of view from behind the door.

"Beauchamp, are ye here?!" the voice called out for the second time, this time almost shouting.

Claire finally heard her name called. Come on Beauchamp you can do this! She took big deep breaths and stepped into the room. "I'm right here," she announced loudly if not a bit croaky.

Almost all the men gave a start, chairs making squeaking and screeching sounds caused by a sudden movement of turning when a feminine voice answered.   Sweet Mother of Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!   There was a long silence, and a wide-eyed Claire stood frozen on the spot as she absorbed the room's shocked countenance. Appreciative stares, wolf-whistles and "oooohhhs-and-aaaahhhs" ensued after what seems like an eternity of speechlessness much to Claire's disconcertion. She wanted to back away out through the door and run.

"Hey Hugh, is the lady my belated stag-do pressie?" a voice shouted from the back. The room howled with laughter. Cor blimey, we have a jester in the house...just absolutely fucking great!

Ignoring the comic and the boisterous reaction, Claire gathered as much bravado she can muster and took a few more deep breaths. Aware every eye in the room was on her, she squared her shoulders and spoke, "Good morning, everyone, I'm Claire Beauchamp." Clearing her throat, she continued, "I'm terribly sorry that I'm late...my car broke down on my way here." 

The room calmed down when she spoke, and there were shuffles and murmurs, as the men turned to listen. Thereupon, a man with the beard walked over to her and extended his hand. "Hello Claire, I'm Murtagh Fitzgibbons. Call me, Murtagh. And, erm, welcome to Inverness and welcome to our team." His arms made an extensive motion to the room.

Claire took the extended hand, but before she could say a word, Murtagh, said, "Take a seat." Awkward! 

Somewhat still flustered and annoyed, Claire looked around for an empty chair. In her peripheral vision, a very tall man with auburn hair stood up and pulled out a seat next to him. "Hey Claire, over here," Ginger gestured to the vacancy next to him with sweeping arms. She spun in his direction and glanced up. Her gaze locked with a very amused pair of familiar, blue eyes.  Oh my stars and garters, it's the bloody Scot!

Reluctantly, Claire made her way to the offered seat and nodded. "Thank you!" She flashed a vain effort of her best smile, hoping to conceal her agitations.  

Before Claire could sit, suddenly, Ginger's hand extended towards her. "Hello, Sassenach! I'm James Fraser, or ye can call me Jamie if ye wish." Ah, Ginger has a name!  She peered up at the grinning face. "Listen, lass, dinna mind these loons - they may look scary, but truly, we're all a friendly bunch here," Jamie explained in the way of an apology, loud enough for everyone to hear. 

Standing next to Jamie, Claire felt petite with her 5'7 height.  Her eyes were almost at the same level as the hollow base of his throat. Up close, she couldn't help but be very aware of the broad expanse of his shoulders as her gaze involuntarily drifted to his collarbones and, damn,  he smelled like he just came out of the shower. He was wearing a white shirt that clung to him like a second skin and stretched precariously tight across his well-muscled chest. Avoiding his gaze, Claire quickly shook his hand, but as their hands touched, she felt an electric jolt bolt through her body in waves and swirls. Attempting to ignore the unsettling sensations, she responded, "Hi, nice to meet you too." Then she glanced up and saw Jamie staring too intently for her own comfort.

"Oy Fraser, smooth move" one of the men shouted, making Claire snap out from her reverie. The whole room erupted in laughter. Oh, crikey, here we go again!

"Aye, ye can learn a thing or two on how to be a gentleman," Jamie countered back laughing and threw a crushed paper at the direction of the joker.

Another joined in the teasing, "Gentleman my arse! The Frasers are just tae quick when it comes to pretty lasses. Ye're yer father's son, Jamie lad. My da tol' me how yer da, Brian stole the Mckenzie lass right under my uncle's nose!"

Everyone roared with laughter, and even the dour-looking Murtagh found the outburst hilarious. More banter and hilarity ensued.

Grateful for the distraction, Claire hurriedly sat down. She said "Thank you," again to Jamie and felt rather stupid for doing so. She lowered her head to hide the heat creeping up her face, as she busied herself, arranging her satchel on the table and taking out a pen and notepad.

"Right, that's enough. Everyone wheesht! So, are we all quite done here yet?" Murtagh hollered, "If so, let's get on with it. Aye?" Although the laughter ceased, you can still hear a few sniggering here and there. 

Calm restored, Murtagh proceeded with the meeting. Drawing his attention again!  back to Claire, much to her dismay, he asked, "Right, Beauchamp, which one is it officially, Randall or Beauchamp? I have several papers here with two different names."

Claire's face turned crimson. "It's Beauchamp. Randall is my late husband's name. Oh and by the way, just call me Claire."

Jamie nudged her arms lightly with his elbow, and he whispered with a cocked eyebrow, "Sorcha!" followed by a feeble attempt at a wink. Claire frowned, not understanding and she mouthed Shush at Jamie. 

"Verra weel, Claire Beauchamp it is. Or simply Claire" Murtagh declared. Flipping through more papers, Murtagh added, "Oh hang on a minute, I omitted to inform ye lads. It's actually Dr Beauchamp. She is joining the paramedic team for a year while she is on sabbatical. And if I were ye, ye better be in yer best behaviour. I hear Dr Beauchamp is quite handy with the scalpel, her being a neurosurgeon and all."

That revelation was followed by laughter, impressed nods, Jamie patting her hand, and more wolf whistles, much to Claire's chagrin. All she could do in response was offer a weak smile and shrug.

Murtagh smiled at her and continued, "Moving along..." Oh, sour-face can smile after all!

Even though the proceedings had moved on to other matters, Claire had difficulty focusing. She couldn't decide whether to blame it on Jamie's closeness or on the boisterous banter from earlier. Her concentration was further disrupted as Jamie scooted closer, his knees brushing against hers. He tapped her on the elbow with a pen and whispered, "Hey Sassenach, so ye're a Neurosurgeon, eh?"

She nodded, her eyes fixed on Murtagh. Jamie clearing his throat, spoke again in a low voice. "Hey Sassenach, did ye recognise me from Friday night...ye ken, the fire at St. Agnes? 'Twas me who carried ye out when ye fainted."

Claire quickly glanced sideways to say something but got diverted at the sight of bulging muscles of his forearm as he leaned close, both elbows pitched on the table. The view made her mind wander afresh to imagining how Jamie would look like without his shirt. The thought made her swallow a lump forming in her throat. Catching herself, she shook her head, as if the mere act of doing so would dismiss all silly thoughts. Determined more than ever, Claire redoubled her effort to solely focus on Murtagh.

Unperturbed by her lack of response, Jamie nudged her knees with his. "Well?" he urged." Did ye or did ye not?"

"Shush ..." She gave Jamie a warning look and feigned annoyance, but to no avail. It only made him scoot his chair closer until both their arms were grazing. 

Claire realised Jamie wasn't about to give up. So she looked at him with the sternest expression she can muster, pointed a pen towards Murtagh and mouthed to him, Later ok? Eventually, he conceded and acknowledged with a nod. Relieved, Claire mouthed thank you and was rewarded with the most beautiful smile she's ever seen upon any man's face. Oh, sweet Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, the man's bloody gorgeous. Defeated, Claire gave in to this renewed distraction and daydreamed leaning forward to kiss the indentation on Jamie's chin.

The meeting lasted for two hours, and the only thing Claire could think of was her growing attraction towards Jamie. And little did she know, he was in the same predicament.

#melodyheart #highlanddestiny #Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser #outlanderfanfic

[roseskiesandbutterflies]

Killer Queen - Chapter 9: Coming Soon

Summary: Arabella Ruth White is the fifth member of the Marauders. And life at Hogwarts certainly isn’t easy. Especially when you have alcohol, relationships, unhealthy music obsessions, a fake stage persona, weird ass friends with weird ass problems and actual school all thrown into the equation. (This story is also on Wattpad and AO3 of the same name. I will always update on Wattpad first.)

Warning(s): none that I can see

Taglist: @bhmay @briarrose26 @bijoukitty ask to be on my taglist!

Inspired by: A Night At The Opera, various Marauders headcanons I’ve seen on Pinterest, this quarantine business, The Boy Who Killed God by @sirius-black-killed-god on AO3, All The Young Dudes by MsKingBean89 on AO3

Word count: 4.3k+ (holy shit)

A/N: I beg of you follow Ruth's advice on how to handle a record because some people do it Wrong. Don't be one of those people, please. Somehow, she's 16 now which is weird, but not that weird seen as she is literally a figment of my own imagination. This chapter is over 4000 words long which makes it the longest thing I've ever written.

I’m thinking about changing the point of view again. I’m currently in first but I might change it to third. First is good for funny scenes like in this chapter, but it’s not ideal for the deeper stuff I have planned later. Yes, I have a plot. Shock horror. But we shall wait and see on that one. If I do change it, I won’t edit the previous chapters to fit it because I really can’t be bothered.

Everyone, please stay safe because of what's going on and stay optimistic and occupied. For example, I'll have more time to write! It's a scary time but it will pass, like everything does at some point. OK I've gotten too philosophical. I shall stop now. This chapter is sponsored by me calling Dr Brian Harold May 'Clog Man'. This chapter title comes from Queen's 1980 album, 'The Game'.

“Good morning, peasants!” I declared as I quite literally swept into Transfiguration that morning, a crown perched precariously atop of my head, my robe billowing behind me. My dearest courtiers trailed along in my wake, begrudgingly carrying my belongings. How generous of them, I thought to myself, as if they had had any say in the matter in the first place. My loyal subjects celebrated my entrance and I gracefully sat down in my assigned seat, feet on the table, chair tipped back at precisely the right angle. I didn’t want to fall and get a concussion, now did I? Especially not on that day of all days.

Now you may wonder what on Gaia’s green earth I am on about, you may begin to question my sanity, you may finally start to piece the clues together and realise I am in fact, a total nutter. About time you did, if I’m completely honest with you, darling. However, like most of my shenanigans, the reason for all this was a well-founded one, if I did say so myself. For Twas my birthday, my sixteenth birthday to be precise, and that meant I got to be queen for a day. Not as long as I would like but hey ho, it was better than nothing. I had all the time in the world to take over the world so being queen could wait for now. Even better than this temporary monarchy, becoming sixteen came with plenty of hobbies I could now I enjoy legally, such as having sex, smoking and drinking wine in a restaurant. As if the law had stopped me before. Following the law is for the weak and my mother did not raise me to be anything of the sort.

Now as a queen such as myself, it is my regal responsibility to keep up appearances, which, to put it simply, meant to look pretty damn fabulous at all times. Hence why I was sporting a magnificent golden crown enchanted to stay on my head for the whole day and matching robe-cloak-thing. You know what I’m on about. Personally, I was rather pleased with my attire. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for one Minerva McGonagall.

An exasperated sigh from the front of the classroom was reluctantly followed by, “White, dare I ask why you are not in proper uniform?” she gestured vaguely at my majestic outfit.

“It would certainly be rather daring of you, professor,” I replied, without missing a beat. A classic raised eyebrow went my way, so I let out a sigh of my own before saying, “Tis my sixteenth birthday, dearest Minnie. If I have to attend lessons on such an occasion, then I must be allowed to dress appropriately.”

“And you consider a crown half as big as yourself to be appropriate for school?” her wonderfully Scottish voice quipped back.

“Why of course ma’am, you see it’s what I like to call my thinking cap,” I grinned broadly at her before joining a giggling Sirius who had gone to great lengths to keep it all in.

But nothing in this godforsaken world, and I do not say that lightly, could have prepared me for Minnie’s response: “Then perhaps it will do you some good.” She turned to the blackboard behind her to begin the lesson I had partly succeeded in delaying.

I, on the other hand, wasn’t doing so well. I clutched at my chest as if I’d been shot, and believe me it felt like I had been, and dramatically fell into the arms of James, as he was the unfortunate soul who sat next to me. I weakly reached up to touch his face as they do in the muggle movies, made a mental note to remind him to fucking shave and heaved out, “Jamie, I won’t last much longer but there’s something I need to tell you.”

“What, my darling? What is it?” he asked, faithfully going along with my foolish antics as always, the poor sod.

“I…love…” I whispered before going limp in his arms as if I was dead.

“Ruth, my love, no!” he hugged my ‘corpse’ while sobbing rather profoundly.

Sirius leapt to his feet (I had to open my eyes slightly for this bit) and declared, “What do you mean ‘my love’? Ruth has been the love of my life since I first laid eyes on her!”

“You foul fiend! Ruth was the second reason for my very existence after Evans, thank you very much!” James too jumped up, leaving me to flop onto the stone floor with an ungraceful ‘ugh’. I could sense Lily’s annoyance from the other side of the classroom.

James and Sirius both grabbed their wands, pointed them at one another, but instead of cursing each other, they used them like fencing swords. Just before Sirius could ‘stab’ James, I myself jumped up and cried, “Wait!” at the same time Minnie yelled, “Enough!”

Naturally, we took no notice of this.

Both boys turned to look at me, only for me to say, “I don’t love either of you. I love Remus!” I pointed at the boy in question who in turn smirked his classic smirk.

He opened his mouth to speak only to be interrupted by an infuriated Minnie, “I said enough! Sit down, all three of you or it’s detention for a week!” Now I was pretty sure she was only letting us off because she was well aware that if I was given detention on my birthday, I would certainly not go. I’d like to think it was because she loved us dearly, but my mother didn’t raise me to be a liar either. Considering the circumstances, a.k.a. my huge fucking party I had planned for later on, I did what I almost never did.

I sat down.

Not without a snarky “ooooooooh” of course.

Naturally, Minnie wasn’t all that impressed with my reply, “Evans, swap seats with White, please.”

Naturally, I wasn’t all that impressed with her reply either, “Professor, are you seriously going to move me on my birthday?”

“That is correct.”

“Miss, that’s not fair, I haven’t even done anything that bad, we’re all in one piece, aren’t we? Besides, why is it only me that’s getting moved, what’s up with that?”

“You’re not the only one I’m moving, I’m also moving Evans, am I not?” she snapped, not at all pleased with my outburst, “Now please move seats, you are disrupting my lesson.”

I pouted like a little child on the naughty step, grabbed my stuff together and plonked myself where Lily had been sitting, next to a girl who had only started in September, from Greece or Italy or somewhere. I suddenly realised Lily was now sitting next to James, so I felt the need to apologise, “Sorry, Lily!”, I said in a similar manner to a kid who was forced to say sorry to their sibling after hitting them. She just shot me a reproachful look which had me fearing for my life for a second, before turning to the lesson that could finally begin.

Obviously, I wasn’t exactly keen to take part in the lesson, so I opted for attempting to get to know my new desk partner, “You’re the new girl, right?”

I was met with a blank stare and confusion from both parties until something clicked for me: if she had just moved here from another country then she probably didn’t speak much English.

Well shit.

I tried again, simplifying my language but hopefully not sounding too patronising, “Are you new?”

The poor girl still strongly resembled a deer in headlights but nodded, “Yes?”

“What’s your name, darling?” I was determined to get to know this girl, she seemed nice enough and, knowing from experience what it felt like to be the new kid, I felt a strange urge to help her.

She cocked her head to the side in confusion, now looking like an owl of some sort. It was at this point where I gave up and just waved her off, “Don’t worry.” If Minnie was as adamant about me staying in this seat as I suspected, I’d have plenty of time later to try and talk to this girl. Maybe when she knew a bit more English. Or maybe I could teach her some? Well saying that I’m not sure how good of a teacher I would actually be. I’d probably be more of a nuisance than a help.

The rest of the school day carried on in a similar fashion, with the usual jokes played out in a more dramatic manner than usual. Fine by me. The end of lessons couldn’t come soon enough but at last, they were over. Meaning I could finally, finally, open my damn presents.

Well, I say presents, but me being the impatient bastard that I am, I actually opened most of them that morning at breakfast. Which involved about a year’s supply of chocolate, a 10-pack of condoms and no less than three boxes of tea from various posh shops in London. And a hell of a lot of magical alcohol, which was far better than the muggle stuff, but we don’t talk about that. There was only one present left and that was the one from the woman who birthed me. I realise that I have led you under false pretences of sentiment towards my dear mother, and while I do in fact over her greatly, this is not the case. It was actually because our family owl, Bob (don’t ask me why he’s called fucking Bob, Rhea named him), is quite possibly slower than a bloody snail and took the whole day to fly from Cromer to Scotland.

I ran up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory, which is saying something considering I don’t run for anything, and there it was, laying on what was basically my bed when Kingsley wasn’t around, wrapped in shining gold paper, my birthday present. Instantly I got a huge sense of déjà vu, as I knew exactly what it was.

A vinyl record.

Because what else do I do with my spare time these days?

I carefully picked it up, observing it in the stream of November sunlight coming from the window. Judging from the size and weight of it, it was definitely an album, my excitement increasing tenfold. I opened it as carefully as possible to discover that it was indeed Queen’s new album. Their iconic crest was printed on the front in a loud colour scheme of orange and pink. The title was written in black cursive: ‘A Night At The Opera’. The whole thing, though relatively simple in its design, screamed regalness.

I was so mesmerised by it that I didn’t even see the envelope on the bed until I very nearly sat on it. My mum’s familiar handwriting addressed me on the front of it and inside was a card with the most gorgeous watercolour print of the Cromer Pier which had me missing it terribly. I opened it to read what she had written and I couldn’t wipe the grin off of my face.

To Ruth,

Happy birthday, darling! It’s hard to believe you’re 16 now, I still see you as my gorgeous baby girl! I know I can’t see you on your special day, but half term is less than a month away – you’ll be home before we know it!

I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve done, and we all love you very much. Have a wonderful day with your friends!

Lots of love,

Mum, Rhea and Luke xxx

P.S. Don’t tell Mum but I got you a sort of magical cactus from Diagon Alley but I’ll give it to you when you come back – Rhea

P.P.S What Rhea forgot to tell you is that the cactus was my idea, I just didn’t have any pocket money left after going to the sweet shop - Luke

I smiled at the message and at my siblings’ additions at the bottom and found myself missing them more than I anticipated. I put on my bedside table, next to the magical photo us the boys and me which never failed to make me laugh. It was of us knee-deep in the Great Lake, around the July of our third year. James had his back to the camera but still showed his face and his lopsided grin; he was carrying Sirius over his shoulder like a fireman, the latter of which was showing his middle finger to the camera as best he could. Peter was mid-fall in front of them, just seconds before face-planting the water. Remus was to the right of them, trying his best to avoid getting wet from Peter’s inevitable splash, his face all screwed up in an attempt to protect his eyes. I was trying to hoist myself up onto Remus’s shoulders, which wouldn’t have been so difficult if he wasn’t so fucking tall, even at 14 he was a giant. The photo was magical, so we were all moving around as we had been at the time. I was lucky enough to have caught the exact moment I pulled my wand out and cast the aguamenti charm, aiming at everyone’s head but more importantly, James and Sirius’s hair. The photo was an endless cycle of me jumping up, casting the spell and being chased around by everyone before going back to our original positions.

I reluctantly turned away from the treasured photo, picked up the album and turned to run to the Room Of Requirement so I could listen to the artistry I held in my undeserving hands. Somehow, my close good friends beat me to it; there they stood in the doorway, carrying my dear record player between them with wide grins on their faces, not altogether dissimilar from the one James sported in the photograph.

