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mymelodyheart · 3 years

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Miles Between Us Chapter 12 ~Obstacle Course ~

Previously in Suspicious Minds ...

Caught up in the awkwardness of the moment, Claire bit her bottom lip. "Well, I guess that's settled then. We best get going before Mary does something like bite some poor soul's head at the airport." Claire's attempt to sound cheerful lessened the tension in the air but not the one on Jamie's shoulders. She turned to him and tried to take her bags off his hands, but he couldn't seem to let go. "Jamie ...my bags," she whispered, her hand running up and down his forearm as if to tell him everything was going to be alright.

But instead of giving Claire's bags back to her, he begrudgingly handed them to Christie. They had a few seconds of stare off until Claire's hands on his face forced him to look at her.

"Jamie, kiss me, goodbye?"

He didn't hesitate at her request and sucked on her bottom lip as she made a sobbing noise. That wee noise she made jolted something free inside of him, and he, too, wanted to cry. He couldn't remember wanting to openly cry before. Not like this. He couldn't control it, stealing oxygen from his lungs, but Claire's touches soothed him.

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"The monster is only scary while it is in the closet.

Once in the light,

you can see its many flaws

and weaknesses.

And often,

we end up laughing,

at what we shield our eyes from

no more."

-Tom Althouse

Meticulously scanning the busy vicinity, Claire stopped in the middle of the airport's arrival area and whirled on the spot, impatiently tapping her phone against her thigh. Come on, Hawkins, where the bloody hell are you? Though she and Tom were painfully late, she didn't want to blame their tardiness on Jamie, so instead, she held the gridlock on the motorway and the rain responsible. And whyever not? If it hadn't been for Mary coming to Inverness unannounced, she would be with Jamie right now, making up for lost time and talking about his therapy from this morning. Why in heaven's name had the responsibility of Mary landed on her shoulder of all days? She sighed. It must be another perk of being John Grey's ultra-reliable and never-can-say-no star employee, she reminded herself with an inward groan.

On the way to the airport, Claire had been quiet throughout the drive and was grateful to Tom for not prodding about what happened. To her relief, he'd just given her an understanding smile and drove. Thinking of Jamie's tortured face when he'd arrived at the cottage, it had taken a lot of willpower on her part to get into the car and leave him by the roadside looking after her with a forlorn expression. His words had played on repeat until she had to do a mental scold to remind herself she had work to do and assured herself she'd see him soon enough. She'd wanted him to be alright before she left to ensure him she hadn't changed her mind about them. Though she'd hurt not hearing from him after he'd disappeared, she knew his actions had been done in consideration of her, and that notion prevented her anger from taking over. Her feeling of abandonment over what he'd done was also tempered with her annoyance at Jenny. Jamie's sister's meddling was just so wrong on all sorts of level. In the middle of Jamie leaving her, Willie checking to make sure she was alright, and Jenny coming this morning, she'd gone back and forth between a place of strength and feeling like a lamb in the eye of a hurricane. But now, as she attempted to find the anger, the rage she'd felt after discovering the newspaper clipping about her house in Jenny's possession and the interference with Jamie's love life, she couldn't find it anymore.

Sensing Tom approaching, she recentred herself and smiled in his direction. "There you are.".

"Any luck?" he asked, coming to stand next to her and looking around.

"Nope," she replied, pressing her fingers to her forehead and massaging a sudden ache as she was reminded of the reason why they were there. "How did you get a parking space so quick?"

"I have my ways." When she arched an eyebrow, he grinned at her. "I have a disabled parking permit."

Claire stopped and glared at him. "Tom!"

He ignored her disapproving expression and shrugged. "So, who are we looking for?"

She shook her head and looked around for Mary once more. It shouldn't be this difficult to spot her because she usually stood out. "An overdressed, attractive petite brunette with loads of attitude," she replied, absentmindedly. "And probably with a trolley full of luggage."

More people walked past them making their search more difficult. She was about to make another phone call to Mary when Tom whistled under his breath. "Weel, weel," he murmured, his gaze ticking past her shoulder and turning thoughtful. "I wonder if the lass walking towards us is yer Hawkins." His lips twisted into a smile. "She looks mighty pissed."

"Wot?" She spun around and drew her brows together as she saw a familiar figure approaching them. What the hell? Is that Mary? It could only be her. The woman struggling with an oversized suitcase on wheels stood out like a mini bolt of lightning in her designer four-inch heels, pristine, skinny white jeans and black fur-lined down jacket. But there was something different about the way Mary looked, and it took a few seconds before Claire realised she had done something to her hair. She nearly gasped out loud. But as soon as Mary made eye contact, Claire immediately braced herself for some telling off for being late. Mary stopped, her mouth opening and closing as if she couldn't find the words to voice her displeasure. Claire schooled her features and met her leaden glare without flinching. "Mary? I hardly recognised you."

Mary's brown eyes prettily widened, and her expression softened as some kind of realisation dawned on her. "Oh! Of course ...you couldn't have." A sound of delight puffed out of her. "I had my hair done in Paris. Now we have the same curls. If only I was as tall as you, we'll probably be mistaken as sisters." She missed Claire's intake of breath as she ran her delicate fingers through her locks. "Do you like it?"

No, I don't! What have you done to your beautiful hair? You look like a poodle! Claire swallowed hard, tilted her head to her side, and contemplated the best way to tell Mary the truth. But she didn't have the heart to say it. Instead, she opted for something closer to the truth. "Well, for starters, it looks unusual. I'm so used to seeing your beautiful straight hair. I guess it will take time getting used to," she admitted. But when a slight frown drifted across Mary's face, Claire felt bad. Taking a deep breath, she laughed nervously as she fluffed her own hair. "Look at these ...after all these years, I'm still not used to mine, and I have a bit of hate relationship with it, especially when it gets humid or when I looked at the mirror first thing in the morning. So bear with me if I'm not much into curls."

It took Mary a long time to respond. "Oh, well," she replied with a subdued smile. "You should have seen John's face when he first saw my hair. He looked shocked." She shrugged. "But in the end, he did say it was beginning to grow on him. I guess everyone's used to my limp, lifeless hair."

Ah, bless John. Claire knew his expression wouldn't have been able to hide what was on his mind, and it wouldn't have bode well for him if Mary had been able to read his face. Mary was their star author whose new book could likely save his publishing company from potential financial ruin, and anyone pointing out her disastrous new hairstyle would probably only result in tantrums and more delays in publication. She sighed. "It wasn't limp, Mary. You had beautiful, straight hair. You have no idea what I would give to have manageable straight hair like what you had." And that was the truth.

Mary perked up a bit and rolled her eyes. "Oh, God, don't make me like you even more."

They shared a slow smile, and Claire was about to make a different compliment that didn't include Mary's hair when Tom cleared his throat and stepped forward, giving them a charming smile. "Ladies, sorry to interrupt, but shall we get cracking? My car is not parked in the most ideal of places."

"Oh, of course, I'm so sorry ..." Claire had almost forgotten about Tom, too fascinated by Mary's new hairstyle. She gave him an apologetic look and turned to Mary. "Oh, by the way, may I introduce you to ..." she trailed off and stopped.

Mary's expression looked like the heavens had just opened up and bestowed them an angel. Her lips moved, but no sound came, but when she did finally found her voice, it sounded raspy. "Is this your Jamie that John was talking about?"

Claire pried Mary's hand from her suitcase. "No, this is Tom. He's offered to drive me here to pick you up."

Tom grinned and offered his hand in greeting. "A pleasure to finally meet ye, Mary. I've read a couple of yer books, and I must say, not only are ye a talented writer but a beautiful one too."

Claire mentally groaned but kept the frustration from her face at bay. Tom must have noticed Mary's reaction and had taken his flirting a notch higher. When Mary continued to stare, Claire gently nudged her with her elbow. "Mary. Shake Tom's hand, and let's go."

Mary shook her way out of her trance and smiled. "Oh, I think this is going to be a very, very interesting visit," she gushed, finally back to her being her old self again. But instead of shaking Tom's hand, she hooked her arm into his, leaving Claire with the suitcase. "So Tom ...can you recommend a perfect place to eat? I'm quite famished and can't work on an empty stomach."

Tom obliged and patted Mary's hand. "Dinnae fash, I ken just the place."

With that, Mary looked over her shoulder and winked. All Claire could do was smile back and hope they would be able to get some work done. Because if not, and there's any more cause to delay Hawkin's books, come hell or high water, she's quitting Dreamweaver.

...........

Two Days Later

Stepping out of the shower, Jamie immediately zeroed in on his phone just in case he'd missed a call from Claire. They'd briefly talked last night, and she'd reminded him of uncle Lamb's arrival, which should be between now and the evening. If all goes to plan with Mary Hawkins, Claire should be coming back too. Hopefully, tonight, he thought with a sigh. It was already late Saturday afternoon, and his work was done for the weekend. Plenty of time left to get his shit together.

Since Claire had left for Inverness, he hadn't had time to think. His brother had kept him busy with tasks and paperwork, and, on top of it all, he'd been distracted trying to comfort a distressed sister. Jenny had told him what had transpired between her and Claire. And how she'd been out of her mind, thinking she'd ruined their relationship. He'd consoled her, and in turn, she'd apologised profusely for her meddling. Her sincerity had touched him, but moreover, he couldn't help feeling amused at the thought of Jenny finally meeting her match. Though Claire was a gentle and thoughtful soul, he knew she was not the type to be bossed around. And in as much as he loved his sister, he was glad Claire put Jenny in her place and hoped after everything had been said and done, they can all move on from that incident and forgive.

Despite barely having time to be alone with his sometimes chaotic thoughts, he'd still managed to feel anxious about Christie. Jamie learned he hadn't returned to Broch Mordha, which led him to ponder if Christie was spending time with Claire. It was a lapse of insecurity, and that notion had been rubbished straight away since he knew how important Claire's work was to her. So there should be no pressure on his chest or icy tingling along his spine.

There shouldn't be, but somehow there was.

Jamie was just shrugging into a fresh sweatshirt when his doorbell rang. He glanced at the wall clock and wondered who it was. Claire hadn't given a specific time for Quentin's arrival, and if it had been her at the door, she should've let herself in with the spare key he'd given her.

"Coming!" he shouted as the doorbell rang once more. He took a deep breath expecting uncle Lamb to be standing out there. Bracing himself. he flung the door open and was surprised to see who it was. "Ge- ... I mean Dr Dunsany!"

