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crimsonwolfie · 4 years ago

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“I Can’t Lose You” — Hamish Duke x Reader (The Order)

Hi! So this is my first ever completed fanfic i have ever written so please give me feedback and if you want me to write more! This is a “The Order” fanfic because i’ve recently become obsessed with this show and in specific, Hamish Duke. Darn he’s so cute! Also there needs to be more fanfics for this fandom so i thought i’d try! Hope you guys like it!!! Sorry this one is a bit of a sad one, but sometimes sad ones are THE ones you know?

Warnings: character death, guilt, just overall sadness tbh. Don’t read if you’re in a good fluffy mood lmao

Word count: 3,500

Pairing: Hamish Duke x Reader (also slightly Knights x Reader)

Masterlist

Edward (or should i say, grand Magus)’s plan for world domination was going too smoothly, and everyone was worried. The Knights of St Christopher and Alyssa knew they had to do something, even if it meant death. Even though you were only human, not a knight nor a member of The Order, you still wouldn’t let anything happen to your friends. Especially Hamish - he’s different. You have a soft spot for him, an unrequited love even...never mind if he’s a little older than you.

You walk into the knights’ house to see Vera pottering around the room, searching through books and handling strange objects in her hands.

“The hell is she doing here?!” Lilith screams, eyes changing with rage.

“It’s okay, she’s here to help” Alyssa replies, shrugging Randall’s hands off of her shoulders

“...fuck that WHY ARE YOU HERE DAMNIT?! Lilith practically roars after hearing and seeing Alyssa’s presence. Yeah her memories came back, but so did emotions linked to them.

“Lilith please, you have to calm down.” Alyssa reaches her hands out in an attempt to comfort Lilith, only to realise it made things way worse. You stand there unable to trigger what is even happening...heck you even felt betrayed when you found out Alyssa wiped Lilith’s memories of the order...now she feels like someone you used to know. You look down and notice Lilith’s claws start to come out and quickly you run over to stop “Kilith” making an appearance.

“Lilith i’m so glad you’re okay, what happened??” You ask, hugging your friend who surprisingly returns the hug.

“Thank YOU for noticing i’m alive. SEE I CAN SAVE MYSELF, THANKS FOR YOUR HELP GUYS!” She shouts, knowing the boys can clearly hear her.

“They’re just dumb, stupid idiots who messed with the wrong Knight, that’s all.” She smirks

“Well i’m glad you’re okay. We had a plan, you know” I say, gently squeezing her shoulder

“Why wouldn’t you. You can’t survive without me” she laughs, although she’s got a point.

Alyssa looks over to us, hovers her gaze and then looks away. Even though i can’t read her mind, i still see how she looks at me and Lilith and remembers painful memories of how they used to be this close. I just don’t understand why she doesn’t listen to us when we all say that The Order is bad for her, it’s just going to destroy her humanity. Even Jack agrees.

Randall, Jack and Hamish run over slightly shocked to see Lilith standing in the doorway. See here’s the thing, when i see Randall, i get happy. But in a comfortable way, like a sibling like love. When i see Jack, i just get annoyed and aggravated since he’s always up to no good...but when i see Hamish, it’s like the world is in slow motion. Nothing else matters until you see his face, or know he’s okay. He’s like your safe house, your anchor that brings you back to comfort and reality.

“Oh my god Lilith you’re here! How are you? Are you hurt? What the fuck are you wearing?” Randall blabs on, checking Lilith everywhere for marks or enchanted knife stabs

‘Okay since when has Randall shown so much care towards Lilith?’ You think...seems a bit forced in your opinion but oh well.

“Lilith! Urm...we kidnapped a child for you” Hamish stutters, happy to see Lilith but also confused about what is happening right now

“I’ve been kidnapped?!” a small child pipes up from the corner chair, eyes wide open and comic book stretched over his chest

“Oh for god’s sake” Vera huffs whilst flicking her finger towards the small child, instantly knocking him unconscious

“You what?” Lilith chokes, slapping Randall’s hands away from her face “why would you do that? Wait...he thinks his son is his only son right? So when he gets the child back he’ll still lose at his plan?”

“Exactly. Wait we’re letting an innocent child get killed? Isn’t there some fool-proof plan to make sure no one gets killed?!” You remark, earning a few sorrowful glances at your humanity

“There isn’t another way. It’s the only plan we have i’m afraid” Hamish replies, stepping towards you.

Alyssa and Jack look towards each other in synchronisation, as if they have a plan.

“Okay i think i have an idea, but Alyssa i’ll need your help” Jack says, nodding his head hopefully. “Whatever happens, make sure no one gets hurt”

After Jack and Alyssa leave, you step to the side and begin thinking of ways that you can not only save thousands of innocent lives, but also help save those you hold closest - Hamish, Lilith, Randall and Jack. If Edward wants to sacrifice his own son, then what if...

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” You turn around to see Hamish behind you, looking down at you with eyes of concern and care. His hand is on your shoulder, rubbing small circles with his thumb

“Nothing, just worried that’s all” you reply, hoping he doesn’t see through your act. You know he wouldn’t approve of your thoughts, so you keep them to yourself.

“It’s going to be okay, he doesn’t know Jack is his first born and without him, he’s failed. We’re gonna be okay.” He pulls you into his chest, instantly calming your nerves. It feels like forever when he hugs you, and how you wish you could freeze time in that moment as you lean into his warm touch and burry your face into his chest, his grip tightening on your upper and lower back for support. You can hear his heart beating, making you smile into his chest.

“You know, you really are a special human being” he hums as he gently strokes your head with his thumb “not just because you have a heart of gold, but because you manage to light a room up even if tragedy occurs”

You can’t help but coo at his words, smiling a smile so big into his chest. You look up to see that adorable little smirk he does, with his hair hanging down and his eyes fixated into yours.

“Awhh, Hamish. Thank you” your cheeks blush as he chuckles, before he lets go of you. Moments like this are your favourite, always.

You look over to see Vera staring outside the window, a panicked look on her face. You’ve never known The Order as you’re not a member, but you’ve heard plenty enough from Hamish and the others to know they’re no good. And that goes for Vera - she only helps if she gets something out of it. None of them have any genuine good in their hearts unless it involved selfishness.

“Okay we’ve got a problem, you have visitors” she turns around, announcing like some high monarchy jester...you can’t help but roll your eyes at her.

“What do you mean? Who’s coming?” Randall asks

“It’s the Order, they’re here for the child” Vera replies

“Well they aren’t getting him. We have to stop them” Lilith cries, actual seriousness in her voice...’damn i’m so proud of her’ you think as you remember how she felt no remorse in killing before.

“She’s right. C’mon” Hamish agrees. As Randall and Lilith go out and their hides come out, Hamish pulls you to the side.

“Y/N, you have to stay in here. It’s too dangerous and i don’t want to lose you okay? We need you here” he looks restless and panicked, a look you haven’t seen on his face so genuine before.

