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clandonnachaidh · 4 years ago

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The Fireballs

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“Just take them and get away from the central belt for a while. It’s nae too far.”

Those were the words that left Geillis McKenzie’s lips as she pressed an unfamiliar set of keys into the palm of the woman sat across from her. Claire Beauchamp sat, chewing the inside of her cheek while she mulled it over. The offer on the table was simple enough. A week off work and a change of scenery in an attempt to wipe the bastard memory of Frank Randall from her mind. She would leave Glasgow and head to another part of the country, barricading herself inside a seaside cottage with enough food and wine to see in the new year in blessed peace and quiet. Her resolution for the burgeoning 365 days would be drunkenly pronounced to an empty room before fastening her fingers around the neck of the wine bottle, relishing in the sweet oblivion it promised.

It was a tempting prospect and the truth was, she was dreading the idea of spending New Year’s Eve in the flat that now sat practically empty after Frank had removed his belongings.

A few days after she took the keys from Geillis, Claire found herself in the small seaside town of Stonehaven in Aberdeenshire, pulling her scarf tighter around her neck as the bitter wind nipped at any uncovered flesh. She thumbed through the information that Geillis had texted her earlier that day, a surprisingly cohesive set of directions to bring Claire from the platform at the train station to the bright purple door of Geillis’ childhood home that now stood in as a place for her to escape to.

Thankful that she didn’t have to drag her wobbly-wheeled suitcase any further, Claire pushed the door past the collection of food menus and pamphlets announcing the next local councillor surgery that littered the doorstep and found herself to be pleasantly surprised with the room that she found herself in. Geillis was fastidiously minimalist in her home, all sleek black furniture and not a single piece of clutter in sight. The quaint seaside cottage that she’d grown up in was anything but minialist. The wooden floorboards were warped with wear and tear, a sneaky bump that had been hidden under a thread-bare rug almost sending Claire flying onto the couch. There was a huge stone fireplace in the centre of the living room but Claire had no idea how she would go about setting it to keep her warm all through the evening. Poking around a bit, she easily found a small kitchen with a huge navy blue Aga stove and a downstairs loo. Geillis had explained that the main bedroom was up a particularly rickety flight of stairs and Claire found herself sweating from the exertion of having to haul her suitcase up them. She quickly set herself to unpacking the few bits of clothing that she’d brought, opened the bedroom window to to let in some fresh air and arranged all of her toiletries in the small ensuite bathroom before jumping into the shower.

Feeling slightly more rejuvenated after scrubbing the travel grime from her skin, Claire heard her stomach rumble in protest. She hadn’t had anything since the hastily grabbed pastry that took her fancy when she ordered her coffee before getting on the train. She remembered that Geillis had drunkenly proclaimed, more than once, that the fish and chips from the local shop in her home town were the best in Scotland and so, Claire grabbed her purse and set off to find it.

Surprised that the streets were quite as busy given the cold sea wind, Claire allowed herself some time to stroll down to the harbour in search of battered haddock soaked in vinegar. It was a good sign that the small shop was queued out the door when she finally found it. She withstood a small wait before placing her order and moving back outside, waiting for her name to be called. She looked out at the sea, forearms set against the weather-beaten wooden fencing that separated the beach from the road and took in a deep lungful of sea air as the wind whipped her curls across her delicate skin.

Someone with lungs big enough to be heard over the wind called her name and she collected her order with a smile, her mouth watering at the smell. There was nobody there to stop her or, God forbid, ask her to share and so she delicately unwrapped the paper and sourced a single, salty chip.

Another voice drifted over the wind and something about it made her look for the source.

“Ye dinna want tae be daein’ yon, quine, the scurry will be awa’ wi’ yer chips!”

That was when she saw him for the first time. His red curls were moving wildly in the air as he sent her a dazzling grin, showing off a set of straight white teeth. His nose was crooked, obviously broken a good few years ago but it gave him a rakish air that Claire found quite charming. The piece de resistance was a pair of bright blue eyes, squinting at her in humour as he fished his car keys out of his pocket.

Despite having lived in Scotland for a number of years, not to mention being around Geillis whose speech became almost unintelligibly broad as she moved through different states of inebriation, Claire’s brain could barely attempt to untangle the mess of vowel sounds and dropped g’s that had carried over the wind in her direction.

There was only one thought in her mind.

What the hell was a ‘scurry’?

The redhead seemed to be taking no small amount of pleasure from having put her on the back foot. His large frame shook slightly as he chuckled, quite pleased with himself, as he slid himself neatly into his small car despite his gargantuan size. Just as Claire was away to dismiss him as some lout, he rolled down the window, trying to give her what Claire thought might have been intended as a wink as he shouted his parting shot over the rising gusts of wind.

“Hae a rare Hogmanay, quine!”

***

“…and with only an hour or so left until the bells, we hope that you’ll stay tuned to BBC Scotland this Hogmanay as we bring you all the best entertainment!”

Claire sat, idly clicking the buttons on the remote as she moved from one channel to the next, not actually paying attention enough to settle on any one thing. She was wrapped up in the sofa under a thick tartan blanket after her attempt at setting the fire had proved fruitless, as she knew that it would. She felt bad for the kindling that she’d wasted in her attempt to get it going but she figured Geillis wouldn’t mind too much.

With a mind of its own, her hand sought her mobile from its space on the couch beside her. Even though she knew it was a bad idea, she opened the usual apps to see that everyone else seemed to be having a great time at various functions and house parties, all sporting alcohol-induced rosy cheeks and arms slung across shoulders of friends that they had spent the whole year bitching about. She counted her blessings that at least she didn’t have to put on any fake smiles, gritting her teeth through another painfully pleasant evening with Frank and his colleagues.

No, Claire Beauchamp was quite happy to be sat on her own, a belly full of deep fried goodness and a glass of her favourite Chablis in her hand which she delighted in pouring down her throat.

“Next to perform on The Hootenanny, please welcome Idles!”

Thumb pressed firmly on the big red button, the screen on the tv reduced itself to black.

Silence descended over room.

If she hadn’t drained the contents of her wine glass mere seconds before, Claire would have thrown the liquid into the air as a series of loud bangs came from the front door.

Before she could figure out what was going on, the bangs turned into shouting.

“Here, Duncan, open yer fuckin’ door! I’m dyin’ fer a pish!”

Claire pulled the blanket from her legs and got to her feet, feeling irritated at the stranger’s apparent lack of manners. Another few bangs and her worry morphed into anger as she stomped towards the door and arranged her delicate features into the sternest face she could manage.

Unbolting the lock, the wrenched the door open ready to give the stranger an earful.

But there was no face in her eye line to angrily confront. Only a pair of broad shoulders.

The glow from the streetlights creeped its way over the meridians of his almost too large body. Claire’s immediate view was of the man’s chin, slightly dusted with an orange gold smattering of hair, before he ducked down so that he could see underneath the lip of the smaller than average door.

Electric blue eyes, slanted with an air of mischievousness about them. Eyes that had surprised her when they drifted into her thoughts on her return from the chip shop.

“Oh,” he frowned. “It’s you.”

She raised a single eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest, “It’s me.”

“Yer nae Miss Duncan. Fars Geillis?”

He took a step back, allowing her to take in more of him now that he wasn’t cramped into the confines of the small door.

Quickly, she realised that she was staring. And that she hadn’t answered his question.

“In Glasgow. And she’s Mrs Geillis McKenzie now.”

“Och, I ken that fine well enough, ’twas one of my uncles that she married. Although she’ll always be wee Geillis Duncan tae me.”

Claire found herself relaxing a bit to hear that the man wasn’t a completely stranger. Geillis had never mentioned Dougal having any nephews and Claire couldn’t see any family resemblance between Geillis’ husband and the man stood in front of her. Dougal was bald and average height, not anything to write home about. Whereas this man was quite the opposite.

“If you’re aware that she lives in Glasgow, why are you knocking on her door?”

“Saw the light was on,” he frowned as though I had asked the stupidest question possible, shifting from one foot to the other.

There were a few seconds where neither of them offered up any words, waiting for the other to speak first.

When Claire realised that the man was looking at her expectantly, she had to ask.

“Can I help you with something?”

He really tried his best not to blush but failed miserably, “Aye, ye may have heard but ye find me requirin’ the pleasure of utilisin’ yer loo.”

Suddenly the hopping from one foot to the other made more sense. Trying her best not to laugh at his predicament, Claire crossed her arms over her chest and hoped that he would understand the universal symbol of ‘not a chance in hell’.

“Call me crazy but I don’t think I’m going to let an inebriated stranger into the house that I’m staying in, in a village that I don’t know.”

“Am no’ inebriated, I’ve only had a few pints. And as for stranger, any friend of Geillis is a friend of mine.”

Claire rolled her eyes dramatically at the cliche, not convinced in the slightest.

“Well, I’m sure you can find somewhere else.”

The expression on his beautiful face changed from one of mischievous banter to one of grave seriousness.

“Well, I’m guy sorry tae dae this, Sassenach, but I’m afraid I’ll hae tae report ye tae the authorities.”

“Excuse me?”

“’Tis the law in Scotland. If someone knocks on yer door and needs in for a pish, ye have to oblige them.”

“I bloody well do not!” Claire shouted, exasperated. “What absolutely bloody nonsense!”

“‘Bloody nonsense’, she says!” The man countered, grinning wolfishly as he attempted to mimic her English accent.

Her anger was growing by the second, seeing red at his mockery and trying to get up the courage to slam the door in his beautiful face. She would’ve too if she wasn’t glued to the spot, unable to tear herself away from the maddening, handsome, stupid, charming man.

“Yer hospitality is lacking, Sassenach. And on Hogmanay an’ aw.”

Claire’s patience snapped. This man would not make her out to be some uptight English woman. She had heard the term ‘sassenach’ a few times since she moved to Scotland and it had never been said with kindness behind it.

“Fine! You can come in but as soon as you’ve, er… relieved yourself, you must leave.”

“On my honour,” he said solemnly as he raised both hands in supplication.

Claire stepped out of the doorway to let him duck inside and she opened her mouth to explain which door lead to the lavatory when he moved through the small living room with purpose. Of course, she remembered, he knew Geillis. He’d probably been in here more than once.

She watched as his back disappeared behind a now locked door and pondered the idea that that if he knew Geillis, he couldn’t be that bad. If there was one thing that Geillis Duncan nee McKenzie was skilled at, it was taking the measure of someone from a single look. At the very least, the man wouldn’t be dangerous.

And he was rather beautiful. Arrogant but in a way that endeared him to her. Finding that her fingers had a mind of their own as they began to smooth out her curls, Claire looked around the room and embarrassment creeped its way insidiously into her body.

While the world was celebrating the new year, here she was, sat alone in an otherwise empty house with a coffee table covered in discarded fish supper paper, an already empty bottle of Chablis and a box of chocolates that had been dipped into more than a few times. Across the world everyone would be getting on their party outfits while she wore her favourite cosy leggings and big thick socks with her favourite knitted jumper. Anything but glamorous.

With that realisation in mind, the room before her morphed from a scene of quiet solitude to pitiful isolation.