I wondered for a second how the vinyl got itself onto my bed, and how the boys knew they had to get my record player, but then I realised my mother must have told them in advance. She may have been a Hufflepuff, but I do sometimes think she would have made a fine Slytherin. Surprise kids, I don’t have a prejudice against the entirety of Slytherin house, just the ones who are, quite frankly, dickheads. Not my fault if that’s the majority of them.

They popped my dear baby on the floor and sat down various surfaces: the floor, their beds, Remus’s lap (*cough cough* Sirius *cough cough*). I ever-so-carefully removed the vinyl from its sleeve and placed it onto the turntable, only touching the outermost edges so as to not get grease into the grooves of the record. Now, I can’t be ruining it already.

“I hope you know we love you enough to carry that thing all the way here,” Sirius whined, mopping non-existent sweat from his forehead using’s Remus’s poor jumper. The audacity he had to refer to my precious record player as ‘that thing’. I didn’t hit him, which is very unlike me, but I refused to sink to his level. Twat.

“Thank you darling but I think, in the midst of wanting to show off your varying levels of strength, you all forgot you could simply levitate my baby here,” I flopped onto Remus’s bed (by far the cleanest one) as Peter repeatedly smacked James with a pillow, “What did I say, James? What did I fucking say?”

Poor James just groaned at him to stop, arms up in a quite frankly pathetic bid to protect himself. He looked at me helplessly, but I just shook my head with a cheeky smirk on my face, “Nope, you got yourself into this mess, I’m not getting involved.”

Sirius, on the other hand, was laughing so much that Remus had to move him from lying against his chest to having his head in his lap to prevent him from hurting himself. I was half-convinced that Sirius was in fact having a heart attack but at this point, I was not nearly drunk enough to put up with his bullshit. Oh yeah, forgot to mention we each took a shot after breakfast seen as it’s my birthday, only increasing our chances of getting alcohol poisoning within the next weekend or so. But let’s be honest, I’m only using my birthday as an excuse to drink more alcohol at eight o’clock in the morning.

A few more smacks and one case of concussion later, we had all calmed down enough for me to play my goddamn record. Suspense hung in the air as the tiny crackles of an unused record sounded, followed by a crescendo of lightning-fast piano. Definitely not what I expected from a song entitled ‘Death On Two Legs (Dedicated To…)’, until Brian’s slightly menacing guitar burst through the speakers. The rest of the carried on in a similar fashion, fancy piano and angry guitar combined with lyrics I could only describe as savage. I made a mental note to look at the enclosed lyrics later on to see what exactly Freddie was singing, as even for my standards it was rather mean. I also couldn’t help but wonder who this was dedicated to and what they had done for Freddie to sing about them in such a manner. Must be quite the dickhead. Maybe someone like Snivellus. You can’t get much worse than Snivellus.

The next song was called ‘Lazing On A Sunday Afternoon’ and I couldn’t help but giggle throughout it. It felt very vintage, the singing was distorted somewhat, but it seemed more as if they were taking the mick out of the genre. It was a little thing, hardly a couple of minutes long, and soon transitioned to ‘I’m In Love With My Car’, which I distinctly remembered from the B-side of ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’. That song will never fail to make me laugh. How a man can be so attached to his car, I’ll never know.

Those comedic masterpieces were followed by ‘You’re My Best Friend’, which I fell in love with within the first five seconds. The adorable little piano, the adorable little lyrics, the adorable little bass, okay I could go on like this for hours, but the point is that I loved this song and would gladly be its friend, were it a person. Yeah, I may have been a tad tipsy, might have had something to do with the shots we took between lessons on top of the one at breakfast. I had wanted to maintain a state of slight tipsiness throughout the day. Moving swiftly on.

‘39’ was next, and it was safe to say that I wasn’t expecting any of it. At first, the guitar made me chuckle, then the realisation that it was just vocals, guitar and fucking tambourine, and then the fact that it was almost certainly a county song about space. Brian was singing, of course it was Brian, and I seemed to have forgotten how talented a singer he actually is. And a songwriter because let’s be real, there is no way in hell that anyone in the band apart from Clog Man wrote this.

‘Sweet Lady’ came after that, which contrasted ‘39’ so much that it basically gave me whiplash. To be honest, I should have seen that coming seeing as that was how Queen seemed to work, a heavy rock song followed by something completely different and so on and so on. You’d think you’d grow tired of constantly changing styles but somehow Queen pulled it off magnificently, as they did with pretty much anything they set their minds to. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, don’t get me wrong it was a cool song, just not quite my cup of tea. I felt a little bit guilty about not liking it, but I forced myself to remember that I didn’t have to like every song on the album in order to be a fan.

‘Seaside Rendezvous’ was the next song and the last one on side A. I found it very quirky and much more to my liking. I could easily imagine myself going for a stroll down the beach back at home while humming this. And potentially dancing to it down the pier. Although I would look quite the crackhead as no one else would be able to hear it; but since when did I care about looking like a twat? I was already friends with plenty of twats, I stopped caring years ago. Somewhere in the middle of the song, there was a part that sounded like an orchestra of some kind, but I could tell Roger had something to do with the woodwind section, which led to some rather interesting images in my mind. Make of that what you will. The tap-dancing part made me laugh because I highly doubted that any of them could actually tap dance, leading to me wondering how to the fuck they did that. My brain also thought it was necessary to conjure up some cursed images of Brian tap-dancing in his clogs. Fucking hell, what was wrong with me?

As quickly and carefully as I could, I flipped the record onto the B-side, which started off with ‘The Prophet’s Song’. I was so naïve to think that ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ was long; this bad boy was all of eight minutes and basically a musical on its own, worthy of the likes of the West End or Broadway. The absolute artistry of the lyrics and the music quickly made it one of my favourites so far, which was saying something as I loved the whole damn album anyway. There was a good couple of minutes of straight acapella, mainly just countless overdubs of Freddie singing ‘no I know’ at various different pitches; then Roger and Brian joining in for a chorus of ‘la la la la la’. It was strangely creepy, and I had yet to figure out if that was their intention.

That then flowed almost seamlessly into ‘Love Of My Life’, a melancholic ballad that was as beautiful as it was sad. It didn’t take me long to work out that it was a harp rather than an acoustic guitar, I grinned at the mental images of Brian learning the harp for the sake of this one song. Surely if he’d known how to play it all along, he would have shown off his musical prowess much earlier.

Naturally, the next song flipped this whole vibe that had just been created on its head. ‘Good Company’ was its name and it involved a whole band created solely by Brian’s guitar. It seemed funny to me, but I didn’t know why. A bit like with ‘Sweet Lady’, I wasn’t all too sure if I like it or not. I did notice Brian singing again; it was nice to hear his voice on the record more, not to diss Freddie or Roger in any way, shape or form. Now I wanted to hear John sing and we would be good to go.

The last proper song on the album was, of course, the absolute masterpiece (or as Sirius liked to call it, ‘an utter fucking bop’) that was ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’. Considering the sheer amount of times we’ve listened to the record since it came out, it wasn’t all that surprising that we knew all the words off by heart. This was including playing all five minutes and fifty-five seconds of it while James was in the shower, so he didn’t spend hours in there and use up all the hot water. The rule was that he had to be out by the time the song had ended, or we would send Lily the picture we had of him with his hair all wet. And he would die before he consented to such a thing. Trust me, it’s not a particularly flattering look on him. I had to remind them to resist the urge to jump around when the rock bit came on, you know what I’m on about, so as to not damage the vinyl already.

The last track was a guitar rendition of ‘God Save The Queen’, which was outrageous as it was excessive. Just layers upon layers of guitar, I would forever be impressed by Brian’s skills. Sirius, however, was still moaning over his restricted movement.

“But why can’t we jump? It’s so much more fun that headbanging alone,” Sirius whined like the petulant child that he was. I had to give him at least some credit, he may have an impressive amount of muggle knowledge, but he was still a pureblood and a Black at that. He could be so naïve sometimes.

“Darling you have to understand that it’s a sensitive little thing. If you jump, so will the vinyl, which will scratch it and it will jump at awkward times,” I explained, to which I was met with blank stares as if I was speaking in bloody Welsh. I sighed, perhaps a little more dramatically than necessary but if that doesn’t some up my whole life then I don’t know what does, and tried again, “Like with my Sheer Heart Attack record? Where it jumps during Brighton Rock and Killer Queen?”

“Ohhhh,” understanding washed over his and James’s faces because let’s be honest, if you think Sirius is oblivious then clearly, you’ve never met James.

“Yes, ohhhh,” I repeated, taking the mick out of the stupid buggers. Hey, it’s my birthday, I’m allowed to do whatever I want.

Which reminded me of the party I had planned for later. Well, I say party, it was going to be more of a ball than anything. A birthday ball, if you will. What can I say, I have a flair for the dramatics, sue me.

#marauders #marauders headcanon #marauders imagine #marauders fanfiction #marauders era #70s marauders #lgbt fanfiction #lgbtlove #lgbtq #lgbt #Harry Potter #killer queen #queen imagine #queen band #Queen #Freddie mercury #roger taylor #peter pettigrew #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #John Deacon #James Potter #Brian May #indian james potter

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 38

Chapter Summary -   Benedict and Sophie arrive for dinner, which is a nice affair. When Sophie gets Danielle alone, the pair speak about how it is to be the other half of the "Internet's Boyfriends."

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog  @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe @lys-syl @youcantcatchafallingstar

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

“I see you fitted in some stress relief.” Benedict joked as he walked into the house, giving Tom a hug as he did.

“Do you two ever stop?” Sophie shook her head and laughed, having already entered and given Tom a similar hello. “I love this table.” She commented, looking at the table that Danielle had inside the front door.

“Sophie, no stealing Elle’s things,” Ben warned, earning a confused look from Tom. “She stole my mother’s bowl recently.”

“Your father gave it to me,” Sophie argued.

“Without telling mum.” Ben countered.

“I didn’t know that.” She pointed out.

“He’s hated the fucking thing for years, so first chance he had to get rid of it, and it ends up in our place.” Tom chuckled at his friend’s overdramatic reaction to a bowl. “So, where’s Danielle?”

“Kitchen,” Tom led the way.

“Ooh, what books does she have?” Sophie asked, glancing into Danielle’s living room on the way.

“Elle, frisk Sophie on the way out,” Ben called out in warning. “She plans on robbing half your home.”

“It’s actually so nicely done,” Sophie added, heading to the kitchen, looking around as she did.

“Actually, it appears she’s just robbing the whole fucking thing.” Sophie elbowed him slightly.

When there was no response, Tom frowned. “Elle?” he called going for the kitchen door. A sniffing noise caught their attention. “Mac, get away from the door.” There was another sniff and a grumbling noise before Tom opened it.

“Tom, he got in when I was throwing out bread crusts for the birds, but I am prepping food so I can’t touch him.” Elle apologised.

“Got it, come on, big man.” He grabbed a baked pig ear and caught the dog’s attention, allowing for Ben to open the door.

“He’s huge,” Ben commented. As soon as Mac Tíre realised there was someone new to sniff, the ear was forgotten about and he trotted over to the guests. “Soph, remember the pup I told you about.”

“You said he was a scrawny rat.”

“Well, he is getting a bit fatter these days, Diana is overfeeding him.”

“She is not, he’s supposed to be fatter than you have him.” Tom defended.

“I’m sorry, did your father have a vet practice?”

“My father was in charge of the company that sold your father pharmaceuticals.”

“Actually they manufactured them, not sold them, that is done by the parent company.” Danielle corrected, sticking out her tongue at him.

“So, yes, this is apparently my girlfriend, acting like a four-year-old.” Tom indicated to Danielle as he spoke to Sophie.

“He’s just annoyed I caught him on a technicality, I’m Danielle.” Danielle dismissed as she walked over to Sophie, cleaning her hand to shake hers. Sophie, however, walked forward and hugged her. “Oh, okay. I thought English were not supposed to be overly affectionate at the beginning.”

“I am half Scottish.” Sophie smiled.

“Ah, that explains it.” Danielle grinned back. “So, what’s this bout robbing my house?” she looked to Ben, who came to hug her as well.

“Sophie is an undiagnosed kleptomaniac apparently, and your house and everything in it is next.”

“Benedict!” Sophie looked at him appalled. “I just said I like your hall table and wondered what books you had on your shelves.” Sophie put her hands up as though she was being ordered to by authorities.

Danielle just laughed. “Thank you, it was my parents, I effectively took everything from the house with me here, so anything nice, it was probably theirs and as for the books, literally, you could find anything in there, there is no rhyme or reason to it, ask Tom, it annoys him.”

“It does not.” Tom dismissed, smiling like a fool at how immediately Elle had taken to Sophie.

“You glare at it, do not deny it, I can see it in your face.”

“I like your book organisational skills as much as you like my grey shoes.” He retorted.

“Ouch!” Danielle laughed in slight disbelief, “That is cold.”

“Those shoes are fucking tragic,” Benedict interjected, though his face was a jestful one. “I mean really, Tom.”

“Funny, he said you have two pairs.” Danielle joked.

“Ooh.” Tom pointed at Benedict as he laughed at his disbelieving look at the young woman. “That turned quickly.”

“Come for dinner and I get abused.” Ben shook his head, scratching Mac Tíre’s ear. “Why do I bother?”

“I think it is something to do with the food.” Elle joked, going back to the food. “Mac, out.”

“He is fine if you want to leave him in, so long as he won’t jump on Sophie.” Ben dismissed.

“Mac isn’t allowed jump on anyone or on the couch.” Tom showed him the ear again, regaining the dog’s attention. “Bed.” Taking the ear gently, Mac trotted to his bed. “Good boy.” He smiled, “Tea?”

“Please.” There was an eagerness to Sophie’s voice that was slightly dramatic.

“Very domestic,” Ben joked.

“Yeah,” Tom smiled as he looked at Danielle, who was busy prepping something for the dinner. “Oh, Elle is making…what is…is that your…”

“Good to see Eton and Cambridge paid off, proper coherent sentences there.” Ben joked.

“You may be laughing, but you have not had Elle’s Roast Lamb and veg.”

“Nice and exotic.” Elle shrugged.

“Does it come with potatoes?” Ben asked curiously.

“Gratin and roast.”

“I am never leaving.” Ben declared as Tom handed him a cup and thanked him, then watching as he handed one to Elle. “That’s not a cup, that’s a tankard.”

“You know Irish people drink more tea than us.” Tom pointed out.

“With cups that’s size, it’s hardly a fucking surprise.” Ben laughed. “Seriously, why would anyone need a cup that big?”

“Because they want that much tea.” Elle grinned, “Food’s on, so here or the living room?”

“If just to annoy Tom with your disorganised books, we’ll go to the living room, but no promises Sophie won’t rob you.” Ben joked, rushing through the door before his wife contemplated throwing her tea at him.

*

“So, how did the music shoot go?” Ben asked as he bit into another piece of the dinner.

“Fine, all things considered. Though I think I can put my hand on my heart and say it is chaotic and completely off-putting.” Danielle responded.

“The shoot or the person.”

“The shoot, the person I wasn’t overly bothered by, considering I am two and zero on that front, the song, however, as tragic as the ‘singing’ is once again, is not exactly very nice.” She looked to Tom apologetically.

“Yeah, I read about it, ‘The Heeler’, peculiar name,” Sophie added.

“Not really, makes perfect sense, it’s about Tom and myself and I was a paramedic.”

“But it is spelt wrong.” Ben pointed out.

“Wait, H-E-E-L-E-R is it?” Sophie nodded.

“Smart play on words there.” Danielle commended. “It’s clear she didn’t come up with this on her own.”

“How?” Tom asked.

“Does she seem like a professional wrestling fan to you? I mean; did she sit down and watch Summerslam when you two were…whatever you did together?” she asked.

“Summerslam?”

“That’s a no then. Professional wrestling, The Rock, Triple H, Stone Cold Steve Austin, John Cena, all those guys, the WWE, it’s a term they use. Their good guys are called ‘Baby Faces’, or ‘Faces’, and their baddies are given the term a ‘Heel’.” She explained.

“You literally will watch anything on the TV.” Tom shook his head.

Danielle shrugged, “I rather that that Keeping up with Whoever is in Vogue This Week and other reality toilet paper.”

“Definitely.” Sophie agreed, “I feel like I am alone in a sea of gossip fodder when people start waffling on about that.” she turned to her husband, who was eating more gratin, “You are going to regret that later in the week when you are running it off.”

“Don’t care, too good. Tom, how are you not going around another ten kilo’s heavier?”

“Because I don’t get it cooked for me often, Elle’s staying at the hotel and I was over stateside doing the voice work. It’s good, though, right?” Tom smiled knowingly at his friend, Ben nodded.

“I’m just glad you guys like it, I mean, it’s not Michelin star stuff.”

“Good, that stuff is shit, it’s the size of a two-pound coin, costs two hundred and tastes like rubber.” Ben scoffed. “You can’t beat the basics.”

“You can bring the boys to Hollywood.” Elle smiled as she drank some more wine mixed with a soft drink.

“Private school boys, if that counts.” Sophie chuckled.

“Says Ms Oxford.” Ben retorted.

“God, posh people,” Elle sniggered, causing Tom to chuckle and Sophie and Ben to stop bickering.

*

“So, you said this was your parents?” Sophie was getting ready to go upstairs after a pleasurable evening of talking.

“Yeah, my mum got it in some weird boutique place in the bog arse of nowhere back home.”

“Didn’t she mind you bringing it over here with you?”

“No, she and dad, they’re…gone.”

Sophie’s face filled with horror. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry, I didn’t…what…?”

“It’s fine, I mean it’s sort of commonplace, isn’t it?” Elle shrugged with a sad smile. “She had cancer, and dad just wasn’t the same after, his health went downhill fast, he was so stressed before and it was worse after for him, he was a workaholic so it was always her that made sure he ate and looked after himself, so with her gone and me in college…”

“You moved over after…”

“Yeah, didn’t want to stay there, dad was saying how there were more opportunities over here, and when I dropped out because I decided I rather do something different, I thought it was the better option to come here.”

“Why Suffolk though?”

“I’m not a city person, I prefer the quiet of the countryside, Suffolk was by chance, I found an opening here, decided it was the place for me, used the money from the sale of my parents place and my dad’s practise to get a nice house, which,” she looked around her. “I think I did pretty well with, and it just so happened that my neighbour was a nice woman who I spoke to the day I was viewing it and she convinced me to buy, saying it was a nice area, quiet and someday a great place to have my family and when I moved in, her kids came to help me, one of whom happened to be Tom.”

“That must have been a shock.” Sophie chuckled.

“It was, I mean, I like comic book movies, so I knew of Loki, but when Tom was in front of me, I hadn’t realised who he was, and was just looking at him with that funny suspicious look of ‘I know you from somewhere’.” Elle blushed as Sophie laughed.

“Oh God, really?”

“How he did not walk out of the place and have his mum file a restraining order, I don’t know.” She shook her head in shame.

“Ha-ha, sorry, but that’s hilarious, I love it.” Sophie laughed.

“How about you, Ben said you met on set years ago?”

“Yes, back when he was a bit of a nobody in the game too, a few bits here and there, but we had other people then, and by the time we started something, he was huge.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how you do it, the public stuff, and all they write about you and Christopher, and probably now this little bubble too.”

