i made this before i even knew about the whole jamie thing

anonymous asked:

can you make a checklist on how to get into the gorillaz?? It seems like there is a lot out there and its hard to follow when i'm getting into it late.. thank you!!

Sure!!! I personally got into them by watching their G-bitez and music videos and it all kinda spiraled from there.

The band itself was made by Damon Albarn (Lead singer of Blur, does vocals and writes lyrics for Gorillaz) and Jamie Hewlett (Co-creator of the comic book “Tank Girl”, draws and animates for Gorillaz) after they were both watching MTV and they were like “hey music today sucks you know what’d be cool?? if we made an animated band” “cool we could call it ‘gorilla’ because we were both born on the year of the monkey!!!” sadly animal planet had already copyrighted “gorilla” so they just added a z to the end of it to make it cooler.

Here’s a playlist of all of their music videos/unfinished storyboards i put together (they’re all in order according to the storyline, but keep in mind that “do ya thing” isn’t canon): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLupIZC02E6mRz_uqFp8BiLuEZ3-ZUjJZB

Here’s a list of all of their interviews I’ve been able to find (You can learn a lot about the characters from these babies): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLupIZC02E6mT1RKRtEIu2RA4AraQnGnqu

Aaand here’s a list of all of their songs (there’s a bunch). Every one of them sorted from oldest to newest, every song after “We’ve got the power” is either a demo, rare or unreleased: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLupIZC02E6mTeUgeN3TVDF1kUgM11wlFI

Something to know about Gorillaz is that they have “phases”. Phase 1 was in 2001, when they released their albums “Gorillaz”, “G-Sides” and “Laika come home”. Phase 1′s art style was cartoonish and used very thick lineart. Phase 2 was in 2005, when they released “Demon Days” and “D-sides”. Phase 2′s art style was a bit dark and looked more realistic. Phase 3 was in 2010, when they released the albums “Plastic Beach” and “The Fall” in 2011. Phase 3′s art style was almost the same as phase 2′s. Then we have Phase 4 in 2017, their new album “Humanz” is coming out April 28th. It’s art style is the one that stands out the most to me, you can find most of the art on Jamie Hewlett’s Instragram (Hewll)

Alright, a big part of me getting into the fandom was my love fore the characters. I’m assuming you’re not a fan yet, so let me introduce them to you (i’m going to use powerpoints to explain each member if u don’t mind):

This lovely lad here is Murdoc Faust Niccals.

- He’s the band’s leader/bassist, and he makes sure EVERYONE knows that’s it’s his band and only his.
- He went through multiple other bands before he formed Gorillaz.
- He was born on June 6th, 1966 in Stoke-on-Trent, England. As an infant he was abandoned on his father’s doorstep.
- Had a very rough childhood, his father, Sebastian Niccals, would force him to preform on stage for booze money and it was absolutely humiliating for him.
- His nose has been broken a of total 8 times. The first time was from a bully at his school, the 2nd time was from his older (and only) brother, Hannibal, because Murdoc had touched his records and the other 6 times were from Russel when he got caught “doing it” with 2D’s now ex-girlfriend in the bathroom stalls of Kong Studios
- His middle name was originally “Alphonse” but he changed it to “Faust” after making a deal with the Devil in phase 1 to make Gorillaz the “biggest band in the world”. That’s also how he got his bass, “El Diablo”.
- did i mention he was a satanist bc he is
- He hangs around in his underwear a lot (especially in phase 2)
- He likes to either get naked or start pelvic thrusting in like every video, so be careful, young anon.
- He’s very crude but sometimes he can be very nice and adorable in some interviews ??? It’s so weird
- He likes making weird noises, like, a lot.
- Apparently can speak French and Spanish
- His reason for turning green all of the sudden in phase 2 is either because of alcohol poisoning or due to him tanning himself green. Jamie himself said that it’s because he’s an immortalist and his skin is now rotting but I’m not sure how true it is.
- He had a pet raven in phase 2!!! His name was Cortez and no one really
knows what happened to him but Murdoc seemed to love that bird.
- He also had a cape in phase 2 that he loved and wore like all the time but he lost it. Poor baby.
- He was based off of a young 1960′s era Keith Richards.
- He has a tongue longer than Gene Simmons’ and I’m not even kidding. His tongue is like a foot long
- His genuine laugh can cure cancer
- He had his own MTV cribs episode
- Here’s a playlist of every interview he’s been in if you’d like to know a bit more about how he acts.
- All of this sounds horrible but like half of the fandom sees him as charming and funny and the other half sees him as repulsive and downright mean so i guess listen to some of his interviews and make your decision (i’m part of the half that loves him)

This is 2D!!

- He’s the band’s singer, sometimes he plays the piano and melodica too.
- He’s anxious and a bit timid around people. He’s not that intelligent, but he’s an absolute sweetheart to pretty much everyone. He’s … a huge dork.
- He was born on May 23rd, 1978.  He was born in Hertfordshire, England and was raised in Crawley, England. When he was 10 he fell out of a tree and landed on his head, his hair fell out and grew back blue. He’s had horrible headaches since then, but his mother was a nurse and gave pills to help him out.
- His real name is Stuart Pot
- He loves horror films!!! Especially zombie movies.
- Apparently he smells like butterscotch
- He’s VERY tall. he’s like 6′1 and his legs make up most of his body. He towers over the rest of the band.
- His voice actor is Nelson De Freitas, but Damon Albarn provides his singing voice
- The lack of his two front teeth gives him an adorable accent
- He has a crippling fear of whales
- His eyes are black due to an 8-ball fracture that Murdoc gave him before the band was made when he crashed his car into the music store 2D worked at.
- His eyes turn white when he’s stressed or scared.
- His nickname “2D” stands for “Two Dents”. He’s called that because Murdoc’s car crash also gave him two dents in his head.
- Murdoc is seen physically abusing 2D throughout phase 1-3, but there’s a very likely chance that he’s going to stop and make amends in phase 4!!!
- Here’s a playlist of interviews that he’s been in
- Everybody loves him. I love him. I don’t think it’s possible not to love him.


This is Russel Hobbs!!

- He’s the band’s drummer.  He makes remixes too!!!
- The living embodiment of “looks like he could kill you but is actually a cinnamon roll”
- Quite possibly the most underrated character in the world
- He was born in Brooklyn, New York on June 3rd, 1975. He got possessed by a demon as a kid and fell into a coma for four years. After he woke up the demon got expelled tho
- When he was a teen, him and his friends were involved in a drive-by shooting. Russel was the only survivor and all of his friends possessed him, but the only one we really get to see is his closest friend, Del, he raps in Clint Eastwood and Rock the House, but we haven’t seen him since phase 1. 
- Russel misses Del very dearly, poor lad.
- After the whole shooting incident he was sent to the UK to live with his uncle.
- HE SAVED 2D FROM BEING EATEN BY A WHALE. HE’S SO UNDERAPPRECIATED 
- He’s an actual giant in phase 3 because he ate some radioactive algae 
- He loves fezzes!!!
- His hobby, besides music, is taxidermy.
- He’s the dad friend
- Here’s a playlist of interviews that he’s been in

Last but not least, this is Noodle

- She plays guitar for the band. She also sings and writes songs sometimes
- Noodle is very energetic and nice but she can also kick your ass
- She was born in Osaka, Japan on October 31st 1990
- She joined the band when she was around 10 but she’s like 26 now. I forgot to mention that the band ages with real time
- As a kid she was a part of a classified child super solider project under the management of a japanese scientist named Mr. Kyuzo. this is where she learned how to be badass. She knew professional karate at like 10 how cool is that
- All of the children in that project were deemed too unstable and dangerous, so they canceled the experiment and Mr. Kyuzo was ordered to kill all of the children (fuckin dark i know). After killing them all, Mr. Kyuzo was reluctant to kill Noodle, so instead he put her in a state of amnesia and smuggled her to the UK by shipping her to Kong Studios in a FedEx crate.
- She didn’t remember anything!!! The only english thing she was able to say to say was “noodle” and that’s where she got her name.
- She learned how to speak english and remembered her past in phase 2.
- Murdoc, 2D and Russel raised her (mostly russel tho). Noodle considers Murdoc and 2D her brothers and Russel considers her his daughter how CUTE IS THAT
- She loves Pokemon
- She had a flying windmill island in phase 2 it was incredible
- She had a cute radio helmet in phase 1 
- She also has a robot version of herself called “Cyborg Noodle” in phase 3. It’s a long story but Cyborg might be coming back for phase 4.
- The interviews that she’s in can be found here!!

The backstory is too long for me to write down, but you can find it over here! I hope i explained everything clearly- if not, or if you have any questions, feel free to send me a message!! I hope this helps you c:

Why Aquamarine is what got me back into Steven Universe

Ok, so let’s talk Steven Universe.

I’m sure most of you are familiar with the show at this point. You’re most likely either a fan of it, or one of the people who think the show is grossly overrated. Honestly I only ever see two people in those categories. You either love the show to death or think people should stop talking about it. Me, however, I was always in the middle. I liked the show and it’s humble beginnings, it was a nice show with amazing art direction, wonderful use of colors, a cast of amazing character that are mostly female, and some really interesting plot points…

That’s what I used to think of the show. As time went on I felt like things started to slow down too much. The pace went from steady and interesting to something of a crawl. Characters were starting to scrape the bottom of the barrel for character interaction, things started getting less interesting and dare I bring up the inconsistent character proportions? I didn’t start hating the show, I just thought it was loosing my interest. I still think of the show fondly, even during that slow period but I just kinda stopped. I felt the show lost something of an edge that it had, some real conflict to give way to some good character interactions. Not that the show was bad, I don’t think I can really ever say the show reached a point where I can say it’s poorly made (even baring the Finger Cats in mind). 

Than, Aquamarine showed up.

Oh boy, Aquamarine. Where do I begin? Well, let me just say this for clarification. I stopped watching Steven Universe but I knew very well what was going on in the plot. I knew about Blue Diamond, The Zoo, The thing with the one Ruby, etc. So when I watched the two episodes with Aquamarine I wasn’t clueless and knew enough to continue watching. When I first saw her I thought “Daw, that’s a cute character design. I’m guessing that seeing as she’s asking for her dad, maybe we’ll see our first male gem? Or maybe younger gems see their Kindergartens as parental figures, or they have Male father figure gems in Kindergartens?” And watched these episodes to see what this cutie was going to do.

And than she showed up in I am My Mom and…holy fuck.

Aquamarine is a cold hearted bitch. She’s such a volatile, destructive, commanding, vindictive little fairy bitch…

And I love it.

This is the sort of conflict I was WAITING for. Sure, there was enough conflict before to keep the story going but I still felt that the show was going too slow for me to want to keep watching. This however, kicked things into high gear and I love it. Aquamarine reminds me a lot of how people saw Peridot back when she first showed up, but honestly, I think Aqua’s introduction to the show FAR surpasses Peridot’s. Not to say I don’t like Peridot (even though I personally think the writers of the show have been making her a bit…less interesting. I prefer the sassy smack talking gremlin we had, so hopefully this conflict will help bring that back)

But with Aquamarine, she was shown to be so cold. Remember when Peridot showed up and she just destroyed one of the orb robots with her foot? That was pretty intimidating. Although Aqua takes it to a whole new level by threatening Jamie with death. This is an important moment in the show because, well, think about it.

With most of the antagonists we’ve had their main mission is the destruction of Earth. Of course, that’s a bad thing. Although this is the first time the steaks are personal. We’re not dealing with a huge, cosmic destruction that will harm millions. This is a personal, hostage situation. Aquamarine is threatening to kill not just Jamie, but everyone she has captured if she doesn’t get her way. And considering the tone of the show before this, that’s a big deal.

Another one of my favorite things is when she says this line:

“But the Diamonds needed me, that’s the burden of being the best.”

Notice the wording of that sentence. Before this, all the gems working under the Diamonds have talked about them like the Diamonds are gods. People to be worshiped and feared, to the point where those gems felt The Diamonds completed them. This is completely different. Aqua is talking about The Diamonds like they need her. Like if Aqua wasn’t around, The Diamonds wouldn’t know what to do with themselves. Meaning that in a way, Aqua thinks of herself more highly than The Diamonds.

Let that sink in.

Aqua thinks more highly of herself THAN THE DIAMONDS.

That is a big deal to me because it goes to show how far Aqua might go for whatever sick goals she has in store. Something tells me there’s more to Aqua than her allegiance to The Diamonds. Honestly Aqua reminds me a lot of Fawful from the Mario & Luigi series.

Fawful, from the games he comes from, was an underling to the antagonist of Mario & Luigi: Superstar Saga. At first he seems like something of a ratty underling to a higher power, until his resurgence in Mario & Luigi: Bowser’s Inside Story where he becomes one of the strongest antagonists in the Mario Universe, and comes the closest in all of Mario History to destroy everything.

By the way, if you haven’t played the Mario & Luigi series, do yourself a favor and change that. You’re really missing out. There’s some rumors going around that a remake of Superstar Saga is coming soon so if that’s true, than snag that as soon as it comes out.

Back on Aqua though, I really look forward to more of her, and hope she’s truly as diabolical as I hope she is.

Things I loved about The Dark Prophecy: 

Once again, it starts with Apollo hating his humanity, something that I believe won’t change in some time, he was born a god, after all. Though I fervently believe that he is learning from his time as a mortal. 

Through the whole book, we are able to read some of his most selfish comments, which is to be expected, since he had always been portrayed as a selfish, self-centered god. However, we’re able to see his selfless and kind side, too. 

Example: 

From: 

“…It went against the very nature of being Apollo. I should always be the most obvious, brilliant source of light in the world. If you had to search for me, something was wrong.” 

And: “I tried to contain my bitterness. Soldiers and sailors were all very well, but if your city’s biggest monument is not Apollo, I’m sorry, you’re doing something wrong.” 

To: 

“You rescued me.” Then I added two words that never came easily to a god: “Thank you.” 

And

“When I was a god, I would’ve been delighted to leave the mortal heroes to fend for themselves. I would’ve made popcorn and watched the bloodbath from a distance on Mount Olympus, or simply caught the highlight reel later. But as Lester, I felt obligated to defend these people….I wanted to be here for them.” 

And: 

“Their eyes were so full of concern- concern for me- that I had to swallow back a lump in my throat. Six weeks we had been traveling together. Most of that time, I had fervently wished I could be anywhere else, with anyone else. But with the exception of my sister, had I ever shared so many experiences with anyone? I realized, gods help me, that I was going to miss these two.” 


These are some of the parts I loved the most about the book:

  • The Waystation. It’s nice to know of more demigod safe-spaces, more so when they’re under the loving care of Emmie and Josephine: 

We’ve saved a lot of demigods and other outcasts- raised them at the Waystation, let them go to school and have a more or less normal childhood, then sent them out into the world as adults with the skills they needed to survive.” 

It’s different from both Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter, where, no matter how much they protect you and care for you, it could never be as normal and comforting as being raised in a “normal” loving environment. 

  • The relationship between Apollo and Calypso: They hate each other, that much is perfectly clear…

“Lo!” I said. “I arrived at Camp Half-Blood as Lester Papadopoulos!” 

“A pathetic mortal!” Calypso chorused. “Most worthless of teens!” 

“-…her evil stepfather had poisoned her mind!”

“Poison!” Calypso cried. “Like the breath of Lester Papadopoulos, most worthless of teens!” 

“Lo!” I shouted. “From the Oracle of Dodona we received a prophecy- a limerick most terrible!”  

“Terrible!” Calypso chorused. “Like the skills of Lester, most worthless of teens!” 

Though as the chapters progress, it appears that it’s more of a mutual disagreement than actual hatred.  Apollo realizes how unfair their punishment on her was, and starts to feel like his own treatment towards her is unfair: 

“Just yesterday, I had toyed with the idea of leaving Calypso behind to the blemmyae when she was wounded. I’d like to say that it wasn’t a serious thought, but it had been, however briefly. Now Calypso refused to leave Meg, whom she barely knew. It was almost enough to make me question whether I was a good person…” 

And, in the end, they become friends. They still have much path to cover and much to discuss, but I believe they’re on good terms now. 

  • Calypso and Leo: 

One of the many topics vastly discussed after Blood of Olympus was how short and forced their relationship seemed. However, in The Dark Prophecy, we caught a glimpse of the reality they’re living on: 

They’re trying to discover who they are together, as a couple and as friends. We see their multiple fights and their disagreements, and I believe it’s a very good thing! They’re exploring the possibilities of their relationship! 

We see Calypso missing her island, we see her missing her powers, but most than anything else, we can see that Calypso and Leo truly love one another, and that they’re trying. It feels real, their problems, which only makes it better. It was to be expected that they’d be fighting and having problems, since they hadn’t talked much back on her island before he was forced to leave. They’re testing the waters, as Calypso explained. 

They’re trying to build a good future for each other, they’re even going to enter school together. I like how their relationship improved, I like that Rick portrayed and fixed the mess that was their relationship by the end of BoO. 

I also loved that Leo keeps calling her mamacita, and that Leo’s full name is actually Leonidas

  • In general, everything about Emmie and Josephine was pure perfection. 

They were hunters of Artemis, hunters who fell in love with one another and decided to choose each other over immortality. Their love was beautifully portrayed, and the fact that they adopted a daughter was even more precious for me and for everyone in the LGBT community.

I like that, on a similar topic, we had more explanation about the Hunters of Artemis and their rules: 

“All romance is off-limits. My sister is quite unreasonable in that regard. The mission of the Hunters is to live without romantic distractions of any kind.”

It makes more sense that the Hunters only being prohibited the company of men, as was stated by the Titan’s Curse. I like that Rick fixed that, too. 

AND ARTEMIS BEING COMPASSIONATE AND LETTING THEM LEAVE HER GROUP WITHOUT PUNISHING THEM, GODS BLESS HER SOUL. 

Also, Zeus forbidding Artemis from interfering with Apollo makes me so angry, but I didn’t expect anything less than that coming from him. It was good, though, that Artemis sent her Hunters to help Apollo discretely, just like when Apollo helped Percy and co. with rescuing Artemis and Annabeth. 

  • Apollo being thirsty as fuck: 

Apollo having the hots for Tall, Dark & Handsome Jamie. 

Apollo being a fluttering mess when talking to him, then feeling away as soon as he heard Jamie had a girlfriend. 

Apollo canonically having fantasies involving Thalia: “Thalia Grace climbed up behind me on the elephant- which fulfilled a daydream I’d once had about the pretty Hunter, though I hadn’t imagined it happening quite this way.” 

Apollo canonically doing all sort of stuff to get Britomartis’ attention. To get a “kiss” and a “cute date” from her. (We all know that he wanted more than just a date and a kiss, but alas, this is a “children’s book”

  • Apollo and Commodus: 

I’m aware that Commodus is evil, and I don’t like him as a character, but honestly, his relationship with Apollo killed me unlike any other relationship ever had. More specially, this: 

“Overhead, a white silk canopy billowed in the gentle breeze. Inn one corner, a musician sat discretely serenading us with his lyre. Under our feet spread the finest rugs from the eastern provinces. Between our two couches, a table was spread with an afternoon snack of roast boar, pheasant, salmon, and fruit spilling from gold solid cornucopia. 

