Moana - coming to terms with sexuality

It’s okay to be who you are, to feel the call of the ocean, whatever your own personal ocean is.

Moana, and more specifically ‘How Far I’ll Go’ made me, a twenty year old, cry three times. It fucking got me in the heart.

Not because I feel the call of the sea or anything, but I think I related it to coming out.

“I’ve been staring at the edge of the water, long as I can remember, never really knowing why,” - This was me, but my ‘water’ or ‘ocean’ is girls

“I wish I could be the perfect daughter, but I come back to the water no matter how hard I try,” - In that context, self explanatory. Can’t ignore the feelings, the pull of the ocean

“Every road leads back to the place I know, where I cannot go, where I long to be,“ - I live in a family where being bi isn’t gonna be accepted easily, and this spoke to me on such a strong level

“I know everybody on this island has a role on this island, so maybe I can roll with mine,” - Playing it straight

“I’ll be satisfied if I play along, but the voice inside sings a different song what is wrong with me?” - No matter how much I deny it, I can’t will my sexuality away

But then

“All the time wondering where I need to be is behind me, I’m on my own to worlds unknown,” - Self-discovery and acceptance

“I am a girl who loves my island, and the girl who loves the sea,” - I love my family, and I’m content in my sexuality

“Come what may, I know the way,” - Whatever happens in the future, I know myself, and I love myself, just the way I am.

I know that wasn’t what the movie was about, but it really spoke to me, and reassured me that I’m okay.

It’s okay to be who you are, to feel the call of the ocean, whatever your own personal ocean is.

Why’s There A Stocking On the Door?

@lynnialljohnson asked: Can we please have J/C on the ridge being constantly interrupted durring steamy make out sessions until they finally just lock everyone out of the house for a bit? Maybe Ian explains to an embarrassed Bree why they’re locked out? At Christmas?

I don’t have the words for how much I love this!!! Also when I finished writing it, I realized I forgot about the Christmas aspect of the act. So, I’ll do another one, because I have a really really fun modern plan for it. Hope you like that one too!


I whirled around, alarmed by the tone of Jamie’s voice.

“What is it? Who’s bleeding?”

“No one!”

I frowned up at him.

“Then why are you yelling for me?”

His eyes glittered.

“The house is empty.”


“So our house has been overrun wi’ people for two bloody weeks and I havena had ye properly in all that time.”

“So your daughter and her children are ‘overrunning’ our house?”

“Aye. When she and her husband and bairns sleep so close to our room, I canna take ye the way I want.”

“And how do you want to take me?”

Those full lips pulled into a mischievous smile.


Gathering me into his arms, he sat me on the table in my surgery and kissed me hard. I heard a rustling of fabric as he fumbled with my skirts.

“The first time in two weeks and you want to make me scream, so you decide make love to me on the table in my surgery?”

He shrugged and nipped at my ear.

“Weel, if ye’d been in the kitchen, I’d take ye in the kitchen. Ye just happened to be here.”

I moaned softly as his teeth moved to the side of my neck. His hand snaked between my legs, making me gasp.


Jamie puled back and glared down at me, silently commanding me to keep my mouth shut.

“I have to,” I whispered.

“It canna be life or death,” he muttered, gently probing my hot flesh.

“I’m the doctor here, Jamie. There isn’t another healer about for miles.”

“Aye, I ken that.”

We heard the boards creak as Ian came closer to the surgery. Jamie muttered a few choice curses in Gaelic and stepped away from me. I’d just gotten off the table and righted my skirts when Ian came in.

“There ye are, Auntie.”

“What can I do for you, Ian?”

“I was wondering if ye had some o’ that tea to help wi’ a woman’s monthly? Poor Rachel canna hardly stand.”

“Of course.”

Jamie was glaring darkly at his nephew as I pulled bottles and jars from various cupboards.

“Brew as much of it as you can, you can always warm it later.”

“Thanks, Auntie. Sorry for, ah… Interrupting.”

Jamie’s ears burned pink. 

“It’s alright.”

Ian’s request for tea reminded me that I had something of my own brewing in the kitchen.

“Where are ye going!?” Jamie demanded as I followed Ian out.

“I have to check on my pot in the kitchen.”

“Damn it Claire!”

I had to admit I was having a little fun teasing him like this. His angry footsteps stomped along behind me, though he didn’t try to stop whatever I was doing. He knew better.

After checking that my latest experiment was progressing well, I turned to him.

