So this story event gives us a glimpse into Hotaru’s psyche. Poor boy’s been living in a bubble and is all shades of fucked up inside but there’s that childlike innocence to him that draws the MC. I am 100% sure Tsuki MC is slightly older than him. Anyways, SPOILER ALERT, summary and comments after the break.
James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser was an impressive sight at any time of the day or year.
Naked, silhouetted against a bright summer moon; the curve of leg and hip and scar all gilded into sharp edges by the glow of the fire behind him… he was positively primordial, ancient man surveying the vast wilderness.
“God, it’s just…..”
He didn’t finish the sentence, just stood there on the verge of our mountaintop, taking in the sight of the sleeping valley below.
I could have finished the sentence for him, though: …like home.
The Green Mountains of Vermont—or this section of them, anyway— were quite similarly beautiful to those of Scotland. The main difference was the trees, of course: in contrast to the sparse, heathered slopes of Jamie’s birthplace, every inch of these mountains was covered in lush forests that spiced the air with the tangs of evergreen and leaf mold. Still, looking out across the horizon, the ranges had that same rolling and dipping quality, that sense of movement about them that felt so much like the Highlands. One could almost imagine looking down into one of these valleys and seeing the roof of Lallybroch below, enticingly belching smoke from the fires of Mrs. Crook’s promised supper.
—andI supposed that Jamie was doing just that.
I left him to dwell in the serenity of the moment, there at the top of the horizon. My own peace was complete, astonishing in its sensory fullness:
the beauty of the night, of the rolling valley far below,
a warm breeze across my naked skin, the same that swelled the forest into a rustling, shushing chorus,
the afterglow of lovemaking pulsing gently through me, there in our nest of blankets by the fire on the mountaintop,
and Jamie. Always, Jamie.
Tom and Marian had many times this year offered us the use of their mountain cabin in Vermont. Between work schedules, my schooling, pregnancy, and the general hustle and bustle of normal life, we simply hadn’t made the time for such a lavish treat as a holiday away. At last, though, with the academic term over and with the baby due in just over a month, we’d decided that getting away, just the two of us, was just the thing. Lord knew, once a nursing infant was in the mix, it could be quite some time before we could do so again.
Jamie, true to form, had fretted over me for weeks leading up to our departure, trying to call the whole thing off. ‘Sassenach, what if the bairn comes early?’….”There willna be a hospital for miles and miles. What if something happens?’….‘If ye think I can deliver a child, woman, you’re WRONG.’
But at last, he’d had no choice (short of chaining me to the house, that is) but to relent, and the further we drove westward, the higher the elevation rose, the quieter he became. His eyes got wider and wider, the glory of being among mountains soaking into him like sunshine.
After settling our things in the cabin earlier that afternoon (’Rustic,’ the Harpers had warned us)(’Better equipped than any Highland castle,’ Jamie had snorted as we walked in and saw the full kitchen), we’d made a few hasty sandwiches and ventured out for a walk before the light went. The vistas were absolutely spectacular, even more so when the skies were painted with the pinks and scarlets of sunset.
Jamie had built us a fire a few hundred yards from the house, when we got back, just near the overlook, and we’d spent hours snuggled together before it, toasting marshmallows, sipping hot chocolate heated over the coals, laughing and talking and telling stories as the stars brightened overhead.
At last, the quiet and beauty of the night had settled around us, and we’d made love there in the clearing, slowly and sweetly. For a very long time after, we’d lain panting and trembling, cocooned together in perfect calm, no demands on our time save enjoyment of one another.
….and, eventually, pragmatically, those of Jamie’s bladder.
From somewhere in the woods, there came the sound of something large moving about; a deer, I thought, since Jamie was not reaching for an absent knife. He did start, though, the lively night pulling him out of his trance. Assured there was no danger, he turned to me with a slightly-sheepish grin. “Forgive me, mo chridhe, I was lost in fancy.” He began picking his way across the grass back toward the fire. “Feeling alright, Sassenach? All well?”
“Very well,” I promised, “as long as you don’t make me move from this spot.” I burrowed further into the blankets in illustration. “Couldn’t budge for all the tea in China.”
“Dinna fash, lass.” He crouched beside me and provided a very entertaining view as he slid his hands under me, “I’ll carry ye up to bed.”
“No, you won’t,” I said, neatly rolling away. “We’re sleeping out here.”
“Certainly we are,” he laughed, rolling me back, “are not.”
“Why ever not?”
He gave me a look. “Ye think I’m going to let my eight-months-gone wife sleep like an animal on the cold ground?”
“It isn’t cold.” I raised an eyebrow. “And you’d not have given it a second thought, back in Scotland, would you?”
