#it's his way of expressing his gratitude for everything ken has done for him...! from simply putting on rw in the first place

[mymarifae]

oughsjn.. project sekai.......

[eclecticstarlightconnoisseur]

Edinburgh To Boston - Chapter 13 - The Aftermath

Good evening everyone! Finally, chapter 13 of Edinburgh to Boston is ready. As the title implies Jamie and Claire will both be dealing with the results of the evening's events. There is a continuation of Claire’s recollection of the events that led to the ending of her marriage to Frank.  We also get to meet Joe.

I do need to thank my betas for their magnificent and tireless help, suggestions, and comments. Thank you @curlsgetdemgurls and @scubalass. You guys keep me on my toes and push me to do my best.

As always I welcome any thoughts suggestions, comments you would like to share with me.

I hope you enjoy reading.

Without further delay, I give you:

Edinburgh to Boston

Chapter 13

The Aftermath

She was in her element. Healing. She would go to help anyone in need, young or old, rich or poor, good or bad. It didn’t matter to her. If someone needed her help, she would be there. He knew and loved her for it. But why did she feel the need to help Randall, especially after what he had done?

Jamie didn’t like it. He didn’t believe that the fucker deserved her assistance. In his opinion, if anyone cared to ask him, the bugger could just lay there and rot. He could rot here now and in hell through all eternity for everything he had done and just did to her.  He did feel a momentary twinge of guilt about these feelings, though, as he is a doctor too. This time, he thought, he could look away from his Hippocratic oath and do nothing to help. It made his skin crawl to watch her help him after he molested her. He wanted to vomit and felt the bile rise up, hot and bitter, burning his throat. Swallowing hard, he forced the acrid fluid back from whence it came. He could do something, he reasoned. He could pick her up throw her over his shoulder, albeit while she was kicking and screaming, and carry her as far away from the bastard as possible. Besides, he wanted to finish the job. To feel every bone in Randall’s body snap like a twig.  That’s what he wanted. He is a jealous and protective man when it comes to those he loves. But, Beauchamp! By Christ, the woman causes him to have this overwhelming need to keep her safe. Why does she make him feel this way?

Sitting there with his hand in the bucket of ice and a murderous look on his face, he took in the scene playing out before him. His eyes, like a blue-eyed eagle, roamed over the scene, watching, observing. Every movement, every slight nuance of body language or facial expression between them did not go unnoticed. He kept his body taut like the string of a bow with an arrow nocked and ready to fly free.  He would not be caught unaware again. One wrong move and he would pounce. If he broke more bones in his hand, what did he care? Better yet, one swift kick to the man’s bollocks should do it. Aye, drop him like a stone. He chuckled to himself at the thought. Fair’s, fair after all. The filthy git grabbed Claire’s mmhmm, why shouldn’t he kick his in for good measure. That would solve a myriad of problems. It would wipe that look off his face.  A look that said he still wanted her.

The rogue could not be more mistaken. The lass is his now and he would not give her up, not without a fight.

Abruptly, his thoughts took off in multiple directions. What had delayed her following him? Did Claire stop to talk to the man? Did he stop her from leaving? Damn, he hadn’t seen what happened. He wanted to leave in such a hurry to reach the safety of their room that he had no idea what transpired after he left. And she paid the price for his mistake. 

“God, Jamie, yer such an eejit,” he scolded himself. “How could ye go off and leave her behind like that?! Ye ken what the man is like. Ye shoulda given her yer arm to take, like a proper man. No’ leaving her to fend him off. Ye failed her when she needed ye the most. Ye promised to always protect her, see her safe. And what did ye do, ye great numpty? Ye left her.”

 An icy chill ran down his spine. It did not come from keeping his hand in the cold bath. His eyebrows arched, eyes opened wide, and his jaw hung open. Maybe she blamed him for what happened to her? “Weel, why not, ye do. Ye were no’ there when she needed ye, were ye? Ye showed up after he did her damage. Then, ye come running up to inflict yer own brand of mayhem and carnage.”

Maybe he took things too far, he wondered. Maybe she did not want vengeance laid at her feet. Would she think him a barbarian? What if she still wanted the filthy sassenach? Could she? If she did, could he be brave enough to simply walk away and let her be happy?  He froze at the possibility. “God, no! Please, dinna let it be true,” he prayed. Living a life without her by his side chilled him to his bones. 

A knot formed in his throat choking him. His chest tightened and his heart began to pound and squeeze.  Breathing came in short gasping gulps. Still analytical, he thought that this is what it feels like to die. Aye, better to die here and now than live without her. With his good hand, he fumbled to loosen his tie and open the top button of his shirt. Air! He needed air. Taking several deep calming breaths, his heart began to slow and his breathing normalized. Quieting his raging emotions, he realized he could deny her nothing even if it came at his own expense. If that's what she wanted, then he would find the strength to step aside and learn to live with only half a heart. For her, he would and could do anything. He hung his head as a single crystalline tear ran down his face.

“Jamie love, does it hurt much?” she asked as she gently wiped the watery bead from his face with the pad of her thumb.

Looking up he beheld the glory of the sun in those golden eyes. Glistening wetly, his lashes clumped together.

“Claire, I thought, mebbe...I...I wasna sure if ye…Mebbe ye didnae want...” He looked at her with a helpless expression and fearful of what she might say or do.

“Tell me what’s wrong? Are you hurt anywhere else?” Quickly, her glass face became inscribed with worry while searching for additional damage. 

“Nay lass, I am whole except for…” He raised his large paw up showing it to her. His hand and splint remained dry but felt icy cold. The ice kept the swelling to a minimum.

Claire sensed that something was bothering him, but she did not want to push him to tell her. She knew he would in his own time. Or at least she hoped he would. She decided to move on to a different pressing matter.

“Jamie, you need X-rays and an orthopedic evaluation. Joe Abernathy sent an ambulance for Frank. We can go in the ambulance with him. It will all be handled discreetly.”

His eyes narrowed and a dark shadow floated over his face. “NO,” he snarled hotly. I willna ride in an ambulance with that, that…” What followed was a string of Gàidhlig invectives the likes that Claire never heard before. She whispered a prayer of gratitude that she didn’t understand.

“You bloody stubborn Scot! You’re a surgeon and you need functioning hands. Has the thought occurred to you?” They were nose to nose now, glaring and hissing like two cats readying for battle. Neither would give in.

“Dr. Fraser, Dr. Beauchamp, may I offer my assistance?”  Padrick the hotel chauffeur inclined his head smartly to them. “I heard of the, um, unfortunate altercation,” Padrick turned to scowl at Frank, “and thought I might offer my services. I could take you wherever you need to go.”

Jamie turned his head to Claire giving her a smug look.  See I told ye there was nae need to ride in an ambulance with yon villain.

She gave her head a small shake and rolled her eyes heavenward.

“Thank you, Padrick, we appreciate your assistance. We need to go to Massachusetts General Hospital. Dr. Abernathy is expecting us.  Do you think that someone could go to our room and bring our coats down?  Oh, and there is a large multi-color silk scarf in the closet, could someone bring that too?”

“I will speak to the hotel manager, Dr. Beauchamp. I’m sure something can be arranged.”

“Excellent. I’ll go speak to Pierre and tell him an ambulance is on its way. I’ll be right back, Jamie.” 

“Alright, Sassenach.” He continued to scowl at the Englishman with an intense ferocity.

Claire approached the restaurant captain to tell him about the outcome of her discussions. “An ambulance is on the way for Professor Randall.  He chose not to press charges against Dr. Fraser. Likewise, I shall not press charges against him.” 

“But Madam, how can you let such a thing go unpunished?” he squeaked in shocked surprise. “This hotel has a reputation for turning its face away from many things, but this??”