“You said you’d take me in the kitchen?”

He didn’t answer, just pushed me onto the heavy wooden table he’d built me. His mouth found mine, eager and demanding and tasting faintly of whiskey.

“Christ ye taste good, Sassenach.”

“I was just thinking the same of you.”

While he kissed me again, I felt him tugging at the ties of my bodice.


Jamie let out an audible growl.

“What do ye want, Jeremiah?”

Jem stopped short and stared at the two of us, eyes wide.

“Mam sent me to ask if ye-”

“I dinna care what yer mam asked. I’m having a conversation wi’ your granny just now. Come back in an hour.”

“But mam said she needed Granny to look at Mandy’s rash. Da thinks it’s no’ a bad one, but-”

Jamie’s mood was getting worse.

“Jemmy, darling,” I said before Jamie did something Bree would scold him for later. “If Mandy hasn’t got a fever, she’ll be alright. I’ll be down in an hour when I’ve finished with your grandda, alright?”

“Mam’s no’ gonna be happy about that.”

“I dinna care a bloody bit if she’s no’ happy,” Jamie grumbled in my ear.

“Tell her you tried, but your grandfather is a very stubborn Scot. I’ll be by as soon as I can.”

“Aye, Granny.”

Jemmy scampered away and Jamie got up, slamming the door closed behind him.

“Come wi’ me. Now.”

“I thought you were fine taking me anywhere?”

“Aye, I am. But I dinna want to wake up in an hour on the ground. My back canna handle that, aye?”

“So are we going to our room, then?”

“Aye. And bolting the bloody door. I’ll no’ be interrupted again.”

I followed him up the stairs to our room but paused at the door. I kicked my shoes off and pulled one stocking down.

“What the devil are ye doing, woman?”

“Making sure Bree doesn’t come barging in on us in the middle of our love-making.”

Jamie barked a laugh, puling at the ties of his shirt.

“She wouldna!”

“Oh if she’s angry enough, she might…”

“So why do ye put the stocking on the door?”

I smiled.

“It’s something Bree learned when she went to university. It’s just a signal. Never you mind.”

I closed the door and bolted it shut. That made Jamie smile even more.

“Come here,” he said, hooking his finger at me.

Walking slowly, I pulled loose the laces of my bodice, sighing in relief when it came free.


I froze, hands on the back of my skirts ready to let them go. He was glaring at me.


“That’s my job, Sassenach!”

“Undressing me?”

“Aye! Like unwrappin’ a present.”

Hands on my hips, I grinned at him.

“I didn’t know you were quite so fond of that. But you know that means you can’t take off your kilt. That is strictly my job.”

“Aye, and so it is, my own.”

His arms slid around my waist while he lowered his mouth to mine. Hands moved down and gripped my buttocks hard. I waited for the exclamation that would come as it always did.

“Christ, ye’ve the fattest arse.”

“Like clockwork,” I muttered, tangling my fingers in his hair.

He had me out of my gown and standing in only my shift in rather short order. While he might enjoy unwrapping the gift that was me, but he was clearly not ready to wait longer than he had to. I felt him begin to pull the hem of my shift up, but I stepped back.

“My turn,” I panted.

He muttered darkly and stood waiting, hands balled into fists.

I walked around him, much like I had on our wedding night all those years ago. When I was back in front of him, I pulled at the belt holding his kilt on.

“I know how much you love my fat ass,” I said slowly. “But I adore your kilt.”

“Oh aye. Easy access. Dinna have to fiddle wi’ laces and whatnot.”

“That’s part of it. But I get to see your legs more. And sometimes I can catch a peek beneath it.”

“Ye naughty thing!” he said sharply. “Trying to see beneath a man’s kilt. And a marriet man, no less.”

“A married man with a very nice bottom.”

He pulled off his shirt and grinned at me.

“A nice bottom and a verra stiff cock,” he said.

“How would you like me, darling?”

His eyes moved up and down my body, assessing.

“The bed. Wi’ yer arse in the air.”


“Leave it.”

Grinning, I crawled onto our bed and tucked my knees beneath myself, sitting up like a stinkbug.

“Holy God…”

I felt two large hands squeeze my taught backside before the bed creaked as he knelt behind me.

“I dinna like servicing ye so quiet. I like to hear ye scream.”

“So you’ve said. Think you’re up for the task?”

He grabbed my hand and pulled it behind me. I snorted when he pressed it against himself.