"Hi, Jamie!" Geneva greeted. "You may call me Geneva, you know ...since we're not in my office. May I come in?"

Jamie narrowed his gaze and looked past her shoulder. He could see Mrs Fitz from across the street pretending to fuss over some leaves in her garden when really he could tell she's prying into his business. There were talks already surrounding Claire being seen with Tom, and it wouldn't do him good if words of Geneva coming to his cottage got around, no matter how innocent the visit was. He gave Geneva an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, I'm kinda busy," he withdrew, glancing casually at his watch. "I ... there's... I'm expecting a visitor. "

"Oh! But this won't take long." She stood there with laid back confidence that lured most men to look their fill. He neutrally eyed the slim-fitting turtle neck that hugged her breast and tight jeans that hung low, her scarlet painted lips pursed in a pretty pout. "I wanted to talk about the session we had the other day," she added quickly.

Jamie crossed his arms across his chest. "Couldn't this wait until our next appointment?"

She took a cautious step closer, her expensive scent drifting in the air. "I'd rather talk about it now. This is just not about your therapy." Her blue eyes seductively landed on his lips. "I want to discuss something personal too."

"Sorry, personal won't do, I'm afraid. Ye're my therapist."

"Jamie, how long have we known each other?"

"Long enough ..."

She smiled, her hand brushing something away from his shoulder. "What's wrong? Surely your girlfriend won't mind your therapist coming over to check up on your progress, will she? We live in a small place, and we all know each other here."

"Her name is Claire ..."

"And I heard she's with Tom? Is that right?"

He smothered a sigh as he could tell what this was all about. Though Geneva was an attractive lass, he'd always only felt a minor buzz for her, which paled to the mind-blowing reaction Claire caused with just a single look. Where Claire was never more than anything but herself, Geneva always tried too hard. And it wasn't just all physical with Claire. It was their connection to each other's mind and soul. The way she made it easy for him to allow her to see his vulnerability and the way she'd let him in when no promises had been made on his part when they first met. Thinking back to the other day, he shook his head. He'd known the steaming anger that had risen within him when he'd first heard of Claire meeting with Tom and how that rumour almost made him lose his sense of judgement. He could not allow room for any gossip to go around, especially when Claire was away. Geneva should definitely not come in.

"Look, as ye can see, I'm fine. I dinnae think it's a good idea us meeting like this. Let's keep personal stuff away and keep this professional, aye?"

She took a while to accept his dismissal. Sheer frustration swept over her face before she managed to compose herself. He tried to offer any semblance of an apology, but she cut him off. "I'm the one who understands your condition and how tough it is to live a normal life with your PTSD. And I know better than anyone else right now how to handle it."

Irritation coasted down his back. "There's no doubt you're a brilliant therapist, Geneva. But I am much more than a textbook scenario. Something Claire has always understood."

"But for how long, Jamie?"

"That is none of your concern," he said cooly. "Now, please go as I have things to do."

Her back straightened with steely dignity, and Jamie could tell every movement was measured to create the most dramatic effect. It was another detail he found unattractive and probably why he'd never acted on Geneva's crush for him. "Here's my theory," she began in a low voice. "You're just with her because you needed to fix someone, and she fits the bill. That's what you've been doing all your life - fixing everyone's problem. You'll never be happy, Jamie, if you keep repeating the same pattern over and over again."

He swallowed his anger. "How I choose to live my life is my concern, and if it means repeating the same pattern, then so be it. Forcing me to see things the way you want me to will only piss me off. So while I still have patience, please go."

He took a tentative step backwards, waiting for her to leave so he could close the door. Instead of walking away, she took him by surprise and threw herself against him, looping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips against his.

Christ! Repelled by the assault, he grasped her shoulder and pushed her away. "What the bloody hell was that?" he gritted angrily.

Face red, she squared her shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes. "Mark my words, it's just a matter of time before Claire is unable to deal with your PTSD anymore. I know the pattern, and I've seen it a million times. Most men with this condition end up alone because no one fully understands the extent of what they go through. Oh sure, the people in their lives say they understand but do they really? It's a scary thing for most and an uncomfortable situation to live in. As for me ... I know, and I understand, and I can handle it because I've studied and worked with people like you. And when that day comes, and she leaves you for good, know that I'll be here waiting."

"Just because you know my history, it doesn't make ye an expert in knowing how my life will turn out to be. And ye don't know a thing about Claire, her heart, her resilience ..."

She snorted in disgust. "You just wait and see." With that, she turned around and walked off.

He almost choked. Has the lass gone mad? His skin crawled with icy foreboding as he glanced across the street, his eyes searching for his neighbour. To his relief, Mrs Fitz was no longer stood in the garden to witness Geneva's kiss. A sudden ugly thought came to him, and he wondered what Claire would do if she'd been in his position. Jamie shook his head and immediately dismissed the notion. Tom wouldn't dare. Jamie had already made sure, loud and clear, that Claire was off-limits.

When Geneva's kiss drifted back to the forefront of his mind, he grimaced. His first impulse was to ignore the whole incident. But on second thoughts, he should tell Claire in case words of it reached her before he could explain. He wasn't a hundred per cent sure no one had witnessed that weird occurrence, and if someone did, it would surely be tonight's topic on every dinner table in Broch Mordha. Worriedly, he glanced up and down his street and only saw an unfamiliar car and driver on the phone. Probably Mrs Fitz's new guest, he figured. Satisfied with that thought, he shut the door.

Attempting to get his composure back before he called Claire, he headed for the sideboard in his dining area, grabbed a bottle of whisky, and poured himself a measure. He threw back a shot, his eyes watering slightly in deference to the burn that slid down his throat. He was about to pour another one when the doorbell rang. Again.

What does she want now? He slammed the glass down on the dining table and made his way back to the door. This time he was going to tell Geneva to cancel his therapy appointment. The lass was mad, and he hadn't known the extent of it until today. He'd always thought of her crush for him as a harmless fancy, but obviously, with Jenny's meddling, she'd set her hopes up. This time, he's had enough. With irritation simmering in his guts, he opened the door ...

And was met by an imposing figure obstructing the daylight.

Jamie heard an unintelligible grunt in greeting, and the smell of tobacco invaded his nostrils. He peered at the face, but it was shadowed by a wide-brimmed fedora hat and several days worth of stubble. He blinked to rid the cobwebs threading patterns on his brain and forced his body to straighten to its full height.

"What's that on your mouth?" the man growled.

What the ...? "Quentin?"

"You got lipstick on!"

Horror swooped in as Jamie realised he was still exhibiting the evidence of Geneva's kiss. He immediately swiped the back of his hand across his mouth and instantly felt nauseated when he saw the smudged scarlet on his knuckles. Jesus! "It's not ... it's..."

"It's not my niece's," the older man finished with a cock of his bushy eyebrow.

"It's not mine either," Jamie retorted without thinking. Ah, bloody fuck! "I mean ... it's not what ye think."

"I would certainly hope it's not yours." Quentin narrowed his eyes at him, taking his measure. Jamie did the same to him. He wondered what the man was thinking, but Claire's uncle spoke again before he got a chance. "Well, are you letting me in, or are we just going to stare at each other like a couple of dafties?"

Who the fuck does he think he is? But he quickly reminded himself this was Claire's uncle, so he slightly softened his stance. Swallowing the sour taste in his mouth, Jamie took a step back and motioned Quentin into his home. "Come in."

Ignoring Jamie's dark look, Quentin strode into his cottage, but he's brought up short when he saw the whisky and shot glass on the dining table. He plopped his sling bag onto the chair, opened it, pulled out a tequila bottle and placed it on the table. Then he turned around and slid his hands into his pockets. "You and I, lad, are going to talk before my niece arrives."

Jamie shut the door and eyed Quentin, carefully pondering his words. As he'd suspected, Quentin was very much like Harry but with broader shoulders, an intense darker face, and eyes that seemed to flash with diabolical laughter. It was a face that had probably seen too much in his lifetime. All his mannerisms were large, confident and perfectly balanced, like those of a wild cat, and when he stood in his space like this, he appeared to be a wild animal held in a cage too inadequate for it. His features might be similar to Harry's, but yet, their difference was like night and day.

A scoff rasped his throat. "I've had enough forced therapy for the week, thank ye very much."

"If I didn't know you any better, I would have bloodied your nose after seeing that lipstick on your mouth."

"If ye're dying to punch me on the face, then give me yer best shot. I dinnae have to explain anything to ye. I've done nothing wrong."

"No, you haven't," Quentin sighed, nodding his head. "I saw what passed."

Jamie absorbed that while keeping his features impassive. "And yet ye're still judging me."

Quentin's mouth twitched, but his eyes remained serious. "I'm not."

"Right from the start, it felt like ye've been giving me the first degree."

Quentin disregarded his words with a shrug. "I was just making sure Claire's in good hands. She's all I have."

Jamie understood the sentiment. He would have probably done the same if he'd been in Quentin's shoes. Christ, hadn't he felt like committing murder when he'd first found out about Tom?

"We've met before, you know?" Quentin interrupted his thoughts.

Jamie's head shot up.

"Way before our video chat," the older man revealed. "But I figured you don't remember."

He didn't, so he shook his head.

Quentin took off his hat and slapped it against his thigh before placing it on the table. "Claire recently told me she just found out that it was you and your godfather, ...Murtagh...I believe his name was, who saved her from the car accident. She asked me if I knew." Quentin paused to discern Jamie's expression. When he couldn't seem to read anything, he proceeded. "I admitted I did and ..."

"Ye knew who I was?"

"No. Not until you told me your family name and mentioned Lallybroch near the end of our video chat. I thought Claire would be angry for not telling her, but she didn't say much else except that both of you have been clueless all these years. So if you have any questions about what happened, I'll fill in the void for you if it'll help you move on."

Jamie shoved a hand through his hair. Feeling suddenly restless, he went to the drinks' cabinet to retrieve shot glasses. He grabbed the tequila bottle, uncapped it, and poured two equal measures. "So now you want to diagnose me? Is that it?"

"Diagnose you for what?"

Jamie realised Quentin knew nothing of his condition. Claire hadn't told her uncle. He ignored the question and handed the shot to Quentin. "Why bring it up now?"

Quentin took the offered glass, raised a silent toast with Jamie, and simultaneously threw back the shot. They both flinched at the heat. "I owe you the truth," Quentin replied, placing the shot glass on the table. "Take it or leave it. I've been silent about it for years. Tell me what you remember, and I'll tell you everything you want to know."

