#((hard cut to mo going down a mountain SCREAMING))

[asmodeus-fallen-principality]

Wait, so you're saying Hell doesn't miracle you money? And you're not either? I didn't expect this much economic responsibility from self-proclaimed agents of chaos.

I think you should go abroad! I was going to suggest museums, but you're literally in one all day! Maybe somewhere cold and sunny; you're wearing gloves anyway and it seems like you don't get a lot of sunlight. ...Ski holiday in the Alps! You don't have to actually ski, but the unichrome white snow, wide views, few people seem like right up you're alley. You could go hiking or take a sky lift up a mountain to enjoy the view and have alcoholic hot chocolates by the fire in your hut the rest of the time.

Now, don't give them too much credit; it's a form of control as much as any other. They love inventing new and infuriating bits on paperwork to fill out. I was stuck down there for the better part of a year once, filling out the same two forms over and over again...

The Alps is an absolutely brilliant idea! Oh, we could plan a trip all the way from France to Slovenia... it sounds idyllic. And romantic, if Samael comes with me. You're a genius, my dear.

[lady-divine-writes]

Our Flag Means Death - “Courage to the Sticking Place” (Rated PG13)

Summary: After Stede gets pinned to the mast by Izzy's sword, Blackbeard takes him down and tends to his wounds. And while he does, he reflects on a few recent emotional wounds of his own. (2239 words)

Notes: The scene where Izzy and Stede duel has been stuck in my mind since I saw it, but most especially Blackbeard's reaction during the whole thing. That's where this sprang up from. Warning for mention of injuries sustained during a duel.

Read on AO3.

"Lucius! Fetch me a pair of shears!"

"Like pinking shears? Or were you thinking of something bigger?" Lucius asks, strolling over nonchalantly, to Edward's dismay. He'd think having his captain skewered to a mast would warrant a sense of urgency. 

Apparently not.

"Big fucking shears! The kind that can cut through bone! Wait..." Ed glares at Lucius's bandaged hand. "Didn't you have...?"

Lucius shakes his head, brow furrowing as he tries to figure out what Ed means. Then his face brightens. "Oh yeah! Silly me. I know what you need. Just a mo. Be right back." He pats Ed on the shoulder as he passes, as if they're friends. The liberties Stede's crew takes with regard to him, the infamous Blackbeard, astounds him. They barely seem scared of him anymore. They treat him like one of the guys.

Actually - they treat him like they treat Stede.

Perhaps he's losing his touch. If that's true, Blackbeard has no one to blame but himself.

But, if he's being honest, he's not mad about it.

"Are you proud of me?" Stede manages in a breathless voice as Ed investigates the sword that has him pinned.

"Hell yeah, you lunatic," Ed says, glancing over his shoulder every thirty seconds, wondering what's taking that blasted boy so long. "Real fucking proud."

"Am I going to die?"

"Not on my watch."

"Here." Lucius thrusts a pair of shears, almost as long as Izzy's sword, between the two men, the tip barely missing Ed's face.

"Sure did take you long enough," Ed mumbles, grabbing the shears and cutting at the blade as close to Stede's torso as possible.

"You're welcome," Lucius scoffs, but mildly. He is genuinely happy things turned out the way they did. Stede won the duel, Blackbeard is coming around, and that asshat Dizzy Izzy has been bansihed. 

Time to grab Black Pete and head down below for a proper celebration.

"It's all right," Ed mutters, working at the blade slowly. He doesn't want to exacerbate the wound, turn a molehill into a mountain. "You're all right. We're gonna fix you up. Don't you worry."

Stede, sweating like a hen in a fox's den, struggles to nod. "We have...to stop...meeting like this."

Ed snorts, holding back tears. "I'm good with that."

For a narrow piece of steel, it takes forever for Ed to cut through Izzy's blade. Stede tries his best to stay cheery and keep up conversation, but eventually, he runs out of steam. By the time Ed is halfway through, he's ready to rip the sword out of the mast with his bare hands, finest cherrywood in Brazil notwithstanding.

The sun shows its face over the horizon, and Ed snaps the blade in two. He slides Stede off it, catching the man before he collapses to the deck.

"All right, mate. Time to get you down below and have a look at you."

"What do we do with Izzy?" Frenchie asks, stopping Ed before he takes a step. "He won't leave."

"Yeah," Buttons says. "He refuses to banish."

Ed had been so focused on Stede that he had forgotten about Izzy. Fine by him. He wants to forget the man ever existed. "If he doesn't leave, tie him up and throw him over the side for all I care."

Frenchie shrugs. "Sounds like a plan."

"Blackbeard!" Izzy bellows. "You can't be serious!"

"Sounded like it to me, mate," Wee John interjects. "Grab his legs."

"Damn you, Edward! You are going to rue this day! Rue it hard!" 

Edward hears Izzy scream for him, cursing his name, his father's name, anyone he's ever known, as he ushers Stede downstairs, but he doesn't look back. He's done with Izzy. He should have been done with him days ago.

Then he wouldn't have Stede's blood on his hands.

Ed rushes Stede to his quarters and sits him down on his bed. He pulls aside the covers, gaze darting away from the fading bloodstain of Stede's last encounter with steel.

Stede hisses as Ed helps him get his feet up on the mattress. "I...I was a coward." 

"Shut up. No, you weren't. You took Izzy's sword valiantly. The bastard."

Stede gulps hard against the pain scorching his midsection. "I'm not talking about the fight. I'm talking about my family. I ran away during the night and left a note behind. I fled when I should have led. And it wasn't the only time."

"You did what was right by you. No one can blame you for that." Ed strips Stede of his clothes to get to the wound. He resorts to cutting the shirt off Stede's torso so the man won't need to raise his arms.

Ed tries not to let it affect him when he does.

"Yes, they can," Stede argues. "I blame me. I'm sure my family does, too. I'm a father. And a husband. I should have done better."

"I'm sure you did your best."

"Let me assure you, I did not."

"Agree to disagree." Ed starts cleaning the wound, drenching the corner of a spare sheet in alcohol and applying pressure. Stede moans in agony.

Ed tries not to let that affect him, either.

"I'm...I'm broken, Ed."

"You're not broken."

Stede barks a laugh, grimacing at the ache roaring through his body. "I quite literally have a hole in me."

"We'll fix that. No worries."

Ed burns with anger at Izzy. There was no need for this. They could have worked things out another way. But he's angrier at himself for allowing this. He'd told Izzy this was his mess, that he'd deal with it. But he only made it worse. He put Stede in this position, then didn't jump on the blade for him. 

He didn't even have the balls to watch Stede get run through.

Stede is his friend. He should have witnessed him. That's what a true mate would have done. When Ed thought the end was near for Stede, he turned away, turned his back on him.

That's unforgivable in Ed's book.

But he has to push that aside and focus on the here and now.

There would be time for self-serving pity later on.

If the hurt were his, he'd bind it tight and go about his business. But this is the second time Stede has sustained a wound like this. He may fancy himself a pirate, but he's a gentleman first.

He doesn't deserve to be full of holes.

Ed rummages through Stede's things, searching for a needle and thread. A man who is as much of a clothes horse as Stede claims to be has to have a sewing kit. Ed rifles through official-looking papers and bulging billfolds, which would have excited the shit out of Blackbeard, but Edward ignores them.

In Stede's bottom drawer, Ed finds what he's looking for: a polished wooden box with a silver clasp, housing the most elegant pairs of shears and ornate thimbles Ed has ever seen; a plethora of needles; and something that looks like catgut.

Perfect.

He carries the kit over to Stede's bed and sets it down at the foot. 

"Take this," Ed shoves a bottle into Stede's hand, "and keep drinking. When you're done with that, we'll get you another."

"And when do I stop?" Stede asks, lifting the bottle shakily to his lips.

"When you pass out."

As it's not a mortal wound, Ed waits till Stede is a bit more intoxicated before he goes to work. It takes longer than Ed gave him credit for, Stede downing another bottle before his eyelids flutter shut, his mouth goes slack, and the bottle in his hand rolls out of his grasp and onto the floor.

Though a man who switches out barrels of gunpowder for marmalade probably has a ship store filled with watered-down whiskey and is none the wiser.

It takes Ed far more time to sew up Stede's wound than it did to cut through Izzy's blade. He tries to keep the stitches small and even in the hopes it will fade into a silvery scar and not one of the jagged disasters vandalizing Ed's flesh. But maybe Stede would have appreciated a grotesque scar. It would have been a trophy he could have bragged about - his triumph over Izzy Hands.

But Ed is being selfish. 

He couldn't look at it, doesn't want Stede to have it.

It would be a constant reminder of Edward's failure.

But when would Ed see it?

That's the thought that has Edward swallowing hard, his heart speeding in his chest.

Ed nabs a finger full of honey off the tea service at Stede's bedside and runs it along the stitches before he covers them with muslin. The finished product isn't as neat as he would have liked, but it'll do the job. 

When he's done, Ed gathers his tools and puts them away, intent on leaving Stede to rest; go back above deck and give the crew a status report. Instead, he sits down on the edge of Stede's bed and watches him.

Stede is right - they have to stop meeting like this.

But Stede is a pirate now, and pirates get hurt. Which means patching Stede up and sitting vigil by his bedside may become a habit for Ed.

How did I get here? Ed thinks. When did my life become this? He'd longed for a change, for a way out of the dulrdums, but was this really it? Playing nursemaid to the most inept pirate known to man and babysitter to his crew?

Except Stede is not as inept as everyone thought. Neither are the men who follow him. They're nothing if not loyal. 

In the end, that's all a good crew need be.

If Stede lives long enough, he could become one of the greats, more infamous than Blackbeard for his shtick alone. It tickles Ed's head envisioning the veteran brigands who'd flip their lids to be conquered by a pirate dressed in brocade frocks, who manned a ship filled to the brim with books, marmalade, and summer linens.

Edward finds a clean corner of the spare sheet, and wipes Stede's brow. He looks vastly more comfortable than he had: his breathing steady, his brow smooth in sleep.

Three bottles of liquor will do that to you, and thank the Lord for that.

"You're lucky," Ed says to Stede's sleeping face. "This wound - it's not going to kill you. But you've got to get better at defending yourself and your crew. You've got to live longer. You've got to survive."

Ed sighs deeply. Can you do that? Can you survive for me?

Ed can't answer that. The only person who can answer that is Stede, and Ed doesn't have the courage to ask him.

Since Stede is drunk and asleep and unlikely to remember anything, Ed takes a few liberties of his own, leaning over and kissing the bandage that covers Stede's wound. 

For luck, of course. Nothing more.

Then he kisses Stede's forehead.

The bridge of his nose.

And his mouth, blessedly warm.

But Stede isn't as unconscious as Edward would have hoped. 

He shudders, either from the lingering shadow of pain or Ed's touch. Ed doesn't know. But Stede's teeth start chattering, and Ed fears fever may be setting in. Possibly shock. He expects Stede to call out for Mary in his delirium the way he had before. But Stede has changed during his short time away. And so, apparently, have his priorities.

"E-e-ed? Edward, are you there?"

"It's all right." Ed can't think of anything else to say, so he sticks with the classic, mainly because he has started reassuring himself as much as Stede. "You're going to be all right." He peels off his jacket, toes off his boots, and climbs under Stede's thick quilts. He wraps a careful arm around him and scoots closer. He needs to feel the rise and fall of Stede's chest, his heart tapping a rhythm against his arm - the subtle indicators that he's still alive. Still kicking. Ed closes his eyes, falling asleep to the symphony of Stede's body, letting him know that, from here on out, everything will be all right.

***

"A fucking pox on all of you!"

Edward opens his eyes.

The sky is blue and cloudless, the water surrounding them a slate sort of grey. Izzy drops onto the bench in his boat, takes up the oars, and rows angrily away. Behind him, Ed hears Stede talking to Lucius, asking for help getting down from the mast. Inside his chest, something akin to thorny vines wraps around his heart and pulls.

A coward.

That's what Edward is.

That's what he's been since he boarded Stede's ship.

Because if he'd been a better man, he would turn around, help Stede down, and turn his fantasy into a reality.

But he can't.

He'll tell himself later that he doesn't because Stede deserves better, but that's a load of horseshit.

He doesn't because he's scared of rejection.

Edward doesn't see Stede get off the mast. He barks a few orders to Fang and the rest of the crew on the best way to go about it. But after he deals with Izzy, he turns tail and goes below deck.

Edward doesn't deserve to be in Stede's presence right now, doesn't deserve to share a bottle with him and toast his victory.

Not when he's a fucking coward.

[iceprincessviviane]

Flowers of the peace

Pairing: c!Technoblade x Fem!Nymph!Reader

Type: Romantic/fluff; oneshot.

Warnings: mild swearing, mention of angst and injury and silly jokes created by me.

Summary: Technoblade is travelling to the center of smp to get some buisness done. He met Y/n and finally decided to talk with her about a very important case for him. Including more characters.

Words in red colour are Technoblade's voices.

My first x reader fic, spontaneous one.

Today was a quite warm day even in tundra, small layer of snow was covering the ground and sky was half covered by the clouds, which weren't moving a lot. Around was very quiet despite the time, it was almost noon. Animals were resting or sleeping, deadly hound lied calmly around. It seemed, it was such a lazy day. Technoblade went outside holding small backpack and putting something into it. He tied his hair into small bun, rest of them was falling on his back and he was wearing part of casual armor. Phil seeing that, also went outside.

"Hi mate, where are you going?" He asked curiously with gentle smile.

"I'm heading to main Smp part. I have some buisness to finish with Ranboo. I hope in that time it won't be crowded." He responeded and closed backpack.

They both looked at old Ranboo's home in mountain wall. Actually there still were some basic stuff, active farm and some villagers. Enderman hybrid moved to his and Tubbo's mansion in Snowchester two weeks ago. They kinda missed him, but he promised to visit them a lot of times and even stay for some cold weather and fresh air. Also he was still involved in Syndicate stuff.

"Be careful mate then." Philza said with serious tone.

'We miss Enderboy.' 'Let's do it fast.' 'Who will we meet else?'

Technoblade nodded and took Karl. He put a small backpack near the saddle and check everything. Diamond armor was shinning brightly in the sunlight.

"I will don't worry, I just hope to not meet Tommy..." His eyes narrowed. He still didn't forget and forgive young boy.

"Well just avoid bench area. You are going to meet Ranboo in Snowchester?"

"He said that he will be around Community House or Prime path."

"Tell him my sincere greetings." Phil smile widened.

Technoblade jumped at Karl and waved to his companion. Soon he was headed to main Smp part. Today wasn't the day for using a portals. Beautiful weather was conductive for horse riding. Karl seemed to be happy at sudden trip.

}*{

After a two hours Technoblade reached the Community House. He could go to Snowchester first, but honestly he wanted to avoid that area, which smelled like government. He dismounted Karl and took his bridle. Not a chance leaving his horse alone. Here was much warm then in tundra, not coulds and even wind stopped. Around wasn't even a single soul, so he sighted and started to walking down on Prime path. Karl was complelty calm, so he trusted him, but checked his sword, if he can take it fast. When he got near to Tommy's dirt house, he heard Tommy's loud laughing. After reaching the top of the hill he spotted Bench Trio standing there and chatting. Suddenly three pair of eyes looked at him. There was dead silence. Tubbo moved near to Ranboo when Tommy put a hand on Axe of Peace, which hanged of his bolt. They don't have armour, clearly having a good time in this lazy day. Technoblade nodded to them.

"What are you doing here?" Tommy asked with sharp tone.

Since Dream have been in the prison Smp was more calm, most people was minding their buisness, the biggest war was over and it seemed like everyone sighted with relief. Even now this Eggpire cleaned awful vines. Tommy started building his hotel, none was fighting.

"I came here to finish buisness." Techno responed slowly moving his eyes on Ranboo.

Tall teenager looked at his clock, gave himself a facepalm and sighted.

"Oh I am so sorry, I wasn't watching the time..." He said with embarrassment.

"What the fuck man? What deal did you make with him?" Tommy spoke with anger.

'Why he need to be so loud?' 'Just make it done.' 'Cut him.'

Technoblade moved a little bit closer and Ranboo started to search something in his backpack, mumbled to himself.

"Oh... hi everyone...!"

On the path leading to La'Manhole now was standing Y/n with basket full of field flowers and some saplings of roses, tulips and pansies. Her light dress was waving a little on sudden wind and bright smile caused everyone to smiled back.

"Hi Y/n!" Tubbo said and get closer to look at flowers. "Where did you get them?"

"Filed flowers around the... La'Manburg and saplings are from my own flowerbends. You asked me to bring some to your garden and rooms." She responed slowly.

"Oh yes! We asked Foolish of possible ways to decorate garden and flowers for a bees!" Tubbo said with excitement.

When it comes to the bees, Tubbo could talk over and over. Y/n was patience and describe in details flowers which she brought. Meanwhile Tommy moved his eyes again on Technoblade only to rise eyebrows with surprise. Piglin hybrid was like frozen, carefuly observing Y/n. Teenager lips formed into mischief smile.

"I found it!" Ranboo screamed in victory, holding something like gold in his big hand.

Technoblade snapped back to reality and nodded to Enderboy, to move away. He didn't want rest to know, what about deal is. They moved to bench. Karl snorted a little bit.

"Here it is." Ranboo opened his hand, Totem of Undying was inside. Technoblade smiled and nodded to him with satisfied smile.

"As we agreed emeralds and netherite ingot."

They made an exchange, Technoblade quickly hid Totem in his pocket and Ranboo put stones and ingot inside his backpack.

"Pleasure making buisness with you." Blade said with teasing tone.

"You too and I have more, if you want."

" We will see in the future."

Enderman hybrid moved his eyes on his husband and Y/n, there were still chatting peacefuly. Tommy was listening quietly and seemed that he lost interesting at their deal.

'Finally!' 'Let's go home.' 'Maybe stay for a while...'

"Deal is done?" Tommy asked loudly causing Tubbo and Y/n to look at Technoblade and Ranboo.

"Yes. We are done." Piglin hybrid confirmed in neutral voice.

Ranboo moved closer to group, leaving Technoblade with Karl. They stepped again on path after that.

"I think we can head to Snowchester then. Y/n has everything to make gardening and I am willing to help her!" Tubbo clapped hands.

"Yup. I am going to choose my room finally." Tommy emphasized last word strongly.

"Oh you shloud do the same Y/n. As we promised, you can decorate it as you wish." Ranboo said with warm smile.

Y/n lifted head and her eyes meet Techno's. His cute ears dropped a little, but he moved closer to them. Tommy stepped a little to avoid crash with Karl. Soft smile appeard on Y/n lips.

"Technoblade."

"Y/n."

Bench Trio silenced immediately, they could feel the tension in the air. After La'Manburg destruction Y/n lost her home, actually she was neighbor with Ranboo there, but she managed to build one small house in wild fields full of flowers, which was quite away. The closest things were Kinoko Kingdom and Niki's Underground City. Sometimes she wandered to La'Manber ruins and after that usually hanging up with Tommy. She visited Ranboo couple of times in tundra and even had a small talk with Phil. But when Technoblade showed up... they shared awkward silence and shy glances, which were speaking instead of words.

In his retirement they spent a lot of time together, despite the cold in tundra. Her peacefuly pressence caused voices to melt, only quiet whispers appeard. When she was speaking, they were always silence. Technoblade could listen and observe her for ages. They were so diffrent, but something connected them and attraced them to each other. She was standing with Phil on balcony, holding his hand so hard and tears streaming from her beautiful eyes, when Technoblade have been lead to execution. He later told him that Y/n almost fainted when he survived and escaped. She stayed in threshold, knocking sotfly at cottage doors, same day, late night and silence around. When he opened, he immediately put a finger on her mouth and whispering explained that Tommy somehow escaped exile and was sleeping in cellar. So Y/n said nothing, when Technoblade let her in, just hugged him so tightly and burried her face in his chest. With smelling her scent, he calmed himself and slowly forget about rage and happenings on that day.

But after Doomsday everything changed. Technoblade was busy with revenge, deep inside he didn't want to involved Y/n for her safety... but they moved away from each other. She need to build new house, didn't want to completly leave her friends around. Especially when Tommy and Tubbo found in her big comfort. She visited Tommy in exile couple of times, always bringing warm words and usefull advices. After Discs Finale, when Dream have been put into a prison, they needed her a lot. Tommy would never confessed that he had nightmares about Tubbo's death and himself being trapped in cell. Technoblade was busy with forming Syndicate, spending days on planning, building and searching stuff. He heard from Ranboo how Y/n was doing, but there always weren't time to talk.

And now they were here.

'We miss her angelic voice.' 'Stop staring, do something.' 'Stab Tommy.'

"I really don't want to interrupt this strange moment, but..." He couldn't even end, because Technoblade stepped at his foot. His shoes had small heels and was shod with metal.

Y/n giggled softly breaking eye contact with Technoblade and blushed a little bit.

"Can we talk?" Blade asked with deep voice.

"Of course." She nodded then handed her basket to Tubbo. He immediately straigthed his back, because of this important task. Technoblade gave without hesitation Karl's bridle to Ranboo, which eyes expanded and he grabbed it with his full strenght. When horse would run away... oh boy.

"It looks like we got important tasks." Tubbo said with full serious in his voice.

Ranboo nodded to him, when Tommy literally rolled his eyes.

Technoblade and Y/n moved slowly and silently aside, stepping away from path and walking on grass. She faced the sun, pulling her hair together, it laid freely on her back. Some strands still stayed on her face and Technoblade had to use his all strenght to resist taking them off. He just couldn't. Her scent full of flowers reached his nose, taking deep breath felt like heaven.

"Weather is very good." He started slowly and little unsure.

Y/n turned back to him with shy smile, studing hia posture. "Oh yes, it's warmer this days. My flowers age growing fast and I really enjoy the sun." She glanced at him. " Isn't too hot for you in this cape?"

"Well, I am still living in tundra and come on, style is breathtaking "Technoblade spread a little his arms.

Y/n could easily spotted part of armor on his arms and legs. It wasn't his best one, but he was still prepared for any fight. Yes, he looked very good, handsome. She couldn't help her slighty blushing cheeks.

"Are you moving to the mansion?" Techno finally asked, his voice was dead serious.

Y/n looked directly at his eyes with surprise. She didn't expect such a question. "No, I mean they offered me room, to stay in longer visits or if I would like to have a nap. I really enjoy their company."

He made a step closer and lean down, almost forgot how small she was compared to him. They both felt burning glances of Bench Trio.

"I miss you." He whispered honestly.

'We are missing her voice, scent and pressence.' 'We need her.' "We want her.'

"I... I miss you too." She responded quietly.

Pleased smile crawled at Technoblade's lips. Deep inside he was really happy about that, but didn't want to show it in front of Bench Trio. Y/n looked down with sudden shyness.

He took gently her small, compared to his hand. She squeezed lightly his fingers in response. "Would you like to...?"