“It is for the best for all concerned, Pierre.” Her gaze slowly gravitating toward Jamie. “But, thank you for your concern.” She took hold of both his hands and squeezed them lightly. 

“As you wish, Madam,” he shook his head in disagreement. “But should you ever change…”

“I won’t. I believe that he will keep his word. He has much more to lose than I do.”

The maître d' sighed shaking his head in disagreement.

Noise from the front of the restaurant signaled the arrival of the EMS crew. The female surgeon provided an outline of the patient’s injuries to the Paramedic.

The rescue team swiftly performed their own evaluation, lifted Frank, placed him onto the stretcher, wrapped him warmly, departing swiftly.

Padrick appeared with the requested coats and scarf. Claire quickly fashioned the scarf into a sling for Jamie’s arm. She helped him into his coat, as he clutched his injured hand against his chest.

“Thank ye, a leannan,” he said leaning over to place a kiss on her forehead.

She smiled, took his uninjured arm, “Let’s go and get that hand examined, hmm, Fraser?”

“Aye, Beauchamp, as ye say.”

They walked out of the restaurant to hooting, cheering, and applause. Jamie turned bright red at the attention directed their way. 

“Um, Sassenach, just what did I do?” He looked rather embarrassed.

“You don’t remember, do you?”

“I dinna recall much. Just that I needed to make him pay for what he did to ye.”

“That you did, my lad. And you made him pay handsomely,” she smirked.  “Your Viking berserker ancestors have nothing on you. Just don’t make it a habit of going howling in the woods wrapped in a wolf’s hide while you’re starkers,” she added with a mischievous grin on her face.

“Sassenach, what are ye on about?” His eyebrows raised with a curious look on his face.

“Never mind,” giggled the archeologist’s niece.

The chauffeur had the car at the entrance of the hotel waiting for them. They entered the car and drove to the hospital in a comfortable silence.

Joe Abernathy stood sheltered off to the side of the ambulance bay waiting for his two friends.

“Claire! Jamie!” he called out when they arrived.

“Joe, it’s so good to see you,” exclaimed Claire. 

“Aye, it truly ‘tis a pleasure tae meet ye. Only I wish it were under different circumstances,” said Jamie as he waggled his hand.

“No matter. It’s wonderful to meet you.  I hope you have been taking good care of our girl here?” Joe inquired pulling his best friend into a warm embrace.

Jamie winced at that. His cheeks flush with the heat of shame; his guilt rising to the surface again.

“I’m doing the best I can, ye ken. She is no’ an easy woman to take care of, aye?” He ran his hand through his hair ruffling it so it stood on end.

Joe laughed heartily clapping Jamie on the back, “Brother, you have no idea! Come on, let’s get you to radiology.” 

A transporter with a wheelchair waited inside the bay and whisked Jamie away as he protested he could walk unaided. That idea was summarily vetoed. 

Joe’s attention shifted to his friend. “How are you LJ, really?” 

She turned her head away, not wanting to meet his eyes. Those golden hawk eyes now went hollow with the forced remembrances of a time longing to be forgotten. 

“Fine, perfectly fine,'' she uttered unconvincingly.

Abernathy stopped and took her by the shoulders, “That speaks volumes.  I know what that means. Now, what’s wrong, Claire? What are you not telling me? How are you after Frank...”

It happened more than three years ago. She sat with Lamb in his home while he took in her battered and bruised appearance. She had tried to escape. What she got for her effort was a face smashed against the chest of drawers. A dark blue-purple contusion now blossomed on her cheek where her face had met wood. Her lips swelled, split oozing blood whenever she spoke.  The white flesh of her arms bore his finger marks. The imprints turned into livid purple things. Malicious mementos of his grip when he forced himself into her. Her broken nails stood in silent testimony to the fierce battle she had engaged in. 

Lamb gently took her hand in his wizened, time-worn one. She flinched as if to pull away from his loving touch. “Oh, my dearest girl, whatever has he done to you?” As he gazed upon the disfigured face of his beloved niece he heard the sound of his heartbreaking. It made a rather small, soft sound something akin to the snapping of the stem of a flower off at the root.

“Honestly, Uncle, I’m sure you can see for yourself.” Claire wiped her nose on the back of her hand distantly observing the streaks of mucus stained with blood now smearing her hand. Pearls of moisture gathered at the corners of her eyes flowing like raindrops intent upon washing away all traces of the taint and tarnish that covered her. Overwhelming her.  

It took some time, but Lamb convinced his niece to seek medical help and to document her injuries. His lawyer met them at the hospital, gathered the needed information and testimony to begin legal proceedings immediately. The divorce moved forward uneventfully. She wanted nothing from her miserable marriage except her freedom.  She opted to not press charges for assault, battery, and rape fearing how the press if they got hold of the story, would portray the sordid details. ‘Niece of the renowned archeologist, Quintin Lambert Beauchamp, raped.’ would have made great headlines. Having her life and her sham marriage dragged publically through the mud became unthinkable, intolerable. Truthfully, she did not think she could face Frank during the trial, either. Fear of what degrading or demeaning thing he would say about her strongly eliminated any desire to prosecute him. She simply wanted to run and hide and never look back, putting all the pain and shame behind her.  She only wanted to begin her life over. As in cases of spousal abuse, the circumstances surrounding the severing of marital ties would remain sealed.  She and her Uncle left Boston upon receiving the divorce decree. Lambert Beauchamp died a few months later leaving her alone. With only her unwanted memories and her ghosts for company. She never mentioned what happened to anyone.

“Frank!” she snorted, hot with fury. “I’m embarrassed, humiliated, angry.” Befouled actually describes it better she thought. “Honestly if I could, I would cut his heart out and have it for breakfast. But, I can’t do that can I?” Pressing the heel of her palm to her eye sockets, she willed away any chance of tears.

“I’ve decided not to prosecute Frank, although I would dearly love to see him behind bars.” For this and everything else, he has done. Claire began to pace gathering her thoughts into some cohesive form. “Trust me, I am not doing this to spare him anything. I’m doing this to protect Jamie. I don’t want him to do any further damage to his hands, bloody stubborn Scot! Or harm his reputation. He’s too good of a surgeon for that. It would be a great waste.”  Her eyes hardened from soft liquid honey to hard fossilized amber. Her voice and manner became laced with a steely determination. She set a course of action and made a commitment to seeing it through. 

“There is one other reason,” she exhaled wearily, “and that is to protect his students. Frank is a womanizer. I want to stop him from debauching any more naive young women. He is a brilliant teacher. He just can’t keep his hands to himself.” She knew what it was like to be held under his magnetic spell. Handsome. Debonaire. Cultured. Speaking in sweetened gilded words. The man, in essence, personified a true Lothario.

Joe looked at Claire, wide-eyed in disbelief, “LJ, it’s noble what you’re doing, but it’s still not right that he gets away unpunished for this.”

She reluctantly turned to face him, hands rubbing at both her temples, “I know, but it’s what I think, no, what I need to do.” 

“The real problem is with Jamie. I haven’t told him yet that I am not pressing charges against Frank. I know he’ll be upset when I tell him. But I can’t tell him now.” Her face was pale, lips a taut line, her countenance anguished. “I’m afraid of what he’ll do. You should have seen him there! My God, I thought he’d kill him if I hadn’t stopped him. I don’t want to lose him. I can’t.” 

“Do you love him LJ?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“You need to be honest with him, you know.  You owe him that.” 

Conflicting emotions roiled in her belly. She struggled with the need to keep him safe against the need to be honest with him. “I will tell him. In Scotland.  He can’t do any more damage from there. It’s a risk, I know, but one I’m willing to take.”  

She turned away from her friend. Her mood becoming more pensive. Speaking softly, almost so only she could hear, “I can’t lose him. I won’t! Whatever it takes to protect him, by God, I’ll do it.” 