“I’ll be right here, it’s fine. Go!” You reply, kissing him on the cheek as a way to say ‘i’m not losing you either, idiot’. He leans into your kiss, holding his cheek with a smile after and then steps out of the door.

Vera seems to be the only one left inside, so you ponder over to her in an attempt to begin a conversation with her. ‘Maybe she isn’t as bad as the others?’ you think.

“Hey, Vera?” You ask hesitantly

“Urm...yes? Y/N isn’t it?” She replies whilst looking into her book of potions and concoctions

“Yeah, i was just wondering about a spell that could shape shift you into something...or someone else...is there one?” You ask, weary of trusting her

“Of course there’s such spell, it’s like the basics of magic” she replies “why?”

“I was just wondering. I mean, i don’t think this whole plan will work and...”

“You want to help.” She finishes your sentence

“...yeah. I know i’m no knight or member of The Order but i still want to help.” You stutter, playing with your fingers, twirling them around each other

“I see. So you want to shapeshift into someone else?” She replies, turning towards me in curiosity

“I guess...” you begin as you trail on about your plan in order to save everyone and especially, to save Hamish.

Time goes by and you receive a call from Jack

“Jack what’s wrong?” You ask as you hear Jack’s heavy breathing on the other end of the line

“It’s Alyssa, Edward’s got her. He’s got her and won’t give her back until he gets his son back...” he’s running it seems, panic set in his tone and regret “It’s all my fault, it’s my fucking fault. An innocent person is going to die either way because of me now. It’s Alyssa or his second child” he chokes up, clearly about to break down

“Jack, hey, Jack listen to me...it’s NOT your fault, you tried to save everyone and it doesn’t work that way, much like magic - There’s always a price to pay.” You look up to Vera, who sympathetically smiles at you with a sad smile

“Just get back here and we’ll figure something out okay? We’ll get her back, Jack. I promise” you softly say, hearing Jack calm down and agree. You hang up and linger for a second on your home screen - a picture of you and your friends. Hamish is sitting next to you with his arm around you tightly and his other arm holding a cocktail. He’s staring down at you laughing. Randall is on the other side of you, laughing with his head up as if he was mid throwing his head back in laughter. He’s holding one of your hands whilst his other arm is near Lilith. You’re leaning into Hamish’s chest, giggling and looking down with a blushed cheeks, whilst Lilith is sitting next to Randall but not touching anyone (no surprise there) and looking down at Jack laughing. Jack is in front of you all, making a silly face and lying on his side, with one leg up in the air and arm tucked under his head. You’ve all got smiles on your faces and look like a proper family, which is exactly how you see them all.

Vera sees you staring down at your phone, aware that you’re doing something she has never seen anyone willing to do before “You don’t have to do this, there must be another way” She pleas, but you both know no other way is guaranteed to fail Edward of his task. “It’s not too late. Think of what you’re losing”

“Vera i know, but i’m thinking of what i’m earning for those i love” i reply, tears welling in my eyes. Vera understands my position and agrees to help me.

An hour later

“Where’s Y/N? She should be here! She said she would keep safe” Hamish runs up and down the house looking for you, unaware of what’s to come. He’s beginning to get restless and worried more than ever now

“It’s okay, she said she went to get supplies for me. She’ll be back” Vera lies

“We don’t have anymore time. Edward will need a sacrifice by 12, which means we have 20 minutes. And if we don’t give him a sacrifice he’ll kill Alyssa” Jack cries

“I need to give him someone. Guys scrap the plan, i need to go. I have to. I’d never forgive myself if Alyssa dies. Not because of me” Jack screams, anger venting inside him. Randall approaches and tries to calm Jack down before things get messy or before something he regrets happens.

“I need to know Y/N is safe, i couldn’t live if she got hurt” Hamish joined in, gaining looks towards him in surprise but also...guilt...from Vera.

Hamish notices Vera’s guilty look and instantly begins changing into Tundra through anger built inside of him but also...fear.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?” He practically growls at Vera, who holds her hands up to defend herself (as if that’s gonna stop a werewolf pftt). Vera begins to back away in fear of getting eaten alive, but Randall and Jack start to hold Hamish back, as his hide begins to hide again even as he fights against Jack and Randall’s grips

“It was her idea. She’s gone to stop Edward” Vera replies, eyes wide and hands ready to cast a spell as blood seeps from her palm.

“NO we need to stop her” Hamish cries as he breaks free from the boys’ arms and runs out the door, with the others following.

—

Jack enters the temple to see Edward preparing for his final task - the sacrifice. Alyssa is standing to the side, hands behind her back. She’s been enchanted from performing any spells, as Edward clearly saw he couldn’t trust anyone anymore. Upon Jack’s entrance, Alyssa runs up to him and hugs him, suddenly realisation sets into her glare.

“Jack what are you doing here, you can’t be here he’ll kill you!” She whispers, gripping onto his arm.

“It’s okay, at least you and everyone else will be safe” he replies, rubbing her hand on his arm

“Jack, i don’t see my child...you do know what a trade means don’t you?” Edward mocks, standing straight and tall in an attempt to threaten Jack.

“Grand Magus, you need your first born for the spell to work. Correct? Therefore, i’m here.” He stands tall and strong, stepping in front of Alyssa in a way to protect her. Edward looks around sheepishly, confused at what is happening. He takes a step forward and demands Alyssa tells him the truth. “Is this true, Alyssa? Don’t lie to me. I will know.” He booms, face inches away from Alyssa’s.

Alyssa hesitates before Edward threatens to come closer “okay it’s true. Yes, Grand Magus. He’s your son” she cries, tears threatening to spill as her words came out.

“Very well. Honourable of you, Jack. I must admit. However, that is not a quality you pursue from me.” Edward mocks, as he drags Jack towards the table where the book is. Jack climbs onto the table, as Edward starts summoning words and phrases, eventually producing a knife. Magus takes out the knife from the book

“NO!” Alyssa cries out, tears streaming and hands trembling. Edward ignores her screams and raises the knife in the air, thickening the suspense. Footsteps can be heard from behind the temple doors, lots of them. They sound as if they are quickening towards the door. Jack’s face drops a single tear as Edward releases his arms from the air and stabs him in the chest with the knife. As soon as the knife has been released, the doors burst open and Jack appears. Edward double takes towards Jack, who is standing by the door with Hamish, Vera, Randall and Lilith. He then looks towards his “son” in front of him, only to see him fade into Y/N. Alyssa screams as she falls to her knees. Edward’s timer chimes, as he roars in pain and anger at his failure

“NO. THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT” he screams at Y/N’s motionless body on the table. As he stares into the eyes of those before him, he directs his words at Jack

“See you in hell, son.” before he demises away. Hamish and the others run towards Y/N on the table, blood seeping out from her mouth and stab wound. Tears are shed from each person in the room, even Vera. Hamish holds you in his arms, praying that there is a way Y/N can be saved. “You promised me you’d keep safe. You promised me you wouldn’t get hurt” he chokes as tears pour from his bloodshot eyes.