“You can’t let it get to you. Sometimes it’s jealousy, sometimes spite, others just want to bitch about anyone and others…I don’t know what their problem is, but they can just get over themselves, I love Ben, he loves me and Kit, and we live pretty normally off the red carpet, and as long as it stays like that, we are happy.”

“But you are accomplished too, you’re in his game, I am just a set person, I can only imagine what they will say if it gets out.”

“‘When’ not ‘if’,” Sophie corrected. “You will get some heat, after all, Tom and Ben are the ‘Internet’s Boyfriends’ but most will love that you are not a stick-thin, Hollywood Barbie, you are exactly what they all dream would happen, as cliché as it is, you are ‘The Girl Next Door’ literally.”

“God, that is fucking cliché.” Elle laughed.

“And it gives them a little hope too, that is something.”

“It is also going to add some heat.”

“Yes, I read what the papers wrote after the dinner with him and his mum.”

“You read a lot of gossip stuff?”

“Normally no, but after meeting Ms Swift, I wanted to see what they were saying about poor Tom and I saw the whole thing with you and him on a few papers.”

“Yeah, some were not very nice.” Elle played with her fingers.

“Tabloids never are, but the other’s will be the majority opinion, ‘wholesome’ is not a word used much in entertainment.”

“It sounds a lot like the word fat.”

“By some standards, yes, you are, you are supposed to be a size four to six, eat once every four days and snort more cocaine than you can handle to stave hunger pains, and you are not that, so they will hate you for it, because Tom clearly prefers you and that is not what their magazines tell them is sexy.”

“Thank you.” Elle gave a small smile. “I really wanted to talk to someone about this, but Tom doesn’t get it from this point of view, I mean, he understands, but doesn’t understand, if that makes sense?”

“He comprehends it, but does not feel it himself, so doesn’t have first-hand experience of it.” Sophie nodded. “I know that feeling.” There was a small hint of bitterness in her tone. “I thought for ages that no one could understand what it was like, especially when it was revealed we were engaged, even more so after it was announced I was pregnant.”

“Who helped you?”

“Amanda, Martin’s other half, she literally just came up to me one day, hugged me, threw the men out of the room and demanded I tell her exactly how I was feeling, and pushed and pushed until finally, I caved.”

“You never acted like it affected you.”

“In public, God no, but behind closed doors, I was terrified, and Ben had no idea how to help, Amanda saved us, I was so scared, I wanted to run and hide and never go in front of a camera again.”

“I’m glad you didn’t, you guys are amazing, and your son is the most gorgeous little cutie going.”

“When he wants to be, he can be temperamental.” Sophie smiled fondly.

“Hey, he’s male, it’s to be expected.” Elle dismissed, earning a loud laugh from Sophie.

#I Hate You I Love You #chapter 38 #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fic

[theacerbicprince]

Answering Harry Potter Tag Questions

So my darling @xweofmanyfaces answered this in video form but I don’t do videos because I don’t know how to edit and stuff. Really, all I can do is type and prance so I’m going to type out my answers to these questions. It may be long, I apologise in advance. If there are any other questions you’d like to ask me that I haven’t answered then let me know. 

What house are you in?

I am a Gryffindor which surprised me initially but if I think about it makes a lot of sense because I am very loyal to the people I care about and I don’t think I’m brave but I know people who would disagree with me just based on the challenges in my life. 

What is your Patronus?

My patronus is a white stallion according to pottermore. I read up on what it meant on the lexicon and it was amazing how similar it was to me. 

What is your wand?

My wand, as on pottermore, is Pear wood with phoenix tail feather, 13 and 3 quarter inches, slightly yielding flexibility. According to pottermore, there has never been a recorded instance of a pear wood in possession of a dark witch or wizard. 

Favorite book?

I liked the Deathly Hallows because it gave us so much and it wasn’t as badly paced as some of the other books were and it moved me emotionally, very much so and it revealed so much of my darling boy. 

Least favorite book?

Probably the Chamber of Secrets if I’m honest. 

Favorite movie?

From an aesthetic point of view, the Half Blood Prince. Overall favourite movie in terms of soundtrack is the Deathly Hallows Part 2 but overall, tying everything together would probably have to go to Order of the Phoenix. I live for Imelda Staunton in that movie and ugh, just that bit where Alan manages to inject that much snark and sass and condescension into the one word ‘obviously’. 

Least favorite movie?

Goblet of Fire, I think a lot of people might agree with me on that one, it’s not universally that well received. 

Is there a movie you preferred over the book?

The Chamber of Secrets movie is better than the book for me. I actually feel very emotional about the ending of that movie probably because of Chris Columbus to be honest and some of the shots are amazing and the music too, John Williams excellent. 

Favorite quote?

I love this so, so fucking much. 

“It is good to see that six years of magical education haven’t been wasted on you Potter; ghosts are transparent.” 

Favorite character?

Severus without a shadow of a doubt. He’s my boy even when he’s being a total jackass and he just brings so much joy to me because he makes me laugh so much. 

Least favorite character?

Ron. I hate getting on the ship in that sense but yeah, I don’t like Ron as a character although a lot of that comes from the fact that I just don’t see him ending up with someone like Hermione. This does not mean I don’t want to write with Ron because Molly loves all of her children regardless of their flaws but I don’t personally like him. I like him even less in the movies because they took away some of his kinder, more human moments and he was like 95% jackass. 

Favorite professor?

Minerva is an absolute boss, always, that never changes. She teaches the kids so much and she’s so supportive but at the same time she doesn’t take any shit. I will always have to defer to my home boy though because he’s an amazing teacher even though he is a giant asshole about it. He is multi talented because he can teach more than the one subject and he can teach them well. He fully understands his subjects and he takes them both so seriously, more seriously than his other professors I would say. He doesn’t express it the right way but he cares a lot about the welfare of the students. There’s a reason he loses his shit when Neville fucks up so badly at Potions that Severus is practically apoplectic, because the boy is dangerous and he doesn’t want to be responsible for a death or severe disfigurement. 

Favorite villan?

Bellatrix Lestrange. She’s a great villain in that she is so unstable and you don’t know what she’s going to be doing next really. She is the sort of villain where you are constantly on edge around her and we actually get to see her in action properly and we get a full, real sense of why she’s so terrifying. A lot of that was missing as far as it went for Voldemort because we didn’t get to see much of him or how he earned his reputation. 

Favorite weasley?

Molly, she is my girl but she is also super strong, super loving and she has dealt with so much in her life and so deals with it all with barely any complaint. She is so giving to everyone, she takes everyone in and is so welcoming and approachable and it’s not something that she thinks about doing, it’s just natural to her. 

Favorite marauder?

Remus because he isn’t a giant douche. Remus is also the one that seems more understandable to me. I think we’ve all been there at one point or another where we have seen an injustice and we have to decide what we are going to about it. He didn’t actually want to kill anyone, he didn’t take a savage delight or really any delight in what was going on and he’s apologetic about it. He doesn’t come up with excuses for his actions or lack of actions, he accepts the responsibility of what he’s done. 

Are there any characters you felt differently about in the movies versus the books?

Gilderoy Lockhart and that is just because Kenneth Branagh is just amazing, he is a stunning actor and I admire him greatly as a professional and he made Lockhart far more likeable.I actually enjoyed watching him in the movie whereas I hated reading him in the books. 

Which character do you think you’d have the closest relationship with?

Probably Molly if I’m being honest, we are quite similar in some senses. Severus would struggle to tolerate me but I think he still would put up with me. 

Which class would be your favorite?

I am a huge history fan so yeah, History of Magic would probably be quite high up on my list. I think I’d like DADA too, combat you know. 

What would your boggart be?

My daughter (from my dreams) desperately wanting my attention because she needs me but I’m too out of it to be able to help her, my darling Penny with my health conditions. Oddly specific I know but it is a massive fear. 

What position would you play in Quiddich?

Seeker probably, I have good eyesight and good hearing too. 

Would you be a pure-blood, half-blood or muggle born?

I would be half blood, just makes sense for me. My mother is Scottish and my father is English so it makes sense that I’d be half and half magically. 

What job would you want to have after leaving Hogwarts?

It really depends on what my specialisation would be to be honest. I might teach for a while, I really enjoyed being a tutor (which was my job up until September last year). 

Which of the Deathly Hallows would you choose?

The invisibility cloak. I don’t need great power in my life and my loved ones would drive me insane because I would want to see them so often, to touch them and I couldn’t. The invisibility cloak is remarkably useful. 

Which spell would be the most useful to learn?

A healing spell of some sort, always useful. 

Do you have any unpopular opinions about the series?

MY HOME BOY IS A GOOD MAN! It is not creepy that he was in love with Lily for that whole length of time. Stop having a go at my man, he’s not a creeper. 

Either or/if, would you rather:

Wash Snape’s hair, or listen to Lockhart ranting about himself for a day?

Do you even have to ask that question? I would massage that scalp aaaall day.   

Duel an elated Bellatrix, or an angry Molly?

Angry Molly would be terrifying but an elated Bellatrix is guaranteed to torture me to the point that I am desperately crying out to die. 

Travel to Hogwarts via Hogwarts Express, or a flying car?

Hogwarts Express, you can get up and walk around the train, stretch the legs which is good for me because of my nerve damage and pains in my hips etc. 

Kiss Voldemort or give Umbridge a bubble bath?

Kiss Voldemort, I do not want to see Umbridge naked. 

Ride a Hippogriff or ride a Firebolt?

Probably the Hippogriff, I think it’d be far more comfortable and I could actually talk to the Hipprogriff and not feel like a lunatic. Who talks to their broomstick eh?

Hallows Or Horcruxes?

The horcruxes are a fascinating and interesting concept especially when you look into the whole process and splitting the soul. Is the soul split every time that you kill? 

If you could own one of the three Hallows, which one would it be and why?

Invisibility cloak, this was addressed earlier. 

If you could bring one character back to life, who would it be?

This motherfucking question right here. I’ve been thinking about this question for hours, honest to Lords hours. You’d think I would want to bring Severus back to life but there is one person in particular who comes to mind because it’s just so tragic and I would want to change it so badly and that is Tonks. I want Teddy to grow up with his mother and Andromeda to not have to deal with the loss of her daughter as well as her husband. 

#ooc #harry potter #harry potter tag

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #212

“counting bodies like sheep to the rhythm of the war drums.”

