#maybe ill watch another isles tonight

[kiwibirdlafayette]

chat watching me have consecutive breakdowns over etho and bdubs and syndisparklez and mumbo all at the same time (daily agenda on this blog)

[kazoo5480]

Almost finished! 30 chapters down, a few more to go. Thanks to those of you who wrote awesome notes, and who provide inspiration to us newbies every day with your lovely tales!

Chapter 1 Arrivals

Prologue – September 1943, New York City

25-year-old Killian Jones steps down the ramp off the Algernon straight from Belfast. He has $40 to his name, the clothes on his back. Having lost his brother in an accident, his mother to illness, and abandonment of his father when he was 7, Killian made a choice to leave his homeland and make his way to America. America was currently engaged in World War II, with no family left, he decides that a fresh start in a new land and a new line of work away from the IRA is just what he needs after the arrests and massacres taking place back in Ireland.

Gun running and violence is not a life he wants any longer, nor is a life in prison, or death. He is hopeful that despite his heritage, he will be able to settle into a new life, away from the massacre left behind on the emerald isle. Finding honest work is harder than he expected, even in a city this large.

Waiting in those long lines with all those other expats, hoping to find honest work and nothing. He goes every day for two weeks but quickly realizes that no one wants to hire an Irishman or give him a fair shake. But he believes you make your own destiny and believes in hard work and determination.

He hears the other men talking, that security and lounges, the US Army, and driving taxis are just about the only people hiring anyone right now if you aren’t American.

Killian has no interest in joining Americas crusade, so he finds a gig working the doors and security a little dingy nightclub at first, but slowly descends into the more glamorous nightclubs and lounges.

Word spreads quickly to his newest employer, Louis Lepke, who owns the Riobamba- one of Manhattan’s most posh nightclubs that Killian was once part of the IRA and has a hell of a left hook. Lepke, one of the most dangerous mob bosses in New York at that time sees potential in Killian, thinks that his past IRA ties could be beneficial to their enterprise, and he offers him a better paying job running pickups and drop offs of packages that Killian doesn’t open and doesn’t want to open.

While the money is nothing to turn your nose up at, Killian continues this path, socking away the cash and crafting an entirely new persona for himself while making his own contingency plans to disappear for a quieter life someplace near the sea, perhaps finding peace and burying his demons for good at last.

Killian will never forget the day he was able to move out of the vermin infested room he had been renting in a boarding house on the lower east side, and into a three-room apartment of his own for $80 a month near Washington Square Park. Not cheap by any means, but it’s a second-floor walkup, with a fireplace, and wide windows that overlook the street.

Lepke pays him three hundred a month right now, but he always earns tips from both ends of pickup and delivery, and that extra cash is always appreciated.

He will never forget the first suit he purchases, or his first pair of new shoes in god knows how many years. He knows with his new employment, he needs to look the part, so he only is careful in his wardrobe choices, dark colors that won’t show dirt easily, well-tailored shirts, wingtips in black and white, and two hats that he sees the other men wearing.

He manages to pry a floorboard in the back of his new closet loose, securing the hole with a thin layer of wood, ensuring nothing would fall through or be lost to the ageing building, and he uses this as home for his cash and very little valuables. He has no furniture to speak of, except a mattress on the floor with linens, but he knows soon enough he will have money to furnish his new home.

For now, he is only willing to spend money on rent, and groceries, he saves every dollar that he earns after his necessities are purchased.

What he does not expect is meeting Emma Swan, an enchanting blonde lounge singer at the Riobamba. Frank Sinatra even plays there on occasion, so the joint was always packed. But amongst all those entertainers, is Emma. With the voice of an angel, the body of a bloody goddess, and a fire in her green eyes.

He knows that from the moment he saw her dancing and singing across that smoke filled room, that he was going to have her no matter the cost. Tonight, her golden curls pinned back on one side with a glittering clip, wrapped in a floor length sequin dress cut scandalously low in the front, even for the nightclub scene at that point in time.

She is easily the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, and he wonders if she works for Lepke as well, a personal relationship perhaps, and the thought of any man touching her at all has him see red when those thoughts flit through his mind. He always hopes divine intervention is on his side to catch a glimpse of her during her sets, whether picking up or dropping off to his boss.

Occasionally he just sits in the back nursing a rum while he watches her, gliding around the small stage, dressed like sex personified, singing in that angelic voice of hers, enchanting the entire room.

She sings songs of love and happiness, sometimes she covers popular music of other entertainers, but he sees the sadness and demons lingering behind those emerald eyes, the glittering dresses and gorgeous gold curls. He wants to know more, scale those walls he can spot a mile high surrounding her.

On more than one occasion he is thankful for the low lighting of the club and his dark suits to hide the evidence of his rock-hard arousal that she stirs up every damn time he lays eyes on her. Green eyes that sparkle in the low lighting, locking on his blue. She sees him and he sees her, never exchanging words, just eye locks and then he is off.

In a rare occasion that Killian indulges the other members of his crew in playing craps, he casually asks about Emma to one of the kinder men, Bill Starkey, a slightly older married man, who handles the books for the clubs that Lepke owns.

“What of that lounge singer Starkey, she is a sight for sore eyes if I may say so myself”, Killian mentions with a smile. The older man looks him over for a second, and replies “She is a quite a dame, isn’t she? Voice of a siren an everything, but she is not to be trifled with - She keeps to herself, is a bloody fantastic piece of entertainment, draws the crowds in, but she does not mess with our crew. Many of ours have learned that the hard way he says with a laugh, Tough as brass that one is, so don’t bother with her”, and the man went back to the game.

When Starkey bids goodnight, leaving the younger men to their games, another crew member that Killian has somewhat befriended named Victor Whale leans over, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “If its Emma you’ve set your sightings on, you are not as slick as you think ya git, my girl Ruby mentioned that she caught you watching her shows on occasion, but Emma doesn’t date anyone around here, if she does date, it isn’t anyone related to our line of work”.

Bidding goodnight to Killian and the few stragglers still playing, he stands and Killian notices Ruby Lucas in her coat waiting by the door with a smile on her face. Whale takes her hand and pulls them out the door. Killian feels a pang of jealousy at their obvious companionship but pushes the thought away.

Ruby Lucas, the costume coordinator for the club, is a gorgeous specimen of her own right with long chocolate locks, hazel eyes, and legs for days. She has worked in the club a long time, and if anyone knows Emma, its Ruby. Killian decides that perhaps he shall inquire to Ms. Lucas about Swan but tucks the thought away for another time.

He has gained enough information about her for one night, he will have to just be patient. If Ruby has noticed him watching Emma, he would bet the few dollars left in his lightened pocket tonight that she has told Swan about him, and that is something he is not quite sure he knows how to feel about.

He wonders what Ruby would tell Emma, since she was obviously very much with Whale, she must know more about their conducted business, but appears to know when to keep her mouth shut. Maybe, the tides will be in his favor since he tends to keep a low profile in his job. The bosses like him because he is discreet and is known not to be messed with.

Emma sees him alright, black suits, navy wool suits, tuxedoes at parties, custom made shirts, and she would bet her last dollar that those cufflinks he always wears are actual sterling silver.

He has slicked back inky hair, tousled in just the right places, a permanent five o’ clock shadow, and forget me not blue eyes that haunt her for days every single time she catches a glimpse of him staring right back at her. 

She notices the way he carries himself, so confident, dangerous, and definitely a hustler. He must be connected somehow, and Emma does not want that complication in her simple life.

He looks at her sometimes like he would devour her like a man on death row, and she being his last meal. She cannot get mixed up with someone like him, she has survived this long without someone, and the last time she allowed someone into her heart it nearly broke her in two.

Her friend Ruby has casually mentioned him, his name is Killian Jones, he works with her boyfriend Victor, but she does not know exactly what his role is. Ruby giggles as she talks about how handsome Killian is, and notes that he always throws her a generous tip, never ogling her or being disrespectful like some of the other crew who think that any woman in the club is dumb enough to roll in the sack with them.

Ruby has been with her boyfriend for a few years from what she mentions, having been together since before Victor’s job with Lepke’s crew, whatever that may be. Ruby is also one of the few people that makes Emma smile genuinely and lifts her spirits. Emma considers the brunette one of her very few real friends.

One night after her set is done, Emma enters her dressing room, and slips out of her dress, carefully hanging it inside the garment bag, and lights a cigarette, swallowing a sip of her Manhattan. Her roommate Mary Margaret is getting better and better with her sewing skills, her emerald green gown tonight is delicate, covered in sequins and green feathers float around the hem of her dress, she admires the gown once more before zipping the bag.

Standing in her silk stockings and garters, she begins removing her jewelry and realizes suddenly that she is not alone. Sitting in a low chair in the back corner of the dressing room is Killian fucking Jones. She grabs for her silk robe, tying it quickly- trying to regain some of her modesty. Watching her with those blue eyes, fingers crossed under his chin while he leans forward, elbows on his knees.

"Don't stop on my account love, I simply wanted to introduce myself, and I thank the bloody gods that I was granted enough luck to watch your private show just now. He smirked at her, running is tongue over his bottom lip, and she wanted to punch that smirk off his smug face, even if her heart beat faster in her chest and not from anxiety.

“Emma breathe,” she internally chastises herself. Her brain reconnects, she stamps out her cigarette, and she manages to spit out “listen pal, I don't know who the hell you think you are, but I am not that type of woman. Go buy one down the street if you need to get your rocks off but get the hell out.”

He stood up, adjusting his trousers by the belt, which she noticed were fitting awfully tight, the evidence of his arousal clear but now covered as he buttoned his coat up.

He spoke, his voice a lilting Irish accent, “I apologize lass, I simply wanted to introduce myself and give you these in person,” he held out a large bouquet of creamy white roses tipped in pale pink, tied with a black silk ribbon. 

“You are a vision, both on and off the stage Swan, and I simply was hoping to make your acquaintance as we seem to catch each other’s eye from time to time. I thought perhaps my interest was reciprocated, but clearly it is not, and I shan't bother you again”.

Emma did not know what to say, still shocked, her red painted mouth in a grim line. She caught his cologne as he made his exit, carefully avoiding touching her in any way. He smelled of wood and spice, and definitely rum.

Right as he was crossing the threshold to exit, Emma made a rash decision, and grabbed his hand, locked eyes with him and said, “Don't ever do that again, thank you for the flowers, but I am not interested.” 

“They're nothing compared to you Emma, but I do apologize again”, and with that parting line Killian quietly exited, making sure to close the door fully behind him.

Emma locked the handle, ensuring no one else would interrupt her. She cleaned most of her face off and pulled on her burgundy wool dress and matching coat, gathered her things, and her flowers hailing a cab home.

Tagging a few who might be interested! @wefoundloveunderthelight @itsfabianadocarmo @purplehawkcaptain @the-lady-of-misthaven @the-captains-ayebrows @thesschesthair @myfearless-love @kmomof4 @jonesfandomfanatic @hookedpirate @xhookswenchx @let-it-raines @letmedieahooker @captainswanouat @captainswoon @cathloves @laschatzi @timeless-love-story @asluve @ao3feed-cs @ahookerandproud @ineffablecolors @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @kymbersmith-90 @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @tnlph @the-captains-ayebrows @captainswoon @captainswanouat @captain-swan-coffee​ @jrob64​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​​ @captainirishstubble @onceuponadaily​ @resident-of-storybrooke​​ @greenlef777 Let me know if you want to be added or removed! 

[7-wonders]

Naked & Afraid

Summary: You finally (unwillingly, like everything else that’s happened to you since that night in the parking lot) meet your father-in-law in what is arguably some of the weirdest circumstances you’ve ever dealt with.

Word Count: 3734

A/N: What, Claire finally updated Mad Love? Hell must’ve frozen over and pigs are surely flying! Feedback is always appreciated (even the h8ers; bring it on hunny I’m always up for a throwdown), and if you liked this chapter I would love if you would reblog and/or leave me a comment!

Read Mad Love (part one) HERE | Read Totally F***ed (part two) HERE | Read The Isle of Flightless Birds (part three) HERE | Read A Hard Day’s Night (part four) HERE | Read Pour One Out (part five) HERE | Read Where Angels Fear to Tread (part six) HERE

Every single thing about Michael Langdon and the life that he lives is the epitome of luxury, so it comes as no surprise that the en suite bathroom that has been deemed yours is just as opulent as everything else you’ve seen. After an incredibly long week that’s seemed to stretch for months, the large, ornate bathtub is the only thing on your mind. After Michael cut dinner short tonight, an issue with the Cooperative requiring his attention, you found yourself sitting on your bed and trying to figure out what to do with an unexpected free evening. Your head is still spinning after everything that’s happened in the past couple of days, and a long bath is where you tend to do your best thinking and decompressing. Today, especially, there’s a lot to think about.

The sound of rushing water fills the bathroom and echoes off of the large granite walls (who has granite walls?). Sticking your hand under the steady stream, you fiddle with the knob for a few moments before finding your ideal temperature. The bathtub starts to fill quickly, and you pour a generous amount of some fragrant lavender bubble bath into the water. You sit back on the balls of your feet, waiting for the bath to fill to your desired depth before rushing to turn it off. Glancing one last time to make sure you remembered to lock the door, you yank your clothes off of your body before sinking into the bath.

You sigh audibly once the hot water covers your body, the heat immediately going to work at relaxing your muscles. Relaxing against the back of the porcelain tub, you turn your phone on to play some music and stare up at the ceiling. There’s a chandelier, because of course there is. Although the signature black is prevalent throughout the room, you’re pleased to see some accents of purple and silver as well. Your thoughts, which can never just remain on one topic for an extended period of time, quickly shift to what’s happened yesterday and today.

The major thing is, of course, the kiss that you shared with Michael mere hours ago. More specifically, why the hell did you reciprocate the kiss? He certainly didn’t use his magic on you; even if you didn’t know what magic felt like when it was used on you now, the stern warning that you would beat his ass scared him enough to not even consider it. But, it’s not as if you like him. At best, you’re starting to tolerate him. That doesn’t mean you’ve ever thought about kissing him before, no matter how soft his lips actually are.

Maybe it was a lapse in judgement? Or maybe drunk (Y/N) was still lurking in the darkest recesses of your mind, just waiting for a moment to come out and screw everything up. A single kiss does not equal attraction of any kind. Michael’s arrogant, nosy, doesn’t understand boundaries, is the literal Antichrist and, to top it off, kidnapped you to be his unwilling bride. But at the same time, he obviously didn’t have a very loving or normal childhood, and he’s been used as a puppet by so many: Ms. Mead, the Satanists, his father. You don’t empathize with him, or even excuse his actions due to what he’s gone through. You do, however, understand why he acts the way that he does; maybe that makes all the difference.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but it’s obvious that you did. One moment, you’re relaxing in a bathtub and pondering how weird your life has gotten, and then you blink and you’re here. Well, wherever ‘here’ is. Everything’s dark, as if you’re standing outside in an empty field with no sign of stars, the moon, or any lights. Your eyes take a minute to adjust, but even then you’re still unable to see any sign of life. Although you can’t see anything, you can feel that something, or someone, is here with you.

The hair on your arms prickles, goosebumps rising as you feel a pair of piercing eyes watching you. The worst part, though, is that you can’t tell which direction they’re looking at you from. Just when you turn around to try and catch them, the feeling’s from behind you. It’s everywhere: Your back, your arms, your side, your face. At times it feels like you’re nose to nose with this entity, even though there’s nothing there. Your breathing picks up, nervously coming out in visible puffs as you wrap your arms around yourself. Looking down suddenly, you’re grateful that you’re not still naked in this dream (or vision, or premonition). You’re wearing the same clothes that you were wearing earlier today, almost as if you had dressed yourself while asleep.

As far as you can tell, you’re alone. That is, until you’re not. You spin around in a slow circle one last time, shrieking loudly when you come face to face with a man. A small smile has his pink lips upturned, showing his amusement at your fear. He’s tall, tall enough that his neck is bent in order to look at you. His unruly black hair somehow manages to look like he styled it that way, and his hazel eyes seem to flicker and crackle with sparks. You stumble backwards, desperate to put some space between you and this stranger. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, reminding you of how Michael looks when he smells your fear in the air.

“Who are you?” Your voice, although you attempt to sound strong, comes out shaky and hesitant.

“I am known by many different names, and I possess many different faces.” He quips, taking one long step closer to you. “Mmm, but of course you would not recognize me as I am now, right, sweet (Y/N)?”

“How do you know my name?”

He doesn’t answer. In a split second, he’s changed from the man with the mop of black hair to a tall man with brown hair and brown eyes, a trimmed beard on his face. If it weren’t for the same sparks in his eyes, you would have thought it was a completely different person.

“Does this not work for you, either?” His form changes again, to that of a teenage boy in an ill-fitting sweater and ratty jeans. His blond hair hasn’t been combed in a while, but he has the same brown eyes as that of the man before him.

“Stop doing this!” You snap, half-tempted to smack him.

“Oh, but I think you will quite enjoy this next form.” Suddenly, Michael stands before you. It looks just like the Michael you know, except for those eyes. Michael’s eyes, the real Michael’s eyes, lack that odd flame in them that this person has.

“Change back.” You say through gritted teeth. You’re not sure why the sight of him makes you feel so odd, but it does.

“You are no fun at all.” He sighs, reverting back to the original form that you first saw him in.

“I’m going to ask you this one more time. Who. Are. You?” Your hands are balled into fists at your sides, and you can feel your nails digging into the calloused flesh there.

“‘The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.’” He quips. It sounds familiar, what he’s saying, but you have no clue where you would have heard something like this before. “Why did you react the way that you did when I assumed the image of my son?”

“Your son? Who’s your…” You trail off upon realizing the only person that he could possibly be referring to as his son. He smirks, knowing that you’re hoping with every fiber of your being that he’s not who you think he is.

“Such a smart woman you are, (Y/N).” His voice drips with the same saccharine that tempted Eve when she stood at that lonely tree in the Garden of Eden, listening to the lies of the serpent as he whispered in her ear that the Forbidden Fruit would provide her the same knowledge that God himself possessed. “Surely you have heard some of my names. Beelzebub, Mephistopheles, Lucifer--” he cuts himself off, and the grin that he shoots your way has you shuddering at the mere sight of it, “--Satan.”

“You can’t be, I--how am I here?” There’s so much about this situation that’s wrong, but for some reason your mind latches onto the sheer absurdity of waking up in an actual hellscape.

“My dear, I’m the Devil. A mere parlor trick is all it took to get you into my domain.” He spreads his arms wide, proud of the desolate landscape that stretches ahead for miles and miles.

“I’m not your ‘dear.’” You retort, eyes widening when you realize that you just sassed Satan himself. Instead of stealing your soul and banishing you to the Ninth Circle of Hell, which is what you’re expecting, he stares at you for a moment before laughing loudly.

“See, everytime I think that I chose the wrong mortal to be my son’s companion, you prove to me that I made the correct choice.” He seems proud of himself, standing tall and with his chest out.

“You ruined my life with your ‘choice.’”

Satan’s face falls, and he takes another step closer to you. “I have given you the opportunity to be great!”

“You stole my free will!”

“Thanks to me, you will rule the New World side-by-side with Michael. You are the missing link to bring about our plans for the Apocalypse. My son, as I am sure you have noticed, is all too human. I blame his mother; gentle, impassioned Vivien did not pass many things down to Michael, but she did manage to give the boy an overly caring heart. He needs someone to fulfill his heart’s desires, and who better than the one who was handpicked for him?”

“The Apocalypse,” you scoff, choosing to ignore the last part of his spiel for now as you look the Devil right in the eyes. “Why do you even want to bring about the Apocalypse? Once everyone’s dead, there’s no more new souls for you to torture.”

“Hell is not just made up of the souls of the damned, (Y/N). Legions of demons, swarms of locusts and scorpions, plagues that mankind has long since forgotten. My domain shall no longer be restricted just to Hell. Instead, Hell, and all of her beasts, will wreak havoc upon the Earth.”

“You want to kill billions of people, just so that you and your buddies can get your jollies?”

“Chaos and disorder are what keeps the world running. I am merely trying to make sure that only those who can survive the most chaotic of situations will populate the New World. Which, might I remind you, you shall have a hand in ruling.”

“I don’t want your fucking crown or kingdom.”

You go to whirl around, hoping that there will be some door that you missed when you first woke up here, but you’re faced again with Satan. When you try to back away from him, a ring of flames encircles both of you, effectively trapping you with him. He snatches your wrist, and your eyes widen at the sharp talons digging into your skin.

“Did your mother never teach you that gratitude is a virtue?” His voice comes out as a thunder, shaking the very ground that you stand on.

You really should tone down the sass and backtalk, but you can’t help it when a man as arrogant as any you’ve ever met stands mere inches away. “That’s really rich, coming from the literal Devil.”

“You foolish, insolent little girl. You have no idea what I am capable of.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as he loosens his grip on your wrist, allowing you to snatch your extremity back from him. You rub the skin, visibly marked and bleeding in areas where the talons pierced through, as gently as possible while trying to gain some feeling back into your tingling hand.

“I embody the seven deadly sins,” he continues. “I can become your greatest desire…”

You haven’t been looking at him while attending to your wrist, but your movements stop at the sudden change of voice when he reaches the end of his sentence. Moving your eyes slowly upwards, you let out a harsh breath when you’re greeted with Michael’s smirking face. The Michael doppelgänger slowly walks towards you, lifting a chilly hand up to your face and caressing your cheek.

“Don’t touch me.” You mutter, unable to look away from his cerulean eyes.

“C’mon, (Y/N),” even his mocking tone sounds just like the Michael that you know, “don’t play coy with me. I can see into the deepest parts of your soul. That purity that you try so furiously to embody, tinted black in some areas. You desire me, even though you hate to admit it.”

“I don’t.”