Did he really want to know? The past would eventually catch up and come out, that much Jamie knew, so he might as well have it out in the open. Taking a deep breath, he paced to the window and with his back to Quentin, he began recounting what he could remember from the accident. He waited for the white noise or the torture to start swarming in his head, but to his astonishment, they never came. Though the memory of that fateful day was more vivid than ever, its power to hold him in a choke was diminished. The words flowed with ease, and it began to feel like he was describing someone else's story. When he was done, he turned around and saw just in time a shadow passed across the older man's face. He looked like ten years have been shaved off his life.

Quentin took a seat and clasped his hands together. "I lied to you the day when we first met."

Jamie stilled and looked at Quentin. "What do ye mean?"

"I was in Cairo when I heard the news of the accident. I immediately took the first plane out and headed here. I was told Claire was being taken care of by your parents and that both of you were inseparable. When I arrived at Lallybroch, you were holding Claire in your lap like she was the most precious thing." Quentin paused and smiled at the memory before descending back to that sad place in his head. "But when you laid eyes on me, that's when you lost it and started screaming. Claire screamed along with you ...God, it was awful. At that time, it hadn't truly sunk in what happened to my brother and his wife, and it was torture to see you kids in such pain." Quentin shook his head. "You were shouting something like ...I should be dead and that you've seen me go up in flames. You see, I've been told beforehand you'd witnessed the accident, and that's when it occurred to me you thought I was Harry. So I did what I thought was best at that moment ...I knelt before you and fibbed. Only because nothing could calm you down, and I wanted to ease your distress. I pretended to be Harry and told you I wasn't dead, and when you asked how I got away, I made up some story like managing to crawl out the last minute. Somehow that little white lie quieted you down."

"I honestly don't remember that part," Jamie whispered, taking a seat across from Quentin. "But in saying that, all the memories of that day are just beginning to resurface. I'm just starting to remember again. It all began when ..."

"When you met Claire for the second time," Quentin finished for him.

Jamie nodded with a small smile as he watched Quentin stood up and poured them another shot.

Quentin gazed at him with all the seriousness. "May I ask you a question?"

"Ask away."

Quentin pushed the shot glass towards him. "What if, instead of Harry, you were the one that died that day?" He paused and looked directly into his eyes. "What do you think would you have missed in the years that came after?"

Jamie frowned. "Why would ye ask such a thing?"

Quentin sighed. "Because lately, I've been asking myself the same question every day. I've searched for the answer going back through almost twenty years, and I've come up with almost nothing. Besides Claire coming into my life, I have nothing to show. Of course, there were a few memorable moments when I was granted an acknowledgement of merit for my work. And then there were a few rare occasions I got to spend time with Claire. But between those scraps of time, there's only a grey empty void. The rest of my days were spent going through the motions, keeping a barrier between me and the world. I realised, ever since my brother died, I've been living in fear that the same fate could befall me ... that's why I've never married. So you see now, Jamie, I haven't been living at all. And I don't want you to make that mistake."

Jamie gave a wistful smile. "I see that, and with everything happening, I'm just starting to understand. We all have to walk around lugging a past, getting from one step to the next. Just need a healthy way to release it, as Claire often reminded me enough." When Jamie saw Quentin nodding in agreement, he saw an opportunity. He cleared his throat and straightened himself. He'd just bonded with Claire's uncle, so surely that should mean something. "So ....Quentin," he began nervously, "does this mean ye're fine with me being with Claire?"

Claire's uncle went back to looking like he wanted to rip a head off. "No. I've just arrived after a long flight, and you haven't offered me anything. I haven't eaten in the last six hours, and you're asking me if I'm okay with you being with Claire? So far, all you've done is open the tequila bottle without thanking me for it and nought to impress me."

Ah, shite! Hearing that, he pushed himself to his feet. "I ken a few good places that serve excellent pub grub," he said rapidly.

"Do you not have food in your kitchen, lad?"

"Aye, I do, but since ye're starving, I thought it would be easier if we got something out," Jamie reasoned. "So, what do ye have in mind?"

Quentin glowered at him before slugging back the rest of his shot. "Somewhere where they serve greasy food."

Jamie stopped. "But Claire said yer heart ..."

"The greasier, the better," Quentin growled.

It was clear to Jamie he's still miles away from wholly winning over Quentin. He reckoned he's probably not going to win that battle today, and one plate of greasy food was not going to kill Claire's uncle. Ah, hell! Didn't his ma once said that the way to someone's heart is through one's stomach? There's a chance that this could still work. But before he could say anything, his phone buzzed, and he almost knocked over the chair, trying to grab it. "It's Claire."

Quentin rolled his eyes.

Jamie quickly read Claire's message and smiled. Ah, there's a God after all! He glanced up at Quentin. "She's coming back home tonight."

"I knew that! Now, how about that nosh you were on about."

"Aye ...right ...I ken just the place."

..........

Five Hours Later

"This is a shithole!" Quentin grumbled, slurring his words and shoving his unfinished plate of Bangers and Mash away from him.

Tough shite! Jamie glanced out the window and then looked back at the time on his watch. Damn it! A plate of food each, five pints of lager for Quentin and three pints for him later, still no word from Claire, and if she didn't come home soon, Quentin would drink him under the table. As it was, he's feeling rather tipsy already.

"You know what?" Quentin tipped the bottom of the pint glass in his direction. "Since we arrived here, you kept looking out that window every few minutes. Am I boring you, or is there something interesting out there? If so, care to share?"

Jamie blew out a breath. "Just wondering when Claire's coming home. Haven't heard from her since her last message.."

"Is that why you're looking outside? Does she know we're here?"

"No! Christie is bringing her back from Inverness."

"Who's Christie?"

"Some bloke."

"So what's outside? You keep looking out there."

Damn, so many questions! Jamie pointed his finger towards the window. "See that red door over there? Christie lives in that building, first floor, window facing the street. We'd know when they've arrived."

"Is that why you brought me here so you could check every once in a while if Claire's arrived?"

The older man was on to him, but Jamie wasn't about to admit it. "You wanted greasy food, did ye not?"

Quentin shrugged without answering.

Jamie checked his phone again and agitatedly rubbed a hand behind his neck. What's taking them so long? Wicked thoughts were beginning to seep in. Has Claire, by any chance, heard about Geneva's visit and kiss? It wouldn't be an impossibility as rumours tended to make their way out of Broch Mordha. A part of him knew that the alcohol was dulling his reason, so he mentally shook himself. He should have called Claire earlier, right after Geneva left and told her what happened, but of course, Quentin's arrival had interrupted him from doing just that.

"Stop fidgeting. You're making me nervous."

"I'm just worried Claire would hear about that kiss ye witness earlier before I get to explain myself."

A heartbeat passed. For the first time since Jamie had known Quentin, his tough demeanour slipped, and something akin to amusement flashed through. "Don't worry. If she's heard about it, she would have given you her two pennies worth by now, and that's putting it mildly. Of course ...worst-case scenario, you'll end up with your ears ringing for days after she's done telling you off." He smirked and raised his pint to his lips, his actions revealing he was only teasing. Jamie reined in his frustration and let it go without comment.

Obviously emboldened by Jamie's silence, Quentin leaned forward. "So, have you bought flowers for Claire for when she returns?"

"No."

"Why not? It would help your cause in case Claire heard about that kiss."

Jamie glared at Quentin. "Thanks for rubbing that in. But I dinnae have time. I was too busy entertaining ye. Besides, I bought her fruits. She loves fruits. I even bought her a variety of them."

The older man's eyes bugged out. "She's got you eating healthy too, huh?"

"Nothing wrong with that," Jamie muttered. "She likes chocolates too. I got her a big box of it. Lindt."

Quentin glanced out the window to his side and perked up. "Hey, someone just went through that red door. I don't know what Christie looks like, but it could be anyone."

Jamie followed his gaze, and sure enough, the red door was just closing. He glanced back at his phone on the table, and though he knew he would hear the sound of notification, he still needed to look to assure himself. There was still no message.

"First-floor window light just went on," Quentin observed in a low voice. "That's Christie's place, right?"

His head snapped up. "What?"

"Oh, look, that's Claire, looking out. I know that hair anywhere."

Jamie looked and saw Claire just in time before she moved away from the window and pulled the curtain. He swallowed the odd lump in his throat. What the hell is she doing in Christie's place? Then it all came rushing in, in full force. He'd left Claire on her own because of his stupid panic attacks, and when he'd finally come to his senses, it was probably too late because Christie had already entered the picture. And now everything that Geneva had told him earlier was coming to fruition. No, no!

A split second later, Jamie burst out the pub's front entrance and ran across the street, Quentin not far behind him.

This cannae be happening. This is the worse nightmare ever. Ach Christ, please dinnae let this be true. Please. She's my lass. Mine. No, no, no. Oh fuck, I need her.

Thunder roared in his ears, and he'd only vaguely managed to process Quentin's remark on his overreaction and something about alcohol consumption. But all he could think of was how he and Claire needed to talk, now. He couldn't accept their relationship was over when it hadn't had a chance yet.

Jamie stopped in front of Christie's building and looked up the window, shouting Claire's name, while Quentin manically pressed the buzzer for the first floor. A few passersby eyed them warily, and a voice called from somewhere, "what the bloody hell, Fraser!" probably thinking they'd gone off their nuts, but he couldn't give a fuck. His heart hammered wildly, unable to think straight. All he could see was Claire with Christie, together. He groaned miserably, the very thought chilling him to the bone. Oh, please, God no!

No one responded to Quentin's incessant buzzing, and when he tried to yank on the knob, it didn't budge. It remained lock.

Jamie gathered a few stones that he could find on the cobbled street and started pelting Christie's window, roaring Claire's name on top of his lungs. His effort was rewarded when the curtain slid open, and he saw Claire looking down, her hair all wild and loose. But by now, they've also attracted a wee crowd that stood in a semi-circle behind him. He didn't take notice and focused his attention on the woman above.

"Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp! Don't ye dare leave me!" He shouted. "We love each other, remember? I was a prick for leaving ye on yer own when ye came to Scotland to be with me. I promise ye this will never happen again. And whatever problem we have together, we can fix this. Ye understand me?" He fell on his knees, grateful for the pain shooting up his thighs because his heart was breaking into thousand pieces. "I ken I could be a selfless arse, but I'm working on being a better person for ye ...for us. We've only known each other for a short while, but it's enough for me to see that ye're the one for me. Forever. I love ye with all my heart, Sassenach, and I cannae imagine life without ye."