Have you ever fired a gun? No. Have you ever tried archery? No. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep? A day or so. Do you have any scars? Whew, a lot. I scar easily tbh, though me being so so pale probably contributes to making them more noticeable. Are you a good judge of character? I don't really know. I think so, but then again I'm very very paranoid when meeting new people and look TOO deep into how I expect someone to be. Can you do any other accents other than your own? Just British. What is your favorite accent? British generally, but I find French sooo pretty with girls, then Scottish is cool. What is your most expensive piece of clothing? I have no clue. Probably my leather boots. Can you curl your tongue? Yes, surprisingly... I just tried and I can with the slight curve in my tongue ring. Most used phrased? Probably "what a mood" or something like that lmao. Most used word? Besides the words in most sentences, I'm sure it's probably "fuck." How long does it take for you to get ready? Am I taking a shower? Then just like... less than 20 minutes. Without a shower, it's like less than ten minutes. Do you suck or bite lollipops? Both. Can you name all 50 states of America? No. I'm a sad American. Have you ever started a rumor? No. How fast can you type? I took a test awhile back for a job application purpose and it's 72 or so wpm. How fast can you run? I can tell you NOT FAST without even trying. Color of your bedspread? Navy and black. Have you ever had a really bad haircut? I don't think so. What brand, color, and type is your favorite eyeliner? I don't have one. Do you wear eyeliner? If I ever wear makeup, that's the one thing I will wear. Was there ever a time in your life when you couldn’t cry? Yes, probably early 2017. I was so numb until I started to "feel" recovery. Even as I got better, I had a hard time crying. Last year was a pretty "I can't cry"-type time, too. What’s your favorite type of yogurt? Not a fan of yogurt. What are your favorite type of calendars? I don't have one? Do you have a full-length mirror? Yes. Do you have a piggy bank? No. Do you remember your locker combinations from high school? No. What’s your favorite DIY crafts YouTube channel? I don't watch DIY crafts. Would you rather sleep on the top bunk or bottom bunk? At my current age, bottom. What kind of popcorn is your favorite? Probably caramel corn. But buttery and salty is great too. Does your town have a big fountain in it? No. What is your town known for? Probably nothing. Do you know what you want to do for your next birthday? If yes, what is it? Hm. That's a long ways off, idk. All I know is it'd be great if Sara was here. And then there's the yearly urge to get a tattoo that day lmao. What is the last new thing you discovered that was really good? I think The Shining. Watched it for the first time and loved it. What would be the best surprise you could receive right now? Hey could I have money right now. Were there any subjects in school that were really easy for you? If so, what? English/Language Arts. Did you ever skip a grade or get held back a grade? No. What is the best hairstyle you’ve ever had? I love what I currently have. Do you think you look better with dyed hair or natural hair? Dyed hair. Do you think your look better with curly hair or straight hair? Straight. Do you have bangs? No. What’s your favorite rock band? I'd say Marilyn Manson. (I'm excluding metal, 'cuz that's a different story.) Who’s your favorite country singer? I don't mind Tim McGraw. Did you try the unicorn frappuccino, and if yes, were you a fan? I didn't. When you look at your baby pictures, do you recognize yourself? Actual baby pictures, usually no. Has your hair color changed since you were a toddler? Yes; I was born dirty blonde. Do you wear matching socks? Yeah. Do you decorate for Halloween? We don't really anymore. What is your favorite thing to do in the pool? Just swim around, relax. Have you ever taken a picture at the perfect moment? I think so. What color(s) eyeshadow do you wear the most? Only ever black. Do you see yourself as a sensitive person? I'm extremely sensitive. Do you still leave/receive voicemails? Yes. Are you a festive person? Do you enjoy holidays? I'm not very festive, no. The only holidays that really excite me are Halloween and Christmas. What is your favorite subject to learn about? Meerkats. You’re feeling down - do you listen to sad music or happy? Sad. It usually comforts me/makes me feel less alone. Even though I might cry. Is there a song or artist that you secretly enjoy, but don’t want to enjoy? I like a decent number of Blood On The Dancefloor songs. Has your parents' taste in music in any way affected what you like? Yes. When I started getting into rock naturally, I began listening to my mom's CDs, and that's when metal stole my heart. You’re looking for some new music - what’s your preferred way to discover? YouTube recommendations. Do you still own any CD’s/records/tapes? Mom has CDs. She may or may not have tapes from when my sisters and I were really young for memory's sake; we had a lot of kid ones, like Raffi. Do you ever hear a new song on TV that you like and find it? When I watched TV, yeah, rarely. Do you watch the news? No. What about the weather channel? No. What’s your favorite holiday movie? Maybe Hocus Pocus. How do you feel about adult cartoons? I don't have an opinion. Do you still watch shows that you grew up watching? No. What about movies that you grew up with? Yeah. Do you identify with any organized religion? No. If so - is it how you were raised, or have you found your own? I was raised Catholic, grew to simply a Christian, then left that behind a year or more ago. Have you ever protested or been on strike? Does not eating at Chick-fil-a count as some kind of "protest?" That place was hard to let go of, but nah man, I'm not supporting your business when your higher-ups contribute to anti-LGBT efforts and such. Is gun control necessary or no? Some degree of control absolutely is. Are you happy with the political state where you reside? HAHA no. Should abstinence or sex education be taught in schools? Education, but I do believe in heavily advising smart sexual decisions such as not just doing it with just anyone. Have you read the book 13 Reasons Why or watched the show? I read the book. Should shows like this be available to everyone or could it be a trigger? Fuck the show. Do you like animals? Of course. What is your absolute favorite food? Probably pizza. Do you have bad anxiety? If so, do you take any kind of medication for it? You don't know the half of it. I literally cried the first and last day of my last job because I couldn't find the gloves when I needed to. So yeah, I take meds, but I don't think either do very much, honestly. Who was the last person you felt you were wasting your time on? A former best friend. I cared when she didn't. One thing you’ve experienced that you thought you never would have? I never in a million years thought I was going to have a bad - traumatic - breakup when I was kid because I "knew who to pick." I was so sure. What was the last thing someone said to you that kept repeating over & over in your head? The guy who helped in basic training with me saying "well that was a waste of my time" when my co-worker told him what was going on with me. Literally, it won't get out of my head. If a random person were to look through the photos on your phone, is there anything you’d be embarrassed about? lmao I have Mark wallpapers stored, my friend. Don't find my collection. How often do you have late nights out? Never. Ever. Do you currently have any mixed feelings about someone? As far as friendships go, yes. If you could, would you work from home? Do you think that would make you more or less productive? No no no no no. I want a job to get OUT of my house. I know I'd be less productive, too. What were you like in middle school? Weird and probably annoying. If you could give one charity a million dollars, what charity would you donate money to? I'm not sure. I'd have to look more into ones with causes I'm passionate about. Most likely something about conservation. Would you ever be an organ donor? I am. Which do you think is harder: realizing you haven’t changed or realizing you have? The former. Is there something that you really need to do, but can’t seem to get motivated to do it? Plenty of things. Have you ever won some sort of prize or prize package from a contest? What did you win? Yeah, a few. I don't remember most; I only really remember the Silent Hill one I've mentioned before. What is something you’re surprised hasn’t been invented yet? A cure for cancer, I guess? I dunno. Most disturbing movie you have ever seen? Probably The Entity. Has a life goal or dream ever come true for you yet? If yes, what is it? If no, do you think you’ll achieve it? lol by golly do I wish. I don't fucking know if I'll achieve any. What one thing has always bothered you, but seems to bother no one else? I get legitimately bothered by people going in/out the wrong door. Do you still own a VCR and VHS tapes? No. What’s your favorite color gummy bear? I don't care. What is the sexiest part of the opposite sex’s body? Shoulder blades why do I love shoulder blades????? Where do you sing the most, in the car or the shower? I dunno. Ever hurt yourself playing Wii? Probably. Do you have freckles? Not on my face. I did as a kid though. Weird. How many languages can you say “Hello” in? Three. What’s the last video game you played? So not computer? I believe... The Legend of Spyro: Dawn of the Dragon? Or Shadow of the Colossus. I don't remember. Can you do the alphabet in sign language? No. Do you like your feet? I don't like feet to begin with, and I don't like mine. My feet are so dry and callused to HELL from when I used to walk all the time. I need to see a doctor to get rid of the worst ones on my toes honestly because they annoy the fuck out of me because ugly. Candles or incense? Incense. Reason behind the last time you laughed until you cried? I don't remember. Are you one who brags a lot? I don't have anything to brag about. Do you face your problems head on or do you run away from them? Depends on the problem, I guess... What is the latest you’ve stayed out before? I remember there was one night in particular with Jason where he dropped me off like... really late. Around 3 or later in the morning. I don't remember why I got home so late. Are you confrontational? AVOID! AT ALL!!!!!!!!!!!! COSTS! Do you stand your ground? Usually. Who do you know without a doubt cares about you? Mom, Sara, and Dad. Have you ever caught yourself talking in your sleep? For the past year and more, I've started sleep talking frequently... and yeah, I've woken up in the middle of doing it plenty of times. Did you do anything stupid/anything you regret today? I probably do something stupid every day. Little things like procrastinate on everything are certainties. Have you ever switched primary care doctors? Do not. Get me FUCKING started. On the doctor who kept me on a medication that resulted in gaining like 150 pounds and blaming it all on me. Yeah, I switched. If yes, what was the reason? lol see above. Do you ever sleep on your bedroom floor just for fun? God no. Sleeping on the floor is a last resort. Are you worried about your current financial situation? LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL Do you know anyone who’s had a stillbirth? Probably. Who was the last person you know (or that you know of) that died? Uhhh I'm not sure. Possibly the old lady Mom watched. Do you need a new phone? Desperately. Would you rather get a big tattoo or small tattoo? A big one. Do you identify as a supernatural being..i.e., unicorn, alien, goddess…? Uh no. What’s one thing you are tired of seeing or hearing about on Facebook? Guys I don't understand the "me and the boys" meme laskdfjalwier make it go away. What theme do you want for your wedding? Halloween-ish. What theme would you choose for a baby’s nursery? Idk. I don't want kids, so this isn't something I think about. What color would you paint a baby girl’s nursery? Pastel pink. Not for stereotypical reasons, my favorite color just happens to be pink and I think it's cute for a baby. Does your first crush know that he/she was your first crush? No. Which family member did you get your height from? Mom and I are pretty much the same height. Do you like your butt? NO I have a pancake ass. Who was the last friend of yours to have a baby, and what’s the baby’s name? An old high school friend recently had a baby named Jaspen. Are all of your friends having babies right now? I think most of my old friends have at least one kid by now. Do you know anyone who’s given birth to twins? Yes. Growing up, did you listen to country music? Yes, when my older sister started controlling the radio. Do you have a gazebo at your house? No. Where were you going the first time you rode a plane? Ohio or Michigan. Do you like tomatoes? Not really, no. The only time I ever have was fresh ones with bacon and light mayo on a sandwich. What’s your favorite brand of bottled water? Essentia. Do you have any ceramic animals in your house or outside? Why is there a small dolphin in the corner of our back yard?????? What annoys you more: slow talkers or slow walkers? Slow walkers. Have you ever been to a night club? No. If you had a warning label, what would yours say? Something about being prone to anxiety, I guess. Do you believe in reincarnation? No. Do you believe in horoscopes and zodiacs? Not in the slightest. What is your MBTI personality type? INFP Can your dog roll over on command, if you have a dog? No. Is the ocean or sky prettier? Sky. Are you androgynous? No. Do you like to kiss others’ foreheads or hands for platonic reasons? No. Well I kiss my niece's and nephew's cheeks when telling them bye, but they're the only ones. What is the youngest age you can remember back to? I have at least one memory from when I was two. Did you wear your hair in a ponytail today? It's too short for that. What job would you NEVER take, even as a last resort? Slaughterhouse worker was the first thing to come to mind. If you broke your computer, would you be able to fix it on your own? No. What was the shittiest hotel you’ve ever stayed at and why? I don't think I've stayed in a bad one... What was the first kind of alcohol you ever tasted? A daiquiri. Do you use any styling products on your hair? No. Do you have a favorite local band? Who are they? No. What’s the most confusing book you ever read? Even though it's my favorite book, Johnny Got His Gun takes the cake here. The way it's written is very confusing, though I think I get why Trumbo chose such a style. Do you like your personality? I like some things, hate others. Are your legs long or short? I'd say they're proportional to the rest of my body. How many phobias do you have? A lot. Where do you think your last ex is right now? He's probably sleeping since he works 3rd shift. What’s the most beautiful thing you’ve seen in the last week? I don't know. Probably the sky during a car ride or something. Who was the last person to comfort you as you cried? My mom. When was the last time you felt like throwing up? A week ago or so when I had an anxiety attack the night before my first day of work. I got myself so worked up. Have you ever had to wear a hairnet? For the two fucking hours I lasted at my last job lmao. Do you use the Facebook chat often? No. Do you own a robe? What color is it? Nope. Who ended your last relationship? Me. Do you still remember your first kiss? Yeah. Are you happy with where you are relationship-wise now? Yeah, other than being long-distance. How many kids do you want to have? None. Have you ever purposely given someone the wrong number? No. Who’s the last person you smoked weed with? I haven't. Though by this point in my life, I wish NC would catch up with the times and legalize it medicinally because I've given up enough to turn to that for my anxiety. Who was the last person you talked to, other than family? My old VR coach. When was the last time you flew in a plane? Last December. Is there a girl you absolutely can not stand? No. At least not off the top of my head. Ever had a person who was obsessed with you so much that it scared you? No, I was that person lmao. Has anyone ever mistaken you for someone else? Yes. Say your last ex walks up to you and hugs you, what do you say? We're still friends, so. At the current time, a random hug from him would probably make me cry though because he's not very affectionate and I haven't been stable for days. I need the comfort alsdjfakljwer Who was the last baby you held? It's probably been like a year since I've held a baby when I was still friends with Colleen. But y'all my sister is pregnant & next year GUESS WHO I'M HOLDING. Do you have any siblings that moved away to college? She did, but she's long since graduated. Who was the last person who cried around you? I'm sure it was Mom. What was the last thing you cried about? My life. Who’s the last guy to give you roses? Tyler. Would you rather have nice eyes or nice lips/smile? Smile, I suppose. Do you have a common first name? Yes. Do you like your middle name or your first name more? My first, I guess. Do you wear more rings or necklaces? I always have a ring on. Have you ever been engaged? No. Can you see your veins through your skin? In some areas. Did your parents let you have pets when you were a kid? Yes. Do you like spicy chips? Yes. What band was on the last band t-shirt you wore? Metallica. Do you have any tattoos on your arms? Yes. Have you ever owned or known someone who owned a black cat? Both. Who scheduled your last doctor visit? My mom. I don't drive, so she drives me around, and so things have to fit into her busy schedule. So she just does it. Do you have any holiday themed socks? True shit, I think most of mine are, lmao... Like you know, socks are a common gift on Christmas. What’s the last funny movie you watched? Idr. Can you remember your parents’ birthdays? Yes. What piercing do you like most on the opposite sex? I'd say it depends on the person, but in general, I suppose snakebites? What brand of hair dye do you prefer to use? Splat is the only brand that has ever stuck to my hair. Lasted months. Did/do you ride the bus to and from school? Only Jason's junior and senior years sometimes to go to his house. Are you any good at applying make up? No. I have tremors in my hands, and it makes it an absolute nightmare. Are you someone who likes to make simple things difficult? I certainly don't try to, but I somehow always end up doing it. What’s your favorite Thanksgiving food? Rolls and honey ham. And that is /literally/ it. I don't like Thanksgiving food. Do you like Techno music? Yeah. Is your second toe longer than your big toe? They're like the exact same length. Do you say "merry Christmas" or "happy holidays?" The former. Who do you talk to on the phone most often? Mom. What’s the best concert you’ve ever been to? I've only ever been to Alice Cooper, but it was great. I'm supposed to be seeing Ozzy plus supposedly Judas Priest and Megadeth (you're not allowed to die, Dave) next year, and that. That will be. My preview into Heaven. I will sob. How did you meet your best friend? Over YouTube via the meerkat RP community. Do you need money to be happy? Try living really poor and come back to me claiming money can't ever buy happiness. What is something you do well? Dig way, way too deep into absolutely anything and everything. What’s a good idea you’ve had recently? I've started to count calories on top of fasting. What is your favorite thing to eat for breakfast? Ahhhhh, cinnamon rolls. How far in advance do you prefer to plan? For most things, a few days or a week. Bigger things, maybe like a month+? How many slices of pizza do you usually eat? 2-3, depending on my appetite. Would you like to live in a different country? If so which one? I wouldn't move there, not with all my family and such here, but I think living in Canada would be better sometimes. Do you prefer the aisle, middle, or window seat on a plane? I strongly prefer the window seat; I've found that if I'm not looking out the window and the plane changes altitude or direction (takeoff is the worst), I get VERY dizzy. I usually always wind up in the middle seat, and there and in the aisle seat, I have to close my eyes at times like those. What’s your favorite song from a movie? As far as original songs, probably "Be Prepared" from The Lion King. A goddamn beat. What’s your favorite city? I haven't been to many. Idk. Who was the last person to ask you to hang out? Did you agree to hang out with them? Hell, I have no idea. Is there a food that you eat basically every day? What food is that? I usually have a granola bar as a snack or even just a meal in place of breakfast or lunch. Is there a food you eat that others find weird or gross? I grew up sometimes eating waffles with peanut butter and syrup as Dad loved it. It's definitely different, but it's absolutely delicious. What was the last fast food restaurant you went to? Did you get anything? If so, what? I think Sonic? I got a double bacon cheeseburger. I fell in love with their burgers. Can you remember the first video game you ever played? What about your first video gaming system? I'm not sure, but it was probably Spyro The Dragon. My first gaming system was a PS1. The last video game you played - did you play alone or with someone else? Alone. If there is a disc in your computer, what disc is it? There isn't one. Do you shut down your computer every time after you use it, or do you leave it on? I leave it on. Do you know anyone who has ever been in a movie? Who and what movie were they in? What was their part? No. Describe the last shirt you saw that you really liked. Where did you see it? Omg I saw this shirt online of a really cool demonic pig that said something like "Save the animals, eat humans." It was actually a vegan shirt, but I nevertheless wanted it, lol. I support veganism, but yeah... I could never do it. But anyway, it was too expensive. Do you live in a very diverse community? Not really, no. Do you know anyone who has had salmonella? Did you ever have it yourself? What about e-coli? No; no; no. When was the last time you brought a pet to the vet? What was wrong with it? Sigh. We put Cali down. Something ruptured in her abdomen and there was also a mass on her liver or gallbladder, and her abdomen was filling with blood. It compressed her lungs so much she could barely breathe. Surgery was extremely expensive, but more importantly, we were told it likely wouldn't save her. Do you get motion sick easily? If so, does it prevent you from going on any rides at amusement parks? I've never gotten motion sickness, but I don't risk that shit with amusement park rides or boats out at sea. I'm terrified of vomiting. Do you have any bug bites on you right now? If so, where? No. Have you ever made your way through a corn maze? No. Name something that you used to do with your family that you no longer do with them or at all? Easter egg painting. Have you seen Inception yet? Thoughts on that movie? I never saw it.

#survey #quiz #questions #random #bored

[manifestoonmoralmanlove]

Soulless Riffing: Brainless Ch. 2

I got a supernatural action/romance book series as a gift that’s just riddled with stuff that I hate….and as a steampunk Victorian London action romance story filled with werewolves and vampies…it’s yeah gonna be easy to poke fun at.

I just want to say, it’s totally cool if you like this story or ones like it!  It’s certainly a better caliber than a lot of what I make fun of….however…I can’t help but want to make fun of it.

Over here for the 1st chapter

SO FUCK IT HERE GOES!

Chapter 2

An Unexpected invitation FOR ME TO RANT ABOUT EXPOSITION!

Before I get into the meat of this chapter, allow me a bit of ranting time about some exposition we get in both chapter 1 and 2 here.

Even though Alexia was told she’s a rare and super cool SOULLESS when she was 6 years old. NOBODY IN HER FAMILY knows she’s Soulless. And I’m sitting here like…

????????????????????????????????????

There’s no fucking way any 6 year old can keep the secret that they have cool powers for longer than 10 minutes.  Especially if they weren’t told it was something to keep quiet about, and especially, ESPECIALLY if you’re telling a girl who grows up to be an out-going woman who’s confident about defending herself.

It’s as if there is some dramatic reveal on the horizon where her family finds out and is mean to her for being born BADLY.

SPEAKING OF BEING BORN BADLY this bit of characterization burns my biscuits a big one.

Alexia is considered unfuckable for a few reasons.

1.)    Big Nose, face isn’t considered traditionally pretty. – Okay that’s a good addition

2.)    She’s too STRONG-WILLED – Okay sure

3.)    She’s half Italian.

Woah hold up there…

Sorry, not sorry, but I hate this cowardly, cynically pandering horseshit.

Can that make sense in this pseudo-bullshit historical setting? Sure.  But we also have fucking werewolves and vampires.  The fact that they chose for her ~lower status~ to be tied to the fact that she’s A DIFFERENT KIND OF CAUCASIAN is deliberate and pathetic. They author wants to pander to women who feel like they’re…

“NOT LIKE OTHER GIRLS” but at the same time don’t want to risk the book not selling if HEAVEN FUCKING FORBID there was a BLACK AND/OR FAT AND/OR TRANS AND/OR LIVES WITH A DISABILITY woman on the cover.  It’s just pandering to that extra shitty part of white people that’s like, “I’M A SECOND CLASS AMERICAN CITIZEN BECAUSE MY HERITAGE IS IRISH AND A LONG TIME AGO THE IRISH WERE TREATED SHITTY!”

Were the Irish and the Italians treated shitty in historical contexts?

Oh absolutely!  

Problem is this woman published a Victorian styled book that’s full of steam punk, yiffable supernatural vampires, in 2009. When you write it in the modern era and it’s full of fantasy bullshit and you want to make commentary about discrimination and prejudice? Don’t try to jam that in with a leading woman who’s an upperclass, straight, able-bodied, neruotypical, white, skinny, cis-woman but like THE BAD KIND OF WHITE!

Is it a book written from a problematic perspective? Not necessarily, but it’s fucking cowardly and you can get the hell out of my face with that gutless trite.

I have a feeling this is going to be an on-going theme too. People being discriminated against EVEN THOUGH THEY’RE COOL!  This chapter already implies that Vampires, Werewolves, Scottish People and YES even Scientists (for reasons) are discriminated against even though ALL OF THE ABOVE are well represented in the upper echelons of high society.

Can you be rich and respected but still be discriminated against? Yes, of course, but…it’s very hard for me to picture any of these groups as hugely oppressed when they’re dripping in money and good social standing. I’m so dreading the scene where somebody says something blatantly and maliciously racist about her powerful, wealthy werewolf boyfriend and Alexia stands up and GIVES THEM WHAT FOR cause she TOO knows what racism feels like cause a dude she asked out once was like, “Eww ur half-Italian no way lawl.”

I’m white, but Jesus Christ, fucking white people.

So with a page of me bitching about exposition out of the way….Alexia, her mother, her 2 half-sisters, and her step-father are all gossiping it up at the breakfast table. And boy howdy is it apparent what the author and by extension, what she thinks her audience would find shitty.

YES YOU GUESSED IT! Her younger half-sisters are

PRETTY BLONDE GIRLS!

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HOW COULD THEY!?!?!??!?!?

But they do have the negative trait of being SHALLOW!

Yes Alexia stand in judgment of those women who care about how they look.  Let’s ignore how every outfit you don, is lovingly described in detail, and that there were at least 3 separate situations last chapter where you fussed about how you looked.

Just to be clear, I’m not saying that there’s anything wrong with the author happily describing elaborate, Victorian outfits, or a woman fussing over her looks. I’m saying it’s bullshit that she snidely calls them shallow and insipid from atop her ~NOT LIKE OTHER GIRLS~ throne while engaging in the same fucking behavior.

GO TO HELL ALEXIA!

So,

There’s an article in the paper about the dead vampire but there is no mention of Alexia in it. When asked if she knew anything about it she derails into huffing about how she wished she said more mean shit to Lord Macaron. When like…I’m sorry? You both said some sassy stuff, but HONESTLY? You violently killed a man at a ball, and got out of that REALLY FUCKING EASY, and while Alexia insulted Macaron to his face the worst he said to her was she was as covert as a sledgehammer and immediately apologized for it. (BTW, he said this in response to her DEMANDING to be given a job that doesn’t exist but she will get one like it in t-minus 5 chapters.)

Shouldn’t you be…I don’t know…a bit more concerned that a mysterious man attacked you last night, and there could be more like him out there RIGHT NOW rather than you didn’t have enough witty one-liners on hand? Get over yourself Alexia.

So let’s settle a bit.

She goes out huffing on a walk with her Bff Ivy Hisselpenny to calm herself down.

Even if Ivy is also an outcast due to voluntarily wearing SILLY HATS!  I’m calling it now she is a cinnamon roll that must be protected from Alexia’s “I’m best girl” narrative.  May I say I find it a gross misuse of time to use a paragraph to explain the difference in French/English Fashion by their introduction but spend 2 words, “Hideous bonnet” on describing the silly hat? FOR SHAME!

Thankfully Alexia doesn’t’ incessantly tease poor Ivy…yet.  On their walk they are stopped by Mable Dair who tells Alexia her Vampire Matriarch, Countess Nadasdy, wishes to see her.  

Everything about that situation screams bad fucking news for her.  Again, thankfully, Alexia has enough brains to try to determine HOW BAD that situation could be.

So she sees token gay and vampire friend Lord Akeldama.  The author makes no qualms about characterizing him as the floucniest priss that ever ponced a sissy.  Now, I’ll confess, I have a guilty pleasure for fictional gay stereotypes that bleed into problematic territory. 

EH-HEM!                        

Yet Lord Akeldama is not doing it for me.  It might be the fact that since this is kinda Young Adult territory that you can’t be subtle. But I can’t help but feel condescended to with the tons of IMPLIED nods to how gay he is. I’d almost rather she just come out and say, “THIS MAN IS SOOOOOOOOOOOO GAY…HE IS A DICK WITHIN A COCK WITHIN A PENIS! HE’S LIKE A TURDUKEN BUT IT’S A DICK-COCK-IS!” Instead I’m tapping my fingers going, “Oh this new line of dialog now makes it the 67th new cutsey flower-based nickname he’s calling Alexia by! Thanks cause, I missed all the previous 66 of them!”

To be honest, I might be being a bit too judgmental here.  Like with all things I love a lot, I can be a bitter opinionated bitch about what I consider good and bad versions of it.  So anyway Akeldama doesn’t have much to add besides

“Create more sexual tension with that Hunky werewolf wiener”

BOY HOWDY AM I LOOKING FORWARD TO MORE SEXY AND ROMANTIC DIALOG LIKE…

“UR A BIG STINKY FART-FACE!”

“I KNOW WHAT YOUA RE BUT WHAT AM IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII? NEH!”

Say something Nice Faps:

Lord Akeldama being interested in Alexia makes some sense due to her soulless ability. The author makes a point about how he likes holding her hand and feeling human. So even if Alexia is insufferable or nothing special otherwise it makes sense that this vampire would enjoy her company for that at least.

They describe Mable as both chubby and very good looking. CAUSE TURNS OUT YOU CAN BE BOTH!

As I said, Alexia at least has enough brains to get some info before driving straight into the fire here.

#brainless #soulless #riffing

[hqdelila-blog]

about a delight ;

• BASICS •

Full name: Delila Catriona Bautista-McIntosh

Nickname(s) or alias(es): De, Dede, Delly, Madame, Frenchie.

Preferred name(s): Delila, De, Dede.

Date of birth: May 12th, 1993

Zodiac sign:  Taurus

Religion: Christian. 

Gender: Female. 

Preferred pronouns: She/her

Sexual preference: Pansexual. 

Romantic preference: Pansexual 

Hometown: Tagbilaran , Philippines

Resides in: The Vally, California.

Occupation: Professional Domme, Porn Star.

Language(s) spoken: Spanish, English, broken Scottish Gaelic . 

Native language: Filipino, English.

• BACKGROUND •

Birth order: Youngest. 

Level of education: Graduate of High School.

How were their grades? Excellent, top of class.

Best childhood memory: Anything about her life in the Philippines, seeing as both her parents were enlisted in the army, she was raised mainly by her grandparents. But her favorite memory, if she had to say one would be Christmas when she was 6, it was one where everyone was together, no threat, no... bad, just together. 