I was amusing myself by throwing grapes at Commodus’ mouth. Of course, I never missed unless I wanted to, but it was fun to watch the fruit bounce off Commodus’ nose.

“You are terrible,” He teased me. 

And you are perfect, I thought, but merely smiled.”

And: 

“I didn’t mean to laugh at the expense of his distant wife, but part of me was pleased when he talked badly about her. I wanted all his attention for myself.” 

And, of course: 

“Commodus looked at me, panic in his eyes.

“Go,” I said, as calmly as I could, forcing down my misgivings. “You will always have my blessings. You will do fine.” 

But I already suspected what would happen: the young man I knew and loved was about to be consumed by the emperor he would become. 

He rose and kissed me one last time. Then he left the tent- walking, as Romans would say, into the mouth of the wolf. 

“Apollo,” Calypso nudged my arm.

“Don’t go!” I pleaded. Then my past life burned away. “ 

Never forget this hear-wrenching part: 

“As I often did for him after our workout sessions, I filled his great marble bath with streaming rose-scented water. I helped him out of his soiled tunic and eased him into the tub. For a moment, he relaxed and closed his eyes. 

I recalled how he looked sleeping besides me when we were teens. I remembered his easy laugh as we raced through the woods, and the way his face scrunched up adorably when I bounced grapes off his nose. 

I sponged away the spittle and blood from his beard. I gently washed his face. Then I closed my hands around his neck. “I’m sorry.”

I pushed his head underwater and began to squeeze. Commodus was strong. Even in his weakened state, he thrashed and fought. In had to channel my godly might to keep him submerged, and, in doing so, I must’ve revealed my true nature to him. 

He went still, his blue eyes wide with surprise and betrayal. He could not speak, but he mouthed the words: You. Blessed. Me. 

The accusation forced a sob from my throat. The day his father died, I had promised Commodus: You will always have my blessings, Now I was ending his reign. I was interfering in mortal affairs- not just to save lives, or to save Rome, but because I could not stand to see my beautiful Commodus die by anyone else’s hands. 

I hunched over him, crying, my hands around his throat, until the bathwater cooled. 

Britomartis was wrong. I didn’t fear water. I simply couldn’t look at the surface of any pool without imagining Commodus’ face, stung with betrayal, staring up at me.” 

Rick Riordan has a talent of portraying gods and their actions unlike anyone else. 

Apollo loved Commodus, he loved him deeply and wholeheartedly, but he couldn’t see anyone else killing his beloved Commodus. He killed him, for he could not stand the way the young man he loved had destroyed himself, turning into a murderous, evil emperor. 

For me, Apollo has always been a complex god. 

He said so himself in the first book, when he called his arrogance a pretense, when he mentioned he was a guilt-ridden, miserable god. He has never been good at love, for some reason, all of his lovers end tragically in one way or another, some by his own hand (Cassandra, Commodus, etc). It weighs him down more than he admitted when he was a god. As a mortal, he is more connected to his emotions, and is unable to put his usual facade of coolness and of arrogance. 

Everything he has done, every sin he has committed, weighs him down: 

“I imagined Trophonius’ head transposed on his body- my son’s agonized voice crying to the heavens, Take me instead! Save him, Father, please!

This blended with the face of Commodus, staring at me, wounded and betrayed as his carotid pulse hammered against my hands. You. Blessed. Me.

I sobbed and hugged the commode- the only thing that wasn’t spinning. Was there anyone I hadn’t betrayed and disappointed? Any relationship I hadn’t destroyed? 

  • And, since we’re talking about Apollo and his change, I’d like to mention his relationship with Meg. 

In the beginning, he could not stand her. Then by the end of the first book, he cared for her. Now, on this second book, the feeling grows and morphs into something so profound and so beautiful that I do not have words for it. 

“No! She was- she was trying to protect me.” I choked on the words. “She is my friend. Take me instead!”

And also:

“She is precious to you,” Said the Oracle. “Would you give your life in exchange for hers?”

I had trouble processing that question. Give up my life? At any point in my four thousand years of existence, my answer would’ve been an emphatic No! Are you crazy? One should never give up on one’s life. One’s life is important! The whole point of my quests in the mortal world, finding and securing all these ancient Oracles, was to regain immorality so I wouldn’t have to ponder such awful questions! 

And yet… I thought of Emmie and Josephine renouncing immortality for each other. I thought of Calypso giving up her home, her powers, and eternal life for a chance to roam the world, experience love, and possibly enjoy the wonders of high school in Indiana. 

“Yes,” I found myself saying. “Yes, I would die for Meg McCaffrey.”  

And lastly but not least important:

When Apollo shared Meg’s curse, slipping into her mind and trying to save her: “I would share this burden with her, even if it kills me.” 

What saved us what a simultaneous thought: Meg/Apollo needs me. 

There we had Apollo, someone that, supposedly, only cared about himself, risking his life, his human life, to save his little but beloved friend from madness and darkness. 

It’s a beautiful moment, more so for those of us that adore Apollo since before the PJO books. It’s a beautiful character development from the fuckboy we saw in Titan’s Curse; it’s a beautiful character development from the god that we met in the first TOA book, the god that could only feel annoyance towards Meg.

“Let the girl go,” I whimpered through the pain. “Kill me and let her go.” 

I surprised myself. These were not the last words I had planned. In the event of my death, I’d been hoping to have time to compose a ballad of my glorious deeds- a very long ballad. Yet here I was, at the end of my life, pleading not for myself, but for Meg McCaffrey.” 


  • The mention of other gods through the book: 

Apparently, gods have a weekly game night in Mount Olympus where Athena loves to gloat about her Scrabble scores. 

AND THIS SAVAGE LINES: (AKA: my cute, dorky ex-god being dorky as fuck)

“Ever since my famous battle with Python, I’ve had a phobia of scaly reptilian creatures. (Especially if you include my stepmother, Hera. BOOM!)

“I’ve always found spiders fascinating creatures, despite what Athena thinks. If you ask me, she’s just jealous of their beautiful faces. BOOM!” 

This important, yet short part: 

Leto knelt at Zeus’ side, her hands clasped in prayer. Her bronze arms glowed against her white sundress. Her long golden hair zigzagged down her back in an elaborate ladder weave. 

“Please, my lord!” She implored. “He is your son. He has learned his lesson!”

“Not yet,” Zeus rumbled. “His real test is yet to come.” 

I laughed and waved. “Hi, mom! Hi, dad!” 

There we have a glimpse of Leto being concerned over Apollo’s fate and we see that she cares. Zeus is, as always, being shady as fuck, and Apollo is super cute while hallucinating and being under the effect of the waters of Mnemosyne and Lethe. 

  • Apollo realizes how hard some demigods have it: 

From: 

“I’m new to these heroic-quest business. Shouldn’t there be a reward at the end? Not just more deadly quests?”

“Nope,” Leo said. “This is pretty standard.” 

My sweet, innocent Lester seems to forget that when he was Apollo, as a god, he never cared much for the quests he made demigods go through. 

“I wondered if demigods ever felt the need to restrain themselves when facing ungrateful gods like this. No. Surely not. I was special and different. And I deserved better treatment.” 

Had Percy Jackson been there, he would’ve written a gigantic thesis statement with a power-point presentation about how wrong Apollo was. 

Also, this part: 

“I knelt next to him- a boy of about sixteen, my mortal age. I felt no pulse. I didn’t know whose side he had fought on, but that didn’t matter. Either way, his death had gone to waste. I had begun to think that perhaps demigod lives were not as disposable as we gods liked to believe.” 

Finally, at the moment of war, Apollo realizes how easy it is for a mortal to die. And most times, demigods die because of the gods. 

  • The part where they find out Georgina might be Apollo’s daughter: 

The whole scene, though the most painful part was when Emmie asked if it was payback for having renounced to his gift of immortality: 

“I hadn’t known I could feel any worse, until I did. I really hate that about the mortal heart. It seems to have an infinite capacity of getting heavier. 

“Dear Emmie,” I said. “I would never. Even on my worse days, when I’m destroying nations with plague arrows or putting together set lists for Kidz Bop compilations, I would never take revenge in such a way…” 

That shows that he was a good god, even if he murdered and punished people, he had some kind of morality. He knew where his boundaries went: like when he mentioned that he flirted with the Hunters, but that he would never dare to go any further than that. 

Had it been Zeus, he would’ve raped them already; and canonically, on mythology, I’ve never read about any case of Apollo raping anyone. 

  • Also, I really liked that Rick added certain parts that showed that our actions, as mortals, are what define us and that, once we take one wrong decision, we cannot pray for better things when it is us that fuck things up. 

I’ve heard so many people complain that their prayers were never answered, that their God never helped them. They don’t seem to realize that God cannot help us if we don’t help ourselves first. 

It’s shown here: 

“Don’t blame me for you robbing the king’s treasury!” I snarled. “You are here because you messed up.” 

“I prayed to you!” 

“Well, perhaps you didn’t pray for the right thing at the right time!” I yelled. “Pray for wisdom before you do something stupid! Don’t pray for me to bail you out after you follow your worst instincts!” 

Apollo’s son, Trophonius, made wrong choices all his life, and when it came back to him, he wanted his father to miraculously save him. It doesn’t work like that, God/gods cannot help if we try to make them fix our whole lives. 

  • The way they temporarily defeated Commodus. (I found extremely pretty the way Apollo’s real form was revealed) (Finally we had an explanation as to why gods’ real forms are deadly to mortals: they’re pure light.)
  • The second chance Apollo gave Lityerses. “Everything alive deserves a chance to grow.
  • Lityerses sobbing when Emmie said he could be part of their family. 
  • All the “lit” jokes. And the commode ones too. 
  • “The two bumped fists as if they hadn’t spent the last few days talking about how much they wanted to kill each other. They would’ve made fine Olympian gods.” 
  • Little Georgina’s words to Apollo. How he told her he was there for her if she wanted to talk. How he was concerned about her, even if he was not sure if she was his daughter. 
  • You’ve built something good here, Hemithea.” I said. “Commodus could not destroy it. You’ll restore what you’ve lost. I envy you.” 

Everywhere he goes, Apollo seems to crave home. Not Olympus. Home, as in: a place where he’d feel loved and safe. In the 1st book, he wanted to stay in Camp with his children, now there, he admits that he craved the lovely home, the safe environment that they created at the Waystation. 

“It all felt so homey and cozy, I wanted to volunteer to wash dishes if it meant getting to stay another day.” 

  • Apollo trying to fix what he did to Agamethus by offering to go to the Underworld once he became a god again, to ask Hades to send him to Elysium. 
  • “Never underestimate the healing power of music.” 
  • Lit staying in the Waystation. 
  • Apollo mentioning that he believed in second chances, and that he could understand Lit since they had things in common- being attractive being one of those things. 
  • Apollo’s talking arrow only speaking bad Shakespearean English. 
  • Being productive. Urgh.Same, Apollo, same. 
  • The whole choo-choo scene, I don’t now why but I really really loved that part. 
  • The fact that WE MIGHT GET TO SEE REYNA, FRANK AND HAZEL ON THE NEXT BOOK.
  • GROVER UNDERWOOD IS FINALLY BACK. MY SON, MY BABY, MY FAVORITE ENCHILADA LOVER SATYR. HE WILL BE BACK. 

I must’ve missed many points, but this was already very long. In general, I really loved The Dark Prophecy, and I recommend everyone to read it as soon as they can! It is honestly so, so good. As good as the first one, I cannot wait for The Burning Maze

Escape:  the residency years

Warning:  This isn’t the happiest of chapters.

Special thanks to @joannclelia for her help. And to anon for the ending advice.



“What have ye for lunch then?”  

She turned the phone around to show him her tray.  Pasta, of course.  An orange.  Spinach salad.  Good.  Bottle of water.  Then, just on the edge of her tray…

“Claire.  What was that?”  

She flipped the phone back to her face.  “What was what, darling? You can see I have a very healthy lunch, and I’m sitting down, relaxing while I eat.  With Louise,” she turned the phone towards her companion, a pretty nurse with long brown hair.

“Right there!  Is that a brownie?”  He could hear her giggle, and say shhhh.

Her face was barely straight as she looked him.  “No.  That’s Louise’s, not mine.”

“Non, ce n’est pas le mien!” Jamie heard the indignant voice out of view. 

“Sassenach, I ken ye like the French pastries, but come on.  Ye had a pain au chocolat at breakfast, now this. Last night, some cake.  How about ye not give birth to a diabetic, eh?”  

Claire smiled, and blew him a kiss.  “No pudding at dinner tonight.  Promise.” 

Jamie nodded, pursed his lips, and blew a kiss back.  “Enjoy yer lunch.  I’ll speak wi’ ye later.  Take it easy, okay?”

“I will.” Claire said, as she waved at her screen.

“I love you, mo neighean donn.  Give the bairn a kiss from his Da.” 

“You mean her.”  Claire kissed her fingers and pressed them on her bump. “Love you, too, Jamie,” she said, and disconnected.

When it was time to go back, Claire gathered up her tray, and stood.  

She looked at her chair in confusion.  There was a large mark on her seat. What had she spilled?  

It wasn’t until she heard Louise’s gasp that she realized something was wrong. 

She felt the sticky wetness on her scrubs, but couldn’t really see past her belly.

A moment later she felt the rush of something between her legs.  She could smell the blood.  

Her tray dropped to the floor, bouncing off the end of the table on its way down, shattering everything.  

Far away someone was screaming.

It was her. 


“I just talked to her.  I just talked to her at lunch.  She was fine.  I just saw her.” Jamie kept repeating the same thing.  He sat in one of the chairs in front of her desk, tears in his eyes, bewildered, confused.  

Jenny catapulted into action.  She snapped a finger at her assistant, pointing. The woman already had the phone receiver in her hand.  “I need Ian, here, right now.  For Jamie.  Alec needs to bring the car around right away.  And get a private plane ready to leave for Paris immediately.  Charge the company.”  

“You,” she pointed at Willie, “come with me.”  Willie, who had shown up with Jamie, was pale and panicked.  He stepped into line with her as she strode down the hall.  “We need Jamie’s passport, and -”

“Oh! I have it.  All of Jamie’s travel documents are in his office.” Willie was glad he had that, at least. 

“Good.  Now, gather all that up and, listen carefully, ye need to get his art supplies.”  Jenny stopped, and put a hand on Willie’s arm.  “He draws when he’s stressed.  He’ll need the distraction.  Get it all together and give it to Ian.” She pushed him forward, “Now go!”

Willie streaked off to do her bidding.

Jenny had Alec drive at break neck speed to Jamie and Claire’s flat.   She threw what she could into a bag, jeans, tee shirts, a few socks, trainers, jacket. She threw some things in for Claire as well.  Soft sleep pants and a softer sweater.  Toiletries.  Where the hell was his underwear!?!  She opened a top drawer and rummaged around.  

The small gold object caught her eye.  She hadn’t seen it in years. Instinctively, she grabbed it, and slamming the drawer shut, turned to go.  She was in and out of the flat in 15 minutes.  

Ian and Jamie were waiting inside the small terminal when she got there.  Her brother was turning his phone over and over in his large hands.  She put the bag next to his feet in silence.    

When the flight was ready, Jenny walked Jamie to the steps.  Ian handed the steward the bag.    

“Jenny, I-“

“Shhhh, brother.”  She grabbed Jamie around his shoulders and hugged him tight.  His arms gripped her as he buried his face in her neck.  God, he was burrowing in like Wee Jamie after he’s fallen off his bike. She had no words for him.  She would not lie and tell him it would be all right.  Lord only knew what was happening in France.  “Give Claire a hug for me, and tell her I love her.” Jamie nodded against her neck.  She turned quickly and gave him a kiss on his temple.  

Grabbing his hand, she pressed the small oval piece into his palm.  “I found this.  Take it.  Let it give ye strength.”  

Jamie looked at it, eyes wide.

“Go on,” Jenny said.  “Call me as soon as you know something.”

Jamie let go, wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and nodded, looking at the tarmac the whole time.  

He turned towards the plane, but found himself in a hard embrace.  Ian gripped his brother-in-law, and friend tightly.  No words were exchanged. Whatever one needed, the other would give.  They had been through too much together, their bond understood.  Ian was the one person who knew exactly what Jamie was thinking and feeling.  

How life could change in the blink of an eye.

How you could be whole, and happy, feeling right with the world, and then have your heart and mind shattered like the cracks in a windshield after a crash, spreading out in front of you until you can’t see anything of the world at all. Just fragments.  Fractures.  Shattered pieces.  Or worse yet, missing.  

Jamie sat alone on the plane looking out of the window as Scotland disappeared below him.  He still had the token from Jenny in his hand.  He closed his fist around it, hard, and looked out at the clouds surrounding him. He raised his eyes higher, heavenward.  Lord that she may be safe. She and the child.  


It was all over when he arrived.  

He was ushered to a waiting room, and made to sit by himself.  Finally, a small toad-like man entered, and introduced himself as Dr. Raymond.  His first thought was, Claire said ye looked like a frog.  She wasna wrong.  Jamie’s mouth lifted in half a smile as he stood to extend his hand to the doctor.  

Raymond explained that Claire was currently receiving some units of blood to replace what she’d lost.  Once assured Claire would be fine, Jamie had asked about his child.  

The wee man barely came up to the centre of Jamie’s chest, yet his words had the power to knock him backwards, stumbling into a chair.   

His child was mort-nè.  

Still born.  

Jamie felt fragile, paper thin, like velum, that if he moved too fast or spoke to loudly he would tear in half.   

“Your wife suffered a placental abruption.  This is when the placental lining separates from the uterus.  Sometimes the mother does not feel anything, and sometimes she feels, maybe, some pain in the back.  Unfortunately, the infant was not receiving enough oxygen in utero, so….” The doctor paused, then said in his heavy French accent, “I am sorry for your loss, Monsieur.”

Jamie nodded, and swallowed.  His emotions were so raw, he found himself unable to speak.  His thoughts were a tangle, like a net cast out to sea and caught on a rocky shore.  Fear wrapped itself around his gut, making him wonder if this was, somehow, his fault.  

“Can I ask ye a question?” Jamie said.

Dr. Raymond blinked slowly, and nodded once.    

“Is this my fault?  Should I – “ Jamie stopped.  It was difficult to talk of personal things, private things.  

He thought back to the night before she left, how he drove into his wife, hard and fast, angry that she was leaving, desperate to have her knowing he would miss her, with fear in his veins over their impending separation. More like making a point, than making love. He would rather die than to have been the one to cause the tear.