“Liar.” He whispers, breath ghosting across your face while he moves even closer to yours. “The very essence of your being calls out for me, just as I call out for you. We were created for each other. No matter how much you try and fight it, we belong to each other. Soon enough, your mind will give into what your soul already knows.”

“Stop it!” You shout, shoving him away from you.

Satan goes stumbling back, caught off-guard by your sudden attack and nearly topping into the flames. When he rights himself again, he has a devil’s grin plastered across his original face.

“As I was saying, I can become your greatest desire, but I can also transform into your worst nightmare.”

He starts to shift and change, body convulsing as bones grow from out of nowhere. Satan’s no longer a man, although was the title of ‘man’ ever one that could be bestowed upon him? Instead, he’s a horrific, imposing creature with multiple heads that almost looks like some sort of dragon.

“‘And I saw a beast coming out of the sea,’” he bellows, all of the heads combining their voices to form a roar that has you clapping your hands over your ears. “‘It had ten horns and seven heads, with ten crowns on its horns, and on each head a blasphemous name.’”

Vaguely, you realize that the heads are quoting some part of the Book of Revelation, but you don’t have time to wonder about if the Devil has the Bible memorized when the heads of the beast unhinge their jaws, showing off their gaping maws and the dim glow of fire being conjured from deep in their belly. As the heads start to lower towards you, you drop to your knees and let out a blood curdling shriek.

Michael senses your panic before he hears your terrified screams. He springs up from his plush leather chair in his office, abruptly ending the phone call he was just on with a couple of world leaders. Your screams permeate the air, Michael’s heart pounding in terror at what you could possibly be experiencing right now. In his mind, there’s no time to waste. He blasts the bathroom door open the moment that it comes into view, hoping that you’ll forgive him for barging in on you while you’re nude.

Your subconscious, which Satan had pulled into Hell the moment your eyes slipped closed for longer than a second, had jolted back into your body upon sensing your imminent demise. In your panic, you had slipped under the water, inhaling mouthfuls of it as your lungs tried to breathe normally again. Your hands cling to the lip of the tub, almost like you’re worried that something will swim up from the depths of the bath and attempt to drag you back under. Alternating between screaming and coughing up the water that has invaded your lungs, your eyes remain clenched tight.

Michael reaches for you before his mind can start to think about the repercussions of doing so, arms slipping under your body and pulling you out of the water. His suit is soaking wet now, but he doesn’t care. He’s never seen you like this before, so terror-stricken that you can’t even open your eyes, and it shakes him to his core. You thrash against his firm chest, sure that Satan has shifted back and captured you in hell. It’s only when you hear his frantically calm reassurances that your body stops writhing.

“Hey, you’re okay, it’s fine. I’m here, nothing can hurt you.” He soothes you, waiting patiently for your eyes to flutter open.

“Michael? It’s...it’s actually you, right?” Your voice is meek in a way that he’s never heard before.

“Why wouldn’t it be me?” Your eyes fill with tears at the memory, and you shake your head before burying your face in his chest, sobs wracking your body. “What happened to you?”

The only sounds you make are the small whimpers that slip past the barrier of your mouth, floating to Michael’s ears. His fingers go to your back, freezing when he remembers that you’re naked. Hesitantly, he grabs a towel and wraps you in it, though you’re still too shocked to even care. Michael holds you tightly against him, rubbing circles on your back and listening to your heart to make sure it evens out. It takes a while, but it slowly manages to go to a rate that wouldn’t have an Apple Watch alerting its owner of a possible heart attack.

“(Y/N), is it okay if I get you dressed?” If your head wasn’t pressed against his chest, he wouldn’t even be aware that you had nodded in response to his request, the movement was so small.

Michael can tell that the steady metronome of his heart is calming to you, so he remains silent while he runs another towel through your hair. He’s gentle with you, almost like you’re a wisp of smoke he’s managed to capture in his hands; one wrong movement, and you’ll disappear. He helps to tug the black nightdress over your head, looking up at the ceiling while he inches it down past your thighs until you’re modest. A wave of his bejeweled hand makes the bathtub start to drain, the sound of the water level receding helping to fill the silence of the bathroom.

You’re exhausted, although you’re not sure if it’s from the near-drowning that still has your lungs feeling like they’re burning or the fact that Satan literally had you in Hell with him. When Michael picks you up in his arms, you don’t even bother to protest what he’s doing. The covers of your bed have already been turned down, likely the work of a maid slipping in while you were first in the bathroom. Michael sets you down amongst the plush pillows and starts to pull the blankets up around you, but stops when you grab his hand.

“It was Satan.” You mutter, tired eyes gazing up to see his panicked reaction.

“What?”

“Lay down with me.” Patting the spot on the bed next to you, Michael slowly slips his shoes off before sliding in next to you. You smile slightly at how he still respects your space, fingers just barely brushing against yours in an effort to not piss you off. “I must have fallen asleep while I was taking a bath. It felt like I only blinked, and suddenly I was in this pitch black landscape…”

You tell him everything about the confrontation with his father, only leaving out the part where Satan accused Michael of being your greatest desire. He listens intently throughout your entire story, saving all of his comments for after you’re finished.

“Why did he show himself to you?” Michael mutters, almost as if he’s talking to himself.

“Does he normally not do that?”

“I’ve never actually seen him before. My father has an...odd way of communicating with me, and that usually involves some sort of visions or rituals. I don’t understand why you’re--” he cuts himself off, jaw tightening while he lets out a sigh. “--he’s not pleased with either of us.”

“He couldn’t just have a friendly conversation with you instead of dragging me to Hell?”

“This was intended to be a message that would resonate with both of us. Would you have taken me seriously if he had spoken to me during a ritual?”

“You already know I wouldn’t.”

“Then what better way to voice his displeasure than by getting the skeptic, the unwilling second part of this equation, to be the messenger?”

“I don’t understand why he’s not pleased, though. I married you. Isn’t that enough?”

Michael grimaces. “You’re far more headstrong than he thought you would be. I think, when my father was picking a bride for me, he imagined that she would be this demure little thing who faithfully worshipped Satan and had already accrued a body count by her eighteenth birthday. You are almost the exact opposite of that, and it infuriates him. Any wrench in our plans means more time that’s wasted.”

“What you order on Amazon versus what shows up.” You joke, chuckling when Michael stifles a smile. “C’mon, that was funny!”

“It’s time for you to get some rest, (Y/N).” Michael reminds you, stroking your damp hair back from your face. His clothes are no longer wet, and you briefly wonder if he used his magic to dry them before nerves seize your stomach.

“Wait! Please don’t leave me.” You plead, gripping his arm tightly with both of yours. Michael looks concerned, and you sigh. “I’m scared that he’ll get me again if I fall asleep.”

Michael’s arms wrap around you, securing you against his chest. That steady rhythm that makes up his heartbeat starts to calm you again, and you use the sound to ground yourself.

“I won’t let him anywhere near you, I promise.” You can’t be too sure, considering how fast you drift off, but it feels like he lays a kiss to your forehead.

Michael keeps his promise, remaining with you until long after you’re asleep. When his own eyes start to slip closed, he allows himself to fall asleep next to you, protecting you no matter what.

Tag List: @sammythankyou @girlycakepops @ultragibbycentralworld @sebastianshoe @nana15774 @queencocoakimmie @lichellaw @grim-adventures58 @dandycandy75 @trimbooohgodplsnoooo @alexcornerblogthethird @everything-is-awesomesauce @ccodyfern @jimmlangdon @dolceandchalamet @omgsuperstarg @queenie435 @dextergirl12345 @americanhorrorstudies @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @coloursunlimited @punkysouls @kahhlo @storminmytwistedmind @1-800-bitchcraft @langdonsdemon @langdonslove @carousallie @cuddletothecake @born-on-stgeorges-day @mega-combusken @michaelsapostle @babyloutattoo89 @divinelangdon @venusxxlangdon @idespac @hexqueensupreme @hecohansen31 @rocketgirl2410 @gold-dragon-slayer 

[writtingthing]

Crossing The Great Sea Chapter 3 (Linked Universe)

Word count ; 2363

Read on Archive of our own

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

 Far away , Wind could see the Mother and Child Isles. The boat was moving slowly, Wind wanted to use the wind waker to help them move faster, but the other agreed to let the wind do it’s own thing. The others wanted to learn as much as they can about the World crossing pirates. No, not pirates. Travelers. That’s really all they were. Most didn’t even know how to fight. Ren in particular enjoyed to watch the Heroes spar.

“How much longer do I have?” Four was behind Wind, making the youngest slightly jump.

“Um, I’m not sure. A couples days for sure. We’re almost out of the Great Sea though.” Wind noticed the smallest hero had a different book than the day before. “Find anything interesting?”

“Not really, only one book is weird.” Four held up the leather bound book.

“What does it say?” Curiosity was winning today in Wind’s mind.

Four handed it to Wind, the latter looked at the one page with text, “This kinda sounds like what happened to me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Tetra was turned to stone. When I found her I learned Lineneck had... ran away when his old crew was captured. Later Bellum attached himself to Linebeck and I had to fight him. But I don’t think anything had to do with memories.” Wind trailed off, “Amila mentioned something about Linebeck helping them, she said she doesn’t remember….”

“Do you think it's coincidence?” Four was looking over the written words with a new light.

“Maybe.. did you ask Jacalyn?” Wind knew he shouldn’t pry, it wasn’t right. But Linebeck was his friend, he had a right to know, right? If they were forgetting, was it so wrong to try to help them remember?

“She said she doesn’t remember either. I could ask her about Linebeck though.” Four closed the book, having his curiosity renewed.

“What are you two plotting?” Twilight approached them.

Wind and Four smiled innocently, “Nothing.” They spoke in almost unison.

Twilight eyes looked over the two boys, then sighed, “whatever, don’t get in too much trouble though. Wild’s got the food ready. He’s serving the recipe he got from your grandma.” Twilight nodded to Wind.

The three of them joined the others, who were already seated digging into the soup laid out for them. The engaged in small talk, mostly towards the cook. Wind made the passing comment that if Wild practiced enough he may be almost as good as grandma.

The all had a good laugh. Somehow they began talking about masks. After eating Wild showed off his small collections of masks.

“Is that Majora’s Mask?” Qin reached for the mask in question. Is wasn’t a pretty mask. It had all the colors of the rainbow, but scatter on it. Horns were spread along the heart shaped edges. The eyes is what bothered most, the yellow and red seemed to look through people.

“Yeah, I’ve many stories behind it. Heard of it?” Wild nodded to Jacalyn.

“Of course I have. Especially from the mask salesman.” Jacalyn smiled as she held it in her hands, “He had so many stories, it was hard to leave him.”

The others laughed. Amila began to tell about when they meet him, the salesman was a talker for sure. The sun set and Time and Jacalyn took first watch. The night was quiet. Jacalyn keep a single hand on the helm as she scanned the sea.

“Sorry.”

Time turned to Jacalyn, who was still staring out into the sea, “Excuse me?”

“Sorry Fairy boy, I’ve been unfair.”

Time gave her a questioning look, “How so?”

“I haven’t even asked you to say your story yet.” Jacalyn looked at him, more like through him, “Yours seems to be pretty important and told in many different ways, so I might as well hear it from its source.”

“Like you said, it’s been told so many times. I would assume you already have hear it 100 times.” Time could feel himself relax, if only a bit.

“I’ll admit, I have heard yours a whole lot, one of my earliest books is of your journey. But can’t you humor a child?” Jacalyn swayed on her feet as she spoke, a smile spread wide across her face.

“You sure don’t speak or act like a child,” Time remarked, then added, “most of the time anyway.”

Jacalyn laughed. “I am only 16, I’m entitled to act like a child sometimes.”

The two kept up light hearted conversations through the shift. A voice caught their attention. Hyrule was standing there, a tired smile on his face.

“A bit early to change shifts.” Time raised his brow.

“I’m having a bit of trouble sleeping tonight, thought I could make myself useful.”

Time might have argued, but Jacalyn spoke first. “Go get some rest old man, we can handle it.”

Hyrule nodded. Time let out a sigh and walked past Hyrule into the hull. He turned back one last time, “Need me to wake one of the other for you Jacalyn?”

The woman held up her hand, “No need, let those who can sleep, sleep. I’ll be good for a bit longer.”

Time nodded and headed inside, Leaving the two alone.

“Liar.”

Jacalyn eyed the boy, “You can get rid of me after you listen.”

Hyrule had heard the speech earlier. She had come up to him and begun talking. It wasn’t hard to notice Hyrule didn’t fit in with the others. Jacalyn told him that was all in his head, but was it really. Hero of Time, Hero of Warriors, Hero of the Wind, Hero of Twilight, Hero of the Four sword, Hero of Legend, Hero of the Wild. Even The Chosen Hero. What was he again? Hero of Hyrule. Just Hyrule. He wasn’t exactly a Hero either.

No matter what the others told him he wouldn’t change his mind, why was she even trying. He wasn’t trying to be rude, Hyrule was just tired of hearing the same thing over and over again. It didn’t help Jacalyn looked exhausted as soon as Time left, as if she was tired of saying it too.

“I don’t really need encouragement, I’m fine. I’ll travel with them, I don’t need to be their equals.” Hyrule told her, he didn’t need to add he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be their equals. Hard to be a humble traveler when everyone in the land knows your name.

Jacalyn growled, “You are-” She cut herself off and took a deep breath. “I know I can’t change your mind.” She admitted.

Hyrule looked at her, surprised.

“But, you can’t change anyone else’s mind either. We all think you belong. Nothing you can do about that.” Jacalyn didn’t talk after that, neither did Hyrule. Both stood in peaceful silence as the night went on.

 “Linebeck? Yeah we ran in with him.” Wind and Four had found Jacalyn in the study writing in a journal of sorts. Both we listening eagerly to what the girl was saying.

“He was an interesting fellow, talked about how he saved the sea.” Jacalyn smiled, lost in her memory, “Now that I think about it, he spoke about you alot,” She nodded towards Wind.

“How long ago was that?” Four asked.

Jacalyn rubbed her neck, “Um, maybe 4 months ago. I’m not sure, my memory is pretty bad.”

Four and Wind sighed, the former begun to think circles in his head. Four should have known this wouldn’t have gone anywhere. Then Wind asked the question Four should have asked way earlier.

“Why is your memory so bad?”

Jacalyn pause, her eyes widened for a moment. Without blinking or looking at them she spoke, almost like a recording, without any emotion or warmth, “It doesn’t matter.”

Four and Wind exchanged glances, Jacalyn shook her head, and spoke with her normal voice, “Some things are better left forgotten. You should probably leave it that way.”

Wind sighed in defeat and walked out, Four gave her a suspicious look, but followed.

There was no way he was leaving it that way. Four wasn’t sure why he was so curious, why he wanted to know so badly. No, not wanted anymore. He needed to know. He wasn’t sure why, but he was sure he needed to know.

 Time wasn’t sure what to think when the two smaller heroes walked out of the study. They seemed normal, going to do something to occupy the time. The only thing that made him worry is the way Jacalyn continued to stare off into space, writing something down without looking. Time walked in, she didn’t seem to notice him until he was next to her. Time only got a glance at what was written, it was an effort to keep his face neutral. Jacalyn shut the book with a loud thud.

“Sorry, I think I’m going to retire early today,” She looked up at him, or rather through him. It looked as if nothing was behind those brown eyes. “Think you can tell the others for me?”

“Sure.”

Time watched as she took the book and walked to her room, the door shutting behind her. He walked out onto the deck and told the others, as he said he would. Time couldn’t focus though, what was written kept gnawing at his mind. He had overheard Four talk to Warriors and Wind about some weird things hidden in her books, but the phrase he read…. she couldn’t have known. He could hear the words spoken to him,

 You’ve met with a terrible fate, haven’t you?

 The heroes didn’t see Jacalyn for a few days. Amila informed them she was feeling ill, but it wasn’t contagious. Four seemed unconvinced but didn’t voice anything. The crew had gone stiff since Jacalyn got sick. They were more quiet, sent more glances towards Jacalyn’s room and towards Amila.

“Do you know how deep the ocean is?” Sky was next to Wind, looking deep into the sea.

“I’m not too sure, the entire Kingdom of old Hyrule lies beneath it.” Wind could remember traversing through the old castle.

“Wow,” That was all Sky could say. Nothing was really going on. Every was around doing things, but the atmosphere felt empty.

“We passed Star Island the other day, so we’ve left the Great Sea. Who knows how long until we reach another Hyrule.”

“It can vary,” Fellin answered, walking up to the young heroes.

“Sometimes it can take a day or two, other times it has taken weeks.” Fellin sent another glance towards Jacalyn’s room.

Sky frowned, then shouted to Amlia, “You sure you don’t need any help with Jacalyn?”

Amila smiled, “She’s fine, we’ve dealt with this before.”

Sky heard her grumble a bit more, but she continued on with a smile. It was clear Amila was in charge when Jacalyn was away.

 Legend was walking to the study, after hearing one his own stories was written down. As he passed by Jacalyn’s room he heard voice. Curiosity won out over human decency as he stood and tried to listen.

“You promised.” That was Amila.

“I did.” Jacalyn’s voice was soft, as if it hadn’t been used in days.

“The others have been worried.”

There was a laugh on the other side, “Why wouldn’t they be? It’s been awhile since something like this has happened.”

“They would be happy to see you’re ok.”

“.... Soon. I’d like to think a bit longer to think.”

Legend heard something shuffle.Taking that as his cue to tune out he walked to the study. Four was sitting there, looking at the same book.

“What’d you hear?”

“Excuse me?”

Something was different about the smallest hero. Maybe Four didn’t do well with confined spaces. Maybe he read a story about bad stuff happening on a ship. Whatever it was, Legend did not appreciate how he was acting. And the others though he was bad.

“I saw you listening to Jacalyn’s door, I’m asking what you heard.” Four was looking him in the eyes.

Legend wanted to argue, but gave in. The sooner Four was done being nosey, the sooner he’d be back to normal.

 When Jacalyn exited her room, her crew bombarded her with questions. She waved them all off with a shrug and a smile. Wind was surprised when she didn’t look at him or Four with any negative emotion. She looked at none of the Heroes differently than she did a few days before.Time was conflicted, wanting to ask about the phrase she had written, but he held back. Later. they could deal with that later, or maybe never.

 Something was wrong. Four had known it since he set foot on the ship. This weird feeling of… well he didn’t know. He was curious, who wouldn’t be? But Four could usually respect people’s secrets. Why couldn’t he do it now? He had snapped at Sky. It was over something small and Sky forgave him, but still. This wasn’t right. The others noticed too, Legend would soon confront him, Four knew it. So he’d fix it before then.

Four approached Jacalyn while she was in the study, alone.

She smiled at him, as if nothing happened, “Heya Four, need a new book?”

“No, I need answers.” No need to beat around the bush anymore.

Jacalyn sighed, “You don’t. Like I said, somethings are-”

“No.”

Jacalyn paused. Then took a breath. “It’s not worth it.”

“What do you mean.”

“The knowledge you want, it’s not worth it,” Jacalyn’s voice dropped, “So drop it.”

Four wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t do that. He knew something was up. Jacalyn knew too.

“Four.” Jacalyn called for him.

It has something to do with her memory, her boat. Her.

“Four!” Her voice was louder, more annoyed.

The final pieces were in front of him, why couldn’t he put them together.

“FOUR!” She was yelling, angry.

Something snapped.

Four felt the ground meet his head.

His mind was not working.

He couldn’t think.

The last thing he could hear was Jacalyn’s voice.

It was not filled with anger or annoyance.

The only emotions he could hear was worry and fear.

“FOUR!”

And with that, Four was no longer there.

[ixeliema]

Insecure - Shane x my farmer, Terra

By popular demand (sort of, I mean I have never posted content on Tumblr out of fear it would get stolen or that I’d get harassed for it, so “popular” means like 2 reblogs and around 30 likes, THANK YOU ALL), here’s my fic about Shane being an awkward scared bean!

Summary: Terra and Shane had grown really close over time, and have formed somewhat of a routine. Shane goes to the saloon after work, Terra meets him with a beer for conversation. When Terra stops coming to the saloon, Shane begins to wonder what he did wrong, and if he messed up.

TWs: Implied self harm near the end, Talk of Suicide and Suicide Attempts, Anxiety and Depression, General Angst, Language (let’s be honest, Shane definitely swears a lot)

Word Count: 5373

Thursday, 18 Spring, Year 2 – 3:40 PM

 I hadn’t seen her in days, and I was beginning to wonder if I’d done something wrong.

Stocking those infernal shelves day after day made it hard for us to see each other as it was, even though we’d been dating over half a year by now.

At the end of last summer, she’d approached me shyly and handed me a bouquet and a beer. The beer, I’d come to expect, as she’d began greeting me at the saloon on a nightly basis when I got there at 6, drink in hand, and during the summer, sometimes with a freshly grown hot pepper.

Even after starting my therapy, she was always there with something, whether it was a beer because I’d “earned it” or a sparkling water because I was still trying to get away from my past emotional crutch and she knew that. Hell, she knew that all too well.

But two days ago, she wasn’t there. I was worried so I sent her a letter, and even then, no response. With work, I didn’t have much time to ask around town or visit, so I’d asked Jas and Marnie to tell me if they saw her anywhere, and even then, nothing.

I was becoming increasingly more convinced that I’d upset her somehow. What had I done in the last week to upset her? Had it been my tone when we talked on Saturday? Was it the beer can on the floor when she came to see me at home on Sunday? What WAS it?

I shook my head. Deep breaths, Shane. I channeled my counsellor’s advice. “Don’t panic, just breathe.” I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply.

“SHANE.” Morris’ voice boomed behind me. Startled, I stood up quickly, can of chili still in hand.

“Yes, sir?” I somehow managed to say without stuttering, despite my nerves still being high from the voice behind me.