He blinked, then laughed. “Christ, you’re right,” he groaned, putting a knee down and scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’ve become quite the pampered popinjay in only a year, aye?”
“Well, you can earn your tough-as-saddle-leather badge back tonight. Come here,” I wheedled, patting the blankets. “Come keep your lady warm for the night.”
He obliged, coming in to settle spoon-fashion behind me. “My lady,” he murmured, precisely as I breathed, “God, a year…”
We both laughed and exhaled together.
He kissed my neck. “It’s been a wonderful year, mo ghraidh.”
“To think that this time last year…” I shuddered and kissed his hand. “No, it doesn’t do to think of what life was, last June.”
“No,” he agreed, “it doesna.”
He’d been close to starvation on the streets of Boston, scouring the streets and hospitals for any news of me, my whereabouts. I’d been—I’d just been. I’d loved my work, adored Bree; but apart from the promise of seeing her grow up happy and loved….I hadn’t much hope. Now…
“I guess that means this could almost be a wedding anniversary trip, couldn’t it?”
I laughed, surprised. “Well, I did mean the one last year, but I guess we’re pretty close to our first as well. When would it have been? June? Late June?”
“I canna recall the precise date,” he admitted, running his hands up my thigh and onto the huge curve of my belly, “but that seems correct.”
“And our twentieth-century anniversary is the 8th of July…meaning you found me in July….and little wiggleworm, here, should be born in either July or August…” I snuggled back against him and pulled his arm tighter around me, sighing happily. “Good things tend to happen to us in the summertime, don’t they?”
He kissed his way down the curve of my shoulder. “Aye, they certainly do.”
“I’d like the bairns to know a place like this,” he murmured a while later into my neck.
“The cabin?” I had very nearly nodded off in the cozy silence that had intervened. My voice was scratchy and sleepy. “Why is that, love?”
Jamie didn’t immediately answer; and when he did, I was surprised to hear a slight hesitation in his voice, a carefulness in his words that bespoke unease. “Ye ken I love our life, Claire, aye?”
I nodded and squeezed his hand.
“It’s more than I could ever have dreamed of, let alone have hoped to have for myself, for you, and for them.” He pulled me closer with one hand and spread the other absently over my belly. “I’m so grateful,” he whispered with deep feeling, “for the safety; the plenty; our home; having the income to take care of our family in comfort; that you’re able to pursue your profession; that the bairns will be able to pursue theirs, one day, wi’ nothing like birthplace or station to hold them back…. I wouldna trade our life for anything.”
I reached behind to stroke his hip, waiting.
“…But I also canna shake some sense in my heart that—that this is how things are meant to be.”
“Naked in the woods?” I teased gently.
“Aye,” he laughed, just what I’d wanted, his unease evaporating in a moment, “exactly so.” He ran his hand across my legs, coming up to cup my breast. “Nothing but my brown-haired lass, naked in my arms…” An intake of breath hissed gently from us in unison as we felt the sudden shifting within me. “And new life, promised to us….”
We lay still, his hand over mine as we gloried in feeling little Ian moving about. I wondered if he was dreaming.
That they may be sweet, little love.
“But I suppose I meant, this out-of-door life,” Jamie said at last. “Wild, living things. Animals. Forests and burns. Hunting. Sleeping under the stars, among the hea—among the trees and the grasses. Tracking and tending the land. Mountains,” he said, with quiet intensity. “I want them to know mountains.”
I pulled him as close as I could. “We will make this part of our life, Jamie, if you wish it.”
“We’ll come on holiday with them as often as we can, just like this. And, eventually—Well, it can’t be all the time, particularly not once I’ve started medical training; but as soon as we can afford it, maybe we’ll have a second home somewhere wild, somewhere like this.”
“A second home?” he asked, dubious. “Folk keep two houses, then?”
“Not all, not even most; but Tom and Marian manage it, don’t they?”
“Aye,” he said slowly as he glanced up at the house, considering, “Aye, just so….But Tom owns the whole of Fernacre. Will we truly ever have the means to afford such extravagance?”
“MDs make some of the best money available,” I said, as simply as I could, “and other than being charitable and giving as much away as we can manage, I can’t think of a more worthwhile way to use that financial freedom, than to give you this.”
“….Thank you, Sassenach.” He sounded absolutely gutted with earnest gratitude, like someone that had just been handed an infinite fortune with no caveat. “Truly.”
“Well, thank me when and if I actually get admitted to medical school.” I groaned with that sudden, familiar wash of visceral anxiety. “If, if, if.”
“When,” he insisted, as he always did. “WHEN.”