“I...i’m sorry” you stutter, blood quickly spilling as you speak. “I need-“ you’re struggling to speak without choking on your own blood. “I needed to...to make sure you were...were safe” you cough up a pile of blood, as Hamish holds you tighter.

“We need you, i need you” he loudly wails as everyone surrounds you

“I love you, Hamish Duke” you manage to say before coughing even more and gasping for a breath

“Y/N why did you do this” Jack asks as guilt and fear cloud his voice. He grabs your hand and wipes your hair out of your face. His face is completely wet with tears, as well as everyone else’s.

“It’s the only way, to know you’d all be safe” you reply, your voice breaking with tears “and it worked” you half heartedly chuckled

“There’s got to be a way we can save her” Lilith cries out, looking towards Vera and Alyssa. They hang their heads low as their tears drop to the floor. There wasn’t a way, and you knew that. That’s why Vera warned you, but you knew the price you had to pay.

“What...what about a hide? What if that will heal her?” Randall pleads, looking up to his fellow Knights, to which they shake their head. A hide wouldn’t want a dying host.

“I love you so much and I didn’t get to tell you how i felt, Y/N. You’re the one person who makes me smile like never before and we never got the chance to go on dates” Hamish is rocking from side to side holding you in his arms, you look up to him and faintly smile at his confession

“It’s okay” you reply, bringing a bloody hand up to his face as you stroke his cheek with the last of your energy. He cups your hand with his hands, wet with his tears and your blood. His face has lost colour from watching the love of his life dying in his arms

“No it’s not okay. You can’t leave me, i can’t lose you. Y/N don’t close your eyes, don’t you dare close your eyes” he screams as his body shakes violently from shock and tragedy.

“Hamish, i’m alw-“ you’re interrupted from a violent coughing fit, as your face loses colour even quicker. “-always with you” you carry on “i have always loved you, and will till my last breath” you whisper as tears fall towards your pale, cold cheeks. Lilith and Randall are holding each other as Lilith is trying to stop your bleeding. It’s not working though. Hamish leans down and kisses your forehead, lingering for a moment as if he is treasuring this moment for an eternity to come.

“I’m thankful for you all” you begin, slightly lifting your head to see your family around you “you’re all my family, and i love you all so much” as you’re addressing them all, they whimper in pain and grab your hands, squeezing them tightly. Randall kisses your cheek and puts his forehead on yours, leaving a final kiss on your forehead. Lilith grips your hand tighter than ever before, thinking of your friendship and how she sees you as a sister, and to see her sister dying in front of her is something that will always haunt her. Hamish doesn’t want this to be real...he planned how he would tell you he loved you, where he would take you for your first date, the places you two would travel for road trips, the pets you two would get together, where he would propose to you...now he can’t. He never planned on telling you he loved you on your death bed, it’s destroying him.

“Thank you for everything, my family” you mutter faintly as your energy is leaving you. As you see the faces around you, you see what you always imagined you’d see before you die - your family surrounding you. That’s how you wanted it. With that, you smile one last time at Hamish, stroke his cheek with your thumb, then everything goes black and your body becomes numb. Your hand falls to the floor, and the Knights howl into the air with grief, pain and anger. They knew the Order was to blame for your death, and they would not let your death be in vain. You’d always be remembered in their pack, and with every moment they lived, they’d take a moment to think of you, and think of their love for you. How you saved people you didn’t know, and how you did it for them. Hamish never stopped thinking about you, even years after your death. He was different after that, they all were.

Hope you guys liked it! Let me know if you want me to do more and who you want me to write about :) love always 🖤

#the order #hamish duke #hamish duke x reader #hamish duke imagine #the order netflix #the knights of saint christopher #randall carpio #lilith bathory #jack morton #the order imagine

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stingslikeabee · 1 year ago

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@withthedoubleg

Gallant, V. E. Schwab

#mel aesthetics #words #this is so literal #knowing that he actually goes dim #and hides in the shadows hehe #'[Randall] this love is only a tragedy if we regret it'#v: Killer Queen #v: the Eyes of the Dragon

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whenfrasermetbeauchamp · 6 years ago

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“You know, there are two aspects to this curious situation of yours,” Anselm said, absorbed in tearing bread. He glanced aside at me, a sudden smile lighting his face. He shook his head in wonderment. “I can scarcely believe it still, you know. Such a marvel! Truly, God has been good, to show me such things.”

“Well, that’s nice,” I said, a bit dryly, “I don’t know whether He’s been quite so obliging to me.”

“Really? I think so.” Anselm sank down on his haunches, crumbling bread between his fingers. “True,” he said, “the situation has caused you no little personal inconvenience—”

“That’s one way of putting it,” I muttered.

“But it may also be regarded as a signal mark of God’s favor,” he went on, disregarding my interruption. The bright brown eyes regarded me speculatively.

“I prayed for guidance, kneeling before the Blessed Sacrament,” he went on, “and as I sat in the silence of the chapel, I seemed to see you as a shipwrecked traveler. And it seems to me that that is a good parallel to your present situation, is it not? Imagine such a soul, Madame, suddenly cast away in a strange land, bereft of friends and familiarity, without resources save what the new land can provide. Such a happening is disaster, truly, and yet may be the opening for great opportunity and blessings. What if the new land shall be rich? New friends may be made, and a new life begun.”

“Yes, but—” I began.

“So”—he said authoritatively, holding up a finger to hush me—“if you have been deprived of your earlier life, perhaps it is only that God has seen fit to bless you with another, that may be richer and fuller.”

“Oh, it’s full, all right,” I agreed. “But—”

“Now, from the standpoint of canon law,” he said frowning, “there is no difficulty regarding your marriages. Both were valid marriages, consecrated by the church. And strictly speaking, your marriage to the young chevalier in there antedates your marriage to Monsieur Randall.”

“Yes, ‘strictly speaking,’ ” I agreed, getting to finish a sentence for once. “But not in my time. I don’t believe canon law was constructed with such contingencies in mind.”

Anselm laughed, the pointed end of his beard quivering in the slight breeze.

“More than true, ma chère, more than true. All that I meant was that, considered from a strictly legal standpoint, you have committed neither sin nor crime in what you have done regarding these two men. Those were the two aspects of your situation, of which I spoke earlier: what you have done, and what you will do.” He reached up a hand and took mine, tugging me down to sit beside him, so our eyes were on a level.

“That is what you asked me when I heard your confession, is it not? What have I done? And what shall I do?”

“Yes, that’s it. And you’re telling me that I haven’t done anything wrong? But I’ve—”

He was, I thought, nearly as bad as Dougal MacKenzie for interrupting.