Family’s economic status: Birth family, lower middle class, adopted family, very wealthy. 

Childhood career choice: A solider, like her father.

School subject they excelled at: Anything with numbers, science, math-- she loved knowing there as a right and wrong answer.

School subject they had trouble with: Art, she could hardly hold a brush in her hand without dropping it, let alone create something. 

• APPEARANCE, VOICE & MANNERISMS •

Birthmarks/scars/distinguishing marks: She has a freckle on her right cheek, but  scarring is more what she has, after a tour overseas,she is littered in them; the worst of them on her right thigh and leg, her shoulders, and forearms. A lot of them look like burns, cuts. 

Tattoos: None.

Piercings: Ears, just the lobes.

Dominant hand: Right. 

Frequently worn jewelry: Her mothers wedding ring on her pointer finger and her fathers tags around her neck. 

Speech style: (fast, monotone, loquacious?) Depending on who she is with and what she is talking about, it varies-- on casual days it is very clear, not monotone, but not so fast you cannot understand her. When she is angry, passionate, scared-- she will speak a bit faster. 

Verbal tics: (do they have trouble pronouncing certain words or getting their thoughts across clearly?)  None. 

Scent:  Tom Ford, Fucking Fabulous.

Posture: Excellent. 

• PERSONALITY •

Personality type: ESFJ

Positive traits: Empathetic, Kind, Loyal.

Negative traits: Secretive, Dangerous, Impulsive.

Usual mood: Content.

Insecurities: Her skin color, her scarring.

Fears: Not making her birth parents proud, death, and birds.

Comforts: Physical touch, music, volunteer work. 

Habits/quirks: Foot tapping.

Nervous tics: Playing with hair, touching hair. 

Superstitions: None.

Pet peeves: People who play with food, bad hygiene.

• HEALTH & PSYCHOLOGY •

Diet: Generally very good, eats very healthy day to day but does enjoy her fatty foods-- doesn’t restrict much, but doesn’t binge. 

Alcohol Use: Social. 

Drug Use: None. 

Addictions: None. 

Allergies: Coconut. 

Exercise habits: A hug runner, physical strength  training 

Sleeping habits: (Do they sleep well? Badly?) She sleeps terribly most nights, can never fall asleep-- has to take sleeping medication. 

Any physical ailments/illnesses/disabilities? Has a bum leg’, after her return from serving-- during she was sure she had broken her leg, sprained in, done some kind of damage that now she always walks with a small limp.

Any mental illnesses/disorders? PTSD. 

Enneagram Type:  8, the protector.

Moral Alignment: (you can also view this for a simpler description)  Lawful Good, "Crusader"

Temperament: Phlegmatic

Element: Earth.

Hogwarts House: RavenClaw. 

Intelligence Type: Intrapersonal intelligence

• VIEWS ON... •

Life: “People take it too for-granted, they don’t understand that it can be taken away any  moment and it is too short for hate.”

Death: “Something that happens, that... that happens too soon most of the time.”

Love: “Love is... love, love is wonderful and is always there-- it is always there, even in the darkest of times.”

Sex: “Love it enough to make a career out of it.”

Marriage: “Something I do want one day, one day I want it all, a husband/wife, children, a home---I want a love like my mother and fathers.”

Divorce: “An easy way out, there are people that fight for their right to get married only for nearly half of marriages to end in such. If it is for the right reason, a couple that has fallen out of love, a partner beingu nfaithful to the other, it is... just an end people know all too well.” 

Family: “Not always traditional.” 

Friends: “Needed to get by, needed to be not alone-- the platonic love is if not more important than romantic.” 

Politics: “Fuck politics, fuck the fact that peoples voices are taken from them-- you may not want to hear me as a WOC, but you will.” 

Religion: “A comfort.”

Work: “If you enjoy what you do, you will never work a day in your life. Doing what I do, I help those that needed it and that is all that matters.”

Money: “Something that I will never take for-granted,and as someone that is wealthy, I use it to help those that need it.”

Alcohol/Drug Use: N/A

Tattoos/Piercings: N/A

Swearing: N/A

• FAMILY •

Father(s): Birth Father ;  Ailbeart Lee Paterson ;  Adoptive Father; Jacob Andrew McIntosh.

Describe their relationship: Birth Father, Delila was always a fathers girl, while she didn’t she much of him while he was alive, him serving tour after tour; on the times he’d come back with her mother, they’d be attached at the hip. Her father had a thich Scottish accent, thick hair, and arms that when they wrapped around her, the months away, it didnt matter. Delila is proud of her father,she’s proud to be his daughter and wear his tags with honor. She only hopes that he’s proud of her.  //  Adopted father, The two of them-- they didn’t get along, but they did not not get along, her father was a man of few words, that was unless you did something he did not like-- then the words never stopped. She was thankful for him, he gave her the life anyone could ever want, a big house,money, the best education, but... he wasn’t her dad, she never felt that connection. As of the current moment, Delila has not spoken to her father since coming back from tour,  she saw her parents for a total of 11 minutes and it left her knowing they wanted nothing to do with her.

Mother(s): Birth Mother ; Mahalia Dalisay Bautista  Adoptive Mother ; Rosalinda Lydia McIntosh.  

Describe their relationship: Birth Mother, It was the ongoing thing that Delila was her mothers birthday present, ringing in the womans birthday with her birth there was that bond the two shared that no one could place. While like her father, Delila didn’t see much of her, when she did, her mother was one to always squeeze in as much love, as much and as grand as she could in short bursts of time. The one lesson her mother taught her was to love her skin, love her voice- love everything that made her different. // Adopted mother, If there was one thing knew about her mom it was that she was beautiful, but that was it. And that stuck with her, no one could list a good thing about her mom, unless it was related to her beauty. Delila never understood why she choose her to adopt, why in the states there was plenty of children that needed a home, it wasn’t until she overheard her one day talking to a maid, that Delila was more or less a sign of...charity, that she was the ‘Look what a good person I am, I adopted this brown child.” To say their relationship is strained would be an understatement. 

Pet(s): None. 

• QUESTIONNAIRE •

Optimistic or pessimistic? Optimistic. 

Disorderly and messy or methodical and neat? A combo of the two, while she is a very neat person, her years in the military taught her, she had a messy side to her, her room the best example. 

Book smart or street smart? Both.

Leader or follower? Leader.

Day or night person? Day.

Cat or dog person? Both

Coffee or tea? Hot coffee, Iced tea. 

What do they wear to bed? Normally nothing, but if something it’s just a big t-shirt. 

Do they snore? No. 

What position do they sleep in? On her stomach or on left side. 

Which side of the bed do they sleep on? Right. 

Can they multi-task or must they focus on one subject at a time? Multitask. 

Do they get restless when things are too quiet or do they favour solitude and silence? Hates silence, gets very restless unless it is silence with a persons she is comfortable with .

What would completely break them?  Being overtaken by her mental illness, never finding love because she is her own worst enemy. 

What was the best thing in their life? Her life in the Philippines. 

#NDHQTASK01

[isolationshepherd-blog]

CHAPTER FOURTEEN - ET TU?

It took four long, torturous days for Jaha to summon Kane to his dwelling. Kane had checked and rechecked the papers so much in that time they were starting to look dog-eared. In the end, he had forced himself to leave them alone by putting them in a tin box and burying them in the woods. Blake had sent him a message telling him that Abby was effectively under house arrest but was safe and Alasdair did not appear to suspect anything. That had been a huge relief to Kane. He did not stop thinking about Abby but knowing she was safe meant he could put her to the back of his mind, and concentrate on the task ahead. He had decided that he was not entrusting the papers to Jaha, no matter what the man said. Kane wouldn’t be happy until he was putting the papers into the hands of the Warden of the East Marches himself.

Jaha was seated at his desk when Kane entered. He gestured for Kane to come forward but did not invite him to sit.

“I have spoken with the Warden.”

“Thank ye, Sir.”

“He was most interested in the papers, and has agreed to a meeting.”

“This is wonderful news, Sir.” Kane was delighted. He hadn’t been as certain as Raven that the Warden would welcome a visit from reivers, but evidently the papers were too valuable an opportunity to pass up.

“He wants to meet you, to discuss what you know of Lord Griffin’s dealings in person.”

This was even better news. Kane thought he would have had a fight on his hands to prevent Jaha from going alone with the papers, but the Warden had pre-empted that discussion with his request to see Kane.

“I will be there, of course,” Jaha continued. “To make the introductions.”

Kane nodded. “Of course, Sir. When is the meeting to take place?”

“The day after tomorrow. At Lightwater Castle.”

“Near Berwick? That is a dangerous journey, Sir.” Lightwater Castle was a new fortification on the Scottish side of the border but close to the English town of Berwick upon Tweed. It sat on an island, accessible only via a causeway at low tide. It was a full day’s ride away, right through the heart of the border country. Kane was a wanted man, by the Scots and the English. He didn’t relish the thought of such a journey.

“You will have safe passage. The Warden has guaranteed it. It would still be better to travel at night, though.”

“Aye, Sir. When shall we leave?”

“I will not be coming with you. I have other business to attend en route so I will meet you there.”

“Very well.” Kane turned to leave.

“Kane.”

“Sir?”

“Be on your best behaviour when you meet the Warden. This is a valuable relationship to me. Don’t fuck it up.”

“I won’t, Sir. I am thankful to thee for arranging it.”

Jaha nodded his head in dismissal and Kane left. A sense of euphoria overtook him, and he punched the air with his fist as he walked across the courtyard to his own dwelling. Things were moving forward at last. He could taste the anticipation; it was cold, and set his teeth on edge, like biting into a coin to test its metal.

---

Near the Isle of Light, Berwickshire

Kane was camped in an old stone barn just outside Wigton, a farmstead about a mile from the causeway that led across the sea to the Isle of Light and Lightwater Castle. He had arrived in the early hours of the morning, cold and wet from riding through the night in the rain, and had been grateful to find the barn, even though it had a door open to the elements and a roof that was more sky than timber. There was a pile of old straw in the corner, and he had burrowed into it to get warm and wait for low tide, which was due just after sunrise. He had slept fitfully, his dreams more like nightmares with Abby being caught by Sinclair when she tried to put his keys back. In the cold light of day he knew she was safe, that she had returned the keys without incident because Blake had told him, but in the dark of the night, with the rain slamming against the walls and the wind howling through the rafters, he had been filled with a great fear. The feeling lingered as he pulled on his damp clothes and fed some straw to his horse. He was annoyed, because this was going to be a great day, the day when they got rid of Abby’s husband for good, without shedding any blood. He should be happy, and confident, but instead he felt trepidation. It was only natural, he supposed; it was an important day, the biggest day of his life.

The skies were as grey as his mood, but at least it had stopped raining, and he mounted his horse to set off towards the causeway just as the sun grazed the horizon. There was no magnificent sunrise, just a gradual lifting of the gloom. Soon, he could see the island lying ahead, a dark sliver trapped between the twin greys of sky and sea. His confidence returned with every step of the horse towards his goal. He pulled up when they reached the head of the causeway. It was as though the sea had parted, to reveal a ridge of sand not much wider than a carriage and four horses. The ridge undulated as it crossed the sea to the island and tell-tale shimmers half-way along told Kane that it wasn’t fully passable yet. He waited, and watched as the tide lowered, and the mudflats slowly revealed themselves. Seabirds gathered and stalked the flats, redshanks and oystercatchers, stabbing their sharp beaks into the mud to hunt for the worms, cockles and razor shells that now had no sea water to shelter them.

At last, the causeway was clear, and Kane urged his horse forward. There was only the sound of the birds cawing and screeching to accompany their journey. Kane’s horse struggled as they crossed, each step sinking into the sand which was waterlogged, but the island got closer, and Kane knew the return journey would be easier as the sand dried and hardened. When they reached the island, Kane looked back. The sea was disappearing, the mudflats taking over, shiny and new. It would not be like that for long. He had five hours until the causeway became impassable again. That should be plenty of time to meet the Warden and discuss the papers, hatch out a plan.

He followed the old pilgrims’ path as it skirted the coast, the sand dunes giving way to cottongrass and heather. Ahead of him, across a small bay, sat Lightwater Priory, a site of worship for over a thousand years, and a place of refuge since King Henry the Eighth of England had destroyed the English priories just a few years after Kane’s birth. Kane veered off the path as he rounded the bay. He had been promised safe passage but his years with the Hundred clan had taught him caution and he didn’t want to risk getting too close to the Priory and the small village surrounding it. He couldn’t be sure that everyone living there was loyal to the Warden. He urged his horse across green fields, jumping over hedges and stone walls until he was on the opposite side of the small island. The castle sat on a rocky outcrop above the shore to the south of him. He dropped down to the coast again, skirting the edges of the mudflats until he picked up a path that would lead him to the eastern side of the castle.

He pulled up at a stone gatehouse. The castle reared up ahead of him, hewn out of the red-grey whinstone and accessible only by a steep, twisting staircase cut out of the rock. A soldier came out of the gatehouse, imposing in his bright red jacket and silver helmet that obscured most of his face except for his eyes, which bored into Kane. He stood with one hand resting on the hilt of his sword, the other holding a pike, a fearsome-looking weapon that was like a metal axe head on top of a wooden shaft. It was almost twice the height of the soldier. He rested his weight against the shaft as he spoke.

“What’s yer business here?”

“I’m here to see the Warden. My name is Marcus Kane, of Weatherton in Dumfriesshire. The Warden is expecting me.”

The soldier sniffed. “The Warden isnae here yet.”

“Are ye expecting him?”

“Aye.”

“I am meeting another man as well, by the name of Jaha. Is he here yet?”

“No one else has been through yet today. Ye are the first.”

That was not surprising to Kane. Jaha could not have crossed to the island before Kane that morning because the tide was in. He was unlikely to have arrived the previous night because he had business to attend to.

“May I wait inside?” Rain was starting to fall again and Kane wasn’t keen on getting wet for the second time that day. He was still damp from the previous soaking.

“I suppose. Ye’ll have tae leave yer horse in the stable just beyond. This man will take ye up to the castle.” He indicated another soldier who was standing just inside the gatehouse. “Do ye have any weapons on ye?”

“Just my ballack knife,” replied Kane.

“Ye don’t mind if we don’t take yer word for that.” The soldier in the gatehouse patted Kane down, checking his jacket pockets and his socks for hidden weapons. Kane was grateful he had left the two necklaces in the box buried in the woods. He didn’t trust these soldiers not to steal them. “Leave yer knife in yer saddlebag and ye can enter the castle.”

Kane did as instructed, then followed the soldier up the steps and through the heavy wooden door into the castle itself. He was taken into a large sparsely-furnished room with a fireplace so large at one end of it, Kane fancied he could fit in it whilst sat on his horse. The walls were whitewashed stone but there were no decorations, no rich tapestries or portraits like there were in Abby’s house at Duns. The only furniture consisted of two winged-back chairs upholstered in a material of rich red and gold and a large polished oak table on which sat a candelabra holding six fat, cream-coloured candles. Kane felt too dirty and scruffy to sit on one of the fine chairs so he remained standing. The fire wasn’t lit in the enormous fireplace and the room was cold. He shivered, and pulled his jacket tighter around him. He hoped Jaha wouldn’t be long so that they could conclude their business and he could return to camp.

While he waited, he thought about his father, and whether he would be willing to receive his wayward younger son once the truth was known. Perhaps if Kane went before him with Abby as his bride, the wife Lord Robert had always wanted for him, his father would see that he had changed, was ready to settle down, be a good man, a loving husband, dutiful son. He suspected even that wouldn’t be good enough to wipe away twenty-five years of rebellious behaviour on his part, though. His mother had been killed in an ambush by reivers when he and James were young men, and the family was never the same after that. She was the linchpin that held them all together, and when she died there was no counterbalance to their father’s strictness. While his mother was alive, Kane had been the serious child, the one who needed rules and boundaries, who had a well-defined sense of right and wrong. James had been the frivolous one, blonde and handsome, with the world at his feet. After their mother died, they swapped roles, James bearing the responsibility of eldest son and heir, supportive to their father, a man to be relied upon. Kane had gambled and whored his way around the borders, shunning all responsibility, wanting only to enjoy life, because it was short, and could be taken from him at any moment.  And now he was a reiver, one of the very kind of men who had murdered his mother. It would probably be a cold day in hell before Lord Robert Kane welcomed the black sheep back into the fold, but Kane had to try, for Abby’s sake. She deserved a good life, better than he could give her as an outlaw always on the run. He allowed himself to slip into a reverie about what life would be like if he and Abby were able to be together, whether it be as Lord and Lady Kane or in some more humble worker’s life.

Kane didn’t know how much time had passed while he was daydreaming, but his legs were aching from standing, and when he looked out of the narrow slit in the wall that functioned as a window the sky was grey and heavy with rain. There was no sun to guide him, but experience told him it was getting towards midday, and that meant only an hour or two remained for him to get back to the causeway and safely away before the tide covered it again. He shifted his weight onto his other leg and continued to wait. He wasn’t too concerned about what had happened to Jaha or the Warden. Rich men liked to keep other people waiting; it reinforced their power and their belief in their superiority. Kane had seen it happen many times in his life. He wasn’t Marcus Kane, son of Lord Robert Kane of Dumfriesshire to the Warden; he was a dirty, lowdown thief and ne’er-do-well, and was to be treated as such.

After what felt like an eternity of waiting, Kane finally heard footsteps on the stairs. He straightened his back, smoothed down his kilt, and tried to make himself as presentable as he could. He tapped his pouch, reassuring himself once again that the papers were there. He took a deep breath. The next phase of his life was about to begin, and he was ready.

The door opened with a creak and Jaha walked in. Kane smiled, glad that he was here at last.

“It is good to see thee, Sir.”

Jaha did not return Kane’s smile; in fact, he didn’t even look at him as he walked into the room and over towards the fireplace. Kane frowned, his happiness turning to uncertainty. Perhaps the Warden had changed his mind after all. Kane looked to the stairs where a second set of footsteps was echoing off the walls. The man who walked through the door was not the Warden of the East Marches, however. Kane didn’t know what the Warden looked like but he didn’t need to know because the man standing in front of him, his arms crossed, and a smug look on his face was all too familiar to him. Fear ran though Kane’s veins, turning his blood ice cold as Alasdair Griffin walked towards him, stopping just a sword’s length away.

“We meet again.”

Kane was speechless. He looked at Jaha, who glanced up at him and then away.

“What is going on?” That was all Kane could think of to say, and it was a stupid question because it was perfectly obvious what was going on. Jaha had betrayed him.

“What’s going on,” said Lord Griffin, “is that you have been lured into a trap and now you are captured, like the animal you are.”

Kane moved to run towards the open door but Alasdair drew his sword and held the point of it against Kane’s chest.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. If I don’t run you through first, there are soldiers outside the door, and at the bottom of the stairs, in fact all around the castle. You will be dead before you see the light of day again.”

Kane stepped back, away from the point of the sword. He held his hands up to indicate he was not going to run.

“What do you want?”

“Well, you, obviously. You are under arrest, in case you had not realised that.”

“There is no Sheriff here,” said Kane.

“I don’t need a Sheriff. I have a signed warrant for your capture, and I’m the Laird of the borders, as you now know. Everyone works for me.”