We settled in, held tight together in a warm heap of love, letting sleep wash over us.
“Somewhere wi’ a mountain?” Jamie murmured just before I slipped completely under.
These are questions that come to my mind when I’m just going about my day…
I’m putting soap in the washer for a load of whites and I think “Does Tom Hiddleston do his own laundry?”
I’m in the loo and I think “Does Tom Hiddleston clean his own toilet?”
Like…does he second guess himself about putting his Gucci socks in the wash? Should they be dry cleaned? Does he get engrossed in a book or script and forget to take the clothes from the dryer and they sit there for hours and get wrinkled? And the toilet, does he put one of those thingies in the tank that makes the water blue that his mum has been telling him to do for years?
Does this happen to anyone else? I guess I tend to think that millionaires have “people” for this sort of thing and it’s difficult to imagine the Ludicrous Popinjay doing such mundane tasks that we mere mortals are stuck with. ;)
Also, I probably shouldn’t blog when it’s a Thursday night and I’m tired and should be showering and heading for bed.
Takeda Shingen wasn’t a man who ran away. But he also wasn’t
an idiot, so when the sharp, female shout reached his ears, he obliged, and was
rather glad he did so when the crack of bullet shattered a tree limb near where
his head had been seconds before. He rolled, back to his feet, scanning the bushes for the
giveaway glint of a rifle in the moonlight, but found his search disrupted by a
yank on his arm.
Seeing as though you and Christine are in each others company, whatever happened to Raoul?
That wretched boy regrettably still lives. Christine still keeps company with him, and it is through her wishes alone that I do not dispatch of him immediately. I shall give her anything, yet if that foul little popinjay so much as blinked in my direction, it would take every ounce of self-preservation I possess not to eviscerate him where he stood.
so !! i’m sort of cleaning out my old laptop and drafts and i found a bunch of character labelsi’ve saved not long ago that i haven’t seen around the rpc much or at all. so here u get a masterlist of around thirty labels that i have found !! there are also small descriptions attached to some of them explaining what exactly they mean and helping you understand them better !! i checked all of these, but let me know if there are any problems with them or if you’d like an explanation in detail !! tw ; please note that some darker labels and mentions of cruelty
are found under the cut as well.
Because the world needs to know that in Hamlet Tom did the flippy thing with an object like with everything he does and he did that winky thing that He's done as Loki and Jonathan Pine! ❤️❤️
What a Ludicrous Popinjay.
And a Shameless Show Off.
Which I suppose are reasons why we love him. *grumblegrumble*
But it is interesting when an actor’s real life gestures and tics show up in their work…kinda makes you wonder how conscious they are of it, like are those things they planned in rehearsals or do they simply occur naturally?
Noir Nocturne Part 1 Chapter 17
Slang and Thinking about Baseball
Murtagh liked the story, but he loved the cartoon. The
talking animals were the funniest thing he had ever seen, that he could recall.
Not that he would ever tell anyone that, wouldna do to have anyone ken that he
was not all dour and serious like all the time. Well, other than Jamie, of
course, and just maybe Claire.
“I dinna ken how it is done but I liked it verra much” he
said to Jamie as they waited at what Claire called a cab stand. She’d said they
could afford to take one instead of the bus because they would be paid tomorrow,
and she’d know best he reckoned. “Dinna understand half of what the folks were
saying in the movie though.”
“Me as well, but ‘twas a good story even so, though sad. The
lass should have waited for Echo. He wasna really such a bad sort after all”
Jamie replied with a subdued and somewhat puzzled look on his face.
“Not a bad plan, to make some money if ye ask me” Angus interrupted.
“Sort of same idea as shifting herds or lands.”
“Ye dolt, I dinna think ye understood it at all.” Dougal
laughed and slapped Angus on the back.
“What? They pretended to be a family so they could eavesdrop
and get the goods.” Angus squinted up at Dougal. Not sure if he should be
insulted or no, Murtagh thought.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. They were criminals! They got what
they deserved, and Echo struck her Jamie. He may have regretted it, but he
shouldn’t have done it. Besides, she didn’t love him, she loved Hector and that
is why Echo let her go.” Claire, who was digging in her wee bag for something, scolded
in their general direction.
“Mmph” was the men’s skeptical responses, along with some sky
looking and ground watching.
“So when can we go again?” Dougal asked. “I like listening
to them talk. Tis all fast and odd, and nothing pretty about it, but does ha’e
a kind of rhythm to it.”
