#if there was ever a lean over the merry go’s railing while crying I MISS VIVI

[goldmolamola]

I might be alone in this but I hope Sylens gets to a point with Aloy like “excuse me, only I can insult her intelligence”

[snailor-bee]

Songfic Part Two

Next part! Didn’t take me that long this time ;u;! Which is exciting. Done for the lovely @ah-scheisse-its-you​ ! It’s Thatch, Usopp, and Koala.

GN!Reader / SFW / 1.2k

Song: Johnny Dear - Kassi Valazza

You were surprised one night when you found Thatch watching the sea, heavy in thought as he leaned against the railing. A radio den den mushi was playing by his hand. You approached quietly, brushing a light hand across his back and he turned to you with surprise.

"What's up?" You asked with concern. It wasn't like him to look so pensive. He smiled weakly. 

"Nothing, just listening," he gestured to the snail. 

Johnny my dear you have come back home It’s taken its toll being left all alone Don’t mind my face it has aged a bit, while your face looks the same I must admit

The singer was female, the song sung in a twangy accent. You furrowed your brow. "What's so special about it?" 

Thatch hummed. "It's an accent I haven't heard in a long time." 

Johnny my sweet won't you take a seat? I haven’t seen your face in many years Is your hair still brown? Is your heart weighed down? Will you come home in the morning?

You couldn't place it yourself. "Where's it from?" 

"South Blue," Thatch answered a similar twang in his voice now. You blinked with surprise before you hopped up on the railing and pulled at him until he stood in front of you.

"Is that where you're from?" 

"Sure am darlin'," he said with a proper smile as his arms wrapped around your waist. You shivered. You hadn't ever heard him talk with an accent before. 

What tales have you for a woman such as me Have you seen the Grand Line or the waves of the New World sea Did you think of me at all on your lonesome dreary drawl You call my name in the morning

"Why didn't you mention it before?" You asked intrigued as you caressed his cheek. He shrugged before turning his head and pressing a quick kiss to your palm. 

"Not alotta good memories is all. You like the accent I take it?" He asked with a raised brow and a knowing grin. "I can do it more if you'd like. Just takes me a bit to get back into it."

"Do you not like it? Why'd you stop?"

"Nothin' left for me there. Why do I need the reminder? If it's for you, well now that's somethin' different," he winked and you smiled before pulling him in for a hug, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly. 

"You don't have to, but thanks," you said softly and his chuckle filled your ears making you swell with happiness. 

As for me I’ve been craving company With the snow falling down there's nothing much to see Did you miss the snow falling did you hear me softly calling You call my name in the morning

Honorable Song Mention: Bang Bang My Baby Shot Me Down - Nancy Sinatra Ahaha isn't that lucky I didn't go with the honorable mention? Now readers of my fanfic (Bast) will notice I have chosen the same song for him again! It's just a personal headcanon I have of Thatch, that he's from either the South or West Blue and that going along with that, they have heavy accents. (I also headcanon that there's a lot of different languages in the OP world but that's another discussion.) I don't think Thatch does anymore, too long away from home but sometimes it comes back now and again when he's tired or reminiscing. I have never spoken this headcanon aloud to anyone, ahhh it's weird what random stuff just gets...decided upon in our heads.

Song: Slow Down - Low Roar

After sailing away from Water 7, you decided to explore the new ship. It was huge! Well. You hummed to yourself with thought. It wasn't huge-huge but bigger than the Merry for sure. A pang of sadness washed over you at the reminder. Between everything that happened, you hadn't really had time to grieve yet. 

The muffled sound of crying hit your ears broke through your thoughts and you paused. With much more care than before you crept down the hallway, listening hard. You were deep in the ship, everyone else had been out on deck excited for the next big adventure. Who was down here? 

Crackling open a door you sneaked inside, peering around some stacked boxes you finally find Usopp, face buried into his knees arms wrapped around them, crying softly. Dimly you could hear music playing, a small den den mushi on the floor by his side. 

I'm a man of my word I could say Probably, maybe not What seemed close now seems so far away You're a blurry spot

"Usopp?" He tensed before wiping away his tears in a rush.

"W-what are you doing here?!" He demanded as you came closer. Kneeling by his side you place a gentle hand on his shoulder and he avoided your eyes.

"I could say the same about you," you said softly.

After a pause, he finally relaxed slightly. "Just...needed some time to myself." You understood. There had been a tension around the crew after everything. It had yet to sort itself out. Luffy was fine, the same as always but...you could see the way some of the others treated him. Just a little differently, the slightest of hesitations but it was there all the same.

The audience doesn't stare at me the same way anymore I'm a bastard, a self-centered Jim I'm a loaded gun I won't hurt anyone

"I really messed up," Usopp said sadly. You shook your head. 

"You did what you felt was right, Usopp. There were a few things you could have done differently and it hurt everyone when you left. But just give it time. We're nakama right?"

Well, I need to slow down Well, I need to slow, slow down Made a promise and I lost Had a plan that was a bust Am I coming in clear? Draw up a plot to get me out of here

Usopp rubbed at his eyes before he shrugged halfheartedly. You sat beside him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Gently you tugged at him before he gave in and leaned against you.

"It'll be okay, you'll see," you said reassuringly. 

Take this pill it will calm all your nerves I swear, you'll be safe Look around before we fade away like a bell that's rung Like a setting sun

"They shouldn't forgive me for this, not you or anyone of them," Usopp said gravely. You propped a cheek against the top of his head. 

"I don't think that's up to you to decide. Luffy accepted you back, we all did. You may have to make it up to a few people. Go to them individually and work to gain their trust again. But it'll all work out. I know it will."

Usopp sniffed before he started to cry again, pushing his face into your neck. You rubbed at his back and held him as he cried. It might be difficult, it might take some work but you knew eventually things would go back to normal. Better even. You were family and you all loved each other. Usopp would see that.

Well, I need to slow down Well, I need to slow, slow down...

Honorable Song Mention: Sinking Man - Monster and Men I think it's interesting when people explore what would have happened after Water 7. It's always sad but interesting because we didn't really get that make up with the whole crew you know? I imagine things were a little difficult directly afterwards.

Song: House of the Rising Sun - Joan Baez

You watched with surprise as Koala stripped off her shirt. The two of you were alone in your room, the both of you seated on the edge of the bed. The mark of the Sun Pirates was large and proud on her back. The red of it seemed to glow against her pale skin. 

"I didn't know you were a Sun Pirate?" You said with surprise. She smirked at you. 

"I wasn't, not really." Your eyebrows furrowed. Koala had a lot of secrets, but then again, so did most people in the Revoluationary Army. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

Koala leaned back and your eyes struggled to stay on her face. 

"The Sun Pirates saved me and took me home. Fisher Tiger was killed because of me," her eyes flashed with sadness for a brief second before they cleared. "I will never forget what he did for me. They gave me this mark," she turned to show off her back more. "To show me that I was a person. Not some tool or a toy. I was worth something more than what those dirty Celestial Dragons believed."

Your eyes widened. You hadn't known Koala used to be a slave. Everyone had their own reasons for joining the Revolutionary Army and you had never asked. 

She beamed and your heart skipped a beat before she lifted a pillow into her lap and wrapped her arms around it, clutching it to her chest.

"Wanna hear a song?" Koala asked out of the blue, changing the subject.

"Sure?" 

She smiled once more before she began to sing,

There is a house on the Red Line, They call the rising sun. It's been the ruin for many a poor girl, and me, oh God, for one.

Your mouth dropped open. Was this about slavery?! Really? You'd never heard it before. Her voice was crystal clear, ringing out in the room around you. Melancholy with a side of wistfulness. 

If I had listened to what my mother said, I'd have been at home today, But I was young and foolish, Oh, God, let a rambler lead me astray.

Somehow you doubted that—a rambler—versus just someone straight up kidnapping her. How old was she you wondered? It didn't matter; at any age it would have been terrible. But if it was before Fisher Tiger died then that meant it was a while ago. She must have been no more than a child. Your heart felt heavy at that. Celestial Dragons, the World Government, the Marines they were all so terrible. A horrible, corrupt system that only hurt people. That's why your cause was so important.

Go tell my baby sister, don't do what I have done, But shun that house in Marie Geois, They call the Rising Sun. I'm going back to Marie Geois, My race is almost run. I'm going back to spend my life beneath that rising sun.

"It's a sad song," you told her sagely. She winked at you.

"It's a wish. One day I'll go back. I'll free everyone, take them all down. They'll never rule again. Someday. You'll be there with me won't you?" 

You reached out and grabbed her hand, clutching at it tightly. 

"I promise!" Koala smiled and you felt the promise burn within you. Someday. 

Honorable Song Mention: Nina Cried Power - Hozier I changed a few pieces of the lyrics for this. But I wanted a song that related to the Revolutionary Army in some way and I replayed this and went OH YEAH THIS IS PERFECT. Although Hozier’s song was another good option. This is a great song and I love Joan Baez.

[laws-yellow-submarine]

Uhhhh hi? Lol I dunno if anyone remembers this, but this past May I mentioned I was going through quite a lot, and at the time I had a Hazel-focused Mother's Day angst one-shot half-written, that never got finished.

Well, it's 3:30 am, and it's finished! 😃 this was written on my phone, so it may not be well edited, and I can't guarantee it's 100% in character; but it was cathartic as hell. I won't be including this in Together With Fruit (it just doesn't fit anywhere), but I will say it's 100% canon to Hazel’s character/story. That being said, you don't have to read it if you don't want to - it's a little heavy, imo, and I won't be offended if people skip it.

But without further ado, I present: The Problems with Mother's Day

TW/CW: Parental angst, estranged parent relationships, mentions of death, feelings of inadequacy (if I need to add anything lemme know!)

Word Count: 2,052

-------

From the moment Hazel opened her eyes, she knew it was going to be a long day. The skies were cloudy, the waves choppy, and her roommate’s face was about ten inches away, smiling a little too sweetly.

“Ahh!” she yelled, jumping back in bed. “Nami, what the hell?!”

“Oh good, you’re up!” Nami chirped at her, doing nothing to alleviate the suspicion in Hazel’s gut. “I need a favor!”

“I told you before: if Luffy gets his head stuck between the railings, it’s better to just leave him there or he’ll never learn his lesson.”

“No, no, not that, silly!” Hazel glared further at the young woman, suspicion thoroughly piqued. “See, it’s Mother’s Day! Normally, Nojiko and I have a tradition of cooking a big breakfast, but since she’s obviously not here, I was wondering if you’d like to join me?” and then she flashed the biggest pair of puppy dog eyes Hazel had ever seen. Which was saying something, considering how often Ace had tried to use that on her when they were kids. 

There was just one issue.

“It’s Mother’s Day?” Hazel groaned, rubbing one hand over her face. Nami took her groaning as a sign of tiredness, and enthusiastically nodded her head.

“Please, Hazel? My sister and I do this every year, and I’d really like to share it with you!”

Guilt gnawed at Hazel’s gut. How could she possibly say “no” now?

“Sure, Nami...just,” she sighed, “give me a second to get dressed.” And then Nami let out a squeal, of all things, hugged the purple-haired girl around the shoulders, and bounded up the stairs.

Left alone, Hazel took a deep, shuddery breath. Then she took another one. Then another, on and on until they became steadier, and the world didn’t feel like it’d swallow her up right there. She stood up, padding over to the closet the girls shared, and quickly threw on a plain t-shirt and shorts; something she wouldn’t be upset about getting messy. She threw her curly hair into a messy ponytail, squared her shoulders, and with a firm nod of her head, she followed after Nami.

It was early, enough so that the sun had barely peaked over the horizon. With all the clouds in the sky, the seascape remained a rather dull blue, the orange of the sun’s rays blocked from view. Even Sanji, who normally woke up pretty early to get a start on breakfast, was still nestled deep in his hammock down below.

“How’d you manage to secure the kitchen for the day?” she asked as she entered the galley, deftly catching the apron Nami tossed her way.

“I told Sanji-kun I had something special planned, batted my eyelashes a bit, and he was convinced to sleep in for a day,” Nami explained, pulling the last of the ingredients from the fridge and setting them on the counter. “I’ve got the pancake batter covered, if you wanna get a start on the bacon!”

Hazel slid up to the counter, eyeing the array of food and utensils the navigator had set out. It had been a while since she'd made bacon - Luffy had a habit of stealing the still sizzling strips from the pan - but she dutifully set to work at the stove as Nami chatted on.

"One year, Belle-mere wasn't able to afford our usual breakfast ingredients, so Nojiko and I had to improvise," the younger woman was saying as she steadily dribbled pancake batter onto the skillet. "We snuck into the tangerine grove and picked as many as we could find, but we stuck to the smaller ones so they wouldn't be missed." Hazel hummed in acknowledgement, gut churning. "Nojiko set up an entire tray of tangerines cut into different shapes, but when Belle-mere tried to eat? Her face puckered up like this!"

Nami's face scrunched into an expression that resembled a dried up pufferfish, cheeks sunken in and eyes screwed shut, before she bust out laughing at the memory. Hazel smiled good-naturedly, piling more bacon onto the plate beside her, and Nami launched into another story.

"Oh! And then there was the year I tried to make the pancakes by myself for the first time! Normally that was Nojiko's job, but I convinced her to let me try," the navigator said, eyes far away as she expertly flipped another pancake. "The entire kitchen ended up covered in batter! I'm not even sure how it happened - I thought Belle-mere would be furious! I was so scared I hid in the closet, but I didn't realize I'd tracked flour behind me." Nami shook her head, smiling. "Belle-mere opened the closet door, took one look at me, and grinned this huge grin. She said it was the 'best year ever'..."

Hazel bit her cheek as Nami sighed wistfully. "Belle-mere was always saying that: it was the 'best year ever', no matter how much we ruined breakfast."

"Hm."

"Hazel, are you ok?"

"Huh?" Hazel glanced at her in surprise, then quickly resumed her task, tension coiling in her gut as she nodded. Just breathe, Hazel…

"Are you sure?" Nami asked, worry ringing in her voice. "You don't seem to be having much fun."

"I'm fine, Nami," Hazel grit out, flinching back as a drop of grease jumped out at her.

"No you're not! What's wrong?"

"Look, I said I'm fine, alright?!" Hazel snapped, turning from the bacon to glare at the young girl. "I just don't really give a shit about Mother's Day!"

Nami's gasp was accented by the galley door opening, their crew's footsteps halting as Hazel’s statement hung in the air. All at once, her anger fled, replaced quickly with burning shame at Nami's watery gaze. Swallowing against the lump in her throat, and the warmth growing in her cheeks, Hazel muttered a quick "sorry" before bolting from the room.

The others watched her go, breakfast momentarily forgotten, until the familiar thwap thwap of their captain's flip flops broke the silence, punctuated by Luffy’s excited cry: "Sanji! Food!"

--------

"I just don't get it!" Nami yelled as she sat at the table, anger, embarrassment, and guilt all warring within her. Hazel still hadn't returned to the kitchen. "It's just Mother's Day. It should be a day to celebrate!"

"I'm sure Hazel-chan has her reasons, Nami-san," Sanji said around his cigarette, unhappy that "his girls" were at odds. Luffy scratched under his hat. 

"What's Mother's Day?"

Luckily for him, Luffy was used to the incredulous stares his crew often bestowed on him. Even Zoro was looking at him like he'd grown a second head. Wait. Could he do that?

"Even you should know what Mother's Day is," Nami scolded the boy as he inexplicably began to pull at the skin on his shoulder.

Luffy shrugged. "Nope!"

"It's the day you celebrate your mom!" Nami was met with a blank stare. "You know, the one who provides for you, even if it means she goes without."

"The one who encourages your dreams, and loves you unconditionally," Sanji added, a wistful look in his eye as he flicked his cigarette.

"The one who tells you stories, and tucks you into bed at night," Usopp chimed in, face alight with happy memories.

But Luffy merely raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Hazel already has a birthday, I'm supposed to give her two parties?!"

And then the room grew silent once more as the weight of his question settled on the others' shoulders. Nami felt her stomach clench, threatening to evict a breakfast she hadn't even eaten as she realized what had happened. She pushed herself to her feet, rushing out of the kitchen with barely a word to the others.

She had to find Hazel.

-------

Nami found her standing against the railing, on the complete opposite side of the ship. Hazel’s arms were crossed in front of her, the wind blowing through her loose, purple curls as she gazed out at the sea. The navigator approached slowly, suddenly nervous now that she was here. But before she could utter any apology, Hazel beat her to it.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you. That wasn't very fair, and you didn't deserve it."

Nami's brown eyes snapped up to the other woman's face, still not facing her, and swallowed against the growing lump in her throat.

"I'm the one who should be sorry," she said, leaning on the rail beside her. "I should have asked you first. I shouldn't have assumed you'd be OK with it."

Hazel shrugged. "You had good intentions, at least. It's the thought that counts."

"Is it?" But Hazel didn't answer, and the two slipped into a heavy silence broken only by the crash of waves against the hull. "What happened to her?" Nami finally asked, shoulders tensed as she waited for the older woman to either answer or scold her.

Hazel only sighed. "Honestly?" she clicked her tongue, shrugging her shoulders and biting her lip. "No idea. Don't really remember her."

"But if you don't remember…" Nami started, eyes lighting up as an idea struck her. "Then she could still be out there somewhere! Maybe we'll find her-!"

"I hope she's dead."

The finality of the statement struck Nami dumb, mouth hanging open in shock at the woman's deadened expression. There was no waver in Hazel’s tone, no room for any doubt that she meant it. "What…?"

Hazel laughed through her nose, a bitter sound. "Sounds horrible, right? Especially today of all days? But it's true." Hazel’s jaw clenched, her fists curling around the Merry's railing. "If she's dead, then it wasn't a choice. If she's dead, then she didn't decide to -! She didn't just -!" Her shoulders shook, breaths coming out in ragged gasps, unable to finish the statement.

Nami reacted without thinking, pulling the shaking woman into her arms without hesitation. Hazel's voice broke, heartache echoing between them as she gasped out: "why wasn't I enough?"

"Now you look at me!" Nami cried, pulling back to lock her eyes onto Hazel’s. "Don't you ever think you aren't enough! Just look at everything you've done! We're all here because of you, Hazel!"

Hazel rolled her watery gray eyes. "You're here because of Luffy - I'm just emotional support." But Nami shook her head.

"Luffy may have brought us together, but he only got to where he is because you supported him! He thinks the absolute world of you, he loves you - we all love you! And you've done all of this without her! Screw her!" Hazel dissolved into a new round of tears, and Nami pulled her back into her warm embrace. "New tradition: from now on, let us show you how much we appreciate you, whether that's through breakfast together, or leaving you the hell alone."

Hazel choked out a wet, shaky laugh, fingers clutching tightly to Nami's t-shirt as the tears flowed through her. Finally, they subsided, and as she leaned back Nami helped wipe the remaining tear tracks away. Hazel took a deep breath, then another, feeling lighter than she had all day. Then, her stomach growled.

"I think I'm ready to go back to breakfast," she murmured, too drained to be embarrassed. Nami just smiled, linking their arms together as she led the way back to the others.

When they entered the galley, the pair were separated when a rubbery figure launched itself at Hazel. Luffy wrapped his limbs around his sister, squeezing so tight it was a wonder she didn't break a rib. "Hazel! Sanji made you coffee! He wouldn't let me try it but I did anyway - how do you drink that stuff?!"

Hazel just smiled at his rambling, wiggling her arms free of her brother's embrace, surprising the boy when she hugged him back (almost) as tightly, and kissed him on the forehead. "Heeey!" He whined, pulling away to angrily rub at the spot she'd kissed. "What was that for?!"