“Your shift ends in an hour and a half, and you still have two aisles to stock.” Morris didn’t really sound angry at me, but he wasn’t exactly known for being a pleasant person to work for. There was a reason the girl with the ginger hair at the counter looked like a corpse from dawn until dusk every day.

“Sorry sir, I was taking a quick breather.” I made up the excuse knowing that Morris wouldn’t care whether I was 5 centimeters from a mental breakdown or not. He wouldn’t care what I said.

“Just don’t let it happen again. You still have plenty of work to do.” He smiled at me, and I felt ill.

He turned around quickly at the sound of the doorbells jingling. “Hello, welcome to JojaMart!!”

I rolled my eyes. What, am I not allowed to breathe here anymore?

“Oh! Miss Terra!”

My shoulders shot up from the pouty slumped state they were in upon hearing her name. Terra? What was she doing here? She hates JojaMart almost as much as I do at this point.

I heard a hushed voice to Morris and rapid footsteps away from my direction. I rushed to the edge of the aisle, desperate to see her face, to ask what was wrong, if she was okay. If WE were okay.

Nothing, just the same tired cashier, and no Terra, no Morris.

I looked around a bit, but to no avail. She must have gone to his office to talk with him in private.

What for though? She literally talks shit about him every time we hang out. What would be so important that she’d be willing to talk to Morris PRIVATELY?

With a sigh, knowing that Morris would fire me if I was caught loitering around the aisles, I went back to work.

 Thursday, 18 Spring, Year 2 – 7:20 PM

 Never in my life had getting blackout drunk sounded so appealing as I sat in the corner, completely alone, and with far too many questions spinning around in my head.

Seriously, what was this afternoon all about? Even after changing out of my uniform and clocking out, Morris wouldn’t talk to me, and even if he did, I doubt he would have said anything. Not like he owes me anything, I’m just a pawn to him, and he has always made it clear he doesn’t “care” about us.

I felt my heart sink again as I remembered watching Terra walk away from the store through the glass doors in the rain, wanting desperately to call out to her but feeling completely powerless in the face of my fears and my douche of a boss.

Not even Lewis and Willy’s banter about fishing off the docks when they were young, or Gus’ finest pizza could snap me out of the funk I was in. The only thing I could understand tonight was that Terra blatantly didn’t want to see me today.

I stood up and left the saloon, far earlier than I ever had before. Maybe, just MAYBE, I could run into her, especially if she was trying to avoid me. She knew my schedule well, not like it was difficult to memorize. Wake, eat, work, drink, sleep; rinse and repeat. She knew exactly where I’d be and when, and if I had any chance of finding her, I needed to use that to my advantage.

 I started out toward the forest. Maybe she was fishing by the lake? She had a particular fondness for the dock where we’d first sat down and really talked, and she loved fishing there. Something about a “constant flow of 25-inch-long smallmouth bass.”

Upon finding nothing, I checked my phone. 8 PM. Maybe she was home? It was a longshot, at this hour, but worth a try. She really pushed her body to the limit when it came to sleeping.

I headed north to Vervain Farm, sidestepping some weeds and a fallen tree branch as I headed up the docks. Her farm was very much right in the middle of a number of small rivers, and the numerous “isles” that made up her farm were traversable only by small bridges.

“Terra?” I asked softly, almost as if my voice didn’t really WANT to be heard. Clearing my throat and shaking my head, I called again. “Terra?”

My voice echoed in the wind, as a chilling breeze swept through my tattered jacket and into my bones. No response. I approached her cabin and stood on the doorstep in the rain for what seemed like forever before I finally gathered the courage to actually knock louder than a pathetic tapping.

I heard silence, then a shuffle, and then nothing again. I knocked again, hoping she was there, but all that answered my knock was a muffled “mrow?”

Terra’s cat, Citrus, emerged from the cat door and rubbed up against my leg, before realizing I was soaked and shaking his head indignantly at me.

“Hey boy,” I said under my breath, well aware that it was cold enough to see my breath fogging up the night air. “Have you seen Terra?” I asked, stroking his fur with my cold hands.

He looked up at me, green eyes wide and curious. “Mrow?”

I sat down on the porch beneath the gable, petting Citrus for another few minutes, listening to the rain and his purring, and trying to breathe normally.

Where is she? My mind was going crazy, and I swore I felt hot tears welling up in my eyes.

I grabbed Citrus close and let out a single sob. The cat, more than a little disgruntled by my actions, meowed loudly in surprise and growled at me until I loosened my grip.

“S-sorry.” I stuttered, feeling my jaw tensing up and chattering from the cold. “I’m sorry.” I repeated, scratching the cat behind his ears.

The orange tabby mewled at me once more before reentering the house, and I sighed heavily.

Alone again.

I stood up and shook my head aggressively, feeling the raindrops flying out in all directions from my messy purple hair.

The rain had lightened up, and I knew that this was the only chance I had to get home without receiving another cold shower from mother nature.

As I descended the stairs, I swore I heard a voice inside, but then again, at this point, I was too tired, cold and sad to know if it was merely an auditory hallucination or not.

I fell into bed at Marnie’s place at 9 PM on the dot, and as I did, I tried to empty my mind of all these thoughts. Terra, my insecurities, my loneliness, everything. And as I eventually drifted off the sleep, around 2 in the morning, I dreamed of Terra and I’s first date.

The gridball game with the Tunnelers, the game where I kissed her suddenly out of excitement, and panicked, thinking I’d just ruined my chances with this wonderful woman who had given me hope again. As she kissed me back, I remember feeling everything fading into the shadows. The game’s noise, the crowd’s screams, the tipsy feeling inside my head, everything was gone. Only her and me.

And god, was it wonderful. The last Sunday of Fall, and the last game of the season. We’d won, but I barely even remember that part. I remembered the taste of her lips on mine. The faint scent of beer and fried food as I inhaled deeply, taking it all in.

Moments like that could drive an atheist to Yoba, because in that moment, I had kissed an angel.

On the bus ride home, she fell asleep with her head on my shoulder, hair messy, and a little bit tipsy herself. She was just so beautiful. Even as she drooled a bit on my jacket and made strange noises in her sleep, I just fell harder and harder for this woman every time I took a breath.

“Terra, I love you so much.” I said under my breath. “You give me hope that there is a future for me after all. You make me feel like I actually mean something to someone. You give me a reason to try harder, and I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done.”

A small snort answered my statement and I felt my face start to hurt from how wide I was smiling. “Terra, I think that I want to marry you someday. No, I know I do. Terra, I want to make me the happiest man alive…god this sounds so cheesy. I’m trying to say that…I love you. And I hope I can make you happy for the rest of my life.”

After the bus stopped in Pelican Town, I woke her and walked her home, thanking her for the wonderful time, and laughing at her jokes and her story about a funny dream she had on the ride home.

Of course, she didn’t know what I’d said, but I did. And those words were tattooed on my heart now. I want to marry her. I really, REALLY do. But I can’t propose without a Mermaid’s Pendant, and lord only knows how the hell you get one of those anymore.

Morris appeared in my dream, sly and shrewd. I knew he knew something, but there was no point in asking what he knew, because he would never tell me so long as he lived and breathed. He owed nothing to a stupid subordinate.

The night was long, and full of miniature dreams and nightmares in which I was alone and drowning in my fears.

God fucking damn it.

 Friday, 19 Spring, Year 2 – 8:20 AM

 A rolling fog had settled over the valley, and the walk to work was much chillier than usual.

The milky white haze was so thick that I could barely to the end of Marnie’s cow paddock. As I continued my walk, I wondered if maybe Terra would answer her phone.

I dialed her number and stared at her contact name as it rang. It read “Brat” with a purple heart emoji. I always wondered if she had me named something in her phone, especially since she was literally the only person in my contacts WITH a nickname.

“Hi this is Terra,” Her voice jolted me out of my daze.

“Terra, oh thank god, I was so worried—”

“Unfortunately, you caught me in the fields, on in the mines, or…whatever. Anyway, I’m not able to talk right now.” I exhaled. God, I was so stupid. Was I so desperate to hear her voice that I didn’t realize I’d gotten her voicemail? It’s not like I hadn’t heard it before.

I hung up. Even if I could competently leave a voicemail without enough “Uh’s” and “Um’s” to outdo Jeff Goldblum, I didn’t know what I’d say to her, much less if she wanted to hear it at all.

I sighed heavily, feeling like all my happiness was draining out of my fingertips into the foggy air.

I clenched my fists, in a vain attempt to stop myself from feeling so rotten. I didn’t have much say right now. After work, I could go to Pierre’s, or sit outside her house until she got home…actually no, the last one would just come across stalker-y. And at this point, the last thing I needed was to drive her further away.

God damn it! Damn it damn it damn it!

I kicked a rock into the mists of oblivion, hearing it splash into the river. I needed to get my dumb ass to work before I lost my job. Not like anyone else in town was hiring, so I’d be fucked if I lost the job.

So, dragging my feet more than I ever have in the past, I dragged my shallow corpse of a body into JojaMart.

 Friday, 19 Spring, Year 2 – 4:40 PM

 10 minutes until my shift ends. I said to myself, feebly attempting to ground myself in reality after the most out-of-it shift I’d ever had, even including all the ones I’d been forced to work while hungover.

The clock’s incessant ticking had me so high strung I was convinced that the next tick I’d hear would make me break the fucking thing over my knee.

A constant reminder of where I was, that ticking. A steady reminder that I’m wasting away stocking canned goods in a dead-end town for a corporate dunghill while the love of my life refuses to speak to me.

My eyes felt hollow, like they weren’t really seeing things, more like they just stared off into the blackness of nothingness and stayed there.

The snapping of Sam’s fingers in my face startled me back into reality. “Earth to Shane, hellooooo.”

“Sam?” I sounded almost drunk in my bewilderment, which wasn’t ideal right now. The last thing I need is for my coworker to think I’m zoning out because I’m drunk off my ass on-shift.

“Yeah, me.” He grinned his borderline obnoxious sunshiny smile. “Your shift ended like, 3 minutes ago. You’re usually out of here in a flash.”

I stared back at the clock I’d been fantasizing about murdering, surprised. He was right somehow.

“You’re one to talk, your shift ends at 4, what the hell are you doing here still?” I retorted, indignant at the younger man’s tone for no good reason.

Walls up.

“I fell asleep in the break room, don’t tell Morris.” He sniggered; way too proud of himself. “You going to the saloon? I’ll come with. I’ve got about twelve games of pool to lose tonight.”

I wasn’t thrilled by this bright and smiley tagalong, but it wasn’t like he was wrong. Where the hell else would I go? Not like anywhere else felt right today.

May as well let myself relapse like the coward I am.

“Sure. Give me a second to get out of this shitty uniform.” I said, disappearing into the break room.

 Friday, 19 Spring, Year 2 – 5:10 PM

 Sam wasn’t a bad guy really, but right now he was the worst guy for me to be around. He was too cheery, and far too talkative.

I thought the clock was annoying, but Sam reminded me far too much that I was a total wet blanket just by breathing with a smile.

“How was work, dude?” My mind didn’t really register the question until I heard the bells jingle as the door shut behind us.

“Uh?” I answered gracefully. “Oh, right. Work. Uh, um.” I stammered. Pathetic, Shane, you seriously suck shit at conversation. Why does anyone bother with you to begin with?

“Yeah, work. Good ol’ Joja.” Sam rolled his eyes. “Long day, huh?” He seemed sympathetic, but to me, that meant pity. And I didn’t need his pity.

“Yeah, sure.” I said.

Walls fortified.

“You okay?”

The fucking worst question of all. In the deluge of questions this kid asked me, that one bothered me most, and for really no good reason.

It made me angry, it made me want to cry, it made me want to scream, and it made me, most of all, just feel empty.

“Not really, Sam. Please stop talking.” Was the politest response I could manage.

Sam raised his finger as though he had something to say, but quickly decided against it.

Good. Please stop pressing me before I throw myself in the river and pack my coat full of stones.

We walked in silence for a while until we were passing the Mullner’s house, when Sam piped up again with a smile. “Hey Shane, I think tonight will help you get your mind off of…whatever’s going on.”

I stared at him, actually stopping in my tracks. Why did this kid sound so fucking condecending? And why did he give two shits about my mental wellbeing?

No one gave a shit about that, except Terra, and now she was gone.

“Why are you acting like you know me?” My voice was steeped in venom, probably more so than I’d intended. “Why do you give a fuck what’s going on with me?”

Sam stopped too, staring at me, worried.

“Stop acting like you understand me. It’s pissing me off.” I felt my face getting hot. It wasn’t anger, it was tears. “Get lost, kid.” I suppressed a sob, hurting my chest and making my eyes burn with tears.

Sam stepped toward me. “Shane, I didn’t mean—”

“SHUT UP!”

I turned around quickly as the tears fell. “Just…please…go away.” My voice choked. “Pl…ease.”

Sam took a deep breath, and then grabbed my arm, dragging me around the corner and through the door of the Stardrop Saloon.

“What the fuck are you--? Get your hands off me! Let me go! Get off!—” I struggled against his grip, but to no avail. I fell to the ground, and Sam dropped me. Suddenly, I heard a familiar voice.

“Shane?”

Turning around in a daze, I saw Terra. Golden earrings, brown hair tied neatly in a bun, familiar purple sweater, leather boots, and gorgeous blue eyes. My heart stopped for a moment, and then began rushing again as I realized I was still crying, on the floor, and in complete disarray.

“Terra—! I, um, hang on, I, wait, uhhhh…” I panicked and basically spilled out words like a semi-truck carrying nothing but alphabet soup crashed into a wall.

“Shane, what’s…?” Suddenly her eyes widened. “Oh my god, Shane.”

Her arms were around me instantly, her lips on my forehead, and suddenly I couldn’t feel anything. Numbness covered me the instant her hands made contact with my skin, and I couldn’t hear anything.

None of the noise from the tavern, none of the eyes staring, none of the tears on my cheeks, just her arms around me. I felt like I was home again.

I snapped out of it to hear Terra apologizing profusely, on the brink of tears, as I stared into nothing. “I’m so sorry, Shane, I didn’t think about how you’d interpret my actions, oh my god, I’m so sorry…”

“F…for wh…what?” I rasped, throat dry from dehydration. “It’s…my fault. Right?”

She stopped moving, stopping to stare at me. “Wh…what?”

“I fucked up…and…you…you finally realized…that I’m…just a…piece of shit.” I was dizzy, and Terra was growing increasingly more concerned.

“Baby, baby no!” She shouted her pet name for me, turning a few heads from the arcade area. My face was burning. No no no no don’t look at me. I bit my lower lip, suppressing a sharp inhalation that would have certainly made me start hyperventilating.

“Baby I…” Terra stopped and sat back, staring at me. “I was gone because I was…” She paused, pursing her lips.

“I was looking for this.”

She reached into her sweater and revealed a blue conch shell on a leather string.

It was a Mermaid’s Pendant.

Everything went white for a moment. Wait. She wasn’t serious, was she?

Me?

 I stared at her in complete shock, jaw gaping, breathless and completely incapable of saying anything. “Terra, you…”

“Shh.” She put her index finger to my lips and put the necklace around my neck. “Shane. Breathe.”

Right about now I noticed exactly how many people were surrounding us. Almost everyone from town was here. A Friday night at the saloon was busy enough already, but there were some new faces, like Jodi and Caroline, both of which I’d never seen in here before.

Everyone. Sebastian, Abigail, Alex, Willy, even LINUS, was staring down at us, as I felt my face heat up in embarrassment. She’d been planning this for days. Everyone was here. For us. For me.

“I…” I cleared my throat, scrambling to sit up straight, and try to recover whatever dignity was not currently ablaze in the depths of hell. “I…”

Terra looked concerned. Oh my god, she thought I was going to say no.

She’s just as scared as I am about what this means.

“I accept!!” I shouted.

Silence, then eruptions of applause.

Terra tackled me with a hug and began to cry into my chest. And unbeknownst to even myself, so did I. Gus cheered and turned on the jukebox to the oldies channel he always played. Sam smiled down at me, Sebastian congratulated me…Lewis tried talking to me about how to go about arranging a wedding, but I couldn’t hear him.

I was far too busy crying. Someone, no, not just anyone, TERRA, just told me that they want to spend the rest of their life with me. ME!

Part of me wondered if it wasn’t somehow just an elaborate prank, but the tears in her eyes and the pendant around my neck snapped me out of that illusion immediately.

Terra was going to be my wife.

Holy shit.

 After the commotion died down I asked her everything I’d been meaning to ask over a well-deserved beer and basket of chips. “Why did you actively avoid me for the last week?”

“I’m a really bad liar and I know how perceptive you are, and I was really worried you’d find me out. I wanted to invite everyone because they’re all really important to me, but it was hard getting around without running into you.”

She looked incredibly guilty, and I felt my heart tighten at the sad look on her face. “Hey, hey, it’s okay.” I laughed a little. “Just…give a guy a warning…or something.” I took a huge sip of beer. “I mean, I was basically staying up all night thinking you were ghosting me because I left a beer can on the floor when you visited on Sunday.”

“The what?” Her oblivious question made me realize exactly how stuck up in my head I was about the whole thing, of course she hadn’t even noticed.

“Wow.” I exhaled. “I feel…stupid.”

“That makes two of us.” She replied, putting her head gently on my shoulder. “I didn’t even think about how this might affect your anxiety.” She bit her lip. “God, I’m an idiot.” She slumped, seeing her so broken up over my mental state destroyed any lingering doubts I may have had about how genuine she was being with me.

“Terra, baby…I…” I stopped. I was about to tell her that she wouldn’t have HAD to worry if I were normal, but I stopped myself. I wasn’t great at sitting and talking feelings with a borderline stranger, but there was one thing I’d learned in abundance in the short time since I began therapy.

I couldn’t keep blaming myself for everything. I would consume myself and end up even worse off. And it had been a battle to stop, especially considering recent stressors.

“We both messed up, baby.” I answered. “You made a mistake, and I got super worried and convinced myself that you were breaking up with me in a slow and painful way. And worst of all, I was convinced I deserved it.” I paused as Terra looked up at me. “Baby, I want to marry you. I’ve wanted to marry you since that night at the gridball game, but I’m such a goddamn trainwreck that I wanted to get better before I proposed. I…”

“I wanted to be worthy of you.”

Terra looked into my eyes with a lot of confusion and a lot of love.

“That’s when I decided I wanted to marry you, too.” She blushed a deep pink and looked at the floor. “I…heard you saying how much you loved me in my dreams.”

I froze. Wait. Had she also heard the—

“I heard you tell me you wanted to marry me, too.”

I felt my face burning. Fuck. I was hoping she wasn’t going to say that.

“After a few days of thinking about it, I decided to look into how to propose.” She continued, laughing. “I eventually found out, about halfway through winter, that I needed to propose using a Mermaid’s Pendant, which can only be received from a ghost you can find in the RAINY season.” She scoffed. “I was really angry about having to wait, actually.”

Seeing her pout about this was adorable, even though I had no goddamn clue what she was talking about with a “ghost” and the “winter” and “rain.”

“I only got the pendant yesterday, actually. I was on the beach at like 6 PM and I saw the Old Mariner standing on the island across the bridge.”

“It cost me a lot of money, so I spent the rest of the night at the beach, fishing up some big fish to sell to repair the dent in my funds.”

Wait. “How much did it…cost?” I said, concerned.

“It’s…not a big deal now. I got the money back from a good harvest and quality fish.” She smiled a toothy grin. She knew what I was doing. I was fishing for a reason to blame myself, and she put an end to that right quick.

“Hey Shane,” Sam’s voice came from behind me. “Hey dude.”

I turned to face him. “Hey…uh, I’m sorry about earlier.” I scratched the back of my head awkwardly. This kid was just trying to help and I’d just yelled at him and made myself out to be a total ass.

“No, no, I get it, man.” He held up his hands as his two friends ducked out the doors of the saloon. “I would have been really confused and angry too. And I know now that you have a lot of anxiety and…a lot of baggage.” He paused, glancing at me, as if looking for approval. “I shouldn’t have forced you, and I’m sorry too.”

I smiled, and Sam looked at me as though he were witnessing a unicorn cantering through the fields of heaven. I guess it really was true how little I smiled in public, good lord. “I appreciate what you did for me, Sam.” I put my hand out to shake his hand, and he reluctantly accepted. “Thanks.”

“For…wait, what?”

“Thank you for being such a good friend to Terra, and for helping me out, even though I’ve been nothing but unpleasant to you.”

“Uh, no problem, man, I just…I’m glad that it all worked out.”

Sam ducked out, and I felt my nerves cough and sputter out like a dying lawnmower.

“Shane,” Terra said my name and snapped me out of my drowsy stupor. “You should get home. You’ve had a long day.” She smiled. “We can get together and plan the wedding tomorrow. I’m thinking the 22nd would be a good date.”

Wedding. God that word sounded foreign to me.

“Alright,” I sighed. “Let’s blow this joint.”

Waving at Gus and Lewis as I left, Terra and I ventured out into the cold.

As we started toward Marnie’s ranch, I paused.

“Wait, Terra, the 22nd is a Monday.” I felt my heartbeat trying to race, but falling victim to my slightly intoxicated bloodstream. “We can’t possibly get married then, I have…ugh…work.” I grimaced.

“Oh, about that.” Terra laughed. “I may or may not have prematurely gotten the next week of work off for you by talking to Morris.”

The pieces connected suddenly. “Wait, that’s what you were doing?”

“Well, yeah, what, did you think I went in there to blow the bastard? I’d rather die.” I laughed loudly at her crudeness, spooking a rabbit into a bush nearby. “It wasn’t easy. We can do Monday, Tuesday, any day. I just think that Monday is best because then we’ll have a whole week to move you in and get adjusted.”

Moving in? Oh god, that was something that made my heart leap. I’d be living with Terra. Holy shit. Married and living with the love of my life, and by MONDAY? This was clearly all a ridiculous dream.