"Y/n! We need to go, hurry up!" Tubbo screamed while was holding her basket.

"Yeah come one, we have a lot of stuff to do!" Tommy agreed.

Technoblade sighted after this rude cut, but Y/n shrugged with helplessness and playful smile. She hugged him tightly for goodbye, his second hand rested on her flabby waist.

"Meet me here after sunset." She whispered before letting him go.

He nodded before he let go of her hand. Y/n waved to him and went to Trio Bench. Ranboo gave Techno Karl's bridle. He observed while group was heading to Snowchester, then he jumped at horse and started to moving into tundra's direction.

}*{

Technoblade left Karl in hurry, then almost ran into a cottage. Phil frowned observing this from his window, but then shrugged and went take care of his cases. An hour passed and he heard some suspicious sounds from Techno's home, also him swearing. He decided to see what is going on, so went outside and knocked loudly. His friend opened. "Hi Phil, I'm a little busy right now..."

"What happend mate?" Winged man asked looking inside.

"I need to clean whole area..." He sighted with awkward smile.

"But why?"

Technoblade said nothing, it was a little too early to talk about it. "You... need some help honestly?"

"I will be so greatful!" Techno said and went beck to cleaning. Actually he successfuly tided first floor and kitchen, for now put food into a chest and cups into cupboard.

"Chests in magazine too?" Phil asked looking at his friend with confusion. Technoblade made facepalm. "I completly forgot about them... she would like to have order there!" He dropped everything and went down. His companion rose eyebrows with surprise. She?

}*{

Heading second time to main Smp part was faster and full of unsure feelings for Technoblade. Karl seemed to be happy of another trip. When they again reached top of the hill, she was there. Y/n stood near bench in his old crimson cloak, hemmed by fur, watching the sunset. Slowly crimson glow was turned into grey. Horse snorted and she turned head to greet him with warm smile. Technoblade responded with lazy smile and dismount Karl. Moving slowly to her, spotted that she was holding avaraged size, lether backpack and near the bench was closed chest.

"Hi again." Blade said with smile. "I am little bit late but I hope that you wasn't waiting long."

"I actually just came here. Boys let me left mansion three hours ago." She giggled softly.

"You got your room in mansion?"

"Yes... we decorated it with Ranboo's and Tubbo's furnitures."

"So... you have in this chest more personal stuff to put there?" Technoblade asked taking deep breath.

Y/n ignored the question and smiled softly to him. "What did you want me to ask earlier?"

"Well... I think it doesn't matter now." His shoulder dropped.

She looked directly into his eyes. "It matters, because the answer is yes."

Technoblade moved closer with visible confusion. "What?"

"Yes. I am ready for a trip, I have this cloak if it happen to be very cold and even have gloves in pocket."

He studied her figure quickly, under cloak she was wearing warm, woolen dress, completly diffrent that early, light one. High boots and hair braided tightly.

"No." Technoblade looked at her in disbelief.

Y/n nodded and her smile widened. In a blink of eye piglin hybird hugged her tightly. She rested her head against his chest, feeling heat from his body.

'She is going with us.' 'We can't belive.' 'Hurry up, before someone will show up.'

"Let's go, you have to be tired." Technoblade said after a few minutes. He took her chest and pinned it to saddle, Karl stayed calmly. She pated his neck, smiling softly. Blade mounted horse and offer her his hand to help. She grabbed it strongly and sat down sideways.

"Karl can lifted us both?" She asked unsure.

"He lifted heavier things than you sweetheart, you can belive me, he will be good." Techno smiled, he always was impressed by her caring way.

Y/n hugged his waist and again rested her head against his chest. The trip was quietly, they enjoyed each other pressence, when they reached tundra, night fell and snow started slowly rain. Finally they stopped in front of Technoblade's house. Deadly hound didn't even react to new person nearbay and bears was sleeping peacefuly around. Piglin hybrid first dismounted Karl and help Y/n by grabbing her waist and put her on the ground. She nodded in gratitude and grabbed his hand. He took her chest and they reached the stairs.

"You didn't introduce me new visitor?" Phil's voice caught them near doors. Winged man stood in his threshold with crossed arms and playful smile.

"Hi Phil." Y/n said and blushed hardly.

"Tomorrow my friend. You shloud go to the sleep old man." Technoblade teased him.

"I hope you will be gentelman and offer lady a separate bed." Phil winked to them and then went inside his house. "Goodnight lovebirds."

Blade rolled his eyes and opened doors for Y/n. She went inside and looked around carefuly. Nothing changed at all, but maybe one thing...

"You... cleaned whole house." She giggled softly.

"Oh yes and I even created some spare place in cellar for your flowers." He put her chest on the ground and closed door. Their eyes met. Technoblade quickly had covered the distance between them, then cupped her face and gently pressed their lips together. Y/n breathing quickened, same as his heartbeating. After a kiss, their hands found themselfes, when Techno lean his forehead against her.

"I love you." He whispered softly.

"I love you too." She responded quietly.

'We love her.' 'We are going to take care of her.' 'Never, ever let her go again.'

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 282: Aizawa Defeeted

Previously on BnHA: Oh my god do we even care about that at this point. Tomura made a speech; Gran Torino died; Deku lost his shit and tried to strangle Tomura to death with his bare hands; Ryuukyuu came back from Wherever She Was and tried to grab Tomura but he punched a hole through her giant hand; and now he’s grabbing his Quirk-Be-Gone bullets and is ready to cause some mayhem okay?? That about sum it up?? Is anyone even reading this?? CAN WE JUST GET ON WITH IT I’VE WAITED AN ENTIRE WEEK.

Today on BnHA: Well I guess let’s start with what doesn’t happen: Bakugou doesn’t lose his quirk. HE LUCKED OUT!!... for now, anyways. Because, thanks to a near-impossible-to-predict series of events (seriously, raise your hands if you had “Aizawa gets shot but goes full World War Z on his own ass” on your bingo card), Tomura has seemingly regained his regeneration powers, which means that his other quirks are probably back online as well! So we’ll see how that all goes. Anyway so in the meantime Shouto’s back, looking very mad that everyone temporarily forgot he was a main character. And Gigantomachia is back as well! Or almost, anyway. Also, you’ll never guess who broke another one of his arms! Go on, guess. But at least he still has the arm, though, which is more than we can say for certain other people’s limbs. Poor Aizawa is literally on his last leg. He and Tomura really got off on the wrong foot. He chopped his leg off, is what I’m saying. It’s that kind of chapter folks.

you guys I’m losing my whole fucking mind. I straight up deleted the tumblr app off my phone for 24 hours so that I wouldn’t be tempted to log in and risk potentially being spoiled. and I’m happy to say that it worked! so here we are now, completely spoiler free, and let me just say that if Horikoshi decides to cut back to Gunga Mountain now, I will either cry for hours or abandon the series forever and go do something more productive with the rest of my quarantine like learning how to play sad songs on the guitar

all right. here goes

so we’re opening with Deku, who is currently comprised of 100% rage and 0% mercy, and is doing that thing where only the whites of his eyes are visible. and basically he’s just thinking “I’VE REALLY GOT TO HOLD ON TO THIS GUY AND MAKE SURE HE DOESN’T DO ANYTHING ELSE HOMICIDAL.” which is a solid game plan, but perhaps not so easily accomplished

-- oh my god this poor kid is still in denial, I can’t. why are you doing this

is there even still a Gran Torino to tend to at this point? after Tomura bulldozed a hole through his torso, and you went and finished the job with your own fucking attack? sob

but I guess the law of Tragic Shounen Mentor Deaths mandates that Gran’s should be at least as drawn-out as Nighteye’s was, though. so he’s probably only Mostly Dead, which is still Slightly Alive if I remember my Princess Bride correctly, and I think I do

so now the rest of these stooges are finally catching up with us here

yes, my friends. a bullet. WELCOME TO MY LIFE FOR THE PAST FUCKING WEEK. anyways I have a LOT of pent-up energy here just fyi. there may be a lot of unnecessary screaming in this recap

FUCKING WYOMING SMASH Y’ALLSSSS

I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA WHAT JUST HAPPENED SOB. DID HE JUST HAMMER FIST TOMURA’S HEAD INTO THE GROUND. DID HE SNAP HIS FUCKING NECK AT 100%. IN AN IDEAL WORLD HE WOULD HAVE JUST CHOPPED TOMURA’S ARMS OFF WHILE SOMEHOW MANAGING TO AVOID BREAKING ANY OF HIS OWN BONES IN THE PROCESS, BUT I HAVE A FEELING THIS SITUATION WILL NOT BE RESOLVED IN ANY KIND OF MANNER ONE WOULD CONSIDER “IDEAL”

(ETA: fun fact: this attack did absolutely nothing except make things approximately 100x worse. but you tried Deku. you tried.)

THE FUCK KIND OF PORTENTOUS BULLSHITTING TITLE IS THIS. OH MY GOD, I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT EMOTION I’M HAVING RIGHT NOW, IT’S JUST A LOT OF LOUD THOUGHTS

anyway so if you’re just joining us, Tomura just pulled two bullets out of his pocket, the good guys finally noticed, and then Deku did a smash and everything exploded. the radius of this attack actually looks wide enough to have potentially involved Aizawa, who probably does NOT want to get any debris in his eyes right now, and also Gran, who probably doesn’t particularly want to be hit by another deadly attack for the third time in the past ninety seconds. anyway so I guess what I’m trying to say here is WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THAT YOU LITTLE GREEN LUNATIC

AHHHHHH

he got the one!! the one that was in Tomura’s right hand!! but what about the one in his left ahhhhhhh

(ETA: lmao at Kacchan being the one to blow up the same bullet I was so sure he was going to be shot with. saw the writing on the wall, huh kid? what do we say to the god of foreshadowing?? ‘NOT TODAY.’ ...except that we’re still not actually out of the woods yet so you still better watch yourself lol.)

...

based on the font here, these are Tomura’s thoughts. which he is thinking immediately after getting the lower half of his jaw very painfully cronched by the VERY homicidal sixteen-year-old still clinging to him. anyway so Tomura’s thought processes are as inscrutable to me as ever lulz

and Deku’s arm looks broken again, yaaaaay. but at least it’s his left arm and not his right! so that’s nice. now they can match

[SHRIEKS]

HE YEETED IT. IT HAS BEEN YEETEDED. HE DID A YEET. [sobbing] he DiD a YeEt oH my GOD

DID IT HIT SOMETHING!?!?!?

my reading process here is as follows: 1) scroll down exactly one panel. 2) scream even though absolutely nothing has happened yet. 3) WRITE THAT DOWN 4) REPEAT

DKSFJLKHSDLGKHLI

DID IT HIT HIM!?!? DID IT GET HIM IN THE LEG SOB ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS. JUST LIKE THAT?? BOOM GUN BULLET LEG!!?

YOU GUYS IT REALLY HIT AIZAWA AND NO ONE DID A GODDAMN THING?? it wasn’t even drawn out or anything??? it just HAPPENED, within like four pages??? NO SLOW MO?? NOT EVEN A REACTION PANEL WHAT THE FUCK

son of a bitch I would so dearly like to grab Manual and RockLockRock’s heads right now and just conk them together real hard. YOU STUPID FUCKS sob YOU HAD ONE JOB!!! IT REALLY WAS JUST ONE!! AND YOU WERE SHARING IT!! SO IT’S MORE LIKE HALF A JOB!! AND YOU STILL COCKED IT UP IN ABSOLUTELY NO TIME AT ALL OH MY GOD

(ETA: they should blow this panel up and make it into a t-shirt and make Manual and RLR wear the shirts every day for the rest of their lives. half a job, you guys. please go away I cannot even look at you right now.)

FUCK MY EVERYTHING

(ETA: I still can’t figure out if this horrific angle is due to the earlier damage from the Noumu, or if Tomura really just flung the bullet THAT hard. honestly I’m surprised it didn’t just slice right through him with that kind of velocity. “no thanks because then I wouldn’t get to write a scene where he chops his own leg off” oh okay well when you put it that way, Horikoshi.)

if I recall correctly this is the leg that he said was “twisted”, no? yeesh. might just want to chop it off real quick, then. s’not like it’s doing you any more good. does anyone know if zombie rules apply or not with this sort of thing?? shit

?!?!

“THANKS”?? okay what. did it hit him or not??

-- oh my god WAIT. WAIT. WAIT. WAIT. WAIT. WAIT. WAIT

I WAS -- I WAS JOKING I -- FFFFFFFFKJK

jesus fucking christ. when I said “might just want to chop it off real quick” literally FOUR PARAGRAPHS AGO, I can tell you that the one thing I did NOT expect was for Aizawa to be all, “you know what, that’s a good idea”, and then YOINK OUT HIS TRUSTY HERO SHANK AND GO FULL 127 HOURS ON THIS BITCH. "LALALA WE’RE GONNA DO IT RATIONALLY TEEHEE” like excuse me, the fuck

anyways. I don’t even know what to say. thank you Aizawa’s leg for your sacrifice, and for always supporting him. literally. oh my god I came here ready for my son to enter a new phase of character development, and for the manga as a whole to enter a new phase of glorious, glorious angst. no one told me I’d be sitting here making puns instead. what a fine, confusing day

anyway though let’s just fucking hope it worked. and side note, if Aizawa Shouta really did chop off his own fucking leg just now and somehow STILL managed not to fucking blink, I think we might as well just go ahead and hand him the Biggest Badass In The Series award right now because no one is ever going to top that. nope. not happening

it is truly a testament to Shigaraki Tomura’s unfathomably mysterious sexy villain energy that he still somehow manages to look hot with only half a face

also no one in this manga actually feels pain, do they. not Deku, not Aizawa, not Tomura, no one. no wonder none of them have any self-preservation instincts to speak of

um

did someone just randomly explode just now. at this point it might as well happen, right

oh it’s the shockwave from Deku’s Wyoming attack, apparently. how nice of it to have a delayed reaction for absolutely no reason

anyway so Deku’s being flung back, but he’s grabbing onto Tomura again with Blackwhip. but oh shit you guys, if Tomura escapes Deku and Ryuukyuu’s clutches and still has any bullets left in his pocket, we may still be able to salvage this Bakugou quirk situation after all. would be nice to be able to actually do something with all of these “happy quirk losing day” balloons that I ordered

(ETA: actually, believe it or not I honestly like this better. Tomura using AFO was always the more dramatic option anyway. and now that we’ve done the bullet thing everyone has presumably let their guard down again, which, good.)

I love how Tomura apparently hasn’t noticed that Aizawa’s just amputated his own leg? to be fair he’s probably distracted by all the explosions and such

also gotta love how Deku’s arm-breaking attack seemingly just made everything worse for no reason. and also how Manual and RockLockRock are once again just standing there doing absolutely nothing

SO NOW GUESS WHAT’S HAPPENING

I MEAN IT! GUESS. BECAUSE YOUR GUESS IS AS GOOD AS MINE LOL

OH WELL OKAY THEN

just like we all saw coming!! ...

so is this Endeavor’s attack?? Bakugou’s?? either way, hot damn. fortunately for Tomura he is apparently operating under the same guidelines as the U.S. Federal Reserve, in which mutilated bills may still be exchanged at face value if more than 50% of a note identifiable as United States currency is present. basically as long as roughly half of him is still vaguely Tomura-shaped I assume he’ll be fine

(ETA: in hindsight I should have immediately been able to identify this as a Shouto attack based solely on how murdery it was lol.)

OH MY GODDDD

KRANCH?!?

OH MY GOD LOL WHAT. LOL. REMEMBER EVERYONE’S THEORIES FROM LIKE TWENTY YEARS AGO LOL. SHOUTO WHAT THE FUCK. DID YOU STOP FOR DRIVE THRU

AND MEANWHILE DEKU’S BACK ON THE SCENE GIVING ARGUABLY EVEN LESS FUCKS THAN BEFORE, IF SUCH A THING IS EVEN POSSIBLE. SO FAR THIS CHAPTER HAS PRECISELY ZERO THINGS THAT I ACTUALLY EXPECTED IN IT, WHICH IS VERY IMPRESSIVE

IT ALSO HAS A LOT OF SMASHING

a LOT. of smashing, guys. feels like... 60% smashing, 20% severed legs, 20% Kranch

-- oh no oh SHIT oh shit oh shit

(ETA: um so I really can’t tell how far that wound extends and whether or not Aizawa still has his right eye, shit.)

first of all how did Deku get here next to Aizawa when he was just over there with Tomura, what. and second, I think Aizawa just blinked, oh shit. probably on the verge of passing out after CHOPPING HIS OWN LEG OFF which STILL hasn’t been acknowledged yet?? did I just completely misinterpret all of that back there or what

(ETA: there was seriously so little attention called to this that I scrolled back up to confirm it probably like half a dozen times. apparently Horikoshi thinks that THE MOST BADASS THING TO EVER HAPPEN IN THE MANGA should be completely downplayed. whereas if it were me, there’d be an entire two page spread of JUST THE LEG. WITH MUSIC PLAYING. EVEN THOUGH IT’S A MANGA.)

YEPPPPPPP. fuck

look at him though. he’s so happy. this is why I can’t stay mad at you no matter how deranged you get you little maniac

so is quirk-stealing back on the menu then or what. don’t think I’ve been lulled into any kind of false sense of security by any of this lol

-- ARE WE SERIOUSLY CUTTING AWAY

so Todoroki really went after them ALONE. the better to put his dad right back up at the top of the Lose Your Quirk Sweepstakes finalists. well... second-to-top, maybe. like I said I will not be lulled

yuh-oh

why do I feel like the odds of Gigantomachia arriving to herald the end of this chapter just shot up DRAMATICALLY

so the next page is almost entirely just a list of cities that the news anchor is telling people to evacuate because they’re in Machia’s path. along with a bunch of dead heroes lying around everywhere, and Ochako being all ominous

(: weren’t they, though? heh. this is going to be so, so bad (: (: (:

-- fuuuuuuuuuuu

aaaaaand that’s it. hahahaha. okay then let’s summarize

Bakugou defied all expectations and kept his quirk (FOR NOW)!

Aizawa cut his own fucking leg off and it WASN’T EVEN REMOTELY ACKNOWLEDGED FOR REASONS I CAN’T UNDERSTAND (R.I.P. AIZAWA’S PRECIOUS LEG. YOU ALWAYS PUT YOUR BEST FOOT FORWARD)

Kranch showed up after 157 years and is probably wondering why the heck I keep calling him “Kranch” now. THINGS CHANGE WHEN YOU’RE MIA FOR A WHILE MY LITTLE STARBUCKS CHRISTMAS CUP

Deku broke his arm for the 78th time

Tomura regenerated but seems to think Aizawa’s quirk is actually gone for good, which I’m pretty sure it’s not. so if they can keep him from destroying everything long enough for Aizawa to turn it back on again, we might possibly still survive this

and lastly, Machia is about to kill all of these stupid people frolicking around outside of this fitness club who are probably so proud of themselves for not being glued to their phones 24/7 because they prefer to LIVE LIFE IN THE MOMENT, THANK YOU VERY MUCH. well that’s on you my friends. at least it’ll be a quick death. ffff

[sicparvismorrigan]

Crisis of Faith

The will of God brings a young and impressionable Trinity soldier to the attention of Commander Konstantin.

Tomb Raider/Rise of the Tomb Raider/Konstantin

Viewpoint: 3rd person female Trinity soldier OC

Warnings: blood, descriptions of violence, PTSD, religious fanaticism, stigmata

Word count: ~2.5k [complete]

A short fic I wrote because I wanted to play with Konstantin’s heavily religious side.

Read on Ao3

Death.

Ailish sat up on her cot, freezing cold. She was drenched in sweat and panting heavily. It was pitch black in the gulag and she tried to slow her breathing so she wouldn’t wake her comrades. She listened carefully, there was snoring coming from all directions. Nobody had heard her, not yet.

She was safe. She was surrounded by big men with weapons, nothing could hurt her here. All the prisoners were securely locked up. Ailish reached down and felt the comforting cool steel of her own pistol in its holster.

She breathed in deep and counted 1...2...3... before breathing out again. Her pulse was still racing and she could feel her heart trying to leap out of her ribcage.

Safe. I’m safe.

It had been nearly two years since Yamatai and Ailish still had nightmares. She knew exactly what it was: Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. She had heard the guys talk, knew some of them struggled too. She had seen a few get discharged because of it. She’d spent a long time trying to convince herself she was fine. But in fact, she really wasn’t.

She needed air. Ailish quietly got out of her cot and shrugged on a few more layers before making sure her pistol was strapped to her body, just in case. She tiptoed past the guys by the light from her torch, and made her way out to the old guardhouse that was their temporary mess area. She just wanted some space to calm down.

Empty, thank God. The embers of the fire were enough to keep the warmth going. She pulled up a chair and settled in to watch the glow.

She kept replaying the last moments of her nightmare over and over in her head, despite trying her best to push it away. They were in that god-awful pit again, suffocating from the fumes. She checked ahead and yelled Clear! back to her second, Charlie. As he moved past her she heard something big land on the rock of the cavern floor behind them. Charlie swung back around and screamed at her to get down as a God-awful roar filled the cave, rattling her bones. He raised his gun to fire and Ailish shrieked at him stopitsgonnablow-

bang bang

 

BOOM

A flash of white light, then darkness. Waking up in terror once again from the memories that haunted her every night. At least she was alive, she had made it out. Charlie hadn’t, she couldn’t save him. She still blamed herself. The guys had tried to convince her again and again it was an accident, but she should have been there. In her dreams, she’d seen Charlie die a hundred times over, each more horrible than the last.

She had never been so close to quitting as she had after Yamatai. She had composed her resignation letter in her head on the helicopter ride back to civilization, but had never written it. Something told her it wasn’t time yet. She’d spent just over three years working with Trinity at that point and never questioned her beliefs before the clean-up mission to that hellhole. By all accounts it was even worse during the Nishimura expedition. She shuddered, it didn’t bear thinking about, how anyone could survive there for any length of time she’d never know. So many bodies. And in some places, the smell, it was unholy.

It didn’t help her sleep at night, but at least she had got a promotion out of it. The salary was great, which was a major reason for her staying put. Ailish was trying to help her parents put her younger sister through Yale, and every cent counted. Her mom and dad had just been grateful, and thankfully hadn’t yet asked where the money had come from. She didn’t want to have to lie. They’d hit the roof if they ever found out. As far as they were concerned, she was still working as a paralegal in Chicago. God, she missed her sister. She hadn’t seen her in months, and now Ailish was off-grid in Siberia. Freezing cold, snowy, desolate Siberia.

She was startled out of her thoughts by a voice outside. A deep voice, American accent. It sounded a lot like the Commander. She really hoped he wouldn’t come into the guardhouse. He was intimidating, and she’d never been in a room alone with him before. He sounded like he was talking on the phone.

“...and what did the doctor say?”

...

“Okay...Ana, are you smoking?”