"Nothing, just…I'm proud of you, Luff." The boy's face broke into a grin.

"Shishishi! I'm proud of you, too! Now, let's eat!"

Finally, the Straw Hats gathered around the table, digging into their meal with an excited frenzy. Sipping her coffee, Hazel nudged the woman beside her. "Thanks, Nami," she said, smiling easily after the events of that morning. "But, for future reference? On Father's Day, you may just wanna let me stay in bed."

[theincuhusbands]

Christmas Decorating - (Sam x Reader)

Summary - When the boys and Y/N finally get around to decorating for Christmas this year, nothing will stop Y/N and Sam having some Christmas fun!

Warnings - LONG, Kissing, Snow-violence and Cheesy

Word Count - 1818

Erik passed the last box down the ladder to Matthew as I squealed in excitement “That's the last one, right?! We can start now?!” James laughed a little as he climbed down the attic ladder “Yes Miss, we can start now.”

I had been waiting all of December for this! James had been away on business trips and Erik's business had been busier than ever so if we decorated it would have been without them and so we were all waiting until we could do it together. Which now happened to be Christmas eve.

I desperately grabbed the box of tinsel at my feet and hurried down the stairs. I swooned around the main lobby with idea's running around my head about how I could decorate this already gorgeous mansion and make it the most magical, winter wonderland anyone had ever seen. I was determined to make this the best Christmas I ever could. The boy's deserved the most magical first proper Christmas they could dream of, even if they don’t understand the holiday.

Christmas been a favourite holiday of mine, not the day itself, spending a day with my Father and having to pretend to enjoy it sucked, all while he goes on and on at me about school and my studies and most dreaded of all… ‘my future company'.

However, I loved the season. The snow, the going shopping with friends, the drinking hot chocolate by the fire, the decorating and everything else festive about the season but this year was different, this year I had someone special to spend it with.

I looked up the top of the stairs to see Sam leaning with his arms on the banister, holding a box filled with decorations, staring at me smiling. I shout up at him smiling “Don't drop those! Read the box their fragile!” Sam rolls his eyes as he stands up laughing “Can't read Doofus.”

Sam and I weren't official but we've been on a couple “hangouts” which more closely resembled dates and we'd kissed a couple times. It was pretty well known I liked him and I've walked in on my fair share of conversations I wasn't supposed to which included incessant teasing about his feelings. I had never had someone to share Christmas with like this. I mean I've had Naomi and Suzu to celebrate with but this is different. it feels more like celebrating with family than it ever has with the boys.

Matthew ran down the stairs, brushing past Sam and up to me holding three boxes. “Where'd you want these boss?!

I giggle as I point to one of the tables next to the staircase. “Over there. those are decorations for the tree! So, keep them close too here” Matthew nods like he’s on a mission and puts them down on the table. Erik smiles as he brings down a couple more boxes from the landing. “Is that why we bought that tree? To decorate it?” I nod firmly smiling as I start to wrap some red tinsel around the stair’s railings. Damien smiles at me as he passes more tinsel up to me. “From what you think about Christmas it must be the most amazing time ever.”

James clears his throat, bringing all our attention to him. “Alright, I think it would be more productive if we divide and concur.” I clap my hands in excitement as I back down the stairs. James smiles as he picks up a box. “Erik and I will decorate the dinning room and the kitchen, Matthew and Damien can decorate the main hall and Y/N and Sam could do the outside?” I smile brightly. “Yeah sounds great! I’ll go get my jacket.”

--------

The cold winter night was bitter and chilly as I rubbed my hands together. “You cold?” I turned to face Sam who had a small worried smile on his face as I shook my head. “Let’s get started. Ours is going to look the best” Sam gave me a devilish grin. “You bet it Doofus!”

I’m a little bit shocked at first at how quick Sam is decorating until I hit myself and realised, incubi. Duh. I grab some of the Christmas lights and start wrapping them around a window when I realise Sam is preoccupied setting up some plastic reindeer on the drive. I slowly lean down and grab a handful of snow and shape it into a ball. I aim it ever so carefully and throw it with all my might.

Bullseye.

I snicker as I turn around back at my lights as I hear Sam turn around in confusion muttering to himself “what in the hel-“ I hear the penny drop. “YOU!” His voice dripped with venom and anger as I burst out laughing and start running away. Sam gives chase as we run around the garden throwing half made snowballs at each other laughing and mucking around.

Sam bends down to make a snowball and I take the chance to jump behind some of James’s gardens, hidden by huge bushes. By the time Sam finishes and stands up he’s lost track of me and I’m perfectly hidden by the bushes. I sneak quietly to where he is looking around for me and calling out for me suspiciously. “Y/N? Y/N?”

I take my moment and lunge out the bushes jumping on him and push him to the ground and into the snow. “Got ya’!” I shout giggling as he bursts out laughing. After a couple moments the laugher stops at, we’re left smiling like idiots, looking into each other’s eyes. I start to blush realising I’m straddling him. I sigh leaning in and resting my forehead on his “Merry Christmas Sam”. He smiles sweetly looking down at my lips for a second before letting his eyes meet mine. “Merry Christmas Doofus”.

I gently lean my hands on his chest as I lean in for a short kiss. His lips are as heavenly as always and an amazing contrast of warmth against the freezing cold snow touching my legs and knees. As we finally pull apart, we laugh a little as we can see our breath in the cold air. “I can’t wait till you see what I got you” Sam said smiling affectionately making my heart skip a beat. “Y-You bought me something?” He gives me an amused smile as he laughs making his body shake and making my stomach tie itself up in knots. “What you didn’t think I’d get you something?” I shook my head smiling slightly “never thought about it”.

I stand up as I brush the snow off me. “Come on, we should get inside, it’s really chilly out here” I offer Sam a hand to pull him up which he takes as we start walking around the house to the front door.

As we walk up the porch I jump as I feel Sam’s hand on my waist as he pulls me into him. I must be redder than the tinsel right now. As we walk inside, my jaw drops. It’s gorgeous. The boys have made this so beautiful. The chandelier is decorated with tinsel and there are stockings hung over the railings along with candy canes and decorations set out all over the main hall. “wow…” I breathed out in amazement. It took me a while to realise all the boys were staring at me, or more specifically the hand that was on my waist. “This is amazing guys” I say as I move away from Sam looking at all the decorations. Erik laughs leaning against the bottom post of the railing. “I get that it’s snowy out there but you two are awfully wet.”

I smirk as I think about the snowball fight and I hear Damien’s laugh fill the room. “They’ve been having some Christmas fun of their own.” Matthew looks at me with an eyebrow quirked however all I do is wink back. I turn around and look into the dinning room when I see the tree we picked out standing up in a stand ready to be decorated. “Yes! This is the best bit” I run and hang my jacket up by the fire before running back to the tree skidding in my socks.

The boys crowd around the tree as we decorate it with tinsel, baubles, crackers and everything else. James smiles at me “You really love this Miss, don’t you?” I chuckle as I reach back into the box for the perfect decoration. “what gave it away?” James smiles charmingly at me “the stars in your eyes” I laugh gently placing the decoration on the tree when something catches the corner of my eye. A blur dashing out the room. “I’ll be back. Two moments”

-------

I follow the burr out the room and up the stairs to my room. “Sam?” When I open the door, Sam turns to face me with a small present in his hands. “Hey… I couldn’t wait” He holds it out to me gently as I walk over and take it. It’s not wrapped very well and the green ribbon is a bit crumpled. It’s not hard to see he had to try and wrap this quite a few times but it’s just perfect.

I softly open the wrapping paper to reveal a flat green velvet box. I turn to Sam confused but he just smiles at me nervously “open it…”. I open it to reveal a brand-new shiny chain bracelet with a beautiful dog tag hanging from it. I gasp in shock and in aww looking at it. He bought me a matching dog tag, maybe some people would be insulted but it’s so cute. I hear him breathe shakely as he bites his lip. “So?” I lunge at him again wrapping my arms around is neck attacking him with hugs. “I love it Sam! Thank you!”

I feel him let out a sigh of relief and I hug him tighter. I eventually pull apart from him as I look down at the box. I open it and gently pull the bracelet out and put it on. It’s so pretty and sweet I could cry. I quickly stand up and lean under my bed pulling out Sam’s present. “This is for you” Sam looks at me cheerfully as he takes it -and not so gracefully- rips the paper off to reveal a framed photo of us two in the summer when we went on holiday to Hawaii. Matthew took the photo and I’m jumped up on Sam’s back as we’re eating ice cream. He looks at it and rubs his thumb over the frame before he looks up at me the hint of tears in his eyes.

He stands up suddenly pulling me into a hug so tight it almost smothers me. “Thank you… Y/N…” I smile into him hugging him tighter and breathing in his sent “anytime…”.

[dandunn]

could you do luffy and nami talking about their childhood? (i couldn't think of anything else XD)

Nami often feels like her life on the Straw Hat crew is a balancing act. She isn’t just their navigator and early-warning system for bad weather, she has the unenviable task of handling the crew’s finances. And, on top of that she’s responsible for writing the ship’s log, too.

Some day, when Luffy has become the Pirate King and all is said and done, someone is going to want to know about the crew that travelled with him.

Too bad her crew suck at giving her any information she can work with.

Every earth-shattering incident the Strawhats caused on every island they landed on has brought them closer, but Nami can’t say that she really knows her crew that much. Sanji is a lockbox when it comes to his past, usually deflecting any questions with a cry of ‘Ah, it’s sweet of you to ask, Miss Nami!’

It’s a similar story whenever she’s curious for more details about Robin. 

Usopp and Chopper are more open about their pasts, Zoro too, in a sort of blunt, uncaring way. 

But Luffy- Luffy is a total enigma. Even moreso when he randomly decides to blurt out something at dinner that makes the room fall silent;

“I had a brother, he died.”

Luffy had fallen back to vacuuming up his food, as if he hadn’t said anything, while the rest of the crew stared at him.

Nami goes out to find him after that train wreck of a dinner is over, a notebook and pen in her hand. Any scrap of information she can get out of him will do. He’s sat in his usual spot, on the figurehead of the Merry watching the sun start to go down.

“Hey, Luffy.” Nami says. “At dinner, what was that?”

Luffy doesn’t turn around. “Hm? What was what?” 

"It’s not the kind of thing you blurt out in the middle of a casual conversation! Were you raised in a barn?" 

Luffy quirks his brows at her, genuinely confused. "No? I was raised on a mountain." 

"Oh." Nami pauses, scratching her head, really she should have seen that coming. "You didn't have a home at all?" 

"Dadan let me and my brothers stay at her place, but most of the time we slept in this big tree house we built together!" 

Nami moves over to him to lean against the rail near the figurehead. "Why haven't you mentioned any of this before?" 

"No one ever asked before!" Luffy flops onto his back to stare at her upside down. "You ever meet those people who just tell you their life story, even though you never asked? It's annoying, I hate that crap!" 

"Okay, okay, but jeez, you never even told us you had brothers." 

"You never a-" 

"I KNOW WE NEVER ASKED!" Nami presses two fingers to her forehead and sighs. “It’s the kind of thing I would’ve thought I’d known about you by now, we’ve been sailing together almost a year now.”

Luffy stares at her blankly, until she reaches for her notebook and waves it at him. “Well, anyway, do you mind if I record some of this in the ship’s log? Someone might want to know your history some day.”

“We have a ship’s log?” “Yes! I’ve been writing one since we left Cocoyashi!”

“Sure. Go ahead I guess.”

She pulls out her notebook to make a few notes, Luffy follows the movements of her pen with his entire head, not just his eyes. “Is stuff about your past in there?”

“Yeah, writing about it wasn’t that easy.”

She finishes her sentence, then pauses to fiddle with the pen. "Although, my childhood was actually pretty good before Arlong. I mean, apart from being broke. Maybe it's just nostalgia making me say that." 

"Hm? Nostalgia?" 

"You know, when you have fond memories of a certain point in your life, even when you didn't think it was that great at the time?" 

"Ah, I guess. Can you be nostalgic when it makes you sad at the same time?”

Startled, Nami jerks her head around to look at him. He says it so casually, she almost didn't register it. 

“Yeah, I get sad whenever I make my mom’s orange sauce. But it makes me happy at the same time.”

“That’s how I feel whenever I think about Sabo. We had so much fun together, but sometimes I get so sad I can’t stand it.”

Luffy’s posture slumps, and she gets the feeling his eyes are fixed on a certain point on the horizon. Nami reaches up to pat his shoulder, before turning to walk away. “We can talk about the log another time.”

[alisonembers]

Cogs and Queens (D&D Eberron Fan Fic) - Week 2

Content Warning: Blood, Course Language, Violence.

—————————————————–

Cogs and Queens - Part Two

When I woke up from my unconscious state, I found my arm had been replaced with silvered metal. I’d say I was upset, crying, or in denial… But honestly, I was just in shock. I’d never been knocked down before, outside of a back room or something, at least. The doc ran some arcane examinations while fusing the arm to my mind and found a secret I had kept from the world. He’d learned that I had a curse on me, a curse that guaranteed my expiration date. I’m lucky he did find out because thanks to the explosion, that date has been accelerated, and every day I don’t find a priest, is another day my life grows twice as short. Dandran, my artificer friend who fixed me up, he repaired my gun. Turned it from a single-action to a double-action with a break loader. I was offended at first, but I won’t lie. Six hasn’t performed so well before. Mercury sketches a small horned figure wearing a cloak with a revolver into their journal.

“Merc, you ready?” Quinton asks, zipping the fly of his pants while standing at the edge of the tavern porch.

“Yeah…” Not really. Mercury looks around themselves, seeing four men. Have I really slept with all of them?

“Convoy should be here any moment,” Quinton says. “Get your horses ready.”

“Why are the Daasks moving on land?” Mercury asks.

“Quicker to get it to the lower city? Don’t have to go through any official ports.”

“Makes sense. What’s the asset anyway?”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re getting paid, and you’re in debt. Better for you to stay oblivious.”

Mercury looks up at the sky, squinting at small airships. They’ve always hated the city outskirts, with its lengthy fields and dry grass, with no particular places worth stopping. I could do anything for whisky right now. They lick the top of their mouth. I wish I could afford whisky. Mercury walks over to their horse, provided by Quinton and his men. They climb on top, swinging their right foot over first. “I’ll never get used to this.”

“Too much time in the city, your highness?” Bendrick, the dwarf, says, riding on a horse alongside Mercury.

“Life in the city is incredibly comfortable! Gamble, smoke, drink, lose an arm… What’s not to love?” Mercury replies.

“Gonna miss your left hand, I think. You were quite good with it!” Bendrick teases.

“Yeah, fuck off,” Mercury replies.

Quinton rides ahead. “All right, boys and Merc, let’s pick up the pace.”

Mercury follows the men, lingering at the back of the group. They keep a watchful eye out, scanning their back, making sure nobody comes from behind, and keeping a lookout for the law. The pink fiend follows the outlaws over the small mountain, catching a look at the convoy from above. Two carts, one carriage.

“There they are!” Quinton shouts. “Ben, Lars, Jen. You cross to the other side, follow them from the right. I’ll take Merc with me, flanking from their left. You’ll know when to move in!”

The three men begin riding to the other side of the valley, aways behind to not be seen by the convoy crossing.

“Quinton! How are we gonna handle this? We going for the carriage?”

“I’ll handle the carriage. You cover me while I get inside,” Quinton says. “The boys will push up and take what they can.”

“Got it!” Mercury says.

  As they rode on through the valley, the dry grass still kicked dust,

For it had not rained in many weeks, and the wind blew a gust,

The pink fiend and their outlaw friend caught up with great speed,

It wouldn’t be long before Mercury would make more men bleed.

Mercury unholsters their pistol, aiming it at the cart ahead,

Not a single tear for mortal men would they ever shed,

The sound of six the golden gun went echoing through the air,

And the merry gang began firing without a single care.

  Mercury fires off another shot, hitting a man in the shoulder, his cry heard by all as he fell backward into the cart. They watch Quinton jump onto the back of the carriage, now seen up close, completely enclosed with no windows and armored to the teeth. What in the hells could be in there.

Quinton climbs along the side of the carriage to the driver. “Howdy!” he beats them over the side of the head, knocking them off the side. A bullet whizzes past, ricocheting off of the metal carriage, shrapnel piercing into Quiltons shoulder. “Fuck!”

Mercury pulls away. “You good?”

“Yeah!”

Mercury aims their pistol forward again at one of the carts, two more shots cracking out of the revolver. One of the Daask criminals falls out of the cart, and the horse leaps over their corpse. Mercury watches one of the carts begin to be pelted with repeating shots from rifles, sending pieces of wood flying, revealing the men inside. They aim their pistol once more, steading their aim with a deep breath. Okay, Merc, you got this, no missing allowed. They gently squeeze the trigger, their bullet whizzing through the air and colliding with the back of the driver’s skull. “Yee-haw!”

Bendrick rides closer to the cart, leaping from his horse, landing in the back on top of the dead men. He climbs the divider between the bed and the bench, pushing the dead driver off the side, and pulling the horses over.

Quinton slows the carriage, beginning to turn. “We got what we came for. Let’s move out before more show up!”

Bendrick begins turning the cart around, the one ahead of him still taking shots from a far distance, however poor with accuracy.

“That went easier than I expected!” Mercury says.

“Too easy. We need to get out of here!” Quinton says. “I don’t want to know who’s gonna show up.”

Mercury nods, escorting the carriage back through the valley.

                                                          V

  Mercury leans against the railing out the front of the old tavern. “So, Quinton, you gonna tell me what I just helped with?”

“I pay you first, and then I can tell you.”

“Sure?”

Quinton pulls a pouch from his pack, tossing it to Mercury. “Fifty gold, as promised.”

“Never doubted you. I’m gonna get that whisky.” Mercury steps into the tavern, the air smelling of straw. “Hey, a whisky for the fiend!” they say.

“Well sure, that’ll be a gold,” the bartender says, his voice thick and gravelly.

Mercury flips a coin from the bag towards him and leans against the bar. “So, other than Quinton, any other work around?”

The bartender fills the whisky glass to the midpoint before placing it before Mercury. “Some artsy folk came through not long ago. Young folk. All optimisitcs. Something about wanting a traveling carnival escort as they move around the country. You up for that?”

Mercury nods, sipping their whisky. Lord of Dust, my tongue, the euphoria. “Why not, it could be interestin’ traveling with the artsy-” the sound of metal melting by a strange hissing sound rang through the air, and the smell was as foul as sulfur. “Gods, what is that?”

An explosion sends chunks of metal flying across the front yard of the tavern. “Here we are, boys!” Quinton shouts.

Mercury steps out, whisky glass in hand. “Not one for subtlety, are you?”

“Mercury, what you’re witnessing is the day the Everett gang gets rich!” Quinton replies.

Mercury walks over to the carriage, seeing gold bars inside, stacked on top of one another. Sipping from the whisky, they watch Lars pull a small chest out of the carriage, placing it on a small wooden table.

Jenson walks over with some picklocks and begins working the chest. “Easy… Peasy!” the lock cracks open, and Quinton lifts the top of the chest up.

“There they are!” Quinton says. “Shares to the Kundarak Bank of Sharn!”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me!” Mercury says. “We stole a fucking bank carriage?”

“Well, technically, the Daask boys stole it, and then we stole it from them.”

“How did you know they’d have it?” Mercury asks. “Impressive, but this is a big fuckin’ target.”