He gathered his courage, began again.  “The last time, when I had, well, sex with my wife…should I have been gentler?  Maybe….maybe been more considerate of her…of her….condition?”  

The physician simply shook his head, and said quite bluntly, “No, Monsieur. That is not the cause.  You are a fine husband.  It is not possible.”  

Absolved of his sin, Jamie sat back in the chair and exhaled.

But that didn’t absolve Claire.  Jamie took a deep breath, then said what was on his mind next, a thought that was eating at him like a corrosive.  

“I never wanted her to come, ye see.  She…Claire…she doesna do things in half measure, ye ken.  I worried she’d overdo.  So.”  He looked Dr. Raymond straight in the eye, and asked, “Did she?  Did she do too much?  On her feet all hours?  Not stopping, or getting proper rest?” 

Jamie rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them.  He felt ice cold to the marrow of his bones.  “Tell me she rested.  Tell me she took care, that this wasna her fault, either,” he whispered, ashamed, “because I don’t…I don’t want to hate my wife.”  

Dr. Raymond looked at this red man.  The aura around him.  He would fight to the death for the things he loved.  Raymond understood he was fighting now. Fighting for the love that was being consumed by his fear.

“Monsieur Fraser, I can tell you that many times the cause is unknown. Sometimes the placenta does not attach in a place that provides adequate support, and it may not develop appropriately, or it may separate as it grows.” The little man leaned forward in an effort to reassure Jamie, “I can tell you that Dr. Fraser was not reckless or foolish.  Anyone could see that the child in her womb came first.”

The door opened then, and the young nurse he’d seen from Claire’s video called for the doctor. He couldn’t follow all of her rapid French, but when Dr. Raymond jumped up, Jamie instinctively followed.  

He stepped inside the room.  Claire’s room.  A Dhia, she looked so pale.  She was as stark a white as the hospital linens, the dark of her hair like an ink blot on the pillow.  Her arm thin, slack, even though the deep red liquid flowing through the tube in her arm was promising life.  

He understood a few words.  Fever.  Infection.  

Jamie watched in shock as the little man laid his hands on Claire.  Her shoulders, her arms.  Murmuring in French the entire time.  He sent the nurse for another drip, and she scurried out of the room hardly sparing Jamie a glance.  He flinched as the doctor ran his hands over Claire’s breasts, and down her torso, lightly but touching her all the same.  The healer then placed his hands over his wife’s womb, and Claire writhed in pain.  

More blood.  Jesus, God, how could there be so much blood.

And then, his name.

Ripped from Claire.  In pain.  In desperation.  Like a magnet, it drew him.  It was strange, how his name dragged from her remaining strength reverberated in his soul.  He took a step towards her before he’d realized he’d moved, and found himself stopped with a vise grip on his arm.  He turned to find a large woman, Hildegard according to the name tag, telling him, “Vous devez partir, Monsieur.”


When she woke up she was a bit disoriented.  Memory surfaced.  Grief washed over her like a tidal wave.  For a moment she could not breathe.  

Turning her head she saw her 6’4” husband folded into a tiny chair beside her bed.  She had no memory of his arrival. 

He was sketching.  He looked tired, wan, pale.  His eyes darting over his drawing as his big hand moved in strong sure strokes.  

“Do you hate me for it, Jamie?” she whispered, wanting to know.  Her biggest fear, that Jamie would blame her.  What was more pain?  Better to roll it all into one great big ball of grief, and deal with it.

He jumped.  “Didna realize ye were awake, Sassenach.”  Jamie set down his computer.  

Claire relaxed at the use of her nickname.  

“Jamie, I’m so sorry.  So very, very sorry.  I put myself before our family.  This is all my fault.”  

“Shhh, mo neighean donn.  Yer a doctor, ye ken well it’s no’ yer fault.”  Jamie moved his chair closer to her bed, and took one small, weak, long-fingered hand in his two large ones. Tears slipped from her eyes at his gentleness.  

Jamie didn’t have any words.  There was nothing to say.   He couldn’t fix what happened.  He couldn’t change the loss.  He could just share it.  

They sat like that for some time.  Glancing at each other.  Letting their hands speak for them, thumbs stroking, fingers squeezing, softly rubbing.  Jamie’s thumb touched her ring from time to time.  

Finally, Claire spoke.  “I want to see her.”


“My wife,” Jamie stopped.  Cleared his throat.  “My wife wants to see our child.” He stood in front of the nurses’ station, hands clenched into balls at his side, standing as tall as he could.

“Ce n’est pas possible, Monsieur,” said Nurse Hildegarde.  It wasn’t the answer Jamie wanted.  He had been powerless to this point.  This, however, he would control.  

“I didna ask yer permission.  I didna say can she, I said she wants to.  So she doesna have to imagine.”  He willed himself not to raise his voice, to keep his anger in check.  

The young nurse, Louise, looked up at him.  She looked at her superior. Stand-offs like this were rare.  Usually no one questioned Nurse Hildegard. Everyone stopped to look at the large, grieving, red haired man.  Nurse Hildegarde opened her mouth to speak again, but caught sight of the little practitioner behind Monsieur Fraser.

“Soeur Hildegard. Presénter l’enfant à Dr. et M. Fraser.  Vous avez ma permission.”   


Claire was sitting up in bed when he entered the room.  The bundle in his arms was so tiny.  A pink blanket.   As he came nearer she could see the tiny face peeking through.  Sleeping.  No, Claire remembered, not sleeping.  

“Her hair,” Jamie said, smiling sadly, “she’s got my hair.”

Claire raised her arms for the baby, and Jamie gently handed her their child as if handling fragile glass.  There was that awkward bobble of a new dad not sure what he’s doing to a new mom too eager to hold her baby.  They both chuckled at that.  Jamie sat on the edge of the bed, his arm around his wife, the other under her arms that held the baby.  They stayed like that, silently, as Claire unwrapped parts of their bairn, counting ten fingers, and ten toes. Stroking the luminescent skin.  She chuckled at the tiny ears, which stuck out a bit, like Jamie’s.  He nudged her in understanding, chuffed.  So beautiful.

And then Claire began to sing.

When Nurse Louise came in an hour later she was moved by the tableau before her.  Her friend, Claire, rocking slowly, humming.  Jamie, her husband, sitting stoic beside her.  Neither taking their eyes from their child.  

She approached the bed. 

“Ma Chere, Claire.  Il est temps.”

When Louise left the room closing the door behind her, Claire thoroughly and completely went to pieces.  

Jamie held his wife across his lap.  

And did the same.


Sitting on the private plane to go home Claire looked out the window at the terminal traffic.  Everyone so busy, oblivious to the people they were shuttling on to planes, the bags they were loading, the lives they were moving along. Jamie sat beside her, holding her hand.  They spoke little.  She still couldn’t believe they were alone on this plane.  Jamie insisted.  He said he’d had enough of strangers.  

“I don’t want to forget her face,” Claire whispered, head back, curls pressed against the head rest.  “I’m afraid I’ll forget her face.”

Jamie let go of her hand.  “I ken it may be strange.  I’m sorry if it bothers ye. But I had to,” he said, quietly, apologetically.  He fumbled in his pocket.  “For Jenny.  For my sister.  She would want to see, ye ken.  She’s all I’ve got for family, other than you, Claire.”

There, on his phone screen, looking as if she was sleeping peacefully, was Faith Elizabeth Fraser. 


One year later

They walked slowly through the cemetery.  Jamie’s hands deep in his pockets, as he did when he was nervous.  Claire’s arms were crossed in front of her, as she did when she was nervous, a bouquet of tulips gripped in her hand.  They walked as if they really didn’t want to arrive at their destination, lost in their own thoughts, steps hesitant.  

It was the first time they would visit her grave.  One year to the day when she passed.  

“She should be over here.”  Jamie hung back and let Claire step up first.
Claire’s gasp was audible from where he stood.  She dropped to her knees, and laid a hand reverently on the stone.  A stone.  She hadn’t expected a stone.  They hadn’t ordered one.  She expected a simple marker, not this beautiful, pale pink granite slab. 

Jamie crouched beside her.  He cleared his throat.  “A Da can only give what he can to his bairn.  I’m an artist.  So.  I gave her a resting place, wit’ her name and our names, and placed her in the care of her grandparents.  Yers and mine.”  He brushed a leaf off the corner of the stone.  “And I left a bit of Scotland wi’ her.”

She traced the tiny gold medal imbeded in the stone under Faith’s name. “What is this?”

“It’s St. Andrew,” Jamie said.  “My father used to carry the medal around in his pocket. It would remind him to pray, to ask for intercession when he needed it. It became mine.  Jenny gave it to me when I left for France.  When I ordered the stone I gave it to them, along with the design.”  

They stayed for a long time, holding hands, lost in their own thoughts.  
Jamie stood, and pulled his wife to her feet.  Wrapping his arms around her shoulders he buried his face in her sweet smelling curls.  The sun shone warm on their faces, as Jamie swayed from side to side.

“So.  Now would be a good time to tell me something, Claire Fraser,” he said, next to her ear.  “Anything ye like.”  

Claire butted backwards and hit her husband in the crotch.  He let out a soft “oof” and laughed.

“I have nothing to say, James Fraser,” she said, in her haughtiest tone.   

“Hmpf,” Jamie made a Scottish noise, and turned Claire around to face him. “Yer sure, then?”  

Claire stood on tiptoes and kissed her husband full on the lips. “Five days is not a long time, you know that.”

“Aye, but yer never late.”  He grinned at her.  “It’s fine, Sassenach.  I’ll wait. Besides,” he said softly, “I have you.  And faith.”  

anonymous asked:

Will we get a Hail Mary update soon?? Claire need to get back to Jamie and set things right!! :-)

Hail Mary

Premise: What if Jamie and Claire had 1) been more openly affectionate, and 2) not *had* to get married? 

Part I  Part II  Part III  Part IV


Part V

It was eight days later that I rode into the courtyard of Castle Leoch, just as dawn was breaking.  

I could have gotten there sooner, certainly, but I had kept off the main roads to the greatest extent possible, taking no chances of falling into the hands of strangers. I’d had quite enough of that, thank you very much, and while my stint with one highland clan had turned out rather well on the whole, I had no desire to try my luck with another, let alone the English army. 

And, despite the danger and the fatigue of the journey, my heart had been light and ready to burst for all eight of those days.

…’Rather well’…

Understatement to the extreme.

It had brought me Jamie.

As foolish and romantic a notion as it perhaps was, I had found myself many times on that hopeful, frantic journey wondering….was it fate that I had come through the stones? That I hadn’t been able to get back to Frank?  Had some bizarre destiny planted the fascination with wildflowers in my mind that morning so that I could be brought to Jamie, and him to me? Or had it all been mere luck? Could chance alone truly have resulted in this wonder? Could I honestly believe that mere odds should have allowed two people— so exquisitely attuned to one another, and yet separated by centuries and custom and country—to find one another in a dangerous, lonely universe?

But even as I had wondered endlessly in the long hours and days and nights on the Highland tracks, I knew it didn’t matter; made no true difference why or how by what means I had found myself in this place, this time. What mattered was the burning in my chest as I swung down from the horse; the need of him singing out from my heart; that he was the only thing my bleary eyes sought among the dozens of faces that gaped staring—glaring—at me from around the mist-laden courtyard.

“Mary, Michael, and Bride–CLAIRE!”

It was not Jamie but Mrs. Fitz barreling toward me from the kitchen dooryard, eyes wide…and wary.  

So, my suspicions had been right, then— the rent party had come directly back to Leoch. Part of me had hoped against hope that they would have continued further north, upon the secondary loop that Ned had pointed out to me that night upon the map. If they had, I would have arrived well before them—giving me precious, valuable time to convince Colum of the perfectly logical (and fictitious) explanation for how I had been so tragically and unexpectedly abducted from Ned and Murtagh and the rest and then escaped. It would have worked, I thought; as long as Jamie kept his silence. Would he?

I care for you, Claire.

My mind snapped back into awareness, back to the cold, stark realities of the present. I hadn’t arrived first, and thus the entire castle knew of my desertion.

Nonetheless, Mrs. Fitz had genuine affection in her voice as she clasped me hard to her bread-and-herb-scented bosom. “Oh, m’dear,” she said, sniffing, and voice tremulous with emotion, “they said—Och, child, they said such terrible things—!“

I returned the embrace, feeling affection flood my heart, even in the same moment as fear and dead-panic. “What—what have they said about me, Mrs. Fitz?”

Forewarned is forearmed, after all. 

She pulled back to stare searchingly up into my face, whispering each word so as not to be overheard by the many watchful onlookers. “That ye’re an English spy—and that ye made off in the night wi’ no warning—and that ye came among us tae do the Mackenzie harm wi’ the knowledge ye’ve gleaned in our midst…”

Well, all things considered, I suppose I couldn’t expect fairer than that. I’d carefully formulated my story, rehearsed the details forward and back—all I could do was pray that Colum would buy it. And that I could talk to Jamie at the first possible moment.  

“I’m not a spy, Mrs. Fitz,” I said, as confidently and reassuringly as I could, bending to kiss her warmly on the cheek. “I can assure you, it’s all a dreadful misunderstanding.”

Lord knew I was not a grand actress, but Mrs. Fitz gave an enormous exhale of relief, looked both flustered and pleased as she took both my hands in hers. “I didna wish tae believe it of ye, m’dear—Such treacherous behavior, I couldna—No, I DIDNA myself believe it, child, but Dougal said–”

“I understand perfectly, Mrs Fitz, truly I do. I promise that I’ll explain the truth as soon as possible to Colum—I mean the laird. In the meantime,” I was literally swaying where I stood, “might I—trouble you for some food?—and perhaps a basin of water to wash? Before I attract more attention?”

The water would be pleasant, but it was food that I needed desperately. The bannocks I had filched from camp were long gone when I reached Craigh na Dun. Having no skill as a hunter, I had had to make do with what roots and berries and other edibles I could forage along the roadside. I had made it to Leoch on stubbornness and hope alone; but the reality was that I was very close to spent from hunger, and was having trouble keeping my legs and my vision aright.  

“Of course, of course!” Mrs Fitz said, already guiding me toward the kitchens. “Sweet child, starved and half-frozen.” She stopped sharply as we reached the doorway, looking apologetic. “Of course, I will have tae send word tae Himself at once that ye’ve arrived, Claire….given….weel….”

Given that I was still a presumed English spy who had just sauntered back into MacKenzie Clan HQ.

“Of course, Mrs. Fitz,” I said gently, “it’s the right thing to do.”

While she commissioned the boy known as Young Alec to take the message to the laird’s cambers and deliver my few belongings up to a spare chamber, my eyes swung once more around and around the courtyard. No Jamie.

Ten minutes was all I needed—ten minutes to explain how wrong I’d been to run; that everything I’d spat at him that night had been a dreadful, vicious lie; that I missed him; that I wanted him; that I wanted to stay. And failing that, even one minute just to be in his arms; to lay my head against his chest and feel his arms pulling me safe and warm against him. One minute just to hold him, and tell him with the gentle softness of my touch, with my eyes, that he hadn’t misjudged my affections; that he hadn’t been…’mistaken.’

Come find me, Jamie, I prayed upward into the walls of Leoch. Find me. Let me tell you what’s in my heart. What was there all along.

I followed Mrs. Fitz inside and down the familiar corridors to the kitchens. She ushered me—ignoring the stares and whispers from the kitchen staff—into a small room behind the kitchen hearth that I had never noticed before. Less than a minute later, I was gulping a mug of thick beef broth (“Drink slowly, m’dear, ye dinna want griping  in yer wame, aye?”), while she and a teenage girl drew me a warm bath in a small wooden tub before the fire. While I had protested that cold water was perfectly sufficient, the warmth of it and the sweet scent of the chamomile soap were together as comforting and bracing as brandy to my weary body. She helped me wash and rinse my hair, then wrapped me thick towels with a second mug of broth as she conjured a clean gown, shift, and stays for me, and then helped me herself to dress.

She sat with me by the fire as I inhaled porridge with honey and a small loaf with soft cheese. Her manner was still kind and sympathetic, but her eyes remained sharp and leery.

“I willna hide from ye, Claire, that the laird is no’ likely tae speak your name with kindness. Dougal was cursing ye roundly tae anyone that would listen—Old Mr. Gowan has scarcely ceased wi’ shaking his head and bemoaning yer actions— and wee Jamie, weel, he’s barely spoken, hasn’t he?”

That jolted my heart into a frenzy. “Has he?” I said lightly, not meeting her eye.

“Jamie? Och, aye,” she said, nodding gravely. “He must ha’ been sore affected by it. I suppose ‘tis only right, wi’ his loyalty to his uncles, ken? But my Laoghaire— she was sae glad tae see him return (she carries quite the torch for him, ye see)—but he’s been silent and lifeless as a stone these past days—Has scarcely given her as much as a ‘Good day.’”

Perversely, that made my heart leap. He doesn’t want Laoghaire, not even for comfort. He doesn’t want just any woman. He wants…

“Begging your pardon, Mrs. Fitz.” Young Alec’s head appeared around the door. “The Mackenzie requests Mistress Beauchamp’s presence in his study at her earliest convenience.”

I didn’t have the balls to ask Mrs. Fitz for a heaping four-finger glass of whisky, but Jesus H. CHRIST how I needed one.

‘Her earliest convenience.’ Which was to say, immediately. Which was to say my fate was to be decided at once. Which meant that if it were the laird’s pleasure, I would be expelled from the castle before I’d had the chance to even lay eyes on Jamie. Which meant—

Dammit. God bloody fucking dammit.


“Will ye do me the honor of sitting with me a time, Mistress Beauchamp?”

I sat in the proffered armchair across the broad desk from Colum MacKenzie. The laird of Castle Leoch was—outwardly, at least— as serene as ever, his appearance decorous and tidy, despite the earliness of the hour. Despite my earlier need for a stiff drink, I couldn’t bring myself to touch the glass he’d had a servant bring me.

He sat there surveying me, that quiet, wry smile playing at his lips. I lowered my eyes and waited, looking awkwardly around the room by way of distraction from the tension in the room. The laird’s study was just the same: luxuriously crammed with its beautiful furnishings befitting the MacKenzie’s station and wealth. His birds cheeped and chirruped eagerly, apparently not at all sensible of the tension pervading the room.

“Déja vu,” Colum said at last.

“What? I mean—“ I stammered, trying to recover from his startlingly calm non-sequitur. “I beg your pardon, my laird?”

“Déja vu. It’s French,” Colum said evenly, eyes twinkling. “It means, ’already seen.’ But surely—“ he said, gracefully arcing an eyebrow, “you, having family in France, would know that?”

I returned his level gaze with one of my own, though I smiled sweetly. “I do apologize, my laird, I simply was taken off-guard. Yes, I do know what the word means.”

“Aye, verra good…excellent.” He nodded sagely, lacing his fingers together on the tabletop, not breaking eye contact. “Then you’ll perhaps know, too, why I should be experiencing such a phenomenon at this moment….”