So Jaha had told Alasdair about the papers, and he was here to get them back. Kane wished he didn’t have them on his person. They would have made a good bargaining chip for his release if he had hidden them, but he had not been expecting an ambush. Jaha’s betrayal was a complete surprise. What was he getting out of this? And more to the point, had he told Alasdair about Abby? Kane decided to play this as he had told Abby, by saying as little as possible. Let Alasdair reveal his hand, and act accordingly.

“Jaha here tells me you have something that belongs to me. Something you stole.”

Kane remained silent, not tempted to look at Jaha, just staring into Alasdair’s eyes. The man was loathsome. He tried to calculate whether he could overpower him before he had chance to use his sword. Alasdair was fat and heavy. He would be slow to react. Kane was certain he could get his sword away from him and slit his throat with it before the man knew what was happening. Of course, he would die himself shortly afterwards when the soldiers came running in, but it would be worth it. Abby would be free.

“Silence is not going to help you,” Alasdair continued. If you do not speak to me, if you don’t tell me how you got the papers, I will have to assume everyone in my household helped you, from the Heid of my Guard to my lowliest servant. They will all join you on the gallows.”

Kane knew he had no choice but to give Alasdair some information. He wasn’t going to let other people die because of him.

“No one helped me. I staked out yer house. Watched the comings and goings. It was easy enough to break in once I knew the routine.”

Alasdair lowered his sword, letting the tip of it scrape along the floor, which Kane thought was a stupid thing to do. It would blunt it, render it useless.

“The papers were well hidden. I find it difficult to believe you found them easily.”

“It was not easy,” replied Kane, “but I am thorough, and persistent. It’s why I’m good at my job.”

“Your job!” Alasdair spat the words out with contempt. “You talk as though you are gainfully employed. You are nothing but a common thief.”

“It takes one to know one.”

Alasdair took a step closer to Kane. Keep coming, thought Kane. A few more steps and I’ll have yer sword before ye can blink.

“I am nothing like you,” sneered Alasdair.

“No? Ye have stolen from the King have ye not? The papers are proof.”

“To be proof, they have to exist, and you and them will be history soon enough.”

“That may be so, but there’s a lot of noise I can make before that happens, and I am not the only one who knows about yer corruption.”

Alasdair laughed. “If you’re talking about others in your sorry clan, no one’s going to believe a group of rapists and thieves over a respected Laird.”

“We all know who’s the real rapist here.” The words were out before Kane realised he’d said them, and he regretted them instantly.

Alasdair bristled. He stood up straight, raised himself to his full height, which was a good three of four inches taller than Kane.

“What did you say?”

If Kane could have bitten his tongue out he would have done. There was nothing to be done now except to see this through to its end.

“Ye know exactly what I said.”

“You have some nerve calling me a rapist when you took my wife and defiled her while I was right there!”

“It was only in revenge for what thee had done to my brother’s wife.”

Alasdair looked at Jaha. “You may leave us.”

“Are you sure that’s wise, Sir?” said Jaha. “Kane is not a man to be trusted. You shouldn’t be alone with him.”

“Ha!” said Kane. “Says the betrayer. Ye’re finished, Jaha. Once the clan hears what ye’ve done to me, they’ll never follow thee again.”

“The clan won’t be a concern of yours or mine soon.”

Kane shook his head. “Ye think I’m not trustworthy. I’ve only ever done yer bidding. I’ve been loyal, given ye everything ye’ve ever asked me for. If ye think this man is worthy of yer trust then ye’re an idiot. Whatever he’s promised thee, ye’ll never see it. I guarantee it.”

“Get out, Jaha,” said Alasdair, his voice rising.

Jaha walked out of the door, leaving Kane and Alasdair alone.

Alasdair closed the door, stood against it. Kane was still near the window. The gap between them had widened. Was Alasdair scared? Did he sense that Kane was planning to snatch his sword, kill them both rather than let Alasdair live? He wasn’t certain.

“She wanted it, you know.”

“Who did?”

“The lovely Alice. Begged me for it.”

Kane bunched his hands into fists, dug his nails into his skin. Alasdair was trying to bait him, and he was damned if he would let him.

“That must be why she was crying when I found her?”

“Women are tricky. She conned you, Kane.”

“She was covered in blood ye sick fuck!”

Alasdair stepped forward again, closer to Kane. He whispered, as though they were co-conspirators. “She likes it rough. Lots of women do.”

“Not like that! Not there! Not where ye had her.”

“Well, I don’t want women coming to me claiming their bastards are mine, taking my money, my land.”

The man was insane, thought Kane. How had he hidden this from so many people for so long? Or was he finally coming unhinged, now that his secrets were unravelling before his eyes?

“Are ye sure ye can have children, bastards or no? I heard ye’ve not managed to get a child on yer wife these past fifteen years.” Kane sent a silent apology to Abby for using her in this way, but he wanted to goad Alasdair and it was working.

“You fuck!” Alasdair lunged at Kane, meaning to hit him across the face, but Kane ducked, and grabbed Alasdair’s sword as he spun round past him, ending up closest to the door. He held the sword at Alasdair’s chest, poked the point in harder than had been done to him, drawing blood that stained the front of Alasdair’s shirt.

“We’re going to leave here, now. I’m going to hold this sword at yer throat, and if anyone tries to attack me, I’ll slit ye from ear to ear, and the last thing ye’ll hear as ye depart this life, is me laughing. Is that clear?”

Alasdair nodded, and Kane opened the door, got behind Alasdair with the sword at his throat, and went through to the stairwell. The soldier on duty went to grab his own sword. Kane held his weapon tighter against Alasdair’s throat, drawing a few drops of blood that dripped onto the man’s collar.

“Tell him to let us past.”

“Do as the man says,” said Alasdair.

They descended the stairs slowly. There was another soldier at the foot of the stairs guarding the exit. He stood aside as Kane and Alasdair approached.

“Open the door,” said Kane, and Alasdair complied, turning the heavy metal ring. Grey light and sheets of rain came in. There were no soldiers that Kane could see outside. Alasdair must have been bluffing about how many men he had brought to the castle, or else they were sheltering. Kane withdrew his sword from Alasdair’s neck as they reached the steep stone steps that led down to the stable, and Kane’s horse. He put the sword against Alasdair’s back instead, pushing him down the steps with it. When they reached the bottom, Alasdair slipped and fell. Kane dragged him into the stable, propping him against a haybale while he untethered his horse. When he was ready to leave, he poked Alasdair with the sword. The temptation to run him through was strong, so strong, but he had promised Abby he wouldn’t kill him, so he resisted. Alasdair didn’t realise that, though.

“Are you going to kill me?”

“No. I’m going to take these papers directly to the King myself, and let him deal with thee. Don’t get too comfortable.” He hit Alasdair in the stomach with the handle of the sword, and the man cried out in pain and doubled over, clutching his stomach. Kane told himself it was to prevent Alasdair following him, but he got a great deal of satisfaction from seeing him red in the face, blood on his shirt, crying in pain.

“Don’t try to follow me,” he said. He mounted his horse and tucked Alasdair’s sword into his saddle. He avoided the gatehouse, picking his way along the rocky shore instead, jumping over a fence and out into the sea. Alasdair shouted something to him, but only the sound reached Kane, the shape of the words was taken away on the wind. Kane raced along the shore towards the priory. He didn’t have time to avoid it now; the tide was closing in and it was three long miles until the start of the causeway. This was no time to go the long way around. He could hear shouts behind him, and turned to see soldiers on horseback chasing after him, their red coats the only point of colour in the bleak landscape. Kane urged his horse on. The sea was swirling around them, the pilgrims’ path no longer visible, only the tops of the heather and cottongrass poking out above the water. The causeway was visible in the distance, a strip of orange in a sea of grey. Kane raced towards it, the sea splashing up around him, the rain soaking him from above. The soldiers were gaining on him, their horses’ long legs covering the ground quicker than his small nag could do.

“Come on, come on,” Kane shouted to his horse. His legs were tired from squeezing the horse’s flanks, his face stung from the rain that was coming horizontally now, driven by the strong wind. He could barely see. He kept his head down, and carried on. He imagined Abby standing on the other end of the causeway waiting for him. She was smiling, wearing that blue dress with the mother of pearl buttons he had so admired in the market place in Kelso. It wasn’t raining on the other side of the causeway in his fantasy. “I’m coming, Abby,” he shouted into the wind. When he reached the causeway he could no longer see it. He could only tell the route from the wooden marker posts that were placed at regular intervals along it. He headed out between them. The water was swirling around the horse’s ankles, but it was not too deep. He was certain they could make it. He urged the horse forward, but he had forgotten about the undulating nature of the causeway, and after a short stretch the sea was up to the horse’s knees, and he slowed, until he came to a stop, refusing to go any further. Kane urged him on, patted him, squeezed him, whispered into his ears, but it was to no avail. He turned around. A line of soldiers was flanked along the shoreline, red coats flapping in the wind, silver helmets flashing as a storm brewed, and lightning split the sky, followed by a huge clap of thunder that made Kane’s horse rear up. At the head of the line of soldiers sat Alasdair astride a huge bay horse.

“Give it up, Kane. You can’t go any further, you’ll only drown yourself and your horse.”

Kane hesitated. Would it be such a bad thing if he drowned in the sea now, before Alasdair got to him? He thought of Abby waiting for him. How would she feel if she heard he’d killed himself? She would not see it as a sacrifice; she would think he had left her to fend for herself with that monster of a husband. No, it was better to face Alasdair, and take whatever was to come. As long as he was alive, there was hope, and as Abby had said, hope was everything. He turned his horse and waded back to the shore. The soldiers dragged him off his horse and he fell face first onto the wet sand. Alasdair came forward, grabbed Kane’s arms behind his back and cuffed them together.

“Marcus Kane. You are under arrest for crimes against the King and his subjects, including but not limited to theft, kidnapping, rape, assault and treason. Take him away.”

One of the soldiers lifted Kane to his feet, and forced him onto a horse before getting up behind him. They turned and made their way back towards the castle.

On arrival, Kane was taken downstairs rather than up, and was flung into a cell in the dungeon. The dungeon was beneath the castle, below sea level, and the walls were wet, and slimy with mould. The cell had bars along one side, but there were no windows and it was dark; the only light coming from candles lighting the hallway. The air was stale and musty, and had a foetid smell of excrement and rotting seaweed. It made Kane want to vomit, but he held it down. He had no desire to add to the filth, and he didn’t know how long he would be kept here. It was not his first time in a cell, and he had suffered under some cruel gaolers before, but none as evil as Alasdair Griffin. Kane suspected the man would want his pound of flesh before handing him over to the Sheriff to be tried in Edinburgh. Kane’s clothes were still wet through and he was shackled to the wall, so he couldn’t move far to try and warm up. He still had his pouch with him, so he manoeuvred it behind him and curled up on the damp stone floor, his head resting on the hard leather of his pouch, and tried to sleep. Rats scurried around him but he ignored them. He expected Alasdair would leave him here a few days, without food or water, in order to suppress his will. Kane was used to not eating, though, and there was enough water sliding down the walls to slake his thirst. It was salty, but if he only wet his lips with it, he would survive. He wasn’t going to let Alasdair Griffin break him.

In the end, the guards turned up for him sooner than he expected. There was no natural light to tell him what was day or night but Kane trusted his internal body clock, and was certain that no more than two days had passed since he was put into the cell. He was unshackled from the wall and chained again before being dragged out of his cell. He was pushed up the steps into a chamber that was one of a series of rooms, storerooms by the look of the barrels and wooden chests that were stacked along the walls. He was above ground because light flooded in through leaded windows. From the angle of the shadows cast he could tell it was past midday. The roof of the chamber was low, and timbered with oak. The guards pushed Kane up against one of the windows, and held his hands up as they attached the shackles to hooks in the wooden beam either side of his head. So he was to be tortured. It made sense. A man who beat his own wife with a hot poker would have no qualms about brutalising someone like Kane. Kane tried to prepare himself mentally. What did Alasdair want to know? There must be something, unless this was all for his own sadistic pleasure.

The door opened but it wasn’t Alasdair who entered, it was Jaha. Kane strained at his bonds, trying to get to the man.

“Ye’ve got a bloody nerve coming in here, Jaha.”

“Yes, well. Lord Griffin will be here shortly, but I wanted to see you first.”

“While I can still breathe, ye mean? What do ye want?”

“You are strong, you’ll get through it. He won’t kill you. He wants you to hang, to make an example of you. He can’t do that if you die in here with no one but the rats to see.”

“If ye’ve come here to comfort me ye’re doing a crap job. Why did ye give me up? Tae him of all people.”

“You know why. I’m an opportunist. Always have been. And you gave me an opportunity too good to miss. Why give Alasdair to the Warden with no guarantee of reward, when I can give you to the man who hates you, and claim the reward and a generous donation of land and money from the soon-to-be Sir Alasdair Griffin?”

Kane shook his head. “He won’t honour his promise, that’s a guarantee for ye.”

“Oh, he will, because while I kept you stewing at camp over whether the Warden would see you or not, I gathered some excellent intelligence on Lord Griffin, with sworn testimonies, and if he doesn’t pay up, he will suffer the consequences.”

“Ye’re a bastard, Jaha. Ye’ll need the money, because the clan won’t take thee back now.”

“I’m done with the clan life. I’ve got more than enough to lead a good life. Lord Griffin is even considering giving up Arkholm Tower, and that would suit me very well.”

Jaha turned to leave but Kane called him back.

“Did ye tell him about Lady Abigail, and me?” Kane was scared to know the answer to this, because if Alasdair knew, then what had he been doing in the two days since he captured Kane? Duns House was less than half a day’s ride from the Isle of Light. Had he already got to Abby? Was that what he was going to torture Kane about?

Jaha came closer. “I am not stupid, Kane. I am not going to show my best hand right at the start of the game. No. I’m keeping that information until the time is right, and if you’re thinking you can get the clan to exact revenge on me, I would think twice. I don’t have to tell you that Lord Griffin would get great satisfaction out of hanging Lady Abigail before you, and making you watch.”

“Get out, Jaha!”

Jaha left and Kane pulled at his chains, trying to dislodge them. The shackles were iron, and strong, but the wood was old, and weak. He could feel it starting to give. If he could get free before Alasdair arrived, he could wait for him behind the door, strangle him with the chain and make a break for freedom through the window. The wood creaked above him as the nails holding the hooks in started to inch forward, and the wood began to splinter. It was hard work pulling while his hands were above his head; he was losing strength, but not determination. He hadn’t managed to get the nails more than half way out when the door opened again and Alasdair walked in with two men, one of whom was Blake. Kane was shocked to see him. Was this another betrayal? Blake didn’t speak but he gave the briefest of nods, as though in reassurance. Kane was starting to realise how Abby must have felt when she thought she was his revenge, not knowing who to trust, thinking everyone had betrayed her. If he ever got out of this mess he would not stop making that up to her for the rest of his life.

“Marcus Kane.” Alasdair tapped a long, fat wooden club on the floor and contemplated Kane, looking him up and down. He was enjoying having an audience, Kane could tell. “The Grey Wolf.” He took a slow, deep breath. “You are not such a menace now, are you?”

“It is hard to be when I am tied up and caged. Take these chains off, let us be on equal terms, and we shall see how menacing I am then.”

Alasdair laughed. “You and I can never be on equal terms. You gave up that right when you raped your brother’s wife.”

“We both know that wasn’t me.” Kane could see Blake stand straighter as he absorbed this news.

“Well, now see, it doesn’t matter what you and I know, it only matters what the people know, and you confessed to it. Not only that, I have witness statements from that very night, implicating you.”

“The people who matter, know the truth,” said Kane, looking at Blake.

“Not your father, not your brother. You’re going to die a disgrace in their eyes.”

“I am not a disgrace in my own eyes.”

Alasdair walked up to Kane and slapped him across the face. Kane’s head snapped to the side. It stung, but he’d had worse. He looked back at Alasdair.

“You’re a complete disgrace. You expect people to believe you didn’t rape your brother’s wife when you raped MY wife, and everyone on my staff knows it. She confessed it.”

There was so much Kane wanted to say, but couldn’t, because it would implicate Abby.

“Do you deny it?” continued Alasdair.

Kane shook his head. “No.”

“No. You took her into the brush, you made her lay down and you forced yourself on her, put that dirty cock of yours inside her, didn’t you?”

Kane thought Alasdair was getting too much pleasure from this line of questioning, as though he liked the thought of Kane hurting his wife. He didn’t want to pander to the man’s sick desires any more than he had to, so he kept his answer simple.

“Yes.”

“And yet you’re not a disgrace in your own eyes. Well you are to me.”

Alasdair raised the club, took a big swing, and hit Kane flat in the stomach with it. Kane was expecting it, so he tensed his muscles to make his stomach hard, but the force of it was so great it pushed him back towards the wall, knocking the wind out of him. He gasped but couldn’t get any air because his diaphragm was in shock and had forgotten how to breathe. Kane felt light-headed, his legs started to buckle, and he sagged, his weight pulling on his wrists, making the iron rings cut into his flesh. He continued gasping, and eventually his body started to work again and some air flowed back into his lungs, giving him enough strength to pull himself upright.

“Ye’re a big man, Alasdair, hitting a man who cannae defend himself,” Kane said.

“You’re no man. You’re an animal.”

“I’m an animal! Are ye forgetting where I found the papers that incriminate thee? What they were underneath?”

Alasdair looked around at his guards. Blake was doing a good job of looking disinterested, staring straight ahead, not moving, but his face was pale, his eyes large and dark.

“Those were gifts to my wife from admirers who were too presumptuous. I didn’t see fit to give them to her.”

“Really? Yer wife’s admirers gave her lockets with their children’s hair in, and plain bands made of base metal? I think not.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you think. You have no proof of any of this, and as soon as you give me the papers, that will be the end of it.”

“I’m not helping thee. If ye want the papers, ye’ll have tae find them.”

Alasdair turned to Blake. “Search him.”

Blake stepped forward, patted Kane down, as the soldiers had done to him when he first arrived at the castle what seemed like a lifetime ago. Blake mouthed a “sorry” to Kane as he searched him. So he hadn’t betrayed him; he was just following his orders. Maybe he would be useful later.

When he had finished his search, Blake stepped back. “There is nothing on his person, My Lord.”

Alasdair sighed. “Where’s his pouch? He must have one. Go and check his cell.”

Blake and the other guard left and Alasdair was left alone with Kane. He kept his distance, no doubt remembering what happened last time he let Kane get too close to him.

“I see you,” said Kane.

“Do you?”

“Aye. Ye’re a coward, who gets off on abusing people who are weaker than thee, who can’t fight back.”

“You know nothing about me.”

“Oh, I do. If ye had any balls, ye’d face me man to man, but ye can’t because ye know I’d beat thee.”

“From where I’m standing, I’m beating you well enough.”

“Only because I’m tied up. I know everything ye’ve done, all the servants ye’ve abused, the women ye’ve raped, and beaten. Why do ye do it? Does it make ye feel more of a man? Do ye have a tiny cock, or is it because ye’re firing blanks?”

Kane knew he was going to get a beating for those remarks but he didn’t care. He couldn’t help himself, couldn’t resist taunting this odious man. Alasdair hit him in the stomach again but with the end of the club this time, and Kane retched. There was nothing in his stomach to come up except some bile, which he spat on the ground. Alasdair raised the club again but before he could swing, the door opened and he lowered the club. Kane was bent double with pain. He could only see Blake’s boots as they stopped in front of Alasdair.

