he abandoned his home country in order to do the right thing

That’s My Girl

2,500 Followers Oneshot

Summary: Jensen breaks your plans for the evening and you are not happy about it.

Prompt: “That’s not a good enough reason to get married.”

Characters: Jensen x Reader

Requested: @arryn-nyx


“I can’t believe you’re bailing on me!”

“I promise I’ll make it up to you, Y/N!” Of course Jensen subjects you to his dazzling signature smile, the one that reminds you of kittens and rainbows and all of that corny shit.

He drags you in for an insanely tight hug as if that will make your moodiness disappear. Well, the joke’s on you because it’s starting to work.

Damn his perfect physique. How are you supposed to stay pissed when an attractive man who smells delicious is touching you?

You gather up enough super strength to shake those distracting thoughts away. That’s an exhausting problem that you’ll save for another day. As of today, there’s no way in hell that you’re letting him off the hook this time.

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Ten

Originally posted by jeonsshi

Note: This is so out of order, but this was supposed to be a scene from a super long modern day royalty AU I had planned. Basically, you’re the new crown princess of a country because your sibling abdicates from the throne over INSTAGRAM and… arranged marriage…etc. Anyway, this is just a short thing I wrote. I had to post. Thanks @nottodayjeon and @hayjeon for proofing and feedback. 

Summary: You’re too busy these days to have a decent meal with your husband let alone spend quality time with him, but Yoongi is determined to make things work. 

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader
Rating: M
Genre: Modern Royalty AU
Warnings: sexual content
Word Count: 2723

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“My approval ratings are down,” you huff, scrolling through the media summary your secretary had prepared for you as you walk into the kitchen. You know Yoongi will be here in the mornings, hovering over the pot of coffee he prefers to brew himself.

“Well good morning to you too,” Yoongi sniffs, frowning at the way you’re immersed in the news without even the smallest glance in his direction. He hands you a cup of coffee made just the way you like it (splash of milk, no sugar).

You take the cup with an absentminded “thanks” said in a soft tone, too distracted by the polling data showing a dip in approval after the news of your impending ascension to the throne was released. It hurt a little that a percentage of the people liked you well enough as a princess, but wouldn’t support the idea of you as an active, ruling queen.

“Put the tablet down. No reading the news until after you give me a morning kiss.” You nearly jump out of your skin when Yoongi sidles up behind you to kiss your neck softly. “Tablet. Down. Now.” And who are you to deny your husband when he orders so nicely?

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Essays in Existentialism: Monarchy

I know you did a royal one but how about a different spin where one isn’t suposed to get the crown maybe second or third and then they get it or will get it? And they have to grow up quick to take over?

Pulled back from the front, the shore was a paradise, compared to inland where the stalemate waged, waiting for the big push. The sun took its time dripping through the July sky. Frozen in the thick, heavy evening, it glowed and made the world red and blue and purple and golden, while the water licked at the burnt shore and tried to soothe a bit of the earth for the soldiers.

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FOUR  STAGES  &  FOUR  CASES

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SOME STRANGE CONNECTIONS BETWEEN TFP, TLD, TST, TAB & THE GREAT GAME

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It happened quite accidentially that I discovered the following similarities. A little scene almost at the end of ‘The Final Problem’ started the ball rolling. Sherlock pushes open his prison room and suddenly stands in front of Musgrave Hall - the old home of the Holmes family.

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John and Mary’s A+ parenting

If season 12 has shown us anything, it’s how very similar John and Mary actually are. Here are some of the most obvious instances:

1. Not taking it for valid/not being happy about their son’s rightful anger and/or hurt and trying to forbid it:

“You’re right. Although I’m not too crazy about this new tone of yours, you’re right.” - John to Dean (1x21), after Dean calls him out on the fact that they were never able to reach him when they needed him. Because it’s completely unreasonable for Dean to feel angry and deeply hurt that John didn’t bother picking up the phone when Dean was dying.

“Do not give me the face.” - Mary to Dean (12x13), when he rightfully looks at her in utter disappointment and betrayal after her confession. Dean didn’t even say anything yet, but apparently he’s not even allowed to look at her in a certain way to express his feelings.

2. Looking pleased and proud when their son is catering to their every need, while he puts himself and his own choices/wishes last:

John’s speech to Dean in the hospital (2x01) and his elated smile while he talks about how proud he is of Dean for taking care of Sammy and their whole family his entire life, sacrificing his own childhood in the process. And then basically telling him to continue to do so.

Mary looking so delighted and pleased (12x14) when Dean tells her that she can make her own choices and his feelings on them don’t matter.

3. Forcing one of their children into the position of having to choose between their parent or brother, and thus causing a rift in their relationship:

John’s parentification of Dean and making him responsible for Sam’s well-being, while at the same time brainwashing him into following his orders which more often than not had nothing to do with Sam’s best interests. Thus putting Dean into the impossible position of making both of them happy with his actions (basically all their childhood and season 1).

Mary trying to convince Dean to talk to her and agree with her on working with the BMoL and when it doesn’t work, contacting Sam even though she knows that Dean is completely against it. Thus playing/manipulating them against each other and forcing Sam into the situation to pick between his mom and his brother (12x14).

4. Lamenting about what they want for their children, instead of asking them what they actually want/need.

“I want to stop losing people we love. I want you to go to school, I want Dean to have a home. I want….I want Mary alive. It’s just….I just want this to be over.” - John to Sam (1x21). It would have been in John’s power to give them at least some of these things. He could have encouraged Sam to go to college and he could have given Dean a stable home while growing up. Nobody forced him to drag his children around the country and letting them live in shitty motel rooms, when they needed exactly the opposite. But his thirst for revenge and his guilt were stronger than his need to provide some safety and support for his children.

“We’ve got a real shot here. A world without monsters. A world where you and Dean don’t have to hunt, where you can have normal lives. (…) You were going to school, to college. (…) That’s why I’m doing this. That is what I’m fighting for.” - Mary to Sam (12x14). A lovely thought, sure. But does she ever ask if that’s even what they want anymore? Sam tells her that he chose this life. He’s been content with his life and hunting during the last two seasons and at peace with himself like we’ve never seen before. Dean even told her in the very first episode after she came back that this is their life and that they’re doing something good and that it’s worth it. They’ve grown up and their lives may not be what Mary envisioned, but her desire to change the status quo comes from her own needs and guilt and nowhere else.