Jamie paused to get his breathing back to normal and give Claire a chance to respond. But she remained immobile and continued to stare down at him. The crowd behind whispered and tittered, probably thinking he'd finally lost all his marbles. He even heard someone murmuring about him having had a bit too much to drink. But he didn't care even when he saw Quentin's shaking head, most likely in disgust at him. A hand touched his shoulder, but he shrugged it off, only focused on getting through Claire. "What do I need to do to make ye, believe me, Sassenach? Ye ken, I'll do anything to prove to ye how much I love ye. Does he ken the things I do? Like ...like what song makes ye smile? I can sing it for ye if that's what it would take." When the silence lingered, except for the hush sounds from behind him, Jamie puffed out a silent curse. "Christ ... I'll do it. For ye, ye hear me? I'll sing that damn song. Just so ye ken, I meant every word I said."

Then he stood up from his kneeling position and gave Rick Astley a run for his money.

..........

Hands on her chest, Claire stood inert behind Jamie, listening with interest as he belted out Rick Astley's Never Gonna Give you Up in a scratchy voice. She tilted her head to the side and watched in fascination his stiff, sparse hip movement that went with his song. She'd wanted to alleviate Jamie's suffering and save him from further embarrassment, but midway through his moving speech, she'd caught a glimpse of her uncle. He'd given her a warning shake of his head, telling her to let Jamie finish pouring his heart out. So with a sigh, she stood back and waited.

Oh, Jamie, Jamie!

This beautiful, rugged giant of a man and former SAS soldier was singing to her as though his life depended on it. How could he think she'd left him? She needed to put her arms around him and reassure him that he's the one for her too and that there's been nobody else but him.

"Jamie!" she rasped. When he didn't hear her, she cleared her throat and tried again. "Jamie! It's me, Claire!"

Jamie stopped and whipped around, his eyes taking her in, in total disbelief. "Sassenach?" he whispered. "It's ye."

Her throat constricted. "Uh-huh."

His head jerked back up to the window and then back to Claire. He looked as though he wanted to believe he was really seeing her but could not see past his fear just yet. "To whom the bloody hell was I proclaiming my love to then if ye were stood here all along?" he asked, throat working with emotion.

"You were singing to Mary Hawkins, Jamie," she croaked. "The star author of our publishing company."

"And what the hell is she doing up at Christie's place?"

Claire grimaced. This was really a sensitive subject, and they were talking about a public figure, and a small crowd was watching them. So she stepped closer and spoke in a low voice. "I think Mary and Tom have a thing for each other. And I have a sneaking suspicion ..." she glanced up at the window above where Mary still stood. "Tom is not going to be please when he finds out it was you who interrupted whatever they're up to."

"James Fucking Fraser!"

It was Tom, wherever he was shouting from. Jamie didn't wait to find out because, in one quick movement, he took Claire's hand and made short work of getting them into the dark alley to the applause and cheers of the bystanders. Laughing, they ran and ran until they were far away enough from prying eyes. And there in the darkened path, its only illumination coming from the full moon above, they found one another once again in each other's arms.

Dear Readers,

Firstly, thank you all for your feedback in the previous chapter. I'm going to keep this short as I still tire easily.

As I've mentioned before, I haven't been well the last few days; hence the delay for this instalment. I hope you enjoyed this one. If there are any inconsistencies and grammar mistakes, I blame them on my medication. Haha!

So that said, thank you all for the messages on my Tumblr, your feedback and kudos on AO3, and mostly for your patience. Take care always of yourself, and keep spreading the love vibe! X

#melodyheart #wonderwall #milesbetweenus #ClaireBeauchamp/JamieFraser #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #outlanderfanfic

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nelavili · 3 years

Text

I'm still processing Season 6 and as an unpopular opinion I'm not too happy about it as a whole. I feel horrible for not enjoying it as much as the Cast/Crew would like me to, but I just can’t change this feeling I have.

Just to clear my head I'll write the things down that irked me. I don't want to start any discussion, they're only my thoughts on stuff ‘n thangs. Huge spoilers ahead, please don’t read if you haven’t watched.

Michael

I admit it, I have probably more sympathy for the bad twin than I should. And after the whole S5 I thought we get a bit more closure with him. I didn’t expect a redemption arc, after Michael killed Remiel, Dan and Chloe it would have felt wrong. But after the “Everyone deserves a second chance” the dude is down in hell, scrubbing the floor with a toothbrush. Really, Lucifer? That’s cruel after such a righteous line.

When Luci realized he could help everyone, even if he hated them, I hoped for a dive into the twins’ relationship but it was like Michael didn’t even existed anymore. And if someone needed therapy it would be the twin with the huge inferior complex. That could have been so interesting. (I had hoped that he'd sat on the couch at the end, but noooo we get the Frenchman.. such a disappointment.)

Maybe Tom Ellis didn’t want to play 2 roles again, or there was no time, but I feel that was a huge opportunity wasted.

What even was the plan of Michael? To get God to retire and wreck havoc on earth to get Dad back, so Mickey can take over as the new God? And then what? Wipe out humanity? I see no endgame here.

Ella

I liked Ella’s Story so far. But she stole the personal file of Carol and even broke into his house.. and everybody is cool with this? Carol might be crushing on Ella pretty hard but if somebody tells you they broke into your house, because they feared you were hiding something bad, You run for the hills. But the dude isn’t even phased.

I’m glad Carol is a good guy, though. Even if he’s kind of bland.

Ella finding out the truth on her own came out of nowhere. I would have found it better if they would have her act a little suspicious over the whole S5. But since they wrote S6 while S5 was shot, a little to late for this.

The scene at the wedding was amazing. I had so much fun with her outburst there.

Dan

Ghost!Dan was my favorite by far in this season. And I really liked how he wanted to help and tried to find out what he still felt guilty about.

I am so glad he got to spend his afterlife with Charlotte and I laughed so hard with the pudding. Didn’t expect that, in a positive matter. :D

The scene with Trixie killed me. Bawled so hard as soon as Kevin got teary eyes. That really gripped at my heartstrings.

But how could he go to heaven while in a body of a killer when his daughter stands right next to that killer?

Comedy-wise Dan is top notch

Trixie

I missed her so much.

It felt like she was an afterthought with everything. She recently lost her Dad and Chloe spends most of the time with Lucifer. I really missed the scenes with her and Luci, they always were so adorable.

They explain it later that she’s at a science camp, but I honestly thought Chloe chooses Lucifer (and later Rory too) over her.

She wasn’t at Chloe’s deathbed but here I’m not sure if the scene with Rory isn’t placed somewhere at the threshold to heaven where only celestials are able to enter. But if she wasn’t there because Chloe sidelined her in favor of Rory, then I can understand her absence.

Linda

I love Linda, she always gives good advice but nobody’s ever took it.

Her book probably would fly under the fantasy tag if she ever published it. Still, it felt cringey.

It was so sad that she thought she was a bad therapist.

Apparently she wants to keep helping celestials because it’s better than helping humans. In the end, celestials have the same problems as humans just on a bigger scale. But okay.

Amenadiel

Amenacop was good, and a nice nod to Dan who put in the application.

It made him realize that he only can change things when he has more power. I’m white and no american so I don’t know if the BLM theme there was well enough executed. Got me wondering.

The apocalypse just being Angels who are incompetent was a letdown. Like this whole season.

I really like him as god. And I am glad he took the position in the end. Even if he could have decided this a bit earlier.

Rory

I like her sarcasm and her character.

Didn’t like the whole time travel, time loop and daughter spiel. I’m not a big fan of time travels or couples getting a kid just for the sake of a happy end or to add extra drama. I could have lived without a Deckerstar baby. Instead they could have focused on Trixie for a change.

The time she spent with Lucifer on the 4th August was precious though.

How in hell did the Frenchman capture her? How did he even know how she looked? IIRC Dan hasn’t seen Rory while in that body. Dan just went over to Trixie that’s why I thought he’d capture her and not Rory.

Lucifer

He found his calling to help the souls in hell only because Rory traveled back in time? No man, he already took the step with Jimmy Barnes in preparation to take over as god. I don’t think it’s far fetched to believe that he would have the same epiphany without Rory there.

But without Rory, he wouldn’t have been helping Ghost!Dan to go to heaven. Though, before Rory traveled back in time, Lucifer was already trying to help Dan. They probably would have needed more time to figure out about what Dan felt guilty about, but figure it out anyways.

How did he even got Chloe pregnant? Was it his subconscious deciding he was ready to be a father? Amenadiel had to believe that he was human to get Linda pregnant. Or maybe it’s because they always thought they couldn’t impregnate a human and self-actualized it that way. Anyways, it’s a tiny hang-up I have with it.

Somebody else besides me thought that the scene in the panic room was awkwardly long? I know they thought Lucifer would vanish somehow, but it seemed too much to me.

His singsong while the magician talked about the trick. :D

I don’t want to even get into the whole time loop thing because I think it’s ridiculous(ly bad).

It took a lot of time for him to realize that he didn’t want to be god, after he put it on hold for a second time. Even Chloe could have asked him if that is really what he wanted. Could have spared us an episode or so. Why is the communication on this show so bad? Q.Q

I loved that he helped Maze with Eve to get the wedding back on after their fight.

He didn’t say goodbye to Trixie - again. What a nice step-devil..

It’s been Chloe, Rory and his family since he found out she’s his daughter. Not even mentioning the one kid who probably loved him before even Chloe fell for him.

For someone who is all about free will and led a rebellion against God for it, he was quick to accept that he has a “fate”. I thought he’d find another way, or at least try to. Nope, he just did what his child wanted. And they disguised it at his “choice”. Doesn’t look like a choice to me if your daughter begs you for it and you have to promise it. Just getting along with what your child wants.

Why does everyone need to shoot him? Just cut him until he bleeds. The Americans and their fixation on guns. Nice parallel to Chloe though.

Lucifer trying to fix the relationship to Rory with gifts was so cringey. I don’t know why but I couldn’t watch him sing/dance in that scene.

Both him and Amenadiel didn’t want to become like their Dad because of the reasons stated in S5, yet Lucifer exactly did. Another letdown.

Chloe

As soon as she knew Rory was her and Lucifer’s daughter it was all only about Lucifer and Rory. No thought of Trixie? I understand she was worried about being a bad mother to Rory, but come on, you’re being a bad mother to your first child right now.