“No, you have not,” he said firmly. “It is possible to act in strict accordance with God’s law and with one’s conscience, you comprehend, and still to encounter difficulties and tragedy. It is the painful truth that we still do not know why le bon Dieu allows evil to exist, but we have His word for it that this is true. ‘I created good,’ He says in the Bible, ‘and I created evil.’ Consequently, even good people sometimes, I think, especially good people,” he added meditatively, “may encounter great confusion and difficulties in their lives. For example, take the young boy you were obliged to kill. No,” he said, raising a hand against my interruption, “make no mistake. You were obliged to kill him, given the exigencies of your situation. Even Holy Mother Church, which teaches the sanctity of life, recognizes the need for defense of oneself and of one’s family. And having seen the earlier condition of your husband”—he cast a look back at the guests’ wing—“I have no doubt that you were obliged to take the path of violence. That being so, you have nothing with which to reproach yourself. You do, of course, feel pity and regret for the action, for you are, Madame, a person of great sympathy and feeling.” He gently patted the hand that rested on my drawn-up knees.

“Sometimes our best actions result in things that are most regrettable. And yet you could not have acted otherwise. We do not know what God’s plan for the young man was—perhaps it was His will that the boy should join him in heaven at that time. But you are not God, and there are limits to what you can expect of yourself.”

I shivered briefly as a cold wind came round the corner, and drew my shawl closer. Anselm saw it, and motioned toward the pool.

“The water is warm, Madame. Perhaps you would care to soak your feet?”

“Warm?” I gaped incredulously at the water. I hadn’t noticed before, but there were no broken sheets of ice in the corners of the trough, as there were on the holy water fonts outside the church, and small green plants floated in the water, sprouting from the cracks between the rocks that lined the pool.

In illustration, Anselm slipped off his own leather sandals. Cultured as his face and voice were, he had the square, sturdy hands and feet of a Normandy peasant. Hiking the skirt of his habit to his knees, he dipped his feet into the pool. The carp dashed away, turning almost at once to nose curiously at this new intrusion.

“They don’t bite, do they?” I asked, viewing the myriad voracious mouths suspiciously.

“Not flesh, no,” he assured me. “They have no teeth to speak of.”

I shed my own sandals and gingerly inserted my feet into the water. To my surprise, it was pleasantly warm. Not hot, but a delightful contrast to the damp, chilly air.

“Oh, that’s nice!” I wiggled my toes with pleasure, causing considerable consternation among the carp.

“There are several mineral springs near the abbey,” Anselm explained. “They bubble hot from the earth, and the waters hold great healing powers.” He pointed to the far end of the trough, were I could see a small opening in the rocks, half obscured by the drifting water plants.

“A small amount of the hot mineral water is piped here from the nearest spring. That is what enables the cook to maintain live fish for the table at all seasons; normally the winter weather would be too bitter for them.”

We paddled our feet in congenial silence for a time, the heavy bodies of the fish flicking past, occasionally bumping into our legs with a surprisingly weighty impact. The sun came out again, bathing us in a weak but perceptible warmth. Anselm closed his eyes, letting the light wash over his face. He spoke again without opening them.

“Your first husband—Frank was his name?—he, too, I think, must be commended to God as one of the regrettable things that you can do nothing about.”

“But I could have done something,” I argued. “I could have gone back—perhaps.”

He opened one eye and regarded me skeptically.

“Yes, ‘perhaps,’ ” he agreed. “And perhaps not. You need not reproach yourself for hesitating to risk your life.”

“It wasn’t the risk,” I said, flicking my toes at a big black-and-white splotched carp. “Or not entirely. It was—well, it was partly fear, but mostly it was that I—I couldn’t leave Jamie.” I shrugged helplessly. “I—simply couldn’t.”

Anselm smiled, opening both eyes.

“A good marriage is one of the most precious gifts from God,” he observed. “If you had the good sense to recognize and accept the gift, it is no reproach to you. And consider…” He tilted his head to one side, like a brown sparrow.

“You have been gone from your place for nearly a year. Your first husband will have begun to reconcile himself to your loss. Much as he may have loved you, loss is common to all men, and we are given means of overcoming it for our good. He will have started, perhaps, to build a new life. Would it do good for you to desert the man who needs you so deeply, and whom you love, to whom you are united in the bonds of holy matrimony, to return and disrupt this new life? And in particular, if you were to go back from a sense of duty, but feeling that your heart is given elsewhere—no.” He shook his head decisively.

“No man can serve two masters, and no more can a woman. Now, if that were your only valid marriage, and this”—he nodded again toward the guest wing—“merely an irregular attachment, then your duty might lie elsewhere. But you were bound by God, and I think you may honor your duty to the chevalier.

“Now, as to the other aspect—what you shall do. That may require some discussion.” He pulled his feet from the water, and dried them on the skirt of his habit.

“Let us adjourn this meeting to the abbey kitchens, where perhaps Brother Eulogius may be persuaded to provide us with a warming drink.”

Finding a stray bit of bread on the ground, I tossed it to the carp and stooped to put my sandals on.

“I can’t tell you what a relief it is to talk to someone about it,” I said. “And I still can’t get over the fact that you really do believe me.”

He shrugged, gallantly offering me an arm to hold while I slipped the rough straps of the sandal over my instep.

“Ma chère, I serve a man who multiplied the loaves and fishes”—he smiled, nodding at the pool, where the swirls of the carps’ feeding were still subsiding—“who healed the sick and raised the dead. Shall I be astonished that the master of eternity has brought a young woman through the stones of the earth to do His will?”

Well, I reflected, it was better than being denounced as the whore of Babylon.

— Outlander/Cross Stitch

Gifs: outlanderamerica.com, Season One, Episode Sixteen, May 30, 2015

Book: Outlander (Cross Stitch), Diana Gabaldon, 1991

Tumblr: September 24, 2018, WhenFraserMetBeauchamp 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿❤️🇬🇧

WFMB’s Tags: #Outlander #Season One Episode Sixteen #S1E16 #To Ransom A Man’s Soul #Outlander/Cross Stitch #Chapter Forty #And I told him. Everything. Who I was and how I came there #But how marvelous! How extraordinary, and how wonderful! #A good marriage is one of the most precious gifts from God #Claire Fraser #Father Anselm #73 #092418

#Outlander #Season One Episode Sixteen #S1E16 #To Ransom A Man's Soul #Outlander/Cross Stitch #Chapter Forty #And I told him. Everything. Who I was and how I came there #But how marvelous! How extraordinary and how wonderful!#A good marriage is one of the most precious gifts from God #Claire Fraser #Father Anselm #73 #092418

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ladytp · 7 years ago

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Merry Post-Christmas to all - especially @lenny9987 !

Here is the 2nd chapter of my gift to her in the Outlander Secret Santa 2017, “In the Quiet of the Night, Candour”. (First chapter here, both chapters now also posted in AO3).