“Well, I doubt you will be feeling up to running around much
after work for the next few days, but perhaps when we are more settled? Besides,
there are stories every night on the radio. The Lone Ranger, The Shadow, all
kinds of things to listen to. You will be losing those old-fashioned patterns
of speech in no time. Although, I do hope you don’t pick up all this American
slang right away. It’s dreadful. Here we are, pile in and let’s get to the BH.
I’m famished.” Claire said, oblivious to her own use of odd words. She shooed
them into the cab and Murtagh hid his smile about her ways while ducking into
the front seat.
They got home in quick order. While he knew he would miss
horses, he thought he could come to really like these automobiles. Loads easier
on the backside too.
“Well, ain’t you all a pretty sight. Gracious, even the runt
cleans up nice.” Rhea said from the hallway when they entered. “Have about
thirty minutes to spare to dinner too. News on in the den. Plenty of hot water
for showers or baths. Forgot to tell ya I have four hot water tanks connected,
so unless there’s a rush or everyone falls in the same mudhole, shouldn’t run
out. Hope you’re hungry, got the big spread on tonight. Claire, be a dear and
go out back to the garden and pick some green ‘maters, they’re Lilly’s favorite
and it’s her birthday, so I have to fry some up. Red, come help me lift the
roast. The rest of you find something to do with yourselves, you’re cluttering
up the entryway” she ran on in typical fashion and pulled Jamie through the
dining room before anyone could reply.
Murtagh saw Claire grin and shrug at him and then she
followed them. He decided he was starting to be a bit fond of Rhea, she
reminded him of Mrs. Fitz so much, but he wasn’t sure how deep that went.
Trying to decide what to do next, he turned to the big room on the right and
saw three people already in it. A man, and two women were seated on one of the
couches nearest the radio.
“Oooh it’s the new fellas, do come in! Just listening to the
sports on the radio. Julian, Betty and I’m Lilly.” She said pointing to the
other two and then herself. She was a small blonde, with eyes the color of the
sea back home. The other woman looked several years older, bit thicker all
over, with very straight black hair, cut short, like a man’s, he saw. The man
wore spectacles, was dressed much the same as himself and was thin, he looked
to be around the same age as the dark woman. They presented no threat that
Murtagh could see and he felt himself relaxing just a bit.
“Ah, heard there were more here. Dougal MacKenzie, the short
one’s Angus Mohr and that’s Murtagh Fraser. What sports is it then?” Dougal
said, turning and heading into the den.
“She will insist on listening to baseball, even though the
news wasn’t finished. Have seats gents. Rhea will come collect us when it’s
time to eat.” Julian, who had a paper in his lap, and sounded like a puffed-up
popinjay, in Murtagh’s considered opinion, proceeded to light what they had
learned from the movie were called cigarettes.
He sat in one of the big chairs near the unlit fireplace.
Dougal and Angus took the other couch. The voice coming from the radio was
incomprehensible. He knew what it was from the movie as well, but the man talking
was speaking in code he thought. “Two on, bottom of the 8th, all
tied up. It’s a barnburner folks!”
He looked at Dougal to see if he was making any sense of
this, but his face, though apparently concentrating, looked just as confused as
Murtagh felt. Lilly clapped her hands and said, “I love a good game, even if
they aren’t pros, they sure can play semipro ball.”
“Can I ha’e one of those?” Angus asked Julian, pointing at
“How rude of me, the women don’t smoke, of course, so I
forgot to offer.” He stood and passed a small wooden box to the three of them,
pausing to light them by striking the wee sticks. He must have noticed they
weren’t sure what to do with them, other then put them in their mouths, because
he said “Inhale. Not like a pipe or cigar. Whatever you do, don’t flick the ash
on the rug. Rhea would have a conniption. Ashtrays on the tables next to you.” He
sat back down and picked the paper up, hiding his face behind it.
“Could ye explain the game to me lass? I dinna think I ken
it.” Dougal said, dismissing Julian with a short, sharp nod of his head in his
direction, a grimace, and a deep inhale.
“Well you wouldn’t, would you, being Scottish and all,
imagine not knowing how to smoke though” said Betty in a condescending manner.
She looked to be trouble in Murtagh’s eyes, might have to take her down a peg
“I would be happy to Sir.” Lilly
said, standing up and reseating herself between Dougal and Angus. “I just love
how you talk! It’s dreamy.”
She spent the next twenty
minutes giving them the “fundamentals of baseball” as she called them, while
also listening to the game, and clapping her hands with delight off and on.
Jamie stood awkwardly in the kitchen, not knowing what to do
with himself, after Claire went through the door to the back porch. He wasn’t
sure he liked her response to what he said about the movie. He wasn’t even sure
he had liked the story, but it had been instructive, as she said.
“Here, put these mitts on and I’ll open the range. Put it on
the trivet on the counter for me.”