I knew precisely what he was getting at, but I feigned polite ignorance, waiting for him to continue, to make the first move. 

He did. “You…in my study…playing the harmless ingénue…after appearing on clan lands under highly suspicious circumstances.” He raised his eyebrows. “It does seem—to ring a certain bell, does it not?”

My heart was racing with adrenaline, but I smiled a smile of simple regret and opened my mouth to speak—I had rehearsed this all the way from Craigh na Dun, after all—but a pounding on the door made me all but jump out of my skin. 

“Enter,” Colum said, not seeming in the least bit surprised by the interruption. I regained my composure and remained facing forward. 

There came the squeal of hinges and the unmistakable snort behind me. “So it’s true then,” Dougal MacKenzie’s voice said said, low and hissing, “the prodigal wench has returned.”

My mind was a constant stream of all the curses I’d ever learned, in every tongue, and I’d played with street urchins in countless countries.It shouldn’t have surprised me, now that I came to think of it—Dougal was Colum’s right-hand, after all, and I had officially been in his charge when I’d made my escape— but it did. I had prepared for Colum, for his savage cunning masked in level-headed civility; I was equipped for that: for the turn of phrase and the traps of language and logic. But Dougal was another matter entirely—I couldn’t trust myself to remain calm and collected in the face of his pugnacious and irreverent manner. But I had to bloody do it, prepared or no. 

I didn’t bother to turn around, just said simply, “I’m not a wench, Mr. MacKenzie. And yes, I have returned.” This exchange was too important to let him raise my ire. 

“Prodigal liar, then,” he said, appearing to my left and coming to stand next to his brother, arms crossed and eyes blazing as he glared down at me. “Conspirator. Agent.”

My gaze was still cool, my voice still polite, but I could feel the shards of glass in it, dangerous to both of us. “I swear to you, Mr. Mackenzie: I’m none of those things.”

He laughed, cruelly and vicious, bending at the waist to put his face mere inches from mine. “Ye expect us to just believe the mere word of a lying, filthy wh–”

Will ye tell us, Mistress Beauchamp,” Colum said, his sharp tone a silent warning which Dougal must have comprehended at once, for he stepped back from me, and came to stand at Colum’s right hand, his own hand resting on his dirk handle.

Colum continued. “Will ye tell us what it was, exactly, that made ye suddenly choose to leave the rent party….and just as suddenly return?”

I took a deep breath, ready. “You will certainly recall, my laird, that since my—“ (Filthy, barbarous abduction). “—Arrival— with the Clan MacKenzie, so shortly after the death of my husband, it has been my desire to reach Inverness.”

The laird nodded. 

“It was my intention to join with friends there in hopes of beginning a new life among those I trusted. It was to them that I went the night I departed from the rent party. My longing for familiar faces had grown so strong, that I could no longer bear to wait. That is why I left. The simple desire to be among friends once more.” 

Dougal made a sound of deep derision, but Colum only nodded. “Would ye be so kind as to share with us their names?”

“Reverend Reginald Wakefield and his wife, Catherine, both old friends of my departed parents. I was a child, the last time I met with them, but there was no doubt in my mind that they would receive me. However–” I heaved a deep breath, pleased to feel a lump in my throat that lent emotion to my voice as I revealed the ‘sad’ news. “Upon arriving in Inverness, I learned that the Wakefields had taken ship for the Indies three years ago, to begin a Presbyterian mission on the island of—”

“How daft do ye think we are, woman?” Dougal growled, with a gesture so violent I shrunk back instinctively into my chair. “Ye dinna have friends in Inverness and ye NEVER did. Else you’d have written to them upon your first arrival here.”

I straightened once more and did my best to appear innocently perplexed. “What makes you think I didn’t write to them, Mr. Mackenzie?”

“Because—“ Colum interjected, his calm—earlier, such an asset to my nerves— now terrifying. Not a hand of clemency: a razor-thin knife,“—I make it my business to be aware of all correspondence in and out of the castle. Oh, not necessarily the contents,” he said, seeing the shock and disapproval on my face, “just who is writing to whom while enjoying my hospitality—as is my right as laird.” He folded his hands. “And there has been no letter to or from a Claire Beauchamp at any point since you arrived on MacKenzie lands.” 

I opened my mouth, but he cut me off with a soft, “—And if ye did manage to communicate with them… it does make one wonder…” He gave me his most piercing gaze yet, stealing my breath, “—why a woman with nothing to conceal should go to such lengths to do so…undetected?”

No. No no no no no, this was slipping so quickly away from my control.

“I do appreciate how all this must appear on the surface.” I could feel my heart racing with panic as I grasped at straws, desperate to remain calm and failing miserably. There was an audible quaver in my voice—damn it, damn ME!—“All I can do, my laird, is swear that I mean you and your clan no ill will, I have no ties or contact with the English government, whatsoever and I am willing to attest to those truths on anything you wish to name. The simple fact, however it may appear, is I saw a chance to reach Inverness and I took it. That is all.”

“Liar,” Dougal hissed. “Admit it: You’re a paid informant for the English. Ye left our company ten days ago to report our goings-on to your superiors, and now you’re back, despite your sweet face and claim to innocence, wi’ fresh orders and OPEN EARS.”

I was panicking. “That—that is simply not—”

He was looming over me again. I could smell his breath and feel it hot on my forehead. “Admit the truth, woman, and we’ll perhaps show ye some mercy. SPEAK!” 

A cacophony of sound filled the room and startled the birds. 

Dougal’s violent snarling: “Liar! LIAR!”

A whimpering sound. Me? 

Colum’s sharp, commanding, “I can think of no just reason—”

“LIAR!”

“—that a woman wi’ nothing to hide, should—” 

“Please—please—you must believe–”

Dougal’s hands on the arms of my chair. 

My eyes closed, the colors roaring in the dark. 

Stop. Just make it stop. Stop.  

“—DUNGEONS–”

“Please—“

“—Loosen your tongue–”

“JUST TELL THEM, Claire!”

I felt his voice jolt through my body like a wave of electricity and I whirled my head to see him standing in the corner, arms crossed. 

JAMIE. 

I nearly sunk to the floor in abject relief. He must have entered with Dougal, remaining silent. But he was here. HERE

Jamie. MY Jamie.

Floor be damned: I wanted to leap out of the chair and fly into his arms—those strong arms that had held me and warmed me and kept me; Wanted to feel his skin against mine. Wanted—wanted so badly it felt like physical pain in my chest—to kiss him and feel his fingers in my hair. To talk. To tell. JAMIE. 

I forced myself to remain still, but inside I was thrumming with relief and joy. Everything would be alright, now—Jamie was here.

Tell them, Mistress,” he said, and the coldness in that voice was so shocking I blinked as though struck. 

He had stepped forward a pace or two, so I could see that his eyes, too, were hard and icy, revealing none of his usual bright eagerness. Even more disturbing than this, they held an alarming intensity, some silent meaning I couldn’t comprehend. “It’s alright, mistress. Tell them the truth of why ye fled.”

Another jolt, and I could do nothing but stare, my mouth gobbling open and shut. The truth? 

For one wild, ludicrous moment, I was screaming: ‘how does he know I was trying to get through the stones?’

But he didn’t know; he couldn’t know; he could never know that truth.

“I….CAN’T.” I finally said, teeth gritted and voice tight. (Because I don’t know what in bloody hell you mean, you damned, wonderful—)

“Ye can,” he said, walking around to my right to stand with his uncles. “Go on, Mistress. There’s less shame in it than being mistaken and hung for a spy.”

“What’s this about, Jamie?” Colum demanded, his eyes flashing.

Dougal, too, was mounting in his own brand of fury. He took a menacing step toward his nephew. “D’ye mean to say that ye had further knowledge of her departure—Information that you chose to withhold??”

“Aye,” Jamie said, his eyes downcast. “Though it wasna mine to disclose, before.”

Dougal gave a guttural roar and made as if to lunge for Jamie behind Colum’s chair, but before he could say another word, Jamie raised a hand and looked directly at me with that same hard eye as before. “With your permission, Mistress?”

I saw it now, what that look meant.  

It said: be silent.

I nodded and dropped my eyes to my lap, seeing the three of them behind the desk only from the upper periphery of my vision.

“Mistress Beauchamp fled that night…because I spurned her advances.”

I couldn’t have spoken a word if I’d tried. If I could have, it might have been a gut-punched, ‘…Jesus.’

He went on, quiet and careful. “I begged her to forgive me—Told her truly what a fine, beautiful lady she is, and how much I admired and respected her—but that—my allegiances lay elsewhere.”

He placed a hard emphasis on that word, and I thought I saw a shifting, enough so that I chanced a glance upward to witness the significant look Jamie was sharing with Colum. To my astonishment and relief, I thought I saw something dawning in the laird’s expression. Jesus Christ…this was going to work!

“And—being, as we all know—a verra strong-willed and reckless sort of woman, Mistress Beauchamp departed in the night—” He turned his gaze to me, “—too hurt …and vexed to remain…That’s how it was….aye, Mistress?”

I felt myself nodding but I was still staring down at my hands . I could see him in my periphery, his image blurring and distorting as the tears gathered. My throat was burning. With shame.

That’s how it was. Despite his phrasing, he wasn’t asking me. He was telling. Hurt and vexed—the mildest words possible for what I had done to him. His eyes told me the truth: Furious. Heartbroken.

God, what a fool I was. I’d come back, free in my own heart, ready to sing out a ‘ten-minute’ apology, then throw myself into his arms with hardly a thought for just how deeply I had savaged him with my words, my rejection.

His eyes were on the floor, now, and I wanted to tear my own guts out. 

Beauchamp, look at yourself.

I was.

And I saw—vividly—how I had ground his heart into the dirt when he’d handed it to me so tenderly and freely.

I had had my reasons at the time, yes. But God, how I had twisted the knife in his flesh. How I had ripped him.  

He’d made me a gift of himself and everything he would ever be, and to his eyes, I hadn’t even glanced at it before flinging it into the fire.

I did, Jamie! God, I DID glance. I looked and looked and it frightened me because I WANTED it. And I ran because I was married—because of Frank. But he’s gone now. He’s gone and I want YOU. 

Can’t you see that in my face? LOOK, Jamie. Find me, here.

“Well… that does seem to explain things.”

I looked up at Colum in surprise, wiping my eyes, which had been streaming. Apparently my regret and shame over what I’d done to Jamie was playing off rather nicely in support of the narrative that I was the lover that had been spurned. Even Dougal’s hostile posture had softened, though his look of distaste had not.

Colum, however, was not done. “Though it doesna altogether account for your return, this morning. If it was our Jamie’s disregard that prompted ye to flee…why come back?”

“I knew almost immediately,” I said quickly, marshaling my tremulous voice and picking up the narrative from Jamie, thanking him silently for handing me a lie with a fighting chance of success, “that it would look dreadful—as it indeed does, I am well aware—to have forsaken my word to the MacKenzies on a mere affaire de coeur.”  

I met eyes with Jamie and lost my breath for a moment. He seemed to sense that my looking at him disrupted my train of thought, and he casually began pacing before the bookshelves, moving to my right and slowly out of my line of sight.

I carried on. “Upon learning that my friends were unreachable, I did consider going south to England—or to Edinburgh or some other place I might have cause to use my skills as a healer, but my honor prompted me to return–”

“Honor,” scoffed Dougal.

“—and to beg the forgiveness of the laird and permission to remain in his service. Which I do now, humbly, under whatever terms you demand.”

Silence reigned, interrupted only by the chirping of the birds.

Colum and Dougal  leaned their heads together, sharing a heated, whispered conference. I wanted desperately to turn in my chair and look at Jamie, touch his hand, thank him, but I forced myself to stay still.

At last, Colum straightened with a look of decision, and surveyed me intently for a long moment before saying, “You may remain at Leoch, Mistress Beauchamp.”

My sigh of relief was far louder than I’d anticipated. “Thank you—THANK YOU, my laird.”

“BUT—” he said, firmly, “you will confine your movements within the walls of the main castle. And an escort will be reinstated until you have earned my forgiveness. And my trust.”

I nodded. “That is—more than fair, sir. I will respect your wishes.”

We made our farewells and I rose, taking the time to give my deepest, most respectful curtsy I could muster, but turned the very first second I was able, tuned so that I could see Jamie, ask where we might go to talk, alone.

But all I saw was the swish of a vanishing plaid.



[[Next week they talk, I promise]]

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jamie benn // caught

warnings: none

who: jamie benn x reader

premise: you and Jamie attempt to keep your relationship hidden from your roommate and best friend, Tyler Seguin, but, as you might expect, your plan falls short

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You and Jamie tried to keep your relationship a secret. You really, really did. You didn’t make eye contact or let your touches linger too long. You never said anything that suggested more or smiled at each other just because. It was as if your relationship didn’t exist outside the confines of the two of you.

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okay I’m STILL not done the book yet because #life™ but some follow up reactions

  • The entire scene where Calypso and Apollo were trying to escape on the slow kiddy train at the Zoo had me in stitches holy shit
  • Apollo frantically hitting the gas and Calypso is just leisurely walking next to it while glaring at him??? And the guards? omfg I was dying
  • Meg’s entrance was dramatic and awesome good for her
  • Why the fuck is this 12 year old so good at sword fighting she can keep up with one of the deadliest swordfighters of the ancient world™
  • When Lit threatened Leo and Calypso essentially morphed into the knife emoji on spot. A plus.
  • I mean I’m just saying: I feel like a pregnant griffin isn’t more important than helping a tortured seven year old girl. But I still love Britomartis so I guess it’s whatever
  • I love how Lit was going on like he has a score to settle with Leo because ‘he and his friends’ fucked him up in Oklahoma but like….Leo didn’t contribute to that at all like Jason literally did everything during that fight??? That was kinda like important to Jason’s development and shit??? Leo and Piper were golden statues and Hedge was outside eating grass??? Shouldn’t Lit’s anger be focused on Jason??? lol
  • Idk I just found it funny (I want to see Jason Grace again)
  • Calypso managing to shove out some magic yeah girl!!!!
  • MEG AND APOLLO HUGGING EACH OTHER FOR DEAR LIFE WHILE SOBBING: MY ENTIRE AESTHETIC
  • Leo meeting Meg was way too fucking funny omfg “so I understand you can like…control him?” and when Apollo tried denying it she makes him slap himself??? 😂
  • How did we fucking segue from lighthearted banter directly into Apollo having a vivid flashback of the time he had to murder the love of his life with his bare hands
  • Like I??? Was sobbing??? So hard???? Because a batshit insane Roman empire was getting killed by someone who loved him bc it was necessary for the world and the lover couldn’t stand to see anyone else hurt him??? Fuck me???? Rick Riordan ain’t real
  • “I couldn’t bare to look into the water without seeing my beloved’s betrayed face starring back” or whatever the fuck the line was but FUCK
  • Jo was a teenage girl crossdressing to fuck around with gangsters in the 1920′s before Artemis found her and honestly??? Goals
  • Also the scene where she was helping Apollo after his flashback was very sweet
  • Can’t believe the nerd spent like six hours playing soothing music just to get a griffin to lay an egg
  • Leo and Calypso better be whispering amongst themselves what I think they’re whispering
  • Leo seems a lot more…subdued than usual in this book? I don’t know if that’s just because we aren’t reading from his POV, or if it’s like a “I literally died and came back and then spent six months getting attacked every single day while trying to find home and now I’m stuck on another dangerous quest I’m fucking stressed” type thing, or if it could be from the relationship problems he’s having with Calypso, but either way he seems a little off and I’m worried about him
  • The Dread Pirate Valdez…leave.
  • How was that joke never made once on the Argo tho??? lol
  • The speed at which Leo seems to have emotionally adopted Meg is astounding and also #relatable
  • Meg’s far from my favorite character tbh but like??? I will probably punch everyone who’s ever frowned in her general direction in the face. Holy shit give this kid a break
  • She thinks Nero is scared of the mystery third emperor on the West Coast??? So….Caligula, probably? Laying my bets down on him now
  • I triggered the First Law of Percy Jackson” I had to put the book down bc I was laughing so hard I think that lines gonna end up on my gravestone or as the afterword in my autobiography omfg
  • “I’ve always had a phobia of snakes, especially if you included my step-mother Hera. BOOM!” I choked.
  • I like that half the time Apollo is able to figure out what to do to win because he has a general understanding of science
  • Like he knew his burst of godly voice power would only help so much, but he also knew if he stood in the right spot and yelled in the right frequency it would reverberate and knock over the bricks and shit??? NICE
  • How long were these kids wadding through a sewer how do none of them have hypothermia
  • Leo: *sets himself on fire* “Gather round, children.”
  • Like first off someone saying ‘gather round children’ is always going to make me laugh for some reason that’s just a fact but human torching it up really added to the effect lmao
  • Like okay I understand the set up of the room so that no one would look in the canal and see them but like…how the fuck did no one realize they were there that just felt too easy I’m sorry
  • Chia Girl
  • When they found the prisoners was horrifying omfg???
  • The two fucked up boys on a hunger strike???
  • “…Hunter the Hunter?” “Yeah, I’ve never heard that before.”
  • Tall, Dark and Jamie.
  • Apollo babe you’re on a rescue mission with a time crunch please you can check out Jamie later holy shit
  • Georgie made me wanna cry get her back to her Combat Moms immediately
  • The entire sequence of Apollo getting the door open: S C I E N C E  B I T C H
  • “Lemme just fill up some syringes with ammonia just in case”
  • Alright I’ll admit when Meg started insisting she had a feeling they needed to go through the door: I was really worried she was about to double cross him.
  • Glad I was wrong but tbh that whole arena dress rehearsal bullshit was STRESSFULL
  • S T R E S S F U L L
  • First of all: Apollo’s out here constantly complaining about his puny mortal body but manages to fight and climb and run with a heavy ass chair strapped to his back: okay,
  • Second of all: why did no one warn me about Livia the elephant I was on the verge of tears every time he mentioned her
  • Third of all: Monsters, ostriches, race cars, basketballs, football, human mercenaries, animals, like…what even the fuck else SO MUCH WAS GOING ON I would’ve died in ten seconds flat???
  • Fourth of all: let’s just SET THE FUCKING GRAIN SPIRIT ON FIRE WHY THE FUCK NOT. HOW DID MEG EVEN MANAGE TO GET HIM DOWN. HOW DID APOLLO AND LIVIA MANAGE TO CRASH COMMODUS’ CAR TO THAT DEGREE AND HE NOT ONLY SURVIVED BUT THREW THE WRECKAGE AWAY FROM HIM
  • Fifth of all: THE FUCKING HUNTERS SHOW UP AND CAUSE EVEN M O R E CHAOS. Truly I don’t know how any of the main heroes survived that there was just too much.
  • The entire time I was reading it I was like “This feels like a giant fight at the climax of the book how the fuck are there more pages left what else is going to happen???” AND IM STILL WONDERING THAT LIKE
  • Thalia Grace has been returned to me.
  • Apollo’s strong urge to save Lit??? Okay I guess. It’s nice to see him being compassionate and shit but. I was kinda with Leo on that one lol
  • “Thalia Grace slid behind me on the elephant, which fulfilled one of the fantasies I’d had about the Hunter, although I never quite imagined it playing out like this” M E
  • What was his elephant-involved fantasy with Thalia I need a complete play by play lmao
  • Also the scene where Commodus dropped his composure for a sec and had a full-blown Angry Ex moment (which…he’s definitely entitled to). That was good and also I was highkey worried he might just try to kill my nerd then and there
  • Also that he’s not just mad that Apollo killed him but like. All their fucking history together. Shit’s intense.
  • Apollo loves this elephant so much after only like 15 minutes the first thing he’s gonna do when he’s immortal again is bless her or some shit
  • Also I’m glad they got that awful chainmail off her
  • The Hunters apparently just have a magical energy drink with mercury in it okay
  • Honestly??? I’m a little mad Artemis has been ordered not to contact him THE BOY JUST WANTS TO SEE HIS SISTER HOLY SHIT
  • Aaaaaand that’s about where I left off. Hoping to finish it all together the next time I get a chance. Hoping all the losers are alright. LOVING this book so far. Waiting to see an official reunion between Georgie and her Combat Moms. The Headless Ghost’s cryptic warning has me worried. Until next time…
Fanfiction - A Lifetime of Her (Part II)

Part II – “In slow motion the blast is beautiful”

Twenty

I watched as people walked in the gardens outside the hospital, struggling to distance myself from the acute sound that seemed to be permanently whistling inside my ears. It was the sound of immediately before – the universe’s cry of warning that catastrophe was imminent. I found myself trapped in that moment, long after the physical pain was gone – after weeks in the intensive care unit, I was finally starting the skin grafts on my back –, paralyzed in a life-changing moment. Doomed to stand in the frontier of what I had been and what the blast had made me become.