“Here is his pouch, My Lord.”

“Let us see what is within.” Kane raised his head to watch as Alasdair emptied the pouch on the floor. A couple of coins bounced across the stone and a kerchief floated to the ground. A roll of parchment fell out and Alasdair picked it up, unrolled it.

“What is the meaning of this?” He showed the parchment to Kane.

“It is an inventory,” said Kane. “Of the clan’s assets.”

“Where are the papers you stole?” He put his hand in the pouch, ran it around the inside, feeling for hidden pockets. He turned it upside down and shook it. Nothing came out.

Kane remained silent.

“Where the fuck are the papers, Kane?” Alasdair’s voice was high, a hint of desperation in it.

“Are they not there?” Kane raised his eyebrows as though he were as surprised as Alasdair.

“You know damn well they are not here.” Alasdair raised the stick again. “Tell me where they are or you will suffer the consequences.”

“I cannot vouch for what has happened to my belongings whilst I have been parted from them. Jaha was here earlier. Perhaps he has taken them?”

“Jaha was here?”

“Aye. He told me he had good information on thee, perhaps that is where he got it?”

“You are lying.”

“Am I?”

Alasdair was red in the face with anger. He dropped the club, came towards Kane and pummelled his body, hitting him over and over again. Kane absorbed the blows as best he could, making himself taut, trying not to flinch. Alasdair gave Kane a good right hook to the face, splitting his lip, bruising his cheek. Blood spurted out of Kane’s mouth, misting the air.

“Sir.”

Blake stepped forward.

“What?” Alasdair turned on Blake, breathing heavily, sweat dripping off him, spittle flying from his mouth.

“Think of the courts, Sir. Ye want him hanged don’t thee? Ye are going to kill him if ye carry on, and then ye won’t get the justice ye deserve.”

Alasdair wiped his mouth, staring at Kane. “Take him back to his cell.” He turned and walked out of the room.

Blake looked at the other guard. “Go with the Master, make sure he is safe. I’ve got Kane.” The guard nodded and followed Alasdair out of the room.

Blake unhooked Kane and held him as he slid to the ground. “I’m sorry, Kane. I didn’t know he had captured thee until I got here this morning.”

Kane spat blood and saliva onto the floor. He felt in his mouth; he still had all his teeth which was a blessing. His face was sore, his body aching, but he would survive.

“Dinnae worry. I know it’s not yer fault.”

“I need to take ye back to yer cell. It’s just fer now, until I figure out a way to get ye out of here.”

Kane grabbed hold of Blake’s sleeve. “Don’t put yerself at risk because of me. I don’t want any more bloodshed.”

Blake helped Kane to his feet, put his arm over his shoulder. “If ye think I’m going to let ye die, then ye don’t know me.” They went back down the stairs, slowly, every step sending a jolt through Kane’s battered body. When they reached the cell, Blake put the shackles back on Kane, attached him to the wall.

“Blake. Tell Abby… I’ll be alright. Tell her not to worry.”

Blake nodded. “I’ll be back for thee. Stay strong.”

Kane managed a weak smile, and then Blake left, leaving him alone in the semi-darkness. Kane edged over to the wall, prised out the fern-covered stone he had loosened the day before. He put his hand in the crevice, and his fingers touched the parchments. He tapped them for luck, and then replaced the stone, smoothing the fern back down over it. He would die before he let Alasdair Griffin get his hands on them. Let him wonder and worry about where they were, who had them. Maybe his uncertainty would keep Kane alive long enough for Blake to organise a rescue. It was only a spark of hope, but it was enough.

#kabby #the 100 #marcus kane #abby griffin #fanfic #kabby fanfic #ff #scotland #historical au #kilts #smut #henry ian cusick #paige turco #writing

[atheart150]

Coming Home

Coming Home - Frank’s Death

Frank was dead. Just like that he was gone. No more. Never returning. He was driving, took a turn too fast, spun out on black ice. Died instantly, the coroner determined. No alcohol or drugs in his system. No suffering. Quick and painless. His funeral was yesterday. We, Brea and I, had buried him and ordered the marker. I suppose there were other people there, Frank was liked at work, at least that's what he said. I did not care. I did not notice. He has been laid to rest next to his Fucking parents, three burial plots; no place for me. I smiled. I did not much care for him in life, I certainly would not want to lay next to him for all eternity.

I would be buried next to my home. Jamie.

So many people at the house afterwards; his peers, University faculty and staff, his friends, old school mates and others that I did not fucking care to know, like his whores, were at the house all yesterday afternoon. Drinking Frank's liquor. Leaving their God Damn Casseroles. Ashtrays overrun with cigarette butts. Telling me their treasured Frank anecdotes. Offering condolences. So sorry for my loss. Telling me of their own personal losses, like I gave a fuck. Thank God for Good Scotch. Here, Here, pour me another, I'll drink to that!

My only concern is for My 17 year old daughter. Brea loved Frank but he was not her father. Frank would correct me and remind me that he was the only father she would ever know. And Frank was good to her. Always using Brea as a shield when we fought. Always telling me of how fortunate I was he had taken us in, he raised her like his own. Repeatedly reminding me that Jamie had knowingly sent me back to him. Pregnant, with his child. For him to raise.

"I may not have been that Red Headed Scottish Sperm Donor you shacked up with and shagged regularly, but I'm the only Father Brea will Ever know." He'd throw at me like an 75mph knuckleball. Such a gentleman, Frank was – NOT! He always brought up Jamie when he had no other insults or defenses left during one of our frequent, loud and sometimes, very physical fights; safe in the knowledge that the mere mention of Jamie would take the fight right out of me, bring me up short and reduce me to tears.

That's when he reminded me of Captain Jonathon Wolverton Randall, Frank's Bloody Canonized family relation, the most. When we argued, not yelling and screaming at each other, yet, just verbally exchanging character corrections at a higher than normal volume, Frank would change. He would, for lack of a better word, morph; yes, that's it, Frank would almost morph. His facial features would be the first to evolve. His face would harden, become stricter, more hostile. It would develop those deep furrows on his forehead and cheeks, lines he never had any other time. But the part that would chill me to the core was that his whole presentation would change. His physical demeanor would reshape as well as his voice. He would stand straighter, taller, like he had a stick up his ass. He had an ease with his body, a fluidity, if you will. His voice registration would lower a half octave, deepen and become more commanding. And he would turn cold, calculatingly mean. It was the only time Frank would ever act like he wanted to hit me. Sometimes I would see his hands ball up into fists, just itching to punch me in the gut; knock the air from my diaphragm. This Frank scared the ever loving shit out of me. This Frank raped me twice. The last time, just minutes before he left the house the night he died.

Thank God he never turned into Black Jack in front of Brea. I'd have killed him if he had.

"Momma, the Dean and his wife are leaving. You must come and say good-bye" Brea called out the back door to me as I puttered in my garden. So many weeds. I never had enough time to tend my garden properly. The hospital kept me so busy. I brushed the soil from my knees, removed my gardening gloves. I picked up my drink, drained the glass and then walked back inside and pretended his life mattered, one last time.

I sighed as I finally closed the front door behind the last annoying, grieving guest. I don't miss Frank but it was a loss for Brea. Frank and I had been married on and off for twenty seven years. We may have been married in the eyes of God but he was never a husband. The Bastard.

He wasn't the man I loved. I love Brea, but my heart, all of it, belongs to Jamie. My husband, my home, had died 17 years ago when he held my hand as I placed it on the Stone that sent me, pregnant with our daughter, back to 1948. I died that day, along with him at Culloden, or at least my heart had. I went through the motions of living for our daughter but it wasn't much of a life. I went to bed that night and for the first time since Jamie had last held me in his arms, I slept. I mean really slept. I had reached a decision while gardening. I would sell this so called life of ours here in Boston. Sell everything, Lock, Stock and Barrel and move us back to Scotland. I would find and purchase Lallybroch, no matter the cost…. and I would tell Brea the truth. About her true father. I rose early the next morning. Feeling fresh and alive for the first time since my return. Brea and I took a couple of boxes and went to clear out Frank's personal things from his office at the University.

One of Frank's peers stopped us in the hallway. "I am so very sorry for your loss Mrs. Randall…."

"It's Doctor Fraser" I corrected him.

"Oh that's right, Frank mentioned you had finished Medical School using your previous husband's last name. You're a pediatrician I think he said."

"A Surgeon" I corrected him.

"Ah" he replied. "Well Brianna, I am sorry for your loss. Please let me know if there is anything I can do for you. We will miss your smiling face around here in the afternoons. You were the apple of your dad's eye. I think I still have a picture or two you drew while you were here helping your dad after school."

"Thank you Dr. Adams. It's very kind of you to remember me. It's been 2 years since I last visited my father's office."

"Are you applying to University?" he asked

"Well, …." Brea began.

"We won't be staying in America. We will be returning to Scotland" I interrupted.

"We really must be going. Nice to see you" and I turned and entered Frank's office.

"Mama, why must you always be so rude to Father's friends? Why in the world would you tell him we are moving? To Scotland of all places?" Brea asked. "I thought you said you were English. Sussex, right?"

"Because we are. I am going home and you are going with me" and I bent to my work.

"How odd. Brea, here's an envelope with your name on it. It's your father's handwriting." I said. "Strange that it would be in his desk at work…." I said thoughtfully.

Brea stopped packing the book shelves, took the envelope and sat in her father's chair with her feet tucked under her and spun the seat in a circle. Twice around, then placed her hand on the desk to stop the spinning. She looked at the envelope. It was a standard mailing envelope, however sealed with wax on the back with what looked like the impression of a. "R" in the red wax. She smelled it. It smelled of wood and oil, not of her father's Old Spice scent. She ran her fingers over the ink lettering on the front.

Brianna Ellen Fraser Randall

[macdnald-old-blog]

Under the cut you will find Mary’s app, minus the para sample + the ooc info!

* DEVELOPMENT :

Character Name, age, pronouns and house:

M A R Y / M A R I A ;; her name is biblical and means sea of bitterness, rebellion and wished for child. These fit Mary quite well: while she tries hard not to be a cynic, a bitterness sits inside her and makes her look at the world with a dark look; she’s filled with determination to do what is right and to stand up against those who are in her eyes wrong, and she is thus rebellious (she also grew up pranking her sister and brothers quite a lot), and Mary waswished for, as her parents are nothing but loving.

The Mary/Maria thing is, I think, a confusing one and I will clear that up right away: Mary’s mother is Puerto Rican and her father is Scottish, and when she was born they could not quitedecide if they wanted to name their first daughter the English or Spanish name of Mary/Maria. Her birth certificate says Mary, and it’s the name she goes by at Hogwarts, but to her mother and extended maternal family, she has always been Maria. As she’s proud of her Puerto Rican roots, Mary doesn’t keep quiet with this, and loves the fact that she kind of has twonames.

A G A T H A ;; this name was picked because of the famous writer Agatha Christie, whose books Mary’s parents loved deeply. It means good woman, which I do truly think Mary is, despite her faults and flaws.

M A C D O N A L D ;; a Scottish surname of a proud family that lives in the Scottish highlands. A long line of farmers, they’re hardworking and no-nonsense, but have great love and respect in their heart. Mary loves her name, except for the fact that a lot of people tended to sing Old MacDonald whenever they saw her or her siblings in town: it simply grew annoying.

A G E ;; sixteen years old. Mary was born October 25th 1959, which makes her a Scorpio:

       Positive traits include magnetic charisma, ambition, drive, a penetrating mind, curiosity, intensity of focus, emotional depth, consistency, persistence, willpower, and the potential for inner transformation and regeneration        Negative traits include selfishness, obsessiveness, vindictiveness, hypersensitivity,ruthlessness, cynicism, an inability to understand the word “moderation,” and jealousy

P R O N O U N S ;; she/her.

H O U S E ;; Gryffindor.

Choose five of the follow questions to answer.

What is their patronus?  Why does this fit your character?

The P H O E N I X is a creature that’s constantly reborn, that constantly rises from its ashes. One of my most important themes for Mary is that she always gets up. Always. Whatever might knock her down, whatever might make her feel more lost than anything, she gets back up. I feel like this fits in with the Phoenix beautifully ( and while I feel a little guilty using a ‘rare’ patronus, I cannot help but love this one so much for her ).

Phoenixes are also creatures that are associated to fire a lot and while Mary had quite the fear of fire as a child, she is firehearted. She’s warm and compassionate and inflammatory and spirited. She’s someone who can burn entire empire and walk over its ashes as well as give warmth to those who need it ( she will usually pick the latter, but in the future she has no trouble fighting back with gritted teeth ).

This bird also doesn’t die, and Mary is ( in canon ) the only one of our beautiful trinity who comes out of the war physically & mentally healthy, unlike Lily, who dies and Alice, who loses her mind. Many others she loves die too, and to her it will more than often feel like a burden than a gift; for what is life without your loved ones there by your side?

The Chinese Phoenix is also thought of as a gentle creature, and while Mary has her rough edges and dark sides, I do believe she is gentle in her core. With her friends, she’s warm and loving and barely ever brash, and with strangers she will hardly be rude unless they give her reason to be.

In Chinese culture, when a house was decorated with a Phoenix, this meant the people living there were loyal and honest. Mary is loyal to her very core and could never be moved to betray those she love; she would die, if she could keep them safe. As she’s not a good liar, Mary’s also honest; she’s not always happy about this fact, as it doesn’t always benefit her, but it does make her an outspoken individual.

What is their wand and their wand core?  Why does this fit your character?

Sycamore, Dragon Heart String, 12 ½ inches, reasonably supple.

                   The sycamore makes a questing wand, eager                    for new experience and losing brilliance if                    engaged in mundane activities. It is a quirk of                    these handsome wands that they may combust                    if allowed to become ‘bored,’ and many witches                    and wizards, settling down into middle age, are                    disconcerted to find their trusty wand bursting                    into flame in their hand as they ask it, one more                    time, to fetch their slippers. As may be deduced,                    the sycamore’s ideal owner is curious, vital and                    adventurous, and when paired with such an owner,                   it demonstrates a capacity to learn and adapt that                    earns it a rightful place among the world’s most                    highly-prized wand woods.

I think this fits Mary quite well; she gets restless when there is nothing to do and doesn’t feel inspired when she’s doing something that doesn’t interest her. Mary, even though her spirit is somewhat damaged at the moment, is a vivacious being, someone who does not do anything half-heartedly.

I chose the Dragon Heartstring, mostly because I really didn’t think a Unicorn Hair core would fit; Mary would, even though she hates it, dabble in some darker spells if it could save lives. I also didn’t think the Phoenix feather core fit as well as the Dragon one did. Dragon Heartstring cores fit fast learners, and Mary definitely is that. The wand is also temperamental, and so is Mary.

What is a song lyric that represents your character?

i’d rather be spitting blood // than have this silence fuck me up (…)  i’d rather have broken bones // than feel myself turn to stone                                               ( troye sivan, the quiet. )

How would your character react if they saw an older student bullying a first year Muggleborn?

First, Mary would understand; she has been in that situation more than often, has seen her best friend Lily end up in that situation ( even having been bullied by someone who called her a friend ) and knows what it is like. She knows how it makes your skin crawl with a feeling of powerlessness; how useless the anger you feel usually is, as these pureblood elitists will not change their mind because of you; she knows how somewhere, even though you may not like it, there is also fear sneaking in the back of your mind, because this is what a great part of the wizarding community thinks.

Secondly, there would be anger. Because of her understanding of the situation – better than most, considering last year – she will feel an outrage, because this shouldn’t be happening. Bullying in the first place is something that makes her feel nauseous, but when it’s based on something like this, it also causes a rage. She will use this to speak up, to show the older student that this not okay: because Mary will never sit idly by and watch injustice happen under her nose. She’ll snap and her words will be cutting and her eyes will be narrowed. Fear will not be present, not when there is something to be done.

Lastly, there would be comfort. Once the older student vanishes ( which, hopefully, is sooner rather than later ) she will look after the younger student her brothers do for her with soothing words and a few promises she cannot keep. Mary is compassionate and warm, and while it could become a weakness, it is a strength at present time: it makes her stand up to injustice and look after those who need it.

Is you character a virgin?  How do they view sex?  What’s their sexuality?  Does their gender align to their canon gender?

Mary is not a virgin. She lost her virginity just before Christmas break last school year at the age of sixteen to someone who did not mean too much to her in that way: they were both a bit more than tipsy, both attracted to each other and both filled with the energy that had been pulsing through the party. It was no bad experience; Mary doesn’t feel regret about not losing her virginity to someone who meant a little more to her, as in her eyes it’s not a big deal.

Even though Mary was raised Christian and is still religious, her thoughts on sex do not really fit her upbringing: she feels no need to wait for marriage and doesn’t think sex should just be between two people. No, Mary thinks sex is something that people should simply do if they want to, and not do if they don’t want to. She, herself, has not yet has sex with someone sheloved, and this is something that doesn’t bother her at all: she is, after all, young, and she’s having fun.

    ( internalised ) biphobia tw for the coming paragraph

Her sexuality is something she did struggle a little more with than sex in general. Mary is bisexual, and this is something that wasn’t much of a surprise to her, but it did take a while for her to figure it out. Mary was confused about liking girls for a few years, was not sure how shecould, as she liked boys as well. She knew some girls liked girls and she was okay with that, but she felt like that wasn’t just the case for her. Eventually she came across the termbisexual, and a weight seemed to roll off her shoulders when she did. Mary took the label and applied it upon herself, coming out to her friends with a slight nonchalance but a relieved grin still on her lips. She hasn’t told her family yet and knows she won’t until she really has to. With all the things going on around her, she doesn’t wish to deal with the potential reaction her parents might have.

Still, there is no shame surrounding her sexuality. Mary might not have come out to her parents, but she is not necessarily quiet about her sexuality to her friends and other schoolmates. She takes pride in it, actually —– Mary might be an insecure person, but she does take pride in the ways she can identify. She’s proudly half-latina, she’s proudly muggleborn and she’s proudly bisexual.

Mary identifies as a woman and has never questioned her gender much. She’s got sides that are very traditionally feminine and sides that are more traditionally masculine, and she won’t let people judge her for either of those. She can wear lipstick and play football, can wear dresses and still kick ass and she takes pride in her being a woman.

What’s the best thing that’s ever happened to them? What’s the worst?

T H E   B E S T ( discovering she’s a witch )

Mary turns eleven and this is what she knows: she’s a farm girl, she prefers speaking Spanish because then she gets to roll her R’s, she has two brothers and one sister, she is good at history and bad at maths, and strange things happen to her. Strange things that no one can quite explain, strange things that excite and frighten her at the same time. Strange things that happen when she’s happy or angry or scared.

                     One time, Carlos cut all the hair off her favourite doll’s head                      and Mary got so angry that his favourite car exploded in little                      pieces of plastic.

Mary turns eleven and a day and she knows all the same things and this: she is a witch. Suddenly there is an explanation for all these sparks and explosions, and Mary for a moment looks at her parents in fear, because doesn’t the bible say magic is evil? But the MacDonalds are accepting and open-minded and shake their head, because if magic flows through her daughter, there is no way it could be evil.

And so Mary accepts the truth and makes it her own. She’s a witch, and she’s proud and intrigued, as there are a thousand things she does not know yet. She gets her books and her wand and her robes, and her parents tell her she can take one of the family cats with her so she doesn’t have to miss him, and Mary dreams of a beautifully big castle with endless opportunities.