“Fuck, pinch me.” I said breathily. “I have GOT to be dreaming.”

“Why so?” She laughed. “I didn’t know you were into that kind of thing.” She added coyly.

“Oh shaddup.” I retorted. “I…still can’t believe any of this is real.”

She leaned over and kissed me square on the lips, tilting her head to the right and bending into me with a passion that not even the horniest dream could manifest.

Her tongue danced behind her lips, asking permission, and I opened my mouth, allowing her access, grunting slightly as her hands caressed the back of my head, stroking my hair.

She pulled away, leaving me wanting more. “Are you convinced now?”

I shook my head. “God damn, how did I get so fucking lucky?” Laughing, I caressed her cheek, kissing her forehead. “Seriously, what did I do to deserve you?”

She beamed at me, grabbing my hand and continuing to walk toward Marnie’s. “You went through hell every day, waiting for someone to love you.” She turned back. “It took me…a long time to realize what I felt for you. I realized rather suddenly actually, after…that day.”

She couldn’t meet my eyes for that moment, and I knew that it still haunted her. The blood, the broken glass, the cuts, the beer, everything. I realized in that moment what I would have lost, had I succeeded. I would have missed out on everything good that had ever happened to me.

She interlaced her fingers with mine. “We fit like a pair of puzzle pieces.” She said. “And without you, I don’t feel like I’m complete anymore.”

“Terra, I…I don’t think I knew what “complete” felt like until I heard you talking to me when I was resting at the clinic after…all that. I heard you saying that you might love me, but that being in love scared you. You kissed my cheek, my bandages, and when I officially “woke up”, I just remember feeling…whole.”

Terra blushed. Clearly we both had said things to the other when they were “sleeping” that we were shy about saying to the others’ faces. “Terra, you’ve made me the happiest man in the world, and EASILY the happiest man in Stardew Valley.” I said, turning to her.

I took her hands in mine and kissed her gently, feeling all the worries and fears of the day wash away like the tides rolling out to sea. “I will never stop loving you. And I will do my damnedest to make you the happiest woman alive.”

“I love you.”

[bee-kathony]

Four Years | October 18th, 2014

January 2nd, 2014 - February 15th, 2014 - March 8th, 2014 - April 12th, 2014 - May 2nd, 2014 | Year One - June 13th, 2014 | July 29th, 2014 | August 9th, 2014

Year One - October 18th, 2014

My strength was returning. Day by day I felt myself knitting back together, becoming whole once again. One of the things that had really helped me was a support group for people who had survived or were going through cancer.

Damocles Syndrome. The name given to the feeling of fear that the cancer or illness will return, an ever present sword, dangling above your head. To survive was one thing but to continue to live… that was something else entirely.

During my weakest moments, I begged for death to take me. The white light as they say. I wished for no more pain, no more feeling. Most of all I wished to rid Jamie of the burden that was me.

That’s why when I voiced these thoughts to him late one night, he suggested going to a support group.

“There’s only so much I can say, Sassenach, only so many times I can tell ye I love ye and yer beautiful.” His hand traced a pattern back and forth over my arm. “And I will tell ye everyday but ye need to be around people who can understand… really understand what’s goin’ on inside that wee head of yer’s.”

“You’re right.” I sighed, “The hospital has a few different groups, I suppose I can call Joe and ask him to sign me up for one. If it will make you feel better…” I moved closer to him in the bed, no longer shrinking back from his touch but craving it.

“Aye, Sassenach. It will make me feel better to know that while ye heal physically…” he kissed the top of my head, his lips pressed against the short hair, “yer mind heals as well.”

“I’m not promising any results, Jamie, only that I’ll go and check it out.”

“I ken that. But I’m praying to God himself that ye’ll finally start to see yerself as I do.” He looked at me as if I was his whole world, his hand now cupping my check as we lay together.

“And how do you see me?” I couldn’t help but ask, what girl wouldn’t?

Jamie sighed, a smile curving across his lips, “I dinna have enough time in the world to tell ye everything but I’ll say a few.” He pulled me into him, his hand covering the back of my head as I rested it into the crook of his neck.

“First of all, yer a damn fucking warrior.” He laughed, shaking my body with his, “Ye barely even complained, Sassenach. I saw ye hurtin’ but ye never made a fuss. Weel… ye maybe complained about the food but aye, who wouldn’t.”

I felt safe against him as he wrapped his body over mine. Jamie was my outer shell, protecting me from what I couldn’t protect myself from. Willing himself to save me, to save us.

“Yer also a good surgeon, even tho ye havena touched a blade in a long time, I know ye wield it with power, a healer’s touch.”

“You barely even knew me while I was still operating on actual patients,” I thought back to the day he told me he loved me, the same day I learned about my tumor. That was barely two months into our relationship.

Now it’d been nine months since the day I found him in the shower. The scars I had seen on his back I now felt under my fingers, slowly tracing the outline of a particularly deep cut. Jamie’s scars were external while mine were internal. Together we were a mess… but a beautiful mess.

That night I had fallen asleep with Jamie’s body close to mine, his mouth confessing my bravery and kindness. During the night I woke to hear him whispering something in Gaelic but every few words I understood a word in English. I heard “dove”, “preserve”, “harm” and “beloved” and drifted back to sleep, the word’s of my protector covering me.

++++++

The air was changing, turning from the heat of summer into the crisp chill of autumn. I’d taken to sitting out on our balcony in the evenings. The fresh air filling my lungs as the breeze calmed my soul.

My feet were propped up on the railing, a cup of ginger lemon tea in my hands, warming the chill that never seemed to leave my body.

“Bonny day, isn’t it?”

“Mmm, yes.” Jamie walked out, a cup of coffee in one hand, the other he placed on my shoulder.

“Would be even more bonny if we were somewhere tucked away in the Highlands, do ye think?”

On our first date, Jamie promised to take me to the Highlands after my confession that I’d never been. As a doctor, my time was spent with patients; before Jamie, I had no reason to travel outside of Edinburgh.

“Are you asking me?”

Jamie walked to stand in front of me, his hand settling on my propped up ankle, “Will ye, then? Go to the highlands wi’ me? Dance under the stars? ’Tis yer birthday in two days is it no’?”

“Yes, it is my birthday,” I smiled, “And I’d like that very much, please.” Jamie dipped his head to kiss me, “Aye, dinna worry about packin’ yer bag,” his face hovered close to mine, “I’ve already seen to it.”

++++++

We were six hours into our journey to the Isle of Skye. Jamie had booked a small cottage in the highlands, remote from the rest of the world. One week, one peaceful week to get away from all the sickness and hurt that was always lurking. A change of scenery to boost my spirits.

We should’ve been there by now but Jamie insisted on stopping in Fort William to check out Old Inverlochy Castle. I had to admit the Highlands had a certain… magical element about them. The heather moorlands were strikingly beautiful, the purple jumping out as we drove past.

My eyes had been staring at the inside of our loft and the hospital for months. To finally venture out was just what I needed. I also knew this would be good for Jamie, he wasn’t a homebody but he became one for me.

“You packed the board games right?” I tried to look back into the boot of the car.

“Aye, dinna fash, Sassenach. I’ll no’ make ye sit around, I’ll keep ye entertained.” His hand slid over my knee, smoothing over the small rip in my jeans.

Twenty minutes later we reached our destination. Set against the greenery of the Highlands, the small white cottage looked idyllic.

The next few hours we spent on the couch, watching the last two Harry Potter films. One day I hoped that we could actually visit the theme park in Florida.

“Do you think next year, when I’ve been officially tumor free for one year, we could go and visit Harry Potter World?” I voiced my desires to Jamie, his body under mine, breathing steadily.

“Aye, that’d be incredible actually.” He perked up, “We could get robes! And ride the train, the chocolate frogs, Sassenach! Just think about the chocolate frogs.” Jamie smiled, his hands resting on the small of my back.

“And wands too.” I placed a kiss on his lips and it deepened, the movie forgotten for the time being. I could feel another “wand” directly below me that I wanted to have.

I shifted my body slightly so I sat up on Jamie’s lap. He watched me as I brought my hands to the waistband of his sweats. No words were spoken, they didn’t need to be. This was my turn to show him how much I loved him.

Jamie’s breath grew shallow, his eyes turning a dark blue as I pulled down the material over his hips along with his briefs.

Since that day in the gym bathroom, I hadn’t seen his cock. We had never dressed or showered together, avoiding temptation as best we could. Jamie was a saint, if I was being honest with myself. What grown man sleeps next to a woman each night and doesn’t at least try and sleep with her? And I was even surprised at myself, back in the day I had been quite provocative; I blamed the medication for my lack of sexual drive.

I knew the time was coming though, when I would be ready. My pain grew less and less each day.

I took him in my hand and met his gaze.

He was warm in my grip, a throbbing against the palm of my hand. I started to stroke him, and the pad of my thumb pressed against the tip of his cock. Jamie’s eyes were small slits, I knew he wouldn’t close them completely — just so he could watch me.

His hands came to hold my waist, “Sassenach,” he sighed and I moved my hand faster, sliding my other hand in-between his thighs to grip his balls. Jamie arched his back off the couch then fell against the cushions, his breathing becoming more rapid, “Christ, yer wee hands.”

“Does this feel good, Jamie?” I added more pressure from my hand and he squeezed his lips together, unable to speak. I was feeling quite mischievous, so I reluctantly released him and bent my head over his stomach to take him in my mouth.

Jamie’s hand pressed against my shoulder, “No, Sassenach, ye dinna have to.”

“I want to Jamie.” I smiled and my tongue flicked out over his warm skin, the wiry hairs under his belly button scratching my cheek. Jamie groaned as I swirled my tongue on his cock. It didn’t take long before he was groaning and arching his back as he came in my mouth.

His hand was almost too tight on my arm and then suddenly he pulled me up to meet his lips.

Jamie’s grip loosened and he rolled us over so we now lay on our sides. With one hand he tucked himself back into his sweatpants, “Dinna need that hangin’ out or I’m afraid I willna be able to stop myself from takin’ ye mo nighean donn.”

“Soon, I promise.” I whispered against him, our foreheads now pressed together.

“Aye.” He kissed my nose, “Thank ye, Claire. For that.” Jamie’s cheeks went a deep shade of pink, his ears following suit.

++++++

After the movie, we cleaned up and started preparing dinner. Jamie had prepared two grilled cheeses, cheddar, gruyere, and feta with tomato soup on the side. My appetite had grown exponentially so I asked for another and ate it swiftly.

Laying on a blanket outside, hands intertwined, the sky shined above us, the stars twinkling their best for us tonight. Jamie’s thumb rubbed back and forth over my finger, sending a swarm of butterflies to my belly. For months now I hadn’t felt much of anything, least of all butterflies.

Just then, he rolled onto one side and sat up, with his head resting on his hand, “Sassenach, I just want to say a small thing and then I’d like to ask ye to dance.”

I reached up to brush back a stray curl that had fallen in his eyes, “What is it, love?”

“I willna stop lovin’ ye.” His fingers traced along my lips, “No’ in this life or the next, ye are my ev’ry thought,” his fingers brushed my neck and down softly against my collarbones, “my ev’ry heartbeat belongs to you.” Like a marble statue, I lay still as Jamie’s hand continued to trace down my arm and settle to hold my hand.

“Yer face is my heart Sassenach and the love of ye is my soul.”

Closing the space between us, I rolled to my side to kiss him. Jamie knew all the right words to say. I often felt I couldn’t express my feelings properly, at least not in the way that he did.

“I love you, Jamie. Even when I don’t say it as often as I should… just know I’ll never stop loving you either.”

Jamie moved his hand to cover my head which was now adorned with a beanie, the fluffy kind. “I think yer short hair is growin’ on me, Sassenach. Maybe I should join ye and shave off my own hair?”

I opened my eyes wide, “Don’t you dare shave off that beautiful red hair, Jamie Fraser!” I laughed, my hand now touching said hair, “I can pull off this look but you cannot, dear.”

“Och, yer sayin’ ye only love me for my hair then?” He laughed, scooping me up to lay on top of him.

“Aye, Jamie ’tis what I’m sayin’” I mocked his accent which made him laugh and my body move with his.

“Ahh, Sassenach. One of these days I’ll teach ye a proper Scottish accent, yers is terrible.” He kissed me then, thoroughly.

“I promised ye a dance under the stars, mo cridhe and a dance ye shall have.” Jamie rolled us to the side and stood, offering his arms out for me to take. There was music already playing from a small portable stereo Jamie had brought outside.

As he wrapped his arms around my waist, I tucked my head against his chest and the music filled the air.

“And you laugh like you’ve never been lonely, that’s alright, honey, that’s alright with me. Oh you laugh like there’s hope in the story.”

Jamie’s hands rested on my waist, holding me closely to him. The words of the song echoed through my bones. Reminding me to live and to laugh while I still could.

“Oh, you laugh like I’ll be there to hold you always, always here, I’m aways, honey, always here.”

His t-shirt was thin and I felt his rough scars against the pads of my fingertips. The pain that he had been through, the hurt, hanging in the balance of life and death. Jamie had come out on the other side, torn and bruised — but whole. As Jamie swayed us in slow circles, the stars bright above us, I knew I would make it out of this.

++++++

On my birthday, Jamie woke me up with a chocolate cake in bed, softly singing ‘Happy Birthday’. I rolled over onto my back and stared up at him, he was beaming and his smile was so wide it was infectious. I found myself filled with a happiness I hadn’t known for so many months.

“Blow out yer wee candles, Sassenach.” He held the cake out and I inhaled deeply before blowing out the 2 and 8 candles on top.

Jamie set the cake on the side, “What did ye wish for mo nighean donn?”

I pulled him closer and kissed him, “I can’t tell you or it won’t come true.”

“That’s no’ fair…” he kissed my nose, “Weel — is it somethin’ I can do for ye?”

“Like what?” I laughed and then froze as he shimmed down the bed and pulled back the covers. His hands grabbed hold of my ankles. “Jamie,” I said nearly breathless.

“Happy Birthday, Sassenach.” Jamie smiled as he spread me open and placed his mouth firmly between my legs.

[endlesschange]

The Right Heart: Prologue

A The Royal Romance Fanfic

Warnings: Some swearing and mentions of sex.

Pairings: Prince Liam x Kate Beaumount (mentioned), Drake Walker x Kate Beaumont (mentioned)

Summary: During the social season of Crown Prince Leo’s journey to find a bride and queen, Kate Beaumont can’t help but discuss her own love life with her best friend.

Word Count: 4,803

Prologue: Before the Storm

Katherine Beaumont figured that, by now at least, she should be used to attending courtly functions.

As the youngest member and only daughter of House Beaumont of the duchy of Ramsford, it was somewhat expected for the brunette and her two elder brothers to be in attendance at a whole laundry list of events. From charity auctions to barn buildings, and from palace galas to the elusive Beaumont bashes, the girl didn’t even have to make a guess at whether or not the family would be attending. Her eldest brother, Bertrand, had assumed the title of Duke Ramsford with their father falling ill years ago and while he had once lived it up in the way that most young people did, he had begun almost ruling the events of their family the same way that their father did — and with that came attending a multitude of frivolous events in support of the Crown. 

It was something that Kate and her other brother, Maxwell, had come to terms with a long time ago, having been raised to grow accustomed to. But while Bertrand enjoyed networking and the process of preparing for events and Maxwell just enjoyed a good party no matter the occasion, the youngest Beaumont couldn’t help but feel almost silly standing in the grand ballroom of the palace in a form fitting gown, sipping champagne that probably cost more than the Ramsford estate itself. She figured that by now she should be used to attending courtly functions. But the truth was that she wasn’t at all.

Despite having been born into this life and despite being extremely grateful for everything that life had offered her, there was just something about court and the world that it was that always struck her as . . . odd. She supported Cordonia with every fiber of her being, she loved her home truly she did, but prancing around balls simply to be surrounded by stuffy fellow nobles gave her the royal equivalent of cabin fever. Like Maxwell, she enjoyed a good party and enjoyed seeing her friends all together in one place, but with Bertrand looming over her shoulder at almost every other hour, it felt more like tedious work than actually enjoying herself.

There was a level of eloquence that one must maintain at all Cordonian courtly functions, the ones actually held at the palace especially. Kate knew that Bertrand was always chomping at the bit when it came to her behavior, the eldest Beaumont seeing Maxwell and his antics as a lost cause over the years. Kate was the youngest, someone Bertrand thought that he could control and mold into the model of a perfect lady, even if it meant acting like an asshole.

Preparing for tonight’s event, a ball held in honor of the social season’s beginning, had been an absolute nightmare. Bertrand had run his mouth the entire, grasping tightly onto his high horse as he practically shouted orders to Kate seemingly from the moment she woke up. He was seemingly hell bent on her rubbing shoulders with the exact kind of people that she wanted to avoid. From criticizing her choices in dress to making sure she knew the proper positioning of cutlery, he nearly gave her the third degree. She had nearly fallen asleep during his lecture on fork placement — a speech she had heard far too many times in her short life.

God, she thought to herself as she sipped on champagne, imagine what he would have been like if she was actually involved in this spectacle. She shuddered at the thought.

The spectacle in question was the social season itself. Starting tonight, Crown Prince Leo of Cordonia would begin his search for a wife as well as Cordonia’s future queen. King Constantine had no current plans of stepping down from the throne for his son to ascend, but the social season was Cordonian tradition — and somewhat of a protocol. In order to one day rise the ranks up to king, the Crown Prince had to be married, or at least engaged to be wed. The social season was a circus show for the most part, in Kate’s opinion, noble houses tossing their daughter’s or sponsored suitors into the ring for ring and crown. Over the course of the next few months, Leo would be expected to get to know each lady, whereas the people of the country would be exposed to how each lady acted through the eyes that were the press.

Thankfully for Kate, she had been spared from being a part of this madness. For one, Kate couldn’t ever, ever, in a million years see herself pursuing Leo. The Beaumont children were relatively close to the children of the Crown, having grown up together through court and such. A handful of years Kate’s senior, he was someone she saw simply as a brother figure and nothing more. He was close to Bertrand’s age as well, and once upon a time, when Bertrand actually used to have fun, he and Leo had done a numerous amount of things together. And whatever Bertrand knew about Leo’s past of being a partying playboy, it had set him on a clear path to making sure that the Beaumont family were not sponsoring anyone, especially not his baby sister. It was moments like that in which Kate realized that Bertrand sometimes thought with his actual brain and not his courtly mannerisms.

When Kate had been given that news, she had let out a breath of relief. If there was something that Kate didn’t want, it was a life that would be led for her. Granted, that was pretty much the life she led under Bertrand’s thumb, but the youngest Beaumont had dreams. Running a country and marrying someone that she didn’t love weren’t exactly a part of those dreams. Really, all she wanted was to travel, experience life, and perhaps one day find the heart that was right for her. In a social season with press and royalty and nobles watching her every move? She was certain that she’d be unable to find that heart. She couldn’t picture herself running a kingdom. She couldn’t picture her dealing with that, day after day. Maybe it was because deep down, she didn’t particularly care for the dealings of social classes and the people that came along with it. Maybe it was her naivety, her young age telling her that she wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment to something other than herself. Either way, it wasn’t exactly the life Kate Beaumont wanted to live.

Instead, she watched on as other noble ladies began to try and vie for that life tonight, as did the rest of court. Currently, the ladies participating in this social season were being presented to King Constantine and then Prince Leo himself, the latter looking all too bored with the frivolity of it all. Like most nobles, Leo knew most of the ladies he was being introduced to, the majority of them knew each other through functions just like this one. Clearly his days as the court’s wild child were not behind him. Kate didn’t know whether to pity him or laugh at the expression on his face.

“Countess Madeleine looks as if she has this all wrapped up with a neat little bow,” a voice spoke up from beside Kate, breaking her from her thoughts.

A glance to the side gave Kate a view of Savannah Walker, rolling her eyes at the sight of Fydelia’s countess across the room. Kate snickered into her glass, before giving her best friend a light jab to the ribs with her elbow. “Keep those comments going, Walker, and people are going to begin to forget how starstruck with the nobility you are.”

Savannah narrowed her eyes, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips. Unlike Kate herself, Savannah was born a commoner, the daughter of an American woman and a late member of the King’s Guard who had spent her entire life at court. Kate and Savannah were the same age, so anytime that the Beaumont’s had visited the palace, the two had always found themselves in each other’s company, which had then spawned into a lifelong friendship. Savannah, like her mother before her, was quite frankly enraptured with nobility. Kate wasn’t exactly sure what the appeal was, but Savannah beamed at every chance she had to participate. There was some sort of childlike wonder in her eyes at every event, like she was living out a fairytale. It was something Kate found endearing, though she did her fair share of poking fun at her friend.

“I am not starstruck with the nobility,” Savannah muttered in annoyance. Kate raised an eyebrow. The Walker girl rolled her eyes again. “Okay, well at least not with all of them, like Lord Neville for example.”

The name of the Vancoeur man itself left a sour taste in Kate’s mouth, the girl wrinkling her nose. He tended to mostly stay at Comery Isle, never one to set foot in court unless there was something important going on. But the handful of times that Kate and Savannah had had to deal with the man had done nothing but leave quite possibly the worst impression of him in their minds. “No one is a fan of trash, Savannah.”

Savannah burst into a stream of giggles, not noticing how the nobles that floated by them on the dance floor gave her dirty looks. That was another thing about Savannah that Kate enjoyed, her tendency to not notice the ways that people looked at her or talked about her. As a commoner in a room full of nobles, there were plenty of times where people like Lord Neville had looked down upon her, but Savannah took it in stride. Whether she kept her feelings about that to herself and herself alone or she just didn’t care, the Beaumont girl wasn’t all too sure, but she truly had never seen a non noble handle themselves in such a strong-willed way.