A couple was strolling nearby, the woman holding the bundle of their newborn baby, the man enraptured, dutifully keeping watch over a couple of celebratory balloons, announcing a perfect boy in impeccable blue.

I had seen myself in that life, before. My hand entwined with a faceless woman – her eyes mysteriously the colour of strong whiskey, enough to inebriate me with its fumes -, mindlessly walking towards a shared house, a shared life. I couldn’t fathom such a thing now – the explosion, caused by a gas leak at my apartment building at the university, had tarnish skin and dreams alike.

The breeze kept everyone outside mercifully comfortable, under an otherwise hot sun. It was only the second time I had ventured to go outside, wearing the notorious grey pajamas from the hospital, which marked me as belonging somewhere else other than sitting on a bench under the leafy tree.

The sense of disconnection from everything around me was crushing – I felt like I was standing inside a glassed cage, looking at people with normal lives, unable to find an escape to join them. Jenny and Ian visited me daily, trying their best to cheer me up and to bring me back to myself – I had no heart to tell them that only dust and fragments had remained from that man. I was alive, thankfully – but had no notion of what to do with that surprising gift.

“May I sit down?” A woman asked me. I nodded, not bothering to look at her – instead I curled more into my robe, making myself invisible, biting my bottom lip to avoid moaning with pain from the stretching skin. Breathing, moving, walking – everything came with a renewed cost, as if to remind me that my survival still demanded sacrifice.

She sat on the other end of the bench. I saw her blue sneaker dangling spiritedly on the periphery of my vision, as my nostrils were filled with the smell of rosemary and lemon.

“Excuse me.” The voice next to me said, somewhat timidly. “I could swear I know you, but can’t really figure out from where…”

I tilted my head and looked straight into the sun.

Her eyes were the exact same shade as ten years before – I would recognize them anywhere, even if I couldn’t recognize her brown curls or her tentative smile. My jaw dropped an inch, as I stared flabbergasted at the girl from the graveyard.

“You!” I babbled, nervously fumbling with the catheter, skilfully taped to my forearm by a kind nurse. “Ah – yes!” I tried to recover seeing her confused look, silently kicking myself for blurting. “We have met once – many years ago.”

“You’re the boy from the cemetery.” She said slowly, her hawk eyes studying my face. She had an adorable wrinkle of concentration between her brows. “Ellen’s son!”

“Aye.” I smiled, shyly. “I dinna think ye’d remember that.”

“Of course I do.” She nodded, offering me a kind smile. “I always pay my respects to Ellen, whenever I visit my parents.”

I couldn’t answer – my throat suddenly thick with emotion, as words and feelings nestled like a snake around my vocal chords. That she remembered her act of kindness as vividly as I did – and that she had kept watch over my mother – deeply moved me. I gave her a – I hope – grateful nod and looked away, composing the emotions that ran wild, raw and untamed, after the accident.

“Are you a patient here?” She asked. I raised my eyes to look at her again and noticed she was wearing a white uniform, akin to the nurses I was used to see, with an identification card that read “C. Beauchamp. Trainee.

“Aye.” I swallowed hard, attempting at nonchalance. “I have the pleasure of being a guest of the Burn Unit.”

“Ah.” Her eyes softened – it marvelled me how they changed so significantly, reflecting her states of mind. I was prepared to see the pity that always followed such a statement – but it never came. Her face was a mirror of sympathy and concern – but she wasn’t about to treat me as an invalid. “Good thing you’re able to come outside, then. Such a splendid day, today! I had been dreaming all morning of eating my sandwich outside.”

“Do ye work here?” I questioned, watching as she unwrapped and bit her sandwich – egg and tomato on rye bread – with a satisfaction that made my own mouth water.

“Nurse in training.” She explained, closing her eyes in delight for the utter brilliance of her simple pan. “Actually it’s my last day here.”

“I wish I could say the same.” I gave her a lopsided smile and she laughed – a bit too loud and carefree, like a delighted child. For a moment I forgot where I was and why I sat so uptight – she made me forget things. She made me remember others too – transparent things, important things, that could carve the exit from my self-imposed prison.

“The food isn’t that bad.” She joked, offering me some salt and vinegar chips that she had started to munch. Her eyes searched the plastic bracelet on my arm, easily reading my name there. “Jamie.”

“Hmmm.” I smiled, conceding at the personal treatment. “I’m afraid I miss my morning parritch…” I looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to reveal her identity in return.

Claire.” She laughed, playfully saluting me with her joined fingers like a soldier. “Nice to meet you. Again.”

We stayed in amiable silence, as she completed her picnic-style lunch and I continued to study the world around me, through the eyes of a dead-man walking. But the trees where suddenly greener again and the distant voices seemed to speak to me, teasing me but finally within my reach.

“Thank ye,” I said slowly, tapping my fingers on my leg – much thinner than usual, muscles having been consumed in the furnace of my recovery. “For not asking - about what happened.”

Claire glanced at me – I saw again the same wise-beyond-her-years look, the soul that knew pain and how to heal it, which had held me together ten years before. “I didn’t think it mattered.”

I raised my brows, surprised. “It’s all everyone wants to talk about.”

“You can tell me, if you want to.” She licked her lips for crumbs and smiled, tilting her chin to expose her face to the sun. She resembled a lazy cat, stretching under the warmth, gathering enough energy to wreak havoc afterwards. “But I know you’re here and whole and that’s enough for me.”

“Is it?” I whispered, smiling beyond myself.

“Yes.” Claire threw me an evaluating glare, like she could read into my soul and was ready to challenge the defeatist thoughts that resided there. “Is it enough for you?”

“It hasn’t been…” I admitted, brushing my unusually short hair – another thing lost during the first days in hospital care. “But perhaps I’m beginning to see things differently.”

“I’m glad.” She smiled tenderly – and she seemed truly content. For the first time in weeks I noticed my heart galloping inside my chest, strong and lively, as able to be moved and broken as ever before.

“Jamie!” Jenny waved at me from the door, calling me to get back to my room – it was time for another dose of intravenous antibiotics and physical therapy. I raised my hand in response and slowly got up – whimpering and trembling a little, to my mortification. Claire’s hand quickly came to help stabilize me, holding my chest, as if she had guessed that my back was the source of all pain.

“Ye should be a doctor.” The words burst from my mouth, sounding strangely calm and confident. “Ye’ll be a wonderful nurse – but ye could be a brilliant doctor.”

She looked surprised – an image that suited her, for it was screamed from every trembling muscle, flutter of lashes and promise of smile in the corners of her mouth. Claire’s face spoke of truth as mine spoke of loss and of gratitude to her.

I waved in short goodbye and walked away slowly, holding my crutch for support.

When the physical therapist pressed me to give more, I gritted my teeth and did it, even if cursing every generation before him inside my head. When the nurses applauded the results of the healing grafts, I allowed myself to share the happiness, instead of focusing on everything still left to be done. When the quiet night came, I closed my eyes and dared to plan a life to come.

Claire Beauchamp. The woman who seemed to appear when my need was greatest. I wished I could talk to her and tell her that I had been scared – of living and failing to be enough – but she had healed me, like new and joyous blood cast into my veins. Unfortunately, I had only her name – no phone or address I could use to contact her.

The next time I saw her, she was wearing a black dress, in the middle of a night with no stars.

Fic: Walking in the deep blue night

Part three of my Heartlines AU.

Part 1 Whiskey on a Pink Dress

Part 2 - Breathing in the Half Light

——————————————————————

Originally posted by undertheinfinite





He arrived outside Taps for the third time and checked his watch. 6.45. He’d been round the block three times and it was still far too early. Should he go in and wait? Or should he wait outside? Or should he walk around a while longer to avoid looking too over eager?

“Jesus, Jamie. Getting a bloody grip on yerself man. She’s only a woman”

But what a woman. He hadn’t been able to get the image of her out of his head. He’d spent the whole day languishing around his apartment like a lovesick teenager, thinking about her. The soft curl of her hair on her shoulder. The way she looked at him when she’d run her finger down his cheek. He’d also fielded several angry calls and text messages from his friends wondering where he’d run off to.

“Ye’re no Cinderella, ye know’ grumbled Rupert “Ya didna need to be running off before the clock struck midnight.”

“Ah, but my work there was done, Rupe. I’d already been swept off my feet” He recounted his meeting with Claire and his plans to see her that evening.

“Ye were cramping our style there anyway.” laughed back Rupert.

“Aye, I can see how 4 married men in their thirties and forties would have been the toast of the club” Despite his big talk, Rupert had been happily married to his childhood sweetheart for 15 years and was as blissfully happy now as he had been the day he married Gina.

Rupert laughed again. “Aye, well. Gina asks are ya coming to dinner on Wednesday, she’ll likely grill you about the lassie but the kids have been asking for their Uncle Jamie.”

“I’ll be there, wouldn’t want to disappoint the bairns. Or Gina.” he added wryly.

He’d then spent an inordinate amount of time picking out clothes and trying to decide if the fact he had his knickers in a knot about going out for a drink with a woman he had spoken to for probably no more than 7 minutes meant he had severe emotional problems. Why was he so uptight? Whilst he’d not exactly been Glasgow’s version of Casanova, he had been on dates in the last few years. There had been the nice dentist that he met in the supermarket and gotten to talking to over a discussion on the merits of Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc versus Napier. They’d had dinner a few times. He’d even kissed her, but he felt no desire to pursue her and when she text him to let her know she’d been asked out by someone else, he’d wished her joy and simply never thought of her again. He vaguely realised now that probably hadn’t been her main motivation is revealing that tit bit to him.  Then there was F&B journalist he’d met at a craft beer fair when he’d first started diversifying the farm. They’d gone out once she’d spent the entire night talking about her ex, who was a musician before puking in his car on the way home. He’d seen her at a few events since but she’s given him a wide berth. His car still smelt a bit on hot days.

But this, he knew, was different. He wanted to see her, to be in her company, to breath the same air as her. The thought of hearing her laugh, of maybe being the one who made her laugh…

After his fourth lap of the block he arrived back outside the bar. 6.55. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open. It was quiet, being Sunday night and the bar contained about a dozen people. A small group of men in the corner drinking stout and discussing the different brews, a couple at the bar, and Claire.

She sat at a table near the window, staring out at the street. There was a book of poetry spine up in front of her and she had glass and bottle in front of her. Her hair was pulled back slightly, but was starting to escape near the front. She wore black jeans and a black shirt.Her pale skin seemed to glow.  She was lovelier than he had remembered.

“I promise to try not to spill that one down you” he said with a smile. She looked up at him and he motioned to the drink in front of her. “I’m not saying I won’t, but I promise I’ll try”

She smiled back and stood. There was an awkward moment when neither of them seemed to really know what to do. He wanted to touch her, but a hug seemed too familiar, a handshake too formal. Claire solved the dilemma by putting her hand on his arm.

“It’s lovely to see you, Jamie” she said sincerely and he felt the heat rise in his face slightly.

“Oh great” he thought, “now I’m blushing” Claire sat, not seeming to notice the colour which had flooded his cheeks. She gestured for him to do the same. “I’ll just get a drink, can I get you another? A whiskey this time?”

“Oh, no, a little early in proceedings for whiskey yet. I’ll have another of these.” She tipped the bottle towards him. Lady Broch Taurach pale ale. He grinned at her. “You like that do you?”

 “oh yes, my friend Joe at work introduced me to craft beers and he’s a big fan of a little brewery near Inverness, Lallybroch, I think they’re called. I’ve developed a taste for this one”

He nodded and headed to the bar. Lallybroch microbrewery was the most recent expansion he had made to his family business. Lallybroch had been in his family since forever and was a the main factor in his decision to leave oil and gas and come home to Scotland. He was strangely chuffed that she was drinking his beer, brewed on his farm and although he knew it to be simple coincidence, he could not help but feel the same jolt of serendipitous good fortune that he’d felt when he had, quite literally, bumped into her the night before.

He returned with the drinks and sat down next to her so they could both look out of the window. Its started to rain. Because of course it had. It was Scotland. They chatted aimlessly and easily and Jamie’s nerves dissipated slightly. He was still incredibly aware of her, but she was so unassuming, so funny. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun. She told him about her job at the hospital. She’s a surgeon. He told her about Lallybroch. She picked up the bottle in front of her. “I’m impressed. And who or what, exactly is a Lady Broch Taurach?”

“Well,” he settled in to tell a much loved story. “Lallybroch has been in my family since the eighteenth century. Back then we owned the whole estate, and our family were Lairds. The estate was called Broch Taurach, the Laird and his Lady were named for the estate. We just have the farm now, but it’s plenty.  The farm itself is a proper working hill sheep farm and we have some highland cattle as well. We have a tourist bit, with a gift shop and a restaurant and the such. And then about 18 months ago I opened the brewery. We sell to quite a few places. ‘The Laird’s bedroom’, which is a stout and the pale ale” he gestured to Claire’s drink “are probably our top sellers. I live in Glasgow most of the time, running the business side of things and my sister and her husband run the farm day to day”

“A brewer, my dream man” she said with a giggle taking a swig. By this point they’d both had more than was probably sensible or wise on a Sunday night and were both finding life and each other hilarious.

“So how did you end up in Scotland? A wee Sassenach lassie like yer self?” he deliberately thickened his highland accent  in the second half of the question and once again felt a warmth in the pit of his stomach at the sheer pleasure of making her laugh.

“Oh, well” her face darkened a bit “Well, it was my husband. Frank.”

“Your, your husband?” he swallowed audibly.

“Oh we’re divorced now. That tends to happen when your wife finds you in bed with your Phd student” She said this flippantly enough, but her jaw was set and her eyes had dulled.

“I’m sorry t’hear that, Claire”

“It’s fine, really, it’s just, well” She gestured vaguely into the air in a manner that conveyed that whilst things might be fine now, at some point in the not very distant past they had been a long way from fine. “It probably wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t just lost the baby” Tears welled in her eyes and he could see her trying to master herself. He reached forward and took her hand.

“You don’t have to tell me. You don’t owe me anything, but if you want to talk. Well, I’ll do what I can to listen”  She gave him a watery half smile at that.

“Thank you, but really. It’s in the past. It was very hard at the time. I had to do a lot to move past it, but I did and I try not to look back.”

She squeezed his hand.

“I think I might let you buy me that whiskey now”

Several very good whiskeys later he had in turn told her all about Geneva, his terrible relationship history and the real reason for his being in the nightclub on the previous night.

Claire was doubled over with laughter as he reenacted the various conversations he had with people in the run up to the night itself.

“Why everyone seemed so sure I was gonna meet the love of my life in a dodgy Glasgow disco with sticky carpets and one pound shots I’ll never know? They must have really thought I was a hopeless case”

“I’m fairly certain that was why we ended up there as well. Glenna, one of the nurses I work with, has been trying to set me up for the past year. I know that Altered Images is definitely not poor Mary’s scene and from the way Geillie and Glenna were literally trying to throw me in the path of every man that came by, I suspect this was another attempt at finding me ‘a braw laddie’” She did a truly awful Scottish accent and they both laughed again.

“Ya know what, Claire?” he asked as he regained his composure, “I don’t think I’ve ever laughed as much as I have tonight, with you” Her colour heightened slightly at the compliment and she looked him in the eye.

Her eyes are the same colour as the whiskey he noted abstractly. Warm and golden, and so deep and rich you could lose yourself in them.

The moment was broken by the bar man coming over and asking them to drink up. Glancing around Jamie realised they were alone in the bar. He glanced at his watch.

“I er, well” He stuttered trying to find his thoughts. He did not want the night to end, but given that it was a Sunday night could think of no way to extend it.

“Would you like to come back to my place?” Claire asked outright with no hint of nervousness. “I have whiskey” she added teasingly, seeing him hesitate.

“Aye, why not?” He suddenly felt very alive and not a small bit reckless. He had no expectations of her, but the idea of irresponsibly drinking Scapa Glansa on a Sunday night with the woman of his dreams seemed like too good a chance to pass up.

“I only live around the corner, we can walk” Gathering up her book, which lay discarded on the table, and bag she held out a hand to him. He took it and together they walked out into the rainy night

In the Mist - Chapter 1

Prologue

Nowhere in Particular

Most people had horses or wagons to get them from one place to the next, but all Jamie had to rely on were his own two feet. He was an avid horseman, and he had ridden and trained more horses than he could count. But here, he had few things of value and none of them would give him enough for a horse.

He didn’t have any real destination, so he simply took a step, and then another. Eventually he stumbled onto what he assumed to be a main road. It was evident that many people came through there, based on the abundance of hoofprints and footsteps. He hoped that if he followed it long enough, he would come across some sort of community.

It was already dark when he left the station, and there was no telling what sort of danger lingered in the brush in daylight, let alone the dark. He walked until he found shelter in a hollow tree just off the main road. It wasn’t much, but it was dry and he was well hidden from prying eyes. He hoped that it would also be enough to protect him from anything lurking in the shadows.