Chapter 2 – Things Needed To Be Said

There was no question about getting any sleep, at least not for Lord John. The pain in his ankle had changed from a raw jolt to a dull but insistent throbbing, and he was cold, so cold. Jamie had been right; staying alone without the ability to move about freely to stave off the cold would have been his undoing. Even now, lying side by side so that their bodies touched at length so that he could feel warmth emanating from Jamie, John was shivering. He tried to subdue it as to not disturb his companion, but there was only so much he has control over his body.

“Ye rattle and shake like a wee rabbit in a fox hole. Are ye very cold?” A low voice so close to his ear startled John and he drew in an involuntary breath.

“I’ll live,” he muttered.

“Would it help if we laid closer, maybe on our sides?” The suggestion was tempting; spooning would increase the touch points of their bodies and preserve the precious body heat even more effectively than the soggy layers of cloth on top them. But how? John couldn’t imagine Jamie turning his back on him, but equally how would he feel pressing against John’s back?

Without waiting for an answer Jamie turned, his chest towards John.

“Aye?”

Submitting to his fate – and only slightly disturbed by the notion - John rolled on his side and felt Jamie pressing against his back.

And sensed the moment when Jamie’s whole body became rigid, hardly suppressed tension of his every muscle vibrating through the thin layers of cloth between them. His breathing changed too; withheld breath, air through his nostrils, then another moment of stillness. Without seeing his face John could imagine it; clenched jaw, furrowed brow.

Jamie’s left arm was draped on top of John’s shoulder, and it trembled slightly.

The relief of his warmth was immediate, but was soon replaced by discomfort. Why Jamie was doing this for himself when it was clear that his whole being was repulsed by it, John wondered, getting annoyed. Whatever was at the root of Jamie’s anxiety had nothing to do with him – why should he feel guilty about it?

Without stopping to think John blurted out his irritation.

“Really Jamie, if you believe that in this situation, our lives hanging on by the thread, I could think of anything else but survival, you are simply flattering yourself.”

Jamie stiffened.

“I canna help it. It’s nought to do it with ye,” he murmured, and immediately shame and regret flushed over John. It was abundantly clear that Jamie has suffered something so traumatic that even his iron will couldn’t overcome it, and he felt ashamed of challenging him on it.

Again, without consciously planning to, the question that had been lurking at the back of his mind for a long time dropped from the tip of his tongue.

“What happened to you? Who made you react this way?”

Long silence ensued and another wave of regret for John. It was not for him to be privy of Jamie’s personal tragedies; why would he imagine being entitled to them and cross the boundaries they had set on the limits of their friendship already a long time ago?

As John was trying to find words to take his question back, Jamie inhaled loudly.

“A redcoat. Captain of His Majesty's Eighth Dragoons in the army of King George I.” His voice raised hardly above whisper, his words low, cold, menacing. “Captain Jonathan Wolverton Randall, Esq.”

It was Johns turn to stiffen. It was one thing to suspect something, another to have it confirmed.

A redcoat. No wonder his reactions towards Lord John had been so visceral, especially at times when he had been still carrying his uniform, proudly.

That Jamie knew the name implied that it had not been a random attack, not like his own experience all those years ago. The memory of it still came back to him every now and then, but John had made his peace with the incident long time ago including a conclusion that it was probably for the best that he had never learned the identity of his assailant.

He regretted bringing the matter up – the last thing he wanted was to bring Jamie’s nightmares from the past back – especially in this time and place. Hoping to close the matter swiftly he faltered to find the words.

“I do apologise sincerely for asking - I shouldn’t have done it. It is not for me to know your private matters.”

A slight relaxation in Jamie’s posture, a huff of warm air past his ear.

“And…I am sorry. So sorry,” John added, quieter.

“Dinna fash. Maybe ye should know, should have known earlier. To see why it was so hard for me to accept ye as ye were. Are. Although I ken that ye are nothing like him.”

“This man…he took you against your will?” Since it appeared that the door had been opened and Jamie was not in a hurry to bang it shut again, John was curious to know more. A captain of Dragoons – must have been at the time of the Rising. After Culloden, perhaps, before Ardsmuir?

“In a way, aye, and in a way, no. I was to be hangit in the morning and he had Claire too in his grip. He threatened to…” Jamie swallowed, the motion of his throat against the back of Johns head, “…so I told him that if he lets her go, I wasna going to resist. And I dinna. Even though he made me do things…” Rest of the sentence was inaudible and John was glad of it.

God’s grief! To be forcibly coerced was one thing, but at least one had the comfort of knowing that one wasn’t playing any part in one’s own humiliation. But to be forced to act? To willingly submit oneself to machinations of a madman?

“But you were not hanged after all?” What a foolish question it was, of course he hadn’t been! John winced. But how long had he been…

“Aye. Claire came back to me that morning – with my kinsmen and a herd of Highland kine. They took me out of there and I lived.” Once again Jamie’s voice lowered almost to a whisper. “I dinna want to, at first. But Claire dinna let me go. She can be stubborn like that.” A hint of smile creeped into his voice. Lord John could imagine; if Jamie was unremitting with his love for his wife, Claire Fraser was his equal. Neither of them would let the other one go, not without a fight.

Momentarily Lord John wondered if he would ever know a love like that.

“And that one night did the damage? To your soul, to your whole self?”

“It wasna just that night. That demon had been after me for years. He was the one who did my back – over hundred lashes, two times, hardly a few days in between. And then he had the gall to admire his handiwork when he had me at my word.” The hate and venom dripping at every word Jamie spoke was unnerving and despite his shivering having subsided Lord John felt a cold chill at the back of his spine.

“What happened to him?”

“I killed him. At Culloden.’

Jamie spoke matter-of-factly and if John had felt a chill before, now he realised that he had been much closer to death than he could have ever imagined that day in Ardsmuir, all those years ago at a game of chess.

“I am glad you did. I am so sorry it happened to you.” There was not much else he could say, nothing would change what had been done to Jamie and what scars he had been carrying in his soul ever since.

“The worst thing was that I reacted to it.“ Now that Jamie had started talking it seemed he wanted to get it all out. John recognised it for what it is; the burden of holding something buried deep inside one’s chest for years, then finally letting it go. It could sweep a man on its path, so irresistible was its pull.

“He conjured my wife into that cell with us, and I was being delirious of the pain of my hand – he had broken my fingers with a hammer and driven a nail through my palm,” Jamie offered as nonchalantly as if he had spoken about a casual meeting over a tables of cards. “And he touched me and I… I reacted.’

Oh. John had heard of that shame. Men having been forced to have sex blaming themselves for the way their bodies had reacted as if it meant that they had been willing in the act. The life of men like him was not without its darker side and without the protection of law, bad things happened.