She had been run out of her city by the mere memory of Frank and that enraged her even further.

“Jesus H Roosevelt Christ, you prick,” she muttered exasperatedly, unbridled rage filling her from head to toe.

“Again, I apologise fer disturbin’ ye. But thank ye for lettin’ me inside.”

His voice made her spin on her heel.

“Oh, I didn’t mean—“ she began before deciding it was best to not delve into her dirty laundry with a perfect stranger and sent him a tight, resigned smile.

He made to move towards the door, his head slightly bowed from either humility or inebriation, Claire couldn’t decide on which.

For some reason, she felt disappointed at the thought of him leaving.

“So, any other strange and unusual customs I should know about before you leave? Is a man going to knock on my door in five minutes asking for only my left shoe?”

The man paused and turned around to face her again, his lovely face shining out a look of mischief and excitement.

“Well, I canna say that we’re nae kent for our strange and unusual customs but I think the fireballs are the only other thing ye’ll hae ti’ deal wi’ the night.”

For a moment she thought that she’d had too much to drink. Had the man really just said the words ‘fire’ and ‘balls’ as though they were the most normal things to come out of someone’s mouth?

He noticed her gormless expression.

“Surely ye’d hiv seen the High Street being cordoned off for the night?”

“I haven’t been to the High Street.”

It was his turn to balk.

“Ye came tae Stoney on Hogmanay and shut yersel’ inside? Geillis didnae think tae tell ye?”

“For the love of God, tell me what?”

He smiled a wry smile, “When the clock gets tae midnight, about 40 folk will walk down the High Street swingin’ massive balls of fire around their heids. All the way through the auld toon and then down tae the harbour.”

When Claire didn’t answer, he dug his hands into his pockets, straightening his arms so that he stretched to full height, the top of his head almost hitting the low ceilings.

“It’s an old Viking thing,” he said with a straight face.

Subconsciously, he flexed the muscles of his shoulders and back, taking up even more space. He really was very large.

Viking indeed.

He jerked his left shoulder up slightly and tried to seem nonchalant as he said, “Usually I swing one masel’ but I dislocated ma shooder earlier in the month and it’s only jus’ healed. Shame otherwise I could’ve gied ye a shotty, get ye the best view over the crowd.”

“I’ll pretend I understand a word of what you just said and bid you goodnight,” Claire said firmly as she shifted her weight towards the door, trying her hardest to appear aloof in front of a man that she was fast forming an attraction to.

The Viking surveyed the state of the living room and looked back at her from underneath his eyelashes.

“Havin’ a quiet een, are ye?”

“Yes. I needed a break from the city. I work with Geillis and she was kind enough to let me borrow her place for a few days to get some peace and quiet.”

He gave her a cheeky grin at that, “And then here a stranger comes, crashin’ intae yer front door.”

He put his hand to his chest and smiled kindly at her before bowing his head slightly.

“My maist sincere apologies tae ye…?”

“Claire Beauchamp.”

“Weel, it’s affa fine tae meet ye, Claire,” he said as he pressed a thumb into his chest. “James Fraser.”

“How do you do?” she nodded her head in acknowledgement of his introduction and tried her hardest not to get lost in his eyes.

Looking into his eyes was like looking into the heart of the sun.

Jamie narrowed them at her with a smirk and Claire felt herself blush slightly.

“Yer affa posh tae be a friend of someone as debauched as the one and only Geillis Duncan. Ye said ye work thegither?”

“Yes, we do. I’m a surgeon as well. And I promise, there is nothing posh about me,” Claire scoffed.

He looked at her again, closely, and Claire could practically see the cogs of Jamie’s brain working as a plan came together.

Even though she had failed to light the fire, she could swear that there were flames dancing in his eyes.

“Ye ken, if ye wanted me tae believe ye werenae posh, ye’d dae somethin’ spontaneous.”

Claire was surprised to find that his words sent a shiver down the back of her spine. She couldn’t put her finger exactly on what she was feeling but she knew it felt good.

“What exactly do you mean?”

Jamie took a step towards her, casting another glance at the coffee table of sadness and then settling his eyes on the front door.

“Take a turn aroon the toon wi’ a manny ye’ve jus’ met? Canna be by yerself on Hogmanay, Doctor Beauchamp.”

The offer had been made and Claire knew that she’d be mad to pass it up. She pretended to think it over, lips pursed in fake contemplation as she waited what she felt was an appropriate time to not seem too eager.

“Might as well see these fireballs, I suppose.”

His smile split his face in two and Claire couldn’t help but feel her stomach flip.

“Ace. Weel, we can get going? It’s only an hour until the bells.”

Claire tried to seem casual as she asked for a moment to change into something more appropriate for the outdoors and quickly extricated herself upstairs.

Standing in the middle of the bedroom, she looked at her reflection in the mirror and panicked.

Her mind was completely blank as she tried to flick through the items that she’d brought with her, trying to come up with something that hit the perfect balance of sexy and comfy. Frustration building, she grabbed her phone and shot a text to the woman who was responsible for all of this.

Claire: James Fraser, alright enough guy?

Geillis: Christ, nae wasting any time, are ye?

Claire: Shut up. Anything I should know?

Geillis: He’s an arse man!

Geillis: Nae many better ways to start the new year than a shag with a ginger god!

Claire: Very helpful, thank you. I don’t know why I bother, you are no use at all!

Geillis: Och wheesht, you love me really.

Geillis: For real, Jamie is a sweetheart. We’ve been pals since we were bairns. You’re in good hands.

Geillis: Affa good hands 😏

Claire huffed a laugh at her best friend and quickly pocketed her phone into her jeans, stripping off her leggings and jumper.

As quickly as she could, she dug around in her suitcase for the single pair of jeans that she’d brought with her. Thankfully they were the black ones that hugged her arse perfectly. She grabbed a plain white t-shirt and her favourite burgundy cardigan before she realised that it was too long and would effectively hide the said perfect-arse-in-these-jeans situation.

Resigning herself to an evening of being frozen stiff, she decided against the warm winter jacket that was hiding downstairs and grabbed her trusty leather jacket.

Thankfully her reflection in the mirror showed that the jacket stopped just above the line of her hips, allowing the jeans do their all important job.

“Doctor Beauchamp?”

She moved towards his voice, opening the bedroom door and quickly closing it behind herself so he wouldn’t be able to see the mess that it hid.

“Please call me Claire,” she implored.

“I like calling ye Doctor, ’tis…”

“What?”

“Och, nothin’.”

Claire raised an eyebrow, “Spit it out.”

She could swear that she saw him blushing as he rubbed the back of his neck with an open palm, looking her straight in the eye.

“Sexy.”

The single word was said with such obvious flirtation behind it that she couldn’t stop the rush of heat and need that spread through her body. But the wine had made her bold and she decided to give as good as she got.

Without responding to him, she crossed the room and put her hand gently against the small of his back as she made it to the front door and pulled her boots on.

She heard three heavy footsteps and then he was behind her, so close that she could feel his steady breath.

A large arm circled around her body, grazing her waist ever so slightly as he went to grasp the doorknob.

“Let me get that fer ye, Doctor Beauchamp,” he whispered into the mess of curls that were tickling his nose as Claire resisted the urge to close her eyes and lean back further.

Shaking her head slightly to try and dispel the haze that had come over her, she tried her best to keep her voice from trembling, “Lead the way, Mr Fraser.”

Once they were out in the cold air, Claire could see why Jamie had made fun of her for not noticing the preparations earlier in the day. The entirety of the small village was alive with light and music and bodies. Doors were propped open to allow for a steady stream of people coming in and out of pubs and homes alike, shouts and laughter filling the air with sound. The colourful lights that were still strung up from Christmas glistened against the wet pavements but thankfully the rain had passed and was on its way north towards the city, leaving a cool freshness to the air. Children scurried around with their parents, thick mittens and hats almost falling off at every opportunity and as they turned towards what Jamie had called the Square, Jamie grasped Claire’s hand in his own so they wouldn’t get separated in the crowd that seemed to be every resident of Stonehaven and then some. Claire couldn’t help the huge grin on her face as Jamie expertly navigated the both of them through the community, returning well wishes and clapping a few people on the back in greeting.

She was completely entranced by it all. Even though she was new to Stonehaven, people hugged her in greeting and raised their drinks, offering sentiments that she didn’t quite understand but could nevertheless feel the warmth that they were uttered with.

“Aye Jock! Fit like en?”

“Aye aye, loon, nae bad, nae bad!”

When they made it to a spot that apparently promised the best view of the procession, Jamie made sure that his massive frame wasn’t blocking the view for any children and spotted an old friend.

“Alright Jamie! Foos yer doos?”

Shaking the man’s hand firmly, Jamie gave what Claire assumed was a response to the nonsense question he’d just been asked.

“Aye, a’wis pechin’!”

Claire couldn’t concentrate on the rest of the conversation that was going on between the two men. She was much too preoccupied with the fact that Jamie was stood so close to her, his chest resting against the length of her arm. Even the small amount of pressure being shared between the two bodies was enough to make Claire’s head spin. Not to mention the heat radiating off the man even though it was easily below freezing out in the night arm. A frisson of energy that she could not put a name to coursed through Claire’s limbs and she jerked, accidentally elbowing Jamie in the ribs.

Ending his conversation, he turned to her sharply.

“Fit wis that fer?!” he exclaimed in mock outrage.

She tried her hardest not to laugh at the pout on his face.

“I’m pretty sure you’re just making up these words to make fun of me. Honestly, ‘foos yer doos’?”

Jamie laughed, air bursting from his lungs and turning into soft curls of mist in the dark. Claire felt the vibrations move through her body, tingling in her own extremities.

“’Tis a common greetin’ roon these parts, Sassenach,” he put his hand on the small of her waist and turned her towards him, eyes glimmering. “Take a guess fit it means.”

“I have no idea,” she said primly as she accepted the proffered hip flask from Jamie’s hand.

She realised that she wasn’t the only one aware of the charge between them when she saw his eyes darken at the sight of her bring the flask to her lips. He didn’t know but seeing it made Jamie’s tongue dart out to moisten his lips.

Claire took a small drink of the whisky that flooded her mouth, already feeling a little more than intoxicated after the bottle of wine and the arrival of a certain ginger Scot.

“I’ll gie ye a hint, it’s tae dee wi’ birds.”

Her features scrunched in confusion, “Human or avian?”

“We dinna call women ‘birds’ around here, we call them ‘quines’.”

“That’s not an answer to my question.”

He rolled his eyes at her, unable to keep the smile from his lips, “Another hint is that up here in the northeast, we replace our W’s wi’ F’s.”

She sent him a death stare that hopefully conveyed the message of ‘stop-taking-the-piss-out-of-me-or-I-will-empty-the-contents-of-that-flask-over-your-head’.

Thankfully, he seemed to take pity on her, “Foos yer doos is how we ask folk how they’re deeing. It translates to ‘how are your pigeons’?”

“Pigeons?!” she laughed incredulously. “You ask people about their pigeons?!”

Before he could answer, the clocktower rang its first bell to signal that midnight had been struck. A cheer could be heard from further up the High Street as the first fire ball started to make its journey towards the water.