...

“Yeah, I know, but-“

...

“Listen, she’s on the move. She may even already be in Siberia. I need you back here.”

...

“Got it, see you soon.”

 

Who was Ana? Was it his wife, girlfriend, daughter? Who was the other ‘she’ he was talking about?

Ailish heard footsteps coming up to the door and the latch lifting. Oh boy, here we go. I wasn’t eavesdropping, Commander, I swear.

He stopped dead when she saw her at the table. Obviously not expecting anyone else to be awake at this hour. He slid the cellphone he was carrying into a pocket and nodded at her before closing the door behind him. “Sergeant.”

“Evening-“ Ailish checked her watch. “Ah, morning, Commander. Sorry, sir. I’ll get out of your way.” She slid her chair back to leave.

“Stay. You were here first.” Ailish sat back down immediately, wide-eyed. “What are you doing up so late?”

“I couldn’t sleep, sir.” Not strictly true but she didn’t want to feel like a little schoolkid telling her superior she had a bad dream.

“Likewise.” He pulled up the chair opposite her and sat down with a sigh.

Something was bothering him, he seemed fidgety. Ailish didn’t really know what to do so she started twiddling her thumbs and rambling to fill the silence. “Gee, the weather’s really turned these past few days, huh? Ha ha...kind of makes me wish we were back in Syria. Although it was almost too hot-“

He cut her off. “Moscovitch, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’re not on duty, you don’t have to call me sir.”

“Uh- yes. Okay, si- eh...Command- uhmm...”

“Konstantin is fine.”

“Okay.” It felt weird. Ailish wasn’t even sure if that was his first or last name. “You can call me Ailish. It’s slightly less of a mouthful than Moscovitch.”

“Don’t hear that name very often.”

“Yeah, it’s a weird one...my parents have always had this fascination with Ireland. It means ‘noble and kind’ or something like that...I dunno...”

He looked at her for a long moment. Ailish opened her mouth to speak again when a wolf howled up in the mountains. She grabbed for her pistol and her other hand tightened on the edge of the table until her knuckles turned white.

Konstantin saw her reaction and frowned. “Relax, it’s just a wolf, they don’t come down here-“

“Yeah, I know.” She started hyperventilating and bit her lip hard to fight back the tears. For God’s sake, don’t cry in front of the Commander. She hated hearing the wolves at night. Rationally, she knew they were miles away, but the sound still caused her pain.

For a moment she was back on Yamatai, wedged in a rocky crevice listening to the snarling as they hunted for her. The smell of rain, tree sap and decay all around. Her hands shaking as she pointed her rifle at the opening, just waiting for jaws and teeth to emerge around the corner and grab at her.

“Oh, shit.” This was going to be a bad episode. She’d had panic attacks increasingly often and could spot the signs of one approaching. Fortunately they usually hit when she was alone or could sneak away, but now she had no such luxury. Ailish knew this one had her beat.

Konstantin’s mouth tightened. “Language.”

She had time to blurt out “Terribly sorry sir!” before she slid off the chair onto the floor and crawled under the table.

The tears were now pouring out and rolling down her cheeks. What an embarrassment. She’d fought so hard to prove she was equal to the guys, and now she was being a silly little girl.

She felt the Commander’s boot gently tapping her back. “Mos- Ailish? Are you okay?”

“I will be, in a minute.” She panted.

Through the panic she heard the other chair scraping backwards. To her surprise Konstantin crouched and got down to her level under the table, facing her. Was he supposed to do that?

“You’ve normally got it together, Moscovitch.” Oh no, back on a last name basis. She’d definitely messed up. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

Ailish shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. “Just need a sec.”

The only sounds in the room were her panting and the low crackle of logs in the burner. She felt his gloved hand on her shoulder.

He quietly spoke. “Listen, I read the Yamatai report.” It was strange, how calming his voice was.

Ailish looked up, misty-eyed. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “I didn’t know they’d be sending a woman.”

“I’m just as capable-“

“Quiet. I’m saying it’s impressive you completed the mission, and even led part of the way, that place sounded like a nightmare.”

“It was.” Charlie, I should have saved you.

“And I am sorry you lost Corporal Collins. I know you were close.”

“Yeah...” she sniffed loudly. Her heart still hurt, so much. “He was like a brother. Charlie would have done anything for me. And I would have done the same for him.”

His eyes softened. “I know what that’s like.”

It meant a lot to Ailish, getting commiserations from a Trinity leader. Normally, you could forget about that sort of thing. Rourke had co-ordinated the Yamatai mission and hadn’t said a word to her when he had met them back on the mainland for debriefing. Dominguez had been silent too, though he had been one of those who had approved her promotion. They could be a heartless, insensitive bunch sometimes.

But she hadn’t expected the Commander to have a soft side. He actually reminded her of Charlie. Konstantin had a scarred-up face but there were similarities for sure. Blonde hair, blue eyes, they walked with the same purpose. He wasn’t bad-looking actually, as long as the light was dim.

Ailish eventually rallied and crawled back into her chair, still breathing quickly. Konstantin sat down too, regarding her with something akin to concern.

“Tell me the real reason you’re here by yourself in the middle of the night.”

She swallowed hard. “I...I have nightmares still.”

He shook his head. “I think you should talk to someone about this. If you’re serious about staying with Trinity. It would be a shame to bail out now that you’re a Sergeant.”

“I’m fine.” Ailish mumbled.

“You’re really not. I know someone who might be able to help, a doctor.”

“No, honestly...” Please no doctors, they might kick her out. She needed the money for Ellen’s tuition, she had to stay.

“I trust her, she’s with Trinity. Her name’s Wilkens. If I order you to see her you can’t say no.”

“Then I suppose it’s settled.” Great, just great.

“Indeed.”

He suddenly pulled his gloves off and took her hand in his. Ailish fought not to pull back out of his grasp. Was this really appropriate? Her free hand was reaching for her pistol when she realised he was just checking her pulse.

“Much better. Almost back to normal.”

She managed a small smile. “Thank you Commander.”

Ailish realised her hand felt strange under his, like a bug was crawling on her. She glanced down and started. “Your...uh, your hand is bleeding.”

Fresh blood was running down between her fingers onto the table. It was creepy as hell, she tried not to shiver. She’d been a bit squeamish about blood since she’d seen a literal underground river of it in Japan.

He didn’t react, just looked straight into her eyes. Ailish didn’t know what he expected her to do. She could still feel it trickling down her skin. Was he not alarmed that his hand had just started pouring blood? She was becoming visibly uncomfortable when he finally answered her.

“They’re old wounds. It happens sometimes.” He held up his other hand, palm facing towards her. “See?” That one was also dripping crimson.

Ailish almost gagged. Ugh, now she knew why he wore gloves all the time, even in the heat of Syria. What was the name for those wounds? Stigmata, or something like that. A sign of divine favour, apparently.

The urge to ask how he got them was overwhelming. Actually, she better not, it was maybe a touchy subject. The Commander could be...violent. She’d seen what he could do when he was pissed off. She had the fleeting thought that maybe he would hurt her, or worse, if the mood took him. Everyone else was asleep, who would know?

He spoke, jolting her back to reality. “Did you pray on Yamatai, Ailish?”

She nodded, not breaking the eye contact. “Yes sir, for my life, almost constantly.”

“And you truly believe in what we are trying to accomplish?”

“Yes sir.”

“Hmmm...”

There was a long pause, he seemed to be having an internal conversation she wasn’t privy to. Finally he nodded. “Keep your faith, Ailish. You have already been tested, and you’re still here. I believe you are destined for something greater, like myself.”

“Sir?”

He smiled at her, but it was cold and calculating, he reminded her of a shark. His eyes were suddenly dark and empty. 

“The name Ailish is Celtic, yes. But did you know it has a different meaning in Hebrew?”

“You know Hebrew?” She asked in surprise. He ignored her.

“Your name means consecrated to God.”

She wasn’t sure she liked his train of thought. Ailish knew he was one of the more devout members of Trinity, but she didn’t know how deep it ran.

“I’m sorry, Commander, I’m not sure what you’re getting at...”

“I want to keep a closer eye on you, Sergeant. You report directly to me now, do you understand?”

“Yes sir.” She nodded, albeit reluctantly.

“And let me talk to Wilkens. We’ll help you, don’t skip out on Trinity yet.” He finally let go of her bloodstained hand. Ailish could smell it, metallic.

Konstantin stood up, pulling his gloves on. “I have a feeling we’re going to need you for something important.”

Ailish was dumbfounded, what had she agreed to? She didn’t like not knowing, but the Commander wasn’t a man you just said no to.

As he opened the door with a blast of cold air Konstantin turned back, giving her that empty smile again. “Get some sleep, Sergeant. That’s an order.”

“O...kay.” The door clicked shut, and he was gone.

Ailish glanced down at the mess on her hand. She felt like she’d been marked in some way.

Stigmata.

What did he mean?

Consecrated to God. What was it that Konstantin, or some other higher power had planned for her?

What was her purpose?

***

Thank you for reading!

~ Anyone who has read Behind Trinity Lines will recognise the character of Dr. Joanna Wilkens, I couldn’t not include her somehow! She is awesome and I love her. All credit to @BrittanyTheScrivener on Ao3 for Jo’s character. Her work is brilliant, if you haven’t read it I highly suggest you do

~ Sergeant Ailish Moscovitch, her family and Corporal Charlie Collins are my characters, all other characters mentioned are property of the Tomb Raider creative team and I take no ownership of them

~ I feel I should mention that nothing in this work is intended to cause offence or be blasphemous in any way. I myself am not religious at all but I am respectful of those who choose to be and anything I’ve written is only exploring character traits already displayed in the Tomb Raider video games

~ I have no current plans to update this with more chapters, it was intended to be a one-shot. I just really wanted to play with Konstantin’s heavily religious side. But if there is interest I might continue the story...what exactly does Konstantin have planned for Ailish? Where does she fit in with the events in Rise of the Tomb Raider? What will Ana think of her? What would happen if Ailish and Lara ever crossed paths? This could get interesting...

[bottomlwjrights]

MO DAO ZU SHI REREAD:Thoughts™️....and Stuff

Chapter 28

I will refer to nmj’s corpse as either nmj or as “our dear friend”

Also wwx is funny

“Lan WangJi’s brows shifted slightly, as if he was actually worried that Wei WuXian would strip right here and right now.” Yeah he doesnt want anyone to see your body except him so he was worried

Im tellin you they should wear makeup

Nhs tossed the hand at the juniors, while jgy/Su She must have been the ones to hide the legs

“The people who hid the legs knew about the QingheNie Sect’s Saber Hall tradition, while the people who let the left hand loose knew about the GusuLan Sect’s plans.” See i was right

You aint gonna catch lwj off guard, wwx, “Think for yourself.”

“Wei WuXian tugged at his sword tassel and dragged him in the opposite direction” shut up thats so cute

“Although these words were a bit rude, tenderness pooled within Lan WangJi’s eyes. Again, he spoke in a low voice, ‘Mnn.’” 🥺🥺🥺

He’s still holding onto his sword tassel im 😭

“‘Especially the one next to you. Among average folks, I’ve never seen such a… such a…’ Wei WuXian grinned, ‘Such a pretty person.’”

Lwj does not hesitate to pay for wwx

Ooooo now it makes sense they were frightened to death because Xue Yang killed them using the stygian tiger seal huh

Chapter 29

Is 3,600 an important number? Like why this number specifically?

“The way he looked over, you’d think that I was putting my arm around his wife” well, his husband, but yea same feeling

“Wei WuXian, ‘My surname…’ Suddenly remembering the “Wei WuQian” that the waiter mentioned, the corners of his lips twitched. He smoothly transitioned, ‘Is Lan.’” Wwx can predict the future, he just doesnt know it. He’s said things about marrying into the lan clan at least twice now

“Under the bright-red banners of the liquor shop, it seemed as if, for one second, Lan WangJi’s figure stumbled ever so slightly.” ;-;

“It was as if he returned to those days, before he died, of being even worse than a sewer rat, despised by everyone. He played a role in everything; he was to be blamed for everything.” WuXian...

Fun fact: xxc was 17 when he left the mountain

“he wanted to build a new sect with a close friend that didn’t value a bloodline.” Im angry that he didnt get to do this 

Chapter 30 

(under the cut because i thought it was a little long)

Xxc was the one to find xy and bring him to Koi Tower

“known far and wide for his radiant smile, inhumane means, and merciless personality” wow yanno what that sounds like what people thought wwx was like except xy was actually like that

Once again, FUCK Jin GuangShan

“After using it for the second time, he finally decided to destroy one half of the seal.” Seeing the damage caused and the lives that were lost because of the seal, he decided to destroy it so that no one would be able to do something like that again

Okay i uuuummmm dont like xy very much but he is intelligent ill give him that

The idea of testing the extent of the seals powers on a live clan of people sickens me

Nmj was persistent and intimidating enough to convince the Jin Sect into agreeing to punish xy

Nmj had a strong sense of justice, also he planned on killing xy right there on the spot, which i think he Should have done

“Even when Nie MingJue’s saber was pressed against his neck, he still had a grin on his face.“ id be horny if i was in his position, but thats not the point

“Daozhang, you wouldn’t forget me, would you? Let’s wait and see.” Kill this with fire, thanks

When nmj heard about LanlingJin changing xy’s sentence, he got mad and pressed them about the issue

“All of the other sects watched them from the sidelines, but, shortly afterward, Nie MingJue passed away from Qi deviation.” Coincidence? No absolutely not. I think jgy tried to kill him faster after this so that he could personally get his hands on the Stygian Tiger Seal

“He cultivated at a faster speed than any other past leader of the Nie Sect, and also died sooner than any of them.”

Wwx says something vicious about what he would’ve done to xy

“Xiao XingChen the bright moon and gentle breeze; Song ZiChen the distant snow and cold frost.” Listen...these titles are beautiful

Imagine if lwj and wwx got titles like that....what would they be???

“Why did he not go and give Xue Yang what he deserved?Just as he was about to ask, he remembered the scars that the discipline whip gave him.” .... ouchie

“For some reason, in his heart, Wei WuXian cared quite a lot about those scars.” Ouchie again

Haha you ever dig out both of your eyes for your “friend” haha justfriendsthings

Side note: why did he dig out BoTH of his eyes? They could of been twining with cute eyepatches (xxc with a black one and sl with a white one....)

Jgy quickly took over the LanlingJin Sect soon after this all went down and “took care of” xy to fix the sect’s reputation

The grave robber is Su She

“Wei WuXian hurriedly clapped twice, got down on one knee, and slammed his fist on the ground.The strength of his punch passed through layers of dirt, reached the depths of the soil, and penetrated the thick coffin lids, provoking the corpses trapped inside.” Wwx is a badass, in case anyone forgot. Also, that was incredibly sexy of him

God hes so cool...

Su She is fuckin stupid

Jajfnc wwx laughing at him in the middle of battle

“To him, Lan WangJi wasn’t the kind of person who’d hide or run away from the truth.””In Wei WuXian’s opinion, if someone asked Lan WangJi to lie, he’d rather silence himself and not talk at all.”

Chang Ping died via lingshi and his eyes were cut out

Im screaming after lwj said you shouldnt judge without knowing the full picture, wwx thinks about how he admires lwjs morals and attitude a lot

OoOooOo my gosh the first drunk scene here we go!

God lwj will do anything to make wwx happy....

stooooop this is giving me feelings already

He tucks him in...

Wen Ning Wen Ning Wen Ning

Not gonna get over wwx describing wn as delicate im just gonna cry about it forever

Poor boy....

“It seemed as if he was trying hard to endure the pain.How strange was it that, although he had died, he could still experience feelings of ‘pain’.”

Wen Ning heals

God it would have been funny if he smacked into his chest like a cartoon

[imaginingsoftly]

It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time Pt. 2 - Morgan Rielly

Type: roommates to lovers, Y/N insert shorts

Requested: No

Warnings: just swearing

(Y/N = Your name, cuts mean a change in POV. It’ll be from Morgan’s perspective to Y/N’s)

Morgan got off of his flight more than a little tired of the tiny plane and the guy sitting next to him, who seemed far too awake for the late hour. While Carolina certainly wasn’t a large hockey market, it was a huge college basketball one, and he was going to scream if he had to hear the guy go on about how much Duke sucked much longer. It didn’t matter that he knew nothing about college basketball; if anything it seemed to excite the guy, Martin-something, and now he was walking with him through the terminal at RDU to luggage claim still talking. Apparently the Duke coach had been fired for some reason, and a bunch of his players followed him to the new school he was at, some mid-major program on the coast, whatever mid-major meant. 

“But see, here’s the thing; the last big-time coach UNCW had, he went to State. If coach ends up at State, I’m just gonna stop following basketball. The Basketball Gods’ll have officially abandoned Duke.” Morgan nodded unenthusiastically along with the man’s spiel, leaning to avoid the arm he was waving to further his point. Down the escalator they went until finally they were at the luggage collection, and Morgan was finally able to shake the man off with a handshake and a promise to check out a Duke game while he was in town. 

I’m picking up my suitcase, he texted Hamilton. The luggage belt seemed to move slower than usual, or maybe it was the fact that it was 11pm and he just wanted to go to sleep. His black suitcase, battered and covered in luggage tags from years of cross-Canada flights, appeared on the belt underneath a yellow hard-case covered in stickers from places all over the world. An older woman with white hair and a worldly look struggled to lift the case off the belt, huffing when she couldn’t immediately claim her bag. 

Morgan jumped forward, picking up the case and putting it next to the woman with a small smile. Old and kind eyes met his with a grateful smile as she put one hand on the bag and the other on his arm. “Thank you, honey.” Her accent, subtle but still noticeably southern, felt as warm and welcoming as the woman and the suitcase in front of him. He nodded, reaching over and grabbing his suitcase before it got too far away. Morgan turned to wait for Hamilton to pick him up, but was stopped by the woman’s hand resting on his arm again. “Welcome to Raleigh. I hope your visit treats you well.” Morgan squeezed the woman’s hand, smiling gratefully. He nodded, thanking her with a wish goodnight. 

He stepped outside, and the heat and humidity smacked him in the face immediately. Eleven pm and it was still 80 degrees outside. What the hell. A black BMW SUV pulled up beside him, and the red-haired Hamilton waved an arm at Morgan as a blonde-haired girl winked at him from the passenger seat. The backdoor opened, and a disheveled Svechnikov stepped outside. “Hey man,” he mumbled, the Russian clearly having been asleep until a couple of minutes ago. He grabbed Morgan’s bag, putting it in the trunk before slapping Morgan on the back and climbing back into the car. Morgan raised an eyebrow, looking at the blonde questioningly. She rolled her eyes, gesturing into the car. 

Morgan stepped up into the SUV, sinking into the blac leather seats with a sigh. Svechnikov had done the same on the other side of the car, already half asleep again as he extended a hand. “Andrei,” he said through a thick accent, “welcome to Raleigh”. Morgan shook the kid’s hand with a laugh. “Did they drag you out of bed for this?” Andrei sank further into the seat, adjusting the black baseball hat he was wearing with a sigh. “That’s my girlfriend, Kat. She wanted to come, but she wouldn’t come without me. Y/N is her friend. She’s cool.” 

Morgan turned to look at the blonde, who was turned around in the front seat to look over him with what was really an alarming amount of concentration. “Y/N is a relaxed person, Mo,” Hamilton said as he looked at his fellow defenseman in the rearview mirror, “you’ll get along fine.” Kat smiled at him, and nodded enthusiastically. “She’s a big sports fan, especially baseball and hockey. There’s pretty much always some kind of game on the TV in her apartment, actually. On weekend mornings, she watches Premier League. Like soccer.” Kat said the last bit incredulously, and Morgan got the impression she was not the sports fan that her friend was. 

The ride from the airport to the apartment complex was quick and relatively quiet, as it appeared the lateness was getting to everyone in the car. Hamilton and Kat spoke up occasionally to point out landmarks or places to eat along the way, while it appeared Svechnikov had fallen deeply asleep. Hamilton pulled off a street in the middle of the city and into a parking garage, and they were there. Svechnikov jerked awake when Kat and Hamilton opened their car doors, and Morgan chuckled at the kid as he stepped out of the SUV and into the still stifling heat outside. 

“Is it always this humid here?” Morgan asked. Kat chuckled, nodding knowingly. “You get used to it. Supposedly anyway. I don’t think Y/N ever did, and she’s lived in Carolina since she was seven.” That didn’t bode well for him, then. Kat led the way into the building, up seven levels of an elevator and down a long hallway. 

She turned to look at Morgan, smirking at him and raising an eyebrow. “One thing before we go inside. Don’t be a jerk, or I’ll kick your ass. She’s an introvert, so opening up her apartment to a complete stranger is a big step for her. You’re lucky that her mom-friend personality takes over the introversion when people need help.” Morgan nodded solemnly, more than a little scared of the short blonde staring up at him. She put her hand on the doorknob, pausing again. “Actually, one more thing. Good luck.” 

With that, she opened the door and walked inside, not bothering to wait for the three hockey players behind her. “Good luck with what?”, Morgan asked. Hamilton shrugged, pushing past him to go inside. “Good luck not falling in love with her. Kat has it in her head that you’re gonna end up together.” Svechnikov rolled his eyes as he spoke, also walking inside. Morgan took a deep breath, following his teammates. 

The apartment was welcoming, warm feeling and smelling like a bakery and lavender. It was small, and pictures were hung on the walls with obvious love. There were landscapes mostly, clearly taken by Y/N, photos of beaches and athletic fields with some of the most fantastic sunsets he’d ever seen. The kitchen was also clean, minus a small mountain of cookies and what looked like homemade pasta strewn on cooling racks along almost every bit of available counter space. 

“That wasn’t a fucking strike, you goddamn moron! It was six inches off the plate! How the fuck do they still let you call games? Jesus christ!” Y/N was standing in front of the television in the living room, yelling at the baseball game she was watching like she thought they could actually hear her. She was short, and curly hair tumbled halfway down her back from underneath a backwards-facing Red Sox hat as she emphatically waved a hand holding a beer bottle. Oh great, a Boston fan. A cat looked up from it’s spot on the back of the couch, all gray and fluffy and looking very tired of the screaming.

“Hey, Y/N,” Kat said as she stepped into the living room, “got your new roomie here.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N almost screamed when she heard the voice behind her, only relaxing when she registered it was Kat. “What the fuck, Kat, a little warning would’ve been nice.” She turned and glared at the blonde smirking at her. “I almost threw my beer at you.” Kat laughed, swishing her hair over her shoulder as she turned to the boys. Y/N followed her eyes, smiling at Andrei and Dougie before meeting the eyes of Morgan. He looked exhausted, and the purple under his eyes was more obvious in person than when she saw his trade interview on Twitter a few days before. 