This moment in her life, of course, leads to many more beautiful ones. It leads to her meeting Alice and Lily, who soon become two new siblings of hers. It leads to her discovering that she has great power and that she can use it in incredible ways. It leads to her finding out about Quidditch and actually making it on the team — Mary played football back at home, you see and the team very much reminds her of her siblings and the sport of football, too. It leads to tasting Fizzing Whizbees and Chocolate Frogs. It leads to learning about new creatures and parts of history she did not now yet. It leads to meeting people who inspire her constantly. It leads to her growing as a person and a witch.

It also leads to things that are less pretty. It leads to her discovering that discrimination is a big part of the wizarding culture as well. It leads to her hearing slurs thrown at her and her red-haired sister. It leads to moments where she fails at spells. It leads to tumbling down stairs and losing her way and feeling overwhelmed with all these things that are new to her. It leads to being the victim of an Unforgivable curse. It leads to her being told that there is nothing they can do. It leads to her feeling lost and unsafe at a place that had become her second home. It leads to Hogwarts being attacked and Mary finding herself in a battle at sixteen years old. It leads to her seeing the dead bodies of people who taught her, of people she saw in the hallways. It leads to her learning of a war where people like herself and her friends are constantly killed for the things they are labelled to be.

Still, it’s the best thing that ever happened to her, and even though there are many bad things that happened because she entered the wizarding world at age eleven, she would never go back to just being a muggle.

T H E   W O R S T ( mulciber )

She was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was pure coincidence that it was her who had been there. It had not been personal, but it was, of course it still was.

You cannot take someone’s will away and say it wasn’t personal. You cannot cause mental harm to someone and say that it wasn’t even that bad. You should not even be able to get away with a thing like that, but Arjun Mulciber did.

He did, and left Mary fractured and confused, even if she didn’t like to admit it.

Perhaps the fact that it was random, that it could all be blamed on coincidence, was what made it even worse: Mary felt guilty wishing this hadn’t happened to her, as that would mean it would have happened to someone else. Another muggleborn, who was condemned for something they had no power over. And while she hated what had happened, while it made a cold feeling run over her spine whenever she thought of it, she could never wish it upon someone else.

                                                                          – / –

Here’s the thing about someone taking away your will and forcing you to do things: it makes you distrustful of your own body, makes you feel unsafe wherever you go. While no physical harm had come to Mary when she was cursed, there was plenty of harm caused mentally. She had suddenly grown paranoid and scared, was damaged in a way she didn’t like to think about.

Mary, in all honesty, felt weak the moment the curse broke and even weaker now that months have passed. Because she is still not over it, is still worried about seeing his face again, is still haunted by that one afternoon and all the things that followed.

Maybe, if he’d been expelled, things would have been better. Maybe then, Mary would be able to move on and feel a little safer in the castle that was supposed to be her home. But he was still at Hogwarts, he was still laughing with friends and taking the same classes she would take next year. He was still there, very much okay, and she was, too, but she was not okay at all.

Her confrontation with Mulciber is something that has changed Mary. It has given her a new kind of bravery, but also more fears. It has given her paranoia, but also determination. It has given her a reason to cower in a corner, but that is not her, and so it has also given her a reason to move on with her head high and her entire being filled with a determination to prove people like him wrong.

Because if there’s one thing she’s sure of ( and there are not many of those ), it’s that she won’t allow this to happen to anyone else as long as she has a say in it.

Is there anyone they would kill for?  Would they die for anyone?  Where does that list differ?

Mary is, in the end, a selfless being. She looks at the war and wishes to fight to contribute to the greater good, to stand up for what is right and work towards a future of freedom and safety. Because of this, she would have no trouble dying in the war if it was meaningful. If she could save a life, she would, if she could buy a group of people time by facing death with a raised chin, she would. Mary isn’t necessarily scared to die, but she is scared of dying for no reason, with no purpose at all.

When I say that Mary would die to save a life, I don’t mean any life, of course. Mary might be noble and selfless, but she’s not reckless. She’s seen Death Eaters, she’s been attacked by a purist and she knows that she wouldn’t die for them. She wouldn’t die for people who’d kill her if they got the chance, wouldn’t die for people who are even less aggressive about their discrimination.

Still, the list for people she would die for is long: on top, of course, are her family and friends. Then follow classmates and students that are not blood purists, civilians, other victims of the war, etcetera, etcetera. Honestly, Mary hasn’t spent to much time thinking about it, but in this sense she’s very much Gryffindor: she is ready to die in battle, ready to die a death that is glorious and heroic. Mary is loyal and committed and is set on taking a big part in this war, as she feels like she has no choice either way.

Killing, however, is a different story. It’s not only a sin, but also just something that is very much wrong in Mary’s eyes. Still, she is not naive and not at all pacifistic, and knows the Death Eaters do things much worse than kill. While she would never kill out of choice, she knows that – if she were to become part of the war – she might have to choose between killing or being killed, and as it’s a war, she thinks she would be able to. Not that she likes the idea of it much.

If her killing somebody would save somebody she loved, she would without a thought. Mary is very much human and would not think about the moral side of it all ( which she would, was it her own life that was at stake ), as she will go to the end of the world to keep those she loves safe. The people she would kill for are Alice and Lily, naturally, all of her other friends and her family members.

As for other people, I’m not sure. There’s a lot of different scenarios to consider and the options are endless and I won’t bore you too much with them. If Mary could save a life by taking a other, she would feel very conflicted ( if this life didn’t belong to a loved one ) and I think it all depends on the situation, on who these people are and what the stakes exactly are. I can’t give a proper answer, but I do know that Mary would kill to save some lives, even though she doesn’t know this yet. Of course, she will always try to stun first.

How do they feel about the war?  Do they plan on getting (more) involved?

Mary feels a wide range of emotions when it comes to the war:

    - She is A N G R Y. Angry, because the school that was supposed to be a safe place was attacked, because there is a movement in the world that is against a certain group of people, a group that is willing to use violence to reach their goal, which is based on a crooked ideology. She is angry that there is discrimination, angry because it makes no sense and is only making the world a place that is scary and filled with terror. Mary knows the effects discrimination can have — her mother is a Puerto Rican living in a small Scottish town, after all — and has always been very strongly against it. The fact that blood purism has such a large following makes her feel hot with rage, in all honesty, because it’s simply wrong.         A lot of her anger is also caused by a feeling of powerlessness. There is not much she can do, at this point, as she is still in school and has not even finished her education. And even if she was a fully qualified witch who no longer had to attend classes, there is only so little she can do. It’s frustrating to know that this war comes from a long, long history of purist thoughts and anti-muggle sentiments, and that it because of that won’t disappear as quickly as she would like. It’s frustrating to know that even though she might work her hardest and try her best to influence the world around her, it won’t be enough. This, of course, does not mean that Mary won’t try.

   - She is F R I G H T E N E D. Fear is a funny thing, Mary learned last year. It’s like a different person altogether, living in a corner of your mind, and even when you think they’re gone, they’re still there. Whispering, softly making your muscles tense because the world around you is slowly falling apart and so are you, and while it’s enough to make someone angry, it’s also really scary. Mary knows what some people are capable of, has seen it, has felt it, and it’s simply unnerving to know what they are willing to do for their cause.        Mary is frightened for the future and what is to come. She is terrified that the war will only get worse, that it will cost the lives of people she holds so very dear, that she will lose herself. She doesn’t like to admit it, but her fear is a thing that greatly influences her. It’s part of her, and Mary prefers to deny it rather than accept it, as she feels weak for being scared. Of course, it’s only logical that she is: this war is a terrifying one, after all.

   - She is D E T E R M I N E D. The two emotions mentioned before both lead to Mary feeling determined. She’s someone who gets up every time, someone who will never be fully beaten down no matter what. Mary is determined to stand up for what is right, to fight in this war and show people that she will not stand for this injustice, that there is no way to silence her besides ending her life. Last years happenings had great impact on her, and while they have left her spirit somewhat fractured and her heart filled with invisible scars, she is trying to use her negative experiences to learn.        Mary wishes to become an Auror, to practice the law the way she deems right. She wants to become part of the Ministry, an institution she does not back fully. That, however, is just another reason for her to work there: to be part of something that feels corrupt to her. The only way to make sure things are one the right way is to do it yourself, after all.

I don’t think I need to clarify it, but the answer is yes, Mary does plan on getting involved. She’s filled with determination, fear and anger and with those three emotions swirling through her being she will not sit by idly as a war rages on. Mary doesn’t know in what way she wishes to get more involved, as she doesn’t know what ways there are for her to do so. All she knows is that, eventually, she will. And rather sooner than later.

What’s their best class?  How will that skill benefit them as they begin looking for a job?

Mary is, usually, best at Defense. It’s a class that comes natural to her, something that she also just enjoys very much. It’s a very physical and practical subject, and while Mary is good at theoretical stuff, these kind of things simply come more natural to her. She’s able to channel her emotions into her magic quite well, which is why spells as the Patronus are ones that she likes most.

It is not, however, her favourite class: the teacher changes every year, of course, which is something that very much bothers her. It’s tiring to her that she has to adjust to a new professor each year. No, Mary’s favourite subject is Transfiguration: she holds an immense amount of respect for Minerva McGonagall and as the class is a challenge it’s something that constantly keeps her interested and alert. She’s not as good in it as she’d like, but she’s never been bad at it.

In all honesty, Mary’s quite a good student. She’s skilled in many departments of magic and very much enjoys learning. It does depend on the teacher how motivated she is. With History, for example, she’s not very motivated because Binns is not the most inspirational teacher, to put it lightly. She dropped the subject because of this, but does enjoy reading history books very much ( it was one of her favourite subjects in elementary school ). Potions is a class she struggles with a lot, but as Lily is one of her best friends, she’s able to get help if she needs it.

Mary’s skills in DADA will definitely help her with the goals she has set for herself. Of course, becoming an Auror is more than dueling and fighting against the dark arts, but it is a very big part of it. She’s got her mind set on doing some extra assignments for the class this year as well, just to become better at the subject and so she can feel more prepared should another battle come.

How did they react when they learned of Dumbledore’s death?

Mary didn’t hold the same amount of respect for Albus Dumbledore that most of the people at Hogwarts and in the wizarding community did: he did not back her up when she needed him to, and it very much shattered her blind admiration for the man. Still, she knew that he was an important person to Hogwarts and was doing very much to keep the place safe from the war.

When she learned he had died, Mary was shocked. Dumbledore seemed like someone who could not be defeated, an immensely strong force in this war who was on the good side. On her side. She felt grief, too, of course. While he had disappointed her before, he had still been a good man – flawed, yes, but still good – and it was terrible that good people were killed. Fear followed once her shock and grief had become less loud, as this meant only terrible things for the future of Hogwarts. Mary hadn’t felt safe at Hogwarts for a couple of months before the battle, but this feeling only grew when Dumbledore was murdered. Even worse, she knew that other people would also start to feel unsafe and she didn’t wish that uponanyone.

* WRITING SAMPLES :

Respond to the following prompt as though it was a short chat.  Be sure to include a gif.

“Yeah mate, I saw them snogging in the astronomy tower.  I know it’s a bit unconventional, but we’re in the middle of a war.  Love is all that matters at a time like this.”

“Whoa, slow down there, buddy,” said Mary, taking a sip of her coffee. “Love is all that matters? That’s … I mean, it’s a beautiful sentiment, but that’s not true. Not to be a smarty-pants, or anything, but morals and security and respect and all those things matter too.” A pause. “Still, though, really? Them, snogging? I had not seen that one coming at all.”

#( musings : all i learned was how to be strong. ) #( application. )

[shrinkingwmn]

I finally got to go to the Circle Craft Holiday Market! It is a yearly market downtown that is always held on a long weekend. I wasn’t able to attend in the past because I was working but my days off have changed and when my friend asked if I wanted to go I didn’t even pause to think, I just said yes!

A Holiday Market? Hell yeah!

I went in with a budget, which I’m pretty sure I went over. I went in with the plan to buy Christmas presents, I mostly bought stuff for myself. I went in with a plan to buy a healthy meal at some point in the day, instead I ate all the samples.

Suffice to say, the day didn’t go as planned, which I’m glad about because the fun was spontaneous, I like the stuff I bought, and the samples were free!…which in my version of math helps offset the cost of oh say, the necklace I bought… 😉

It was definitely not crowded, I guess most people went on the first and second day it was open? I like that it wasn’t crowded, no fighting to see the displays, easy to walk around without getting bumped, it was much more relaxing than some of the Christmas events I’ve been to. Plus, it was inside so we were cozy warm. 🙂

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One of my favourite booths was a company called JusTea. It is a Vancouver based, family run business. They go to Africa a couple times a year and source all their tea from there. The tea is all ethically sourced, and some of them are picked (or is the right word harvested?) by a woman’s co-op. Each tin has a picture of one of the farmers on it, so you can see who was making your tea leaves. The teas smell amazing! I kept taking deep inhales of the teas like I was trying to get high from them or something lol but really, it was just because it smelled that good. There was a fruity tea called Purple Rain that not only smelled delicious but had a taste to match. In the end I bought African Breakfast, which is their version of an English Breakfast or Orange Pekoe. It is a mixture of different tea leaves which gives it a more complex taste. Each tin also comes with a hand crafted spoon that took 9 hours to make. 9 hours on a spoon, talk about a personal touch! The gentleman manning the booth mentioned that when you want to buy more you can go to their store and they will sell it to you in a compostable bag, so you can refill your already existing tin, and not create garbage when throwing out the bag. Why doesn’t every company do that? That little touch makes me love them even more. Here is their website if you want to check them out: https://justea.com/

Another great booth is abeego, they sell reusable beeswax wraps that you can use to keep your food fresh and protected, whether it is covering the top of a bowl of leftovers you have in the fridge or wrapped around the sandwich you’re taking to work. I actually own a set of these, they were a gift, and I haven’t used them yet because they kinda freak me out. Instead of buying any at this booth I just grilled them to get a better understanding of how they work and I am kinda amazed. The beeswax has antibacterial properties so you don’t need to worry about your beeswax wrap touching your food. Like you see in the picture you can wrap it around the cut end of a vegetable (their sample is a cucumber) and it will keep the end fresh. You can take your cheese out of the plastic and wrap it in a beeswax wrap and the cheese will stay fresh and mold free longer. They are fairly low maintenance for care, rinse them off using cold water, use a mild dish soap if you really want, then let them air dry. They can be rolled or folded for storage. An important thing to remember is not to get them hot, they are made out of beeswax after all, and what does beeswax do when it gets warm? It melts. So if you’re putting hot left overs in a bowl and want to use the beeswax sheet to cover the bowl, wait until the food is room temperature before covering the bowl. Pretty easy right? Oh, and when they finally reach the end of their life, which is when they stop sticking to surfaces or itself (this can take a year or more to happen) you can either compost it or rip it up and use it as a fire starter when you next go camping. Which for me will be never, so compost it is! I’ve gone from wondering “what the hell I am supposed to do with these beeswax wraps?” to “I can’t wait to use these!” Super glad I stopped and talked with them. Oh, and they are also locally made and ship anywhere so if you are interested their website is: https://canada.abeego.com/

I bought myself a necklace I absolutely 100% do not need, but really wanted, and apparently wanting it mattered more in the moment than needing it lol

Again, a Canadian made product, well, work of art really. The holes in the charm are the Capricorn constellation, my constellation. It is simple, and pretty, and I can see myself wearing it often. She also had a necklace I’m regretting I didn’t get a picture of that is the word fuck, dangling down so you’d have to turn your head sideways to be able to read it if you were looking at someone wearing it. I actually also really wanted that one, but since I spend the majority of my time at work, where I would not be able to wear it, I opted for the one I could actually wear and enjoy on a daily basis. Go figure lol Rachael, the artist, has a lot of beautiful pieces, and since Christmas (and other holidays) are coming up you may want to check out her website at http://www.laughingsparrow.ca This was my most expensive purchase at the Market, and while I wish jewellery didn’t cost so much I can understand why a hand made piece, that is sourced from sustainable materials can’t be cheap. You get what you pay for, and I feel I got something great that will last.

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The other edible things I purchased are a jar of Pink Grapefruit & Champagne preserve, which I will instantly make less fancy by putting on toast. I don’t know how to describe it other than delicious. The Preservatory is a business out of Langley BC, they focus on small batch artisanal preserves, and lemme tell ya, they are good at their niche. I have seen them in a shop called All of Oils in Surrey BC but hadn’t tried them until they offered samples. Man am I glad they offered samples. Their website is: https://thepreservatory.com/

Sweet Thea is a bakery out of Langley BC, they are where I got the cookies. I know the package says I bought Ginger Crinkle, and I did, but if you notice, not all the cookies in the bag look the same. That is because the friend I went with bought a bag of Chocolava cookies and we swapped three for three. I honestly don’t know which I like best. Normally I’d be saying of course the chocolate cookies, but the ginger is also incredibly good. They are soft cookies, both types, and just so decadent. We split one of each cookie in half so for our first cookie we got half of each and while normally I am that person to keep dipping in to the cookie package, I didn’t reach again. Not because they weren’t good, but because they were so satisfying I didn’t need more. I didn’t even know that was possible, did you? You can find their website at: https://www.sweetthea.com/home The lady we bought from wasn’t as friendly as people at the other booths but I’m going to assume that is because it was nearing the end of the day and she was probably tired after a long three days working the market. We may have gone at a quiet time but I’m sure the other days were much busier.

That deceptively simple Lemon Square package is hiding an amazing lemon coconut  square inside. That small square is meant to be cut in to four pieces! The flavour is so strong, not in a bad way, that you don’t need more than a small square to satisfy you. Well, in theory, I am not cutting and sharing that square lol  Here is their website: https://thelemonsquare.ca/

And lastly, Whiskey Marmalade by Blaire’s Confectionery. They are a company in Kamloops BC that makes Scottish treats. They had various types of marmalade, shortbread, fudge that isn’t fudge (apparently in Scotland it is called something different), and probably other yummy items that they didn’t have at the booth or I didn’t notice. Hey, I can’t manage to see everything ya know, especially when I am sampling shortbread and fudge that isn’t fudge lol Their website is being redesigned right now and when I tried to go to it was directed to check out their page on Facebook so if you want to find them I’d search for them there. I didn’t sample the marmalade, I hate marmalade, but I thought my brother might like it, so I got it as part of his Christmas present. Don’t worry, he doesn’t read my blog so no ruined surprise for him! I also wanted to buy the fudge that isn’t called fudge but couldn’t bring myself to spend $10 on a food indulgence…says the woman who ended up buying cookies and a lemon bar *rolls eyes*.

Can a couple pieces of art be anymore Canadian than a beaver in a canoe or a mama bear and cubs in a canoe? I’m thinking no.

So there you have it, an afternoon of wandering the booths, buying stuff, hanging with a friend, and enjoying my first Christmas activity of the season. Only 42 more days until Christmas!

Circle Craft Holiday Market I finally got to go to the Circle Craft Holiday Market! It is a yearly market downtown that is always held on a long weekend.

#abeego #Blaire&039;s Confectionery #Christmas fun #Circle Craft Holiday Market #justea #JusTeaKenya #Kenyan Purple Leaf Tea #Laughing Sparrow #Rachael Hatala #Sweet Thea #The Lemon Square #The Preservatory