Claire had never seen anything like it. Men and women dressed in kilts, their feet clad in sturdy shoes as they swung huge balls that had been set ablaze in a beautiful arc around their head. It was the perfect heady mix of awe and fear as they made a great ‘whoosh’ every time the fire almost kissed the ground. The darkness of the night made them shine all the more brightly and Jamie bent down to Claire’s ear so she could hear him over the excitement of the crowd.

“Yer hair is affa bonnie in the firelight, Doc,” his voice sent shivers down her spine. “Mo nighean donn.”

She didn’t know what it meant, didn’t care really. She just knew that she wanted to hear him say it again and again.

Claire seized the opportunity and pushed herself back firmly against his chest, taking his hands in hers and bringing them to wrap around her body in invitation. She hoped that she hadn’t massively misread the situation but her worries were assuaged when he tucked her head neatly under his chin and sighed in relief.

They watched as the spectacle continued but both of them would have been more than happy simply standing there, holding each other.

The bells finally chimed their last, signalling that it was now officially Hogmanay.

Claire refused to move from the safety of his arms but craned her neck up to look at Jamie whose full attention was on her.

“Happy New Year, Jamie,” Claire whispered, her heavy breath mingling with his own.

“Happy Hogmanay, Claire.”

Jamie’s head dipped, closing the space between them and pressing his lips against hers, deciding that his wish for the coming year would be to never part from the woman in his arms.

#the fireballs #clandonnachaidh #outlander fanfic #outlander #jamie fraser #Claire beauchamp #stonehaven #aberdeenshire #northeast scotland

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ansgar-martinsson · 4 years ago

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The Best Intentions - Part 19

“Ah.” Ansgar allowed a small, wry smile to creep over his face, all signs of irritation, of anger sluicing away in a sudden and strange wash. It was one of those smiles, one of those polar shifts, carried upon an idea, in which he allowed the recipient to see just a little bit of the cogs and wheels and gears spinning away in his mind.

But not enough to know exactly what he was thinking.

He shrugged slowly then, the craftiness in his eyes morphing again – easily and smoothly into a visage of practiced ennui. “They won’t know, they’re too young to even consider such things,” he said. “They’re more interested in… things… in those things they can touch, see, and feel, rather than human emotion, or whether their auntie is fucking someone they meet. They’re just young boys. They’re…how old did you say?”

“Ten,” she huffed. “They’re… they’re ten.”

“Both? Are they twins, then?” His words carried a note of excitement. Interest.

“Yes. They’re my brother, Elias’ boys, but why…?”

“Perfect.” He gave her a curt nod, his eyes twinkling. “Pardon me, if you will.” He turned quickly and barged back into Joline’s office. A clap of his hands and he had the rapt attention of both young men. “All right. Who,” he intoned, “would like to come with your auntie and me on a little adventure?”

“Ansgar - “ but her protestations were drowned out by the exuberant “me me me!” that burst from both of her jumping, laughing nephews.

“Wonderful,” Ansgar sang. He held both of his hands at his sides, waggling his fingers in invitation. “Come on, then,” he said, “let’s go.” The boys, Adrian first, with gusto, and Hugo second, a bit more tentatively, took his hands, practically skipping as Adrian all but dragged him down the corridor toward the little theatre space.

“Now, listen very carefully to me.” Ansgar turned his back to the visqueened-off archway, blocking the boys’ view of the space. He bent, hands on his knees, and addressed the boys one then the other. “This is a dangerous place. It’s a work area,” he said, gravely. “We must take certain precautions.” Finger raised, he paused for effect. “Safety first, now say it back to me.”

“Safety first.” the boys repeated; and then Adrian chimed in - “Do we get to wear hard hats?”

Ansgar smiled broadly, almost impishly and, like a magician, he rummaged behind the plastic sheeting, emerging with a bright orange hard hat sat incongruously on his own head, and two yellow helmets in either hand. “Your very own, for you to keep,” he said. He presented the hats to the boys, placing them regally on their heads like crowns, first Adrian, then Hugo.

“May we please go in now?” pled Hugo.

Joline stepped forward. “Wait, Sgar… I don’t think….”

“You can go in. It’s official,” Ansgar declared, his voice raised slightly, drowning out Joline’s protestations. “I hereby decree that you two are honorary associates of Martinsson Construction. Your hard hats prove it.”

“Are you the boss?” Hugo asked, fingering the brim of his hard hat with reverence. “You hafta be the boss if you can make us honono-no-no-no….”

“Honorary, Hughie,” Adrian chimed. “It’s honorary. Say hon-no-ra-ry”

“Hon-no-ra-ry,” Hugo repeated haltingly, letting out his breath and taking another deep one in celebration of his accomplishment. “Associates. You hafta be the boss to do that. Are you the boss?”

“I am the boss,” Ansgar placed a hand proudly over his chest. “My last name is Martinsson, and this is my company.”

“Cool!” said Adrian. “Can I be the boss too?”

Ansgar chuckled. “Something tells me that someday you just might be.”

“Cool! Do we get paid?” Adrian cocked his head, narrowing his eyes.

“Of course you do! Yes,” Ansgar’s eyes flashed. “If you perform your jobs well, you shall be paid handsomely.”

Adrian’s hands rest akimbo upon his hips, and he squinched his face up even more, chin jut straight out. “How much?”

“Lots.” Ansgar’s eyed Joline, gauging her. She stood a short distance away, her arms folded over her chest, toe tapping, and a most attractively unreadable expression on her face. Lips tight, cheeks flushed, yet her eyes showed something… soft.

He winked at her.

She startled and blinked owlishly, frowning back at him.

“I shall pay you in the valuable currency of cinnamon rolls and ice cream. All the cinnamon rolls you could want. My treat.”

“Herr Martinsson – “ Joline warned.

“Oh pish, Auntie Joline,” Ansgar chided, elbowing Hugo conspiratorially in the arm. “It’s only fair. Now, come on.” He guided the boys through the curtain and into the construction space. “I’ll start by showing you the rough carpentry. That’s what I know how to do, the carpentry. It’s my most favourite thing.”

“You’re a carpenter?” Hugo pulled his eyes away from the spectacle long enough to eye Ansgar from head to toe, to sum him up. “Your suit’s too nice. You’re not full of sawdust. You don’t look like you do much carpening. Do-do-do-do you carpen a lot?”

Ansgar chuckled. “Not so much anymore, Hugo,” he said. “But I still know how.” It’s like my brother, here,” he fished into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone. He knelt, lowering himself to the level of the two boys as he flicked through the photos. “Ah, yes, this one, here we go. Take a look.” He turned the phone first to Hugo, then to Adrian, and then he flicked a glimpse of the photo toward Joline, showing her with raised brows and a quiet smile.

“That’s me,” he pointed, the phone once again turned toward the boys, “that’s my niece, Viktoria, and that’s my brother, Magnus. Magnus, you see, he was a police detective. Now he’s a chef, but he still knows how to solve crimes and protect people if they need it. Like me. I used to be a carpenter, and I still know how, I just don’t anymore, because now I run the company.”

“Woah.” Hugo and Adrian gasped simultaneously, and the stereo sound of it gave Ansgar a chill. A chill of familiarity, of deja vu, and a sudden yearning for his brother, who was hundreds of miles away in Ystad. Finally, Adrian piped up. “You’re a twin? He looks… wow-wee. You guys look totally alike.”

“We are twins,” Ansgar stood, but still held the phone down. “We’re identical twins, Magnus and me. You two,” he pointed to one then the other, “are fraternal twins. You don’t look alike.”

“Which one of you was born first?” Adrian demanded.

“Why, I was,” Ansgar replied, hand rest proudly on his chest. “I’m older by twenty minutes.”

“I was born first too.” Adrian crowed. “But I’m only ten minutes older.”

“Even better.” Ansgar said. “Means you’re closer. Now,” he shoved his phone back into his pocket, and took up the boys’ hands again. “If you come with me, I will let you see how we frame a pocket door.” He lifted his chin in the direction of the burgeoning stage. “It looks like Amaranna is about to begin one. I’m sure she would love to tell you all about it.”

This wasn’t how she saw or imagined her afternoon turning out to be. Not by a long shot.

Joline loved her nephews, to bits, from the tops of their golden heads to their awkward stompy feet. She felt blessed to know them and spend time with them since she’d missed so much of their early years. A sense of belonging and fulfillment flooded through her when their thin little arms wrapped around her middle in ultimate trust and gratitude.

Adrian bounded over to her first while she hung back in the periphery of Ansgar’s show. “Thank you, Auntie Jo, for introducing us to the nice man.” As if she brought Ansgar to them as a toy… as a reward for good behavior. “He showed us lots of cool stuff.”

Joline felt an ache forming somewhere within her, but she couldn’t know from where. This couldn’t be happening. She cleared her throat, lifted his hard hat to pat the boy’s soft head of hair, “I’m chuffed to know it.” But her tone was quiet, reserved. Even. Pensive. The statement almost negated by her delivery of it, but her younger audience missed it. She replaced the hard hat upon his head, adjusting so he could see what was in front of him.

As quickly as Adrian appeared with a grateful hug, he disappeared again to learn how to use a nail gun and an electric sander. Amaranna, a petite beauty in denim overalls with rosy cheeks and a button nose, showed Hugo a diagram that the she’d sketched on graph paper how she measured twice and cut her lumber pieces once.

One by one, Ansgar helped the boys onto the scaffolding in the middle of the stage to take pictures on in iPhone of the ‘before’ pictures as he explained. He invited them to come back to take pictures of the progress of the work. He also had them pick a seat in the theatre where they could come back and weld a plaque of their names underneath.

It was Ansgar who fascinated her, to her horrific delight. Her body knew he was close and remembered in great detail the skill at which he made her soar. In Excitement. In Pleasure. In arousal. In craving. He was her adult private time. Maybe she’d only seen him as a lover… and not quite human. Suddenly, when he took each of her nephews’ hands, he was human. Real.

Joline craved him, wanted him to see to all her desires, but this side of him disturbed her view of him. He was something more than a great lover, something more than an animal. He was a someone. She’d seen slices of his personalities, layers that he peeled away to show her. His regard for her nephews felt more invasive than his body inside hers. It felt personal. She knew the difference between physical and emotional connections, and this… Ansgar with her nephews balanced dangerously over into emotional territory.

Sex between her and Sgar, that was easy. No promises, no strings, no misunderstandings. Clean. Uncomplicated. However, the promises that he made to her nephews… she didn’t know if they were real or not. She couldn’t trust that.

“Amaranna,” Ansgar asked over Joline’s thoughts, “Watch over the boys for a few minutes—“

“Herr Martinsson, I hardly think that’s appro—“

“Joline,” he silenced her objection with a cut of his gaze, “it’s fine.” Addressing, Amaranna once more, he instructed, “Keep them busy building. I’ve goggles that might fit them in the atrium if you need to use the saw. I’ll return straight away. I’ve got documents to be signed by the house manager, dated and submitted by close of business. We’ll be in her office, down the corridor on the right.”

Amaranna saluted, “They’re in good hands. I’ll treat them as my own.”