He was no stranger to living outdoors, but that was a place he knew well. He knew nothing of this place apart from what he’d seen in the short time he’d been here. This was a world of all new fauna, people, customs, and traditions.

He pulled the tartan from his pack and wrapped himself in it. The highlander way of life had been wiped out long before he was born, but highlander he was. The wearing of kilts had been outlawed in Scotland, but this was a whole new place. The whole purpose of people coming here was to live freely and the way that they wanted.

Still, he didn’t want to draw attention to himself, already a stranger in strange place.

“One day.” He smiled as he ran his fingers across the fabric, remembering all those he left behind.

He took solace in the night sky, small specks of light littered among the empty void. Proving that no matter what, there was light. That there would always be hope.


Black gave way gray, and the birds came to life in song, signaling the start of a new day.

The forest floor was shrouded in a heavy fog, reducing visibility to a minimum. Jamie would have to wait until it cleared just a bit before he resumed his journey.

But there was something there, barely visible.

He thought it must’ve been a squirrel making it’s way from tree to tree, but the closer it came, the clearer it was.

It wasn’t a thing, but a person. A woman.

She was dressed in a white garment that was hardly modest. Dark curls surrounded her head, as wild as the world around them. Her pale skin seemed to glow, just a bit. He couldn’t make out her face, but he imagined it was just as perfect as the rest of her.

It looked as if she were dancing, blissfully unaware of her surroundings. Perhaps just happy to be alive.

And then just as quickly as she appeared, she vanished.

He rubbed his eyes and looked again, but there was nothing but the mist.


The fog had cleared, and once again Jamie was headed into an unknown future.

He couldn’t help but think about the woman he saw in the early hours of the morning. Or if he had even seen her at all. Perhaps she had never even been there, and his mind made her up out of painful solitude.

What did it mean? Was it a sign? A vision? Or was being alone simply driving him mad?

Either way, she wasn’t likely to leave his mind any time soon. He had no idea who she was or what she was, but by God she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. His heart fluttered as his mind wandered back to the moment when he’d seen her.

He shook his head, laughing at himself. “Yer a fool, Fraser.”


After what felt like days of walking, Jamie finally, finally, found paradise. A small tavern with a few outbuildings surrounding it. He received many sideways glances and looks of disgust, but he was so tired and hungry he didn’t care.

“What can I get you?” Came a soft voice from behind the bar.

“Anything that’s edible.” He laughed, while searching his pack for the little money he had left.

When she returned with his meal, he was so focused on the food, he hadn’t even looked up.

But after a few bites he finally glanced at the hand that fed him, and nearly choked as a result.

It was her.

That morning, he hadn’t even seen her face. But he was sure it was her.

“Are you alright?” She asked, trying her best not to laugh at his ridiculous face.

“Fine.” He choked out, along with wet eyes and a red face.

It hasn’t even been ten minutes and ye’ve already made a fool of yerself.

She crossed her arms and smiled as he took a swig of ale. “Good, It’d be a shame if you died without paying.”


He had finished his supper long ago, and they were the only two who remained. She was everything he imagined her to be, and more. She was no ordinary woman, and with each passing minute, she only became more interesting. More beautiful. More perfect.

“So where are you headed?” She asked with her head propped in her hand.

“Nowhere in particular.” He smiled as he gazed into deep amber eyes, losing himself in them. “To be honest, I haven’t any place to go.”

She frowned and paused, deciding whether or not to speak her mind.

“Well, I have an extra room upstairs. You’re welcome to stay there until you figure it out.” She hardly knew the man. He had come out of nowhere, resembling the lowliest of beggars. Yet there was something about him, something that drew her to him. He was handsome, and charming. There was no doubting that. But it was as if he didn’t even know it. He was so kind and genuine, nowhere near the same as the other men that came through.

“I haven’t anything to pay ye with!” He exclaimed, eyes wide. He never wanted to leave, but he wouldn’t take advantage her like this.

“Well I can’t let you just sleep in the dirt, can I?” She smiled and turned to clear away the mess of her departed patrons.

“Aye, ye could. I could be a killer for all you know.” He quipped.

“Are you?” Her voice was steady, confident.

“No…” He mumbled.

“Then there’s nothing to worry about.” She flashed him a smile and motioned for him to follow her once everything had been put away.

He clenched his jaw, bit his tongue, and did as he was bid.

She lead him to the back of the tavern, up some stairs and stopped outside a large door. The room was small, but it had a bed and a fireplace, which was more than Jamie could have asked for.

“You can stay here until you have a place.”

He stood there, completely dumbfounded.

“I have nothing to give ye.” He tried again, he didn’t want to impose. He had nothing to pay her with, and she was willingly giving him food and board. And to a stranger at that.

“You will.” She smirked, and turned to leave, but hesitated, glancing at him over her shoulder.

“What’s your name?”

“James, but ye can call me Jamie.”

“Goodnight, Jamie.” She smiled, and then disappeared into the confines of her own room.

“Goodnight, Sassenach.” He whispered into the empty darkness. He didn’t even know her name.

Alla Prima: Chapter 8

Date Night: Part Deux! 

Prologue   Chapter 1   Chapter 2  Chapter 3   Chapter 4   Chapter 5   Chapter 6    Chapter 7


“Just ahead. To the left.” Hand in Jamie’s, Claire was leading him through the downtown streets. She had suggested that they grab a coffee for dessert, and, apparently, knew just the place.

“If we get there, and it’s just a Starbucks… I’ll no be very happy…”

He saw the flash of her teeth in the beaming streetlight. “Now, you know I have better taste than that.” Jamie could practically hear the eye roll in her voice.

“If ye say so…” Jamie remarked, pushing his shoulder against hers. Teasing her.

Claire pushed back. Teasing him.

“This way, dear.” Pulling his arm sharply, she led him into a small, dim shop.

It felt…cozy, Jamie thought, with its wood floors and brick walls, all different shades of brown. A few people were littered about on squished armchairs and unsteady bar stools, but, altogether, the place was fairly empty. The aroma of strong coffee, however, was a promising sign.

Jamie leaned over, and whispered in Claire’s ear. “Are ye sure this is a good place?” He was only half-teasing. 

She bumped him on the shoulder again. “Hush! It’s amazing! Best kept secret in town, in my opinion.”

“Sure.”

“Here. You go find a seat. I’m going to order for you. I won’t steer you wrong. Promise.” 

“Sure,” he repeated, rummaging in his pockets for his wallet.

“Stop. My treat!” Before he could argue, she had skipped to the counter. 

Sighing, Jamie wandered over to the back corner, sinking into the spongy leather sofa.

Christ, I’ll never be able to get up from this thing…

He watched Claire as she dropped money in the tip jar, and scampered over to him, hips swaying slightly. Jesus…

With a flourish, she presented him with the extra huge coffee cup.

“God, Sassenach. This coffee is as big as my forearm.” Jamie held up his arm for comparison. He wasn’t exaggerating. “How much did this cost ye?”

She plopped down beside him, the cushions practically eating her. “None of your business. I said it was my treat.”

“Well, will ye at least tell me what it is?” Flaring his nostrils, he took an exploratory sniff of the drink. Strong, with a hint of sweetness. Remind ye of anyone, Fraser?

“It’s my favorite. Just a vanilla and cinnamon latte. But, they make it perfectly here. I love it.” To prove her point, she closed her eyes and took a long drink. Her subsequent blissful sigh gave Jamie feelings inappropriate for a public area. “Ahhh…”

Clearing his throat: “Ahem, well, cheers.” He lifted his ridiculously large cup in a salute, and sipped.

The concoction was just as he predicted. A lovely, sweet flavor doused his tongue before being overwhelmed by the bitterness of the coffee.

When he came up from his drink, he saw Claire watching him expectantly. “Well…?”

“Its very good, Sassenach. Sweet, but no too sweet.”

She beamed. “Great! I’ve got a question though.” Jamie raised a brow. “What does ‘sassenach’ mean?” 

“Oh, weel, it’s Gaelic, ye ken?” She nodded, urging him to continue. “It means ‘Englishman.’ Or woman. It’s no normally a verra positive nickname, but…”

“But…?”

“Weel, my mother’s family is from Scotland, but she was born in England. My father always called her that. I didna ken it was….mean until I was much older. I’m sorry.” He felt… vulnerable telling this story. Did that mean he felt the same about her as his father did about his mother? If so, that would be truly embarrassing.

But, Claire just laughed. “Don’t be. It’ll be our little secret. People with think you’re calling me names, but only we’ll know the truth.” Her little wink made his heart beat a little faster.

“Aye. An inside joke, then.”

“Exactly! So, I’ve got another question for you.”

“Okay.”

“I’ve never really gotten to know an artist before. I’m curious. Where do you get your ideas for your art?”

You.

“Weel, sometimes it’s nature. Sometimes it’s dreams. Sometimes it’s people. So, I guess ye could say it’s a little bit of everything.”

Her eyes were wide in fascination. “Do you paint more realistic stuff, or…?”

“I suppose it depends. I dinna think I have a set style. Yet, anyway. Picasso wasna abstract artist at first, ye ken. I think… I just like color. No matter what I do: realistic, abstract, whatever. It’s the colors that matter.”

“You know, I would love to see some of your work sometime.” She placed a hand on his forearm, and squeezed gently.

Jesus…

“Aye. I… um… I’d love to show ye sometime.” Beaming. That was the only way Jamie could describe Claire’s smile then. It was beaming.

“Awesome. I’ll–”

“Claire!” The deep voice coincided with the dinging of the bell above the door. A small, lithe man appeared before them, a handsome smile on his face.

Claire jumped, throwing herself into his arms. “What are you doing here?”

They spoke. Jamie knew, because he could see their lips moving. But all he heard was his own pounding heart in his ears. Surely, she would have mentioned a… a boyfriend.

Blush rose on his face, chin to forehead. He was hot. His jaw clenched in a painful way. His fingernails dug into the palm of his hand.

Jamie was absolutely, undeniably jealous.

“Jamie? Jamieeeee?” Claire’s voice separated him from his thoughts. Clearing his head, he saw her arm looped tightly around the small man.

Damn it.

Unsure that he could form words at that moment, Jamie replied with a noise. “Hmmm?”

“This is Fergus. My cousin. Fergus, this is Jamie.”

Cousin?

It was obvious, then. The pointed features that once drew him to Claire were present in this man’s face. The same dark curls fell roguishly on his forehead.

Cousin.

You’re an arse, Fraser.

“Hey, nice to meet you, Jamie.” The man, Fergus, held out his hand, an amiable squint in his eyes.

100% arse-face.

“Nice to meet ye, too.” Jamie grasped his hand in a shake, feeling quite ashamed. But, this all went unnoticed by Fergus.

“Well, I’ll leave you both to it.” He turned to take his leave, but instead made a complete 360. “Oh, I almost forgot! Marsali said dinner on Tuesday, Claire. She’s making…something or other. You’re more than welcome to bring Jamie.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks!” He blew her a kiss, before turning his attention to the barista at the counter.

“The two of ye seem very close.”

“Oh! Yeah, we grew up together. Remember I told you about Lamb? That’s his son.”

“I thought your uncle was a bachelor?”

“Oh, he is. Lamb had a short affair with Fergus’ mother. They never wed. She lost custody of Fergus when he was young. Drug habits. So, he lived with Lamb. He’s like a brother to me.”

“That’s wonderful, truly. I dinna ken what I’d do without my brother and sister, even when they’re being arses.”

Claire chimed a short laugh. “I understand that. Family is important.” He felt her warm hand rest gently on his. “Friendships are as well.”

***

“I told you, you don’t have to walk me to the door.” The complaint was half-hearted; Claire was grinning the whole time.

“I’m a gentleman.”

“Of course you are. But it’s unnecessary.”

“And, it’s too late. We’re already at the door.”

“Well, thank you, gentleman.” Her face grew serious. “I really did have a wonderful time tonight.”

“Me too.” Deep breath. “At the risk of sounding like a fool, I’ve got to ask…”

Her head cocked to the side. “Yeah?”

Another deep breath. “Wasthisadate?” Smooth.

Before he could feel embarrassed, her hands came up to cup his cheeks, cool against the blush the rose there. It was slow motion, almost. Her eyes closed first, the dark lashes brushing her cheekbones. Then, she moved forward. Slowly, slowly. At the last second, her lips puckered slightly.

And, she kissed him.

Though a seemingly long kiss, it was quite chaste. She could have been nude, though, with the way Jamie’s blood was pumping. When he regained all motor function, he wrapped his arms around her lacy waist, pulling her a bit closer.

It wasn’t close enough, of course.

She broke away first, looking up at him through her lashes. “Was…did…did that answer your question okay?”

“Oh, um, aye. Um…yes.”

She giggled at his flustered speech, and he smiled back. “Will you text me when you make it home?”

“Aye, of course.”

“Well, then. Goodnight Jamie.”

He felt emboldened. Leaning down, he placed a quick peck on her lips.. “Goodnight, Claire.”

The Birds and the Bees- Meihem One-Shot (NSFW)

The question had come from nowhere.

Mei hadn’t been expecting it at all, not while she was laying in bed still panting and sweating, her body only just starting to cool from their third round of the night.

Junkrat had returned from a mission in Egypt, arriving on a ship that had landed earlier that evening after almost four weeks away. The junker had shoved his way past his colleagues, waved Roadhog off as his bodyguard headed for the cafeteria, made a beeline for Mei’s dorms, and had set upon her like a man possessed as soon as she’d barely opened the door. That had been hours ago, and the junker’s libido was finally starting to slow down, allowing Mei to at least catch her breath. She was an absolute mess, her hair damp and sticking out in all directions, her body flushed pink and glistening with perspiration, and the insides of her thighs were still wet and sticky. He had just rolled off her in a similar state of disarray, though disarray was hardly an unusual state for him in the first place. He was grinning as always, laying sprawled on his back next to the dazed woman atop her rumpled snowflake sheets.

There was finally room for something else in his brain, able to think of something other than sex. Well, the thoughts were still sex-related, but he wasn’t really sure where they had come from. He’d taken Mei to bed countless times since their first night together and he’d never really thought of it before. He’d been focused on…other things at the time. Still, the thought he had was intriguing. Really, it was a good question, he decided, so he turned to her and he asked it.

“Oi, Mei.”

“Mm?” She gave a little moan next to him, eyes closed and barely listening.

“Did ya ever want a baby?”

Keep reading

Collision Course - Part Eight

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven


They rode in silence, only the occasional directions to the horses or calls to break for food or water.

It surprised Claire that Frank was so quiet but she presumed it was because he found Murtagh intimidating and her own silence daunting. As Murtagh erected a small camp for the night, Claire left Frank to cope with being saddle sore and wandered off to gather kindling for their fire. In the woods she realized how different silence was from solitude.

Her heart was heavy and she knew why; she missed Jamie. With Frank riding behind her sharing a horse, it was impossible not to be reminded of those first days after she traveled through the stones and the solid, reassuring presence of Jamie at her back, sheltering her and keeping her warm. Had she ever felt quite that way with Frank? Or was she misremembering all of it? She had wanted to get back to the standing stones so she could get back to Frank since she’d arrived, she just hadn’t succeeded before he showed up there himself. During that first ride with Jamie, she had been in shock and denial about what had truly happened; she had been surrounded by a band of ruthless Highlanders who thought she was an English spy and easily could have killed her.

She should be relieved that this whole ordeal was ending. In a few days time she would be back in the twentieth century; she would be able to soak in a nice hot bath, wash her hair properly, even shave her legs; no more stays or layers of skirts to trip over; bedding with clean sheets and no lingering smell of a chamberpot tucked away under the bed.

And Frank would be the one lying beside her. His wounds would be tended in a proper hospital and then they would go back to Oxford and pick up where they’d left off before their holiday had been so abruptly derailed.

That’s what their holiday had been about in the first place––picking up where they’d left off before the war. Was it possible too much had happened? She tried to think of what Frank must have gone through since her disappearance, the trauma of traveling through the stones and to so quickly fall into Black Jack Randall’s clutches; she had come dangerously close to that herself.

She did understand Frank’s position and she felt for him but there was something more holding her back.

Jamie.

He would be all right without her… wouldn’t he? Did she want him to be?

She scolded herself for thinking something so selfish. Of course she wanted him to be happy… she would simply be happier if it was her making him happy.

But she couldn’t have things both ways; she couldn’t reconcile the vows she’d made to Frank all those years ago––the vows that had sent her searching for a way back to Craig na Dun in the first place––with whatever it was she felt for Jamie.

She carried the kindling back to their camp and started the fire. Murtagh disappeared to see about supplementing their provisions with some fresh meat and Claire took one of Frank’s bandage-wrapped wrists into her lap to inspect the state of the wounds. They were still redder and more swollen than she would like. Prodding gently, some puss squeezed from the edges of the scabbed over cuts. He needed antibiotics.

“You’re still wearing it,” Frank remarked flatly, surprising Claire.

She reached for a salve from her medical kit and began lightly applying it to the infected wound.

“Wearing what?”

With his other bandaged hand, Frank reached over and tapped Claire’s left hand.

Her thumb instinctively felt for the iron band of her wedding ring, her heart steadied by its reassuring warmth on her finger.

She looked back at Frank’s arm in her lap and shrugged.

“Don’t really notice it,” she said dismissively. “Slipped my mind.”

“You should give it to his friend there,” Frank nodded toward Murtagh who was nearly finished with their tents for the evening. “He can return it.”

Claire clenched her teeth and ignored Frank. She could not tell Frank that Jamie had said she could keep the ring because that would show that she had thought about it and she would also feel compelled to tell Frank that she had asked to keep it in the first place.

Luckily, Frank was perceptive enough to drop the subject and instead began expressing concerns about his arms.

“You’ll be fine,” Claire assured him. “Once you get back, it’s just a matter of getting antibiotics for the infection. You probably won’t want to roll up your sleeves too often because of the scars––those are probably unavoidable at this point.”

“Once we get back,” Frank emphasized quietly.

Claire felt her cheeks flush momentarily but continued applying the salve uninterrupted. “You know what I meant.”

Having finished with the salve, she turned to put the jar away in her medical kit and thought she might have heard Frank mutter, ‘Do I?’ under his breath. She ignored him and set about re-wrapping his wrists, the rest of the treatment performed in silence.

Murtagh insisted she and Frank take the makeshift tent for the night.

“I’ll stay by the fire and keep watch,” he told her.

“You’ll need to sleep eventually,” Claire reminded him but Murtagh shrugged off her concern.

“I dinna sleep deep on the moors. There’s not much as might happen that willna wake me wi’ no time to act.”

Claire didn’t bother to argue; she helped Frank settle onto the roll of bedding before stretching out beside him. It was closer than they’d been sleeping in the cave where she preferred to rest propped against the cave wall, afraid of disturbing his much needed rest. They didn’t speak but rolled towards each other. She felt Frank’s lips brush her forehead and turned her face up to his.