“That detail isn’t important. What is important is that we-”

A gunshot cracks from the hill, and a bullet blows straight through Mercury’s glass of whisky.

“Get down!” Quinton shouts, ducking for cover.

“My fucking whisky!” Mercury replies. “Why can’t I ever finish a god damn glass of whisky!”

The air settles as the gang hide behind walls, barrels, and the carriage.

“Quinton Everett! Lay down your arms and surrender! You and your gang will be facing trial for crimes against Sharn and her people! Namely, stealing a bank carriage!”

Mercury flicks six new cartridges into their empty pistol. Living life by the second!

To be continued.

[loveforpreserumsteve]

Home for the Holidays: Bonus “CIWYW” Story (Trans!Steve and Pan!Bucky Modern AU)

Fifteen:

Bucky was the one who suggested some fresh air. Sharon's mom, Amanda, was the one who encouraged it. Sharon's dad, Harrison, was the one who suggested that maybe the kids would feel better if they had a night away from the senior home. Steve was the one who drove himself and the other teens back to his house.

Every so often, Steve would glance into the rearview mirror back at Sharon and Natasha who sat in the far back of the van. But Sharon just quietly sat there, practically clinging to Natasha's arm. Not that Natasha was complaining. Instead, she just held Sharon closer as they stayed in their own little world while everyone else in the van loudly sang along with the radio.

From the passenger seat, Bucky reached over and took Steve's hand in his. Briefly, Steve glanced over to watch Bucky bring his hand up to his mouth and press a tender kiss to the back of it. As Steve redirected his attention back to the road, his heart stuttered when Bucky affectionately stroked his thumb over the back of Steve's hand. Comforted knowing that Bucky was there.

Thankfully, the four hour drive home passed by quicker than the drive there. As he pulled into his neighborhood, he made sure to wave at the neighbors that waved to him, and playfully honked the horn at the kids who were playing in their yards. With the weather unusually warm for this time of year, there unfortunately wasn't any snow, so no snowball wars raged and no snowmen armies were built.

Pulling into his driveway, Sharon spoke for the first time the entire drive, "I love your house."

Cutting the engine, Steve turned around to look back at the other blonde. Smiling, Steve said, "Thanks." Then, in hopes of lightening the mood, Steve joked, "We like it."

Luckily for Steve, it teased a smile out of Sharon. Easing everyone in the van, they climbed out feeling a little lighter than when they were driving. And Steve was grateful for that. Not wanting to sound too much like a Hallmark movie, but Steve wanted everyone to truly have a Merry Christmas.

Crossing in front of the van, Bucky held his hand out for Steve. Already missing this simple gesture for when Bucky will be gone. Again.

Steve didn't want to think about that. Not now. Not ever.

So, instead, Steve followed the others in through the garage. Steve had been hoping that they could sneak off to the rec room without being noticed. Especially since Sharon's face was puffy and blotchy from her crying. However, they were greeted by the parents.

They were drinking more of that kosher wine that the Barnes' brought with them and were giggling like teenagers as they cooked a mixture of traditional Hanukkah dishes and Joseph's passed down Christmas specialties.

As soon as they spotted Sharon though, their demeanors instantly switched. Immediately abandoning their jollities for concerned, so quickly that one could get whiplash.

"Sweetie?" Darlene cautiously approached with her hand outreached for Sharon.

Much like she had when first spotting Natasha, Sharon turned into Darlene's embrace and crumbled into a mess of tears. Burying her face into Darlene's shoulder and having no reservations about whether her snot would momentarily stain the cashmere blue top.

While Darlene rubbed Sharon's back, Sharon hiccupped, "She didn't remember me. She kept calling me, 'Amanda.'"

Softly, Evan attempted to help, "You do look like Mom."

Trying to hold back his own tears, Joseph cleared his throat and offered, "Hot chocolate?"

"That sounds good," Winifred encouraged with an empathetic pat to his arm. Turning her gaze on the Carter boys, she asked, "Right? Hot chocolate sounds good?"

"Yeah," they answered in unison while hovering around their sister. Dylan perked up a little as he asked, "Have any candy canes?"

"Just the sweet tart ones," Steve answered, shrugging out of his coat, and collecting everyone else's as he headed towards the coat closet.

Sarah perked, "But we do have peppermint mocha coffee creamer!"

"That will definitely do," Dylan agreed with an enthusiastic nod.

"Good," Joseph grinned as he started getting the items ready.

Let it always be known that Joseph took hot chocolate very seriously. Especially when someone was upset. Steve, himself, had been handed many mugs of the perfectly handcrafted and warm-hearted hot cocoa in an offering to help him through an emotionally tough time. After finding out the truth about Sarah and their family. After broken hearts. After realizing that he was going through the wrong kind of puberty than he should've gone through. After coming out. Steve could always count on Joseph to make an addictive cup of steaming hot cocoa and let him cry on his shoulder.

"Maybe a movie would help too," Becca suggested, leaning on the railing that led up to the rec room.

Meekly, Sharon assented, "I could go for a Christmas movie."

"I'm sure we could find one," Natasha encouraged. Steve wasn't sure if she was aware of it or not, but she seemingly opened herself up, welcoming Sharon into her embrace whenever she was ready.

"Ya know," Sam started, sitting down on the staircase, "I could watch Elf."

"I love that movie!" Mandy exclaimed in her excitement as she slipped her phone into her pocket.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Bucky solidified, smiling at Steve.

Steve's cheeks instantly heated as his thoughts drifted from comforting his friend, to thoughts of cuddling with his boyfriend. And when Sharon finally moved away from Darlene, and into Natasha's embrace, the group finally headed up to the rec room.

Each one getting cozy on the large bean bag chairs and sectional sleeper sofa, Steve set up the movie and dimmed the lights. Noting that Bucky was saving him a spot caused Steve's heart to stutter in his chest. This was what Steve wanted for the rest of his life. And knowing that Bucky could want that too made Steve feel like it was a reality.

Taking his seat in between Bucky and Natasha, Steve felt right. It was an unusual feeling for Steve, but he felt like everything was finally falling into place. As he nuzzled into Bucky's wiry torso, Steve let out a sigh of relief and was pleasantly surprised to find that Bucky did too.

As the menu to the Christmas classic played, someone touched Steve's arm to gain his attention.  Rolling over a bit and looking over Bucky's arm, Steve's gaze locked with Sharon. Weakly conjuring up a sincere smile, Sharon said, "Thanks. I needed all of this."

"Of course," Steve reassured, holding her hand for a moment before letting her bring her hand back to herself.

Turning back into Bucky, Steve was greeted with a loving kiss to his forehead. Feeling warm and cozy, Steve happily greeted Eddie and Tibby who climbed onto the sofa and squeezed their way into spots next to their older siblings. And when the parents joined with their mugs of hot chocolate, Steve knew that this could be their future. One big happy family.

[atc74]

Little Shingles, Big Love

Square Filled: Domesticity

Warnings: swearing, Daddy!Dean, threats of physical violence (minor), cute!Dean, Frustrated!Dean

Summary: Dean has a great idea for your five year twins for Christmas, but you have your doubts.

Pairing: Dean x Reader AU

Word Count: 1607

Written for: @spnaubingo and @winchesterprincessbride‘s Funny Stuff Jen Says Challenge. My prompts were: “What part of “not a morning person” is not clear to you?” and  “I love you but I’m still going to beat the shit out of you.”

Beta’d by: @hannahindie who always makes me smile with her comments! Thank you love!

October 15, 2018 11:22pm

“Let’s get Ella this dollhouse!” Dean gushed. He was sitting in bed, laptop open and browsing for gifts for the kids for Christmas. You had vowed to do better this year, hence the early shopping. Christ, it wasn’t even Halloween yet.

You shuffled from the bathroom, toothbrush still in your mouth to look at the picture on the screen. “Dean, do you have any idea how long this will take you to put together? This is a three story Queen Anne dollhouse. It even has a turret!” you mumbled around your toothbrush, blue foam dripping down your chin.

“Babe! I am a skilled mechanic and have been taking things apart and putting them back together my entire life. I can handle a little wood and glue,” Dean boasted, a giant smile on his face as he clicked the ‘add to cart’ button.

One child size wooden work bench for Ethan and a few smaller gifts later and Dean had the kids presents done. You had to say you were impressed with his creativity with the gift ideas, picking out items both kids had already asked for, but you were skeptical. Your husband could disassemble a big block v8 engine with his eyes closed, but a delicate dollhouse? You had your doubts. Even more so, you would probably be doing most of the work. As if having five year old twins wasn’t hard enough; a thirty-nine year child was sometimes the most work of all.

December 24, 2018 4:15pm

“Sonuvabitch!” you heard from the living room. You rolled your eyes, knowing Dean had finally taken all the pieces of the dollhouse out of the box, laying them out on the middle of the floor.

“Honey?” you called from the safety of the kitchen where you were putting the finishing touches on the Christmas pies for dinner tomorrow.

“I got it!” he grumbled.

You checked the clock and realized that if it wasn’t for the kids sleeping over at Dean’s brother’s house with their cousins, there would be no way Christmas was ever going to happen for your little ones.

You finished up the pies and placed them in the oven. Once the timer was set on your phone, you stuffed it in a pocket and brought Dean a fresh cup of coffee. He was sitting cross-legged in the middle of your living room, little wooden pieces surrounding him. It reminded you of Gulliver’s Travels. You know, the movie with Jack Black where he is taken down by the teeny tiny soldiers? Yeah, that one!

“Do you need some help, honey?” You bent over, kissing the top of his head and sneaking a peek at the instruction manual, which appeared to be about fifty pages thick.

“No! I have this handled!” He had barely even started and was a tad salty already.

“Okay, I am going to start on Ethan’s workbench. Let me know if you change your mind,” you kissed him once more, then retreated to the other side of the room.

December 24, 2018 6:08pm

“Hon? I’m all done with the workbench. How about I make us a couple of sandwiches and we take a break, huh?” You walked over to Dean and could swear he was crying.

“Uhm, yeah, babe. In a minute. I think I finally got this thing figured out,” he replied. You studied him for a moment. His hair was a mess, like sex hair messy and his tongue was sticking out between his teeth as he looked between the piece in his hand and the manual.

You smiled to yourself as you walked to the kitchen. Within a few minutes, you had two sandwiches made, some chips and some apple slices. You carried the tray into the other room and set it down on the coffee table. You handed Dean one of the two beers you’d brought with you.

“Honey, you need a break,” you reminded him, waving the beer in front of his face. He really could be a stubborn bugger sometimes.

“Yeah, okay,” he resigned and stood up, most of his joints cracking or popping in protest.

We sat down, enjoying each other’s company for the first time all day. It was going to be a long night and you needed this time.

December 24, 2018 9:54pm

You trudged your way back down the stairs after showering and changing into your comfiest pajamas. Dean was still working away at the dollhouse, bit by bit. At least he had taken your suggestion and set up the card table so he wasn’t hunched up on the floor.

“Dean, go shower, I’ll work on it while you’re gone so we don’t lose time,” you promised and he dipped his head down to kiss you sweetly before heading upstairs.

The house was actually coming along nicely, albeit slowly. You picked up where Dean left off, gently pushing in the little white wooden railing on the second story. Ella was truly going to love this dollhouse and lose her mind when she opened it. You smiled while you worked, humming softly to the Christmas music playing in the background.

“Wow, you move fast babe!” Dean complimented your work, returning fresh from his shower.

“Well, we’re almost done,” you replied, putting the tiny wooden shingles on the turret. “But, we still have to add all the furniture and it will need to time to dry before we attempt to wrap it. Order us a pizza?”

“Done,” Dean grabbed his phone and entered your favorite order into the delivery app.

With both of you working, you finished assembling the dollhouse just before midnight, with full stomachs and smiles on your faces.

December 25, 2018 1:13am

“I love you, you know that?” Dean looked over at you from his spot on the other side of your daughter’s gift.

“I love you, but I am still going to beat the shit out of you,” you replied, not missing the look on his face.

“What? Why?” he gasped, shocked at your threat of physical violence.

“Because, your brother is going to be home with our children in less than,” you paused, checking the clock, “seven hours! We still have all this itsy bitsy furniture to place, the even smaller dishes and then I have to make the beds!” You were beyond tired and there was easily another hour of finishing touches.

“Well, I love you more now,” Dean chuckled as he painted fake grass on the wood for the ‘backyard’.

“Remember how much you love me next Christmas when you decide to buy incredibly complicated presents for the twins,” you playfully punched him in the arm and carried on.

December 25, 2018 3:06am

“I hate you,” you yawned, crawling into bed, thanking yourself for having put on pajamas hours before.

“I love you, too, babe,” Dean laughed, flipping off the lights. He climbed into bed next to you, but you were already out like the lights.

December 25, 2018 8:00am

The alarm was going off. It wasn’t a work day. Why the fuck is the alarm going off? You cracked one extremely heavy eyelid to see the time. Oh shit! It was Christmas morning. You and Dean had shuffled to bed in the early hours, much closer to morning than you had planned on, all thanks to the ginormous and intricately detailed dollhouse. The thing with kids and Christmas? It’s brutal. Horrifically brutal. And you were not a morning person. Neither was Dean, but he wasn’t in bed with you.

You reluctantly pulled yourself from the comfort of your warm bed and to the bathroom. With business out of the way, you slogged down the back stairs to the kitchen, the aroma of coffee filtering through your brain and your gears slowly started moving.

With a steaming mug in your hand, you wandered into the living room, to find your husband sitting on the sofa, a matching mug in his own hands.

“Coffee first,” he mumbled, taking another sip.

“Dude, why did you set the alarm?” you questioned, sitting down next to him. “What part of “not a morning person” is not clear to you?”

What?” he groaned, not taking his eyes off the mug he was holding like a lifeline.

“On our first date, I told you I wasn’t a morning person. What part of that did you forget when you ordered that contraption for our daughter?” I exclaimed, leaning back into the soft cushions.

“Oh, I didn’t forget. But it’s always easier to beg for forgiveness than it is to ask for permission with you,” he turned his head, smiling at you. “You’re welcome for the coffee, by the way.”

“Mom! Dad! We’re home! Merry Christmas!” The children burst through the door, Dean’ brother, Sam, trailing behind with their bags.

“Was Santa here?” Ella ran toward you and Dean. Her eyes going wide at the site of the gifts spilling out from under the blue spruce.

“Can we open presents?” Ethan asked, jumping between you and Dean.

“Ethan, look!” Ella pointed toward the tree as she climbed into her daddy’s lap.

“Maybe they get that whole morning person thing from your brother,” you shrugged and welcomed your little ones home.

“Who wants to open presents?” Dean stood, one kid hanging from each arm.

“ME!” they answered in unison.

All the hours, the splinters and sore muscles were worth seeing the looks on their shining little faces when they opened their presents.

“I love you,” I whispered, reaching for his hand.

“I know,” he said, taking it with his own. “Merry Christmas.”

The Whole Enchilada: @closetspngirl @emoryhemsworth @iwantthedean @meganwinchester1999 @sis-tafics @wilde-abandon @wegoddessofhell @holyfuckloueh @horsegirly99 @smoothdogsgirl @dolphincliffs @neeadinghugs @roxyspearing @theoriginalvicki @andkatiethings @mrswhozeewhatsis @linki-locks11 @evansrogerskitten @hennessy0274-blog @hobby27 @kdfrqqg @gh0stgurl @charliebradbury1104 @blacktithe7 @the--blackdahlia @fortisetgloriosusinarduis @roseblue373 @hannahindie @pinknerdpanda @cherrycokegirls1 

The Dean’s List / Jensen’s Jamboree: @supernatural-jackles @dean-winchesters-bacon @cameronbraswell @docharleythegeekqueen @maddiepants @squirrel-moose-winchester @amanda-teaches @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @adoptdontshoppets @wingedcatninja  @akshi8278 @kathaswings @deansgirl215 @x-waywardaf-x  @elara98azalea @jerkbitchidjitassbutt 

[mycandylavynder]

V-Day with Cas

“Well, speak of the devil,” Priya says as the beautiful blonde saunters into the room. Everyone in the room turns their heads to admire Amber who is draped in a teal tulle maxi dress that fits her like a glove. Her golden locks are kissing her bare shoulders and a thick gold choker that v-shaped down into her generous cleavage wrapped around her neck.

She gracefully approaches us without a care in the world. “What are you guys doing down here?” She asks, placing an air kiss on Priya’s cheek. It’s still so weird to think that only a few years ago Priya made Amber shiver in her presence.

“Just hanging out,” Priya responds.

“Why? Should we be somewhere else?” Alexy quickly follows up.

“Of course. I assumed you all would be upstairs. Castiel’s band is about to play.”

“I thought upstairs was VIP.” I chime.

She swats her hand, “It is, but don’t worry about it. Follow me and I’ll get you in. Besides, it's MUCH better upstairs.”

We all look at each other and shrug at the fortunate turn of events. We trail behind Amber’s flurry of teal tulle. My stomach is beginning to tighten with each step we take toward the staircase.

Amber smiles at the bouncer as we approach him. "They're with me," she says swirling her polished finger in a circular motion.

The bouncer nods and opens the black rope for us. "So do you know the person throwing the party?" Alexy asks as we begin our grand ascent up the staircase.

"Natalia? Oh yes, she's wonderful. Let's hurry though, Crowstorm is about to go on and I don't want to miss my favorite song."

Everyone picks up their pace as I squeeze and twist the straps of my purse. Something is chewing holes into my stomach and I take a few deep breaths to brace myself.

"Hey, are you alright?" Chani whispers to me as we reach the landing.

"I'm fine. Why?" I say too quickly.

"Just making sure since you are practically strangling your purse."

I giggle as I loosen my iron grip on my purse. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just a little... excited."

Chani nods as we follow behind the rest of the ogling group. The upstairs has a completely different feel than downstairs. The mood lighting and smells coordinating with each room, the art installation of live models wearing high-end fashion, the suited waiters carrying fine wines and elaborate chocolates, the security, the expensive looking people...it all screams exclusivity. It is wild to think that Castiel is playing at something so...upper crust.

"Come. They're in the red room." Amber says leading the way. I snatch a glass of champagne from a waiter as we pass by and scarf it down.

We pass through drawn velvet curtains to enter into a room with red lighting. Rose petals litter the floor and beautifully burgundy dressed tables with scented lit candles sparkling around us. The room is filled with people lounging about but not stuffy and crowded like downstairs.

A tall brunette with a long bouncy ponytail waves Amber down when she sees her.

"Ambe! There you are!"

"Hey Natalia, I hope you don't mind I brought some friends."

"Of course not.” She says as she gives us a polite wave. Amber and Natalia break into a conversation and so does the rest of our small entourage. I don’t really hear what anyone is saying as the only thing I seem to be able to focus on is the aching in my stomach.

A single chord breaks through the chattering crowd and everyone falls silent as his raspy voice begins to fill the air. The velvet curtains part ways to reveal Castiel and his crew as the tempo dramatically picks up. The crowd hoots and begins to sway and wiggle under his musical spell. I look at our small group. A smile creeps onto my face as I watch them all break into dance, carefree and a little buzzed. I squeeze in with Chani and Priya and let myself go.

The knots in my stomach are slowly untying as I feel the music vibrate through my body, becoming one with my cells. Every note he hits and every cord he strums, I am pushed over the edge by his electric sound - and so is the crowd. The crowd is twisting, turning, screaming along to each word that falls from his lips. His red locks fall in his face and he flips his hair back in the smoothest way. His brooding grey eyes fervidly scans through the mass of bodies. Almost every girl in the room is giving him bedroom eyes, not to mention several guys. It’s clear he knows he has the room eating out of his palm as a smug, yet frustratingly sexy, look settles upon his face.