“Ten minutes,” he whispered to Joline taking her hand inconspicuously to ensure that she followed. He led her through the house, sidestepping fans and tools and buckets strewn throughout. He ditched the hard hat upon his head by the entrance of the theatre where he’d first fetched it. He didn’t stop until he had her safely behind the door of her office. He pressed her against it and his body trapped her there, his lips on hers before she could protest.

Joline obeyed, she had no idea why she couldn’t stop it, but her body fell into his. This, she could do. This, she could handle. If she were honest with herself, she wanted it all the more because he was good with her nephews. Brilliant with them even.

When he was sure she was breathless, he ripped his lips from hers. “You’re angry.” His forefinger painted a line through her flushed skin, pale blooming underneath the pink.

“I’m not,” she disagreed.

“’Herr Martinsson’ is usually reserved for people I’ve fucked over, not fucked.” He quirked an eyebrow, coaxing her out of wherever she’d retreated to inside her head.

She sighed, “Adrian and Hugo, they’re good boys.”

“I agree.”

“They’re mine,” she said pointedly, her eyes wide in defiance. “Not mine as in I birthed them, but they’re my life.”

“Implying what? That I’m not?” She tried to push him away so she could think straight, to suss out why she didn’t like him near Adrian or Hugo. He held her fast, calming her with one word. “Joline.”

“I don’t know. You’re in one part of my life. They’re in another. You’re the one who suggested compartmentalizing, yeah?”

Ansgar surveyed her face as he thought he had her figured. “Separating the personal from the business side. I’m in your personal life, and so are they.”

She caught his ironic statement. Hooking her leg around his, she brought him into even closer, opening herself up to him. “This was supposed to be a business meeting.” She thrust her center against his groin. “You needed my authorization on some insurance documents. How’m I doing then?”

He read her deflection as clear as if she told him she was about to. His gaze slid down to her cleavage and the press of her breasts against his chest. His mouth watered recalling the taste of her and her pebbled nipple rolling across his tongue. “Granted, it isn’t a perfect science.” His smiled crookedly at her, playing her game.

“I didn’t know your brother’s name until you told my nephews… or that you had a niece. How do I fit in your personal life then?”

#the best intentions

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kazzaeh · 5 years ago

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Here we go with another vent so feel free to just ignore me lmao.

I found my old old phone when I was packing my bags last week so decided to bring it with me and yesterday I bought a charger for it. I found loads of photos and videos of my wee stinky cat when we first got him and made myself cry, and I found old photos of Darren and there was a really cute one of us at the Hive (lmao) and that made me cry too. Then I listened to the music that was on it and that made me cry even more lmfao.

I messaged Darren last night to tell him how I’ve been feeling. Told him that if he needed more time and space I would give him that, but if he was sure in his heart that he wanted this relationship to end, he needed to tell me that. Then I went on about how I meant everything I said about spending the rest of my life with him etc but if he didn’t want that he needed to tell me. I said I’m ready to change who I am and reinvent myself and if he doesn’t want to be a part of that then we could decide what to do with the flat.

He told me he just feels like nothings going to change between us and if we stay together it won’t get better at all and we’ll just make each other worse. He said at the moment he feels like he doesn’t love anyone or anything and I just know it’s the grief talking. That’s exactly how I felt. I was just devoid of any emotion for fucking years but I sat and fucking waited it out even when I didn’t want to. There was times when I wished he would just fuckin walk out on me so I wouldn’t feel so bad about being such a shit girlfriend. I never stopped loving him but I just couldn’t show it. I lost who I was and despised myself for so long and it just rubbed off on everything around me. The few months I was getting counselling I was really proud of myself for sticking it out and so happy that we were still together, I felt ready to love again and make up for all my pish.

We ended up talking about what to do about the flat last night but it was just stressing me out and I told him I just didn’t want to think about it right now. And that I think I need I couple more days to process it.

I’ve been crying about it all morning and listening to sad music lmao but the more I think about it I’m just getting annoyed because he still hasn’t told me what he actually wants. And he might not even really know but I wish he would just tell me “I don’t want to be with you” so that I stop fucking hanging on hoping this will all just blow over. I want to be there for him the way he was there for me but it just feels like he’s pushing me to make the decision for him and it’s not the one I want.

He finally told his mum last night that he’s been by himself for a week and that we broke up but was so upset on the phone to her he could barely talk. She’s convinced him to come through and stay with her because he shouldn’t be alone right now. I hope she can give him the support he needs and help him clear his head a bit.

I’m going to walk down to my dads later so we can bury my wee stinky boy. I just wish none of this had ever happened.

#i just want to be fucking happy for once in my life #is that so much to fucking ask #kayleighs shite chat

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junkieboyfriend · 5 years ago

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Fuck Simon (Mark/Swanney Teaser)

Mark had arrived home extremely late that night. It was as cold as balls outside and he was more than desperate to get into his flat. The ginger was pounding on the door of the flat, his key had recently been lost and he was praying Simon would open the door.

“Aye, Si open up! Ah lost thae key!” Rents cried

“BUSY!” Simon shouted back in reply

Renton then heard a loud smack and girlish giggle from inside. Great. Just when he needed Simon the most, the fucker was busy shagging some bird. He bit his bottom lip, unsure of where else he could go.

“Please Si! Ma gear’s in thair!” The ginger tried once more, pounding on the door

A loud moan erupted from inside the flat, “Get tae fuck!” Simon responded harshly

Mark sighed, kicking the door angrily. He’d have to get Simon back for this; replace his shampoo with Nair and laugh when the fucker comes out bald and fuming. That was a good revenge plan but did nothing to aid Mark in the moment. He was currently locked out of his own flat and he couldn’t face his parents this late at night.

A lightbulb went off in Renton’s head finally, Mother Superior. Maybe there was a chance he could convince the old fucker to let him stay the night, just tonight. The ginger took one last angry glare at the front door before leaving. The cold winter night embraced him and Mark hugged himself tightly, it was going to be a long fucking walk. He hoped to that cunt in the sky that Swanney was in.

Two knocks rang out against Swanney’s oak door. Mark’s hands were shaking from the cold, he felt his skin pricking from it, felt the cold down to his bones. It wasn’t as bad now that he was in the hall, but he was still quivering.

“Whae’s thair?!” Swanney inquired from the other side

Mark blew into his hands, rubbing them together, “‘S Mark!”

Soon after the door swung open and John Swan stood here in a pair of grey boxers and a black tank top. He looked more confused than tired which confused Mark considering the time.

“Whit’re ye daein’ ‘ere at yin in the mornin’?” Swanney asked

Renton looked away shyly, “Lost thae key tae the flat… Si willnae let us in.”

Swanney crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow, “Eh, why no?”

Mark sighed, “‘Cause he’s busy.” the redhead made a hip thrusting movement

Swanney nodded, “Aye, awright, ye kin stey here.”

Mark showed gratitude with his junky smile and Swanney returned it with his own crooked grin.

Mother Superior backed away from the door and allowed Renton in. Swanney noticed Mark shivered and gave him a blanket to warm up in. The two of them sat on the floor and watched whatever was on Swanney’s shitty little television. Mark didn’t actually pay attention to what was on screen, he just started right through it and thought. He thought about how Simon, the cunt, was getting a shag in HIS apartment. It wasn’t even Simon’s place, it was Mark’s. Now Renton was left in a dingy flat with a nearly fifty year old drug addict/dealer. He couldn’t fucking believe it. He was fuming.

Swanney looked over and saw the ginger looking visibly pissed, he put an arm around him and decided to comfort the wee lad.

“Aye, whit’s thae matter, ye look pished at thae world?” Swanney inquired softly

Mark sighed in frustration, “Thit fuckin’ cunt, Simon.” He almost wanted to cry he was so angry

“Dunnae think aboot Sick Boy, whit can Ah dae tae get ‘em off yer mind?” The older man inquired

Mark sat, a bit stumped by Swanney’s question. It was a good one. Old cunts usually didn’t ask him such good questions.

“Dunnae, havnae thought aboot it.” Renton answered truthfully

Swanney chuckled a bit and rubbed Mark’s shoulder comfortingly, “Ye’re an odd yin, Rents.”

Renton couldn’t explain it but the touch of Swanney’s large, rough hands was oddly calming on his shoulder. The cold was fading away and Johnny was now radiating heat which Renton seemed to melt into, pressing their sides together. Swanney glanced at Mark, raising his brow a bit at the sudden closeness. Renton didn’t acknowledge him and just allowed the warmth to engross him, let it comfort him in a way words couldn’t.

He wanted to say something, anything, but he couldn’t figure out what. He just needed Swanney’s attention. He yearned for his touch, yearned to be wanted in ways so sick. Mark knew he shouldn’t want it, he knew he shouldn’t feel the arousal boiling up inside him, making his chest burn. But even as he told himself this, he found himself calling out almost pathetically.

“Mother Superior.” Mark spoke quietly

Johnny chuckled a bit, “Aye?”

They looked at each other and Renton bit his bottom lip out of shyness. Swanney felt something jolt inside him at the sight of it. Johnny told himself no, that he shouldn’t feel that way. Mark was a nice young lad who he was fond of and not in that way. Never in that way. He told himself this many, many times. It was wrong to take advantage of wee Mark, who he assumed was also strictly heterosexual. Still, even as he thought this a sick desire burned within him. Maybe everyone was a little sick.

Mark’s chest fluttered with nervousness as he gripped the floor beneath him a bit. He leaned his face in closer to Swanney’s, their noses nearly touching. Renton’s eyes were full of wonder, excitement, shyness, and something darker that made Swanney swallow a lump in his throat. Mark gazed into Swanney’s dark, wise eyes and he whispered almost breathlessly, “Help us forget.” Renton then fanned out his ginger lashes against his cheeks shyly.

Swanney didn’t get a chance to speak before Mark closed the gap between them. The kiss light and innocent; a kiss of well intentions that you might give to a girl you shyly fancy. Mark felt his cheeks go dark with blush as one of his hands goes to gingerly hold the older man’s cheek. Then in an instance he was gone, he pulled away, blushing and panting shallowly as he gazed up at Mother Superior.

“Mark, are-...” Swanney started, shocked by the ginger’s actions, “Are ye sure aboot this?”

“Swanney, I trust ye moar than most cunts. A-an’ I-.” Renton stuttered a bit, nervous by what he was prepping to ask.

Mark pressed his hands to Swanney’s chest as their eyes connected. Mother Superior’s heart almost melts at Renton’s doe-like gaze, wanting nothing more than to give him whatever he wanted.

“Ah wan’ ye tae take oor arse virginity.” Mark spoke softly, his eyelids lowering

Swanney couldn’t believe it, his eyes were wide in shock, “Ye want us tae whit?!”

Renton bit his bottom lip shyly, nearly begging, “Ride oor arse.”

Mother Superior nearly choked even though it was the second time Mark said it.