Sighing, Savannah took a sip of her drink. “I just wish there were more . . . charming men around for us to see. I mean, we’re literally standing in a ballroom, Katie, where’s our fairytale romance?”

Kate chuckled. Nodding at the line of ladies waiting to speak to Leo, she said, “Well, as a member of House Beaumont, I could probably pull some strings and get you a place in the social season. Fighting a bunch of catty woman to win over an actual prince, that’s got to have some fairy tale appeal.”

At Kate’s teasing, the Walker girl shuddered. “No offense to Leo, but I’ve heard my brother talk about his particular . . . tastes in the bedroom. I’m not exactly looking for that. Nor do I feel the need to have to deal with Madeleine on a near daily basis.”

“Ah, nobles and their kinks. Warding off potential suitors, most likely since the union of the Five Kingdoms,” Kate chuckled, eyes roving over the crowd that was beginning to gather for dancing. As expected — there was an actual betting pool going on — the Fydelian countess snatched Prince Leo for the first dance without a single warning. Madeleine was an acquired taste (read: a manipulative bitch), but damn, she was good at getting what she wanted. Turning back to her friend, Kate shrugged. “It’s just as well. If I told Bertrand we were going to sponsor someone last second, he might actually have the aneurysm Maxwell’s been predicting for three years.”

At the mention of her eldest brother, Savannah turned a brilliant shade of pink. A smile tugged at her lips and her eyes seemed to sparkle a bit more than they had the previous moment. With just the mention of Bertrand's name, she's been reduced to a schoolgirl with an obvious crush. A crush, by the way, that made Kate want to gag.

“Really, Sav?” Kate groaned, already noticing the way that the girl in questions allowed her eyes to roam the ballroom looking for a particular moody Beaumont brother.

If there was one thing that puzzled Kate endlessly about Savannah Walker, it was her strange fascination with Bertrand. From a young age, it was clear to see that the girl was taken with the Duke. She thought the world of him, like the sweater vest wearing man had hung the moon and the stars himself. Kate figured that, sure, maybe when they were younger it might have been plausible for girls to be attracted to her brother. Before their father's death, Bertrand had been charming and kind, someone people actually wanted to be around. But following the death of Barthelemy, he became somewhat of a colossal asshole, he exact kind of man that Kate wanted to keep her best friend from falling for. Falling for Bertrand seemed to be like driving down a dead end street — once you reached the end of the road, that was it.

Savannah's blush didn't falter, but her voice sure did as she tried to make a retort at her friend. Loudly, a little too loudly actually, she replied, “I don't know what you're talking about!”

“Sure, sure,” Kate replied with a teasing grin and a roll of her eyes. “You definitely don't have a giant crush on my stick in the mud brother.”

“He's not that bad,” her friend told her, her voice quieting down a bit. She looked slightly embarrassed, but refused to voice that particular feeling.

Kate waved her off with her hand. “That's because you've never been on the other end of his extensive the ruination of this house will fall onto your shoulders if you use the wrong fork, Katherine speeches or his Maxwell, if you breakdance one more time in the presence of the Queen kind of threats. You think he's this great, powerful Duke, but he's really just an inconsiderate jerk who gives extensive tongue lashings.”

At the words tongue and lashings, Savannah's blush seemed to grow even deeper, the girl's eyes widening for good measure. Kate stared at her oddly for a moment, wondering what in the actual hell that she had said that caused her to blush so heavily. And then it hit her. Holding herself back from throwing up the minimal contents of her stomach, she gave a shove towards Savannah’s shoulder.

“Oh you know that is so not what I meant,” Kate groaned, shuddering as she tried to ward off those disgusting thoughts. “It’s one thing to swoon over my brother in my presence, it’s another to have your mind in the gutter over him with me standing next to you.”

Savannah spluttered, but there was a measurable amount of mirth in her eyes at the situation. “My mind is not in the gutter over your brother, Katie. He just happens to be an attractive, interesting man that I — ”

“Have scandalous daydreams about, yes we’ve covered that,” the Beaumont girl interjected.

The Walker girl narrowed her eyes. “You’re insufferable. And a little bitter. Maybe you’re the one who needs to start having scandalous daydreams, take the edge off.”

At that, a peal of laughter escaped Kate’s lips. She covered her mouth with her hand for a moment, before she poised a manicured eyebrow at her best friend. “And who do you suppose I start having scandalous daydreams about?”

“Well, we’re in the middle of a crowded ballroom, I’m sure we could find you some sort of eye candy,” Savannah snickered, a twinkle in her eyes as she scanned the crowd. Raising a finger, she discreetly pointed at a somewhat dashing man walking past. “What about him?”

Kate made a face. While she couldn’t for the life of her remember the man’s name — if Bertrand were here, he’d probably whip out his courtly flashcards — she knew that she had met him once before. And that he had been a rude, perverted asshole to anything that breathed. With narrowed eyes and a sharp tongue, she replied, “I’d rather spend my life getting pleasure from my right hand alone then deal with him.”

“I thought you were a respectable lady of the court?” Savannah teased, biting her lip to stifle the laughter that was threatening to pour out.

Kate raised an eyebrow. “You’ve spent enough time at court to know most of these ladies become skilled in the art of . . . self service because they have to deal with the likes of have of these earls and dukes and such.”

“Well, from what I’ve heard, some of them are good in bed. And besides, lets just take sex off the table — is there literally no one here that you’re interested in? I’ve known you nearly my whole life and I swear I’ve never seen you have a crush on someone who wasn’t a celebrity.”

At the mention of the word crush, a flush seemed to creep up the back of Kate’s neck. One, because what Savannah was saying wasn’t anywhere near the truth. While she was right in the sense that nearly all of Kate’s crushes were celebrities (and the occasional fictional character), there had been one instance at court where she had found herself swooning over someone. And two, because the universe clearly wanted to fuck with her, her eyes managed to land on said crush at just that particular moment.

To say that Drake Walker — yes, Savannah’s older brother — was hard to find amidst the dancing couples and conversing dignitaries would be a lie. In fact, the commoner stuck out like a sore thumb, leant up against the far wall in a pair of dark pants and a button down shirt, a far cry from the elaborate suits that the men around him wore. A half drunken glass of whiskey was clutched in his hand and a sour expression was plastered across his face, the signature Drake look. If it weren’t for the fact that his best friend happened to be Prince Liam, the younger brother of Leo, Drake probably wouldn’t have been there at all.

Kate bit her lip as her eyes glanced over him, a little voice in the back of her mind nudging her to remember how taken she had been with him for a week during her fifteenth year. The long and short of it was that at one visit to the palace, there had been a near tragic accident in the stables that involved Kate and one of the newer horses at the time. Kate, like her brothers, had grown up riding in equestrian competitions and felt at home around horses, but the newest steed had clearly not appreciated her over confidence. Ten seconds later, the horse had charged at her only for her brother’s best friend to dart out of another stall and coax the horse into calm, pretty much saving Kate from being trampled. At the time, he had been newly eighteen, the summer before he left for his brief stint at college, and for some reason, Kate had been over the moon with him for the following days. And then he had made a rude comment about her brothers and the nobility in general — a classic Drake tactic — and the crush had disappeared as quick as it came.

Her silly little schoolgirl crush on Drake had been something that she had never disclosed to anyone, especially not Savannah. The crush had been short lived, maybe a week and a day, and it had been mostly centered around the fact that Drake had practically saved her life. For a short period of time, she viewed him heavily as her ruggedly handsome knight in shining armor. There had never been any actual feelings, no substance behind the fact that she had briefly liked to drool over the man who seemed to have an easier time drinking his weight in whiskey than he did conversing with other human beings. So because of that, she hadn’t disclosed the feelings to anyone. Savannah was far different than Kate herself and Kate knew without a shadow of a doubt that the first thing out of her best friend’s mouth would be how she’d talk her up to Drake and how the two would actually be sisters if the two were to get together. 

Yeah, that would never happen, Kate thought to herself as she watched the man take another sip of whiskey. She turned back to her friend. Muttering, Kate told her, “I don’t have crushes on any of these people because I’ve known half of them since childhood and half of them are complete assholes.”

Savannah shrugged, taking another sip of her drink. “Not everyone you’ve known since childhood is a jerk. For one, there’s the Prince.”

Furrowing her brow, Kate replied, “If I wanted to go after Leo, I’d be battling it out with Madeleine at the moment.”

“I meant Liam, dumbass,” Savannah responded. “He’s always had a soft spot for you. And he’s incredibly well mannered and honestly? Looks like he’d know what to do in more intimate situations.”

At the mention of Prince Liam, Kate couldn’t help but groan. It wasn’t exactly like this was the first time that her friend had ever brought up the notion of the two dating. God, Bertrand might just have a coronary from pure excitement if he ever found out that there was a chance that his little sister and the King’s second son could possibly enter a relationship. Kate could just imagine it now, the way he’d bust out all of his infamous lectures on courting and being a prim and proper lady.

It wasn’t much of a secret that Liam had harbored a little bit of a crush on the only Beaumont girl — at least, it wasn’t much of a secret in their social circle. If any of the elder members of court knew, that was beyond Kate’s knowledge. But when it came to Maxwell and Drake and Savannah, Liam’s little soft spot for Kate wasn’t unheard of. Kate figured that she should be flattered, thrilled even, to have a potential chance with an actual prince, someone who could further her own social standing and allow her to live out a fairytale. And yes, maybe a small part of her was a bit flattered — Liam was a kind and handsome man — but she wasn’t exactly sure that was the kind of situation that she’d want to put herself in. It would be a situation where she knew she’d feel like she being forced into it. Surely Bertrand would never let her have a purely romantic, feelings based relationship with Liam if she wanted. He’d be hounding her every day and night, making sure she was using her relationship to better House Beaumont.

So, much like she wasn’t interested in courting his brother, Kate didn’t have much of a desire to court Liam either. It wasn’t that Savannah was wrong — again, Liam was one of the sweetest people that Kate had ever come across in her life, even if he had every reason to turn out like an entitled bastard. He also wasn’t bad looking, with his dark hair and charming smile. She knew that across Cordonia, Liam was crushed on and lusted over heavily by most women and men. But being interested in Liam was a road she’d rather not travel down, despite the fact that Savannah couldn’t seem to get that through her head.

“I don’t want to crush on or fantasize over Liam,” Kate muttered in annoyance, glancing down at her empty champagne glass. Shit.

“Well, you’d better figure out a way to put that nicely because he’s headed over here with my brother right now,” Savannah laughed.

Kate glanced up, feeling almost like a deer in headlights when she realized that Savannah wasn’t lying. Prince Liam made his way over, the picture perfect model of grace and charm. Drake, on the other hand, followed behind him with his usual bored expression plastered across his face.

The two men came to a stop in front of the two women, but only two of the four were smiling. Liam had an effortless grin etched across his lips, while Savannah beamed endlessly at the prince and her brother. Drake still looked bored. And Kate still wore a mildly distressed expression on her face, wondering what in the actual world could have brought them over here.

Seeing as no one else was going to break the silence, Liam took the lead. “Ladies,” he greeted, giving each girl a nod.

“Your Highness,” Savannah replied with a grin, a joking edge to her tone. After all their years being friends, the girl sometimes still addresses her brother’s friend in professional terms, even if Liam had told her a thousand times to call him just Liam. Before he could make that remark, she tossed a look in her brother’s direction. “Hey big brother.”

Drake grunted out a greeting and gave Kate a barely discernible nod. She rolled her eyes. But she gave him a smile nonetheless and did the same for his current companion.

The smile seemed to make Liam’s expression sparkle. “Lady Katherine — ”

“Liam, we’ve been over this — every time you call me Lady Katherine, I lose roughly six years off my life,” the Beaumont girl joked.

“My apologies, Kate. I’ve spent the entire evening greeting everyone by title, it’s a hard habit to break,” the prince joked. Then, he offered his hand. “They’re about to start the next waltz. Would you care for a dance?”

Without even breaking a sweat, Kate gave him a sad smile. “I’m actually not in a dancing mood. But I’m sure Savannah would love to accompany you, wouldn’t you Savannah?”

Savannah gave her a scowl, before brightly turning to the prince who was trying his best not to look like a kicked puppy. Shoving her half empty glass into Kate’s empty hand, the Walker girl took Liam’s outstretched hand. “I’d be delighted to dance with you.”

If Liam was even mildly disappointed at dancing with the girl he didn’t ask, he hid it exceptionally well. That was an art that most Cordonian nobles knew well. He whisked her off to the dance floor just as the music queued up, the two soon disappearing amidst the other dancing couples. Kate bit her lip, feeling like a bit of a bitch, but she shoved that down as she disposed of her empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray, bringing herself to drink the rest of Savannah’s glass.

“You know, you break his heart a little more every time you turn him down for a dance,” a voice spoke, bringing Kate to realize that Drake was still stood beside her. He had taken Savannah’s now empty spot, leaning against the wall much like he had done across the room. But now he was giving her a look, one that told her that he knew exactly what she had been doing when she sent Savannah out on that dance floor.

“Spare me the over protective best friend speech, Walker. I’m just not in the mood for dancing tonight.”

“That’s what you said the last time.”

“Don’t you have somewhere else to go be miserable?”

Drake scoffed, but there was a hint of a smirk on his lips. “If I’m miserable, then so are you. Maybe even more. You’ve been moping the entire night. And unfortunately, Katie,” he drawled, using his sister’s nickname for the Beaumont girl in a sarcastic manner, “Misery loves company.”

She rolled her eyes at him, briefly wondering how in the hell she had ever managed to have a crush on him. Kate didn’t hate Drake, to make it clear. In fact, she sort of considered him a friend (she was smart not to brand him a best friend like Maxwell had, but Maxwell had never been one to grasp the fact that Drake generally wanted to push him off a cliff). But he was just the right brand of annoying that Kate didn’t want to deal with tonight. 

Tipping the glass of champagne towards her mouth, she downed the rest of Savannah’s drink in one fell swoop. Eyes cast out to the dance floor, she couldn’t help but already begin waiting for this social season to come to a close, so that everything could calm down.

But unfortunately for Kate, she would come to learn a year later that Leo’s social season was in fact the calm. The last bit of comfort before a whole season of heartache and pain and mixed emotions. Right now, she was calm, calmer than she would be in a years time. For it truly was always the calmest before the storm.

Tag List: @goldenraines @museofbooks

[sweetheartjeongguk]

i was tagged by @luvecafe !! thanks so much love! 

rules: answer these 85 statements about yourself, then tag 20 people

LAST

drink - lemonade

phone call - my mother

text message - to my groupchat about the cockroach i just witnessed in my kitchen RIP

song you listened to - i think epiphany? 

time you cried - yesterday when i watched a rlly sad video about a little boy talking with his grandfather who was dying from stage 4 cancer :((

EVER

dated someone twice - yes lol shouldnt have but i did

kissed someone and regretted it - not that i know of

been cheated on - kinda?? but this was middle school so none of that shit counts lmfao 

lost someone special - yes 

been depressed - yes

gotten drunk and thrown up - yes (i didnt even go hardcore on it but it still Sucked)

FAV COLORS

rose pink

baby blue

lilac

black

sunflower yellow

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE U…

made new friends - yes, in school

fallen out of love - nope

laughed until you cried - yes 

found out someone was talking about you - hmmm nope i dont think so

met someone who changed you - nope 

found out who your friends are - i guess?? lol i been knew who my friends are 

kissed someone on your facebook friends list - nope

GENERAL

how many of your facebook friends do you know irl - about 95%

do you have any pets - yes, two (dog and cat)

do you want to change your name - nope, but real talk - i go by a different name on here :) but technically may is still part of my name 

what did you do for your last birthday - ate at a restaurant with my family and then stayed home lmfao idk if i went to LA but i think it was just anticlimactic in general

what time did you wake up today - 2 PM oops

what were you doing at midnight last night - watching bnha in my living room (i finished s1 wootwoot) 

what is something you can’t wait for - i cant wait for a school break lmfao IM TIRED

what are you listening to right now - nothing rn 

have you ever talked to a person named tom - yes, my music teachers name is tom plus i have an uncle tom lol 

something that gets on your nerves - people talking during movies in the movie theater

most visited website - twitter

hair color - dark brown 

long or short hair - long

do you have a crush on someone - nope (unless bts counts)  

what do you like about yourself - my humor 

want any piercings - yee,, i only have two rn (both in my ears) so i wanna have a helix piercing) 

blood type - i think A+???? i actually dont know lmfao 

nicknames - ok so one of them actually has my real name in it so ill just ignore that loooool, angus, bading (my fam was real adamant about me being gay since i was a child pffft in retrospect, its kinda mean) 

relationship status - single

zodiac - capricorn // chinese zodiac - rabbit 

pronouns - she/her

fave tv shows - brooklyn 99, tokyo ghoul, bnha, sailor moon, modern family

tattoos - none 

right or left handed - right-handed 

ever had surgery - yes

piercings - two (one in each ear)

sport - lmfao im the most inactive person ever but i like field hockey 

vacation - i like going back to my hometown or to LA // i really wanna go to hawaii or to different countries in asia like japan, korea, or the philippines 

trainers - uhhh idk what this mean so...none? lmfao 

MORE GENERAL

eating - nothing at the moment (i just had rice, chicken, and veggies earlier)

drinking - none but i should drink water huh :)))) 

Im about to watch - probably more bnha 

waiting for - me to get my act together so i can finish my homework tonight lmfao 

want - more money to buy bts merch and another manga lmfaaaaaao 

get married - in the future 

career - psycholinguistics or forensic psychology  

WHICH IS BETTER

hugs or kisses - hugs

lips or eyes - eyes

shorter or taller - taller

older or younger - older

nice arms or stomach - i love Arm

hookup or relationship - relationship

troublemaker or hesitant - i guess both depending on the situation 

HAVE U EVER

kissed a stranger - not rlly since i kinda knew them ... lmfao 

drank hard liquor - a little bit and its DISGUSTING

lost glasses - too many times to count

turned someone down - yes

sex on first date - nope im a dumb virgin lmfaaao 

broken someone’s heart - maybe??? 

had your heart broken - yes

been arrested - nope

cried when someone died - yes 

fallen for a friend - kinda ??? i guess you can say lmfao

DO U BELIEVE IN

yourself - to an extent (jins looking down at me in Shame) 

miracles - sometimes

love at first sight - i wish but not really at the same time?? bc like my friend said, thats kinda like lust at first sight bc u just kinda like the person based on their appearance 

santa claus - nope 

kiss on a first date - sure  

angels - sometims 

OTHER

best friend’s name - natalia // i have four others but i dont wanna spread their names out like that lmfaaaao 

eye color - hazel brown 

fave movie - fantastic mr fox, your name, isle of dogs

fave actor - i dont rlly have one?? 

ill just tag five people bc im too lazy to pick out 20 .. also youre in no way obligated to do this !! itd be cool to read some of yalls though so do as you please! love yall :)))

@minnyc24 // @maplelattaes // @jeonpetals // @chims-kookies // @neonjeon

[fierypen37]

Held Captive XXIII

Another chapter! Enjoy!

Part XXIII

 “Have you found your sea-legs yet, Snow?” Asha Greyjoy said, clapping him on the shoulder. Jon groaned, slumped against the railing. He retched over the side, though only bile was left. He swiped his mouth on the cuff of his jerkin and squeezed his watering eyes shut. Maybe by blotting out the image of seething, endless grey waves and greyer sky would help. Jon was fascinated by the sea, but now there was nothing he despised more than endless open water.

“Aye, just watch me walk on water,” Jon said, spitting over the rail. Asha snorted, resting her elbows on the rail as she looked at him sidelong. Those wide grey eyes, that arrogant curl of her mouth, she looked like Theon, and that made him want to punch something.

“Northerners never do well at sea. Not in several thousand years,” Asha said, casting a critical eye of over the sail and heading.

“Warne! Tighten up our fore! The rocks are sharp the closer we get to Oakenshield!” she shouted.

“Aye, Captain!” the squat ironborn said, fingers deft on the ropes.

“Another Brandon,” Jon said, swallowing another wave of bile as the ship sliced through a swell. Icy spray dampened his clammy face.

“Eh?” Asha said, beads of seawater glistening like pearls in her short cap of dark hair.

“Brandon the Burner. He set the North’s ships on fire,” he said. Asha nodded.

“Regretting that now, hmm? House Greyjoy would never have risen to power had the North kept their navy. Say what you will about the Ironborn, but we never let an opportunity pass us by.”

“No matter who you trample on to take that opportunity,” Jon muttered. Asha rolled her eyes, mouth pinched as if she’d bitten a lemon.

“Gods! What does the queen see in you? A grim bumpkin born on the wrong side of the sheets,” she said. Jon glowered at her, tempted to correct her. I am a Stark of Winterfell, a knight and dragonrider. Missing Daenerys settled into a dull ache in his chest, though his griping stomach gave him little time to ponder it.  

“How long until we reach the Mander?” he asked, striving for a neutral topic. Asha startled him by leaping up on the rail and leaning over the side, supported by a line wrapped around her arm. Squinting into the misty horizon, she grinned down at him. Her long coat fluttered around her like leathery wings.

“We’ll reach Oakenshield by nightfall, and slip by under cover of darkness. Their signal fires are a pain in the arse to contend with. Then we’ll need those muscles of yours, Snow. Poling up the Mander takes a strong man.”

“It seems slower than riding.”

“A skiff is light and maneuverable. While we might get away with riding unnoticed—the Reach is bloody huge—our best bet is to slip upriver quick and quiet. Trust me, Snow. We’ll get you to King’s Landing and back to those sweet tits soon.”

“Watch your mouth,” Jon snapped, gripping Longclaw’s hilt. Asha’s smirk fell away. She squatted on the rail, braced expertly against the pitch of the ship with a cat’s light balance.