Jamie had become her heart and her soul. She would move heaven, hell, and anything else that came in her way to see him safe. To protect him. To keep him with her. He epitomized her last chance at happiness, for love. She loved him with more passion than she could have imagined possible.

 Beauchamp hesitated before continuing, “It’s been so long since I felt anything for someone else, you know since I thought I could open my heart to another. I kept it impounded, safe under lock and key. Then, he comes along with those blue cat eyes, curly red hair, and boom! He just walks off with my heart. How did he do that, Joe, just how the hell did he do that?” This was a rhetorical question, one that Claire already knew the answer to, but she got an answer anyway.

“Lady Jane, did you really ever consider that he is the one?”

“Yes. Yes, I have and that’s just the point. It frightens me. I’ve never felt like this before, certainly not with Frank.” Claire scoffed. She puffed out her cheeks exhaled strongly, “I’m just afraid that it will all come crashing down around me.  I don’t think I could bear it. I really don’t.” 

Her face anxious, she looked for reassurance from her best friend.

“C’ mon here, LJ,” Joe smiled opening his arms in a comforting invitation. She stepped readily into his open waiting embrace. “You’re smart, funny, beautiful, and so many other things. The man would have to be a real asshole to let you go.”

“You’re just saying that because I’m your friend,” she smirked jabbing him in the ribs.

“And that’s because you have excellent taste in friends.” He gave her a sly conspiratorial wink.

At that moment, Joe and Claire could hear Jamie’s loud raucous laughter as he returned. “And the altar boy said to the prostit...Sassenach!? Are ye alright, then?” His muscles tightened. His whole body becoming alert. He surveyed the area looking for a possible threat.

What the hell happened now?

She looked different like some interminable heavyweight threatened to pull her down into the boundless sea. Drowning her, stealing her life-force, taking her away from him. 

Producing a weak smile, Claire leaned over lightly kissing him on his temple, “Everything is fine, my lad, just fine.”

“Where are we to meet Dr. Nelson, Joe?”

“He’s waiting in exam room 6. Let’s go on over.”

Joe pushed the big Scot’s wheelchair toward the examining room.

“I’ll no’ go without Claire.” His tone became adamant. Twice he had left her alone and twice something happened. And he wasn’t there when it did. No more.

“Claire, mon cher, ça va?” A pretty petite brunette woman rushed up to clasping her warmly and kissed her cheeks. 

“That’s Louise de la Tour, ENT. She’s attending to Frank’s broken nose.  They were friends during their residency.”

“Aye, I see.” Jamie accepted this information.

“Joe, will ye tell me something honestly?”

“Of course, if I can,” he replied cautiously.

“What happened to Claire while I was having X-rays? I come back and she looks fair fashed.”  He looked questioningly at his new friend. 

Joe sighed, “You two need to talk about what happened. I told her she needs to be open and honest with you. You need to be truthful with her as well. There can be room for secrets sometimes but not lies.”

“Aye, that we do.” he began to wonder what she could have said. 

Arriving at exam room 6, they found Dr. Nelson, a squat balding man with soft dove grey eyes, intently reviewing Jamie’s films.

“Dr. Fraser, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I reviewed your radiographs and there are simple hair-line fractures of your right third and fourth fingers. Nothing serious. Immobilization with a splint for several weeks should fix it right up.”

Dr. Nelson re-splinted Jamie’s fingers as Claire walked into the room.

“Ah, the lovely Dr. Beauchamp. Your quick thinking to splint the injury prevented further damage.” He noticed a frown on Claire’s face. “Not to worry, just two hair-line fractures, nothing that rest, ice, elevation, and immobilization won’t fix,” he smiled reassuringly at her. “And we’re done. Follow up with your orthopedist when you get home. You will need some physical therapy to maintain your dexterity. Good meeting you both.” The orthopedist smiled tiredly departing swiftly longing for the comfort of his bed.

Claire leaned over wrapped her arms around her love pressing a kiss onto his burnished curls. “Alright my lad, I think it’s time we get back to the hotel. It’s been a long day and even longer evening.” A profound weariness cast its shadow over her face. Dark smudges visible around her eyes; her shoulders drooping with fatigue.

Taking hold of her hand with his one sound one, he lightly returned the gesture brushing his lips to the palm of her hand. “It has been a long and very eventful day mo ghr��dh. Ye look fair puggled,” he observed looking at her demeanor. “Ye need yer sleep.” 

They left the exam room hand in hand, fingers twined together. Spotting Joe, they called out their thanks, bidding him goodnight.

Walking toward their waiting car, Jamie looked at his Sassenach a question burning in his mind. “Claire, I ken ye would want Frank (he nearly choked on the name) tended to first, but I’m wondering, when will ye give your statement to the police about what happened? I had expected to see them here.” He wanted to see them there. He wanted to see the look on the bastard’s face when they arrested him for assault. 

Claire froze in place letting go of his hand.  All the color drained from her face, her mouth went dry, and her hands became as cold as ice.

“Jamie…”

“What’s a miss, mo chridhe? Are ye no’ well?” He came to her side in an instant taking her hand in his. “Yer hand lass, yer chilled through,” his face registering worry and concern. He pulled her close to him offer his warmth to her. “What’s wrong?”

She could not look at him. She prayed the floor would open up swallow her whole sending her deep into the bowels of the earth never to be seen again.

He placed his thumb and forefinger on her chin lifting up her face to look at his. “Tell me. Ye ken ye can tell me anything a nighean.”

His hand warm, strong moved to cup her cheek. His thumb gently stroking her cheekbone.

Claire slid into his embrace, arms wrapped around his waist, her head resting on his chest. Safe. At this moment, she felt the security, love, and protection of his arms. She clung to him, wanting, no needing, to feel the solidness of him, the strength of him against her for what she believed would come to be the last time. When she would tell him of the agreement she made with Frank, Claire knew everything between them would change.

[fizzingwizard]

I wanted to do the Kizuna countdown these guys made but I uh forgot. And I’m gonna forget again before friday because I tend to pass out after work and dinner. Sooo... I’m just gonna do it all right here right now, since it’s the last weekend before Kizuna!

First thoughts when Kizuna was announced:

“Holy shit they’re making another one!? How long will they try to squeeze every drop of nostalgia out of us? Because as for me I’m pretty sure that well is bottomless soooo can they just go on making new Adventure movies forever and ever?”

Expectations for Kizuna:

Based on what I’ve heard it kind of seems like the Digimon sequel we would have expected... but got Tri instead. I really enjoyed Tri, though it was far from perfect, so I’m not sure how to feel about Kizuna! But I’m really excited to see the kids as adults trying to balance adulting, their dreams, and the things they care about in their daily lives.

A headcanon/theory you’d like Kizuna to make canon:

Can’t think of anything, sorry.

Expectations for the new characters:

New girl has a butterfly in her hair. She’s probably a harmless guide/informant type. New guy looks strict and apparently is rather blunt. But my guess is he’s not the big bad either... maybe distrusting of the digital world though. There’s probably more to both of these guys but Idc as usual, I only care about my children.

First Digimon memory:

Was a 10 year old Pokemon fan. All 10 year old Pokemon fans thought Digimon was a rip-off (how were we to know it was actually the older of the two, and already part of an established monster tradition in Japan!). We were also obsessed with Pogs and had fights over Pogs on the playground, which I think says a lot about our mental state.

My bro rented some Digimon VHS from Blockbuster (fuck yeah 1999!) and it was the whole Devimon saga. I scoffed and then sat down and watched with him. Then I was freaking HOOKED. I turned on the TV to see the new eps, but actually the show was starting back at reruns before moving on to the Myotismon saga at the time, so I got to watch the whole thing from start to finish in chronological order. I cried buckets when the final episode aired and mourned for weeks.