5. Abandoning their sons when they need them and only showing up when they feel like it/need something.

John leaving them alone for days/weeks in shitty motel rooms when they were only children. John not being accessible for them, when they desperately tried to contact him (1x09, 1x12). John deciding they’re better off on their own (1x16). John leaving Dean to rot in jail and when Dean ended up at Sonny’s place instead, taking him away when he needed him with no regard to what was going on in Dean’s life at this point (9x07). To name a few instances.

Mary leaving (12x03), when Dean and Sam were so excited and happy about getting a chance to know her and be a family. Leaving, despite Sam having told her just before that having her here fills in the biggest blank in his life (12x02). Leaving, despite the way Dean physically recoils from her when she tries to touch him because she’s hurting him so deeply by doing it (12x03). And then staying away from them, barely making any effort to get to know them, and only reaching out to them when she needs something from them (12x12, 12x13, 12x14).

6. Not being a mom/dad first.

“I stopped being your father and I became your drill sergeant.” - John to Sam (1x20). John was always “Sir” first. He was their drill sergeant, as he himself puts it. He expected blind obedience, instead of offering guidance and support. He didn’t even bother celebrating birthdays or holidays with his children.

“I am your mother, but I’m not just a mom. And you are not a child.” - Mary to Dean (12x13), after he asks her to try and be their mom for once. He never asked her to be “just a mom”. But he asked her, quite rightfully, to put them first for once. To think about how it’s been for them. And to have her throw those ugly words “You are not a child” in his face in response, when that’s exactly what his life has been like ever since he was four years old, was the worst thing to witness. Also - because I mentioned it for John, too - Christmas and Dean’s birthday have come and gone since Mary is back and considering the way Dean is being so openly disappointed about the lack of time she’s spent with them, I doubt she was there for either of those days.

I’m sure there are even more examples, but my heart hurts too much right now thinking about this. Maybe I’ll add things later (Mary is still around to provide more evidence after all).

I would have loved to make a gifset of all these instances, but sadly I haven’t got enough skill. If anyone wants to make one based on this post I’d be eternally grateful!

It Isn’t Love || Seungcheol || Pt. 2

Pt. 1 // Pt. 2 // Pt. 3 // Pt. 4 // Pt. 5 // Pt. 6 //

Word Count: 1850 

Genre: fluff, angst, royalty au, arranged marriage au

Summary: In order to solidify and further prove the alliance of two kingdoms, the Choi Kingdom had decided to arrange a marriage between their kingdom and the Lee Kingdom. It was a great plan! Now, if only the two parties personally involved were willing…


In the morning, Seungcheol went to bid Jihoon farewell.

“I’m glad we get along,” Seungcheol joked, “If we hadn’t, we would have a hard time being brother-in-laws.”

Jihoon laughed. “It doesn’t matter what I think. My sister’s opinion matters more.”

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Just friends ~ Part three

You didn’t sleep at all that night, the thoughts of Seung hyun chasing you down the beach and the way the moonlight hit his face just right kept you awake.


It’s not like you hadn’t noticed how handsome he was, like the sun in the sky it was plain to see, you had just never allowed yourself to think of him in a romantic way before because you knew you weren’t his type. Seung hyun had an acquired taste in life and his choice in women was one of them, everything he wanted in his companion was everything you weren’t, the complete opposite in fact.


But there was something about last night, the way he held you in the water and carried you back to the beach, the way he placed his jacket on you when you were cold and carried your shoes for you, the way he looked at you when you stood at your door. There was something in his eyes and in the way he was behaving, his body stiff, reminiscent of the first time you had met him.

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Old Flames

Rating: General
Characters: Peggy Carter, Steve Rogers
Word Count: 3525
Summary: Peggy runs into an old friend

Read on AO3


Peggy walked directly into a stranger as she rushed through the crowded department store. She’d been hurrying, so there was some force. She bounced off the gentleman, and he grunted.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” she said as she stumbled to catch her balance. “That was entirely my fault—I wasn’t looking. My—”

Her words halted as abruptly as she had.

“Well, I never,” said the man, who wasn’t a stranger at all.

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anonymous asked:

Gerrus idea: 1920s (which is also my favourite time for them). They meet in Berlin and dance and drink, and just generally try to forget about life

okay so I really tried to keep it as a drabble, but it just turned into 4000 words again.
Also less dancing and carefreeness happens, sorry for that! vov

But anyway, here it is, 1920s GerRus, set around 1925 specifically.

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Soulmate!AU: Jack Morrison x Reader - Ineffable (Part 3/3)

Ineffable - (adj) too great to be expressed in words

Summary: Six years have passed since the fall of Overwatch. Now everyone has returned to a boring, uneventful life, witnessing the second Omnic crisis arise with their hands tied. All you can do is watch until a certain scientist decides that he’s had enough. 
Pairing: Jack Morrison/Soldier: 76 x Reader
Warning: No pitiful flirting this time (though Admin Macaree keeps trying to convince me it was far from pitiful. It would have worked on her, after all). Genji doesn’t need healing either. We’re all safe. 
Some swearing at the end. 
Use of alcohol, well, more like a mention of alcohol. 
A passage towards the end could be considered a mention of rape. 
(We just want to list everything that might be problematic in advance, trying to save us some trouble. Some people might interpret it as alcohol abuse or something like that, so we like to be safe.) 
word count: 6,874

Author’s note: Yes, we know it has taken us months to publish this third chapter and we deeply apologize! We hope you still enjoy this part as we’ve put a lot of work and dedication into it! 

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erika-sanely  asked:

IF you're still taking fic prompts, I don't think there can every be enough hot single dad Derek fics, with him and Stiles meeting because Derek's kid thinks Stiles is awesome.

Stiles is awesome, okay? He’s the most amazingest, most awesomest thing to happen to this town since the birth of Lydia Martin.

Derek blinks dumbly at his daughter, crouched down in front of her so that they’re at eyelevel. “Who?

Rachel goes from condescending to exasperated in three seconds flat. Derek doesn’t have much experience with five-year-old’s outside of his own, but he’s pretty sure his kid is uniquely skilled at emoting with only her eyebrows. It’s ridiculously cute, but not very helpful right now.

Stiles,” Rachel says, like Derek is an absolute idiot. Derek can’t wait for her teenage years. Really.