She stepped forward and switched her beer bottle from her right hand to her left, holding the former out for a handshake. “Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.” Morgan gave her a small smile, grabbing her right hand with his own firmly. “Morgan. Thanks for offering me a room.” He stepped back a little, and put his hands in his pockets. 

“Arighty. So…” Dougie cleared his throat uncomfortably, “We’re gonna go, since it’s so late. You guys get everything figured out, and Morgan, I’ll come pick you up in the morning to get you to the rink.” He turned to Y/N and smiled warmly. “Thanks, Y/N.” She nodded, and gestured at the cookies. “Take some. They’re made with almond flour and coconut sugar and oil, so they’re professional athlete-friendly.” Dougie and Andrei leaped forward to take several, mumbling their thanks around faces quickly stuffed with cookie. She turned to Morgan. “You’re welcome to them as well. I stress-bake, but I don’t like to eat sweets as much as I like to make them. I usually make Andrei take them to the rink with him, because I know they’ll get eaten there.” 

Andrei looked up at his name, cookie falling out of his mouth with perfect comedic timing. Y/N smothered a laugh with her hand. Kat rolled her eyes, grabbing her boyfriend with one hand and Dougie with the other. “We’re gonna go now, you guys get to know each other.” She turned as she pulled over the door, trying and failing to wink secretly at Y/N. “Lock the damn door, Y/N!” Dougie yelled as he was pushed out of the apartment far too easily for someone with 4 inches and 75 pounds on Kat. Oops. So that’s how they got in without knocking. Again.

Morgan raised his eyebrows and shook his head bemusedly at the closed door. Y/N bit her lip and sighed. “Sorry about her. Boundaries and knowing when to shut up aren’t really her strong suit.” Morgan laughed. “I’ve known her for maybe an hour and I’ve gotten that, yeah.” He gestured at his bag. “Where should I put this?” Y/N stepped around him and towards a door to his right. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. Yeah, through here.” 

She opened the door to show a small room with a full bed covered with what appeared to be a linen duvet, a dresser, and bookshelves stocked with succulents and picture frames of more beach photos. Morgan wheeled his suitcase in, stopping to pick up one of the photos. “Do you visit the beach a lot?” Y/N smiled and stepped closer to see what he was looking at. It was a photo she’d taken in college, when she’d decided to see the sunrise from the beach. “I go when I can. I went to school at the beach, about 2 hours away from here. There’s nothing like sunsets over the ocean, except maybe sunsets over ballparks.” She pointed at the photo next to the one he was holding. “That’s Brooks Field. It’s where my university’s baseball team plays, and I saw some of my favorite sunsets there.” Morgan put the ocean photo down, leaning in to look at the baseball one. “These sunsets are incredible.” 

Y/N backed away, suddenly aware of how close they were. “Yeah, they are. Listen, I’ll leave you to get comfortable. If my game is too loud, let me know and I’ll turn it down.” She turned to leave, tripping over the gray area rug on the floor. She started to throw her hands out, ready for the fall, when she felt strong arms grab her around the waist. Morgan pulled her back into him, a quiet “woah” falling out of his mouth as he did. 

He let go just as quickly as he’d grabbed her, and Y/N turned around laughing, trying to ignore how hard her heart was beating. “Sorry. I’m a major klutz. I tripped over that damn rug about 5 times when I was in here trying to get the room ready for you earlier. You’d think I’d remember it’s there by now.” Morgan laughed, and Y/N’s heart tugged just a little at the sound and how his eyes crinkled. “Well I’m glad I was there to catch you this time.” Y/N nodded, and put her hand out for a fist bump. “Thanks, bud. Let’s try this again; have a good night.” Morgan bumped his fist on hers and repeated the sentiment. He turned to his suitcase as she exited the room. The last glimpse of him Y/N had as she closed his door was of his back, and the muscles rippling under his shirt as he lifted the case onto his bed.

Y/N put her hands on the back of the couch a took a deep breath, trying to calm her heartbeat. Bogey, her cat, jumped onto the couch and meowed at her questioningly. “Yeah, Boegs. This is gonna be harder than I thought.”

[maviemesregles]

Once I was an Eagle

Part II has landed, my friends. I hope you enjoy it. :)

NSFW under the cut.

As always I’ll never get tired to say the words of appreciation to my beta @eclecticstarlightconnoisseur​ <3 

Thanks for sticking with this story, guys.  ♥

All the chapters can be found on AO3 as well.

Chapter I: The beginnings

Chapter II: Sassenach

Chapter III: Catharsis

Chapter IV: Lovestruck. Part I

                              CHAPTER V: Lovestruck. Part II

Jamie ran feeling his leg muscles burn with the effort. Endlessly long, his feet stumbling over the dry branches cracking under his feet startling forest’s inhabitants that seem not to care of his attempt to escape. They know there is no way out. He feels the slap of wet leaves on his face and scratches all over his skin. An aching hollow space inside his chest is growing bigger and bigger. Ultimately, Jamie knows his heart will be ripped out at the end. The sweat dripped down his face forming salty paths. Jamie wants to scream that it stops. He wants to fall down and beg for mercy. But something behind pushes him back further and further into the darkness. His own mother’s voice whispering “Ye didna try hard enough.” 

In the end, the darkness has won. Once again he succumbs to its cold clutches.

* * *

The crisp, fresh Highland air always brings him back on track. Jamie thinks it is one of the main reasons why he feels much better when he’s in the wilderness, especially since his Mam has passed away. He enjoys the freezing early morning air, giving his skin goosebumps and his mind to think straight once again.

He shivers at the swoosh of cold wind. His toes slowly developing a bluish tinge standing on a chilly stone patio. The skies are pink aquarelle with white fluffy marshmallow clouds passing by. Jamie can hear the birds taking charge of the morning chirping away in the garden in front of him. He thinks Claire would love the view. Claire.

Jamie tiptoes back inside closing the doors behind him back facing the wall. Even if he wanted to wake her to catch the beauty of early rising he could not do it. Jamie has learned by now that Claire was a relatively light sleeper. Not by her nature but rather her professional duties. She always slept with her iPhone kept near at hand always, heard each and every message and call. Sometimes Jamie wanted to throw that technical invention through the window and see it break into small pieces. It was his only chance to see her peaceful. Her face always seemed to be concentrating, as if she was not truly asleep. But now that little crease between her eyebrows seemed to be gone.

Claire usually slept like a child with her knees brought up close to her body and wrapped up into a blanket cocoon-like, now was sprawled on her back. The mass of curls exploded into the waves all over the pillow. Like a crown, he thought. One of her breasts peeked from under the quilt, her veins cast a bluish trail over her pale skin all the way down the soft hip pressed to the mattress in its relaxed shape. Jamie was sure he knew each and one of those blue paths under her skin and could trace the map of them on her body with his eyes closed. The morning sun travelled through the thin curtains running its warm rays over Claire’s skin. There was something that came to his mind so sudden that the realisation almost knocked him down. 

Sorcha. 

She was his remedy from that darkness he was running from. That light he longed for so badly but could never find.

When Jamie slid under the blankets next to her she stirred just a bit but did not wake.

He could try to speak to her in English, Gaelic, French; he would even learn any other language just trying to explain what he felt. But it still would not be enough. He was falling in love. Falling in love gave him the same tickling sensation inside his belly and made him breathless as when he rode the roller coaster for the first time at the age of ten.

* * *

Half awake and drowsy I thought that my cat decided to crawl under the quilt in an attempt to beg for his morning feeding. My eyes snapped open when reality kicked in. I viewed a glorious pink sky surrounding the high mountains I saw yesterday through the window of the cottage. The sun crept along the wall, drawing knitted lines of light there. I watched the sunny glimpse run away (creation of the curtains dancing in the wind). It climbed up on the bed all the way up burying itself inside Jamie’s red hair that shone like Amber. His head found its residence in the valley between the milky white of my legs. Jamie’s lips softly touched a spot on the inner side of my thigh where three birthmarks gathered together. 

“Ye ken ye have a witch mark here?” His thumb circled dark dots upon my skin.

Something that vaguely sounded like “mmmm” escaped my mouth. All of a sudden I forgot how to breathe. 

“Now I ken about them too.” 

The rest of the blanket was pushed aside falling to the floor with a soft whisper. It was the competing temperatures, the cool air of the room playing against my hot skin, that raised goosebumps all over me.

I tried to tell him that I am not a witch though (as if they really existed and he was going to execute me). But the words remained stuck inside my throat only letting out a moan when the velvet of Jamie’s tongue descended lower. In mere seconds, my legs began to tremble, hips instinctively rising up with want. But Jamie’s hand laid atop my stomach keeping me pinned on the mattress. A shuddering sigh left my seized lungs as Jamie flicked his tongue once, twice and then his lips closed over the sensitive flesh sucking.

The ceiling started to spin above and I closed my eyes, surrendering to the only existing thing in the world that moment - Jamie. His exploration up and down, from left to right, circling and suckling did not last long before the daylight has disappeared from the view and my cry echoed in the room.

As the real world returned and I regained my senses, I felt my breathing slowly return from short gasping breaths. Jamie's blue eyes settled on me excitedly remarking, "We have a great day ahead of us."

Jamie indeed had plans. It was hiking in fact (“it’s a must in Highlands, ye canna not do it”). Mentally I kicked myself for stopping jogging in the mornings. How big is the chance that I’m not going to be out of breath ten minutes into our nature exploration? The yoga classes where I went with Geillis was also abandoned after several weeks. “I stand enough on my feet in the surgery” I reasoned with myself (and Geillis who made a remark about having “trained arse”).

With perfectly ripe avocados on toast and cherry tomatoes for breakfast (with occasional kisses in between, Jamie tasting sweetly of orange juice and I of strong coffee) we made it outdoors.

The Highlands was dressed in autumn. The leaves were toned in shades of orange, red, and gold causing the scenery to look as if someone had spilled paint down them. Other sepia coloured leaves fell down, whispering their goodbyes to the last warm days. They rustled softly as they dropped from dry branches bidding their farewells. I remembered as a child I liked collecting star-shaped maple leaves, creating a bouquet of reddish-brown remnants of summer. I used to put them between the pages of my Dad’s books in his office. Usually, he would find them days later and smile at me. Together we would take them out and stick into the notebook I had. We did that each autumn until my blue notebook was left behind. As well as the life of my parents when uncle Lamb turned the keys to close the door of our London house. That way he locked away my childhood forever.

Jamie was a walking book of legends and stories. Since we left the cottage he was telling me all kinds of things I’ve never even heard about. He made a remark that I should be ashamed I live in Scotland and only heard about the Loch Ness Monster. 

“Have ye ever heard about Kelpies?”

“No, I haven’t,” I shook my head clinging to Jamie’s forearm for support when we passed a muddy puddle.

“Kelpies were said to take the form of a horse. They could also take a human form. They would use their beauty to lure people to climbing upon them before being taking them into the water, not to be seen again.”

“Charming.” I grimaced.

“Dinna fash, I willna let them take ye.” Jamie laughed grabbing me by the waist before I was trapped under his lips.

The cool mid-autumn air slightly burned inside of my throat when I inhaled too deeply. Not being used to such fresh, crisp sensation I coughed feeling my eyes water. Jamie who walked next to me, kicking the leaves with his shoes, squeezed my hand softly.

“Yer okay, mo nighean donn?”

I liked the sound of the Gaelic he spoke sometimes. His ability to fluidly incorporate it into his speech when he spoke to me made me long to hear it even more. Made me long for him. There was something about the way he sounded. The soft lilt of his voice, the deepness of his accent with a trace of huskiness that poisoned my blood with curiosity and mystery. I was dying to know what he was saying but also wished it to remain a secret. But I could not resist.

“Jamie, what you just said, what does it mean?”

Jamie stopped turning me to face him. His warm breath travelled upon my skin as his forehead leaned to meet mine. He smiled lips curling into a soft shape.

“It means my brown-haired lass.”

“Rather a dull colour I always thought,” I whispered, the pink blooming in my cheeks.

His lips brushed mine. Hands tangling around his neck, I kissed back, fingers running along with the soft curls on his nape.

“No,” Jamie’s finger gently touched a stray curl on my cheek. “No, not dull at all. It’s like the water in a burn, the way it ruffles down the rocks. Dark in the wavy spots with wee bits of auburn when the sun touches it.”

I knew this wasn’t just a crush on him. I was well and truly smitten. There was such a serenity when he was around that I could not imagine how should I carry on if he suddenly disappeared. My heart was swelling with my feelings growing with something that one day I could name as love. And I was unquestionably petrified but with him, there was nothing I could be afraid of.

Every time he looked at me like that, the world seemed to stop.When he kissed me, I felt breathless as if all the air from my lungs. His presence, his being was stretching throughout my whole body wrapping around my heart and cradling my soul between his hands. How could I not be falling in love with this man?

 Jamie softly kissed her temple when she closed her eyes. His heart leapt as he held her like that. They stood there in the middle of nowhere, with the mountain rising above them, golden leaves falling down. They were spiralling all the way to the ground as the signs of a bright future life holds for them. The way Claire’s body melted into his, her chin rested at the crook of his neck, Jamie’s hands holding her waist tightly. It was more intimate than anything else they’d done already.

“Claire, about what ye said yesterday,” He spoke quietly into her hair. “Do ye really feel that way?”

Her words echoed in his fevered mind. ‘I fancy you. Very much.��

She nodded.

A romantic inside Jamie wanted to tell her that he loved her from the first moment Claire’s solid head bumped into him but he nodded back tightening his grip on her.

The mountains rose high into the blue. We passed fields with yellowish grass, still wet with morning dew making our shoes damp; It was a glorious expanse of dried grass softly rustling in the wind bending over where we walked creating a pathway.

When my fingers became cold and numb from the freezing Highlands wind Jamie untangled our hands to share the pocket of his jacket with me. We ate a tuna sandwich and vinegar crisps on the wooden bench that stood in the valley near an abandoned cabin. Jamie spilled half of our coffee from the tumbler he prepared. I stifled a need to laugh at him, my thumb gently sweeping away sandwich crumbs from his lower lip. My lips chapped from the wind but Jamie’s touch soothed the burning sensation.

“Ye ken that Loch Lomond,” Jamie pointed to the left where in the distance a great lake stretched out. “Is the largest water lake in British Isles?”

“It surely looks like it,” I smiled looking at the dark water on the horizon. “How do you know so much?”

Jamie chuckled speeding up in front of me to let me pass in safety then, with the help of his steady hand.

“I grew up in the countryside, Sassenach. That’s where I belong. That’s what I love. A Scot must know his history.”

“You know, you would be one of those Highlander warriors in the past for sure.” Laughing, I pinched his biceps.

When we reached the blanket of trees at the base of the mountain, the sun started to go down in the horizon. The sky almost vanished in the forest leaving us with small glimpses of the blue coming through the thickness of pines above us. We took at least a hundred awful selfies during our four-hour hike. I spied a flower that bloomed in all possible shades of purple. Crouching down, I took a picture of it so I could look it up later.

I heard the leaves rustling under Jamie’s feet when he appeared next to me holding out his phone.

“I, er… I... I need to take a pish,” Jamie announced shyly. “Dinna want to drop it down the rocks”

“Smart.” I chuckled hiding his iPhone into the depths of my jeans pocket. 

The mist started to gather around covering the ground with a smoky quilt. I inhaled fresh air perfumed with the rich fragrances of the trees and plants. It was filled with a promise of coming rain clouds ready to burst any moment. I mentally estimated how long we have to get to the cottage before we got soaking wet.

The buzz of Jamie’s phone took me out of my thoughts. Not sure what to do, I fished it out my pocket. 

“Jamie, you got a text!” I shouted into the tall trees startling a lonely bird from the bush.

“Who’s it from?” His voice echoed back somewhere from the left. 

Hesitating for a few seconds I looked down at the screen to see the message. Involuntarily my eyes ran along two lines of letters.

“How are u, mo ghraidh? Dougal popped by, said he canna reach ye, it was urgent. I guessed ye didna have a connection there. Xx.”

The box From said Jen with two emojis -a heart and a house. It was Jenny.

“It’s your sister.” I handed him the phone when he came out brushing off the pine needles from his pants.

When we were going down I wondered what those words meant that Jenny had called him. It was something he’d said to me once before. While Jamie was telling me something about the castle that we could see from our path I googled the meaning of Gaelic that I could not understand. 

It said, “My love” and my heart sank down my chest and then almost broke free out of it ready to burst with happiness.

My love.

* * *

The countryside stretched itself around us in brown, golden and burgundy stains of colours. The hills rolled in soft waves of yellow grass meeting the ground in the valleys with hidden flora.

We walked back in companionable silence holding our hands, fingers securely tangled together, not breaking that needed contact between us.

When there was less than a kilometre until we get to the house the grey skies grumbled with anger. The heavy clouds no longer wanted to wait and cold drops started to fall down as gunfire. In no time it turned into a heavy storm soaking the ground beneath us until it was soft and slippery under our feet. The downpour of water felt icy cold and we had to run lest we get completely wet. The wind howled muting our laughs but for once in the longest time, I felt reckless and happy.

Jamie went to the bedroom peeling off his clothes that stuck to the skin. I followed in suit, not wishing to catch a cold and left a damp pile of clothes on the floor. While I had the time I filled the bathtub with steaming water. Turning off the main light the room went into the warm glow of the candles I’d managed to find in the cabinet in the living room. They were half used, the wax melted into peculiar figures. I had placed them in the corners near the windows and popped a couple on the bathtub sides. Sliding down the water, my eyes closed at the feeling of heat soaking into me. I physically could feel each muscle in my body relax and become numb, limp. 

Jamie stood in a doorway looking at me quietly. In this light, he reminded me of a Greek statue. He was beautifully made. With long, graceful bones and flat muscles that flowed smoothly from the curves of chest and shoulder to the slight concavities of belly and thigh. He was fair with bits of freckles but slightly touched by the sun, toned in a way that reminded me floral honey.

“Come here,” I spoke quietly lifting my hand up from the depths of the water.

He walked over slowly, stepping gracefully as a cat, not breaking our gaze. I felt a tight knot in the bottom of my belly starting to ache just by looking at him. Soon his boxers were left aside together with the puddle of my clothes. The water raised slightly when Jamie got in, sitting behind me, my back pressed to his chest. His hands roamed on the water slick sides of my thighs and my head dropped down his shoulder. I hummed an appreciative ‘hmmm’ at his touch. It felt soothing and much needed after our long hike.

“I must tell ye something, Sassenach.” His voice sounded husky. It was the tone that pulled at the deepest strings inside me. “I’m sure ye bewitched me. Cause for God’s sake I canna imagine how I managed to live without ye before.”

My head turned slightly to the left as my lips had found the column of his neck. I loved to touch him. But not just in a sexual way. Being with him, simply existing in the same space, in a distance of millimetres of each other. This became my everyday dose of oxygen. I craved him. All of him. Including his soul and heart and all of his body. He seeped deep into my being and would remain there forever I was sure of it. And I could not remember life before him anymore. As it simply could not be there without James Fraser. I ached for him every time we separated and I would be a damn fool to deny that.

“I think I can’t imagine that either,” I whispered kissing my way down his torso. When he was well-loved with my lips, my mouth and hands Jamie pulled me up cradling my face between his palms.

“I could love ye, Claire. I could love ye well.”

I exhaled feeling his moist full lips tracing my collarbone. When Jamie lifted me up from the water that became our shelter of warmth and my hands circled around his neck I remembered.

When Jamie kissed the tip of my nose I remembered twisting my ankle two years ago on the slippery grocery store tile after the rain.

When his hands held me tightly, the drops scattering off my body I remembered calling first Geillis asking to bring me to A&E. 

When Jamie’s lips softly touched my forehead I remembered that I called Frank but he did not pick up being busy at the meeting.

When Jamie passed the first stair I remembered I stayed home and felt lonely.

When Jamie’s lips dragged down my neck I remembered that Frank had left to the conference in London saying that he’d call me several times a day to check on me.

When Jamie gently laid me down the bed I remembered feeling awfully lonely despite Frank’s words of reassurance and support, calls and promise to come back soon.

When Jamie’s thumb brushed over my nipple I remembered feeling empty.

When Jamie held me I felt safe. And when he leaned in to kiss me I whispered into his lips.

“I could love you too. I could love you well.”

[imnotcreativeenoughtomakegoodurl]

Dean X cop! Reader: Soulmate AU - Part 1

Genre: Dean X Reader, fluff (??), soulmate AU, slight angst/whump (if you squint)

Warnings: Description of injury/blood (let me know if I missed any) Summary: 

Summary: This is based on the soulmate AU where any unnatural markings or blemishes (cuts, bruises, stains, marker, ect…) on your body will show up on your soulmate’s body. You got the short straw with whoever your soulmate was-This crazy bastard was always getting the holy hell beat out of him. Waking up in the dead of night feeling like a truck had just run you over went from terrifying to extremely annoying as time went on, but you always did your best to stay safe after one of those nights. However, being a homicide detective, “safe” wasn’t a word you got to use often.

          “Back again?” The doctor asked, flipping through the clipboard Janice had left on the door. 

          “Don’t worry Dan, Janice has already patched me up and just wanted you to check me over before discharge in case this is anything like last time.” You explained, casually rolling up your shirt to show Dan your several bruised ribs and what once was a deep gash in your side. 

          You were in and out of the hospital so often that you were on a first-name basis with the majority of the staff and even friends with several. It was almost routine for you to walk- or even be carried in at least once a week with an assortment of bruises, open wounds and the occasional broken bone. They often joked that once you met your soulmate they would thank him or her for giving them such a dedicated customer, that is if your soulmate didn’t get themselves or you killed anytime soon. There have been several times when your soulmate must’ve made the choice to fight a bear or something because more than once, you’ve come in half dead. 

          "Looks all good to me, (Y/N)," Dan said and you rolled your shirt back down. 

          He signed your discharge form while you gingerly slipped on your coat and detective badge. Dan indiscreetly watched the detective badge glinting on your belt disapprovingly as he walked you to the front desk. 

          "Hey, you gave me the all-clear, doc. Besides, if I don’t leave now, I’ll be late.” You said as you slid the paper across to the desk for Oliver to look over. 

          “Are you sure you’re ready to go back to work? Right now, today? I mean, I discharged you but that doesn’t mean you should pass up some bed rest.” Dan advises. 

          “I really don’t think there’s a point, Doctor.” Oliver sighs, handing you back some papers. 

          “I’m sorry but, Oliver’s right, Dan.” You feign an over apologetic tone, slipping the papers into your bag while walking backwards “There’s been more of those creepy homicides and the PD needs all hands on deck. There’s nothing I can do.” 

          “Oh, that’s bull and we all know it.” Oliver calls out, making Dan snort. 

          “Hey, whose side are you on, Oliver?” You demand. But halfway out the door you turn back and joke “Don’t worry though, I’ll be careful. My soulmate really doesn’t need another injury!” 