Favorite Adventure series:

does this mean Adventure or 02? or including Tri? Anyway the answer will always be Adventure. That’s nostalgia central for me. A lot of it was pretty straightforward storytelling, other seasons did more creative stuff, but I think that’s to be expected - this series built the foundation for all that. And it’s great in its own way. What I particularly liked was always the whole “kids trying to figure shit out on their own” bit. For a kids’ show, they actually did it pretty well. Usually kids in that situation act just like really competent adults and don’t really struggle. Digimon certainly had that too, but it let the kids be crybabies, be selfish, be ignorant... it was really about their personal growth and that’s why they got to be kids as well.

Favorite Adventure Chosen Child (older 6):

Taichi!! Do I even need to explain myself? I will anyway. I didn’t care about him much when I was ten. For a long time I didn’t have a favorite character. It was Yamato for about thirty seconds, and then it was Takeru for about two years. After 02, I rewatched both seasons, and suddenly realized Taichi was Everything to me. I never really went for leader characters, never liked brash, brainless, bring-the-brawn types, or stern, distant ones, cold except when showing their passion for their mission.

But Taichi isn’t like either of those. He has bits of both - he can be brainless, and he’s pretty brash, but he’s calculating too. I liked that mix, but mainly I liked that he just seemed like a regular kid who the others were naturally drawn to as a leader because he was Mr. Get-shit-done. The older I get, the more I appreciate that proactive factor in people. Sometimes you just need someone to say the thing that’s on everyone’s minds. It can be scary. So I feel gratitude when someone takes the lead when I can’t. I think that’s how the other kids felt towards Taichi - for all his flaws, he kept them going, he didn’t let them waffle and miss their chances. I like him for a ton of other reasons too but I’ll end there for today!

Favorite 02 Chosen Child (younger 6):

Takeru. He was my original fav and I really really wanted to see him be awesome in 02. Unfortunately, he and Hikari didn’t really get much development. (They still made out better than all Frontier kids not named Kouji, though.) But I loved his anger issues and his facing his trauma. They should have done so much more. I really wanted him to bond with Ken over the fact that they’d both lost partners... I loved seeing older Takeru in Tri, the trauma issue came up again when he was the first one to realize his partner was infected. I’ve never been so moved by a crying plush doll lmao. Also his fashion sense, woot.

The runner-up is worth a mention since she wasn’t part of the original Adventure group and therefore could be considered my true 02 fav - Miyako. I loved the nerdy glasses girl because I was a nerdy glasses girl. I wasn’t as outspoken as Miyako, but I could go on and on about things I liked. I loved how pure and flawed she was and I loved her inner sense of right and wrong and her frankness. It’s refreshing when so many characters hide their true feelings. And I loved her and Hikari. Hikari and Miyako are the true girl friendship in those series. Sora and Mimi are nice but didn’t get the same level of development. Of course, I headcanon they were all awesome girlfriends.

Favorite Digimon partner:

This is an IMPOSSIBLE question, I love ALL OF THEM. I can’t pick one.

Gabumon: the way he and Yamato don’t need words, he just understands him, and when he doesn’t, always assume the best and gives him space. Their connection through music. And the way Gabumon will tease him especially over Taichi XD Gabumon keeps Yamato in line.

Gomamon: the way he is just what Jou needs, someone to keep him positive. I’m anxiety-prone myself and one reason I love my job working with young children is they make me see the bright things that I used to be able to see all the time when I was a child. I never really wanted to grow up. I think Gomamon is that for Jou, the child in him he doesn’t want to let go of, and doesn’t actually have to, because we take that part of us into our future.

Tentomon: because was he not MVP of the YEAR in Kokuhaku!?!?!?!?! That was amaaaaazing. Also he is easily the funniest Digimon and I love how he brings out the affectionate side of Koushirou. Again he’s exactly what Koushirou needs.

Patamon: Because he’s cuuuuute!!! and gives Takeru something to nurture and protect while also protecting him. Takeru, the youngest, who needed to be protected but also needed to grow, got a Digimon with those exact same qualities. PERFECT MATCH.

Hawkmon: I always loved him paired with Miyako. He was my favorite 02 partner. He was grumpy and irritable yet caring with Miyako, basically the compass she needed when she felt panicky. And he was COOL. Like he had the best evolutions lol. And as the only male/female partner set (I know Digimon don’t have true genders but this isn’t a made up thing either), there was a slightly different dynamic, like Miyako needed someone a bit more her opposite than other Chosen, to help push her in new directions.

Agumon: He gets honorable mention in particular because of Tri! But also because of 02. In Adventure, Taichi didn’t have a strong grasp of what it meant to raise his partner. He and Agumon saw each other as equals - which they are - but you do see a shift in that balance as Taichi gets older. Agumon is very powerful, but very child-like and thoughtless. In 02 and Tri, we see Taichi taking care of him much more like a big brother with a young brother. In Adventure, they just played together and wound each other up. What this means is Taichi’s grown up to be quite the caretaker, out of necessity - his partner is a bit high maintenance compared to the others! And caretaker isn’t usually the quality that jumps to mind when you think of “anime protagonist” or even leader. So I LOVE it. Also, Agumon struggles to express big concepts. But he can express really important things in simple ways, and Taichi needs that simplicity when his head gets all muddled with complexity. We definitely saw that in Tri. Agumon is kinda the Doraemon of Digimon, lol.

And I love literally all of the others and could go on about them for ages. But I’ll stop here. Will continue the countdown (er, I guess I can’t call it that when I’m doing it like this) later.

[tryingtobts]

BTS End Roll Day 1 Part 1

Pairings: None really or yet

Trigger warning: nope

A/n: This is mostly introductions

Prologue Days: 1

(Y/n) POV

I wake up in the same white room. Looking around, I see that the T.V. was replaced with a window peering out into a blue sky. I got up from bed and went outside. I was met with sheep grazing and paths leading towards a small town

“Oh! I see your ‘awake’” a voice called out in glee.

Looking to the left I see a girl with red eyes and short black hair. She smiled happily at me and approached me.

“You must be (Y/n). I’m Tea from BigHit Guidance Inc. It’s a pleasure to meet you! I’m here to support you throughout your experience here!” Tea greeted.

“...What exactly am I supposed to do now that I’m here?” I asked with slight confusion.

She smiled and said with delight, “Ah right! Now, that’s a common question. That’s what I’m here for! Haha! Now, let’s see.... hmm... it seems in this dream, you are a new resident who moved here today! So I suppose you can start by saying hi to everyone! Anyway, there’s still a lot of work I must attend to so go along and do what you must! Bye (Y/n)! Have a Happy Dream!” She giggled before disappearing.

I sighed and went to do as she said and greet everyone. I looked around and saw a green building to my right. I walked up to the sign that read “[Animal Breeder] Taehyung’s house” and knocked on the door.

“Someone knocked? It better not be Jimin, I hope he didn’t lose anything else. Um... Come in?!” A deep voice called out.

I opened the door and entered the house. Cages of animals lined the walls and the man tending them turned to look at me. He wore a dark green bandana that held back his brown hair (is that a mullet?) and wore a long black coat with black ripped jeans. The man looked startled for a moment before shooting a boxy smile at me.

He walked up to me and greeted me, “I haven’t seen you here before! What’s your name? Did you recently get here?” He asked in excitement.

I looked away from him, hesitating and answered, “Yes, I moved here today. My name is (Y/n).”

“Oh I see! It’s pretty neat place right? I’m Taehyung! I take care of animal living around the town and such. Since you’re new, if you have any questions don’t be afraid to ask me. People call me weird but I know a lot!” He smiled at me before turning to his desk to look over some papers seemingly about the animals health.

I looked over at the cages, eyes peering at me from each of them. I tugged on Taehyung’s sleeve and he turned towards me.