“Yeah, Baby, I got that part. You may have mentioned him once or twice.” Or, you know, approximately five thousand times since this Stiles person started working at KinderCare a week ago. At this rate, declarations of Stiles’ awesomeness are about to eclipse belting out the chorus of “Let It Go” as Derek’s number one reason to start buying earplugs in bulk. “But I don’t think I know any Lydia’s.”

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Your Daily Dose of Fanfiction

heres some new /or updated fics :) enjoy!!

Marveling Coincidence

They meet by unfortunate circumstances, bad place at a bad time, but their common interest brings them together easily. Question is, will the world pull them apart?orWhen Zayn is a Uni student getting over a bad break up, struggling with his own personal demons and Liam, a friend of a friend, might just be the perfect remedy to his aching heart.

Why We Fight

Sequel to “Nobody But You”

I Would Do Anything For You: Ziam Drabbles

A collection of my Ziam drabbles, AU ideas, and other snippets, originally posted on Tumblr.

Every Day With You

Liam and Zayn have been married for years, and have three beautiful sons. Liam works from home to take care of the house and the kids, while Zayn spends all of his time working. Dealing with an angsty teenager, a hyper 7 year old, and a quickly growing toddler (mostly) alone is dragging him down to a place he hasn’t been since before he and Zayn met. At least their dog is cute.

And There I Find Out in the Mystery

Zayn works on an Frozen Yogurt parlor located right by the ocean shore. Liam’s got to pee and is on his way to his first phsychiatrist appointment. They end up meeting somewhere in between.

feel a little more, give a little less 

They haven’t done this in a long time, really. Three months to be exact. Three months without Liam because Zayn had to go do some summer internship in America, and let’s just say his hand wasn’t that great compared to what he’s had before.

Also known as Liam’s cock.

Abandoned Soul

“Why don’t you sit down and we’ll do this again?” Liam asked, his tone a little softer now yet still holding the firmness from before.
Zayn acted before he could think; he didn’t know what he was doing until his fist made contact with Liam’s cheek.Zayn was a drug dealer; dealing Omega’s with many drugs and accessories to hide their Omega status… all 100% illegal. He’d been doing it for years, living in cheap B&B’s on the money that he earned from his dealings, and never getting caught.

 But one day he is caught and arrested on the spot.His family have disowned him for what he’d done. This means that when he’s released he will have to go to an Omega Home, until an Alpha decides they want to claim him. However, the Omega has grabbed the attention of Liam Payne, and Liam decides that he will take on all responsibility of Zayn. He collects Zayn when he is finally released from the Young Omega Offenders Institute; and he swears to try and right all the wrong that it within the stubborn Omega.

Begin Again

Zayn watches Liam everyday on the bus, he has a sketch pad full of drawings, half written songs about the boy with the brown eyes but absolutely no desire to get his heart broken again.

Love Weddings

DJ Zayn Malik hates weddings. At least, he hates wedding until a server changes his mind.

the rest I can do without

Silence greets him. He jerks his head up, looking around like a frightened animal. Zayn’s not there anymore. Another trick, via Paul Higgins.Of course. It’s not as if his life isn’t filled with ghosts, right?

(For most of his life, Liam’s wanted out of Gotham―to shed his Nightwing costume for something else. To have a normal life. Zayn wants revenge―and a bit of redemption, too. Secretly, they’ve wanted each other most of their lives, too. It’s a shame murder and Gotham City keeps getting in their way.)

Impaired

Liam lost his eyesight when he was eight years old, growing up blind has always been a struggle for him. But when he’s done the same things over and over, he’s come to recognize and know his surroundings. When a new neighbor moves in across from him, he seems to suddenly become lost again.
.
Liam’s been blind since he’s eight, and he’s now twenty three. Zayn’s a painter who plays his music too loud, and always wears a collogne that sticks in the hallways. Liam has an imaginative mind, and Zayn has the brushes to paint it. They help each other out.

When I needed you the most.

( the one where Liam and Zayn are together but for reasons Liam has to go to in another country for work purposes. He returns in London year later, only to discover that nothing is the same as it used to be. )

Lungs Filled With Sadness and Smoke

Zayn is sad and alone and Liam notices.

you can coax the cold right out of me

or; zayn drafts a petition to shut down the frat houses, but liam convinces him not to.

Standards Of Appearance

Zayn looked his tutor up and down slowly. Maybe these etiquette lessons would be more interesting than he first thought.

OrThe princess diaries AU no one asked for.

Howl

Sequel to Growl

In every universe

Intaglio work as a mental break from Actual Serious Writing. All drawn from or inspired by or (often, necessarily) de-Americanised from the “Awful AUs” Tumblr and similar prompt collections. Sporadic, desultory, and really no more than scales and exercises as a relief from chipping away at t’ book-face … and mixing metaphors.For those who actually follow that Actual Serious Writing, and specially for those involved in its fruition, be assured that this has not delayed that. (Delays are owing to referenda on the line.)

This is the Way the World Ends

The days are dangerous at the end of the world. A group of lost souls scour the streets, scavenging for food and supplies. All they have left now is each other.What little order there is left comes from Better Living Industries, who have taken over as the world burns.

 They rule with an iron fist, controlling the Earth’s dwindling resources and snuffing out inconvenient lives.Consumed by desperation and bravado, the five friends brave B.L.I. headquarters, to face their destiny…

Vigilante

Based on a prompt from Tumblr: “we bumped into each other in the street and you were grinning like a cocky asshole the whole time so i stalked off only to realise i’m wearing your shirt” Zayn wants to break up, except he doesn’t. Liam wants to make Zayn happy. A Batman tanktop brings them back together.

The love in our hearts

(Zayn pretends to be Louis’s fiancé and ends up spending his entire summer with his family, planning their wedding. He hates everything and especially Louis’s younger brother Liam, who makes his life miserable.
And Liam. Well Liam acts as the world’s biggest douche, but what you expect when he falls in love with the only person, he is not allowed to. His brother’s fiancé.)

crying is good for the soul

the ‘i work at a movie theatre and i’m cleaning up after the movie is over and you’re the only person left because you’re ugly crying with popcorn over your lap’ AU.


anonymous asked:

Any bad things that Lafayette did?

In order for Lafayette to come to America and fight he had to, “abandon his pregnant wife and infant child without a word, let alone an embrace.” (Giles 24). He hadn’t developed emotional ties with his wife yet and his conquest for glory caused him to leave his wife all alone pregnant and with a child. He also broke his wife’s heart in the process.