          When you make it to the precinct no one needs to ask why you’re late. Your soulmate problems are a well-known routine here as well. You slide into your desk but before you can even begin to crack the surface of the mountain of files before you, your secondary rushes over, brimming with enthusiasm. 

          “So primary, what’s the plan for today? Check-in at the crime scene? Take a look at those corpses firsthand? Interview suspects? Well, I suppose we should properly look over the security footage we just got-“ 

          You have to grab Natasha's arm to get her to stop bouncing around. “Let’s tackle one question at a time. I know this is your first homicide case as a detective and it’s starting to get pretty damn interesting, but we need to keep our heads clear.” 

            You look Natasha in the eye and half expect to see her pupils vibrating out of excitement. When they don’t and she just nods so hard that her blonde ponytail almost flops over her head, you sit her down and continue; “So, what do we know about the killer, Palmer?”

          You’ve barely finished your question before Natasha starts chattering away “Again, you can just call me Tasha, I’m not big on formalities. It’s so weird y’know-“ 

          “Tasha?” 

          “Right, the killer. They first struck a week ago and killed Patricia Davids and Brian Lee We know their MO is to kill a man and a woman within twenty-four hours by stabbing the victim’s brain through the eye sockets. The man and woman are usually involved romantically in some way, so we’re thinking that the motivation is love and the killer is someone with a vendetta against romance. Have you found out anything else on this lead?” 

          And once again, before you can respond Natasha gets sidetracked "This works so well! This whole call and response thing where we bounce clues around is never something I got to do as a cop! I-“ 

          “Well I’m glad you enjoy this tactic, Tasha, but it’d kind of dead in the water if only you get to respond.” You explain, feeling slightly guilty when she sagged a little at getting shut down for the second time. 

           You leaned in conspiratorially and as expected, Tasha’s excitement came flooding back as she leaned in to listen like a schoolgirl being let in on a secret “I went and checked out each victim's itineraries leading up to the homicides and got a connection: The last time each couple was seen together was at Vicci’s Diner. I was thinkin-“ 

          “What’s so special about Vicci’s Diner?” An unfamiliar voice asked from behind you. 

          Slightly ticked at the fact that more reporters wanted info on the murders, you put on your best passive-aggressive smile and turned. 

          Two men you guessed to be in their early to mid-thirties, wearing layered overclothes and muted colours looked down at you. The taller one had a longer hair and slouched a little, almost like he didn’t want to intimidate anyone with his height. The shorter one had green eyes that were fixed on Natasha and you could’ve sensed from miles away that he was about to hit on her. 

          “I’m Sam, this is Dean.” The taller one introduces “We’d like to ask some questions about the Davids and Lee case.” 

          “I’m sorry, but as I’ve told the several other reporters; we’ve already had all the information we’re allowed to disclose published so you can go and check that source.” You said through a gritted smile before turning your back on them. 

          “Well, can’t you tell us again? We want to hear it straight from the source.” Dean says a little too automatically, giving away that they had coaxed info out of people one too many times. 

          “What was the crime scene like?” Sam asks, hot on Dean’s tail “Did it maybe smell odd? Did things not add up? Any weird patterns?” 

          Tasha opens her mouth eagerly to answer but you didn't trust Sam's bizarre questioning and their rundown attire showed that they weren’t reporting for anything too serious. 

          “Well it’s a murder scene so things did smell a bit fishy and if things added up we would’ve found the killer- I’m sorry but I didn’t catch what news publishers you were reporting for.” You pointed out, watching the men’s eyes meet and Dean crosses his arms across his chest to seem more authoritarian as he prepares to deliver what you know is going to be a lie. 

          “Who’s the primary?” Sam asks, now addressing the two of you and dodging the question. 

          “Oh, it's not me.” Tasha answers placing her hands proudly on your shoulders from behind “It’s detective (Y/N) (L/N).” 

          Dean looks almost surprised, as most people do when they find out that someone like you is a high-ranking detective. For some reason, it ticked you off more when Dean didn’t think that you were one to solve double homicides than it did anyone else. 

          Great now the lack of sleep from bleeding all night was making you seek approval from a total stranger. 

          “Damn okay, I was expecting your pretty lookn’ partner to bee the primary but I can see how you could’ve fought your way to the top.” Dean smoothly dishes out a compliment with a smirk and once again you can tell that this is something he did often. 

          Sam elbows Dean and resumes the one-sided questioning “Could you tell us something about Vicci’s Diner maybe? Has anything like this ever happened before in this city?” You sigh and stand up from your desk. 

          Placing a hand on each of their backs you turn the boys around and guide them to the exit “Vicci’s Diner is a really nice place downtown that had some great soup and occasionally carters to the homeless. Personally, I would recommend their grilled cheese and I would also like to work on the case so I actually have some new information to give you ‘reporters’.” 

          You gently nudge them out the precinct doors and scribble your address and number onto a scrap piece of paper “Now I don’t know who you guy actually work for but if you really are that desperate for a firsthand account swing by at night and you guys can help me finish my pie while we talk.” 

          The door closes in the Winchester’s face and you hurry back to your desk, massaging your temples.

           Did I really just give two complete strangers my address? God, what is wrong with me today? 

          Outside the precinct, Dean memorizes (Y/N)’s address before pocketing it. “Quit pacing Sammy, we got an address, it’s fine.” 

          “Yeah, we know where there’s a connection, but the detective didn’t give us any clues on whether or not it’s supernatural.” Sam opens the Impala doors and awkwardly clambers in. “Maybe we would’ve if you didn’t scare (Y/N) off with your questions. You might as well have been screaming “hey do you think a ghost killed those lovebirds?’” 

           Dean starts the engine and the loud banging of a drum solo fills the car. Sam can barely hear Dean when he waves the address in his face and says triumphantly “And I wasn’t talking about the diner’s address; I just got the address of a cute cop who just invited me over for pie because I gave one compliment. What do you think I could get if I bought them a couple of drinks?"

          "A restraining order," Sam mutters as the car takes off. 

          The break room in your precinct had been transformed in the last few hours into a mess of loose papers and gruesome pictures connected by thread beautiful mind style. The cuff of your shirt was indefinitely stained with dry erase marker from the frustrated wiping blank of the whiteboard every time a lead didn’t pan out. 

          You took a swig of room temperature coffee as you reread the ME’s report but the words seemed to have lost all meaning in the 2AM stupor you were currently swimming in. You absent-mindedly run your hands over the puckered line on your skin where your soulmate’s gash had been patched up in your stress and sigh deeply. 

          “What are you still doing here?” One of the night shift detectives asked, poking their head through the crack in the breakroom door “Go home, you look like a mess- and so does your workspace.” 

          “Thanks, Nosellla.” You snap, picking your way across the cluttered room to shut the door and other distractions out. 

          Nosella wasn’t wrong though; you had bitten your nailbeds into raw oblivion and had to band-aid a few fingers. Your hair stuck up at the front and became an impenetrable net at the back from all the times you had run fingers through it and you didn’t even need a mirror to know that you had some killer bags under your bloodshot eyes. 

          Between your soulmate’s antics and this impossible case, you would be lucky to have gotten twelve hours of sleep in the last week. Maybe it was the stress or sleep deprivation or just delusions in general but you rolled up your sleeve and stood by the sink with a washable marker. 

          When you were a kid, you and your soulmate would hold little conversations by writing messages on your arm for the other to see and washing it off to leave room for a response. 

          You wouldn’t be surprised if you were called in to do a psych eval tomorrow for leaning over a running sink with a red marked poised against your forearm. The mess around you must not help your case either but what the hell-you were desperate. The paranoia sent you down a spiral of wondering if your soulmate- one of the only sure things in your life right now- was out there and alive. He had stopped responding when the beatings started getting really bad and you hadn’t “talked” in decades. 

          “Hey guess who?” you scribbled and instantly dunked your arm under the water like one would toss away a phone after sending a risqué text. 

           “I was starting to think that you’d disappeared until it felt like someone was trying to rip off my fingernails today. Are you okay?” 

          Your heart soared and you let out a breath you’ve been holding since the marker first touched your skin. 

           You washed off his black ink and wrote in place: “I’m fine, just stressed. Since I have you “talking” I have a question for you actually.” 

          "Shoot," He wrote 

          “I know you wouldn’t tell me when we were kids because you said it was dangerous but we’ve both gotta be adults now, right? I mean you wouldn’t even want to get close to me as we grew up because apparently any connection at all could be dangerous. I kinda want to know who on earth my soulmate is yknow. All I know is that you’re an adult male who has a habit of getting the shit beat out of them. I want to meet you one day, hopefully soon?”

          It takes him much longer to respond this time and the letters appear haltingly, without the usual ‘no looking back’ penmanship that you were used to. “Listen meeting my soulmate sounds great but look at the hell I’m putting you through without even meeting you. I could never put you through what I have to do every day and people who I talk to have a habit of getting hurt.” 

          Your heart clenches for him but you must resist the urge to roll your eyes. “I already go through everything you go through if that hasn’t toughened me up then my job certainly has. If what you go through is hell than what kind of soulmate am I to just stand here and live in blissful ignorance?” 

          You can feel that he’s pressing the pen harder into his skin as he rushes to finish his statement in his annoyance “It’s complicated, what do you think this is a fairy tale? You can’t just rush into my life like a knight in shining armour and expect to come out in one piece.” 

          Your phone pings and you check it one-handed as you run your other arm under the tap. The stakeout crew that you had stationed by Vicci’s with Tasha had just texted you about a suspicious car that had parked across the street behind the diner but stayed stationary with the engine idling and no one entering or exiting. 

           “Haha, yes!!” You exclaim out loud at the news of a concrete lead and possible suspects. 

          You quickly text the team to take photo evidence but not to engage until you got there and end the unfulfilling conversation with your still nameless soulmate: “I’m still here aren’t I? Trust me when I say I do have field experience with getting near-fatal injuries. Speaking of my job, duty calls but please consider trusting me. We are soulmates and I’d hate for you to actually die one day without me even knowing your name.”

          “Who said anything about me dying?” 

          “Call it gut instinct.” 

          Under a shadowed overpass you tap on the window of the stakeout car and it whirs down to reveal Tasha’s always grinning face. “You took long enough, (Y/N).” She whispers. 

           “Sorry.” You apologize glancing around for eavesdroppers before continuing: “ So what’s the deal?” 

          “Well, they know what they’re doing.” Tasha says with an edge to her whispers “They parked somewhere dark so we couldn’t really get their profiles or see what kind of guns they pulled out of their trunk. But it looked like this wasn’t their first time going into a dinner heavily armed.”

           “Good to know.” You say, eyeing the suddenly sinister diner “Tasha vest on and with me. We’ll go in and split up and you two be ready to call for backup on my call.” You order the team in the car. 

           You slip on the familiar weight of your Kevlar vest and draw your firearm. Tasha grins at you and gives you a manicured thumbs up and you smile tensely and nod. 

          This could be the day you make the biggest break of your career, but despite this, you think back to your soulmate. You think of the hell he refuses to put you through, wherever he is right now, while you’re hunting down a pair of potential serial killers, and you change your mind. This could be the day you prove to your soulmate that you have the balls to walk through hell with him. 

          It’s now or never; You quietly push aside the yellow tape barring off the retro diner door and step into the dark reception area. You almost gasp when your eyes adjust to the dark and see an enormous silhouette no more than a few feet from the nearest booth. You barely have time to load your gun when: 

          “SAM DOWN!” 

          A click, a flash and a bang and you’re blown off your feet as the shot hits you square in the chest.

[littlemomountain]

TianShan, Police AU

Background: In this fictional work, Mo Guan Shan and He Tian have never met before. Mo Guan Shan was unable to afford to go to college, so he works at a restaurant and other odd jobs and lives at home with his mother. His father is still in jail. He Tian is a police officer to the dismay of his brother He Cheng and to the disgust of his father. He Tian is a couple of years older than Mo Guan Shan.

***************

“Will I really sink this low?” Mo Guan Shan thought as he considered his options. He was inside a pharmacy, perusing through random aisles in an effort to look casual until he found himself in front of the section he desperately needed at the moment: Medicine.

His mother had been sick over the past weeks, coughing her lungs out and having a sweltering fever that had her calling out for his dad at times in her delirious state. It made Mo feel miserable and even though he had been preparing her the best soup he could possibly conjure up and putting cool washcloths on her forehead, there were no signs of improvement. The prescriptions she had helped her for a time, but she had since run out and could not afford to get them refilled. Mo had insisted on taking her to the hospital and vowing to get the medical costs paid over time, but she would not relent, and this was the way things stood.

Mo Guan Shan was working hard at a third-rate restaurant as a cook and taking overtime assignments to make ends meat, but he had no choice but to prioritize the rent and other monthly expenses over the medication, leaving next to nothing left over for this predicament. Mo felt he was running out of time if he didn’t do anything soon.

In preparation for what he decided he needed to do, he had worn a black cap and a white surgical mask to conceal most of his face. He wore a black jacket and had the hoodie pulled over his head to cover his not-so-subtle red hair. Gray sweatpants and plain white sneakers completed his look.

Now, sighing low, with sweat trickling down his forehead, he shakily but quickly began to take acetaminophens, aspirins, and expectorants, selecting common brand names such as Advil and Tylenol, but also some items at random in his haste and nervousness. Albeit being his first theft, he did a solid job in concealing the stolen items in his person, and as soon as he felt he had taken enough items, he made a beeline towards the exit. As soon as he heard the alarm at the exit and the cashier yelling out, he was running in an all-out sprint.

He pushed past people, with some, mostly women, screaming out in surprise, and others gruffly yelling, “Watch it, you idiot!”

It didn’t matter to him. All of it seemed like a blur, as he raced at the speed his heart was crashing inside his chest, pushing his legs to take him as far away as he could.

That’s when he began to hear the sirens. “Shit, shit, shit,” he chanted in his head. He wove into the crowds some time longer in order to lose himself among them, no longer running, but trying to blend in. Once he could no longer hear the police sirens and after he felt he had created enough distance between himself and the store he had just robbed, Mo Guan Shan turned into a dark alley planning to head back home to his mom, a mixture of guilt and renewed hope filling his chest.

“You really thought you could get away?” A man’s calm voice called from behind.

Mo Guan Shan paled, and spun around quickly, swinging his fist. His response wasn’t quick enough, though, as the man caught his fist squarely and with a resounding smack of skin. He twisted Mo’s arm behind his back and roughly crashed him against the nearest building surface. “Ugh!” Mo Guan Shan grunted in pain, and did everything he could to squirm out of the firm hold. By this time, the man was still holding on to his arm, but his other hand was on Mo’s neck, pressing his face to the wall.

“Robbing a pharmacy, and now attempted to assault an officer? You really want it bad, don’t you?” Mo Guan Shan could hear the amusement in the man’s voice, and angrily retorted, “Do you get off on using excessive force, asshole?!”

“Watch your mouth.” Mo Guan Shan felt the hand behind his arm gone, only to be spun around, again, getting shoved against the wall, his shoulders being gripped harshly. “Don’t you know who you’re speaking to?”

Mo was staring into black eyes defiantly. Finally getting to see the man’s face, he could see the handsome outline of the chiseled jawline, the well-defined Cupid’s bow framing the top of his lips, and the raven-black hair that slightly came over his eyes. He could make out the dreaded blue uniform. Then, Mo saw one of the man’s eyebrow shoot up in surprise.

The man removed one of the hands on Mo’s shoulder and brought it up to Mo’s face, his fingers reaching to remove the surgical mask.

Mo turned his head to the side and squeezed his eyes shut tightly. “Please,” he whispered, dropping the facade of fearlessness. What would his family think? His thoughts flickered to his father, who was still in jail, and his heart filled with dread at having failed in both keeping his mom safe and himself out of trouble.

The officer blinked. “How cute,” he thought. What an unexpected night this turned out to be. Not even an hour had passed that He Tian was thinking how bored out of his mind he was from the lack of action. Then he was called in for a theft at a pharmaceutical company, and was able trail behind the figure of the man responsible just far enough to catch him unawares. Now before him was this clearly beautiful man based on his physical build and the unusual and captivating color of his red eyes. He felt like bullying Mo.

“Hmmm. But I’ve already caught you, there is no place you can escape to, and I need to take you back with me. So I’m going to have to see your face.” He Tian tried reaching out once more, only to have the young man bring his hands softly to his chest and rest them there. He could feel him shaking.

“Please,” he heard again. “Let me go.” Mo’s eyes were still closed, his face downcast. He Tian’s heart skipped a beat. This has never happened to him before. He Tian had lost count at the number of times both men and women have begged for him to turn a blind eye, to let them go, but he was never once swayed by their efforts. They were always too insincere in their apologies, and most often were shameless in their flirtation. It was mostly that, the awful flirting. The types of people he came across didn’t regret their crimes at all. The man before him was different, and so He Tian felt he first needed to understand the motivation behind the petty crime to get a feel for him.

“Let’s make a deal,” He Tian heard himself saying, “I get to take off your mask, and you tell me why you did it. If your can convince me that you had good reason to do this, I’ll consider letting you go.” Simultaneously, He Tian was thinking to himself, “What the hell am I saying right now?!”

He Tian watched as the man opened up his eyes and faced him. His eyes betrayed uncertainty, but he gave a slow nod. At this response, He Tian slipped his finger into the corner of the mask and slid it down the man’s face, which revealed underneath a work of beauty. Fuck. His hand lingered on the mask, cupping his jaw.

“So why’d you do it?” He Tian asked.

Mo Guan Shan removed his hands from He Tian’s chest and let them drop to his sides. “My mom,” he started, his voice trembling. “She needs me, but I can’t do anything. This was all I could think of.” He Tian watched as Mo reached into his pocket to show him a medication he had stolen. But He Tian wasn’t focusing on that anymore. He just hated how the man was holding back tears, and that he was the cause of it. He had to hold himself back from embracing him right there.

“I’m sorry.” He said this sincerely. He Tian was still mulling over his own actions. He knew he could get fired for this, but then again, he wasn’t worried about his future. He had more than enough wealth, and more than enough alternative paths he could see himself taking. And right now, he really wanted to win this person over with everything he had. “What’s your name?”

Mo shook his head. “If I tell you, you’ll definitely arrest me.”

“I said I won’t if I found your reason to be good enough. Which I do.” He Tian lowered the hand at his jaw to his neck. “What’s your name?” He asked again, calmly.

Mo Guan Shan considered giving him a fake one, but thought against it as any more lies could ruin his chances of being let go for real, if this man weren’t lying to him. “Mo. Mo Guan Shan. That’s my name.”

“Don’t close mountain?” He Tian thought. What a fitting name.

“Little Mo,” the nickname slipped from his lips easily, playfully. “There’s one more thing I need from you before I let you go.”

“I’ve taken off the mask and given you my name. What more can I give you?” Mo was starting to think He Tian was lying to him, and he was panicking at the thought of being deceived.

He Tian could read this from his expression, and cut in quickly, “The next bit is all for me. I’m doing something I should not be doing by letting you go, so my next request is a selfish one, really.”

Mo Guan Shan cocked his head to the side, and his brows furrowed. “Which is?”

He Tian leaned in close, causing Mo to step back, blushing at the proximity. “A kiss. That’s what I want.”

“Wha-what are you saying?!” He Tian watched as Mo turned into a tomato before his eyes. “No way am I kissing you!” Mo Guan Shan abruptly pulled back, and began to walk away angrily. The next thing he felt was something cold on his wrist, and a click. Mo looked down to see a handcuff, and looked at He Tian feeling betrayed, only to then see He Tian put the remaining cuff onto his own wrist with another click. A vein was beginning to burst at Mo’s temples.

“What the fuck are you doing, you chicken-dick?!” Mo Guan Shan was livid, but He Tian smiled his devilish smile and said, “While you warm up that kiss for me, let’s go visit auntie to see how that medicine helps.” He was so over doing his job at the moment. He would pay back the medicine cost out of his own pocket and sweep this case under the rug for Mo.

“We can’t go around like this,” Mo said in a flustered tone. And realizing that He Tian meant to follow him, he added, “And like hell you’re coming with me!”

“You know how to get out of this,” He Tian replied nonchalantly, ignoring the second remark completely.

“I fucking hate you.” Mo really could not come home like this. And he couldn’t keep his mom waiting anymore. Mo pulled He Tian toward him by pulling at the handcuffed wrist, and he touched his lips briefly to He Tian’s. The ladder was not satisfied, but he was peaked.

“I’ll show you what a kiss is.” He Tian wrapped his free arm around Mo’s back and pulled him against his body.

“Let me g-“ Mo Guan Shan couldn’t finish the words before he felt He Tian plunge his slick tongue inside Mo’s parted lips. He Tian rolled his tongue and sucked at Mo’s, coaxing him to play. Mo Guan Shan could feel an unfamiliar heat running up his chest, and he was surprised when he felt himself moaning into the kiss. He pulled back suddenly, surprised at himself, breathing heavily. He Tian touched his forehead to Mo’s, black hair brushing against red, and when Mo met his gaze, it were as if He Tian were undressing him with his eyes. He had to look away. “The handcuffs,” was all he needed to say.

“A little more.” He Tian came in once again, and this time Mo was actively fighting to dominate in the kiss, their tongues coming together over and over, wet with desire, making He Tian become more rough, pausing to capture Mo’s lower lip between his teeth and bite, and tightening his embrace on Mo. “Ah!” He Tian knew he needed to stop soon, so he kissed Mo Guan Shan once more strongly, and then the next series of kisses became softer until the last, feathery touch. Mo Guan Shan was flushed by the end of it and didn’t even notice when He Tian had unlocked the handcuffs binding them together.

He Tian stood before him, unyielding, and by this time Mo Guan Shan knew that no amount of cursing would get He Tian to leave him. He knew He Tian was coming with him. And part of him wanted He Tian to be there, which surprised him, and he didn’t know what drew him to someone that he would have absolutely despised in any other circumstances. How strange a feeling all this was, and how foreign to have this feeling of relief, trust even.

Mo Guan Shan walked ahead, feeling as He Tian trailed behind him like a stray puppy that just got picked up by a new, loving owner.

“If you think you are coming home dressed like that to give my mom a heart attack, you got another thing coming,” Mo said.

“Whatever you say, Little Mo.”

He Tian draped his arm on Mo Guan Shan’s shoulders as they walked together, their silhouettes draped together by the shadows of the night.

[thehomierobbstark]

Hey! Okay so check me out, a short Eric x Reader fic based on the video of Cyn Santana and Joe Budden where she’s clearly smacked and rapping along with the song and he’s tryna take the cup out of her hand but she won’t let him? Idk if anyone’s done that but I think it’ll be cool if you did

A/N: Ok so I went ahead and change the song because I didn’t like that one lol, but you already know which state and city I had to rep for his one XD.  Hope you enjoy it anon! I had a lot of fun with this one! even though Joe Budden can suck my dick heres the video for reference!

Warnings: At the bottom 👇🏿👇🏿👇🏿.