#fanficiton #trainspotting #mark renton #rentboy #rent boy #swanney #johnny swan #mother superior #smut

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likeabulletyoucanhurtme · 7 years ago

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The 100 (questions that is....not band or TV show)

1. If you were on a 2 hour road trip and could only listen to one song on repeat until the trip was over what song would it be? idk it would depend. Could be Neck Deep - In Bloom but also if you go with Dream Theater - A Change Of Seasons thats only like 4 plays :) 2. If heaven or hell didn’t exist and wasn’t a reward would you still make an effort in being a good person? Atheists believe in good. 3. What’s your poison? Vices etc. JD 4. What’s your favorite thing about your hometown? the football team lol.

5. Are you a better friend to your friends than they are to you? It's a mutual thing that we don't really talk lol. I'm a horrible friend to most people but one did say I was angel, which was a compliment cause she’s religious even though I’m not

6. Have you ever ran a red light? I can't drive, but I ignore traffic signs when walking. They're more of a suggestion than a rule especially in Glasgow.

7. Who is the most influential person in your life? I influence myself; fuck all y'all.

8. Give me a hot take. What’s the unpopular opinion you stand by? Love Island is pish

9. What would the ten year old you think about you now? 10yr old me wanted to be an astronaught so idk lol probably disappointed

10. What’s your favorite city to visit/live in? Town lol I don't do visits

11. Tell me the story of your first kiss. She asked me out and I was kinda dithering but then just as she was walking away I shouted yes at her like a fucking lunatic and she turned around like "....oh." Then we snogged :P

12. What was your yearbook quote (if you didn’t have one what would it be)? The romans didnt invent a great civilisations by having meetings. They did it by killing all those who opposed them.

13. What’s a non-sexual turn on for you? Millie's Cookies <33333

14. Who’s your favorite non-animated movie character? The wee old dear from Last Train To Busan <3

15. You fall into $10K and you have to spend it on yourself and not bills, what do you buy? Gig tickets, alcohol and stuff off my list

16. Have you picked names for your children yet? one

17. Do you have any talents? I'm very good at singing badly

18. Which would you prefer: Netflix and Chill or iTunes and Chill? Netflix or iTunes themselves. I ain't got no chill. And no-ones interrupting me if I'm listening to music/watching something

19. Fill in the blank: I want to ____ your _____. _hug_, _soul_

20. Is once a cheater always a cheater true? idk people can change but I'd say the relationship is forever ruined. Someone that cheated on me might not cheat again, but I wouldn't trust them anymore.

21. In one word, What was the reason your last relationship failed? complacency

22. What’s something therapeutic you do when you’re stressed? listen to music

23. What was your favorite non-Pixar Disney Film? Big Hero 6

24. Ruin a first date in 5 words or less. "I like country music" :P

25. Drums or Flats? I thought this was about music or highheels but google says its about chicken. And I prefer boneless!

26. Do you remember your last dream? What about? No idea, I don't remember them much I'm just greatful for whatever sleep I can get.

27. Do you want your kids to go to church, synagogue, temple, mosque? why? Never! I don't want to fill their heads with nonsense and a life of trying to conform to outdated arbitrary rules just so they have a good afterlife.

28. If Gerard Butler, Russell Crowe, and Liam Neeson get into a bar brawl who wins? The press?

29. Looking back would you have lost your virginity sooner than you did or later? Sooner. The lateness was not for lack of trying

30. Do you have a favorite book? Not really but it used to be either Reaper Man or The Hitch-hikers Guide To The Galaxy

31. Fuck Marry Kill? Do I get to pick my own??????? Fuck - "Main Course" Marry - hahahaha no Kill - your hopes and dreams

32. Is college worth it? Why? Yes because its good to know things and worth it to get a better job so you're not working beside me :)

33. Favorite Cartoon growing up. idk I can't really remember what I watched.

34. What’s your favorite social media besides tumblr? I'm on Facebook more but that's just to play games mostly

35. Does your first crush still look good? I don't talk to her anymore but her pictures aren't too bad

36. Do you think starting a gofundme is begging or helpful? Depends on the reason, like I've seen one just for a sesh which is fucking stupid, but like Americans do them for medical bills or some legit reasons.

37. Sesame Street or Barney? Sesame Street! Cookie Monster<3

38. What you’re favorite R&B Album of all time? I hate them all.

39. What movie(s) do you know all the lines to by heart? I can quote bits of films but probably not the whole film

40. Would you date someone you met on here? idk like I prefer this as a more anonymous space to share things and rant about people who actually know me. If I'm doing this right no-one I meet on here should figure out who I am :) But yes I'd date y'all cause you're all wonderful peoples

41. Would you rather be too hot or too cold? Too cold, it's Scotland you know?

42. Would you date yourself? I dont think I could put up with my own shit. And if it was like really my personality in a female form we'd be far too fucking shy to speak to each other.

43. Apple or Android? Android, Apple is a cult

44. What is the first song that you can remember learning the lyrics to? Daydream Believer for my aunties wedding

45. What are 3 of your favorite Michael Jackson songs? I genuinely do not like any of them but Alien Ant Farm covered Smooth Criminal if that counts?

46. Fill in the blanks: it’s not cheating if ___ ____ ____. you haven't actually kissed or slept with the other person and you're only sharing inappropriate messages on facebook and they've already said they're not a homewrecker... sorry, too specific?

47. Could you put your dreams on hold to support your bf/gf pursuing theirs? my dreams have been crushed so it would depend on what theirs were

48. What’s is the title to your autobiography? The Life And Times Of A Fucknut

49. Is there someone you’re trying not to call or text right now? YES! SO MUCH. I want to message her all the time but she hasn't messaged me and i dont want to appear desperate even though I am so I'm not gonna message first although I check every 5mins if shes messaged me

50. What is your favorite emoji or emoji combination? :P or ;)

51. Do you have any deal breakers in relationships? cheating lol.

52. Are you Tre or Doughboy? I had no idea so I googled it and Wikipedia says "Tre is highly intelligent but has a volatile temper and lacks respect" which is so me :) Idk who doughboy is lol

53. Favorite movie? Don't really have one tbh. I have too many I want to watch to bother re-watching something i've seen.

54. How long do you talk to someone before you expect a relationship? when you talk to someone its the start of a relationship in the loosest sense of the word because friendship is still the relationship between two people

55. Ruin a first date in 5 words or less. repeat questions would ruin a date cause it proves you're not listening

56. How old are you and how old do you feel? I'm 29 but I feel the same as i always have

57. Tag your favorite tumblr blog. @evilsupplyco

58. Your house is burning down and your family is safe what is the one material item you’d grab? my phone'd already be in my pocket so laptop?

59. How long until you introduce your bf/gf to your family? theyve met

60. Fill in the blank: All you need in this life of sin is you and your ____. Nope. All you need in this life of sin is you. No and your anything

61. Kobe, Jordan, or Lebron? neither

62. What is your favorite Drake lyric? I hate everything he has ever said

63. Where did you meet the last person you fell in love with? I don't fall in love, I believe I only fall in lust/infatuation/obsession.

64. Do you know your love language? I joined a shitty website to find the answer. Apparently it's physical touch and then words of affirmation.

65. Take a Myers Briggs Personality Test: what are your results? No. I fail at these. The questions are never things that i would do so i feel like im unintentionally lying and it never sounds like me

66. How do you feel about Quentin Taurentino films? Violence and blood what could be better?

67. Fill in the blank: Get you someone who will ______. _worship you as the amazing and beautiful bad ass bitch that you are <-- actual drunken advice from me

68. What’s your favorite movie soundtrack? Spiderman 2 i actually had the album

69. What’s your favorite fragrance on the opposite sex? i dont care what they smell like as long as its not fags

70. Is there any magazine, blog, or publication you read weekly? Nope

71. Will you abstain from sex or go to marriage counseling? Why are these my only options? But I'm not going to counselling, if they have issues then they should just tell me :)

72. There’s two kinds of people in the world: Those who pour ketchup on their fries, and the ones who put it on the side to dip. Which one are you? The one who doesn't order ketchup at all.

73. Rough sex or slow sex? Both. Either. Any lol

73. Have you ever slept with a stranger? Nope. Not that I have anything against it I've just never had the opportunity

74. What’s your dream music collaboration? Produced by who (Dead or Alive)? idk but probably produced by rick rubin cause that guy does eeeeeverything lol

75. What song will you probably conceive your kids to? Music would just be a distraction

76. Do you have a scripture or quote you live by? Nope

77. Finish this sentence: If men had birth control _____. itd be free

78. How long should sex last? As long as both partners need

79. What music do you listen to when you de-stress? Just whatevers next on the playlist

80. How soon should you text someone after getting their number? The next time you want to tell them something but they arent there beside you?

81. How do you feel about the 80/20 rule? Living in lol but its more like erm 20/80?

82. Is sex a determinate in a relationship? Yeah. Why would you get with someone if you're not at least somewhat attracted to them?

83. Is it wrong to move in with someone or “shack up” before marriage? Nope

81. Send me a never have I ever. Never have I ever enjoyed beer

82. What is your favorite video game of all time? Spyro The Dragon

83. Who is your favorite book/movie character? "SQUEAK" said the Death Of Rats

84. Can you define love as best as you can? Nope

85. Does size matter? I hope not, women like taller guys lol.

86. What is your favorite thing about the person you like? Physically? Personality? idk

87. Five Year plan? Go! Don't get fired, save money, get an actual house, buy stuff off my list?

88. If someone wanted to really understand you, what would they read, watch, and listen to? idk i dont understand me so why you asking me?

89. Do you think of yourself as a human being or a human doing? Do you identify yourself by the things you do? I don't tend to think of myself at all really... and why would I identify myself?

90. What does emotionally available mean to you? Someone who is not emotionally closed off?

91. Could you go into business with your ex? Hahahahahahahah no

92. What is the last song you sang aloud? I'd Rather Drown ineverletpeopleinandihaveyoutoremindmewhy

93. If someone liked you right now, would you want them to tell you? They do. They told me. It sucks cause it changes nothing except igniting that small bit of hope id given up on...

94. How do you prefer to obtain your music Streaming, Downloads, or Physical? Physical albums for artists I like, even though it just goes straight into the laptop anyway i still like having albums

95. Name an artist you like that your friends probably don’t listen to. What friends? But erm Archangels Revenge. I doubt the ex members listen to them as much as I do lol

96. Tag someone that’s probably her baby father. this makes no sense?

97. Post a selfie you really like. nope

98. Do you watch anime? What is your favorite? Death Note or The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya so far, but ive got a lot on my list

99. What’s the zodiac sign of the last person you dated? Aquarius

100. Do you know Jesus as your personal Lord and Savior? I know that he is not either.

#me #personal #thoughts #questions #survey #100 questions

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deepfriedtwinkie · 7 years ago

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Worth A Million

mid-movie Trainspotting fic below the cut, ~1,650 words, unrequited pining

(I know the Trainspotting fandom on Tumblr is like two and a half people but fuck it; T2 convinced me that Spud had a thing for Tommy all along, and now I’m taking both and a half of you down with me)

note: this thing demanded that I write it in the style of Irvine Welsh; I am not Scottish and I am Very Sorry™

Ah dinnae mind daein whatever Sick Boy likes, even though ah never git tae peck whair we go or what we dae. Ahm no that imaginative anywey. Leave it up tae me and ahd probably find some wey tae fuck it up.