Of course after their ship turned back to France the first time, “after riding up the Spanish and French coasts, with only a brief rest at Saint-Jean de Luz- and a flirtation with an innkeeper’s daughter- Lafayette arrives in Bordeaux on April 3.” (Giles 27). He flirted with those who were not his wife.

“After five months, she had to receive any word of her husband, and more weeks would lapse before his letter would arrive.” (Giles 36). He didn’t even send any sort of letter to his wife at all- who had just gone through the agonies of a second child birth.

“He was falling deeper in love with the image he conjured of a wife he had abandoned before he ever got o know her.” (Giles 52).

When he returned to France in 1779 the women of the balls were throwing themselves at his feet. Adrienne got used to sometimes being left at home and Lafayette didn’t always resist the women.

Lafayette joined John Paul Jones’s fleet while in France in 1779, “His departure devastated Adrienne who was pregnant again and, as before, faced the birth of her child far from her husband.” (Giles 100). 

 Lafayette left his wife and children in Paris while he fled the country so that he wouldn’t be executed or murdered. That left room for Lafayette’s wife and children to be sent to the guillotine. It was up to Adrienne and others to secure the safety of his family. 

I mean, Lafayette was a better man than most at his time but that does not mean he was a perfect guy. I may of advocated for women’s rights or been an abolitionist but he most certainly was not a perfect guy. A lot of the bad things he did wasn’t more for other people, it was most the mistreatment of his wife in his early years (who was a damn queen). His troops during the Champ de Mars were responsible for the death of a hundred people- but it wasn’t Lafayette who shot first or ordered his troops to do so. And it wasn’t just him effected by the massacre, Desmoulins and Robespierre went into hiding; Danton fled to London and Marat went underground. 

Read Noli Me Tangere this Election Season
  • When Jose Rizal’s "Noli Me Tangere" came off the press in Berlin, Germany on March 21, 1887, 129 years ago, no one knew the impact it would have on the Filipino nation. The book was intended for the Filipino intelligentsia, whose language was Spanish. Hence, it was written in Spanish. And yet, the novel, with its sequel "El Filibusterismo", influenced, at least at the time of the late 19th century, a largely illiterate nation. Rich insights have been drawn from it, from the time it was first read by the leaders of the revolutionary Katipunan up to our independence from the United States in 1946. Rich insights still remain in it up to the present day. After all, Rizal’s backdrop in the novel was and remains to be truly Filipino. The outward appearance of the culture he captured in the written word might not be all too familiar to us, but the spirit, the social realities and the reaction of Rizal’s characters to them is the same reaction we have today as a nation. Which is why it is a tragedy, (a travesty even!) that the novel is taught in our schools without much depth or bravado. It is a required reading for students, and yet most of them miss the treasures it has, all too concealed by badly written translations in textbooks, and bad exposition of the narrative. If taught effectively, I believe Noli will clear up the lens of our youth, whose opinions (at times brash, impatient and unfounded) can be refined, and grounded on history and human realities. Which is why perhaps, I would really recommend people to read Noli Me Tangere in the context of the upcoming elections, particularly the debate between the characters Crisostomo Ibarra and Elias in Chapter 50 "Spokesman of the Oppressed." Glean from the words, explore the depth of the issues, and look at the players in our upcoming elections. The wanton use of force by authorities to exact discipline for progress is specifically tackled here by Rizal. Reading through it, one would gasp at how insightful Rizal was. Did Rizal had a vision of what it would be like under Martial Law (1972-1981) or a Philippines under a strongman? It's insightful and somewhat scary. Further reading would give the reader insights on the conflict in Mindanao and the role the government should have on its citizens. My copy of Noli was translated by the great Leon Ma. Guerrero, which in my opinion, is the best translation of the novel in English. This is an abridged version of the chapter, emphasizing the points of the debate between Ibarra and Elias.
  • Crisostomo Ibarra: (asking Elias on what happened when he talked with the leader of the outlaws) “So they ask for…”
  • Elias: “Radical reforms in the armed forces, in the clergy, in the administration of justice, that is to say, a more paternal approach from the Government.”
  • Ibarra: “Reforms? In what sense?”
  • Elias: “For example, more respect for human dignity, greater security for the individual, less strength in the armed forces, less privileges for an organization which so easily abuses them.”
  • Ibarra: “Elias, I do not know who you are, but I have the feeling that you are not an ordinary man. You do not think and act like the others. You will understand me if I tell you that, although the present state of things has its defects, it would have even more should it be changed…. I know very well that, while these institutions have their defects, they are necessary now; they are what is called necessary evil.”
  • Elias: “You too believe in necessary evils? You believe that to do good it is necessary to do evil?”
  • Ibarra: “No, I believe in the necessary evil as I believe in those drastic treatments we use when we want to cure a disease. Now, then, the country is an organism which suffers from a chronic sickness, and to cure it the Government feels compelled to use means, which, if you wish, are harsh and violent but useful and necessary.”
  • Elias: “It’s a bad doctor, sir, who only seeks to correct and suppress symptoms without trying to determine the cause of the illness, or knowing it, fears to go after it. The Constabulary has only one purpose: to repress crime by force and terror, a purpose which is not achieved except by chance. Furthermore, you must consider, sir, that society can only be hard on individuals when it has first furnished them with the means necessary for their moral improvement. In our country, there is no organized society as such since the people and the Government are not united; the latter therefore should be lenient, not only because it wants to be judged leniently, but also because the individual, neglected and abandoned by the Government, is less responsible precisely because he has received so little instruction in his duties. Moreover, using your own comparison, the treatment applied to the country’s ills is so destructive that it makes itself felt only in those parts of the organism which are healthy, weakening their vitality and preparing the way for the spread of the disease. Would it not be more reasonable instead to strengthen those parts of the organism that are sick and to lessen the violence of the treatment?"
  • Ibarra: “To weaken the Constabulary would be to endanger the security of the towns.”
  • Elias: “The security of the towns!” cried Elias bitterly. “It will soon be fifteen years that those towns have had the protection of the Constabulary, and look: we still have outlaws, we still hear that they sack towns and hold people up on the highways; robberies still take place and the robbers are not discovered; crime exists, and the real criminal goes about freely, but not the peaceful inhabitants of the town. Ask any honest citizen if he looks upon the Constabulary as a good thing, as a means of protection furnished by the Government and not as an imposition, a despotism whose excesses are more harmful than the depredations of the outlaws. True, these depredations are usually on a great scale, but they do not happen often, and a man is allowed to defend himself against them. But one cannot even protest against the impositions of the forces of law and order, and if these impositions are sometimes not so great in extent, they are on the other hand continuous and sanctioned by society. What is the effect of this organization on the life of our towns? It paralyzes communications because everybody is afraid of being harassed for petty causes. It is concerned with appearances rather than fundamentals--one of the first symptoms of incapacity. A man is tied and beaten up because he has forgotten his identity card, no matter if he is a decent person with a good reputation. The officers think it is their first duty to exact a salute, willing or unwilling, even at night, and they are imitated in this by their subordinates, who use it as an excuse--although an excuse is never lacking--to manhandle and fleece the peasants. The sanctity of the home does not exist for them; not long ago they entered a house in Kalamna through the window and beat up a peaceful inhabitant to whom their commanding officer owed money and favours. There is no security for the individual: when they want their barracks or their houses cleaned, they go out and seize anyone who does not resist and make him work the whole day…. What good has it done them to swallow their anger and place their hopes on human justice? If this, sir, is what you call maintaining peace and order…”
  • Ibarra: “I agree that there are evils, but let us accept the evils for the sake of the good things that go with them. The Constabulary may not be perfect, but, believe me, the fear it inspires prevents an increase in the number of criminals."
  • Elias: "Say rather that this fear increases their number. Before the creation of this organization almost all criminals, with the exception of a very few, were driven to crime by hunger; they looted and robbed to stay alive, but when times were easier, the highways were once more safe. Outlaws could be scared away even by the municipal policemen and their primitive weapons--those poor brave policemen, so libeled by writers of our country, whose right is to die, whose duty is to fight, and whose reward is a sneer. Now outlaws are outlaws for life. One misdemeanour, one felony punished with inhumanity, one gesture of resistance against the excesses of authority, is enough, with the fear of atrocious tortures, to exile them forever from society, and condemn them to kill or be killed. The Constabulary's terrorism shuts the doors of repentance, and, since an outlaw fights and defends himself in the mountains better than the soldier whom he flouts, the result is that we cannot extinguis the evil we have created... A regime of terror is useful when a people are enslaves, when there are no caves in the mountains, when the ruling power can place a sentry behind every tree, and when the body of the slave has only a stomach and intestines! But when a desperate man fighting for his life feels his arm stiffen, his heart beat, and his whole body fill up with spleen, can terrorism extinguish the fire on which it pours more fuel?"
  • Ibarra: "I would believe you right away had I not my own convictions. But note one fact--do not take offense because I make an exception of you. Who asks for these reforms? Almost all of them felons or those who are very close to it."
  • Elias: "Present or prospective felons--but why are they what they are? Because their peace has been broken, their happiness torn up by the roots, their most cherished affections outraged, and because, when they thought to seek protection from the law, they were convinced that they could only depend on themselves. But you are wrong, sir, if you believe that only felons ask for reforms; go from town to town, from house to house, listen to the hidden complaints of every family, and you will be convinced that the evils which the Constabulary prevents are not greater, perhaps less, than those which it inflicts continuously. Shall we conclude from this that all these citizens are felons? Then why defend them from other felons? Why not destroy them all?"
  • Ibarra: "My friend, this should be studied with great care. If I find after investigation that these grievances are justified, I shall write to my friends in Madrid, since we have no official representatives in Parliament there. Meantime, do believe that the Government has need of a body of men with that unlimited power and authority which it needs to make itself respected."
  • Elias: "That sir, would be true if the Government were at war with the people, but for the Government's own good we should not lead the people to believe that they and the Government are on opposite sides. But if such is the case, if we prefer force to a good name, we should consider well to whom we give such unlimited power and authority. So much power placed in human hands, the hands of ignorant, and wilful men, without moral training, without proven honesty, is a weapon placed in the hands of a madman let loose in an unarmed crowd. I admit, and I want to believe like you, that the Government needs this strong right arm, but it should choose well, from among the most worthy, and since it prefers to confer authority on itself rather than receive it from the people, let it at least show that it knows how to do so."
Ja’far’s feelings for Sinbad +