“It certainly smells good.” He smiled at Rhea, fumbling a
bit with the mitts.
“Ain’t you the charmer. Come here and let me help you. Do it
myself, but it’s heavy.” Her face, while not exactly pretty, had a warmth to
it, and lit up when she smiled back.
“What are we having? I could eat just about anything right
now.” He put his hands in the heated oven with a small flutter of trepidation.
Odd that, he thought, must be the newness of everything spooking him a bit. It
wasn’t like he’d never seen an oven before. Finding a space on the counter with
nothing on it but a small knitted square, he sat the roast down and studied the
shiny material hiding it from view.
“Oh, that’s a pork shoulder, mashed potatoes, brown gravy, sauerkraut,
pinto beans, fresh salad and onions from my garden, fried green ‘maters, corn
bread, fresh rolls, iced tea, freezer pickles, strawberry with rhubarb pie and
I think I have some chocolate cake left over, if you all get through that and
are determined to eat me out of house and home. Go away now Red. I can still
smell you from over here, even though the barber helped a bit with that.”
“It’s the horses Rhea, after I wash all their things a
couple of times, and they’ve had time to shower, the odors shouldn’t linger.”
Claire said, coming back in, with the bottom of her dress scooped up and holding
at least ten large green tomatoes. “I’m afraid I’ve gotten rather used to it.
You would think Actors would be a more fastidious bunch, but this group, well,
they aren’t like anyone else you are likely to meet.” She gave a sly wink to
Jamie with that, and held her dress out to him to empty of the produce.
“Jamie, come with me upstairs for a moment, if you would.
Let me know if there is anything else I can do to help you Rhea.”
“No honey, this will do nicely. Have a few minutes with your
man alone, I know I would!” Rhea said with a lascivious look in their
He followed Claire up the steps to their room, thanking God
for the few minutes he would have with her to himself. She opened the door,
taking off her hat and letting down her beautiful curls. His breath caught in
“Damnit, forgot your bag downstairs, go back for it please.
I want to hang up your clothes and get the things together for the bathroom for
He ran down the stairs to the entry way, grabbed his bag,
looked in the den to be sure the men were alright and ran back up the stairs
three at a time.
“We don’t have time for what you are thinking about Jamie,
not really.” She laughed when he dropped the bag, crossed the room and took her
in his arms. Any constraint he might have felt about being bold went by the wayside
when he saw her standing by the window with the sun shining on her and through
“Wilna’ take all that long Sassenach, and ye ken it well” he
said while nuzzling his nose in her hair. The urge to throw her on one of the
beds and rip off anything she was wearing was nearly overpowering all rational
“Well, perhaps I would rather we did take our time about it,
ever think of that my fine lad? Besides, I have plans for you later.” She
hugged him then and stepped around him quickly.
“Plans, is it? Well I believe I have some plans of my own,
as mentioned on the bus. I will firm them up over our meal.” He said, turning
to the task of rearranging their room, while she put his things away.
“That sounds vaguely ominous. I imagine you will be much too
tired to do anything about threats when I am done with you. What are you doing? You only have to move the
table between the beds to put them together you know.”
“I ken that, but I want them by the windows, further away
from the door. Where’s my belts?”
“Oh my, that’s even worse Jamie. Have I done something to
warrant punishment in your husbandly opinion?” she was laughing outright when
she said this, found the objects in question and handed them over to him where
he now lay with his head under one of the beds.
“Have the new belt for that mo chridhe.” He said loudly, playing
along, while studying the best way to tie the beds together. He wasna about to
let them come apart with motion. He attached one of the belts to the legs at
the head and one to the legs at the bottom. He didn’t think he’d be needing any
belt any time soon, but these two were being used in the best way he could
think of for now.
“You know I could just ask Murtagh what all the things you
say to me in Ghalidgh mean. For all you know, I know already that you are
calling me terrible names or counting to one hundred or just being nonsensical.”
She said mischievously from nearer the doorway.
“Tis true, I call you vile things and hope ye never
understand them, and must always be doing the counting to keep myself from beating
you for your wicked ways and foolish tongue.” He said slowly as he stood up quickly
and made a lunge for her at the door.
“Oh no you don’t! I don’t believe it any way. I know you
better than that I think. You do rather like to treat me as a horse however. I
would bet it’s all gibberish you say to horses when my back is turned.” With
that, a neat sidestep of his lunge, and a wicked smile she left and ran down
the steps herself.
“Mo ghraidh, mo nighean donn” he said, laughing to himself
and making a mental note to tell Murtagh and the others not to tell her what any
of the Ghalidgh meant.