She was ready to go to heaven with Lucifer. And Trixie does what exactly without her parents? Living with her Grandma because one of her parent died and the other one is abandoning her? It’s like the writers forgot about Trixie while forcing Rory on us.

The addiction to the necklace got old pretty fast.

And that whole fight against Lucifer felt unnecessary just to add more drama.

She gets mad at Lucifer for not telling her everything while not telling him that she went back to the LAPD. It’s Lucifer, he always has things on his plate. Double moral, pretty much.

She looked so gorgeous at the wedding, oh my god.

Most of the Deckerstar scenes were good. I got tired of the obvious naked cuddle times, surprisingly. Somehow it felt not like the ones in S5 and it bothered me.

I thought Chloe would finally get to know about everything Lucifer did for her, but I didn’t expect her to read it in Linda’s book. And that she only took away that he left her every time they had an emotional breakthrough.

They spend Lucifer’s last day at the beach and once again, no thought of Trixie. I’m sorry I repeat myself here so often. But this whole season wronged Trixie so much.

They face the baddie without any backup. At least get Amenadiel with you.

Other things

The use of music between scenes was too much for me. Got annoying at some point.

I appreciate that they wanted to show us snippets of past Deckerstar scenes but here too, I felt like it was too much.

Couldn’t really follow the timeline. Maybe it were the cuts.

What’s been the point of bringing Adam into the mix? Just to wrap up Maze and Eve’s story? For Linda having another celestial to therapy?

The animation in the Jimmy Barnes Hell loop was AMAZING. I laughed so hard.

I’m not saying that Deckerstar shouldn’t have sacrificed everything for the time loop to stay intact, I say that the whole daughter-time travel plot shouldn’t have had happened. They never even talked about having kids, and then ignore the whole existence of the one kid that’s already there.

I really need all the Michaella fanfics, please. My first ship that’s actually a raft, because they never officially have met. RIP lmao

The acting was great as usual, all my problems come from the writing and the plot.

In the end, I really feel frustrated, underwhelmed and disappointed by the whole season. I didn’t have high expectations other than the same writing quality like S5. My excitement for that Season died as soon as Rory told Lucifer that she’s his daughter, to be honest. I waited for a plot twist that never came. Then the whole time loop shit. I’d rather have waited one more year for S6 if the plot would have made more sense, since this felt like a first draft of a whole other show. And now I wished that S5 would have been the last season. If I could travel back in time, I’d rather not watch S6.

I can honestly live with the fact that Luci and Chloe are in hell, trying to help souls to get to heaven. (But hello, not the murderers perhaps? Or I want Michael sitting on that couch right now.) But the fact that both “chose” to sacrifice their time together with their family and friends just because it’s fate now and parents have to make sacrifices for their children; and anyways there’s an afterlife because (human) life is just a blip in our existence… nah thank you. I do not want it.

I’m probably not gonna rewatch S6 anytime soon.

#lucifer spoilers #lucifer s6 spoilers #lucifer netflix #deckerstar

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voiceless-terror · 4 years

Note

Hey!! For your prompts, would you mind doing one from a while ago (the questions one) where it says "do you ever stop talking?" with Jon?? Thanks!!!

Hello there anon! Here is your fic- I let this one sit for a bit, but I’m certainly liking the finished product. Hope you enjoy!

“Do you ever stop talking?”

Jon has been asked this multiple times, though the phrasing and methods always differ. His grandmother used to tell him to keep his thoughts to himself, which wasn’t necessarily meant to be rude but was privately devastating coming from his sole caregiver. He stopped talking at dinner shortly after that. They got on better.

The second was from his teachers, at basically any age. If he knew the answer to a question he had to share it, especially when someone else was getting it wrong. This earned him the title of “know it all” from his classmates, and his teachers often wrote the same sentiment in his progress reports, though in kinder words. He began to write all of his answers on paper instead. This brought on another host of issues- he wasn’t paying enough attention in class, his papers were overly-long and wordy.

So Jon often hovered between silence and overwhelming chatter. It swung more towards silence as the years went on.

But then he met Georgie, and his second year they got an apartment off campus. He’d been in therapy, finally gotten on medication that helped him. Though taking it was another matter. His mind was often scattered, as was his schoolwork, and he knew how grating he was when he didn’t have his shit together.

One night he was surrounded by notes and books, deep in his latest research project for history. He was petting the Admiral and chattering excitedly to Georgie- finally something he was interested in, even had a professor who wanted to hear his opinions. This paper had to be excellent, top-notch, and then maybe he could ask him for a letter of recommendation for graduate work and have someone in his corner-

“Christ, Jon! Can you please shut up?”

Georgie apologized of course, though it wasn’t necessary. Jon’s prattling could get intense and rather annoying, he knew that. It’s just that Georgie never seemed to mind. Or maybe she did, and never said anything.

Jon never did get that paper done. Couldn’t summon up the motivation after all. Just another failed attempt at excellence to add to the pile.

He’d been in an odd place when he accepted the job at the Magnus Institute. Fresh off a break up, recently moved, completely and utterly broke, not going to any sort of therapy. And yet his application was pushed through speedily, quick enough that he found himself at an interview with Elias Bouchard just a week after applying. The man was intimidating, that’s for sure. But he looked at Jon like he was something, like he was excited to hire him. He nodded in all the right places, listened when he went off on a tangent and shook his hand at the end. He was to start the following Monday.

Sasha James trained him. He’d felt comfortable with her from the start- she had organized binders of easily-laid out instructions that were simple to follow. Jon liked having a to-do list. She made a special copy for him when he asked and didn’t mind his inane questions. She smiled at him in the morning. Traded theories with him well into the night. And helped him with the more difficult researchers, ones that admired his thoroughness and dedication but did not like the rest of the package. That had earned her the nickname of ‘Jon-Whisperer’ which both embarrassed and pleased him. Embarrassing that he needed the help in the first place, but pleasing that someone cared enough to help him succeed. There aren’t a lot of Sashas in the world.

Tim arrived two years after him, fresh from the publishing industry with an easy smile and a boundless charm, but Jon could sense an intensity and purpose thrumming under his skin. Jon has that same drive as well. Tim recognized him as a kindred spirit, and the two struck up an unlikely friendship. They work well together, despite their friction over Tim’s more...creative methods. They work even better with Sasha, and the three of them are soon the busiest researchers in the institute. Jon felt more at ease than ever and he let his guard down, contributing more to conversations and getting lost in the easy camaraderie.

One day he makes a breakthrough on a particularly difficult case. He doesn’t realize he’s flapping his hands until he accidentally flicks a pen off his desk. Shit. He hopes no one is around to witness his behavior, but no such luck. Tim ducks down to fetch it and Jon grabs it out of his hand with a mumbled thanks. But Tim doesn’t tease or laugh. He just smiles.

“I’m more of a tapper myself,” he drums his fingers on the table in a quick example. “Just tell me if it bothers you.”

It does irritate Jon on more than one occasion.

He never says anything though.

When he gets promoted he is instantly overwhelmed. He’s that child in the classroom again, writing down his thoughts and filtering them as best he can. He agonizes over what should go on the tapes and what shouldn’t. He finds himself re-recording the bits he doesn’t like, where he stutters or his voice goes too high or he pauses for too long. The parts where he needs to catch his breath after talking too quickly. It can’t get back to Elias how panicked he is.

It’s Martin's birthday. Jon is reluctantly dragged out for ice cream he neither has the patience nor the appetite for. He picks some random flavor and instantly regrets it, choosing instead to nervously inform the rest of the table about emulsifiers. It takes him five minutes to realize he’s been speaking for far too long and his speech begins to trail off, his gaze turning down at the melted ice cream in his cup. Yes, this is exactly how Martin wants to spend his birthday. Listening to your inane drivel. Stupid, he chides himself.

“And?”

Jon looks up to see Martin gazing at him quizzically. “Sorry?”

“Why did you stop?” he asks. Jon blinks. “It’s just- well, you weren’t done. I’m not a big fan of cliffhangers, to be honest.” He inexplicably blushes and looks down at his lap, fingers fidgeting.

Jon scoffs but feels a warmth bloom in his chest. “Ah- okay, alright-” and off he goes, Martin nodding and smiling in encouragement. It turns out to be a nice outing after all, Tim and Sasha exiting the shop a bit sooner, giving some excuse about a deadline. Jon doesn’t recall giving them any pressing deadlines, but that probably speaks more to his forgetfulness.

Martin is up at the counter again, looking down at the ice cream. He gestures for Jon to come over.

“Do you want some more?” Jon asks. He’s not going to fault the man for another round. It is his birthday after all.

“No,” Martin shakes his head. “But I think you should. You didn’t really want rum raisin, did you?”

“H-How could you tell?” Jon stammers, embarrassed at being caught. He’d choked down at least a few bites.

“Nobody likes rum raisin, Jon,” he says with a chuckle. It takes a few more nudges, but Jon ends up picking a scoop of cotton candy. It is childish and overly sweet and delicious. He gets a cone and Martin uses that excuse for a walk in the park.

They arrive at work over a half-hour later than planned. Tim and Sasha begin to tease and Jon immediately barricades himself in his office. He’s got so much work to do, after all. But he thinks he’ll leave on time tonight.

He deserves one good day, right?

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26584141

Next in Series:

What Makes a Home

My Dearest

The Weight of Love

#prompts #my writing #tma #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tim stoker #sasha james #jonmartin #jon's canon info-dumping!!#Anonymous #adhd jon au

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lolainblue · 7 years

Text

Thunderbirds -- Chapter 37

@msroxyblog @nikkitasevoli @maliciousalishious @meghan12151977 @mustlove6277 @fyeahproudglambert @little-poptart @lady-grinning-soul-k @pheenixpeterson

Roger

I had a lot to think about on the drive back to Indiana. I had been pretty irritated with Jared's parting performance but it didn't really diminish the guilt I was feeling for treating him the way I had. It wasn't really any of my business how he chose to live his life, and I was wrong for judging him for behaving the way I had been behaving for pretty much all of mine. I decided I would wait a few days for him to calm down and then call him and apologize. I had been enjoying our friendship, I would like to at least mend fences. I knew he had no interest in actually having a relationship, I knew he was just spoiled and not used to not getting his way. I figured once the sting of it wore off he would be back to his old self. It was an easy enough fix I told myself.