Crossroads Pub wis always Sick Boy’s favourite when the skag made him sociable. Ahve goat a pint in front ay us, Renton tae ma left and Tommy tae ma right. Sick Boy’s tae the left ay Rents, pontificating aboot entrepreneurism or some shite. Ah cannae quite ever wrap ma haid aroond it, bit ah always nod anywey as if ah dae. Who’s gaunnae ask ma opinion?

It’s awright when it’s the four ay us. Long as ah keep tae masel ah kin mair or less disappear. The only problem comes when Rents gits up and mumbles he’s oaf tae huv a pish, and ah notice Sick Boy’s fucked oaf too, innae far coarner wi Alison or somesuch. It’s only me and Tommy now, and nae mair philosophizin goin roond ah kin conveniently defer tae. Ah cannae hold a conversation oan ma ain. Ah cannae even hold ma ain attention half the time.

Suddenly ma whole spine pricks wi the pressure tae be interestin. It’s no that ahve never hud a one-oan-one conversation before. It’s jist that Tommy’s a functional human bein. Ahve never bin burdened wi that. Certainly he doesnae expect it ay us. Does he? Ah stare intae ma pint fir as long as ah think ah kin git away wi. It’s no exactly helpin.

Ye cannae blame us fir feelin a maggot innae presence ay someone like that, really. Tommy’s no like the rest ay us. First ay aw, he’s clean as a whistle, he is. We widnae even know how tae survive a fuckin day like that. No tae mention he’s fuckin athletic, ay aw things. Ah dinnae understand why he even fucks aboot wi us. Wir no the types tae dae anything tae oor bodies besides obliterate them. Fuckin beats me why he’s no goat any better friends.

“Awright, Spud?” he sais. Oh fuck. He’s seen us fuckin starin. Ah didnae even know ah wis.

Ahve goat tae come up wi somethin now. Frankly ahd jist as soon git tae fuck and make like ah wis never here innae first place. Bit it’s too late fir that. Ah struggle tae produce even a word or two, anythin ay aw. It’s no comin oot.

“Anyone home, Spuds?” Tommy sais. Ahve paused too long.

Ma tongue’s a fuckin boy scoot’s knot now. Ahm sweatin like ahve jist come oaf the fuckin trip ay a lifetime. Gaunnae fuckin dae us in, it will. Ah mentally will Rents a slow and painful death fir leavin us here. How long’s it take tae huv a fuckin pish? He fall innae fuckin bog? Ahm a goner if ah dinnae open ma fuckin mooth, sae ah dae, no quite sure what’s gaunnae come oot til thair’s nae goin back.

“Ah…uh…Man U?”

That’s what ah come up wi. The great genius. Tommy’s whole face turns intae the likes ah huvnae seen since ah first casually used the term ‘skagged’ in front ay ma wee granny oan accident. Now ahm willin the slow and painful death tae masel instead ay Rents. It’s ma ain fuckin fault anywey.

He’s sizin us up. “Yir trynae huv a chat wi me aboot Man U, s’that it?”

Ah feebly nod. S’aw ah kin dae besides pray tae aw ma estranged gods fir a brawl tae break oot and crack ma fuckin skull wi a chair.

“D’ye even know what Man U’s short fir, Spud?”

Ah couldnae huv told ye if ah hud bin oan Catchword fir fifteen thousand pounds wi aw ma family innae studio audience. No that they’d show up fir a thing like that even hypothetically. The point is, ahm fucked and we baith know it.

Tommy situates his elbows oan the bar-top and leans in close tae ma face aw ay a sudden. Ah wisnae prepared fir that. He’s starin us innae eye. Now aw ah kin think aboot’s how many words ah know fir the color blue. That and asphyxiating oan ma ain drymooth.

“Ah want ye tae tell us the truth,” he sais. “Ye oan that shite again?”

Ah wish ah wis. It’d surely explain a lot. It’s probably no in ma best interest, bit ah decide ah kin git masel oaf the hook fir ma pathetic bungling wi a falsified confession.

“Oh, aye. Aye. Jist oaf ma face, ah am.” Ah casually cover the crook ay ma airm tae keep him fae seein my track marks scabbed shut, bit ah make like ahm only tappin the vein. “S’pose ah wisnae subtle.”

“Aye. S’what ah thought.”

Part ay us s’poses ah ought tae be ashamed ay masel oan account ay Tommy’s remarkably low expectations ay us. Bit ah cannae be arsed tae muster up offense aboot it. What’s the point? Typically he’d be right. Ah foster nae delusions aboot the wey ah conduct masel. At this moment ahm jist astonished a person like Tommy MacKenzie’s seen fit tae gie a shite.

Anywey, he’s no cruel aboot it. He’s goat a kind tone. “Listen tae me, awright?” Ma ear canals might ay well be drilled open. “Yir better’n the lot, y’know that?”

Maybe ah shake ma haid, maybe no. Ah cannae tell. Sweatin tae soak ma keks, though.

“Ah mean it, aye.”

Manchester United! Ahve finally worked oot the answer tae the question fae before. Ah dinnae think he wants us tae say it anymair, bit ahve goat it, that’s the important part.

“Ye could make mair ay yirsel than this. Ah believe that,” sais Tommy. “Yir no like the others, Spuds. Ah know wir mates wi Sick Boy and Rents and aw that, ah dinnae mean nae offense and aw, bit ah think we baith know yir the better man in the equation. Yir no a schemer or an apathetic. Ye care aboot mair than yir fix. That’s fuckin valuable, y’know. That’s character. Ye dinnae even see the potential ye goat.”

Ahm riveted now. Tommy’s girlfriend’s a lucky lass, bein oan the receivin end ay pick-me-ups like this aw the time. Ah cannae remember her name. Ahll huv tae take that tape oot the video shoap again.

“Now, ah want ye tae promise me.” He’s goat his hand oot fir me tae take haud ay, like a proper agreement and aw. “Ah want ye tae promise me right here and now that yull git yirself oaf ay that shite. Yull be dead by twenty-five if ye keep it up. It’d be a fuckin shame, s’what it’d be.”

Til now, ah probably widnae huv concurred wi that last part, bit somehow Tommy thinkin sae lends the notion a mite ay reasonability.

“Kin ye promise us that?”

Frankly, any promise ah make is first-class bullshite. Ah know that. Nae delusions aboot that either. Ahm as like tae walk oot ay here and score ma next fix as ah am tae take ma next breath or a shite innae morning. Bit the thing ay it is, while ahve goat Tommy starin us doon like that, ah cannae fuckin say nae. Ah cannae bring masel tae disappoint him.

“Aye, I kin dae that,” ah sais, and fir jist one moment, ah almost believe it wholeheartedly masel. Ah stick ma clammy hand in his and let him dae the shakin. He’s good at that, too. Ma airm flops aboot like a chicken wing. Ah feel like somebody important.

At least til Tommy breaks oot intae such a fuckin smile, ah feel like the unworthiest fuckin radge ever knobbed intae existence by any bipedal creature.

“That’s a lad,” he sais, thumpin us oan the back as he lets us go. Ma fuckin lungs clear oot. He takes up his pint again. Ahm already detecting a whinge ay guilt in its infancy brewin in ma gut fir lyin, bit ma face is aw bent up now, screwin intae some garish, toothy arrangement ah dinnae recognize, sae thair’s no much ah kin dae aboot it fir the time bein.

“Let’s git the fuck oot ay here,” Sick Boy sais. Ah jist aboot shite masel. He’s popped up near ma shoulder wi Alison oan his airm. Baith goat the sickness in thur eyes, sporting a fine glisten. Ahm no gaunnae be far behind.

Nervy, ah look aroond. “What aboot Rents?”

“Ootside awready.” He’s no lookin at Tommy, since we aw know thair’s nae point innit. He’s lookin at us. “In or oot?”

If ah dinnae go, thair’s nae wey ahm gaunnae see a fix. Ah should be grateful Sick Boy even remembered ah wis here.

Ah glance at Tommy, sensing eyes on us. He’s no lettin go. Somethin palpitates in ma wasteland ay an abdomen.

“S’awright,” ah hear masel tell Sick Boy. Ah slip oaf ma bar stool. “Ah think ahll huv a stroll, actually. Lovely day and aw.”

Sick Boy’s lookin at us now like ahve goat four haids covered in boils, bit ah couldnae gie a shite, because Tommy’s haid bobs at us in approval, smilin on us directly, and he tips his pint. Maybe ahve made his day. Widnae that be great?

“Ahll walk ye oot,” ah offer. No because either one gies a fuck if ah dae, bit because ah plan tae ‘change ma mind’ the moment wir ootside. Tommy doesnae huv tae know.

“Good on ye, Spud,” Tommy sais. Ma face scrambles intae mair goofy shite, and it stays that wey through the pub and oot the door.

It’s forty-six minutes til ah finally git ma fix, bit ah only know that thanks to Rents daein the countin. Fir once, it slips ma mind tae dae it masel. And aw ah kin conclude is that the stuff is shite, because oddly enough, fir probably the first time, ahm nae giddier after than ah wis innae first place.

#Trainspotting #fanfic #Daniel ''Spud'' Murphy #Spud #Tommy Mackenzie #oh look Aud did a thing #ngl I'm actually pretty fuckin proud of this tbh #also the title is from ''Lust For Life'' (Iggy Pop obviously not Lana Del Rey I mean context people) so I mean #basically it wrote itself #except no it didn't; the entire first 400 words was a constant struggle to accept my masochistic insanity #it didn't get easy until I'd cursed my own descendants like 15 times #but I speak pretty fluent Whatever This Is now so it paid off #I'll shut up