“You know it was not you, do you? It was just your flesh reacting. The same as if you stick your fingers down your throat and vomit – it is just a reaction that has nothing to do whether you feel nauseous or not.” If he could provide this little bit of comfort to Jamie, even after all these years, he wanted to do his best.

“A flesh reacting? But isn’t mind the master of one’s flesh?”

“Not always. Like now; if my mind could tell me not to shiver I would stop doing it. But it can’t, and I shan’t.”

“Hmmm.” An added Scottish noise at the back of his throat suggested that Jamie was not prone to take John’s word for it. “How would ye ken such a thing?”

“In my social circles I hear things,” John said dryly. “Take it from me, you are not the only one.”

“You too?” A tone of surprise.

In the face of Jamie’s confession John had no option but to be totally honest.

“Once. Years ago. I was young, newly joined the army. It was nothing like what happened to you; just a quick fumble in the dark, by force - I never knew who it was. From thereon I went nowhere without a dagger.”

“You dinna like it then?”

Dear Gods! Sometimes thickness of men made John want to weep. Even Jamie, as educated and sophisticated man as he was, could be such a dullard at times.

“Would you like it if a woman would take you by force, submit you to her desires and under her power, and there was nothing you could do about it? If the autonomy of your body would be stripped away from you and you had no bargaining power, no choice - not whatsoever?” A flash of anger spiced his words with harshness he had not intended, but – really?!

John knew that there had been something sinister behind Willies conception. He had never had an impression that it would have been an act of true love, or that Jamie would have taken advantage of Geneva and seduced her by his own free will. Some kind of coercion must have had taken place, and knowing Geneva John had no doubts where it had originated. Yet she couldn’t have taken him by force – so whatever it had been, it couldn’t have been an experience tinged with forced submission and utter sense of powerlessness.

Still huffing his righteous indignation John felt more than heard Jamie’s act of contrition; a swift squeeze on his shoulder, a muttered apology.

“Nay, I canna say I would enjoy it. I havena. That wasna verra kind thing to say, I am sorry.”

John’s irritation left him as soon as it had arrived and his mind returned back to Jamie’s confession. A captain in His Majesty’s army, clearly prone to sadism and manipulation, pursuing a Scottish laird for his own nefarious purposes – and Jamie being forced to give his word to submit to him. “…he made me do things…,” Jamie had said and suddenly John felt bile rising at the back of his throat.

He was as familiar as any with the dark underbelly of the world he and his kind inhabited, and how the rejection by the civilised society encouraged dark men and dark deeds, fully aware how their wickedness could often lead to no repercussions because of the stigma of shame and lawlessness. And Jamie, still surprisingly naïve about the ways of human reactions…

“Surely your wife told you that you can’t blame yourself for any of it?”

“Aye she did. But she wasna there, in that cell. She didna have to…”

“I am sorry but I beg to differ - she is a very wise woman and a healer and I am convinced her knowledge is superior to yours about how human body works. And for what it’s worth, I am telling you the same thing. And I know some things she may not.” John tried to deliver his words as convincingly as he could, knowing how self-doubt and self-hate could eat even the strongest man from the inside. He himself hadn’t been immune to their effects either – if not exactly on the same matter, there had been enough mornings when he had looked at himself in the mirror and hated everything he saw.

Jamie had finally seemed to let go some of his tension; the long limbs pressing against him might not have been exactly fully relaxed, but some of the earlier rigidity was gone. John didn’t dare to move, afraid to break the precious moment. He tried not to think of the shape of Jamie’s thighs or the swell of his shoulders, both much too close to him in a way that could not be described as anything else but intimate. He tried not to think of things that he had schooled himself over the many years to shut out of his mind. Yet every shift and every slight movement steered his thoughts to those forbidden paths, edged him closer to the precipice – and he welcomed it, and he hated himself for it.

What kind of a sick mind can do such a thing, after hearing that?

Silence followed but somehow John didn’t think the conversation was over yet. The restlessness of the man behind him was palpable, the tossing and turning in their confined conditions. He didn’t press on it though – sometimes things took their time and words were hard to come by. If Jamie still had something to say, he would do it in his own, good time.

“Ye ken, I could never understand what is it in ye that makes ye wanna… ye ken?” There was no accusation in Jamie’s voice, only genuine puzzlement. Yet the fact that he seemed to be willing to discuss the matter John knew to be an anathema to his faith and disgust him in a way that went deeper than the ordinary kind of revulsion common with other people, touched him.

John remembered the argument they had once had about the nature of the Sacred Band of Thebes – a band of Greek warriors consisting of pairs of male lovers – and the revulsion Jamie had shown then towards the whole notion that such relationships could be anything more but feeble indecency of cowardly men to relieve their lust.

“I don’t know either – all I know is that I can’t help it. It is not a choice – I wish it was, as surely I would have chosen differently to make my life easier.” John chose his words carefully, tiptoeing around the subject as if walking on a field of shards of glass.

“Hmmph,” was Jamie’s eloquent response.

Well, at least it was better than a tirade how only men who lacked the ability to possess a woman or were cowards who feared them, or an outright denial of John’s true self.

John had accepted a long time ago that his feelings for Jamie were always going to be one-sided and in an odd way had still gained comfort from the simple existence of them – better to have loved and not loved back than not to have loved at all, and all that. He had accepted that the most he could expect from the object of his affections was friendship and respect and turning of a blind eye to his failures as a human being – and on most days that was more than enough and he was happy to have it.

And yet every now and then he found himself wishing he would someday get more; an open-eyed acceptance of himself as he truly was, warts and all. Suddenly an urgent need pushed itself forward and compelled by it to act John turned slightly to face Jamie.

“It is who I am. It is who I have always been – and I dare say, will be until the day I die. I am sorry if it doesn’t suit your views of the world or the teachings of your God, but I can’t lie to you. Oh, I know, I have lied most of my life; to my family, my friends, my comrades in arms, everyone. I must, as otherwise I will be doomed.”

Jaime stared at him, his eyes narrowed. Moonlight illuminating the landscape was just enough to outline his features and a glint of his eyes.

“But I refuse to lie to you,” John finished, sucking his cheeks in defiantly. Part of him felt a bit ridiculous – maybe not the best idea to lay down ultimatums in such a gregarious situation.

Jamie didn’t let go his scrutiny, his eyes sweeping over John’s face. They trapped him – those slanted eyes, dark pools in the feeble light.

“Aye, there is honesty between us and I’ll not want to see it change.” Jamie finally said, slowly. “I see you, I hear you. I canna say I understand any of it – but there are other things in this world I canna work out and I accept them all the same.”

“I being what I am does not mean that I would be like some other men – like that captain from your past. I hope you give me the courtesy of believing that.” John’s moment of defiance was draining in the face of cold and hunger and throbbing pain and most of all, Jamie’s silent acknowledgment of its righteousness, and suddenly he felt tired, so very tired.