This is yet another post talking about Ja’far’s reaction towards Sin’s death.
I have addressed this before but with more feelings than an objective opinion, so let’s begin.

Everyone has talked fairly about how Ja’far will move on from this.
In my opinion, however, there are some important details about Ja’far’s feelings left behind. 
I personally find important to not ignore the great love Ja’far feels towards Sinbad, despite of what you think those feelings are. These are not something that I prefer him to have, these exist, and so has been stated several times.

More than anyone else:

Sinbad is not only another member of Ja’far’s family, Sinbad is the member he loves most. Probably all generals feel this way, with some exceptions.This is probably why Ohtaka especially has addressed Ja’far’s feelings as the one who loves Sinbad more than anyone else. Because we all know pretty much everyone loves Sin a lot. So, she made clear: from all of his people that love him, Ja’far loves him most. This was not something Ja’far said himself, this is something that was stated about him in Magi’s encyclopedia.

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This began as a cute little request, and turned into heartbreak. For that I am sorry. It probably was a little different than the request, but hopefully it’s still alright. Thank you to @legrandfoyer for the sending this in. Enjoy, my darlings. 

Prompt: i’d die for a tony imagine where either reader (maybe a rookie dr. hired by banner?) or tony head over to the stark lab whenever they’re distressed or tormented about something, and that’s how they meet and get to know each other over time. or something like that, idk

“Stress”

To say it was hectic was an understatement. Kolkata was a busy enough place on its own, but the streets that Bruce led Tony through seemed even more so. People were hustling and bustling and generally so frenzied, he wondered how it could even function. Yet even the outwardly chaotic appeared to have some form of bizarre order.

“Where are we going?” Tony asked, though he wondered if Bruce would hear him. His friend was several paces in front.
“I told you. If you’re going to stay out here, you’re going to stay out here. You’re going to see where I’ve been working.”
“How do you get any work done in this place?”
“Did you even listen to what work I’ve been doing?”

“Maybe. Pretend I didn’t.”

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Set Me Free - Part 1

Fandom: Assassin’s Creed: Syndicate
Pairing: Jacob Frye x Reader
Chapters: 1/3 
Rating: Mature
Plot: The Reader is having troubles paying for her rent and is harassed by the house owner and his Blighters. A certain Mister Frye will prove to be a wonderful ally, helping her to finally take the persecutor down and eventually offering her a place into the Rooks.
Warnings: Blood, attempted rape.