“Can I look at the animals? They look different.” I said and pointed at them.

He looked at me weirdly, “Different? They look like regular animals to me. I guess they’re not where your from.” He laughed a bit, “If you really want to learn about them, how about you help me take care of them! We could have so much fun! Maybe even go out into the forest- erm actually that might be too much. But sure go ahead and look at them. They’re really friendly.” He chuckled, scratching the back of his head before looking back to his work. I walked over the first cage and looked in. The animals instantly screeched at me.

“Don’t look at me!” “Hate you! Hate you!” “Go away!” I took a step back and looked at Taehyung in confusion, only to see he was humming as he read his reports as if nothing happened.

Shaking my head, I went to the next cage. The animals seemed to be glaring at me and I walked a little closer. They sounded like they were laughing at me.

“I know you!” “I saw what you did!” “I saw everything!”

I huffed in anger before moving on. Annoying little things. I stopped short when I heard disgusting sounds from the last cage and scrunched my face up in disgust. I immediately turned around and bid Taehyung a quick goodbye before leaving.

I went towards the weirdly shaped houses and went to the first one that looked like a bottle banana milk? Weird. I read the sign that said “[Herbs & Plants] Jungkook’s House” Shrugging off the weird appearance of the house meant for selling herbs and plants, I walked into the shop.

I looked at the weird eyeballs in containers and read the description “edamameye”. I stared at the eyeballs and they stared back at me. We would have continued for a while if a voice didn’t interrupt.

“Erm um, hello? D-Did you want to purchase those or something? You been looking at them for some time...”

I turned to see a nervous man wearing a white tee, jeans and timberlands. He had brown coconut hair and chocolate eyes and looked slightly younger than Taehyung. On top of his head, were two brown bunny ears twitching with anticipation and nervousness. He opened his mouth to ask again but I shook my head.

He looked confused and asked, “... Then what are you here for? Who are you anyway?”

I raised an eyebrow at the sudden change of attitude but decided not to question it. Instead, I said, “I’m (Y/n). I moved here today.”

He looked down as if thinking and looked back at me, “...I see. It makes sense since I haven’t seen you before... I’m Jungkook. If you couldn’t tell, I harvest and sell all the plants around the town. If you need anything, I can sell you it. But I don’t give anything for free so bring Walnuts if you want to buy stuff.” He said and started turning away from me.

I looked around at the various plants and asked, “Where do you usually harvest these plants?”

He looked taken back at the sudden question, “U-Umm... the Seoul forest right outside town. They’re unique to this place so I wouldn’t expect you to know that the rooties over there are used for both medicine and food. But, you’ll get used to it, I hope.”

He looked away shyly and I took it as a sign to leave without making the poor guy suffer through more awkward conversations. I stopped by a traditional looking house and read the sign “[Herbal Medicine Shop] Namjoon’s house.” I entered the house and was met with the smell of tea.

The man who watched over the shop smiled at me with his dimples and I walked over to him. He had silver hair and wore a light blue and white hanbok.

The man spoke in a wise sounding voice, “Ah, a new resident I see? Nice to meet you. You may call me Namjoon. I work to sell these medicine you see. But alas, while they’re medicines, they’re not that powerful as most herbal medicine tends to be. Only used for minor illnesses and injuries. I’m always glad to offer my assistance if you need help though. Ah, I’m rambling again and didn’t get your name.”

I tilted my head at the slightly different way of speaking, “I’m (Y/n). May I ask why you speak that way?”

He chuckled, “Ah, I’ve always talked this way. Many believe I’m beyond my actual age because of it. I suppose I picked it up from my grandfather. A habit I picked up from him, yes. I always thought he was so cool so in imitating him, I was tainted by it. Think of it as an accent I suppose. Ah my grandfather, he too taught me the ways of medicine and I can never really express my gratitude. I’m rambling again it seems, please feel free to look around.”

I nodded and took a look around. As expected, just a bunch of medicine and a few traditional decorations here and there. I left with a goodbye and proceeded to the next house.

The weirdly yellow shaped house, like the other houses had a sign. I walked up to it and read “[Cooking] Jimin’s House”. I rose an eyebrow at the description. Not really a shop so is it like a restaurant? A food vendor? Eh whatever, I walked into the house and hoped I wasn’t intruding. The boy there looked my age and he was humming a happy tune while dancing. His blond hair matched with the light blue shirt and pants he wore. Both articles of clothing loose enough to flow with his small dance. I walked up to him and cleared my throat.

He jumped in surprise and looked at me with shock. His face was tinted with red from being caught. He quickly recovered and took my hand in his.

“Oh! I don’t know you! Hello there! I’m Jimin and I’m 17! I love to cook, dance and sing! You look my age! Let’s get along! Can we be friends?” He energetically asked.

We looked each other in the eyes and I winced at the hopefulness and cheeriness in his eyes and simply nodded.

He smiled, “Wow really? Everyone here is older than me so it would be nice to have someone my age. Oh! When you’re settled down, why don’t you try some of my cooking? Since we’re friends, I’ll do my very best!”

I couldn’t contain a small grin and decided to entertain him a bit, “What’s your specialty?”

Jimin blinked at the question before humming to himself in thought, “Well, I cook a lot of different things buttttt I would say kimchi jjigae! My dad taught me from scratch! Though mine could never match his by a long shot.” He smiled, “But I’ll be a fantastic cook just like him! Especially when Jin-Hyung is teaching me more and more while dad’s away so cheer for me! Unfortunately, I don’t have any food right now but come back and I’ll have some done!” He laughed

I nodded and gave a goodbye before leaving. Outside I saw some weird looking plants that looked like beets and carrots, I assume it’s a community garden and walked passed it towards a house with two floors weirdly laid out. The sign near it read “[Mayor] Ken & Jin’s House”

I decided to knock on the door instead of walking in and someone called out from the inside, “Coming!”

I heard footsteps approach the door and it opened to reveal a handsome blond man wearing a servant outfit. He rose an eyebrow at me in anticipation.

“I’m the new resident here. (Y/n).” I said.

His eyes softened and he smiled, “Oh yes, Ken talked about your arrival today. I’m Seokjin but you may call me worldwide handsome. Haha just kidding! Call me Jin. Anyway, come this way, I’m sure he has time for a small chat.” He moved aside to let me in.

“What’s Ken like?” I asked as we walked.

Jin blushed a bit and had a fond look on his face, “He’s old and frail so he can’t go out much. But Ken is such a nice man. I mean, I’m nothing but a servant and he lets me stay in his home! Though I’m afraid that I’ll be abandoned one day if I’m not useful so I try to help out around town when Ken can’t. If you need anything, I’ll be happy to help.” He said with a smile.

Jin stopped by a door and knocked once before entering. He motioned for me to follow and left when I stepped in. The room was a big office and a old man sat at the desk. His hair grey with age and he wore a suit with a red tie.

He looked up at me and held out his hand, “You must be (Y/n). I hope everyone has been friendly with you. As you may know, I’m the mayor, Ken. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He said as I took his hand to shake.

“I would give you your ID but unfortunately it hasn’t come in yet but should be coming soon. I’ll get Jin to give it to you.” He said.

I looked at him in slight confusion and asked, “Why would I need an ID?”

He leaned back in his chair and explained, “Well, for identification purposes mainly. With it, you can visit other towns. Also, if there’s any emergencies and we have to leave town, you can go to other towns to seek shelter.”

I nodded and bid him a goodbye and left him to his work. I didn’t see Jin on my way out so I assumed he was working in another part of the house and left.

Walking outside, I proceeded to go to a church. I was immediately stopped by a man in a blue dress shirt and cowboy hat. I rose an eyebrow at his outfit.