Jane's situation, on the other hand, wasn't as straightforward. I waited with growing dread for Mitch's phone call. Whatever happened, we would deal with it, one way or another, but I wasn't looking forward to a big fight. It was the last thing Jane needed right now. I had made it to just outside Danville, IL when my phone began to ring. I knew that whatever news awaited me on the other side of that line I couldn't pay attention to it and drive so I pulled off the highway at the next exit, parked at a Phillips station and quickly rang Mitch back. My skin had gone clammy by the time he answered.

“Just tell me straight up, what are we dealing with,” I said as soon as he came on the line. There was a little chuckle and my anxiety levels dropped several notches.

“Jane says that Jared's the one that recommended that attack dog lawyer in Los Angeles for her, is that right?”

“Uhm, yeah?” I said, not exactly following yet.

“Well, you need to thank Jared because that guy saved our asses.”

That sounded promising at least. “What happened?”

“Well just so you know up front, everything is fine, Jane's under my custody for the time being. But she bombed that evaluation with that doctor this afternoon.”

As relieved as I was that Angus seemed to be out of the picture I was concerned about what was going on with Jane that might cause her to do so badly. “What happened, Mitch? What's wrong with Jane?”

“Don't flip out on me Roger,” Mitch said evenly. I didn't like the sound of this.

“Mitch, what the hell is going on?" I demanded. "Why was Jane so terrified this morning?”

“The doctor here thinks that she was underdiagnosed in St. Louis. It happens with brain injuries, sometimes it takes a few days to see how severe things are. He let Jane come back home with us tonight but they are discussing either readmitting her here or letting her go back to New York. Apparently, there's a really good treatment program there. But here I can watch out for her. If she goes back to New York, I can't leave Audrey and the girls to go take care of her... ”

“I'll take care of her.” I cut him off. “Whatever it takes, wherever it's best for her. Just say the word.”

“Okay, calm down. We'll what Dr. Nepp.... that's her neurologist here, Dr. Nepp," Mitch explained. "We'll see what he wants to do tomorrow. We see him again at 8:00 a.m. She's doing pretty good this afternoon. Let's not get ahead of ourselves.”

Mitch sounded so much calmer than I felt. I felt terrible for leaving. I should have put Shannon in a rental car and let him drive his own ass back to Wisconsin. I don't know why I didn't. I pressed my palm against my eye and tried to reason with myself but I wanted to scream. Jane wasn't the only one whose emotions were all over the place.

“Anyway, after the exam I was pretty nervous about the hearing. But then this whole team of attorneys shows up at the courtroom, apparently sent in by the L.A. guy. They had all this stuff on Angus and all this paperwork showing what was going on with Jane and background on me and everything. They knocked it out of the park. I have full medical power of attorney right now, and Angus isn't allowed to contact Jane, any of her family members, you or Shannon, and can't come within 1,000 feet. Probably going to cost Jane a pretty penny but I don't think she minds.”

Fuck. I was going to have to have Shannon thank Jared as soon as I called him. “That's amazing.”

“Yup, it sure is. It lets us focus on helping Jane get better and none of this other garbage. So how much longer until you get here?”

“I'm probably still about two hours out.”

“Well, that's just about right. As usual, the girls want to go out and have pizza with Aunt Jane. She's napping now but she should be up to it. Meet us at the Monical's on 41 around 6:30? Should be right on your way into town.”

“Sure thing,” I said hanging up the phone and sighing in relief. I called Shannon, but got his voice mail. I assumed they were either in sound check or playing, I couldn't remember when their set today was. I left a message letting him know what was going on and finished my drive back to Mitch's.

Jane:

“Come on, Roger, I don't' want to do any more of these today.” I closed the workbook and thrust it and my pencil back into Roger's lap. “His plane will be landing any minute now.”

“And when he disembarks we'll stop,” Roger said, holding the workbook out in front of me. “You skipped therapy today to come meet him at the airport so you're going to get your math problems done now.”

I groaned and took the book back. This was the first time I had seen Shannon since the hospital, almost two weeks ago. I didn't want to think about any stupid therapy homework, I just wanted my Shan-bear. With a scowl, I flipped back to the next page in the workbook.

My little concussion had turned out to be moderate brain injury. My forgetfulness in the day after the accident had only been the tip of the iceberg. I had become increasingly anxious and paranoid in the following days. There had been additional tests and a parade of specialists, but what it all boiled down to in the end was a diminished capacity to self-regulate my emotions, diminished short-term memory recall and, inexplicably, a loss of most of my math skills. All these things were expected to improve, and they were, but much slower than I would have liked. I went to therapy for a couple hours a day where they worked on the skills I had lost. The problem was that other than that, I wasn't allowed to do anything. I was supposed to be resting my brain so I wasn't allowed to write, or read or play board games or even watch intellectually challenging television programs. I was going stir crazy. And I missed my Shannon.

He called me after every show, and we had long phone conversations on his days off but of course, it wasn't the same as having him there with me and being wrapped up in one of his amazing hugs. He was only here visiting for two days, then he had a show in New Jersey, but they would be back in New York next week. I was so anxious for his tour to be over. I wanted some real time with him. As it was sometimes when I called he was busy and Jared ended up picking up the phone. That wasn't too bad, at least I got to have some nice chats with Jared too. After all the misunderstandings it was good to repair that friendship. But it wasn't helping my Shannon withdrawals and since I was emotionally all over the place these days it was affecting me more than it should have.

I tapped my pencil against the page with a sigh. Shannon's flight should have landed already. I tried not to let my imagination run away with me, I flew enough to know that arrival and departure times were in reality mostly suggestions. But it was incredibly frustrating. When his flight finally landed I shoved the workbook and pencil back at Roger and jumped out of my seat.

“Jane, you have to wait for him to disembark,” Roger pointed out. He tucked everything back into his tote with an air of frustration. I knew taking care of me was not exactly high on his list of fun things to do, but Roger had seemed different since my accident. I had tried to talk to him about it but he shifted the discussion every time I brought it up. I thought something had maybe happened between him and Jared but Jared brushed off the subject whenever I brought it up to him too, claiming not to know what Roger's attitude change was about. I was pretty sure they were both full of shit and I was kind of hoping that maybe Jared had confided in Shannon what was going on and I was going to get some answers now that I had him here where I could corner him.

I was so excited when I got my first glimpse of Shannon. He looked like he'd had a nap on the flight and his hair was ruffled in that sort of sleepy parakeet way that was becoming increasingly familiar. I threw myself into his arms as soon as he was in range, and he wasted no time in kissing me, those powerful lips of his pulling me back under his thrall in seconds.

“I missed you, Janey,” he whispered against my ear as he clutched me against him, and I found myself inhaling deeply for that scent of his before I even realized what I was doing. “I've been so worried about you,” he added.

Shannon had just brought a carry-on bag since he was only in for the weekend, and without luggage to collect we were out of the airport and in a cab back to mine and Roger's apartment in a flash. Shannon was uncharacteristically talkative the entire ride, telling me about the shows I had missed. I listened quietly, unsure of what to add. My life had been extremely uneventful since we parted, emergency hearing aside. It felt sort of awkward, sitting like that while he rattled on, knowing it was generally me that carried our conversations. Suddenly though, I didn't know what to say to him at all.

Once we were back at my place Roger started listing all the things I still wasn't allowed to do. Shannon listened patiently and promised to take good care of me, but I was fast becoming tired of being treated like I was a six-year-old. It felt like I was being handed from one babysitter to the next. “I know what I'm allowed to do Roger, and I can make up my own mind about it, ” I said tersely.

“And she's still a little moody,” Roger added.

“Oh fuck you,” I retorted. Shannon's eyes got big. I don't think he'd ever seen a cross word between Roger and me before. Then again, he hadn't been around us that much. We fought occasionally too, just like any other pair of friends. It just never lasted long.

“You know what, Jane, whatever. I'm tired of fighting you today. Drummer boy blows back into town and suddenly nothing else matters to you.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I demanded. I didn't know why things were boiling over now but I was willing to let Roger yell at me a bit if it would help me get to the bottom of whatever had been bothering him.

“Oh come on. All I hear out of you lately is Shannon this and Shannon that...”

“Are you jealous?” I asked incredulously. Surely that wasn't it. Roger had never been jealous of anyone I had dated.

“No, I'm not fucking jealous, Jane!” Roger grumbled. I noticed Shannon grabbing his bag and heading down the hall, wisely leaving us to settle whatever was going on. I had to respect him having enough sense not to get in the middle of it. “I just wish you'd show a little sense.”

“Roger I have been trying my ass off. I've been doing what I'm supposed to do. Am I supposed to feel guilty about wanting to enjoy a weekend with my boyfriend?”

“Is he? Your boyfriend? Have the two of you even talked about that or what that means? Do you know what you're doing at all?” Roger demanded, running his hand through his hair.

I was puzzled by his questions. Of course, Shannon was my boyfriend. We had pushed everything aside to be together. How could he not be my boyfriend? “Are you serious right now Roger? Why are you bringing this up now, in front of Shannon?”

“Because every other time I bring it up you blow me off. Let's face it, Jane, you don't exactly have a stellar track record when it comes to making decisions about men.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, you're really the relationship guru here.”

“I'm doing better than you are.”

“Really? Is that so? What happened to Daphne? Why aren't you speaking to Jared?" I felt bad for bringing up Daphne but I was at a loss as to what was going on in Roger's head. "What the fuck is going on with you? Just because I don't know how things got fucked up doesn't mean I don't know they aren't. You're a lot easier to read than you think. Even if I am brain damaged.”

“You're not brain damaged.” Roger insisted.

“Yeah, actually, I am. Let's be honest for a minute. And you've been freaked out ever since it happened.”

“It's not about that Jane. I swear.”

“Then what, Roger? Help me out here. What the fuck has been up with you ever since St. Louis?”

“I don't know,” Roger said. Suddenly all the fight seemed to go out of him and he dropped onto the sofa, head in his hands. I sat down next to him and place my hand at the small of his back, making small soothing circles.

“Roger, I know this thing with me has been stressful for you. I'm really sorry to put you through this....”

“That's not it,” Roger interjected weakly but I continued on.

“I know you're just looking out for me. That's what you do. And I'm sorry I snapped at you. You have to see if from my point of view. Everyone is treating me like I can't even make the simplest decisions for myself, even though the doctors have said I'm mostly fine.” As frustrated and out of sorts as I had been feeling, I felt so much worse suddenly for having snapped at Roger. I knew my moods were still all over the place. I knew my feelings of frustration at the situation were valid, but my attitude was uncalled for. I wanted to reach him but I didn't seem to know how to go about it properly anymore.