“I guessed by those longing looks at the Rock you and the queen were fucking. Can’t blame you, she has a fine arse. I don’t care who the queen fucks. But you’d do well to remember that she is a queen. Eventually some perfumed ponce is going to come along and offer swords or gold or whatever it is queens will trade their cunts for. And she can’t be having babes with your pretty curly hair, hmm? Look how it worked out for Cersei Lannister.”

Mine and damn the consequences, he’d said. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d thought just the scenario Asha proposed. Things were different now though. He was named Stark, a dragonrider. Named Daenerys’ second. Surely now he would be considered worthy of her? Jon’s jaw clenched hard enough to hurt his teeth. Missing her was a constant ache low in his chest, actual, physical pain.

“Daenerys is nothing like Cersei.”

“Aye. That’s what worries me,” Asha said, expression serious.

With that, Asha left him to his thoughts, barking orders as she did so. Jon squirted water from a skin to rinse his mouth. He couldn’t sit and pine for her. He had work to do.

Tyrion had a long scroll of ideas on how to chip away at the tottering statue of House Lannister, especially in retaliation for the Lannisport fire. A man had to admire the sheer ruthlessness when Tyrion applied his considerable intellect against his remaining family.

In the search for Sansa or Arya, Robb had sent Brienne. Jon and half a dozen of his men were to accompany Asha up the Mander to King’s Landing. One of Tyrion’s spies, his former squire Podrick Payne was in the city, working at a tavern. He could smuggle them into the city unnoticed to meet their mysterious ally. They were due in several weeks’ time to meet at a tavern in Flea Bottom. By the time the first true snow falls, the scroll had read.  

Jon staggered across the deck and ducked below to the cramped cabin. Ser Talhart and five others lay in various tangled states of misery as he. Only Brienne seemed unaffected. Even nearly a week aboard and Jon still felt queasy with the pitch and roll of the deck underfoot. The room was unbearably hot, reeking of vomit and unwashed bodies.  

“Greyjoy says we should reach Oakenshield by nightfall. Come morning, we’ll be on the Mander.”

“Thank the gods! I swear by any god there is I will never set foot on a ship again,” Ser Talhart said.

“Aye. We’ll see if Greyjoy is as good a captain as she boasts. Between rough seas and currents around Oakenshield, we should be in for a long night,” Jon said.

The afternoon passed in agonizing slowness. While he was able to keep down some broth, the nausea remained, his stomach quivering and lurching along with the ship. Captain’s orders bid them to stay below deck, and not a man complained. Jon settled himself by sharpening Longclaw, then his dirk, then the sock knife tucked in his boot. Then he turned his attention to oiling his boiled leather armor. Heavy plate was suicide on the deck of a ship, so thus his lighter leather. A couple of the men diced, and Ser Talhart snored beneath his lowered cap. Though Jon felt leagues from sleep, he settled on the floor, pillowing his head on his folded arms.

The world spread before him, every rolling hill, ridge, river and tree limned with gold. The grass was soft and lush in high summer, and he lay lulled by the music of water and the hum of bees. Then to the North, an echo of cold. Faintly, the high, thin cry of a wolf’s howl and the flutter of wings. An ancient voice holding the gasps of dying men and the rustle of dead leaves: Jon. Jon. The Isle. The Isle of Faces. Find me. Find me. Find me, Jon!

“Jon! Wake up!”

Jon snapped awake, finding Ser Talhart’s square face above him.

“We should arm. It’s nearly time,” he said. Jon swiped the sweat from his brow.

“Aye. Aye, give me a moment,” he said.

A glance out the murky window found full dark, the sky a blank grey-black slate. By the time he’d choked down a stale biscuit and wine and settled into his armor, the dregs of the dream faded. Together, Jon, Brienne, and his men clattered up the stair to deck. In the middle distance stood the island of Oakenshield, seat of House Hewett.

“A shame we’re sneaking by at night. I hear the signal fires of the Shield Islands are a sight to behold. I hear the roof of the castle has green tiles,” Brienne said, excitement crackling in her blue eyes. Jon smirked.

“I think tonight it will be a good thing not to see the signal fires,” he said.

“True,” Brienne said, donning the hooded cloak to hide the shine of the moonlight on her fair hair.

“Quiet now, lads. Eerl, the mainsail! Hagen, tighten up that drag line!” Asha hissed, darting around deck like a mad crow.

The wind was with them, as far as Jon could tell, the ship glided through rough swells. The moon shone in scattered beams on the water, the black bulk of the island sharp against the shimmering sea. Jon’s mouth was dry.

“Now the plan is to sail up the mouth of the Mander, then we disembark?” Ser Talhart asked.

“Aye. Then Asha’s men will sail back to Pyke. Hopefully without being seen. Then no Lannister men will be looking for us,” Jon said, knuckles white on the lip of the railing.

“What happens if they raise the alarm?” Ser Talhart asked with a nervous glance at the jagged black spears of rock surrounding Oakenshield. The ironborn had been by turns gleeful and morbid describing the treacheries of riptides, rogue waves, and ships run aground on hidden rocks.  

“That won’t happen,” Asha said, nudging Ser Talhart’s shoulder, “now shut up.”

They froze, gliding past the empty black eye socket of a guard tower. Jon squinted into the gloom, searching for a hint of movement. Just as he was about to breathe a sigh of relief, there was a scrum of movement on the wall.

“Hawkeye!” Asha said with a wave.

“Got ‘em,” the gruff ironborn replied, poised with a longbow on the ship’s crosstree, squat and black like a vulture. The guard on the wall paused, warming his hands at the brazier, talking to his companion. Hagen Hawkeye waited, keeping them in his sight as the ship slipped by. Jon held his breath, conscious of every creak of the ship, every flap of sail . . . The Black Wind crept by, silent as a shadow.  

“We’re clear of the main guard tower,” Asha hissed, “Another hour or so and we’ll be at the mouth of the Mander.”

Jon paced up and down the deck, marking out the steps as time ticked by. He found he was too nervous to be ill, a small blessing. Oakenshield faded in the distance, and fortunately, Jon could see the black shape of land on the horizon. So close . . . The bulk of Oakenshield loomed behind them. For himself, Jon wouldn’t feel safe until there was solid ground beneath his feet. He felt the itch of watching eyes on the back of his neck.

Under Asha’s direction, he and his men began loading their supplies in the skiff lashed to the side of the ship. The labor took his mind off the guards, though standing poised in the bed of the skiff, Jon saw only ocean. Surging water, endless lurching . . . Jon retched over the side. Some of the sick was caught by the wind and slapped against the ship’s hull.

“Watch where your puling, Snow!” Asha said, laughter in her voice.

“Bugger off,” Jon said hoarsely, setting down the crate of hard biscuits. Gods, his throat felt sore and raw. As he watched, there was movement in the water, a sleek black shape. A triangular fin broke the surface.

“What’s that?” Brienne asked from above.

“A shark. Big one too, look at the tailfin,” Asha said, pointing to a smaller lashing fin slicing through the surface. Jon clumsily staggered toward the rope ladder. He certainly felt safer with the deck boards under his feet.

“Are there sharks in the Mander?” Ser Talhart asked, eyes fixed on the shape in the water. The shark disappeared into the depths quick as thought. Asha shrugged.

“I’ve never seen one. It seems they don’t like the water. Too sweet for their taste,” she said.

“Do you think we’ll make it?” Jon asked, with a longing glance at land. Asha squinted at the sky. It was still full dark, Jon guessed the hour of the wolf.

“We’ll be cutting it close,” she said, “you lot go below. Get out from underfoot.”

Warne Harlaw, Asha’s second, stumped below the sky began to lighten toward dawn. From their murky window, Jon saw the shapes of the shore. Thank the gods.

“Hurry up, you shites! We have to be off beyond the Shields before the guard changes,” he said, fat lips peeled back in a sneer to reveal chipped, yellowed teeth.

Jon leapt to his feet, settling Longclaw and catching up his rucksack holding his armor and supplies. A brisk wind made Jon grateful for his cloak as they stepped on deck. One by one, his men and Brienne climbed down in the skiff. Jon followed, his grip white-knuckled on the skiff’s low side. Two ironborn lowered the skiff to the water was a loud splash. Asha leapt down, landing with practiced balance.

“Remember Harlaw, keep her low and fast! Drowned God save you from my wrath if the shielders raise their alarm.” Settling at the prow, Asha gestured to Jon and his men.

“Poles! Quickly now!”

 Asha hadn’t lied. Poling upriver took strength. Training with the sword and hard labor had toughened Jon’s muscles, but he was more used to bearing a shield and sword than a river pole. Jon stifled a grunt as he dragged the pole up, sweeping it forward in tandem with Ser Talhart and his two other men on the starboard side of the skiff. His arms trembled, his shoulders ached, his hands felt like they were on fire, chafed to blisters even through his gloves. By his guess, they’d been at it for at least two watches since dawn broke in sunny brilliance.

The Mander was rich with the loamy scent of silt and rushes. The air was cool and moist, even though the rising sunlight was enough make him sweat in his leathers. Gnats and midges danced in the air. The breadth of the river surprised him, wide enough for two of Asha’s longships to sail up side by side. Jon shared a glance with Brienne who answered with a grim smile. None of the northmen would break first. It was a matter of honor to prove their strength to an outsider. Asha stood balanced on the prow, keen eyes scanning the murky river ahead for sand banks and submerged obstacles. As time dragged on, Asha broke the silence in a sweet clear voice.

“Hey don’t ye see that black cloud a risin’?/Way haul, we’ll haul away Jo!/Nay whinin an’ my mam told me/Way haul, we’ll haul away Jo!” With each repetition of ‘Jo,’ Asha stabbed her pole down for a sweep, guiding them through the current. Jon recognized it as a common work song, used to pass the time. He and the men took up the answering phrase.

“Hey don’t ye see that black cloud a risin’?” Asha sang.

“Way haul, we’ll haul away Jo!” Jon grunted, slamming his pole down for another pull. His arms and shoulders shrieked.

To take his mind off the pain, Jon’s eyes wandered over the gently rolling fields of the Reach, still tinged with green even at this late season. The wide open fields felt strange after the Westerland’s crags and the Riverland’s dense woods, what trees were to be found were in the ordered lines of orchards. He and Daenerys had poured over maps of the Reach and the Crownlands, and he’d memorized every holdfast and road on their route to King’s Landing. His love had a fierce, loyal heart, but life had taught her cruel lessons of betrayal. Her worry touched him.

“Oi found meself an Arbor lass!” Asha said.

“Way haul, we’ll haul away Jo!”

Another half a watch passed with Asha leading them in songs to ease the effort of work. The sun climbed in the sky, sweat streamed beneath the now suffocating weight of his cloak, exacerbated the strangely humid air. Each breath emerged in a low grunt, lost in the river’s murmurings. Asha stopped singing and danced to the back of the skiff, angling the craft toward shore.

“Whew! Pull up then, lads! Pull up!” Asha said, with an ushering gesture. Jon bit back a sigh of relief as they set aside their poles and stomped through knee-high marsh to shore.

“You northerners are tough bastards. Close to three watches’ worth of hard rowing without stopping,” Asha said, tossing a waterskin over her shoulder. Jon caught it, squirting stream into his mouth and onto his face. Sweet relief to the parched, burning tissue of his throat. Asha stabbed the skiff’s grounding stake into the dirt, tamping it down with a careless stomp of her boot.  

“Here, Theo,” Jon said, handing the waterskin to Ser Talhart. Brienne looked a little grey, so Jon clapped a hand on her shoulder in reassurance. Asha took a seat in the rippling shade of a willow. His men staggered up in various attitudes of exhaustion. Jon sank onto the ground beside Brienne. The breeze cooled the sweat on his brow in sweet relief.

“Are there any biscuits to be had?” he asked, ravenously hungry.

“Aye,” Brienne said, handing him two. The hardtack was dry as dust, and crunched between his teeth. Still, it was food.

The group chewed in silence, broken only by the soft chuckle of the Mander. Jon washed down the unpalatable lump of hardtack with tepid water, longing for a side of venison with spiced honey, fried potatoes with butter.

“We made it past the shielders. I think the only house close is Horn Hill, and old Randyll Tarly has sworn to Cersei, as far as I know. She made him lord of who-fucking-cares. Last I heard, he was fighting your brother in the Crownlands, Snow. The only other real power along the Mander is Highgarden, and the Golden Company did us a favor and sacked the castle already,” Asha said, folding her hands behind her head. Ironborn to the bone, they thrive in turmoil.

“The Tyrells are Lords Paramount of the Mander, right?” Ser Talhart asked, cracking his knuckles.

“They were. Until the Lannister bitch blew them to hell in the Sept of Baelor,” Asha said, eyes half-closed.

“I thought Mace Tyrell had four children. Only Loras and Margery died in King’s Landing,” Brienne said, between bites of hardtack.  

“Aye, there were two others. Garlan Tyrell died during the War of Five Kings, at the Battle of Blackwater, along with Renly Baratheon and most of Stannis’ men. The eldest, what was his name? Willem?”  

“Willas,” Brienne corrected.

“Willas! He was the crippled one. He died when they sacked the castle.”

“Olenna left him behind?” Jon asked with a frown. A woman who would risk death for treason to avenge her murdered grandchildren would not leave her last living relative to die. Asha shrugged.

“Olenna doesn’t enjoy talking to a girl who ‘swaggers around like an idiot boy.’ She didn’t talk about Highgarden. I didn’t ask.” Asha settled against the willow’s bark. Jon stood, shaking the soreness from his arms.

“Brienne, take two of the men and scout around. I’ll see to the weapons. We rest here?” Jon said.

“Aye,” Asha said, “for at least a watch or two. The Mander doesn’t have many tributaries or side streams to get lost in, so if we pole on after dusk, we won’t get lost.” Jon nodded, parting the willow’s draping branches. Brienne, Ser Talhart and his son Ed moved in stealthy circles through the rushes, pushing outward.

Jon checked the lines tethering the skiff, scooping handfuls of river water to wash his face. The cool water felt heavenly. Jon heaved the bundled spears and longswords over his shoulder. He looked up into the cloudless blue sky near midday, the air so warm. He half-expected the dragons to be wheeling overhead. The feeling of loss struck him deeper than he anticipated.

“I’ll be back for another ride, I promise,” Jon whispered to Rhaegal.

Inevitably, his thoughts turned to the Mother of Dragons. Jon kneaded his breastbone, willing away the ache. How spoiled he’d been, being so close to Daenerys Targaryen for so many months. The world felt greyer and colder away from her. He craved the sharp thrill of meeting those changeable eyes, how her laugh touched him.

Jon heaved a sigh and stood. He squelched through soft river mud back to the willow tree. Brienne waited, standing at attention, her hand lightly curled around Oathkeeper.

“Anything?” Jon asked. “We saw a few smallfolk to the north, but nothing else.”

“Good. I for one could use a bit of sleep on solid ground,” he said with a smirk. Brienne nodded with her usual thin smile.

“You are not a seafarer, Ser.”

“Indeed not. Maybe I’ll try again in a little boat off Tarth, but not on open sea,” Jon said, knowing how deeply Brienne longed for home.

“The waters around Tarth are a sight behold. A very pleasant way to spend a summer afternoon with a loved one,” Brienne said slyly. Jon grunted, claiming a bit of grass beneath the swaying willow branches. They made a reedy sort of music as the breeze moved through.

With an exhausted sigh, Jon stretched out his head pillowed on his wadded cloak, loosening Longclaw for easy draw. His protesting limbs loosened and relaxed and soon he was asleep.  

[the-truest-sentence-i-know]

Chapter Fifteen | Illness

Fandom: Disney’s Descendants

Summary: Quinn Little, raised in Auradon by Little John, finds out that her heritage is not what she thought it was. When Little John tells her that her real father was a villain, she must go on a journey of self-discovery that will bring her to all the forbidden places in the United States of Auradon.

Pre-canon & canon compliant to the first Descendants film.

Word Count: 2.1k  |  15/23

ao3 ||| ff.net ||| wattpad ||| quotev

Three more kids were down with a cough a week later and Quinn did her best to keep up their spirits as they laid in their hammocks. While she was grateful for the distraction from everything that had happened with Seamus, she was starting to get concerned; this seemed like more than a regular cold.

She was brewing another pot of tea when Jax came into the galley. He could see the tension in her forehead and hopped up onto the counter beside the kettle.

“How are they doing?” he asked.

Quinn leant against the counter across from him, brow creased. “Their symptoms seem to just indicate a cold, but Cai has had a bad cough for two weeks now, without a sign of getting better.”

Jax looked at her suddenly. “Is it a dry cough?”

“Yes?”

He grabbed her hand and nearly ran into the doorframe in his hurry. Quinn, confused, scrambled after him as he led them to the forecastle, where Cai and the others were lying in their bunks.

Cai was in the middle of a coughing fit and between coughs, he gasped for air, high-pitched in a way that made Quinn wince sympathetically.

“What is it?” Quinn asked Jax, whose jaw tightened at the sound. He moved farther away from the sick kids.

“I think it’s whooping cough,” he said quietly, so only she could hear him.

Quinn frowned. “Whooping cough? But there’s a vaccine for –” Her realization struck her like a punch to the gut, followed by a wave or rage at the Auradonian establishment unlike any other she had had. “There’s no medicine on the Isle,” she said quietly, more to herself than to Jax. She closed her eyes for a moment and drew her hand through her hair, then looked at Jax. “How bad is whooping cough? Have kids caught it here before?”

He nodded. “Every few years there’s a bunch of bad cases. One year, a while back, three kids died.” Quinn’s heart plummeted like a rock to the bottom of her stomach. “But if you have a vaccine, you won’t have to worry about catching it,” he said.

Quinn nodded. “Alright, if it’s this bad, we need to separate the sick people as well as everyone who helped me take care of them.”

“We’ll move them above the shop,” Jax said.

“I’ll move them,” Quinn said. “You need to be careful too. And the younger kids especially. If I remember correctly, it’s more dangerous for young children.”

 They were not happy to have to move, but Quinn got everyone who was sick up to the room above the shop. Cai, she moved last and every so often, they had to stop when a coughing fit overtook him. Once, when they were nearly at the door of the shop, the fit was so bad that he vomited. Quinn jumped back at first but stroked his back as he retched through his coughs. “It’s alright,” she murmured.

She led him up the steps to where several make-shift beds lay spread around the room.

•••

 Quinn was not extremely familiar with whooping cough since it was mostly eradicated in Auradon. But if it was reasonably common here, perhaps there were records of it, and hopefully some treatment instructions.

“Jax?” she asked one morning as they got ready for the day. “Where would I find an archive or records?”

He frowned thoughtfully. “The library at the school, maybe? It’s the largest collection of books on the Isle that I know of.”

An hour later, Quinn and Sheela were inside. “You know,” Sheela said, putting her lockpicking supplies back in her pocket. “I never thought I’d be breaking into school.”

Quinn smiled. The school was dark and empty – it was the weekend – and they crept through the corridors.

“Library’s this way,” Sheela said, leading her into a room filled to bursting which shelves and tables piled high with books, as well as stacks of books on the floor.

Quinn whistled. “This might take a while.”

Sheela smiled. “There is some rhyme and reason to it. I suggest we start over there.” She pointed to the left back corner. “That’s the ‘practical information we might actually need’ section.”

They spent over an hour searching until Sheela called out, “I think I found something!”

Quinn rushed over to her side. Sheela held a handwritten notebook entitled Common Illnesses. They flipped through until they found a page on whooping cough. Quinn skimmed over the symptoms, checking them off in her head: red watery eyes, runny nose, dry cough; then as the illness worsens: more coughing which may provoke vomiting, result in a red or blue face, cause extreme fatigue, or end with a distinctive high-pitched whoop.

“But there’s no cure or treatment,” Sheela said, having skimmed to the bottom.

“Rest, fluids, smaller meals to discourage vomiting, clean air,” Quinn read. “But teens and adults often recover no problem – although they’ll be weak for three to six months.”

“Three months?” Sheela repeated. “That won’t be good for morale or defending ourselves from attacks. Although I guess everyone will be having the same problem once it starts to spread.”

Quinn nodded and closed the book. “Well, this was a bit of a waste of time – it’s basically the same treatment as a regular cold.”

“At least we know for sure we’re not missing anything,” Sheela said encouragingly.

 When they returned to the shop, Harper, Corinna, and Jade were sitting at the counter speaking in low tones. Quinn would not have given them a second glance if their expressions had not been so serious. The three Powder Monkeys often hung out together but usually gossiped or pulled pranks.

“Is everything alright?” she asked them.

They all hesitated before Corinna spoke up. “We heard that Maleficent started the sickness on purpose and that she has a cure.”

“It’s whooping cough,” Quinn said firmly. “It comes around every few years, and it doesn’t have a cure.” At least not on this island.

“Apparently there’s medicine on the ships from Auradon,” Harper added. “And she’s hoarding it to herself.”

Quinn exchanged a look with Sheela. These types of rumours would not help morale either.

“If there was medicine, we would’ve found it with our tunnel,” Sheela said.

 Corinna came to Quinn with a bad cough the next day. She quietly admitted that she had been feeling under the weather for a little while already but did not want to be separated from her friends. Quinn did not have the heart to scold her.

With both his siblings sick, Cyrus started sleeping behind the counter in the shop.

 One day, as she sat in the room above the shop, watching over the sick, Quinn heard footsteps on the stairs. She looked up to see a boy, maybe ten or eleven, with blond hair, wearing red, white, and black leather.

“Can I help you?” Quinn asked, getting up. “Just stay in the doorway, we don’t want to spread it.”

The boy nodded. “You’re Quinn, right? The doctor?”

“Yeah, well, I’m not a doctor, but I am in charge of taking care of sick Crewmembers,” she clarified. “Do you need my help?”

“My friend, I’m worried that he might get sick because his dad is keeping his store open,” he said. “And then I might get sick too.”