He glared right back at me. He sarcastically said, “What? Never seen a sheriff before? In fact, I never seen you before. If you’re a danger to the people here... well...” He slightly took out a pistol out of its holder.

I paled and tried to stutter out an apology. He smirked at my reaction and patted my head, “Don’t worry, I was just kidding. I know who you are, the mayor told me about you. The hat was a gift from the animal caretaker here, Taehyung. He whines when I don’t wear the tacky thing.”

“Oh... um. My name’s (Y/n).” I told him and held out a hand to him.

He shook it and introduced himself, “I’m Yoongi. I’m sorry to cut our meeting short but I need to patrol the town. If you need me, don’t be afraid to call.” Yoongi smiled and walked away.

I continued to the church and entered the place. I saw a man with red orange hair praying in front of a goddess statue. With his outfit, I assumed he was the priest of this church although it was weird that the color scheme was red and orange. But I guess it matches his hair. I walked up to him and tapped his shoulder.

He didn’t look up and mumbled, “Kookie, I’m busy. Ask Tae to play with you.”

I scrunched my nose in confusion, “Uh, whose Kookie? My name is (Y/n), the new resident?”

His head snapped up and he blushed in embarrassment. He got up from his knees, smiled and apologized, “O-Oh. I’m sorry, Kookie is my brother, you can’t miss him since he has bunny ears. He tends to bother me while in his free time. I’m Hoseok and the priest here. If you believe and have time stop by sometime but if not you can still visit me.”

I assumed Kookie was Jungkook from the bunny ears but they’re both related? I asked him, “Umm, you don’t have bunny ears like Jungkook. Are you sure your related?”

He nodded enthusiastically, “Yep! He got ears from our dad’s side!” He paused and looked sad for a moment before smiling once more, “Anyway, I have a lot of cleaning to do. Underneath the pews, it needs to be really cleaned. Unless, you want to help me?”

He laughed at my disgusted expression and bid me a good bye as I turned to leave immediately.

I sighed as I got out the building, wondering what I should do next. I would have preferred to just wake up and end this experiment but I can’t. I wondered towards ‘my’ house and saw Taehyung’s house. Without anything to do, I walked to the green building and entered.

He looked at me surprised and smiled.

“Hey (Y/n)! What’s up? How are introductions going?” He asked.

I nodded to greet him and said, “...I’ve finished meeting everyone. I don’t know what else to do.”

“Oh, I see. Well! Do ya want to go with me to the Seoul forest? Minnie, that’s Jimin by the way, lost his light blue choker there. For some reason, he asked me to go find it.” He offered.

I weighed my options. Since I had nothing better to do, I agreed.

Taehyung smiled widely, “Great! The more the merrier! Just stick close to me and be careful, it’s dangerous there.”

We walked out of his house and went towards the forest.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

The Last All-Clear: (7)

Notes from Mod Bonnie

This story is a series following the premise: “Imagine if Jamie travelled through the stones, but instead of finding Claire in Boston he found himself having arrived years too early, when the War was still happening and Claire had yet to meet him… What would he do?”

Formatting note: Bolding in Jamie’s letters = underlining

Previously:

(Part 1) September 17, 1942: A Rusty Nail 

(Part 2) December 3, 1942: Comb and Glove 

(Part 3) 1943: Blood and Whisky | (Part 4) 1943-1944: Gifts and Ends

(Part 5) June, 1944: The Road | (Part 6) June, 1944: The Ditch  

(7) Samhain, 1946: Inverness

“Did you have many scots in your charge during the war?” Frank asked quite suddenly. I was more happy to change the subject from his kilted spectre, which, while surely utter nonsense, had given me chills.

“Yes, there were quite a few! There was one in particular,” I added, unable to stop the grin from blooming across my face at the memory. “He was a piper in the third seaforths. He couldn't stand being stuck with a needle. He was—” 

I stopped, the implication suddenly settling over my shoulders like cold, creeping damp. Not a non-sequitur, then?  

His expression did nothing to suggest otherwise, nor his flat, “Right,” as he averted his gaze. 

Why, you bloody bastard! 

“What is it, exactly, ah...” Carefully. Oh-so-carefully. “...that you're asking me, Frank?”

He didn’t even miss a beat. “When I saw that chap staring up at you, I thought he might be someone you'd nursed. Someone who might be looking for you now. To reconnect.”

“To ‘reconnect?’” My breath shortened and for one wild moment, I felt the hands of panic around my throat. How could he have known? was the unbidden thought. 

“It wouldn't be unusual,” he was saying, quite gently. “It wouldn't be surprising if you'd sought some comfort, or—” The anxiety vanished as my senses returned, along with my absolutely righteous indignation. “Are you asking me— If I've been unfaithful?” 

It was hardly the worst fight we’d ever had, but it was the worst we’d had in a long time, made still worse by occurring during the ‘honeymoon’ we had both wished to perpetrate. Yes, it was tense and volatile, but at least it moved rapidly, through the near-accusations, the retractions, tender reassurances and, inevitably, to sex—the Randall fix-all. Or, rather, the Randalls-mutually-agree-to-pretend-that-it fixes-all. 

Long after Frank was asleep, though, satiated and carefree, I lay awake, privately seething. That he would have the audacity to even suggest such a thing when I’d never so much as kissed another man since I married Frank, let alone— 

Still, something still caught in my mind: ‘If you’d sought some comfort...’ 

It was only a harmless flirtation, I reassured myself, before scoffing, because that made it sound cheap, and wasn’t at all what it had been, in any case! But what had it been? We’d never touched in any way that wasn’t perfectly chaste. He’d never found his way to my bed in the secrecy of lonely nights, as so many others did in camp. I didn’t even know his full name or fully what his face looked like, for Christ’s sake. 

And yet, Danton had been very important to me, for that brief period during our time together: we had been friends. I had sought comfort in his company, many times, and he had given it, with his words and his good drink, his attention and encouragement. Hell, I doubt I would have stayed in France through the end of the war, without his friendship and the gentle support he unendingly gave; without the solace he brought to my lonely, doubting heart in those days. 

I stared at the ceiling, wondering—not for the first time—what ever became of him. There was that terrible fight between the tents, when he’d said those things and I’d stormed off in a rage that became a sobbing breakdown in the privacy of my tent. As much as he hurt me—deeply, viciously, even with so few words—I did regret, later, that I hadn’t sought him again and tried to talk things through. That cold, cruel disdain had seemed so out of character, even at the time. Surely, if I’d gotten in his face, forced him to speak to me with the sort of candor that was integral to our friendship, we might have reached some sort of rapprochement. But I’d only ever seen him again in faint glimpses across camp. After that, he was gone. People said he just up and left, one day, never to be heard from again. 

‘Someone who might be looking for you now. To reconnect.’

Well, and if there WERE someone come looking for me, Frank, I silently spat as I rolled onto my side away from him, he bloody well wouldn’t have been a Scot. 

2 0 2 4   

Passing strange, it was, to arrive back in Inverness this afternoon. Odd on the one hand, of course, to compare it with the Inverness of old; but stranger still to traverse its streets with money in my pocket and proper clothes on my back, my steps certain. You’ll have read by now of my wretched experiences here of seven years ago, not one of which I should ever wish to repeat (though I give you leave to tease and laugh about them for as many years to come, as ye wish).

Suffice it to say, I found myself murmuring a prayer of heartfelt gratitude for being able to stride boldly up to the innkeeper’s desk to give them my custom; for the money to hire a room (and by no means the cheapest in the place); for knowing precisely how to operate the hot water geyser and how I might go about seeing to my supp /

/     Forgive my artless interruption, but I must immediately explain that I had been writing the above while sitting at the desk in my second-floor chamber. Some whimsical soul had thought to situate it at the window, overlooking the square and the fountain beneath. A pretty aspect, to be sure, though the night is foul and thundering, at present, and hardly anything to be seen at all. 