This is for all my lil cute ass black gorditas out there rockin back fat, belly rolls and thick ass thighs that touch!!  x Reader is always gon be black, chubby, and sassy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Red, white, and green lights cast their flickering shadows onto the hardwood floor, the soft white walls near the tree also catching some of their glow.  Speakers mounted in the corners of the room play the upbeat rap songs from the radio, the bass helping to fill the empty pockets of the nearly bare space.

It was December 21st and you and Erik were cleaning the house in preparation for the holiday festivities, like the White Elephant gift exchange you’d had planned later on tonight with your close friends.  All the couches were pushed back against the wall and the decorated Christmas tree was the only piece with some personality, all the presents you and Erik had gotten for each other hidden away in separate corners of the house until you could wrap them and put them under the tree.

Erik was currently in the kitchen washing the dishes and playing bartender, a couple bottles of Hennessy and Malibu rum out on the marble countertop next to a small bowl of melting ice chips.  He’d woken up early that morning and made a delicious breakfast of cheesy shrimp and grits and buttery english muffins with strawberry jam to help fuel the both of you for the mountain of chores ahead of you for the day.

It was your idea to incorporate alcohol into the mix, hence the bottle of rum that you’d been sipping off of all morning.  He’d wanted to start you off simple with something like mimosas, but when you shot that idea down and attempted to climb the counters to reach the top shelf, he relented and swiped the white 750ml bottle and gave it to you.  He figured it was way better than the bottle of Jäger your short arms were no doubt intending on reaching for.

After pouring a few fingers of the drink and some pineapple juice into a red cup, he sent you off to the living room to get started on your part of cleaning the floors while he rolled up his sleeves and got to work on the kitchen.

Had he not been so invested in scraping the grits off the bottom of the pot, he might have heard it when you tiptoed yourself back into the kitchen and poured yourself another drink, taking the bottle of rum with you on your way out.  

You were so excited for the first of many Christmas and Kwanza festivities you and Erik had lined up for the end of the year, and you couldn’t wait to get started on celebrating.

…Even if it meant drinking just a little bit too much while sweeping the floors.

Although the music was still playing around the house, you’d gotten mysteriously quiet after your last vocal outburst, singing ‘Oh fuck. Shit. BITCH!’ at the top of your lungs from Sheck Wes’ “Mo Bamba”.  Erik almost spit out a mouthful of Henny all over his clean dishes when he’d heard you, clutching his chest and laughing with tears in his eyes at his wild ass babygirl.  He just knew you were in there with your foot propped on something twerking up a storm.

After recovering from a couple cleansing deep breaths, he tossed the dish towel in his hands down on the counter and turned to go and check on you to see what you were getting yourself into.

It was when he’d passed the still mostly full bottle of Pure White Hennessy and now cold bowl of water that he noticed the bottle of Malibu was gone.

“Aw hell,” he mutters under his breath, his footsteps quickening.  

“What her tipsy ass out here doing now?”

As he rounds the corner into the living room, he walks out just in time to see you setting up your phone against said bottle of missing rum on one of the coffee tables, giving the camera the perfect view of the gigantic beautifully decorated Christmas Tree in the background with you standing in front of it.

Your cleaning fit had somewhat changed; you were now sporting a tiny little red and green elf’s hat on the top of your head that looked like it could’ve belonged to a toy doll.

Where did you even find that?

Erik groans and drags a hand down his face, shaking his head at your silliness when his eyes zero in on the contents of the bottle behind your phone.  Through the slim little separation in white labeling he could see that at least half of what was in there before was now gone.  It was ¾ full when he gave it to you.

He takes a step towards you, but right as he does the song changes over the speakers.  You start grooving, drink in one hand and broom in the other as your start to bob back and forth for a few seconds before jumping right into the first verse.

“I go on and on, can’t understand how it last so long. I must have superpowers, rap two hundred twenty five thousand hours.  Get a calculator do the math, made a thousand songs that made you move ya ass.”

You were rapping and two-stepping your short little self without a care in the world, bending your knees and winding yourself down to the ground at the last line, pink tongue poking out from between your teeth as you popped your booty.

You stopped your foolishness for a second to read something on your phone, eyes scanning over the screen.  Without warning you toss your head back with a cheek aching smile, your sweet infectious laughter flowing out from your lips, the kind of laughter you only made when you were too tipsy and letting Erik whisper dumb childish jokes into your ear.

That was his laugh.  Only he was supposed to be making you laugh like that.  So what the fuck were you reading that had you tee-heeing his laugh?

You were up on your feet and back to dancing again, taking a sip from your cup before continuing rapping and using the broom handle as a microphone.

Before he can get all the way over to you he see’s the activity on your phone screen first, seeing the trail of hearts bubbling up from the corner of your screen and the comments in the middle being pushed up and replaced as new ones came in.

Yass bitch!

You betta WHINE hunny!

Fuck it up Y/N!

OKAY MISS THING!!! 👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿

Was that instagram live???

“Oh naw.”

Erik was done.  Party over.  Not only were you out here already day drunk at 12:30 on a Saturday, you were acting a fool and shaking your ass in front of all of instagram.

His big bulky body appears on screen as he attempts to reach over you and take the cup from your hand, telling you you were being cut off.

You move the cup out of his range and try to block him with your other hand holding the broom when your favorite part of the song comes on.

(Whats my favorite word?)

“BEEEATCH!” You scream loudly, laughing at both yourself and Erik’s increasingly frustrated face as he continues trying to reach over you.

“Ok, you doin the most now,” he eyes you in warning, but your glossed over eyes don’t even catch it because you’re already gearing up for the next line.

(Why they gotta say it like $hort?)

“BEEEATCH!” You sing loudly again, this time directly at Erik, and there’s no mistaking who the words were intended for.

You keep giggling uncontrollably, stumbling over the next few words as you sing those to him, too.

“You know they can’t play on my court, can’t hang with the big dogs STAY ON THE PORCH!”

You nudge him away again using your shoulder, your body feeling tired and heavy from all the energy you used laughing up a storm.

Fed up with you, he pops you hard and quick on your ass, finally taking the cup from your hand after you instinctively reach back to rub at your bottom.

“Owww!” You whine, lips poked out in a quivering out, and before you know it the broom is taken from your grip and your body is hoisted up onto Erik’s shoulder.

“‘Owww’ nothin! I’m not playin witcho lil ass no more dammit, you goin to bed.”

He grabs your phone too as he starts towards the stairs to the bedroom, nosily reading the comments to see if he needed to add any more scars to his chest.

WHACKKK!

Party pooper :(

She was just having FUN!

Damn Erik why yo ass so mean :/

Oooohh they bout to FUCK!

That last comment pissed him off.  He was done with instagram too.

“Alla yall can shut the fuck up! I’ll block all yall on this bitch, KEEP PLAYIN!!”

You were giggling again, little body jiggling over his shoulder.

“Why you yelling at the phone like a old man E?” You ask him, trying to turn around to see what he was doing.

He rolls his eyes, grumbling as he shuts down the video and closes the app.

“You can hush too. Leaving me to clean the whole house while you get to take a nap.”

“But I’m not tired!!” You protests, kicking your feet a little as you see the carpet changer under his feet as he reaches the bedroom.

“Maybe not, but you will be after I wear that ass out after tonight,” he bites you on one of your cheeks before popping you on the ass again and tossing you onto the bed.

“Now take your ass to bed or you ain’t getting no presents for Christmas!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warnings: Humor, Silly Foolishness, Erik being a Buzzkill

[rumraisinregret]

Unhooded chapter 2: Varda

When Varda awoke the next morning, the sun was streaming through the branches above her head. She squeezed her eyes shut and rolled over, hoping to get a few more minutes of precious, fleeting sleep. That’s when a songbird flitted to her bedpost and began singing at the top its tiny lungs. She glared up at it through one squinted eye.  “You just had to ruin it,” she grumbled. It stared at her quizzically, hopping in place and puffing out its feathers in that twitching way of small birds, before taking off through her bedroom to the other side of the enormous tree she was to call her home. She sat up slowly, still wishing she could fall back into the Fade. Unfortunately, sleep never came easily to her once it had been interrupted.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and curled her toes on the smooth wood planks of the floor. She stood and stretched toward the boughs above her. As she crossed the short distance to the basin on the table at the foot of the bed, she looked around her new home. In the twilight of last night, she couldn’t explore all of its dark corners, but now she took it all in. She was on a raised platform around the trunk of a large broad-leafed tree. A bed, a writing desk, a small chest of drawers, and the table with the basin took up one side of the platform, a tub and an armoire the other. There were walls around the periphery in strategic places where privacy would be most wanted, but ultimately, the room was open to the surrounding branches. The foliage was thick enough to provide adequate concealment, but there were places where one could stand at the edge and look out over the camp on one side or the mountains on the other.

Varda conjured some water into the basin and warmed it. And as she swiped a dampened cloth over her face and arms, she reflected on the events that led her here.

**************

Only weeks ago, just outside Wycome, the city she had called home for a few short years, she and her father along with several other craftsmen from her clan were gathering materials. They were ankle deep in wetlands that in five hundred feet opened into a wide beach and the ocean beyond. She had bent to cut off another of the reeds she used to weave her baskets, when they heard the roar of the resident dragon.

The locals knew to avoid the gully where she made her nest, but any unsuspecting travelers through the area would likely be caught unawares if they ventured that way, especially since she had a penchant for sitting, quietly concealed, with her young under her wings, until the prey was well and securely within her territory. And it certainly sounded as if her current prey were putting up a fight, something no herd of wild ram could do. One quick glance amongst the group of elves and they took off at a run up a steep rise toward an overhanging ridge that would provide a line of sight down into the dragon’s nest. Being craftsmen, none of them had been trained as warriors, but most of them had bows and were decent enough hunters, her father included, and they had Varda. She was an outcast amongst her people, but they all still knew what she could do. Had seen demonstrations of the ancient magics her mother had taught her even if Keeper Deshanna never continued the education. They had no reason to fear the dragon if they kept well enough out of its way.  

At the bottom of the small canyon were a group of about a dozen elves trying to escape dragon and young. There were two arcane warriors in gold armor at the front covering the rest who were dragging three of their number already fallen unconscious and bleeding.

Varda stood and slammed the butt of her staff into the rock, sending a spike of ice up into the dragon’s belly. Beside her, an archer released an arrow that found its intended mark in the dragon’s eye. The beast shrieked anew and in its frenzy, released a jet of flames that one of the warriors failed to block. He fell screaming. A dragonling immediately pounced and clamped onto his left arm. The female warrior stabbed it in the neck and slung her fallen comrade over her shoulder in one swift motion.

Varda slid down a gravelly slope to position herself between the angry mother and her fleeing prey as the twang of bowstrings sang behind her. Another elf fell to dragonling fangs before she got there. She sent a bolt of lightning arcing through the dragon young, knocking them back. The dragon breathed fire again, but it rebounded harmlessly off of the shield wall Varda cast. Her father slid to a halt beside her and yelled to gain the group’s attention.

“This way!” he motioned to a narrow pass through which the dragon would not be able to pursue.

He and Varda bent to each sling one arm of the fallen man over their shoulders and made toward the thin opening. The rest of the elves followed them in a panic, tripping over each other to make it through, but dragging their wounded behind them. Varda conjured as thick of an ice wall as she could manage to seal off their escape. The sound of claws scraping against ice could be heard from the other side.

The group wound their way through the pass until they came to a place where it opened onto flat ground. They found the craftsmen from Clan Lavellan waiting there for them. The wounded were shifted so their weight was shared more evenly, and the enlarged group hurried to safety outside of the dragon’s territory.

Once they knew they were beyond pursuit, they stopped to take stock. Varda tended to the more serious of the injuries, the burns on the male warrior’s face being the most grievous. The female warrior, having introduced herself as Adhlea, went about staunching the blood flow on someone else’s shoulder.

“We need to get back to the city,” Varda proclaimed, her hand hovering over the warrior’s cheek as a blue aura enshrouded it. “This is beyond my skill to heal in the field.”

The trek to the city gate took the better part of the afternoon with being as careful as possible of the five injured elves. Word was sent to Keeper Deshanna and she met them at the elven hospital in the lower part of town. Varda and the Keeper spent the small hours of the night making sure none of the dragon’s victims died. When there was a few minutes of breathing time, Adhlea told them their purpose in travelling to Wycome was to recruit elves to join Fen’Harel’s cause.

Deshanna’s expression turned instantly to indignation. She stood and demanded the group leave the city. The injured would be healed enough that they could travel by horseback, but nothing else would be done for them, and no Wycome elves would be leaving with them to join the Dread Wolf.

Varda and her father shared a hard look and then he stood, too. “We will be goin’ with them,” he quietly declared.

Deshanna took him out of the sickroom to try and make him see reason, but Varda, still tending the wounded, could hear them arguing through the thin wall for several more hours.

The next morning, Varda was clanless. She packed her meager belongings into the small aravel that had been in her father’s family for three generations. They led it with their halla Gavemah to the city gates where Adhlea waited, having procured five harts for the injured to ride. The group now consisting of fourteen elves, left the city without looking back. No one from Clan Lavellan watched their departure.

It took them nearly a fortnight at their slow pace, by the end of which there was a friendly companionship forming amongst the group. Souren, the wounded warrior, was overtly grateful for the care and the attention he was receiving from Varda. Adhlea kept expounding to Radavur how desperately they needed a good blacksmith at their camp. They were getting to know everyone until at last, they approached an Eluvian where three guards met them on the other side. Adhlea gave them a whispered message and two of them took off to deliver it.

The next day they met Fen’Harel.

Varda had been under no impression that he would welcome them with open arms, but he also didn’t turn them away. They were led through his camp. It was clear that every person they saw was preparing for a war; troops practicing drills, weapons being sharpened, soldiers sparring. The camp was in a thick forest dotted with tents and wagons, occasionally an aravel, but there were also some wooden houses being constructed on the ground and in the trees. Radavur was taken to where he would establish a smithy. Construction could begin within the week.

Then in the dying light of the day, they were shown to a small clearing where they could set up their aravel. The clearing was entirely encircled by giant trees, most with stairs spiraling up the trunks into the branches. Adhlea led them to one, mumbling about its previous occupant recently perishing on a covert mission, and proudly stating that this is where they would be staying. Then she gave them both a hug and declared she was going to go have a bath and sleep for two days.

After she left, Radavur guided Varda to the stairs. “You go up,” he said, wearily. “I prefer to keep my feet on the ground at my age. Gavemah needs tendin’ to anyway.”

She furrowed her brows at him. “Are you sure, Babae?” But she was too tired to put up much of an argument. She grabbed the small bag of her belongings and extra clothes out of the aravel and climbed the staircase.

She was too tired look around the first level of her new tree home either, other than to confirm there was no bed in it. When she found the bed after ascending another spiraling set of stairs, she was barely able to undress herself before crawling under the blankets. She fell into a blissful, dreamless sleep even before night had truly fallen.

**************

Now, adequately bathed (she eyed the tub with longing and promised herself later) and dressed, she went in search of breakfast and her father.

On the lower level, she found a sitting area with a couch and two upholstered hassocks, a dining table that could probably seat six if she found some more chairs, and a small, plain kitchen. It had an ice box, a cupboard under a worktop counter and a stove. She thought a stove in a tree house built entirely out of wood an inadvisable idea at the least, but when she examined the heating rune in the top, found it was designed specifically to keep the fire where it was meant to be. She checked the ice box next. It was empty and warm. She would have to refresh the rune in there before she could store any food. The cabinet was barren as well, not even a ration biscuit to spare.

Well, breakfast would have to be acquired elsewhere. She went in search of her father.

Their aravel stood alone in the middle of the clearing, its red sails fluttering in the breeze. It was surrounded by grazing halla. Gavemah trotted up to her as she approached.

“I see you made some friends,” Varda said and found the spot between the ear and the base of the horns that she knew the animal liked to be scratched. Gavemah lowered his head to nibble on the hem of her tunic in response. She brushed the creature off with a “Don’t start that,” and continued to the aravel.

Her father was not there, but she did find a pan, covered and nestled in the mostly cooled embers of a fire, which contained sausages and some hearth bread. She snatched them up, blessing her father’s name.

Walking back through the camp to the only other place she could think to find her father, the future site of the smithy, made her feel like some rare creature on exhibit in a zoo. Heads swiveled around to watch her pass and occasionally two people leaned together to whisper. She had passed several such groups when the name Lavellan was uttered loud enough for her to hear. She grit her teeth and walked faster. It seemed the name had become famous everywhere now, and despite her not being the right Lavellan, she still felt the consequences of such fame: gossip. She was relieved she had at least had the foresight to tie her tale tell long red hair in a tight knot on the back of her head.

When she finally spotted her father, he was tracing the outline for a forge and bellows with his steps, and talking over his shoulder to the group of workmen who would be building the blacksmith’s stall. He turned to watch her approach.

“There you are,” he said and he beamed that big smile he reserved for his daughter alone. “I was beginnin’ to think you would sleep the whole day.”

She chuckled at that. “I’ll admit I was tempted. Thanks for breakfast, by the way. How are you getting along?” She gestured to the men who had gathered around a table drawing up plans for the new construction.

“Good! Faron here,” he said clapping a muscular elf on the shoulder, “says they should be able to start diggin’ the posts tomorrow mornin’.”

Faron, who she assumed was a foreman of sorts, nodded at her. “Once we get the posts set and the gravel laid, the walls and roof should not take long at all. Radavur may have a smithy up and running in a three weeks’ time.”

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “That soon? You don’t waste any time, do you?”

He shook his head gravely. “Lord Fen’Harel wishes to expand our armory as quickly as possible. We can’t do that without a blacksmith.”

“Of course.” She looked around. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Her father smiled good naturedly at her. “Always willin’ to help, huh, even if it means tryin’ somethin’ you never done before. Best leave it up to the professionals,” he chuckled. He reached out and squeezed her arm. “Besides, I heard that Souren was askin’ for you. You better not keep him waitin’.” He gave her a wink and pointed her in the direction of the camp clinic.

She grumbled at that, but set off through the camp again, anyway. After the healer’s reluctance to accept her help yesterday, she wasn’t sure the clinic was a place she wanted to visit.

And while Souren’s… enthusiasm… with her presence was sweet, she didn’t want to encourage whatever affection might be forming on his side of their acquaintance. She wasn’t here to fall in love. Her father on the other hand, felt quite the opposite. He had been trying to find a suitable mate for her for over a decade, but with her not having been a fully recognized member of the Clan, there hadn’t been any men who had wanted to bind themselves to her. Besides the occasional fling, or the even rarer romp behind the aravels, they all ran once things started getting serious. So someone, anyone, finding an interest in her, especially a strong warrior like Souren, was beyond Radavur’s wildest dreams.

She came to the long tent that housed the clinic and ducked her head under the flap. The other four who had been injured in the dragon attack were no longer there, time and her care having mostly healed them on the journey here. But Souren still had some burns on his face, and the bones in his forearm would take at least another week to fully mend.

She glanced down the long row of cots and saw him sitting up in a bed toward the other end of the tent. She also, to her dismay, saw that he wasn’t alone. The stern faced elf who had been standing at the Dread Wolf’s side was seated in a chair by Souren’s bedside. He had seemed the grim, forbidding sort. She didn’t know how to feel about the hardness in his eyes as he had looked her over yesterday, other than that she didn’t care to be on the receiving end of such a glare again.

Souren noticed her and waved her into the tent. She steeled her nerves and went to them.  

[omgkatsudonplease]

恭喜发财 something with the juniors please?

continued from here (dark!lwj au)

“Stop following us, you cutsleeve lunatic,” Jin Rulan snaps for the umpteenth time as they enter the eaves of the forest surrounding Dafan mountain.

Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes from his position astride Lil Apple. “How am I following you? You’re the ones walking behind me. Go walk in another direction if you’re so inclined.”

“This is the only path,” the Jiang boy – Jiang Sizhui, apparently – replies. He doesn’t view Wei Wuxian with as much suspicion, probably because whatever Mo Xuanyu did at Koi Tower had no effect on him. 

“So then how am I following you two?” wonders Wei Wuxian. “We are simply travelling on the same path, but to different ends.” 

The boys seem to agree with that, however sullenly. Jin Rulan sticks his nose in the air. Wei Wuxian chuckles. 

“Like father, like son,” he remarks. Jin Rulan glowers at him.

“Shut up.”

“Struck a nerve, have I?”

“You have some nerve, showing your face to me after disgracing yourself at Koi Tower,” retorts Jin Rulan. “It’s a miracle I haven’t killed you where you stood!”

“Rulan, don’t you think that’s a bit much?” asks Jiang Sizhui.

“You’re taking his side? Even after he made advances towards your father?”

“Your father!” exclaims Wei Wuxian, slightly flabbergasted.

“Did you get the thousand holes curse in your brain?” demands Jin Rulan. “Not only did you bring shame upon yourself with your unwanted advances towards my uncle, Lianfang-zun, but you also had to drag Sect Leader Jiang into your depravity as well.” 

Sect Leader Jiang has a child? is all Wei Wuxian gets from that. And what’s more, this boy is Sect Leader Jiang’s son?

“it was shameless, I will admit,” says Jiang Sizhui levelly, “but it doesn’t warrant death.” He pauses. “And what’s more, perhaps the opinions about cut-sleeves in Lanling may be tainted by Master Mo’s behaviour, but in Yunmeng it was never considered a moral failure.” He sighs. “After all, my father’s sworn brother, the great hero Wei Wuxian…” 

Wei Wuxian’s hands clench tighter on Lil Apple’s bridle. 

“You really think Wei Wuxian was like that?” asks Jin Rulan, his voice a half-whisper. “That he and the Master of Shadows…”

“How else could it be?” wonders Jiang Sizhui. “It’s been thirteen years since anyone ever spotted the Master of Shadows, but those eyes we saw at the Mo residence – that guqin – it has to be him.”

“But why here? And what would Wei Wuxian have to do with it? His body is in the crypt at Lotus Pier, isn’t it?”

Jiang Sizhui is about to respond, when Lil Apple suddenly trips into a spirit-binding net of bright silver rope. Wei Wuxian manages to escape just in time, but his steed is much less fortunate. 

“Ugh!” a new voice resounds from the trees. Moments later, a boy in bright white and blue comes leaping out of the branches, staring with obvious annoyance up at the braying donkey. “This is the third time!”

“Jingyi!” exclaims Jiang Sizhui and Jin Rulan in unison. The boy startles, his expression lighting up when he sees the other two. 

“Sizhui! Rulan! I thought you two were at the Mo Residence tonight?”

“We caught our prey!” exclaims Jiang Sizhui, excitement clear on his face. He waves the qiankun bag in front of Lan Jingyi. “Admittedly, we did have some help –”

“The Master of Shadows helped us,” adds Jin Rulan. “He had eyes like fire just like in the stories!”