“What say ye?”

“Definitely up for the task.”

“Oh aye. But are you?”

“Why don’t you find out?”

He teased me for a moment, making me grip the quilts with white knuckles. Then he pushed slowly home, my body trembling as he did.

“Oh God…”

“Oh Jamie.”

“I mean to hear ye screaming for me, Claire.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

Apparently he was waiting for my permission. As soon as I gave it, he let loose. My whole body jerked when he slammed against me. I was screaming like mad, giving myself fully over to the sensation he awoke within me. I felt bruises forming beneath his fingers where he gripped my hips.

We fell over the precipice together, crying out for each other. Jamie caught himself just before he collapsed on top of me. He lay down on his back, broad chest heaving. I scooted over to him and rested my head where I always fit.

“Ye ken I’ve only ever loved you, right?”

“Yes, I know. And you know that you’re the true love of my life?”

“Aye, Sassenach. I ken it verra well.”


Ian saw a flash of red hair and kent it wasna his uncle.

“Bree! Ye canna go in the house!”

“And why not?! I sent Jem to get Mama and she said she’d come when she could?!”

“Ah… The shutters are closed in the surgery.”

Bree fixed him with a glare that rivaled both her mam and her da.


“And I reckon the door to the kitchen’s bolted too.”


“So I think they forgot to bolt the main door. Ye dinna want to go in there just now.”

Her eyes flashed dangerously. It was a look he’d seen often enough on his own mam that he took a step back.

“I don’t care what she’s doing. I need her!”

She started for the house and he grabbed her arm.

“No, cousin! Ye canna! If the doors are bolted it’s because Auntie’s, er… Busy.”

“With what!”

“Uncle Jamie!”

“What does-”

Bree stopped suddenly before her eyes widened. He watched the red creep up her neck just like it did wi’ Uncle Jamie.

“Oh God! They’re…”


“How do you know they’re…”

Ian’s brows went up and he tried hard not to laugh at her.

“Uncle Jamie loves Auntie Claire a great deal, aye? He canna help himself. And I’ve lived around them a while. I ken how they get.”

“Well, in that case… I suppose I’ll just go wait for Mama to… ah… finish.” 

Bree cringed at her choice of words and left quickly. At least he’d stopped her from seeing, or hearing, too much.

Anatomy Lesson

Anonymous asked: Claire teaching Jamie body part’s names in Latin or Jamie teaching Claire the names in Gaelic

Forgive any language issues. I’m depending on Google for the answers so if I screw it up, ignore it. :D

Claire was curled up beside him, sleeping hard. It made sense, he thought wryly. He’d ridden her hard.

He couldn’t help but watch her, so in love with every piece of her. He traced her ear with the tip of one finger, smiling as she nuzzled closer.

“Didn’t you sleep?”

“Och no. I think I used you harder than I used myself.”

One whiskey eye snapped open to meet his.

“Hard ride indeed. God I think I’m sore everywhere.”

He squeezed one buttock gently.

“Then I did it right?”

“Oh yes, very right.”

As he leaned in to kiss her forehead, he pulled the quilts up further to keep her warm.

“Mo nighean donn,” he whispered.

She gave him that sweet smile that seared him to the soul. 


“I like hearing you speak Gaelic.”

“Ye dinna mind it? Ye dinna ken a word of it.”

“Well I know a few.”

“Oh aye?”

She sat up a little, her hair cascading in a wild mess.

“I know Sassenach.”

“That doesna count.”

“And you told me what mo nighean donn meant.”

“Aye, I did.”

“But I like hearing you say it.”

He kissed her softly, still astounded that she was his and his alone.

“I can teach ye more, if ye like.”

She nodded eagerly, her eyes glittering up at him. What to teach her… Weel, she was a healer, perhaps he could teach her some gaelic words to go wi’ her calling.

“This is chluais,” he said, tracing her ear again.

“You make it sound like velvet.”

His finger moved down along her jaw and up to trace her lips.

“Bilean,” he whispered, pressing his own to hers. “Teanga.”

“What’s that one?”

He kissed her again, touching her lips gently with his tongue. She purred against him, her own lips pulling into a smile.

“Hmm,” she said when he let her go. “I’m not sure I got that one. Tell me again?”

How could he do anything but oblige her?

“Oh I think I have it now,” she said, breathing hard. “Is it tongue?”

“Aye,” he said, licking the tip of her nose.