On that point, I couldna have been more wrong, for there ye were, Claire, right before me in the window of the inn across the street, brushing your hair. 

Christ, the joy that coursed through me was so immediate, so complete, I couldna rightly say if I was crying or laughing. It’s likely to have been some of both, but as I say, I wasna paying much heed to anything save you, glowing in the lamplight as ye wrestled and tussled with that brush. How I’ve missed that sight, mo nighean donn: you and your great curly wig, both! I ken well that I laughed, the sound loud and full and bursting, when ye suddenly brandished the brush in a fit of pique when it caught in a tangle. I didna need one bit to peer at the reflection of your lips to ken precisely what it is ye said. Jesus H—RRROOSEVELT Christ! with that pursed, growling R that makes ye sound like a wee, angry bulldog, and at which I can never help but chuckle in delight. I leaned elbows on the desk and sat my face in both hands like a schoolboy, half-covering my mouth as I grinned like one, too; as I watched my sweetheart across the way. 

It shouldna have been altogether a shock, I suppose. I kent you were in town, for I’d come to Inverness to see you, or rather, to see ye safely gone through the stones tomorrow; and yet I canna express what the gift of that unexpected sighting did to fill my heart. It was more than two years since the last time I’d laid eyes on ye, and that memory marred by blood and fear. So, to see ye suddenly there before my eyes, all alight ? I shall cherish that image, always.    

Ye might think it a strange thing to mention, Sassenach (I wonder if I ought to scratch it through, altogether), but to my own shock, I found myself feeling a trifle sad on behalf of Frank Randall, of all people. For, while I hold no great fondness for the man, he is a man, after all, a man who loves you; and how many years has he, too, waited through wartime and separation for a peaceful life with his wife? with the very woman in that window?  Ye chose me, I remind myself, with no little relief and satisfaction: with a free choice between us, I was the one you wanted. Still, I found that I pitied him your loss; that you’d be gone from him forever, first in body and later in your heart, after tonight. 

That is to say, I pitied him right up until the moment I saw the selfsame bastard coming up the street in the storm, at which time all soft, generous consideration was replaced with purest loathing for everything from his hat to his umbrella to the manner of his gait. 

The electricity cut off suddenly enough to be startling, and from the corner of my eye I saw your own light vanish as well. The work of the storm, I should expect. I fumbled for a candle in the desk drawer (when did I become so blind and helpless in the dark, I find myself wondering), and by the time I’d gotten it lit, I could see that you were about the same business, slowly illuminating your room with candle after candle. It was even more breathtaking, to see ye by candlelight again, silk and curl alike sparkling with gold as ye moved about.  

You should know that the moment I saw the door behind ye open, I stood and closed the curtain. The both of ye deserved privacy, this last night. Besides, my jealous imagination would more than manage on its own, I’m afraid, without newsreel footage of the event.

Besides, my brown-haired lass, I shall see ye again on the morrow. 

2 0 2 5   

I have seen ye this day, Sassenach, though not entirely under the circumstances I expected. 

You’d told me, once, that you’d gone to the stones with Frank at sunrise of that morn, and had returned on your own to Craigh na Dun later in the afternoon to gather your wee plants. Hoping to occupy my time until after midday, when I would drive out to the vicinity of the hill to lay in wait, I put on my coat and scarf (your Christmas gift, remember?) and passed the time out on the moors. 

There was naught I cared to hunt, but I hadn’t the mind for it, in any case. I just wandered, unsure if my thoughts would ever settle. There was no task to be done on your behalf, this time, as much as I might prefer otherwise, nothing to be done at all, save wait. I only wanted to see your last moments before ye touched the stones, so I’d ken for certain. Hour after hour, I walked, trying to enjoy the gusting winds and sounds of the animals and trees, but finding little comfort therein. 

Only, just after noon, when I was nearly back to the outskirts of town, I heard the sound of a Car approaching, coming in my direction, and then there ye were, driving fast around the bend in the road. At once, I felt the gripping of horror, for it was so much earlier in the day than I’d anticipated, and I kent I should never be able to get to my own vehicle in enough time to reach the stones before you. 

As I beheld you in all your glory, though, driving that automobile at terrifying speed, and looking absolutely thrilled for it, the fear vanished and peace settled at last. It was alright. That was the way I wished to remember ye these next years in which you’ll be truly gone, mo chridhe; not you vanishing before my eyes, perhaps screaming—as I did— when the stones pull you into their terrible embrace. No, not that: only you, dressed in white, your hair flying free in the wind and your face glowing with inner joy as ye drove off toward our life together. For today, mo chridhe, is the day we met. 

April 16, 1948 

2,557 days

His breath was white against the dark of the wee hours, coming in gasps of exertion as he made his way up the frost-covered faerie hill, heavy-laden in more ways than one. 

He hadn’t often been able to bring himself to write in the diary, since he had left Inverness. It wasn’t that it was a bleak or unhappy time, on the whole. Much like the two years prior, he had both his employment and his personal projects to keep him well-occupied; and even in the quiet moments, there were countless books to read, rides to take, long walks to be had, and prayers to say. 

But as the months wore on, as the days on the calendar began ticking closer and closer to this day, his waking thoughts were plagued by dark thoughts more and more, those that had tormented him so unrelentingly in the earliest days since coming through the stones: that he himself had been sent to a year misaligned with Claire’s own life, and that she might well do the same. In the end, he’d been meant to go to 1941, to be there in that ditch with her and see her rescued. It was a comfort, to be sure, that his steps had been ordained, but that was the very thing: what if she and the bairn were likewise meant, somehow, for some purpose unknown, to be elsewhere? He had given her up with no doubt in his heart that a better life awaited her on the other side of the stones, but who was to say that such a place and time should be—

Let it be with me, Lord, he prayed for the millionth time as he emerged from the wood empty-handed and took up a place of waiting before the terrible stones. That her better life would be now, here, with me. Let it be 1948. 

Dawn broke, in golds and pinks across the horizon. The birds in the nearby wood began their twittering chorus, joyously heralding the start of the new day. Back in 1746, it would be sunrise, as well—the redcoats would be arriving—she would be running up the hill—

Minutes passed. 

And passed. 

An hour. 

Grant her to me again, he begged, his back and his heart aching with the pain of every passing second as he waited, give me once more this rare woman, and I will love her still better than before. I swear it by all that I am. 

Eight o’clock. 

Please.... Please....

Ten o’clock

He was in the grass on his knees in the center of the circle, palms upturned 

Let her place be with me.

Noon

Tell me what I must do to make it so; what I must give in return.

Tell me.

Just tell me and I’ll do it. 

Three o’clock. 

Give me strength, he prayed unendingly as the evil whisperings of doubt crowded around his heart.  Give me the strength to wait beyond the time of hope. Guide my steps to her as you did before. Give me the strength to find her. 

Sunset.

“Lord, that she might be safe,” he wept aloud over shaking hands, despair he hadn’t known since 1746 rending him apart, “wherever she is. Wherever she has gone, she and the—”

A crack like the sting of a whip rent though the world. 

His legs hadn’t even fully straightened before he caught her. 

[tgreuniverse]

re: [quest] Chapter 4 “sponse”

Hello!! This chapter is about Hori Chie and Tsukiyama Shuu and is very cute (happy birthday the other day, 2/25, to Hori, btw!!)♥

This post has Part 1 of the chapter in full under the cut (mainly for mobile users). The next parts are underway and I’ll do my best to keep things organized to link up.

Click here for my compilation of translations of the light novel re:quest

Finally, a disclaimer: I’d encourage anyone invested in the Tokyo Ghoul series to buy the official copies of this light novel and any official translations when they are released in your area to support the authors and publishers.