“So the Master of Shadows caught the hand for you,” says Lan Jingyi, raising an eyebrow. “You didn’t really do it yourself.”

“We did most of the work!” protests Jiang Sizhui. 

Lan Jingyi’s expression darkens. “What was the Master of Shadows even doing at the Mo Residence?” he demands. “Did you guys see where he went after?”

“No, he just vanished,” says Jiang Sizhui. “Mo Xuanyu here got the best look at him. Didn’t you?” he adds, looking at Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian gapes. “I – didn’t really see much,” he replies. “Can you free my donkey, Master Lan? I’m a tired man, and I need my Lil Apple –”

Lan Jingyi, clearly unamused, snaps his fingers. The net opens, and Lil Apple stumbles out, annoyed. “Waste of a good net,” mutters Lan Jingyi. 

“I thought you didn’t use traps on night-hunts, as a rule,” says Jiang Sizhui. 

“I was testing this one for Xichen-gege,” says Lan Jingyi. “It’s supposed to be able to trap extremely powerful dark creatures, even demonic cultivators, but all I’ve gotten are hapless travellers.” His scowl deepens. “And a donkey.”

“Demonic cultivators,” remarks Wei Wuxian. “You don’t mean to say the Gusu Lan sect has resorted to spinning traps for the Master of Shadows now?”

“How can we not?” yet another voice cuts in. A vision in Gusu white steps out from the trees, his beauty as cold as his voice. “He was once our flesh and blood. Hunting rabbits requires laying traps.” 

Thirteen years has done much to harden Lan Xichen, it seems. His expression is almost as severe as Lan Wangji’s had been. The familiarity makes Wei Wuxian’s borrowed heart skip a beat. 

“The other night, I was playing Inquiry,” says Lan Xichen, stepping towards Wei Wuxian with furrowed brows. “Imagine what I discovered, when I enquired after the spirit of the lost hero sleeping in Yunmeng.”

“I’m afraid I’m not that imaginative,” says Wei Wuxian drily. “Do tell.”

“For thirteen years, I had received the same answer. He was dead. But last night, I found out his spirit had migrated back to the living.” 

“Wei Wuxian’s alive?” demands the three boys. 

“Yes,” states Lan Xichen, his eyes narrowing as he walks around Wei Wuxian. “So, Master Mo, you’ll have to pardon my suspicion, but… given that the Master of Shadows has been sighted at the Mo Residence so soon after Wei Wuxian’s spirit returned to the living, I have no doubt that said restoration was his doing.” 

Wei Wuxian bites down on the truth and swallows it back into his throat. 

“I therefore have no choice but to insist you return to Gusu with me, Master Mo,” continues Lan Xichen. “For your own safety, if nothing else.”

Wei Wuxian is about to protest that, but Jiang Sizhui beats him to the punch.

“How could Master Mo be Wei Wuxian?” he demands. “Wei Wuxian was supposed to be a legendary swordsman and flautist, but Master Mo has demonstrated neither of those things tonight.”

“That can be easily amended,” says yet another voice, and everyone turns to see Jiang Cheng step out of the trees as well, his glare steely and Zidian crackling at his finger. “A-Yuan, A-Ling, where were the two of you? You were supposed to have reported to the inn hours ago!”

“We got distracted!” protests Jin Rulan.

“Distracted, my ass,” grumbles Jiang Cheng, stepping forward with a cloth bundle in his arms. “You were not the only one who received a sign last night of things to come, Zewu-jun. Wei Wuxian’s body has vanished from the crypt.” 

“Then he really must be back,” says Lan Xichen. “And it’s only a matter of time before my brother finds him.” 

Both pairs of eyes turn back towards Wei Wuxian, who promptly looks to and fro, screams, and runs up into the nearest tree. “I’m not him!” he yells, even as Jiang Sizhui and Lan Jingyi start trying to pull him back down. “Whoever this Wei Wuxian guy is, I swear I’m not him!” 

“Really? Let’s see about that!” shouts Jiang Cheng, and suddenly Wei Wuxian’s back feels like it’s on fire. He tumbles out of the tree, landing hard on his back with a groan of pain. 

“Zidian can only cast out possession cases,” Jiang Sizhui reminds his father. “Surely in demonic cultivation there are other ways to bring someone’s spirit back.” 

“Indeed,” agrees Lan Xichen, his gaze hard. “And we can find out what it is.”

“You’re not planning to take a disciple of the Yunmeng Jiang sect back to Gusu, are you?” asks Jiang Cheng, his eyes narrowing at that. “If this man truly is Wei Wuxian, then he would fall under our protection. You have no right, Sect Leader Lan.”

Lan Xichen’s hand clenches into a fist, but he smiles nonetheless. “Sect Leader Jiang, anything that has to do with the successful capture and discipline of my brother is of concern to the Gusu Lan sect.”

“That may be so, but not when it concerns the spirits and bodies of those alleged to Yunmeng Jiang,” snaps Jiang Cheng. “I’m taking Master Mo back with me to Lotus Pier.”

“Oh, thank heavens,” remarks Wei Wuxian from the ground, looking between the two of them. “Apparently Sect Leader Jiang is precisely my type.” 

“It appears Master Mo would like to feel Zidian again,” remarks Jiang Cheng drily, as Jiang Sizhui helps Wei Wuxian to his feet. 

“I hope you mean Zidian as the ring on your finger, and nothing else,” retorts Wei Wuxian, grinning from ear to ear. 

“You really do have a death wish,” says Jiang Cheng, his eyes narrowing. “Perhaps you are Wei Wuxian after all.”

[mestizo-efp]

Behind each other skin

TianShan Fic, body swap

Chapter 1/2 

Ao3

Suggested by @eve416

*bip bip bip bip* How can such a simple noise be so fucking annoying? That was the thought that woke GuanShan up. He felt so tired...how could it be morning already? He stretched out his arm, searching for his cellphone.

Why was the bedside table so freaking far? He finally grabbed the phone, squinting his eyes at the screen’s light.

“What the fuck?” he groaned. It was just 6am! Who the fuck changed his alarm? He put the phone back, ready to fall back to sleep. He fell on his pillow, tucking himself under the sheets. It was kind of cold and there was too much light.

He turned his head the other way, sighing and taking in the skyscrapers view- … Wait, what? He jumped up, looking around.

Yup, that was definitely He Tian's apartment. What the hell was he doing there? And where the hell was that asshole? He lifted the sheets: he was wearing just a pair of boxers! And they weren't his! GuanShan gritted his teeth, raging. What kind of sick joke was this? He got up.

“Woah!” said GuanShan, stumbling. He looked around, resting his hips on the boxes near the bed. Everything felt...far away, like he has become taller all of a sudden. He closed his eyes, shaking his head and caressing his forehead, all the way back to the back of his head. What the...his hair felt so long. He grabbed his bangs, taking it in front of his eyes. It was black, pitch black. 

A kind of black that he knew too well to mistake.

For a moment he felt so sick he thought he was going to faint. He looked at himself: broad chest, long legs, defined muscles that clearly weren't his.

“Mirror” he thought “I need a mirror”. He ran to the bathroom, stumbling and hitting  every furnishings. He entered the bathroom, swallowing hard before taking one more step and looking at himself at the mirror...or more correctly, to look at He Tian's face. His eyes widened and with trembling hands, he touched his-...He Tian's cheeks.

“WHAT THE FUCK??!!!” he shouted, jumping back and falling inside the bathtub, bumping his head into the wall.

“Ahh!! Fuck! That hurts!!” said GuanShan, grabbing the back of his head. Impossible, that just couldn't be real! A dream? Alcohol? Drugs? What the hell was going on? Felt like some cliché low category manwhua! He closed his eyes, covering them with his hands. He breathed, slowly. In and out.

“Again” In and out. He got up, hands still on his eyes. In and out. His hands slipped down, and slowly he opened his left eye first, the right one next. There he is, He Tian, in the mirror... looking at him. He walked outside of the bathroom, then again inside, looking at the mirror. Again, outside, inside. For at least ten minutes, but He Tian was always there. He set up on the toilet, cover his mouth.

“This is madness” he whispered “This can't be real” feeling cold as ice all of a sudden he looked at himself. How can that maniac sleep in boxers during winter? Wait...where was He Tian? Considering the situation, it seemed right to assume that something must have happened to him too ... and so it meant that- “Phone!!” shouted GuanShan, running back to the living room/bedroom. He grabbed it, looking for He Tian's number.

“Where the hell is it?” he said, looking at the list of unknowns number for the third time. Then,he stopped, and sighed.

“I’m an idiot” Of course there was no He Tian's number! He needed to calm down. He sat on the mattress, looking back at the contact list.

“There it is” he said “Tch, that asshole, calling me don't close mountain even here. I’ll kill him” He raised the phone, trying to remember if he had left it on when he went to sleep. So it seemed, luckily, when he heard it ringing. He waited for what seemed an eternity, and finally someone answered.

“Hello?” Man, it was so freaking weird to hear his voice on the other side of the phone. It was happening for real, wasn't it?

“He Tian?”

“Who's this?”

“It's...uhh.. it's me! GuanShan!” He heard himself yawning. That bastard was still sleeping, knowing nothing. At least he was relieved to know that his body was in a safe place.

“Mo? What’s up with your voice?” a moment of silence

“What's up with my voice?” GuanShan pinched the bridge of his nose, this was going to be really hard.

“Are you at my place?” He heard the sound of sheets ruffling.

“I think so...why am I here?”

“Listen to me! My mum is probably still asleep, you need to come to your place, now!” “Uh? But-...” Then it was silence. For at least a minute.

“He Tia-”

“Woah woah. What the fuck? What the hell is this?”

“He Tian! Keep your voice down you dumbass!!”

“What…? Wait, wait! Is this me?? How...WHAT?”

“HE TIAN!!” The phone must have fallen from He Tian's hand, cause he heard a loud thud, other noises, then He picked up his phone. “Ok, I don't know what this is. GuanShan? It's really you?”

“Of course it's me!”

“ 'Cause I’m looking at you right now, and I don't know what the fuck is going on! Why am I like this? Where is my body?”

“It's here! I mean...I’m you!”

“Say what?? How?” GuanShan sat up walking nervously through the room “You think I know?! This is bullshit!!”

“Ouch!” screamed He Tian “What? What happened?”

“I pinched myself. Looks like it's not a dream” “Of course it's not! I wish!” Another moment “Your skin is so soft~”

“DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME DICKHEAD!” “Technically I’m touching myself. Oh! That's a good idea” GuanShan lowered his voice, trying to sound as much menacing as possible, and it felt so strange to ear that particular sound, that he knew so well, coming out of his mouth.

“He Tian, I swear I’m going to smash your face in the wall and cut your dick off if you don't come here this moment! I swear!!”

He heard him sighing “I was kidding. I get it. I’ll be there in a moment. After a warm shower~”

“I’M TAKING THE KNIFE!” He heard him chuckling, and it sounded like something completely new.

“Alright. Meanwhile, you have my permission to enjoy my body as much as you like”

“AS IF, ASSHOLE!” And GuanShan closed the call. Of course He Tian would react like that, what else could he expects? He sat down on the couch, he knows that he shouldn't panic, but that was a fucking mess!  How was that happening? How can he turn everything back to normal? What if… what if!

“Damn it!” he said grabbing his hair “Calm down, you need to fix this, you have to fix this!” He nodded, clutching his hands. He observed them, opening them slowly...such long fingers. He looked at them closely, brushing each tip of the fingers with the thumb. It didn't felt particularly different, just...skin on skin. Suddenly he felt goosebumps raising all over him. No shit, he was practically naked. He choose whatever clothes from He Tian's wardrobe, going back to the kitchen. He felt so hungry, like never before. He Tian's body needed so much more energy than his. With nothing much to do during his waiting for He Tian's arrival, he decided to eat something. He recalled that he had stored some leftover for He Tian the day before, so he looked inside the fridge, finding them. Nothing particular, some fried eggs and vegetables. He placed them on the counter, reaching easily for a plate.

“Tall bastard” he thought. He sat down and took a bite, and his mouth went ajar: it tasted so freaking good!!

“What the hell?” he said, taking three other full spoons of eggs. In his brain he knew that those flavors were nothing special, but it felt like his tongue had never tasted something like this! Was this...was this how He Tian tasted his food? No wonder he always makes him cook for him! While keeping eating like his life depended on it, he started to wonder what else He Tian could feel different from him. Like...pain? Fatigue? It was He Tian's body after all, does that mean that he had become as strong as him? Wait a minute...what about his weak point? Maybe he was super ticklish somewhere or something like that! He sat up, gulping down the last bite. He started to tickling himself; first under his armpits. Nothing. Maybe his feets? Nope.

“Where else?” he thought “Oh, the neck” He grazed his neck, lightly, with the tips of his fingers. First under the ear, then under the jaw. He felt something...but it wasn't exactly ticklish. He traced a line from his chin, all way down through the Adam apple to the middle of his clavicles. A jolt hitted him, raising from his spine. That wasn't ticklish at all! He felt himself burning and he pushed away his hands, clicking his tongue.

“What the fuck! Damn you He Tian!” As he tried to recompose himself, someone knocked at the door. He immediately run towards it, risking to smash himself against it.

“Freaking long legs!” he hissed. He opened the door...and saw himself. Honestly, it felt terrifying, and judging by He Tian's expression on his face, the feeling must have been mutual. At least, for the first five seconds. “Well... don't I look good~?” Said He Tian, grinning. Ear himself talking with that kind of grin made his stomach churn. He almost couldn't recognize his own voice, or face. “Stop being a dick!”

“Don't make that grumpy expression with my face” said He Tian entering his own apartment

“You're making me look ugly. It only suits your face” GuanShan slammed the door, confirming that he wasn't able to control his strength  

“Can't you take this more seriously?!”

“I’m hungry”

“Listen to me damnit!”

“I’m listening” he said, opening the fridge, eating and making a disappointed face right after the first bite of GuanShan's fried eggs

“It tasted different yesterday”

“He Tian! Can't you fucking see that we are in each other's body? Doesn't makes you freak out!?”

“A little” he said “But then I thought that I should just enjoy the moment” GuanShan went close to him, grabbing his yellow t shirt and looking down at his red hair

“I swear if you dared to do something to me…” He Tian smiled, tilting his head a little “Nothing, I swear” GuanShan pursed his lips, letting him go

“I’ll choose to believe you. And stop smiling like an idiot! It disgust me!” He Tian laughed “Why? You look so good. I looked in the mirror for so long~”

“Shut up!”

“My cheeks kind of hurts. You're too grumpy, you're going to look like a monkey” GuanShan grabbed his hair, desperate “This must be some fucking nightmare!” At that point GuanShan sighed, sitting on the stool and crossing his legs, as his usual.

“Calm the fuck down” he said, crossing his harms, tilting his head upwards.

“Easy for you!” He Tian shaked his head

“We just need to analyze this situation thoroughly” touching his pockets, he looked around, like he was looking for something. “Don't even think about smoking in my body, asshole”

“Whatever” he shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets “So, what could have caused this? Any idea?”

GuanShan thought, biting his lower lip “None, damnit”

“Something different happened yesterday?” He retraced the events of the day before: he got up, had breakfast, went to school, then He Tian's apartment, cooked for him, insulted him and went home. “Nothing” He Tian nodded, resting his elbows on the kitchen island behind him

“Same”

“That's it?? You're not fucking helping!! You useless bastard!”

“Stop yelling. We need to focus, and think about what to do next. Like going to school or not”

“Are you stupid? We have entry exams today. I don't want to lose a year!”

“Uh, forgot about those”

“Of course you did! Ughh...what a fucking mess!”

He Tian stood up “Let’s go then”

GuanShan snapped at him “WHAT?” He Tian scratched the back of his neck, letting his hand linger through his short hair

“Look, it's just one day. We go to school, we do the tests, and we go home. Luckily today is Friday, we’ll have an entire weekend to figure things out”

GuanShan thought, pondering “It's too risky!” He Tian laughed “Yeah, cause everyone is going to believe this situation. The worse that could happen is a sudden rise of your reputation”

“Hey! How dare yo-”

“But, whatever. I’m not the one with low grades so, you know” he turned back, taking a bottle of water and taking a long sip. GuanShan looked at him, and if that's wasn't his body, he would probably try to punch it into a pulp. Unfortunately...he was right. Entry exams were his last chance to recover his already low grades. He stood up, clutching his fist “Ok”

He Tian grinned “Good Mo~”

“BUT! I’m warning you, don't try anything funny at school! Avoid any contact and just focus on the test! And don't make that stupid smile with my face!” He Tian laughed, tilting his head “You think I'm the one who's going to have problems?” GuanShan went pale. Yeah...He Tian's wasn't exactly unpopular. He felt sick thinking of all his fangirls. He sighed, covering his eyes with his hands: that was such a bad idea.

“Just tell me where your fucking uniform is” He knew he was smiling, he just didn't want to look at him “Second drawer” GuanShan left the room, followed by He Tian.

“Don't follow me!”

“Why? I just want to make sure that you don't do anything weird with my body” GuanShan gritted his teeth

“Who cares about your ugly body? Stay here you sick evil demon!”

“Keep telling you that~” said He Tian, resting his back on the wall beside the room. GuanShan entered the room, looking for He Tian's uniform. He found it, looking at himself. He was too shocked earlier when he dressed up, but now undressing He Tian's body felt... weird. He looked at the door, making sure that He Tian wasn't peeking. He started with his shirt, trying not to look at himself and wearing the shirt. He then looked at his pants...he needed a distraction.

“The tests are the same for all classes, right?” “Uh uh”

“I was thinking...I mean, if you're going to do my test...you always have high rates in all the exams, right?”

“What can I say”

“Tch. That's... good and all for me...but what about you? I mean, my grades are-”

“You don't need to worry about that” GuanShan went silent, putting up his pants. 'Fucking He Tian’ he thought, walking towards the door. “Who said I’m worr-” he gasped “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING??” He Tian was groping his ass cheeks like it was the most natural thing in the world. He grinned, slowly raising them up

“Oops”

“You...mother...FUCKER!!” After some chase, they finally accorded to a no-touch rule, and for a good half an hour they planned they're entire day, according to meet at lunch time and to text each other if they need some information. Then they went out, walking towards the elevator, pressing the button.

“You forgot to close the door” said He Tian, looking back at the door.

“Oh, right” answered GuanShan “Where are the-” “Inside pocket of my bag” GuanShan narrowed his eyes, clicking his tongue. “Fucking lazy” he hissed. He went back to lock the door, at the same time the elevator reached their floor;  just when GuanShan was about to put the key inside the lock, He Tian went inside the elevator and peered out of the doors. “By the way, I could never guessed that your nipples were so pink. Cute~”. GuanShan eyes went wide, he felt his face melting, and before he could run towards He Tian to punch himself in the face, the elevator's door started to close, leaving him outside and furious; he watched He Tian, waving happily, gesturing that he was going to wait for him downstairs.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

A Hundred Lesser Faces: Seventeen

Section One {A Hundred Lesser Faces} what if Voyager!Claire had gone first to Lallybroch instead of directly to the print shop in Edinburgh? :  [(One) (Two) (Three) (Four) (Five) (Six) (Seven)

Section Two {A Hundred More}, the aftermath of Claire and Jamie’s reunion, following their journey as they work to build a new life together [(Eight) (Nine) (Ten) (Eleven) (Twelve) (Thirteen) (Fourteen) ]

Section Three {Begin and Tell}, Now with EVEN MOAR AFTERMATH! [(Fifteen) (Sixteen)]

Seventeen 

It was twenty-three years ago. 

It was 1743, I was standing in a clearing in the Scottish mountains, and Jamie was punching trees. 

It would have made me glow with a precious joy, the nostalgia for those innocent days long ago, save for the fact that the circumstances prompting the reprise before me in the glade was tearing my very heart open. I sat silent on my horse, not for the world daring to steal this moment of catharsis from him. 

The years did show on Jamie, I suddenly realized with a painful blow. There was the natural aging of his face and body, of course; that I had noticed at once, but his overall manner had also shifted in our decades apart. He was guided by the same forces as always (humor, sharpness of wit, honor, action), but a more subdued version of them, on the whole. He was still uniquely, indelibly him, and even so, the Jamie I’d had the joy of getting to know again these past weeks was different, marked by a quieter maturity of spirit, well befitting a man who had suffered grief and loss and the enduring of them, too. 

I knew all this because the person I saw in that clearing was, by contrast, once again the young man he’d been when I met him. Powerful and wise beyond his years, even then, but young enough not to have mastered the balance between them. When the upheavals came, reason and control could so easily be lost in the rage, leaving him at the mercy of only the power, the fury of his fists. I was watching Jamie MacTavish, punching trees…. and weeping.  

Oh, Jamie…love….

We’d spoken scarcely ten words in the twenty-odd minutes since we’d left Jenny standing broken in the road. All ten of those had been from me, breaking the silence to say, apologetic but with due urgency, that he’d been right—we couldn’t be seen together in town. He’d reined up and stared at the buildings of Broch Mordha in the distance as though he hadn’t had the faintest notion—let alone a care—for which way we’d been riding. He’d nodded, though, and turned us to the left, leading me up the craggy mountainside. 

I’d fallen considerably behind him on the ascent, my arm—still throbbing—making it doubly hard to keep my seat up the steep grade, a fact for which I was now thankful, if it had given him this moment of solitude in which to release all his feeling. My gratitude was fading quickly, though, as the throbbing intensified, and finally I could sit still no longer. I tried to dismount quietly, but was acutely aware of how off-balance and weak I felt with one arm out of commission. I hissed a quiet curse to further discover that my skirt  was caught in the stirrup. I was going to have to slide and hope for the best. 

Before my bottom properly left the saddle, strong hands were at my ribcage, lowering me down as gently as a child.

“I’m so sorry, lass.” His eyes were lowered, lips and breath working furiously, but he spoke with urgent concern. “I ran off and didna give a thought for—” He cupped my stiff elbow gingerly. “Can aught be done for it? Is it broken?”

“No, I don’t think so….” I straightened it experimentally. “Just battered and bruised. I think it will be fine, just….” My voice broke a little. “Just needs time.” 

It rang in the silence, that truth, filling the remote corners of the glade. Truth didn’t make the pain any less real. 

I chanced a glance into his face, tear-streaked and wild, still, and watched as the strength drained from his eyes. He put his arms carefully around me in a gesture of soothing comfort, but it was me supporting him, and we both knew it.

“I’m sorry….” came his rasping voice. “You were right.” 

I hugged him closer with my free arm. “About what?”

“What ye said….on the road, before we parted ways.” The words resonated from his cheek into the top of my head. “About it no’ doing me any good to be angry wi’ her.”

“Well, I….I don’t think I did say that, precisely….”

“You were counseling me toward reconciliation, and I wasna—I couldna—” He made a sound of frustration. “Believe me, mo chridhe, I didna ever mean to speak to her so—Only to stay far away until I should come to better terms wi’ it in my heart, perhaps, one day.” 