There was a moment of hesitation and she realized that she hadn’t kissed him since they’d rescued him; not once. She felt a twinge of shame. After all he’d been through, she hadn’t thought to embrace him or even offer him a loving caress. She had been too wrapped up in his medical care and how Jamie was handling everything.

She reached up now and ran her fingers lightly along the stubble on Frank’s cheek. It was rougher than she anticipated. Her thumb slipped down and traced the Frank’s lower lip before he brought his mouth to meet hers.

She remembered his kiss, the warmth of his lips on hers, and the sureness behind it. She let her eyes close so that when he pulled away, he couldn’t read what she was thinking. He lightly bumped her forehead with his chin, a question.

“We should get some rest,” she whispered, her hands drifting down and lightly rubbing his upper arms. “We still have a long few days before we get to the stones.”

He smiled against her forehead, satisfied for now, then shifted and brought his bandaged arm up to hold her close to him. Her head rested on his shoulder and she felt him relax beneath her cheek. Her body relaxed too but her mind refused to settle.

She lay there entirely awake but unmoving until she was sure he slept deeply. Then gingerly, she moved his arm from off of her and rolled away.

“Are you all right?” Frank whispered. She hadn’t been subtle enough.

“Of course,” she assured him, moving to rise. “I just need to go… you know.”

There was a muffled chuckle from where he shifted himself into a more comfortable position. “That’s something you must have missed––running water and proper lavatories.”

“You have no idea,” she murmured, ducking through the flap of the tent.

Murtagh sat up from his spot beside the low campfire, his dirk in his hand until he recognized that it was only Claire.

“Mistress,” he murmured before laying back.

Claire wandered off into the woods for a moment to keep up the pretense and prayed that Frank would be asleep again by the time she got back.

How was she going to do it? How was she supposed to go back with Frank and be his wife again when every time he touched her she felt the rising shame of betrayal? She wasn’t even sure which betrayal was behind the shame. She remembered how it had been to kiss Frank before, the way it built slowly, the way her body would arch towards him. She remembered but it hadn’t been like that tonight. He had kissed her and it had been lovely but it had been a kiss like any other. She had waited and searched for that deeper stirring but it didn’t come.

There were no visible flames left in the small circle of stones they’d used to contain the fire but the spot still gave off a reassuring heat. Claire found Murtagh sitting again when she returned a few moments later.

“Ye’re bad as Jamie when he’s something on his mind,” Murtagh said, nodding to an empty space next to him.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” she murmured, taking him up on the offer to put off going back in with Frank.

Claire stared into the embers of the fire. There weren’t any visible flames but a warm red color ebbed and flowed, pulsing with life. She didn’t notice but the fingers of her left hand were playing with the ring on her right, turning it in circles so the nub where the two ends had been joined orbited her middle knuckle, catching whenever she slightly bent the finger.

“Ye canna choose where yer affections lie,” Murtagh said quietly.

Claire’s fingers stilled but she wouldn’t look at Murtagh.

“But that doesna mean there isna a choice involved in what ye do about it… even if sometimes it doesna feel like it. Maybe… maybe it’s like yer stones.”

At that, Claire did look over at Murtagh, but with confusion.

“Ye didna choose to pass through them, no?” he asked.

“Of course not. I didn’t even know what had happened at first,” she agreed.

“Like falling in love,” Murtagh mused but this time there was something heavier in it, something more personal. A smile played on his lips and the way he stared into the glowing embers was like looking into a memory. He wasn’t talking about her but about someone he had loved once, maybe still did––perhaps that was why he seemed to have so much to say.

“By the time ye realize it, ye’re smack dab in the middle wi’out realizin’ how ye got there. Ye can trace yer path back and ye might come to ken the moment it happened, but ye canna always make yer way back out of it again… I dinna ken anyone tha’s chosen to go back to try to find their way out… at least, none tha’s succeeded.”

“You don’t think it will be possible to pass back through the stones?” Was it fear or hope that she heard in her voice.

Murtagh shrugged. “Dinna ken. Might depend on whether yer heart’s in it.” He looked over at her at last and she felt her face flush, grateful that the dying fire didn’t cast enough light for him to be able to see it.

“Who was she?” Claire asked, turning the conversation onto Murtagh. “The woman you couldn’t find your way out of loving.”

Murtagh looked away again and Claire was about to apologize for asking when he murmured, “Ellen MacKenzie. I doubt I was the first to love her––though, I loved her before Brian Fraser, having met her first… But he loved her the way she wanted… and needed.”

“Jamie told me about them,” Claire explained. “About the Gathering where they met.”

“Aye. Ye can see it, ye ken––no with yerself… no right away. But ye can see it in a man’s face if ye watch careful like… the moment it happens and he has to make a choice what to do next.”

“You saw it with Brian Fraser?”

Murtagh nodded. “Him… and others.” Murtagh reached forward with his dirk and poked at one of the larger pieces of wood, rolling it onto the other side. The smoldering bottom, exposed to the air but not the heat, faded to white ash even as smoke erupted from beneath as the untouched side began to burn.

“We’ve another two maybe three days till we reach the stones,” he informed her. “Best get what sleep ye can. We’ll be needin’ to keep a closer eye for Red Coats as we’re gettin’ nearer Fort William.”

Claire rose and left to join Frank in the tent. He was asleep on his side, his bandaged forearms laid gently one atop the other beside his head. She lay down and turned onto her side as well but with her back towards his.

A Wild Night in Vegas -- Part 10

I feel like I say this with every chapter, but Ish and I enjoy this AU so much. It’s helped keep us sane in crazy days of stress and confusion and all sorts of things. Hope you like this chapter!

Catch up on all previous installments on my Master List


Fraser Bairn Watch: Month 4

Things were definitely beginning to change inside her body. She could feel it, even as she watched the changes. Her belly was beginning to really grow now, no longer appearing as if she’d eaten too much. Some mornings she would steal Jamie’s phone before he woke and flip through the photos he had of her belly. There were only a few of them, since they’d found out late, but he kept them in their own folder in his phone.

That was one of the best things about this situation. No matter how she was feeling, how many times she’d thrown up, or how many evenings she fell asleep halfway through her meal, he was happy. He was overjoyed to watch her grow.

She wasn’t getting as sick this month, though it still happened. Jamie was so good about making sure whatever had triggered her sickness didn’t make it onto the grocery list for that week.

He came home, several bags of groceries in his hands and a small bundle of flowers.

“You’re going to spoil me, Jamie Fraser. If you’re not careful, I’ll start expecting flowers every month.”

With a wink and a kiss on her cheek, he went to set the bags down. As he put their groceries away, she set the roses up in the vase where the previous three had been.

“Four roses for four months,” he said, coming up behind her. “Because I love ye more than my own life and I thank ye for carrying my bairn.”

The following day, she went to work as she usually did, armed with a cool water bottle and several frozen washcloths to help keep her cool. She’d had an idea brewing in her mind, but she hadn’t figured out how to execute it yet.

Jamie had done so much for her, given up so many things for her, and steadfastly held true since before she had moved out and back (if she was honest with herself), and she wanted to figure out what she could do for him. He wasn’t a materialistic man, he didn’t need things. She wanted to do something else, take him somewhere closer to home, but still have it feel like a getaway.

There were quite a few options that they could afford that were nearby, but she hadn’t been able to make a concrete decision yet. As she finished her shift, she watched a young family wander through the gardens. The man and woman held hands as they walked, their eyes content as they looked at each other. Their little girl toddled around them, eager to explore everything around her. Both parents looked at their child with such tenderness and fondness that Claire felt tears pricking her eyes.

The whole drive home, the image of the young family played in her mind’s eye. When she walked in the door, she stared around the front room with her mouth open. She wasn’t a messy person by nature, but with her odd cravings at times, she ate food just about everywhere. Jamie never complained about it either, which was comforting. Frank had hated if she’d had a snack somewhere other than the kitchen table.

But the entire apartment, from what she could see, was spotless. The carpet was freshly vacuumed, she could still see the lines in it, and everything had been dusted. When she put her bag down and headed into the kitchen for the extra washcloth Jamie kept frozen for her, she noticed that he’d even mopped and wiped down the counter. The bathroom was also probably wiped down and scrubbed as well, if he’d gone to this much trouble.

He was moving about the kitchen as if some exciting tune was playing that only he could hear. As he did, he hummed something she didn’t recognize. Sometimes when he was in a really good mood, he’d hum or chant something he’d heard growing up in Scotland. Given the cadence she thought this thing he was humming might be along those lines.

A pot sat on the stove, Jamie stirring its contents. She thought she smelled chili powder, but wasn’t sure. He had a few other bowls sitting out on the counter filled with a few different things and she realized what he was making. Meatless taco salad. It was something he’d tried a few weeks back and she’d loved it. None of the things in it had made her sick or given her heartburn.

Watching him swaying to his own music, an overwhelming sense of fondness flooded her and she began weeping.

“Claire?” He turned suddenly, surprised to see her standing behind him and noticed the tears flowing down her cheeks. “Christ! Are ye alright lass?! The bairn?”

Unable to form words, she just stared at his blurry image and wept.

“Is it something in the kitchen bothering ye? I thought it was alright last time and ye liked it so much… If it’s too much I can make something else.”

“No! No don’t do that!” she said, suddenly finding the words. “It’s just… You’re such a good man, Jamie. I know you had training at work today and you still had the time to come home and clean our whole apartment and make dinner. I just… I’m just…”

When the words fled from her mind again, she reached for him and brought his lips down to hers. He was surprised at first, but quickly melted into her embrace and returned it.

“I love you too, mo chridhe,” he whispered when she let him go. “Are ye sure the bairn’s alright?”

“Yes,” she said, spreading her hand over the small swell. “We’re both alright. I was just a little emotional. These goddamned bloody hormones. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, laughing, and went back to them stove.

“Dinna apologize for that, Sassenach. It comes wi’ the territory of you being wi’ child.”

She smiled. “How long until dinner is ready?”

“Only a few more minutes. Just need to heat the beans and corn back up and throw it all together.”

The idea that had been forming in her mind came suddenly to life and she knew what she needed to do.

“Alright. I just have a few things I need to do on the computer.”

Before she turned away, he took two steps toward her and stole another kiss.

Sitting down at her desk, she opened up her laptop and began researching Lake Mead. It was about an hour from their apartment and would be a perfect thing for them to do. They could get away without really going anywhere and have some time just to themselves. She knew Jamie would love it.

Friday night, she snuggled up to him and began playing with the hairs on his chest.

“Have you any plans this weekend?”

“Ah… No, I dinna think so. Why?”

“What if we went to Lake Mead for the day tomorrow?”

Craning his neck, he looked down at her, brows raised.

“Oh? For the day? We dinna have a boat.”

“No, but we can rent one.”

He leaned down and kissed her forehead.

“Aye, I’d like that verra much, Sassenach. Thank ye.”

“Well, this is sort of my way to say thank you actually. You’ve done so much for me since I told you I was pregnant. You’ve taken such good care of me, so I’ve got a whole day planned for us.”

“Have ye now? Been planning this for some time, then?”

She shrugged.

“Not really. It’s been brewing in my head for a while, but it only just fell into place.”

“I look forward to seeing what ye’ve planned for us, then.”

With a smile, she hugged him tightly and relaxed into sleep.

The following morning, she packed a few things into a large bag and they drove out to Lake Mead. They picked up their rental boat and Jamie set out to find a spot of beach just for them. It was hot, but being out on the lake was more fun than she’d expected. She stayed under the awning with him while he drove the boat around.

He looked good out here, dressed only in his swim trunks as he’d shed his shirt as soon as they’d gotten on the boat. She wore the only swimsuit she owned, but had put his shirt on over it.

“It’s a beautiful day,” he said, staring out at the blue water.

“It really is. I was worried it might rain, but it looks like the sky has cleared up.”

“Aye. Thank ye, Sassenach. This is a verra nice thing to do.”

They ate lunch on the beach, laying out on the towels she’d brought with them. It was too hot to be too near each other, but they were comfortable this way.

“We canna make love on a public beach, can we?” he asked some time later.

Claire snorted.

“This corner might be secluded, but it’s not that secluded. See?” she nodded to someone flying by on a jet ski.

He sighed.

“Someday I want to take ye somewhere and make love to ye on a beach.”

“Why?”

“Dinna ken. Something I’ve never done and I suspect ye havena either. Always thought it would be verra romantic to do that.”

She smiled at him.

“You really are a romantic at heart, aren’t you?”

“Aye, maybe I am. Ye said ye had other plans for us today?”

“I do. We’ll need to head back soon so I can get started on our dinner.”

Nodding, he helped her up and gathered her into his arms for a very thorough kiss.

“Then let’s return the boat and head home.”

On the drive back, she dozed off a little. Jamie woke her when they got back to their apartment.

“Can I help ye wi’ the meal?”

“No, you can’t. Go and read or watch TV or something. It’s my turn to appreciate all that you’ve done for me.”

Pursing his lips, he grunted and went to the couch to read. She got to work on a full dinner for him. Pan-seared steaks, his favorite garlic mashed potatoes, and cheesy broccoli. The last time he’d had cheesy broccoli had been over a month before and it had ended with her vomiting in the bathroom. But she knew how much he’d loved it, so she made it for him.

When the meal was all done, she set the table and looked proudly at all she’d done.

“Christ Sassenach, this looks amazing!”

“I hope so. It’s all your favorites.”

“And the cheesy… Claire, ye dinna need to cook things ye canna eat.”

Shaking her head, she motioned to his seat and he took it.

“This is something you like, Jamie. I wanted to do this for you.”

“It isna fair for me to eat it and you to-”

“I made you these bloody cheesy broccoli to say thank you, damn it! Will you not just eat them?!”

He blinked and looked down sheepishly.

“You’re right. I’m sorry, Sassenach. I appreciate that ye made them for me.”

“Good. Now eat up. I have one last thing planned for tonight.”

After they finished, Jamie insisted that she leave the dishes for him to take care of the next day. Reluctantly, she agreed.

“So what are we to do next? Dessert, perhaps?”

The glint in his eye made her giggle a little.

“Maybe later. How are your shoulders?”

He moved them stiffly, as if his shirt didn’t fit him quite right.

“Still sore. But no’ so bad as they were a few days ago. Ye’ve a good touch.”

“Lie down on the bed. Take off your shirt and trousers.”

As he did, she caught the wince he tried to hide. No matter what he did, all of the tension and soreness from his work ended up in his broad shoulders. He lay down on their bed arms folded beneath the pillow she’d moved for him.

“I’m glad we did this today,” she said, running her hands up his back.

He shivered a little, gooseflesh rippling over him

“Aye, me too. It’s always good to get away wi’ you. Helps to get away from the city and the strip. Sometimes I think…”

Squeezing the bottle of oil, which she’d gotten specifically with this in mind, onto his back, she began to work it into his muscles.

“Think what?”

“You’ll think I’m daft.”

“I live with you. I already know you’re daft.”

One blue eye opened a crack to glare at her. She smiled at it and started digging her fingers into his tense back.

“Weel now I’m no’ gonna tell you.”

“Please? I like to hear what you’re thinking.”

A knot in his lower back gave way and he let out a deep sigh.

“Weel… Sometimes I find myself thinking that if the whole world fell away, I would be alright. Because I have you.”

Again, she felt tears in her eyes.

“Oh Jamie, that’s very sweet. I couldn’t think you daft for that.”

“Thank ye, Sassenach.”

Working slowly, she released the knots in his lower back and middle back before reaching his shoulders. His breathing was slow and even, but he wasn’t asleep. She climbed onto the bed and held herself above him to get a better angle.

Putting as much pressure into her hands as she could, she compelled the knots to release. Closing her eyes, she imagined the muscle held beneath his skin. She thought of how they should look, how they should feel, how they should move. Kneading and pressing in the places her hands told her, she continued until she felt the tightness give. Jamie let out a mighty gasp, his body flinching beneath her.

“Oh… Claire that…”

“Did it work?”

“Aye, lass. It worked verra well. I dinna think my shoulders have felt this good in weeks.”

With a pleased smile, she got off the bed.

“Good! That was the whole point of doing this, after all.”

Jamie rolled onto his back, staring up at her. His eyes drooped, but they glittered with desire and mischief.

“Though, now that ye have me thinkin’…”

Claire snorted, already opening the bottle of oil again.

“What? Are you going to tell me your cock has a certain stiffness as well?”

He smirked at her and shook his head.

“It doesna yet. But I think other bits of me could use yer touch.”

As she looked his body over, she thought it would be most enjoyable to start from the bottom and work her way up, skipping sensitive areas. With the majority of his body now covered in oil, she felt her own desire stirring. How could someone be so perfectly formed? In the waning light of the room he looked like a sculpture of a Greek god, in the living flesh.

Her eyes darted down to his crotch and she smiled. Living flesh indeed. Flesh that she needed to feel. Hands back on his chest, she made the mistake of looking up to meet his eyes.

She was drawn to him by some invisible force. He made no move for her and said nothing. Yet he compelled her to bring herself closer. Was it the eyes? Perhaps. But it was also more than that, as if his soul was calling to hers and it was calling back.

Before she even realized how close to him she was, her mouth found his. Both of his arms came around her waist then and pulled her up onto the bed. Feeling his body beneath hers shortened her breath.

At some point, he’d begun to pull her jeans off. Forcing herself to get off him for a moment, she stood and finished what he’d started. Jamie was not one for remaining idle, though. Hopping to his own feet, he pulled her to him and kissed her hard.

His skin was smooth to her hands, oiled as it was. She couldn’t help but smile when his hands found her buttocks, squeezing them excitedly. Then he pushed her panties off before removing his boxers.

“I must have ye now, Claire,” he said, voice strained with his desire.

“Then have me,” she answered.

He brought her back into his arms and began to tug at her shirt. She shied away from him, pulling it back down. His brow furrowed at her, eyes narrowing in question.

“Just leave it.”

“And no’ see your beautiful body in all it’s naked glory? I think not, Sassenach. Off wi’ it.”

Reaching for it again, he had her stomach exposed before she started to pull it back down. For a moment, she thought about insisting, but that would lead to questions. Instead, she lifted her arms so he could take the last bit of covering from her.

He laid her down on their bed, pausing briefly to kiss her stomach. Then he moved back up to kiss her lips.

“Thank ye, Claire, for all you’ve done today. Taking me out for a day on the lake, cooking me a verra fine dinner, even wi’ things ye couldna eat. And then ye tend my body? I’ve never kent a woman like you.”

“I don’t think there’s ever been a woman quite like me before,” she sighed before stroking his face. “Or a man quite like you.”

“I’m glad I found ye.”

She opened her mouth to say something back, but was cut off by his sudden thrust. Whatever she’d done to help relieve the tension in his back and shoulders had clearly made him feel better. He moved with a frenzy she hadn’t felt in some time, like he was making love to her for the first time.