She scrunched her face and giggled.

“Tell me another.”

He ran his fingers down her spine, smiling as gooseflesh broke out across her skin.

“Druim. Yer spine, strong as iron.”

“Ooohh…” she said, arching her back as his hand dipped lower.

“And this beauty is yer asal.”

Claire snorted.

“Well I think I can figure out what that one means.”

“Oh, aye. That isna verra difficult. But I dinna think ye can ken this one so easy.”

“Try me.”


Narrowing her eyes, she tried to read the answer somewhere in his face.

“Is that my womanhood?”

“No, no. I’d call that yer phoit- meala. Honeypot, ken?”

“So what’s an uchd?”

Grinning, he leaned down and took one nipple between his teeth.

“Oh God!”

“Do ye want to learn more Gaelic?”


“Ah Dhia is a good one to use.”

“I recall you saying that quite a lot on our wedding night.”

Moving slowly, he rose above her and kissed her.

“Och aye. I had lots to thank God for that night.”

“Mmm. So you did, my lad.”

Aye, he thought. Your lad indeed.

“And this,” he said quietly. “Is dèanamh gaol.”

“Oh? And what is that?”

“That’s me, making love to my wife.”

Her head lolled back onto the pillow as her body writhed beneath his.


He slid into her easily as her legs wrapped around him. When he held her at night, she fit beside him like they were two parts of the same whole. But when he was inside her… God, like a sword to it’s scabbard. 

Her squeaking was getting louder, which he took to mean she was nearing her conclusion. He tried to hold out, to make it last longer, but he couldn’t. When she cried out, he felt his body respond to hers.

“I think you’ve definitely got the hang of that,” she said after a contented sigh.

Rolling off her, he gathered her into his arms again.

“Aye, I should think so.”

“And no less confident,” she laughed, patting his bum.

“Tha gaol agam ort.”

Leaning back, she tried to meet his eyes. 

“What does that one mean?”

“Dinna fash about it just now. Perhaps I’ll tell ye someday.”

Author’s Note: tha gaol agam ort means I love you.


25 Days of Outlander: Day 3 → Favorite Bonnie Prince Chuck Scene
Our king and God have been let down. All the sacrifices I made these last months in France, lowering myself to a commoner, begging for money, have amounted to naught. So where will the House of Stuart stand if our cause fails? I will be forced to return home to Rome, where even the pope’s goodwill for my father begins to run dry. Or worse. (2x06 - Best Laid Plans)


25 Days of Outlander - Day 3 / Favourite Bonnie Prince Chuck Scene
James… you are my most loyal companion and friend. But I am not some frightened hare to be run down by a pack of British hounds. I am a man. And I am a soldier. And I shall comport myself as one. 

the grave was set....

…in the small cemetery reserved for the convent, under the buttresses of the nearby cathedral. Even though the air from the Seine was damp and cold, and the day cloudy, the walled cemetery held a soft light, reflected from the blocks of pale limestone that sheltered the small plot from wind. In the winter, there were no shrubs or flowers growing, but leafless aspens and larches spread a delicate tracery against the sky, and a deep green moss cradled the stones, thriving despite the cold.

It was a small stone, made of a soft white marble. A pair of cherub’s wings spread out across the top, sheltering the single word that was the stone’s only other decoration. “Faith,” it read.

I stood looking down at it until my vision blurred. I had brought a flower; a pink tulip—not the easiest thing to find in Paris in December, but Jared kept a conservatory. I knelt down and laid it on the stone, stroking the soft curve of the petal with a finger, as though it were a baby’s cheek.”

Excerpt From: Diana Gabaldon. “Voyager.” iBooks.

Visiting the grave site of a loved one is common in many cultures, as is the custom of taking flowers.  The beauty and simplicity of the Tulip means the flower has become a symbol for perfect and enduring love, heaven, and eternal life.  The excerpt from Voyager of course occurs after Claire and Jamie have reunited and made their way to Paris, prior to setting sail in search of young Ian.  Without telling Jamie, Claire goes alone to the cemetery at L'Hôpital des Anges.  On the grave of her firstborn child, Claire places a Tulip, a poignant reminder that the love she feels for her daughter Faith is perfect and enduring.  Hopefully we will get to see this scene brought to life in season 3 and maybe even the St. Andrew spoon will still be there, maybe buried a bit in the dirt, but still there nonetheless - the gift Claire  and Jamie together left for baby Faith.