#caitbalfes

“Well, it really doesn’t matter how you meant it, my lad. You’re not seducing me tonight, so you can leave. It’s no use trying. I’m not having sex with you,” she said, crossing her arms across her chest.

His jaw dropped. “I-I—what?”

“I’m not going to have sex with you tonight—or any night.”

“Aye, I heard ye, Sassenach. I just wasna sure I was hearing correctly seeing as I canna remember propositioning you, or saying anything to that effect.”

“You didn’t yet, but I know what most men do. They walk up to the sad, lonely woman at the bar. They compliment and comfort her, they offer to take her home, and then they think themselves entitled to a reward of their choice—and that’s always sex.”

“Perhaps I am pretentious in saying so, but I would like to think that I am not like most men, and that I dinna necessarily place my behaviour at the lowest common denominator.”

She laughed, genuinely. “Very pretentious, but I kind of like you. Have a drink with me?”

“I dinna ken, Sassenach,” he teased, “yer no planning to take advantage of my vulnerable state?”

“Your vulnerable state?”

“Aye, this lass bruised my ego when she mistook me for the vile sort of man that would take advantage of a bonnie lass—”

She swatted his arm. “Stop it,” she giggled.

Jamie took a seat next to her and ordered another drink for himself.

“I’m Jamie, by the way.”

“Claire.”

9. Favorite/least favorite tropes?

Favorite: ONE BED, roommates to lovers, and enemies to lover. I love some good angst and a nice slow burn. (Partial to the slow burn fics in general because they are easily 10+ chapters with 60,000+ words plus… So who needs sleep?) 

Least favorite tropes: My real least favorite I can’t say publicly, lol. But the most public one I’ll admit I am not really a fan of, amnesia/one of the half losing their memory. It’s just never been a trope I am a fan of, not sure why- but it just doesn’t cut it for me.

19. How do you cope with writer’s block?

Honestly, by not writing. I’ll dive back into the show or book depending on if there is a book or not. I’ll get reacquainted with the characters in their original form, how I came to love them, and give myself time. It usually comes back to me. Sometimes it is right away, other times it can be slow. But just not pushing it- letting the words come when they want. 

repost this, then list the posts you’re the most proud of – 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7,8, 9, 10

tag ten blogs you think should be proud of what they do, whether it’s art, writing, edits, great choices of what to reblog, brilliant tags, lovely responses to asks…. spread some positivity!

Hi there, this is @caitbalfes with the tenth instalment of the relay fic. Happy reading! (I hope)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

Thig air ais.

The air was thick and smelt ashen. Looking around, I found myself surrounded by tall trees and mist. I was on a forest path and it was startlingly familiar to me.

Once, as a young girl, I’d been terribly bored and snuck away from Uncle Lamb to explore. Reckless as my younger self had been, I’d followed this foggy forest path, not caring if it was dangerous, curious to see where it would take me. I never did find out. I had been found passed out and had been brought back to my uncle who chastised me for leaving without a word.

Thig air ais.

Now, something inside me urged me to go forward. It felt almost as though I was being physically pulled forward.

By the time I reached the end of the path, the fog had thickened so severely that I couldn’t see my own hand in front of me. I was surrounded by white, and I had no idea where I was, or why.

One minute everything was quiet, the next a scream tore through the air. I couldn’t tell where the sound had come from, but felt its crippling agony.

A second voice joined the first, and then another, and another, in a harrowing chorus.

I sat down on the ground, the weight of the voices around me too heavy to bear, standing. I feared being crushed beneath the cries.

I screwed up my eyes, my hands grabbing my head—to keep it in place perhaps, lest it be torn apart by the endless stream of agonised screams.

After what felt like an eternity, the voices quieted one by one. Only then did I dare open my eyes again. I noticed the fog had lifted somewhat, and I became aware that I was surrounded—not by people as I’d thought, but by a circle of standing stones.

Thig air ais.

Instinctively I stood up and started to walk towards the centre stone, urged by a windborne whisper.

Come back.

My hand reached out, but as it touched the rock, the vision transformed. It wasn’t stone beneath my hand, but flesh—Jamie’s chest.

I looked up at his sleeping face. He seemed peaceful. Perhaps I should go back to sleep as well, seek that same calm, and deal with these distressing dreams come morning.

But before sleep could pull me under, I felt something wet beneath my fingers. And that smell . . . I’d recognise it anywhere—

“Jamie! You’re bleeding.”

Thanks for the asks @caitbalfes :)

10: Favorite color aesthetic? 

Honestly, I love black and greys. Sometimes the colors can end up so dramatic even when they are pretty much void of color.

11: Wobbly lines or using a ruler?

Who has time to use a ruler? ;) lol. I use the guide lines in Photoshop a lot… on paper, I just do wobbly lines ;)

16: What’s a language you’d like to speak?

I’d like to learn more Yiddish. My Mom always talks about her Grandparents speaking it when they didn’t want the kids to know what they were talking about. I know some words that my Mom picked up. It’s a fun language.