My stomach knots up again as I briefly catch his eyes. His guitar leads into the next song, as the drums pound away. It’s truly wild to think I gave him my V-card.

The music plays on, wooing the crowd as the band slips from song to song. I try not to lose my mind to the butterflies in my stomach. I slip down a few glasses of champagne as a waiter saunters by before carrying on with the shenanigans. Towards the end of the set, Cas adjusts the position of his guitar. He takes the mic off the stand as a lazy grin plays on his lips. “So, as many of you know, our generous host Natalia is engaged to our bastard of a manager. ” he pauses and gestures his free hand toward the tall brunette as the crowd laughs and cheers. “And seeing as I gotta keep my manager somewhat happy, he requested we play this song for you, Natalia.”

I watch Natalia spring happily toward the front of the stage while a man in his mid-thirties and fancy threads sneak from the curtains. He is holding a large bouquet of flowers, making the audience gasp and clap. Cas looks at the band and nods before adjusting the mic.

His voice is sexier than ever as he coos the first line to the song, “You’re just too good to be true, Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

His eyes meet mine as he sings, “You’d be like heaven to touch, I wanna hold you so much.” My cheeks are getting hot and I hate it. Last time I saw him I yelled at him for treating me like a 15-year-old at his concert and here I am blushing like a 15-year-old at his concert. I shake my head and try to zone out. After all, he is a musician working for the crowd, he was bound to make eye contact with me sooner or later. It doesn’t mean anything at all.

As if Castiel’s glistening tattooed arms aren’t enough of a distraction, the host and the manager are all over each other. I take another drink from a tray, willfully giving myself over to the drunken territory. I manage to get through the rest of the song by looking everywhere but the stage.

“Alright, alright, enough with the mushy shit. I’m sure many of you on this lovely Valentine’s Day might be feeling a little left out after that display. But don’t worry, if you’re feeling heartbroken or like this Valentine’s Day can just go to hell...well this next one’s for you!” Castiel says as the audience whoops back.

My heart falls into the pit of my stomach when I hear the beginning chords. “No…I-I can’t,” I whisper to the pulsating music.

“You remind me of summertime on this cold winter day,” echos behind me as I push my way out the room in a sloppy sprint.

Air. I need air. I stumble toward the end of the hall where two large glass doors overlook a balcony. I slip out the door into the cool night air. Closing my eyes, I rest my arms on the railing and lean forward. My head is dizzy. I feel like I’m stuck on a merry-go-round, but the crappy kind at the playground where you sit in the middle and some overgrown child flings the thing around and around. And I am going so fast that all the colors in the world bleed together into one muddy mess and I’m gripping the bars so tight ‘cause if I let go I’m going to fly into some colorless abyss.

What the hell am I talking about? Get a grip.

I see a bench in the corner and slump down in it. My face feels hot and my eyes are watery but I’m not quite drunk enough to cry. I close my eyes again, letting the chilly night nip my skin as my brain sways back and forth.

“There you are! What the hell are you doing out here? Are you trying to catch a cold?”

I groan, not bothering to open my eyes. I hear him sit down next to me and scoff, “Are you drunk?”

I don’t say anything. I just take in the heat radiating off of his body. He takes off his black leather jacket and drapes it over my shoulders. We sit in silence for several long seconds, listening to the muffled sounds of the party sneaking outside. “Well, I guess I’ll go tell the others where you’re at.”

“Please... I really want you to stay.” I whisper, gently grabbing his thigh.

I hear him sigh and settle back into the seat.

A few quiet moments slip between us before he speaks, “So...did you not like the show?”

“W-what?” I open my eyes and sit up, sensing an argument on the horizon.

“I saw you run out.”

I sigh, feeling hot and trapped. “Yeah...that isn’t it. The show was amazing. You were amazing.”

“Then why’d you leave?”

“I-I don’t know.” My head is still spinning. I can’t bring myself to look at his face although I feel his eyes on me. It’s then that I realize my hand is still on his thigh. I politely remove it.

He seems to notice but doesn’t address it. He just says, “Well, tell me something? What’s going on with you? Last time I saw you, you about ripped my head off.”

“Yeah, well, you deserved it.”

“Hmm, yeah...I did. But you definitely didn’t have to yell at me like that. You know that if you just talk to me I’ll listen.”

I shake my head, trying hard to keep my watery eyes from spilling. “I-I can’t say that that’s true, Castiel. There is so much that we can’t talk about without you getting pissed at me and quite honestly it’s killing me.” My voice wavers as I speak and I can’t stop myself from crying. I huff, dragging the palms of hands beneath my eyes. Great, now my makeup is ruined.

His fingertips tickle my face as he gently brushes a piece of my hair behind my ear. “Let’s talk about it then.” His voice is even and cool.

I look at him. Searching his calm grey eyes I find assurance. “I ran out tonight because it still hurts. It still really sucks when I think about our break up. And I thought that after four years, it wouldn’t still hurt this bad. You look amazing on stage. You always have. But the first time I saw you at the Snake Room... I couldn’t help but feel angry that it had been four years. That I had played my part in letting all of this time pass between us and that I didn’t find a better answer to our relationship.

“And I hate that I can’t say that to you. That I am really, really, really fucking sorry things played out the way they did. That I hate it, that I’ve always hated it. It always fucking sucked to think about.

“And tonight, you’re so annoying. You looked so unfairly sexy. Everyone was eating out of your hand, including me. And then that fucking song, it was hard enough to listen to it on my own… I couldn’t bear to watch you perform it in person.”

He is quiet as his eyes wander off of my face. But then he smirks and says, “To be fair, you are also unfairly sexy tonight.”

I roll my eyes and smile in spite of myself.

“But seriously, Candy, I’m sorry too. I know I’ve been tough on you. But seeing you again...it’s been hard for me too. Breaking up with you sucked. I really really liked you a lot. And I still do. And I hope we can resolve whatever it is holding us back because I want to know who you are now.

“Every time we are together, I see things that are new about you and I want to know more. But don’t worry, sometimes you reassure me that some of your quirks are still the same. Like how you still try to fix everyone's problems.”

I nudge his arm and he chuckles. I can’t stop myself from giggling too. I feel like I finally jumped from the merry-go-round and safely landed on the ground. I rest my head on his shoulder and he casually throws his arm around me. I close my eyes again and take a deep breath. I say, “I still like you too.” And I know he knows what I truly mean because I know what he meant too.

He lazily runs his fingers through my hair as I fill my lungs with his after-show sweat and cologne.

After a while, he gently lifts my chin. My spine tingles with goosebumps as he gently presses his warm lips tenderly against mine. He quickly pulls away though, biting his bottom lip. “Let’s head inside so that your friends know you haven’t been eaten alive. If we stay out here alone any longer, I might just eat you myself, little girl.”

His breath tickles my ear as he says the last part. My knees feel a little weak at the thought. “Don’t ask for trouble with me, Cas. I’m in the mood to give you hell.”

He flashes the cheekiest smile and grabs my hand to pull me up with him. “Come on then. As sexy as that would be, my conscience won’t let you raise hell out here in the open.”

My stomach is in knots again, but this time it is less anxious. I let him lead me back inside where we rejoin the others. But I still hope he leads us back to where we can end this night alone...

[janelevy]

Crush - Penny/Fem!MC

You can also read this on AO3!

**This takes place in 6th year, so now that everyone’s aged up a bit things get scandalous. In plainer words, this fic contains a lot of kissing. As in MC kissing Penny. Making out with Penny. A lot. What’s not to love?

You hadn't been particularly inclined to attend the party, but at the last minute a certain somebody helped convince you.

You were in herbology class, trimming away at the ivy, packing all your pent-up emotions into each hearty snip of the garden shears. Class had started roughly ten minutes prior, but only then did Penny come running in, panting heavily.

You glanced up and nearly dropped the shears on your foot. Yet seeing Penny's face stirred up more pain than being stabbed in the foot ever could. Her eyes were red and watery, nose dripping as she wiped at it carelessly with her sleeve. As you got closer to her, you noticed streaky paths left behind on her cheeks by tears, and fresh ones were welling up at her eyelids, threatening to fall.

"Pen?" you said, stepping over to her. It didn't take long for your heart to start beating quickly; that was the natural "Penny Effect," as you called it. Anytime she was nearby or made contact with you, you basically melted into a helpless puddle. For example, one time in third year she coughed on you accidentally and you'd almost fainted.

"Oh. (Name)," she sniffed. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "He did it. Seb really broke up with me."

Your jaw dropped. "What? When?"

"Just now. That's why I'm late to class, I- I was crying my eyes out in the loo." She rubbed her bloodshot eyes and created a smudgy cloud of mascara around her eyes like a mask. "But it's not just that he broke up with me, it's how he did it."

You stared at her dumbly, like a puppy waiting to be fed more treats— or in this case, more information. "How?"

"I found him snogging another girl in an empty classroom. I heard whispers, and… and it sounded like him, then I opened the door and it was him. H- he was with that girl Elizabeth. What does she have that I don't?" Penny broke into heavier sobs, and a few other students glanced over in interest. Sprout was too busy helping somebody at the other end of the greenhouse to notice, however.

You rubbed your friend's back and sighed. You had known it would only be a matter of time before that wanker Sebastian cheated on Penny. He was a player, a cocky pureblood redhead who always had the latest in brooms and fashion. You knew as soon as they started dating a few months ago that it wouldn't last. In all honesty, you were surprised they did last as long as they had. And everyone had known Seb was eyeing that Elizabeth girl— also a Hufflepuff, but in the year above you.

"You are way better than her," you assured Penny. It was kind of half-hearted; you're not the best at reassuring others. Sure, you've been convincing enough in the past, but actually comforting your friends is a whole other story. When you say words of comfort, they feel empty. And when you spoke to Penny then, it felt empty and pointless. You were speaking the truth— Penny was a million times prettier and smarter than that skanky brunette— but you knew it would take more than that to make her feel better.

"I just want to hex that bitch and see how she likes feeling like her chest was ripped open!" Penny snarled, clenching her fists.

"Hey, hey," you said. "Pen, she's not worth wasting your anger on. Neither of them are worth it."

She relaxed slightly. "As much as I don't want to admit it, you are right, (Name). I need to get it off my mind. How…" She paused, seeming to think for a moment, then brightened remarkably. "Aha! (Name), you have to come to the party with me tonight."

Instantly you deflated. "I'm, uh… not exactly a party person." Unlike her, you highly prefer staying in and reading with Rowan rather than dressing up and socializing into the early hours of the morning.

But Penny fixed those puppy eyes on you, and that's when you knew it was hopeless. Missing the party for your own selfish reasons would only make you feel worse about this situation.

So that's how you end up in a dress and awkwardly walking up one of Hogwarts' many staircases in heels. You curse under your breath as you trip for the hundredth time. The stumble nearly sends you crashing into the ancient stone steps, but you manage to right yourself on the railing. This reminds you of the time Rowan and Penny convinced you to go ice-skating with them, only these cursed shoes are that clumsiness multiplied by a thousand.

You're alone because Rowan had helped you get ready, but in usual Rowan fashion, they hadn't been interested in actually going themself. You promised to meet Penny, Tonks, and everyone else there. Now you wish you had an arm to lean on, though, because these stairs are simply impossible.

By some miracle, you scale them after some fifteen minutes of struggle and huffing and puffing. It's not difficult finding the spare room the party is being held in; the portrait concealing the entrance contains a young man who is holding a glass of firewhisky and wearing a ridiculous hat. He sways side to side and hums to himself as you approach.

You clear your throat, and at last he notices you. He opens an eye and asks, "Passwooooord?"

"Butterscotch toad," you tell him, and briefly wonder if Tulip had something to do with the password, considering her adoration for toads.

He nods, and the portrait swings open like a door, inviting you in. You climb through and right away you get an exact idea of just what kind of party this is. On the surface, it looks like what it's called: a Christmas party for sixth-years only. There's merry decorations, tinsel and strings of lights everywhere. But its innocence has been brutally torn away, replaced by a bunch of sixteen-year-olds stumbling around, drunker than the man in the portrait. Several couples are snogging in darker corners or right in the open, and nobody seems to care about it. Fancy, dressy outfits that were put together with care an hour ago are now disheveled and stained.

"Shit," you mutter. This is not the kind of thing you wanted to get into. But you're here for Penny. Her happiness is what's most important right now, not yours. So you grudgingly take a seat and lazily scan your eyes over the crowd, only kind of searching for her. She said she'd find you, after all, so—

That's when your eyes land on her. In less than half a second, all of your doubts vanish. This is a different Penny than the one you saw earlier in herbology— and only now do you realize you've never seen Penny in party mode. You only see her in her most modest form: neat Hufflepuff robes, hair plaited, appearance spotless. You can't believe you have known this girl for six years. You can't believe you have waited six years to see this version of her.

She smiles brightly and heads over to you. You don't bother to conceal the fact you're eyeing her up. She's wearing a tight-fitting blue gown adorned with sequins. The garment hugs the curves you'd never noticed she had. It's also low-cut, offering a decent view of her chest. You swallow shakily as your eyes continue moving up. Her face is all done up with fresh makeup and zero sign of the day's tears. Thick lashes, shimmery eyeshadow, dark pink lipstick. The most notable difference is her hair. You've never seen her hair without at least one braid woven into it. But now it's all let down, tumbling past her shoulders like blonde waterfalls. Plentiful, shiny waves of hair softer than the softest blanket— you know, you've touched it before. At last she reaches you. "Hey, (Name)! You finally made it."

Your nerves are so electric, you can practically feel them buzzing just underneath your skin. "Y- yep. I'm here," you stutter. Your mind is blank except for one thought repeating itself again and again, prodding your brain: Penny is hot. Penny is very hot. Penny is a very attractive person who is standing a few centimeters away from me. You hope you're not sweating excessively. Desperately, you hope not.

"What do you think?" she asks, gesturing around you both. "Aren't parties great? I like them because this is where everyone can let loose and have fun. I think we really deserve this, don't you?"

It takes a second to recognize that you've been asked a question. "Um, yeah," you say lamely.

"Come on, there's some people I want you to meet," Penny chirps as she grabs your hand. You grit your teeth the second you touch her. You know your hand must be sweaty as hell, but if she notices she doesn't say anything of it.

She introduces you to some of her Hufflepuff friends who you always noticed from afar all these years, but never actually talked to. There's Michael, who is clearly staring at Penny's chest the entire time she's talking to him. Gabriel is kind, but too tipsy to really have a decent conversation with. Marilia is sweet, but seems a little flustered when the two of you walk up to her. The entire time Penny drags you around from person to person, you're trying to ignore your lightheadedness.

Eventually you two find Ben, Tonks, Tulip, and Charlie. Ben and Charlie look very dashing in button down shirts. Tulip is in a sleek black skirt and white top, while Tonks is in her usual clothes, because of course she is. You envy her as you shift uncomfortably in your heels— there's definitely going to be blisters on your feet when the night is over.

"Well, well. (Name)'s actually tall for once," Tulip says.

You're too dizzy to bite back with a humorous response. You blink a few times. Your head is spinning, actually. Your brain is wobbling and your skull is tilting back and forth in your head like a see-saw. You look down at the drink in your hand. The frothy liquid is a swirling, dangerous whirlpool. What kind of dark magic is in that stuff?

A couple more hours pass by as you hang with your friends. Gradually the shy giggles turn into obnoxious guffaws. You and Penny sit on a sofa and you start out with a little space between you. Then that turns into her leaning a bit on your arm, then her head is resting on your shoulder. There's one point where you're laughing at something Tonks or Charlie just said, and you incline your head to look at the weight pressing into your side, and Penny's laughing too, you can feel her shaking sides tickle your ribs, and then her gaze flits upward and you're both looking at each other, and with that something falls into place. Your heart freezes and your brain, currently in quite the disastrous state, quits functioning. You wander into the lagoon in her blue eyes and after tonight, you realize vaguely, there's no wandering back out of that lagoon.

You and Penny excuse yourselves from the group. The room the party is being held in is connected to a few other smaller rooms, with short hallways in between. A layout that would be basic to any sober person is like a maze to you both. You kick off your heels and scamper close behind her, your bare feet skimming over the creaky wooden floor.

She gets her hands on a door knob and when it opens, you two fall through into a dark, narrow corridor. It seems empty and deserted. For just a second the air is filled with heavy breathing, but then fingers dig into your shoulders and you're slammed against the wall. She's just a hair taller than you without heels on, so she bends down slightly to rest her cheek on your chest. Her breath comes out in hot puffs, grazing your skin with the sweetest feeling that makes your heart slam against your ribcage. She stays in that position until both of you have caught your breath. Then she lifts her head so you're nose to nose.

"Your heart's like a jackhammer," she whispers. Jackhammer? You try to place a definition for that word, but you can't so you figure it must be a muggle object. Way to show her half-blood heritage.

You can't find the courage to reply. You're still stunned that you're here in this dark hall with Penny Haywood leaning into you— her breasts like a warm cushion between your bodies and her endless hair going astray and teasing your goose bump-covered skin.

As your eyes adjust to the dark, you can see that she's still studying you with a great intensity. She speaks again, and the tang of alcohol stings your nostrils.

"I've never done much with a girl before," she says. "I… I mean, little pecks and kisses here and there, but never—"

You wrap one hand around the back of her head, relishing the sleek coolness of her hair as you bring your lips to meet hers. You initiated the kiss, but it's her who leans into it hungrily, her entire body now pinning you to the stone wall. You soon learn how vocal she is; her moans travel up her throat, into your own mouth, and reverberate around your skull. It makes your knees wobble and the pure ecstasy fueling your brain explodes like an array of fireworks.

It's truly the most extraordinary thing you've done. Six years at Hogwarts— the Cursed Vaults, your interminable feud with Merula, your missing brother— all of it disappears in an instant. It's like you have cast the Obliviate charm on yourself, and preserved only these heart-thudding seconds of your life. You're snogging Penny Haywood after years of one-sided pining and watching her heart get stomped on by jerky boys who didn't appreciate what they had. You're snogging Penny Haywood, and it's the best thing.

Your relationship becomes an accidental secret. You know you wouldn't care if others found out, but neither of you speak about it aloud, so it just stays under wraps.

In fact, in front of others you and Penny are as painfully platonic as ever. But there are times, when Rowan is focused on their book or Tulip's head is turned the other way, where she'll let her hand brush yours as she reaches forward to get something. It's the most innocent action, and it almost exasperates you that she acts like you're a couple of awkward first-years.

Then, however, there are other instances where you and her are anything but a couple of awkward first-years. You'll be walking down the hall by yourself, heading to lunch, when an arm darts out of an empty classroom and drags you in. The door slams shut, a silencing charm is cast, and then she's on you like a hungry predator, sucking on the sensitive skin of your neck and reducing you to a wobbly mess. There are the times when you'll pounce as well, jogging down a deserted corridor with her and barely escaping Filch's ever-watchful eye. You might end up in a bathroom, falling into a stall together as the door bangs loudly against the wall, but you pull it shut with your heel and strain one hand back to slide the lock in place before you return your hand to her hair, unraveling the perfect braids as she lets your tongue explore her mouth, and after the make out session you leave with an aftertaste of the caramel sweets she had eaten earlier.

The first time you two are caught, it's luckily not in the act— it's afterward, in the girls' toilet on the third floor that is almost always empty. You're catching your breath, leaning against the cool marble wall, as she fixes her hair in front of the mirror.