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andi2day-blog · 7 years ago

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Diary of a loon

Oh for the love of the sweet baby Jesus! Now im a complete moron, (been checked) I’ve got weird insomnia again, in the worst possible way! I could say my life is fucking easy, its not, I have a family, that could make the Borgias, look wholesome! My career has went down the toilet, I have no love life, I have the needs of a monk. Yeah, everything’s fucking peachy, no understanding why I need the fucking happy pills! Its the ‘nobody loves me, everyone hates me, think I will go and eat worms!’ Pish that I normally spout! I am sick of blaming my life! I am going to take it back! Its starting next fucking year, going to get out my comfort zone, and start living again. First my family... Its not going to change, we are all idiots, all in fighting, and it probably will go on. But at least the house will calm down next year, when my brother and his family move finally out. I know what its like to feel a outsider in your own home. Is very weird being the middle child. Your not the first, the one it all started with, your not the first girl, your not the last, (thank fuck, not needing to go through that fucking pain again!) No you are the short, fat, gay middle child! The Asperger’s doesn’t help ether, as you live in your own wee world! I was always a odd child, Never went to playschool, Had to be physically dragged to my first day to school. Was the social misfit at school, so much so that had interviews with a phycologist at school. That went down VERY well with my classmates! Side note I FUCKING HATED SCHOOL, not only hated it, anyone who now has the urge to say “schooldays are the best days of your life,” I have the strong urge not to kill! Children are evil bastards, oh don’t get me wrong I love my nieces and nephews, but only for short periods of time, you can hand them back, I have never had a need for one of my own! In school, I was heavily bullied, very vicious! Mainly because I was different, I didn’t play football, (still don’t have a clue what the fucking ‘sport’ is about!) I was a loner, in my own wee world, (Asperger’s again!) academically, I was good at reading, everything else was shit! That was primary, secondary, was a fucking living nightmare, this is when the whole ‘gayness’ kicked in, and when children catch on, they are fucking vicious! Its like a shark going in for a kill, I suppose its the old phrase ‘kill or be killed,’ find fault in the weak member of the group, and take aim at them, to hide your own insecurities, I was just too stupid to not focus that on someone weaker them myself, but hoo-hum! I take a wee bit of solace, that they are middle aged like me now, in a dead end job, wee evil brats themselves, that have them up to high-doah! The career, hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha! What career? Its a shitty call centre! A IDIOT WITH ASBERGERS, (NOT KNOWN FOR THEIR EMOTIONS,) trying to deal with the great British publics problems! They are also not known for their own emotions, and like children can be vicious bastards! Especially if they want something and you cant give it to them! Then the knife comes out and held to your face, and woe betide you defend yourself, you might upset them, they could get angry, and leave the account! Oh no, a loss to the world!  See a pattern here? I’m a fucking glutton for punishment! A masochist, why don’t I just same myself the bother, and pay some ‘dom’ take whip the fuck out of me! The love life! Ahhh, I make jokes about my appearance, well you would, if you were me. Its an excuse! I am fat, ( I could exercise, but what’s the point, we can deal with that in later posts,) I have the face of a smacked arse, all goes down well with the image obsessed, tanned, plucked and tits as big as my mums, gay society I live in! Again see a pattern? I do like to make life complicated! This I do see is one not in my making though, I flatly refuse that you can become gay! You are born this way, get fucking used to it! (don’t get me started on the god botherers, I could write a book, on the shit, they miss-interpret, on a fucking book written 200 years after the birth of anyone in the fucking thing!) Also the Asperger’s doesn’t help! I have a need at the moment to live with my family, I don’t like change! (one of the symptoms.) I also live with a family that ‘put up with my gayness, but if I did anything like bring a man home, fuck! (well lets just say I wouldnie get fucked!) Also I have deep insecurities, see above, so when I talk to someone, I ether get carried away, and say something inappropriate, and insensitive, (another symptom!) Or the wee paranoia thing in my head says, “this is bad, ABORT! ABORT! ABORT! You are a fucking failure, he will take one look at you and run!” Ahhh my sad life, it would be one of those, shitty sitcoms, if it wasn’t so fucking tragic! Anyhoo, have spilled my guts enough for one night, away now to tan my wrists! Nightie !ight

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sid71blog · 7 years ago

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The Avengers: Square go, ye big green fud.

Some teenage aliens have stolen one of their Dad's spaceships and decided to invade Earth for a laugh, but, never having used the Sat-nav before, they were unable to locate any of the large, famous, cinematically and commercially viable American cities, and so ended up somehow landing in the North-East of Scotland, trying to pick a fight with a small village. Luckily one of the old-timers there still had his old Bat-signal from the war to signal for help, but Batman was binging on a box-set of old Eastenders episodes and couldn’t be arsed helping out (Heather Trott was a bit of a guilty wank for the fella), but he did agree that he would send the Avengers a text the next time he went for a piss break, or during a boring bit involving Ian Beale and some carrots.

Iron Man: “Excuse me simple peasant, we are the Avengers; could you tell us where the invading aliens are please?”

Wee Tom: “Maist o’ them are doon in London ah hink; ma brither-in-law wiz doon there n’ wiz sayin’ ye canna unnerstan a word maist o’ the foreign buggers are sayin’ ti ye! Naebidy speaks English any mair! Enoch wiz right!”

Black Widow: “Um, what?”

Wee Tom: “Fuckin’ hell, you’re a tidy bint eh? Nice erse on this hoor, eh lads? Ah bet you’ve had a sly wank ower her a few times eh, ye big green cunt!”

Hulk: “HULK CONFUSED!”

Iron Man: “Thanks for your time, we’ll see if we can find someone a bit more um…understandable.”

Wee Tom: “Nae bother Metal Mickey, A’m needin’ awa hame fir a shite onyway.”

Thor: “Let’s ask this couple of old ladies over there, hopefully they don’t speak Klingon like he did.”

Hawkeye: “Hello ladies, can you help us? We were wondering where to find the aliens.”

Aul’ Jessie: “Aye aye ma loon, fit like the day?”

Hawkeye: “Sorry?”

Aul’ Jessie: “A’m asking hoo yir deein?”

Hawkeye: “Sorry?”

Iron Man: “I think the aliens have already taken over the bodies of the locals.”

Meg: “Oh, you’re a cheeky wee hoor eh? Are ye nae sweating yir ba’s off in that hing min?”

Iron Man: “Am I sweating?”

Meg: “Aye, ye canna be comfy clankin’ aboot in that big lump o’ shite, ye’d be better in a t-shirt n’ shorts on a fine day like this.”

Iron Man: “No offence ladies, but we’re in a bit of a hurry to find the aliens and kick their asses.”

Meg: “Are you lot nae a bit aul’ to be ga’in aroon’ looking fir fights? Whit yis shid dae is tak ‘em fir a pint instead; there’s nothin’ thit canna be solved ower a pint or twelve.”

Hulk: “HULK NONPLUSSED!”

Iron Man: “It’s okay big fella, I know it’s hard to decipher, but I think I’m tuning into their quaint gibberish; they seem to think that we should go for a drink with the alien invaders instead of battling them, which is, frankly, laughably naïve.”

Aul’ Jessie: “Nivver min, drinkin’ solves a’thin! Look at Skittery Jock thone time he fell oot wi’ Dangleberry Johnston ower fa’s turn it wis tae de-grease Fat Alec; the pair o’ them were a’ set tae kick each ither’s cunts in, but Fishy Elsa managed tae convince them baith tae go tae the pub instead, n’ noo they’re the best o’ pals again. They even solved their dilemma by ganging up on young Bob Thompson and forcin’ him tae get up tae his elbas in Alec-gunk instead.”

Black Widow: “We really don’t have time for this guys, we need to find the aliens quick.”

Meg: “Calm doon quine, we cain far they are, we’re jist keepin’ yiz here fir as lang as possible so we c’n eye up this big lump o’ muscle; ye widna kick him oot o’ bed fir daein’ a watery fart on yir thigh when he wiz sleepin’, wid ye Jess?”

Aul’ Jessie: “Oooh no, efter forty years o’ burnin’ ma nostrils on the rancid guff that pumps loudly oot o’ Albert’s flabby cheeks every night, I’d happily spend a week campin’ oot in Shane MacGowan’s y-fronts jist fir five minutes wi’ this big sexy brute. Fit aboot it stud-muffin, div ye fancy makin’ an aul’ wifie’s night?”

Thor: “Are you asking me to sleep with you? No thanks, I’m…um…taken.”

Aul’ Jessie: “Ah come on, git yir big powerful hands on these pair o’ beauties!”

She undid her cardigan and jiggled her funbags from side to side, causing Hawkeye to cry out like a big GIRL when he was hit on the knee by her left one.

Hulk: “HULK NEVER GETTING AN ERECTION EVER AGAIN!”

Hawkeye: “You and me both big guy.”

Thor: “Look wenches, we are here on a very important mission, here to maybe save the lives of you and your families, so could you please just tell us where the baddies are?”

Meg: “He might be a hunka hunka burnin’ love Jessie, but he’s a stroppy shite eh? Fine, they’re probably hingin’ aboot ootside the chipper, there’s fuck all else tae dee aroon’ here.”

Iron Man: “What is a chipper, and where is it?”

Meg: “Ye dinna ken fit a chipper is? Ye hear that Jessie, Meccano-man disna ken fit a chipper is! Tae fuck wi’ goin’ tae America if they dinna even hae chip suppers! Gie me Banff ower New York any day of the week if that’s the case.”

Iron Man: “WHERE’S THE FUCKING CHIPPER!”

Aul’ Jessie: “Oooooh, SOMEONE’S getting ratty eh? Whit’s wrang, are ye coming down with a bad case o’ rusty knob? Fine then ye impatient hoor, ye go doon tae the end o’ this street, turn left at the pishy tramp, and cerry on up the brae n’ ye canna miss it on the left.”

Iron Man: “Thanks. Come on crew.”

The Avengers began to walk quickly down to the end of the street, Hawkeye limping slightly and Thor struggling to remove the chasing Meg’s hand from the front of his trousers. They came across an alcoholic lying prone in the middle of the road, and turned left.

They approached the chip shop at the top of the street, where they were eyed suspiciously by a group of youth hanging around outside.

Black Widow: “Hi guys, can you tell us where the aliens are?”

Wee shite1: “We will if ye get yir tits oot tidy!”

Black Widow: “How about I break your face if you don’t?”

Wee shite1: “Ye could sit on it instead, then A’ll tell ye!”

Thor: “Look lads, we’re in a hurry here, people may be dying and desperate for our assistance, please, tell us where they are.”

Wee shite2: “Buy us some booze fae the shop ower there then.”

Black Widow: “What are you, twelve? I don’t think we’ll be buying you any alcohol little man.”

Wee shite3: “Fine then, good luck findin’ the aliens withoot oor expertise then, ye gormless tourist cunts.”

Hawkeye: “Do you want your whole village to die?”

Wee shite4: “Couldna really gie a shite min, wi’d get off school.”

Iron Man: “I don’t think that you’re realising the severity of the situation lads, just tell us where they are so we can save the lives of your friends and families.”

Wee shite2: “Maist o’ them are fuds enywiy, couldna gie a shite.”

Wee shite1: “Booze, or no deal.”

Black Widow: “Look, I think we’re gonna have to do it or we’ll never find the aliens at this rate.”

Iron Man: “Fine then, let’s go to the shop.”

Hulk: “HULK WANT PICKLED ONION MONSTER MUNCH!”

Iron Man: “Okay big guy, we’ll get you some when we’re there.”

They walked into the local shop.

Iron Man: “Hello my good man, I don’t suppose you know where the aliens are do you?”

Shopkeeper: “Ye mean those new fowk ower at the camp sight? The hikin’ fuds?”

Iron Man: “No, we mean the aliens, y’know, from outer space.”

Shopkeeper: “Nah, nae idea min. Ye should go n’ ask Bob at 22, he cains a’hin!”

Iron Man: “Forget it, we’ll have a couple of bottles of your cheapest vodka then please.”

Shopkeeper: “Is it fir the wee shites ower there yiz wiz talkin’ tae?”

Hulk: “HULK WANT MONSTER MUNCH!”

Iron Man: “In a minute Hulk. No, it’s for our own personal use.”

Shopkeeper: “I jist wondered. It’s nae right, jist hingin’ aboot ootside nae drinkin’ at their age, they should be puking on folk’s doorsteps n’ missin’ school wi’ a hangover; it’s nae right.”

Black Widow: “Can you just sell us the vodka please?”

Shopkeeper: “A’right quine, calm doon. Here, this is the cheapest pish A’ve got.”