Quinn nodded and pulled out a few cloth masks she had Crewmembers make in their free time. “I can’t guarantee you or your friend won’t get sick,” she said. “But wearing these will help.” She handed them to him. “And make sure you wash your hands often.”

He nodded earnestly. “I owe you a favour.”

Quinn wanted to protest, but this kid did not seem like he would take no for an answer. “Sure.” It wasn’t like she would need this kid’s help anyway. As he turned to leave, she called after him. “Wait, what’s your name?”

“Carlos,” he called over his shoulder. “Carlos de Vil!”

 Quinn was so constantly exhausted and busy that weeks slipped by. Cai mostly recovered, though he still tired easily, which frustrated him – especially when Quinn told him to take it easy and be patient. Jax visited often and they would sit in the backroom of the shop, usually not even talking that much. He would update her on the goings-on while she rested her head in his lap.

She had not been sleeping well in their makeshift hospital wing, missing Jax beside her. So, she would often drift off, Jax’s familiar scent surrounding her, his fingers gently brushing her hair out of her face. She would jerk awake some time later, feeling a little guilty to have fallen asleep in their limited time together, but he would just smile.

On one such occasion, he said, “Cai can probably start helping with the sick kids, so you can take turns.”

Quinn nodded. “He needs something to do. Not being able to go out is driving him nuts.”

“I bet.” He smiled and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Let him be in charge for tonight. We can hang out – you are in dire need of a date.”

“A date?” Quinn looked up at him. “How Auradonian of you.”

“You insult me,” he said with a grin.

With Cai installed as her temporary assistant, Quinn and Jax stepped out onto the nighttime Isle streets. They were quieter than usual, most people staying home to avoid getting sick.

They walked to the far end of the Isle, where they could look out to open sea. There was a small dent in the slab of rock that formed the shore that was perfect for two people to sit in.

Quinn curled to Jax’s side as they watched the stars come out, their reflections on the sea winking up at them. She allowed herself calm for the first time in a while and did not think of whooping cough. She instead focused on how she could feel every breath Jax took, could feel his heartbeat with her head on his chest. It was so familiar, so comforting.

It was home.

The realization shuddered through her with a certainty that almost scared her. Almost. “Jax,” she said quietly.

“Mmm,” he hummed.

“I love you.”

For a moment he said nothing. For a moment, Quinn was afraid she had said it too early, or that was not how flings worked or –

“I love you too,” he said quietly.

Quinn turned her head to look up at him and saw that softness in his eyes that made her feel like melting. She kissed him and then settled against his chest once more.

The moon had risen, full and bright, its reflection on the water rippling and distorting in the waves.

But the moment could not last forever and soon they had to scramble back up the rocks and return to the shop. A wide-eyed Cai met them at the door.

“Cai, you were supposed to stay upstairs,” Quinn said. She pushed Jax back and stepped in front of him protectively. “You might still be contagious.”

“It’s Corinna,” he said.

Nothing more had to be said. Jax nodded and squeezed Quinn’s hand encouragingly before she and Cai hurried upstairs.

Corinna was curled on her side, coughing ceaselessly. Between bouts, she gasped in as much air as she could in the distinctive whoop that Quinn could never get used to, no matter how often she heard it.

Cai stood, helpless, flinching sympathetically with his sister. “Can you do something to help her?” he asked.

Quinn crouched beside her but could do nothing but rub her back and whisper encouragingly, “It’s alright. You’ll be alright.”

When the coughing finally subsided, Corinna let out a whimper. She looked exhausted. Cai helped her take a sip of water before she curled up against him.

Corinna was the one Quinn was most worried about. The book had said that children were most at risk – the younger the child, the higher the risk. She exchanged a worried look with Cai, but before either could say anything, footsteps bounded up the stairs. Harper appeared in the doorway, face fraught with concern.

“Harper, you can’t be up here,” Quinn scolded, getting to her feet.

“Is Corinna alright?” he asked, starting into the room.

“She’s resting,” Quinn said, grabbing him by the shoulders. “Go downstairs before you get sick too.” He tried to get around her, but Quinn managed to usher him to the stairs. “Harper, you can’t do anything for her right now, okay? She just needs to rest and let her body fight the sickness. She’s tough, you know that.”

He nodded, though a little uncertainly.

“And it’ll be easier for her if she’s not worried about you,” Quinn continued. “So, don’t do anything that will get you sick or hurt.”

Harper looked around Quinn to where Corinna lay. “Can you tell her I said get well soon when she wakes up?” he asked in a small voice.

“Of course,” Quinn said, with a little smile. “Now run along.”

[thrashermaxey]

Ramblings: Stacking Mates, Shutout Season, PPPt/60, McCann, Zucker, & Bishop (March 8)

  There aren’t too many teams that I would be keen to roster three players from. Stacking mates is often a recipe for feast or famine, and come time for fantasy hockey playoffs, an ill-timed famine can be the death of a squad.

  That said, the Bruins and Panthers, who met on Thursday evening, are two of the teams you’d consider taking that swing on. Sasha Barkov and Jonathan Huberdeau have the ability to go off in bunches and are both clicking above the point-per-game mark. Meanwhile, Keith Yandle has been steadily plucking apples from the orchard.

  All three factored in on the first two Florida goals as the Panthers jumped out to an early 2-0 lead. David Krejci brought the Bs to within one before the Bruins’ top line joined the party

  Despite still missing David Pastrnak – who is inching closer to returning from a thumb injury,  Patrice Bergeron and Brad Marchand refuse to slow down. Bergeron tallied his second shorthanded goal in as many games to knot the game at two. The assist, of course, went to Marchand.  

  Huberdeau clicked on his third point to regain the lead for a Panthers’ squad that should be looking towards the lottery and not the playoffs, but the Bruins were not to be outdone tonight. Matt Grzelcyk tallied the tying goal with 37 seconds remaining on the clock.

  Then, it was back to Bergy.

  {source}<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" data-lang="en"><p lang="en" dir="ltr">AND WITH 7.2 SECONDS REMAINING. PATRICE BERGERON. <a href="https://t.co/aHoP299Vei">pic.twitter.com/aHoP299Vei</a></p>— Bruins (Guy Boston Sports) (@Bruins_GBos) <a href="https://twitter.com/Bruins_GBos/status/1103847503433216000?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">March 8, 2019</a></blockquote>

<script async src="https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script>{/source}

  Call it nine points in the last five games for Marchand and 80 on the season. Bergeron is up to 62 points in 51 games. Both are on 100-point paces.

  Stack ‘em up!

  **

Matt Murray made 25 stops and Sidney Crosby tallied for the sixth straight contest as the Pens blanked the Blue Jackets 3-0.

  CBJ has lost three of their last four and is inching further away from the post-season picture. Missing the dance will be disastrous as the organization bet on itself and could be left holding the bag as the UFAs walk.

  Joonas Korpisalo took the L in this one. Torts wouldn’t comment on why Korpisalo was getting the nod over Sergei Bobrovsky other than to say it wasn’t due to Bob’s performance of late. Columbus is riding three netminders right now, so perhaps it’s a just a rest situation, but it was a strange time to sit your number one if he’s healthy. The two teams meet again on Saturday, in what is shaping up to be a must-win for Columbus. If Bob is healthy, expect him to be tending the twine.

  Watch the updates.

  **

Jared McCann is loving life in the Steel City. The former first-rounder is breathing fresh air playing on the left-side of Crosby and Jake Guentzel. He has three goals and six points in his last five games and is seeing upwards of 17 minutes a night at even-strength. He’s yet to break onto a power-play unit, but if he continues to show signs of offensive life, that second unit should come calling soon.

  We’ve all fallen for the third fiddle before, but McCann has always been a skilled, yet feisty player. He could be a nice fit on that line. Let’s see how the remaining games shake out, but we could be looking at a sleeper for 2019-20.

  **

In the most predictable result of the evening, the Sens lost again. This time to the Islanders. There isn’t much left to say about Ottawa. They stink and are going to watch Colorado draft an elite talent in June. Tough times.

  Meanwhile, the goaltending on the Isle continues to be stellar. With Robin Lehner out with a suspected concussion, Thomas Greiss handled this one easily. He’s up to a .929 save percentage on the season.

  **

On the flip side of the predictability scope, the Lightning lost. No, it’s not April 1st, this is not a drill. Devon Dubnyk made 25 saves and Jason Zucker recorded the natural hat trick as Minny bested the best team 3-0 on Thursday.

  After being moments away from being dealt to Calgary at the deadline, Zucker has been making good. The 27-year-old has five goals in five games and is enjoying the addition of Ryan Donato. Donato has been making the best of his opportunity in Minnesota. He has nine points in the eight games since the trade from Boston and has weaselled himself a gig on the team’s top line and top power-play unit.

  We’ve got ourselves another sleeper alert.

  **

Alex Radulov returned to the Stars lineup and notched his first-career hat trick against the Avalanche. Jamie Benn had a goal and an assist to give him five points in his last two games, while Ben Bishop recorded his second consecutive shutout.

  Bishop has been dynamite this season and should be in the thick of the Vezina conversation despite missing some time due to injury. His 0.930 save percentage in 39 contests sits second to only Andrei Vasilevskiy.

  He’ll be 33 by the time puck drops next fall. I’ll be wary of him on draft day.

  **

Apparently, it was the evening of shutouts. Darcy Kuemper and Yotes blanked the Flames 2-0 on Thursday. Clayton Keller opened the scoring and Jakob Chychrun put the icing on the cake. Keller has just five points in his previous 15 contests. The sophomore slump has been wrapping its claws around the 20-year-old.

  Bigger things are coming down the line. Hold on.

  **

The Canucks took on the Oilers on the road after an energy-filled victory on home ice against the Maple Leafs the evening before. They didn’t muster the same effort in this one.

  Connor McDavid recorded two assists – his 60th and 61st of the season to join Joe Thornton as the only active players with three consecutive campaigns with at least 60 helpers.

  Brock Boeser chipped in with two assists of his own but it wasn’t enough as the Oil took this one 3-2.

  These two squads are battling for lottery balls at this point, so maybe we actually give the win to VanCity. What can I say, I'm a wide-eyed optimist. 

  **

Chicago and Buffalo had some fun in a back-and-forth affair that needed extras. Chicago completed the first period up 2-0 only to see Buffalo score three in the second frame. The third period was highlighted by alternating tallies and a scoreless overtime period.

  All three Hawks – Jonathan Toews, Patrick Kane, and Alex DeBrincat scored in the shootout for the victory.

  The Hawks jumbled their lines ahead of this one with Kane sliding down to “L3” with Artem Anisimov and Dominik Kahun. Fret not though, he chipped in two assists and skated a team-high 25:13.

  That’s three wins in four tries for Corey Crawford since returning from the IR. Unfortunately, not a quality start in the bunch. The Blackhawks will continue to try and score their way out of trouble, but that method can only work for so long.

  {source}<blockquote class="twitter-tweet" data-lang="en"><p lang="en" dir="ltr">Passing greatness.<br><br>With two helpers today, <a href="https://twitter.com/88PKane?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">@88PKane</a> has passed Steve Larmer to take sole possession of 4th in points in franchise history. <a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/Blackhawks?src=hash&ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">#Blackhawks</a> <a href="https://t.co/CCXWSVdo3S">pic.twitter.com/CCXWSVdo3S</a></p>— Chicago Blackhawks (@NHLBlackhawks) <a href="https://twitter.com/NHLBlackhawks/status/1103842767380377602?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">March 8, 2019</a></blockquote>

<script async src="https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script>{/source}

  **

The Sharks defeated the Habs 5-2 in one of the late affairs. Brent Burns recorded his 60th assist of the season in this one. The 33-year-old is on pace for 89 points, which would be the second most we've seen from a blueliner in the last 25 years (Ray Bourque – 91 points in 1993-94).

  Not bad. 

  **

The Blues blanked the lowly Kings 4-0 in the final game of the evening. Vladimir Tarasenko potted a goal and added an assist. After the rocky first half of the season, Tarasenko has made good on owners who displayed patience. The 27-year-old has 29 points in 21 games dating back to January 15. 

  It was Jake Allen who completed the goose egg in this one. You know things are going your way when Allen has four quality starts in his last five contests.

  **

Our Report Generator on DobberHockey continues to be improved. The most recent addition has been in the PP Data area where Eric Daoust has included PPPt/60 – which is essentially how many power-play points a player gets for every 60 minutes of power-play deployment. It’s a mouthful, but it provides tangible evidence to support how effective a player is on a man-advantage unit.

  To me, this is a potential gold mine. Teams are constantly looking to improve their special teams’ production and finding players who are thriving in a limited role would likely be a good starting point in attempting to unearth assets that will see their value increase with further opportunities.

  At the top of this list, we see the elites. Nikita Kucherov, Brayden Point, Pastrnak, Phil Kessel, Burns, etc. But what I’m looking for are those undervalued players. Here are a few that stood out to me.

  Jack Roslovic – Pegged by many as a prime candidate to steal the second line centre gig in Winnipeg this season, Roslovic has found himself locked in the bottom six skating fewer than 10 minutes a contest and very few power-play opportunities. However, in his 45 minutes of man-advantage action, the 22-year-old has produced 7.9 PPPt/60. That number puts him a shade ahead of Patrice Bergeron. 

  The Jets are going to run into cap issues soon, and when they do, Roslovic will be there to eat up offensive minutes for a reasonable price. He'll be another good bet to garner more interest next season assuming Winnipeg doesn't find a way to add a centre this offseason. 

  Kevin Labanc – The Sharks have a bevy of forward talent to choose from when an opponent heads to the sin bin. But it's Labanc who leads them in PPPt/60. His 7.1 PPPt/60 is amongst the league-leaders and not due to small sample size. His 145 minutes of man-advantage action is less than the big dogs, but still averaging out to over two-minutes per contest. 

  He'll need to continue to fight off Timo Meier for that top unit spot, but Labanc has shown capable of improving production year-over-year. A few more minutes per night and we could be talking about a 65-point forward next season. 

  **

Follow me on Twitter @Hockey_Robinson

    from All About Sports https://dobberhockey.com/hockey-rambling/ramblings-stacking-mates-shutout-season-pppt60-mccann-zucker-bishop-march-8/

[mymoviesnob]

A Movie Snob Predicts the Oscars – 2019 Edition

Hello fellow movie lovers! It’s been another busy award season. There were 121 nominations and I got to see all but 9 of the films this year.  Not too shabby, all things considered.  

This season, like the ones before it, was full of pleasant surprises, a few hours I can’t get back and films shining a bright light on topics which were painful to watch.  

Now, for the four of you who still read this each year, let’s get to the movies! J

 Best Picture:

·         Black Panther – The first Marvel movie to be nominated for Best Picture. I don’t see this as the winner.

·         BlacKkKlansman – Based on a true story, about a black cop, impersonating a white cop, to infiltrate the KKK.

·         Bohemian Rhapsody – I loved this movie. I love Queen. I wish Freddie Mercury had been able to grace us with his presence for more than we were lucky enough to receive.  I would love to see this beat Roma but unfortunately, the Director’s alleged shenanigans will get in the way.

·         The Favourite – Dark and witty, full of strong performances. This however, was not my favorite. (Yes, pun intended…I know, I’m hilarious)

·         Green Book – Another based on a true story, about a black performer in need of a driver/ body guard as he tours the deep South and how their friendship was formed.  I really enjoyed this film. Mahershala and Viggo were both fantastic. I kept wondering how I had never heard of these men before watching this.

·         Roma – While I can’t call this my personal favorite film in the bunch, I do think it will take the top prize this year. It’s been so lovingly received by critics while others on this list have been subject to controversy moving Roma to the top of the pile.I did enjoy it, just not as much as others here. 

·         A Star Is Born – I loved this too and when I saw it, I thought it would be a lock for Best Picture… until I saw the competition. I was equally surprised by Lady Gaga’s acting and by Cooper’s singing. I’ve seen the previous versions of this film and while I typically dislike remakes, this was well done. Cooper should have received a Director nod here.

·         Vice – Based on the life and career of the notoriously private Dick Cheney.  Something tells me he will never endorse this one, or confirm any of its story line. If you like Cheney, you will hate this movie. And if you hate him, it will make you question just how awfully distasteful you can find another human being to be.

 Lead Actor:

·         Christian Bale – Vice –When I first read that Bale was going to play Dick Cheney in a movie, I thought Central Casting was delusional. Then I saw it. If anyone is going to give Malek competition, it’s Bale. You literally forget it’s him buried behind the makeup.  

·         Bradley Cooper – A Star Is Born – Cooper will get his Oscar one day and I thought he was fantastic in this movie, but this is not his time.

·         Willem Dafoe – At Eternity’s Gate – He’s always great, this time as Vincent van Gogh

·         Rami Malek – Bohemian Rhapsody – Malek became Freddie Mercury. Every detail of his iconic performances, recreated to the letter. He must have studied Mercury’s every move. The commitment to getting that right is stunning and I think this win will be well deserved.

·         Viggo Mortensen – Green Book – Another great performance by an actor who seems to be able to play anyone.

 Lead Actress:

·         Yalitza Aparicio – Roma

·         Glenn Close – The Wife – I didn’t want to like this one. I don’t care for her, ever since she boiled a bunny back in the day, but she was amazing.

·         Olivia Colman – The Favourite – I have a sneaking suspicion that we’ll be seeing much more of her.

·         Lady Gaga – A Star Is Born – She was surprisingly great in this movie, but it wasn’t really much of a stretch… playing a singer and all. Don’t get me wrong. She’s an incredible talent and deserving of this nomination, but I’m curious to see how her film career progresses playing roles outside of the scope of her ‘day job”.

·         Melissa McCarthy – Can You Ever Forgive Me? – Another true story and another surprise. McCarthy in a serious role as the caustic (not to mention desperate) author, Lee Israel, as she resorts to forging letters for profit. If you haven’t seen this one, watch it. And someone please sign her up for more roles outside of the comedic space!

 Supporting Actor:

·         Mahershala Ali – Green Book – Everything I’ve seen him in has been excellent. This was no exception.

·         Adam Driver – BlacKkKlansman – I love, love, love Driver.

·         Sam Elliott – A Star Is Born – About time you nominated him, Academy!

·         Richard E. Grant – Can You Ever Forgive Me? – I’m not sure I’ve seen him before but watching him here made me want to find everything else he’s ever done. I don’t think he will beat Ali, but if he did, I wouldn’t be disappointed.

·         Sam Rockwell – Vice – Another consistently consistent character actor, this time as a weirdly convincing G.W. Bush. I love it when the Indy guys get the attention they deserve!

 Supporting Actress:

·         Amy Adams – Vice – We get it… the Academy adores Amy Adams. She did not blow me away in this movie.

·         Marina de Tavira – Roma

·         Regina King – If Beale Street Could Talk – I must confess that this was one of the films I was not able to see. It left the theater too soon, and as you may know, I won’t use bootlegs on this journey each year. I’ve chosen her for a few reasons… one, she’s won virtually every other award known to man for this performance. And two, this has been a long time coming. She’s always great!

·         Emma Stone – The Favourite – Stone and Weisz here a glorious team.  

·         Rachel Weisz – The Favourite  - She’s married to Daniel Craig so she’s basically already won at life.

 Director:

·         Spike Lee – BlacKkKlansman - Spike Lee is finally nominated here! I do believe he will take home a statue one day but I don’t think it will be this year.  

·         Pawel Pawlikowski – Cold War

·         Yorgos Lanthimos – The Favourite

·         Alfonso Cuaron – Roma

·         Adam McKay – Vice

 Animated Feature:

·         Incredibles 2 - this gets my kid’s vote, just for the record. 

·         Isle of Dogs – Another year where I have the opportunity to declare my love for Wes Anderson. Another year where he will go home empty handed.

·         Mirai

·         Ralph Breaks the Internet

·         Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse – I can’t believe I’m choosing a non-Disney / Pixar for the win, but I am. It’s visually stunning.

 Animated Short:

·         Animal Behaviour

·         Bao – Pixar for the (predictable) win. Every one of the films in this category is a gem! Watch them all!!

·         Late Afternoon

·         One Small Step

·         Weekends

 Adapted Screenplay:

·         The Ballad of Buster Scruggs – I thoroughly enjoyed this movie and would recommend it.

·         BlacKkKlansman – This category is tough. I think this may be where Lee picks up a win, but…

·         Can You Ever Forgive Me? – … I really loved how this was written… and I think it can bump Lee out of the top spot.

·         If Beale Street Could Talk

·         A Star Is Born

 Original Screenplay:

·         The Favourite – The quick witted dialogue may push this one over the top to win.

·         First Reformed – I want my two hours back

·         Green Book – The Favourite is the favorite in this category, but I think the story line in our current climate will give this screenplay well warranted votes

·         Roma

·         Vice – Another film where the writing definitely shined!

 Cinematography:

·         Cold War

·         The Favourite

·         Never Look Away

·         Roma - There is just something about the way this movie was shot which immediately grabbed me at the opening scene. The very things I loved about it are things that others found to be a turn off, but the crisp black and white, tight, artsy shots were mesmerizing. Maybe it’s my love of photography, particularly B&W, but this film made it easy to see the beauty in the mundane.

·         A Star Is Born

 Best Documentary Feature:

·         Free Solo – Will probably win, but…

·         Hale County This Morning, This Evening – A film about regular people doing regular things. I hope the point is not lost on those who see it.

·         Minding the Gap - This is an interesting narrative on the leap into adulthood and just how hard that is to navigate.

·         Of Fathers and Sons – Watching this literally made me feel physically ill. If you question whether or not hatred can be taught, this confirms it.

·         RBG - … I’m rooting for RBG, tonight and every single day for every single reason! Someone please put this woman in a bubble and preserve her for all of eternity... or at least until the next administration.

 Best Documentary Short:

·         Black Sheep - The Shorts this year were difficult to watch. This is about a young black man and his experiences growing up in a suburban white British town.