“I ken. I ken that well. I am sorry if I have ever given you to believe otherwise.” Jamie lifted his hand and squeezed John’s shoulder, a cumbersome move but sincere.

“I am sorry too. And now that I know what is behind it – not that I wouldn’t have figured out that it must have been something horrid – I am twice as sorry for ever putting you through it.”

John rolled back on his side, staring ahead at the edge of their crudely constructed resting place, broken roots of plants sticking out of bare earth in front of his face. Jamie scooted a little closer, pressing his whole body flush against his. John felt warm, he felt protected, he felt all kinds of ridiculous things a man of his age and stature should have left behind to his youthful years.

“Try to sleep, a charaid. Time goes faster that way.” With that muffled expression against John’s neck Jamie sighed deeply and relaxed – this time genuinely.

Charaid. Friend.

Lord John didn’t find sleep for a long time, too busy cradling the small expanse of unbearable tenderness and contentment inside his chest. It ebbed and flowed at Jamie’s every breath against his neck, and those of his own, taking on the same rhythm. Yet eventually his eyes grew heavy and he slipped into a deep sleep.

And that was how Claire found them in the morning, still in the same position, only parts of their faces peering under the garments that had frozen stiff.

#Outlander #Jamie Fraser #Claire Fraser #Lord John Grey #the love that dare not speak its name #Outlander Secret Santa 2017 #lenny9987 #moghraidhjamie #my fic #In The Quiet of the Night - Candour

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fuckyeahjamieandclaire · 7 years ago

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As he tends to Murtagh’s rat bites with milk thistle, Jamie’s painfully reminded that this herbalist knowledge was taught to him by “a lass who knew a fair amount about healing.” Claire is gone but not forgotten. Grey eventually takes Quarry’s advice to dine with Jamie, in order to secure his cooperation, and thus begins a growing friendship and respect between them. Roberts’ script allows this development plenty of time and offers two fine performances from Sam Heughan and David Berry. The discussions move from the efficacy of cats for reducing the rat population and, inadvertently, a source of food for the prisoners, to the more intimate and confessional mode of lost loves. Jamie wonders why Grey was sent to replace Quarry as governor, and it’s only later when we get to this heartfelt unburdening that there’s an intimation of what might have happened.[...] Later, after Grey has made good his promise to provide medical aid for Murtagh, he and Jamie enjoy a game of chess. Here, Grey confesses he shared Jamie’s death wish after Culloden with the loss of a “particular friend” in the battle. He was Grey’s inspiration and, as the intimate conversation sees Grey reach out for physical affection, we can conclude he was his lover. “Some people you grieve over forever,” he admits. Jamie, still suffering his own loss, recognises their mutual vulnerability and offers, “I think perhaps the greatest burden lies in caring for those we cannot help. Not in having no one in whom to care.” Grey’s own care has allowed Jamie to grieve a little less and, finally, to speak Claire’s name again. It’s a very affecting moment. However, it’s unfortunate that Grey chooses this moment to make advances to Jamie. He misjudges the situation and, not knowing of Jamie’s past and his rape and torture by ‘Black Jack’ Randall, this same-sex affection is guaranteed to awaken very painful and angry memories in Jamie. It’s clear that Grey genuinely regrets it, as it undoes all the ties in their friendship. The prisoners are removed from Ardmuir and sent to the colonies, except for Jamie Fraser. As a convicted traitor whose sentence could not be commuted by his Majesty, Jamie’s escorted by Grey to the estate of Helwater to serve Lord Dunsany. He will have to change his name as Dunsany is not disposed towards Highlanders and Jacobite rebels but Jamie’s life has been spared, in another debt repaid by Grey despite his “moment of weakness”. A beautifully crafted and performed episode, “All Debts Paid” satisfyingly mixes tragedy and hope within its themes of honourable bargains and discharging of debt. [...] Balfe and Menzies were superb and the series will clearly miss Menzies now that both his Randall alter-egos are dead. However, the real strength of the episode is in the subtle playing between Heughan and Berry, forging the complex friendship between Jamie and John Grey.

OUTLANDER, 3.3 – ‘All Debts Paid’ - Frank Collins

#outlander #outlander starz #sam heughan #caitriona balfe #jamie fraser #david berry #all debts paid #character: jamie fraser #people: sam heughan #people: caitriona balfe #tv news #review #3x03 #tv series #tv: s3 #queue

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stingslikeabee · 1 year ago

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@withthedoubleg

“She imagined loving him would feel like falling in love with darkness, frightening and consuming yet utterly beautiful when the stars came out.”

— Stephanie Garber (via quotemadness)

#mel aesthetics #words #I am not strong enough #to resist things with 'darkness' being mentioned #I will collect them all and file them here #:))))#'[Randall] this love is only a tragedy if we regret it'#v: Killer Queen

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wonderous-writer-suggestions · 8 years ago