The door groans open, and both of you jump. You turn to see who it is; Penny's face has turned three shades paler, so you know it must not be good. And sure enough, there's Merula Snyde, her eyes flicking back and forth from one disheveled girl to the other. "The hell happened here?" she asks, but from the glint in her gaze you know she knows.

"I'm just fixing my hair, Merula," Penny responds, your enemy's name coming out in a soft exhale that makes your heart thrum. Then she glances over at you, her gaze hard. "And so is (Name)."

"Fixing my…? Oh yes, I'm fixing my hair, too." It's useless, but you step up to the mirror neighboring Penny's and start frantically smoothing down the flyaway hairs.

Merula nods. "Right, right. Just fixing your hair. In the snogging restroom."

Your arms stiffen. Penny tenses next to you. Merula's smirking reflection stands just behind you.

"Everybody knows the empty restroom on the third floor corridor is for snogging. It's been the snogging restroom for ages, I mean— you've seriously never heard about it? I'm sure the Potters went here, I'm sure your parents went here, too, (Last name)."

"Shut your trap," you growl. "Tell me, Merula, if this is the snogging restroom, then why have you come here alone?"

Penny stifles a giggle behind her fingers as Merula smolders.

"Whatever," she snaps. "I suggest you find a spell good enough to cover up Haywood's lip color that's smeared all around your mouth, (Last name). And Haywood, if everyone sees those hickeys on your neck, then your pathetic little rebound will be even more obvious than when I reveal it to the whole school." With that, she stalks out.

You're trembling with fury by the time she's gone, but Penny doesn't seem bothered at all. She finishes taming her hair back into the braids, then faces you and shrugs. "It's Merula. You know she never does what she says she's going to do." She plants a final kiss on your cheek, then takes her exit.

As usual, Merula isn't true to her word. An uneventful month passes by, and sure enough nobody else still knows. You suppose you have enough dirt on the coward to keep her trap shut.

The second time you and Penny are caught, it is in the act. You two had sneaked into your dormitory, which is blissfully empty (you'd tried her dorm first, but Tonks had looked very confused when you and her bustled in, then immediately turned back around and left). First thing you do after entering is push her against a wall then lift her up in your arms so her thighs are squeezing your torso. Let's just say Quidditch practice has given you sudden bursts of extra strength. Now her head's above yours, and she stretches her neck down to collide her lips with yours. You both manage to dislodge a curtain, scare off a pet cat, and knock over a stack of books before falling as one onto your bed. The mattress bounces like your nerves. Your mouth is kiss-swollen and tingling, the "Penny Effect" taking control of you more than ever before.

It's when your hands are up her shirt and she's whimpering in pleasure into your neck that another unsuspecting soul walks in.

Poor, poor Rowan. They'd strolled into the dormitory expecting to have it all to themself for a nice, quiet reading session. That illusion is immediately destroyed when they see a peculiar sight on your bed: two girls tangled together in a fierce display of passion. Their eyes dart down to the robes crumpled on the floor— yours on one side, and yellow Hufflepuff ones on the other. They look back up and the long, silky blonde hair is unmistakable.

"For Merlin's sake!" Rowan shouts. You and Penny spring apart in alarm. "Couldn't you have found a more private place to do that?"

You nibble your sore lip. "I, um… it was private for a while." Rowan glares at you. "Un… until now," you add sheepishly.

Penny looks guilty as ever and won't remove her gaze from her lap. You're both in your underclothes, the farthest layer you two have ever reached thus far. So, you figure, it could've been worse.

"Unbelievable! How long have you two been doing this?"

"A few months," you tell them quietly.

Rowan perches themself on the edge of their bed, shaking their head in dismay. "Two of my best friends… you lot are my two best friends, and you decide to keep a secret this big from me?"

You open your mouth to explain, but Penny cuts in. "We wanted to keep it to ourselves," she says, raising her head and staring at Rowan solemnly. Her flat tone clashes with the apologetic expression on her face.

"Why?" Rowan demands.

You're too busy trying to figure out why Penny said that answer, so she covers for you again. "We're not really sure what this is, exactly, so… we just kept it a sworn secret."

Your muscles go limp, and you collapse against your pillow. Penny senses the movement and twists around, but when she tries to connect your gazes you refuse.

Rowan stands up with their arms crossed. "I'm just… I'm just going to leave. I need to think." They storm out with a huff and disappear back down the staircase.

"… fuck," Penny groans, falling onto her back as her silken hair spreads out like a fan.

"So… this is supposed to be a secret? Something forbidden you don't want anyone to know about?"

She flips onto her stomach, her brow furrowed. "What are you talking about, (Name)?"

"You'd be embarrassed if everyone knew, wouldn't you? It's like Merula said. I'm just your rebound, or your experiment, or— or whatever you want to call it. You just want to see what 'it' is like with a girl. Well guess what, Pen, you can't just kiss me silly, have sex with me, then move on to the next bloke!" While the harsh accusations roll off your tongue, something stabs at your gut. You curl yourself into a tighter ball as you speak, and you watch her confused expression shatter into a million irreparable shards.

You remember the first time you noticed how beautiful she is— it was back in third or fourth year, and you were playing gobstones with her in the courtyard, then she threw back her head and laughed, and it was the kind of laugh that made sunshine beam inside you, warming you to your core, and you just knew from then on. Even from the first moment she'd walked up to you in first year and remarked on how brave you were for dueling Merula— you'd noted how simply pretty she was, the kind of girl who you could pass on the street and do a double take at. The kind who could stick in your mind for a while even after only seeing her face once. And now you sit here on your bed, watching as she shatters in front of you, and the knife you've stabbed into your own gut twists.

Her voice is at an ominously low level when she finally speaks. "First of all, (Name), you implying that I'm a heartless slut really hurts my feelings. I never thought you could say something that bloody careless." She sits up and glowers at you. "And for your information, if you were my rebound, I would've let you go months ago. Do you think I kiss you all the time because I'm lonely and feeling sorry for myself?" Tears start to drip down her face. "No! I… I kiss you because I like it a lot, I… I enjoy it a lot. This has nothing to do with you being the same gender as me, it has to do with me liking you, goddamn it! And… and we never went out of our way to mention this to anyone, so I assumed it should be a secret. And even if we weren't secretive about it, I mean— I mean, I would be scared if everyone knew be— because… oh, (Name), it's 1990, progress should be made, but there are still so many who would judge us." She hops off the bed and snatches up her robes, slipping them back on and throwing the hood over her messy hair.

You tremble violently and hug your knees to your chest. She throws one more scowl at you, and it's like the one last dagger needed to finally kill you. "(Name), I do like you for real. Not just as a friend. Maybe… maybe even I love you. I don't know. But I don't deserve this." She whips around and you can hear her deafening, angry footsteps fading down the staircase.

You cave in on yourself and cry silently until you drift to sleep.

In your slumber, you have a nightmare. It's similar to Penny's situation with that arsehole Seb back in December. You hear something behind a closed door. You open it, and find Penny kissing someone who is way better looking than you, but they don't possess even half of Penny's beauty. The blonde turns to you with a devilish grin and cackles. "Just so you know, (Name), this is what a rebound looks like," she tells you before reattaching her face to the other person's.

You wake up drenched in sweat and feeling sour as ever. Your stomach rumbles, a swirling storm of sickness roiling within. You stay in bed all day and skip classes.

The following day, Rowan finally speaks to you again. "(Name)," they whisper, nudging you awake.

You roll over and look up at them in surprise. "I'm sorry," you say immediately. Your throat is parched. You can't remember the last time you had even one drop of water.

"It's alright," they reply, "though after thinking it over, it did occur to me that it really wasn't ever any of my business." Rowan hesitates, then carefully goes on. "Um… listen, I made up with Penny already"— you cringe just hearing her name— "and I was talking with her at breakfast this morning. She seemed very upset about whatever it was you said to her."

You rub your face and massage your aching temples. "I basically called her a slut."

"Oh," Rowan winces.

"And I, uh, I claimed she was just using me."

Rowan grits their teeth. "I would say it's safe to assume she has good reason to be upset, then, but—"

"No, yeah, you're right. Fuck." You unfold yourself from the depressed ball you had been tucked into for the past couple days. Your arms shoot up and you stretch your back luxuriously, waiting until your spine cracks in that satisfying way. "Alright. Let me get dressed and I'll talk to her in div."

You show up at divination class sooner than you would like. Gulping, you shuffle deeper into the room until your eyes land on your usual place in between Charlie and Penny.

Charlie grins broadly and welcomes you back. Penny, on a completely different page from you and him, is intently focused on her homework for charms. Her quill scribbles furiously over the page and her forehead is all crinkled up like tissue paper; both indicate her intense determination to ignore you.

You drop down into the seat next to her and awkwardly drum your fingers on the desk. "Well," you begin.

"Save it," she snaps.

You startle at her abruptness. "Pens—" you try again.

"Don't want to hear it."

Your heart drops and you settle back against your seat, utterly at a loss. Trelawney starts her lecture, slinking around in that strange way she does, but you're so far deep into your imagination that paying attention is out of the question. In your peripheral, you see Penny lifting her head ever so slightly, her eyes dully resting on the professor.

You think back to your fight, how her face was beet red, makeup ruined by tears and snot. Your mind then shifts to thinking about kissing her. You know that you'll never not like kissing Penny Haywood. Penny bloody Haywood. Ah, hell, what is wrong with me? You think about the first second you met her, you think about those late nights in the potions classroom brewing non-Snape-approved substances, you think about her sitting behind you by the fireplace weaving a million braids into your hair, you think about the werewolf, the secret only you know, the secret she made herself forget, you think about the Christmas party, you think about her tongue twirling in rhythm with yours, you think about the alcohol, the sweat, the tears, the most amazing feeling that bursts in your stomach when you lay in bed next to her and smell coconut in her hair from the shampoo she uses.

You spend the whole class thinking about what you've lost. When it's over you want to dig a hole, throw yourself into it, pull crushing dirt over yourself, and never see light again.

"Were you listening at all, (Name)?" Charlie teases as the class files out.

"Eh, divination is a waste of time anyway," you mutter. You spot Penny walking briskly two or three paces ahead of you. You excuse yourself and catch up to her.

"Penny, you don't have to say anything, but just listen to me, please. I didn't mean to—"

You feel an iron grip close on your upper arm. With a murderous growl, she yanks you into an empty side hall. She flings her arms into a crossed position over her midsection. "No," she hisses. "You listen to me. You had no right to attack me like you did. No right!" Already she's crying again, but this time she lets the tears drip undisturbed, leaving black mascara trails. "Everything was swell, then you turned on me out of nowhere! I'm sorry I wanted to keep us a secret, (Name). I'm sorry if I offended you. If you want me to scream it to the heavens, I will. I just… I just don't understand what went wrong."

You feel something heavy filling your eyes and blurring your vision. Your chest heaves and you let out a breath. "Penny, I'm the one who should be apologizing. I- I think I just felt… insecure. I didn't… I couldn't imagine why you would want to be with me. I'm way out of your league. You could've had someone like Bill, or— or…" You trail off. "I… just. I'm sorry, Pen. It was out of line, those things I said to you. You didn't deserve that. If… if we could restart where we left off, before I ruined everything, then maybe…"

The words die on your tongue again. Your mouth goes dry as your eyes slowly move up to lock with hers. "It's okay, love." She smiles and steps forward, tucking stray hairs behind your ear. Her smooth hand slips under your chin and she guides your lips to meet hers. It's the gentlest kiss you two have shared. Joy fizzes in every ounce of your blood, from your fingertips to your toes.

"I love you," you say as you separate. The words slip out of your mouth. You hadn't meant for them to come out, but Penny grins.

She takes your hand and chuckles in that light, airy laugh of hers. Like clouds you could float on forever. You know, you know you'll never be free from Penny Haywood's delightful curse. "I know," she says, and with that she pulls you back into the stream of students walking to class.

[editoress]

Chapter 2: Trouble [Treasure Hell]

In the end, she decided to take Cutter with her.

She had a busy few days before the voyage began.  She hit the ground running every morning to pack and purchase more supplies, to visit patients who would need medication or instructions for the next six months, and to spread the word that she would be absent for a while.

"You want me to tell a bunch of thieves your building'll be empty half a year?" Caleb asked dubiously.  He was a terrific climber, but not so terrific that she hadn't seen him several times for broken limbs.

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows.  "If I come back and the place is ransacked, I'll be gone a good deal longer," she retorted.  "And then they can disinfect and stitch up their own gashes.  You may tell them that, too."

Every moment she wasn't occupied, she was thinking about Cutter.  He was perfectly skilled, and she did not need to worry about his safety.  But the idea of letting him continue to run the practice unsupervised, however convenient, gave her a headache and an upset conscience.  And so at last, she decided to close it down entirely and take Cutter aboard with her.

"Oh, good," he said when she informed him.  "The same thing, really, but with fewer people.  And in space."

"That's the idea."  She patted his shoulder.  "It'll be fun.  Think of it as an adventure."

"Meeting new people on the outside and in," Cutter said approvingly.  "Very droll."

Elizabeth pressed her hands together just below her nose and eventually decided, "You know, I think you'll make friends."

Her last errand was fortunately at the Singing Toad Inn.  She got up the morning of the launch and went downstairs to have some breakfast and thank the innkeeper for his hospitality.  She found herself strangely sad to leave the place behind.  Todd seemed to feel the same, and loaded her up with a feast of a breakfast.  She ate without protest.  She was not one to turn down extra bacon. When breakfast was had and their accounts were settled, Elizabeth said, "I've been meaning to ask you something."

"What's that, then?" Todd asked.

"Why did you name this place the Singing Toad?"

Todd bowed his head and scratched at one pointed ear for a minute or two.  He cleared his throat.  At last he answered, "Named it Singing Todd's Inn."

A delighted grin spread over her features.  "You did?"

He nodded.  "But the painter misread it.  And she was so proud when she was done."  He ducked his head further and mumbled, "Didn't want to correct her."

Elizabeth clasped his hand in both of hers.  "You're a good man, Singing Todd," she declared.  "I hope I'll see you again."

"You too, miss."  As she left, he called, "Safe journey!"

She waved her thanks.  That's what I'm hoping, she thought.

The Legacy was ready and waiting for her at the docks.  Its sails seemed to flutter with anticipation, and the crew was doing a great deal more than that.  Elizabeth dodged them as they hauled boxes of supplies up the boarding ramp and stamped back down for more.  She was almost aboard when she had to run back for Cutter, who had remembered to say, "Excuse me," but had opted not to alter his course whatsoever, nearly causing a disaster and one less barrel of some root vegetable or another.

She stepped onto the deck with Cutter in tow by the arm.  Most of the spacers had a rough look about them, which made it infinitely easier to pick out the officer of the vessel.  Judging by his face, this fellow didn't much care for the practice of hiring out naval ships, but he called out orders with a steady, booming voice.

Elizabeth trotted over to him.  "Doctor on board," she announced once he was between orders.

He harrumphed, and very impressively, but after looking her over, he said with relief, "Ah, the medical doctor."

Elizabeth began to feel that most people would do very poorly at a university, where you had to call practically everyone a doctor, and not ask what kind unless you wanted half a thesis.  "So I am.  Doctor Elizabeth Anderson."  She held out her hand.

He shook it gently, careful of his stony grip.  "Mister Arrow.  First mate."  Even when he wasn't bellowing, his voice was huge and rumbling.  "The captain's occupied in her stateroom."

"Then I won't trouble her."  She dodged a petite young woman who was struggling with a pallet much too big for her.  "But I'd like to settle in and get out of the way." 

"Stern quarters.  Portside," he said briskly.  When she hesitated, he pointed to a ladder leading down into the deck and added, "Main stairway, Doctor.  Be with you as soon as this lot is in line."

She saluted, which caused him to grumble in exasperation, and followed his directions.  The ladder was something of a challenge with her bag of supplies, but it was worse for Cutter, whose legs were not designed for the full range of motion.  In the end, he had to jump and let her catch him, which was more a matter of breaking his fall.

"It must be nice to be so cushy," he commented.

She pushed him off and sat up, groaning.  "Not currently."

The medical quarters consisted of two rooms: a small bedroom and a patient room with two cots and a table.  It took little enough time to get set up.  The longest part of the process was arguing that she should get the bed.  She continued to wander once she was finished, familiarizing herself with the space.  They were both small rooms with low ceilings, but based on what she had seen getting here, that was the way of naval architecture.  Her pacing built up speed.  The medical room was four or five steps long, and her room was only three.  Still Arrow did not appear.  "Taking a good long time to get that lot in line," she muttered.

The ship rumbled under her feet, the engines thundered, and at once both rooms tilted.  Elizabeth went sprawling.  Cutter managed to stay where he was and looked terribly smug for it.

"Learn anything?" he asked.

She wiggled further upright to sit against the wall.  "I don't like launch," she said primly, "and I don't think I like small spaces.  It's a very educational trip so far."

The launch was over, and when Arrow still did not arrive in the next few minutes, Elizabeth decided to solve her other problem by going up top.  She left Cutter behind with promises that she would be back soon.

The deck was less of a frenzy now that the ship was underway.  The crew's job seemed to be mainly passive now, a matter of keeping an eye on all the ropes and things rather than actively manipulating them.  Elizabeth leaned back against the railing and scanned over them all.  Not a soul in trouble, though Hands looked as though someone had spit in his porridge.

Would that it would stay this way.  But she knew trouble would come soon enough.

*

Despite her reservations, the voyage began smoothly.  She had apparently missed all the excitement of the launch.  Her main trouble now was Cutter.  She didn't have the strength to pull him up the ladder, and she preferred to spend as little time below decks as possible.  Cutter was as morose about this as she had ever seen him, for though he had enjoyed being left to his own devices at the practice each night, he didn't care for being put away.

"You're abandoning me," he lamented.  "I'm in storage."

Elizabeth propped her elbows on her knees.  She was sitting on the ladder pensively.  "You're not in storage, Cutter; you're just very heavy."

"That's impolite."

She stifled a laugh.  "I can't get you up.  And frankly I'm not sure I could get you back down again, either."

"That part wasn't so bad," Cutter informed her.

Elizabeth was spared the trouble of working up a reply past the urge to chuck something at him by the clip of boots and a ringing voice asking, "Problem, Doctor?"

Elizabeth turned to see a sharp-edged saber of a woman standing over her.  She was perfectly still despite the motion of the ship, and she had an intent, clever gaze.  "Captain Smollett, isn't it?" Elizabeth asked.

"Captain Amelia will do."  She had the firmest handshake of anyone Elizabeth had ever met, including Silver with his steel prosthetic and Arrow with his stone.  The captain jerked her chin toward Cutter.  "Well, Doctor?"

"It's my assistant," she sighed.  "I can't get him up and down, and now I feel rather like I've kicked a puppy."

The captain gave the whole situation a quick once-over and then barked, "Mister Morgan!"

An absolutely massive four-armed man appeared from above.  The captain commanded, "Haul this bucket of bolts on deck."  Without a word, Morgan reached down.  Elizabeth scrambled out of the way.

"Sir!  Sir!" Cutter yelped as he was lifted with one hand.  But he calmed the instant he was set down on the deck.  Then he flexed his hands, and with a cry of "Freedom!" he was gone, trotting off toward the bow of the ship.

"Thank you, Mister Morgan," Elizabeth said, despite the fact she foresaw disastrous consequences.

"When the doctor asks, put him back below," the captain added.