“Jane, it's not that. I get it I do. This recovery of yours has been hard for both of us but I don't mind looking out for you, really. I promise," he assured me as he patted my hand.

“Then what is it? I know what my problem is, but you haven't been yourself lately either.”

“Look, just go spend some time with Shannon.” He looked around and noticed that Shannon had disappeared. “Tell him I'm sorry for blowing up like that. I'll take you guys to dinner if you want.”

I shook my head. “No, I was planning on cooking, remember? But Roger...”

“Can we talk about it later? Maybe when your boyfriend isn't probably listening in the background?”

I sighed. I knew I wasn't going to get any further with him right now. “Fine,” I said before going to join Shannon in the bedroom.

Shannon was sitting uncomfortably on the edge of my bed, hands in his lap. “I hope this is your bedroom,” he said with a laugh, pointing to the collection of antique rag dolls in a cabinet on the wall.

I nodded and sat down next to him. “Yeah, I actually collect those. Some of them belonged to my great-grandmother.”

“That's really neat actually. I don't remember you having them in L.A. Though.”

“I didn't have room for them there,” I explained.

Shannon paused, frowning at the floor before continuing. “Is everything okay between you and Roger? Is he mad at me or something? He was kind of pissy on the drive up to Wisconsin after your accident.”

I shook my head. “I don't know what's wrong with him really. Did something happen between him and Jared?”

“Not that I know of. Jared was kind of bitchy for a few days after he left, now that I think about it. But he's been moody lately too so it may not have anything to do with Roger.”

Apparently bored with the conversation, Shannon leaned over and pressed his lips to mine, his tongue inviting itself in to swirly softly with my own. I sighed and laid back against the mattress, pulling Shannon on top of me. In minutes his hands were under my shirt, his mouth leaving a trail of wet, pink skin as he nibbled gently towards my breasts. I just wanted to relax and be with him but Roger's meltdown had me feeling like the world's worst friend. With a sigh, I pushed him aside.

“I'm sorry, “ I apologized. “I'm just worried about Roger. Let's pick this back up after dinner.”

To his credit, Shannon didn't complain, just gave me another kiss before sitting up. “Fine,” he told me with a smirk. “But screaming my name had better be on your list of approved activities. Otherwise, we're just going to have to ignore doctor's orders.”

#shannon leto fanfiction #shannon leto fic #jared leto fanfiction #jared leto fic #30 seconds to mars fanfiction #thunderbirds

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voicesofchaos · 8 years

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FemSlash Week - Day 2

Prompt = Romance - Formal Wear (Moonlight was another prompt which does get a small reference) ( @yu-ri-oh )

Ship = OmenShipping (Misty X Carly). There is a small mention of ScoopShipping (Jack X Carly)

AO3 Link = http://archiveofourown.org/works/9258002/chapters/21016697

Warning = There is a very slight implied rape mentioned, nothing detailed. A bit angsty.

Carly stared at her food with no real appetite. How could she when she could barely breathe. She looked up and tried to take a deep breath but it was painful. She looked over at Misty who seemed so in her element. To Misty these fancy formal dinners and events were what she lived for. Carly had been to many of them in the past few weeks and they were really wearing her down. She knew her makeup was probably coming off again. When she got all flustered like this she sweated more than normal. She wondered if all this rich fancy folk were starting to see her for who she really was. A poor uncultured girl who by some miracle ended up with a rich beautiful fashion model girlfriend. She just felt like she didn't belong there. She wasn't sure what was more uncomfortable, the stares of the people around her or these clothes she was wearing to look fancy.

She told Misty that she had to go to the bathroom. Misty nodded that she acknowledged her and then went right back to chatting up some old geezer. As she got up she remember just had painful these heels had been to walk in. Maybe getting up was a mistake and she should have just stayed sitting. Whoever made these kind of high-heels probably only expected to display them in a fancy overpriced store, not have real people actually walk in them. As she got to the bathroom she went to the mirror and tried to adjust her corset a bit. Whoever invented the corset was more evil than the King Of The Netherworld. Even Divine didn't make her suffer this much and he had killed her! Not to mention that since it was a low corset she also had on a rather uncomfortable bra. Not the worst she had ever worn like that one in high school whose under-wire would always stab her but definitely one not made for comfort.

She fumbled around in her purse to find the right makeup, she now had more than she had ever had in her whole life. She always wore very minimal makeup as a kid but ever since dating Misty she was constantly dolled up. She hardly recognized her own face most of the time.

As she slowly reapplied her makeup she couldn't help but to reminisced about how she got to this boring fancy party and trapped in this choking formal outfit. When she had first resurrected from being a Dark Signer she was the only one to have lost most of her memories of the time. But they came slowly and each time it was a more painful memory. For a while she had a happy life with Jack Atlas. But it sadly it all started to fall apart. He was a good man but not a good boyfriend. He couldn't support her when she needed him most. He seemed like he was always worried that he would let her down again and fail her. In the end he left her, supposedly to keep her safe.

Carly needed to know more about her time as Dark Signer, she needed to vent her guilt and agony over that time. Misty was the only one that would listen to her. It was odd therapy. Misty was a great listener but she hardly ever spoke about her own time as a Dark Signer. She seemed less tormented and haunted by it. In fact not much had changed about Misty. Unlike Carly who completely gave up fortune telling. She didn't want to mess with anything occult. She had slowly been replacing her Fortune Lady deck with new cards that seemed to fit her more. But Misty still used the same Reptilianne deck, minus the Earthbound God of course. Misty even still predicted fortunes by reading faces, oh how Carly knew that well as Misty loved to touch her face.

How they even got together still seemed like a mystery to her. During Carly's confessions, Misty would often touch her face to get a read on Carly's feelings. After several sessions with Misty, one day Misty's touch became more engulfing. Misty had said she wanted Carly which shocked Carly but even more shocking was Carly's own affirmative response that came so naturally. Everything snowballed so fast after that it was like a blur. They were smothered in each others sweet passion and embrace in no time. It was incredible but at the same time it all happened so fast that afterward everything just felt messy.

Almost every day since then Carly asked herself if she really deserved to be Misty's girlfriend. She had no idea what Misty sees in her. Misty had everything and Carly literally had nothing to offer her. It made no sense to her. She had tried asking but Misty always had a way of using poetic cryptic words. None of it was clear. She definitely expressed her love in the physical sense but emotionally Carly always felt unsure.

Carly had a long hard look in the mirror. For the past few weeks they had been traveling through Europe, going to a fancy party almost every night. Misty's modeling career was taking off so well that she had landed a small role in a movie. Her manager had managed to really hype it up and make them profit from it as much as possible. So they had been going to release parties in several different countries.

Every time Carly had to dress up so formal. Misty had to show her off in front of the press. Oh the press, she never imagined she would be on the other side of the journalist lens. The paparazzi were terrible when you were the one being harassed instead of doing the harassing. She had been quite offended because for almost the entire first week nobody knew who she was and Misty's fans spread all kinds of nasty rumors about who she might me. It amazed Carly how stupid the public could be, nobody could do any of their own research. She had Goggled her own name to see how easy it was. Course the results were not so satisfying. The first result was a bare-bones bio on a reporter's wiki. The second result was an old article where someone was trashing a piece she did. The third result was spam. The fourth result was an anonymous troll saying what he wanted to do to her body which would had disgusted her more if not a few weeks earlier Misty had shown her the worst things her 'fans' had written they wanted to do to her. Someone even claimed to have a secret sex-tape of Misty but would only release it for an obscene amount of money, the most vile of scams. The rest of the Google results were not even related to her.

Carly knew she had been away far too long already. If she didn't get back soon she knew Misty would send the country's entire police force to go looking for her. She returned to the dinner table. At first she thought Misty was too busy talking to old snooty people to even care she was back but immediately Misty whipped around and moved her face in close to Carly's. Misty's fingers slid across Carly's jawline and slowly moved across her cheek. Here we go again with the excessive face touching. Sometimes Misty got overly-obsessive with touching her face. Like she would just start smearing the palm of her hand all over her face, trying to read her feelings and see her fortune. It was cute at first but tonight Carly wasn't in the mood for 'cute'.

Carly flinched back and said more sternly than she meant to, “Can you please stop touching me?”

It felt as if silenced filled the air all around them as Misty's face was more panicked than Carly had ever seen it possibly. She didn't dare look around to see how many people were staring at her.

Carly quickly tried to clarify, “I just redid my makeup. I don't want to go back to fix it up again.”

Misty tilted her head and moved closer.

“What?” voiced a concerned Carly.

“You missed a spot.” said a stoic Misty.

Carly's mood was getting more and more sour.

/-/-/-/-/-/

After what felt like forever they finally got to the theater. Carly had seen this movie a dozen times already and by now she didn't care for anything except the scenes with Misty. At least this part was better than dinner, nobody could see her or pay attention. She loosened a notch on her corset and gently kicked off her heels. Without saying a whisper she curled up next to Misty. Misty put her arm around Carly and her hand began to move towards Carly's face but as her finger brushed against Carly's cheek, Misty's hand twitched and then pulled away. Then Misty tried to slowly move her arm off Carly but Carly's hand grabbed Misty's hand, holding it in place. Carly was pleased that Misty listened well and respected he desire to not be touched right now. But a cuddle was still fine. She still wanted that.

/-/-/-/-/-/

When they finally got back to the hotel after such a long night Carly proudly declared she was going to take shower. She stripped out of her formal clothes so fast that you would have thought they were on fire. As she got to the bathroom she furiously applied makeup remover. She took her contacts out, oh how she had wanted to rub her eyes all night. Then she took one of the longest showers of her life.

The warm water seemed to wash away all that fancy rich person grime that felt all over her. Even though she was getting clean she almost felt like she was getting dirty by peeling away all the layers of fake makeup and freeing herself form those restraining clothes. It took her back to her days of her childhood where playing in the mud was considered a fun time. Right now the thought of getting dirty sounded better to her than getting clean.

When she finally got out of the shower she wiped the fog from the mirror and put her glasses back on. She hardly recognized the ordinary-looking girl wrapped in a towel. Without her makeup and fancy clothes she felt like a totally different person. A person with no right to stand besides the beautiful fashion model Misty Lola.

Carly dropped the towel and stormed out of the bathroom. Misty was sitting by the balcony with a book by her side that she kept trying to read on the trip but could never get into it. So instead she simply sipped wine and enjoyed the view of the bright moon.