Author’s note: This was actually supposed to be a oneshot, but then I noticed it was becoming already way too long so I’m going to split it in two parts. Hope you enjoy!

Originally posted by jacobfryeisbae

You have to call up all your strength as you stare at the man in front of you, his dark and stern eyes studying the envelope you placed on the table and meticulously counting the money contained inside.

Of course he’s not impressed with the amount you gave him, not that you weren’t expecting such a reaction from the brute. You did all you could to gather those precious pounds, but you also have to buy your own food and possibly get some new, cheap clothes from time to time. You may not be the richest woman in London, but hell! You still remain a human being with primary needs after all. This rent is literally draining your whole soul out right now and the more time passes by, the more the overall debt seems to increase for some inexplicable reason.

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The Arrangement: A Victorian Fraser Christmas Tale. Prologue One.

Set in 1850: Victorian Britain.

“Oi! Wretch, you’ve mail,” the quartermaster barked, kicking Claire swiftly in the ribs as she dozed on the workhouse floor. Being ‘well to do’ had labelled her as different from her *new* peers and sleeping amongst them had elicited only negative responses. Therefore, she had made herself at home under some old, forgotten equipment in a far off forgotten corner of their draughty government imposed prison.

The small envelope hit her on the head and she feigned sleep, waiting anxiously for the grumpy old man to disappear. As his footsteps vanished down the corridors of the empty building, she reached out and pulled the letter to her chest praying it was what she thought it might be. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to bat away the memories of how she’d come to be sequestered here of all places, fifteen and alone.


Uncle Lamb often left Claire in the capable hands of his man servant, Firouz, when he was called to duty abroad; being only young, she was a burden when travelling long distances. In return he wrote and brought home strange artifacts for her.

Having lost her parents before her first birthday in a tragic horse and cart collision, Claire had been thrust into her uncle’s mad world. Taken from country to country, she often travelled on dirty ships with hostile crew members. But, as she’d reached her teenage years, Lamb had thought it more beneficial for her to have a stable upbringing with a *good* education.

Boarding school had been his first suggestion, but Claire had been nothing but defiant when it came to being abandoned in a grotty old schoolhouse with people she did not care for.

Lamb, very conscious of Claire’s natural stubbornness, had succumbed pretty easily and had removed her before any serious damage could be done. But he still refused to sacrifice her schooling, and so, had hired Firouz to act as caregiver and educator during his absences.

Then, halfway through her fifteenth year, disaster had struck. Lambert Beauchamp had been aboard a ship bound for the America’s, a large passenger freight that had been caught short in a storm. The wreckage had been spotted by a returning ship.

No survivors were recorded, and no bodies retrieved.

It hadn’t taken long for the news to be conveyed to all relatives aboard the capsized vessel.

In mere weeks, Lamb’s Oxford home had been stripped and sold off and Claire had been torn from Firouz and thrust into a workhouse, a ward of the state. With no living relatives to claim either her or her dowry, she’d been left at the mercy of the government as a minor with no rights and no time to grieve for her loss.


Daylight shone through the grimy, tiny, windows of the tall brick building, shining a tainted black-yellow light over Claire as she shook the memory of the horror of her ordeal from her filthy skin. Misery wouldn’t solve her situation, not now. Instead, her only hope lay in the hands of one Brian Fraser.

Running the off-cream envelope through her dirty fingers, she brushed the pad of her thumb over the seal.

“Je suis prest.” it read, and she was, she surmised; ready to be out of this place for good.


Brian stood and watched as the rider cantered off, back on his journey to London no doubt.

“Is this the only way, my own?” Ellen’s voice drifted over the fading sound of hoofprints against the dry ground.

“Aye, mo ghaol. I ken it isna ideal for us, but I canna leave the bairn to rot in a *workhouse*,” he spat the word as if it were poison on his tongue, the stale, retched scent of the last one he’d been in clinging to the roof of his mouth as he shuddered at the recollection.

“Ye’ve a good heart, Brian Dubh…” she whispered, brushing the stray strands of his long black hair from around his ears, “tis why I married ye. But what if yer condemning the weans to a life in an unhappy marriage. Ye ken Jamie weel. He loves ye fiercely and he’d do anything to make ye proud. But he’s like me, aye? What if he falls madly in love wi’ another?”

Brian’s heart sank as he contemplated the risks. “Yer right, mo nighean ruaidh, o’ course ye are. I wish things were different, I wish that Lambert was still here wi’ us so that we didna have to make such bold moves. But he isne. So I have to rescue his niece, *we* have to do all we can to get her safely awa’ from that fate…” Wrapping his arm around Ellen’s waist, he pulled her to his side, drawing strength from her presence alone, “however I can.”

“I do love ye so, a ghràdh,” she returned, her heart swelling in affection for the lengths he was willing to go to in order to protect a lass he’d never even met. “Whatever comes o’ this, I’m sure our Jamie will see the benefit of it. And, I’m sure wee Mistress Beauchamp will be ever grateful.”

The harsh October chill whisked through the Scottish air as Brian and Ellen turned, as one, towards Lallybroch. Deal done, all they could do was wait. Claire would need to turn sixteen before she’d be released for her impending nuptials. Only a few days stood between her and freedom, the Frasers could only hope that she survived those and made it to them unscathed.

Rubbing her aching arm, Claire pulled at the tatty dress she’d been given for her long journey up to the highlands. Winter had well and truly set in. The deal that had been proposed months before had taken longer to secure than she’d have liked and it was mid-November before her freedom had been assured.

Dowry lost to unscrupulous fatcats and lawyers, Claire stood outside the vile workhouse with only a battered suitcase and a few measly possessions to call her own. Luckily, that hadn’t stopped Brian Fraser from coming to her aid, money or no, he’d been determined to do his duty by her.

“Mistress Claire?” came the deep Scots burr, breaking Claire from her thoughts as she twisted on her heel in the direction of the calm voice of her rescuer.

“Y-yes, that’s me,” she replied, her voice nearly lost to the rattle of carriages as they whizzed passed, splattering her already soiled dress with mud and muck from the over-clogged cobbled streets.

“Ach! Good. I have an inn for the night, ye dinna mind I hope. Only it’s a long ride back to Broch Tuarach and I didna ken if ye would wish fer a comfortable bed for the evening afore we start out.”