“I do believe you.” 

“Seeing her so unexpectedly—” It took him considerable effort to formulate each word. I could feel it, there against his chest. “I was—My blood was already boiling from when you and I— I just—Christ….I’m no’ proud of….. I’m sorry.”

I wasn’t certain he needed to be sorry, but I hummed a loving word or two and stroked his back. “You were justified in what you said—as much as it hurt to hear you say it….and to watch her hear it.” 

It would be a very long time before I forgot the sight and sound of the indomitable Jenny Murray’s heart breaking… the way she’d begged….

He nodded, swallowing hard. “Christ, what a mess,” he croaked. 

And Christ, it was. 

We stood held close together for a time, sheltering in one another. The wind had turned sharply chilly, and I was shivering. He felt it, and rubbed his hands briskly up and down my arms to warm them, looking around with purpose. 

“Here,” he said with new brightness, leading with a gentle hand on my back, “this way, Sassenach.”

He’d remembered the place quite of a sudden.It was only thought of getting Claire out of the wind that had been in his mind, and it certainly was the perfect spot for that purpose, well worth the quarter hour’s walk through the dense forest, even with the horses. It wasn’t until after he laid eyes on it that all the memories flooded back and choked his heart. 

A stream had run through the hollow, long ago, slowly carving out the rock thirty-odd feet downward and creating something of a miniature canyon in the mountainside forest. It was wider at the top, yet narrow enough that only the barest trickles of sunlight slipped through the cover of the trees lining either side, giving the whole space the air of a cave. A gilded cave, though, with the dim light making the soft stone glow with a comforting stillness.

He carried Claire in his arms down into this wee gorge, ignoring her protests that she was ‘perfectly fine,’ and made the several trips more necessary to unsaddle and hobble the horses, and bring the saddlebags down, urging her to eat and rest. He had no intention of going anywhere until the morning, and they may as well pass that time in comfort.  

No, he hadn’t been thinking of the past when he’d turned them in this direction. If he had, perhaps he would have chosen another spot, far away. 

He could still see them, as he looked around the crags and shadows: a young Jenny, a scrawny Ian, both of them laughing and scrabbling about with shrieks of play. He could still hear his own voice, forbye, the squeaking soprano of boyhood, calling across to them; the hoots and teasing; the childish disputes and make-pretends. So often, they came here. Whenever Da had business in town, the three of them would tag along and disappear into these hills, this enchanted spot. This place had been their pirate’s cave, or else dragon’s lair. Especially in those middle years, after Willie was gone, but before Mam had been taken, those times had meant healing; joy. Da would come to collect them at the end of the day, usually having to scoop them off the ground from where they’d collapsed, exhausted from the day’s exhausting merriment. 

That ride to Lallybroch at sunset was always eternal, the road seeming to go on, and on. Yet even when they were all so tired they could barely lift their heads, on the ride home, Jenny would always keep her arms tight around Jamie’s chest, all the way. She would never let him fall.  

A rabbit suddenly stirred from the leaf mould and scampered off, bringing Jamie back to the present, to Claire, who was sitting on a boulder with her bread in hand, not eating, looking up at him, clearly waiting for an answer. 

He stared blankly, but then the echo of her question suddenly crystalized in his ear, his mind apparently more present than he: You could see that she was truly remorseful, couldn’t you?

“Aye,” he said at once, then sighed and went on more slowly, wearily. “Aye…. I ken she wants to make it right.” 

The way she’d wept—the desperation in her eyes as she’d let every bit of her agony show—as she’d pleaded with him….

Still, his wame pulsed and reared with the anger still seething below the surface of his skin. “She wants to make it right,” he repeated, teeth clenching, “but is it only because she canna bear there to be a rift between us? Does she truly understand just how—unforgivable it is?”

“I do. I think she does, anyway.” 

She told him of what had taken place before he’d arrived, galloping up the road toward the sound of their screams; of all that Jenny had told her. 

He sat beside her on the boulder and rested his chin on his hands. “So what’s to be done, then, Claire? I simply…carry on as if naught has happened?” 

“Well, I….I don’t know….” 

“I can regret my harshness on the road; my closed heart…but to forgive…” 

He shook his head, and wanted very much to vanish from the face of the earth. Move on, he might; but to genuinely forgive her in his heart; to love his sister with the same fierceness as before? 

“You two are very much alike, you know.”

Jamie looked over at his wife with a wan smile. “Leave a man a modest handful of moments to retain his righteous superiority, will ye?”

“I mean it, though,” she said, standing and walking about nervously. “You’re cut from the same cloth, with the same Achilles’ heels. Anger. Stubbornness. Leaping to conclusions. You get notions in your heads from anger, and it takes a great amount of work to get them out again.”

She wasn’t wrong, but he hardly wanted to say so.

“I remember the very first time I met Jenny, it was you that had done her wrong.” She wasn’t cruel about it, Claire; not meaning to throw it in his face. Still, she did not shy away from speaking the truth. “You thought you had the measure of what had happened with Randall those years before, and those assumptions you made—You clung to them, and flatly refused to let her tell you the truth.”

He rankled with shame at the memory—the things he’d said to her……

“It nearly broke the two of you apart before you’d had the chance to reconnect. You let fear and rumor and anger lead you, rather than her word, and—Jesus Christ, I didn’t think you two would ever reconcile from that.”

Nor had he. He’d completely forgotten, in that haze of anger and shame and guilt for his own perceived failings toward Jenny, who his sister was and how best to show her love. He’d forgotten, willingly turned his back upon such things in favor of his own selfish pride, and he’d hurt her by consequence. Unforgivably. And yet, forgive him she had. 

“It doesn’t excuse what she did,” Claire said, sitting back down next to him. “ and had we not gotten extremely lucky, the consequences of her wrongdoing would have been unthinkable. Only…  Making her suffer— it might be what she deserves, but…”

She let him sit in silence for a long time. He’d missed Claire in so many ways, in that long dark time; but perhaps most of all, the fundamental solace of her; of being supported without hesitation and without caveat in the most troubling of times. A partner. A friend. 

He turned at last and put his arms around her, kissing her head. “I’ll go to Balriggan in the morning,” he said quietly, “then to Maggie’s. To talk to Jenny.”

Claire heaved a great sigh of relief and laid her head on his shoulder, the escaping tension within her leaving her limp and warm and wonderful in his arms. 

Minding her tender shoulder, he pulled her onto his lap, letting the solid weight of her anchor him to sense and to love and reason again. “You’re a good woman, mo chridhe.”

She snorted, and made a flippant jest.  

“Ye are,” he repeated, completely serious. “You’re good for me.” 

She softened and touched his face. “You’re good for me, too, Jamie Fraser.” 

He kissed her, slowly. “And yet, you’re dangerous, forbye.” He’d meant it to lighten the mood, but his throat burned from keeping it from devolving into tears. “You make me bold again, Sassenach. Bold enough to think that, now having ye again, I dinna need anyone else. Not a single person more in my life.”  

“Maybe we don’t need anyone else,” she said after a moment with a sad smile, “but we’re past the days of forever losing people we love. Least of all deliberately.” 

Well past such a time. 

He thought of the lass, and said a silent, fervent prayer as he held close the woman who’d given her life and love, as though somehow the touch might reach their daughter. 

Aye. Life was fleeting and all the more precious for it. He’d go to Jenny. He’d find the path to forgiveness. 

“I would feel the same way as you,” Claire said suddenly.

“The same way as what, lass?” 

“You asked me before the crossroads, ‘what if it were reversed, and it were my sister who had betrayed us’…..And yes, I would have been just as enraged and unready to forgive, I know it.” She tilted her head up and laid her hand on his cheek. “And YOU would be the one talking me down, and telling me to forgive.” 

“Would I, then?” 

“You would.” She leaned her forehead against his. “You’re my conscience. And I’m yours. It’s just how it works, you and me.”

He was. and she was. And it was. And all he could do was open his heart and pray that it never ceased to give thanks for it. 

When I woke in the early hours of morning, Jamie was gone. 

We’d spent the rest of the day in quiet peace—talking, sleeping, making love, drinking, wasting the hours away, putting by strength for the next day’s trials. 

I barely had the chance to think about how painful the pang of separation was, before I saw the tiny posy tucked into my bodice: heather and other winter-dried plants tied up with a bit of string, the whole thing no bigger than my finger. And damn me, if tears didn’t well up in my eyes.  Jamie was not a man prone toward romantic gestures—romantic in speech and action, yes, but in terms of gifts, this was likely the only frivolous one I’d ever received from him. 

I was warm and giddy as a schoolgirl as I packed up and rode the short way into Broch Mordha. I kept my head down, not wanting to attract attention, but no sooner had I broached the high street when—

“Are you Missus Claire?”

A grubby boy of six or seven was staring up at me in the saddle, almost accusingly. 

“Erm…yes?” I said cautiously. “Yes, I am. And…. who are you?”

“Peter Mac,” he said automatically, looking supremely bored as he shoved a sealed letter up toward me. “I’m tae give ye this.” 

“Oh—Well—Thank you very much,” I said in polite astonishment, having no choice but to reach down and accept the missive. “How did you know who I was?”

“The short wummin said how as ye’d be the Englishwummin wi’ a great heap o’ hair like a haystack.”

“Quite.” My breath tightened. Jenny.  

The boy ran off, and I ripped open the seal, scanning the contents and feeling the blood draining from my head. 

“Oh….” I moaned softly, feeling like I’d been run through the gut. “Oh, Jenny….”

[head-and-heart]

Do you have any favorite fighting scenes? You know, there many fighting scenes in the show, but weirdly enough my favorite fighting scene was between Clarke and Anya and probably one of my favorite C moments. And I think it's because this scene is NOT pretty AT ALL. It felt SO REAL. C is not a warrior, she doesn't know how to fight like O, but DAMN girl did not give up. She used her slytherin skills, and then she punched Anya in the face and then boom C won. I mean yeah Anya was hurt before (pt1

(pt2) and if she was not hurt, she would probably have handled C, but holy shit C did not back down. Bitch did not back down from the fight and I LOVED it so much. And I think again weirdly enough I saw myself in C in that moment. I wouldn’t be a skilled fighter in that world, but damn I would use everything I had to fight in this moment.

I really, really like this ask! 

There are TONS of fight scenes on the show, and after spending some time organizing my thoughts to type up a response to this ask I realized the pure extent of the action scenes that this show actually has. There are so many. Some amazing, others less so.

This Anya x Clarke fight scene is one of the better ones. I love it because, like you said, Clarke is not a fighter. She can shoot a gun, but she is hardly one to get into hand-to-hand combat, but DAMN did she try. That scene is so great because it clearly demonstrates Clarke’s resilience and her refusal to give up. Her moves were desperate and far from graceful, but with her determination to defeat Anya (and - yes - like you said, Anya’s injury definitely aided her) she actually managed to. And it didn’t even feel hard to believe (like I found Octavia’s sudden transition from getting her ass kicked to taking out highly trained warriors like it was nothing to be at many times). It felt realistic.

Personally, I’m not a huge fan of the organized fight scenes on the show. And I also don’t like the slow-mo they started using in Season 3 because it takes away the rawness of the battle scenes and makes it feel more like they’re just trying to dramatize fighting and make it seem “cool”.

I like the raw, messy, desperate fight scenes on the show. I like it when the characters struggle.

Many of the battle sequences - particularly involving the Grounders - come off as seeming so rehearsed and effortless and are extremely lacking in the emotion that makes it feel real. And while they may look cool, I find them to be sort of boring.

There’s no way I can pick just a few fight scenes as my favourites (like you said, there are A LOT) so I’m going to do my top ten favourites.

In no particular order:

1. The delinquents fight back in Mount Weather - 2x13

I can’t find a good gif for this scene but this battle sequence is fucking savage. The pure desperation in this scene verges on being animalistic, almost like someone flipped a switch in all of the delinquents and unleashed all of their pent-up pain and anger towards the Mountain Men. It shows a certain kind of darkness to the delinquents that we hadn’t really been exposed to at any other occasion.

There is a kind of wildness in their eyes, particularly in Jasper (as he is most prominently focused on) as they hack at their captors, blood spraying. There is no mercy, no coordination or fighting skill. Just pure emotion and rage. It’s brutal. 

MORE UNDER THE CUT 

2. Bellamy killing Lovejoy - 2x11

Bellamy’s entire plotline in Coup De Grace is absolutely grueling, but boy does everyone involved really kill it. I have to put the fight between Lovejoy and Bellamy (assisted by Echo and Maya) on this list because it is one hell  of a scene. I love the combination of Maya - a girl who is not a fighter who is fighting against her own people for a stranger - working alongside Bellamy, who has all the odds stacked against him (he’s literally hanging upside down with nothing but his underwear when Lovejoy walks in) and Echo, who is defenseless and locked in a cage but still manages to assist Bellamy. The fusion of Mountain Man, Sky Person, and Grounder all on the same side in this scene is really great.

Eve Harlow and Bob Morley are killer together, and this is peak acting on both of their parts. The tension is palpable. You can sense the fear and uncertainty in Maya and Bellamy’s desperation to escape and save his friends. I think this may be one of Bellamy’s most brutal kills, with him literally biting Lovejoy (hence the blood on his mouth) and using all his muscle to strangle him, intimately watching the life drain slowly out of his eyes. I love the moment where Maya watches Lovejoy die, and lowers her gun slowly, and how disturbed she appears in the moment after. 

So often the emotional impact of the victim’s death on The 100 is lost, but not with Lovejoy. Maya’s presence clearly shows how seeing one of her own die affects her, and later in the episode Bellamy has to deal with the emotional consequences of what he’s done when he sees Lovejoy’s son.

This is a top-knotch scene. Gritty and raw - it’s The 100 when they do their fight scenes best.

3.Raven, Gina, and Sinclair fighting the spy in Mount Weather - 3x03

Few episodes of The 100 have done a more exceptional job at building up suspense than Ye Who Enter Here. This is a controversial episode in The 100 fandom but I don’t know how anyone can argue against the brilliant structure and emotional beats in this episode. 

Admittedly, Gina doesn’t get much of a chance to put up a fight in this scene but her desperate attempt to warn Raven and Sinclair, and the latter’s frantic battle against the Grounder assassin create an emotionally hot-wired and tense scene that is hard to forget. And the consequences of their failure are absolutely devastating.

This fight scene makes it onto my list because of the extreme emotional fall-out. Watching Gina struggling to talk to Raven and Sinclair on the radio, only to see the final countdown reflected in her lifeless eyes as they - inevitably - do not succeed, is grueling to watch. Even more so is listening as Raven tearfully calls Bellamy on the radio to inform him of what happened, leaving the latter reeling with the knowledge that everything he thought he knew from Echo was a lie, and he failed too. The acting is absolutely amazing in the final moments of this episode, and the action sequence has high enough emotional stakes and desperation for it to really work. 

I literally get goosebumps when I watch this episode.

4. Clarke killing Emerson with the chip - 3x12

This scene was so disturbing and intense and Eliza killed it (pun unintended). Emerson forcing Clarke to watch her friends die is extremely grueling and Clarke’s scream of desperation is palpable. You can literally feel the emotion of the moment - I don’t think we’ve ever seen Clarke quite so desperate before.

This is one of those scenes where you truly believe that all hope is lost for our characters and that there is no way that Clarke can come through in time, before all of the delinquents suffocate to death. She is unarmed (or so Emerson thinks) and her friends get closer and closer to death with every second that passes. The clock ticking ramps up the stakes for the characters and makes the struggle that much more effective. 

The flame killing Emerson was one of the more gruesome deaths this show has featured but shows - once again - how far Clarke will go to save the people she loves.

5. Bellamy and Clarke fighting Dax - 1x08

No offense but Bellamy stabbing Dax in the neck with a bullet was kinda fucking insane. That’s such a savage way to kill a person.

But that’s not the only reason why this scene is on my list. Its such an interesting scene because Bellamy’s hallucination where he is begging Jaha to kill him precedes it and - for a moment - you really think that Bellamy might actually let Dax kill him. But then Clarke shows up, and Bellamy may be willing to let himself die, but he won’t let Dax hurt her. 

It’s a great fight scene because it happens so early in the series and Clarke can’t really shoot a gun or fight yet, and Bellamy is unarmed. There’s no reason why they should be able to fight off Dax and yet, as a team, they do. But not only is it a great struggle, it also leads up to a great emotional scene and marks a turning point in Bellamy and Clarke’s relationship (and Bellamy’s self-perception and character arc, in particular). 

6. Monty killing his mom to save Octavia - 3x11

This is such a heartbreaking scene. I love how Chris actually screams as he fires the bullet - he doesn’t hold back on any of the emotion that Monty would have to be feeling in killing his own mother.

Another thing I liked about this scene was how it showed Octavia actually struggling when she was fighting Monty’s mom. She wasn’t an OP “badass” like most people like to call her - for once, she was just a girl who got caught off-guard. And it showed that, despite what she may think, she does need her friends. She can’t just survive on her own.

It was a prime moment of the delinquents fighting for each other, rather than participating in meaningless fight sequences that don’t really mean anything besides “looking cool”. *intense side eye at Season 4*

7. Luna killing her own people on the rig - 3x14

A round of applause for Nadia Hilker because the rawness and devastation of this scene is entirely due to her. I really like it because Luna approaches fighting in a very unique way for a Grounder. We see during this fight scene where she effortlessly takes down all of the Grounders who are waterboarding and essentially torturing her just how skilled of a fighter she is. She could have saved herself at any moment … but she didn’t. Because she refused to kill her people, refused to give into the darkness.

Until Adria is in danger. Then she gives into it, except maybe giving into it at all was too much for Luna, and this is the beginning of her unraveling until we find her where she is in 4x10 - determined to bring an end to the human race. 

This is a very dark moment and Luna’s cries of grief are absolutely haunting. 

8.  Murphy and Bellamy’s elevator fight - 3x15

I mean, just look at that brewing bromance right there. How could I be wrong? This scene is clearly a cinematic masterpiece.

But, all joking aside, this really is a great fight scene because it forces Bellamy and Murphy to work together when in the past they have historically been at odds. Bellamy and Murphy have a consistently complicated relationship over the course of the series, but in this scene it shows that - at the heart of everything - they will have each other’s backs. Bellamy and Murphy are a dynamic duo when they want to be, and they function best when they work together as opposed to when they are at odds.

Symbolically, Bellamy saving Murphy’s life is an indication of him finally burying the hatchet in their relationship and maybe - just maybe - starting something new. An equal relationship built on respect (although we see on later occasions that it is still not perfect). I particularly like the shot where Bellamy is pointing the gun at the chipped Grounder’s head and is forced to make a choice on whether to save Murphy or let him die … and he chooses Murphy. 

It shows just how far they have truly come.

9. Murphy getting beaten up and hanged - 1x04

I loved the way that scene was filmed - starting from when the crowd started beating up Murphy and ending with Clarke cutting him down from where they hanged him. The situation escalates so quickly and the tension builds. You can feel the pressure of the situation and Bellamy’s internal struggle the entire time, on top of Murphy’s pleas for help - it is even more grueling to watch because the audience knows that Murphy is innocent.

Murphy’s Law is one of my favourite episodes from Season 1 because it clearly demonstrates how quickly things can get out of hand when groups attempt to function without unity. The way the scene is shot, with the camera cutting shakily from one perspective to another, and the indiscernible chanting/yelling in the background really accentuates the chaos of the moment. 

It’s a tense moment that has widespread consequences for the characters over the course of Season 1.

10. Octavia getting her ass handed to her in training - 2x10

It’s not exactly a secret that I am not Octavia’s #1 fan - however this scene of Octavia trying to spar with Fio makes it into my top ten scenes because it is, in my opinion, one of the only fight scenes that actually acknowledges Octavia’s struggle in training. For once, she isn’t this God-like warrior who skipped past the first thirty levels of training - she is the girl under the floor. She is the girl who fell from the sky and is trying create a name for herself. This scene acknowledges both Octavia’s background as well as her potential, showcasing all of Octavia’s best characteristics.

While I am not a huge Octavia stan myself, watching this scene makes it clear as to why people do like her. Her resilience in this scene is in full-force - Octavia refuses to give up, even as she is covered in mud and her own blood (and is disarmed). She would rather get her ass handed to her than appear a coward, so she keeps fighting. 

As much as Octavia’s storyline has its faults and pitfalls, I think that this scene is absolutely essential to explain where her story goes after. Based off of this fight, it’s not hard to see why Indra would desire Octavia as her second, and what drives Octavia to prove herself over and over again.

Honourable Mentions:

It was extremely hard to pick just my top ten favourite fight scenes, but I eventually narrowed it down to the scenes that I thought held the most emotional weight or overall importance in the story. The following are a few scenes that I enjoyed but did not include for some reason or another.

1. Lincoln killing Cage - 2x16

You would be hard-pressed to find a scene from The 100 filled with more vindication than when Lincoln forces Cage to feel the pain he inflicted on Lincoln, and mimicking his words - “the first dose is the worst”. There is something both riveting and chilling about the last words Cage hears being a reminder of his sins. That said, it’s not much of a fight scene, as Cage doesn’t put up much of a fight, but it does serve as an extremely satisfying (while disturbing) way to wrap-up Lincoln (and Cage’s!) storyline in Season 2.

2. Bellamy disabling the acid fog - 2x14

This scene is one of my favourites because of the pure satisfaction of it. Against all odds, Bellamy manages to evade the Mount Weather guards, blowing up their acid fog weapon in the process and burning them all to a crisp in the process. Bellamy’s fast thinking on top of an action-packed sequence make it feel like it was pulled straight out of an action movie. The moment at the end, when Bellamy flies through the vents - unharmed - and just laughs is a great moment. It’s an exhilarating and adrenaline-filled moment to watch - however, it doesn’t have as much emotional weight to it as most of the other scenes I put in my top ten list.

3. Jaha and co. fight the sea monster - 2x16

I’m not entirely certain if this qualifies as a fight scene but this scene where Jaha sacrifices Craig to the sea monster is truly batshit crazy Jaha at his finest. The way Jaha responds to Murphy’s question of “why” with “because you can row” is absolutely chilling, and the delivery from Isaiah Washington is on point. What a way to open the Season 2 finale.

4. Raven fighting against the guards in Mount Weather - 2x16

As emotionally rich and grueling this scene is, where Raven fights back against the Mount Weather guards before they drill into her for bone marrow (even biting one of their necks), it did not make my top ten simply because I’m not entirely sure if it’s really a “fight scene”, as Raven and co are tied down the entire time. That said, Raven’s fire is far from extinguished in this scene and you can feel the desperation in the way she tries to resist against the guards. It is heartwrenching and painful to watch and Lindsey Morgan does an amazing job at portraying both the fear and the strength in Raven.

That covers all of my favourite scenes! Thanks for the great ask.