“My love!” Carly cried. “Are you embarrassed by me without makeup and the fancy clothes?”

The moonlight illuminated Carly's naked body, emphasizing every curve to her lover. Misty tilted her head and slowly licked her lips.

Misty stood and said boldly, “Of course not darling. You are the most beautiful person I have ever known. Nobody at that party can compare to you, with or without all the formality.”

Tears filled the corners of Carly's eyes as she rushed over and wrapped Carly in a tight hug.

Misty said in an anxious tone, “Does this mean that I can touch you again?”

To emphasize her request, Mistly slowly ran the palm of her hand down from Carly's forehead to her chin, her fingertips caressing Carly's skin. Instinctively Carly's face nuzzled that hand in a welcoming approval.

“Yes you can touch me,” Carly's voice became lustful, “You can touch any part of me.”

#ygofemslash2017 #Fanfiction #OmenShipping #5Ds #Carly Nagisa #Misty Lola #Formal Clothes #My Fiction

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cascampbell266 · 7 years

Text

Scientists Find 15 Amazing Benefits Of Listening To Music

If you love listening to music, you’re in good company. Charles Darwin once remarked, “If I had my life to live over again, I would have made a rule to read some poetry and listen to some music at least once every week.” Albert Einstein declared, “If I were not a physicist, I would probably be a musician.” Jimi Hendrix called music his “religion.”

I’ve always been in awe of people who can sing and play guitar. As a young girl, I secretly listened to singer-songwriter music in my bedroom into the wee hours. As a rebellious teenager, I cranked rock ‘n’ roll in the house whenever I had to do chores. I always felt great afterwards – now I know why.

Recent research shows that listening to music improves our mental well-being and boosts our physical health in surprising and astonishing ways. If we take a music lesson or two, that musical training can help raise our IQs and even keep us sharp in old age. Here are 15 amazing scientifically-proven benefits of being hooked on music.

1. Music Makes You Happier “I don’t sing because I’m happy; I’m happy because I sing.” – William James

Research proves that when you listen to music you like, your brain releases dopamine, a “feel-good” neurotransmitter. Valorie Salimpoor, a neuroscientist at McGill University, injected eight music-lovers with a radioactive substance that binds to dopamine receptors after they listened to their favorite music. A PET scan showed that large amounts of dopamine were released, which biologically caused the participants to feel emotions like happiness, excitement, and joy.

ADVERTISING So the next time you need an emotional boost, listen to your favorite tunes for 15 minutes. That’s all it takes to get a natural high!

2. Music Enhances Running Performance “If people take anything from my music, it should be motivation to know that anything is possible as long as you keep working at it and don’t back down.” – Eminem

Marcelo Bigliassi and his colleagues found that runners who listened to fast or slow motivational music completed the first 800 meters of their run faster than runners who listened to calm music or ran without music. If you want to take your running up a notch, listen to songs that inspire you.

3. Music Lowers Stress and Improves Health “I think music in itself is healing. It’s an explosive expression of humanity. It’s something we are all touched by. No matter what culture we’re from.” – Billy Joel

Listening to music you enjoy decreases levels of the stress hormone cortisol in your body, which counteracts the effects of chronic stress. This is an important finding since stress causes 60% of all our illnesses and disease. One study showed that if people actively participated in making music by playing various percussion instruments and singing, their immune system was boosted even more than if they passively listened.

To stay calm and healthy during a stressful day, turn on the radio. Be sure to sing along and tap your feet to the beat to get the maximum healing benefit.

4. Music Helps You Sleep Better “Music washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.” – Berthold Auerbach

ADVERTISING Over 30% of Americans suffer from insomnia. A study showed that students who listened to relaxing classical music for 45 minutes before turning in slept significantly better than students who listened to an audiobook or did nothing different from their normal routine. If you’re having trouble sleeping, try listening to a little Bach or Mozart before bedtime to catch some Zs.

5. Music Reduces Depression “Music was my refuge. I could crawl into the space between the notes and curl my back to loneliness.” – Maya Angelou

More than 350 million people suffer from depression around the world. A whopping 90% of them also experience insomnia. The sleep research above found that symptoms of depression decreased significantly in the group that listened to classical music before bedtime, but not in the other two groups. Another study by Hans Joachim Trappe in Germany also demonstrated that music can benefit patients with depressive symptoms, depending on the type of music. Meditative sounds and classical music lifted people up, but techno and heavy metal brought people down even more.

The next time you feel low, put on some classical or meditative music to lift your spirits.

6. Music Helps You Eat Less “There’s a friendly tie of some sort between music and eating.” – Thomas Hardy

Research at Georgia Tech University showed that softening the lighting and music while people ate led them to consume fewer calories and enjoy their meals more. If you’re looking for ways to curb your appetite, try dimming the lights and listening to soft music the next time you sit down for a meal.

ADVERTISING 7. Music Elevates Your Mood While Driving “That’s what I love. Not being interrupted, sitting in the car by myself listening to music in the rain. There are so many great songs yet to sing.” – Alison Kraus

A study in the Netherlands found that listening to music can positively impact your mood while driving, which can lead to safer behavior than not listening to music. The next time you feel frustrated in traffic, turn up the tunes to improve your state of mind. It won’t hurt your driving performance – it may even help you drive more safely.

8. Music Strengthens Learning and Memory “Music is the language of memory.” – Jodi Picoult

Researchers discovered that music can help you learn and recall information better, but it depends on how much you like the music and whether or not you’re a musician. Subjects memorized Japanese characters while listening to music that either seemed positive or neutral to them. The results showed that participants who were musicians learned better with neutral music but tested better when pleasurable music was playing. Non-musicians, on the other hand, learned better with positive music but tested better with neutral music.

Memorize these results. You now have a strategy to study more effectively for your next test.

9. Music Relaxes Patients Before/After Surgery “He who sings scares away his woes.” – Miguel de Cervantes

Researchers found that listening to relaxing music before surgery decreases anxiety. In fact it’s even more effective than being orally administered Midazolam, a medication often used to help pre-op patients feel sleepy that also has gnarly side effects such as coughing and vomiting. Other studies showed that listening to soothing music while resting in bed after open heart surgery increases relaxation.

ADVERTISING Globally, 234 million major surgeries are performed each year. If you or someone you know is going into surgery, be sure to bring some soothing tunes to ease anxiety. It may work better, and will certainly have fewer adverse side effects, than the meds they dispense.

10. Music Reduces Pain “One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain.” – Bob Marely

Research at Drexel University in Philadelphia found that music therapy and pre-recorded music reduced pain more than standard treatments in cancer patients. Other research showed that music can decrease pain in intensive care patients and geriatric care patients, but the selection needed to be either classical pieces, meditative music, or songs of the patient’s choosing.

Bob Marely was right about this one – listen to music you love to take your pain away.

11. Music Helps Alzheimer’s Patients Remember “The past, which is not recoverable in any other way, is embedded, as if in amber, in the music, and people can regain a sense of identity.” – Oliver Sacks, M.D.

A non-profit organization called Music & Memory helps people with Alzheimer’s Disease and other age-related dementias remember who they are by having them listen to their dearest songs. The awakening is often dramatic. For example, after Henry listens to music from his era, this wheelchair-bound dementia sufferer who can barely speak sings Cab Calloway songs and happily reminisces about his life .

Dr. Laura Mosqueda, Director of Geriatrics at the University of California at the Irvine School of Medicine, explains that because music affects so many areas of the brain, it stimulates pathways that may still be healthy.

ADVERTISING One in three seniors die with Alzheimer’s Disease or another dementia, so odds are you know someone who has it. To connect with loved ones who suffer from age-related dementia, try playing some of their best-loved music.

12. Music Improves Recovery in Stroke Patients “I know why the caged bird sings.” – Maya Angelou

Research at the University of Helsinki showed that stroke patients who listened to music they chose themselves for two hours a day had significantly improved recovery of cognitive function compared to those who listened to audio books or were given no listening material. Most of the music contained lyrics, which suggests that it’s the combination of music and voice that bolstered the patients’ auditory and verbal memory.

Stroke is the number 5 cause of death in the United States. If you know someone who has suffered a stroke, bring their favorite songs as soon as you can. Listening to them can significantly ramp up their recuperation.

13. Music Increases Verbal Intelligence “Music is to the soul what words are to the mind.” – Modest Mouse

After only one month of music lessons (in rhythm, pitch, melody and voice), a study at York University showed that 90% of children between the ages of 4 and 6 had a significant increase in verbal intelligence. Researcher Sylvain Moreno suggests that the music training had a “transfer effect” which enhanced the children’s ability to understand words and explain their meaning. Other research found that musically trained adult women and musically trained children outperformed those without music training on verbal memory tests.

ADVERTISING No matter whether you’re an adult or a child, if you want to boost your verbal skills, try taking music lessons!

14. Music Raises IQ and Academic Performance “Music can change the world because it can change people.” – Bono

Research shows that taking music lessons predicts higher academic performance and IQ in young children. In one study, 6-year-olds who took keyboard or singing lessons in small groups for 36 weeks had significantly larger increases in IQ and standardized educational test results than children who took either drama lessons or no lessons. The singing group did the best.

To help your children achieve academic excellence, encourage them to sing or learn to play an instrument.

15. Music Keeps Your Brain Healthy in Old Age “Music is the true breath of life. We eat so we won’t starve to death. We sing so we can hear ourselves live.” – Yasmina Khadra

A study with healthy older adults found that those with ten or more years of musical experience scored higher on cognitive tests than musicians with one to nine years of musical study. The non-musicians scored the lowest. “Since studying an instrument requires years of practice and learning, it may create alternate connections in the brain that could compensate for cognitive declines as we get older,” says lead researcher Brenda Hanna-Pladdy.

Business magnate Warren Buffet stays sharp at age 84 by playing ukulele. It’s never too late to play an instrument to keep you on top of your game.

Plato had it right when he said, “Music and rhythm find their way into the secret places of the soul.” No matter whether you’re young or old, healthy or sick, happy or sad, music can improve the quality of your life in numerous ways. It reduces stress and anxiety, lifts your mood, boosts your health, helps you sleep better, takes away your pain, and even makes you smarter.

ADVERTISING New research shows that music “can communicate basic human feelings regardless of the listener’s cultural and ethnic background.” We’ve only just begun to understand all the ways this universal language can profit the world. Rather than cut funds for music and art programs in schools, why not invest in exploring all the secret places that music reaches so that we may continue to reap its amazing benefits?

Original post here.

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