Morgan saluted with a grunt.  Elizabeth waved him goodbye, which earned her an odd look.  "Sorry for the trouble, Captain.  I appreciate the help."

"Small crises, Doctor Anderson, are the bread and butter of captaincy," Amelia replied at once.  "Otherwise the crew would sail themselves.  That said, I wouldn't trust this particular lot to bring a longboat back safely."

"The few I know," Elizabeth said, carefully but firmly, "are decent enough if you can get them pointed in the right direction."

"You don't say."  Amelia arched an eyebrow.  "Then we're saved.  If Mister Arrow can't get them pointed straight, no one can."

"Hmm," replied Elizabeth, who had seen firsthand how George Merry's like responded to even the sternest policemen.  She couldn't imagine he would favor Arrow with much better.  At the captain's questioning look, she continued, "You may be right.  But if not, perhaps I could help."

"If I need help keeping order on my ship?" Amelia asked coolly.  Her eyes glinted.

"Yes," Elizabeth returned in her practiced no-nonsense doctor voice.  "If you ask for assistance, I'll give it.  I have some experience with unruly patients."

Amelia watched her threateningly for a moment longer before breaking out in a smile.  "Capital.  You have backbone, Doctor; I like that.  I won't have you giving orders.  But if you have some way of steering these buffoons, as you say, in the right direction, then by all means, steer away."

Elizabeth watched Israel Hands clamber expertly among the ropes above them, feeling oddly hopeful about it.  "We'll see, Captain."

At that moment, a voice bellowed across the whole of the ship.  "Lunch is prepared, you louts!  Chef says get below deck at once!"

"Now that's the kind of enthusiasm I can appreciate," Elizabeth noted.  She turned to see the response of the crew obscuring her view of whoever had turned lunch into such an announcement.  She nodded respectfully at Amelia.  "Excuse me, Captain."  She followed the crew as they filtered into the galley, hoping that Cutter would forgive her for disappearing below almost as soon as they had gotten him out.

Elizabeth was beginning to discover that anything below decks had the potential to become close quarters at the drop of a hat, and lunch was no exception.  Fortunately, between the vicinity of the ladder and the natural light filtering through the grating above, this room made no attempt to suffocate her as the medical quarters first had.  Also, it smelled strongly of savory broth, and she was terribly hungry.

The crew jostled each other to get a bowl first, some friendlier than others in their elbowing and shoving.  She saw a distinct flash of claws up front and bellowed, "Don't make me work before lunch!"

A laugh rolled like a wave before her, uncertain and nervous but growing until she heard Silver's booming, good-natured guffaw from the kitchens.  "Heed the doctor, now!" he chided.  "I've enough for all of you!"  After that, the line proceeded with reluctant civility, and Silver gave her a broad wink when he handed her a bowl.

Elizabeth took what space was available, opting not to start a scuffle over sitting any closer to the ladder.  First she attended to her stew.  It was exactly delicious as it had smelled, with a blend of spices that blossomed into a kick of heat a few seconds after each spoonful.  She gave Silver a congratulatory gesture; her other hand was busy shoveling more stew into her mouth.

When she was halfway through the bowl and her hunger had dulled, her thoughts turned to the rest of the galley.  Elizabeth wasn't always the keenest on gauging the mood of a crowd, being more accustomed to interacting with people individually.  Even so, the crew struck her as restless.  There was a muttering undercurrent to the conversation that made her uneasy.

She raised her spoon to her nearest neighbor.  "Cheers," she said.

He tilted down to look at her fully, and she realized it was none other than Morgan from earlier.  "Got whiskey?" he rumbled.

She shook her head.

His upper list twisted.  "Then don't say cheers."

She bit back a laugh.  "My mistake, Mister Morgan."

He grunted irritably in response.  From the next bench over, George Merry called, "Don't mind him, Doc.  Dry voyage and all."

She whistled low.  But having now met the captain, and knowing they sailed on a naval vessel, she couldn't say it came as a surprise.  Nor could she say she was particularly displeased.  "My condolences."

Silver swung back into the room like a sail catching wind.  "A dry voyage, you say?" he cried.  "Upon my word, what a fool I am!  Why, the captain's like to take me for deaf at this rate.  Well!"  His hand landed heavily on Morgan's shoulder.  He had the attention of everyone in the room.  "An honest mistake, and what's done is done."

"What's done?" growled a woman across the room.

Silver smiled coyly and laid a finger alongside his nose.  "Best keep that to ourselves, I reckon."

Elizabeth closed her eyes briefly as if warding off a headache.  The room at large, ignorant of her worries, grew cheerier by degrees as the crew processed the news.  When she resigned herself to her fate and opened her eyes, Silver was propped nearby, delicately sipping at his own stew.

"You don't approve, Doctor?" he asked with a tone of hurt she could almost believe.

"Frankly, no," she replied wryly.  "I have no objection to drink, but I don't like its overuse."

"Oh, no need to fret."  He punctuated his point with a long, patient draught of stew.  "What kind of ship's cook would I be if I let the crew have their pick of the stores?  No, don't you worry, Doctor; it's me what's in charge of the kitchen, if not a plank more.  I'll keep 'em sober, you may be sure of that."

He shoved off the wall with a groan, and on instinct she reached out a hand to steady him, though she wasn't nearly strong enough to make a difference.  Fortunately he hadn't lost a shred of balance and waved her off with his free hand.  "And, if I may say so," he continued, "as an old spacer myself—it may be you'll have less work to do, with a drink now and again to soothe the nerves.  Men and women such as these, four months without a drop?  I can scarce imagine the scraps."

"All right, all right," she told him.  "You've talked me around.  It seems to be a talent of yours."

He grinned as though receiving the highest compliment, and she laughed despite herself.

Elizabeth held up a finger even so.  "If I have to tend one person for drinking themselves into a stroke," she said, loudly enough to be heard by the whole galley, "then I will confiscate the lot of it for antiseptic use, if I don't tell the captain and throw it overboard."

Silver's lips pursed in a rare show of displeasure, but the twinkle in his eye was back momentarily, if dimmer than before.  "Right you are, Doctor."

She took a deep breath and then let it out.  Silver had a point; a little alcohol would keep morale up, and higher morale meant the crew would spend less time trying to gut each other in their sleep.  She shook her head at that thought.  Her clientele had turned her into quite the pessimist.  "That said," she allowed more gently, "cheers."

This time half the galley raised their bowls with her.

*

The medical quarters received their first patient no more than an hour after lunch.  Elizabeth laced her fingers together and stared at George Merry in consternation.  For his part, George offered no explanation, only looked as the floor as though he'd really rather leave but couldn't figure out quite how.

"What seems to be the trouble?" she asked at last, very slowly.

"Had a cough," George grumbled, mostly addressing the floor.

She furrowed her brow at him.  "Had a cough?"

"Aye."

"Between the time I saw you last and now?"

He grunted what could have been a confirmation and shoved his hands in his pockets.  "It weren't nothing," he blurted out.  "I coughed is all, and got sent down."

"And you listened?" she asked, a little more incredulously than she'd meant to. He shrugged.  "Orders."

"Orders from whom?" she pressed.

"Silver."  He tugged at his kerchief and added quickly, "He made a fuss is all."

His answers struck her as alarming.  To be sure it wasn't medical alarm, she gestured him over.  She placed one hand flat between his shoulder blades and the other against his upper chest.  "Well, go on, take a deep breath, then."

George scowled but did so.  There wasn't the slightest catch in his lungs that she could hear or feel, and though this wasn't exactly a professional-level examination, she felt confident in her conclusion.  She gave him a pat on his shoulder for his trouble.  "Either he's a mother hen or he's an ass," she decided.  George did sputter at that, eyes wide.  "I suppose I'll go figure out which.  Now stop cluttering up my practice; it's not as roomy as the last one."

George was all too happy to return to his work.  He left without another word, which was just as well, because Elizabeth was thinking.  George Merry listened to orders from Silver.  She thought back to the galley and realized most of the crew listened to him, even when they were willing to reply unkindly.  He commanded a completely different sort of attention than her professional scolding tone.  That was worth noting.

That gave her something of an idea.  She didn't want to trouble Morgan every time Cutter had to get somewhere, and she didn't yet want to trouble the captain for a more permanent solution.  Perhaps Silver could be the compromise.

She headed up to the deck but stopped halfway up the ladder; Cutter was standing at the top of it, staring down at her.  "There is just no winning with you," he accused.

"I'm working on it," she assured him.  "Have you enjoyed yourself?"

"Yes," he replied matter-of-factly, "I made friends."  He left again before she could recover from her astonishment and question him further.  This day was full of oddities, and they still had a full four months to go.

The crew had returned full force from lunch.  Most of them were up in the rigging, though a few clearly had time for some conversation.  Doctor Doppler was leaning over the railing near the stern of the ship, but fortunately Arrow had a hold on his coat to keep him from toppling out into open space.  Arrow did not seem to be enjoying this arrangement.  At last she spotted Silver on the forecastle deck.  "Oi!" she called.  "Mister Silver!"  She made her way to the ladder and started up, ignoring the sense that Cutter was glaring daggers at her yet again.  "Could I borrow your expertise for a moment?  If you're free, that is."

Silver waited on her alongside a young woman who was looking slightly pink around the cheeks.  Elizabeth gave her a smile as well.  Then she raised an amused eyebrow at Silver.  "Why on earth did you send George to me, anyway?  He's perfectly fine, so I kicked him out."

Silver's grin was a charming admission of defeat.  "Oh, well, better safe than sorry."  He elbowed the young woman beside him.  "Eh, lad?"

Lad?  Elizabeth looked again.  She couldn't shake the impression of a young woman in her twenties.  "Doctor Anderson, right?" the youth asked.

Elizabeth reminded herself that she had never been talented at parsing age or gender, and it would be the height of stupidity to rely on her own assumptions.  The boy was probably sensitive about the fact he looked so feminine.  She refused to be rude about this.  She offered him a wide, warm smile.  "Elizabeth is just fine."  She held out her hand.  "And you are?"

He shook her hand cordially.  "I'm Mel.  Nice to meet you, Doc."

"Likewise, Mister Mel."  Having thus avoided certain disaster and insult, she turned to Silver.  "Do you think I can talk you into something for a change?"

He gave her a mock bow.  "I'm at your service, Doctor."

"Don't be so eager just yet, Mister Silver," she warned him wryly.  "It's about my assistant."

"Cutter?" Mel put in.

She blinked.  "Yes.  Have you met him?"

Mel nodded.  One corner of his mouth twitched, but his voice was deadpan when he said, "I think he likes me."

"A rare blessing," Elizabeth intoned, in full sincerity.  She wasn't even sure Cutter liked her.  She sighed.  "Anyway, the poor fellow can't work the ladders, and he needs to be able to get between the medical quarters and the main deck, at the very least, on his own.  I refuse to ask Mister Morgan to tote him around; the man has better things to do, I'm sure."

Silver rubbed his chin.  "That's right conscientious of you, Doctor, thinking about a man's duties before your own needs.  But if needs be---by thunder, John Silver's the man for the job."

She was afraid he was getting carried away by his own dramatic declarations.  "Don't let me take you away from more important work, either."

"Nonsense!"  He clapped Mel on the shoulder and completely missed how taken aback the boy looked by this development.  "Why, I've two crafty cabin boys to help me with the work.  Surely I can spare a moment for the good doctor, if I expect you to spare me one in turn."

"Sparing a moment for you lot is quite literally my job," she reminded him, but her eyes were crinkled in amusement.  "Except for George Merry, who hasn't got a cough."

Silver laughed genially.  To Mel, he said, "Go help Jim in the kitchens, there's a good lad."  He gave the boy a gentle push along the way.  Mel hurried away past Elizabeth's wave goodbye.  "Now!" Silver declared.  "Let's see to this ladder that's so counfounding you."

She showed him.  Immediately Silver's focus was on the deck and walls.  He thoroughly examined the point at which the ladder met the deck.  He was shockingly nimble; at least twice she offered a hand to help him up and down, but he had no need of it.

"Mighty kind of you, Doctor," he said the second time, "but I've had long years with these rusted scrapheaps.  Why, by now, I'd like as not stumble like a babe if I had two proper legs!"  He found this uproariously funny and continued to chuckle to himself as he kicked experimentally at the bottom of the ladder.

"I mean no insult to your capability," Elizabeth offered when she had regained her composure.  "It's pure instinct, I'm afraid."

"Well, you're a helping sort, or you wouldn't be a doctor, I reckon," he said kindly.

Elizabeth made no reply to that, opting to be touched yet faintly embarrassed in silence.

Silver returned to the deck with a strained noise that belied his earlier words.  "There's a hundred things could be done to that ladder," he decided at last, "but mark me, the captain would have none of 'em.  But it seems to me a ramp would do the trick just as well, and wouldn't leave a mark on the Legacy besides; aye, I'd say we ask real polite for a couple of planks kept for repairs and rig up something nice and easy."

"Mister Silver, you're a genius," she informed him.

"'T'is nothing," he said, very obviously pleased with himself.  "You flatter me, and you're too formal besides."  He gave her a grin that was as overdone as it was genuinely warm.  "No call for titles among friends, eh?"

She shook her head but smiled all the same.  "Well, if we're friends," she decided, "I suppose I'll just call you John."

[vhenadahls]

i find the map and draw a straight line

Prompted by @momsthetic​ - zinnia (I mourn your absence)

They all pile onto the Wicked Grace after they escape the Gallows, an unusual kind of cadence with Anders and Fenris lying dead and Carver running up the gangway on Esther's heels. The crew is all already awake, gawking at the chaos as the Gallows burn, and there's a long moment where they stare at the newcomers, ragged and bloody from their fight out of the city. A single shout from Isabela sets the sailors all back to rights, and the bustle of a ship readying to sail leaves the rest of them at loose ends on the deck.

Esther wants to be the first to recover, the smell of the sea usually almost as sweet to her as it is to Isabela, but Merrill's got a death grip on her hand that she doesn't seem too keen on loosening, and Esther can’t bring herself to do anything but stare. None of them speak, looking out over the docks as Isabela’s captain’s voice and the responses of her crew echo behind them. Heart sinking, Esther watches the roof of one of the warehouses collapse, a fresh plume of smoke billowing out from where it stood.

Varric’s murmured “shit” isn't meant to be heard by the others, but he's not as quiet as he thinks he is and it defuses the tension, if only a little. Merrill lets up on Esther's hand, and Carver loosens his armor and leans forward onto the railing.

“Shit,” Esther echoes, but it's hollow, and the tension grows taut again when she doesn’t follow it up with a joke. Merrill leans against her, silent, and Carver nods slowly, in sympathy - they put the whole city on her shoulders, and she failed.

They're still quiet as the crew finishes their final checks, and Esther feels her heart lift the smallest bit at the thought of being out on the water, escaping the city with her friends to finally just be Esther again, not the Champion of Kirkwall. But there's a small flurry near the gangway as Isabela sends someone to pull it onboard, and Aveline waves him away while gesturing their ragtag group towards her.

“I'm not leaving,” she says bluntly, once they've within earshot. She gazes out over the city, wincing as the flames spread to another building. “There's no one left, now with Meredith gone - not that Meredith was worth it in the first place. I can't leave while the city is in this state.”

Isabela eyes her critically, face calculating. “All right.” She claps Aveline on the shoulder, respect and insolence all in one. “I'll see you again, big girl.”

Aveline rolls her eyes, but there's a softness in her face, and she nods to Isabela before turning to Esther. “Keep out of trouble, Hawke. Maker knows you'll find it.”

Esther tries to give a cheeky grin, but it doesn't quite work, and instead she inclines her head. “You wouldn't be happy unless you had to come pull me out of something, you know it.” Tears prick at her eyes, but she blinks them away. She will not cry here, not with everyone watching. Grimacing, she fakes a cough, to try and sell that it’s the smoke.

Aveline nods once more, turning without another word and hurrying back down the gangway. She draws her sword and shield as she hits the ground, and the crew pulls the gangway onto the ship, and Aveline turns a corner and is gone into the maze.

They weigh anchor, picking their way out of the harbor and giving the Gallows a wide berth, and Esther doesn't move from her spot on the railing. She stands still, Merrill on one side and Varric on the other, with Carver nearby and Sebastian hovering and Isabela calling orders behind her, until burning Kirkwall fades over the horizon. She doesn’t give in to the tears that threaten to fall, but she doesn’t say anything else even when the city disappears, and her expression when she finally turns away is brittle.

-------

They leave Carver at Ostwick, off to rejoin his Warden unit. Everyone that’s left of their ragtag band of misfits troops off the ship together, Isabela shouting about half a day’s shore leave to the crew and the rest attempting to make merry like this is something they do all the time. A bar is found, one Varric complains could never live up to the legacy of the Hanged Man, and they take up their customary places around an unfamiliar table. A smaller table too, chosen to avoid thoughts of the gaps in their circle, and the conversation does not flow as easily despite the much better ale.

Esther does not beg or plead with Carver to stay, to shirk his vows and his duty and the mantle she gave him to save his life. Or, at least, she wouldn’t look to be begging in the eyes of someone who did not know her - but those standing around her as she says goodbye to her brother know her better than she ever thought possible.

“But who will protect me from the big scary darkspawn?” she jokes, trying to force her characteristic lilting humor back into place. To his credit he doesn’t call her on the fragility of her voice, responding only with a long-lost smirk and a deep, put-upon sigh. But when he grasps her hand and she pulls him in for a bone-crunching hug, his eyes are shiny and wet.

All of them watch as he mounts the relay horse that will take him to the Warden outpost a few hours outside the city. He rides straight out, not turning even for one last wave, his greatsword almost as big as Merrill familiar on his back, and Esther's heart squeezes in her chest as he rounds a bend out of sight.

She doesn't cry, blaming the city’s dust when she blinks too much. They make their way to the ship, no longer trying to mask how dejected they are, and Esther tries not to look at any of them or any of the crew who could try to be helpful. She takes her place back at the railing as the ship glides out to sea, Varric and Sebastian on one side and Merrill on the other, Isabela barking orders in the background, and every flutter of a sail out of the corner of her eye has her turning to look for her missing brother.

-------

Sebastian leaves when they reach Hercinia. They end up in a bar again, but there’s barely a hint of conversation this time, as if the removal of links from their chain has made the rest of the links even weaker. The walk to the Chantry afterwards is quiet.

“There should be a merchant caravan going to Starkhaven soon,” Varric pipes up finally, and Sebastian nods, and they lapse back into silence. They follow him up the steps into the the ornate building, waiting impatiently while he secures a place to stay for the next few nights, and breathing a little easier once they're in the open again.

Varric leads the way to one of the largest shops in the city and waves familiarly to the dwarven shopkeeper, earning himself a scowl in return. He wheedles and nudges, laughing at the shopkeeper’s grumpy demeanor and waving the others off to let him work.

Despite the inauspicious beginnings, it's not long before he's found a place for Sebastian in the caravan that will take him home. They troop back outside into the street to say goodbye, and most of the group makes their way back to the ship as Esther tags along with Sebastian back to the Chantry.

She doesn't cry this time, either. “What is with the incense here?” she complains, swiping at her eyes in an anger she doesn’t really feel, unable to find the words to tell Sebastian she’ll miss him.

Sebastian gives her a hug and a smile, clasping her hand as she steps back. “We will meet again, Hawke,” he says, and she nods, not trusting herself to speak again. He looks away as the bells ring through the building, marking the hour, and she hurries back out without turning around, following the noise of the docks back to the ship.

As always, she stands on the deck to watch the city fade behind them, Varric and Merrill flanking her, and this time Isabela's shouted orders feel like salt on an open wound.