Thanks everyone for your patience and don’t hesitate to send me corrections/suggestions/asks and messages! – koko♥

Chapter 4: Sponse Part 1 Part 2 TL: Occasionally Tsukiyama throws in English or French words when he’s speaking. Anything that’s written in Roman letters in the original Japanese text will be bolded to indicate that it’s in another language. All other emphatic markings are for conveying regular emphasis.

   “Alright, now take a picture, of me!”    “Nahh,” Hori replied, and the conversation was over in 3 seconds. She was watching through the coffee shop’s big windows at the shopping street where people came and went, housewives buying things for dinner and hoisting bulky eco-bags on their shoulders.    Hori looked like an uncomfortable elementary school student in the chic and relaxed coffee shop where she sat. However, inside, she was already at the level of a college student. Well, actually, she almost never went to college, as she roamed from east to west as a “free camera-man” with her camera, her one hobby, always by her side.

    “Well, seems we’re done around here,” Hori said, standing just as she finished eating her parfait.    “Wait, Hori!” She paused. What made her stop was the man with a well-arranged appearance, somewhat like a model, and a voice that if you walked through town you could take to be from an entertainment industry – the man most annoying in the eyes of someone like Hori – Shuu Tsukiyama.    A man who was always prideful and focused on attention from his surroundings – marked by the [CCG] with the title “gourmet” ghoul, he really didn’t have much of an understanding of the world.    Indeed, the situation of such a ghoul known as Tsukiyama, having a face-to-face conversation with the human Hori Chie, was one you wouldn’t find anywhere else. Due to the strange situation, the two pretended to be high school students simply going out to the local coffee shop.    In high school, Hori’s evaluation of Tsukiyama’s pride did not come from second-hand gossip, but from her own deep curiosity about his differences from others. It came from her simple thought “well, this looks interesting” as she peered through her camera’s viewfinder. The result of which, it turned out, was her taking pictures of the gourmet ghoul’s predatory scene. One thing leading to another, this resulted in a pretty strange relationship.    Today, like most others, since a while ago, Tsukiyama had gone on and on about some favor he wanted to ask, and since Hori couldn’t exactly refuse as it became more and more annoying, well, here she was.    “Hori! Why on such a whim? It’s a favor from an old friend, so just sit for a bit and tell me what you want to eat, you little mouse.”    “Tsukiyama-kun, you always treat people like pets, don’t you? Hot cake.”    “Haha, so you were aware of being my pet! That lady right there, let’s ask her for a most supreme hot cake!” With that, Tsukiyama snapped his fingers and signaled the female server across the room. While Hori sat back down, he suddenly exclaimed, “Hori! Listen until the end of what I’m saying. This is business.”    “Business, huh?”    Hori had finished her drink, and with her straw, clinked around the milkshake’s ice at the bottom of her glass. With nothing better to do, Hori went back to listening.    “That’s right. In fact, this time, I want you to go to a villa.”    Hori released the straw and tilted her head. “Huh?”    Tsukiyama sighed. “Have I at last both been thrown away by Kaneki-kun and become dismissed by you?”    He, always pursuing some gastronomic meal to satisfy the tongue itself, was fascinated and obsessed with this one-eyed half-ghoul named Kaneki Ken.    Even after having had a relationship with Tsukiyama for a while, Hori had never before seen him stick to a single ingredient in such a way. Even now, he was working hard to earn Kaneki’s trust, but Hori believed he was still just trying to eat him. Since he was separated from his precious villa, Hori wondered if Kaneki was finally disgusted and had kicked Tsukiyama out.    “Haha! That’s nothing, nonsense. I am his dagger, and my heart is always his bedside.”    “You’ve prepared everything up to your house but everyone’s being removed from your circles?”    “If you were the patron like me, would you be concerned about everyone? This is a taste of being god.”    “I’m full. That story sounds long so I’m gonna go home”    “Wait wait, food is something that should be enjoyed at your leisure. Would you like some kind of after-tea?”    Hori sighed. “My orange juice is fine.”    With this Tsukiyama let out a cough and returned to what he was saying.    “I have a garden party at my villa on my next holiday, and I’m supposed to give a speech. I want you to put capture it with your camera.”    “Wha…?”    Tsukiyama was a ghoul of a respectable family, the descendent of the Tsukiyama Group that everyone had heard of at least once.    “Along with that, although this will be a surprise, I’m thinking of expressing everyday gratitude towards the servants in the house. To leave memories, you know?”    The Tsukiyama family, of course employees included, had a large number of people. I knew it, Hori thought, as she ate the hot cake that had finally arrived. The aspect of self-righteous egoism is often looked down on, but consideration for things one likes or for one’s self is fine, as such things have the potential to help one feel better in their own skin.    “Of course, you’ll be compensated. How is it, Hori? You’ll take the job, right?”    As a reply, Hori only groaned, “you really are annoying.”    “Haaaaaahn?!”    At Tsukiyama’s desolate voice, Hori said, “I’m not interested.”    Hori's photography activities were actually quite selfish. When she thought about taking photographs of an event of such high social value, she realized that would mean taking pictures with no real substance, and only taking work for the value of money. She definitely wasn’t one to be so influenced by money.    Right now she wasn’t in the mood to take pictures of things she wasn’t in the mood to, and wasn’t up for the tension of working for money at all.    At this point Tsukiyama, who knew from personal experience not to press Hori as she would continue to refuse (even in a case where it seemed likely she’d be killed), simply mused “hmmm.”    It seemed her orange juice was all gone, too. His time was almost up.    “Ahh, well then. Let’s see, Hori, do you have any interest in flowers?”    “Flowers?”    “Yes! At my family’s villa there are many varieties of flowers in bloom, in a vivid wide space, and it’s . . . it’s something like a utopia!!”    Tsukiyama, spreading both hands, began to gestured and gestured as he started explaining.    “There are many rare and valuable varieties, and the roses are particularly superb! The garden party this time will be done according to the season of the roses. There are so many scenic sights that you can see as you pass through.”    Hori stabbed her last piece with her fork. “. . . oh, ok. . . . I’ll go then.”    Tsukiyama’s unexpected palm hung open in the air. “So . . . you’re not against it anymore . . . then?    “I said, I’ll go,” Hori repeated.    Tsukiyama, who obviously hadn’t expected Hori to accept yet, seemed confused. “I wonder where this wind blew in from?”    “I just want to take pictures of flowers, and if Tsukiyama-kun’s place has roses, then that sounds good to me.”    Tsukiyama’s family paid attentive care to its rose garden, and although the rose garden was the only thing Tsukiyama recommended, Hori thought that maybe she could see ever more amazing things. Since she ended up deciding to go, she thought it would be interesting to go on a walk with Tsukiyama.    However, there was still one problem. “There will probably be ghouls at this party, right? Won’t I end up getting eaten?”    Although they did go out and talk ordinarily face-to-face, there was a clear border between Tsukiyama and Hori, that of being a person and a “ghoul.”    While Hori was greatly aware of the risk to her own life that she put into her photo activities, she didn’t particularly want to live a rushed life, and didn’t think anything like “I would die for my craft” or whatever.    In the moment, she had just gone with what she had wanted to do. But now she needed to tend to her safety.    “There’s no need to for you to worry about that. The servants will be told by me personally, and it will be arranged so that the guests know as well, that they must not lay a hand on you.”    “Okay. Well, it seems like there will be plenty of preparation, so I’ll take pictures of the good stuff, and I won’t when nothing happens. It will be done suitably.”    Hori stood up while stretching very much. “Well then, the next consecutive holidays. This time advanced payment would be nice, in the usual account.”    “Oui, I definitely won’t miss that. In return, I’m expecting amazing photos. Capture the moment when I shine the most!”    “The moment you shine the most, huh,” Hori repeated. With that, she slid the bill across the table to Tsukiyama and left the cafe.