·         End Game –This film is about the painful process of helping a loved one through the last days of their life and the humanity of the doctors and nurses who are walking alongside them. This is my vote.  

·         Lifeboat –About refugees fleeing their war torn home in the hope of a better life. 

·         A Night at the Garden – Actual footage of a 1939 Nazi rally at “The World’s Most Famous Arena”. The fact that this actually happened in this country, and so long ago, hurts my heart.

·         Period. End of Sentence – About young women in India just trying to survive being a girl in a culture that demonizes something which is utterly (and biologically) out of their control.

 Best Live Action Short Film:

·         Detainment – A reenactment of the interrogation of two ten year old boys in Ireland, accused of murdering a toddler. Terrifying. And true.

·         Fauve  - this won at Sundance, but…

·         Marguerite – my pick to win

·         Mother – As a parent of a 6 year old boy, this one kept me up at night.

·         Skin

 Best Foreign Language Film:

·         Capernaum

·         Cold War

·         Never Look Away

·         Roma – If this doesn’t win I’ll be shocked, but since it’s a likely winner in other categories, voters may spread the love and throw Cold War a bone.

·         Shoplifters – I really liked this one, about an unlikely group of outcasts in Japan, trying to survive on stolen items while flying under the radar.

 Film Editing:

·         BlacKkKlansman

·         Bohemian Rhapsody

·         Green Book

·         The Favourite

·         Vice

 Sound Editing:

·         Black Panther

·         Bohemian Rhapsody

·         First Man

·         A Quiet Place – I’m selecting this because of how profoundly important sound was to the entire concept of the film. I know I’m probably wrong... it will probably be Black Panther

·         Roma

 Sound Mixing:

·         Black Panther

·         Bohemian Rhapsody – Because of the music

·         First Man

·         Roma

·         A Star Is Born

 Production Design:

·         Black Panther

·         First Man

·         The Favourite – Period piece + Castle = Win

·         Mary Poppins Returns

·         Roma

 Original Score:

·         BlacKkKlansman

·         Black Panther

·         If Beale Street Could Talk

·         Isle of Dogs

·         Mary Poppins Returns

 Original Song:

·         All The Stars

·         I’ll Fight

·         The Place Where Lost Things Go

·         Shallow – if there is one certainty about tonight, this is it.

·         When A Cowboy Trades His Spurs For Wings

 Makeup and Hair:

·         Border

·         Mary Queen of Scots

·         Vice – Because I forgot Christian Bale was in there….

 Costume Design:

·         The Ballad of Buster Scruggs

·         Black Panther – This is hard because any one of these could take it, but this is my gut feeling

·         The Favourite

·         Mary Poppins Returns

·         Mary Queen of Scots

 Visual Effects:

·         Avengers: Infinity War

·         Christopher Robin

·         First Man

·         Ready Player One

·         Solo: A Star Wars Story

  I’m sad to see this season come to an end as the summer blockbusters approach. Here’s hoping there are some hidden gems among the moneymakers this summer to keep me company! 

Thanks for sticking with me to the end, all four of you. :) 

[itdisneymatter]

Day 06 - Shopping, Take II

TLDR: Change of plan from Volcano Bay, due to its alarming popularity we ended up on a pool/shopping day. Kids loved the pool and didn't want to leave. At the shopping malls, the kids spent more of their money with Gracie getting 2 out of 3 if the things she planned to buy - result! Ann & Myself never really bought anything, so the five full bags of kids toys went to the car for the lift home. Decided on Golden Corral buffet for dinner, just us and the folks - wasn't disappointed. Rolled home. Hatched a hatchimal.

Change Of Plans...

So I explained yesterday that we found out Volcano Bay, Universal's new water park, was VERY BUSY, and it was at capacity most days at opening. We had this park on the schedule today, but with it being full in the morning and it scheduled to rain in the afternoon, we decided to scrap the plan and do our own things instead.  Well have to wait for a good day and maybe hit the park in the afternoon for our best chance at it. As it was pretty much a free day, we allowed ourselves and the kids to sleep a little later. Our first proper trip to the hotel pool was long overdue, so once everyone was up and ready, we headed off for a swim with very happy kids. The kids absolutely love the water and after some swimming practice (, cannonballs, underwater antics and chilling by the pool-side, we decided it would be good day for shopping, especially if it was likely to rain later in the day. Here are some snaps from the GoPro which is yet to be utilized to its fullest, so will need to try harder.

Shopping, again!

We'd seen a Toys R Us on our way to Best Buy the other day, so headed back to the same shopping mall to spend a few hours this time. We hadn't had any breakfast yet, so pretty much bypassed all the shops on the way to the Food Court. There was pretty much every type of food available, but we had set our sights on Taco Bell, which was our fast food guilty pleasure from last time. We loaded up on burritos, tacos & nachos (with the exception of Robert, who went for a foot long Subway - which was his first one and was pretty stoked about it). I’m not sure if it was tiredness, but Ann tried to pay with our hotel room key card - LOL - unfortunately were not that technologically advanced yet... :P

We mostly hit shops for the kids, including Disney, Gamestop (3 different ones) and the aforementioned Toys R Us, though we did manage to pick up a few gifts for people along the way. Grace, who had here heart set on ANOTHER Hatchimal and a Furby, got both, with the Hatchimal being a rarer Draggle type (according to her, she is very knowledge about that kind of thing I led to believe). She was really really happy and couldn't wait to get home. Robert settled on Pokemon cards for the most part, and Patrick was a little more reserved. I did get a cool Star Wars Decal for the car back home so now everyone will know we a geeky family! :P

Heading back to the car, via the restaurants, Gracie recalled my promise of getting her some sushi (y'know one of those promises to kids, where you dont actually have any intention of doing the thing in the hope that theyll forget about it). Oh well, a 'promise' is a promise I suppose. So she picks a seafood platter (obvs) and the next thing I know she's sitting down with chopsticks in hand, ready to tuck in. I said she could probably just pick them up with her hands and she didnt need to struggle with the chopsticks. She just shook her head and began eating away, as if she'd been using them all her life. We were all staring in amazement at this wee 6 year old, masterfully wielding two bamboo sticks to eat her lunch. Now, we dont actually eat that much sushi (save for me and P), and I think we've used chopsticks once, through our make you own sushi phase - so Im bewildered where she has picked this up. Watching too much Kung fu Panda, maybe?

Last stop before home is Walmart to get a few essentials and it is here where we were enlightened by Patricks Fun Fact Of The Day. And with this, Ill give you an example of how Patrick Fun Facts come about. We were in Walmart, walking past the freezer isle and see ice lollies. One brand which are called popsicles, to which he responds out of the blue:

Y'know the Popsicle was invented by an 11yr old called Frank Epperson? When he was wee, he put a stick in a can of soda and left it overnight.  He called them Eppsicles but when his kids came along, they began to call them Pops' sicles and the name stuck...

And this happen at least once every single day. We'll just be blethering about something and Patrick will pipe in with his wee Fact and then carry on as if nothing happened, its really funny and astounding at the same time.

Dinner, dinner, dinner, dinner... BATMAN!

We'd planned dinner for Golden Corral, a buffet place (or rather palace), and were joined by my mum and dad. The other guys had had a later lunch so weren't ready for a full on buffet yet. It was just as awesome as I remember, but I have to call particular attention to the Steaks, these things were absolutely massive!!! Ill pop a pic of some of the *smaller* ones I managed to snap below, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen steaks so big. And they just go and cook them to order for you right there and then, its brilliant! 

I did also manage to grab my first dessert here - Pumpkin pie, which is one of my absolute favorites but don’t normally get to eat it because well I don’t live in America. Everyone was satisfied from starter to dessert including little Gracie who still seemed to have a passion for chocolate covered strawberries...

An image from the archives from 4 years ago...

And now tonight...

We noted the time in the UK had turned midnight as we finished up which marked the official time for Patrick’s birthday (not when everything turned back to a pumpkin. though wont be fully celebrated here in until tomorrow). He was pretty content and was now really looking forward to tomorrow :) On our road home (to apparently hatch a Draggle, dont ask), we were treated to a rendition of of the song 7 years, performed by Grace Gaffney (originally by Danish pop group, Lukas Graham). Its here song of the holiday and shes been practicing ever since we got here. I’m pretty sure she'll have this perfected by the end of the three weeks and Ill likely have a video of the finale performance for your pleasure. Watch this space.

Tomorrow Universal Studios and more importantly the not so wee Patrick officially turns 11. Eeek.

[readbookywooks]

Jon

You are as hopeless as any boys I have ever trained," Ser Alliser Thorne announced when they had all assembled in the yard. "Your hands were made for manure shovels, not for swords, and if it were up to me, the lot of you would be set to herding swine. But last night I was told that Gueren is marching five new boys up the kingsroad. One or two may even be worth the price of piss. To make room for them, I have decided to pass eight of you on to the Lord Commander to do with as he will." He called out the names one by one. "Toad. Stone Head. Aurochs. Lover. Pimple. Monkey. Ser Loon." Last, he looked at Jon. "And the Bastard." Pyp let fly a whoop and thrust his sword into the air. Ser Alliser fixed him with a reptile stare. "They will call you men of Night's Watch now, but you are bigger fools than the Mummer's Monkey here if you believe that. You are boys still, green and stinking of summer, and when the winter comes you will die like flies." And with that, Ser Alliser Thorne took his leave of them. The other boys gathered round the eight who had been named, laughing and cursing and offering congratulations. Halder smacked Toad on the butt with the flat of his sword and shouted, "Toad, of the Night's Watch!" Yelling that a black brother needed a horse, Pyp leapt onto Grenn's shoulders, and they tumbled to the ground, rolling and punching and hooting. Dareon dashed inside the armory and returned with a skin of sour red. As they passed the wine from hand to hand, grinning like fools, Jon noticed Samwell Tarly standing by himself beneath a bare dead tree in the corner of the yard. Jon offered him the skin. "A swallow of wine?" Sam shook his head. "No thank you, Jon." "Are you well?" "Very well, truly," the fat boy lied. "I am so happy for you all." His round face quivered as he forced a smile. "You will be First Ranger someday, just as your uncle was." "Is," Jon corrected. He would not accept that Benjen Stark was dead. Before he could say more, Haider cried, "Here, you planning to drink that all yourself?" Pyp snatched the skin from his hand and danced away, laughing. While Grenn seized his arm, Pyp gave the skin a squeeze, and a thin stream of red squirted Jon in the face. Haider howled in protest at the waste of good wine. Jon sputtered and struggled. Matthar and Jeren climbed the wall and began pelting them all with snowballs. By the time he wrenched free, with snow in his hair and wine stains on his surcoat, Samwell Tarly had gone. That night, Three-Finger Hobb cooked the boys a special meal to mark the occasion. When Jon arrived at the common hall, the Lord Steward himself led him to the bench near the fire. The older men clapped him on the arm in passing. The eight soon-to-be brothers feasted on rack of lamb baked in a crust of garlic and herbs, garnished with sprigs of mint, and surrounded by mashed yellow turnips swimming in butter. "From the Lord Commander's own table," Bowen Marsh told them. There were salads of spinach and chickpeas and turnip greens, and afterward bowls of iced blueberries and sweet cream. "Do you think they'll keep us together?" Pyp wondered as they gorged themselves happily. Toad made a face. "I hope not. I'm sick of looking at those ears of yours." "Ho," said Pyp. "Listen to the crow call the raven black. You're certain to be a ranger, Toad. They'll want you as far from the castle as they can. If Mance Rayder attacks, lift your visor and show your face, and he'll run off screaming." Everyone laughed but Grenn. "I hope I'm a ranger." "You and everyone else," said Matthar. Every man who wore the black walked the Wall, and every man was expected to take up steel in its defense, but the rangers were the true fighting heart of the Night's Watch. It was they who dared ride beyond the Wall, sweeping through the haunted forest and the icy mountain heights west of the Shadow Tower, fighting wildlings and giants and monstrous snow bears. "Not everyone," said Halder. "It's the builders for me. What use would rangers be if the Wall fell down?" The order of builders provided the masons and carpenters to repair keeps and towers, the miners to dig tunnels and crush stone for roads and footpaths, the woodsmen to clear away new growth wherever the forest pressed too close to the Wall. Once, it was said, they had quarried immense blocks of ice from frozen lakes deep in the haunted forest, dragging them south on sledges so the Wall might be raised ever higher. Those days were centuries gone, however; now, it was all they could do to ride the Wall from Eastwatch to the Shadow Tower, watching for cracks or signs of melt and making what repairs they could. "The Old Bear's no fool," Dareon observed. "You're certain to be a builder, and Jon's certain to be a ranger. He's the best sword and the best rider among us, and his uncle was the First before he . . . " His voice trailed off awkwardly as he realized what he had almost said. "Benjen Stark is still First Ranger," Jon Snow told him, toying with his bowl of blueberries. The rest might have given up all hope of his uncle's safe return, but not him. He pushed away the berries, scarcely touched, and rose from the bench. "Aren't you going to eat those?" Toad asked. "They're yours." Jon had hardly tasted Hobb's great feast. "I could not eat another bite." He took his cloak from its hook near the door and shouldered his way out. Pyp followed him. "Jon, what is it?" "Sam," he admitted. "He was not at table tonight." "It's not like him to miss a meal," Pyp said thoughtfully. "Do you suppose he's taken ill?" "He's frightened. We're leaving him." He remembered the day he had left Winterfell, all the bittersweet farewells; Bran lying broken, Robb with snow in his hair, Arya raining kisses on him after he'd given her Needle. "Once we say our words, we'll all have duties to attend to. Some of us may be sent away, to Eastwatch or the Shadow Tower. Sam will remain in training, with the likes of Rast and Cuger and these new boys who are coming up the kingsroad. Gods only know what they'll be like, but you can bet Ser Alliser will send them against him, first chance he gets." Pyp made a grimace. "You did all you could." "All we could wasn't enough," Jon said. A deep restlessness was on him as he went back to Hardin's Tower for Ghost. The direwolf walked beside him to the stables. Some of the more skittish horses kicked at their stalls and laid back their ears as they entered. Jon saddled his mare, mounted, and rode out from Castle Black, south across the moonlit night. Ghost raced ahead of him, flying over the ground, gone in the blink of an eye. Jon let him go. A wolf needed to hunt. He had no destination in mind. He wanted only to ride. He followed the creek for a time, listening to the icy trickle of water over rock, then cut across the fields to the kingsroad. It stretched out before him, narrow and stony and pocked with weeds, a road of no particular promise, yet the sight of it filled Jon Snow with a vast longing. Winterfell was down that road, and beyond it Riverrun and King's Landing and the Eyrie and so many other places; Casterly Rock, the Isle of Faces, the red mountains of Dorne, the hundred islands of Braavos in the sea, the smoking ruins of old Valyria. All the places that Jon would never see. The world was down that road . . . and he was here. Once he swore his vow, the Wall would be his home until he was old as Maester Aemon. "I have not sworn yet," he muttered. He was no outlaw, bound to take the black or pay the penalty for his crimes. He had come here freely, and he might leave freely . . . until he said the words. He need only ride on, and he could leave it all behind. By the time the moon was full again, he would be back in Winterfell with his brothers. Your half brothers, a voice inside reminded him. And Lady Stark, who will not welcome you. There was no place for him in Winterfell, no place in King's Landing either. Even his own mother had not had a place for him. The thought of her made him sad. He wondered who she had been, what she had looked like, why his father had left her. Because she was a whore or an adulteress, fool. Something dark and dishonorable, or else why was Lord Eddard too ashamed to speak of her? Jon Snow turned away from the kingsroad to look behind him. The fires of Castle Black were hidden behind a hill, but the Wall was there, pale beneath the moon, vast and cold, running from horizon to horizon. He wheeled his horse around and started for home. Ghost returned as he crested a rise and saw the distant glow of lamplight from the Lord Commander's Tower. The direwolf s muzzle was red with blood as he trotted beside the horse. Jon found himself thinking of Samwell Tarly again on the ride back. By the time he reached the stables, he knew what he must do. Maester Aemon's apartments were in a stout wooden keep below the rookery. Aged and frail, the maester shared his chambers with two of the younger stewards, who tended to his needs and helped him in his duties. The brothers joked that he had been given the two ugliest men in the Night's Watch; being blind, he was spared having to look at them. Clydas was short, bald, and chinless, with small pink eyes like a mole. Chett had a wen on his neck the size of a pigeon's egg, and a face red with boils and pimples. Perhaps that was why he always seemed so angry. It was Chett who answered Jon's knock. "I need to speak to Maester Aemon," Jon told him. "The maester is abed, as you should be. Come back on the morrow and maybe he'll see you." He began to shut the door. Jon jammed it open with his boot. "I need to speak to him now. The morning will be too late." Chett scowled. "The maester is not accustomed to being woken in the night. Do you know how old he is?" "Old enough to treat visitors with more courtesy than you," Jon said. "Give him my pardons. I would not disturb his rest if it were not important." "And if I refuse?" Jon had his boot wedged solidly in the door. "I can stand here all night if I must." The black brother made a disgusted noise and opened the door to admit him. "Wait in the library. There's wood. Start a fire. I won't have the maester catching a chill on account of you." Jon had the logs crackling merrily by the time Chett led in Maester Aemon. The old man was clad in his bed robe, but around his throat was the chain collar of his order. A maester did not remove it even to sleep. "The chair beside the fire would be pleasant," he said when he felt the warmth on his face. When he was settled comfortably, Chett covered his legs with a fur and went to stand by the door. "I am sorry to have woken you, Maester," Jon Snow said. "You did not wake me," Maester Aemon replied. "I find I need less sleep as I grow older, and I am grown very old. I often spend half the night with ghosts, remembering times fifty years past as if they were yesterday. The mystery of a midnight visitor is a welcome persion. So tell me, Jon Snow, why have you come calling at this strange hour?" "To ask that Samwell Tarly be taken from training and accepted as a brother of the Night's Watch." "This is no concern of Maester Aemon," Chett complained. "Our Lord Commander has given the training of recruits into the hands of Ser Alliser Thorne," the maester said gently. "Only he may say when a boy is ready to swear his vow, as you surely know. Why then come to me?" "The Lord Commander listens to you," Jon told him. "And the wounded and the sick of the Night's Watch are in your charge." "And is your friend Samwell wounded or sick?" "He will be," Jon promised, "unless you help." He told them all of it, even the part where he'd set Ghost at Rast's throat. Maester Aemon listened silently, blind eyes fixed on the fire, but Chett's face darkened with each word. "Without us to keep him safe, Sam will have no chance," Jon finished. "He's hopeless with a sword. My sister Arya could tear him apart, and she's not yet ten. If Ser Alliser makes him fight, it's only a matter of time before he's hurt or killed." Chett could stand no more. "I've seen this fat boy in the common hall," he said. "He is a pig, and a hopeless craven as well, if what you say is true." "Maybe it is so," Maester Aemon said. "Tell me, Chett, what would you have us do with such a boy?" "Leave him where he is," Chett said. "The Wall is no place for the weak. Let him train until he is ready, no matter how many years that takes. Ser Alliser shall make a man of him or kill him, as the gods will." "That's stupid," Jon said. He took a deep breath to gather his thoughts. "I remember once I asked Maester Luwin why he wore a chain around his throat." Maester Aemon touched his own collar lightly, his bony, wrinkled finger stroking the heavy metal links. "Go on." "He told me that a maester's collar is made of chain to remind him that he is sworn to serve," Jon said, remembering. "I asked why each link was a different metal. A silver chain would look much finer with his grey robes, I said. Maester Luwin laughed. A maester forges his chain with study, he told me. The different metals are each a different kind of learning, gold for the study of money and accounts, silver for healing, iron for warcraft. And he said there were other meanings as well. The collar is supposed to remind a maester of the realm he serves, isn't that so? Lords are gold and knights steel, but two links can't make a chain. You also need silver and iron and lead, tin and copper and bronze and all the rest, and those are farmers and smiths and merchants and the like. A chain needs all sorts of metals, and a land needs all sorts of people." Maester Aemon smiled. "And so?" "The Night's Watch needs all sorts too. Why else have rangers and stewards and builders? Lord Randyll couldn't make Sam a warrior, and Ser Alliser won't either. You can't hammer tin into iron, no matter how hard you beat it, but that doesn't mean tin is useless. Why shouldn't Sam be a steward?" Chett gave an angry scowl. "I'm a steward. You think it's easy work, fit for cowards? The order of stewards keeps the Watch alive. We hunt and farm, tend the horses, milk the cows, gather firewood, cook the meals. Who do you think makes your clothing? Who brings up supplies from the south? The stewards." Maester Aemon was gentler. "Is your friend a hunter?" "He hates hunting," Jon had to admit. "Can he plow a field?" the maester asked. "Can he drive a wagon or sail a ship? Could he butcher a cow?" "No." Chett gave a nasty laugh. "I've seen what happens to soft lordlings when they're put to work. Set them to churning butter and their hands blister and bleed. Give them an axe to split logs, and they cut off their own foot." "I know one thing Sam could do better than anyone." "Yes?" Maester Aemon prompted. Jon glanced warily at Chett, standing beside the door, his boils red and angry. "He could help you," he said quickly. "He can do sums, and he knows how to read and write. I know Chett can't read, and Clydas has weak eyes. Sam read every book in his father's library. He'd be good with the ravens too. Animals seem to like him. Ghost took to him straight off. There's a lot he could do, besides fighting. The Night's Watch needs every man. Why kill one, to no end? Make use of him instead." Maester Aemon closed his eyes, and for a brief moment Jon was afraid that he had gone to sleep. Finally he said, "Maester Luwin taught you well, Jon Snow. Your mind is as deft as your blade, it would seem." "Does that mean . . . " "It means I shall think on what you have said," the maester told him firmly. "And now, I believe I am ready to sleep. Chett, show our young brother to the door."