-------

She thinks they're safe when they dock in Wycome, with nothing to draw any of the last few of her friends away from the ship, but there's a letter waiting for Varric when they arrive at his second-favorite bar. He tears it open, confusion filling his face, and Esther's heart sinks as he reaches the end and looks up at her apologetically.

“I have to go,” he says, and her heart threatens to shatter as she stands rigid beside him. He doesn't elaborate, knowing the details won't matter when the effect is the same. Merrill and Isabela hover behind them, quiet, as Esther balls her hands into fists and wills herself not to fall apart.

They stay in Wycome for four days, far longer than Isabela had intended. Esther spends most of the time with Varric, trying to joke and failing and spending more of her time in silence than she ever has before. He lets her be, uncharacteristically unsure of what to say, and they muddle through the last few days as best they can.

The last night, as Merrill and Isabela and Esther prepare to take ship again and Varric prepares to join another caravan heading back west, they somehow find a tavern none of them have ever been to. Esther and Varric go drink for drink, Isabela fleeces far too many people at Wicked Grace, and Merrill watches it all with big, curious eyes.

Everything seems fine for a while, each of them more relaxed than they've been in recent memory, limbs and tongues loose from ale. Esther joins the Wicked Grace game, pretending she's worse at it than she really is and laughing, less brittle than in weeks. “Hey Fenris -” she calls, and realizes what she's said, and she drops her cards so quickly it's like they're on fire.

There's no excuse she can pass her tears off on this time, and she flees the tavern as quickly as she can. She's never been to Wycome before, but the seedier part of one town is much like the seedier part of another, and she tucks herself into an alleyway reminiscent of the one behind her uncle’s house and finally lets herself sob.

Fenris isn't just scattered off to some random part of the Free Marches, he's dead, and so is Anders, and she never saw eye-to-eye with either of them but they were part of her group of misfits and now there's empty spaces in the world. She cries harder, back pressed against the damp stone walls of a Wycome alley that smells of Antivan wine, and pleads with a Maker she’d long since decided didn’t care, her voice little more than a whisper.

Merrill finds her first, despite her terrible head for directions, and calls out behind her for the others as she drops to her knees and wraps her arms around Esther's shaking shoulders. She doesn't speak, just murmuring softly in an attempt at comfort. Varric and Isabela make their way into the alley as well, their faces grim when Esther doesn't look up.

They stay that way for a while, the Chantry bells chiming the late hour going unheeded as Esther finally lets herself cry. Eventually her tears slow and her sobs quiet, and as Merrill helps her to her feet Varric slips his hand in hers, the weight of years in his squeeze.

“This isn't the end, Shorebird,” he says, his voice wavering as he tries to pretend he hasn't been holding back his own tears. “You'll be back here, or back in Kirkwall, or you know, soon enough.”

She nods bleakly, her silence more an answer than any words would be. They all make their way back to the ship, Esther leaning heavily on Merrill’s shorter form as though she’s lost the strength to hold herself up. Varric carries his things to a waiting merchant cart, heckling and giving bad advice even to the last, and then he's swallowed up by the unfamiliar map of the city and Esther has to grip the ship’s railing with all her strength to prevent herself from running after him.

They set sail in the morning, and it’s all she can do to convince herself that Merrill and Isabela aren't ghosts, too.

[phoenixsavant]

Homecoming

The continuing story of Saeran’s First Christmas 

The crew watch while the world burns. 

(And yeah, it’s not Christmas in the US yet, but I have no patience and need something nice after a long day on the phones at work!) 

Merry Christmas!!! 

               When Saeran woke, he found that everyone else had already gotten up.  They sat at the small table, watching a TV that folded down from the ceiling.  No one even noticed he was awake until he stood beside them.  

               “Oh! Hey!” Saeyoung exclaimed.  “Grab a seat.  Vanderwood, slide over.”  

               Vanderwood moved without taking his eyes from the screen.

               “What’s going on?” Saeran asked, sliding into the open seat.

               “Just watch,” Saeyoung replied.  “It’s all over the news.  They didn’t find the broadcast point.  Those guys last night were just trying to cut off our escape routes.  The story is on every channel.”  

               Saeran looked at the screen.  A reporter stood outside a police station, describing an immense data package that was sent out overnight.  High ranking members of governments around the world were implicated. Missing persons cases had locations for the bodies and how they died.  No one knew who had sent the information but it all pointed back to an organization called The Agency.  

               Reading the ticker at the bottom, Saeran saw reports of police forces in other nations moving quickly to arrest involved parties. His mouth hung open.  It had worked!  They had really brought The Agency to its knees!  

               “What about the main offices?” he asked.  “Did they get them there?”  

               “They went there before starting the news broadcasts. The earlier reports were from right outside the building.  The NIS went in as soon as they had the data.  They’ve already taken the director into custody,” Vanderwood explained, still watching the TV.  

               Saeran looked around the table.  Everyone was engrossed in the TV.  He noticed that no one looked as relaxed as he felt. Something was missing.  

               “What’s wrong?” he finally asked.  “If The Agency is being taken apart, why does everyone look worried?”  

               Saeyoung looked across the table at his brother, frowning.  “Vanderwood and I may have to go into hiding for a while.  If the agents that tried to stop us, or anyone else in The Agency, blows our cover, we’ll be wanted.  We’ll have Interpol hunting for us.”  

               MC reached out and took Saeyoung’s hand. “I’m going with you, you know that. We’ll just have to wait and let things calm down, right?”  

               Saeyoung shook his head.  “I can’t promise we’d ever get to go back.  Even with new identities, going back would put the entire RFA in danger.”  

               “So, where are we going then?” Saeran asked.  

               “Nowhere, yet,” Vanderwood answered.  “If Seven did it right, there’s nothing to link us to The Agency except the people talking about it, and they don’t know our real names. We just have to wait.”  

               Saeran frowned.  It was true that if Saeyoung and Vanderwood couldn’t go back, he still could.  What would he go back to though?  His home had been with his brother and MC, and that was gone.  If he didn’t go back, he wouldn’t see Nina again, but what would he have to offer her anyway?  No, it was better that he stay with his brother, if it came to that.

               Looking around, he noticed that he hadn’t seen Toby since he got up.  He went back to his bed and checked, but didn’t see him.  Turning, he asked, “Has anyone seen Toby?”  

               MC smiled over her shoulder.  “He’s here, with me,” she said.  “He woke up earlier and was crying so I let him out.”  

               “Oh, alright.”  Saeran wandered out to the deck of the boat.  He leaned against the railing.  Looking out at the ocean, he watched the way the waves followed one another on the surface.  They probably weren’t called waves, he realized.  Nothing looked larger than what might be found on a windy lake.

               “You alright?” Saeyoung asked, joining him.  

               “I guess,” he answered.  “I didn’t think about there still being trouble if we did this. It’s like you’re trading being in danger from one group for being in danger from another group.  Why bother doing it at all?”  

               “Because the other group won’t try to kill me and everyone I know just to make a point.”  Saeyoung sighed and leaned against the railing beside Saeran.  “The Agency let us know one thing when they came to the bunker.  They let us know that they weren’t going to stop.  We could have left the country right then and been gone before they could find any of us.  But,” he sighed heavily, “they’d have found us again eventually.  People hide from Interpol all the time.  It’s much easier to do, and they’re not going to kill anyone just to get to me.”

               Saeyoung looked down at the water lapping at the side of the boat.  “I’m sorry, I really am.  I thought we’d settled all this.  I thought you were safe with me when I brought you home from the hospital.”  

               “No, it’s alright,” Saeran said quietly.  “I should, by rights, be in jail already. It’s because of you and Jumin that I’m not.  If we have to go live someplace else, then that’s what we have to do.”  He shrugged.

               “Well, let’s see how this shakes out.  Maybe our luck will hold just a little longer.  To be honest, I don’t like being at sea much. The less time we’re out here, the better.”  

               “You don’t?”

               “Nowhere to run,” Saeyoung explained.  “The nights are amazing, but I feel less exposed standing in traffic.”  

               Saeran frowned deeply.  “You don’t think anyone is looking for us, do you?”  

               “They can try,” Saeyoung grinned.  “If you ever hear about a search and rescue for a ship that’s lost at sea, you’ll hear how hard it is to see people in the water, and how much territory there is to cover.  The odds of anyone having the means to look for us, and finding us, are pretty slim.  For now, we’re safe.”  

               “Well, that’s something, at least.”  Saeran shivered, the chilly air finally getting to him.  “Should we go back in?”  

               Saeyoung nodded, but then reached out and hugged his twin.  

               “Get off me, idiot,” Saeran grumbled softly.  

               Saeyoung grinned at the familiar response and followed Saeran back inside.  Vanderwood and MC were still watching the news.  Saeran and Saeyoung took their seats again, watching the small screen and the story being relayed by the shocked reporters.  

For the next three days, that was the whole of their lives.  A small meal here and there, sleep at odd hours and often in shifts, and the news.  With a satellite link, the TV was able to pull reports from around the world.  They watched as officials in other nations were arrested.  They watched as some nations demanded that their governments form official investigations into The Agency and its dealings.  Corporations found themselves under investigation for deals that made insider trading look like an afternoon tea party.

               Saeran hadn’t realized how extensive the reach of The Agency had been.  More than one nation was on the brink of war.  As assassinations came to light, the world held its breath, waiting to see which nation would blink first in a terrifying showdown.  Treaties and trade agreements collapsed as the work of The Agency was revealed.  

               On Jumin’s yacht, no one talked much.  The future of the planet was being decided, and more directly, their own futures were as well.  The number of agents arrested and dragged in around the world was staggering.  Saeran was sure that in some nations, those agents would never see trial.  

He understood, as he watched events unfold, why his brother hadn’t simply done this in the first place.  He also understood why The Agency hadn’t thought he’d do it.  They didn’t take into account how much Saeyoung would do to keep Saeran and MC safe, and that was their undoing.  Saeran didn’t say it, but he was unnerved to realize that his brother had just upended the entire globe.  

               On the third day, news of new events began to slow. Government representatives began to deliver carefully written speeches about peace and trust for the leaders of other nations.  Saeyoung called Jumin from the ship’s phone.  He left it on speaker so that everyone could hear the call.  

               “Saeyoung!  I hadn’t heard from you until now, I trust that means that everyone is safe?” Jumin asked.

               “Yes, we’re safe, thanks to you.  We’re anchored out of the shipping lanes where we’re not likely to be spotted.  How are things there?” Saeyoung asked.

               “If you’ve been watching the news, I take it you’ve seen the reports.  It has certainly made business interesting, and the stock markets are all over the place. It seems to be settling down somewhat though.”  

               “What about the others?  Has anyone been looking for us, anyone contacting the RFA members?”

               “No,” Jumin said slowly.  “No, I haven’t seen anyone mention anything in the chat.  If anyone did connect you to us, beyond the events the other night on the dock, there’s been no sign of it.”  

               Saeyoung breathed out heavily.  “That’s good.  I’ve been worried.”  

               “Will you be returning soon?” Jumin asked.  “Or do we need to be ready for the other option?”

               “That depends,” Saeyoung replied.  “What do you hear from the police?”  

               “The local authorities aren’t saying much, but what information I’ve been able to gain doesn’t mention you or Vanderwood. My head of security has a friend at the NIS and is meeting him today.  We’ll know more after that.”

               MC smiled, and Saeran felt like he could almost take a breath of air again.  This was promising news.  

               “Thank you for checking on it,” Vanderwood said. “You’ll call once you have news?”

               “Yes, of course.  We’re all anxious to see everyone coming home again,” Jumin affirmed. “Also, when you do, I have a house just outside of town.  I’d like to offer it to all of you until you can make your arrangements.”  

               “Thank you, Jumin,” MC said brightly.  “That will be wonderful!  I’m sure we’ll find a place soon, but a house will be much nicer than a hotel room.”  

               “I had a similar thought,” Jumin said.  “I’m sorry to cut this short, I must go.  I’ll call as soon as I have more news,” he promised.

               “Thank you, again, Jumin.  I owe you.  We all owe you,” Saeyoung said.  

               “No need to worry,” Jumin said.  “Be safe.”

               The call ended and everyone stood silently looking at one another.  Eventually, all eyes went to Saeyoung, waiting to hear what his response was.

               “Yeah, I know, it sounds good.  We have to be careful though.  We can’t bet on anything until we hear back from Jumin.  Nothing changes yet.  We wait.”  Saeyoung looked tense and frustrated.

               Saeran knew that his brother could be patient, but also that Saeyoung was not a patient man.  Waiting made him nervous and irritable.  MC could handle him when he was like this, but Saeran could not.  Staying out of his brother’s way on a boat was not easy, but Saeran managed it.  Mostly he stayed in his bed or watched TV silently.                  

               It was almost midnight on land when Jumin called again.  Everyone gathered around, waiting for the news that would decide their futures.

               “I apologize for calling so late.  I’ve just spoken with the head of security.  The news is good.  There is no mention of Saeyoung or Vanderwood, or anyone matching their descriptions in the information at the NIS.”  Jumin chuckled.  “I was also asked to pass an apology for the delay in the information.  Apparently, the contact at the NIS takes a long time to get drunk enough to talk and share information.”  

               It felt to Saeran as if time stopped on the yacht. No one moved.  No one spoke.  

               “Hello?” Jumin called through the phone.  “Did I lose the connection?”  

               “No!  We’re here, Jumin,” MC responded quickly.  “So, does this mean, does this mean we can come home?” she asked.

               Saeyoung’s shoulders sagged and he nodded, smiling. “Yes, babe, it means we can go home now.”  

               MC threw herself into Saeyoung’s arms, cheering and covering his face in kisses.  As she did, the playful smile Saeran was used to seeing on their faces returned.  

               Vanderwood turned to the controls and turned the engine over.  “Thank god!” he exclaimed.  “Jumin, I’ll bring us in by morning!” he called to the phone.  

               “Yes, I’ll have some people on the docks to meet you. Congratulations everyone.  I’ll see you soon.”  Jumin ended the call, sounding like he wanted to cheer as well.

               MC hugged Saeran, bouncing up and down as she did. Then she hugged Vanderwood the same way before returning to Saeyoung’s arms.  Saeyoung whispered something to her and she blushed, but nodded.  Saeran stayed with Vanderwood as MC and Saeyoung went below to celebrate privately.  

               “I’m going to get so drunk after this,” Vanderwood said, offering Saeran a cigarette.

               “I don’t drink usually, but I think I might be tempted to join you,” Saeran said, taking the cigarette and lighting it. “Or at least to follow your example.”

               “What about that painter?” Vanderwood asked. “Are you going to go see her?”  

               Saeran shrugged but then he blushed, giving himself away.  “I would like to, yeah.  I… say, Vanderwood, have you ever asked anyone out on a date?”  

               Vanderwood laughed.  “I have, but the real question you need to ask is, have I ever asked anyone out on a date that I actually liked?”  

               “Why would you ask someone out if you didn’t like them?”

               “Work,” Vanderwood shrugged.  “Sometimes, you take a woman out, get a few drinks in her, and wait for her to tell you everything she shouldn’t.”  

               “Oh.”  Saeran looked up at the stars thoughtfully.  “So, wait, that means you’ve never been on a real date?”  

               “Who said that?” Vanderwood asked.  “I just didn’t get to have many second dates, and never a third date.”  

               “Oh.”  Saeran smoked his cigarette, watching the stars overhead.  

               “Why so many questions about dating?” Vanderwood asked, interrupting his thoughts.  “Are you thinking about asking that girl out?”  

               Saeran started to lash out, but then he realized there was nothing in Vanderwood’s tone or expression that was hostile or demeaning.  “I… well, kind of?  I don’t really know how, and I don’t know if my idea is stupid.”  

               “What did you have in mind?” Vanderwood asked.

               “I was thinking that I’d take her to a park I know. They have all the trees decorated with white lights.  I’ve seen other couples walking there at night.  It looked pretty,” Saeran shrugged, feeling uncertain.  

               “Hmm, for a first date, I don’t think that’s a bad idea.  You’ll have to move fast, though.  We’ll be back on land by morning, but it’s New Year’s Eve tomorrow.  They usually take those lights down on the first.”  He gave Saeran a questioning look.  “Do you know how to ask a girl out?”

               Saeran blushed.  

               “I’ll take that as a no,” Vanderwood said.  “So, look, here’s a few things to know…” Vanderwood walked Saeran through how to ask Nina out.  He had ideas for phrasing and how to open the question.  Practicing, they worked on it until Saeran felt comfortable with a certain method.  

               Saeran was surprised to be getting help from Vanderwood, but he was glad for it.  Vanderwood seemed the kind of man who would be much more comfortable with a woman than Saeyoung.  Also, Vanderwood didn’t have Saeyoung’s approach of making everything into a joke, and Saeran appreciated that.  The two men talked until early in the morning.  When Saeyoung came up, he took over and Vanderwood and Saeran went to get some rest.  

               A knock on the door woke Saeran from his sleep. He crawled out groggy, squinting at the sunlight.  

               “Hey, sleepyhead!  Come on!  We’re here!” Saeyoung’s voice was back to being the cheerful, and often annoying, way that it usually was.  He stood on the deck, his arm around MC’s waist as Saeran climbed up.  MC held Toby, offering him to Saeran with a bright smile.  

               A team of Jumin’s security guards was on the dock, waiting as Vanderwood tied the ship securely.  “Why are there security guards?” Saeran asked.  

               “Jumin just thought it was better that we have them until we get to his house,” MC explained.  “You know how Jumin is.  Once he decides something, you’re not allowed to say no.”  

               “Oh, well, alright then,” Saeran said quietly, snuggling Toby.  He didn’t care about the guards that much anyway.  What he did care about was getting a shower and finding something clean to wear.  He had somewhere to go.  “What time is it, anyway?”

               “It’s still morning,” Saeyoung replied.  “Only 10:30.”

               Saeran nodded.  That was good.  There was still time then.  If he could hurry home…  Saeran groaned inside.  Everything he owned was in the bunker.  He’d been wearing the same clothes since they ran, thanks to the cars getting blown up. He didn’t have anything else to wear but what he had on.  Maybe Jumin’s house would have a washing machine in it.  Saeran reminded himself to keep breathing and not let himself panic.

               As they left the boat behind the guards fell in around them.  They were all led to a car with a driver and climbed inside.  MC and Saeyoung joked about getting showers and sleeping in a real bed.  Saeran stroked Toby absent-mindedly and stared out the window.

               “Saeran?  Hello?” Saeyoung was calling.

               “What?  Oh, did you say something?” Saeran asked.  

               “MC asked if you were hungry.  We’re deciding what to do about something to eat,” Saeyoung explained.  

               “Oh, no, thanks.  I’m fine,” he answered, turning his gaze back out the window.  

               “What’s bothering you, Saeran?” MC asked.  She gave him a worried look.

               “Nothing, I’m fine,” he said.

               “That’s two fine’s in a row, so you’re not fine. Why not tell us what’s going on?” Saeyoung asked.  “You know you want to…” he teased.

               “No, I don’t.”  Saeran tried not to snap at his brother, but he didn’t want to talk about his plans.  He wanted to find out that he could have a happy ending, too.  His brother and MC were free to go about their lives. Vanderwood would be off to do whatever it was Vanderwood did with his life.  Saeran wanted to find out that he was going to have the same chance.  

               Saeyoung started to say something more, but Vanderwood intervened.  “Leave him alone, Seven.  Not all of us got to snuggle up and sleep last night,” he said.  