Her legs couldn’t lock around him, constantly slipping off his body from the oil as much as his vigor. She let her head fall back onto the pillow. His lips visited her neck, biting gently. Her back arched off the bed in response, hands clawing at his back uselessly as they slipped and slid against his skin. Lifting her head up, she bit his neck in kind, spurring him to rear up and continue his merciless attack on her body, hands exploring every piece of her as she did the same.

Overwhelmed by the animalistic feelings aroused in him, he pushed on, growling into Claire’s ear, “Ye’re mine, mo nighean donn. Now and forever, yer mine.”

He gripped her hips to hold her body in position while he continued on. The end was coming nearer, her body preparing for that release it needed desperately. Taking a grip on his hair, she pulled him back down to her and bit his shoulder hard to mute her scream. Then he too cried out, his own body bucking against hers.

They lay together for several minutes, neither able to move after the climax faded. Jamie gave her a very sweet kiss before rolling onto his side. She curled up in his arms, observing the bright red mark she’d left him.

“Sorry about that one,” she said quietly, poking it.

He hissed a little.

“Dinna fash. Was worth a little pain to hear ye squeak like that.”

With a contented sigh, she pressed her ear to his chest and let his steady heartbeat sing her to sleep.

###

The following night, Jamie was nudged awake by his wife. Grunting, he forced his eyes open.

“Are ye alright?” he mumbled. “The bairn?”

“We’re alright. Would you mind… Maybe going and getting us some hot wings?”

“Are ye daft? I dinna even ken what the time is.”

With a heavy sigh, he looked at the clock on her bedside table.

2:31 AM

“Wings? Ye want hot wings? Now?”

She smiled sheepishly.

“Pregnancy cravings?”

“If ye start craving pickles wi’ yer ice cream, I’m moving out,” he said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “But if it’s hot wings ye need, it’s hot wings ye’ll get.”

“Thank you, darling.”

“Anything for you.”

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he tried to ignore the clock inside his car. He drove around for nearly half an hour until he found a place that was open and sold hot wings. As he pulled up to the window, his phone buzzed.

Hello darling. Could you maybe pick up some cheesy chips too? Thank you!

The speaker squacked and a woman yawned.

“What can I get you?”

“I’d like an order of hot wings and cheesy chips, please. Thank ye.”

“One order of hot wings and one order of nachos. That’ll be-”

“No, miss. I’m sorry. I mean cheese fries.”

“Hot wings, nachos, and cheese fries. That’ll be…”

Jamie rolled his eyes. He was too tired to argue with the woman at three in the morning.

He tripped several times as he went up the stairs to their apartment, but he kept the food from dropping. She was in bed, wiggling like an excited puppy. Her nose flared when he walked in.

“Did you get nachos too?”

“I forgot to say cheesy fries rather than cheesy chips, so she thought I meant nachos. But I got you proper chips too.”

Laying out a napkin on the bed, she pulled the things out of the bag and began shoveling them into her open mouth, still wiggling happily.

“Why did it take you so long?” she asked, licking hot sauce from her fingers.

“It isna easy to find a place that sells hot wings at three in the morning.”

When she smiled at him, he sighed and wiped the sauce from her chin.

“You’re a good husband.”

His heart leapt, hearing her say that, though he chose to keep that feeling to himself. Instead, he stole a cheesy and slightly spicy kiss from her.

“Here,” she said, setting the nachos out. “Share with me.”

“I wouldna dream of taking a pregnant woman’s late night cravings,” he said with a chuckle.

“Well this pregnant woman is sharing them with you. You went out at three in the morning to get them for me.”

With a nod, he gave in and split the nachos with her. They weren’t bad, he thought. When she finished, he gathered up the wrappings and took them to the kitchen trash.

Despite how tired he was now, the look of satisfaction on her face was worth it. He slid back into bed beside her and held her close. Her breath smelled like all the things she’d just eaten, but he didn’t mind.

###

After she showered in the morning, she went out to breakfast. Jamie beamed at her and kissed her cheek.

“Morning, Sassenach. Sleep well?”

“Very. Thank you for going out last night.”

“Dinna fash. Glad I got ye what ye needed. Oh! And it’s Monday. Ready for yer weekly photo?”

She was a little surprised he wanted to take it right now. It was usually something he did after he got home in the evenings.

“Oh, um… Sure, I guess.”

Going to the same spot she always stood in, she tentatively lifted her shirt to expose her growing belly. It felt heavier somehow, like a lead weight had settled in her stomach.

“Look at ye! Finally looking verra pregnant. Christ, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen!”

Verra pregnant.

Those words echoed through her mind all through her classes that day and through her short shift at the gardens. She’d known that she would get bigger, of course, she wasn’t stupid. But she wasn’t sure she liked how she was starting to look now.

She was nursing a mug of tea when Jamie came home.

“Sorry I’m home late,” he said, locking the door behind him.

“It’s alright. I just had some leftovers for dinner.”

“Are ye alright?”

She finished the tea and nodded.

“Yes, we’re both doing just fine.”

As she reached to put her mug in the sink, Jamie made a move to feel her stomach. It was something he’d done regularly since finding out about the baby. But with her newfound discomfort, she shied away from him, backing into the wall.

A hurt expression moved over his face before he stepped back. Unable to meet his eyes, she maneuvered around him to her desk to attempt studying while he ate his own leftovers for dinner. When they went to bed that night, she chose to wear a long night dress. It felt a little old fashioned, but the cut of it hid the new shapes of her body.

Jamie observed her new sleeping outfit with lifted brows, but he didn’t say anything. He only gathered her into his arms and held her as they went to sleep. She let him rest his hands on the bump, the deep-seated awful feeling she had at pulling away from him before tugging at her heart. She knew the coming days and months would bring more changes. All she could hope, for now, was that she’d grow to accept and embrace them.

anonymous asked:

I've been having the most crappiest months ever, my life is a mess right now and I am so fragile, everything makes me cry or feel emotionless. And to top it of my mum is having surgery tomorrow. I could really use a fluffy fic, to remember that hopefully everything will be alright. That there's a real son why I'm going through these horrible times xx

i’m so sorry this is weeks late, my love, i hope you’re doing okay, know i’m rooting for you, and here is some halloween sterek to hopefully make you feel better

*

The first Halloween back home from college is not one Stiles is looking forward to. Nor is it one he wants to celebrate with full force and a damn party.

Scott, however, is keen to embrace the festivities now they’re able to, and he arranges for all of them to go to a “sweet” Halloween do at the town hall.

Stiles mutters darkly about Winifred, Mary and Sarah coming to curse them all, and Derek (to his huge surprise) starts humming the creepy song from the start of the movie as he throws a cushion at Stiles’ head.

He’s seemingly, astonishingly, totally okay with going to a party for Halloween.

Stiles attempts to resist, but his best friend is just so damn earnest.

Derek doesn’t even try to fight Scott’s excited announcement, only asks if they have to wear costumes.

“Of course!” Scott bounces over, claps him on the shoulder, “That’s the whole point!”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

"#the last hours #not gonna lie #i want nothing to do with this series if matthew and james aren't canon" really? wtf?

yes, i said it.

first of all, james and matthew are very gay/bi/pan-coded in nothing but shadows, the book from shadowhunter academy where they meet and basically follow the classic enemies to friends to lovers trope that we all love so much. there are so many quotes that made myself as well as my best friend (we are obsessed with this otp together) believe that james and matthew were into each other in a non-straight/bro way. here are a few:

“That was when Matthew Fairchild said, “Sir,” and smiled.

James had forgotten about The Smile, even though it was often broken out to great effect at family parties. The Smile won Matthew extra time before bed, extra Christmas pudding, extra anything he wanted. Adults were helpless to resist The Smile.

Matthew gave his all to this particular smile. Butter melted. Birds sang. People slipped about dazed amid the butter and birdsong.”

okay sorry but does one really wax that fucking poetic about some guy they’re not attracted to? no.

then later, to further prove this point:

“Matthew glanced at him and smiled: it was The Smile, gradual and illuminating as sunrise, and James had the sinking feeling that he might not be immune after all.”

ha. not immune to The Smile. james refers to matthew’s smile as a proper fucking noun. that’s not gay at all, folks. also, referring to your bro’s smile as being akin to the sun, just bros being bros.

“I was jealous of you first. I was jealous of everything about you, and I still am.”

“Wait,” said Matthew. “Wait, wait, wait. You don’t like me because I am so very charming?”

He threw his head back and laughed. He kept laughing. He laughed so much that he had to come and sit beside James on the step, and then he laughed some more.

“Stop it, Matthew,” James grumbled. “Stop laughing. I am sharing my innermost feelings with you. This is very hurtful.”

“I’ve been in a bad mood this whole time,” said Matthew. “You think I’m charming now? You have no idea.”

James punched him in the arm. He could not help smiling. He saw Matthew noticing, and looking very pleased with himself.”

THIS IS GAY.

“He found Matthew looking at him. Matthew had known, all the time, exactly where he was.

“Jamie,” Matthew said, sounding unsettled but impressed. “That was terrifying.”

“It’s James, for the last time,” said James.

“No, I’m calling you Jamie for a little while, because you just displayed arcane power and calling you Jamie makes me feel better.”

James laughed, shakily, and that made Matthew smile. It did not occur to them until later that a student was dead, and the Shadowhunters feared and distrusted the demonic—that somebody would be blamed. James did not discover until the next day that his parents had been informed of everything that had transpired, and that he, James Herondale, was now officially expelled.”

to quote my best friend and roommate “when ur gonna be expelled but it’s chill bc ur crush smiled at u”

“Father, please,” James said in a quiet voice.

“Mr. Herondale, please!” said Matthew. “We cannot be parted.” James braced himself for the explanation about truth and beauty, but instead Matthew said, with devastating simplicity: “We are going to be parabatai.”

James stared.

Father said: “Oh, I see.”

Matthew nodded encouragingly, and smiled encouragingly.

“Then nobody should come between you,” said Father.

“Nobody.” Matthew shook his head as he said “nobody,” then nodded again. He looked seraphic. “Exactly.”

HMM INTERESTING. CAN’T BE SEPARATED FROM EACH OTHER. BUT DIDN’T ACTUALLY PLAN ON BECOMING PARABATAI, DID IT ON A WHIM. SOUND FAMILIAR? YEAH ITS THE SAME EXACT SCENARIO AS EMMA/JULIAN. BINCH

now here comes the gayest quote

“We don’t … have to be parabatai,” Matthew said, his voice quiet under the sound of the blast. “I said it to make your father take me with you, so I could execute my new plan, but we don’t … have to. I mean, unless you … maybe want to be.”

James had thought he wanted a friend like himself, a parabatai who was shy and quiet and would enter in on James’s feelings about the terror of parties. Instead here was Matthew, who was the life and soul of every party, who made dreadful hairbrush decisions, who was unexpectedly and terribly kind. Who had tried to be his friend and kept trying, even though James did not know what trying to be a friend looked like. Who could see James, even when he was a shadow.

“Yes,” James said simply.

“What?” said Matthew, who always knew what to say.

“I’d like that,” said James. He curled his hands, one around his father’s coat sleeve, and one around Matthew’s. He held on to them, all the way home.”

GAAAAYYYYY

moving on to my actual points.

i feel like it’s important to take into account that so far, emma and julian are the only parabatai relationship that’s been canon. (unless you count michael and robert, but since they never acted on those feelings in canon, and it never actually came to fruition bc robert had his Big Gay Panic, i’m not counting it for the sake of this argument.) if cassie is really telling us that in her four main series, as well as her side novellas and miniseries, etc. the only parabatai relationship we get to actually see be together and fall in love is a cishet couple, i will fucking scream. that’s really homophobic and gross, considering. but honestly cassie has never been into qu**r-baiting, that’s not her style. and homophobia has never been her thing. which is why i have to believe that matthew and james will be canon.

also, matthew is obviously not straight. and i’m not going to search for the ask, but cassie was once asked about matthew’s sexuality specifically, and she was like “i would rather… wait… till the books come out… for you to know.” or something to that degree. like, fam she would never say that if matthew was straight. like i said, not a qu**r-baiter. matthew is obviously into james, and their relationship as i said before was gay/bi/pan-coded in nothing but shadows. BUT you say, MAYBE james is straight and matthew’s love for him is just one-sided! and then he just ends up with a random dude side character!! um, no. that’s the same thing that happened with alec-jace-magnus in the mortal instruments. it would be lazy af to run with that same storyline again, and i honestly would fucking lose my mind if i had to deal with another unrequited gay parabatai love story ever again.

next, and honestly this is REALLY important to me as someone who’s not straight. clary, tessa, and emma. the three /main/ characters of the last three series were fucking straight. they were written straight in the books. canonically straight. yes obviously we all headcanon them as lgbt bc why wouldn’t we, but the point is that the narrative painted them as straight. (disclaimer, i have not read lord of shadows yet, so if emma and christina somehow got together in that book, i take this statement back.)

with her fourth and possibly final (??) series coming out, how could she pass up the chance to make the main character lgbt? the world has changed since she started publishing her books ten fucking years ago in 2007. readers and publishers are much more open and willing to accept lgbt main characters and main relationships. she made alec gay back in 2007, which honestly seemed groundbreaking at the time, but having a side lgbt relationship in your novel is hardly groundbreaking in 2017. everyone’s doing that. but, she has a chance now, with all her popularity and money, and the fact that her books no matter what are instant bestsellers, to finally make her /MAIN/ main character non-straight. she can do anything she fucking wants. so!!! why!!! not!!! make!!! james!!! fucking!!! herondale!!! bisexuall???

and another thing, while i’m ranting like the crazy person that i am. yes, clearly james and cordelia get ~married and have kids or whatever the fuck according to that family tree we saw when clockwork princess came out. BUT keep in mind that at the time, cassie herself said that the family tree had purposeful inaccuracies and she left out the fairchild family line on purpose.

cordelia imo is obviously going to bi, pan, or a lesbian, and end up with anna. that’s just my two cents, and honestly i’m really happy about that because in all her fifty or so books, the amount of wlw is astoundingly low. obviously theres helen/aline, but they are background characters and a background relationship, and we didn’t even see them get together. so i’m glad there will be a wlw relationship in the core main group of the last hours. STILL though, still, that just means that cordelia and james got fake married so they could be with other people. but back to my original point: it makes more sense for that person to be matthew, rather than grace.

another thought to consider is that tlh and tda are meant to parallel each other in multiple ways. i know this seems obvious, but i have to believe that one of these parallels is the whole falling-in-love-with-your-parabatai-making-you-both-monsters drama that jem brought up. JEM, who had a very close relationship with his favorite nephew james and tried to comfort him when james thought he was ‘becoming a monster’ in nothing but shadows. i haven’t even read lord of shadows yet but idgaf bc this obviously still holds up.

SO

tldr; obviously james and matthew should and can be together. and like i said in those tags, if they aren’t i have no interest in the book series.

5

Jerome x Reader

Part One  Part Three  Part Four  Part Five

Warnings: Strong language, violence, Jerome’s past

Sorry it’s so long!  


 

“Who was that?” James asked as you finally made your way to the cabin that Paul had set aside for emergencies.

“It was no one.” You sighed and ruffled his hair.

“But he looked exactly like me.” James pointed out.

“Promise me if he finds you at school or on the street you won’t go with him and you won’t listen to what he tells you?” you asked the boy who shrugged.

“Whatever.” He sighed, grabbing the bat he’d been lugging around all day.

“Do you want to talk about why you tried to hit that girl at school?” You asked awkwardly, carrying in the food that was still in the back of the car.

“I felt like it.” He snapped, suddenly angry as he stormed away.

Keep reading

He keeps me sane

Originally posted by chatnoirs-baton


  “CLOSE THE GATES” When they said they were closing the gate, while my little brother was out there was the worst feeling ever. His everything I have left.

  I was running towards the gates before they could close them. Sadly being stopped by my boyfriend Bellamy. 

  “You can’t go out there it’s too dangerous” Bellamy said holding my wrist. “My little brothers out there Bellamy. His scared. I need to help him! ” I shouted, by then I couldn’t control my tears.

  “There’s grounders out there Y/n. We’ll look for him in the morning, it’s to dark now” He said trying to calm me down. “C'mon lets go to the tent and sleep. First sign of daylight tomorrow and I’ll take a group out and we’ll go find him" We headed into the tent, holding onto Bellamy crying into his chest. 

  "You need to calm down, Y/n stressing won’t help you.” He said, holding me in his arms. “How, am I suppose to calm down? My little brother is in the woods, he could be hurt for all I know! His means everything to me Bellamy. When I was a little girl I didn’t have anyone, only him. He keeps me sane”

  “I know how you feel, I have a little sister. But right now Y/n we only have each other.” He kissed my forehead.

 **** 

  An hour past and, Bellamy was already past out. I knew I couldn’t stay in the tent all night and not worry. I was determined to go find my little brother, even if no one would help me. 

  I exited the tent quietly, hoping not to wake Bellamy up. I looked around hoping to not be seen by anyone. I made it to the tunnels without anyone seeing when Octavia caught me.

  “Y/n, where are you going? Does my brother know about this” she whispered.

  “My brothers out there Octavia, I need to go find him” I whispered. Worrying about if she would run off to tell her brother or not say anything at all.

  “Your going to need this” She said, handing me a spear, she probably made.

  “Thank you Octavia. I appreciate this. Don’t tell Bellamy.” I hugged her.

  “I won’t. Take care Y/n” she said, right before I got in the tunnel. 

 **** 

   "JAMIE" I yelled out, hoping for my brother to call out. I heard a twig break, and I flinched. 

 Maybe yelling in the woods full of grounders wasn’t a good idea. 

  “Jamie is that you??” I asked. All I could see was a dark shadow getting closer. I was scared, I could feel my heart beating fast. 

  “Y/n, is that you” Jamie said coming out behind the tree. I ran to him, happier then ever. Hugging him, never wanting to let go. 

  “Oh, Jamie. Never scare me like that again. Let’s go home”

 **** 

  We were about, ten minutes away from camp. I was holding Jamie hand tight, a little to tight. Scared to lose him again. I heard a twig snap.

  “Shh. There’s something out here” I whispered. 

  “You shouldn’t be out here” a voice said. It scared me, sent shivers down my whole body. 

 I took the spear out pointing it, at the grounder. “You think you can can defeat me with that” the grounder laughed. 

 "No, but I can I defeat you with this!“ Bellamy said loudly, before shouting the grounder. The grounder instantly falling to the floor.

 "Bellamy.” I ran towards him. Making Him drop his gun down and hugging me. “I love you! Thank you for saving us” I said before, kissing him.

 "Eww" my eight year old brother said. Bellamy and I laughed. 

 "What you did tonight was reckless, Y/n. You could’ve got hurt if I wasn’t here.“ I opened my mouth to say something but he interrupted me. "But I would’ve done the same thing if Octavia was out here. That’s why I love you Y/n, because you protect everyone.”