Iron Man: “Do you take cards?”

Shopkeeper: “Nah, A’ dinna bother wi’ that, it’s cash only in here.”

Iron Man: “Well the problem is that we haven’t exactly had time to get our money exchanged, we were too busy concentrating on getting over here and saving your hides from an alien invasion. How about an autograph as payment instead?”

Shopkeeper: “Who the fuck are ye like, X Factor winners or some shite?”

Hawkeye: “We’re the Avengers!”

Hulk: “HULK COULD EAT A SCABBY HORSE!”

Iron Man: “Throw a couple of packets of pickled onion Monster Munch in with the booze please. Look, I’m LOADED, and if you give us the booze n’ snacks just now, when this is all over I’ll come back and give you enough money to buy this entire village if you want.”

Shopkeeper: “You’ll give me eleven pounds and fourteen pence? Look, Ah ken fa’ ye are, A’m jist windin’ yiz up. Tak the booze n’ settle up efter a’hin’ is deen.”

Iron Man: “Thank you my man, we’ll come back and settle up, I promise.”

Hulk: “HULK HUUUUUUNNNNNGGGGRRRRRYYYYYY!”

Iron Man: “Okay big fella, there you go. Right come on, let’s bribe those little shits.”

They walked back to the little shits, and handed over the booze.

Wee shite4: “Cheers Pound Shop transformer, noo Jamesie here will tak ye tae the aliens.”

Jamesie: “How me? C’n I nae bide n’ get pissed wi’ youse?”

Wee shite4: “Nah, yir too young; yir Mam wid lynch me if Ah gave ye booze before ye were twelve. Noo hurry up and take them tae the aliens, n’ if yir back in good time A’ll get ye a sweetie!”

Jamesie: “Fuck off.”

He trudged away sulkily, with the Avengers following behind.

Black Widow: “Eat with your mouth shut please Hulk.”

Hawkeye: “So have you seen the aliens Jamesie?”

Jamesie: “Aye, we were a’ hingin’ aboot doon the park playin’ fitba when they landed. They came oot n’ started comin’ the cunt, so Big Dode asked thim fir a square go n’ they shit themselves! Ah dinna ken far they’re fae but thone weapons they have are shite! They attacked the boys n’ Big Dode managed to tak them a’ on himsel, n’ they ended up hingin’ fae the goalposts by thone things that were danglin’ fae their crotches.”

Black Widow: “What happened then?”

Jamesie: “We a’ started takin’ the piss oot o’ thim, n’ takin’ turns tae try n’ hit thim in thir faces wi’ the ba’. Johnny got ane o’ thim a beauty right in the coupon!”

Iron Man: “I’m starting to wonder if our services were needed here.”

Hulk: “HULK FEELS A DUMP BREWING!”

Iron Man: “You’ll just have to wait Hulk, we’re almost at the park I think.”

Jamesie: “Aye look, there they are.”

The Avengers looked over the green grass of the football pitch and saw four purple aliens hanging uncomfortably from the goalposts by stretched and bruised looking appendages. Some youths were standing around them, throwing chips at them.

Hawkeye: “Hey! Leave them be!”

Youth1: “Fuck off, we were here first!”

Iron Man: “We’re the Avengers, and we say back off.”

Youth1: “Aye Ah ken who ye are, Ah jist dinna gie a shite!”

Youth2: “Dinna suppose thone Guardians o’ The Galaxy are wi’ yiz are they? Thone Gamora wid get it!”

Youth1: “Nah, Nebula’s tidier!”

Youth2: “Thone slapheid? Fuck aff!”

Thor: “While you debate the merits of which ones would get the pleasure of your attentions the most, we need to talk to these visitors and ascertain what they want on Earth, so please, step aside. Anyway, Black Widow is here!”

Youth3: “Ach nae offence quine, but yir nae really ma type.”

Youth1: “Nae yir type? You shagged Jackie the Tooth, so Ah think ye’d shag the big green cunt given half a bottle o’ vodka.”

Youth2: “N’ she is tidy.”

Black Widow: “Thanks, your approval means so much to me.”

Hulk: “HULK TOUCHING CLOTH!”

Iron Man: “Not now Hulky. Now please lads, step aside.”

Youth3: “Is it only you four that are comin’ like? Far’s the rest?”

Hawkeye: “It’s trade’s fortnight back home so most of our comrades have pissed off to Magaluf for a break, but we agreed to come over and help you out, for double time and days in lieu.”

Youth2: “Aww, I like thone wee cunt, Ant-man.”

Youth3: “Spiderman’s aboot oor age, we could hiv asked him whit the flange is like in American schools.”

Youth1: “Di ye think Big Dode could tak him?”

Youth4: “Aye, nae bother, the cunt wid be wedgied afore the introductions wir done!”

Black Widow, pushing them out of the way roughly: “Okay, I’m bored of this, out of our way!”

Youth2: “Wisen up min! Fuckin’ hoor, Ah definitely winna be shaggin’ ye noo then!”

Black Widow: “I’ll live.”

Hulk: “HULK GOING BEHIND TREE!”

Iron Man: “Okay aliens, do you understand me?”

Alien1: “We understand YOU; these smaller humans are speaking a language that blew up Gnarfenwaaaargglefnnnpprr’’s universal translator.”

Gnarfenwaaaargglefnnnpprr: “It was a present from my Granny too.”

Iron Man: “Don’t worry about that, it’s primitive gibberish. Now, what do you want on our planet?”

Alien2: “Well, not to spend all our time hanging in great pain from our genitals would be a start.”

Thor: “If we take you down, do we have your word that you won’t start anything?”

Youth4: “ha ha! I widna worry aboot these pathetic shites! Efter whit A’ve seen wee Jamesie could rule their planet armed wi’ a comb and a three-day old kipper. Thir pussies min!”

Alien1: “We weren’t ready! You sucker-punched us! Let us down and we’ll show you how tough we are!”

Youth3: “Oh aye, act hard noo in front o’ the tidy bint! You were the anes that started it, comin’ oot o’ yir machine and barkin’ orders aboot like yir fuckin’ Emperor Ming.”

Youth1: “Mair like Emperor mingin’ the wiy he shit himsel’ when Dode started poundin’ intae ‘im!”

Alien2: “Could you PLEASE let us down, I wouldn’t mind being able to have children at some point in my life, and if I hang like this any longer there’s not much chance of that happening.”

Iron Man: “Okay, get them down.”

Thor: “Who died and made you boss?”

Youth1: “Aye, you tell ‘im Thor; efter a’ you are an actual GOD, so you should be runnin’ hings, he’s jist some cunt wi’ loads o’ points on his Halfords loyalty card.”

Iron Man: “Okay, let’s ALL get them down then.”

The Avengers (minus a shitting Hulk) helped the groaning aliens down from the goalposts, and laid them down on the grass.

Gnarfenwaaaargglefnnnpprr: “Thank you so much.”

Iron Man: “No problem Gna…pal.”

Youth3: “Aw, see, he musta got a hert fae the Wizard o’ Oz efter a’.”

Black Widow: “So why are you here?”

Gnarfenwaaaargglefnnnpprr: “Summat to do; our home planet is incredibly boring for us young ones. We are such a highly-evolved race that most of the adults just sit around pontificating on matters intellectual and denigrating the more primitive planets like Earth all day.”

Alien 4: “We don’t though, we’re always sticking up for Earth and telling everyone how cool you are, aren’t we lads?”

Gnarfenwaaaargglefnnnpprr: “Oh yes, we’re always bigging you up! We’re always trying to show them how great Earth is, and the fantastic contributions you could make to the universe if we opened up to you, but those old squares won’t listen.”

Alien 4: “Remember that time we tried to show them the majesty of Steven Segal? Nothing.”

Youth1: “They’re jist speakin’ shit tae try n’ butter yiz up! Dinna listen ti thir shite!”

Alien 1: “No it’s true! Why do you think we came here? Bkkkkkkkkkkkkkfortesqueummmmbafoato managed to get tickets on the internet for Shania Twain’s concert tonight, but we got a bit lost trying to find the venue. We love your culture.”

Black Widow: “They like Shania Twain? Maybe we should string them back up.”

Bkkkkkkkkkkkkkfortesqueummmmbafoato: “No way! Shania rocks!”

A reasonably-sized stone whacked Bkkkkkkkkkkkkkfortesqueummmmbafoato straight between his large, saucer eyes.

Bkkkkkkkkkkkkkfortesqueummmmbafoato: “OWWWW!”

Black Widow: “Thanks little shit.”

Youth 2: “No problems bint.”

Thor: “So you’re saying that you’re no threat to our planet then?”

Youth 3: “Well maybe if they take over our radio stations they might be.”

Gnarfenwaaaargglefnnnpprr: “We are no threat whatsoever, we’re just youngsters doing what youngsters do: pissing about.”

Thor: “So if we let you go you will go back into your spaceship and be on your merry way?”

Alien 4: “Definitely, we’ve had enough of this place…”

Alien 1, muttering under his breath: “This place is getting a really shitty review on Trip-advisor once I get home.”

Youth 2: “Ah heard that, ye prick!”

Youth 1: “Maybe we dinna WANT tae let yiz go hame, maybe we’re gonna keep ye here fir the crack.”

Iron Man: “Now now guys, we don’t want to start an intergalactic incident; if these youngsters go missing then their parents and their armies might come looking for them.”

Youth 3: “Fuck ‘em, we’ve got Big Dode.”

Hulk, from somewhere in the distance: “HAS ANYONE GOT A PAPER?”

Iron Man, ignoring him: “We really don’t want to piss off another planet guys, we’ve enough on our plates at the moment.”

Youth 3: “Ah come on, we could dee wi’ some excitement ‘roon’ here. Let them come n’ we c’n hae a square go wi’ the pricks.”

Black Widow: “That’s not going to be happening children.”

Iron Man: “Okay, you’re free to go, sorry for any unpleasantness you experienced on our planet; not everyone here is like these reprobates.”

Youth2: “Fuck off fud.”

The aliens get up from the ground and walk to their spaceship, clicking on the immobiliser as they do so.

Black Widow: “Don’t be strangers! Come back any ti…what’s that smell? Holy shit! It’s a trap! They must have released a powerful gas when they pressed their immobiliser!”

Thor, falling to the floor, retching: “Shit…I can feel…myself…passing out…”

Iron Man, down on his hands and knees: “Hawkeye…talk to me…Hawkeye…he’s out for the…count…my eyes…are…burning…lungs…on…fire…can’t…take…much…more…”

Gnarfenwaaaargglefnnnpprr, shouting from the spaceship window: “Nowt to do with us, look towards the epicentre of all that dead grass. See ya.”

The Avengers, with great effort, dragged themselves around and saw that the ground all around them was all of a sudden barren and scorched, the charred remains of dead birds and insects scattered all over. Out of the glowing distance walked a large, green monster of a man, zipping up his flies.

Hulk: “I’D GIVE IT FIVE MINUTES IF I WAS YOU!”

#avengers #doric #moray #scotland #north east #films #dufflecoats #you'llnotfeelthebenefitwhenyougoout #black lace #onions #fabio

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