Blushing, Claire dipped her head and curtsied as best as she was able, conveying her appreciation. The overcrowded workhouse had been such a nightmare that she hadn’t stopped to contemplate whether accepting the marriage proposal of a man she’d never met could land her in an even worse situation than the one she’d actually been living. Now, watching as Brian Fraser offered out his hand to her, his kind eyes soft as he’d allowed her to make the first move, she felt the sweet rush of relief fill her right to the marrow.

“Thank you, sir. Yes, that would be most pleasant.”

“Nay, lass, no ‘sir’,” Brian admonished, a smile gracing his soft features, “we’re to be father and daughter-in-law after all, aye?”

At this reminder, Claire gulped. Fear overtaking comfort she’d allowed herself to feel.

Brian, seeing distress colour her features, took her by the hand and brought her to his chest, as gently as he was able.

“Jamie’s a good lad, Claire lassie. I promise ye he’ll do right by ye, no need to fret. Yer uncle was a good friend, he helped us in so many ways, and I wouldna do his memory a disservice by condemning ye to a bad marriage. I ken that words dinna mean a whole lot to ye at the moment, but I’m asking for yer trust on this, please?”

The lulling lilt of his accent soothed Claire as she rested her head against Brian’s chest, inhaling the soft scent of hay and whisky that clung to him like a fine musk. He smelt as a father should, she thought, fatigue seeping through every inch of her.

Nodding, she grasped her hands together behind his back, accepting his request. Having expended all that energy to obtain her immunity, she had to allow him that one courtesy.

Sparking, the fire crackled, filling the gaps in silence in Lallybroch’s main living room. Sitting around its warmth, basking in the glow, all three Fraser siblings sat with a wee dram each discussing the spring harvest regime.

“Jamie, lad?” Ellen called, hating to disrupt the harmony that she usually revelled in.

Dusting himself off, the youngest Fraser stood, placing his (now empty) tumbler back onto the silver tray by the decanter as he answered his mother’s request.

“Aye, mam?” he responded, kissing her cheek softly as she pulled him from the room.

“If everything has gone t’ plan, yer da should be well on his way by now, ken? We’ve everything prepared here. The bands have been read, so it shouldna take more than a week afore ye can be wed properly, ye and Claire.”

There was a faint tinge of sadness in her tone that worried Jamie. As a strong lad of eighteen, it was uncommon for him to still be without a bride, Janet and William were both married after all. But Brian and Ellen being as they were, they had left their youngest be, certain that his heart would guide him right in the end. Now, with his union sealed to a woman he hadn’t even met, Ellen was feeling supremely guilty for breaking the vow she and Brian had made in reference to their youngest surviving bairn.

“What’s amiss, mam?” he questioned, not wishing to see his mother so torn.

“Do ye begrudge me and yer da for arranging yer wedding like this, son?” she broached, a demure lilt to her usually upbeat voice.

Jamie swallowed back any doubts and shook his head, a small smile pulling at his lips.

“Nay, mam, I dinna,” he began, his mind wandering as he pictured what Claire Beauchamp might actually be like. “I dinna ken what a work-house is, and I think I’m fair lucky that I don’t from what da says. The puir lass needs our help, and I wouldna see her in the hands of the English either.”

Ellen’s eyes shone with tears at hearing his words. A conscientious man by nature, Jamie had always been wise beyond his years but seeing him standing tall, his vibrant red hair clubbed at his neck, made her proud of the man he’d become.

“Yer a fair lad, Jamie.” Reaching her hand out, she laid it gently against the soft arc of his high cheekbones. “How can she no’ fall for ye?” she whispered, more to herself than to him causing him to flush bright red.

“I dinna ken, Mam. Maybe she’ll be put off by a rather large Scots farmer?” he jested, a twinkle in his eye. “After all, I do have a tang of horse about me, aye?”

– — –

Claire dozed lightly as the carriage bumped over the winding roads that lead her and Brian up into the Scottish wilds. Having spent nearly a week on the road, the weary pair were glad to be nearly home.

Home. The very word sent tingles down Claire’s spine. She had spent the last six months locked away in a building filled with the forgotten under the constant supervision of a number cruel guards. In that time, she’d seen women birth babies they had no means to care for, she’d witnessed families torn apart by famine and poverty, and she’d seen death in the most horrific ways. Mangled in the machinery, women often lost limbs as well as their lives.

The foul stench of spilt blood and feces wafted around her as if she’d willed it to be so and she wrapped her arms around her middle to avoid losing the contents of her stomach in the close confines of the carriage.  

“Claire, are ye alright lassie? Ye’ve gone sae green…” Brian interjected on seeing her crumple in front of him.

Nodding, she lay her head against the cool wood of the interior, unwilling to discuss it whilst they were still on the move. The motion combined with the memories was bad enough, but to dredge it up and have to actively talk about it during their rickety journey would not end well.

Letting the subject drop for the time being, Brian turned his attention to the scenery outside as it flashing by in brown and white blurs.

“The roads along here used to be impassable in winter, aye? We’re lucky now that they have men clearing the way for us, else we’d be stuck in Inverness until the worst of the snow passed,” he chatted, animatedly moving his arms in front of his chest as he pointed to the melting icicles hanging from the trees that lined the thin mud path.

Subdued by his tales of his childhood, Claire began to calm. She dropped her arm as she sat up straight again, relaxing her back against the soft cushions that lined the seats. Sitting for so long had its disadvantages and she squirmed, her back aching at the contact.

As well as various injuries from the worn machines in the factories, Claire had been thwacked with the strap more than necessary. In her final weeks in Oxford, with the taste of freedom coating her tongue like the finest of foods, Claire had been less cautious with her words. Her captors had not been the type to let her sass go unpunished and the final straw had been to strip her bare, haul her in front of the entire factory and thrash her to within an inch of her life with their threadbare leather belts.

Now, angry, sore welts lined the fine skin of her back. Lacing over one another, they were a staunch reminder of the bother her sharp tongue could get her in.

Sensing her anguish, Brian reached below and passed her his whisky flask, eager to offer her some relief. He didn’t know the ins and outs of her injuries, but he could guess that she wasn’t unharmed. Not many escaped the close confines of a workhouse without some form of physical abuse.

“Nearly home now, wee Claire. That willna fill yer belly, but it will make ye forget the hunger, aye? I’m sure Mrs. Crook will have something nice to eat once we’re back, too.”

Taking a swig of the spirit, Claire coughed as the sharp liquid hit the back of her throat.