MC and Saeyoung both gave Saeran worried looks and went back to discussing food. Saeran was relieved not to have to talk to anyone right now.  He shot Vanderwood an appreciative glance.

When they arrived at the house, MC and Saeyoung went in first.  MC squealed in excitement as she entered the kitchen.  Saeran followed her voice and found her standing next to a table with a card in hand.  

“Jaehee is the most wonderful woman on the planet!” she cheered.  “Look what she did for us!”  Stepping aside, she revealed a shopping bag for each of them, including Vanderwood.  Inside the bags were new, clean clothes.

Saeran spun and raced back out the front door, shouting and waving to the driver. Running up to the door as the driver lowered the window, he panted, “Can you wait?  I need fifteen minutes, tops.  Please, there’s someplace I have to go!”  

“Yes, I can wait,” the driver agreed.  “I’ll be right here.”  

“Thank you!” Saeran shouted as he ran back into the house.  Running to the kitchen he grabbed the bag with his name on it and started rushing around, looking for a shower.  He found the room he wanted upstairs.  He didn’t even take the time to put the dirty clothes into a pile. He shed them all and showered in record time.  Saeran flew down the stairs, his hair still dripping wet.

“Saeran!” MC called, running toward him with a comb.  “Here!  You need this!”  She pressed the comb into his hand and kissed his cheek.  “Good luck!” she whispered.

Saeran smiled and ran for the door, forgetting to close it behind him.  He remembered as he reached the car, and started to turn back, but he saw his brother and MC standing there waving. The driver opened the door to the car and Saeran dove in.  

“Where are we going, sir?” asked the driver.  

Saeran gave him the address of Nina’s shop, hoping she would be there. He was so nervous that he untied his shoes twice.  Then he chewed his nails until he remembered how hard MC had worked to break him of the habit.  He wanted a cigarette, but he didn’t want to smell like one when he got to Nina’s shop, either.

The car pulled up in front of the shop and Saeran didn’t wait for the driver to let him out.  He threw the door open and hurried to the shop.  The sign in the window said “Open,” and Saeran breathed a sigh of relief. Then he realized, an open shop meant Nina would be inside.  He was going to have to talk to her, face to face.  His hand froze in the air, hanging between himself and the doorknob.

Suddenly, the door opened.  Nina was there, smiling up at him.  “Saeran! I’m so glad to see you!  I heard there was a fire.  Are you alright?  Was anyone hurt?”  She threw her arms around him as she spoke.

“What?  Uh, no, no one was hurt,” Saeran said.  He felt that he had to sound stupid.  Those green eyes made his mind freeze up.  He managed what he hoped was a happy smile.  

“I’m so glad!” Nina said, not letting go of him.  “Jumin told me about it and said that you’d asked him to tell me. I’m happy that you did.  I don’t know what I’d have thought if I had gone by and found everything burned up.”  She hooked her arm in Saeran’s and led him into the shop.  “What about Toby?  Is he alright, too?”  

“Yes, he’s fine.  We, uh, we all got out.”  This was not going according to the careful plans he’d made with Vanderwood.  

“Well, that’s what matters then,” Nina smiled.  “You can always start over as long as everyone is safe.”  

“Yes, uh, right, we can.”  He felt stupid saying “uh” all the time, but he hadn’t expected such an enthusiastic welcome from her, either.  When he and Vanderwood practiced what he wanted to say, it was all being said to a very calm version of Nina.  He hadn’t expected her to be excited to see him.

“You’ll let me redo the painting for you, of course, right?” she asked. “I won’t even charge it.  We’ll make it a housewarming gift for your brother and MC!”  Nina looked up and caught Saeran’s frustration in his eyes.  She paused, becoming less animated.  “What’s wrong?”  

Saeran bit his lip and took a deep breath.  This was the way it was going to have to be.  He’d just spent three days worrying that he wouldn’t get this chance. He put his hands on Nina’s shoulders as he faced her.

“Tonight is New Year’s Eve and I want you to come with me to a park I know to see the lights.  Will you?” He cringed inside.  That was not how he’d rehearsed it with Vanderwood.  There was no way she was going to say yes to anything that sounded so desperate.

Nina covered her mouth with her hand and Saeran’s heart felt like it was going to smash into the floor and shatter.  Before it could, however, she began nodding her head.  She bounced twice and then flung herself against him. “I would love to go!  Yes!  That would be the best New Year’s Eve!”

“Re-really?” Saeran gasped, having had the wind knocked out of him by Nina’s excitement.  

“Yes really!”  She looked up at him, smiling brightly.  “I was hoping we’d get to see each other tonight.”  She blushed a little, as if recognizing how forward she was being.  

Saeran blushed back at her, amazed that he’d managed to pull it off.  He had asked Nina out, and she’d said yes!  He was going on a date!  He wanted to jump around in his excitement, but he knew that he shouldn’t.  Instead, he settled for hugging her tightly before he got nervous and stepped back.  

“I … I should get back.  I didn’t… I mean no one knows where… I…” he started stammering again.  

“That’s fine,” Nina smiled.  “Don’t make anyone worry.  You’ve all been through enough this week!  What time should I be ready?”  

“Um, is six alright?  If that’s too early, I can come later.”  

“Six is perfect.  Did you want to get dinner before we go see the lights?”  

Dinner?  Saeran cursed his thoughtlessness.  Dinner was usually a part of a date, wasn’t it?  Shit.  Well, he’d have to figure it out later.  “Yes, we can have dinner first,” he said, speaking as quickly as he decided it.  

“Great!” Nina beamed at him.  “I’ll be ready and waiting.  Oh, and just pick me up here?  I actually live upstairs.”  

Saeran nodded.  “Okay, I’ll see you at six then.”  He waved and turned to leave the store.  He could have been described as walking happily, if he had been aware of his feet touching the ground at all.  Saeran was not walking, he was floating.  Despite all the things that had gone wrong, Nina was going to go on a date with him.

Returning to the car he told the driver he was ready to return to Jumin’s house. When he got there, Jumin and Jaehee were there.  Jumin had brought supplies for Toby, including proper kitten food and a scratching post.  He led Saeran to the enclosed porch where everything had been left.

“Thank you for this, Jumin,” Saeran said, meaningfully.  “I’m sure Toby will appreciate having regular food again.”  

“Yes, I’m sure he will,” Jumin smiled.  “I would have stocked the yacht if there had been more time.  He doesn’t seem to be too much the worse for a few days of roughing it though.”  

“No, he did really well,” Saeran said, proudly.  

“I’m glad to hear it.”  Jumin knelt and scratched Toby’s ears.  “Where did you go?  If it’s not prying.  I was surprised when you weren’t here.”  

“Oh, I …” Saeran blushed.  Jumin wouldn’t have made such a mess of asking a girl for a date.

“Ah, Nina?” Jumin guessed.

Saeran nodded.  “We’re, um, we’re going on a date tonight.”  

“Well done!” Jumin smiled.  “You two certainly seemed to have some mutual attraction going on.  I only told her that there was a fire, by the way.  I didn’t think she needed to know the truth about what happened.”  

“Yes, she told me.  Thank you for covering like that.”  

“What plans do you have for the evening?  Would you like to use the car?” Jumin asked.  “I can have one of the drivers stay here if so.”  

“Would that be alright?” Saeran asked, surprised that Jumin would offer so readily.  

“It’s no trouble,” Jumin said.  “If you like, I can call anywhere you want to go and make reservations for you.  Most places will make space if I call.”  

“I don’t think I’ll be able to do anything that fancy.  I have to find out if my brother can lend me enough for dinner already.  All my money was in the bunker.”  Saeran frowned and looked down in embarrassment.  

“I see.  That is unfortunate.”  Jumin looked at Saeran for a moment and pulled out his wallet.  “I would like to make a deal with you,” he said.  “I have a pair of new computers for myself and Assistant Kang.  I need all our files transferred to the new machines.  The IT department said they can’t do it until next week, but I’d like to have it done sooner.  I can pay you now for the work, if you think you can handle it.”  

It took Saeran a moment to realize what Jumin was doing.  This was better than hoping his brother had money with him. This was a way to have his own money, without waiting for payday to come around again!

“Yes, I can do it.  I can come tomorrow if you like,” Saeran agreed.  

“That would be ideal, yes,” Jumin said.  “Here, as this isn’t part of your regular pay, I’ll just pay you for the work now.”  He held out some cash to Saeran.  

Saeran blinked at the money Jumin held out.  “That’s too much for that kind of work.  You know that, right?”  

“I am paying for the work to be done with almost no notice, by someone I trust. I am paying for it to be done flawlessly and the new machines to be up and running by the end of the day tomorrow. For those considerations, I think this is a fair wage.”  Jumin took Saeran’s hand and pressed the bills into it.  “I’ll have the car pick you up at ten.  That should let you have plenty of time for Nina, tonight.”  

Before Saeran could say anything, Jumin turned and walked back into the house. He followed Jumin back to the living room at the front.  As they entered the room, Vanderwood looked up and asked the question without speaking.

Saeyoung was not so subtle.  “So? You asked her out?  What did she say?  Where are you going?”

“Saeyoung!” MC laughed.  “At least give him a chance to answer one question before you fire the next one off!”

“Yeah, no need for interrogation,” Vanderwood agreed.  

Saeran felt like his face might burn away, but at the same time, he was proud of himself.  “She said yes,” he said quietly.  

“Woohoo!” Saeyoung exclaimed, “My baby brother is going on a date!”  He started to jump to his feet, but MC held his arm and stopped him.  

“That’s wonderful, Saeran,” MC said sweetly.  “Where will you be going?”

“We’re going to have dinner and see the lights at the park,” Saeran blushed, smiling shyly at MC.  

“We should go see the lights!” Saeyoung said to MC.  

“No, we should not,” she countered.  “We should stay right here in this house and let Saeran handle his own relationships.”  

Saeran would have kissed her if it wouldn’t have earned him a punch from his brother.  He knew Saeyoung was mostly teasing, and meant well, but he didn’t want his brother with him tonight.  For Nina, he wanted to be able to be himself and not have to have someone else help him talk to her.

“Did you already decide where to go for dinner?” Vanderwood asked.  “I know a few places near that park, if you need any ideas.”  

“Sure, if you do.  I… I’m not sure where to go.”  

“We’ll talk about it when Seven isn’t around,” Vanderwood promised.  

“And don’t worry about getting the car home early,” Jumin added.  “The driver is paid well enough for his time, even on a holiday.”  Turning to the others, Jumin sighed.  “I must return to the office now.  Please do let me know if you need anything else at all.  I’m relieved you’re all safe and this business with The Agency can be put behind you once and for all.”  

Sobering, Saeyoung stood and shook Jumin’s hand.  “We owe you our lives.  Thank you, again, for all the help.  If your body guards hadn’t been there…”

“I’m glad that I thought to put them there, as well.  Losing the yacht would have been covered by insurance. Losing the rest of you would not have been.”  He smiled with uncharacteristic warmth at everyone in the room.  “I’ll go then.  Get some rest and take care of yourselves.”  

As Jumin left, Saeran realized that he was completely exhausted.  He looked at a clock and realized he had about four hours to sleep before he needed to get up and get ready to meet Nina.  He slipped upstairs and found a bed, not caring which room he picked.  He was almost asleep when MC knocked on the door.  

“Saeran?  What time do you need to be up?” she called through the door.

“Oh,” Saeran tried to think clearly.  He got up and opened the door.  “Do you think four will be alright?  I’m supposed to pick Nina up at six.”  

“I think that’ll be fine.  If you’re not awake already, I’ll wake you.”  She smiled warmly at him.  “I’m really happy for you, just so you know.  I hope everything goes well tonight.”  

               “Thanks, MC.  I’m pretty nervous, honestly.”  

               “The hardest part is done.  You have the date set.  All you have to do now is show up and be yourself,” she said encouragingly. “Get some rest though, or yourself will be sleepy, and don’t take it wrong, but you’re a grouch when you’re sleepy.”

               Saeran chuckled because it was true.  When he got sleepy he resembled an angry two-year-old. “Thank you,” he said, closing the door gently.  He returned to the bed and stretched out.  His head hurt a little from the exhaustion, but all he could do is lay there thinking about Nina.  He spun from excitement to nervousness and back again as he tossed and turned on the bed. Not being able to sleep was making him worry.

               He thought back to how MC had him count his breathing when he was upset and decided to try it, to see if he could sleep. He breathed in and counted to four, and breathed out, counting to four again.  He repeated the process, adding a number on each cycle until he reached eight. Sleep followed soon after.

[pixiejens]

Fog Upon the Barrow-Downs

Their going was very slow. To prevent their getting separated and wandering in different directions they went in file, with Frodo leading. Sam was behind him, and after him came Pippin, and then Merry. The valley seemed to stretch on endlessly. Suddenly Frodo saw a hopeful sign. On either side ahead a darkness began to loom through the mist; and he guessed that they were at last approaching the gap in the hills, the north-gate of the Barrow-downs. If they could pass that, they would be free.

'Come on! Follow me!' he called back over his shoulder, and he hurried forward. But his hope soon changed to bewilderment and alarm. The dark patches grew darker, but they shrank; and suddenly he saw, towering ominous before him and leaning slightly towards one another like the pillars of a headless door, two huge standing stones. He could not remember having seen any sign of these in the valley, when he looked out from the hill in the morning. He had passed between them almost before he was aware: and even as he did so darkness seemed to fall round him. His pony reared and snorted, and he fell off. When he looked back he found that he was alone: the others had not followed him. 'Sam!' he called. 'Pippin! Merry! Come along! Why don't you keep up?'

There was no answer. Fear took him, and he ran back past the stones shouting wildly: 'Sam! Sam! Merry! Pippin!' The pony bolted into the mist and vanished. From some way off, or so it seemed, he thought he heard a cry: 'Hoy! Frodo! Hoy!' It was away eastward, on his left as he stood under the great stones, staring and straining into the gloom. He plunged off in the direction of the call, and found himself going steeply uphill.

As he struggled on he called again, and kept on calling more and more frantically; but he heard no answer for some time, and then it seemed faint and far ahead and high above him. 'Frodo! Hoy!' came the thin voices out of the mist: and then a cry that sounded like help, help! often repeated, ending with a last help! that trailed off into a long wail suddenly cut short. He stumbled forward with all the speed he could towards the cries; but the light was now gone, and clinging night had closed about him, so that it was impossible to be sure of any direction. He seemed all the time to be climbing up and up.

Only the change in the level of the ground at his feet told him when he at last came to the top of a ridge or hill. He was weary, sweating and yet chilled. It was wholly dark.

'Where are you?' he cried out miserably.

There was no reply. He stood listening. He was suddenly aware that it was getting very cold, and that up here a wind was beginning to blow, an icy wind. A change was coming in the weather. The mist was flowing past him now in shreds and tatters. His breath was smoking, and the darkness was less near and thick. He looked up and saw with surprise that faint stars were appearing overhead amid the strands of hurrying cloud and fog. The wind began to hiss over the grass.

He imagined suddenly that he caught a muffled cry, and he made towards it; and even as he went forward the mist was rolled up and thrust aside, and the starry sky was unveiled. A glance showed him that he was now facing southwards and was on a round hill-top, which he must have climbed from the north. Out of the east the biting wind was blowing. To his right there loomed against the westward stars a dark black shape. *A great barrow stood there.*

’Where are you?' he cried again, both angry and afraid.

'Here!' said a voice, deep and cold, that seemed to come out of the ground. 'I am waiting for you!'

'No!' said Frodo; but he did not run away. His knees gave, and he fell on the ground. Nothing happened, and there was no sound. Trembling he looked up, in time to see a tall dark figure like a shadow against the stars. It leaned over him. He thought there were two eyes, very cold though lit with a pale light that seemed to come from some remote distance. Then a grip stronger and colder than iron seized him. The icy touch froze his bones, and he remembered no more.

When he came to himself again, for a moment he could recall nothing except a sense of dread. Then suddenly he knew that he was imprisoned, caught hopelessly; he was in a barrow. A Barrow-wight had taken him, and he was probably already under the dreadful spells of the Barrow- wights about which whispered tales spoke. He dared not move, but lay as he found himself: flat on his back upon a cold stone with his hands on his breast.

But though his fear was so great that it seemed to be part of the very darkness that was round him, he found himself as he lay thinking about Bilbo Baggins and his stories, of their jogging along together in the lanes of the Shire and talking about roads and adventures. There is a seed of courage hidden (often deeply, it is true) in the heart of the fattest and most timid hobbit, wailing for some final and desperate danger to make it grow. Frodo was neither very fat nor very timid; indeed, though he did not know it, Bilbo (and Gandalf) had thought him the best hobbit in the Shire. He thought he had come to the end of his adventure, and a terrible end, but the thought hardened him. He found himself stiffening, as if for a final spring; he no longer felt limp like a helpless prey.

As he lay there, thinking and getting a hold of himself, he noticed all at once that the darkness was slowly giving way: a pale greenish light was growing round him. It did not at first show him what kind of a place he was in, for the light seemed to be coming out of himself, and from the floor beside him, and had not yet reached the roof or wall. He turned, and there in the cold glow he saw lying beside him Sam, Pippin, and Merry. They were on their backs, and their faces looked deathly pale; and they were clad in white. About them lay many treasures, of gold maybe, though in that light they looked cold and unlovely. On their heads were circlets, gold chains were about their waists, and on their fingers were many rings. Swords lay by their sides, and shields were at their feet. But across their three necks lay one long naked sword.

Suddenly a song began: a cold murmur, rising and falling. The voice seemed far away and immeasurably dreary, sometimes high in the air and thin, sometimes like a low moan from the ground. Out of the formless stream of sad but horrible sounds, strings of words would now and again shape themselves: grim, hard, cold words, heartless and miserable. The night was railing against the morning of which it was bereaved, and the cold was cursing the warmth for which it hungered. Frodo was chilled to the marrow. After a while the song became clearer, and with dread in his heart he perceived that it had changed into an incantation:

Cold be hand and heart and bone,

and cold be sleep under stone:

never mare to wake on stony bed,

never, till the Sun fails and the Moon is dead.

In the black wind the stars shall die,

and still on gold here let them lie,

till the dark lord lifts his hand

over dead sea and withered land.

He heard behind his head a creaking and scraping sound. Raising himself on one arm he looked, and saw now in the pale light that they were in a kind of passage which behind them turned a corner. Round the corner a long arm was groping, walking on its fingers towards Sam, who was lying nearest, and towards the hilt of the sword that lay upon him.

At first Frodo felt as if he had indeed been turned into stone by the incantation. Then a wild thought of escape came to him. He wondered if he put on the Ring, whether the Barrow-wight would miss him, and he might find some way out. He thought of himself running free over the grass, grieving for Merry, and Sam, and Pippin, but free and alive himself. Gandalf would admit that there had been nothing else he could do.

But the courage that had been awakened in him was now too strong: he could not leave his friends so easily. He wavered, groping in his pocket, and then fought with himself again; and as he did so the arm crept nearer. Suddenly resolve hardened in him, and he seized a short sword that lay beside him, and kneeling he stooped low over the bodies of his companions. With what strength he had he hewed at the crawling arm near the wrist, and the hand broke off; but at the same moment the sword splintered up to the hilt. There was a shriek and the light vanished. In the dark there was a snarling noise.

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I make Long Barrows my regular haunts when I travel to England as often as I can, but West Kennet is my favorite; because it's the Barrow-Downs there if there ever was one and that chapter springs to life so vividly every time I visit.

<3 u England

Photo by me, 2017