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First kisses: Mctwist

Adrien leans back in the booth, his green eyes glowing in the black lights along with his silver hair. Mary floats just behind him, and Randal sitting across from them, and next to writer. Mary leaned over intrigued by all she's heard Writer say thus far. While Adrien and Randal are more leaned back and taking in her words, knowing how easily she slips in tricks and riddles. Finally Adrien leans in, "So let me get this straight." He says, "You've lived with Twisty your whole life, there was a tragedy and he lost his arms, then he took your memories while under a curse, thus breaking and warping the land and yourself. Then, you finally get them back with Evelyn's help through a legit true love curse break." The three of them lean in, and at the same time say, "And you two still haven't kissed?" Writer laughed, "What? Come on you know he's like family to me!" Her smile faded when she saw them all exchange looks. Finally Randal piped up, "Yeah but, everyone is family to you Rye." Mary then walks her way over to Writer's side, leaning on her shoulder, "Which isn't a bad thing! You just love, everyone." Adrien leans across the table, "But it's pretty clear you have a favorite." Writer looks among them, "Come on guys," she says with a nervous laugh, "I mean so what he's been a great friend like all of you so I have to date him?" Her laugh persists, "What I might as well just date everyone!" Mary smiles smugly, "Rye pie, it's clear you've crushed on Twisty since you got your memories back." Adrien takes another sip of his drink, "Not like you're constant writing isn't obvious." Writer turns red, "That's meant to be private!!" "Then make a better puzzle lock." Adrien said nonchalantly. Randal interrupts, "Look, if you're really unsure then just talk to him. But clearly you two are close and I think you should go find him." Writer sighs, "I'm not even sure if he'd want to see me." Mary smiles, "Hey, who wouldn't to see someone like you?" Her smile travels along everyone's face until Writer finally smiles back. "Alright," she says standing out of her seat, "I'll go find him." She starts to run out, "See you again!" They wave goodbye collectively, sitting for a moment in silence until Adrien pipes up again with a grin on his face. "You guys want to read her fan fiction about us?" He says holding up a book. Mary and Randal adjust their seating to see, both grinning, "Oh definitely." Mary says opening the book for him. Randal points to a page, "Go to chapter six it's about all of us!" To which they all laugh. Meanwhile, Writer began making her way through the woods. Surprised to find that after many years without memory, her mind and body was quick to navigate old pathways. Soon, the woods lead her out to her home. Just the way she had left it a few hours prior. Her pace slowing as she neared its door, as if it were a gateway to al she's kept locked up, all she has remembered, all in one moment of opening a door. The door creeks on its hinges as she slowly enters her home. The only sound being that of the door as it opens, and then clicks closed again. She could hear the clocks ticking rhythmically in the next room. Yet mostly, it was her ticking, beating heart, that pounded in her ears the loudest. Mctwist was waiting for her in her writing area, he stood in the middle of the room reading a book of hers. His tail switched slowly back and forth, and for the first time in a while, he wasn't wearing the gloves that covered his prosthetic arms. He tore his gaze from the page for a moment, "Hello Writer." She stepped into the room, "Mctwist," she said coming to his side. She smiled upon seeing which book he's reading, "We had quite the times together, didn't we?" He smiled, "We really messed it up too." Writer let's out a short laugh before closing the book for him, "It's not the end though." He turns to her, "I know, but I really hurt you writer." She put her hand in his, the metal feeling cold against her gloves, "So did I." She said looking down at their hands. "But, we can start a new chapter. If you're willing to turn the page." She looks up to him, wondering how long it's been since she's looked into this friend's eyes. The light, and rare blue hue they hold, shinning with a mix of emotions. He lets out a sigh, "I wouldn't want to loose you again my dear." His hand holds her's tighter, "Do you trust me? And yourself? Can we do this together?" He asks, hoping for reassurance, or perhaps conformation. Writer nods, "I always trust you." They sit in silence a moment, looking at each other. History of their time together replaying in their minds. Their regrets, their acts of care, and acts driven by a curse. Things they'll either never forgive themselves for, or never forget. Mctwist puts a hand on her shoulder, and raises the one clasped in hers, "How long has it been since we last danced?" Writer smiled, "So long, I nearly forgot." She replied smugly. He laughed, a pure gesture that warmed her heart. Before they knew it, their feet guided them in a small waltz in the tiny desk space. No music was to be heard, only the tunes of their hearts keeping them in time with each other as they twirled and spun around. Finally Mctwist dipped her, holding her in his arms with one hand, and catching her top hat with the either, bringing his face close down to hers. They smiles at each other a moment before he stood her up right. He handed her the hat, "You... you dropped this." Writer took it gently from his hands, "You still dance beautifully." She said, bringing color to his cheeks. He smiled, "You still write beautifully." He said, surprised by his own words. She hugged him gently, feeling his embrace hold her there a moment, "I've missed you." She said softly before pulling away. He looked down to her, I've missed you too." He said, but was cut short. Writer moved up to kiss him softly, only a short moment, but a moment which felt like an eternity. She smiled, and so did he, then they even laughed a moment. "Perhaps I've done something right by you after all." She smiled, "Mctwist, you were the one thing, in my whole life, that was right." He smiled at her again and this time, he moved in to kiss her. This time making it last longer. Nothing else mattering for that moment. Only that two souls, had finally connected once more.

#writer speaks #mctwist #my writings #and with that I bid y'all goodnight

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dentsolivier · 8 years ago

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The XX @ Parc Jean-Drapeau May 24th, 2017

Under the word “Cool” in the Oxford Dictionary, there is simply a picture of The XX. Well…I haven’t really checked, but if it isn’t there, after tonight’s show…it should be.

Kalela @ Parc Jean Drapeau

It feels like summer has started with my first outdoor show of the summer, The XX and Kelela Mizanekristos (a.k.a. Kelela) opening. Kelela took the stage and immediately, the first 50 rows were attacked sonically by a punch to the eardrums from the sub-woofers. Now, I’m not one to complain about loud music, but unfortunately for Kelela…we have no clue what she sang or if she could sing at all. Only through the occasional breaks in the overpowering bass did we get a small glimpse of her voice, ever so slightly till the assault continued. I actually thought she was from a David Lynch movie because for the first few songs, she was fuzzy because of the reverberations. Only thanks to my concert neighbor Karim, who drove all the way from Ottawa to catch the show and give me some napkins to stuff in my ears as I passed on this precious treasure to the next person, was I able to avoid permanent damage.

Santa the Roadie

During the intermission, one of the roadies looked suspiciously like Santa. I guess one needs a summer job and the for the first time ever, the crowd cheered as a roadie picked up a speaker.

The XX Parc Jean Drapeau

The XX entered and started with “Say Something Loving” from their newest release I See You. Like a well-oiled machine, Romy Madley Croft, Oliver Sim & Jamie xx played a tight set with a cool demeanor, yet relaxed and natural. I remember when they played the Canal almost 4 years ago and I thought: “Who wants to see a bunch of bored teens?” Now, I loved the album, but they did not seem like a high-energy bunch. I immediately regretted it when a good friend of mine told me it was the best show she saw, she loved it. Really? I wasn’t going to miss them again and I’m so glad my time finally came to experience The XX live.

The XX

The second song brought back those memories as they played “Crystalised”, much to the delight of the crowd. From their debut album, we would hear “Islands”, “Infinity”, “VCR”, “Shelter” and “Intro”over the course of the evening.

Romy and Oliver of The XX

For an intimate moment, Romy sang “Performance” solo, at the suggestion of the band which brought chills to the back of your spine. Both Romy & Oliver have this voice that digs deep into memories of being a teenager feeling lost love and being alone in the world.

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Although the events in Manchester were not uttered, it is always eerie to go to a show after such a tragedy. For a few hours, we were able to lose our insecurities and simply enjoy the moment. The great Evenko staff make us feel safe and live music reminded us that life is fragile and we should enjoy every minute of it and not let fear stop us from doing so.

The XX

An amazing set featuring songs from all albums ended with an encore starting with Jammie xx getting us going with the intro to “On Hold” which had us all dancing. Before ending the show with two last songs, there was a moment when the applause from the Montreal crowd seemed to go on forever, much to the surprise of the shy Romy. Oliver recognized that although much love was going towards him, he graciously directed it towards Romy, which just seemed to amplify the love. Romy mentioned how they appreciated each and every one who attended tonight and that they saw us. “Intro” & “Angels” took us home and wrapped up the evening like a gift we all received from the coolest band in town.

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The XX Setlist Montreal

Setlist

Say Something Loving Crystalised Islands I Dare You Lips Sunset Replica Performance Infinity VCR Dangerous Fiction Shelter Loud Places (Jamie xx Cover)

Encore On Hold Intro Angels

Review & Photos– Randal Wark is a Professional Speaker and Business coach with a passion for live music. You can follow him on Instagram, Twitter and YouTube.