“I want to thank you, Mr. Fraser…” she sighed, her sweaty palms running over the skirts of her dress as she tried to make herself as comfortable as possible, “for everything you’ve done for me.”

“Ach, Claire. Call me Brian, please, lass? Mr. Fraser is as bad as ‘sir’, ken?” He chuckled as he took back his flask and placed it back in his top pocket.

The sun was hanging low on the horizon as the horse and carriage began its ascent towards Lallybroch. Claire sat up straight, eyes focused out of the window on the faint glow of candlelight ahead, heart racing with nervousness as reality squarely hit home.

Silence filled the enclosed space as the intrepid adventurers came to a stop. Refusing to make eye contact, Claire waited for Brian to leave and come back to open her door before making a move to exit, her feet seemingly attached, firmly, to the floor.

Seeing candlelight flicker to Brian’s immediate left, Claire made it her mission to keep her gaze rigidly affixed to the floor.

“Come now, lass,” Brian cooed, his warm palm resting on her knee as if he were talking to an agitated animal rather than to a wee slip of a girl. “It’s no’ sae bad as all that. Come inside, there’s bannocks and honey.”

At the mention of food, Claire’s belly rumbled loudly, the echo of it resounding around the small space as she admitted defeat and allowed Brian to lead her from the carriage and out into the Scottish night.

“I ken yer uncle didna get chance to bring ye to meet us. Which, under the circumstances, was unfortunate. But he loved the big house.”

Blinking back tears, Claire glanced up, finally. “Y-yes, he did. He told me many stories about its fabulous architecture and its history,” she responded, unable to hold back the fond recollections of Lambert Beauchamp and his excitable recounts of his adventures.

She missed him terribly.

“Good evening, Claire,” a tall red-headed woman interjected, disturbing Claire’s thought as she took her place by Brian’s side, a lovely smile tugging at her pinked lips. “I’m Ellen Fraser. It’s so nice to finally meet yer acquaintance.”

Holding her hands behind her back, Claire couldn’t help but feel a tiny kinship with the Fraser matriarch. Even with only an introduction, Ellen Fraser felt like the mother Claire so desperately needed.

Slowly but surely, the Fraser brood began to step out of the shadows of the main doorway, assessing their newest family member as they looked her up and down.

“Hallo, Claire. I’m William, and this is Janet…”

William Fraser truly was a giant amongst men, and Claire’s eyes widened as she took in his massive stature.

“Ach, awa’ wi’ ye, Willie. I am Janet, Claire, but ye can call me Jenny, aye? Everyone else does,” Jenny quipped, patting Claire on the shoulder as she shoved her eldest brother aside as if he weighed nothing.

Overwhelmed, Claire simply nodded along, grateful that they had left her intended until last.

Jamie, tapping his fingers lightly against the thick wood of the doorframe, had remained hidden in the entranceway. He had watched from the window of the sitting room as his mother had rushed out to greet his father, intrigued by what would emerge from the family carriage but unwilling to spook the poor thing before she’d even stepped foot on Broch Tuarach soil.

Shifting his weight, he pondered his next move. He was half determined to meet his affianced, intrigued as he was by the prospect. But he also half longed for the sanctuary of his rooms, away from the pressure of marrying a complete stranger.

His heart picked up pace as he peeked his head around the door, watching as his mam held the candle she had aloft, lighting Claire’s face. A yellow glow surrounded her, illuminating her features as her eyes darted to and fro, from one Fraser to another.

“Ah Dhia…” he muttered, his lungs contracting as she blinked her large blue eyes, her eyelashes casting a beautiful shadow over her stained cheeks.

She was dazzling. Her delicate face tilted away from the luminous blaze of the wee flame, shining an orange hue along her graceful neck.

“Blessed Mary and Bride,” he muttered, moving outside into the courtyard as if compelled to do so by an unknown force.

“Och,” Brian exclaimed, his shoulders relaxing as he saw Jamie emerge, eyes glazed and mouth open, “laddie, come aye? Introduce yerself…”

Suddenly an eerie stillness swept through the quiet highland evening as all eyes rested on Jamie, his expression turning coy as he came forward, an alluring blush covering his cheeks.

Claire, her heart thudding loudly, shuffled her feet, her thin broken shoes disturbing the damp ground and sending small puffs of wet dust floating around her ankles in dark flurries.

He was *ravishing*. A subtle mix of statuesque grace and enticing handsomeness.

“Claire,” he began, forgetting his manners for the smallest of seconds, “I-I mean, Mistress Beauchamp,” he corrected, dipping his head in a courtly bow, “it’s a pleasure to meet ye. I’m James Fraser…”

His words pulsed through her and she felt alive, her whole body ignited with courage as she advanced towards him. Above all else, Jamie Fraser was beguiling. The word floated into her subconscious as she unconsciously reached her hand up to move a stray curl from his brow.

Hovering her fingers just above his ear, Claire suddenly came to, her brain finally catching up to her body as she went to pull back and then just –stilled.

Taking her hand under his, Jamie pulled her palm to rest over his heart and held her there, his touch light and gentle.

“…and I hope ye and I will grow to be fond of one another, ye ken?” he finished, humour lacing his tone as he stood tall in front of her.

“Please,” she replied, finally finding her voice, “call me Claire, Jamie.”

Twitching her fingers against his thin shirt, she focused on the fast rhythm of his heart as she counted its soothing beat.

He was as scared as she was. She could feel it.

“Thank you….” she burst out, taking a deep breath before continuing, “for, –well–, y-you know.” Losing her nerve, Claire let her chin fall to her chest.

Seeing her unease, Jamie leaned his forehead against hers, growing bolder by the second.

“Dinna fash, lassie,” he whispered, completely forgetting his audience, “there’s two of us now.”

…TBC.

Wayward Academy

Originally posted by amazonvideouk

Notes: This is my contribution to the incredible @loveitsallineed ‘s Playlist Writing Challenge. I’ve had this idea bouncing around my head for months now, and it feels good to make it real! Also, thanks to @deanwinchester-af for 

Challenge Song: (based off of) Ready, Aim, Fire Imagine Dragons

Word Count: 2k+ (are u proud of me)

Warnings: Sci Fi/Action fic, violence, mentions of blood, some disturbing themes, etc.

Growing up in the hunting life, you knew just as well as anyone else that the world was truly going to end bloody and in fire, and by the way things were going, it didn’t surprise you that it ended in your lifetime. But not even the greatest hunter could have predicted that it would end in such a horribly gruesome way.

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